#some - possibly very few - people would love to see that

[zoro-sremedy]

In the fine print. Three. After hours

Brief summary:

A merger puts them on opposite sides of the table… and then all over each other. Sex, secrets, and sabotage—falling wasn’t part of the plan, but some deals are made in whispers and signed between the sheets.

Word Count: 7.3k

Risk assessment 18+ mdni, smut and crack, stablished relationship, reader is unprotected, spanking, backshots, soft dom/dom vibes.

a/n: i know it's long, but it'll be worth it, trust me. or maybe i'm putting myself up on a pedestal? who knows, i really enjoyed writing this for purely selfish reasons and i share it just for that too! hehe

If there was a chirp in your step or a shine in your aura, nobody commented. But you could fucking feel it and wanted to make it stop. But how could you? Zoro's morning text just made your day and the thought of finally having him all to yourself had you all giddy.

After a quick update to Izo who wanted to know if you hooked up, then the Ace situation—he promised he would skin Ace alive himself. Which you hope he does. Then the day happened by you fast between documents and sorting things out to start the process of the upscale of the eastern docks.

By the time lunch came around, you and your secretary were having lunch when you heard the ping of your phone take you out of your gossipy moment with her. Seeing Zoro's name bright on your screen had your full attention now, but not in good news.

Zoro:

Hope you're having a nice lunch, unlike me trapped in a boring ass meeting. Have some… bad news.

You:

I am, not a prisoner of work at the moment, sorry to hear that. What happened?

Zoro replied instantly:

We're going to have to cancel our meet up. Someone fucked something up in America and I'll be leaving after this meeting for a few days to see what's going on.

You deflated completely, your perky demeanor so gone that even your secretary asked if there was anything wrong.

You:

Oh, shit. It's okay, I understand. Trust me, have a safe trip to the States 😘

You assured your secretary everything was okay and thought he wouldn't probably text back. Instead, he decided to give you a call. You were very surprised by this, excusing yourself a moment to go far away from the people. "Hello?" You answered a little dubious, perhaps he butt dialed?

But his deep voice came out just as clear, "Love." You couldn't deny the way the new nickname settled on you made your knees weak a little. But you wouldn't let it show, not right now.

You could hear the exasperated sigh that left his body, "you sound upset," you quipped back playfully. He chuckled a little, "I am upset. Was looking forward to dessert tonight."

You could feel the heat rise to your ears, the reminder of the promise lingering with an air of desire. "Me too. But you know, work is work," you answered like a kid not getting their promised candy. He was not any better, listening to your voice on the phone made him just want to drop everything, but if he was anything but disciplined. "Fuck work, I'm so firing someone today."

This made an honest laugh leave your body that made him relax in his chair, "I really wanted to see you." He added, this time softer, warmer and it made you happy, to see he was not the only one feeling this.

"Me too, kinda' miss those lips on me." He groaned in return as you laughed softly once again. "Please, don't do this to me now. I might not even make it to the airport."

He's so cute like this. "And we wouldn't want that, of course." You answered back teasingly. "I don't want it, it's such bad timing." He complained, almost child-like.

It was all really cute, honestly. "Go, Zoro. I'll be right here when you come back," you promised him, "I'll take care of you once you're back."

You could hear him take a breath in, "Promise?"

"Pinky swear, love"

He chuckled, satisfied with the answer, "I'll make it as quick as possible." You looked at the flower on the bushes, wondering if they always looked this cute. "Please do."

The call ended on a light note and some promises that had to be kept or you'd combust.

Later that night, after having to bring some documents home and a wine bottle. Zoro's name lights up on your phone.

Zoro:

Landed. Missing you already. Promise me you’re behaving.

You:

Depends on your definition of behaving 😇

Zoro:

Don’t make me get on the next flight back. I will.

Next day, during work:

You:

You alive or did corporate America eat you?

Zoro:

Barely alive. Missed lunch because these suits can’t get their shit together. Thinking about you is the only thing keeping me sane. How's work over there?

You:

You’re so dramatic. 😭 But also you’re cute. I'm swamped, like pulling nights kind of swamp.

Zoro:

Take good care of yourself. Don't wanna see you all burnt out, love.

That evening:

Zoro:

Can’t sleep. Jetlag. Wanna hear your voice.

You:

If I call you right now I’ll end up saying things I shouldn’t. 😳

Zoro:

That’s exactly why you should.

Day before his return:

You:

Are you back tomorrow?

Zoro:

Yeah. You’re the first person I wanna see.

You:

Come visit me for lunch then, Mr. Businessman. 🍱

Zoro:

Careful. Might not let you leave the elevator after.

You don't know how he managed to fix it in just 2 days, but you were not going to complain. You updated Izo on the recent and very frequent texting, which was delighted, already talking about you and Zoro as a power couple on social media because you both looked insanely good together.

Next day rolled fast under piles of work, you were honestly wondering where all this work was coming from because it had you really stressed, and it showed. And honestly? The only person helping you pull through was Zoro, the idea of seeing him today made you pull through the morning rush of paperwork while still looking half decent.

You were waiting by the lobby of the building where the restaurant was, scrolling through your phone when you caught sight of him—Zoro, in a crisp dark suit, no tie, a few buttons undone like he couldn't be bothered, walking toward you with that lazy, confident stride that made your chest tighten.

His hair was messy, probably from rushing through home to change after arriving. His eyes locked on you like he could eat you alive.

"Hey, love," he said, voice low enough to feel like a secret.

You barely had time to respond before he leaned down, pressed a quick kiss to your temple—innocent enough for the public, but the way his hand brushed the small of your back made heat bloom under your skin.

"You look great," he muttered under his breath, just for you.

You guided him toward the elevator, pretending you weren't wildly aware of how good he looked, or how many people were definitely stealing glances.

The elevator dinged open. Empty.

You both stepped inside.

The moment the doors slid shut, he was on you—backing you into the mirrored wall, mouth claiming yours in a kiss so fierce and starved it knocked the breath from your lungs.

You gasped against his mouth, fingers tangling in his shirt. His hands framed your face, tilting it up so he could kiss you deeper, slower, like he needed to make it count.

"Fuck," he muttered, forehead pressing against yours when he finally pulled back. His breathing was rough, like he'd just fought a damn battle. "Been thinking about this for days," he confessed.

You grinned, breathless. Lip gloss smeared between each other. "Guess I was worth surviving corporate America for." He laughed—low and sinful—then kissed you again, softer this time, slower, like he was memorizing the taste of you.

The elevator chimed.

You barely had time to fix your hair before the doors opened to your floor, and a group of people nearly walked into you both.

Zoro just smirked, tugged you protectively into his side, and whispered against your ear:

"Next time, I'm not letting you get away that easily."

You finally made it to a sky-high restaurant with an amazing view. “I promised I’ll take care of you once you’re back, so this is on me.” Zoro just gave you a long stare and flicked on your forehead softly. “Over my dead body, you yourself are enough, silly.”

You found a corner booth, and Zoro slid beside you, not across from you. You raised an eyebrow at that, but he said nothing, heart stupidly happy at how natural it felt. He just sat back, one arm thrown lazily over the backrest behind you, like he couldn't help but keep you close.

"So," you said, grinning over your menu. "Survived America?"

Zoro gave a grunt, rolling his eyes. "Barely. Bunch of idiots. Took everything not to walk out halfway through the meetings." He looked over at you, smirking a little softer now. "Only stayed because of the promise you made."

You felt your cheeks warm, hiding behind your menu. "Oh, come on," you teased.

"What?", he quipped, smirking at your flustering.

You kicked him lightly under the table to hide how flustered you were to no avail. He just chuckled, grabbing a fry from the little basket the waiter dropped off.

The conversation flowed so easily after that—

Between bites of food, you caught up: work chaos, stupid office gossip, your secretary's latest crush, Ace still being Ace (Zoro muttered something about "wringing his neck" that made you snort into your drink).

Zoro listened like it was the most important story he'd ever heard. Leaning in, nodding, sometimes reaching out to tuck a strand behind your ear without thinking.

But God, he made it hard.

"And you?" you asked finally, poking a fry at him. "Other than almost murdering your team?" Zoro shrugged, catching the fry from your hand and eating it— smirking when your mouth dropped open a little at his boldness.

"Nothing interesting. Meetings, flights, missing you."

He said it like he was telling you what the weather was—casual, simple—but his eyes pinned you to your seat.

You opened your mouth to answer but the heat rising up your neck gave you away first. Zoro just grinned like he knew exactly what he was doing.

"You look tired, though," he said, brushing his thumb lightly against the corner of your mouth to catch a crumb. His voice dropped lower. "Working too hard, huh?"

You swallowed thickly, nodding.

"I don't like it," he said simply. "You need to rest too. Not just work yourself into the ground."

The way he said it—not bossy, not teasing, just worried—it wrapped around you like a hug you didn’t know you needed.

"I'll rest soon," you promised, voice quieter. "I know," he muttered, like he was already planning to make sure of it himself.

You finished your food between more soft teasing and warm glances that spoke louder than words. By the time lunch ended, you didn't realize you hadn't stopped smiling once.

At the door, he caught your hand for a moment—not pulling you closer, just lacing your fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He squeezed your hand once, then let go, walking you back to your building. The connection between you thrummed—strong, steady, impossible to ignore.

And you knew, deep in your chest:

This wasn't just flirting anymore.

This was becoming something real.

The next few days blurred into each other.

Work picked up like it had a personal vendetta against you, and overtime became your new normal. You barely had time to breathe, much less flirt—but Zoro never let you drift too far.

Texts here and there. Short calls on your late drives home. Little pictures he sent you—sometimes of his food with captions like "missing my lunch date," sometimes of sunsets with no caption at all, just because he thought you'd like them after you told him you loved them.

It was easy. Comfortable in a way that almost scared you. You didn't have to play games or play hard to get. He just… chose you. Quietly, consistently, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

And fuck, you wanted to see him again. You needed to see him.

You were working late again when you heard the buzz of your office intercom. You blinked at it, frowning. You hadn't ordered anything, had you?

"Miss, uh," the receptionist's voice crackled through, sounding a little flustered. "There's a, uh… a very large man here. Says he's here for you?"

You stifled a laugh.

Only one man fit that description.

"Send him up," you said, already smiling.

A few minutes later, Zoro walked in—a casual black t-shirt clinging to him obscenely well and gray sweatpants, a paper bag in one hand, and that lazy, confident smirk aimed right at you.

"You're gonna work yourself into an early grave," he said by way of greeting, setting the bag on your desk.

You dropped your pen and leaned back in your chair, smiling up at him. "Maybe," you teased. "But at least I'll die sexy." He snorted, reaching out to flick your forehead gently. "Idiot."

Your heart squeezed at how easy it was to fall back into this—how he made the whole world feel lighter just by standing in the room. "You brought me dinner?" you asked, pretending to bat your lashes at him.

"Yeah," he said, pulling containers. "Because you suck at taking care of yourself. And because," he added, tone softening, "I missed you." You didn't even bother hiding the way your face lit up. You just stood, walked around the desk, and hugged him.

He stiffened for half a second—like he wasn't expecting it— but then melted, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you tight against him. You stayed like that longer than you probably should have. No talking. Just breathing in each other.

When you finally pulled back, he caught your chin between his fingers. The look in his eyes made your stomach flip—hot and full so many things he hadn't said out loud yet.

"Eat first," he murmured. "Then I'm not letting you out of my hands again."

Zoro nudged you toward the couch, his hand heavy and warm against the lower back. "Sit," he said, voice leaving no room for argument. His other hand was already unpacking the food he brought, laying it out neatly on your coffee table.

You sank down onto the plush couch, your muscles grateful even if your brain was still in work mode. "You know," you teased lightly, "you're bossier than my real boss."

Zoro smirked, crouching down in front of you to unpack the last container. He was so close you could see every little scar on his arms, the vein running along his hand flexing as he moved. "Yeah? Guess you like it though," he muttered, glancing up through his lashes. The look made your stomach flutter violently.

He pressed a pair of chopsticks into your hand, then plopped beside you, his thigh pressing against yours like he couldn't stand even a few inches of distance. "Eat," he leaned closer, voice dipping lower. "You promised me you'd take care of yourself. Don't make me put you over my knee."

You almost choked on air at that, shooting him a glare that only made him chuckle low and dark. He didn't even move away—just stretched his arm across the back of the couch, thumb lightly stroking your shoulder as you ate.

It should've been distracting—hell, it was distracting—but also comforting. Like he was telling your overworked brain, I'm here. You're not alone.

Between mouthfuls, you bickered playfully. He lectured you for working too late. You snapped back that he was being dramatic. He muttered something about kidnapping you for a "mandatory vacation" and you just laughed until your chest hurt.

And when you finally put the container down, patting your stomach, Zoro's expression changed.

He stood. Slow. Purposeful.

Your breath caught as he walked toward the door. Without a word, he reached out and locked it with a soft click, turning the bold in place.

Then he turned back to you, his eyes dark and hungry in the dim light of your office.

"You ate," he said simply, voice like velvet and steel. "Good girl."

Your pulse roared in your ears.

He crossed the room in three long strides, grabbed you by the wrist—gently but firmly—and pulled you up into him. You barely had a second to gasp before his mouth was on yours.

Hot. Demanding.

His hands cradled your face, tilting it just the way he wanted, like he couldn't get enough of you. The kiss deepened fast—his tongue sliding against yours, tasting you, owning you, taking his time like he had all night to ruin you.

You moaned into his mouth, fingers fisting in the front of his t-shirt, desperate for more contact. Zoro chuckled low, the sound rumbling against your chest.

"Missed this," he breathed against your lips. "Missed you."

One of his hands slid down your body, gripping your ass with a low groan, pulling you flush against the hard line of him. You whimpered at the friction, your body reacting instinctively—grinding against him, needing more.

He pulled back just enough to look down on you, eyes heavy-lidded and burning.

"You've been working so hard, love," he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth, your jaw, down to your throat where he nipped lightly—just enough to make you gasp. "You deserve to be taken care of."

You shivered, hands clawing at his t-shirt, needing more, needing him. "Please," you whispered, voice cracking with how much you needed him.

It was all he needed to hear.

Zoro slid his hands down, gripping your hips, lifting you easily until you were straddling him as he sank down onto the couch. Your skirt rode up high around your waist, leaving you wide open for him.

He leaned back just enough to take you in, his hands smoothing down your thighs, slow and reverent.

"Look at you," he murmured, voice rough. His thumb brushed the thin strap of your thong peeking from beneath your shirt. "God, look at you." His hands roamed up your sides, finding the first button of your blouse. Slowly, teasingly, he undid it. Then the next. And the next. Kissing the newly exposed skin with every reveal.

When he spread the blouse open, his breath hitched slightly—a rare, genuine moment where you could see how hard he was trying to hold himself back. "So fucking beautiful," he rasped, voice low and awed.

You tried to tease him, make some smartass comment, but it died on your tongue when his hands cupped your bare waist, sliding under your bra, thumbs stroking the soft curve of you.

"You work so hard," Zoro murmured, leaning up to kiss your collarbone, the swell of your chest, soft and worshipful. "Always pushing yourself. Always taking care of everyone else." He kissed the hollow of your throat, making you shiver. "Let me take care of you tonight, love."

You shivered under his touch, the heat between you both practically humming now. Zoro tugged you even closer, grinding you down against the hard length straining beneath his sweatpants.

The friction made you gasp—your hands clutching at his shoulders for balance. "Sensitive, huh?" he teased against your throat, nipping the skin there. "Been working too much. Neglecting yourself."

You opened to snap back, but all that came out was a whimper when he rocked up against you again, slow and devastating. "Bet you're already dripping for me," he murmured, voice smug and low. "Can feel it through your panties, love."

You flushed hard, trying to hide your face in his neck—but Zoro caught your chin and made you look at him.

"Nah. Don't hide from me," he said, voice a rough whisper. "Wanna see everything." His fingers slid under your skirt, tracing the edge of your soaked thong, teasing, barely touching where you needed him the most. You jerked your hips, desperate for friction—but he pulled back just enough to make you whine.

"You know…" he said lazily, pretending to think as his fingers ghosted your pussy softly through the soaked fabric of your underwear, "we could get caught."

You blinked, half-dazed from the teasing. "W-what?"

Zoro smirked, sinful and knowing. "Someone could come up. Hear you whimpering like this," he said, slipping one finger under the thin fabric and dragging it slowly against your folds, making you shudder. "See you grinding on me like a needy little thing."

You tried to hold a moan, coming out as a whispered curse instead, hips bucking against his teasing fingers. "But…" he leaned in, biting your earlobe lightly, "I checked the floor before I came up." His voice dropped, molten with amusement. "Not a soul but you and me here, sweetheart."

You let out a shaky breath, half-relieved, half-crazed with want. "You're evil," you muttered against his mouth, and he chuckled, kissing you hard enough to steal the words right out of your brain.

"Yeah?" he rumbled. "Still gonna let me take care of you?"

You nodded, unable to speak.

Zoro kissed you again—slow this time, almost tender— and then he shifted, lifting you like you weighed nothing. He laid you back on the couch, stepping back just enough to peel your blouse open the rest of the way, letting it fall off your shoulders.

His hands ran reverently down your bare skin, eyes drinking you in like he was starving. Then, with deliberate slowness, he reached down, undid your belt, and slid your skirt down your hips, tossing it aside without looking away from you once.

You lay there, flushed and panting in just your bra and thong, blinking up at him. "Look at you," he whispered again, almost like he couldn't believe it. "Fuck, you're a vision." You reached for him, needing his touch—but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them lightly against the cushions, grinning wickedly down at you.

"Not yet," he said. "Gotta reward you properly first."

And then he dropped to his knees in front of the couch, tugging your hips toward the edge with a sure, rough touch. You gasped as he pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another, working his way higher, the stubble on his jaw scratching deliciously against your sensitive skin.

"Been thinking about this for weeks," he muttered against you, voice so dark it made your toes curl. When he finally hooked his fingers under your thong and pulled it down slowly, you thought you might lose your mind entirely.

He looked up at you once—eyes blown wide, pupils dark and greedy— and then he buried his face between your thighs like a man starved, growling low in his throat as he finally, finally tasted you.   

You cried out—sharp and broken—your back arching off the couch as Zoro's mouth finally closed over you. He groaned like you were the one feeding him, like he'd been starving for the taste of you.

His tongue licked a slow, devastating stripe up your center before latching onto your clit with a pleasure that made your legs tremble. "Zoro—!" you gasped, hands flying to his hair without thinking, fisting in the messy green strands.

He didn't slow down. If anything, your desperate noises only spurred him on. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, anchoring you to him, grinding his mouth into you like he could pull every moan, every shiver straight from your soul.

"Fuck you taste so good," he growled against you, voice vibrating right through your core. "Could stay down here all goddamn night." You sobbed a sound that might've been his name, grinding helplessly against his face. Zoro just chuckled, deep and wrecked, slipping two thick fingers inside you with maddening ease.

You clenched around them instantly, the stretch making your vision white out for a second. "That's it, love," he muttered, thrusting them slowly, careful drags as his tongue circled your clit mercilessly. "So tight. So good for me."

You couldn't stop the sounds tearing out from your throat—the office walls catching your whimpers and bouncing them back at you, making it feel even filthier, even more forbidden.

Zoro pulled back just enough to pant against your soaked skin, his breath hot and shaky. "God, look at you," he rasped, two fingers still working deep inside you. "You look so delicious, so wrecked for me."

You babbled something that wasn't even English anymore, hips bucking up, chasing his mouth. He gave you what you needed—dipping back down, flattening his tongue against your clit and sucking with just the right amount of pressure.

It was too much and not enough.

You peaked with a cry, your orgasm slamming into you like a freight train. Zoro growled in satisfaction, fucking you through it with slow, lazy strokes of his fingers, letting you ride his face shamelessly until you finally sagged against the couch, boneless and gasping.

He pulled back slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, looking up at you like you were something divine.

"Fucking gorgeous," he muttered, voice raw.

You were still panting, your skin buzzing, when Zoro stood up, towering over you. When you managed to look up at him—barely aware after that mind blowing orgasm— he was pulling his t-shirt over his head, tossing it aside—every muscle in his chest and arms flexing under the low office lights.

He was giving you that look again—hungry, possessive, yours.

"Not done with you yet," he said, voice dark and steady. "Turn around, pretty girl. Face down, ass up."

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up.

You stumbled off the couch, hands bracing against the cool surface of your desk as you heard Zoro stepping behind you.

You felt his hand glide up the back of your thigh, kneading the soft flesh of your ass appreciatively. He thought briefly of just stopping now, but your ass perched on that desk just made you irresistible, and he was but a man, a very whipped man right now.

He leaned in close—his chest warm against your back, his breath hot against your ear. "We could stop now, you know? But God, you look so…", he gave your ass a hard squeeze, letting his intrusive thoughts win for a moment. "Delicious. Just wanna' eat you up whole, love."

You whimpered when his fingers slid up your inner thighs again, teasing the sensitive skin, barely brushing your center. You tried to push back against him, desperate for friction, but he tutted softly. "Patience, love," Zoro murmured, pressing a slow, wet kiss to your lower back. "Wanna savor you a little longer."

You shuddered, biting your lip to keep from begging. He spread you open with a firm grip, thumbs digging into the soft curve of your ass as he admired the view. "Fucking perfect," he muttered under his breath, almost to himself.

You heard the faint rustle of fabric—looked back just in time to see him pushing his sweatpants and boxers down with one hand, fist already wrapped around his thick hard cock. Your mouth went dry at the sight of him, flushed and leaking at the tip, thick enough to make your thighs together instinctively.

Zoro caught the movement and chuckled, low and dirty. "Don't get shy on me now," he teased, stepping closer, running the blunt head of his cock teasingly along your soaked folds. "You can take it, sweetheart. Yeah?" The slow, deliberate drag of him over your dripping entrance made you moan, a broken, desperate sound that seemed to snap the last of his restraint.

You barely registered the sound of him rustling in his pocket—then the soft crinkle of the foil. Your heart flipped, something warm curling in your chest even through the haze of need.

He pressed a kiss to your lower back while he rolled the condom on, careful and quick, hands steady even as his breath grew heavier. "Good girl," Zoro murmured, soothing a hand over your spine once he'd sheathed himself. "You're gonna take me so good, sweetheart."

And then he was nudging at your entrance again—this time no teasing, no hesitation. He slid into you slow, deliberate, thick and stretching you open until you gasped, clutching the edge of the desk.

The stretch was deep, almost overwhelming, but he soothed you with low praise, kisses pressed along your shoulder blades.

"That's it," he groaned. "So tight, fuck… like you were made for me." He braced one hand beside yours on the desk and started to move—shallow thrusts at first, slow and grinding, making you feel every glorious inch.

The desk creaked under you with every deep drag of his hips, and your breath came in sharp little gasps, your body adjusting to the thick intrusion. "Look so fucking pretty like this," Zoro panted, thrusting harder, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room. "Bent over your desk, takin' me so good."

You whimpered—helpless, desperate—and Zoro's hand slid up your side, cupping your breast through your bra, kneading gently. After a few minutes, though, he slowed—still buried deep inside you—and pressed a kiss between your shoulders.

"Wanna see you," he rasped, voice rough and strained. "Wanna see your face when I wreck you."

You barely had time to react before he pulled out carefully, lifting you off the desk and into his arms like you were paper weight. He carried you the short distance to the couch and laid you down on your back, spreading you open for him like a gift.

He hooked your legs over his broad shoulders, shifting forward until the tip of his cock pressed against your entrance again.

The angle—God—it was deeper, you could tell even before he started moving.

He grinned, wicked and adoring all at once when he saw your eyes go wide.

"Yeah?" he teased breathlessly, lining himself up. "Gonna ruin you for anyone else, sweetheart." And then he thrust back inside in one deep, devastating stroke—pushing so deep you swore you could see start. You cried out, nails digging into the couch cushions, your whole-body trembling under him.

Zoro groaned, a sound so low and wrecked it made your toes curl. "Fuck—so deep like this. So good." He set a relentless pace—grinding deep, hitting a spot inside you that made your vision white out.

The position left you completely open to him, helpless under the weight of his body, the raw force of every thrust. "You feel that, love?" he rasped, punctuating his words with a brutal snap of his hips that had you keening. "Feel me up right…" he pressed on your pelvis softly, right against your womb, "here?"

You couldn't even answer—just a wrecked, babbling mess, your mind lost in the pleasure. Zoro smirked darkly, his thumb reaching down to circle your clit at the same brutal pace of his thrusts.

"Come for me," he moaned, voice rough and ragged. "Wanna feel you milk my cock, sweetheart." It didn't take long—your body was already strung and tight from earlier—and when your orgasm hit this time, it shattered you completely.

You screamed his name, your walls clenching so hard around him that Zoro shouted, losing the last thread of his control. He thrusts deep, once, twice—and then spilled into the condom with a long, wrecked groan, burying himself to the hilt and grinding against you as he rode out the aftershocks.

For a long moment, neither of you moved—just panting, trembling, clinging to each other.

Finally, Zoro exhaled, voice rough against your forehead. "Fuck, love…"

He pulled out carefully, discarding the condom and wiping you down gently with tissues from your desk—taking care of you with those same rough, calloused hands, now unbearably tender.

He helped you sit up slowly, picking up your discarded clothes, brushing kisses over your shoulders and forehead between fixing your clothes as best as he could then dressed himself.

"You okay?" he murmured, smoothing your hair back.

You nodded, still breathless. "Better than okay."

He chuckled, low and fond, tucking your skirt into your hands. "C'mon. Let's get you home."

Outside the building, Zoro guided you carefully to his SUV, one arm steady around your waist, holding you close like you might blow away. You barely registered your surroundings, too blissed out and floaty to care.

But from across the street—Ace watched.

He leaned against his car, arms folded, a knowing, shit-eating grin spreading across his face the second he clocked the two of you.

Zoro caught his gaze—and smirked.

So smug, so utterly, unapologetically proud.

He didn't say a word—just lifted his chin in a cocky little nod as he helped you into the passenger seat, running his hand down your thigh with an intimacy that was loud enough for Ace to catch.

He just watched as Zoro rounded the car and slid into the driver's seat, stealing one last look at your blissed-out state, utterly fucked out face before pulling away.

You barely made it through the door before you turned to him, eyes shining.

"You look dead on your feet," Zoro said gruffly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I should—I should probably just go. Didn't mean for it to get outta hand like that, y'know?"

You shook your head, grabbing his wrist gently. "At least shower first. You're sweaty and gross." You grinned, teasing but sweet. "Just stay, Zo'."

Zoro hesitated—then nodded once, heart thundering weirdly in his chest.

He stayed.

Without thinking too hard about it.

And it felt… right.

He showered quick while you wiped down, then you crawled into bed together, limbs tangling easily, like it wasn't the first time.

For a few heartbeats, he just held you.

Then—quietly, voice rumbling against your hair—he spoke.

"I'm sorry."

You blinked up at him, confused.

Zoro's fingers tightened briefly at your hip, and he dropped his gaze to your shoulder like he couldn’t quite meet your eyes. "I just—I wanted it to be… different. Thought I'd take you out somewhere nice first. Make it special. You deserved better than me losing my goddamn mind at the office."

You cupped his cheek, making him look at you, heart squeezing painfully.

"You did make it special," you whispered. "I wouldn't change a thing."

He leaned into your touch, still looking a little wrecked inside.

"I'll make it up to you," he said, voice low and sure. "Promise."

And you believed him.

Next morning rolled in soft, warm and with a huge man surrounding you. You woke up slowly, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. Warmth pressed against your back—a heavy, solid weight—and the slow, even rhythm of someone breathing beside you.

For a moment, you thought you were dreaming. Then you shifted slightly—and an arm tightened instinctively around your waist, pulling you closer.

You froze.

Zoro.

Your heart gave a slow, stupid thud in your chest.

He was still here.

His body curled around yours protectively, his face buried in your hair, one big hand splayed over your stomach like he was afraid you'd slip away if he let go.

You smiled on the pillow, cheeks burning, a giddy kind of warmth blooming in your chest.

You shifted carefully, rolling onto your back to look at him.

Zoro stirred at the movement, a low, sleepy noise rumbling from his chest. His lashes fluttered—but he didn't wake up fully. His face was soft in his sleep, younger somehow, the usual furrow of his brow smoothed away.

You reached up without thinking, brushing a strand of green hair away from his forehead. Maybe it was the lingering haze of last night. Maybe it was the way he was holding you like you were something precious.

Whatever it was—you felt like your heart could burst.

Zoro cracked one eye open, bleary and confused for half a second. Then he focused on you—and smiled, slow and lazy and so beautiful it made your breath catch.

"Hey," he rasped, voice low and rough with sleep.

"Hey," you whispered back, cheeks heating.

For a moment, you just stared at each other, the silence thick and sweet between you. Then Zoro shifted, propping himself up on one elbow. His hand brushed your cheek, calloused thumb stroking lazily along your jawline.

You leaned into the touch without thinking.

"Sorry again," he murmured, voice unusually soft. "Wanted our first time to be… I dunno. Better. You deserve flowers or some shit, not me railing you over your damn desk.”

You laughed quietly, shaking your head. "Zoro, stop. I told you—I wouldn't change a thing." He didn't look convinced. His gaze dropped to the sheets between you, jaw tight. "I'll make it up to you, " he said again, low and certain. "Promise."

You reached for him, threading your fingers through his.

"You already did," you said simply.

Zoro looked up at you then—and something in his eyes softened, like a knot inside him finally loosening. He bent down, brushing his lips over your forehead, lingering there for a long moment.

The kiss was slow, reverent—nothing like the frantic heat of last night.

It felt like a promise.

You curled into his side, and Zoro tucked you against him easily, his hand rubbing slow, lazy circles into your back.

Neither of you said anything for a while. Letting sleep overcome you once again.

The next time you woke, it was to the smell of coffee.

You blinked blearily, stretching out across your bed—only to find the other side empty but still warm.

You sat up, the soft rustle of sheets around you, and rubbed your eyes, feeling deliciously sore in the best way. A smile tugged at your lips before you could stop it.

The faint sounds of someone moving around your kitchen reached your ears—muffled curses, a cabinet slamming a little too hard, the hiss of the coffee machine sputtering to life.

You slipped out of bed, grabbing a t-shirt—probably his, judging by how ridiculously oversized it was—and padded barefoot down the hall.

You found him standing at your counter, shirtless, hair messy from sleep, frowning down at two mismatched mugs like they were an enemy he needed to conquer.

He looked… domestic. And absurdly handsome.

He sensed you before you even spoke, glancing up with a little smirk that made your knees a little weak. "Hey, sleepyhead," he rumbled, voice still rough with sleep.

You crossed the room and bumped your hip against his. "You made coffee?"

He grunted. "Tried. Think I fucked it up."

You laughed softly, reaching around him to grab one of the mugs. It was strong—almost offensively so—but drinkable. You took a grateful sip anyway.

Zoro watched you carefully over the rim of his own mug, as if trying to gauge whether you were still okay with… everything.

The night before.

Him staying.

Waking up like this.

You leaned against him, resting your head briefly against his bare shoulder. His hand came up automatically to settle on your waist, grounding and sure. It felt easy. It felt right. And from the way Zoro exhaled slowly, you had the feeling he thought so too.

Still, eventually reality started to creep back in—the heavy warmth of the morning giving way to the knowledge that the clock was ticking.

Work waited for both of you.

Zoro set his mug down first, sighing quietly as he ran a hand through his messy hair. "Guess we should get moving," he muttered, voice low but not exactly eager. He glanced at you, a little reluctant. "Need a ride?"

You smiled into your coffee, heart skipping. "You offering?"

"Always," he said simply, like it wasn't even a question.

You didn't bother hiding the way your cheeks warmed.

It felt stupid, being giddy over something as small as him driving you to work.

But it felt good. It felt right.

You moved lazily after that, bumping into each other as you dressed, stealing kisses in between pulling on clothes—his kisses slow and unhurried, like he was trying to memorize the feeling of you against him.

By the time you made it to your building's lobby, you were laughing softly under your breath, your hair still a little mussed from Zoro's wandering hands on the drive over.

He crowded you up against the entryway wall for one last kiss before you had to go—hands framing your face, mouth warm and slow on yours. Like he wasn't ready to let you go yet.

Neither were you.

You were so wrapped up in him that you didn't notice Izo until Zoro, finally, reluctantly, pulled away.

"Well, well, well," a familiar voice drawled.

You blinked, dazed, just in time to see Izo striding across the lobby—impeccably dressed, one brow arched, smirking like he had caught you red-handed.

Zoro smirked too, entirely unbothered. He pressed one last kiss to your forehead before stepping back, like he was making a point. "See you later, sweetheart," he said, voice low and warm.

And with that, he turned and walked out—still smug, leaving you alone with your scandalized, very curious best friend.

Izo linked his arms through yours before you could even think of escaping. "Come along, darling," he said sweetly, already steering you toward the elevators. "We are absolutely having a little chat in your office."

You just groaned, hiding your face in his shoulder as he laughed.

You barely had time to set your bag down before Izo closed the office door behind you with a dramatic click.

"Spill."

You turned around slowly, eyes wide with faux innocence. "Spill what?"

"Oh, don't you dare play coy with me." He crossed the room in two elegant strides and flopped onto your couch like he owned it, legs crossed, arms spread across the back. "You—showed up to work glowing like a freshly polished pearl. And he—dropped you off in the most ‘I just rearranged her organs’ way imaginable."

You groaned, half mortified, half still dazed from it all. “Do you have to be so graphic?”

“You’re deflecting.” Izo pointed at you like he was conducting an interrogation. “Which means it was very good.”

You made a strangled sound and buried your face in your hands. “Why are you like this?”

“Because I care,” he said sweetly. “And because you’ve been high-strung for weeks, and now you’re practically levitating. So—details. Did it happen last night? This morning? Both?”

You peeked through your fingers, cheeks burning. “…Last night. Here.”

Izo squealed. Squealed.

“I knew it! I told Marco something was brewing after that dinner party. You were all ‘he’s just intense’ and ‘we work together’ and meanwhile he was eye-fucking you across the sashimi platter.”

You laughed helplessly, trying not to let your smile get too dreamy. “It wasn’t planned. It just… happened. Kind of fast. But it didn’t feel like a hookup, Izo. It was different.”

His face softened instantly, the teasing melting away. “You like him.”

“I think I might,” you admitted quietly. “I mean—he stayed the night. Stayed, Izo. No excuses, no bullshit. And this morning, he apologized.”

“Apologized?” He sat forward, suddenly serious. “For what?”

“For the office thing. Said he wanted our first time to be more romantic. That I deserved better.”

Izo's gaze softened even more. “Wow.” You nodded slowly, heart still fluttering from the memory of Zoro’s voice against your hair.

“And then?” Izo pressed gently. “What now?”

You shrugged, but you were smiling. “He said he’d make it up to me. I think he meant it.”

Izo let out a content sigh, standing up and walking over to kiss your cheek. “Well. Color me cautiously obsessed with this development.”

You laughed again as he straightened your blouse for you like a doting mother hen. “So what now?”

“Now,” he said, turning toward the door like a general about to face the troops, “you go to work and pretend you didn’t just get your soul stolen. And I? I go brag to Marco that I was right again.”

“Izo!”

But he was already halfway out the door, waving you off with a wink and a grin.

one two three

[marlboro00999]

So, tell me about yourself, Chris.

"My studies take up a lot of my time. I've always achieved top grades in my chosen subjects. I love the theatre and costume design - I've written a few plays. I'm a good writer, and I like to push the boundaries of acceptibility. People need stimulation and their personal comfort zone needs to be pricked - triggered to question if other possibilities they'd never thought of could be accepted by them."

Are you dating anyone?

"Ha!... No. I was dating for a while, but something happened that changed all that. You see, I started meeting up with a friend after school. He was a good few years older than me, but he made a big impact. I don't even remember how I first met him. That time seems a blur to me now. But I felt compelled to meet up with him when he wanted to meet me a few evenings a week. Nobody had made such an enormous impact on me. He introduced me to smoking, which became more and more regular, as he'd supply me with Marlboro Reds. He became my best friend, and he learnt everything about me."

Really? He must have been quite a guy.

"Oh yes. He really is."

So, what happened?

"On one of the evenings, he took me to a place out of town which was a life-changing experience for me. It transformed my whole outlook on life, and life's priorities."

Can you tell me where that was?

"I can't tell you the location, but it's called the Marlboro Men's Club."

What happened?

"My friend told me he wanted me to meet his friends, so I was quite keen to be introduced. It may seem strange, but even though he knew everything about me, I'd not actually learnt anything about him over all those weeks of meeting up with him and smoking. I can't even explain why. Smoking the cigarettes with him had become an almost ritual process, and I felt incredibly bonded to him through it. I trusted him completely, and can honestly say I'd do anything for him... and for the Marlboro cigarettes."

What happened when you arrived at the Marlboro Men's Club?

"The door was locked, but he had a key. As the door opened, a cloud of cigarette smoke was billowed through the door. He led me into what was a large dark room. It was like some sort of warehouse, but totally wreaked of cigarette smoke. It was such a surprise, but unexpectedly appealing and stimulating. Out of the shadows stepped a number of men, all dressed as my friend dressed, with biker jackets. I wasn't afraid, as I knew they were his friends, and they were all smiling."

So, it was just a few older men?

"Well, actually... no. I was surprised to see a few guys my age from school. Not from any of my classes, but I recognised them from seeing them during break times. All the men and the guys from school were smoking, and all smiled, looking really pleased to see me."

Was the room empty?

"No. There was a very large Marlboro logo on the far wall, illuminated by lamps and candles which adorned a massive stone slap in front of it."

Interesting. So, what happened next?

"I'll simply say that, if the following events were to be included in any of my writings, I'd never be published, and my future prospects in the theater would vanish. However, I can add that after that evening, I broke off with my date. The experience of my ritual initiation into the recently formed Marlboro Men's Youth Club transformed me, and I knew that this was the only family I needed - that no partner could possibly come near to providing the emotional and physical needs that had been revealed to me. I was filled and fulfilled at that stone slab before the Marlboro icon in ways that remain secret, only known to the initiated. I'll simply say that I was brought into full communion with my family and with Marlboro."

What are you writing in that book?

"I'm writing updates on the boys at school that I'm currently nurturing in Marlboro addiction. It's important that I report on their addiction progress, and on my level of influence over them. It's so my family at the MMC can judge when each one is ready for introducing for their initiation."

Their initiation?

"You surely realise that all the boys at the school need to eventually be initiated in the MM Youth Club? It's what's best for them. My family require it. Marlboro requires it."

Check the follow-on story HERE

[acourtofthought]

Just a few thoughts from yesterday and my own opinions:

It is not racist to prefer Lucien over Azriel. Azriel is "supposed" to be a POC but Sarah has left the Illyrian race as to be so vague that they all just end up looking tan. Which could suggest they'd be Greek in the real world or Italian. And Lucien, even being "white passing" as someone from yesterday claimed, is still a POC. He's not less a POC just because he's mixed and it's actually a messed up take to say that for real life mixed people. Race literally does not play a part in this discussion.

Also, Lucien and Az may have had similar backgrounds and traumas but they have responded in extremely different ways therefore it's ok to prefer the way one handles situations over the other. This series is full of morally grey characters and while it's absolutely fine to like / have them as your favorite, it does not make sense to then try to argue how the morally grey character is actually innocent and doesn't do anything wrong. Every character makes mistakes but some approach things with a much different lens and Azriel is definitely written to be more morally grey than Lucien, he would be Batman over Superman. It's unjustified to claim that "because all characters make mistakes" I have to like the way Az approaches certain scenarios.

Making an accusation about Lucien stans, that we "accept" Lucien for this that and the other while claiming it's wrong how we don't give Az the same courtesy in this scenario is an argument lacking in nuance. For example, Lucien being a rake in book 1 is nothing like what we saw with Az in SF. I had a mutual point this out to me yesterday and I will absolutely tag them if they'd like to be credited but Lucien's setup is similar to Cassian / Rhys. Where Lucien engaged in casual hookups with characters we'd never met, not expecting them to be anything more and only looking for fun but the second Elain came into his life there was nobody else (even if it appears she has no interest in him). That's exactly what we saw with Cassian and Rhys. Yes, these males had past lovers but from the moment Nesta and Feyre entered their lives those hookups become a thing of the past.

Azriel, in comparison, is acting a bit like Nesta did (and maybe Elain though we don't have her POV to confirm it). Where her hookups in the novella and SF were not a result of "just having fun" but a distraction from her pain. Her gambling, her drinking, that wasn't her having a good time, it was a vice being used to mask her struggles. Az didn't just want a hookup, he wanted Mor to love him despite also having lovers and when that seemed to be hopeless he turned to his fixation on "3 brothers / 3 sisters". His actions with Elain were mainly a result of jealousy and that's not remotely close to what we saw when Lucien had his liaisons. Lucien's one night stands also did not have possible political consequences nor did they hurt anyone on page. Compare that to Az and we did see the consequences of an attempted hookup gone wrong. Elain's hurt and confusion was a direct result of what happened. Az's unjustified opinion of Lucien ("he'll never be good enough") was a direct result of what happened.

It is not wrong to feel Az is being unfair to Lucien. It is not wrong to feel that he should have let Elain down in a different manner.

The bonus is a very complex scene with heavy emotions and hurt feelings and to boil it down to "well you thought it was great when Lucien was a rake in book 1 yet you won't let Az be one too!" is such an outlandish accusation against Lucien stans. It's not even apples to oranges, it's like...apples to paperclips and what seems like willful ignorance, to brush aside that Az hurting Elain and Az hating on Lucien for no good reason does reflect on his character in a way that Sarah did not write Lucien's past "rakish" ways as doing. Yes, we can also acknowledge that Az is struggling but in an effort to prove how good and special Az is some completely gloss over that other main characters were treated unfairly as a result of his behavior and while that's fine for them it doesn't need to be how people who actually like Elain and Lucien feel. Two things can be true at once, he can be hurting and we can also disagree / dislike how he handled that pain.

Has Az made any effort to explain to Elain why he hurt her?

Has Az shown respect or kindness towards Lucien?

Then why do I have to wash away his actions all because "he didn't mean it because he's a good guy deep down!"? I'm allowed to wait for him to actually show remorse for his behavior and to follow that up with actual action. "But he did feel bad for hurting Elain!" Yes, except he didn't bother explaining that to her in any way that helped her understand. I'm allowed to want to see an act of emotional maturity from Az before running to his defense and I'm allowed to look at the way he behaves in all scenarios, not just how he treats Gwyn and Nesta.

If Lucien had hurt Gwyn without proper explanation and if Lucien had said Az wasn't deserving of his mate then I KNOW the other side would be hating on Lucien something fierce.

I stay out of the Pro Az and Az tags but if you're going to reblog an accusation aimed at Lucien stans and include the Lucien tag you shouldn't act victimized when someone tries to counter that claim and to explain why it's unfair to compare our opinion of Lucien to our opinion to Az. No matter how many similarities they might share in their past they are still two very different characters who behave in very different ways as a result and right now only one of those characters has undeserved bitterness toward the other. Lucien has never done a single thing to Az, he has helped the IC, he's a good person who has done no worse than any of them yet Az is still spouting off on how Lucien isn't good enough.

Then on top of that, they added Elain into the reblog for no reason at all.

Az will get his HEA, I have no doubt, and I know he's written as one of the "good guys" but that doesn't mean I have to prefer the way he handles things to the way Lucien handles things because they are very different and that cannot be denied. These accusations are coming from the same people who insist it is their right to dislike Elain, who consistently call her boring, selfish, undeserving of Az, manipulative and so. The same people who FILLED the Elucien tag for YEARS saying how Elain and Lucien aren't developed enough for their own books while Gwynriel is definitely next yet for some reason they just can't seem to handle when anyone thinks less of their fan favorites.

The relationship between Gwynriel / Eluciens has turned into some Gwynriels insisting it is their right to dislike Elain and loudly declaring how it's obvious Gwynriel is next and you're delusional to think otherwise. But when some Eluciens express frustration with Az's character and discuss why Elucien could be next, we're ruining the friendship, creating unnecessary drama, and are bullies.

[not-feeling-the-aster]

Ok so I finished Sunrise on the Reaping and I have not very positive thoughts. I get other people really liked it and that’s fine, this is just my opinion. I guess I'll reread it and see if I change my mind (or not), but for now I can say that it was my least favorite of the series, by far.

Spoilers ahead

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Honestly I was a little skeptical when they announced the movie along with the book, although I wanted to stay optimistic :(

One of the things that threw me off was the way it tells you things so directly, when the other books are more subtle. I would say it’s as if the older books gave you the puzzle pieces but you still had to make the effort to put them together, whereas this time it just gives you the solved puzzle at once.

Then there’s the narration, which at times feels underwhelming, since it doesn’t match the emotional depth some scenes require. While reading I was thinking everything felt numb, like the tension wasn’t really there. Haymitch’s reactions feel plain to me most of the time, and I get that one could argue he bottles up his feelings because it’s a traumatizing situation, that’s fair. But we’re supposed to read his thoughts, his internal turmoil, and I feel like we almost never really go past the surface. With Katniss (and even Snow) I could see more clearly their deepest thoughts, doubts and vulnerability.

Back to Haymitch, there’s also the thing with his family. They are supposed to be the most important people in his life, but there is little to no development on their relationship. Don’t tell me he loves them, show me how he cares for them, how was his upbringing, show me some memory of his childhood, how was his life when his dad was alive, how did his death affect him till nos, how does him being the older brother shapes his character. Show me how much they care for each other before the tragedy happens. Because the point is he looses them, we know it. Their bond matters, make it strong enough to linger after they’re gone.

We also have to talk about Lenore Dove. Again, we know a few things about her and how they met. We know Haymitch loves her and thinks about her a lot (maybe too much) but does she love him as much? Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think she is pretending or anything, but it does seem like they are on different pages at times. My thing is, we are presented with this couple from the get go, and we are expected to root for them because they are soulmates for life and can’t live without each other, but what is their dynamic like? How do they work together? not just as Haymitch admiring her all the time. What does she like about him so much? Does she actually want to run away? Alone or with him? Does she know he fantasizes about having a family with her? Would she be okay with that?

I feel like their relationship could have worked better if they had just recently got together, they would still care for each other and missed one another, but it wouldn’t be this super serious, never-ending, magical love that’s larger than life itself. Just real, meaningful, hopeful love. Doomed, but true. That’s enough.

Regarding the theme of propaganda, I also feel like it wasn’t handled that well. I mean yeah the capitol shows and edits the games to their liking, ok. I guess what I was expecting was how propaganda was received by the people, specially in different places of Panem.

The careers were completely dumbed down this time, there was no nuance or complexity there, maybe for a tiny moment with the chocolates but that was on Haymitch so I guess it doesn’t count either.

I liked the idea of the alliance and I personally don’t mind the cameos but everyone speaking so freely of the rebellion plan was a little unserious. Plutarch for me is still the same character, I don’t consider him fundamentally rebellious, he just wants to be on the winning side and come out as unscathed as possible. Him lecturing Haymitch did annoy me a bit though, and I don't think it helped to explore the themes like it was intended.

I'm sure there's more but this are my main problems with it. I was really excited about it but well, I still love the other books so the story didn't change for me, but I'm a little worried for a possible future book now. We'll see how it goes.

Also I wanted to point out that just because you like a certain author it's okay to not like and be critical of some of their work. Like, it shouldn't be that serious, but I know some people get defensive. Each book is different, and authors are people, and they can make cool things and not so cool things, calm down with the pedestals please.

[the-sinful-voice-witch]

Ok so I decided to write some... parody representation of how I felt after years of not paying attention to DC comics:

Me: Ah is so good be back into the comics after a long time! 😊 I hope you didn't make any more dumb decision like the last time I checked... 🤨

DC: yeah welcome back! I think you're going to love the things we've been doing 😇

Me: oh let's see, let's see... What? Tim and Stephanie broke up? Why?😥

DC: eeeehhh... No particular reason 🙂

Me: no reason? There was no reason? Who breaks up for no reason? It's says in a panel he doesn't even know why he did it? 🤨I'm not about to see another disgusting cheating situation like when you destroyed the beautiful Dickory romance when Dick cheated on Kory with Barbara and then gave her an invitation to their wedding that never happened right?😭😠

DC: no, nothing like that and don't judge me, we needed a way to break dickory so dickbabs could happen 🤷

Me: why did you need them to happen anyway? Babs has always been too old for Dick...😬

DC: i know but we aged her down so now is ok 👍😁😇

Me: yeah of course you did...🙄 * Quick check* Was it necessary to make Dick be with so many girls before getting back to Barbara? I'm seeing he was with Kory, then Babs, then a girl with blue hair, then... Huntress?🤦‍♀️ Then he Loses his memory and has a romance with a black girl he dumps after recovering his memories... Ok enough with this manwhore, why the other younger manwhore Broke up with Stephanie?😑

DC: aaaaah it's complicated. 🙃

Me: "complicated", sure...😑 * Keeps looking* oh! He came out as bisexual? 😲Oh I see! So you guys decided to pair him with Kon? Well is a bit sad for Steph but being Kon and the story he has with Tim I suppose is undertandabl...🥺🤔

DC: oh sorry! Is not Kon.🙂

Me: i beg you pardon? 🙃

DC: i said Is not Kon. 🙂

Me: * checks out the guy* oh is true... Kon is not blonde... A blonde dude.... 🤨🤔Oh! Is Cullen Row? Blue bird's brother... Ummmm, Ah! now I get it, yeah I remember how he stated he was gay and very into Tim in his introduction... Well is not Kon but giving the context it could make sense... 🤔 he even got along with Steph... Wait no! Cullen wasn't blonde...

DC: is not Cullen.🙂

Me: Then who is this blonde dude?!🙄😤

DC: im glad you're asking, you're going to love it he is... Bernard!😁

Me:..................???😐

DC: Bernard! 😃

Me: WHO THE FUCK IS BERNARD?🤬

DC: oh come on of course you know who he is, he was Tim's classmate 😌

Me: * Angry checking* uhu... Ummm I see.....................😠This guy is a fucking background character that appeared for the first time in 2004 a few times and then disappeared for years😑

DC: yes but he was our only option... 🙂🤷

Me: no, he wasn't.😑💢

DC: But we couldn't pair him with Superboy it was too risky and only a few people remembers Cullen.🤷

Me: even less people, close to ALMOST NOBODY remembered Bernard 😡😡😡, at least Cullen explicitly stated his gayness for Tim the moment he was introduced and also he is Bluebird's brother, Bernard was just a normal classmate.😑😤

DC: coooome on don't be like that! Just read how they got together, you'll change your mind 😇

Me: why do I doubt that so much?🫩 *checks * wait, Bernard came back after so many years and go together with Tim in ONE especial??😦

DC: not any kind of Special! A LGBTQIA+ pride especial! Ahhh see? we are so inclusive and progressive 😎😎😎 so you can't be angry...

Me: and so unbelievably TACKY and LAZY as FUCK too 🙄🤦‍♀️

DC: but they had a lot of chemistry, people wanted bi representation with a Robin so Tim and Bernard were the best option!🥺

Me: eh no, they aren't 🙎‍♀️. Good representation is always nice but people simply wanted him and Kon to be bisexuals so TimKon would be canon but you just picked up the most cardboard irrelevant background character you could 🙄 and forced them to be together in the most rushed tacky way possible!🫩 You don't just do that in one special issue! You were supposed to reintroduce Bernard in a believable way, make Tim see him again after so many years and start talking, make them have some romantic tension that makes Tim be confused and then let them have a date and you have to visually show us ALL that in more than one issue not just put a text saying: "we reconnected out of no reason and now we have a date" 🤦‍♀️and just show us that date without seeing the process before that. A pride special issue is to create special stories for already established LGBT couples that people know beforehand not to start a new one, because then it feels rushed and out of nowhere!😤😮‍💨

DC: wow how toxic and homophobic you're being...😒

Me: im not sorry to inform you 💢💢 that the "you are just something -ist or something -phobic" card is not working anymore as a shield to cover your ass🤡 from getting criticized for shitty writing bitch 😤😠. Also what the hell did you do with poor Stephanie??🤦‍♀️ What kind of person who has been dumped without a reason and then ghosted for months without explanation and then gets introduced to her new boyfriend of the ex (that dumped and ghosted her) without asking her or warning her says: "I finally meet you!this is the best day ever!"???? 🫠🫠🫠 Check this shit twice before saying something so cringe and degrading is cute and wholesome 🤮🤮🤮. Who wrote that? A 13 years old Wattpad writter fujoshi? 🤡🤡🤡

DC: in my defense we couldn't risk making Stephanie look homophobic 🙂🤷

Me: being angry or sad that your ex boyfriend that dumped you and ghosted you has a new boyfriend that he introduces you without warning is not homophobic🤡, is a basic normal human reaction after been treated like shit, damnit!🙄😤

DC: yeaaaah but it was a pride issue so it had to have a happy ending, we couldn't have a heartbroken Stephanie...😇😇😇

Me: so you just gaslight readers trying to convince us that cringe "happy" reaction is normal and totally on character.💢🤨

DC: come on, don't be mad we still have a bisexual superboy too!😅😀

Me: i don't see what's the point of confirming Kon's bisexuality if you weren't going to pair him with Tim...🫩

DC: oh no no we don't mean THAT Superboy😬

Me: what do you mean not THAT 🤨 Superboy the only other superboy is a just little kid...

DC: ehhh about that...🙂

Me: no... No you didn't... * Checks * oh you fucking did it YOU BASTARDS!🤬🤬🤬

DC: why are you angry? we gave the fans a half gay superboy like they wanted!🤗

Me: YOU GOT THE WRONG SUPERBOY ASSHOLES!🤬🤬🤬 JON WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE CUTE BABY SUPERBOY AND YOU FORCED HIM TO GROW UP UNNATURALLY AND ROBBED HIS CHILDHOOD! No to mention that it looks like you basically casted Kon aside to favor one superboy over other 🙎‍♀️💢

DC: calm down calm down!!! Look! Is not that bad... He even has his own boyfriend and this one has superpowers!😃😃

Me: * furiously checks* .....I see, a half Asian guy with a hell ugly pink haircut and very unflattering glasses that casually wants to be a journalist and is "superfan" of Lois lane... So superboy is with a journalist like his dad, so he is just a copy-paste of his dad... 🫩🫩🫩

DC: yeah but more progressive!😃

Me: and he never has to worry that much about his love because this ugly hair dude Jay has the power of intangibility so nothing can touch him.🫩🫩🫩

DC: isn't he super great??😃😃

Me: you know? Bisexual representation isn't that hard to make, you just need to take the character and make it blush or flirt with women and men. You don't need to break up his current relationship with a girl and made writing gymnastics 🤡🤡🤡 to put him with a random boy to prove his bisexuality (unless you pair him with the actual boy people wanted).Seriously, blush around both sexes! People get it! People isn't dumb! 🙄🙄🙄

DC: well what's donde is done 🤷

Me: Ok,this is giving me a headache... Let's see what else you screwed...

DC: you're are being dramatic we are not that bad 😒😒

Me: we'll see about that... Oh Helena?? Helena Wayne??😍 In the main canon?? But not from other universe but from the main universe future????? She is main canon now?? Omg omg omg!! 🤩🤩🤩🥳🥳

DC: see? I'm glad you're happy😁

Me: yaaaiiiii...😆 * Keeps reading*😶😐 eh... That's not the reunion with Batman I expected...☹️ I mean he has been cold before but that was with a Helena from another universe, this one is actually her daughter... He casted her away???😠😠😠😠

DC: yeah you know Batman, he is complicated and her existence could mess with the future 🙂

Me: but her future has been erased,😠 she erased her future and became a living paradox to save Batman's, her FATHER'S life!!😫 Why is he such a jerk??😤 This is his biological daughter with the love of his life!! Grumpy as he is this is too much!😤😤

DC: nah still in character 🙂

Me: aaaaaaaarrrrjjjjj well I'll just wait to see how is her reunion with her mom and her siblings...😑

DC: oh yeah about that... 🙃

Me: what now?🫩

DC: sorry that's not going to happen😅🤷

Me:....Why exactly is not going to happen?💢💢😬

DC: well, bringing her to the main canon was more of a mess than we thought so... We send her to a more advanced future... Yeah now she can't actually meet the whole bat family, that would be too messy... Sawwwrry 😘😘

Me: you are so the fucking worst! So you made her exist in the main canon but she can't stay with her family???🤯 You made her exist just to make Batman be a fucking cold asshole with her after she saved his life and showed him how much she loves him and then throw her away in another future so Batman can pretend she never happened???🤬🤬🤬 Do you understand Helena Wayne was created before Damian Wayne right?😤😤 I don't care if in the main canon she would actually be a little sister but this disrespect to the first remarkable biological child Batman had is outrageous! How did Alfred allowed this!?😠😠

DC: oh uhhh well...😬😅

Me: wait, now that I mentioned him, where is Alfred? I didn't see him in the recent comics...🤨

DC: je je well, you see... It looks like you skipped an important arc to understand what's happening...🙂 You would have noticed if you didn't stop looking at Dicks story...

Me: hey, you are scaring me... Why is not Alfred on the recent comics... What happened in that arc?😰😰

DC:........😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️

Me: * checks very afraid* eh? Oh, no... Nononono NO wait... This isn't happening...🥲🥲🥲 You didn't right? This is a joke...🫠🫠🫠

DC: yeah well, no it isn't sawwrry 🥺🤷

Me: you just didn't fucking killed Alfred, he is coming back right? HE IS COMING BACK! Omg... Dick didn't have his memories back when he died...😰 Bane snapped his neck in front of Damian...😨 This is beyond cruel😭😭, you have to resuscitate him! YOU HAVE TO!😭🤬🤬

DC:.....🙃

Me: you listen to me I don't care if you use a magic wishing lamp or if Deadpool himself walks backwards on the comic pages and cuts Bane's head snd hands to save Alfred but you're going to REVIVE ALFRED!👹👹👹🔥🔥🔥

DC:ummmm......NOPE 🙂‍↔️🤪 * smoke bomb*

Me: YOU FUCKING BASTARDS!🤬🤬🤬 THAT'S IT, MAIN CANON HAS OFFICIALLY BECAME IRRELEVANT, YOU HEAR ME?💢💢💢ALFRED WAS UNTOUCHABLE AND YOU CROSSED THE LINE! MAIN CANON IS OFFICIALLY BULLSHIT,🔥🔥 NOTHING HAPPENING AFTER HIS DEATH COUNTS FOR ANYTHING... YOU SON OF A BITCH GET BACK HERE AND FIX THIS DISASTER!👹👹👹🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

YOU RUINED THE COMICS!!

[writersglockrambles]

Without Context, What are we? An Andor Analysis.

So, as many watchers of Andor are aware, the show was originally going to be 4 seasons, instead it was compressed into 2. With the second season being even more compressed into 3 episodes per week that take place respectively 4, 3, 2, and 1 year before the battle of Yavin.

Now, like most other fans, i adored season 2, yes there are flaws but overwhelmingly its a brilliant show and some of the best Star Wars content we've seen in years. But, i do have to stress how badly the lack of context in season 2; effects my overall enjoyment of it.

My main critique of this issue will be aimed at the relationship between Mon Mothma and her husband Perrin Fertha, as some people who've seen my blog are already aware: i really love Perrin.

To start off with, throughout the first half of the second season, we can see that Perrin and Mon's relationship isn't as rocky as it was in season 1 (Yes, barring his jealousy of Tay Kolma.) Perrin is seen as supportive of his wife and protective: which we can see in Episode 6 (What a festive evening.)

firstly, we have Perrin organising their social calendar, conferring with Mon on the issues of timing and investiture dinners that are making it difficult for him to plan accordingly. Next, we have the art collection scene from the same episode:

Throughout this scene, Perrin is trying his hardest to hinder Mon's (admittedly righteous) anger toward Krennic. Putting himself (physically) in between them.

Even in a later scene, he's doing his best to calm Mon down. This man clearly cares about his wife. Yes, their marriage was arranged and when referencing the mask of fear by Alexander Freed, we can see their marriage was very turbulent in the beginning, but he does care about her, about her political career. Which brings me to the scene i admittedly hate.

I will try to be as unbiased as possible with this section.

at the end of episode 12, this small clip of Perrin and Runai Sculdun appears very briefly. And this brings me to my overall complaint with season 2: where is the context? We have literally nothing to go on as context for what is happening in this scene, or what has led to it. Instead, its only after the finale that information pertaining to this scene and Mon's senate speech, came out.

To paraphrase the video here: Mon and Davo Sculdun had some type of unspoken alliance, Davo was supposed to be the owner of the news network incharge of broadcasting the senatorial sessions, and he would've declined the request to turn of the broadcast. This in turn would leave both Mon and Davo being disgraced and fleeing from the empire. But the scene was cut, and the context gone with it.

We then go onto to the next issue. Perrin knew all along about what Mon was doing:

Again this deleted scene would've provided much needed context and also have redeemed Perrin in the eyes of many viewers. He knew the entire time that Mon was funneling money to the rebellion "You could've trusted me." vital character development was left on the cutting room floor and now we're left with a single scene that makes it look like Perrin just decided to shack up with Runai, instead of the actual reasons behind that scene.

I understand the showrunners had limited time and space to add scenes like this, but there are quite a few scenes in the show that hinder the pace.

Not adding important context like this, just robs the viewer of vital reasonings for characters motives.

I love the show, season 2 is brilliant, but the egregious lack of context is baffling at best and frustrating at worst. Most viewers of the show won't go hunting round for clues on what these scenes really meant. As a result you have people being left with a sour taste in their mouths at the lack of context for important scenes.

All we really needed was a few lines of dialogue at any point within the show to clear up the unanswered questions.

(Added the meme for levity.)

[numberonetacostan]

Autistic suitcase and/or taco headcanons? Possibly humanized? HCs with them together would be cool but I kinda see a few of the (groups of) II contestants splitting off with the rest after the show, in order to meet people that they weren't literally destined to have certain relationships with... so they wouldn't interact very much, but that's okay tbh! I feel like Suitcase in particular would try and find new friends outside of the II universe - with her having gained a ton of self-cobfidence and all - while Taco would travel with Mic a lot (and Mic would have Soap on standby). I also think that Taco wouldn't change her appearance much relative to what her humanization would be based off of (just because she doesn't really mind it/care), while Suitcase would be much more willing to experiment with ribbons and non-brown shades of clothing and makeup and whatnot.

Hi there!!^^ Welcome, and thank you for sending in your request!! :]

I think they'd both enjoy having little collections, being two objects that can carry items inside themselves, I like to think it may be somewhat instinctual for them to collect things that appeal to them, yeah? So please consider some lovely parallel play in which they go to a creek and sit on the bay examining and carefully selecting pretty rocks to collect. They could even have a special little rock garden back where they're living, to keep their precious treasures.

On this note, I think a lot of their hangouts would more or less be quiet time. They don't need to talk to do something enjoyable and peaceful together, yeah? It would be a good way for the others to know to give them some space as well, that Suitcase and/or Taco are having quiet time, which means Suitcase and/or Taco needs some quiet time, so they know to just wait until they've finished whatever they're engaged in to loop them into any shenanigans.

Aside from ToF, in which Taco was playing up her villain facade, her and Suitcase have made direct eye contact maybe 3 or so times, all of which were accidental. Though I'd personally think Suitcase is more the type of dislike eye contact and feel uncomfortable while Taco doesn't really care and simply doesn't see a need for it.

This is something I've thought about outside of typing things up for this ask, but I think Taco would start mimicking Suitcase when she's started to join the group again. Suitcase is very well liked and known for being kind, Taco knows Mic wants her to be nicer, so she starts copying her behaviour. She's an actor, that's what she knows how to do. Mic never said she had to be genuinely nice after all, just nice. And if Suitcase were to pick up on it, she'd actively start hanging out with Taco more.

Hm, Suitcase who tends to get a bit too close into other objects' personal space vs Taco who gets very upset if her personal space is breached by someone she isn't close with. An issue that would sometimes result in Suitcase and Taco ending up quite a distance away from where they started a conversation, with Taco stepping back and Suitcase stepping closer, but once they became closer friends and Suitcase becomes someone Taco is willing to allow in her personal space, it's less of an issue.

[whatever-letmebe]

So in the LitA novel "Love Sky" there is a moment where Pai helps Sky pee when Sky is sick and I'm not expecting them to give us that scene in the japanese adaptation but also, they could right? They won't but imagine if they did?

[tapakah0]

(runout of tags again I hate it here gotta bite the max ammount) #Also. I feel like Ward's perception of Oscar will be changing from now on #Yep. a bastard. a smart bastard. But let's be real. He can survive and get you out, follow him # Mhm. Cass I think I did mention that I was up for the story, because of what could possibly be in this story later # We reached the point where I open the door, close it from inside and throw the key in the window from 10th floor

Part 13 ;)

Oh no, they're roommates now?? Hope you're ready for the fluff, family dynamics, and chaos that follows~

Previous

Masterpost

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

my youngest friend (he turned 1 a few weeks ago) has discovered the joy of blowing bubbles, or rather of other people blowing bubbles for him, and he has a delightful way of expressing his joy re: the sudden appearance of bubbles for no reason other than his amusement. I'll be blowing bubbles for him with the little plastic wand, and he'll reach out his grabby little hands for some and just twist his head around to watch others float away, and after a few bursts of bubbles he'll get overwhelmed with the sheer joy of existing and seeing beautiful things and he'll reach out as if to take the plastic bottle of bubble liquid from me, so I'll twist the lid back on as tight as I possible can because I know that little dude would chug the whole thing if we let him, and then I'll hand him the sealed container and he'll swing it around with delight a few times before thrusting it back toward me or dropping it straight in my lap, so that I can continue to make more bubbles happen to him. and there's just something really beautiful about this guy who has very few ways of expressing himself or communicating his thoughts finding a way to express that he loves this by taking the source of his joy only so he can hand it back to me over and over, to say this is good. good things happen when you have this. let's please keep doing this.

[tonycries]

One More? Please? - G.S.

Synopsis. A kiss always solves everything! But when a kiss turns into something more…well, it’s only a desperate attempt to unseal yourselves from this damned prison realm, right? Right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, coworkers to lovers, being stuck in that damn box, oral (female), mutual másturbation, spitting, fáce-sítting, máting press, Satoru is down bad for you, chóking, overstim, multiple rounds, créampie, pet names (sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 4.4k

A/N. Happy belated two months to this blog! Concept inspired by this post by @kingkonoha.

“Maybe we should kiss and see if the box opens?”

“That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

“Hey- it works in the movies! True love’s kiss and all-”

You heave out a heavy sigh that makes even the skeleton at your shoulder shake its head in pity. Goddamn, if these curses weren’t going to kill him then you will. 

“I take it back. That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

Satoru hooks a thumb over his blindfold to gaze at you with mock seriousness. Oh, how the mighty have fallen - and how you were teetering dangerously close to a stroke with each dramatic bat of his long lashes.

“C’monnn~” he whines, with the flair of someone that was not sealed in an inescapable prison, “Don’t tell me that in all these years you’ve never once been at least a little tempted to kiss me, sweetheart.” 

“I’d rather kiss that dusty skull.” Shooting him a pointed look that makes even the skulls at your feet recoil. It would almost be hilarious if it wasn’t for the fact that you were trapped. In the prison realm. With Gojo Satoru of all people. Possibly forever.

Shit, is this karma for all those times you ditched Satoru with Nanami instead of dealing with him yourself?

Now, Satoru might be going about it with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, but just a few minutes ago when his life flashed before his very eyes at the mere sight of Suguru - or at least, the monster wearing his body - he’d expected some of his favorite memories to be the ones with you in it. 

You - his lil’ coworker - in all your gorgeous, smart-mouthed glory. And maybe if he was lucky, he even expected a couple glimpses of you in his future. Preferably with a giant rock on your finger.

But that’s a story for another time, what he certainly did not expect was for your stupidly heroic (and quite beautiful) ass to jump right in the middle of the prison realm’s ensnarement. 

Although, honestly, right now he doesn’t think he’d want to be locked up in here with anyone but you - and that withering glare you send him. 

Undeterred, Satoru has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh. Laugh. A sound you’ve come to realize over the years, as innocent as it sounds, does not bode well for you or your sanity. 

A sanity that’s been slowly dwindling since your first day of meeting Satoru. Back then, a brash, cocky new teacher that waltzed into the halls of Jujutsu Tech in those pretentious sunglasses like he owned the place. 

Well, not that he was any different right now. Lounging over some disgruntled skeletons, you half-expected him to pull out a deck chair and start sunbathing amidst the bones. Your begrudging coworker - and occasional bane of your existence - seemed right at home. 

You, however, were decidedly not having the time of your life. 

“I swear, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you grumble, wincing at the bones prodding you from almost every angle. 

“Can you blame me?” he hums, now fully tugging down his blindfold to hang around his neck, “It’s not every day I get to spend quality time with my favorite person in the world.”

You scoff, strangely self-conscious as those striking blue sweep your figure from head to toe. “Lucky me. Well why don’t you spend this quality time helping me figure out how the hell we can get out of here.”

“I already told y-”

“Anything but that.”

With a sulky huff, Satoru peers down at you, “Then we just wait till someone gets us out of here. I’m sure Megumi-chan is just tearing his emo hair out trying to unseal this thing.”

“...”

“You’re absolutely correct, Yuji then. Or…” he tilts his head towards a sad pile of bones, “We end up like our little friend over there. Though I’d make a far better looking skeleton-”

You don’t hear the rest of Satoru’s rant over the small noise of concern that falls from your lips. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach at the fact that yes you really were stuck in the prison realm with Gojo Satoru. Possibly forever. And no this wasn’t some strange dream like when you and Shoko accidentally raided the wrong brownie box in the kitchen.

Shit. 

And perhaps it showed on your face, because you’re jolted out of your reverie by warm fingers intertwining with yours. Grounding. Satoru’s eyes now searching yours with an intensity that made you squirm uncomfortably. 

“Hey, we’ll figure this out, okay?” he mutters softly. “Remember that time we accidentally set the training ground on fire?” leaning in closer now, “Or that mission we got chased by that cursed vending machine?”

You roll your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. “Yeah, and then you nearly got us killed trying to order a sweet tea. ”

Satoru chuckles, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “See? It worked out, didn’t it? It always does, sweetheart.” 

And if your heart does a strange little lurch, well, then you just blame it on the femur jabbing into your side. 

All is quiet in your little hell. That is, until.

“Hey, Satoru…does kissing really work in the movies?” 

You barely catch the way Satoru’s breath hitches ever-so-slightly as he leans in closer. eyes sparkling with mischief. And oh you knew that look - one that was usually accompanied by a lecture by Yaga, one that sent shivers down your spine. He grins, “Well, there’s only one way to find out, hm?”

Embarrassment and amusement bubbles inside you, tumbling out in the form of a barely-audible, “A peck. One.”

“Awww. Eight?”’

“No.”

“Five?”

“Satoru.”

Minty breath fanning your face, “Okay okay, one peck and a kiss to your forehead. C’mon, it’s a bargain~”

Pinching your nose, you sigh out a weary, “This is so stupid. Fine, but if it doesn’t work then I’m strangling you.”

And it’s all that is said before his lips are on yours.  

Soft. Satoru’s lips were so soft. And he tasted so unfairly of caramel apples and sweet, sweet mischief. Just like him. Feather-light and fleeting - yet the kiss burns into your brain with an intensity that you strangely didn’t mind.

It’s over before you know it. The cold air hits your lips as Satoru’s words ring in your ears, a disappointed little, “Aw, that didn’t work.”

Barely even risking a glance at the still very sealed realm, your body reacts before your mind - the expensive cotton of his uniform collar soft against your fingers as you pull Satoru towards you with a sense of urgency you can’t quite explain.

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you because shit this is all that Satoru’s been dreaming about since he turned 23 and suddenly realized that oh you were frighteningly everything that he ever wanted. 

“S-Satoru,” you whisper, breathless against his lips. 

“Shhhh, my girl. One more. Didn’t work.” 

His lips are searing on yours. Urgent and greedy, because fuck if it took getting trapped in the prison realm to finally kiss you then God knows when he’ll be able to again. 

Which is why he breathes you in like he doesn’t have enough time, and probably never will - even in this godforsaken box where time never passes. 

“Shit. O-one more.”

Drinking in your sweet gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours, tasting how sinfully delicious you were. Satoru’s hands wander the expanse of your body, cupping your head to kiss you deeper, snaking down to squeeze your ass - and everything in between. 

Pulling away ever-so-slightly with a playful bite to your bottom lip, he leaves a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. The disappointed whine that leaves your pretty mouth makes all the blood in Satoru’s body rush to his cock. 

“Sweetheart.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, lips ghosting over your racing pulse. “Y’think I kissed the wrong lips?”

Oh? 

Satoru’s words send a jolt of electricity running down your spine - all the way down to your heated cunt. “W-what?” you managed to choke out, cheeks flaring as he raises his eyes to meet yours and-

Oh.

Oh, shit. If the curses weren’t going to kill you then Satoru sure might. 

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Satoru carefully jostling the two of you so that he’s lying on his back, your body manhandled to straddle his pretty face. 

“Satoru, when you mean ‘wrong lips’...here?” you trail off, still reeling from him and the abrupt change in position and him. 

“Exactly what I mean,” he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating beneath your dripping cunt. “Now, spread ‘em wider f’me. Let me taste you- Need it s’bad.”

Body moving as if on autopilot, your knees part wider to let him greedily take in the sight of your soaked panties. Beads of slick seeping through the thin fabric each time his hot breath meets your cunt. 

But not for long - the cool air hits you before you realize what’s happening. Because Satoru is ripping your flimsy panties off with one hand. Throwing it behind to God-knows-where with the urgency of a madman. 

“Shit, so wet f’me already.” he groans, mouth watering at the obscene sight of you clenching around nothing. “S’gorgeous. You really are perfect everywhere, huh?” he mutters through lazy, languid kisses along your thighs. Tongue darting out just so to leisurely trace circles along the heated skin. 

Strong arms wrap around your thighs, the stretch nothing with the two long fingers spreading your swollen folds apart. Your face burns from just how adoring Satoru looks below you.

You buck into his touch, “Hngh- Please. Wan’ your mouth on me.”

And perhaps the great Gojo Satoru decided to be merciful for once in his life, because without another word, he’s surging forward. Tongue flicking out to tease your sloppy entrance, pooling your juices before tipping his head back, back, back to let it slide down his throat so sinfully.

Shit, Satoru could just cum in his pants right now, of course you taste heavenly. Better than he could’ve ever imagined on any lonely night. 

You shudder as he flattens his tongue across your folds, sliding teasingly between them, grazing your swollen clit just barely at an unhurried rhythm that almost has Satoru forgetting where he was. But quite frankly, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it either.

“This what you wanted, sweetheart?” he hums around your clit, the vibrations making you squeal. Sucking gently, tongue rolling harshly against your bundle of nerves, over and over- “Cause it’s what I’ve been wanting for years.”

The words ring in your ears almost as much as the lewd squelches below. Years?

“F-fuck- feels hngh- What do you mean y-years, Satoru?” 

Oh, Satoru thinks he could pass out just at the way you whine out his name so prettily. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, a hand hastily snaking down to unbuckle his pants. “Mhmm~ Couldn’t go a day without sparring with you where I didn’t think of bending you over and tasting you right there y’know.”

Your eyes snap down to meet Satoru’s hazy, half-lidded ones. Something dark and feral shining within them. And right now, thighs wrapped around his head, you don’t think he’s ever looked happier. White locks splayed out, a fucked-out expression on his face as his tongue bullies past your folds, you could feel the slight smile curling his lips against you. 

It’s overwhelming - both his confession and the way Satoru was making out with your cunt like a man starved.

Nose-deep in your pussy, tongue alternating between its abuse on your throbbing clit and dipping in and out of your sloppy hole at a maddening pace. Mouth only speeding up ruthlessly at the way you convulse and grind involuntarily on top of him.

God, Satoru was going insane at the way your walls were sucking him up so good, clamping down with each push of his tongue. 

“Shit- made jus’ f’me. You like that, don’t you?” he growls against your cunt, voice hoarse with desire. “Like fucking my face with your pussy?”

“Oh! Ngh, yes Satoru- L-love it-”

A bruising grip on your hips, encouraging you to rock against his face. Harder. Tongue more desperate. He couldn’t get enough. Meeting your every grind, tongue lapping at your cunt so obscenely. 

Breaths ragged and hot against your cunt, drinking you in with the desperation of a man that wouldn’t mind giving up air for your essence. And it was Satoru - of course he wouldn’t mind.

Especially with the large hand snaking up your thigh, going from drawing reassuring patterns at your hips to rubbing tight, little circles on your pulsing clit. Hasty, and urgent - like he had no time to waste. “Tha’s right, my girl. Give it up for me,”

Every cell in your body is on fire, every nerve ending singing with pleasure at the way Satoru plays your body like an instrument. 

“M’close, Satoru- Hah- s’close.” you moan breathlessly, a hand tangling in his soft strands. Using it as leverage to ride Satoru’s pretty face just the way you like it.

But you didn’t have to - because Satoru seems to already know exactly what to do. Exactly how to quirk his tongue just right to brush against all your most sensitive spots. Exactly how to match the rhythm of his abuse on your clit to the way he was tonguefucking you into delirium. Exactly how to look at you with such a hungry expression that devours you almost as much as his mouth. 

“Cum f’me, sweetheart.”

Satoru didn’t even have to ask. Because you’re cumming with a strangled gasp of his name. White-hot pleasure coursing through you like lightning, body trembling as you cum all over Satoru’s pretty face. 

Hands moving your limp, boneless hips across his face, forcing you to ride out peak after peak on his red lips.

As the blood roaring in your ears bates, and you blink back your vision, the first thing you see are those familiar blue eyes gazing up at you. Holding you steady, lips brushing gentle kisses along your inner thighs. 

Oh, how beautiful he was like this.

“S-S’toru?” you mewl, still sensitive from your orgasm as Satoru shifts underneath you to sit you prettily in his lap.

“Mhm?” he nuzzles your neck.

“One more. It didn’t work.”

Oh, if you knew the only way to shut up Gojo Satoru was to say something like this then you would’ve done it a lot sooner. 

But Satoru’s stunned silence doesn’t last for long, because he grins, low and sultry, “You’re right. It didn’t work.”

The metallic clinking of a belt echoes in the stuffy chamber as Satoru hastily pushes down his pants. Cock springing free to hit his lower abs, “What a shame.”

You blink at the sheer size of him - he was going to split you in two. It was unfair, really. Water is wet. Gojo Satoru has a big dick. 

But oh was he pretty - so pretty.  Prominent veins glistening in the dim lighting, fat tip flushed your favorite shade of delicate pink, leaking furiously in between your thighs.

Gulping, you reach out to wrap your hand around his achingly hard cock. So warm and heavy in your hands. “Y-yeah, what a shame.”

Both of you watch - entranced - at the way he twitches in your grasp at the mere sound of your voice. A maddening little bump! bump! bump! against your palm as you begin pumping him slowly - so agonizingly slow. 

“Oh- Feel s’good, sweetheart.” Satoru hisses lowly as you swipe at the precum beading at this head. Thumbing teasingly under his sensitive slit, tracing delicately along his veins. 

And by God does it do something to you to see the great Gojo Satoru falling apart for you, hair tousled, lips kiss-bitten, and eyes looking at you like he wanted to positively eat you alive. It made your cunt throb so desperately, slick forming a dark wet patch on his trousers. 

Not one to be left behind, his long fingers deftly snake down to your dripping cunt. Not wasting any time before bullying his fingertips past your swollen folds, curling expertly to press down against that one spot that has your fist faltering on his cock. Hard. 

Pretty little moans left your lips at the way Satoru so easily matches your pace. Thrusting knuckle-deep into your pussy in and out - hitting that spot over and over.

“Shit, Toru- s’deep inside me. I’m- hngh-”

Satoru was in heaven, really. You were so warm and wet around both his fingers and his throbbing cock. 

Only two thoughts running through his mind right now - 1. He was right, your hands were softer and more sinfully delicious around his swollen cock. And 2. The hardest battle he’s ever fought was probably right now - at your mercy, trying not to spill all over your hands because he’d be damned if he finally scored the girl and came in two seconds.

Shit, he thinks fingers almost erratic now, he needs you to cum. Right now. 

As if sensing his urgency, your moves become more frantic, Satoru’s brows furrowing at the way you increase your pace. His hips twitch, as if trying to thrust into your fist. matching your pace as you start stroking him harder, faster. 

Ah, but alas, the great Gojo Satoru’s reputation precedes him. 

“Oh, fuck- M’gonna-��� And soon enough, you’re seeing stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - as you cum. Hard. 

Body moving before your mind, you’re clenching around Satoru’s fingers, grinding down so ferally as you edge him closer and closer. “C’mon, Toru. One more, right?” you whisper brokenly, lips ghosting his ear.

Breath coming in short, strained gasps of what sounded like your name now, “Oh- fuck ngh- so close.” he warns, voice hoarse. “If you keep doing that, I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

You smirk, raising a brow, “Is that a threat, Satoru?”

Willing his fucked-out eyes open, they bore into yours as he utters, “No, ah- it’s a p-promise.”

Without warning, Satoru clasps your wrists, forcing you to stop pumping him. The disappointed mewl threatening to spill from your lips is cut off just as your back hits the ground.

Slam!

You think you could almost get whiplash from how swiftly Satoru had you caged and splayed out so shamefully beneath him. 

You whine, “But you didn’t even get to-”

“Fuck, not now. Gotta feel you or else m’gonna cum so embarrassingly all over your fist.” He rests his throbbing erection laid out so enticingly across your stomach, leaking hot precum onto your skin. And that makes you shut up, eyes mapping where it ended and realizing that yeah, you might’ve faced more mercy with the curses outside of this box. “Besides. One more, right?”

And before you can respond, Satoru’s spitting on you once. Twice. Thrice.

You flinch as the wads of saliva hit your dripping cunt, mixing with your slick so obscenely as Satoru smears it across your swollen folds. Your mouth drops into a soft oh! of disbelief as he promptly pops his thumb into his mouth, groaning at the taste. 

“Shit.” Satoru hisses lowly, “One more might just not be enough.”

Not wasting a moment longer, he’s bullying his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. Head thrown back as your plush walls desperately try to accommodate his size.

“Oh. Oh shit hah- should’ve been locked up here ngh- sooner.” he groans, words straight from his cock. “Feel s’heavenly around m-me.” Because God Satoru thinks he wouldn’t even mind staying here for the rest of his life if it meant he got to have you like this.

You moan at the positively delicious stretch of your pussy, plush walls unable to decide between pushing him out and milking the soul out of him. “Hah- Toru s’too big. I can’t-” 

“You will.” he grits out, teeth clenched and brows furrowed as he focuses on letting you adjust. Pressing inch by fucking inch. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fights that feral part of himself that just wants to plunge into your pretty pussy till his tip kisses your cervix, and you’re drunk on nothing but his cock.

But he didn’t have to - because you’re immediately wrapping your legs around his toned waist, pulling Satoru to you recklessly until his heavy balls smack your ass. Tufts of snowy white hair - already so wet with your slick and his precum - finally meeting your cunt.

“Ah! Shit, s’full Toru.” you keen, body bowing into his.

There’s not even a hair's breadth between your bodies now as Satoru chuckles darkly. “You little minx. Thought you couldn’t handle me, but you really wanted to be split apart on my cock, huh?”

You feel almost shy under his gaze as you mumble out a quiet little, “Well you did say one more.”

Ah, Satoru thinks deliriously, if you aren’t Mrs. Gojo by the time you two get out of this then there’s seriously something wrong with him. 

But he doesn’t tell you that. Instead with a satisfied smirk, he claims your lips in a searing kiss, sucking your tongue so lewdly as he did with your cunt. Parting for only a second before pressing his lips to yours again. And again. And again, as if it hurt to part.

“Mhm. Always wanted to do this, sweetheart.” he hums against your pretty lips. “Fuck ever since you hah- walked in on that first day.” 

Kissing you sweetly with a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his hips as pulls back, back, back. All the way till his angry, hard tip was just grazing your sloppy entrance. “One more.”

Body moving before his mind, his hips start fucking into your dripping cunt recklessly. Satoru doesn’t fuck you with the finesse he imagined he would all these years, rough, harsh thrusts fueled by pure need and all the desperation from these last few years.

In one, fluid movement, the burn of the stretch hits you before the realization that Satoru has thrown your legs over his sculpted shoulders. 

“Ah- So good, Toru. Oh my god- hah-” you mewl at the change in angle. His pulsing dick expertly hitting that one spot inside you which has your words slurring together, body arching off the floor to press so impossibly close against him. 

And, well, Satoru isn’t any better - because he’s slamming his cock into you mindlessly. Hitting that spot over and over. 

With one hand, he caresses your stomach. Whispering out a ragged, “Feel me inside? Feel me right…” Pressing his palm down hard, “Here.”

The other forces you to look up at him, drinking in your whines of “Yes yes yes, can feel you s-so deep hngh- inside me, Toru.” 

You’re so cockdrunk and full of Satoru that you barely notice the hands groping their way down your body. Catching harshly on your swollen clit, starting to draw, quick, frenzied circles that match the cadence of his hips smacking into yours. 

“Look at me.” he murmurs raspily, “Open your mouth.”

And you can do nothing but take it, tongue lolling out so lewdly for the warm stream of spit that hits it. Once. Twice. 

You look up at him with teary eyes, as you take it all -  anything and everything he was giving. And it makes Satoru bow his head with a fucked-out groan, cock twitching so animalistically as it keeps plunging inside you roughly. Deft fingers on your clit becoming more desperate.

Harder. Faster. Balls squeezing so painfully. Like a lamb to slaughter, he was going to eat you up - and you were going to let thim.

You squeal at the overstimulation, hips bucking up for more more more-

“God, sweetheart, you don’t know what you do to me.” he moans, voice strained with desire and the euphoria of getting everything he’s wanted for so long. It was driving him insane. “Now c’mon. One more. Give me one more like my good girl.”

“Hngh- yes- Toru!”

You don’t even know what “one more” means anymore - all you do know is that you’re cumming and cumming all around Satoru’s unforgiving cock. Walls fluttering so snugly, your body convulses as you cream around his cock. Nails dragging down the expanse of his sculpted back, Satoru’s name leaving your bruised lips and into the heady air like a prayer every time his tip kisses your cervix. His new favorite melody.

And that seems to be what makes him snap as well - because with a final, sloppy thrust, he’s painting your walls such a sinful white. Pumping thick, hot ropes of his cum into your quivering cunt. 

“Shit- yeah, my girl. Take it. Take it all f’me.” Satoru shudders above you, head thrown back, chest heaving as he fucks you through your high. Movements nothing more than shallow, mindless little thrusts to get you both off so animalistically. 

It was so fucking filthy - and exactly what you needed so badly. He was exactly what you needed so badly. 

Now, Satoru only had to take one look as you use him so obscenely for your pleasure - eyes dazed, drool trickling down the corner of your mouth - before he thinks he might just cum again. And again. And again until he physically couldn’t anymore.

But first…

Pulling out of your heavenly pussy with a lewd pop! His long fingers delicately collects the mixture of slick and cum now gushing out of you obscenely. 

Aw, what a waste, Satoru muses as it pools below you sinfully. If it was up to him he wouldn’t waste a single drop from your pretty cunt. 

But no matter. 

Abruptly, Satoru bullies two fingers into your mouth - forcing you to taste yourself, to taste him. Pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way that has you choking and gagging around him, teary eyes just begging up at him. Perfect - you were so perfect for him. 

Kissing your forehead with a tenderness that doesn’t match his actions, he hums, faux innocence lacing his words, “What a shame, the box didn’t open yet.”

And oh does he love the excitement lighting up your exhausted eyes. Pretty thighs twitching underneath him as a slow, fucked-out little smile curls your lips. 

“One more? Please?”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[viaviavie]

OPERATION CINDERELLA-SABOTAGE [HEARTSLABYUL]

in which he rescues you from your very short-lived wedding.

SUMMARY: due to a massive misunderstanding, a prince from royal sword academy is set to wed you at sunset. thankfully, your un-princely crush is here to save the day and crash this lovely wedding.

PAIRINGS: everyone x fem reader (separately)

WARNINGS: they're being a bit dramatic, characters are 18+, makeout (cater)

NOTES: this is echoes the ghost bride event, but listening to this prompted me to write out this scenario instead. i made this for shits and giggles, so have fun with this!

HEARTSLABYUL | SAVANACLAW | OCTANIVELLE | SCARABIA | POMEFIORE | IGNIHYDE | DIASOMNIA

There was no way you would be able to say 'no' now, not when there were hundreds of Royal Sword Academy students and even more members of a random royal family whose last names you cannot recall waiting outside that door. Aside from a completely oblivious Neige and Che'nya who was nowhere to be found, there was no one you could really ask for help to get you out of this mess.

You turn to your supposed betrothed with frantic eyes, shaking your head wildly. "I already told you, I'm not the one you danced with at the ball!" Your hisses fell on deaf ears. That damned prince from Royal Sword Academy was too busy making the 'goo-goo' eyes at you to even register what you were saying.

"I just happened to have the same shoe-size!"

Damn it, why did you have to agree to fitting some missing girl's shoe?!

Pierce Charmant, possibly the most delusional guy you have ever met in Twisted Wonderland, clung onto your calf with a stubborn expression. He had no intentions of letting you go, and neither did his five other guards that had blocked your way.

"You have to be her!"

"You don't even know my name!"

You were really counting on Grim to get someone, anyone, to stop this wedding. Yet, as you are walked down the aisle by the fair Neige, you are already planning out a divorce settlement plan. Based on the number of guests here, who had filled this entire venue from top to bottom, you would have guessed that this prince was rather rich. If it was to be an unhappy marriage, at least your wallet would be more than compensated.

You managed to convince this prince to send invitations to Night Raven College, but that didn't matter. He was so excited and in a hurry to marry, that your friends barely had any time to rescue you! There must have been so much traffic with the mirrors that they couldn't even use them! There was just no way that they'd make it in time now.

And so you consign yourself to readying some divorce papers within the next few weeks, and planning out how to avoid any more interactions with this guy while you were married.

You stood at the chapel's base, your expression exasperated than ever as you kept darting your gaze to the door. You've already tripped over the aisle a few times, fumbled the scripted vows, and even called for a bathroom break or two to stall.

And now comes the big moment that you were so desperately trying to avoid.

"Would you, Pierce Charmant, take the Ramshackle Dorm Prefect, as your lawfully wedded wife?"

The prince smiles so sickly sweet, and its the look of a man who won't change his mind.

"I do."

You grimace as the officiant faces you, just as blind to your annoyed expression.

"Would you, the Ramshackle Dorm Prefect, take Pierce Charmant as you lawfully wedded husband?" They didn't even use your name!

You pause, the image of your crush flashing before your eyes.

You would never see him again if you let yourself get married. Defiance returns to your face as you suck in a deep breath, ready to deal with the consequences of rejecting this delusional prince in front of hundreds of people.

"I—"

"I object!"

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

"Grim, please explain to me why I received an invitation to the Prefect's wedding... I am calm, Trey. I would just prefer to know the details before I go and fetch her myself... and may I ask one more thing? Yes, hoW IN THE WORLD DID THE PREFECT GET KIDNAPPED LIKE THIS?! DON'T YOU DARE TRY TO CALM ME DOWN, CATER. I AM PERFECTLY CALM."

Riddle calmly asked about your whereabouts, and it does not take him long to immediately get to work. As one of the better respected housewardens among the roster, it was easier to ask for a few favors that could get him to that damned cathedral fast. However, as the traffic did pile up to get to this accursed wedding, Riddle finds himself on horseback.

He does have this awful crush on you, but it never really crosses his mind. Even as he holds certain feelings for you, it's at the back of his mind. Riddle values your autonomy, and this marriage was a massive red flag. Surely, you cannot have possibly agreed to such a thing. It was just not in your nature. You would have protested, and the fact that you are not back in campus means that something is preventing you from speaking your mind. Riddle really respects you in this aspect!

Still, the idea of you marrying some prince who barely knew it was absolutely absurd. Riddle won't allow it, he absolutely won't!

The doors were flung open with a loud thud, revealing a red-head in a suit. Much to your surprise, Riddle isn't burning red with a fiery rage and threatening to have everyone's head off. He's stomping towards you and your supposed groom, fist clenched as he throws out an arm out of anger. He doesn't seem too angry, but determined.

"ENOUGH! SHE WILL BE COMING BACK TO NIGHT RAVEN COLLEGE WITH ME NOW."

Okay, maybe you were wrong about him not being angry.

His voice echoes throughout the entire cathedral, followed by several flinches at his sheer volume. Immediately, the crowd by the rows inch back a bit further as he continues to march forward, ignoring the guards that seemed to hesitate to approach him. Pierce raises a brow, almost annoyed rather than fearful of this disturbance.

"There seems to be a misunderstanding. You see, the Prefect is going to be married to me. You can sort out your affairs after the ceremony is over." Well, that didn't seem to help one bit, judging by how Riddle seemed to fume even further at this statement.

The housewarden comes to a halt, sucking in a sharp breath to calm his temper. The last thing he wanted to do right now was to frighten you.

He breathes out your name, sending a stutter through your heart.

"Do you truly want to marry this man?"

It almost makes you swoon, the way Riddle looks at you so earnestly as he asks for some affirmation. Had it been any other scenario, you would've taken your time to bore your eyes into his and study his expression. Instead, you shake your head wildly, racing down the aisle until you have hidden yourself behind him.

Riddle has the nerve to smirk at the shocked Prince. "And here, I thought princes had a code of conduct when it came to their ladies." He turned back to you with an assuring look. "I'll take you home, Prefect."

Truly, Riddle had no intentions of playing around. He had only one objective, to get you out of here. Just as he turns around to escort you out of the cathedral, a pair of guards had blocked the exit.

"No, I cannot let you leave!" Pierce cried out, ready to give chase. "Prefect, please! Give me a chance. You cannot possibly be ready to leave me for... this guy!"

Riddle's eye twitches as he cranes himself to look at the prince. "You have some nerve!" He clicks out, clenching his fists once more. Everyone feels the cathedral heat up, those closer to the aisles feeling beads of sweat form upon their temples. Even as you looked at Riddle so gently, a part of you was somewhat grateful that he was sticking up for you.

Just as his top was about to blow, you muster the will to tug on Riddle's sleeve. As quickly as his reddened face came, it disappears when he glances back at your soft expression. Huffing out a heavy sigh, Riddle clicks his tongue and marches towards the exit.

"Let's be on our way, Prefect. We shouldn't waste our precious time on these trifles."

Needless to say, no one really wanted to test the housewarden's patience as he escorted you out of that Cathedral. Riddle certainly doesn't waste time hoisting you onto his horse and galloping away, not giving the prince a second to try and retrieve you.

He grumbles about the entire ordeal, mostly questioning the absolute ridicule of the marriage. What kind of prince thinks he can get away with it? Riddle is certain to send a complain to Royal Sword Academy regarding their lessons on conduct if no one tries to stop him.

You could easily see Night Raven College from afar as you peeked from behind his tuft of red hair. Riddle is still rambling, a preferable alternative to losing his temper entirely. "That ruffian dares to marry you and has yet to learn your name! How uncouth!" He spat in absolute distaste, and he finds comfort in the way you giggle in agreement.

Riddle doesn't seem to take note of the way your arms are crossed around his middle, or maybe he does, and just chooses not to let his blush show. He cleared his throat, gripping the reigns a bit tighter. "You will find better suitors, Prefect. Just promise me that he wouldn't be so impulsive as that Prince."

TREY CLOVER

"Can you drive any faster, Deuce? No, I don't think we're late. Better safe than sorry! ... Suit, check. Speech, check. Myself, check. I've got everything in order, but... hah, I'd expect to do this type of thing a few years down the line, let alone object at a wedding at all. At least, it's the Prefect's wedding... That's such a weird thing to conceptualize at this point in time."

He really didn't have to be so dramatic about the entire thing, but Trey is really going all-out for this objection. Really, all he's done is seen movies where someone objects at a wedding and while he knows its entirely fictional, our boy here has to drive the point home; no one is marrying the Prefect today.

So that explains why he even bothered to dress up and rehearse a speech throughout the entire ride to the cathedral. He has Heartslabyul helping him out to secure an escape for you in case things went awry. Sure, Trey's Unique Magic won't come in handy but he's good with his words, and is relatively charismatic. He's earned that title of Vice Housewarden, after all.

All that preparation flies out the window when he sees you down the aisle, however.

"Trey?"

He's blinking profusely, almost flustered himself by how radiant you looked in that wedding dress. For a moment, Trey swears that he's had some sort of tunnel vision when all he seems to see is you. It strikes some envy in him when he reminds himself that this wasn't his wedding, and this wouldn't be yours either.

"Prefect..." Trey breathed out, struggling to recall the damn script he was supposed to follow. They are lost, just as he found himself lost in your sparkling gaze.

Screw the script, he was just going to have to wing this one.

He narrows his eyes onto the shocked prince, taking steps down that long carpet. "I've come to bring you back to Night Raven College."

Pierce raises a brow, glancing back at you and the intruder with suspicion. "On what grounds?" He questions snidely, uncertain of what to make of this new character. "If it is for anything trivial, then you may bother the Prefect later. You are obstructing a ceremony here, sir."

You recognize that dangerous glint behind Trey's eyes, and it only serves to make your heart race. Trey simply smirks, hiding away his hesitant exterior with a haughty farce. "I am afraid it cannot wait. I cannot allow the Prefect to be married without saying my piece."

He doesn't exactly know where all his bravado was coming from, but if he had to confess his feelings to you now, then so be it.

Trey looks at you, flashing a gentle yet sheepish smile. "Prefect, I fell for you. Hook, line, and sinker." You let out a dramatic gasp along with the onlookers, allowing a hand to fly to your parted lips. "I have harbored those feelings for a long time now, and I cannot bring myself to see you married without letting my heart be known."

Swallowing to himself, Trey's expression falters slightly, falling into one of softness. "Prefect, it is your happiness that I desire. No matter what happens, I will support your choice."

He didn't exactly have to tell you twice, not when you hurry yourself over to his side and latch onto his arm. You didn't have to feed his ego like that, but it isn't as if Trey had any room to complain.

Pierce is angered by the sight, glaring daggers at Trey with such envy and animosity. "Prefect, are you really leaving me on the altar?" As if to subtly annoy the prince even further, Trey hooks an arm around your waist and pivots you to turn. "It seems to be so, Prince Pierce. I fear that your beautiful bride will be stolen on this lovely afternoon."

You do not miss the way Trey smirks at your flustered expression. Just as he continues to walk you to the exit, you gritted your teeth at him. "Don't say such things!" You tell him as the heat rises to your cheeks. You hear him hum at your ear, followed by the slight press of his fingers on your hip.

"Why shouldn't I? You look beautiful in this dress," Trey murmurs in your ear, pushing the cathedral door open with his hand. "And I suppose that the prince hasn't coaxed this expression out of you. I almost feel sorry for him, that he never got the chance to see how lovely you are when you are putty in my hands."

Trey doesn't stop teasing you, even once you are back in Night Raven College. He wouldn't stop complimenting you either, aiming to have you as red as possible. He just can't help it. It's probably the high he got from confessing his feelings to you, or maybe it's the part where you're unsure if he was being sincere or not. Regardless, it was fun seeing you get all flustered because of him.

You are seated by the Heartslabyul's kitchen counter, snacking on some quick treats that Trey had prepared for you. He claims that it was a consolation for the fact you never got to taste your own wedding cake. Still clad in your grand wedding dress, you couldn't exactly care any less about the crumbs soiling the skirts. "You're no prince charming, Trey." You mentioned mid-bite, eyes glancing at the vice-housewarden who was seated across from you.

"What makes you say that?" He asks you with a slight smile, resting his chin on his palm as he shamelessly bored his gaze into yours.

You snort, rolling your eyes at his seemingly sweet disposition. "Prince Charmings don't tease the girls that they like until they're as red as Riddle." You huffed, digging your fork into the pastry. "You cruel man! You haven't stopped ever since you stole me from the prince!"

Trey chuckles, and you cannot keep yourself from gulping as he leaves his seat, sauntering towards you like a lion would his prey. "Oh? I suppose that I am no Prince Charming. I'm not a pure white knight either. If you think I am being cruel, I won't stop you, sweetheart."

Your heart stutters as he slides a finger underneath your chin, tilting your head so that your forced to look his way. Trey smiles at you, eyes twinkling with absolute mischief. "I highly doubt Prince Charmings steal kisses from their crushes either. For you, I will be kind. May I, sweetheart? I do not need your shoe size to know my feelings for you, at least."

CATER DIAMOND

"Gah, it just refreshed! They've just gotten past the walking part! Deuce, shortcut on your left! Sorry, I'm switching tabs between maps and the livestream! Prefect looks is such a cutie in that dress, it makes me so envious of the prince! Oh well, she really looks like she doesn't wanna be there anyways. I'm coming Prefect! I'll save you!"

There's just this image of Cater clinging onto Deuce on a blastcycle, raising his phone up for a signal as they attempt to maneuver their way through the streets. Everything just happened in such a rush, and Cater's scrambling to get to you. He isn't like Trey who bothers to prepare, but if anything, Cater will ramp up the dramatics to the maximum.

His real goal is just to get you out by any means necessary, and more preferably, without violence. So Cater will do what he does best; make a grand spectacle of the entire thing until the prince is forced to abdicate. Worst case scenario, he's going to drag you out the door and shove you onto the damn blastcycle.

If he has to play the part of your real paramour, then he hopes you'll forgive him. He's got the suit and the desperate look on his face ready to go!

Your jaw goes slack at the way Cater makes a dramatic run for the aisle, somewhat unused to that stricken expression on his face. You're almost concerned for him with the way he grips his knees, attempting to keep his balance as his eyes zone in onto yours.

"Prefect, you can't marry him!" It's too out of character of Cater, and you know better than to think he'd ever be this undone in public. "Is this what you really want?!" Before you could even reply, Pierce cuts in with a slight glare.

"And who are you to talk to my bride like that?" It is then when you catch wind of that mischievous glint in Cater's eye as he throws out his arm dramatically.

"I am the Prefect's sweetheart! Who are you to take my girlfriend like that?"

You have never heard the cathedral go so silent. You are utterly speechless, lips parted with absolute surprise. Clearly, judging by the way sweat had begun to form on the side of Cater's temple, you cannot help but think that this was all improv on his half.

Pierce turns to look at you, almost stricken by the ginger's declaration. "Prefect, is that true?" His voice trembles with fear. "Is that truly your... sweetheart?"

A part of you feels a bit sorry for what you were about to do, but you had to remind yourself that you had been dragged into a wedding on the same day you met this prince.

You are running now, sprinting to Cater's side as you clutch his hand in your own. Turning back to the scandalized prince, you nod firmly, playing along with the farce. "We've been dating for a long time now! And I'm in love with him!" You declare, sending gasps throughout the entire cathedral.

You glance up at Cater, mustering a smile across your features. "You came to save me!" He's almost surprised by the way you cling onto him even harder, but it only serves to sell the act even further. Cater smiles in return, holding you closely. "I'd never let you go, cutie. I love you too much to let you leap into the arms of another man."

Maybe the act is too good, too calculated. That is exactly what goes through your head as Pierce raises a brow in suspicion, narrowing his eyes onto the pair as if attempting to spot a mistake. "Is that so?" He murmurs until he crosses his arms, disbelief on his skeptical expression.

"Prove it."

Cater and you freeze up simultaneously, heads turning to glance at one another. He looked so caught off guard by Pierce's demand, and there's so many eyes on you both.

"You're both longtime sweethearts, right? I wouldn't want to split apart such a happy couple..."

Cater is staring at you, attempting to read your expression. It's difficult, especially when you look at him as your gaze gets even more glossy. He wouldn't want to do anything you didn't want to, and he's already readying himself to sprint out the door with you in tow.

"Prefect, you don't have to—mmph!"

You wasted no time in snaking your arms around his neck, pressing your lips against him with such boldness. He could feel you pour all your wants and longings into the kiss, the plush of your soft lips melding into his own. How could he not deny you his own affections, not as he cups your cheeks with his slender fingers and presses back against you.

He dares to go even further, pulling back for a slight gasp of air before diving back into you. Much to his delight, you aren't pulling away either, choosing to even entangle your fingers into his hair for leverage.

Then you hear a groan from the prince, followed by his pleas for you two to stop this display. It seems that he got the point now, at least.

Even as both of you exit the cathedral, Cater still maintains the image that he was your boyfriend. You don't exactly protest, and even then, it didn't seem to different to the way Cater had been treating you as a friend. He is still as clingy as ever, closing the physical proximities by having you hang onto his arm.

And you best believe he's snapping as much photos of you to commemorate the event. He's already updating his MagiCam account on his success, not to mention the pretty girl on his arm.

"Cater, what are you doing?" You asked, unable to hide the grin on your face as Cater sets up his camera against the tire of the blastcycle. You could see yourselves on the reflection of the device, followed by the grand beauty of the cathedral behind you both. He grins at you as he shifts at your side.

"What? It isn't everyday a cutie like you gets to look like a bride. We got the perfect backdrop!" He sings, sliding an arm around your waist as he strikes for a pose. You follow his lead, matching his energy with each shot.

"Careful! People are going to think we're dating for real!"

Cater smirks at you, leaning in closely to your ear with a sickeningly sweet tease. "Wanna make it official then, cutie? Can't have any random princes asking for your hand, not when you're dating me." He is not stranger to the way you blush, letting out a chuckle at the sight.

"Aw, cutie! Are you still thinking about the kiss? I didn't think you would be so bold about it." Pressing a quick peck on the cheek, he rests his chin on your head as he prepares for another pose. "Don't worry. CayCay's gonna initiate it next time!"

DEUCE SPADE

"Grim, which way?! I can't see the GPS! ... Don't I just have to go in there and yell 'I object'? It looks easy! I'll say it then drag Prefect out of there... Ha?! I need to prove that I have a good reason to get her out? Fine! I don't care, the Prefect needs me!"

Possibly the closest we will get to a legit Prince Charming. Perhaps Deuce is a bit on the rugged side, but he's possibly one of the most earnest and noble students from Night Raven College. He cares about you more than he cares about getting his feelings across, but that is not to say he won't be honest about it either in this confrontation.

He's not exactly sure on how to break up the ceremony. Grim and Ace are coaching him through what to say, and admittedly, the process seems too complicated. All he knows is that he has to run through those doors and convince the prince to not marry the Prefect by any means necessary.

"Deuce!"

He is the one to always come running at the sound of your name. Deuce had been someone you trusted during your stay here in Twisted Wonderland, and you never seemed to stop and think about just how attached that boy was to you. Sure, you held him closely as a friend and held affections for him, but the way he sprinted towards you was a testament to how much he cared.

"Prefect!" You are racing to meet him halfway, launching yourself into his chest. He catches you barreling into his suit, immediately wrapping his arms around you in a protective manner. Then he takes you by the soldiers, looking down at you with such concern and worry. "Are you hurt? Are you okay?" He fusses, earning a shy smile from you.

"I'm okay, Deuce. I'm okay."

"And what is the meaning of this?"

Catching sight of the infuriated prince, Deuce beckons you to stand behind him. Cerulean eyes narrow onto the groom with animosity, accompanied by the way his hands are itching towards his wand. "I can't let you marry her. The Prefect will be returning to Night Raven College with me." You can sense the nervousness in his tone, but Deuce remains firm in his words.

Pierce's eye twitches, and he scoffed in disbelief at Deuce's protective display. "I am afraid that cannot be possible. I am marrying the Prefect, and that is final." Clicking his tongue, Pierce rolls his eyes and holds out his hand for you to take. "Come, darling. I am not surprised that you have garnered the affections of an admirer, but I fancy you more than this one ever could."

Something in Deuce snaps as he lets out a cry.

"But I love her!"

You stiffen against his back, taken by surprise by Deuce's sudden confession. And the boy glares, and it almost so painful for Pierce to keep his stare, not when there was so much conviction and certainty behind Deuce's voice.

"I've loved her longer than you have, and known her much longer than that!" His voice cracks underneath the emotional turmoil bubbling within him. "Did you even stop to consider what she wants? Did you wonder if this wedding would make her happy in the first place?!"

You take note of how Deuce's fists are clenched pale, how his breaths had suddenly grown haggard. With a soft expression, you curl yourself onto his back, arms hugging him from behind in an attempt to placate him. His body stiffens against your hold, but he reaches to clasp your hands onto his own.

He is just thankful that you aren't seeing the way his eyes had begun to water at the thought of losing you entirely. "So please," He chokes out, expression twisted with a sort of agony.

"Please don't force her to marry you. She deserves so much more than that."

Thanks to the waterworks that Deuce had caused, the wedding was called off. There was just no way that the prince could marry you after Deuce poured his heart out to deter him from wedding you.

It's almost sweet, the way that Deuce lifts you onto the blastcycle and fixes the helmet onto your head. He encourages you to hold onto him tightly as he speeds away from the cathedral, all the more determined to settle you back into NRC.

By the time he's dropped you off at the Ramshackle Dorm, only then does he take the time to bask in how radiant you appeared in a wedding dress. Thinking about his crush in a wedding dress had never crossed Deuce's mind before, but this definitely gave him something to ponder about for the next couple of nights.

You are handing him the helmet, a shy smile surfacing across your features. "Thank you for saving me from that awful wedding." Deuce clears his throat, shifting his gaze as he takes the helmet from your grasp. "I didn't want you to do something you weren't willing to. It just isn't right."

He doesn't realize just how dry his throat as gotten when he cannot bring himself to keep his thoughts to himself. "I love you. I really do, and I wish I said it at a better time." He swallows to himself, letting the embarrassment burn into the back of his head as he recalls his declaration. It was only natural that 'like' would turn into 'love' after being your close confidant for this long, pining quietly during the months spent with you.

You cannot exactly blame him either, not when his feelings were entirely reciprocated. You shift on the balls of your heel, biting onto your lower lip.

And in a swift motion, you lean in to press a chaste kiss against Deuce's warm cheek. You pull away to bask upon the stunned expression on his face, only to give him a shy smile of your own.

"Would you be down to try confessing again tomorrow?"

ACE TRAPPOLA

"BAHAHAHAHA! THERE'S NO WAY THE PREFECT IS GETTING MARRIED. WHO WOULD EVER WANNA MARRY THE PREFECT? PFFFFT, GRIM, YOU'RE SERIOUSLY PULLING MY LEG HERE. YOU EVEN BROUGHT ME A FAKE INVITATION! AIN'T NO WAY THAT SHE— Oh... Wait, really? The wedding is happening right now? ... Oh."

Ace thought you were just messing him again for that one time he said that no one would ever be interested in you. He simply said that to discourage you from trying to pursue a relationship with anyone else, but he didn't mean for you to prove him wrong like that! He never believes Grim until Deuce, Riddle, and the rest of Heartslabyul receive invitations to a wedding that was meant to start in 3 hours.

This is the absolute worst time to be in denial about his feelings. The Prefect wearing a wedding gown is one thing, but another is the fact that the groom is some pompous prince from Royal Sword Academy. Does that guy seriously think he was your type? No way! Ace knows you better than anyone on this campus, so this guy can buzz off!

A part of him did think that you were serious about marrying this stranger. In all fairness, Crowley's allowance pales in comparison to whatever Mr. Money-Bags had over there. He wouldn't blame you if you were marrying the guy for money.

Still, the last thing he wants is for you to be whisked away to who knows where. Ace would never see you again, and as embarrassing as it sounds, he did get very attached to you. Yes, a part of him wants to keep you to himself, but he also values your autonomy here. And if he knew you that well, he knows that you wouldn't want to be married off like this.

"Prefect, I'm here to pick you up."

You are actually surprised by how princely Ace looked in that moment. Dressed in a suit befitting a groom, you could help but feel your breath stolen away once his scarlet eyes were pinned onto yours. You could have been fooled then, and perhaps, Ace did turn into a prince as he marched down the aisle with his arm outstretched for you to take.

Ace never realizes the way a victorious smile creeps onto his face when you break out into a grin, taking the skirt of your dress as you make run for it. The crowd gasps as you crashed into Ace's chest, and he does not hesitate to take a protective stance in front of you. With a haughty laugh, he smirks at the baffled prince. "Who are you?!"

The redhead's arm wraps around your waist, pressing your body closer to his own. "Sorry about that, but I'll be taking your bride indefinitely! Trust me, you'll be severely disappointed after spending one good day with her!" He snickered, much to your horrified expression. You lightly smack at his chest, glaring at him with that pout that he adores so much.

"Hey!" You whine, and Ace simply beams at the prince who hesitantly steps forward. The redhead snorts, rolling his eyes at the crowd that are offended at his immature display. "I'm doing you a great favor here! If you kissed those lips, she'll turn into an ugly green ogre by sunset!"

"HEY!"

Pierce's eyebrows are furrowed as he looks at you, as if pleading for you to return to his arms. "You'd best return her, boy. We can settle this maturely." Ace does not like the way that these bodyguards are eyeing him, shifting closer and closer as he backed you both towards the venue entrance. He never falters, and neither does that shit-eating grin on his face.

"Sorry, buddy. The clock's struck midnight and all your magic tricks are fading!" He barks. Now, he knows that an escape must be made. The last thing he wants is to have another Eliza-episode. He looks down at you with a wide grin, clasping you arm with a firm squeeze.

Ace sneaks into his pocket, still looking at you. "You know something, Charmant? Maybe not all the magic has gone yet." His hand reveals the Ace of Cards, and it is immediately thrown up into the air.

As the card reached its peak in height, a burst of smoke filled the air, obscuring the magician and yourself from view.

You don't exactly need a signal to start running when your feet began moving on their own, dashing towards the door followed by the Ace's laugh and the prince's demand for guards.

Ace has no white horse, but he has Deuce with his blastcycle! Who knows how the three of you managed to fit on that bike, but you made it work! The guards couldn't exactly catch up in their cars, not when Deuce was dodging vehicles left and right to make this escape. Ace did take one final look back, sticking his tongue out at the defeated prince before you all disappeared around the corner.

Ace gives you his shoes, despite how oversized they may be. You complained about those glass shoes on you, and to 'shut you up', he's given you his runners.

When you make it back to Night Raven College and all the adrenaline has died down, Ace stays by your side the entire time when you explain the entire situation to Crewel and Crowley. He acts so nonchalant about things, even as you both walk all over the campus like groom and bride.

It's a rather odd sight; you in your wedding gown, and Ace right next to you as you both sit on the bench by the Great Seven's statues. Students wandering about at night had given both of you puzzled stares, but no one is ever surprised when they realize it's you and Ace, however.

"Wow, Prefect. Not even a thank you?" He glances at your slightly annoyed expression, throwing his hands up defensively in response. "I was kidding about the ogre stuff! Really!"

You could only roll your eyes at his words, huffing as you crossed your arms across your chest. When you refuse to speak, Ace sticks out his lower lip into a pout as he leans his head onto your shoulder. "Come on, don't be like that. Are you actually that upset about it?"

There is no response from you, not even a glance as your nose is turned away from him. Then Ace sighs, practically clambering over your lap just so that you are forced to look at him. "Prefeeeect, I said I was sorry! What? Do I have to kiss you to make me apology authentic?"

Only then do you look back at him with a raised brow, almost expectant. Ace blinks with surprise, a slight blush creeping to his ears. "For real? You're serious?" He exclaimed, much to your agitation. You sigh even louder as you shove him off your lap, hastily getting up to your feet to leave him behind.

"Wait! Prefect, I said wait!" You feel a hand on your wrist, twirling you back to face the redhead. Ace bites onto his lower lip, unable to keep the red from flooding his cheeks. "I really just said all that mean stuff to get the prince off your back, you know? I didn't think you'd take it so seriously."

And when he sees that smirk creeping up onto your features, he groans as he leans in closely into your space.

"Now look at what you've done! You had me all panicked over what?" You feel his breath tickling your lips, followed by the way his hands crawl up your neck to cradle your jaw.

"If you just wanted a kiss, you could've asked..."

[helaintoloki]

A Favor

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: lots of pining, eventual fluff, fake dating

notes: had to try my hand at the fake dating trope

summary: you pretend to be Bucky’s girlfriend in order to help his campaign despite your very real feelings for him

“You want me to what?”

Sam can’t hold back his laughter when you look at Bucky like he’s grown a second head after processing the question he has asked you. The man in question stands there with an unamused scowl and a growing sense of embarrassment while waiting for his friend to regain his composure.

“Are you finished?” He snarks sharply, grunting in annoyance when Sam heartily claps his back in his response.

“I’m good, I’m good,” he breathes after wiping away a tear, “go ahead and ask her again.”

“I need you to pretend to be in a relationship with me,” Bucky mutters while refusing to meet your gaze, wishing the floor of your home would simply open up and swallow him whole so that he’d be saved from the humiliation.

“You realize that’s a crazy thing to ask, right?” You retort from your place behind the kitchen island. When you invited the two men over for dinner you hadn’t anticipated being ambushed like this, and you were starting to regret ever getting yourself mixed up with the two heroes.

“I know it is, but Valentina says if I want votes I need to make myself more relatable. Some people still have a hard time separating me from the Winter Soldier, but if they can see me as a normal man with a loving partner they might change their minds.”

“And why can’t Sam be the loving partner?” You rebuff, prompting him to immediately raise his hands in protest.

“Nuh uh, baby. Are you forgetting I’m Captain America? I’m too busy to be playing house with Mr. Congeniality over here.”

“Y/n, you’re the only person that can do this,” Bucky insists, eyes pleading for you to understand, “it would be more believable if it was you since we’re already close.”

“Maybe too damn close,” Sam murmurs under his breath, but both you and Bucky choose to ignore his comment.

“I don’t know,” you drawl, still a bit hesitant to put yourself through a fake relationship, “it feels a bit scummy lying to voters like that.”

“Politicians lie all the time,” Bucky tries to justify, but it’s not very effective in convincing you. “Look, this is something that’s important for me to do, and I will owe you for the rest of my life if you help me. It will only be until the votes are in, and then we can go back to normal.”

Sighing, you let your hands fall onto the counter and gaze thoughtfully at the marble surface as you weigh your options. It really couldn’t be that bad, could it? You’re already fond of Bucky as a friend, so it wouldn’t be so hard to pretend to be in love with him for a few months. What was the harm?

You look up and meet his expectant gaze, and it’s hard not to say yes when the desperation is clear in his eyes. Bucky has always been good at getting you to fold, and this time is no different.

“Alright, I’ll do it,” you finally say, and the grin that spreads across his face almost feels rewarding. He immediately pulls you into his arms for a bone crushing hug and thanks you profusely, but his gratitude falls on deaf ears as you make eye contact with Sam over his shoulder.

The man says nothing, but he doesn’t have to when the mischievous smile on his face speaks for itself. You’ve gotten yourself into deep shit and he knows it.

You just hope you can keep up the facade without revealing how you truly feel.

~~~

Your arrangement with Bucky is simple.

While in public you are to act as in love with him as possible. You hold hands, share innocent pecks, look adoringly into each other’s eyes, and act as if your relationship isn’t a complete sham. When telling stories about each other you make sure to include some bits of truth to make it more believable and easier to remember when prompted. Your arrangement also includes public appearances to important social events, and that’s how you find yourself in your current predicament.

You wouldn’t consider yourself the most extroverted person out there, so you felt extremely out of your element as you donned the nicest dress you owned and accompanied Bucky to a cocktail party hosted by the local mayor. All eyes had been on you the moment you’d walked through the door on his metal arm, and you weren’t sure if you could handle getting this type of attention. This was only your first public appearance as his girlfriend and already were you starting to feel the pressure.

“You doing okay?” Bucky murmurs into your ear before flashing a smile to nearby onlookers.

“I’m starting to regret agreeing to this,” you answer honestly, prompting a genuine chuckle to leave his lips.

“Trust me, it gets easier being in the spotlight after a while.”

You sincerely doubt that, but you don’t get a chance to argue as you’re immediately swarmed by a group of journalists eager to get their questions answered. The lights of their cameras are blinding, and you feel like you’ve been tossed into the lion’s den as they immediately bombard you both with questions.

“Mr. Barnes, is it true you’re running for a position in congress?”

“It is,” he affirms with an easy smile before reciting the practiced lines Valentina had vehemently rehearsed with him. “I have great hopes for this election.”

“Mr. Barnes, may I ask who you have with you tonight?”

“This beautiful woman is my wonderful girlfriend,” Bucky replies while simultaneously pulling you closer to his side. “Y/n has been nothing but supportive of my campaign, and it’s with her support that I’ve found the courage to run.”

“Do you have anything to say to those who doubt Mr. Barnes’s capability to serve in congress?” A woman asks before shoving a microphone in your face. You freeze like a deer caught in headlights as all the focus turns to you, and it takes you a moment to compose yourself before finally willing yourself to answer.

“I think…” you start off with a nervous smile, mind racing as you struggle to come up with the perfect response. Bucky shoots you a subtle look, reminding you of what he’d advised you in the car before you’d arrived. ‘Just be honest.’ “I know that my James is a good man, a strong man who cares deeply for those around him. The American people can put their faith in someone like Bucky because despite all that he has been through, he has never once given up on himself or the people that love him. I have no doubt in my mind that Bucky could help our government for the better.”

More questions are thrown your way that you are happy to answer, but this causes you to miss the clear adoration in Bucky’s eyes as he watches you carry yourself so eloquently in front of all these people. You meant every single word you said, and so had he.

Unbeknownst to either of you, the lines between reality and fiction were already starting to blur when it came to your make believe relationship.

~~~

“So how did you two meet?”

You’re taking part in yet another press junket arranged by Valentina to help the public see Bucky’s humility and make your relationship seem more genuine. This is your third interview of the day, and all you want is to go home so you can put on your coziest pajamas and enjoy a pizza from the comfort of your couch. Public appearances are draining, but Bucky promises you that after this week you won’t be expected to appear on camera as frequently. You’re holding him to that promise because otherwise you might lose your sanity, and Bucky knows how scary you can be when provoked.

“Well, after the Thanos situation had ended and the dust settled, I moved into a new apartment for a fresh start,” Bucky explains truthfully before turning to you with a tender smile. “What I didn’t expect after moving in was to have the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen standing at my door with a plate of cookies to welcome me into the building. I think I thought about her smile for an entire week before finally working up the courage to thank her and invite her over for dinner.”

Though the story Bucky relays to the cameras is mostly true, you’re honestly stunned by the way he chooses to describe you. He must be really desperate for viewers to believe he’s a man in love with the way he speaks as if Cupid’s arrow had struck him the day you two met. You find yourself shifting almost nervously in your seat listening to him talk about how wonderful you are, and you can almost feel your heart trying to escape your ribcage. You know he means none of this, so why does your stomach flip every time he mentions how beautiful you are or how enamored he is with you?

“Would you say your experience was similar?” The interviewer asks, and it takes you a moment to realize they’re talking to you now. You dotingly place a hand on Bucky’s knee then gaze into his eyes with nothing but love and are surprised to see him already looking at you that way.

“From the moment I first introduced myself to James I knew he was different from anyone I’d ever met before. I think I was taken by his eyes when I first saw him, and I still sometimes find myself admiring them when I think he’s not paying attention.”

Though he doesn’t know it, your words are completely true. You could spend hours staring into his eyes and admiring the way they light up when he laughs or smiles. You have it bad for Bucky, really bad, and yet you’ve kept it to yourself throughout the course of your friendship. Despite Sam’s insistence to tell him the truth, you just can’t bring yourself to do it. You love him too much to risk losing his friendship, so you’d made peace with the fact that you’d never be more than just a companion a long time ago. You thought you could survive being his fake girlfriend, but with each day that passes it gets harder and harder not to fall into the fantasy.

“You doing okay?” He asks you after the night is over and you’re free to be yourself in the safety of his car. You’d been quiet ever since leaving the press junket, and Bucky knew you well enough to detect when your mind was becoming overrun.

“I think I’m just tired,” you answer truthfully, “it’s hard to keep up the facade sometimes.”

“I get what you mean,” he chuckles, prompting you to frown. You don’t think he does get what you mean or understand how suffocating it is to act as if your adoration and affection are just for show. “We just have one more event to attend and then we can go back to being friends.”

“Bucky?”

“Yeah, doll?”

You swallow nervously, opening your mouth only to shut it as you hold back the words you desperately wish to say. You don’t want to complicate things and ruin all of his hard work, it would be selfish of you to muck it up now when he’s so close to the finish line. So instead, you look to him with a halfhearted smile and suggest, “You want to pick up a pizza on the way home?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

~~~

You’re grateful for the fact that the last public event on your itinerary is a birthday party for your very own Captain America. All of the focus is on Sam, and the political journalists are much more interested in his relationship with Bucky than yours. You can breathe without having to worry about being perceived or disturbed, and you don’t mind being old news in the slightest.

Sam finds you outside the banquet hall in the garden gazebo staring contemplatively at the sky a few hours into the party, and he joins you with glasses of champagne in hand.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he notes with a kind smile before handing you your glass. “I’ve been dying to have a real human conversation all night, but these reporters are relentless.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” you joke thoughtfully before taking a sip of the drink. You don’t particularly like champagne, but you appreciate the way the alcohol helps settle your nerves.

“You doing okay?” Sam prompts, genuine concern etched on his features. You know what he’s getting at, and you know he’s aware of just how hard this has all been on you. Sam had been able to shake you down into confessing your feelings for Bucky two years ago after noting your jealousy over the fact that he’d been on a date. He teased you relentlessly for having a crush on the Winter Soldier, but it was all in good faith. Sam had always rooted for you two, but neither of you seemed capable of ever making a move. It was exhausting to watch his two closest friends blindly pine after one another, but he knew better than to intervene and instead chose to be a supportive shoulder for you to lean on.

“After today I’m back to being just a friend,” you state with a wry smile, “and it’s back to square one.”

“You know it would be easier to just tell him how you feel instead of torturing yourself, right?”

“I know,” you sigh pathetically, swirling the remaining champagne around in your glass.

“So why don’t you? I know you never believe me when I say this, but I know for a fact he feels the same way about you. You’re both just too scared of rejection to admit it so you never even try to make a move.”

“I’m not a hero or a politician, and I don’t belong in your world. It’s by pure chance I ended up becoming part of your little team, so I don’t think I’m what Bucky needs.”

“Come on, y/n/n, give yourself a little credit,” Sam comforts while gently nudging your side with his elbow. “You’re an amazing woman with a big heart, and while Bucky may be stupid, he’s definitely not stupid enough to be blind to the fact.”

Laughing softly at Sam’s ability to seamlessly slide in an insult at Bucky’s expense, you nudge him back and say, “Thanks, Sam. You always know just what to say.”

“Trying to steal my girl, Wilson?” A third voice interjects, both of you turning to see Bucky approaching the gazebo with an amused smile.

“Not this time, Barnes,” Sam shoots back playfully before giving you a quick squeeze to his side. “I’ll leave you two alone, but be back inside within the next half hour for cake.”

“You got it, Cap,” you affirm with a salute while Bucky takes his place beside you.

“You ran off on me,” he points out in mock hurt.

“Well, I didn’t want to interrupt the love fest you and Sam were putting on for the reporters,” you jest only for Bucky to roll his eyes.

“You’re hilarious.”

You smile and return your gaze back to the garden, enjoying the silence and the comfort Bucky’s presence brings you. Despite the aching longing that settles in the pit of your stomach every time you’re around him, you appreciate his company. You’d stay his platonic friend forever if it meant always getting to keep him close like this without the risk of losing him.

“You look beautiful,” he says suddenly to break the silence, prompting you to look at him surprise.

“Thanks, but… you know you don’t have to say stuff like that when the cameras aren’t around.”

“I know,” Bucky reiterates softly while taking your hand in his own, “and I don’t need them around to tell you that.”

Your stomach does a flip, but you ignore the racing of your heart and let out a quiet laugh before asking him if he’s had too much to drink. His smile drops for a moment as he falters, but you watch with piqued interest when he lets out a quiet sigh and shifts so that the space between you lessens.

“I haven’t been honest with you,” he says with a repentant frown, looking down at your intertwined hands contemplatively. You swallow nervously and are unsure of where this conversation could be heading, but it seems like it’s serious.

“What is it, Bucky?”

“I didn’t ask you to be my fake girlfriend because it would be easier to pretend with you. I asked because… well, I knew that I wouldn’t have to convince everyone of something that was already true.”

The air feels like it’s buzzing around you while you process his words; you almost can’t believe what you’re hearing, and a part of you is convinced that maybe you’re just misunderstanding him, but the look of complete love and yearning on his face only solidifies the truth in his words.

“So you’re saying you mean it when you tell those reporters that you love me?” You utter in quiet surprise, eyes sparkling under the moonlight when you meet his gaze. “And that I’m the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen?”

“Every single word,” he murmurs softly, metal hand coming to rest on your cheek. “I have loved every minute of being your boyfriend, and I don’t want that to end after my campaign is up. I want us to be the real deal, sweetheart.”

You bite your lip to hold back a giddy smile and nearly melt into his touch when he brings your face closer to his own so that your noses brush together. He hesitates for only a moment before finally closing the space between you both and kissing you sweetly. Your arms find their way around his neck as he pulls you impossibly close against him and encapsulates you in his warmth. Underneath the moonlight in the garden gazebo, you and Bucky share your first real kiss.

You feel dazed when you finally break apart, your heart beating a mile a minute and only increasing when Bucky flashes you a grin.

“I’ve wanted to do that for ages,” he confesses earnestly before stealing another kiss. “I’m sorry it took me this long to finally tell you.”

“I would have waited forever,” you admit sheepishly, effectively outing yourself as a lovesick fool. You allow yourself to rest your head upon his chest while his arms move to wrap around your figure and encase you against him. The music from inside quietly drifts into the garden, and you hum in contentment as Bucky slowly sways you back and forth.

You know if you don’t move now you’ll miss the cake, but there isn’t a single ounce of your spirit that wishes to leave from this spot. Bucky is finally yours, and you can finally be honest about your feelings with the man you’ve been hopelessly in love with for years.

It seems your only worry now will be having to explain to Sam why you missed his cake cutting.

[luulapants]

Do prisoners actually want/enjoy those penpal programs? Because it seems like such an easy thing to do if it helps them but like with all things prison system related or possibly white savior esq feels I wonder if there's a catch

Ask me about incarceration!

YES.

Oh my god, yes, people are DESPERATE for penpals. Prisoners apply to join those programs and most have years-long waiting lists before they can get matched. These are people who are socially deprived and often feel like no one on the outside even knows they're alive. They need to talk to someone in the "real world" outside of prison.

The big catch is that it's a HUGE commitment - not easy at all. If you become a penpal, you are most likely going to become that person's primary emotional support. If they've got 7 years, you better be ready to do 7 years, keep up with it, and set boundaries for frequency. The absolute worst thing you can do is over-commit, burn yourself out, panic, and ghost them. That happens, and it's devastating.

That said, if you're willing to take that on, you could change or even save someone's life. I'll put more guidance on things to consider if you become a penpal below the cut.

One alternative that's come up in my community, which seems like it was a really low barrier to get started, are card writing events. Before holidays (even things like St. Patrick's day and 4th of July - anything Hallmark has a card for), the group will do a pop-up at a local church. They provide names of incarcerated people who have requested holiday cards, as well as donated greeting cards. They recommend that you write as much as you can - about anything. I once described the scenery on the drive I'd be taking to get home for the holidays, and I bet you anything the recipient read it ten times, because that's how much they crave contact. The nice thing about a program like this is it avoids that long-term commitment. I would love to see more of those crop up around the country.

A prison penpal will most likely, at some point, ask you for money. Financially supporting someone in prison is a lot - incarceration is disgustingly expensive - and you will have some complicated emotions about your level of comfort on the outside compared to theirs, what you're able to give, what you want to give, if you're being taken advantage of, etc. You have to set boundaries with them and yourself before you begin - decide on a number that you're willing to give, and stick to it.

You also have to set relationship boundaries, especially if you're a woman writing to a straight man. Again, these are socially deprived people. Not being allowed to interact with any women for years at a time does not cultivate appropriate behavior. They're lonely, and you will seem like the Only Woman In The World, and that tends to lead to some feelings that can be uncomfortable for the penpal.

You also have to think about your return address in terms of boundaries. Most people in prison will get out someday, and they will likely have very few connections or resources on the outside. Unless you're willing to have this person show up at your house asking for somewhere to live, you might need to go through a program that lets you use its address or get a PO box. You'll probably feel conflicted and gross about that, too, but again, supporting a whole grown person is probably more than you're looking to sign up for when you become a penpal.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ how long does it take to fuck your brother's best friend? (four whole days)

synopsis. suguru comes home to visit from college at the same time you do—except he brings satoru along. this is going to be a long break

word count. 8.5k (i am tired of this tomfoolery)

contents. college! au, brother's best friend! satoru, fem! reader, minors do not interact, three-year age gap (you're both early twenties), slightly mean satoru (when you’re kids), slight enemies to lovers, jealous! satoru, mentions of reader having an ex-bf, male masturbation, satoru is taller + carries reader, cunnilingus, fingering, handjobs, unprotected sex, brief mentions of alcohol (satoru), creampie, pet names (baby + sweetheart), not proofread i could not be bothered i’m sorry

notes. this was not supposed to be this long bye i am embarrassingly down bad for the blue-eyed freak

everyone knows that where there is satoru, there is suguru—and likewise, where there is suguru, there is satoru.

they’re a bit of a packaged deal, really. satoru befriends your brother in what you think must be some twisted stroke of luck—there is no way suguru would lower his standards for some rich bastard who’s had life made for him since the day he was born. but apparently, he does, and you’re stuck with a white-haired nuisance in your house at least once a week. for years.

you’ve known satoru since he was a whiny, snot-faced, and spoiled little brat. back then, he used to call you toothless—you were six, it’s normal for children at the age of six to lose a few teeth. just because satoru is nine and has grown his teeth back doesn’t mean he escaped the toothless phase himself—but satoru is just a jerk like that, pushes your buttons, and calls out your insecurities to get a good laugh.

you don’t smile with your mouth open even once around him that summer, not until suguru assures you that regardless of how many teeth you have, you have a lovely smile.

when you’re twelve, puberty does its thing, and now you’re stuck with acne-prone skin—also a normal occurrence for people your age, but satoru makes sure to point out the giant pimple on your forehead every time he sees you. you make sure to let him know his haircut is as awful as his sense of style, and suguru tries his best not to choke himself with his charger as you both bicker.

satoru is gone that entire summer for a family cruise that you’re sure costs double your house—he comes back frighteningly taller than you remember him within the span of just a few weeks.

it’s been like that since you were kids. he comes over, finds a new thing to pick on through his smug grins and smooth chuckles, and you fume as you bite back with just as snarky rebuttals. he makes sure to never cross the line of going too far—it’s more for suguru’s sake, you’re fairly sure—but stays right on the dot of getting just under your skin.

he’s annoying. a jerk. a rich snob. a privileged dickhead. he’s rude and disrespectful, with no tact, let alone any semblance of respect. you don’t understand what could possibly make suguru want to hang around such a douchebag, but suguru cares about satoru—and satoru has always been there for your brother.

you don’t understand it, but you respect it. as long as he doesn’t wet your entire bathroom sink and mirror in the mornings after he stays over, you suppose you can coexist.

but you haven’t seen him in ages—not outside of suguru’s instagram stories and posts. it’s been a long few years since the two of them have left for college, and by the time you leave too, life has its funny way of working, and, well…you don’t bump into him anymore. it doesn’t occur to you that satoru is not the same guy you used to know until you come back home to visit after your second year of college.

“suguru,” you call, “i borrowed your hoodie. but you can have it back—”

you cut yourself off when you open the door to your brother’s room, and lo and behold, stands a very shirtless gojo satoru, the white-haired and blue-eyed asshole you’ve had to deal with since childhood. except he’s way taller than you remember him—just how much does this guy grow, exactly? his shoulders are broader and….and since when did he have abs? there’s a small tattoo just under his collarbone—when did he even get that? his hair is also longer, just enough to fall over his forehead and curtain those striking blue eyes of his.

he looks…well, handsome. very handsome, in fact. dangerously handsome that it catches you by surprise as you blink.

he’s still shirtless, holding his t-shirt in his hands as he grins.

“hey, toothless,” he greets, voice deeper than the last time you heard it—but it still sounds relatively the same. you think you’d always recognize satoru’s voice, whether you’d like to or not. and, of course, he just has to still use that ridiculous nickname after all these years. “long time no see.”

“i have all my teeth now—i have for a long time, y’know. and put a shirt on, you freak,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “where’s suguru?”

“what, you don’t enjoy the view?” he motions at his bare torso, like the shameless bastard he is, “most girls love this view—”

“and yet, you’re still single,” you cut him off, staring at him pointedly.

he grins impossibly wider, tugging his shirt over his body swiftly—you have to exercise all ounces of control not to gulp as you watch his biceps flex.

“keepin’ track of my love life?” he wiggles his brows, “i know older men can be appealing but have a little class. your poor brother would lose his shit if you went after his best friend—”

“satoru,” you sigh, pinching your nose, “do you age backward or something? how are you still this obnoxious after so long?”

“i practice in the mirror,” he winks, “it’s my charm.”

“that’s hardly charming,” you roll your eyes, “anyway, whenever suguru comes back, let him know i left his hoodie, yeah?”

“sure,” he chuckles.

and then you close the door as you leave—right before you stop, pause, and open it up again as you’re sticking your head back in when you make a shocking realization.

“wait, how long are you here for?” you ask, eyes wide.

he has the audacity to look smug as he taps his chin and pretends to think—“oh, y’know. just the rest of break. my old man took my mom on some trip, so i’m killing time here,” he shrugs.

great. lovely. wonderful. just what you needed.

you wish he’d drop dead—maybe suguru will finally be forced to go outside of his one-man circle and actually befriend some respectable people.

“you can’t just stay at your place?” you hiss, “it’s certainly big enough.”

“well, why be lonely in an empty home when we can have fun here?” he hums, “consider yourself lucky—you get to be housemates with me for a—”

“keep to yourself,” you warn, cutting him off again through narrowed eyes and a dangerous glare—satoru only looks more amused, raising his hands up in surrender.

with that, you turn again and almost shut the door when he calls for you—“hey, toothless,” he says lowly, making you pause before turning to him with a raised brow. he smiles—it’s so unlike that usual smirk of his…somehow this one is a bit gentler as he murmurs, “you look good. grew up well, y’know.”

you blink. you’re not ready for that…didn’t expect a compliment from gojo satoru himself—especially not after all this time of throwing mediocre insults your way.

you decide he must be messing with you, so you purse your lips as you click your teeth in irritation. “yeah, sure,” you say dryly.

you can hear his chuckles as you close the door again—this is going to be a long break.

—————

just as expected, the house is simply not big enough for you and satoru.

the first time you run into him happens to be first thing after waking up—you’re walking up to the door just as he twists the knob and opens it, walking out shirtless. again.

this time, however, he’s got beads of water rolling down his skin from his shower, right between his pecs, as a towel hangs around his shoulders. you can see his tattoo from up close now, a small infinity sign right under his collarbone that contrasts against his pale skin.

how tacky, you think—just as you’d expect, even his choice of tattoos is questionable.

his hair is wet—it’s sticking to his forehead instead of the multiple directions it usually scatters around in that messy way it always does. you’ve only felt satoru’s hair once—when you were fifteen, and you’d hit him in the back of the head as you walked past him at the breakfast table. he’d made a jab at your dark circles. tests were around the corner, and unlike satoru, your grades actually mattered. you didn’t expect his hair to be so soft, but it is, and you almost itch to twirl the strands around your fingers for a quick feel.

instead, you scowl and stomp off to your room as soon as your dishes are washed.

his hair is probably just as soft now—maybe even softer now that he actually probably cares to look after it. you’ve heard suguru grumble about using two-in-one shampoo too many times when he comes back from spending the night at satoru’s. for a second, your fingers twitch to reach up and brush through a few strands on his forehead—just to feel them because they look soft. nothing else.

the urge is quickly killed as soon as he opens his mouth, however.

“oh, hey there, roomie,” he grins, “you’re really doing all you can to catch me half naked, huh?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you grumble.

“i’m just sayin’,” he chuckles, “that’s twice now. if you ask nicely, i might walk around like this just for you.”

it’s way too early for this.

by early, it’s actually late noon. now that finals aren’t killing your free time, you stay up until ungodly hours to catch up with your social life—and it doesn’t help that you can hear satoru and suguru stay up playing video games the next room over, either. suguru is probably still sleeping.

that’s a bit of a shocker, in fact—usually, it’s satoru that has to be dragged out of your brother’s room to have breakfast (or brunch, really) before the kitchen is cleared up. why satoru is up first is beyond you.

maybe it’s just a cruel way for the universe to enjoy watching more of your veins pop.

“does that apply to asking you to leave? because then i suppose i can ask rather politely.”

he grins, eyes sparkling with amusement as he shoots you that smile with those pearly whites that irritate you to no end. you’re not sure why, but something about his smile looks so much different nowadays—something about it just seems so….mature.

that’s a word you didn’t think you’d ever use to describe satoru.

“mm, not quite,” he hums, “you’re still stuck with me.”

“whatever,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “move, i want to shower before suguru wakes up.”

“you have time,” he steps to the side, letting you enter the bathroom, “he’s probably not waking up anytime soon—woah.”

satoru’s shirt is on the floor—why, you may ask? because he’s an annoying idiot who doesn’t have to clean up after himself when people have always been around to do it for him. he never has to care to aim and toss his clothes into the hamper because the maids will pick up after him anyway. old habits die hard, you suppose—you’ve listened to suguru complain about satoru’s messiness not improving even after being his roommate for the last few years. it’s never been your problem, but you don’t appreciate it now that you’re slipping over the fabric on the tiled floor, falling backwards with a squeal.

but satoru’s quick—he catches you with those strong arms of his and wraps them tightly around you, keeping you securely in place as he steadies you against his chest.

his bare chest, in fact.

you can feel the slight dampness seeping into your shirt, and you can feel his hot breath on your neck as he exhales in relief once he makes sure you’re safe. you almost shiver—almost, but you manage to scrape together enough self-control to stay painfully still in his grasp.

“you okay?” he murmurs gently, voice a low whisper against your skin. there’s no bite to his words. no amusement or teasing or even smugness. it’s genuine, the way he checks on you.

this is…new. very, very new.

“yeah,” you breathe, letting out a sharp breath. and then—“maybe keep your clothes in the fucking hamper next time, though.”

“sorry,” the smile in his voice is almost audible—you can’t see it from where you are, but you can hear it in his voice. you roll your eyes, and satoru makes no move to loosen his arms around you. for some reason, you don’t move.

you’re not sure why, but you just don’t.

“you’re still just as messy, huh?” you roll your eyes—he laughs, and it’s a smooth, boyish chuckle that almost makes you wonder for a moment if this is why girls seem to love satoru so much despite his god-awful personality.

it’s a pretty beautiful sound—you hate that you have to admit that to yourself.

“yeah,” he admits, “it drives suguru nuts.”

“yeah, i can’t imagine why,” you snort. it’s like that for a moment—satoru’s muscled arms around you and hard chest pressed against your back. finally, you clear your throat. “you can let go now, you know.”

“right,” he mumbles, slowly pulling away—and when you turn to face him….is that disappointment? on his face? you don’t get a chance to be sure because then he’s bending down to pick up his shirt before he’s standing—he’s already wiped the expression from his features completely by then. “sorry about that, toothless. i’ll keep my shirts off the floor next time.”

“that would be so kind of you,” you smile sarcastically.

and then you shut the door in his face and exhale as you lean against the wall.

this is going to be a longer break than you thought.

—————

the next time you run into him, it’s late at night. everyone is asleep—even your brother and his headache of a best friend, if the silence tells you anything. you can’t sleep, though, so you make your way to the kitchen to hunt for snacks. you’re skimming through the pantry before your eyes land on a surprise—a box of strawberry pocky sits nice and enticingly, right there for you to open and devour.

you grin, reaching over when—

“those are mine,” satoru calls, stepping into the kitchen, “brought them over myself. you should ask before touching people’s things.”

“you literally ate my leftovers the other night,” you say incredulously.

“those were yours? i thought they were suguru’s.” he raises a brow in surprise, making you click your teeth in irritation.

“the principle of asking still applies,” you purse your lips. and then defiantly, you open the box and grab a pack right before his eyes.

he scowls—but you know he doesn’t actually mind because he waits for you to finish grabbing yours before taking the box and grabbing his own pack and a coke from the fridge. you both take a seat at the kitchen table, across from each other, as you open the packaging and silently eat your newfound snack.

it’s satoru who breaks the silence first.

“do you still throw away the ends of these?”

you huff indignantly, not meeting his eyes as you take a bite off the strawberry-covered end, stopping at just where the cookie portion is uncoated. “yes. i’m eating these for the coating—not the bland biscuit part.”

“what’re you, five?” he snickers, earning a glare from you. defiantly, you pop the end of the pocky stick into your mouth just to prove a point—and then the look of distaste makes him cackle louder. 

“shut up,” you hiss, “you talk too much.”

“the ladies love it when i do,” he bats his lashes—you stare at him blankly, unimpressed.

“yeah, as if.”

“hey, my ex-girlfriend totally did,” he defends.

ex-girlfriend? that’s a bit of a shocker—you didn’t know satoru dated anyone in the last few years, you haven’t seen or heard anything of it through suguru’s end. in all realness, you didn’t even think satoru was the boyfriend type…but then again, he’s not really the anything type. he just kind of exists to take up space and be the bane of your existence. 

“i hope the poor girl is recovering well after dating you,” you shake your head, feigning a concerned look on your face that makes him roll his eyes—they’re still disturbingly bright even in the dark kitchen, dimly lit by the slightest bit of moonlight pouring in through the small window.

“i dated her freshman and sophomore year,” he says casually. you also didn’t expect that—that it lasted that long. something about satoru doesn’t strike you as the long-term relationship kind of guy. something about him doesn’t seem like the relationship kind of guy at all. not because he’s the type to mess around casually, but because he seems the type to seem disinterested all around—he’s snobby like that. “she was…alright, i guess.”

yeah. very snobby.

“you are such a sick bastard,” you spit.

he snorts, taking a bite of his pocky as he shakes his head in amusement. you’re as feisty as ever—it’s always fun riling you up, even if unintentionally.

“hey, it’s not like she was bad. she was just…well, she wasn’t interested in me like that either,” he shrugs, “i think it was just the sex. it was good, can’t lie there.”

“you’re so gross,” you roll your eyes, “have some decorum.”

“what, you’re still sixteen?” he raises a brow, lips curling into a smirk as he reaches for another pocky, “can’t say the word s-e-x?”

“i don’t broadcast my sexual activities out in the open,” you shrug.

satoru chuckles, taking a bite that more or less finishes the entire stick in one go before he presses a finger to his lips, “shh. don’t say that too loud—suguru will come chase you from his room if he hears.”

“suguru,” you groan, “he’s such a pain to have around sometimes. y’know i dated this one guy last year. i think suguru might’ve paid him to dump me.”

“i know. he definitely thought about it,” satoru hums, “he used to go off about it all the time. he was right, though—that guy was a total prick.”

something about you is mildly shocked that satoru knows about your private life—sure, it’s not outrageous or even the slightest bit unlikely that suguru mentions you. satoru and suguru are best friends, and you happen to be suguru’s sister—of course, suguru is bound to mention you here and there. it’s just the fact that satoru even pays attention to anything to do with you that surprises you—although you suppose it would be a good way for him to find his next source to push your buttons.

“i’m not surprised you think he’s a prick,” you nod, “it takes one to know one, after all.”

“oh yeah?” he snorts, waving you off, “i do, in fact remember anniversaries, y’know.”

“okay,” you sigh, defeated—your ex-boyfriend is admittedly not at the top of the list of your brightest choices. not even up halfway on the list. in fact, he’s so low on the list of good choices you’ve made, that willingly choosing to interact with satoru feels like an exceptional decision in comparison. and that’s saying something. “he was pretty bad. but he was really hot. when a guy looks like that, his values are the least of my worries.”

it’s a joke—you’re sure he knows that. but satoru takes a long sip from his coke, silent for a moment. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so serious, especially so suddenly.

“he can’t be that hot,” he mutters.

“oh he was really hot. probably the hottest guy i’ve ever talked to—” satoru bites his pocky a bit aggressively at that, “and he was so tall. maybe taller than you—how tall are you again? anyway, he was pretty enough to overlook his shortcomings.”

“he’s probably not taller than me,” he grumbles, frowning. you snort—men and their fragile little egos, you think in amusement.

“he was,” you tease, “he was so tall, i’d let him do whatever he wanted.”

“that’s a terrible way to look at it,” he scrunches his brows, “you shouldn’t let some guy walk all over you because he’s tall and his face is a bit easy on the eyes—”

“i know you’re not talking—”

“i’m serious,” he cuts you off. something about him reminds you of suguru for a moment—like he cares who you’re with because he has a reason to. as if you mean something to him, as if knowing someone who doesn’t deserve you has you in their palms is upsetting.

but then you shake the thought out of your head—satoru doesn’t care. he’s never had a reason to, and you don’t exactly plan to give him one, either.

“okay, dad,” you roll your eyes, “i learned my lesson. i have standards now.”

“good,” he nods—and then, as if to keep himself in character, he adds, “because i don’t want to help suguru kill someone, and it’s over something lame like forgetting his little sister’s anniversary. i’d like to go to jail for something more badass.”

“you and badass don’t belong in the same sentence,” you raise a brow. “let’s be realistic.”

“oh yeah? that’s rich coming from—”

“guys, it is five in the morning,” suguru grumbles, throwing a water bottle at satoru’s head. you glance at the kitchen entrance, eyeing a half-asleep and very irritable suguru as he crosses his arms, “can’t you idiots fight over who’s more of a loser at reasonable hours? some of us like to sleep.”

“want one?” you offer your pack of pocky, holding it out to him.

suguru blinks, contemplating for a second before sighing and trudging over.

“yeah,” he mutters, flicking your forehead. “gimme that.”

you watch woefully as suguru takes the entirety of your pack, swiftly sitting next to satoru and leaving you empty-handed. satoru snickers obnoxiously at the deflated look on your face—and then he holds out his pack to you.

you look between him and the pack for a moment before giving him a genuine smile. it’s a rare sight—he drinks it in as you carefully take one and bicker over something with suguru.

you’re pretty when you smile, he thinks—pretty enough that if you had horrible values (which you don’t), he might feel inclined to understand your (awful) reasoning for a moment.

and then he blinks and shakes the thoughts out of his head—it’s going to be a long break.

—————

satoru meets you when you’re six. 

he’s nine at the time, and he feels on top of the world knowing he’s three whole years older than you—in hindsight, three years is not a very large gap, but to nine-year-old him, it feels like centuries. he’s remembered you as the fun little drama queen that’s too easy to poke fun at for years—that’s all you’ve always been: suguru’s younger sister who puffs her cheeks out and scowls way too often to be normal, the girl that’s way too easy to tease than should be standard. 

somehow, he wasn’t expecting for you to come back so grown…and so hot. suddenly, it really hits him that you’re not a kid—have not really been for a long time now. he’s always treated you like you’re way younger than he is, way too little to be in his presence and be worthy of it—but you’ve really become a fine young woman.

a magnetizing one, in fact.

it’s now his third night at your house—your parents are as lovely and welcoming as ever, and suguru is always a good time to be around. but somehow, satoru is not satisfied. not anywhere near sated by the few, minimal moments of contact with you. 

when did you get so pretty? although, as much as satoru has always liked to poke fun at you, you’ve never been ugly. not even a little—but you’ve grown into your features better, outgrown the awkward teenage era of your life, and now present yourself with a newfound confidence that just looks…so good. satoru doesn’t see his best friend's kid sister anymore—no, there’s something so alluring about you now.

the nail on the coffin that solidifies he’s officially screwed is when you mention your ex-boyfriend—why would your dating life make him this irrationally angry? why is the thought of someone being on the receiving end of your praise (and shameless heart-eyes) so aggravating for him? 

he doesn’t know—but what he does know is that the raging boner has been killing him all morning ever since he woke up from…well, less than proper dreams about you.

so now he’s here, forehead pressed against your shower wall as the hot water hits his back, swollen cock in his fist as he thumbs at the tip, teasing the slit just the way he likes. he thinks about you—how he’d show you what makes him feel good, how you’d probably learn fast and take care of him just the way he needs. 

your hand would look so much daintier compared to his—smaller, but he’s sure it would still feel infinitely better. 

he bites his lip, fighting back a moan as he strokes himself slowly, pre cum smeared along the length of his hard, aching cock—red and angry at the tip, leaking with more pre cum no matter how many times his thumb collects every drop. 

“f-fuck—” he breathes, and his voice lets out a shaky, breathy little call of your name—he’s screwed if anyone hears it. he’s sure you and suguru will both band together to kill him, but thankfully, the words are lost in the sound of the shower running. “fuck baby,” he says hoarsely, voice cracking ever so slightly as he whines. 

it’s soft and quiet, the noises he makes—careful and deliberately hushed to make sure no one hears the improper way he’s thinking of you right now. but fuck, your tits are so pretty when you walk out of your room in a t-shirt in the mornings—he can just tell you’re not wearing a bra. he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop trying to picture what they’d look like uncovered and bouncing.

“jus’ like that, baby,” he pants, whimpering softly as he squeezes around his tip, teasing himself with that slow, painful pace of his. 

satoru is sure that if it were you, that if the hand stroking his cock right now was yours, you would never let him cum so easily—you’d drag it out just like this, pump him slowly and twist your hand around him in a pace that’s painfully not enough before ever thinking about letting him come undone. 

it’s just the way that you are—never ready to back down from a challenge, unwilling to go down without a fight. but he loves it, he thinks—lives for the way you keep him on his toes and work for the satisfaction. 

“more,” he gasps, “n-need more—gimme more, sweetheart.”

he imagines it—the way you’d kiss his jaw, maybe even the corner of his mouth, as you hum. say please, toru, you’d probably say—and fuck, he’d kill to hear you say toru. 

“please,” he rasps, “please, baby. d-don’t tease.”

he can practically hear your light giggles, the sweet, okay, baby. no more teasing, that you might whisper. he’d also kill to hear you call him baby—he’s almost nauseous at the idea that some other guy must’ve heard the pet name from your lips before him. and then he lets himself pump his erection faster, squeezing tighter as his thighs quiver while he stands in the shower. 

fuck—you feel so good. you’re not even here, but he’s sure you do, and he’s desperate to envision it. it practically hurts—the way he’s so hard and swollen and ready to release. just for you, he wants to tell you, he’s going to cum all for you. 

“baby,” he whimpers, “‘m so, so close—fuck ‘m gonna cum. ‘s for you—gonna cum for you—ngh, sh-shit.”

and then there’s cum on the tile walls, on his hands, on his abs as they flex with every labored breath. satoru cums—hard. his eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted with a silent cry as he pants and strokes himself through his high. you’d kiss him, he likes to think, on his jaw and cheeks and maybe the tip of his nose as you sit on his lap and work him through his orgasm. you’d watch him closely, take in the way he comes undone for you, maybe even call him your pretty boy as he paints your hand white with his seed.

would you praise him? murmur softly into his ear and seal the gentle words with a kiss to his skin? would you stroke his hair from his face as you admire his blissful, fucked out little expression? maybe he’d ask you then—maybe he’d ask you to admit he’s way more handsome than that douchebag you dated as your hand holds his softening cock, sticky with his release.

god, what he wouldn’t do to see your hands coated with his cum—did you do this for your ex? did he look as hot as you claim he was when he came for you? the thought makes him sour—he grits his teeth and clenches his jaw at the idea, panting and catching his breath as he stares down at the mess he’s made.

he should feel bad—this is wrong. so, so wrong—suguru would kill him if he was aware satoru was lusting over his little sister. but it felt so fucking good—he’s never cum as hard as when he’s pictured cumming for you. 

it can’t be that wrong, if that’s the case—can it?

——

“suguru,” your voice is shrill, deadly—like you’re out for blood. “next time you jack off in the shower, maybe clean the fucking wall? are you joking?”

“wha—i definitely cleaned that,” suguru defends. 

oh, fuck, satoru thinks—he forgot to clean that. so he makes himself very scarce and stays within the confinements of suguru’s bedroom—his messy habits are starting to really catch up to him. if his defense, he really would clean that up…it’s just that he was a bit distracted. 

“so you admit you jack off in our shower? our shower?” you sound inconsolable, downright devastated, and borderline hysterical. having siblings seems like a lot of trouble, he thinks—but then again, sometimes satoru is jealous of your bond with suguru. it’d be nice to have someone in his family he can actually depend on. “keep that shit for your bedroom, you jackass!”

“well, how am i supposed to do that when satoru is there? you tell me.”

“i don’t know! figure it the fuck out—you guys probably jack off together anyway.”

“what?” suguru sounds appalled, “we do not—that’s outrageous.”

“whatever,” you say—you sound almost murderous as you warn, “next time you better clean up your fucking mess, you asshole.”

satoru can’t help but smile a little—your pointer finger is definitely held up as you scold suguru—you’re so cute when you’re mad, he thinks. he almost wants to step out and catch a glimpse, but he decides against it for now.

silently, satoru thanks his best friend for taking one for the team—even if it was unknowingly.

—————

it’s night four. 

satoru has surprisingly kept to himself—he even promptly looked away after meeting your eyes in the kitchen yesterday morning as you walked in for breakfast. that’s…new. a lot about satoru is new. 

he’s taller and more muscular now—at one point, suguru used to tower over his scrawny little form. now he’s seemed to grow into his body, seemed to learn how to style himself better, and actually do his hair a bit. it’s still messy now that he’s just lazing around in your home—but it’s oddly handsome. 

scarily handsome, in fact. 

you don’t enjoy the idea of thinking about the jerk of your childhood like that—but ever since you felt the hard press of his chest against your back, sometimes you wonder what it’s like to know satoru outside of just your older brother’s obnoxious friend. 

maybe, somewhere along the line, had you put your pride aside and actually tried to get to know him, maybe you both could at least be friendly. but then again, there’s never been any real animosity between you two—you can share a lighthearted talk from time to time, like that night in the kitchen. 

you decide not to dwell on it too much, decide that he’s not really worth your thoughts when he’s just a guy who’s always been a bit too spoiled to learn how to be humble. instead, you go down to the kitchen to grab another pack of strawberry pocky—satoru will just have to deal with it. if he doesn’t want his snacks eaten, he shouldn’t keep them in the pantry where anyone could stumble across them.

you walk into the kitchen until—oh. it’s satoru. again.

“oh, hey,” he grins cheekily, taking a sip of his coke—he needs to break the habit of having so much sugar this late at night…but then again, why would it matter to you? “stalkin’ me?”

“for an unwelcomed guest, you sure do talk a lot,” you roll your eyes, making his lips curl into a smug little smirk. 

“i don’t know—your parents seem to love having me over. what if i become their newest son?”

“i doubt my parents are looking to adopt you,” you raise a brow, slightly amused. 

he hums, sipping his coke before blinking at you through those long, perfect lashes of his. “well, there are other ways to blend into a family. marriage, for example, is a great way.”

“you and my brother might as well marry each other,” you snort, “no one else will do it.”

“who said anything about suguru?” he winks, chuckling when your face twists into an exaggerated look of horror—always as dramatic as ever, you are. he can’t help but find an endearing side to it now.

satoru stands, walks over to where you are and stands in front of you as you scoff, shaking your head as you huff out a disbelieving chuckle. 

“that’s pushing it,” you muse, “marrying you would be the last open option i’d have left—and even then i doubt i’d ever take it.”

“yeah?” he raises a brow, leaning in so close, you can practically feel his breath fan over you. he smells like expensive cologne and your shampoo—why is he using yours instead of suguru’s? before you can even ask him what he’s doing, he throws away the empty can of coke in the trash can behind you, eyes bright with amusement as your breath hitches.

it’s like he knows—the fucking asshole.

“yeah,” you breathe, “you don’t deserve me,” you try to say matter-of-factly. it comes off a bit more breathless than you intended—the air feels suffocating. maybe because satoru is so close, maybe because his breath is on your face, maybe because all you can smell and feel and hear is him. 

you can’t find it in yourself to pull away—why aren’t you pulling away? it’s just like that day he caught you, when his arms wrapped around you and all you felt like doing was lean into his chest. what about satoru and you has shifted so quickly to make you want to do that? what makes him so easy to fall into when all you’ve always known was to shove at him?

he hums, leaning in closer and closer until his forehead touches yours. “you know who didn’t deserve you?” he asks, “that shitty ex of yours.”

you look up at him with wide eyes, speechless as his hands find purchase of your hips, grabbing them and pulling you closer—and against better judgment, your hands lay themselves across his chest. it’s as firm as you remember it. 

“how would you know—”

“heard suguru rant about it all the time,” he murmurs, “how he forgot your dates. got you a shitty birthday present. didn’t show up to your anniversary. made you hang out with his friends and didn’t even meet half of yours. you’re tellin’ me he deserves you more than me?”

“he was hot—”

“yeah? and i’m not?”

he’s cocky—you hate that about him. always did. but he’s so close, so intoxicating, so irresistible, and fuck, he is hot—so incredibly hot, you’ve been losing sleep over it the last four nights no matter how hard you try to deny it. 

“satoru, what are you—”

“y’know, i’ve been helping suguru pick your birthday presents since you were twelve. i’d pick you the best gifts,” his nose is brushing against yours now, lips just millimeters away from his as he speaks—“and i never forget an important date. i’m very punctual too, believe it or not. i’d meet your little friends—show ‘em what a catch i am when you introduce me.”

“and what am i supposed to do with this information?” you ask defiantly.

it’s a last-ditch effort—you both know this. you know exactly what he wants you to do with this information. 

“i don’t know, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “what do you think?”

and then you’re kissing him—because fuck, satoru is right there, and how could you not? his chest is under your palms, his lips are right against yours, and you can feel his thumb rub circles into your hips. 

so you kiss him—loop your arms around his neck and tug him closer and press your lips to his. he groans, responds almost instantly as his mouth molds against yours, kissing you deeper as his hand moves to cup your cheek.

your lips are softer than he thought, and his hair is silky against your fingers. you tug at the strands, grab a handful, and feel them against your fingers like you’ve wanted to for so long. and when he nips at your bottom lip, who are you to deny him? your lips part, letting his tongue slide in and taste you with a breathy sigh that makes your knees wobble. 

“s-satoru,” you stutter, whispering between kisses, “suguru might come in like last time—”

“god,” he groans, head burying into your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the skin, “don’t fucking talk about your brother right now. please.”

“my room,” you say urgently—it’s all he needs to hear before his hands are on your ass, grabbing you as you wrap your legs around his hips. it’s urgent, the way his mouth is back on yours—he doesn’t pull away even once the entire walk to your room, not even when he lets your back fall onto the mattress as he hovers over you, pressing kisses along your collarbone. 

no bra, he notes happily, his hand sneaking under your shirt to toy with your pert nipples. 

“god, you’ve been driving me fuckin’ crazy,” he mumbles, tugging the hem of your shirt over your arms and tossing it over his shoulder. he stares, takes in the sight of the same tits he’s been fantasizing over for the last few days in awe. “you know that? been thinkin’ about these for days,” he says lowly, cupping your tit and massaging as he presses a kiss to your jaw. 

“you’re shameless,” you mutter, snorting before you cut yourself off with a gasp as he squeezes your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers and pulling a soft whine from you.

“shhh,” he chuckles, tilting his head toward the wall next to you, “don’t want suguru to hear, do you? that wouldn’t be nice, would it?”

“it’ll be worse for you than me,” you grin, tugging at the hem of his own shirt, indicating you want it off. he grins widely, wiggling his brows and making you purse your lips.

“wanna see me shirtless again, huh? third times the charm, as they say,” he winks. you would retort with something as witty, but then your eyes fall on that tattoo again—right under his collarbone, making your hand reach out to trace it with your thumb. 

“what compelled you to get this corny little tattoo of yours,” you grin, giggling as you trace over the small infinity sign. 

for the first time, you think you witness satoru shy, blushing as he rubs the back of his neck and chuckles awkwardly. “that…that was an accident. when i got drunk for the first time.”

“oh,” you snort, “you’re so weak, satoru—”

“do me a favor, sweetheart,” he hums, cutting you off, “as much as i love when you say my name, say toru for me, yeah? i wanna hear it.”

you roll your eyes, huffing as your hand finds the back of his head and pulls him into another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he grinds the throbbing erection in his sweats over your heated core. 

“toru,” you say breathlessly, “more.”

that’s all he needs to hear—satoru doesn’t waste a second before he’s crawling between your legs, sliding your cute little pajama pants down your legs before meeting your dripping pussy.

it’s wet—so wet, he almost wants to chuckle and tease you a bit. just for old-time's sake. but the ache that shoots down to his cock reminds him that he’s in no position to tease you when he’s not faring any better himself. so he spreads your legs, kisses lightly at your clit in a feather-like touch that has you whimpering and clutching the sheets in anticipation.

“how pretty,” he mumbles, “been hiding this pretty little thing all this time. what a perfect pussy.”

“satoru,” you gasp in embarrassment, hands reaching for his hair and tugging him closer to where you need him most—equal parts because you really need his mouth on your cunt and equal parts because you really need him to shut up. 

but he chuckles, takes his time to spread your folds open with his thumbs, and watches in wonder as you flutter around nothing, arousal dripping and leaving a mess. it’s perfect—you’re perfect, and he wants to take his time with you. 

“god, you’re soaked,” he groans, chuckling as he murmurs, “that’s fuckin’ cute.”

before you can even whine at the way his words are shameless, his mouth is back to kissing your clit, lips wrapping around it as he sucks and rolls his tongue along the sensitive bud. his fingers sink deep into you, pushing past your folds and slowly bullying into you until the tips of his fingers curl and brush against a spot that makes you squeal. 

you gasp a breathy, “fuck, toru—” before he hums around your clit, vibrations making you whimper as he thrusts his fingers back in to hit that spot again. it’s sensitive, the way he makes you feel—your nerves are on fire, and your head is light, and fuck, it feels so good you can’t help but sob brokenly and squeeze your thighs around his head. he moans against your cunt, pulling his fingers out before letting his tongue lick a stripe along your slit, tasting you with a sharp inhale. 

“f-feels good,” you whimper, biting your lip as your eyes crinkle at the corners from squeezing shut.

“yeah?” he hums, kissing your inner thigh, leaving a wet little sheen of his spit and your arousal on the skin, “that’s a good girl—just keep telling me how good i make you feel, kay?”

he could stay buried nose-deep into your pussy for as long as you let him—tongue alternating between fucking into you and rolling over your swollen clit, hearing the broken little gasps and whines of his name as you repeat toru over and over again like a prayer. his hand grips at your thigh, sinking his fingertips into the plush skin and rubbing soothingly with his thumb as you rut your hips and grind against his face. 

satoru has half a mind to watch it again—to lick and suck at your core again and again just so he could burn into his mind what you look like when you cum. it’s divine—like he’s halfway to stepping into heaven and has to pause just to admire the sight before him. 

your hips leave the mattress as your back arches, and your fingers tug relentlessly at his roots as your walls quiver, letting satoru taste every drop of your release as you press a palm to your hand and try to keep yourself from squealing at the pleasure.

suguru is right next door. you can’t wake him—can’t let him know this is what you and his best friend get up to in the late hours of the night. 

it’s not until satoru pulls away, catching his breath as he wipes the wet trail on his chin does he realize how hard he is—how badly he’s aching as his cock strains against his sweats. he hisses as he frees himself; ridding his sweats and boxers and wrapping a large hand around the tip of his erection and smearing the leaking pre cum along his length. 

you watch in awe, reaching over and replacing his hand with yours. satoru was right—your hand is infinitely smaller than his, and yet, it feels a great deal better. so much better, in fact, that his arms shake as he hovers over you, burying his head into your neck and groaning as you slowly stroke him, squeezing at the tip and rolling your thumb through the slit.

he didn’t even have to show you what he wanted, what makes him feel good, what makes his mind fog with pleasure and burn through every nerve. no, you figure it all out on your own, pulling strangled moans and hushed gasps from him that make your clit ache once more. 

“fuck, baby,” he pants, “can’t last long like this—c’mon, g-gotta feel you.” gently, he pries your hand from his thick, pulsing cock, laying it against your stomach as he peers down in fascination. “i’ll be right here,” he hums, drawing a line on your skin right where his tip ends, “see that? that’s where you’ll feel me, sweetheart.”

“then let me feel you,” you murmur, cupping his cheeks and brushing a thumb over the skin, “fuck me, toru—wan’ it so bad.”

so he does—drags his tip along your folds and collects the slick pooling at your entrance before pushing his tip past your folds, splitting you in half as he slowly buries himself to the hilt. his jaw is clenched, breath labored as he waits for you to adjust, lets you kiss his cheeks and nose as you murmur how handsome he is, how perfect he feels, how good is to you. 

“that asshole ever make you cum?” he asks lowly, “he ever eat your pussy like that? make you cum hard enough you had to cover your mouth so you’re not screaming his name?”

“no,” you breathe, quivering as his thumb rolls over your clit in slow circles, still painfully still as he stares down at you, “n-no, never. just you—only you—”

“good,” he grins, “that’s what i like to hear. and when i make you cum on my cock, make sure to tell me he’s never done that either, yeah?”

“you’re full of it,” you scoff, “always have been.”

“and you’re full of me,” he says cheekily, chuckling as you glare half-heartedly. “can i move, baby? please? need more, ‘s not enough. n-need more—”

“yeah,” you whimper, pulling him closer, chests brushing against each other as your lips meet in a sloppy kiss, “yeah—need more too, toru.”

satoru, in all his years of knowing you, has never seen the side of you that could be this gentle. the side that glides your hands over his back, feeling every flex and every pull of his muscles, gently caressing the skin like it’s holy, like it’s not worthy of marks—instead to be worshipped and revered with thoughtful touches. your lips sear into every part of him they can find—his lips, his forehead, his nose, his hair as his face digs into your neck. even your voice is a gentle whisper of his name, so soft and careful, it’s like saying it wrong could break him. 

your hips buck up in tandem with his, meeting his rhythm as he slams into you, his balls slapping against your skin as he buries his cock into you as deep as it’ll go with every harsh thrust. you can feel his tip kissing against that sweet spot in the back of your walls, your abused cunt sucking him in and hugging around him as he groans. 

the friction feels sickening, like he’ll pass out any second, like he’s floating between the precipice of pleasure and the edge of consciousness. 

you do that to him—he doesn’t know how or when or why, but you make him feel like he doesn’t have a grip on his own senses. he doesn’t mind it so much, he thinks—doesn’t hate the idea of letting himself fall into your palm and wrap around him. it feels nicer that way, like it’s where he belongs.

“fuck, ‘s so tight,” he rasps, whining into your neck as your hand cups the back of his head, holding him in place. his hips are rutting into you sloppily now, barely maintaining the rhythm from before as he nears his high—but that doesn't stop him from angling into you perfectly, slamming into your sensitive spot every time without fail. “c-cum—’m gonna cum. cum with me, sweetheart.”

“‘m so close, toru,” you sob—and then, just as his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing harsh, desperate little circles to get you over the edge, you cum again—harder than the last time, spasming around his cock and pulling him in as you squeeze around him. “t-toru,” you gasp brokenly, “fuck, ‘s good—so good.”

“baby,” he moans lowly, “fuck, you’re so perfect. prettiest thing ever—prettiest pussy ever. i, sh-shit—” your orgasm quickly has him falling into his own, hot, thick ropes of cum spilling into you with every twitch of his cock, sweet little noises pulled from his throat that he sings into your neck, fucking his load into you. 

it’s messy, the way cum spills out of you and coats his cock—but it’s perfect and feels so, so right. you can’t help but think how perfectly satoru fits against you as his body slumps on top of yours, panting and spent as he cages you in his arms.

your hand doesn’t leave his hair—now that you know how it feels, you don’t think you can stop threading your fingers through it, ever. 

“wow, toothless,” he chuckles after a bit, “you’re seriously obsessed with me, huh? i mean, how long have you been nursing this crush on me, hmm? thinking about your brother’s best friend, you naughty little thing—”

“satoru, would you shut that mouth for once,” you hiss, rolling your eyes—still, there’s an affectionate grin on your lips this time as he chuckles into your skin. 

“oh baby, i’m afraid this mouth never shuts, so you should get used—”

suddenly, you both freeze as you hear suguru’s voice through the door. “you two better not be fucking doing what i think you’re doing,” he seethes, making your jaw drop and satoru’s eyes widen.

fuck—that was never supposed to happen. suguru was never supposed to hear, let alone know.

“hey,” satoru starts, “if suguru kicks me out of our place, i can come be your new permanent housemate, right?”

do not comment about a part 2

but yeah he can come live with me any time and as long as he pays by sucking my tiddies i shall provide all food and utilities and everything

[ktempestbradford]

I have been on a Willy Wonkified journey today and I need y'all to come with me

It started so innocently. Scrolling Google News I come across this article on Ars Technica:

At first glance I thought what happened was parents saw AI-generated images of an event their kids were at and became concerned, then realized it was fake. The reality? Oh so much better.

On Saturday, event organizers shut down a Glasgow-based "Willy's Chocolate Experience" after customers complained that the unofficial Wonka-inspired event, which took place in a sparsely decorated venue, did not match the lush AI-generated images listed on its official website.... According to Sky News, police were called to the event, and "advice was given."

Thing is, the people who paid to go were obviously not expecting exactly this:

But I can see how they'd be a bit pissed upon arriving to this:

It gets worse.

"Tempest, how could it possibly--"

source of this video that also includes this charming description:

Made up a villain called The Unknown — 'an evil chocolate maker who lives in the walls'

There is already a meme.

Oh yes, the Wish.com Oompa Loompa:

Who has already done an interview!

As bad (and hilarious) as this all is, I got curious about the company that put on this event. Did they somehow overreach? Did the actors they hired back out at the last minute? (Or after they saw the script...) Oddly enough, it doesn't seem so!

Given what I found when poking around I'm legit surprised there was an event at all. Cuz this outfit seems to be 100% a scam.

The website for this specific event is here and it has many AI generated images on it, as stated. I don't think anyone who bought tickets looked very closely at these images, otherwise they might have been concerned about how much Catgacating their children would be exposed to.

Yes, Catgacating. You know, CATgacating!

I personally don't think anyone should serve exarserdray flavored lollipops in public spaces given how many people are allergic to it. And the sweet teats might not have been age appropriate.

Though the Twilight Tunnel looks pretty cool:

I'm not sure that Dim Tight Twdrding is safe. I've also been warned that Vivue Sounds are in that weird frequency range that makes you poop your pants upon hearing them.

Yes, Virginia, these folks used an AI image generator for everything on the website and used Chat GPT for some of the text! From the FAQ:

Q: I cannot go on the available days. Will you have more dates in the future? A: Should there be capacity when you arrive, then you will be able to enter without any problems. In the event that this is not the case, we may ask you to wait a bit.

Fear not, for this question is asked again a few lines down and the answer makes more sense.

Curious about the events company behind this disaster, I took myself over to the homepage of House of Illuminati and I was not disappointed.

I would 100% trust these people to plan my wedding.

This abomination of a website is a badly edited WordPress blog filled with AI art and just enough blog posts to make the casual viewer think that it's a legit business for about 0.0004 seconds.

Their attention to detail is stunning, from how they left up the default first post every WP blog gets to how they didn't bother changing the name on several images, thus revealing where they came from. Like this one:

With the lovely and compact filename "DALL·E-2024-01-30-09.50.54-Imagine-a-scene-where-fantasy-and-reality-merge-seamlessly.-In-the-foreground-a-grand-interactive-gala-is-taking-place-filled-with-elegant-guests-i.png"

"Concept.png" came from the same AI generator that gets text almost, but not quiiiiiite right:

There are a suspicious number of .webp images in the uploads, which makes me think they either stole them from other sites where AI "art" was uploaded or they didn't want to pay for the hi-res versions of some and just grabbed the preview image.

The real fun came when I noticed this filename: Before-and-After-Eventologists-Transformation-Edgbaston-Cricket-Ground-1024x1024-1.jpg and decided to do a Google image search. Friends, you will be shocked to hear that the image in question, found on this post touting how they can transform a boring warehouse into a fun event space, was stolen from this actual event planner.

Even better, this weirdly grainy image?

From a post that claims to be about the preparations for a "Willy Wonka" experience (we'll get to this in a minute), is not only NOT an actual image of anyone preparing anything for Illuminati's event, it is stolen from a YouTube thumbnail that's been chopped to remove the name of the company that actually made this. Here's the video.

If you actually read the blog posts they're all copypasta or some AI generated crap. To the point where this seems like not a real business at all. There's very specific business information at the bottom, but nothing else seems real.

As I said, I'm kinda surprised they put on an event at all. This has, "And then they ran off with all our money!" written all over it. I'm perplexed.

And also wondering when the copyright lawyers are gonna start calling, because...

This post explicitly says they're putting together a "Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory Experience" complete with golden tickets.

Somewhere along the line someone must have wised up, because the actual event was called "Willys Chocolate Experience" (note the lack of apostrophe) and the script they handed to the actors about 10 minutes before they were supposed to "perform" was about a "Willy McDuff" and his chocolate factory.

As I was going through this madness with friends in a chat, one pointed out that it took very little prompting to get the free Chat GPT to spit out an event description and such very similar to all this while avoiding copyrighted phrases. But he couldn't figure out where the McDuff came from since it wasn't the type of thing GPT would usually spit out...

Until he altered the prompt to include it would be happening in Glasgow, Scotland.

You cannot make this stuff up.

But truly, honestly, I do not even understand why they didn't take the money and run. Clearly this was all set up to be a scam. A lazy, AI generated scam.

Everything from the website to the event images to the copy to the "script" to the names of things was either stolen or AI generated (aka stolen). Hell, I'd be looking for some poor Japanese visitor wandering the streets of Glasgow, confused, after being jacked for his mascot costume.

HE LIVES IN THE WALLS, Y'ALL.