#that it's been downright fucking refreshing

[blindedguilt]

//A Happy birthday to Riversal, who, in true middle child fashion had his birthday forgotten last year so hopefully by shouting him out here I can get rid of the guilt that's been burdening me ever since ;w; Again, happy birthday to our little boy!! Asks ofc are open (Of all the siblings, I'm sure he'd appreciate them the most lmao) though I'm currently trying to focus on some older asks as well (When i'm not caught up in college and bighttown), so if it takes a second just know I'll get to you eventually!! Thank you~ :3

[emmcfrxst]

I wanna hear your opinion on how Arthur and John differ in bed because I love em both

arthur is a tender, gentle lover; with him, everything is about you and your pleasure— sex is an expression of his love and devotion for you, through kisses and touches and whispered words of affection. he worships you the whole time, mapping out your entire body with his fingers, then his lips— he’s thorough in his adoration of you and will make you come multiple times before even beginning to pull himself out of his pants. kissing you during sex is very important for arthur; it’s an act that’s so intimate, so sacred in his eyes, especially given his track record with women and the abandonment issues that stem from them— being able to kiss you freely reminds him that your feelings for him are sincere and that you’re not going anywhere. despite his inherent tenderness during sex, arthur is far from boring or repetitive; he’s more than willing to try anything you might be interested in trying (as long as there is zero chance of him hurting you. anything that could hurt you is a hard no for him) as he’s very versatile. he’s also quite vocal; he’ll moan, groan and gasp your name and will murmur praises against your skin. all in all, making love with arthur is a refreshing and intimate experience that he used to connect with you on a physical and spiritual level.

john is a lot less gentle. he’s fast and efficient most of the time, not hesitating to manhandle you into whatever position he likes (although your consent always matters and he will stop immediately if you ask him to because while he’s a little rough, he’s not a fucking monster). one thing that characterizes john in bed is that he likes his sex hot and messy. there will be spit, there will be tears of pleasure, there will be lots of cum— john marston loves to see you dripping with him, it’s really what gets him going. he’ll spit in your mouth and make you swallow it; he will drag his spit-slick fingers down your body and around your nipples; he will eat you out until his face is shining with your slick and then leave wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck— he likes it wet and sloppy and downright nasty. he’s also quite vocal in bed, although it’s mostly curses, and won’t hesitate to tell you “fuck, that’s so fuckin’ hot” if you do something that makes his dick twitch. his thrusts are, more often than not, hard and fast and a little on the primal side; his focus is to bring you both to your climax as fast as possible— unless there has been a near-death experience, where he takes his sweet time with you and it feels a lot more raw, intimate and emotional because it’s mostly in these moments that he allows himself to verbalize how much you mean to him and how he can’t live without you, which he doesn’t usually do because being vulnerable is something that terrifies him. all in all, sex with john is passionate, primal and efficient; it’s messy and horny and a little animalistic.

[selineram3421]

*stares into the void*

Dizzy For You

Lovesick Alastor X Reader

Warning⚠

⚠ blood/gore, reader is really into creepy alastor, kisses, consensual biting *cough*, cuddles, fluff ⚠

You were in love with one of the most powerful Overlords in Hell.

The Radio Demon.

At the moment, he was in the process of courting you. Or in what the new generation calls it, dating.

Now you're not that old of a demon but you still use the term courting as it feels more genuine.

The way he spoiled you made you feel like the only demon in Hell. Of course there were limits but like any good relationship, you both communicated.

You knew he wasn't one for physical displays of affection out in public, unless it was holding you close or kisses on the back of your hand.

It didn't bother you one bit.

In fact it made you happier knowing that your affectionate actions were private. Only for the two of you.

You could only see him that way.

As you spent time working on a few orders, making nameplates and engraving names and or numbers on them, you even got an order from Alastor! He had wanted small but fancy door plaques for room numbers. Some in the hotel having been missing or needing touch-ups.

Quickly finishing the last plaque, you packaged them and set out to return to the hotel.

A fun little gift your lover added to your shop was the door in the corner of your back room, it being a portal to one of the hotel back rooms near the lobby.

He didn't like you being so far away after all.

When walking into the lobby, you didn't notice the commotion outside until you heard a familiar laugh.

It was filled with static.

Downright dark and sinister that got a chill to run down your spine.

As if hypnotized, you walked towards the sound and saw sinners being ripped apart, blood and guts covering the ground in front of the hotel. Your eyes widened when seeing the Radio Demon eat a demon whole.

Then he turned to face the door after finishing the carnage.

"Alastor.", you gasped, covering your mouth with your hand.

He was in his tall demon form, smiling and covered in blood. The metallic scent filled the area and you felt slightly dizzy at the smell but also couldn't help being drawn in by the sight.

Seeing you stagger back, Alastor rushed towards you, shrinking slightly to get through the door.

"Darling? Are you alright?", he asked, pulling you into his hold.

You shivered and hid your face in his chest, feeling the blood smear onto your skin. The room feeling a lot stuffier than before with your quick breaths.

"Take me to the room.", you whispered and tugged on his coat. "Please."

Using his shadows, both of you appear in your room and you quickly pull him into a rough kiss.

The deer made a noise of surprise, static buzzing as his grip on you tightened.

Moving away from his lips, you peppered his face with kisses, making sure to kiss under his jaw before making your way towards his neck. Blood now on your lips and hands, heart racing at the taste.

"Fuck.", you said shakily, looking up at the deer and finding his cheeks dusted bright red. "Alastor."

His ears perked up at his name and he held you tightly, hand rubbing up and down your lower back. "Yes my dearest heart?", he responded, leaning forward to place a peck on your forehead.

"Please bite me."

You shivered again with a blush as he leaned down with a chuckle, his sclera pitch black with a lustre from his glowing irises.

"￦¡+h pl€@sμre~"

Tilting your head to the side, you let him sink his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder. A small noise escaped from your lips as you clung onto his coat, whimpering when he pulled back and blood starting to run down your neck.

"Quel goût raffiné.", he kissed the bite mark. (What a refined taste.)

He gave you a gentle smile as he caressed your cheek and you leaned into his touch.

"Let's get cleaned up.", he said softly, guiding you to the bathroom.

After a refreshing bath, you both got dressed into nightwear and got ready for bed. Alastor being extra sweet and helping you get comfortable next to him under the covers.

Feeling absolutely content, you smiled and cuddled up against him.

"I'm sorry for pouncing on you."

"Nonsense.", he brushed it off as he glided his hand down your thigh, pulling it to rest your leg between his. "I enjoy your affection."

"Hmm..", you felt your eyelids droop.

"Sleep.", the deer demon whispered, kissing the top of your head. "I'll still be here in the morning."

You let out another hum before submitting to a pleasant slumber.

*sees radio dials in the darkness* Oh shit.

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@c4rved-pumpk1n @scary-noodlesblog @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @lbcreations-blog @ducky-died-inside @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @line-viper @117s-girl @spiderlegsling @alastorsgoldie @repentant-repeller @kcsketches @lofasofabread @kotaleee @im-coolrat @superzombiewho @speckle-meow-meow @jammcookie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @trashbin-nie @koioli @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

[bunny-lily]

Tether Me - Chapter 2

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader

Summary: “Hey! Didn’t keep you waitin’ too long, did we?”

“No, not long,” you assured, fighting hard to keep your eyes off his friend for however long possible, vainfully clinging to your sanity. You knew that as soon as you centered your vision on him, your ability for conscious thought would evaporate. 

You wanted to present yourself as at least marginally normal as a first impression, though you doubted you were achieving that by avoiding the obvious third presence. You were surely coming off as rude, you really should–

“This one's Geto Suguru,” Gojo introduced the noiret by his side, nipping your overthinking at the bud.

At last, your full attention was guided to him.

Oh.

Oh. That was a mistake.

CW: No y/n | polyamory | slow burn | slice of life | alt au - no curses | fluff | light angst | eventual smut | forgive me, there's internal monologues | I like using big words... | Gojo & Geto are whipped for you | emotionally constipated reader | (most of the tags have been condensed, you can find the full list on my ao3 here)

AN: there's a couple mentions of emotional eating (in thoughts). Degrading words towards self (slut, whore, etc) but not self-degrading. I think that's it? Lemme know if I missed something, it's 5:50 am at time of posting and I am eepy, so I'm sorry if I did ♥

Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1 | Ch: 2 | Ch: 3 | Ch: 4 | Ch: 5 - 1 | Ch: 5 - 2

WC: 12.9k

The scent of something marvelously delicious wafting through the air had you groggily rolling over from your stomach to your back in bed, stretching your arms above you and practically vibrating the way a cat would as you eased away any sleep-induced tension from your muscles.

You honestly hadn’t slept that well in a long while. You were bleary-eyed, sure, but refreshed. You didn’t have any heavy bags under your eyes, you didn’t experience any nightmares of being hunted. Just calm, good, dreamless sleep.

As much as you wanted to laze around in bed all day, though, the watering of your mouth couldn’t go ignored. Or the rumble in your stomach, for that matter.

With a sleepy groan and big, feline-like yawn to match your stretch, you shuffled out of bed and rubbed the crusties from your eyes as you pulled on some comfortable clothes. Hell if you knew what you were going to do for the day, you could figure that out after you sated your appetite.

You were downright drooling when you left your room to do your morning routine and groused like a toddler that didn’t want to brush her teeth before devouring her weight in breakfast. But you were a grown ass woman that quite preferred to have good hygiene, thank you very much. The intoxicating call of sustenance would have to wait until after you scrubbed your face and polished your teeth to perfection.

Catching sight of yourself in the mirror made you choke when you saw how chaotic the nest of hair on your head was. You felt like a cartoon character that got zapped, your tresses sticking in every direction. 

You must have slept really well, then.

You combed your fingers through the messy strands, trying to smooth the misbehaving locks. It took some effort to tame them into a somewhat presentable fashion, which was the most you cared to do when you were dying to eat already.

Your eyes flickered towards the remaining bottles you left on the sink countertop from last night and you nearly lost your shit.

Just what did Satoru put Ijichi through to get you high end skin products like these? And in such a short amount of time? You guessed the poor man broke a few speeding laws to get these in time for you to use. That, or maybe Satoru had informed him earlier, when you initially agreed to take him up on his offer to stay at his place. Or he already had them and was keeping them around for this kind of situation? Did he use the same brand?

Well, whatever. You were going to use those zealously, so help you god.

And, by the heavens above and seas below, they were fucking incredible. Your face was baby-skin soft. Lustrous, dewy, you were glowing, and certainly felt like it, too. You couldn’t stop touching your cheeks and forehead, they were just so smooth. 

No wonder rich people always had the clearest skin. If you had these while growing up, you never would have had to deal with getting acne in your teens and into your adulthood.

So fucking unfair.

Lamenting how Satoru was born with a silver spoon in his mouth while you were robbed by the universe, you followed the delectable wisps of the tasty aroma in the air like a drunk cupid with tiny wings and a dazed veneer on your face. There you found the man himself in the kitchen, humming an unfamiliar song to himself.

You continued to be baffled that he knew how to cook. It seemed almost unnatural, in a way. He was the prime example of a rich boy that you could find reclining on a poolside chair, hands behind his head as a servant hand fed him grapes. Yet here he was, cooking away, an apron tied around his neck and waist (with frills and little hearts, too, the flashy ass). You wouldn’t be surprised if it had ‘Kiss the Chef’ written across the front and oh, would you look at that, you were right.

“Goooood morning!” Satoru exclaimed, turning away from the stove to greet you. The apron was even flashier than you thought. For fuck’s sake, it had sequins on it. “How’d you– whoa. Nevermind, your hair answers that question.”

You subconsciously tried to flatten down your frizzy tangles once more, grumbling and pulling your gaze away from the atrocious fabric covering his chest that you would totally wear as well, gods, it was horrific. Your morning hair never liked to cooperate with you. “Morning.”

Yawning against the back of your hand, you climbed onto one of the barstools at the kitchen island and veered your body to the side, trying to see what he was cooking around his arm. It smelled sweet, the kind of sweet that was almost enough to make you nauseous, but wouldn’t actually cross that line. Kind of like dessert after you’ve filled yourself to bursting with dinner.

“What are you making? It smells really good,” you said.

“Pancakes!” He exclaimed, sliding an already finished plate to you, soufflé pancakes stacked high atop, drizzled in chocolate and syrup. He even added fruit slices in an arch around the back, just to make it extra fancy.

Someone had a sweet tooth, it seemed. That, and it was obvious he was trying to show off his culinary skills, having the perfect reason to do so now.

But who were you to point that out? You were getting free food, and not even for the first time! Of course you were going to stuff yourself sick with these. Because, honestly, they did look incredible. You would have felt bad about devouring such art if your stomach wasn’t going nuts. 

“Wow, these smell amazing,” you said, scooping up a bite with the fork he passed you. You admired it, tilting it a few degrees in the light, then chomped down on it. 

The noise you made was downright unholy. Straight to the Second Circle with you, don’t even think about looking at the pearly gates of Heaven.

“Fuuuuck,” you keened as you immediately shoved another piece into your mouth. You savored the delectable meal with chubby cheeks, letting the sugary and fluffy delight overtake your senses. “This is so fuckin’ good.”

He cackled at your reaction as he finished cooking and styling up his own plate, ditching the eye-bleedingly ugly apron, and you realized a trice too late that you just stroked his ego considerably. “I didn’t know you could make those kinds of sounds,” he quipped. The sunlight pouring through a nearby window caught the lenses of his glasses when he slid into the seat beside you, making them glint the same way his eyes would if you could see them unobstructed. “Makes me wonder what other noises you can make.”

You almost choked on the pancake you were greedily wolfing down.

Okay, he was not allowed to say things like that while you were eating. And especially not in that voice, the one that lowered a couple octaves and had you squirming in your seat. Barely 10 minutes into the morning and you were already struggling to keep your composure around him.

You swallowed down your food stiffly and patted your sternum with a wee cough. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I’m not opposed to that.”

“You promised you’d let me use your hot spring first.”

“I can be patient!” Exclaimed the man who very much could not be patient.

You deadpanned, but your lips quivered as you tried to restrain a grin. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

He moped like he was told he couldn’t go to the park today. “You’re so mean to me. How could you? And right after I graciously agreed to house you, too.” Wow, he wasn’t kidding about not letting you live that down.

To make up for it and bring the whiny baby back into a good mood, you let him have a few bites of your food, and he lit up like a damn firework, scarfing them down without a second thought. He had this sort of boyish charm that was difficult to resist in a way that made you want to tease and taunt him endlessly. His statuesque features certainly aided his charisma. 

“By the way,” Gojo began, speaking around a piece of syrup-covered strawberry from his own dish. “There’s someone I want to introduce to you later. You’ll like him.”

You gave him a sidelong glance. Was this the second ‘someone’ Granny mentioned the day before? You shuddered at the thought of dealing with two Satoru’s. You barely knew the first one, and he was already a handful and a menace. You chewed quickly and swallowed to answer.

“Is he anything like you?” You asked, doing your best to be ladylike and eat the way a normal person would. You weren’t really succeeding.

He grinned wide. “He’s the best! Second to me, of course.”

“That does not answer my question,” you pointed an accusatory fork at him.

“Pshh, don’t worry. He’s cool. Well, not as cool as me, but very close.”

That still didn’t answer your question. More so, it put you on edge. You were already mentally preparing to get acquainted with this potential twin, doppelgänger, and/or clone.

“Can you at least tell me his name?”

“Geto Suguru,” he responded.

Geto Suguru, huh?

Same initials as Gojo Satoru. Same amount of syllables, too.

You were so fucked, weren’t you? 

The thought of having two copies of the gremlin beside you had you preemptively putting your hands on your nape to ease the tension. Figuratively, but possibly literally, depending on if height was something they shared.

“Alright,” you said. “When do you want me to meet him?”

“Oh, the time will come, you shouldn’t worry your pretty little head.”

Well, if that wasn’t the most cryptic shit that definitely had you worrying your pretty little head. Asshole, he was doing that on purpose, confirmed by that cunning expression he had as he observed you with his temple resting on his fist, elbow on the counter. He liked toying with you.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t look at me like that.”

He raised his brows. “Like what?”

“Like you’re planning some shit.”

Satoru pressed his fingers to his chest, feigning innocence. “Why, I’d never!”

He was absolutely planning some shit. All you could really do now was brace yourself for whatever was to come, though you were certain that no amount of readying yourself would keep you from getting swept off your feet. “I’ve got my eye on you.”

That was the wrong thing to say, considering he fucking swooned and tipped over, resting his head on your shoulder and closing his eyes, sighing like a schoolgirl. “I knew you thought I was handsome.”

You gave a long-suffering exhale and poked his cheek. “I said no such thing.”

“Yeah, but you looked it.”

“The hell does that even mean?”

“Just keep your eyes on me, pretty baby,” he directed and sat back up, reaching for his fork. “What’s on the agenda for you today?” He asked as he scooped up the rest of the syrup on his plate with the last bite of his food.

You coughed to cover your blush, grateful for the topic change. “Well, I guess take stock of all I’ll need to do with my house. I got a job at Granny’s store, so I’ll start working there in a few days.”

“Shit, really?” He gaped at you. “That fast?”

You nodded around your final piece of pancake, closing your eyes to savor the sublime flavor. You’d have to make him teach you to cook like that sometime, too.

A ‘whooh’ sound left him. “Impressive.”

“It’s weird,” you said. “Everything’s worked out so far, and I’ve barely been here for two and a half days. I’m getting suspicious.”

“Why?”

Your shoulders lifted and dropped. “Seems too good to be true. Gotta stay on my toes, y’know?”

Satoru ruffled your hair as he stood to stack your empty plates into the dishwasher. “You think too much, sweetheart.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Let me be paranoid.”

“You’ll just give yourself worry lines like that,” he cautioned, returning to press his index finger between your brows, “riiiight here. You gotta relax, princess. Chill out, do something fun.”

It was hard to, after spending so many years escaping metaphorical ghosts. Old habits die hard, you supposed.

He was right, you could really use a break from non-stop wariness. This was supposed to be a fresh start, after all. You washed your slate, unmarked of everything on purpose, keeping next to nothing but your name and the clothes on your back. No contacts, nobody waiting for you somewhere, no responsibilities or obligations holding you back. Who knew how long you’d get the chance to let go like this? Might as well take advantage of it.

You weren’t sure what would qualify as ‘fun’ here, but you were a new sprout, after all. What better way than to learn firsthand?

“Alright,” you agreed. “Recommend anything?”

“Hmm,” he lolled his head side to side. “Go to the bakery. It’s not far from Granny’s store, a couple streets north. Hard to miss, it’s got a big sign. We saw it on the way to Granny’s yesterday.”

You scratched through your memory, trying to remember exactly where it was. You had a fuzzy idea, but the benefit of living in such a small locale was that it wouldn’t be too difficult to find. “Will do, thanks. I’ll go after I check out my place first. I’ll need the emotional support after that.”

“Fair enough, I saw why,” he chortled. Oh, the exterior was nothing compared to the interior, sweet summer child. “You want a ride there?”

You considered it, then shook your head. “Nah, it’d be better for me to walk there to get more familiar with the town.”

“You sure?” He raised a brow, a teasing, lazy smirk crawling up his lips. “Won’t get lost?”

“Probably,” you snorted, “but experience is the best teacher, eh?”

He chuckled low in his throat. “If you do get lost, don’t be afraid to call me. I’ll be your prince in shining armor.” 

You made a ‘pffft’ noise and glared at him. He just smiled back like the dork he was. “It’s knight in shining armor.”

“Prince is better. I’m not some lowly knight.”

Drama queen. “Alright, whatever you say, prince. I’ll see you–” In the midst of slipping off the stool to get ready to leave, you stopped, remembering a key piece of information. “Hey,” you spoke up, rotating to scrutinize him with a squint. “How did you know my back door doesn’t have a lock?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “My friends and I would go there on dares when we were younger. Believed it was haunted, dumb kid shit, you know how it goes.”

Oh.

That– yeah, that sounded way more plausible and understandable than whatever ghost stories about kidnappers and serial killers you came up with. But he still could have phrased it better than he did, he didn’t have to go creepy-mode to convince you to stay with him for the time being.

“Why?” He chortled. “Thought I was gonna kidnap ya?”

“Yes,” you replied automatically, scratching the spot behind your ear sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”

He snickered at your expense, bending down and lowering his voice into a rumbling murmur. “You never know. Maybe I will.”

“Har har,” you replied flatly. “Very funny.”

His lips curled further, eyes gleaming behind his shades. “Better keep your guard up, princess. Someone might just come and snatch you up when you least expect it.”

You scoffed as you swiveled and headed towards the front door. Satoru followed you in a way that reminded you of a puppy, or a mischievous cat, observing you as you tugged on your shoes. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I can scream really loud.”

“And if they cover your mouth?”

“I bite,” you grinned toothily.

He crooned. “I’ll keep that in mind. You sure you don’t need a ride?”

“I’ll be fine,” you dismissed his uncertainty and double checked your purse as you put it on. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Ah, wait, before you go,” he halted you, reaching out to search through a bowl on the console table pushed up to the wall. After a second or two of digging around, he pulled out a key attached to a ring and held it out to you. “Here, in case nobody’s home when you get back.”

You took it from him and turned it over in your palm, evaluating its untarnished sheen. “Thanks,” you tucked it away safely into a pocket in your purse. “Is it new?”

“Just a spare,” he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Put it to good use, yeah?”

“Sure,” you agreed.

He patted your head and you scowled at him. “I’ll be awaiting your call for when you need to be rescued.”

You stuck your tongue out at him as you opened the door and stepped out of it. “Dream on.”

His rolling laughter was the last thing you heard as you closed it behind you. The purity of the air awed you again. It was like a medium between you and nature, tickling every one of your senses. There was this certain liberating power in this valley, one that swelled behind your heart and spread out like hot tea on a cold winter morning.

It swirled in your stomach and radiated from your chest in time with your pulse, lulling and salving. Why had you never considered going to the countryside before? 

You were a city-hopper, bouncing from metropolitan hellscape to metropolitan hellscape, where the streets of downtown reeked of anything sickly, apartments were expensive to rent, and you only ever felt like a side character.

Restaurants there were always jam-packed, cafés were less of early day respites and more places of palpable depression. The bars were grimy and boozy, ear-piercingly loud and sweltering with the body heat of dozens of people pressed too tightly together, but at least they were good for one thing.

They were good for shutting down your brain. When it got too loud and too full, when the alcohol burned too much and the people were too touchy, that was when you went into autopilot and thrived in the bliss of silence created by the endless droning of the bass vibrating from your feet to your scalp. You hated liquor, just the thought of it made you queasy, but you craved the buzz it gave you back then.

You didn’t have that luxury now, but you didn’t need it. You hadn’t so much as thought about partaking in that vice since moving, actually. Had you known about the kind of life you could find here, you would have ditched the neon streets a long time ago.

The placidity of mostly untouched vegetation and of the tightly knit community provided a different kind of solace, one that distracted you with things far more interesting than paranoia and anxiety-driven overthinking.

You didn’t feel lost here. Not in the metaphorical sense. Literally had yet to be seen. It remained unfamiliar, but your panic had smoothed out from the first steps you had taken off the train. You could breathe without feeling like there were matches being held too close to your lungs, or needles aimed at your heart.

You didn’t hold onto hope, though. The pattern remained the same. Once you got used to this place, you’d hop on the next train and be on your less-than-merry way.

Will I ever stop running? You asked yourself frequently.

Nobody ever answered.

That’s alright. For now, you were okay. 

Choosing not to indulge in those ideologies, you followed the curving road back down the incline, noting that the car Ijichi had brought you in was gone. You’d need to find a way to thank him, as well as Granny. You didn’t like being indebted to people, especially if it put you at risk of getting tied down.

Satoru was a different problem entirely, since he was letting you live with him. Chores, rent, maybe another thing or two to keep the score level. You weren’t great on brainstorming ideas on how to return favors, but you’d figure it out. A good walk always helped make the creative juices flow.

You ruminated on who he wanted to introduce you to later, coming up with ideas about what he might be like. Hopefully a counterpart and not a duplicate, you weren’t sure how much you’d be able to handle if that was the case. 

If he was friends with Satoru, though, the likelihood of him driving you insane in one way or another was highly likely.

“I bet he’s disgustingly handsome, too,” you muttered cattily under your breath. “I’m gonna see him and the last brain cells I have are gonna explode.”

It didn’t help that you had no idea when you were going to meet this ‘Geto Suguru’. Would you have time to anchor yourself mentally? Would it be today, or a week from now? Could you even prepare at all?

Ugh.

Satoru was right, you thought too much.

As you roamed around, the shrine caught your eye once more, and you stopped to take it in. You hadn’t been to a shrine before – not this kind, anyway. The bigger ones in Tokyo didn’t count. You vaguely remembered how to pray, though you weren’t sure if you should. Paying respects, though, that was fine.

You nibbled on your bottom lip, debating. In the end, it wasn’t a hard choice. You would take any chance to procrastinate and delay facing the disaster awaiting you as much as you could. Except for the bakery Satoru recommended, you were saving that for after you made a plan for your house. You figured you’d want to stress eat afterwards to balm your troubled heart.

Besides, you weren’t sure if you’d have the time to visit after you got started on everything. You had a few days to use up, why not use them to check things out?

The trail leading up to it was easy to find, and though clearly well-traveled and requiring some exertion to traverse, it was clear that it was loved. The flowers on either side of the path were tended to with a compassionate hand, blooming and fragrant. You took a break on several occasions just to sniff a few, admiring them. 

Usually, you were picky about flowers. 

Most were less redolent and more bitterly pungent for you, such as roses. They were elegant, no doubt, but their scent always bordered on perfume-y in a way that reminded you more of an old folks’ home rather than pleasant and subtle beauty. Generally, florid notes made your face scrunch up like you ate something unexpectedly sour.

These flowers were just right, though. They still had those floral undertones, of course, but presented salubrious and fruity essences atop it. It made you mull over why every other flower you smelled before wasn’t palatable. 

Soon, the shrine entrance was in clear view. You traced your finger along the edge of a petal one last time before standing up from your squatting position and making your way over to it. The tower itself was mostly vertical in terms of size, decently small in contrast to the typically larger ones scattered about Japan, but it fit in perfectly with everything else here.

There were two stone benches on either side of the archway leading in, pressed up to the sturdy cobblestone foundation, and lanterns situated at the corners of both, reminding you of a few animated movies with similar designs you’d seen in the past. They were slightly shaded, turned a few degrees away from the sun, and you imagined it would be nice to read there and watch the sun fall asleep beyond the horizon.

The doors were open, guarded by dog-like statues, a bit crudely carved out. Satoru had mentioned it was a shrine dedicated to the wolves that used to roam the mountains, so the statues were likely meant to resemble them. You were curious about the interior, wanting to see the altar up close, since each place of prayer had their own uniquely made one, but the sight of a person clad in white and red kneeling in front of said altar within had you nixing that idea. You could do it another time.

She must have noticed your approach as her head lifted and she peeked partially over her shoulder. She rose up and rotated to face you, and you withheld your exasperation.

Right, this was just fucking ridiculous now, what the fuck.

Why was there another criminally attractive person in this godsforsaken valley? You got scammed, you wanted your money back. Everyone here was so out of your league, you felt like the dog that caught the baseball bat after it’s thrown rather than a player in the game. What, was there going to be an additional good-looking person, ready to knock the wind out of you?

Probably Geto.

If any of these people told you to get down on your knees and bark, you would have without question.

Seriously, why?

You should have been relishing existing in the presence of so many charming folks, but in reality, it just made you feel self conscious.

“Hello,” she greeted as she walked over to you, bringing you out of your internal raging monologue. “May I help you?”

“Oh,” you fluttered your lashes and stammered minutely, trying to recollect yourself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you. I just wanted to see the shrine.”

The shrine maiden’s lips tilted up politely. “You’re fine, don’t worry. Are you a tourist?”

“No,” you fidgeted with your thumb and index finger on your right hand. “I moved here recently. I’m checking around to get more acquainted with the area.”

Her brows rose a millimeter short of being comical. “Really? That’s surprising. Did one of the villagers leave that I didn’t know of?”

“Also no. I bought the house on the outskirts, uhh,” you twisted to scan behind you and pointed in the general direction of it. “That way.”

“That house? I thought they’d torn it down a long time ago. Why that one?”

You lowered your arm. “It was cheap. Gave me an excuse to move here properly.”

“I hope you’re not staying there, it’s dangerous,” she frowned, using a stern yet caring voice.

“I’m staying with Gojo Satoru while I fix it up.”

Immediately, the woman’s face twisted into a sneer of repulsion. Scorn shadowed over her honey-brown eyes, causing yours to widen as hers narrowed. “Run away while you still can,” she told you firmly. 

Well, that’s not worrisome at all.

What the hell did he do to her?

“What? Why?” Your brows furrowed.

She sighed as if the mere mention of Gojo had stripped a few years off her lifespan. “He’s the devil in disguise.”

Was anyone ever going to give you a straight answer about him? “Did he…do something?”

Her scorn turned to ire and agitation in a snap. “He’s so obnoxious! And arrogant, I can’t stand to be around him, he pisses me off to no end,” she downright snarled, heat rising to her cheeks from her anger. “He acts all high and mighty when he’s just a spoiled brat that refuses to respect his elders!”

“Oh–”

“Me!” She pointed harshly at herself. “I’m his elder! Well, I mean, not the only one, but still! He was raised like a golden child, given everything he wanted. He loooves getting on everyone’s nerves, especially mine. Get away from him or he’ll send you to an early grave, miss.”

You didn’t know what you were expecting when you came to view the shrine, but a rant from a peeved miko definitely wasn’t anywhere on your list of possibilities. His name alone sent her into a tailspin, and you would have regretted it if seeing her go off about the man wasn’t more entertaining than it had any right to be. You did feel bad, but madly interested, too.

“I…see,” you reacted stiltedly, stifling a laugh. “Are you, like, exes or something?”

She gaped at you as if you had informed her of her puppy’s passing. “What? No! Absolutely not! I– how could– never even mention–” She abruptly stopped herself, took a few intensely deep breaths to calm herself, then she was smiling kindly again as if nothing had happened. “Where are my manners? I’m Iori Utahime, a miko. It’s a pleasure to meet you. And you are?”

Left reeling from her unexpected 180 in demeanor, you stuttered out your own name in response, to which she nodded in approval.

“A lovely name. You said you moved here recently? How fun! What brought you to this valley?”

Satoru had several questions to answer for the next time you saw him. If you had a notepad and pen, you would have been writing them down like a P.I., bobbing your head with a solemn face as you asked Iori to recount her history of events.

“I came to study abroad in Tokyo a few years back, and fell in love with the country,” you said. “I’m not big on cities, though, so coming here seemed perfect.”

Maybe you were embellishing your story a bit, but in all fairness, you didn’t know her. Besides, clean slate; you had no story before this, why not paint one now that you had the freedom to?

You weren’t going to whip up some grand tale about how you were this astonishingly intelligent, leading programmer in your country that did impressive work for science (that was your mother), but it didn’t hurt to fib the truth a small amount. The part about studying abroad was true, anyway.

She appraised you with an interested visage. “I see, I see. Where are you originally from?”

Man, people loved asking that, huh?

It’s not like you could blame them, you’d do the same in their place. You were a foreigner, they were going to treat you like one.

“Ah,” you told her of your place of origin. “It’s nothing special. I mostly traveled.”

“Oh? How did you make money?”

“Freelance,” you answered. “Odd jobs here and there, enough to keep myself afloat. Have you traveled before, Iori-san?” 

You could see the overjoyed spark in her eyes that someone was finally respecting her. “Only within the country,” she responded, somewhat somber. “I’ve always wanted to see what it’s like outside Japan.”

You tilted your head back to see the sky and think of suggestions. What do the stars look like here? “Depends on where you go. Some places are very packed and have lots of things to do no matter where you go, like Europe. Other places are more sparse, like the States.”

“But the States have more people,” the woman pointed out.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, “but that country is massive and people there tend to group into major cities, rather than be spread out. California is technically bigger than the entirety of Japan, but has way less people.”

Her eyes bulged in surprise. “Really?”

“Yep. It’s why you might hear Westerners say ‘there’s nothing to do here’,” you glanced at the structure behind her. “You guys revere wolves here, right?”

Utahime clapped her hands twice eagerly. “That’s correct! How’d you know?”

Based on her reaction to you merely mentioning Satoru, you figured it’d be best if you didn’t tell her the source of your information. “I’ve heard about it. I was curious, I haven’t been to a smaller shrine like this one before. Only the bigger ones in Tokyo, but those were part of my assignments, rather than for leisure.”

“Oh, it’s not much,” she espied at it from over her shoulder, but you could see the pride in her eyes. It was well taken care of, with love and chariness. It easily passed off as something constructed more recently, given its meticulous maintenance.

“How long ago was it built?”

“Around the same time the settlers first came here.”

This time, your eyes were the ones that opened wide. It had to have been at least 350 years old in that case, based on a rough estimate. “That far back? Wow, it’s in seriously good shape.”

The woman puffed up her chest. “Though the wolves have long since died out here, we still honor them. They helped us with hunts and allowed this village to thrive when we needed it most. They protected us from cursed spirits, as well. It’s only right we treat them and the bounties they’ve given us with respect.”

Oh, there was that term again: cursed spirits. “Could you tell me more about cursed spirits?”

Enthusiasm bubbled up in her the way it would in a child about to tell their parents about the story they wrote up. She skipped over to one of the stone benches and plopped down onto it, patting the spot beside her. You slid onto it, a chill shooting up your spine from the cold temperature. Being shaded from the sun made the rock gelid, go figure.

“Now! Let’s start from the beginning as we know it,” she cleared her throat and took on the role of a teacher. “The origin of cursed spirits and jujutsu sorcery as a whole is largely unknown. It’s speculated that spirits have lived alongside humanity from the beginning of it, as cursed energy is formed by negative emotions, and cursed energy is what spirits are born from.”

She was very animated when teaching, you noticed. Lots of hand movements, facial expressions, and a bouncy attitude to boot. It made for a very entertaining show, and did well to keep you engaged.

“Curses were invisible to humans. Only a select few could see them, and even fewer could actively interact with them in some way or another,” she continued. “Smaller curses would typically leech off of people without them knowing it, feeding off their bad emotions. Stronger curses, however, could be incredibly powerful. Sometimes to the point of standard weapons being completely useless against them, which is why jujutsu sorcery came to fruition. We needed some way to fight back against the spirits, so we developed a way to do just that by manipulating the natural reserves of cursed energy we had within us.”

Folklore from other countries always captivated you. From the creator of mankind in some Chinese mythos named Nüwa, to the counterpart of the equivalent of Santa in Germany, the origin of Halloween and turnip lanterns – even the oddly terrifying ones without nefarious intentions, like Mari Lwyd.

You adored hearing about legends, stories, and tales passed down through oral and written history over the centuries of life existing in each respective land. To say she had you hooked would be an understatement.

What were curses like? Assuming they were real, of course, and that jujutsu sorcery didn’t follow the same ideology as hanging witches. Were they ugly? Bipedal? Humanoid at all? 

“Many natural disasters are blamed on curses, even to this day,” she began lifting her fingers as she counted off a few examples. “Earthquakes, tsunamis, droughts. Pretty much anything you can think of.”

“Were they kinda like demons?”

“Eh,” she tilted her hand side to side a few times. “Yes and no. Depends on who you ask, really. They could be different from demons of hell, or they could be one and the same.”

“I see,” you pinched your chin. “So, where’d they go, then?”

She grasped one of her pigtails, running her fingers through the open and loose portion at the top of it. “Nobody really knows. Some think that sorcerers were able to eradicate them at the source, and died off since they weren’t needed anymore. It could be that the curses have simply lost power due to the progression of mankind, and particularly therapy, though it’s…still kind of taboo. Some claim they’re still around, we just don’t notice because we aren’t able to see any of it.”

Satoru’s words on the matter echoed in your mind. ‘Even if they are real, there's no way they'd beat me.’

You bit your cheek to hold back an unwitting snicker. Leave it up to Satoru to say some brazen shit and have it pop up in your head at random.

“What about you? What do you think?” You asked.

Utahime flicked a piece of invisible dirt off the front of her hakama. “I believe they exist. It’s part of why I’m a miko, and one of the reasons I maintain this shrine. It’s my duty. Curses may not be the same now as they were back then, but that’s no reason for me to slack off. Complacency breeds contempt.”

It was heartwarming, in a way, to see someone still holding onto traditions like these, working to keep her friends, family, and home safe, upholding the rules within and outside places of prayer. You admired her for it.

Not that you would personally want to be a shrine maiden, but you held them in high esteem nonetheless.

“And you?” She peered at you. “Do you believe in the supernatural?”

You closed your eyes for a moment, stretching your legs in front of you and idling back on your hands. “I’m agnostic, neither here nor there. I respect spaces that are considered sacred, I’d rather not get hexed, but I don’t go out of my way to hunt down, let’s say, ghosts.”

“I commend you, many could stand to learn a thing or two from you,” as she spoke, she stood up and brushed off the back of her kosode. “You are good company, though I fear I should get back to work soon.”

“Ah,” you got up as well and bowed to her. “Thank you for sharing your stories with me, Iori-san. I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

She waved her hand. “You didn’t, don’t worry. Come visit me again soon, okay? I’d love to hear stories of your travels as well.”

“Sure,” promised easily, more than content to exchange tales with her. “Stay safe.”

“Likewise,” the noirette disappeared back into the shrine with a final word of parting, leaving you to your devices.

While you didn’t get to see the altar inside, you considered the visit worthwhile, and got a new acquaintance out of it, too. You could come back to check it out another day.

Having burned through all the reasonable amount of procrastination time you allowed yourself, you voyaged back down the path, appreciating the blooms the whole way down the same way you had when you went the other way. You had to ask Utahime if she was the one tending to them next time you saw her.

You were proud to say that you only got lost twice. But you did find the bakery on the way, and memorized where it was once you located the path home. Not bad, not bad at all. You managed to find your way around, and you didn’t need to embarrass yourself by calling Satoru to come to your rescue.

It’s sad how low your standards for happiness had fallen, but you’d take any crumb of serotonin you could find.

You noticed the trip to your house was shorter whenever you actively didn’t want to go there, as if it was a living creature that purposefully made you arrive faster, just so you had to give it attention.

It stood, looming, mocking you. Taunting you, the monstrosity. What an asshole.

The outside matters came first, the less time you had to spend inside, the better. You pulled up the notes app on your phone and began the task of drafting everything you needed to deal with, denoting it as the ‘Outdoor’ section in your native tongue.

Fence, you typed down, scribbling sporadic thoughts as you went. Tear down? Repair? Replace?

You checked the ends and noted that the fence only went back about halfway into your property, leaving the back uncovered. Covers only front. Built like that? Collapsed/removed in the back? 

You felt the stalks of yellow-ish green leafage with your palm, the tips reaching your hips. Cut down grass and weeds. You should plant pollinator flowers if the yard was ever cleared out well enough. It’d be nice to have some butterflies and bees around to help everything grow nice and healthy. 

You lightly nudged a piece of a busted plant pot with the toe of your shoe. Dispose of broken pots. A slight stumble had you leering down to see a strangely shaped tile. You tilted your head in confusion, then peered up at the edge of the roof, deducing it was a shingle that had fallen off. You stepped further away from the roof, just in case. And fallen & loose shingles.

Rounding the side, you waded through the overgrown flora, poring over the condition of the rundown house’s environment. Remove ivy from walls. Set up trellises. Lattices to form a backyard/patio/garden/thing?

Angling your chin up, you placed your hand over your forehead and assessed the roof. From on the ground, you wouldn’t be able to completely acknowledge the damage done to it over the years it sat untouched, but you were reluctant to climb on it to see first hand. You didn’t have a ladder, for starters, and you liked having unbroken bones and working shins. 

Get a ladder.

The back of the estate was in the same condition as everything else. Which is to say, disheartening. 

“What’ve I got myself into…” You muttered.

You spotted a narrow garden plot built into the back of the house. Overgrown, yes, but it’d be perfect for planting stuff when you got it all cleared up.

It wasn’t a question of ‘if’, unfortunately. You had no other real choice besides mending what was left in your hands.

You were still miffed at the real estate agent. You likely wouldn’t have purchased this piece of land had you known what was ahead. Or if you were in a better state of mind, honestly, rather than being in the middle of your fight-or-flight phase of living.

“No good dwelling on the past,” you whispered to yourself as you circled back to the front. “Can’t change it now.”

You took a deep, long, full breath, enjoying the fresh and crisp air while you still could. You savored the temperate hints of nature and the clement weather, treating it like it would be your last time experiencing such comfort. You didn’t know if your nostrils (or you) would survive the excursion into hell you were about to go on, so you weren’t risking taking the breeze for granted.

Exhaling all in one big puff, you steeled your shoulders and pushed open your front door, your free hand covering your nose in anticipation. Replace hinges and/or front door.

It managed to punch you in the gut regardless. 

New section in your notes open, you got to work typing. The most obvious issues came first, such as the floors, the peeling walls, and exposed boning and pipes. A lot would possibly need to be replaced, such as the counters in the kitchen, cupboards…

Floor rotted(?) and sticky. Wash?

Spackle for holes in walls? New drywall instead?

Check insulation.

Your spirits fell more and more with each additional item of note you wrote onto the list. Could any of this be salvaged? Were you better off tearing it down?

Remove tatami. Replace? Don’t?

Stepping into what you assumed was the master bedroom, you made your way over to the sleeping bag you left behind and cautiously rolled it up, maneuvering around the grime stuck to it, and placed it against a corner. You’d toss it when you got the chance to.

M-bed closet missing doors and shelf.

Seeing the window, you tip-toed to it, hoping to open it to air out the room. Your nose formed bunny lines at the cobwebs littering the sill and edges. While there weren’t any spiders – as far as you could see – you still did not enjoy touching them in the slightest.

Pushing up from the center of the window proved to be futile, the frame wasn’t going to be budging anytime soon.

Windows stuck.

Remove spider webs.

There was litter here and there – torn pieces of paper, a ripped open baggie, fabric – that you decided to leave as is. Along with not having gloves to pry them off the ground, you didn’t have anything to throw them away into. They got to live another day.

Toss out trash.

The shower and bathroom had a cupboard tucked off to the side, but opening it showed the middle platform separating the top and bottom within was crumbly and would break if you put any weight on it.  Replace shelf in bathroom cupboard.

The tiles were all fucked up, too. Some were chipped, others were outright broken or missing. Rust had gathered around the tap and drain in the tub, likely from years of having a leaky faucet before it ran out of water to drip.

Clean out rust in bath/pipes. Throw away broken floor tiles. Replace.

You pulled the left handle of the sink faucet and waited for a few seconds to see if the plumbing was functional.

Which was a big, fat no.

Plumbing. Faucets.

Limescale on shower head, wall tiles.

You scrolled through what notes you had already created and chewed on the corner of your bottom lip, thinking of what else you might have needed to write down. You fixated blankly on the wall in front of you as you went over everything, then quickly typed out a few more things.

Electricity.

Check for asbestos, lead in paint.

You figured the tasks you needed to do would pop up as you went along, considering your notes to be a simple skeleton outline. You could jot down other things as needed, and work through them one by one.

Having done as much as possible while staying inside for as long as you could tolerate, you walked back outside and dug around in your purse for the piece of paper Granny had given you, the one with names and numbers of people that could help you in this endeavor.

To say you were beginning to panic would be an understatement. You already bought the damn thing, and doubted you’d be able to resell it and get all your money back. You also didn’t want to subject anyone to repairing the thing when it was both a health hazard and an embarrassment. 

You had some reserve money, but it wasn’t a whole lot, so you required that job Granny gave you.

Gojo said you could stay with him for however long you needed, but that was with the expectation that you’d leave once your house was fixed up. Given the village’s size, it was unlikely that you would find another place within it to live in, even after saving up some money working for Granny. You didn’t want to piggy-back off anyone and be an imposition; the only reason you felt less guilty about staying with the moon-haired idiot was due to the sheer amount of space he had in his mansion.

You were swiftly running out of options.

Your lips paled as you pressed them tightly together, trying to wrack your mind for ideas. You couldn’t sell it, and you didn’t want to deal with the humiliation of having strangers work for you. In such a small town, word spread like fire on a dry wick. Who knows what they would say about you?

Realistically, it wasn’t your fault, you knew this. The house hadn’t been built under your name and, hell, was likely older than you by at least a decade or two. It didn’t fall to ruin because of you, but you were the owner of this house now, the responsibility rested on your shoulders.

You read through the list of handymen under your thumb, the paper shaking slightly from the death grip you had on it.

Repairing it on your own was technically an option, but you would be basically begging for severe injuries or even death by attempting that. You wouldn’t even know where to start. Foundation? Floors? Structure? Roof? You didn’t fucking know how to do any of that shit!

…Or you could just burn the damn eyesore to the ground ‘til there was naught but ashes left.

No, that was a stupid idea, but you were out of any good ones.

The thought you had previously of tearing it down and buying a garden shed to reside in was feeling more and more tempting by the hour. It was unreasonable, you knew, you simply…didn’t know what you were supposed to do.

You were used to doing things alone. You relied solely on yourself, trusted only your own words and intentions. Letting people in was not something you did for many reasons. Maybe you did crave closeness and camaraderie at some point in the distant past, but the concept was out of the question entirely now. It made uncomfortable butterflies sit heavy in your stomach, the urge to vanish into the treelines and never be seen again increasing with each extraneous person you invited into your life.

You sighed. “I should have just moved into the woods and turned into a witch,” you grumbled low, then scoffed sardonically. “Right, as if I wouldn’t accidentally poison myself with a weird mushroom on day three and die a horrible, painful, slow death.”

The two lists you had remained in your somewhat reluctant hands. You knew you were way in over your head, and you’d probably unintentionally curse the house sooner than you managed to make a positive change, but…you weren’t used to asking for help. Always the type to manage shit on your own, get things done yourself, be independent. Could you really be faulted for having a hard time reaching out to anyone else?

Especially since you hadn’t even met any of them yet. That would be disconcerting, asking folks you’d never seen – let alone spoken to – before to work for you.

Your phone singed your fingers. You did know someone, and knew that he was just a phone call away, but did you really want to deal with him of all people? He would take this chance to rub it all in your face and then some.

You carefully weighed your choices.

Rebuild the house yourself with no former experience with anything beyond shitty popsicle stick bird huts.

Call someone on the list, explain your situation, and ask for help.

Call the prick.

…By the gods, you really hated making calls to people you didn’t know.

Shamefully carping to yourself, you dialed Satoru’s number, trying to ignore the contact name he had set up for himself. It was so glitzy, the ✨❤️ Satoru ❤️✨ sitting at the top of the call screen making you stifle a short laugh, ironically lifting your spirits. “Here goes nothing…”

He answered within three rings. “Yo, been a while, princess” Satoru purred as if you hadn’t seen him that morning, and you rolled your eyes, despite not being there in person for him to see.

“You greet every girl like that?”

“Nope, just you,” you could hear his grin. “Whatcha need?”

Now came the part where you set aside your pride and voiced what you very much did not want to. Again. You’d known this man for barely 24 hours and he already had several wins over you. In…whatever game you decided you were losing. “Look, I…I need your help.”

“Oho? What’s this? Is the princess finally admitting how much she misses me?” 

Smug dick.

“I did not say that,” you immediately berated him.

He simply hummed, unaffected. “Same thing.”

You ran your hand down your face, already exasperated just 30 seconds into the call. “You– ugh, just, can you help me or not?”

“Depends on what you need, sugar plum. Did ya get lost already?”

This man was going to be the cause of your madness. The bridge of your nose ached where you pinched it. “Granny gave me a list of people to call to help me with my house and I really don’t want to call any of them.”

“Then don’t.” 

“And, what, do everything by myself?”

You could envision him shrugging. “Why not? I could help you.”

“Satoru, I trust a wild forest fire more than I trust you with a hammer.”

“Ouch,” he sucked air through his teeth, faux whimpering. “You’re such a bully. Fine, I’ll help you with contacting everyone.”

Oh, that took less fighting and groveling than you expected. You exhaled in relief. “Thank you–”

“On,” he interrupted you, “one condition.”

There it is.

Your skin began to sting as you dug your nails harder into it, leaving curved indents between your eyes. “Y’know what, I think I’ll be fine–”

“Ah-ah-ah, hang on a second there, pretty girl. Hear me out.”

Conceding, you sighed and urged him to make his request. “Fine, what is it?”

"Cook something for me,” he requested. “Consider it evening the score.”

Your face scrunched up into a question mark. “Wait, that’s it?

“What, do you want it to be more?”

“No, no, I can do that,” you quickly declined, biting on the edge of your thumbnail as you tried to think of something to prepare for him. “Do you have any preferences?”

“Sweets.”

Sweet stuff. Okay, you could work with that. You could bake some pretty killer macarons. You didn't know what ingredients he had at home, or how to operate his oven, but you'd just figure it out, right?

“Alright, I can do that,” you answered.

“We have a deal, then?”

You took a moment to consider. You could back out, but your introverted personality made that notion null. It was only baking, too, rather than the ghastly demand you were expecting him to make. Baking it is. “Deal.”

“Great! We’ll be over in a flash!~”

“Okay–” wait. “‘We’–?”

He hung up before you could ask. You groaned and contemplated smashing your phone against the ground, but decided against it. You needed the thing, unfortunately.

Since you had to wait for however long, you chose to add in some thoughts to what you’d already written down, brainstorming how you wanted to proceed. It was difficult to tell at this stage, before you started on anything. But you could pick out what you might want to plant; flowers, vegetables, a fruit tree or two. So what if you were fantasizing? It helped keep you calm. Escapism was a valid coping mechanism.

It was too hard to picture anything given the state of the house, though. You’d need to snip down the field first and go from there, when you could see everything clearly.

How much did contractor services cost in Japan? What about the people Granny knew, how much did they charge? What kind of services did they provide? Your toe tapped repeatedly as you stepped outside your fence, trying not to pace.

Would you need one, or multiple? Were you going to have to get materials from the nearby city by yourself, or would they do that? If the former, how?

“I need an adult,” you lamented, your shoulders slouching and arms folding over your chest. “I wanna die. I’m not mature enough for this shit.”

You recalled what your mother told you often when you were younger: ‘not everything at once.’

Easier said than done. Sleep on it, one step at a time, break it down into shorter tasks, nothing was taking the edge off your stress.

“I’ll just start with the grass,” you muttered, eventually succumbing to the need to pace. “I have to start somewhere, and I’ll need to get rid of that before anything else can be done. Oh, but, fuck, there’s so much of it…not to mention debris, rocks…do they still make scythes? Can’t launch a pebble with a scythe. No, wait, that’d be so much more effort and take more time…”

A flicker of alabaster down the road caught your eye, halting your hurried back-and-forth roving and hushed bleating.

Satoru was always easy to spot from a distance. It was hard not to see him when his hair redirected the sun like a mirror, blinding anyone who saw him from the wrong angle. He was the angel on your shoulder with the personality of the devil, urging you to dive into your most heinous and blasphemous thoughts. The light bouncing off his head created a glowing aura around it, resembling a silver halo, further pushing that deceptive angel motif.

Would the halo turn gold in the light of the crimson rays of fading day?

You uncrossed your arms, ready to greet him, only to notice the man beside him. They were conversing, and the latter must have said something funny, as the former guffawed hysterically. It echoed off the mountains on either side of the valley, reaching you with no concern for distance. 

Did such bellows reach across the entire settlement, or was it localized, feeling louder than it actually was due to an echo chamber effect?

Gojo’s cachinnation dissipated when the pair were close enough to you, at which point he waved his hand high in the air to greet you avidly, like you weren’t only 20 feet from them.

“Hey! Didn’t keep ya waitin’ too long, did we?”

Truthfully, the fifteen or so minutes you had been waiting for them had gone by in a flash when you were so deeply buried in your spiraling thoughts while remembering dumb shit sprinkled into your internal ranting. The only evidence of your anticipation for their arrival being the barely present ache in your heels from where you rested most of your weight on them.

“No, not long,” you assured, fighting hard to keep your eyes off his friend for however long possible, vainfully clinging to your sanity. You knew that as soon as you centered your vision on him, your ability for conscious thought would evaporate. 

You wanted to present yourself as at least marginally normal as a first impression, though you doubted you were achieving that by avoiding the obvious third presence. You were surely coming off as rude, you really should–

“This one's Geto Suguru,” Gojo introduced the noiret by his side, nipping your overthinking at the bud.

At last, your full attention was guided to him.

Oh.

Oh. That was a mistake.

‘This one’ was breathtaking.

His midnight hair caught the sunlight in a scintillating iridescence that shifted between the deepest phthalo blue you’d ever seen and a mesmerizing sheen of violet when the light caught it just right, like the feathers of a raven. It struck you how glossy and luxuriously silky it was, and you wanted to pull it out of the high bun he kept it in to run your fingers through it endlessly. That one loose section of his bangs that hovered over his eye was just so cute, your digits itched to tug on it.

And, speaking of, those eyes. 

Sharp enough to cut diamonds and make you stand straighter. Heat rose to your cheeks as he observed you, head cocked to the side with a smooth and sweet smile that absolutely melted your insides like soft-serve ice cream, lily-livered and defenseless against the blazing sun incarnate in the form of a man.

They were dark, yet warm; a rich chocolate in hue that you could swear had flecks of gold within and rings of wisteria coiling around his abyssal pupils.

He was tall and foreboding, just like Satoru, but in a completely different fashion. He was the radiant Sol, pacifying and precious heat licking at your skin, soothing away the frostbite of winters long past. 

Beside him stood the Moon, reflective and brilliant and so goddamn cocky that it made your cheeks hurt – whether from biting the insides of them to hide back a smile, or to prevent yourself from smacking that shameless attitude out of him, you didn’t know. It didn’t matter. 

Satoru’s pearly locks contrasted sharply with Suguru’s obsidian lace, providing a striking visual. These godly beings towered over you, imposing and otherworldly and too good to be true, yet you knew your imagination could never come up with men like them.

And you?

You poor, dear, sweet, dumb little lamb. A pathetic speck caught in the gravity they created. Two black holes, eager to suck you in and rip you to shreds, and you were tempted to let them, practically falling into them without their overwhelming influence affecting you.

Their presence, their power, their very existence that demanded you drop to your knees to worship and beg like the tragic whore you were dominated your consciousness, filling it with fantasies you hadn’t experienced in…gods, ever. Nobody exuded the same aura they did, nobody made you weak-kneed and left you aching between your thighs, not like this. They created a desire in you that you wanted to have fulfilled – needed, even.

The pop of your knuckle in your fist that you had subconsciously created managed to snap you from your revere and back into the present, reminding you that, perhaps, you should do something, rather than drool like an idiot. 

You’ve gone fucking crazy. That was it, the last straw, the last hauntingly magnificent person. Why, oh, why did you move here?

With no small amount of embarrassment at the realization that your panties were a bit more damp than they were a minute ago, you clenched your jaw hard enough to anchor yourself, and made a mental note to get rid of the problem between your legs as soon as you were alone and could succumb to the pleasure, the yearning, you hadn’t experienced in ages.

As well as pretend it wasn’t caused by them, the iconic duo that had you in a mental fit.

Hoping you hadn’t made a total fool of yourself, you turned and bowed respectfully, saying your name in return as you stared at the ground in an attempt to clear your mind of the filth it created on its own, unprompted. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Geto-san.”

Suguru studied you for a few seconds (don’t look at me like that, please, I’m begging you, spare me), then faced the male beside him with an amused expression. “Are you sure this is the same girl you were telling me about? The brat?”

Oh, heavens, that voice.

Fire exploded across your cheeks and pooled deep in the lower pits of your stomach when you heard him say that word; enunciate it clearly, croon it in that damned tone that had electricity jolting up your spine.

Not now, slut. Focus.

It was significantly easier to ignore the unholy fantasies plaguing your sanity when you centered all that pent up energy into being annoyed at Satoru, questioning your already questionable friendship when you learned of what he called you in private. Your eyes narrowed into an icy glare, primed and deadly. To your agitation and further chagrin, he only smirked boyishly at you.

“That’s the one,” he replied with a widening grin as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his pants.

“She's far too polite,” Geto countered.

Satoru snorted. “Trust me, she's a spitfire.”

“Is that so…” The onyx-haired man bent down to come closer to your face, and your breath hitched in your throat, refusing to come out properly. His scent embraced you. Mild, pleasant, like warm chai and jasmine, making your muscles instinctively loosen.

His eyes softened into closed curves as he beamed at you. You really hoped he couldn't read your mind. There was nothing holy or sane in there.

“Your name is lovely as is,” he murmured as his voice lowered into a roguish octave, “but I think I have a better one in mind.”

“W-What?” Your own vocal cords strained just to get the one word out in a wimpy squeak, and of course you just had to stutter. Whereas the air Satoru emitted naturally made you want to tackle him to the ground, Suguru’s wrapped around you like wisps of incense smoke, soothing and gently demanding your obsession with its fragrance. It inexplicably made you want to thaw into a puddle, to give him your full and undivided focus.

His canines peeked through from the way his lips curled further, entertained by your sudden timidness. He remained quiet, merely viewing your reactions as he lifted a hand to loop a strand of your hair around his finger and by the gods, don’t look at his fingers and how long and big they are and how perfect they’d feel–

“Angel,” the man said, practically cooing it at you.

You stifled a croak, verbally cuffed out of your totally, positively, very wholesome thoughts. “What?”

If you could die from embarrassment and be let out of this hell hole, you’d keel over on the spot when he simpered. “Angel,” he so graciously repeated for you. “I believe it suits you quite well. Wouldn’t you say so, Satoru?”

Satoru was having the time of his life, you were sure of it. You could feel him staring into you, see that stupid sexy fucking smile on his face from the corner of your eye as he teased you and, shit, why were you in the middle of this? Had you committed some heinous sin? Was this your punishment? 

“I don’t know,” he hummed in deliberation. “I prefer bunny. Or mochi.” 

“Mochi?” You and Suguru questioned at the same time, swiveling to regard the alabaster man.

Gojo nodded. “Small, probably tastes sweet, squishy.”

“Squishy?” You gaped incredulously, relocating your befuddled scrutiny to Geto when he burst out into laughter.

“I can see it,” Suguru coincided, earning himself a pretty nasty glare, too.

You groaned and tilted your face up, pleading with the sky to give you strength. “Don’t you start, too. One Satoru is enough, thanks.”

He hummed and smirked, something mischievous twinkling in his eyes. You didn't like that countenance. Not one bit. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, too,” he bowed his head towards you, changing the subject. Thank fuck. “You moved here recently, yes?”

“Yeah,” you affirmed, molling the racing of your heart that was just a few beats short of being uncomfortable. “Technically the night before yesterday.”

“You had a safe trip, then, I hope?”

You sent the stone stepping path partially hidden by the overgrown grass a particularly scathing grimace. “I almost ate shit and died on my own porch, but I did, yes.”

His husky laugh was messing up your insides. “Glad you’re in one piece. It was the stepping stones, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, oh, my god. They’re out to kill me, I swear.”

“They’ve gotten me a couple times, too. It’s good to see this house will finally be getting some love.”

“I think you’re the only person that’s been positive about this so far,” you scratched your cheek with your index finger. “Everyone else has told me it’s grossly dangerous. Wish I’d known that before I skimped out on finding a place to stay for the first night…”

Suguru’s browline furrowed in disquietude. “You slept in there?”

You exhaled harshly and hung your head. “Don’t remind me.”

“You aren’t feeling sick, are you?”

You shook your head and patted his arm reassuringly. “No, just humiliated.”

His expression relaxed, the hardness in his deep maroon eyes tempering. “That’s good. If you do feel ill, don’t brush it off. Excess activity can worsen your health and prolong sicknesses.”

Aww, a mother hen? He was in your good books now, you felt all fluffy, being cared for by him. “I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.”

Satoru pushed his way between you two, resting one arm on Suguru’s shoulder and the other on your head, coveting your attention. “So, what’s the plan, mochi?”

“Good question,” you said.

There was a brief pause, as if you were all waiting for someone else to speak, before he leaned down towards you. “Well?”

“What?”

“The plan? What’s the plan?” He lifted a brow. 

“Oh,” you darted your eyes between them. “Oh, no, I don’t have one. I just said it’s a good question.”

Suguru frowned. “Nothing at all?”

You pulled up your notes app and scrolled through it. “I guess cut the lawn, and call up the folks on Granny’s list for starters.”

“Can I see her list?”

“Mm,” you held out the paper to him, cringing when you saw how your fingers wrinkled the corner of it out of stress.

A crease in his forehead formed, deepening the more names he read, making you nervous. On top of how nervous you were already feeling. You were nervous-squared now.

“What is it?” You asked.

“It’s nothing. Just…I don’t think any of these guys will have enough free time to help you out. Not for a while, anyway,” he returned the sheet to you. “However, I grew up assisting them, so I know a thing or two. Mind if I go inside?”

Well, if that wasn’t soul crushing. “If you have a gas mask, go ahead. The smell inside could knock out a grown man. I don’t want to trouble you, though.”

“It’s no trouble at all. I’ve been needing something to do these days, this could be the perfect excuse for me,” he assured you. “I’ll be quick.”

“Oh– hang on, there might be asbestos in there,” you warned.

“There isn’t,” he assured confidently.

Satoru narrowed his eyes. “How do you know? Huh? Were you there when this house was built? Didn’t think so.”

Suguru leveled him with a vacant lour. “Asbestos wasn’t used in the construction of any houses here. Besides being expensive to import, our village was constructed with traditional methods. This building was Western inspired, but it wasn’t built with Western methods.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, nervously picking at a spot on your forearm. “Who built it?”

“From what I know, it was someone from either Kobe or Osaka that visited a state in America on vacation and fell in love with the architecture. First thing they did when they came back was buy this plot of land and build an imitation house on it,” he answered.

“Why’d they leave?”

He raised a hand, then dropped it in a half-shrug. “Any number of reasons. Some of the older folks say that their spouse fell ill, and they had to return to the city. My mom says they moved out because they got sick of driving an hour and a half one way to get to work every day. Dad says their sister gave birth and they had to return and assist her since she worked full time. Who knows.”

“Eh?” Satoru’s expression twisted into one of confusion. “I thought the owner just died or something. Hence why the house is haunted.”

“The house isn’t haunted, Satoru. Don’t scare her.”

You cracked your knuckles one-by-one. “If it is haunted, I’m gonna give that realtor hell. He promised it wasn’t. He also promised it hadn’t been touched in only ten years, so he’s already on my list,” you growled, then deflated and wilted. “I suppose I’m not in any rush, I’ll need to save up anyway. I’m bumming off Satoru for now, but I don’t wanna prolong that.”

“I already told you,” he patted your upper back. “Stay as long as you need.”

“Thanks, Satoru. I really owe you,” you said. I hate owing people. “Oh– be careful, Geto-san.”

He gave a pacifying hand wave as he pushed past your open gate, heading towards your house. Satoru hopped up and hurried after him. “Oi, wait up! I wanna see, too!” 

“Satoru, you’ve already been in there before,” Suguru reminded him as you followed them about halfway, wanting to steer clear of the inside for a while.

Satoru twisted the door knob and pushed inwards. “Yeah, when we were kids. Imagine how much it’s changed!”

“I doubt it’s changed much,” their voices grew muffled and eventually silent to you as they disappeared into your home.

You began counting in your head. If they were gone for more than two minutes, you were going to assume they died. Then you could officially label the house as haunted and hunt that realtor’s ass down. After you set up a prayer altar for the boys who so bravely sacrificed their lives for you, obviously, they deserved that at the very least.

You’d have to check with the villagers to see if either of them practiced any particular faith to ensure you provided the correct funeral services for them, and to know if you needed to follow any specific spiritual rules when it came to the deceased.

Should you leave their bodies in there? Probably not, no, but it wasn’t going to be you fishing them out. You were tiny compared to them, you wouldn’t be able to drag them out yourself, even if you wanted to and tried really hard.

Your peculiar funeral fantasies were cut off when Suguru came back outside, still very much alive and well – from what you could tell.

“You lived,” you congratulated him.

“That I did,” he affirmed and stopped beside you, turning to face the house as his arms folded neatly.

“Is he still alive?”

“Last I checked, he was. I’m surprised he didn’t leave as soon as he went in. I think he’s trying to out-man me and impress you,” he teased, making you laugh.

Out came Satoru right then, dusting his hands off, acting like he did anything more than recce. “Alright, I’ve got good news and bad news. Which d’ya want first?”

“Good news,” you requested apprehensively.

He clapped his palms together. “Good news, the interior condition isn’t as bad as it seems.”

Well, that was good news. But you were wary to celebrate. “And the bad news…?”

“There are, indeed, a shit ton of spiders.”

You squealed, racing to hide behind Suguru’s tall frame. The man himself chuckled at your reaction, his arms still crossed over his chest as he tilted his head back to peer at you from over his shoulder, way too relaxed for the situation. “Not a fan of spiders?”

“Fuck no!” You cried out, clutching the back of his shirt in tight fists as you buried your face against his spine. “Fuck that! Burn the damn thing down!”

Gojo grinned darkly, eyes lighting up with mischief. “All you had to say, princess.”

The noiret (the only reasonable one among you) sighed and shook his head. “No, we’re not burning her house down.”

“Boo,” Satoru whined. “You’re no fun.”

“You aren't afraid of spiders?” You peeked around Suguru's arm to leer up at him, still using him as your shield.

“Nope.”

“You monster,” you hissed.

His best friend snorted. “Look on the bright side. It means he can get rid of spiders for you.”

You paused to consider his words, squinting up at the poised man you hadn’t let go of.

“Okay, nevermind, I take it back,” you declared, doing a complete flip in behavior, “you're my god, now, Geto-san.”

He showed you that shut-eyes smile that had hummingbirds dancing the tango in your stomach. “Don’t worry, angel. I’ll protect you.”

Blush dusted your cheeks at his pledge and you averted your eyes. Having either of them in your field of view for too long was not good for your heart.

Satoru wouldn’t be Satoru if he didn’t go and embarrass you further. “Aww, she’s blushing!”

“I am not!” You barked back.

“I think it’s cute,” Geto’s cheek dimpled and you were flashbanged by the faces of not one, but two ethereal beings.

Mama, you thought, if you can hear me, send help. I don’t think I’m making it out of this one.

You gulped, the noise far too loud in your ears, and tried to subtly cover your face with your hand to retain some dignity while releasing Suguru’s shirt from your death grip. “A-Anyways, uh…should probably start calling people.”

“I’ll handle the calls,” Suguru announced, already pulling out his phone and dialing numbers. “I know these guys well. I’ll try to work something out with them.”

“Oh, you really don’t–” and there he went. You knew you asked for help, but you felt bad inconveniencing Suguru. Satoru, not so much.

“What’d I say about worrying?” Speak of the devil, the milk-haired boy bent down to your height and nudged his pointer finger between your brows. “Relaaaax, princess. It’ll work out.”

You worried your bottom lip as you watched the other man chatting some distance away. Detaching yourself from your perpetual anxiety was…difficult, to describe it in the least amount of words possible. Your guard was stuck to you, pinned, screwed, and soldered into place over time. Letting it go meant undoing years of work. 

It was there to shield you. You needed it to hold your untempered heart and keep it safe. If it got hurt, you weren’t sure you knew how to recover.

But you weren’t really letting them in by allowing them to help you, right?

Yet, as you sized up the small incline and the shack falling apart on top of it, you couldn’t shake the impression that the world was about to tilt on its axis. The tides were receding, tectonic pressure was increasing, the winds were stirring, and you were in the middle of it all. Mama, you reached out one last time. I think it’s too late.

banner by cafekitsune ♥

[deceitfuldevout]

A Woman Like You

Tommy Shelby x WOC!Reader

Word Count: +1,215

Warning(s): Angst, Sexist remarks, Societal pressure, Sterotypes.

Author's note(s): I've recently been using writing as a form of therapy. This goes to all the ladies that can relate.

You've fallen head over heels for Tommy Shelby, but now you're questioning if his intentions were sincere or not.

GIF by nofckingfighting

You made the mistake of falling in love. You should've seen the signs sooner. You started working at the Garrison as a bar maid with Grace, eventually moving up to being their sole entertainment. You were an exotic bird who had caught to wandering eyes of drunken Englishmen. Some folks would say you had these men in a trance, with your rare features and seductive mannerisms. Some even say you're a witch. But there was only one person who saw you for you. Tommy Shelby.

It was refreshing, being seen as a soft, delicate thing. His demeanor would shift when talking to you. He's much kinder to you that with any of his men. That was until another, prettier face had caught his eye. You of all people knew the truth: Tommy Shelby would never love you. Instead he'd fallen for your coworker Grace. She's everything you weren't. That may have been the reason why. Of course, you should've seen the signs. How he'd look at her with such tenderness.

Eventually his entire personality completely changed with you. Perhaps they were his true colors. After her death, things went south. Tommy returned to you, but only for physical intimacy. He was rough, unapologetic, and at time, downright cruel. He hadn't spoke to you like a lady, with basic respect. It almost hurt knowing men will never speak to you with kind remarks. As soon as you found a better option, you let him know right away. When you close the pub for the last time, Tommy was there. It was strange, having an Englishman waste his previous time on foreign blood.

You turn around to find Tommy sitting on a barstool, not paying him mind. Then something strange happened. He isn't usually this tender, not even in private. So why on earth was he telling you to stay? After every humiliating thing he'd put you through. How Tommy would shimmy you off his arm in front of his business associates. It only got worse when he'd flirt with women right in front of you, then ask for a fuck because it was convenient. Perhaps it was the liquid courage, maybe even the hormones that made you tear up with anger. But for some reason, you wanted to let him know he hurt you, "Enough, Tom, you need to stop doing this,"

He tilts his head up, genuinely surprised that you'd spoken up. His eyelids are hooded, "If you've got something to say..." he lights up a cigarette, "...say it now," how predictable. Tommy's cruelty had no limits. You were tired of being his little plaything, "I deserve better than this, better than you," letting him know how you truly felt, "You're fucking selfish, you know that?" tears already streaming down both cheeks, "You could've told me you were seeing other women, Tom," your vision blurs. Tommy objected, "You knew who I was when you met me--"

"Yeah, yeah I thought I did, until you decided to to make an acceptation with that blonde whore!" you knew what it would take to get his blood boiling. You wanted to hurt him the same way he hurt you, "I've wasted most of my life waiting for you to love me back, I wasted my good years on a man who wouldn't care if I bled out on the floor!" voice now shaking. You were filled with regret, pain, and anger.

He doesn't even know what the weight of his words did to you, "I know how you English men see women like us, we're always sexually desired but never loved, enough for a good fuck but not enough to make a wife," a chuckle escapes your tips at the thought of it. How could he marry someone like you? His name and status that he's worked so hard for would be tainted. Because who could ever love a woman like you? He had the audacity to roll his eyes, "You were entertainment, to bring customers in," someone pretty enough to keep company around.

"Everything, Tom, everything I've been doing, the act, because I am not allowed the luxury of being seen as innocent," after pouring your heart out, he still hadn't believed you, "Don't act like you haven't been seeing other men," he scoffs. You started to laugh at that remark. Had he really been that clueless? Tears stream down both cheeks. You wipe at them, smearing your mascara, "Now that's incredible," a deep grunt is trapped in the back of your throat, "You really think I'm a whore, don't you?" in an almost hushed tone, "Tommy, you were my first and only, do you really not believe me?" nothing felt worse than being betrayed by the one you trust the most, "All I ever wanted was for you to love me," since the beginning you were there. Even when he was mourning Grace you were there to keep him comfort. How foolish of you.

"Now you never told me--"

"I know who you pretend I am, who you want me to be," you roll your eyes, sniffling for a moment, "I'm not like you Tom, I can't pass, I can't change the color of my skin or features-- I will never be the white woman you've always wanted me to be, the kind of woman you'd keep on your arm without feeling embarrassed, why can't you just accept that?" a faint pause, "You told me...you told me she wasn't your type," barely a whisper, "Was everything a lie?" when he doesn't say anything, it was the only answer you needed. At that moment you snapped, "Please! Look at me!" you smack his arm, "Tommy!" when he does you're given only a cold stare.

Of course, it was never going to be someone like you. There are tears brimming your eyes again. It hurts, knowing that you will always be second best. Always an option but never the first, "At first I was confused, your infatuation with Grace didn't make sense, and now I see that it never mattered who she was," your breath hitches for a moment, "You were always going to choose someone like her..." now rambling about the obvious, "Prettier, blonder...whiter," you taunt.

Each word felt like venom on your tongue. You should've been used to the poison by now, "You don't know how long it took for me to trust a man again, after the pain I've been through--women like me, Tom, we don't have pretty blue eyes that get us what we want, not without a price," that remark made your skin crawl, "Always the seductress, never seen as pure," a dark chuckle erupts, taking up all sound from the bar. Tommy only stares back at you, with that same cold expression. You lean against the counter, looking down at the wood before returning to glance at him, "Did you ever love me?"

If there's one thing about Tommy, is that he would never lie to you, "No," a short, simple answer. You give him a soft, faint smile. Saddened by the loss but also relieved that you were free at last, "Thank you," with that you left, never returning to the Garrison again.

[buckysdolls]

One Night

Damian Priest One Shot

TW: Swearing, mentions of the female anatomy (lol)

Summary: Six months on from a stale and toxic relationship Y/N is living her best life. One night and one person in particular takes Y/N by surprise.

AN: Thanks to @thealliasylum for giving me to prompt: “I’ve tried to forgive you… I really have. But I’ll never forgive you for what you did. I hate you!” It was much appreciated!

It was your favourite day of the week, the day where all you had to do was chill out, go to the gym, grab coffee and catch up on all the binge worthy tv programmes. You, Rhea, Bianca and Liv planned to spend the day together doing all those things you enjoyed doing on your rare day off. 

“What number does that take him up too?” Bianca wiggled her eyebrows at you curiously after looking over your shoulder at your phone as you stood at the counter waiting for your coffee. 

“Too many…” Your response was abrupt, not in a harsh way to Bianca more in annoyance at your ex, Waller who had rang you for the fifth time today and it was only 10am. You smiled politely at the barista who handed you your coffee before thanking her and walking over to the table where Rhea and Liv were sitting. Liv noticed the annoyed expression on your face as you sat down, it was like she could sense your whole body had tensed up.

“Waller?”

“How did you know?” You sighed heavily

“We’ve become accustomed to the “Grayson Waller look” on your face” Liv used inverted commas as she spoke.

“How long has it been now?” Rhea asked in a tone of voice that suggested it was probably time for Waller to move on.

“Six months… six.. long… months. Six months of me not actually giving a shit anymore.” You breathed deeply in an attempt to remain calm. 

You wouldn't say Waller was the love of your life, he just happened to be the one you spent two years on and off with and this time after finding out about his affair with Tiffany you were finally cutting all ties. Except he wasn’t ready to cut ties. In the six months you’d spent apart everyone always wanted to point out to you how much happier you seemed having dropped him, and they were right, you were happier. You thought usually after ending it with someone you were meant to feel all depressed and shit but you felt free and like a whole weight had been lifted from your shoulders. You’d been able to do so much you weren’t able to do with Waller, like wrestle with other males on the roster, purely to improve. He had hated you practising with the likes of Gable and Ziggler, technically sound wrestlers who could easily help you progress, instead you had to train with him or females. You were able to annoy the girls by talking about how much you fancied Priest, how much you wanted him to fuck you and how the gruff in his deep voice made you heart flutter like a billion buzzing butterflies. Although the girls didn't find it annoying, they found it bearable… but happily bearable because they were happy to see you happy. They were overjoyed to see you so full of life, it was refreshing to see you act that way compared to the miserable and downright depressing fake act of making yourself appear happy. 

“Get in my story please” You ushered the girls with a wave of your hand to move into the frame of your camera, the four of you smiled, throwing up peace signs. Just as you took a second photo his name popped up, ringing you again. You heard the mumbles and saw the eyerolls from the girls

“I’m just going to step outside, won't be long” You pushed your chair back ready to stand up and answer the call.

“You're really going to answer?” Liv asked.

“If I don’t he won't stop, and then I won't have an enjoyable day.” You smiled sarcastically.

“Fairs” Was all you heard Liv say before walking outside the coffee shop and standing on the street.

“What?”

“ Oh, good morning Grayson, How are you? I’m fine thanks Y/N. How are you?” Waller responded to your ‘what’ in his usually dickish attitude.

“Go fuck yourself.” You simply replied, if only he could see the smile on your face when you said it to realise how much of a shit you did not give.

“Charming as always. Look we need to talk about things”

“What the hell would I want to talk about with you?” Your attention was swiftly captured by the bellows of familiar laughter making its way down the street towards you, it was Priest, Ford, Balor and Ziggler. Priest instantly saw you and bestowed upon you his undeniably beautiful goofy smile and though you wanted to smile... you couldn't. With no response from you he could only sense the tension you were omitting which he did not like. Each one of the guys gave you a high five as they entered the coffee shop except Priest who stood outside with you, slinging an arm over your shoulder, he brought you into him which you obliged by giving him a hug. He didn’t want to be too forward with you like he usually would be with someone who he’s waited around for because he knew that you’d just gotten out of rocky waters with Waller and he didn’t want to mess up any changes that he had with you. For him... he finally thought he’d found who he was meant to be with, around you he could be goofy which you would entertain by laughing. He could be sarcastic, which you would give back to him ten times worse. You were perfect to him, that’s why it was essential to play his cards right.

“Who is it?” he mouthed down to you, causing you to widen your eyes and mouth “Waller.” You felt his chest rise heavily as if he himself was frustrated with Waller, which he was. 

“Want me to speak to him?” Priest this time didn’t mouth, he spoke clear as day as if he wanted Waller to hear his voice. He stood there, hand out willing to accept the phone. You quickly and thankfully smiled but shook your head to decline. 

“Is that Priest?” Waller asked you as if challenging your decision on who you hung out with.

“Okay Waller, goodb-”

“No wait! You have to forgive me!” Waller interrupted you.

““I’ve tried to forgive you… I really have. But I’ll never forgive you for what you did. Waller, I pretty much hate you!” Hanging up on him, you looked up at Priest who was nodding his head as if to praise you.

“Strong finish” He praised you, doing the ‘okay’ emoji with his hands. 

The evening had rolled around quickly, and it was decided that some of the guys as well as the gals would chill at your apartment so you could all head down to the performance centre to train together tomorrow. That night had been filled with a delicious group dinner cooked by Bianca and Ford and an instagram live… which had a lot of fans questioning your’s and Priest chemistry. Whenever it came up you always blew it off by just saying how good friends you and Priest were, usually just calling him yout bodyguard. He would fold his arms and puff out his chest in front of you generating laughs from everyone showing he was happy to play along with your excuse for the obvious chemistry. The night was finished by watching a movie, Priest obviously sat next to you and you were happy to rest your head on his shoulder whilst watching the film, as his hand settled on your thigh. 

In dribs and drabs people headed off for the night leaving a sleeping you who had slid all the way down that your head was now resting on Damian’s chest with one leg slung over him. You began to fall asleep the moment he started lightly brushing his fingers up and down your arm, it was instantly soothing and calming. He was comfortable in letting you sleep on him and soaked in the pleasure it gave him to hug you whilst you slept. Damian and Finn were the sole survivors of finishing the film and once Balor had stood up Priest asked him to pass him a blanket to which Balor rolled one up into a ball launching it at him. 

“Cheers bro, sleep easy yeah?” Priest laid the blanket out on you which stirred you, lifting your leg up higher on him. It took every inch of Priest’s inner rockstar lifestyle to not explore your body with his hands as you pressed up against him, something you would happily let the man do to you all day, every day. You knew exactly what you were doing the moment you closed your eyes and the first time you put your leg over him. Each movement you made you put more pressure behind it pushing up against Damian so he could feel your breasts against him. He wanted it so badly but he wanted to do this the right way, not bang first then work on it. He wanted you to know you were worth every date, every compliment, every touch he gave you.

“Will do my friend, I'm sure you will too.” Balor smirked, gesturing his head to you, unbeknownst to them that you were wide awake underneath your shut eyes.

“Very funny” Priest sniggered, giving Balor the middle finger as banter.

“What! I’m serious! Enjoy having Y/N stretched out all over you yeah.” Balor emphasised the latter part of his sentence by elongating words.

“I am enjoying it. Doesn’t mean I have to do anything about it right now. She’s peaceful and as tempting as she is, I'm trying to do this the right way man.”

This conversation was about to get too Juicy for you to tell them you were awake...

Balor walked past Priest on the sofa and squeezed his shoulder as an act of reassurance which Priest gently tapped as a gesture of gratitude. Balor stopped by the sink to grab a glass of water before speaking up again.

“She’s a good gal and after everything... you two deserve each other. You look good together” Balor chugged on his water.

“Man, I’m fucking crazy for her. I just can’t rush it with her after Waller.”

The heat rose to your cheeks when you heard his words. You felt awful for being sneaky and listening to their conversation whilst sleeping but it just confirmed everything you wanted to know. 

“You’re doing the right thing. Stick with it.”

“I will do, night bro” Balor waved his hand from his forehead as if to salute goodbye. Priest himself adjusted his position so he was now laid flat on the sofa with both his arms wrapped around you and you were cuddled into him so both of you could squeeze onto the sofa. Closing his eyes, he gingerly pressed his lips onto your forehead.

“Crazy about me huh?” You spoke up faintly, biting your lip nervously wondering did you just do the right thing by speaking up? Priest swore he could feel the sweat pulsating in his pores, ready to break free as he heard those words leave your lips. Priest debated what to say, but the longer he thought about it the longer he was leaving your words hanging.

“How much of that conversation did you hear?”

“All of it.” You exhaled anxiously due to the really long previous silence. You were still wrapped up in Priest’s arms so your choice to speak up couldn't have been too bad right?

“Well fuck me” Priest whispered into you ear.

“I’d love to…” You whispered back to Priest into his ear, a small smug smile creeping onto your lips

“Not in that way” Priest laughed at your comment.

“I know, I’m just teasing.” Priest released one of his arms from you so he could shuffle himself to meet your eye level, you put your leg back over him as his free hand glided up the curves of your side then your chest until it finally settled on your cheek, his fingertips intertwined in the strands of your hair.

“It’s not polite to tease you know” you watched his lips move as he spoke, he had you hanging on to his every word as his husky voice had you internally moaning. You noticed his eyes had settled upon your lips as your gently ran your bottom lip though your teeth. A deep breath from him had you trying to push yourself up against him even more.

“No its not… but it is fun” Your smile grew bigger as did his. 

“I need to do this the right way…” Priest voice was still quiet.

“I appreciate it” You also spoke quietly and calmly. 

“So yeah, I’m crazy about you. And if I could take you on this sofa right here and now I fucking would, but I respect you way too much and I genuinely think you are it for me. I can’t fuck it up.”

“Thank you.” You placed your lips on Priest’s, instigating a kiss. A kiss that made you feel so cliche for thinking it but it felt like not just fireworks but cannons and bombs exploding.

That night was the happiest night of your life in the past two years.  

[minorisato]

nobori niisan is fucking jacked

pokemon / blankshipping / wc: 2278 / warnings: NSFT, inc.st / notes: takes place in a universe where ingo comes back after PLA. i'm coming out as a brocon enjoyer. / consider commissioning me!

Ingo coming back was… unexpected.

The first week or so was a strange, intense adjustment period. Ingo slowly remembering things, coming back to himself, and resuming his position as one of the two Subway Masters at Gear Station. Was he doing particularly well in battles? Well, relatively, with the occasional slip up when he would cross, say, a Lilligant or Sneasel. (Apparently, Pokemon typing was different, several hundred years ago.) For all intents and purposes, though, Ingo was the challenging Subway Master he had always been.

It was refreshing, for Emmet, to see him fall back into the role so easily. Subways didn’t even exist in ancient Sinnoh, so when he learned of his brother’s fate, he grew concerned that Ingo might never return to his position. Gear Station wasn’t the same without him, and Emmet couldn’t possibly run every line by himself. Ingo taking back over the single line, and both of them working together on the multi line– it was good. It was like nothing changed at all.

Things definitely did change, though. It was nice, while battling, to pretend that everything was the same as always, but in their personal lives, things were different.

Emmet still had bouts of paranoia, anxiety attacks wherein he shook and sobbed (and, sometimes, would even yell,) begging Ingo to not leave again. Ingo, occasionally, would forget he had come back at all– using the wrong move against a Sneasel, that’s one thing, one small thing. Sometimes, though, Ingo would wake far earlier than either typically would, and would dress himself to go out. When questioned, Ingo would always reply, “I must find Lady Sneasler.” And then Emmet, shaky, would calmly explain that no, no he does not need to find Lady Sneasler, and he would lead Ingo back to bed. Their personal lives were different. But that, that was all personal, things that only the two of them would ever notice.

There was, however, a difference which, to Emmet’s sheer frustration, everyone seemed to notice.

Ingo is fucking built now.

This is fantastic and great for Emmet. When Emmet saw this, it made him overjoyed– downright ecstatic, even. Ingo is built. He’s big and strong and tough, and it’s all for him. Ingo can come out of the shower and Emmet can see every muscle, clean and defined. No one else can really see that.

They can, however, see perfectly fine through his clothes.

The first time something happens, it’s a cold December evening, about three weeks after Ingo first got back. Unova was no stranger to cold weather, and no one was interested in walking or biking when there was clearly a snowstorm on the horizon. The subway was a preferable– and far warmer– option. So, naturally, the station was packed. Every worker was busy, with the twins being no exception.

Of course, it is the perfect time for something to go wrong. Wrong for Emmet, anyway.

Ingo and Emmet discuss quietly amongst themselves, or as quietly as they can, against the clamour of the busy station. It is during this that a woman taps on Ingo’s shoulder, drawing both his and Emmet’s attention. She’s a bit shorter than them both, rather slim, and frankly, quite pretty. A Boltund trots around her feet. “Excuse me,” she starts, thankfully polite, “I know now probably isn’t the best time, but would you be interested in getting dinner sometime?”

Emmet’s eyes widen. In the back of his mind, he can hear the sound of shattering glass.

“I’m very sorry,” Ingo apologizes simply, also sounding extremely polite (because when isn’t he, really,) “but we’re very busy this season. I’m afraid I’ll need to decline!”

The last bit is a little loud, which is likely a bit mortifying for the woman, but Emmet can’t feel very bad for her at the moment. He just got Ingo back, he is not letting some lady just steal him away again. He’s thankful for Ingo’s quick response, and the lady nods in understanding before she and her Boltund scuttle away. Simple, easy, done.

Surely this will not become a pattern, Emmet hoped.

The second time it happens, the snow has died down, and the station is a bit less busy than in the evenings of December. Valentine's day is around the corner, and advertisements with cute Pokemon, chocolate and flowers are plastered around the station. A woman makes a comment, as she is boarding, about how muscular Ingo is. Ingo, embarrassed, declines her as he did the woman prior, while Emmet glares at her from behind him the entire time.

When Valentine’s day actually rolls around, Ingo is propositioned again. And again. And again.

Emmet is losing his mind.

The last straw is when a drunk woman, after (as with others before her) commenting on Ingo’s muscularity, attempted to reach out and touch him. In that moment, Emmet decided he had had enough, doing the declining for Ingo, before grabbing his twin by the wrist and pulling him away from the scene. (And, also, releasing a Joltik to do whatever it may please [electrocute her.])

“You need to stop being muscular immediately,” Emmet hisses, pulling Ingo away. “Or we need to ban people who flirt with you.”

Ingo grimaces. “Emmet, we can’t ban people for harmless flirting. Were they to attempt to touch me, in any way–”

“She did,” Emmet spits, “that woman did try and touch you. And she is drunk. And she should be banned.”

Ingo glances off. “I did not notice, to be honest.” He pauses, clearing his throat. “Me losing muscle mass, also, would take some time. I would need to stop exercising completely to go back to how I was before, which is improbable if not impossible, considering our duties at the station.” Emmet continues to pull Ingo along as he explains this. After a moment of Emmet grumbling under his breath, Ingo tacks on, “where exactly are we going?”

“We are going to our office,” Emmet states simply.

“Emmet, we are busy!” Ingo shouts, growing a bit frustrated. “We don’t have time to–”

Emmet stops, turning in his tracks to face Ingo momentarily. He is still smiling, as he always is, but he’s also very clearly on-edge. “We. Are going. To our office.”

Ingo swallows. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Emmet continues dragging him along. “Would you rather I kiss you in front of everyone?”

“Emmet!” Ingo shouts, “is that what this is?!”

“Ingo is mine,” Emmet says quietly, as they reach their office. “Everyone keeps flirting with Ingo. They don’t know. I will make it known that Ingo is taken.”

The door swings open, and Ingo sighs, moving in to sit in his office chair as Emmet closes the door behind them. He, notably, does not turn on the lights. “Emmet, this is really–”

He’s cut off when Emmet quickly approaches and promptly plants his ass in Ingo’s lap. Ingo’s volume picks up a bit as he begins stammering, while Emmet begins to make work of undoing his tie. The office chair creaks under their combined weight, and distantly, Emmet wonders if maybe now, with Ingo’s muscle, if the chair will be able to handle it. He quickly shifts focus, however, throwing Ingo’s undone tie behind him, onto the floor.

“Em-Emmet,” Ingo just barely lets out, his brain finally seeming to catch up to his mouth. “This is– we’re at work.”

“People should not have flirted with Ingo at work,” is Emmet’s simple reply, as he begins to undo the buttons of Ingo’s shirt. Despite his slight attempts at protesting, Ingo does not move to remove Emmet from his lap, and instead moves his hand up to cover the bottom half of his face, both in attempt to muffle his moans and to hide the blush growing on his cheeks.

Emmet undoes just enough to reveal Ingo’s neck and his pectorals, the same fucking pecs that people keep flirting with him about. He moves forward, and carefully, gently bites at the spot where Ingo’s neck meets his shoulders, sucking on the skin there. Ingo lets out a whine at the feeling, not quiet enough to truly be muffled by his hand, and it encourages Emmet to suck a bit harder. After a moment, he gives that spot a lick, causing Ingo to shudder, and Emmet moves to a different spot.

“Em– Emmet,” Ingo breathes, really trying to keep his voice down, as he moves his arms to wrap around the other, gripping at Emmet’s coat. “Emmet–”

“Ingo is mine,” Emmet says, between licks and bites. “He was mine before. He is mine now. Nothing will change this.”

“Ri-right,” Ingo says, “yours. Yours, Emmet. And you’re mine.”

“No one will take Ingo from me.”

“No one,” Ingo agrees. “No one, I– Emmet–”

Between his thighs, almost directly next to his crotch, Emmet can feel something gently poking him. He looks down, noticing a tent forming in Ingo’s slacks. “Oh,” Emmet lets out, and moves one hand to palm at the other’s member through the pants. “You like this.”

Ingo clears his throat. “Of course I do,” he lets out, a bit quieter than he had previously been. He’s embarrassed. “Emmet, please don’t tease me.”

Quickly, while pressing a kiss to Ingo’s chest, Emmet reaches both hands down, unbuckling his twins belt and removing it from each belt loop, throwing it aside, likely to wherever the tie ended up. Once it’s removed, he unbuttons Ingo’s pants, sliding them, as well as his boxers, down just enough to let the black-clad man’s cock hit the air of the shared office. Ingo shakes as it is suddenly freed, letting out a gasp, and then he bites down on his bottom lip, attempting (and only slightly failing) to muffle a loud moan as Emmet wraps a hand around it. The one part of Ingo that remains blessedly unchanged after years apart.

“You need to be quiet, Ingo,” Emmet starts, smirking against his skin. “We are at work.”

“Emmet,” Ingo grips his coat a bit tighter, “You are the one who insisted on us doing this during work hours!”

“You like it though,” Emmet states, and begins moving his hand up and down, setting a steady rhythm. It serves to draw more moans from Ingo, which said man desperately tries to muffle, biting his lips. “See? You like it verrrry much.”

Ingo doesn’t respond verbally, instead rolling his hips into Emmet’s touch as the twin moves to give him another hickey, right where his neck meets his chin. Through a fog of lust, Ingo recognizes that this is an awful spot for Emmet to put a hickey– in fact, it is the worst spot for Emmet to put a hickey. It’s the only area which is uncovered both by the collar of his shirt and the collar of his coat. Every other spot could easily be hidden, but this? This wouldn’t work. People could see. Ingo tries to voice this, but all that comes out is another broken moan, as he slowly but surely loses grip on his ability to keep quiet with what’s happening.

“So good,” Emmet breathes, right against that same spot, the breath so hot in contrast to the rather cool air of the office that it causes Ingo to jump. “You are doing so good.” He then licks it, and Ingo gasps as Emmet picks up his pace, up and down, up and down, as the white-clad man’s other hand caresses Ingo’s chest. “You’re twitching in my hand.”

Ingo shakes, hips bucking up against his control. Still, he grips Emmet’s coat. “Emmet,” he can just barely let out, “Emmet, I’m– I’m–”

“Are you close, Ingo?” Emmet asks, and his twin nods furiously. “Are you going to cum on my hand?”

“Yes,” Ingo breathes, “yes, yes, Emmet, Emmy, I’m– I’m–!”

Riiiip.

Emmet’s eyes widen, as do Ingo’s, as he fully loses control of himself, convulsing against the other, indeed, cumming into his hand, letting out what can only be defined as a yell as his whole body tenses, untenses, tenses, untenses. Emmet is so enraptured by this sight in front of him that it is almost enough to distract him from how cold his back suddenly feels.

With the hand that is not covered in his twin’s cum, Emmet reaches behind himself, feeling for– ah. Yup, there it is.

“My coat,” he lets out weakly.

Ingo’s eyes are still wide open, as even through his post-orgasmic haze, he seems entirely aware of what happened. “I am so sorry,” he starts. “I am– oh, Arceus. I am so sorry, I didn’t– I wasn’t trying to–”

“You’re strong,” Emmet lets out, a bit of mirth creeping into his voice. “Ingo is strong.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Ingo grimaces.

Emmet first removes his hand from Ingo’s dick, and then removes his cum-stained glove, and finally removes his coat, examining the rip. Ingo squirms a bit as he does this, straightening himself out (putting his dick away) before Emmet finally says, “I love it.”

Ingo blinks. “What?”

“I love it,” Emmet repeats. “I am going to hang it on our wall.”

Stern, Ingo replies, “you are not hanging it on our wall.”

“It is proof,” Emmet starts. “Proof that your muscles are mine and no one will steal you from me.”

Ingo looks up at Emmet, clearing his throat, and he glances around a bit before returning his gaze to the white-clad man. “That was already true,” he states. “No one is going to take you from me, or me from you. I love you.”

Emmet blushes, looking at Ingo, and then back down at the coat. “I still want to hang it on the wall.”

“Please don’t.”

[shitpostingsapphic]

I just wanted to say I appreciate your blog so much and how you dissect and break things down and notice all the intricacies! It is refreshing, perhaps I just need to purge some people off my socials or something but some of the negativity i've seen about unnecessary scenes or moments and some of the criticism cause x character didn't do y and the writing is horrid and the story is weak and on and on. It's just such a cycle of it and your blog feels like such a safe haven of warmth i've been scrolling and reblogging and smiling for a good few minutes now so I just wanted to say thank you for sharing your thoughts and posts it's so very appreciated

There's nothing wrong with blocking people as you go, I've definitely employed that strategy 😂 because some of these downright horrendous takes come from people who are determined to see things in a way that they aren't. It comes from a place of not getting what they want out of a show, instead of taking a show for what it is and finding what you can learn and gain from it.

Arcane is a masterclass in art, in all its forms. It's still flawed, but it's flawed because it's human made, and in the rise of AI, I am super fucking grateful for that fact. Real people made this show with their bare hands, and the hard work shows. We can choose for ourselves whether we want to be fucking nitpicky and negative and be mad at the things that weren't catered to us, or we can see the product as a whole and recognize the artistry.

I'm simply lucky that Arcane is a show that IS catered directly to my tastes, and I can acknowledge that. But the previous statement rings true despite that. Arcane is a phenomenal piece of work and a feat of human creation.

[pisspope]

okay this is actually the first time ive written filth literally ever so please go easy on me

it's y/n and connie getting freaky in a pizzeria bathroom. like that's it that's the fic

((and big thank u to @quiveringdeer for looking this over for me beforehand!! it means a lot to me 😊))

Manners

connie x reader

cw: afab reader, sort-of dom connie, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, praise kink a little? and of course mdni

when you first start dating connie, it's innocent. it's walks by the lake, it's watching him do tricks at the skate park, it's holding hands at the movies. you feel like you're 17 again, laughing together while you play guitar hero and memorizing each others drink orders at the local coffee shop. it's innocent. it's refreshing.

but one day you're walking downtown and the sun is setting, and his hazel eyes are shining, and something just. changes. it's primal, it's downright sinful. you can't keep your hands off him for another second.

Not an hour has passed and you're in the unisex bathroom of your local pizza parlor. It's way in the back, far away from the hustle and bustle of the dining area, where the only prying eyes are the pair right in front of you. Connie's lips are slack and shining with spit, and what little hair is on his head is pushed up in every direction.

Hes got you pushed up against the flaky 1990s style wallpaper, and the whole place reeks of red pepper flakes and bread. But all you can really smell is the heady scent of Him, as he grips your wrist with one hand and pushes it above your head with a thump.

"Fuckkkk," he whines, "when's the last time I told you how sexy you are?" he's pressing you into the wall with the full weight of his body, baggy t-shirt hiding the rigidity of his muscles as they pin you in place.

You laugh, intoxicated by the feel of him. "About 30 seconds ago baby."

He nuzzles into your neck, groans so loud you can feel the purr of his voice box against your shoulder. "Damnnnnnn that long? I gotta pick up the slack."

He moves a hand down to your hips, grips you even tighter. Before you can even register what he's doing, he's biting down onto your neck, licking and sucking like his life depends on it. You try to choke back your moans to no avail. Especially when he works his way up to your ear, making the most lewd sounds you've ever heard, right where he knows you can hear it.

"God you're so fucking beautiful," he murmurs, but it's loud and clear by the shell of your ear. "I'm gonna fuck you so good. Gonna make you forget we're in a goddamn pizza parlor."

And Connie is dependable. The type of guy who keeps his promises. So when he slips off your pants dangerously slowly and gets on his knees along with them, you know he's not bluffing. Two fingers, freshly trimmed you notice, reach out to touch the bottom of your underwear, reverently testing the areas closest to your heat. "Look at that," he whispers, almost to himself. "Already so wet. That for me?"

You nod, a little embarrassed. You're no unplucked flower, but this has all been preamble up to this point. The farthest you've gone with Connie is an impromptu makeout session while out on a hike, nothing like this.

"Yeah?" He says, acknowledging your sheepish response. "Who am I kidding. Of course it's for me."

In one swift motion, he takes your panties between his teeth, right where he had pressed so delicately earlier, and pulls them down to your ankles. Before you even have time to register the chill of the bathroom his mouth is on your cunt, tongue pressing open your folds as those same fingers rub circles on your inner thighs.

"Connie..." you breathe out, unable to stop yourself. Your head hits the back of the gritty wallpaper as he works at pleasuring you, the sloppy noise of tongue against slick echoing in the empty bathroom. "Fuck you're good at this."

Connie hums in response, looks up at you with those big hazel eyes, now looking closer to brown from the darkness of his arousal. He's absolutely tongue fucking you, the speed and pressure only continuing to increase in intensity. You're fine to keep going and finish like this, just a quickie in the bathroom before dinner, but then he starts kissing around your thigh instead, and you know hes got something else in mind.

You look down at him, annoyed and missing the feeling of tongue. But as you drink in the site of him, head buried in between your legs while the other hand palms at his jeans, all is forgiven. Ugh, you can't not fuck him.

"Sorry, baby," he says, pulling away from you as he starts to undo his belt. "Can't just let you have all the fun."

In a blink his bottoms are off, and he's standing over you again, cock upright and glistening with precum. He's stroking himself slowly, and you watch enraptured as he takes his other hand and slides two fingers in your mouth. "Get 'em wet for me, wouldja baby?" He smirks as you do as you're told, sucking and licking like its his dick in your mouth and not this shallow approximation. "Wanna make sure I do this right for you."

Fingers properly lubricated, he pulls them slowly out of your mouth and brings them to the front of your hole, pausing a moment to run his wet digits over your aching clit. "Damn you're pretty like this. You're gonna have to suck me off next time or else I'm gonna get jealous of my own fingers."

He slides his fingers in achingly slow, both at a time so you can feel the stretch on each knuckle. He spreads you apart experimentally, feeling the give of your folds and relishing in the little noises you make. You're like putty in his hands, ready to be sculpted into any shape he wants. And fuck does he know the shape he wants.

"Y/N, fuck," he mutters, more to himself than you. "You didn't even need my fingers, did you?"

"Yeah, no, I didn't," you breathe out, trying to muster up any coherent thought left in your lust-addled brain. "I just, fuck, can I have your dick please?"

Connie stops what he's doing, pulls his fingers out just as slowly as he put them in. "What?" He whispers, obviously bewildered.

You huff, running low on brain power and not in the mood to deal with whatever this is. "Connie, can I have your dick please?"

"God, Fuck," he bites out, each syllable sharp as he starts lining himself up under you. "Of course you can."

He tries his best to suppress a groan as he slips inside of you, the stretch driving both of you deeper into your shared pleasure. He grinds his hips a few times, testing the waters. His cock is fairly average, a little girthier than you expected, but he obviously knows how to use it. "Baby, you're so cute," he pants, rolling his hips. "Asking me to fuck you like that....so fucking polite."

"Polite?" you ask, feeling a blush creeping up your face. Which is ridiculous, he's got his cock buried deep in your pussy and you're getting flustered over a little compliment like that. "You think me begging you to fuck me was.... polite?"

Connie stops his grinding to look up at you, blush now spreading across his cheeks. "Yeah, not the begging but like...." he trails off. "I think it's sexy that you mind your manners. Even, ynow, in the heat of it."

You laugh out loud. You can't fucking help it. Constance "Connie" Springer, thinks it's sexy when you say please and thank you? When you mind your p's and q's? "Okay, okay," you chuckle, faking wiping tears from your eyes. "If that's the case then please, Connie, please start moving. And I'll try my best to be a good girl and not be too loud."

"Oh, Y/N," Connie says, bringing you in for a kiss. "I would never tell you to be quiet."

And as you requested, he starts moving, setting a pace that sends flakes of drywall fluttering off the ceiling. He's voracious, holding you to his chest as he pounds you into the wall. You're going to have fingerprint shaped bruises underneath your shoulderblades for weeks. He takes the side of your neck in his mouth, leaves no bit of skin unbruised by his teeth and tongue.

You try to hold back your moans as you come undone, but Connie is relentless. He tips your head to the ceiling as he hears you swallow yet another whine. "Don't hide how good I make you feel," he growls, eyes so dark they're practically black. "You mind your manners and thank me for how good I fuck you."

His demands tip you over the edge, and you're cumming messily over his cock, screaming his name and babbling thank yous over and over until you come down. You watch in the haze of your orgasm as he reaches his high, pulling out at the last possible second, tugging himself just once or twice before spilling ropes of his seed on the bathroom wall. And fuck it's nearly hypnotizing to watch him pump himself to fruition, his eyes closed tight and his mouth open as he reaches his climax.

Connie sighs out loud, runs a sweaty hand through his buzzed hair. "Damn, that was something else!" He walks back over to where you stand, practically glued to the wall, legs shaky, and brings your lips to his. He pulls back, and his eyes soften. "Thank you."

You smile at him, slowly coming back to reality. "You're welcome. And thank you, too, Constance."

He rolls his eyes at the use of his full name, but soon returns to that familiar shit-eating grin. "Sooooooo," he says, pointing a thumb to the bathroom door. "Pizza?"

[thatonesherlocknerd]

Big post incoming, these are some of my final thoughts on Batman: Caped Crusader

Starting off with Harley Quinn. Her depiction is so refreshing, Harley without Joker is what we've been asking for forever. I also love how they switched her personality being silly as Dr Harleen and serious as Harley. I love her with Officer Montoya (my beloved). I do see the critique with her dungeon but I was happy enough with all the rest of her character that I was willing to ignore that aspect of her depiction.

From Harley to the Joker: I just hope they don't fuck up everything they did right in season one.

So obviously we talked a lot about the Joker teaser at the end of the last episode BUT there's a huge opportunity there I haven't seen anyone talk about before. So we've seen Joker experimenting with his laughing drug which we know is the reason why Duke lost his parents. So maybe maybe that could also be a teaser for Duke Thomas? I know it's not very likely but it would be so cool honestly

So Caped Crusader has a lot of supernatural elements to it and I love it, idk what else to say, I just love it

We don't talk enough about the episode Night Ride. It's my favourite episode, I loved how we got a closer look on the relationship between Alfred and Bruce and the supernatural aspects were so fun.

Speaking of Alfred, may I add that I hate the way Bruce treats him?

Now, the next episode I wanna talk about is Nocturne. This episode is talked about a lot due to the appearance of Dick, Jason and Stephanie but I wanna focus on Natalia and especially her brother!! The two had a very interesting dynamic and it's sad to me that we didn't get to see more of him. I hope in season two we get to see how Natalia learns to handle her desease

A lot of people mentioned the Barbara x Batman tensions and honestly I don't see them. Y'all are so scared it might happen you see things that aren't there.

You know what I did see though? Barbara and Harvey. They had a tension that would have been interesting to explore further

Which gets to my next point, why the fuck did they kill of Harvey? He was downright the most interesting character (after Barbara) and there was so much potential! The way they painted his character made a redemption arc possible which would have been so interesting and refreshing to see but no kill him off I guess

I mentioned it before but I have to mention it again: Barbara Gordon is hands down the best character and the love of my life. Also in this depiction I don't want to see her as Batgirl.

So, I think that is it for now. Feel free to tell me your thoughts, I'd love to talk more about the show!

[winterwitch-trash]

Careful what you wish for…

Summary: Bucky’s girl has been teasing him all day with one purpose, and one purpose only. To test her soldier’s ability to control himself. But will her plan succeed or backfire on her?

A/N: I don't own anything. Bucky belongs to Marvel.

Warnings: Roughness, Bucky being a total tease, smutty situations, a bit of fluff and aftercare. MINORS DNI

This was one of the rare days where Bucky had no Avenger- related obligation (whether it was a briefing or a mission). So he chose to stay home with his girl. And she was currently pushing his buttons. From flirty remarks, to downright dirty comments along with sultry looks. Not her fault though. It had slipped him that he was excellent in staying under control, and she just wanted to test him. At first, he was nonchalant about all this, but then she upped her game by strutting around practically naked.

She could see that he was barely holding it together; a victorious smirk flashed over her face, as she had straddled his waist, raking her nails across his toned chest. “Well.. It is quite obvious you need some relief, my sweet soldier.. ” She mused brazenly palming his shaft, relishing in the way he was squirming under her touch. Normally she was sweet and shy. But tonight, it felt as if someone had flicked a switch within her, freeing the vixen she kept concealed. And Bucky liked this side of her, there was no doubt here. But he was the dominant one usually. “It seems you need to have your memory refreshed doll.. You’re in no position to make demands, or tease me like you’ve been doing for the past few hours.” He growled pinning her down in a swift motion, chuckling at the loud yelp that flowed through her lips. “Mmhm… All words my beautiful Soldier…” She taunted hooking her legs around his waist, so as to keep him there. “I always deliver baby girl… You shouldn’t forget that..” He smirked in response, pulling at the flimsy fabric that covered her body. And to prove a point, Bucky wasted no time in suckling a dark bruise to her pulse point, marking her so everyone would know she was his, thinking of ways he would repay her torture. Maybe he wouldn’t let her cum… Maybe he would eat her out until she couldn’t take it anymore. There were numerous ways he could go about this…

“Now, are you going to keep acting like a brat or do I need to fuck the naughty attitude out of ya?” He growled, fingers teasing across her folds. “Oh god… Please, fuck me…” She all but begged, clearly her game of seduction failing. But she could care less at this point. She was already struggling to keep it together herself.

“No. You don’t get to tell me what to do…” He chuckled darkly, against her. He would make sure she was mad with desire and want before he even gave her what she needed. Or not. It all depended on whether she would behave nicely. And from the looks of it she wouldn’t. He didn’t mind it though. But for a fleeting moment, he allowed his softer side show by capturing her lips sweetly, swallowing her moans, which only served to spur him on, as he drove himself inside her, keeping her hands tied over her head. And soon, this sweet moment disappeared as he slipped back to the dominant persona that his girl wanted to experience. “Bucky….” His name fell from her lips like a prayer as she felt that familiar knot forming in the pit of her stomach. She was close. But Bucky didn’t appreciate that. “Don’t you dare cum. You hear?” He whispered lowering himself to her soft mound. For his girl, watching him like this had to be the most erotic sights ever. But she really couldn’t handle this torture. “Please.. Please do something.. I need—I need to cum so badly..” She moaned loudly when she felt his beard scratching while he dove in, like a man starved. The soldier simply ignored her desperate pleas to let her reach her climax as he continued feasting on her. “Fuck, doll…” He breathed out. “You were made for me..” He said appreciatively, rubbing her slit in that quick motion, enjoying how her walls were pulsating around his metal fingers. “You’re doing so good for me baby…” He continued praising her, until… He removed his hands from her, watching as she writhed desperately, strings of cuss words leaving her mouth. “Keep whining, and I’m not going to give you your release until next week..” He threatened, icy blue eyes gone completely dark with lust. That threat wasn’t empty and she knew it. That’s why she fell silent. “I need you…” She whined, trying to stay as still as possible.

After a few excruciating moments, he relented. After all he was close himself. He was painfully hard, so he didn’t waste time and plunged himself inside her, setting a brutal pace, chasing his climax… “Oh my GOD!” A scream of pleasure filled the room while the sounds of skin against skin ceased the second he reached that ecstatic state, spilling inside her.

“It was amazing..” She hissed slightly cupping his stubbled cheeks while they both came down from their high. That was when Bucky slipped out of her, with the intention to bring her a snack. “It wasn’t too much, was it?” He asked, as he came back to their shared bed, gently cleaning her still sensitive core. She couldn’t help but smile. “No, it was absolutely perfect…”She whispered, her green eyes slowly falling shut.. “Maybe you should try to seduce me more often doll..” He chuckled wrapping a soft blanket around her naked frame before succumbing to sleep himself.

@world-of-aus There you go. 😇

[thatwitchrevan]

Summary of Teach/Corrupt thoughts:

Immediately intrigued that Qimir did not restrict Osha's freedom of movement at all or even try to talk to her when she woke up. The way he hovered over Mae made me expect him to start out doing the same with Osha but instead he went to lengths ro give her the opportunity to escape or kill him and then goaded her to do so. Whether his aim is mainly unsettling her or gaining her trust or something else I'm not clear on, but it's probably a combination of things. Obviously he's manipulating her but at this point I do believe he means what he says and that he doesn't intend to harm her or stop her from leaving, though possibly he'll change his mind if he doesn't get what he wants. But I think it's most narratively refreshing if he's just being completely honest with her.

Also the narrative tension between them is just verrrrry cool and I'm crossing my fingers they make it SUPER weird in the most fucked up platonic way thanks.

(I don't know if there's a clear shot of her actually eating the soup. Do we have Persephone in the Underworld subtext. In my Star Wars?)

We laughed out loud at Title Card: Unknown Planet

Sol is... A lot this episode. He goes from acting distant to abruptly hugging Mae to confiding (cough trauma dumping) to her and asking for insight to ALMOST having an actual conversation about the trauma of Osha being taken as a Jedi and what he's been hiding about the incident on Brendok, but then ducks his head again, and then when he realizes for sure that it's Mae with him he becomes downright menacing in a way that he's clearly still trying to appear Good Cop and believes he's doing the right thing, but he's going about it in a very concerning way. His body language and the way he speaks to Mae in the end of the episode had my hackles so far up even though I've generally considered Sol extremely gentle and warm, and that's really interesting character work.

And to elaborate on the conversation they had before this, I loved to see Mae speak up on her sister's behalf about the negatives of being taken by the Jedi. Obviously Mae is biased because she never wanted her sister to leave, but I think she still has a perspective that everyone including Osha herself is ignoring which is that Osha didn't deserve to have to chose between her dream of being a Jedi and her family, that she shouldn't have had to tone down parts of her personality and interests to pursue that calling, that she deserved more warmth and freedom, that parts of her were betrayed by being in the Order. I think the narrative supports that this was a point of tension for Osha, not just in how she couldn't set aside her trauma and anger enough to Be A Jedi and thinks she failed, but in the way that she's friendlier with Yord than he is with her, the way she seems to want a little more from Sol emotionally, the way Qimir says that her relationships with the Jedi could only ever be onesided, that they couldn't love her back.

That said, Qimir using that as his justification for killing Jecki was WILD. He doesn't know Jecki at all, and I think he's straight up wrong on that point: Sol might be a little repressed, but Jecki knew Osha for all of a few days before she was genuinely asking after her and encouraging her. Jecki is one of the warmest characters, and when she does express disapproval of sentimentality, she readily accepts Sol's disagreement on the subject. I think with Osha and Sol as influences she absolutely would continued to be open and kind and return genuine affection. Qimir is making a judgement about a young woman he killed indiscriminately and the judgement is fully based on his experience with the Jedi, not Jecki as a person. And what his experience has taught him is probably pretty broadly applicable but like ... Really? You're just gonna kill a Jedi so young and not give her the chance to be different? What kind of world are you working toward if that's the case?

Venestra as a person rubs me the wrong way but she's a very cool character and I loved her little insecurity about her flight sickness. And her sick light whip.

Side note but it felt like she almost goaded Mog into saying maybe Sol killed the others and then chided him for it lmao. Like he was literally like 'youre not implying it could be Sol are you???' and she was like 'omg Mog I can't believe you'd say something like that! Anyway.'

My hope for when Osha put on the helmet was that she would connect to Mae and see and hear what Sol says to her and how he treats her, and I still really hope it happens.

[soul-wanderer]

06x15//What Are You Willing To Lose - weekly recap

I don’t think I can cover everything in this recap, because man, there’s so much happening in this episode and I have a whole lot of feelings and thoughts about certain plots, but let’s try to get to it (aka almost one week later because man, that ep was a lot, and then I got sick, hence the slight delay, so consider this a refresher after the break between eps):

- Andy telling Ross “I can’t afford to lose you” - can we talk about this, please? Can we? This still hits me right in the feels a week later, and I don’t think I’m gonna be over that anytime soon, thanks for asking

- Ross being genuinely surprised that Andy and Maya did not tell anyone else about the photos (apart from Carina) and that they’re on her side - that moment just had it all, and I love that they have them sticking together instead of them tearing each other apart. Ross clearly did not expect that, probably didn’t think she’d ever deserve this type of loyalty, but Andy and Maya still show up for her, and my god, am I here for this. And Andy is totally right that they need someone like Ross in a position like that.

- Andy and Travis both trying to be a good friend to the other, and it’s just the silliest and cutest thing, and I’m here for that friendship, too  (especially because “hos over bros”), especially the scene in the end where Travis is there for Andy

- I’m gonna try to keep the Theo as captain recap short, but let’s just say: He was rightfully upset about the house being a trap for both the people living there and his team. It’s his job to keep the team and everyone else safe and out of burning buildings alive, and that job was made impossibly harder when he figured out what was going on. It’s not his job to be empathetic or to counsel anyone at the height of an emergency, BUT we see him backpedal one moment later, when he sees how desperate this woman is and IMMEDIATELY softens and tells her they were gonna do their best, before going back to work and that’s really all that needs to be said about this situation. Same with him having to make the decision to leave Warren behind - Ross was right there and watching him, and he cannot possibly risk more lives to save the life of one team member (+ it’s protocol, too), even if the mere idea of leaving someone behind hurts. He would have made the call, and he would have been right about it, too

- Ross owning her “mistake” in front of a bunch of dudes and giving a goddamn fantastic speech while she is at it. Man, that episode really gave us all of that. I mean: “You know, in the short time that I have been here, I have seen this union look the other way when sloppy firefighters who should have retired years ago made fatal mistakes on the job. I've seen it allow a serial sexual harasser retire with full pension instead of face discipline. And this is where you want to draw the line? [...] No, I am pro-union! I am anti a system that has a million things wrong with it. [...] I fought to drag this department kicking and screaming into the 21st century, to make your jobs safer and better", they really gave us that and I love it

- Maya being cute on her date with Carina, that’s all. That smile is gonna kill us all one day, and it’s gonna be a fucking fantastic death

- I will never, ever forgive the editors/producers for making these goddamn awful cuts between Maya and Carina in the shower and a man fucking dying in a burning house. I mean, what the hell? That was a downright horrible decision.

- Andy. My goodness, Andy. And her trauma. Like, finally? They’re finally acknowledging that trauma doesn’t simply disappear? Thank goodness. Thanks to whoever remembered. And thank you for the portrayal of such raw and heartbreaking emotions when Andy told Warren, “You fell through the roof”, that just about wrecked me in a million different ways, but in a good way, so thank you for that

- Ross telling Theo he did the right thing. Thank you for that, too. And I guess Jack confirming that wasn’t too bad either.

- And they acknowledged Carina’s trauma too, and the contrast was so beautifully portrayed. Carina wants them to be okay. She wants their marriage to be okay. But it isn’t. And she can’t pretend, and she realizes that and realizes they got more work ahead of them. And Maya just...acknowledges Carina’s pain and is there for her. It’s heartbreakingly beautiful, that’s all. Now, let’s hope Carina finally accepts some professional help as well.

- Sullivan being an ass. Honestly, will there ever be a week where I don’t have to type this out? I can only hope so, because that man is getting on my nerves, badly.

- Theo and Vic are not communicating well right now. That doesn’t make them toxic, that doesn’t mean their relationship is about to end, this doesn’t mean that they’re awful human beings. It just means they’re both fighting their own battles and they suck at talking and they’re being human and sometimes relationships just are like that, okay? They’ve been through so much and they’ve come so far, this will not be their breaking point (or at least not forever)

- last but not least: I am not here for them trying to create fake drama between Theo, Vic and Travis via that “old friend” they introduced. They need to stop recycling that storyline in Shondaland, before I flip some tables, seriously.

[elifalvey]

LOCATION — Peak Seasons Ballroom, Saints & Sinners event.

WHO — Elijah & Aslihan ( @draslihanxfahri-bailey ).

Giving Aslihan the space to exist as her own person at events like these was something that Elijah was, usually, pretty good at. So long as they found some time to spend together at one point or another, his personal philosophy was that she should enjoy herself as much as possible and he’d do the same. Even if it meant that they’d be split up at any point — often dragged in separate directions by friends, coworkers or the like — he, usually, didn’t mind.  Usually, obviously, being the key word in those statements; this time around he found himself practically inseparable from her, unable to bear even five minutes apart while she went off to find a bathroom and he went the opposite way to refill their drinks. He didn’t know what it was, exactly — the fact that it was Valentine’s Day weekend, the fact that he was finally feeling more like himself after his long string of bad days, or the fact that she looked absolutely breathtaking in what she chose to wear tonight. Probably, honestly, a mix of all three. Coupled with the fact that he was in love with her, of course. He was feeling extremely lucky that she was equally in love with him, too, otherwise his current level of clinginess had to be bordering on downright annoying by now. With both of their brand new refreshments in hand, it didn’t take long for him to return back to his mission of locating Aslihan. Thankfully, despite her height (or lack thereof, really), the way his colorful robe engulfed her frame made her incredibly easy to spot. He smiled already, because he was giddier than what should be fucking allowed — Jesus Christ, look at her — and padded over, arms wrapping around her shoulders as he hugged her back, though he was careful not to spill either of the drinks. There was amusement in the way she didn’t seem to see him coming, somehow, how they swayed ever so gently from the impact of his affection. “Mm, I was starting to think you got lost.” A chuckle left his lips as he held out one of the beverages for her to take from him. And with his newly freed hand, he squeezed her hip. “Which would’ve been a shame, since I’m hardly dressed to go on some long-winded quest to find my missing girl. Would make for a good story, though, I think. Maybe I could write something about it.” His grip loosened just barely as he dipped his head, asking just to check in, “You alright? Happy? Comfortable?”

[notsosilentsister]

Good Luck to You, Leo Grande

The actors are exceedlingly charming, the script has a lot of wit, there are some lovely touches. I loved the scene where the heroine apologizes to the former student she slut-shamed and I love how she finally accomplishes the goal she didn't even dare to put on her to-do-list, on her own. It's supposed to be a film about pleasure, about liberation, about empowerment, about aging, about self-discovery, and as such, it works really well.

But for me, this is also a film about having a job that requires building relationships, and about the importance of good boundaries in professional relationships. And here, I think, is where it kinda drops the ball.

More precisily, I think, the movie has a lot to say about teaching. We see that Leo is a god teacher, exceptional really, and our heroine maybe hasn't been. The main quality you need to bring to the job, for me, is respect, a lack of judgment - someone willing to learn something new always makes themselves vulnerable; is going to make mistakes, is going to be frustrated, disappointed, easily discouraged. Needs to be reassured, needs to be able to trust, needs to be met with grace. Leo's got that.

The heroine, as far as we get to see, not so much. She can talk about people with such casual contempt. Maybe that's just her style, her brand of wit - it is, after all, most often directed towards herself. Maybe it's supposed to be part of the liberation, refreshing honesty. She needs to call her son boring and her daughter a fuck-up to free herself of the shackles of motherhood. Fine. But part of it is that this character is your typical middle class snob. So when the waitress in the café where she meets up with Leo for the last time reveals herself as a former student, she says "Well I can't have taught you much, if this is where you ended up". And she's not even trying to insult her. She's the type who'd be shocked if you took offense. "Oh no, no, don't you see, it's a diss on myself!".

I do actually like that part - the heroine is revealed, gradually - a beautiful woman, a sensuous woman, a powerful woman. But a mediocre mother, a mediocre teacher. That can also be a good story for a heroine. It's not always about how well you serve others. And the heroine does learn. She learns to appreciate the value of sex work. She does apologize to the waitress. Maybe her contempt for others sprung from her contempt for herself, and she can only free herself of the former as she frees herself of the latter, or vice versa. That's a point worth making.

But it could be made a bit better, I think, if the heroine had to take some more accountability. Because she's horribly out of line, not just with the waitress, also with Leo, and he forgives her too readily. My friend, who I saw the movie with, thinks he should have never agreed to that last appointment. She gasped in horror, when the heroine confessed to the stalking and was fully on board with Leo's outrage. She was also very upset, when Leo eventually opened up about his mother. "Why does he tell her? He shouldn't need to tell her! She has no right to ask!"

I get why the characters does it. She's told him a lot of personal stuff, she's had a life-changing experience with him - and now she wants to feel like she can make some difference for him too, she longs for resonance, reciprocity. But we already this wonderful scene where he describes, downright lyrically, what he gets out of this job, this feeling of having a meaningful impact on others, resonance, reciprocity. There's a quiet tragedy in how she can't be satisfied with that. (And she wouldn't be the first to fail this way, it's an old story for a reason, it should be a modern version of Lohengrin - if magic enters your life, acept it with grace; don't kill the vibe by asking for a name).

But sadly, this version doesn't go for the Lohengrin-ending. To the last moment, the heroine is not quite made to understand how upsetting it must be when a client starts to cross explicit boundaries. Point is, not wanting a client to know your real name is a very basic, reasonable boundary, even if there's no traumatic backstory of maternal abandonment. It's not about shame over your profession, it's about good professional boundaries and a completely legit need for privacy. I guess I have a bit more compassion for the client's delusions than my friend, but I hate how the narrative seems to vindicate her, by revealing that Leo has indeed a traumatic history, that part of his emotional outburst was triggered by this trauma, that her making him face that actually helps him overcome his shame and reconnect with his brother. I wanted to see a final scene where he comes home to his loving mother who cooks him spaghetti or something, and we can conclude that is was all just a story to get this over-involved client off his back. In my mind, that's the ending anyway; Moma's home-cooked spaghetti are waiting as the credits roll.

[angsty-violet]

Downtime

Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes as he watched the medics patch Obi-Wan up. They were having somewhat of a difficult time doing so, as he was holding his pad and not allowing them to have access to his wounds. Qui-Gon could tell that the medics were rapidly becoming fed up with Obi-Wan, and he found himself feeling similarly. Obi-Wan had gone from neglecting his health to downright abusing it, and Qui-Gon wasn’t going to put up with it.

Qui-Gon stepped in and took the pad from Obi-Wan.

“Hey, I wasn’t finished with that!”

Qui-Gon tucked it under his arm and turned to the three clone medics. “A moment, please, gentlemen.”

The three looked relieved that someone was finally dealing with Obi-Wan and stepped out to work on another patient.

“You are finished with this. You are going to let them patch you up, and then you and I are going back to our quarters. There I am going to strip you naked, tie you to the bed and fuck you so hard that you wouldn’t be able to get out of resting, even if you weren’t tied down. Do I make myself perfectly clear? Or am I going to have to spank some good sense into your plush behind?”

“I understand you.”

Qui-Gon was almost a little disappointed. He loved spanking Obi-Wan. However, it was nice to have him comply for once.

“Good, now, let’s finish up your exam.”

When they returned to their quarters, Obi-Wan sighed lightly and flopped down on the bed. Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes and nudged him gently. Obi-Wan batted at him, annoyed.

“Come on, Qui-Gon, I just want to sleep. You can’t be serious about what you said earlier.”

Qui-Gon pinched one of Obi-Wan’s ears and pulled him up into a sitting position. “I am. You are going to go into the refresher and clean up. Then I am going to do exactly what I ordered you to do.”

Obi-Wan scowled at him. “I said I’m tired. Too tired even for the refresher. Just let me sleep.”

“The refresher is non-negotiable. If you really don’t want to take advantage of this rare opportunity of downtime to make love to me, that’s fine. I am not having you contract a deadly disease just because you didn’t want to clean up. Now, go!”

Obi-Wan shook his head. He had been hankering for a spanking for months. For a chance to really let go and let Qui-Gon have some control. The war had been so much that he needed a little time where he didn’t have to be in charge.

Qui-Gon was picking up what he was putting down. Obi-Wan clearly needed this, and Qui-Gon was never one to deny him anything. Let alone something that he loved to do to him.

“Alright then, have it your way. Strip, I want you completely naked.”

Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment and then complied; He could tell from the tone of Qui-Gon’s voice that he meant business. He stripped out of his filthy battle clothes and sighed in relief at finally being out of the blood-soaked, mud-streaked armor. Qui-Gon was clearly right; he did need to be clean.

However, that could wait a few minutes. Qui-Gon didn’t even have to say anything else. He just crooked a finger, and Obi-Wan allowed himself to be draped over Qui-Gon’s lap. The tension immediately seeped out of him. He was here with his lover, and Qui-Gon would take care of him.

Qui-Gon didn’t feel like there was much to lecture about, and he knew that Obi-Wan desperately needed this.

He laid down a single heavy smack that echoed through the small room. Qui-Gon heard a soft hitch from Obi-Wan but other than that, he was silent. Without a forthcoming safe-word, Qui-Gon started the spanking in earnest.

Qui-Gon was ready to move on to the next step by the time Obi-Wan started to moan. He had been spanking for about fifteen minutes, and Obi-Wan’s hard-on had been rubbing his thigh for about ten. He set him firmly back on his feet and gestured to the small, attached refresher.

“Go clean yourself up.”

“What’s the point of me getting cleaned up just for you to get me all dirty again?”

“Brat!” Qui-Gon swatted at Obi-Wan again, and Obi-Wan danced away. He was in a much better mood, and he had to admit that he did want to take advantage of their downtime. He slipped into the refresher and moaned lightly at the feeling of finally, truly being clean. Not just rushed scrub downs or hasty splashes of water. He hadn’t had the opportunity for a real shower in weeks. It was almost enough to keep him inside the small compartment.

After finally being cleansed of the day, Obi-Wan stepped out and made his way to the small bed. It was barely big enough for Qui-Gon alone, but somehow they managed to make do, even with two of them. He glanced around and was disappointed to find that Qui-Gon wasn’t in the room.

Suddenly the day started to catch up with him, and Obi-Wan felt the distinct urge to close his eyes and sleep. He laid down on the bed and started to doze lightly. He was woken by soft kisses on his face and neck.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and looked into Qui-Gon’s. “Where did you go?”

Qui-Gon laughed and kissed Obi-Wan again. “I also went to clean up. You weren’t the only one that was completely filthy. Plus, we needed some supplies if I’m going to ravage you tonight.” Qui-Gon held out a bottle of lube and a short section of soft rope.

Obi-Wan grinned and moved into his favorite position to be tied in. His hands were over his head, and he was close enough to the headboard it wouldn’t stress his shoulders. Qui-Gon bound him tightly and couldn’t help kissing his bound wrists gently.

He kissed his way down Obi-Wan’s neck, between his nipples, and gently nipped at Obi-Wan’s belly button. Obi-Wan moaned and tried to thrust up into him, but Qui-Gon stopped him by pinning his hips into place. Qui-Gon smiled lightly and then moved to where Obi-Wan’s dick was making an appearance.

“If I let go of you, are you going to lay there and behave, or are you going to be naughty?”

Obi-Wan pouted. “Not like I could go anywhere anyway.”

Qui-Gon’s smile turned into a lecherous grin. “There is that.” Qui-Gon let go of Obi-Wan’s hips and leaned over to where the bottle of lube had been dropped. He slicked up three fingers and pressed them gently into Obi-Wan’s puckered hole.

Obi-Wan sighed lightly at the warmth and settled himself into the feeling. He had really missed this.

Qui-Gon didn’t take too long to stretch Obi-Wan. They needed to be up early in the morning for duty, and for that, they needed to rest. Only enough to make sure that it would be comfortable for Obi-Wan.

“Are you ready for me, handsome?”

Obi-Wan was starting to feel a little floaty. “Mm-hm. I’m ready.”

Qui-Gon positioned himself and slid into Obi-Wan’s warmth with a single, solid thrust. Obi-Wan gasped at the feeling and tried to push back against Qui-Gon, but his bound hands didn’t allow him to do much more than wiggle in the general direction. Qui-Gon had bottomed out and was feeling a little mean. Obi-Wan tried to get him to move and then moaned in annoyance when he wouldn’t.

“Before I fuck your beautiful brains out, I want you to beg for it.”

Obi-Wan glared at him. “Come on, Qui-Gon, I just want a fuck.”

“No. Beg.”

Obi-Wan squirmed and, when he wasn’t getting anywhere, looked away with a dark blush covering his cheeks.

“Please.” The word was so soft that Qui-Gon could barely make it out.

“Now, Obi-Wan, I know you know what I meant. When I say beg, that means I want you to beg me to fuck you. Not just a little whisper of want.”

Obi-Wan suddenly bucked his hips, and Qui-Gon felt himself slide partway out and then all the way back in. He grinned in delight. One of the best things about having sex with Obi-Wan was that he was strong and flexible, and it could make any time in bed an adventure. It didn’t mean that Qui-Gon was going to give in.

“Fine! Please, Qui-Gon fuck me! I’m so desperate for you that if I could unravel these ropes, I’d throw you on the bed and make sure that the only thing you could think about was me!”

“Close enough!” Qui-Gon took up a brutal pace. Normally he would’ve waited longer, but he was as desperate for it as Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan rocked back into him, and they were out of sync for a moment. Then. Obi-Wan managed to match his pace and then moved together.

Normally Qui-Gon would dirty talk Obi-Wan until his eyes rolled back in his head, but today he was tired. This wasn’t supposed to be anything too elaborate or complicated. Qui-Gon hadn’t even anticipated the spanking or the rope. Not that he was against them; they just weren’t in his original plan.

Now that they were at this part of things, Qui-Gon could feel the day starting to wear. He didn’t have the energy for a long, drawn-out fuck and knew that Obi-Wan didn’t either. So, he moved until he thrust sharply into Obi-Wan’s prostate every time. With his orgasm, impending Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan’s warm cock into his hand. He slid a long finger behind Obi-Wan’s balls and pressed gently.

Obi-Wan responded by bucking up into Qui-Gon. It was more than Qui-Gon could stand, and he came deep into Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan moaned lightly at the sensation of being filled with warm cum, but he still squirmed, showing that he was still waiting for his own release. Qui-Gon didn’t pull out even though he was beginning to feel oversensitive. He gently stroked Obi-Wan’s cock and smiled down at his lover.

It only took a few strokes, and Obi-Wan was following after him. He moaned lightly and came, splattering both of them in cum. Qui-Gon leaned down and kissed Obi-Wan. He licked off the cum that had splattered on Obi-Wan’s lips.

“You were beautiful, my love.”

Obi-Wan sighed lightly in agreement, and Qui-Gon carefully slid out of him. He laid down next to Obi-Wan with a whole-body sigh. He had loved the time with Obi-Wan, but now the day was catching up with him. He was ready to sleep the day’s battle off.

Obi-Wan swatted at him, annoyed that Qui-Gon wasn’t moving to get up and clean them off. He finally grew tired of being sticky and got up himself. Obi-Wan slipped into the bathroom and then returned with a damp cloth. He scrubbed at the cum that covered both of them and then tossed the towel lazily toward the bathroom. It could wait for tomorrow.

“Was that what you were looking for, darling?” Qui-Gon’s words startled Obi-Wan because he had broken the silence, and Obi-Wan had thought he had already dozed off. Apparently, that wasn’t true. Obi-Wan flopped down next to Qui-Gon and snuggled close to him.

“That was exactly what I was looking for. I’m really glad that you were able to understand I needed a spanking without me having to say it out loud.”

Qui-Gon moved so that Obi-Wan was pressed tightly to his side. He buried his face in Obi-Wan’s head.

“Next time, I am making you tell me what you want. But I could tell that you just needed me to make you let go. You’ve been falling apart lately, and I knew that you needed something more.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and leaned closer. “You take such good care of me. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank you, not just for tonight, but for always being there with me.”

Qui-Gon smiled and closed his own eyes. “As long as I am alive, I am always going to be there for you. Goodnight, love.”

“Goodnight.”