#spending money on my friends is my favorite thing <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[octoxicash]

MY CHELLL

my friend paid me 5 uro to draw chell portal

[peaches-and-honey-and-the-moon]

Im working at an old food place I worked at three years ago, got let go from the stupid corporate job, and it feels like I can finally breath again. Like it feels like my coworkers actually respect me as a human being. And the venders I would see when I worked at the merch job have all told me they're glad I don't work at that company anymore when they see me at my food job lol. Our bread lady literally was like "thank fucking God you got out of there" which I found hilarious.

[satellite-evans]

you don't have to be sorry

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Summary: Harry learns why you refuse to let him pay, uncovering your painful past.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: past abusive relationship, little angst, fluff

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

Harry had always found joy in giving. Growing up, even when he didn’t have much, he’d learned that the look on someone’s face when you did something kind for them was worth more than anything money could buy. That lesson had carried over into his adult life, especially once his career took off and his world expanded in ways he’d never anticipated. He loved surprising his family with impromptu vacations, treating his friends to dinners just because, and going the extra mile to make everyone around him feel cared for.

When he met you, he found himself wanting to do those little things even more. Your smile was infectious, your laugh a melody he didn’t know he’d been missing until you came along. You were so strong, so independent, and it only made him more drawn to you, your kindness, and your spirit. From early on, he’d noticed that you carried yourself with an ease that spoke of someone who’d learned to take care of themselves, and he admired it. You were thoughtful, always prepared, and fiercely capable of handling things on your own.

Still, that didn’t stop Harry from wanting to treat you. From the beginning, he’d try to pick up the tab here and there, take you out for meals he knew you’d love, or surprise you with little things—your favorite flowers, a new book he thought you might enjoy. But each time he tried, you’d flash that polite, unwavering smile and insist on paying your own way. It wasn’t just a gesture, either. It was firm, unyielding, and Harry quickly learned that it was one boundary you weren’t willing to compromise.

He brushed it off at first, thinking maybe it was just the way you were. And in a way, he appreciated your independence. He knew you’d never take advantage of his generosity, and that was part of what made him feel so strongly for you. But as time went on, he couldn’t help but notice the subtle ways you’d tense up when he offered to pay, how your expression would harden slightly when he’d suggest covering the check. It was almost as if his offers triggered something in you, something you seemed determined to hide but couldn’t fully suppress.

And so, he kept quiet, telling himself not to pry, to respect your independence. Yet, as the months went on, he found that it bothered him more than he wanted to admit. It wasn’t that he wanted to be the one to pay, necessarily—it was that he wanted to feel like he could express his love without it feeling like a violation. He wanted you to feel comfortable enough to let him in, to let him care for you in a way that didn’t make you feel trapped.

One evening in late autumn, he planned a special dinner. The two of you had been talking about going to this small bistro on the outskirts of town for a while. It was an intimate spot with candle-lit tables and soft jazz playing in the background, and Harry knew you’d love it. The idea of spending a quiet, meaningful night there with you had stayed on his mind for weeks.

The evening was perfect. The glow from the restaurant’s lanterns bathed the room in a warm, amber light, casting a soft radiance on your face that made you look even more beautiful than usual. Your laughter floated through the air as you both shared stories and exchanged glances, and Harry felt the gentle comfort of being in your presence, something he’d come to treasure more than he’d ever thought possible.

When the bill finally arrived, he reached for it out of habit, ready to do what he’d long hoped to: treat you to something special, just because he wanted to. But, as always, you beat him to it, your card already in hand, that same polite but unwavering determination in your eyes.

“Please, love,” he murmured, placing a hand gently over yours before you could hand the card to the waiter. “Let me take care of this one, alright?”

Your smile faltered just for a second, and he saw a flicker of something in your eyes—something that didn’t quite match the confident independence you usually displayed. It was a look of hesitation, one that seemed out of place for you, and Harry couldn’t ignore it any longer. The moment was brief, gone as quickly as it came, but it was enough to stir his concern.

As the two of you walked out of the restaurant, Harry held your hand, feeling the cool night breeze brush against your skin as you strolled down the quiet, lamp-lit street. His mind was still on that moment at the table, the look in your eyes that hinted at something more, something you’d been keeping from him.

He stopped walking, gently pulling you to a halt beside him, his fingers still laced with yours as he looked down at you, his eyes soft and filled with a quiet concern.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, his voice low, careful. “I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but… why don’t you ever let me pay? I know you’re independent, and I love that about you. But… it feels like there’s something more to it. Like you’re keeping something from me.”

You met his gaze for a moment, but quickly looked away, shifting under the weight of his words. He could see a hint of tension in your shoulders, the way your hand tightened slightly around his, as if you were bracing yourself against an invisible force.

“It’s… it’s not about you, Harry,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I hope you know that. This is just… it’s something I’ve had to do for myself.”

He nodded, encouraging you to continue without saying a word. He could see you struggling to find the right words, the weight of something unspoken pressing down on you, as if the memories you carried were too painful to release.

“My last relationship was… it was complicated,” you finally said, your voice wavering slightly. “My ex… he was controlling. It wasn’t like this—it wasn’t done out of kindness, or love. It was… it was about power.”

Harry felt his heart sink as he watched you, his own feelings of helplessness swelling inside him as he realized just how deeply those past experiences had affected you. His fingers tightened around yours, as if to ground you, to remind you that he was there, listening.

“He… wouldn’t let me pay for anything either,” you continued, your gaze distant as if you were looking back at a memory you’d tried to bury. “He wouldn’t let me work. He’d tell me it was because he wanted to take care of me, but it was… it was more than that. He made sure I depended on him for everything. And whenever I used his money, he’d remind me that I wouldn’t have anything without him.”

You swallowed hard, the pain in your eyes raw, the vulnerability in your expression stark against the mask of strength you usually wore.

“It was like… like every time I let him pay, he took a piece of me with it. I felt like I was losing myself, one little piece at a time.”

Harry felt a swell of emotions surge through him, a mix of anger, sorrow, and helplessness. He hated the thought of you going through that, hated the idea that someone had taken advantage of your trust, had tried to mold you into something you weren’t. The thought of someone treating you that way filled him with a protective instinct he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Oh, love,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he reached up, gently brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you went through that. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

The warmth of his hand against your cheek was grounding, soothing, a reminder of the safety you felt with him—a safety that was new, unfamiliar, and terrifying in its own way. You looked up at him, feeling the walls you’d carefully built around yourself begin to crumble, the armor you’d worn to protect yourself falling away under the gentle strength of his gaze.

“I didn’t want to feel that way again,” you murmured, your voice barely more than a breath. “When I finally left, I promised myself I’d be independent, that I’d never let anyone have that kind of power over me again. I didn’t want to feel… trapped.”

Harry listened, his heart breaking for the pain you’d carried alone for so long. He wanted nothing more than to reach into those memories and erase every moment of hurt, to go back and shield you from the scars that man had left behind. But he knew he couldn’t change the past. All he could do was be here, fully and completely, for you now.

He pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in a warm, protective embrace, as if his presence could somehow shelter you from every painful memory, every scar that still lingered. You felt yourself relax in his hold, the tension in your body melting away as you allowed yourself to simply be, to feel safe, without fear.

He held you for what felt like an eternity, his hand gently rubbing your back in slow, comforting circles. Finally, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your shoulders, his gaze filled with a tenderness that took your breath away.

" I'm sorry." You said in a whisper, almost unhearable to him. Almost.

“ Oh lovie. I’m here for you,” he said softly, his voice a gentle promise. “You don’t have to carry this alone. You don't have to be sorry. I’ll never make you feel that way, I promise. You’re safe with me.”

The sincerity in his words touched something deep within you, and for the first time, you felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could let go of the past. You took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders as you allowed yourself to lean into his warmth, to trust in the quiet strength of his presence.

“Thank you, Harry,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of gratitude and relief. “I don’t think you know how much this means to me.”

He smiled, brushing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as you continued your walk down the quiet street. The world around you felt different somehow, softer, brighter, as if the warmth of his love had transformed the cold night into something beautiful.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Harry glanced at you with a playful grin. “You know, I was thinking… if you keep insisting on paying for everything, I might just have to start charging you a fee for dating me.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh really? And what would that fee be?”

“Let’s see… one home-cooked dinner a month, plus unlimited cuddle time, and maybe a few spontaneous trips to the ice cream shop,” he replied, feigning seriousness with a cheeky smile.

“Sounds like a bargain, but you might want to raise your rates. I’m a high-maintenance girlfriend,” you shot back, a playful glint in your eye.

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “High-maintenance? lovie, I don’t know if I can handle that kind of pressure.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll throw in a free consultation on how to keep your wallet healthy. You know, just in case you want to save up for our future yacht,” you teased, your tone light.

“Ah, yes! The yacht. I’ll need a solid financial plan for that one,” he said, nodding dramatically. “Maybe we should just start a joint account: ‘Harry and Y/N’s Fund for Epic Adventures.’”

“Only if I get to choose the adventures,” you countered with a grin.

“Deal! Just promise me one thing,” he said, suddenly serious.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“Promise you’ll never stop being you—independent, sassy, and always ready to take the lead when it comes to dinner bills,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

You laughed, feeling your heart swell. “Oh, I won’t! But fair warning: you’ll always be my favourite plus-one, even if you are a bit of a freeloader.”

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Freeloader? I’ll have you know, I bring a lot to this relationship—like charm, good looks, and the occasional serenade!”

“Okay, you’ve got a point there,” you conceded, shaking your head with a laugh. “But just wait until I hit the jackpot. You won’t know what hit you when I start treating you!”

With laughter and lightness in the air, you both continued your walk, the future feeling bright and filled with promise, all while playfully nudging each other along the way.

[z0mbi3k1d]

Fun things to do on your laptop!! 🎀

Emoji kitchen - it let's you mix emojis together, you can make some really cute ones!!

Neal. Fun - it has multiple funny games (my personal favorites are infinite craft and spend bill gates money :3)

Wordle off - play wordle but multiple times and with friends!!

Bored button - click the red button for multiple websites for fun

Smash the walls - self explanatory, the colors are pretty :)

Drawing garden - move your mouse and make a little garden!

Fluid simulation - make colors of light (custom settings)

The Zen zone - three relaxing games to help you chill

Poki - multiple free games to play

Find the invisible cow - self explanatory, pretty random but fun!

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Girly tip of the day: Stay out of drama!! Drama causes stress and stress causes bad skin!!

Upcoming posts 🌸

LayZ post

Perfect night routine (I prob won't post that next 🤫🧏‍♂️)

[snghnlvr]

come on baby, don’t say that. / park sunghoon

park sunghoon x fem reader

synopsis : you were curious whether or not your boyfriend was a possessive type so you tested it out.

includes: 1.4k words | fluff 4 sunghoon stans (aka me) , suggestive ending oohooolala | VAMP SUNGHOON | zb1 taerae appearance! | sunghoon is a menace but so is y/n… grrr possessive sunghoon … | both are simps but cuties patooties <33

extra: his part in the baby shark movie lives in my mind 24/7, i hear it everywhere anytime and it’s making me LOSE my damn sanity | the ONE fansign video of op asking questions to sunghoon about dating ggggrrrrrrr | literally last minute drabble i had , it was supposed to be posted for my birthday but studies got in the way .. ew studies…:// | en o’ clock reference⁉️

likes, comments and reposts are very appreciated <3

[below the cut]

curiosity perhaps did kill the cat.

you wore your favorite dress (also sunghoon’s favorite dress), styled your favorite into a bun with two strands on each side of your face, wore makeup to emphasize your face features and wore your favorite ruffled socks to put your loafers on.

you dolled yourself so much just for sunghoon’s attention, but on the bright side you felt pretty all dressed up.

you didn’t know what was purpose of doing this to yourself up when you didn’t have any plans.

one day, bored in your living room of both you and sunghoon’s apartment, you came across a video on your foryou page about possessive behavior in someone’s partner. it made you think about your boyfriend’s behavior; curiosity overwhelming your thoughts. you tried to imagine what your boyfriend will do if these scenarios were to happen.

so, you planned out a script - going to the movie theatre with your male friend, eating with your male friend, etc. ; literally spending a whole day with a male friend. heck, you can’t imagine doing those things with a male other than sunghoon. you don’t even have money in your wallet right now.

you’ve always known sunghoon as a quiet yet clingy type of boyfriend. he wasn’t openly expressive with his clinginess he would be subtle. even with that itself it made your heart pound like crazy. but you wanted to take a step further on how clingy he could get.

you stepped out of the room, already seeing sunghoon lying around in the living room couch with his eyes glued to the tv. his eyes immediately diverted to you, getting your loafers out in front of the door.

“where are you going?” he asked, his eyes scanning to your dressed up figure. you knew he was shamelessly checking you out. it made your heart flutter and somehow boosted up your ego. but you shouldn’t be phased by his attractive face.

he wanted to compliment you but he spoke without thinking. he wonders where your gorgeous self is going especially with that little dress you owned that he loves on your body. he wonders what was the special occasion.

you put on a soft smile while adjusting your shoes. you noticed that sunghoon stood up, eyes still checking you out and wonders how such a dress curves your body so well.

sunghoon had a small smirk with his hands on his pocket, abandoning the pillow on his lap. it flopped next to him.

you smelt sunghoon’s signature scent of musk and a blend of roses. he wore his favorite grey hoodie that was stained with his cologne. it was because you would borrow it.

now that sunghoon was in front of you, he continue to look at you as his arms slowly wrapped around your waist. that’s when you spoke. “mhm just going out.” you spoke sweetly to sunghoon but he kept you against the wall as the door was right next to the both of you but you didn’t comment. you knew he was trapping you.

“with who?” you noticed how sunghoon raised an eyebrow and how his expression slowly changed into a sad one that he wasn’t the person you’re going out with.

“just a friend of mine.” you looked up to sunghoon and noticed how your answer didn’t satisfied him so you pushed it further. “a male friend of mine.” you placed a hand on his chest, lightly playing with the strings of his hoodie.

“excuse me?” sunghoon spoke, slightly amused because usually you would hang out with your female friends.

your heart was starting to exhilarate when his voice octaves dropped. “hanbin? mark? jisung?” he started rambling of the guy friends that you had on the top of his head.

you were surprised at how many he remembered. is that a good thing?

sunghoon noticed your eyes widening so he took a deep breath and placed a soft smile that seemed a bit fake from your perspective.

“don’t go.”

what a contrast.

you almost snickered when you noticed sunghoon’s lips twitching, trying to lee his smile still but his hands wrapped around your waist, wrapped further until his hands reached his elbows. you were cold to him, close enough that your hands on his chest was the only barrier separating you two.

you found it somehow adorable to see him pouting.

you copied him. “taerae and i planned to go out and work work on our project for a while now.” you mentally apologized for using your friend’s name on the spot but you panicked to make something new on top of your head.

“where are you guys going?” you couldn’t handle sunghoon’s stare despite dating him so you looked down towards his buff chest. sometime about his stare sparked jealousy and agitated but he kept his mouth shut.

“we planned to watch a movie theatre together then a cafe and then the library.”

“alone?”

“yeah..”

you swore when you looked up at sunghoon, he was frozen, mouth apart as he was speechless. his eyes started to twitch. he then blinked at you multiple times to see if you were joking.

well, you were. but you kept a serious face on which didn’t show any sort of crackling.

“it sounds more like a date.” you can tell his whiny tone with his words, lips pouting that made you want to pinch his cheeks but you held back.

you shook his head. “why would i have a date with taerae when i can have with you?” you tilted your head, chuckling at his remark. “you’re literally my boyfriend.” you giggled lightly.

sunghoon sighed. “then don’t go. i’ll help you with the project instead, heck i’ll go to taerae instead of you.” his eyes were showing pettiness that you can’t help but lightly giggle. you saw sunghoon’s grumpy expression as he kept you close to him.

you poked at his birth mole under his eye. “boop.” were the words you let out but it didn’t phase sunghoon, keeping his grumpy expression on.

“we don’t even attend the same college hoon.” sunghoon’s eyes soften when you easily roll off his nickname out loud. he rather rolled his eyes instead.

“i have to go soon,” you looked at the clock behind sunghoon’s figure. it was 2pm. you were surprised your acting has gone this far and you’re continuing. you thought it was fun to make your boyfriend jealous.

“hoon, let go of me.” your hands flew to his triceps, surprised at how his muscle flexed against your touch. you lightly touched his muscle which broke sunghoon’s grumpy expression again.

you looked at him with an eyebrow raise, hoping he would be persuaded to let you go but he shook his head like a kid.

“come on baby, don’t say that.”

your heart beat started pounding like crazy. you were astonished at the unexpected sentence. you suddenly stared at sunghoon, how a strand of hair was covering his eye so you unconsciously moved it behind his ear, eyes watching your actions. sunghoon stared at your lips, stained with your red lipstick.

“taerae can wait another day.” sunghoon started rubbing your back with his hands, making you frozen and loosing your train of thoughts.

yeah forget taerae.

“it would be amazing to show him how beautiful my girlfriend is but i want you to myself right now baby.” sunghoon started to lean closer, his hand cupping your jaw and slowly easing your cheek with his soft fingers.

you closed your eyes and leaned against his relaxing touch. “you sound possessive park.” you were satisfied with your act, chuckling slightly at how amused you are.

sunghoon giggled as well, his deep giggle erupting in him as you felt him leaning more into you. “mhmm maybe?” he shrugged with a smile.

you opened your eyes and see sunghoon staring at you with love and affection. you can’t help but to plant a lot of kisses to his lips. you saw sunghoon staring at your lips and you predicted what was gonna happen next.

“mhmm yeah.” you smiled mischievously at sunghoon, removing his arms from your waist and turned around towards the door which showed your back to him.

maybe you’re not done yet.

but before you can open the door, sunghoon wrapped his arms once again which prevented you from not moving. your hands reached to the cold door handle but didn’t touch. his hands gripped your hips which indicated a new side of your boyfriend, park sunghoon.

sunghoon’s lips pecked your neck. “not on my watch.” his hot breath contrasted your cold skin, tickling you.

your heart paused at his actions.

you felt your boyfriend’s chest against your back, giving you instant warmth to your cold, clammy skin. his hug was very comforting and at this point you gave up with your little skit.

“possessive and back hugging me? how romantic.” you chuckled. you felt a sharp pain in the side of your neck, “ow!” you shouted in shock when it was sunghoon’s playful behavior of showing his love. you knew sunghoon had fangs and he unfortunately is abusing that characteristic of his by biting you. you rather found it his fangs adoring yet a bit hot that your boyfriend looked like an actual vampire.

you felt sunghoon’s tongue’s slowly soothing that area when he licked your pain away; like a cat. you smiled when he hugged you tighter as his face was dug into your neck as if you’ll disappear.

sunghoon abruptly stopped hugging you but rather grabbed your hand, dragging you across the hallway towards the bed that both of you live in, filled with smiles and flustered cheeks.

thank you for reading<3 hope you enjoyed!

[tarotwithavi]

How will your future spouse/lover show their love?

How to choose a pile?

Close your eyes and take a deep breath and ask the angels to show you the right pile for you and open your eyes. The first pile that catches your attention is the right pile for you.

Masterlist

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Pile 1

Hello! Pile 1 and welcome to your reading!! I see that your future spouse is that type of person who wants to offer things to you and they may not be good at expressing their feelings or emotions through words and because of that they express their love through acts of service and giving gifts. They are the type of person who will offer you food when you're working, peel oranges and pomegranate for you and massage your shoulders after you come from work. I also see that there are times when they may regret not being able to express their emotion through words because I see that you are someone who constantly needs words of affirmation or assurance. They are the type to constantly ask you how they can help you. They move their hands through your hair and massage your scalp randomly. They'll do small things that would mean a lot to you because you do notice all the little things they do. Cleaning your closet, getting you fruits and sweets, helping in your house chores without asking are just some of the things they'll do to show their love. I also see that they would always carry your bags for you and make you a cup of coffee in the morning. For some I also see that they'll be making you breakfast in bed. They are honestly so sweet and there is nothing they cannot do. They will always try to help you in everything they can and do everything they can for you. They may be a professionist so they want to be perfect in loving you too.

Pile 2

What's up pile 2! Alright so I see that your future spouse is rich and if not rich rich then they definitely have the money to travel the world with you because I see that travelling together is going to be one of the main things they will do to show their love. I see that they want to make your every wish come true and I also see that they will be always planning small picnics movie nights to spend time together. They may be a fitness freak so you may exercise together or go to the gym together. I also see that you guys will and roll in some really creative classes like yoga classes or art classes together. They will learn to play different instruments just so they can play your favorite songs. They really care about all the small details that you share about yourself. I also see that they love watching you talk about the things you are interested and passionate about. I am also getting that they will stop doing their work and focus their attention on you and stare in your soul while you talk. I see that they may have to travel a lot for work so they'll be facetiming you everytime they get the chance to. Or send you pictures of everything that reminds them of you. For some of you, you may love to click pictures of the sky and different cloud shapes and they'll be sending you pictures of every interesting cloud shape they see. I also see that they would want to serve in religious groups together.

Pile 3

Hello! Pile 3! How are you? So I see that your future spouse is all about surprises and unexpected gifts. I also see that they are not shy in expressing their feelings. They will be constantly reminding you that they belong to you and you belong to them. I see that they will be whispering “I love you’s” in your ear everytime they get the chance to and everytime they feel you need it. And I also see that they cannot stop talking about you no matter what. They will be talking about you to their friends, family and even colleagues. “I wanna brag about it, I wanna tie the knot, I wanna show you off” is playing in my head and I feel like this song really explains your situation. I see that they'll be sending you long paragraphs of how much they love you and how much you mean to them. I am also getting that they'll hide random notes in your house to surprise you with love messages. They are big on writing and expressing their feelings in written form so you can expect handwritten letters once in a while. For some of you they may even set their alarm with your name or something that reminds them of you 😭😭 that's cute af. I also see that they'll also compliment you and say things like “my pretty wife/husband” , “my love” or put “my” in front of your name. I see that you guys mirror each other so this may be your way of showing love too.

[brucewaynehater101]

Tim Drake deserves a vacation from WE, honestly i have no idea about business, but i don't think 95% of the fandom has any idea of what a CEO does either so it's okay. after almost 2 years as the CEO of WE, Tim can finally say that the company is at a point where there's nothing he needs to do and it will still thrive, so he finally decides to take a vacation, and since Bruce still hasn't moved a single step to return as CEO no matter how many times Tim implied, if not outright told him to take back the position, he decides to kill two birds with one stone and make Bruce take the position back, by publicly spending the biggest amount possible in this vacation.

But that's where the first issue appears, despite being rich since he was born, Tim never spent that much money needlessly, Brucie used to spend money on the models he was dating before he became known as a single father, but there's no way that Tim could trust some random models, and he has a boyfriend, so that's out.

But he does have very handsome/beautiful friends that can and have followed him to hell, so surely they wouldn't mind fake dating him and his bf, and who doesn't like spending money, so he called Kon, Bart and Cass to meet with Bernard and he explained his plan, they accepted it way easier than Tim thought and so the vacation began, Tim doubted Bruce last more than a day before taking the company back once the whole world saw Tim Drake on a vacation spending thousands of dollars on his 'harem'.

Two months later the plan failed successfully.

first things first, the vacation was great and it only took Tim 3 weeks before he realized he never told the others that the polycule was fake so they went in this vacation thinking that Tim just decided they should all date and didn't even argue because they're used to Tim being right about pretty much anything, the hardest sell was Bernard and even then it was really fast for him to accept once he saw them and when he saw how much they loved Tim, so by the end Tim was well rested and gained two boyfriends and a girlfriend.

Second thing, all of Tim's partners have rock solid morals*, so when Tim said he wanted them to spend thousands of dollars they all assumed Tim was offering to donate for their charities of choice, so by the end of the vacation Tim donated millions to charities, founded at least 10 new charities, began a 5-year plan to end world hunger, and was awarded a nobel Peace prize.

Third thing, Bruce did indeed try to take over two days into Tim's vacation, the board all laughed as if Brucie had said a funny joke, he played it off but Lucius called Alfred later, Bruce then realized that Tim is too loved by Gotham and WE for him to justify taking the company from him, besides that Tim made sure that the company was safe from takeover and bribes, so even if he wanted to there's no way for Bruce to buy the board members, the final nail on his coffin was that Alfred grounded him once he heard from Lucius, Bruce tried to argue that he was too old to be grounded so he was grounded for twice as long.

In the end despite still being CEO, Tim was happy and well rested, even if he's surprised that Bruce genuinely didn't want to be CEO anymore, he thought for sure Bruce would ask him for the position back.

meanwhile Bruce spent the entire 2 months he was grounded for playing mental 3d chess to plan on how to get the company back, but he didn't even consider asking Tim to be CEO again, so he just brooded the whole time.

Absolutely fabulous. My favorite part is how YJ doesn't even question Tim being all like, "Yeah. We should all date for one of my plans."

They heard that and figured dating each other and Bernard is probably in their best interests since Tim declared it so. Obviously. This is Tim.

They are also not opposed to it either. Again. This is Tim. They may not yet be sold on Bernard, but Tim's reassured them it's fine (Tim was trying to tell them that Bernard is okay with the fake dating and he's sure they would get along great). [It also doesn't help that Tim's reasonings were: "You're all very attractive and I trust you"]

The best part is that Tim reassured them five separate times that they do not have to go through with it. YJ and Bernard thought he was just trying to make sure everyone was on board with trying to date each other. Tim just didn't want anyone to be uncomfortable fake dating.

I would absolutely love to see how this goes down.

Bart, Kon, Cassie, and Bernard are all flirting with each other and Tim. Tim, meanwhile, is sitting there all like, "Wow! They are acting so well! I'm so glad I can count on my friends (and boyfriend)!"

He's an idiot (affectionate).

He's also an idiot cause they've had many many discussions on boundaries and such with him (they also had a few without him due to Tim being the original tie between YJ and Bernard).

The best part would be if Bernard and the others figure it out before Tim. This thus turns into everyone else trying woo Tim into the concept. Bernard, as the official boyfriend, leads the charge. They are also very very careful to check what Tim thinks about polyamory and his comfort levels.

Anyways, let's cover the other sections (I got a bit distracted).

I have no clue what a CEO does but, in my biased opinion, Tim definitely does way more than he's required to. All he needs to do is go to a few meetings, review paperwork, and make decisions regarding the direction of the company/investors. He loves the R&D and charity (not sure the official name) departments too much, though.

He does get involved in other departments as well. It's not his favorite task, but Tim reviews employee contracts when they renew and employee benefits to ensure employees are getting well-above what's considered "fair" or "legal" (4 month parental leave, paid guaranteed lunch breaks, Rogue insurance coverage, double national requirements for sicktime [this is Gotham], medical bills assistance, daycare options, etc). This is why WE loves him.

Tim doesn't want to work as a CEO, but he does love seeing how much he can help others through his civilian work (and learning that he doesn't need to be Robin to save people).

Bruce was laughed out of the office, and Mr. Fox (I love him so much. He deserves all of my respect) was justified in ratting him out to Alfred.

Maybe when Tim returns the two of them start working together so Bruce is more involved with his company (behind the scenes but not in a way that steps on Tim's toes or undermines his authority).

[luvf4ngz]

HOT LOVE ON THE WING - jason todd.

Descripton: You’re not upset about your most recent breakup; you’re just upset you have no one to fuck anymore. Good thing your Shakespeare loving best friend, Jason, has a solution to that.

Contents: This Bad Boy Is PACKED With Shakespeare References, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cheating (Not By Jason Or Reader), You And Jason Are Absolute Fucking DORKS, Good Friend Jason Todd, Best Friend Jason Todd, Self-Indulgent, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Female Reader, HEAVY Banter, Hair-pulling, Vaginal Fingering, Squirting, Overstimulation :), Pet Names, Praise Kink, Dacryphilia, Soft Jason Todd, Dom Jason Todd, Missionary Position, Doggy Style, Cowgirl Position, Nipple Play, Spanking, Rough Sex, Dumbification, Fucked Stupid, Unrealistic Sex, Unprotected Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Spit/Drool, Goofy Giggly Sex, But Also Hard and Fast Sex, Jason Destroys Your Spiderman Panties :(

Word Count: 3131

Author's Note: If it wasn't obvious from the tags this is a repost from my AO3 hehe. This is genuinely my favorite fic I've ever written, I hope you enjoy it as much as I do :) <3

“It’s okay, pretty girl. You can take it, can’t you? You made a big show of defying me earlier, put your money where your mouth is - right?”

You threw open the door to his dorm, instantly honing in on his bed and diving into the soft plush. Jason is sitting at his desk, looking up at you from his book with a roll of his eyes at your dramatic entrance. 

“Well, hello to you too.” His tone is dripping with sarcasm, but his smile betrays his facade. “It’s nice to see you again, stranger. How long has it been, hm?” He teases, his words alluding to the fact that you’ve been spending less time with him lately in favor of being with your “new boy toy” - as he put it.

You let out a hum into the comforter before moving to your side to properly look at him. “Well I think you’ll be very happy to hear that I’m all yours again, Todd, so there’s no need to be jealous.” You cheekily reply. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His eyebrows knit together in confusion. You thought it made him look adorable.

“I broke up with my ‘boy toy’, as you so politely called him.” You giggled out, using your fingers as quotation marks for emphasis. 

“What!? What happened?” Jason’s eyes widened at the news you so casually dropped.

“Apparently he’s been cheating on me for some time. My friend showed me some pictures of him shoving his tongue down some girl’s throat at a party so I broke it off with him this morning. Anyways, what’s been going on in Jay-Land?” You grin widely as you gaze at him from the bed.

Your attempt at changing the topic of conversation went unsuccessful. 

Jason sat up from his spot, setting his book down before hurriedly making his way over to you, settling down beside you on the bed.

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t I seem okay to you? I’m just fine, dude.” You tried to reassure him, your voice unwavering and relaxed as your eyes followed him.

“I mean, I guess; but I thought you really liked him.” 

“It seems like you want me to be sad over this. What do you want me to say? ‘Tears seven times salt burn the sense and virtue from mine eyes!’” You gasp out the line dramatically, bringing a hand to cover your heart and the other to wipe non-existent tears from your face, before bursting out into giggles. 

“Don’t you go quoting Shakespeare at me! That’s my role in this friendship!” Jason playfully nudges your shoulder as a wide grin breaks out on his own face.

“The Jason doth protest too much, methinks.” You do your best to put on a snooty tone, but your laughter prevents it. 

“Oh, shut up.” 

Another round of cackles start up between the two of you, and you both relish in the comfortable silence that falls after. 

“You know,” You start, breaking the silence and making Jason’s head turn towards you. “There is one thing I’m sad about.”

“What?”

“His dick game was mad good.” You say with an extravagant sigh. “I’m gonna miss it.” You fake a few sniffles.

“Aw, come on now. There’s other dick out there.” 

“Nah, it’s too much work. I’ll just have to survive without it for now. ‘But I have that within which passeth show; these but the trappings and the suits of woe.’”

“I can’t believe he’s got you so cock-drunk that you’re quoting Hamlet.” Jason tsks out in false disapproval. “He’s not good enough to be depressed for.”

“He’s not, but the sex definitely was.” 

“It couldn’t have been that good.”

“It was.”

“Not better than what I could do though.”

“Ehhhhhh…” You squinch your face together in overplayed disbelief, causing him to fix you with a sharp glare and a hurt gasp. 

“Is that a challenge?” He smirked, his eyes narrowing in competitiveness. 

“I know it not ‘seems’.” 

“You cheeky motherfucker.” Jason smiles out before grabbing your waist and throwing you further up the bed. It causes you to let out a startled yelp as Jason moved to hover over your body.

“Oh? You gonna prove it to me, Todd? You must be overcompensating for something if you get this riled up over such a small comment. You know, if you wanted to fuck me - you could have just asked.”

“Funny, I was about to say the exact same thing.” He leans in to bite your neck, making your body jolt against his.

“Hey! Play nice, Todd.” You scold, slapping his shoulder before wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I’m ever so sorry, madam.” He fake pouts before attacking your face with kisses. 

“Stop!” You squeal out, giggles erupting uncontrollably from the ticklish sensation. You move your hands to his chest, pushing him away from you. “Are you ever gonna get on with it, or are you just gonna keep messing around?”

“That’s a fair thought: to lie between maids’ legs.” 

“Ugh, it doesn’t sound as good when you do it.” 

“Excuse you? I’m a Shakespeare quoting champ!” 

“You’re awfully defensive today, Todd.” You note with a grin. 

“Keep talking, princess, see what happens.” He jokingly warns. 

He pulls back from you to pull his shirt over his head, before going to tug at his pants. You follow after him, sitting up to discard your own clothing. Once you both are left in your underwear, Jason pushes you flat against the bed again. 

“Spiderman panties. Cute.” 

“Shut up. It’s not like I planned for this to happen.” You grumbled out at his observation. You forgot about them and your cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“Mhm, sure, sweetheart.”

Jason starts planting sloppy kisses on your skin, trailing his way down your body until he’s reached your waistband. He shuffles down the bed and lies down between your legs, leaning in to snatch the fabric of your underwear between his teeth and ripping it off your legs. 

“Jay! I liked that pair!”

“My bad, princess, I’ll be sure to buy you some new ones.”

“Better still be spiderman.”

“I’m more Team Cap.” He disserts before gripping your thighs and dragging your core closer to his face; the back of your calves rest on his shoulders. 

His eyes drag down your glistening pussy before he lets out a loud wolf whistle at the sight.

“Ew, Todd!” You laugh, trying to kick him for the action but the hold he has on you is too tight to allow movement. 

“What? I’m just appreciating the view.”

He dips his head down, tongue flicking at your hooded clit before he wraps his lips and around the bud and sucks. He feels your thighs tighten around his head as your own tilts up to let out a loud moan. He replaces his tongue with his fingers, expertly working the nub in circles as he peers up at you. 

Your head is turned to the side, eyes clenched and lips spilling shaky whines. 

‘A damn nice sight’, if he did say so himself.

He continues to stimulate your clit with his thumb, pressing his tongue to your dripping hole to lap up your arousal. 

“Fuck, Jason! You really know how to put the money where your mouth is,” You mumble into the sheets, hips bucking up every once in a while from the pleasure. 

Jason grips you tighter, preventing you from moving. He briefly looks up to note “I think you’ll find I know how to use my mouth quite well”, before moving to continue eating you out.

His actions are faster, more feverous. His tongue runs up and down your sex, your slick coating his taste buds. He savors it - lets out a deep hum that reverberates through your pussy and up your spine, sending shivers through your body. He sucks and slurps at you, so passionate that you swear you can feel your soul escaping through your cunt. The wet smacks do nothing but turn you on more, your thighs pressing closer to his head and acting as earmuffs. 

Your hands move from their place bunched in his sheets to his hair, tanging the dark locks between your fingers and instinctively tugging. It causes a low groan to tear from his throat, the bass and depth of it fueling the uncontrollable hot ache in your stomach. That only makes you want to do it again. The second tug makes a sound that’s akin to a growl, before Jason pauses his movements to stare up at you.

“Careful, princess. Don’t bite off more than you can chew.” 

It’s a sight to behold. Jason: heaving, eyes blown, his face shiny from your smeared slick. His mouth is open, panting - his gaze refusing to leave contact with yours. There’s mischief glimmering in the depth of his eyes. 

You don’t reply - only smirk, and yank his head closer to your sex again. 

“Oh, you’ve done it now.” 

His hand moves from your clit to your dripping hole, two fingers pushing their way inside you. His lips reattach to your clit as he starts to move his fingers - fast and rough and leaving you no time to adjust to his intrusion. 

“J-Jesus fuck!” He can feel your thighs twitching, can feel your fingers gripping onto his hair hard in response, and it only spurs him on more. 

His palm smacks against your cunt with each hit, splattering your slick. His fingers move at an unfathomable speed, pads searching for that one spot inside you that will make you see white. 

You’re whimpering and whining above him, senses overwhelmed at Jason’s rough ministrations. It’s too much: the pressure building inside you. It feels like you’re on the edge, senses ready to fall into a never-ending pit of endorphins and fear and exhilaration. There are fireworks inside you, lit and ready to burst and fry all of your sensibilities. 

Finally, it happens - what Jason’s been waiting for. With a slightly tilted angle of his hand and a curl of his fingers, he finds it. He knows because you suddenly tense up; because you let out the most angelic, strung-out moan he’s ever heard; because your walls clamp down on his fingers and a jet of tangy, sweet liquid hits his awaiting tongue. 

God he wishes he could watch you cum over and over and over. He’s gonna think back to this moment when he’s fucking his fist in the future - that’s for sure. The view of you - back arched, eyes teary. The sensation of you - warm and wet and tight against his digits. The sound of you - desperate and high pitched and wailing out his name. He wants it all burned into his brain.

“Jason, Jason!” Yeah, that’s the sound of heaven alright. “Jay! Stop! I came- I can’t!”

Hm?

Oh. He hasn’t stopped pumping his fingers inside you. Oh, well.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. You can take it, can’t you? You made a big show of defying me earlier, put your money where your mouth is - right?”

God, you’re shaking. You look like a leaf shivering in the wind, or a cat left out in the rain. Your eyes are glossy and teary and fuck. You look so beautiful falling apart for him. 

Your brain is in shambles, screaming and begging for a reprieve. It’s dizzying, the assault of your sensations. All you can hear, think, feel is Jason.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please!”

“Come on, princess. Just let go. Just one more for me, yeah?”

You can’t tell if the second orgasm hits you like a train or slowly drowns you in its weight. Maybe a mix of both - a crashing of a tsunami that simultaneously relieves your ache and steals your breath. 

You’re sobbing, trembling, gasping for breath and trying to regain feeling from the clouds that seem to have replaced your nerves. 

“You did so well.” Jason cooes. He’s sitting up, suckling your juices from his fingers like you were a decadent 5-star meal.

He moves to lay down beside you, pulling your body to curl into his, back to peppering your cheeks with chaste, affectionate kisses. 

“Fuck, Jason.” You heave out, still slightly out of it. 

“Was that okay? Did I get carried away?” He questions softly, concern lacing the green in his eyes. 

“Yeah, no, that was great.” You quickly reassure him. “I just- wow. I need a moment.” 

He chuckles quietly before holding you close to his body again. “So? Did I exceed your expectations?”

“Don’t get cocky. Hubris was the downfall of Macbeth.” You shuffle closer to him. “Speaking of cocky, is that a dagger - or are you just happy to see me?”

“I’m always happy to see you princess,” Jason croons. “but I am extremely rock hard right now, too.”

Your hands drift down his body, sensually tracing every muscle from his chest to his pelvis, before tugging off his boxers.

You swing your body on top of his, straddling his waist as you begin pumping his cock. 

“Well then” You start, positioning yourself on top of his awaiting member, “O’ happy dagger, this is thy sheath…”

You start to sink down on him as you finish the quote, your words trailing off into a wanton moan. 

“I’d yell at you for saying something so stupid if you weren’t fucking squeezing my cock right now.” Jason manages to huff out. His teeth are gritted, eyes shut as he tries not to cum at the sensation of you wrapped warm and tight around him. 

His large hands settle on your waist as yours plant themselves on his chest for support. 

“You have to admit, it’s clever wordplay.” You mewl, mind fuzzy from the sensation of his dick stretching you out. 

Tingles shoot up your body as the pain dissolves into a delicious fullness. You crave friction, your very core feels like it's aching for it. In fact, you think you’ll go insane if you don’t start moving right now. 

You carefully lift your hips up, before dropping back down again, repeating the motion over and over until you’ve built up a somewhat regular rhythm. 

Moans ceaselessly flow from your lips, interspersed with mumbled swears and curses.

Your head is tipped forward, your hair falling into your face. Jason’s hand comes up to brush it back behind your ear, before gently cupping your cheek.

“You feel so good baby, fuck.” He grunts.

His other hand comes up to undo your bra, releasing your tits to him. Both palms move to cup them, kneading at the soft flesh before working your perked nipples with his fingers. 

You still your movements with a whine, too confounded by the assault of stimulations you were feeling. That doesn’t mean that you’re not still desperate and yearning, though. Your thighs do their best to rub against each other, trying to chase friction despite your inaction. 

It’s only as you rest that you feel how sore your legs have become, enough that you let out a pitiful mewl. 

“Is my pretty baby tired?” Jason muses, while he’s still pinching and rolling your sensitive buds. 

“Mhm,” You moan out in reply. 

He quickly rolls the both of you over, laying you down onto your back again before flipping you onto your stomach. 

You quickly shuffle onto your knees, arching back against him in wait. 

“Good girl,” He laughs out. His palms rub against your cheeks, squeezing the flesh there before pulling back and giving it a slap. 

It earns him a broken moan from your throat, and the view of your ass shaking in desperation.

It only makes him laugh again. “Have some patience, naughty girl.”

He spanks you again, and you keen so high-pitched and pretty that he can only relent to your demands. 

Jason grips his cock and guides it to your wet folds, sliding it up and down before finally pushing in. You welcome him easily, pussy molding perfectly to his thick cock. 

A hand settles on your waist while the other tangles into your hair. He yanks your head back as he starts fucking you hard and fast. 

His hips smack hard against your ass with each thrust, slowly turning the skin there sore and heated. His cock is bullying its way in and out of you, the tip knocking against your sweet spot with a force that repeatedly knocks the breath and thoughts out of you. 

Your eyes are rolled back, brain melted, as drool drips from your lips. 

Chants of “fuck” and “Jay” are the only sounds your mouth remembers how to make now. 

“Just keep saying my name like that, sweetheart.” Jason pants out. 

He can’t believe how good you feel around him. You’re so warm and wet that his cock glides in and out so easy, making it effortless for him to abuse your poor cunt. 

The hand in your hair guides you up to him, back pressed against his sweaty chest as he tilts your head and leans in for a kiss. 

It’s messy with your spit and drool, both your movements uncoordinated and sloppy. 

He fucks up into you all the while, gravity allowing him to hit harder and deeper inside you.

He can feel that you’re close again - your body is twitching against him, your cunt beginning to spasm. 

The hand on your waist reaches to rub quick and hard circles against your clit, and you’re gone.

Your whole body shudders as you soak his cock, before going limp is his hold. It’s an intense buzzing sensation that overtakes you, settling deep in your veins until you’re trapped in a pleasing static. Your head is submerged in sticky syrup that makes it hard to think, so you just indulge in the calming weight of it. 

Jason pulls out and gently maneuvers your dazed body back to the bed, hand working himself to completion before finishing on your stomach - his warm cum splattering on the skin as he lets out a husky grunt.

He stays there, catching his breath for a few moments before he disappears to the bathroom while you come down from your high, washing his hands and grabbing a damp towel to bring back to you. 

He wipes you clean before poking your cheek until your gaze refocuses on him.

“How was it?” He cheekily smirks. 

“I certainly died a lovely death in thy lap,” You chuckle.

“If you can still quote Shakespeare I didn’t fuck you dumb enough.” Jason frowns.

“Awh, cheer up, you big baby.” You reach out to pat his head endearingly, “I change my mind; your dick game is definitely better.”

“YES!” Jason fist-pumps like he just scored a touch-down and you smile at how stupid he looks. “Okay, now you go pee.” He shoos you away. “I’ll change the sheets and we can watch reruns of Gossip Girl again.”

“I would not wish any companion in the world but you.” You fake tear-up, wiping your eyes before giggling the whole way to the bathroom. 

Thank you so much for reading! A comment or reblog is much appreciated. Have a great day <3

- sumi ☆ミ

ミ☆ masterlist

[pinkhoneydrop]

LoveIsland: EpisodeOne

Welcome to week one in the villa I’m so happy to see everyone together. I hope you’re ready to spend the summer getting flirty and maybe a little feisty. Keep your goal in mind throughout the week when you make your choices!! - Liz

BIG SHOUTOUT TO @finelinepie THANK YOUUU SOOOO MUCH I APPRECIATE YOU SO HARD!!!!!!

///

You didn't think you would be this nervous when you signed up. You had been a fan of the show for a while and got an ad to apply. At first the idea of charity seemed like a good cause to objectify yourself but after some deliberation with friends you quickly realized that you craved the dramatization of the show.

… “You might find the love of your life, you never know.” Your best friend sat across from you in a local cafe. You explained to her the email you received inviting you to join the show this season.

“What if I regret it?” You laughed at yourself as you leaned back in the cafe chair. A lump formed in your stomach from just thinking about what you had done.

Sending in your audition tape while drunk after a night out was probably not the best idea.

“Promise me you'll go and try it out. Try and find a man or even just get laid. You need it and if anything, you leave with a shit ton of money. What's the harm in that?” ...

            Maybe your friend was right. Maybe you would fall into a whirlwind romance with your dream guy. But you might not either and that was fine. Living with your best friend forever if you ended up embarrassing yourself on national television was also fine? Right?

 For a while before the cameras started up you sat by yourself. All the contestants had their own vans with an obstructed view of the villa. South Africa was a long way from home. The lush landscape and harsh temperature added to the anxiety of meeting everyone you would be spending the summer with. You leaned back in your chair and closed your eyes trying to prepare yourself. A knock on your trailer door and a high-pitched voice alerted your senses.

“Need you all in 5.”

“Here we go.” you whispered to yourself. You looked in the mirror and adjusted yourself. You were wearing your favorite color and felt like you would never truly be ready, so you fluffed your hair and exited your trailer. Three other girls exit as well. The three of you walked along with some crew members to separate spots and each of you entered one by one to a mini bar. Palm trees lined the edge of the deck and tall tables stood in the middle between the bar and the end of the deck. You sighed as your turn came.

“Oh my gosh hi how are you I’m Leila.” A girl who was much taller than you with a head of dark curly hair smiled and greeted you as you walked towards the bar. “Wow, she's cheery. If everyone is like this then summer should definitely be fun.” you thought to yourself as you smiled at her. Not only was she cheerful, but she was also beautiful. A green bikini sat on her hips and wrapped around her shoulders. You chuckled nervously to yourself. Leila took notice and sparked up some casual conversation with you.

{cut to interview}

… “Hey, I’m Leila I’m 26 years old.” music played in the background as Leila spoke during her interview.

“Originally from just outside Manchester and I'm here to find the love of my life.” She smiles as a blush rises to her cheeks and giggles a little as the camera angle changes.         

“The other girls better watch out; I've been known to be a bit feisty back home.” the music fades out and the camera returns to the bar…

{cut back to camera 3}

“It's so nice to see a friendly face first thing. I'm kind of nervous.” your smile weakens as you talk to Leila. Not too long after another girl walks in.

“Holy shit.” Leila says as the girl gets closer. You turn to have a look and almost pass out. Long tan legs leading up to the tiniest bikini bottoms that probably ever existed. Your eyes widened and you were lost for words. The girl spoke before you could even form a coherent thought.

“I’m Chloe.” Her voice was a bit high, but you supposed it might have just been all the traveling catching up to her. You watched as Leila gave her the same cheerful smile that she gave to you. Chloe gave a short smirk and twisted her neck to look at you next. Her blonde hair seemed to flow with her movement.

“Y/n.” You stuck your hand out as you introduced yourself. Chloe just looked at it and headed for the bar to get a cocktail.

“Gosh, a bit cold now, isn’t she?” Leila frowned as she watched her. You raised your brow and decided this might be a long summer.

{cut to interview}

… “Hii I’m Chloe I’m 25 from Glasgow and I’m just living life.”  Music plays again as another interview starts.

“I love a good English boy who gives good chat and has pretty eyes.” Chloe winks and laughs at herself.

“If my girls would describe me in one word it would be...Maneater.” …

{cut back to camera 3}

“I hope I’m not the only one drinking today.” Chloe spoke as she set three glasses on the table in front of you. It was odd. At least you thought so, but you took the drink anyway hoping to calm yourself.

“Oh, I’ll absolutely take this, thank you, Chloe.”

“No problem girl.” A large smile graced her lips as she watched you drink.

“Guess I’ll have another one as well. Thanks.” Leila was polite enough to escape a glare from the blonde, but you immediately noticed the tension between them. “Interesting…”

Just before anyone could continue the conversation another girl walked into the villa.

{cut to third interview}

… “I’m Genevieve I’m 27 from Dewsbury but I live in LA currently.” The brunette was calm as she spoke and smiled at the camera.

“I’m trying to find work as a model. Navigating LA life is hard but navigating my love life is harder. I just seem to always find my worst match so hopefully it’s different here.” …

{cut to camera 2}

Her confident stride and striking appearance instantly drew everyone’s attention. Chloe, the first to react, sized her up with a quick, appraising glance before flashing her trademark bright smile.

“Well, look who decided to join the party,” Chloe said, her tone dripping with a mix of faux friendliness and thinly veiled competitiveness. Genevieve smiled graciously, taking in the room. “Hey everyone,” she greeted, her voice smooth and inviting.

“I’m Genevieve. I hope I’m not too late.” Leila, who had been nursing her drink, immediately stood up and walked over to Genevieve.

“Hi Genevieve, I’m Leila,” she said warmly.

“Nice to meet you. Want a drink?” Genevieve’s smile widened.

“Sure, I’d love one. Thanks, Leila.”

As Leila prepared a drink for Genevieve, Chloe leaned in closer to you. “Another model, huh? This should be interesting,” she whispered, her eyes never leaving Genevieve. You could sense the undercurrent of tension in Chloe’s voice but chose to stay neutral.

“Yeah, let’s see how things unfold,” you replied quietly, taking another sip of your drink. Leila returned with a drink for Genevieve, who accepted it with a grateful nod. “So, Genevieve, tell us a bit about yourself,” Leila encouraged, her genuine interest in breaking the ice.

“Well, I’m 27 and I’ve been living in LA for a few years now,” Genevieve began.

“I’m trying to break into modeling. It’s tough and I have to keep the lights on by serving, but I love the challenge. And, of course, I’m here to hopefully find the right guy.”

The other girls listened intently, some nodding in understanding. Chloe, however, remained somewhat aloof, swirling her drink thoughtfully.

“LA, huh? That must be quite a change from Dewsbury,” she commented, a hint of skepticism in her voice. Genevieve nodded, unfazed by Chloe’s tone.

“It is, but I love it. The energy, the opportunities—it’s all worth it.” Chloe smirked, leaning back in her chair.

“Well, good luck to you babe. You’re going to need it.” Leila shot Chloe a disapproving look before turning back to Genevieve.

“Don’t mind Chloe. She can be a bit much sometimes as were learning,” she said with a wink. “We’re all here to find love, after all.” Genevieve laughed lightly, clearly not perturbed.

“Thanks, Leila. I’m looking forward to getting to know all of you.”

You didn’t know how Leila did it. Keep up the niceties with all these women. The relationships right now were all surface. This is the time to be strategically quiet. Or in your case just nervously so. As the conversation continued, the initial tension began to dissipate, replaced by curiosity and a tentative camaraderie. The girls were eager to see how Genevieve would fit into the group dynamics, and despite Chloe’s initial frostiness, there was a sense of anticipation about what the next days would bring.

{cut to camera 1 in a wide shot panning over the girls and host}

“Hello ladies and welcome to the villa. We have you here today in this beautiful villa to hopefully find some love, friendship, or fortune. We have gathered you here on the lawn beside the pool deck to introduce you to the guys.” The sun was high in the sky as you stood on your marked spot. The girls lined up next to you all giggled and cheered at the introduction. You smiled along and tried to calm your nerves. Were they really about to just parade a bunch of hot guys around for you to ogle over? You looked to the right, and you saw Chloe and to your left you saw Genevieve and Leila. Not knowing too much about anyone yet you felt a little out of place. 6 weeks with these people and you would be competing with them the whole time. Not a single one of them seemed to share the nerves building in your body. The camera crew hustled about, and you stood to attention after adjusting your bikini bottoms on your hips.

{cut to camera 3 on the pathway}

“First we have Daniel Jones, he is from south London.”   a blonde man with a toned physique who walked down the path leading to the pool deck where the host was standing. “He's cute.” you thought to yourself.

“How are you doing this morning Daniel?” the host turned to speak with him. The sun beat down on everyone but despite that the girls all smiled at Daniel.

“I'm doing great now that I have some eye candy to look at.” Daniel's words came out confidently as he smiled at each of you on your marks. He was definitely fit. Tan skin shining in the sun and a pair of navy-blue trunks on his waist. You eyed him from your spot, and he winked at you in acknowledgement. Heat manifested in your cheeks at the gesture.

“How are you today, ladies?” His voice was smooth, catching your attention and no doubt the other girls as well.

“Alright Daniel, go stand on that first mark and let's see the next guy, shall we?” The host smiled and turned to face the pathway.

The sun was high in the sky that morning as the next guy came out. All of the girls adjusted themselves as the cameras cut back and forth between them.

“Here we have Elias, he is from London but lives in LA. Elias, how are you?”

Elias was gorgeous. Dark hair sitting atop his head and muscles peeking out of darker skin that looked perfectly Sunkissed. He wore deep rust orange shorts and had his ears pierced. You blushed as he caught your eye and sent a small nod in your direction.

“I'm doing alright.” His voice was deep and gravely. You could only imagine what his personality was like as he stood at attention. A couple of the ladies snickered at one another, and Elias smirked at the attention he was getting. Just like Daniel, Elias moved to stand next to his mark.

“Ladies, how are we feeling about the selection so far?” The host spoke to all of you and garnered some exclamations from the whole group.

“The selection is fit; how can we complain?” Genevieve spoke up first. She was beautiful to look at and if you were one of the guys you definitely would want her to couple up with you. Long brown hair with highlights framing her face. As you were admiring her, your thoughts were interrupted by a rather whiney voice.

“Yeah exactly, but I have to say I'm excited for this special guest.” The next girl to speak was Chloe and she turned to give the other girls a light glare as if she were daring them to challenge her. Chloe was a natural blonde with green and brown eyes that peered into your soul. You made a mental note not to get in her way if you could avoid it.

The host continued on and introduced the next man to the group. All the ladies gave him their attention, as it seemed he was a crowd favorite as soon as he was in sight.

“Ladies, this is River Davis from Michigan.”

River was hot, you have to admit. Lighter hair shaved low on the sides and defined muscle tapering into his trunks. Your eyes traveled trying to find a decent place to look that wasn't suggestive.

“Nice to see you, River.”

River smiled at the host and took her hand for a light shake. Turning his attention to the ladies he kept his smile and stood up straight.

“Nice to see you too. Ladies, how are you all doing?” His voice was deep too. Elias might have some competition with this one you thought. All the ladies replied in various ways as the men stood on their marks.

“Before we get to coupling time, we have one more guest joining us. Our celebrity guest this season is…” honey smiled at the group as she paused for effect.

All the ladies waited with bated breath to hear and see who was coming out next. Your breath caught in your throat as you saw brown hair through the bushes.

“Harry Styles!” The host turned and began clapping.

Harry emerged from the trail looking amazing. Tan underneath his inked skin, Trunks resting low on his hips exposing the ferns and a freshly cut head of hair to match his mustache.

“Hello everyone, m’Harry.”

You almost melted after hearing his voice in person. There was just something about him that made you feel at home, and you didn't even know the guy yet. Did you want to get to know him? Part of you felt like maybe you shouldn't, like it would be better to remain a fan of his work and omit yourself from the possibility of him being an asshole.

First choice is coming next episode!!!!

The islanders

@chelseawgnr @rafesfavoritegirl @finelinepie @sunflower-golden-vol6 @unlikelystay @sarah-ev @playhousebunni @gem1712 @indierockgirrl @boldlycoolkitty @wherearethewatermelons @tpwkvickysblog @harrystylesconcepts @superiorfemme @vashapnin @sassamanda77 @henrysteelsmurryme @littlenatilda @devilsqueen722 @ashleighsss @b3ccaaa @x100preme @lomlolivia @fanfictioncafe @racshouse42 @crazygirlinthisworld @harrys-flower @bloodywickedlips @harryshousewitnessprotection @champagnepronlemsxxxx

@harryhad-alittlelamb

[wttcsms]

angels like you can't fly down here with me (i'm everything they say i would be), megumi fushiguro ;

pairing megumi fushiguro x f!reader word count 11k  synopsis people like him don't get happy endings but megumi fushiguro (foolishly) considers himself to be the exception — after all, he has you. content contains yakuza au, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, breeding kink, slight daddy kink, attempted sa, minor violence & depictions of blood author's note if ur on my ao3, you know this is from 2021!!! my writing has changed up since then, but i'm going to be releasing a revised version of this which will be rewritten and feature more scenes, more worldbuilding, more plot, relationship and character development, etc!! i figured releasing this on tumblr would help me gauge how worthwhile revision of this fic will be, so lmk if u like this au & want to see it become even better <3

Don’t do it.

He repeats the command inside his head again, and then one more time for good measure. (And then another time, just to drive the point across.)

He won’t — can’t; isn’t really allowed to — get into (another!) fight.

(Well, there’s a part of Megumi that knows that despite Gojo’s sing-songy warning of “now, now, Megumi, I don’t need a frequent visitor’s card for the principal’s office”, he doesn’t actually care. All he’s really concerned about — if the mild interest the reckless teenager turned legal guardian shows can even be called that — is whether or not Megumi wins.

And he does.

Every. Single. Time.)

For the most part, Megumi Fushiguro is fairly stoic in general, but to a concerning degree when one accounts for the fact that he’s only ten years old. For the odd three or so years he’s been under Gojo’s wing, Megumi’s mask of disinterest stopped becoming a mask and started becoming a part of him.

(Try as he might, Gojo’s not nearly as funny as he thinks he is. Maybe the connection between them might have been stronger if Gojo was a bit more responsible and if he was actually present, but he’s got his own shit to deal with. Besides, Gojo’s under the impression that what he’s doing isn’t cruel, but rather a means to an end. Megumi’s never going to be able to get stronger if he doesn’t learn how to survive on his own.

After all, being alone and having to fight to survive is the life people like them live.)

The older preteens in the area have a bad habit of picking on the younger students. Because the elementary and middle schools are so close together, the younger students who have the misfortune of walking alone tend to be targets for bullies in need of pocket change or a good laugh. Most of the time, they get both.

As of late, everyone’s favorite target happens to be Megumi Fushiguro, the boy with the messy black hair and indifferent attitude, even when confronted by boys two years his senior and almost a whole entire head taller than him.

Last week, Megumi gave the three older boys dumb enough to harass him for money bloody noses, bruised egos, and a thirst for revenge. That was the first (and supposed to be the last) time he got into a fight (for this school year, at least — something Gojo had told him, while winking). So, even when the trio is back together again, taunting him and trying to get him to take the first swing, Megumi keeps walking forward with his perpetual look of disinterest, those cold blue eyes of his staring straight at the path ahead of him, never paying any mind to the gangly bodies of the middle school boys who keep trying to block him from moving.

Don’t do it.

He tells himself this once more. You don’t want to have to inconvenience Gojo. Then, you’ll be stuck listening to him pretend to lecture you. You don’t like spending too much time with Gojo. He’ll make weird jokes. 

The thought of having to deal with Gojo’s presence is enough to get Megumi to unclench his fists.

“Move.”

It’s the first thing he says to the group since they started following him after school. He tells the boy with the brown hair this. The brunet seems to be their ringleader of sorts, and even as nothing more than a ten year old child, Megumi knows that being twelve/thirteen and harassing little kids for sport is a sign of patheticness that will only grow and fester into something darker unless someone beats some sense into them. Obviously, they didn’t learn their lesson from last week.

“Huh? What the hell did ya just say, ya little brat?” The brown haired boy sneers, looking down at Megumi.

School has just let out, so there are dozens of kids of all ages walking down the sidewalk. They’re all aware of the situation happening, but everyone chooses to turn a blind eye to it. Partly because this is such a common occurrence that it just starts to become something that blends into the scenery, but also because there are some rumors surrounding the Fushiguro kid that’s enough to make anyone with a heart of gold reluctant to come to his rescue.

The main rumor circulating around the school is that Megumi Fushiguro has ties to the yakuza. Granted, most kids his age have no idea what the yakuza is, and even those who somewhat know only know through exaggerated definitions from their older siblings. Generally, everyone just accepts the fact that the yakuza is bad, and by default, Megumi Fushiguro must be bad too. Older siblings tell their younger siblings to avoid “that boy” at all costs, unless they want to end up with a finger cut off. Megumi’s classmates huddle together and conveniently choose to look everywhere else but at him when on the playground.

For anyone else, this might have been enough to cause some hurt feelings. Everyone thinks the boy must be some type of stupid to be so oblivious to the rumors centered around him, but the truth is this: Megumi is well aware of what people whisper about behind his back; he just doesn’t care enough to prove them wrong.

And they’re not wrong, anyway.

(For some parts of the rumors, at least.)

Because it’s true — Megumi does have ties to the yakuza. His father, who he can’t seem to attach neither a name nor a face to, must have done something bad. Something bad enough to have him cross paths with Satoru Gojo, the young head of the Gojo Clan, one of Tokyo’s most prominent crime families. It’s the same Gojo who decided to adopt both Megumi and his stepsister, Tsumiki, despite having nothing (so far) to gain from it. After all, why would a teenager willingly assign himself the responsibilities of caring for small children — one who resembles the man that tried to kill him and the other being an ill little girl confined to a hospital bed for who knows how long. All Gojo gets from this deal is a headache, bills, and more problems than necessary.

Megumi’s not really sure how the rumors started in the first place. He thinks it’s because kids his age are easily influenced and have a tendency to run wild with their imaginations. With the rising popularity of gangs from the high school students, this interest seems to have trickled all the way down to the elementary levels. Megumi certainly fits the description of their idea of someone from the yakuza: silent, secretive, scary.

(If they were a little bit older, maybe they would have just seen him as an introvert.)

No matter how ridiculous the rumors get, though, it doesn’t change the fact that the root of them is true: he is connected to the yakuza. After all, he’s being primed and prepped to be someone of value in the clan. Once you’re tied with the likes of them, you might as well just resign to the knot fate’s trapped you with. He’s learned quickly that the only thing harder than getting into the yakuza is getting out.

And because his sister’s and his life both depend on him doing as he’s told, getting out is a funny pipe dream at best and the Fushiguro siblings’ cause of death at worst.

“I told you to move. You’re blocking my way.” Megumi’s tone of voice betrays nothing. Annoyance, maybe, but he speaks flatly regardless of how he’s truly feeling. Gojo says it’s kinda creepy. Gojo also says that being a little creepy isn’t bad.

(Gojo should know; he’s a certified creep in Megumi’s eyes.)

“Oh — so the little boy can speak up.” The boy with blond hair laughs. It’s a nasally sound that grates Megumi’s ears.

He’s not an idiot. Megumi is well aware of the fact that no matter how much he feels like it isn’t true, he’s still just a little ten year old boy. He should be playing with the toy cars Gojo bought him, not worrying about the gritty future that lies ahead. But still, the phrase rubs him the wrong way.

Little boy.

He wasn’t so little when he kicked them down to his height before properly bashing their faces, now was he? Even now, he can feel the anger coming up. He clenches his fists, wondering if he’ll get suspended for fighting right next to school property.

“Leave him alone.”

Another voice appears, but not from any of the boys. No — this time, it’s coming from a little girl on the sidewalk across from theirs. Everyone involved turns to stare at the source of such a command and are greeted with the sight of you with a Hello Kitty backpack. You’ve got a frown on your face that doesn’t match the brightness of your pink outfit.

Megumi recognizes you instantly. You’re in the same class as him. You were in the same class as him last year, too. He tilts his head, trying to figure out what exactly it is you’re trying to accomplish here — and why.

He knows his social standing in the school. If he’s at the bottom, you’re right at the top. A beaming pillar of light, everyone flocks to you like moths after a flame. But you’re alone today, not surrounded by the usual crowd of boys and girls who are often vying for your attention. Seeing you alone enables him to see you more clearly, without all the distractions getting in his way.

You’re small. Shorter than him, and way shorter than the middle school boys. You’ve got a bow in your hair and brand new shoes on your feet. If anybody should be socially aware, it has to be you. Those at the top, Megumi knows, like to remind everyone of their placement. You shouldn’t be here. You should be ignoring him like he’s got the plague, just like everyone else.

All three of the boys start to laugh after sizing you up. The laughter only serves to make you even more irritated, but you can’t speak because one of them is already talking through his laughs.

“Don’t tell me. Is this your girlfriend?”

The group erupts into more laughter, and while Megumi’s expression remains the same as it’s been for the past few minutes, yours only shows your growing contempt.

“She’s no one.” Megumi throws you an odd look, one of neither annoyance nor gratitude for trying to help him out. He uses your presence as a distraction, and he manages to take a few more steps before one of the boys is yanking him back by his bookbag.

“Grab her.” One of the boys says, and the third boy, the one with the messy red hair, starts to cross the street.

Megumi watches as you stay right where you are. Are you stupid? Why won’t you run? The boy still has a solid grip on his bookbag, keeping him in place. He wonders if it’ll be a waste of his breath if he tells you to start running — you probably wouldn’t listen to him anyway.

But then Megumi figures out why you don’t look too frightened, because not even a second before the older boy manages to cross the street to your side of the sidewalk, a man in a suit is running towards you, a scowl on his face.

“You said you were going to the restroom, young lady!” The man scolds you while panting for breath. He surveys the scene, looking at you, and then the middle school boy by your side before turning his head and seeing Megumi in between the other two boys. “What’s going on? Is everything alright? Did they do anything to you?”

“No, Mr. Higashi. B-but—“ Your bottom lip starts to tremble, and even though Higashi is certain that the tears about to fall are fake, the situation itself looks serious enough to the point where he doesn’t call you out on it. “Th-these boys are being really mean.” You let out a high pitched wail that makes the boy let go of Megumi’s bookbag. “They just threatened to attack me and my friend out of nowhere.”

“Your father will be informed.” Higashi frowns, eyeing the guilty boys who look confused and a little shocked at this turn of events. “Mr. [Surname] certainly won’t be pleased to hear about this.”

The middle school boys pale when they hear the man name drop your family’s surname.

After all, it’s the same last name that’s engraved on plaques all over the school, thanking your family for the many donations they’ve received.

You enter into Megumi’s life that way: unexpectedly. He never thanked you for intervening, but it’s not like you did it for the thanks anyway. You did it, you tell him, because you figured he needed some help.

“I had it handled.” He tells you flatly. “Why are you even sitting here? Your friends keep staring at us.”

It’s true. Stories of what happened are already circulating around both schools, and while all your friends spent the whole entire day pestering you for the full story, you chose to keep quiet about the situation. And now, here you are, choosing to sit and eat lunch with Megumi, someone who also knows the true story of what went down but the only one people aren't brave enough to ask.

Your whole entire table of friends keep their heads huddled together as they go back and forth with each other, every one of them sparing glances at Megumi’s table. It makes the rice in his mouth taste stale. He should have just stayed in the classroom to eat, especially if he knew you would be bothering him.

“Gee, is that any way to treat a friend?” You huff, not at all actually annoyed with him.

“We’re not friends.”

“Too late. I told my dad we were.”

There has been one question on his mind ever since that incident. Just who exactly is your father? He’s not stupid; he knows that you must come from a wealthy family. If the buildings and auditorium named after your family isn’t enough proof, the fact that you always have the latest toys, the nicest shoes, the cutest stationery sets — that’s material proof of a spoiled princess.

You continue speaking, and as if you can read his mind, you’re already answering his question. “My daddy’s called a CEO. But the man you saw is Mr. Higashi. He takes care of me when dad’s away at work, and everything I do gets typed up in a report that dad sees every day. He wasn’t happy about what happened, so he says the boys will get in trouble. He told us not to worry, though.” You have a pleased smile on your face, waiting for Megumi to say something in reply.

“Okay.” He says, after a while. He only spoke because it seemed like you were waiting for him to. “It doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“What’s so wrong about being friends with me?” You tilt your head. Everyone wants to be friends with you. And that’s before they even figure out that you live in a real life mansion with actual servants, and that sometimes you’re allowed to eat dessert for dinner. Even without the wealth, you still draw people in, whether it be with your bright smile or cheery attitude.

“Don’t you already have enough friends?” He can’t figure out what you could possibly want with him. Even though Gojo’s got the backing of the clan and enough funds to run the Tokyo underground with cash to spare, it’s not like Megumi is in a position to take advantage of it. Gojo hands him a thick wad of cash every week with a tip to “spend wisely, hehehehe”, and Megumi takes the tip to heart. A majority of the money sits saved in his bedroom, underneath a floorboard he spent a week trying to figure out how to loosen without anyone catching on. (Which was actually easy whenever he realized that nobody seems to really watch him to begin with.) So, he doesn’t look like he has money, and isn’t that what all rich kids want? To surround themselves with equally rich kids?

“I guess.” Your bubbly mood seems to dampen a bit at the mention of the other kids. They like you, sure. But they like each other a lot more. The gap between you and the other kids isn’t noticeable at first, but the novelty of having an endless supply of company has lost its luster. Meanwhile, the glamor of your life only keeps the hoards of “friends” to grow as the days go by. It’s always “let’s have a sleepover at [Names]’s!” or “[Name], we have to go to your house because you have the best toys!”. You wonder if they like you, or the shiny things that they get when they’re with you. “But, it’s not like youhave any friends.”

“I don’t need any.” The response is quick — instinctual. Gojo, even if not the greatest guardian by any parental standards, still presses Megumi to have a proper (or, as proper as it can be) childhood.

(“You know, I don’t care if you bring any friends over. Just make sure no one ends up accidentally getting shot, okay, Megumi?”

Yeah, because that’s definitely gonna push him towards throwing as many parties as he wants.)

People in his position don’t have many friends. It’s hard to, he assumes, because of all the killings and betrayals and power plays.

(And, he’ll soon learn that it hurts a lot less to lose an enemy than it does a friend.)

“Hmm. Okay.”

But you don’t get up from your seat, and he doesn’t tell you to move.

The next day, you’re carrying two bento boxes. The lunches are prepared for you by world class chefs and everything is done in a rather cutesy manner to entice you into not wasting your food. The fruit is cut into pretty shapes, the food has picks with animals on them, and everything is colorful and to your own personal tastes.

You take a seat next to him once again. He looks up for a second, sees that it’s you, and returns back to his meal that looks pitiful in comparison. Leftover rice and some cold meat. You think it’s the same thing he had last time.

“For you.” You slide the second bento you had requested towards him before opening up your own.

“What’s this for?”

“For you to eat, silly.”

“...How much?”

“Huh? All of it, I guess? If you don’t like something, tell me, and I’ll request something different tomorrow.” You don’t quite understand what he’s asking you.

“No. How much does it cost? I'll bring you the money tomorrow.”

“Why would it cost you?” Now you’re really confused.

Didn’t anyone ever teach you that everything comes attached with a price? If it’s not money you want, it must be something else. At least, if Megumi’s judgments are right. (And they usually are.)

“Fushiguro, I brought you this because I want you to eat well and grow strong.”

He wonders what rice shaped like Hello Kitty has to do with his strength.

“Also, so the next time people give you or me trouble, you can fight them, okay?”

Oh. So it’s protection you want. He contemplates what he thinks your request is before popping a piece of food into his mouth. A meal made with care — he can taste the thought that’s been put into it. Shoving his old lunch to the side, he quickly starts eating at the one you brought him.

Okay. So maybe he does accept your offer.

“Meguuuumi.” You whine out his name, messing up the navy sheets of his bed while he sits at his desk, trying to finish his application for university. “I’m bored.”

“Good. Go to your own house then, and leave me alone.”

“You’re so mean to me.” You sigh, turning your head so that half of your face is pressed against his pillow. The scent of his shampoo still sticks to the fabric, and you subconsciously inhale the scent some more. It’s familiar and reminds you of him, your favorite person in the world.

No one believes you when you tell them that Megumi is your best friend. No one wants to believe that it’s true. After all, the two of you look more like a shoujo manga trope than an actual pair of best friends. The cold, inexpressive dark haired male lead with a secretive past he doesn’t want anyone to know about and the bright, bubbly, ball of energy that is constantly clinging to his side. It’s like looking at night and day with you two.

“And yet, you’re still always here.”

You’re still by his side, even when the two of you reached middle school and high school together, and he spent a majority of his time starting (and finishing) fights.

(“Get off of him!” You screamed, yanking on the collar of one of the boys who happened to be trying to grab Megumi from behind. You don’t have the same amount of strength as them, but everyone at this point knows who you are and who exactly your father is. No matter what the origin of the fight is won’t matter; all that matters is that the precious daughter of one of Tokyo’s richest CEOs got caught in it, and that’s enough to get everyone involved into some deep shit.

Immediately, the boy scampers off, and the other boy Megumi was punching into the squeaky clean floors of the hallway begins to thrash around wildly, eyes wide at the sudden sight of you. Seeing you coming from behind Megumi is like watching the sun peek through a dozen storm clouds.

Megumi gives him one last punch, not nearly as satisfied as he thought he would be. Honestly, getting into fights with low level delinquents is beneath him. It’s not just his knuckles and clothes that are getting dirty; by feeding into the school’s image that he’s this young, violent yakuza heir, he’s dirtying the prestige Gojo claims is oh so important.

“Megumi.” He straightens up at the sound of your voice, which usually sounds so sweet, especially when it’s directed towards him. Instead, you have an uncharacteristic frown on your face and you sound… mad. “Let’s go.”

You’ve got a hand wrapped around his wrist, and people part when they spot the two of you making a hasty exit. The teachers aren’t bold enough to cause a scene with you, and the students know both you and Megumi are practically untouchable — one being the spoiled brat daughter of a rich and powerful businessman, the other, a ticking time bomb with ties to the yakuza.

You don’t stop walking until the two of you are in a secluded courtyard at the school. No one goes here, mainly because it’s in such an inconvenient location and there’s nothing but trees and weeds over growing it. The two of you found it within your first week of being here, and ever since then, it’s become your designated spot to avoid prying eyes.

“I thought you were over stupid fights. You told me yourself that they weren’t the type of people worth beating up.” You scold him, forcing him to take a seat on the bench that creaks under his weight. You make a noise as you inspect the drying blood on his knuckles.

If an outsider were to look at the scene before them, they would gape at the unbecoming sight of you on your knees, in between his legs, too close for a duo who claims to be “just good friends”. But there’s nothing inherently dirty in your thoughts. Instead, you’re staring thoughtfully at his hands, inspecting the minor damage done to them.

Megumi swallows hard as he looks down on you. He shouldn’t be feeling like this — you’re his best friend, his only friend. The only person who’s by his side. If you could read in his mind, there’s no doubt that you would be recoiling away from him in disgust…)

You’re still by his side, even when he told you the truth about himself after waiting years to see if you were truly his friend or not.

(“The rumors—” He starts to say, but you shush him, rolling over on your side to face him. The two of you are lying on the grass in your massive backyard, trying to spot a shooting star that’s supposed to be passing by at any second now.

“I don’t care about that.” You tell him. Middle school was a bitch to deal with, mainly because as everyone was in the process of growing up and “maturing”, so did the rumors they spread. Now, the two of you are halfway through your first week of high school. A new school, a couple of new classmates, and new rumors surrounding the odd pair.

“If I told you the rumors about me being someone you should avoid were true, would you be mad?” He’s lying on his back, still staring up at the night sky. He’s not turning to face you, almost as if he’s scared to look at you.

“Yes.” You answer without any hesitation. “At the person who’s spreading that around.” You clarify, poking him on his side to lighten the somber mood he’s setting. “You’re the only real friend I’ve had in forever, Megumi. I don’t think what anyone says about you would change that.”

“What if I did something bad?” Like kill a person. What then? What would you think of him if he told you the full truth: that Gojo told him that he can’t shield Megumi from the dirtier aspects of this type of life. That he’s spent hours after school, hours after hanging out with you and pretending to be a normal teenager, learning how to assemble, disassemble, and then reassemble a gun. That his target practice isn’t glass bottles lined up in a row or sheets printed out with human bodies. What happens if he told you that his target practice was low level scum from rival yakuza clans that Gojo couldn’t be bothered to kill himself?

“Mmm. How bad are we talking? Like, lied to me when you said my Christmas outfit looked good but half my ass was practically exposed bad or committing a felony bad?”

“What if I told you… that I really was a yakuza heir.”

The silence is palpable and especially soul crushing to Megumi as he waits for your reply.

“It wouldn’t matter to me, Megumi.” You say. You know that this isn’t just some type of hypothetical question he’s asking for fun. From his odd living situation to the intense nature of him in general to the fact that he knows practically everything about you, but you barely know the full extent of his childhood traumas despite growing up alongside him, you know deep in your heart that there has to be something going on with him. Something dark enough to harbor stories about him.

“Are you sure about that?”

You reach for his hand in the dark, finding it without really needing to look. He’s not one that’s prone to initiating physical contact, but you found out that he doesn’t really mind when you reach for him first.

“You can’t get rid of me, no matter how crazy or fucked up you think your life is.” You squeeze his hand, still staring at him.

You don’t notice the shooting star flying past the night sky, but Megumi is looking right at it. He knows what he’s wishing for.

For your words to be true.)

You’re still by his side, even when he brought you to his sister’s bedside. She’s sick, afflicted with something no one knows, not even the private doctors that Gojo’s spent millions on. She was still conscious, albeit confined to her bed when the two of you first met, but she’s been in a coma ever since the last year of middle school. You were by his side as he broke down about the news. It was the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.

So, no matter how much it may seem like he’s pushing you away, you don’t budge. For someone smaller than him and definitely weaker, you’re awfully resilient. And while people make the occasional joke, telling you to “blink twice if you need help”, you don’t pay any attention to them. If only they knew the truth: that you’ve got Megumi Fushiguro, heir to a massive yakuza clan, wrapped around your dainty finger.

He’s so whipped that he found himself asking Gojo for a rare favor.

(“College?” Gojo rubs the back of his neck, staring at Megumi. “I mean, I guess it’ll be good for you. Meet a wild party girl, take her to your dorm room, tame her—”

“An education is the whole point of attending, you know.” Megumi interrupts him before Gojo can jump into a story highlighting all of his sexual endeavors with college girls back in the day.

“Eh. I guess.” But then a grin lights up the feature of the man who [kind of/by definition] raised him. “But y’know what I know for a fact.” He wiggles his eyebrows, his glasses slipping down his nose as he tilts his head downwards. “You wanna follow [Name].”)

It doesn’t really matter if he’s not good enough to get into the university you’ve already received an early acceptance for. Because Gojo tries to make up for being an absent father figure, he fills in those empty spaces with cold, hard cash. All it takes is one nice donation, and Megumi’s wherever he wants to be.

Where he wants to be, he realizes, is to be by your side. Wherever you go, he’ll gladly follow. Funnily enough, despite the two vastly different backgrounds the both of you come from, you both have similar means of getting what you want.

Your father had already looked over the list of universities you had in mind, and all you could do was excitedly squeal and start rambling the moment the acceptance letters came in the mail. Despite the fact that your father’s physically absent from your life most of the time, he still tries to show he cares in the things he does for you. If paying off over half a dozen major universities in order to make you happy is something he has to do, he’ll do it without batting an eye.

It’s the same thing on Megumi’s end. Granted, Gojo’s means are more along the lines of using money as a lubricant and then death as an inevitable. Money talks, a gunshot to the head silences. Nobody can accuse anyone of taking bribes if said accused person is in a grave six feet under.

Sometimes, Megumi wonders how you’re just so oblivious to the fortunate circumstances in your life. You chalk up a lot of your father’s wishes as just “good luck”. In school, you’re placed on a pedestal, revered as some goddess-like, otherworldly being. People are practically tripping over themselves, running towards you for a crumb of your attention. Anyone sane would gladly wield this power and use it for all its worth. Not you, though. Not you, who’s kind and considerate and completely clean from the corruptness that plagues everyone else.

Megumi knows good and well that he’s not a hero — couldn’t be farther from it, if he’s being honest. He doesn’t feel a moral obligation to go out and rid the world of all evil. (It’d be hypocritical, he thinks, considering the fact that he’s most likely belonging under the evil category himself.) From a young age, he’s already known and come to terms with his fate. He’s going to train and learn from the best, and eventually, he will succeed as head of the clan. That is his purpose. That right there is the reason why he’s still alive today. That is why he can find himself sitting at his desk, submitting an application that’s already guaranteed to be followed up with an acceptance letter, ready to pretend for four more years that he’s normal.

“D’you think college will be fun?” You ask him, making yourself comfortable in his bed.

“No.”

You laugh at that. You like Megumi for a lot of reasons, and his honesty is one of them. Despite the fact that he likes to keep most of the darker details of his life to himself, you know that he would never lie to you. In a world full of people who are constantly lying, it gets tiring trying to figure out who’s real and who’s fake. It doesn’t help that you want to believe in everyone either. If you didn’t have Megumi loyally staying by your side all this time, you doubt you would have made it this far in your life without anyone taking advantage of you and your kindness.

“My dad said I can finally get a boyfriend when I go to college.” You say this fact so casually that Megumi almost — almost — gets fooled into believing that this is not a cause for concern. Almost.

“Oh.” He’s at a loss for words. He knows that it’s inevitable; that one day, you’ll find a guy you like and want to get closer to him. He knows that you’re not always going to be by his side, and he knows that it’s going to happen because he’ll have to push you away eventually. The older he gets, the deeper he’s burying himself into his grave. He doesn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire.

It’s not like boys have never tried approaching you before. People have spent years thinking that you and Megumi were a couple, and then after finding out from you that the two of you are nothing more than “best friends”, boys were still hesitant to talk to you. The glare Megumi would give them from behind your shoulder acted as a strong enough deterrent.

“I know. Now the only problem is finding a guy who’ll actually wanna date me.”

“They all will.” The words leave his mouth faster than he can even think about them. He’s not wrong, though. Every time the two of you are out in public together, he sees people shooting quick glances at you, at your ass, at your bright smile. The looks they give are predatory, dangerous, even. If it’s not your looks, it’s your shining personality that draws them all in. And if that’s not good enough, there’s always the enormous wealth attached to your last name. That’s the key to getting them to stay.

“You can be so sweet sometimes, you know that?” You giggle, glad that he’s still typing away on his laptop. If he were to look at you right now, he would see that you’re reacting way too positively to such a lackluster compliment. It’s not like he listed reasons on why anyone would ever want to date you, so he probably could just be complimenting you to make you happy.

(That’s just the excuse you’re going with. You know your best friend — that means you know that he would never say something he doesn’t truly think or believe.)

There’s a secret you’ve been keeping from him. A secret so big that you think you might’ve been keeping it from yourself, too. Something so big that your body simply can’t contain it any longer.

You like Megumi. 

Of course you do. You keep telling the whole world what great friends the two of you are. You talk to him about your dad all the time (which must mean he’s important, because you rarely get to speak to your dad, so you have to choose your topics of conversation wiseley). You trust him more than you trust yourself. Ever since middle school, you’ve been telling yourself that you liking Megumi isn’t anything to be ashamed or confused about. You like him because he’s your friend, and you’re supposed to like your friends.

And then you came to terms with the fact that you like Megumi beyond the borders of friendship.

It starts with you seeing him the way other girls must see him. You’re not blind, you know. It’s obvious that Megumi is far from ugly. If he wasn’t so intimidating, you’re sure he would have had his fair share of confessions, too. Megumi’s pretty, although calling him a pretty boy wouldn’t do his character justice. He’s got lashes people pay extensions for theirs to look like, and the prettiest dark blue eyes you’ve ever seen, and his hair, which he doesn’t put forth any type of effort in, always looks good whereas the same hairstyle would look messy on anyone else.

It’s not just his looks, though. Even if you look like the type of person who would judge others based on such shallow standards, you didn’t approach Megumi simply because he’s attractive. He’s… interesting. He’s got this reputation for being a delinquent, and maybe all the fights on his school record prove it, but he’s surprisingly respectful. He’s the type of guy who gets up from his seat to let an eldery woman have it. He loves animals. He’s honest and sweet despite his seemingly stoic nature, and he’s so oblivious to just how good he is.

Maybe it’s because he’s so blinded by the light that is you. You, with your cutesy bento boxes that used to be made by your team of personal chefs but are now made with your own manicured hands. You, with that bright smile of yours that he wants to always see because god — he thinks he would be willing to destroy the whole world if something were to ever make you so upset. You’re kind and beautiful and everything people write love songs about. You’re so good, and he’s nothing like you.

He’s nothing like you, because he highly doubts that you spend your time fantasizing about him like he does with you. It’s wrong, he thinks. And dirty, and disgusting, and vile. You’d hate him, he’s sure of it, if you knew what he thinks about late at night. That he sits on his bed with his cock pulled out from his shorts, leaking with precum as he strokes himself to the thought of you. Do you not see him as any other guy? Despite your lack of experience, surely you know just how dirty boys’ minds can be? You’ve got to be conscious of the fact that he’s any other guy, right? So, why — why — do you always roll around in his sheets, letting your sweet perfume stick to his sheets. Your tiny tops and skirts are always clinging tight to your body, and you never feel the need to readjust your clothing when it rides up. Do you not see him trying his hardest to look you in the eyes when the two of you are talking, despite the tantalizing sight of your skirt bunching up, exposing the smooth skin of your thighs?

Little does Megumi know (and if you have your way, he’ll never find out), you spend nights in your room, whining and trying to stuff your cunt with the same fingers that painstakingly made him his lunch. He’s your best friend since childhood. He looks at you like you’re an angel, and you don’t want to destroy that image by revealing just how dirty you really are. How every time he gets so close to you, you subconsciously bring your thighs together, trying to rub them together in a poor attempt to relieve some tension. He’d be disgusted with you, you’re sure of it. Maybe even betrayed.

Besides, it would never work out. Megumi doesn’t see you the way you see him. He might look at you with a soft look you’ve never seen him give anyone else, but that’s because you’re his only friend. It’s not like he’s harboring any hidden feelings for you, and just because you’re so convinced that there’s no one better than Megumi around, it doesn’t exactly mean that you won’t feel this way about anyone else.

Megumi’s got a rather monotone cadence with his voice, so you’re not too surprised by his seemingly unethusiatic response to you saying you’re now allowed to date. Still — there’s a slight pang of disappointment when you realize that he doesn’t sound jealous at the prospect of you dating someone else.

You decide right then and there that the healthiest thing to do now is to just bury your feelings for him deep inside your heart, to tightly pack in all those pesky feelings and store them away so you can make room to allow others to fill in his space.

gumi <3: where are you? gumi <3: i’m feeling tired and i have an assignment due tomorrow. i’m going home. gumi <3: you know i wouldn’t leave without you. cmon [name]. let’s leave now

Megumi frowns at his phone. He can clearly see that all his messages are being delivered, not to mention that he’s already called you twice and has been sent to voicemail twice. He can be patient when he wants to be, but right now, he’s getting a little pissed.

You know that he doesn’t like parties, and you know that he doesn’t hang out with the same people you do. He also knows that you don’t even really like most of the people you surround yourself with, so whyyou suddenly decided to do a 180 and reestablish your throne as the head of the social pyramid, he doesn’t know.

Lately, things between the two of you have been a little… weird. Sometimes he catches you staring at him with a sad smile on your face; one that you immediately replace with your usual one when you realize he’s looking right at you. Despite him asking you if everything’s okay, you vehemently deny that there’s anything wrong, and you’re quick to change the subject.

He thinks he’s losing his best friend, his only friend. And maybe it only hurts because he’s grown used to your presence in his life. Maybe it hurts because you’re his friend. But he knows the truth. It hurts because he’s losing you.

Did he do something wrong? Did he accidentally somehow reveal the extent of his feelings for you? Did you suddenly decide that maybe associating with someone like him isn’t something you’re meant for? Do you…

Do you hate him now?

It doesn’t matter. Maybe it does, but not right now. Right now, he’s more focused on getting the hell out of this stuffy ass living room, filled to the brim with drunken young adults and people he couldn’t care less about. The only person that matters right now is you, and he’s on a mission to find your location.

He’s got this ominous feeling in his gut, like something bad is about to happen. He’s Megumi Fushiguro, for fuck’s sake, so bad things have a habit of following him wherever he goes. But still, he’s made a personal promise to himself that no matter how bad things get, you’ll never get caught in the crossfire. He’s willing to die to keep that vow.

If you don’t reply to him, you most likely have a good reason. He doesn’t want to be clingy, is pretty damn certain he doesn’t even have a right to be, but he’s still worried about you. He’s pushing past the wall of sweaty bodies, trying to catch a glimpse of your hair color, the waft of your perfume, the familiarity of your laugh, but he can’t catch a single crumb of you anywhere.

You’re nowhere in sight, and he’s immediately filled with dread.

He yanks a guy who’s coming from upstairs.

“Ow, man, what the fuc—”

“Is anyone else up there?” Most of the time, the parties are restricted to just the first floor, with the unspoken rule being that only the upstairs should be used for people trying to fuck or to use the bathroom (or, people trying to use the bathroom to fuck). You’re not anywhere downstairs, and if you were simply using the restroom, you would have been back down here by now.

“Shit, I don’t fucking know.” The guy squints at Megumi, as if trying to see if he knows him or not. With the way his expression pales, Megumi comes to the conclusion that the guy might not really know him, but he knows ofhim. Gojo says that with the right reputation, the two concepts are practically synonymous. “But I heard a guy ‘n a girl, I think, walk past the bathroom. I don’t know who, though!”

Megumi lets go of the boy’s shirt, and he’s quick to run off before Megumi can give him any more wrinkles in his shirt — or do something much worse.

He’s thinking. Odds are, it’s probably not even you. With so many people roaming around this house, it’s likely that he just missed your presence. Your phone could have died, so that explains why he can’t reach you.

He finds himself heading up the stairs anyway.

It’s fine. He tells himself. You’re fine. You’re okay. Nobody would dare to touch a single hair on your head unless they want to suffer directly at the hands of Megumi. People around campus call him your guard dog, and it’s not necessarily a nickname he hates.

The atmosphere upstairs is vastly different from the one downstairs. There are no lights turned on, and all the doors to the rooms are closed. He hears a flush coming from one end, and out walks a tipsy girl who’s staggering a bit. There are only so many doors to choose from, and he doesn’t really want to accidentally walk in on two people trying to have sex, but the need to confirm your safety outweighs any possible embarrassment he may suffer from, so he continues on his mission.

The first two rooms are revealed to be empty, leaving just one more. Megumi takes a deep breath before trying to turn the handle.

It’s locked. 

His gut is telling him something isn’t right, but he’s forcing himself to chalk it all up to paranoia. He curses under his breath, wondering why he even let you out of his sights for a single second.

Because he didn’t want to seem clingy. Because he didn’t want you to have any more reasons to keep on pushing him away. 

He decides to call you one more time, and as he’s listening to the dial tone, he hears a faint sound coming from the other side of the locked door.

It’s a phone ringing.

He presses his ear against the door, trying to make out any more sounds he possibly can. Is it still a coincidence when the phone stops ringing right as Megumi is greeted with your voicemail message of “sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now, but you probably should’ve just texted me!”

Without the annoying dial tone distracting him, Megumi can listen a little more clearly to what’s going on. There’s… there’s someone crying.

The voices are muffled, but he can make out bits and pieces of what’s being said.

“—fuck up… crying like a damn bitch… want this.”

He’s heard enough before he’s banging his shoulder against the door.

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” He’s screaming, hitting it again. There’s a chance, the voice of reason inside of him is saying, that it’s not you that’s crying behind that door. Even if it wasn’t, Megumi still wouldn’t have stood by idly. But instinct is telling him that it is you, and that’s enough cause for him to bang his shoulder against the door once again. He hears a scream, and a male voice cursing.

The force of his body banding against it is enough to have the door really test the strength of its lock. Megumi’s never been the bulkiest person in the world, but he’s still got some defined muscle to him. The door is creaking, almost bending to his will, but he fumbles in the dark for the gun safely tucked away by his side.

It’s a gift from Gojo. To speed up the process when something needs to be done quick is what Gojo said it was for. He’s never used it in such close proximity to you, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

No silencer. He forgot the fucking silencer. With the deep bass rumbling from the speakers, he doubts anyone would be able to hear the gun go off anyway. He aims for the handle, pulling back the safety, and fires once, then twice. With a foot aimed at the door, he kicks at it, pleased to see the way the abused door finally bends to his will.

The open door reveals a scene that makes Megumi see red: you, with tear stained cheeks and your clothes bunched up and strewn across the floor with a guy Megumi vaguely recognizes as someone sharing the same Econ class as the two of you — Mahito.

“You fucking bastard.” Megumi practically lunges forward, tossing his gun to the side. He doesn’t see reason, is numb to common sense at this moment. All he feels is the need to hurt this fucker. To make him bleed, to have him on the brink of death, to see the light of life leave his dark eyes.

Mahito is fast, but even he couldn’t imagine the speed that Megumi would possess when pushed to the edge. This is different from the fights you’ve witnessed during school. This is something entirelydifferent.

The first punch has Mahito wincing in pain. The second, third, and fourth ones are thrown back to back, and there’s no time given to recover, no chance to gain the upper hand. He’s falling down, and Megumi’s on top of him, drawing back his fist only to slam it against him again and againand again.

Megumi knows he’s got something fucked up inside of his head — what other explanation is there to reason with why he finds this bloody violence so satisfying? His knuckles are bloody, and he can’t tell where Mahito’s blood starts and where his own ends. There’s a wild grin on his face, one that you’ve never seen before. You’re not sure if it’s a trick of the shadows, but the feral expression on Megumi’s face transforms him from your loyal best friend to something monstrous.

“‘Gumi, st-stop.” The words stumble out of your mouth as hiccups, but you don’t miss the way Megumi’s raised arm freezes in its higher position before he slowly brings it back down to his side. He’s breathing deeply, and all is silent in the room.

As if the sound of your cries is enough to snap him out of his daze, it’s almost scary how fast his mood shifts. Just a second ago, he was hellbent on beating Mahito to a bloody pulp, and now the darkness drowning those blue eyes of his is practically gone. He makes his way to the bed, each step hurried but still hesitant. Do you even want to be near him right now? 

You answer his question with some more small sobs. “‘Gumi, I—”

“Shh, it’s okay, [Name].” He’s picking up your clothes from the floor, ready to help you get dressed. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Megumi.” His name seems to be the only thing you’re capable of saying right now. After he helps you get dressed, he’s thrown off guard when you cling to him, with your arms wrapped around his neck and your wet cheeks pressed against his shoulder.

The moment the two of you are exiting the room, both of you far too wrapped up with the other to pay him any mind, Mahito lets out a laugh before groaning at the pain Megumi inflicted.

The two of you don’t know what you just started, but no worries — Mahito has the means of ending it.

It’s only a matter of time.

You’re too good to be true.

You won’t listen to him when he tells you this (you never do), but he swears you’re a fucking angel or something otherwordly. There’s no other possible explanation for just how breathtakingly beautiful you are, or how you’re the only thing consuming his every thought. Despite the fact that all the blood on his hands has reached an amount that he’s sure he’ll never truly be able to wash it all off, you don’t shy away from his touch. As a matter of fact, it seems like you’re keening for it.

“‘Gumi.” You mewl out, sticking out your tongue to lap at the precum on Megumi’s thumb.

You’re well aware of just how dangerous your boyfriend (the title makes you giddy every time you refer to him as that) is, but you know him. You know that the hands of a killer are the hands of your lover, and most of the time, you have a hard time believing the awful things he’s had to do with them. Because right now, those hands that are meant to be weapons are handling you with care, touching you so gently, you would have thought you were made of glass and ready to shatter.

“Look at you, all spread out for me. What happened to my precious, shy little girl, huh?” He removes the hand that was cradling your face back to his cock, stroking his length, the saliva from your tongue acting as a minor lubricant. The first time he fucked you was the first time you’ve ever had sex with anyone ever, and it had been the start of an addiction. You love Megumi. You love everything about him, from his character to his tenacity, all the way down to his cock, with its red tip that’s sticky with pre and leaking out more as he stares down at the obscene position you’re in.

Your face feels warm as he stares down at you, his eyes darkened with a mix of love and lust that you don’t think you’ll ever get used to being on the receiving end of.

“Need you, need you so bad, please, ‘Gumi—” You’re staring up at him, giving him your best doe eyes.

“Fuck.” Just the sight of you beneath him, completely bending to his will, whining out for him to pretty please fuck you has him ready to cum right on the fucking spot. He’s pressing the tip in, his breathing faltering just the slightest as the warmth you provide envelopes the most sensitive part of him, nearly causing him to lose all self control right then and there.

You let out a cry as he pushes himself deeper in you, making himself at home in your gummy walls, one hand gripping your hip and the other holding onto the headboard.

“You feel so good for me, baby, shit.” He hisses, waiting for you to adjust, impatient but willing to bear it if it means it’ll feel better for you in the long run. After all, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do, nothing he wouldn’t endure, just to ensure your happiness.

“Mm — ah — please.” There are still tears welling up in your eyes — precious girl, he hasn’t even began to properly fuck you, and you’re already tearing up? The sight of you completely and willingly at his mercy is enough to get him to start rutting his hips against yours, the satisfying sound of skin slapping against skin resounding and bouncing against the walls of his bedroom that is starting to feel more like the both of yours.

“Y’feel so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He groans, his pace quickening, the thrusts getting sharper and rougher with every roll of his hips. You’re powerless against his strength, and this type of easy submission feels so natural, feels so good, when it’s him that’s taking advantage of it. “You’ve got the sweetest pussy, y’know that?  I could fuck you forever.”

His praise goes through one ear and out the other with you, but your heart swells up to twice its size. Even if you can’t focus on the words all too clearly, you’re still aware that Megumi’s probably praising you. You can come to this conclusion because he’s always praising you. He’s always so sweet, so gentle, so loving — when it comes to you, that is.

“Hng — daddy!” You can’t help but let out a high pitched moan as he hits that sweet spot inside of you that makes you buck your hips up.

There’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing. Clenching around his cock like that, making those cute little noises that he can’t help but want to hear all the time, and then calling him that.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy.” 

Forget igniting something within him; you whining for him, calling him something that’s the root cause of all his childhood traumas… That’s like dousing him with gasoline and tossing a lighter at him. He’s going to burn through all his energy, channel all this dark, feral energy, and use you as the one unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end.

He fucks into you so deeply that if your eyes weren’t shut tight, there’s no doubt that you wouldn’t see the unmistakable shape of his cock outlined against your tummy. The headboard is banging against the wall, and the squelching sounds of him roughly thrusting in and out of your sopping cunt is so lewd and so dirty that if you had any room to harbor a single ounce of shame, you would be downright embarrassed.

“How about you make me a daddy, huh? How about I fuck a baby in you?” He won’t lie and say it’s not something that’s never crossed his mind. The thought of your stomach round with a life the two of you created is enough to get him to continue with this near-brutal pace he’s set forth. “Doesn’t it sound nice, baby? My baby giving me a baby, what—” He grits his teeth as you tighten up. “—a fucking dream.”

“Baby. Wanna have your babies.” You cry out, tears spilling out and wetting your cheeks as your arms find their way to his neck and broad shoulders, trying to pull him in closer. The heat building up from within you feels like you’re about to fucking explode. “‘Gumi, I love you, Iloveyoupleasegimmeababy—'' Your words are practically unintelligible as you slur them out, the words sticking together as you cum all over his cock, all that pleasure that has been building up now physically tangible, if the white ring encasing his cock every time he pulls out is evidence.

“Fuck! You feel so fucking good. Always so fuckin’ tight.” He’s reaching his own end, and you’re just lying there, trying to recover from such an intense orgasm but unable to as your too sensitive walls clench around the constant intrusion of his cock. Spurred by your little love confession and his mind imagining his daydreams coming true — you, as his cute little housewife, taking care of the kids the two of you made together — he finally shoves himself as deep as he physically can, making sure that as he cums, nothing will spill out.

“‘Gumi.” You whisper, your head resting against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. “Did you mean it when you said you wanted to start a family?”

He’s silent for a minute.

“I wouldn’t mind starting a family with you.” And he means it. He knows this life isn’t one meant for children — look at how he turned out, for god’s sake — but he thinks that for you, he can do anything. Even make a family work out. As long as it’s what you want, he doesn’t mind how hard it may be.

You snuggle closer to him, burying your face in the warmth of his chest. “Good.” You mumble. “I wanna start a family with you, too.”

Megumi feels… at peace. Like he’s got the whole entire world in the palm of his hands. He wraps his arms around you, and realizes that no — right now, he’s got his world right in his arms.

Mahito likes to play with his food before he devours them whole.

Humans are just so… vulnerable. Even the coldest people have a heart; it’s only a matter of whether or not they find someone warm enough to defrost it. Megumi Fushiguro, for example, likes to walk around this world, acting indifferent and claiming to follow his own moral conduct, only to give himself the biggest weakness he could possibly harbor: you.

He still remembers that party. He still remembers the way you were dressed like a little slut, completely oblivious (or maybe you were just acting coy) to the wolfish stares all the guys were giving you. He had the same class as you. Seen the way you clung to Gojo’s charity case, as if the ground would swallow Megumi whole if you let go of him. You’re cute, and you scream naive virgin, and that’s precisely why Mahito wanted to take you to that bedroom and have his way with you.

And then, your infamous little guard dog bared his teeth and pummeled him into the hardwood of a stranger’s bedroom floor.

Grudges are cancerous. If you don’t deal with it right away, it develops into something worse. It takes over all your internal organs, ruining you ‘til the only thing you can focus on is getting revenge. And the longer you wait, the more vengeful you get. It doesn’t become a matter of ruined pride or reestablishing honor — it becomes about inflicting the most pain one possibly can. It becomes about suffering — about transferring your pain, your anguish, onto someone else.

Mahito isn’t the type to hold grudges, but for Megumi, he’ll make a special exception. He wants to see just how well trained the boy is; after all, he’s been taken under the wing and supervision of Satoru Gojo, the myth himself. Surely, his student must be nearly as skilled, right?

It’s been a long game of watching and waiting on Mahito’s end. A lot of lurking in the shadows and gathering intel. It’s a lot more boring than he anticipated, but today’s the day where all his hard work finally comes to fruition. Megumi Fushiguro is going to regret ever interfering with him that one fateful night. The burning humiliation he’s felt has long since fizzled out, but since he’s already been set on the path of orchestrating Megumi’s destruction, he figures it only makes sense to see it through. You only can let go of a grudge after you get your proper revenge.

He’s been leaving Megumi all sort of taunting, teasing threats any chance he gets. Mahito’s got nothing but disgraced yakuza members on his side; those who have committed acts vile enough to get them kicked out of what is essentially a group of criminals. He knows how to be twisted — hell, twisted might be the only thing he knows how to be.

Killing girls that resemble you and sending him the photos. Taking videos of you when you’re out in public alone. Leaving voicemails for Megumi, ones that leave him pale faced and unable to breathe as he listens to how Mahito wants to tortue you.

Megumi’s been on edge for the past few months, unable to explain to you why. It’s why you don’t understand why Megumi won’t let you go back to your car, even though you left your phone in there.

“I’ll go. Or, we can go together.”

“You have to wait for our coffee! And besides, I don’t even know where I left my phone. It might not even be in the car, but you’ll just waste your time searching for it if it’s not there.”

“So then why do you have to go look for it?”

“Because it’s my phone? Also, I reeeeeallly don’t wanna have to wait for our coffee, so I figured looking for my phone in the car would kill some time.” You give him that sweet smile of yours that he loves so much before waving him goodbye. “I’ll be back by the time our order is ready, pinky promise!”

At the end of the day, it’s all luck. Mahito realizes this as you happily skip out of the crowded cafe, headed towards your car to search for your phone. He doesn’t know why you’re returning back to your car, doesn’t even really care. All he knows and all he cares about is that you’re headed there alone. And while you’ve been alone plenty of times, he’s never had an opportunity quite like this one. A chance to finally detonate the bomb that’s been lying dormant underneath your car, ready to be activated at the press of a button. He could’ve killed you plenty of times already, but it’s not enough to merely murder you. He wants to make it a spectacle, sure, but he also only cares about one audience member watching: Megumi.

From where he’s hiding, blending in with the rest of the customers from the bakery across the street, he’s got a decent enough view of Megumi, who’s sitting by the glass windows, watching you with furrowed brows as you unlock the car door.

Mahito can’t help the cruel smile that spreads across his face as pushes the remote connected to the bomb.

Nobody expects to hear the loud, resounding boom of something exploding. The surrounding cars parked next to yours have their alarms going off like crazy; it’s nothing but high pitched, blaring noises blending together to create a disruptive harmony. People are screaming, someone is on the line with emergency services, and—

—your precious car is set aflame, reduced to a burning pile of scrap metal no salvage yard will take.

In this moment, Megumi Fushiguro’s world crumbles to ashes.

[simplyluunaa]

˙⊹ ੈ✰[Love Languages]✰ ੈ⊹˙

-ˏˋ. rules + masterlist ˊˎ-

Fandom: Danganronpa

Characters: Makoto Naegi, Aoi Asahina, Byakuya Togami, Celestia Ludenberg, Chihiro Fujisaki, Hifumi Yamada, Junko Enoshima, Kiyotaka Ishimaru, Kyoko Kirigiri, Leon Kuwata, Mondo Owada, Mukuro Ikusaba, Sakura Ogami, Sayaka Maizono, Toko Fukawa, Genocider Syo, Yasuhiro Hagakure

Warnings: !!NOT SPOILER FREE!! Non-despair AU! Other than that, none!! Just fluff!

Other: Non-despair Junko, he/him pronouns for Chihiro, may have a few misspellings lol

A/N: First post!! Hello, people reading this!! Reblogs, likes, and follows are always appreciated! Constructive criticism is also welcome!! Also, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to make this established relationship or like a mutual crush thing, so I tried to make it so it could go either way. Plus this is like my first time writing ANY of these characters, so please excuse any mischaracterizations or anything, I tried my best!

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Makoto Naegi 

His love language is Quality Time

I feel like he’d be big into conversation

Doesn’t matter about what this man just likes to yap

If you are also talkative the two of you annoy the fuck out of everyone else because do you two ever stop talking??

But even if you’re quieter, he will talk enough for the both of you

Likes to watch movies and shows with you!!

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Byakuya Togami

His love language is Giving Gifts

He wouldn't be that affectionate of a person side from this I fear

Plus he always brushes it off if you ask

But he was thinking about you!! <3

He’ll legit buy anything that reminds him of you or he thinks you may enjoy

Man is made of money ofc he’s gonna spoil you while also acting like he hates you

Just how he is I’m afraid

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Chihiro Fujisaki

His love language is Quality Time

I feel like he’d be very much into baking with you

Idk man feels like a baker

Also, he’d be the best person to talk to about your interests because he will listen and do his best to remember every detail!!

Do the same for him!!

May or may not install Alter Ego on one of your devices so you can spend time with them while he isn’t around

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Hifumi Yamada

His love language is Giving Gifts

If you like a game or anime…be prepared

He will buy you just so much merch

Figures, posters, shirts, hoodies, plushies, everything 

If you’re especially fond of a specific character he will draw them for you!!

Maybe even write a short Doujinshi with a favorite ship of yours if he has the time

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Kiyotaka Ishimaru

His love language is Acts of Service

He wants to be the Prime Minister, of course, he likes to help!

Like, I don’t know, I just have this thought like…

He’d so help you study, and like clean up your room for you

Also, I feel like if you have long hair he’d definitely brush it for you in the mornings

Maybe that’s just wishful thinking though idk

But also if you do something for him to lighten his workload??

He might cry, just sayin'

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Leon Kuwata

His love language is Physical Touch

I just know this man desperately needs to touch everyone around him all the time (no I’m not projecting hush)

Like, he’s always touching someone, like an arm around his friend's shoulder or playfully ruffling someone’s hair

He’s just that kinda guy

He’d also for sure put his arm around your waist or shoulder whenever you’re around

Also, he’d probably grab your face occasionally to just squish your cheeks and tease you

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Mondo Owada

His love language is Acts of Service

He’s a big strong man!! Of course he’s gonna do everything he can for his partner!!

No, but for real, he will do anything you ask of him AND MORE

He’s just a big softie!! And a gentleman!!

Opens doors for you, pulls your seat out for you, if you two are close enough will let you wear his jacket if you get cold

Especially if you're a girl!!

Diya raised him right!!

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Yasuhiro Hagakure

His love language is Physical Touch

Ok, this one is probably gonna be short cause I do not know a whole lot about this man

I feel like he’d be laid back about it, like with Leon

He’s just a touchy person, even with his friends

So expect him to just grab you and pull you into a hug, or ruffle your hair, stuff like that

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Aoi Asahina

Her love language is Physical Touch

You cannot convince me she wouldn’t always greet you with a hug

Like I just know she’s always touching you in some way

Holding hands, or her arm around your waist or shoulder

Even if you two are for some reason not touching, she’d still be incredibly close to you

If you let her she will just stand behind you and rest her chin on your shoulder

She does not care who’s around!! She wants to cuddle you she will do so!!

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Celestia Ludenberg

Her love language is Giving Gifts

Celestia has made a whole lotta money from gambling, so you cannot tell me she wouldn’t spoil you.

You and her cat ofc, can’t forget about Grand Bois Chéri Ludenberg

Also, I’m split between thinking that every gift would be accompanied by a grand gesture, and thinking it wouldn’t be uncommon to just find wrapped gifts on your desk or something

She’s probably very nonchalant with giving gifts (most of the time) but if you get her anything unprompted?

She melts

Like it doesn’t matter if it's expensive or not, it's just the fact that you're giving it to her that makes her go kinda mushy

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Junko Enoshima

Her love language is Acts of Service

But like…in a very strange and roundabout way

Like even without the despair, she’s still…Junko, ya know?

She’ll trip people who are rude to you, help you cheat on homework, forge documents for you

Ya know, normal bestie things!!

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Kyoko Kirigiri

Her love language is Quality Time

I mean, it seems obvious, doesn’t it?

I think she wouldn’t want to push conversation, just being together is enough for her

She’d like to go on walks or drink tea together

A lot of long comfortable silences with her that’s for sure

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Mukuro Ikusaba

Her love language is Physical Touch

I feel like this is less about affection and more about wanting to keep you safe though

Like, she’d wanna be near you just in case someone (Junko) tries to hurt you.

Which opens up a lot of opportunities to touch you!!

She’d probably be kinda shy/indifferent to it at first, but after a while, she softens up and allows hugs and such

Would have her hand on the small of your back nearly at all times

Also is the kind to pull you out of danger/away from dangerous people

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Sakura Ogami

Her love language is Quality Time

Drink tea with this girl RIGHT NOW!!

She’d definitely want like an hour of just uninterrupted time with you every day

Also feel like she’d be big into taking long walks with you, maybe at night or when the sun is setting idk idk 

Also very much feel as if she’d want you to work out with her

But if you don’t work out, she may or may not bench press you sorry

Or like have you sit on her back while she does push-ups

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Sayaka Maizono

Her love language is Giving Gifts

Girlie makes a ton of money, she is SPOILING you!!

Buying you outfits, jewelry, expensive makeup, cute plushies!! Anything you want!

Would probably try and take you out on a shopping spree but doesn’t wanna be interrupted by fans

But she would give you her card and tell you to go crazy!! Maybe idk

If you give her a gift? Especially if it’s something you made?? Girl is melting.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Toko Fukawa

Her love language is Acts of Service

She does stuff for you, but always vehemently denies it

Helps you clean up your room, just to say she was just looking for something

Or makes you food and just says she made too much 

If you're someone who tends to overwork yourself, she’ll stay near you while she writes to make sure you take breaks and eat and drink water and whatnot

Which probably also helps her to remember to do those things!!

Win-win scenario!!

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Genocider Syo

Her love language is Physical Touch

Tries to make out with you in public

Will also grope you without warning

Sorry but if you want her to stop you gonna have to do something about it

However, even with all that she can also be really sweet at times

I feel like she’d thrive on cuddles

Even if she does feel you up while doing so

[felixbit]

birthday

pairing: bang chan x gn!reader w. 1.4k genre: fluff summary: spending your birthday with your boyfriend, chan a/n: written for my best friend <3 happy birthday

Birthdays with Chan were something you looked forward to every year.

He had always been the ultimate gift giving boyfriend. It could be a random day and he'd come home with brand new headphones for you. The week surrounding your birthday was a time filled with small (and large) gifts.

The day itself had pretty big shows of affection, although he preferred not to do everything in one day. He valued you feeling appreciated, so he stretched out all of his gifts over the course of your birthday week. A few days before and a few days after would come with presents and treats.

On the morning of your birthday, you woke up in bed to a pleasant smell. He'd let you sleep in and even gotten up early, just finishing up breakfast as you sat up in bed. When you'd finally convinced yourself to get out of bed, he waltzed into the room with your favorite breakfast dish and a little side drink.

Next to the food would be a handwritten love letter, and he'd give you a kiss on your forehead as he delivered it. As much as he wanted to stay with you while you ate, he had to run and finish up making sure the apartment looked spotless.

Once you had finally finished, he swept the dishes away and had them all cleaned before your morning routine was even done. The last thing he wanted was for you to think of household chores on your big day.

The morning was slow after that. He sat out with you on the couch, cuddled up in a big warm blanket and watching shows. He didn't want to rush you into the day.

As early afternoon peeked through, and Chan asked if you felt comfortable going out. He'd planned a shopping and lunch date, telling you he was going to change for the occasion.

When he walked out in a casual outfit, he grinned. He revealed it was just the second outfit of too many for his preference, but he wanted the mood to be set for every occasion. Once you got into an outfit you liked, he took you by the hand and walked you down to his car.

The drive was nice, Chan putting on your favorite music to listen to. He even sang along, giving you a small concert. You made him promise he'd sing more for you before the day was over, and he conceded.

When you arrived at the shopping district, he gave you a big grin and asked if there was any places you wanted to go. He had no problem with choosing, but he wanted to make sure any shopping you wanted to do would get done.

The first two stores he took you to were very nice. You were mostly browsing, not often picking out things you liked. He made sure to let you know there was no spending limit, that he'd cover everything you wanted to get. It still felt awkward to spend his money, but he reassured you it didn't matter to him how crazy you went.

Caving to his wishes, you picked out a few things you'd otherwise never grab. They were items that you'd thought about getting but there was no reason to buy them over something else you really wanted.

In the next store, you'd found a rack of necklaces with initials on them. Looking over to Chan, who was browsing some rings, you smiled. You grabbed one of your own initial and one of his, bringing them over to him. He smiled when you approached, looking confused as you wordlessly put the necklace boxes in his hand.

He opened them and it looked like he could have melted into the floor. He smiled wide, his dimples deep into his cheeks as he looked at you in disbelief. "They're perfect," He said.

He was quick to check out, buying them and immediately putting on the necklace with you initial. You followed his lead, unable to contain your smiles when he told you that he'd never take it off. You had no plans on removing his, either.

From the shops, he found a lunch spot nearby he planned a reservation to. He held your hand tight as you walked down the street together, swinging your arms together with a newfound pep in his step.

As you got to the place and were seated, he was still beaming. You laughed and asked him, "What's got you grinning so big?"

"You!" He cheered, "I don't think I've ever been happier spending time with someone, you know. There's no place I'd rather be."

Lunch was pleasant, Chan making sure you enjoyed your meal. He got a double order of your favorite side just to make sure there was enough. Any leftovers he happily boxed up and brought with him for later, wanting to make sure you got all of the food you wanted.

You got back home to wind down after the time out, Chan insisting on going through everything you bought. Any decorations got put up, all of the clothes got tried on again and put into outfits. Most of all, he made sure his brand new necklace was being shown off. You even caught him secretly taking pictures of it.

He then booted up a game to play with you, letting you pick whatever you wanted. He wasn't big on games that required him to be competitive like FPS, but he would try if it's what you asked.

It was a fun way to pass the time, gaming alongside and against your boyfriend. Even better was seeing how colorful his language got when he was frustrated. He embraced his Aussie roots, saying all sorts of obscenities when he died in game.

It had gotten to a point where Chan had to take a break from the game to cool off, and you decided to call it for the day. You cheered him up by taking Berry out for a short walk around the neighborhood, which seemed to put him in a better mood. He was a simple man: his dog could make any day better.

As afternoon turned into evening, he left the apartment and told you to hang tight as he picked up a few things. You hung out with the dog for a while longer, turning on a show in the meantime.

He came back with grocery bags and a smile on his face. "I'm going to get to work in the kitchen, I will be back!"

You gave him a thumbs-up and he scuttled away with a small giggle. He definitely had something planned, you were just there to see it happen. More time on the couch with Berry and watching a show was always accepted.

After a while, you smelled something delicious being cooked. The anticipation of good food had you antsy, but you waited as patiently as you could.

Chan eventually appeared from the kitchen and peaked his head out. "The dress code for this event is formal, if you want. Totally optional."

Before you could say anything, he disappeared back. Shrugging and bored, you went to your room and switched into something black and formal that you had put away for events.

When you walked back out, you were met with a very formal looking Chan. White shirt, tie, vest, and black dress pants. The sleeves on his shirt were rolled up, a touch that didn't go unnoticed. He gave you a smile, reaching his hand out to take yours.

He took you to the dining table, sitting you down. He brought out a vase of flowers, followed by plates of food he'd just been cooking. It was one of your favorite dishes, cooked by hand at home.

If there was a gesture that made you want to get down on one knee, that was it.

Unfortunately, you didn't have a ring on hand. You sufficed by eating every last bit of the food he made. You knew well that he would have plenty more in store for you that week, but this took the cake. A day full of him treating you. What could be better?

Well, you'd just have to find out.

He was too worried to do it on the actual big day itself, but he had something planned for later. A date night that brought you to the place you met. Maybe you didn't have to worry about having a ring on hand.

He had one waiting for you.

[lowkeyremi]

LITTLE THINGS HE DOES atsumu x fem!reader

note: my tsumu fever is coming back jeez

content: fluff, established relationship, hcs + drabbles (divider)

Boyfriend!Atsumu who feels like he's coming on too strong in the beginning of your relationship.

"Shit, 'Samu. I don't know what to do, I wanna ask her to stay the night but that might be too much, right?" Osamu, who has heard his brother complain a million times just sighs, "Just ask her ya bonehead. Ya'll never know unless ya ask." Atsumu groans, throwing a tantrum in his apartment because he's unsure of what to do.

Boyfriend!Atsumu would pretend he didn't know you in public to save himself from being teased by others. (it's what he did in his last couple of relationships)

"Hey, 'Tsumu. We still on for dinner at your brother's?" You'd ask, looking super pretty in that hoodie he bought for you. "What..? Do I er- know ya?" His friends all start laughing, which was embarrassing to say the least. When he called you to apologize you blew him off with, "Do I know you?" (Dw! he never did that again. It might've been alright with his past gfs but not with you.)

Boyfriend!Atsumu who absolutely LOVES buying you stuff. There doesn't have to be a reason, he just likes spending his money on you.

Your legs were in his lap while he unconsciously massaged your feet. You're working on a paper that's due in a few days and Atsumu out of boredom watches you type whatever you're talking about in your paper. He thinks it's cute, everything you do is cute.

"How long have you had that thing for?" It takes you a second to realize he's talking about the laptop you saved up to buy for yourself, senior year of high school.

"Hmm, I've had it since senior year of high school so maybe 3 or 4 years?" He hums in delight at your response, "Let me buy ya a new one baby, it'll be better than that old thing."

"A four year computer is fairly young and I worked hard to buy this one! Don't shame my baby." It's adorable how offended you get unintentionally. "Pleaseeeeeeeeeeeee."

Two days later your friend is commenting on your new laptop during a lecture.

Boyfriend!Atsumu steals kisses ALL the time. He loves you so so so much! If you say no to kisses he'll get one anyway.

Atsumu's hands are wrapped around your waist, his front meets your back. "Atsu, I already told you when I finish cooking you can kiss me all you want. I don't want either of us to get hurt." Did I mention you're cutting up veggies?

A guttural whine leaves his throat. You can feel the vibrations of it on your back. "Atsumu."

Before you can even process what happens, Atsumu quickly pecks your cheek. It's not your lips like he wanted but it will do for now.

Boyfriend!Atsumu who loves talking about how big and strong he is (to make you swoon of course).

"Hey babe, just got back from the gym, notice anything different?" Nothing particularly looks different about him, but you risk him pouting if you say the wrong thing.

"I don't know, Tsum Tsum. Tell me." His frown is almost immediate. He looks like a kicked puppy and honestly you don't feel too bad. He's likely exaggerating as per usual.

"I worked on my legs today for ya. Know you love my thighs." His thighs look the exact same as they had when he left for the gym but you don't tell him that because he'd get whiny.

"Look at you, gosh you're built." Hopefully it doesn't sound too fake and he buys it.

"Ya think so?" He says with a chuckle. Checkmate.

Boyfriend!Atsumu who steals your t-shirts and underwear because "ya steal my stuff why can't i steal yers?" and "it's for me to smell when i miss ya."

"Atsumu.. where is my favorite t-shirt!?" Your favorite (singer/band) is doing a meet and greet today and you wanted to show your love by wearing their merch, which you can't seem to find.

"I dunno baby, s'probably at my place. S'the one ya wear all the time so it smells like ya the most." He shrugs as if this were not that big of a deal.

"Tsumu! Go get it!!! I'm going to that meet and greet I was telling you about today!"

Husband!Atsumu who LOVES to tell people how you two got married.

"Yeah, and I got down on one knee for her and she was like 'Tsumu is this a prank?' she was leanin' back too far into the fountain she was sittin' on and fell in!" Bokuto absolutely looses his shit. He doubled over laughing, alongside Hinata.

"It's not that funny." You grumble, sitting next to Atsumu's best friend teammate, Sakusa.

"He tells that story to those two anytime he gets the chance too. I'm surprised they still find it funny after the 1 millionth time hearing it." Sakusa agrees, his arms folded up and his eyebrows furrowed. You're sure he's scowling under the mask.

"Yeah, welp. That's my husband I suppose."

"He sure is." Sakusa implies the way Atsumu is always talking about you.

"Well my wife.."

"Let me see if my wife wants to come."

"I'm heading home! Gotta go see my wife!"

"Now if it were me and my wife.."

(WE GET IT YOU LOVE HER!!!!!)

note: just a little something to feed y'all until i finish my gojo project. love you guys XOXO (XO until we OD)

[matthewtkachuk]

last night (blame it on the vodka)

They say drunk words are sober thoughts, so what are drunken confessions of love?

pairing: matthew tkachuk x reader

warnings: a pinch of angst, swearing, alcohol (and its after effects - aka a fat hangover and a twinge of regret)

word count: 3k

a/n: matthew tkachuk is a stanley cup champion!!!! you know i had to do it to ya. ps this idea was formed a million years ago (pre trade) therefore I have simply plucked Cowboys from downtown Calgary to downtown Miami deal with it. big ups to @wyattjohnston for the edit and for outsourcing my geography queries. title and inspo from the song by the same name by lucy spraggan. enjoy my loves and let me know what you think <3

You’re never drinking again. 

It’s a mantra you repeat all morning, from the minute you’re dragged back into consciousness by the sound of construction down on the street, to when you finally pull from bed to dramatically slam the window shut, to the one-two-three-four times you end up with your knees on the bathroom mat and your head in the toilet. 

You’re far too old to be drinking like that on a nearly empty stomach, far too old to be drinking like that regardless. Okay, maybe that’s a tad dramatic, being a mostly single twenty something year old in downtown Miami. Mostly single in that every time you drank, your painfully unrequited crush on probably the one guy in all of Florida you couldn’t pull came out with a vengeance. 

Looking at your phone and all the unread texts you groan, realizing that the little girl who used to write ‘Mrs. Matty Tkachuk’ in all of her diaries came out in full force last night. 

Hyping yourself up, you type out and forward the message ‘What the hell did I do last night?’ to everyone you remember being out with you. Everyone, that is, except Matty himself. 

Brielle: Last night you told him you loved him 

It’s not atypical for you to be out on a Friday night, a group of your closest girlfriends at your side. Neither is it uncommon for the night to begin with the three of you taking thirst traps for the ‘gram before taking shots as the Uber pulls up. 

Cowboys is a favorite place, certainly not for the high class atmosphere or clientele—of which you’ll find neither. But who doesn’t love to let loose in an environment where the city boys of Miami don Stetsons and large belt buckles? And okay, maybe you’re a bit of a gambler—though, with money or love as the currency depends on the night. 

Tonight you’re pressing your luck, drinking enough to dull the edge and to keep you from overreacting to Matt’s response to the aforementioned Insta story. It’s a simple message, a string of fire emojis, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t refresh the app until his username appeared as ‘Seen’ under the story. 

You don’t want to think it means anything when he shows up with a couple of his boys an hour into dancing with the girls. Cowboys is a popular place, evidenced by the crowded dance floor and the complete lack of personal space. So what Brielle was wearing a cowboy hat in one of the pictures and so what everyone and their mother knew this bar was your favorite place to spend Friday nights and so what you’d even tagged the place in a boomerang of your shot glasses five minutes after arriving. 

It didn’t mean anything—doesn’t mean anything. 

That thought doesn’t stop you from abandoning your friends the second you see the all too familiar head of curls.

“Hi Matty,” you greet, stumbling into him and sliding your hand around his waist. He feels solid beneath your fingertips, warm and secure and everything you’ve ever wanted. His resulting grin could build and topple empires, you think. 

But then reality all comes crashing down again as he slides his arm around your shoulders in turn, squeezing gently as he replies, “Hey, Kid.”

It’s the gentle reminder you’ll never be anything more than the annoying girl next door who used to follow him and Brady around like they were the greatest thing in the world. 

If he notices the way you deflate, he doesn’t say a word, though his hand rubs comfortingly at your shoulder for a moment until you can’t stand it anymore and go back to your friends and their sympathetic faces. 

The thing about you when you drink is the filter comes off. Normally you play your cards close to your chest, making it very hard for others to know your emotions. But a little vodka and you’re suddenly ready to face your feelings head on. 

It starts off innocently enough, an over exaggerated ‘I love you!’ when he brings you a drink without you having to ask. But then Georgia is all but holding you down to prevent you from running after him and professing your love. She doesn’t succeed, what with you running into his arms midway through the night anyway. 

He has that same grin on his face as you tell him how much you love him, and though he doesn’t mean it the way you do, he tells you that he loves you too just the same. 

Though you haven’t eaten in at least twelve hours, the thought of food makes your already upset stomach turn some more, and so you settle for making a cup of tea to get some fluids back in you. 

Not quite ready to face the music in terms of what your alcohol fueled self did last night, you ignore the unread messages to flip through some Insta stories. There’s cute pics and videos of you and your girls, you screen shot your favorites and tap away until you pause on a boomerang of Georgia and Brielle. It’s cute enough if you ignore the small stain by Bri’s collar where she’d lost some of the second tequila shot. Oh, and you looking up at Matthew with the most pathetic lovesick look on your face in the background. 

It unsettles your stomach further, and so you abandon all plans of tea—turning off your kettle and grabbing the water bottle you’d prepped for yourself before you left last night and taking up residence on the couch. 

Putting on a random movie from your childhood on Disney+, you lay back and cover yourself with your favorite quilt. Another wave of nausea washes over you, and so you prop yourself up with a few extra pillows and fall asleep sitting up. 

It mustn’t be more than half an hour of uninterrupted sleep before you’re pulled out of it by the incessant buzzing of your phone. It’s a set of four pictures of you on Matt’s lap and another incriminating tidbit from the night before. 

Georgia: Last night you told him you need him

“Shut up Sammy,” you glare, angrily poking his chest with your index finger. You’re grateful for the uncharacteristic change in nail shape at your last manicure, the stiletto tip serving as a makeshift weapon that actually makes him wince before laughing in your face. 

Truthfully, you’re not sure how the night got to this point—you and your girls hanging around a table with Matty and his boys. You’re not complaining though, not with how your bare legs pressed to Matty’s jeans or how his arm rests above your shoulders, fingertips brushing your skin now and then. 

Matt can spot a fight coming from a mile away, well versed in the language that is your rage from the countless years he was the source of it, pulling on your pigtails and breaking your barbies. 

“That’s not my name,” Sam rolls his eyes, rubbing his chest and stealing a swig of your beer. “Lightweight.”

He’s referring to your drunken state and the fact that Matt himself had to drag you to the table with the promise of a Bud Light if, and only if, you drank an entire glass of water. Narrowing your eyes, you begin to lunge at him again, stopped only by the force of Matt pulling you onto his lap and wrapping an arm around your waist, one hand resting on your stomach and the other on your bare knee. 

The effects of being wrapped up in him are almost instantaneous. Your rage quickly simmers, your body relaxes and you all but sink into the embrace. You quiet then, content to let the rest of the table do the talking for the moment while you memorize the feel of his arms. 

It’s a nervous habit to fiddle with the small charm around your neck, something you do unconsciously, not even noticing until it’s somehow come undone in your grasp. 

“Matty, I need you,” you whisper against the side of his face, watching his eyes darken and the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. He opens his mouth to speak but you interrupt with your fist coming at his face with your necklace clenched tightly within. 

He visibly relaxes, motioning for you to lean forward and swiping your hair to the side.You grab the strands of your hair after he takes the necklace from you, shivering as his cold hands drag across your skin. 

Georgia is shaking her head at you from across the table, having clearly read your lips and witnessed the little moment. You just smile and shrug at her before pressing a chaste kiss to the skin of Matt’s jaw. “Thank you.”

You’re pretty sure you’re dying. By the grace of some higher power, you haven’t seen the inside of your bathroom in a hot minute. Yes, you’ve finally moved past stage one of your hangover, however you’re not out of the woods yet. You’re dying a slow death on the couch—feeling yourself dip more and more into dangerous dehydration levels despite the giant water bottle on your coffee table that had been a gag gift from Matt last Christmas. 

Truthfully, the room is still a little spinny and your stomach still a little unsettled, but perhaps the worst of it all is the splitting headache and the sore throat. Both ailments make sense, you’re a yeller when you drink and you’re certain last night was no exception—even if the memories are slow to return to you. 

It’s not aggression, not really. It’s more that your body can’t contain all the emotions that you so carefully hide in your day to day life, and without the control that sobriety brings, you’re wont to let them all spill out. 

And really, you can’t linger on the what ifs too long, so you settle back in for another nap as an attempt to sleep off the symptoms of your poorly thought out night out with another movie playing as background noise. 

Elizabeth has just rejected Darcy when your phone lights up three times. 

sam: let’s just say you’re screwed if you ever wake up in vegas

you: fuck off sammy

sam: still not my name, lightweight 

sam: at least I didn’t propose last night 

“You know, Sammy,” you slur, no longer angry but keeping up the nickname in hopes that the table will think you are and Matty will let you stay in his arms. “You’re very lucky Liz agreed to marry you because other than the hockey thing you really have no redeeming qualities.”

“At least someone wanted to marry me,” he retorts not unkindly. 

“Matty would marry me,” you state confidently, tilting your head back to look up at the man beneath you. “Wouldn’t you, Matty?”

“Gonna have to get down on one knee, Kid,” Matty laughs, shaking your body slightly from where it leans against him. The dopiest smile crosses your face at the sound and you know you’re being far too obvious but you can’t help it. Matty laughing is your favorite sound, and happiness looks so good on him. There’s nothing you hate more than seeing him sad or upset. Nothing except dirty, sticky bar floors, which makes your next actions even more comical. 

Pulling from his arms for the first time in what feels like an eternity—not that you were complaining—you jump from the table and dramatically flop down to one knee. 

“Matthew—M-Matty,” you hiccup, keenly aware of the dozens of eyes on you and yet utterly uncaring of any of them except the icy blue you stare into now. “You’re my b-best friend. Marry me?”

The look he gives you is fond if frigid, not at all the passionate love declaration you were hoping for. Pouting deeply, you don’t move to pull up from the floor. “Is that a no?”

“It’s a ‘not right now’,” he answers, getting up himself and pulling you up by your armpits. You wrap around him like a vine, not even protesting as he leads you to the bar to grab another glass of water and some appetizers for the table. 

God, you really regret asking about last night. Maybe it was better to live in beautiful, blissful ignorance — if you never remembered all the embarrassing behavior did it really happen? 

Unfortunately your vibrating phone simply refuses to let that happen. 

brielle: and you totally ate shit on the pavement leaving the bar last night 

That certainly explains the dull ache of your biceps, having caught the weight of you alongside breaking your fall. Luckily that appears to be the extent of the damage, given you can wiggle all of your fingers and toes and no other part of your body stings. 

Just your ego is bruised. 

“Why would we go home?” you ask, gesturing wildly at the emptying bar around you as though it were still the hopping venue of an hour ago. 

“Cause the bar staff would like to go home too,” Brielle explains kindly. 

“So we go to the next bar? I’m sure there’s somewhere still open, it’s only midnight!” 

Matty’s arm is heavy and warm and secure as it wraps around your shoulder to guide you to the exit. “I’ve already called us an Uber.”

You preen at the mention of an ‘us’ between you and Matt, suddenly docile and calm, allowing him to guide you outside. 

Far too preoccupied with the weight of him, you miss the broken piece of sidewalk and subsequently toe pick the crack, ending up face down on the pavement. 

Matt is quick, pulling you to your feet with ease and examining your face and upper body for damage. “You alright?”

“If I say no, will you kiss it better?” you crack back, only half joking. 

Shaking his head at your antics, he guides you into the waiting car before sliding in beside you. 

You’re quite content to lean your head on his shoulder the whole drive home, arm curled around his before letting him lead you to your bed.

A joke about inviting him into your bed doesn’t leave your lips, momentarily mesmerized by the gentle way he tucks you in, the soft press of his lips to your forehead. 

Could it possibly get worse, you wonder. 

Matty: let me up?

He’s got a key for emergencies, and although you usually appreciate that he doesn’t misuse it, in this case you almost wish he would let himself in. 

It would give you some extra time to compose yourself and—to be quite honest—you do yet harbor a little fear that getting vertical might have you running for the bathroom once again. 

Neither of those things happen—he doesn’t let himself in and you don’t throw up on your way to the door. You make quick work of the lock before opening the door to reveal Matthew looking as well rested as you’ve ever seen him. 

The contrast between the two of you is likely a stark difference, but his face doesn’t give anything away if he’s thinking it too. 

His first words to you are simple, full of care and compassion. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a bus that then backed right over me again,” you answer truthfully. 

His responding giggle makes your insides feel warm and you can only hope you don’t have the tell tale lovesick look on your face. There’s a moment of quiet contemplation—his chest visibly puffs up and then deflates as he takes a steeling breath. 

“You said some things last night,” he says and you feel your blood run ice cold in your veins. 

You attempt to deflect. “I say a lot of things, Matty. Especially when I’ve gotten into the Tito’s.”

He shakes his head and takes a step towards you. “Last night you said you loved me.”

“Of course I love you, you’re my best friend.” It’s not a lie, not completely anyway. You love him. He’s your best friend. So what if that love you have for him is something a little bit more than friendship? 

He shakes his head again, little ringlets of curls shaking with the motion. “Didn’t sound friendly. You said you needed me.” His voice is rough, tone something heavy. 

“To fix my necklace, Matty. What are you doing?” Your voice in response is a little wild—short clipped sentences spoken in quick succession.  

He appears frustrated. Not necessarily at you, you don’t think, but it’s clear on his face.  “That’s not—You said you wanted to marry me, got down on one knee even. 

“I was drunk, it’s not that deep.” 

He takes the remaining steps toward you, crowding your space and boxing you in with his arms. Yet you know with one word he would back off if you asked. 

You don’t ask. 

“But what if it is? What if I said that I love you too, that I need you too? That the only person who I’ve ever thought about marrying was you?”

“Matty, what are you doing?” you ask lowly, heart pounding so loud you fear he might hear it. 

“Something I should have done a long time ago,” he murmurs and leans in until your lips barely touch. 

It's the invitation you feel you’ve waited a lifetime for. No amount of doubt or hesitation or uncertainty is going to stop you from wrapping yourself around him and deepening the kiss. 

It’s soft and sweet—two decades of buildup, of a beautiful friendship turned something more. It’s you and Matty the way it was always supposed to be—the way it was always going to end up. 

[allllium]

The Perfect Gift

~ Today is my birthday and I immediately thought about Remus being the best boyfriend ever so here's something short and sweet about Remus being amazing for your birthday <3

~ Fluff, Remus being a little insecure, WC: 963

~ Remus gets you the perfect birthday gift

Remus was really nervous. He often is around you but this time it's worse. Today is your birthday and he got you what at the time seemed like a great gift, but now, after seeing the things you got from everything else, he doesn't feel like it's so great anymore.

All day he has seen you get these amazing, slightly expensive gifts, all of which now make his gift pale in comparison. He decided not to buy you anything this year, feeling like nothing was good enough for you, instead he made you something. More like he tries to make something and ending up needing his mum to help him.

He holds the bag tentatively in his hand. A simple black bag with a ribbon of your favorite color keeping it tied. He makes his way to the muggle restaurant you agreed to meet at for dinner. After spending all day at a birthday party with your friends and family, you went shopping with a couple close friends to get new clothes for a fancy dinner.

"Rem!" You light up when you see him. You'd just gotten there moments before and decided to wait outside until he showed up.

"Hi angel." He greets in a gently murmur, pulling you in for a quiet kiss.

"You got me a gift?" You smile and ask. Of course you expected it considering Remus gets you gifts more often than you can count.

"Obviously. I love any day where I can celebrate you." He begins to walk into the restaurant as if he didn't just make you swoon. You move quickly to catch up and grab his hand.

"What is it?" You question inpatiently. You've been waiting all day for this, not just for a gift but getting a gift from him specifically. You know whatever is in that bag will be much more thoughtful and meanful to you than anything else you've gotten today. Everything else were things that people spent a lot of money on to make up for the up they don't really know what you would want. Remus knows.

"You're gonna have to wait till after dinner."

"Awwww why?" You immediately whine.

"Cause I said so."

"Meanie." You whisper, walking up towards the hostess.

Dinner lasts well over an hour. Well dinner lasted about 20 minutes once you got your food, but you and Remus stayed far longer. You spent the time talking and laughing and on Remus's end clearly procrastinating giving you your gift.

You know he's doing this because he's been fiddling with the ribbon and steering the conversation away from it every time.

"So what's making you overthink this time?"

For a moment he gives you a strange look but he quickly smiles and asks what you mean.

"Well you won't give me the gift which wouldn't matter except you've been really excited about it for weeks. Obviously you're thinking about something and I guarantee you have no reason to." You swiftly explain.

"I'm sorry, angel. I didn't get you a gift. I made you one well my mother and I made you one. But I don't know if it'll match up to the other gifts you got today." He shyly says. His face turning a shade of red.

"You made me something?" You grin wildly at him and his overly sweet heart. "Gimme it. Please."

"I don't know maybe I should get you something else."

"Hell no. Hand it over before I come over this table and get it myself." The threat comes out of your mouth before you have the opportunity to stop it. Remus only smiles at you, both because he knows you'll actually do it and it makes him feel slightly better about his strange insecurity.

He finally sighs and hands over the bag. Knowing he really has no choice. He watches anxiously as you carefully pull off the ribbon and remove the tissue paper. Watching as your face drops and eyes slightly tear. For a moment he thinks he was right in being scared but you jump out of your seat and move to his side of the table. Your chair scraps loudly against the tile floor and he winces at the noise.

At his side of the table you hug him enough to push the air out of his lungs. You grab his face and give him many quick kisses, ignoring the strange looks from people at surrounding tables.

"I love it. I love it. I love you!" You exclaim.

"Are you sure?" He asks, confused by your out of ordinary outburst.

"Remus this is the best gift I've ever gotten. I love you so much." You immediately ask him to put it on you. Lighting up even more if possible when you look down at your wrist to see the gorgeous bracelet. The gorgeous bracelet that your amazing boyfriend, and his mum, hand made just for you. The gorgeous bracelet with carved, metal charms dangling from it. The gorgeous bracelet that somehow fits you perfectly.

"I thought that I could make you more charms as time goes on. Things that represent what we are together, y'know." You look at him for a split second, with tears in your eyes, before looking back down to closely admire the charms you already have. As of right now there's a wolf, a star, a flower, and a sun. The sun is special. You flip it over to see a small engraved heart with both your initials in it.

"You are the most perfect man to exist." You turn to him and say. "Seriously this is the best gift ever."

"I love you." He says. Standing from his chair and pulling you in by the waist.

Putting your head against his, you whisper, "I love you more."

[savannahsdeath]

This thought popped in my head and I need it!!!!

(only if you want to!)

Imagine reader and Ellie went out to the mall with there friends and the entireeee day Ellie was just thinking about bending reader over and doing her then and there because she was just looking so good with her little ponytail and skirt and the way she would pick up the cutest little clothes and ask Ellie if she thinks they would look good on her. Then when they get home Ellie just goes absolutely feral and fucks her with no remorse. :(((

I'm literally going feral over this thought

im not a shopping person but this? omg.

ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER

mdni please<3

warnings: 18+!! obv smut, strap (r!receiving)

writers note: i loved the idea sm i literally stopped writing my enemies to lovers fic just to write this one🫣sorry it took me so long to post it, i struggled with choosing what to post first !!

You were going out shopping with your girlfriend and some friends. Ellie isn't really an outgoing person, but when it's about you and shopping, she can't wait to see you in all the cute clothes she knows she will buy you. Of course she'll never admit it but you knew she enjoys it as much as you do.

As you make your way into the store, you can see her eyes light up at the sight of all the different styles of clothes. She takes the lead and starts pulling at all sorts of clothing to bring over for you to try on, eager to see you wearing all her favorite things.

The changing rooms had a lot of space inside, so she entered one with you, sitting down on the little bench. While you were taking your previous clothes off, she intensely stared at her phone. She couldn't stand seeing your bare skin and it would be hard for her to control herself otherwise, but you were clueless.

When you changed into a cute, feminine skirt and top, she finally turned her eyes in your direction. Her gaze was judging but not in a bad way - she looked you up and down before smirking.

"Spin." Ellie simply ordered and you obviously did so. You had no idea she told you to do that because of the way your pink underwear shows when the skirt rolls up in the air at your movement. She cleared her throat and nodded, trying to hide her thoughts. "Yeah, looks good."

You frowned at her lack of enthusiasm, not realizing she's actually boiling inside. You were so oblivious it was actually funny, even your friends knew damn well what was going on.

You tried the rest of the clothes Ellie picked for you, not getting the reaction you'd like to each time, but you couldn't blame her.

Oh, little did you know how much she just wants to bend you over and fuck with her strap, she obviously had on, just in case she won't be able to control herself.

After a few other shops and a whole bag of clothes, you came into one with small changing rooms and made Ellie wait outside. She was standing in front of the curtains, pretending to be unbothered, but the way she impatiently kept asking you 'ready?' every-fucking-second said otherwise.

"Wait, wait, the zipper won't close!" You said, trying to lock a pretty, formal, red dress you knew you'll wear like one time - for Christmas or something.

She rolled her eyes and came in, standing so close behind you, you could feel the bulge in her jeans. She zipped it without struggle, placing her head on your shoulder as she looked at the mirror in front of you both. Her hands were sliding up and down your sides as she kissed your neck.

"You look fucking amazing." She whispered and smiled, seeming almost proud of your appearance.

"Is it worth buying, though?" You asked, turning in all directions to see it from every angle. "It will just collect dust in the closet for the whole year until I decide it's time to..."

She laughed, cutting you off. "Jesus, hush. I can afford it... Oh, and trust me, I'll make you wear it."

You finally fully turned around, cupping Ellie's face in your hands and kissing her for only a few seconds. "You spend too much money on me."

"Are you complaining?" She chuckled with a smug look on her face as you stayed silent. "That's what I thought."

After running around the shops for the whole day, you all met in a restaurant. Ellie was sitting in her usual men-spread position and you placed yourself between her legs, not really caring it may be weird. Her hands rested awfully near the hem of your skirt, wrapped around your waist. Sometimes when you were grinding too much, she'd just tug on it to warn you, so no one would notice your behaviour.

Sometimes, when your little movements didn't stop, she'd whisper something in your ear in almost threatening way, even though you wasn't really teasing her intentionally.

On your way home, she was walking faster than usually. You couldn't even call it walking together, she was just pushing you forward.

You tried to slow down or build a conversation but miserably failed every time.

As soon as she brought you back to your shared apartament, she closed the door and immediately started kissing your neck, slowly pushing you towards the bed.

You quickly understood why she acted so weird before. "Oh, Ellie, so you just wanted that the whole day?" You chuckled as she nuzzled into your skin. "And you kept silent instead of telling me?"

She dropped the bag of clothes as soon as you entered the bedroom, your teasing words clearly pissing her off even more than having to watch you in all those cute little skirts back in the shop.

"What the fuck was the whole dinner scene for?" She asked, frustrated, hurriedly undressing you. "Can't sit still? Seriously?"

You laughed, even though you knew what waits for you isn't so funny.

She wasn't teasing your cunt for too long before filling it with her cock, waiting for the right moment to catch you off-guard. It worked as well as she expected to, you moaned and your eyes quickly turned glossy as your thighs clenched.

She kept going for so long, you didn't bother to hold back your tears anymore. Your hips were sore from the way she held them, knowing she won't be able to hit the right spot if you'll move. Your hair started to stick together from the sweat and tears mixed together, making the pillow uncomfortably wet. Your god-knows-which orgasm approached but you weren't able to say anything about it to Ellie as you lost the ability to speak like a thousand thrusts ago. You couldn't decide whether it's a good or bad feeling. Yes, you loved the feeling of her deep inside you to the point you can actually see her in your stomach. But no, you didn't feel strong enough to keep going. Ellie seemed to notice that.

"If you want to stop, just tell me." She said in the most taunting tone she could.

She knew you're not able to 'just tell her'. She noticed the only thing coming from your mouth are moans, occasionally maybe her name, but really rarely.

She reached to wipe your tears away. "Now, that's just adorable. And a little pathetic. Should I slow down, huh? Should I?"

You nodded, realizing your vision isn't actually black, you were just desperately squeezing your eyes shut like it'd make you feel any better. You looked up at her with your teary eyes, still imploringly moving your head up and down.

"What does that even mean? Just speak up!" She laughed.

Your eyes closed again, as your release came. Your mind went blank, just like everything else - your vision, feeling and other senses.

Did you pass out?

It all came back after a few seconds, when Ellie finally stopped and leaned in to kiss you, what woke you up like Sleeping Beauty.

"Oh, sorry babe. Got carried away. I bet you can't really blame me, though." She winked as she started going down on you again.

"Els- what are you...?" You managed to say, stopping to take a breath after each word.

"Gotta clean you up." She smirked and you could already feel her tongue on your clit.

It felt so sensitive, so new, you cried out and your thighs tensed, but didn't close as Ellie held onto them. She was so strong compared to your weakness now, they didn't move a millimeter.

"I'll be fast, this time." She reassured you, as your body squirmed, hoping to get away.

But oh, how much you actually wanted to stay like that. The sensitiveness made you feel the texture of her tongue so precisely, you hoped to still remember it tomorrow...