#the tone shift.... is huge to say the least

[bunnyinvanilla]

scary dog privilege with your old, gruff and scary sugar daddy!john price?

given you’re always a well mannered girl, you never cause conflicts, but if something were to happen with someone and you wanted to take advantage of your daddy being scary, old, intimidating and huge to just defend you?

maybe at the bar, a rude costumer not even lifting their eyes from the table as they ordered something else from you, without acknowledging your presence or saying hi, politely.

”another beer with ice,”

you decide to give him the benefit of the doubt, and tilted your head, speaking with your usual polite and sweet voice. “im sorry?” “another beer, at my table” same tone, same words, not even a smile.

clearly you hadn’t heard that wrong — your expression softened, and you lowered your notebook, looking like an upset bunny who’d just gotten offended,

you were always so sweet and kind with everyone, and john often tried to teach you that not everyone would always reciprocate your kindness, he wanted to warn you about mean, rude people who would upset his little girl :(

but you always got sad, not understanding why people couldn’t just be nice.

“no, sir, excuse me, i was waiting for you to say please, you could at least look at me you know..”

he frowned, narrowing his eyes like you’d said the most incoherent thing in the world, and gave you an ironic look “it’s your job to serve me a drink, dear”

you blinked your eyes, dumbfounded, hoping he’d understand what you were gently trying to say, keeping a low tone of voice “yes, and as a human being, your job is to be polite and kind? where are your manners?”

“little lady, what’s your problem? im paying you, you’re not giving me a gift, little girl”

“yet kindness is free,” you were undeterred, crossing your arms over your blouse and giving him an exasperated look, tilting your hip.

he shifted on his chair, crossing his legs together and throwing his arm behind the chair’s head. “let me speak with the manager, then”

“oh, you can speak directly to my boss, if you’d like” you shrugged, aware of how that situation would end up, and strolled down to john’s usual private table, walking calmly and quietly.

once in front of him, you leaned forward and pressed your hands flat against the wooden table’s surface, stretching your arms, wearing the most innocent and docile look “daddy,”

john turned his attention towards you, his half empty glass of whiskey trapped between his firm, thick fingers “there’s the love of my life, what is it, doll face?”

you leaned closer to him, tilting your head slightly, practically almost bending over his seat “a costumer wants to talk to you, he’s gonna complain about me because i wouldn’t serve him unless he asked politely,”

you blinked your dollish, doe eyes at him, so big and round and innocent they told him ‘take my defense and then fuck me, please’, a little pout making you push out your bottom lip.

”does he now…” john muttered under his breath, his warm eyes slowly taking in every inch of your figure, your lacy thigh highs and uniform skirt — he lifted is glass to let the liquid trail down his throat with a swift, fast seep, before setting it down “aight, doll, daddy’ll take care of it, princess, don’t worry”

he gripped the armrest of his chair, pushing himself up to a standing position, but you quickly reached for him and gently grabbed him by the sleeve

“he wasn’t mean, sir, he just didn’t want to say please and you know how much that upsets me..please don’t get angry at him” the way you furrowed your brows together was so adorable price had to physically restrain himself from just picking you up and throw you over his buff shoulders

but he gave you a little frown, lifting his hand to pinch your chin affectionately, grabbing it in between his forefinger and thumb “how many times have i told you you’re always too nice, love? people are gonna take advantage of that, doll”

you straightened your back, locking your hands together behind your back and lifted your chin, letting him squeeze your it again “but that’s why I have you to come rescue me, daddy…”

he let out a deep chuckle, briefly shaking his head before he let go of your chin with a last, little squeeze “these blokes can’t even let this poor old man rest in peace, how can someone be rude to such a sweet girl, they really like pissing me off huh? got the nerve to disrespect my girl”

and with that, he walked past you, towards the guy who’d just been too busy to ask you nicely, or say a simple ‘please’’ — but john had promised he’d never let anyone mistreat his polite girl’s manners, especially inside his own bar.

[inhogf]

Lee Byung Hun, ur teacher [2]

part 1 here · contains: him as ur teacher, smut, p in v sex in classroom, choking, spanking, age gap (reader is a student, byung hun in mid 50s) 1.5k words

“you're sleeping with mr. byung hun, are you not?“ this was practically an ongoing joke between you and your friends, all of them giggling, unable to restrain their crazed and exaggerated expressions as one of them held your test paper in their hand. it was amazing, really— going from failing most of your tests to straight A's in calculus. without a helping hand, as you'd tell them.

you wouldn't want everyone to know you were slutting yourself out to your teacher for bonus marks, would you?

were you doing that only for some extra credit?

the classroom was fairly quiet in a bit, save for the sound of mr. byung hun's marker gliding across the whiteboard. he was halfway through solving a complicated integral when your friend passed you a note: ’correct him so we know y'all arent having sex. xoxo ♡’. it made you snicker at her, before you raised your hand.

“uhm, mr. byung hun, you totally messed that up,” you said, tone dripping with feigned condescension. you leaned back in your chair, arms crossed. you were always a little rebel, weren't you? how could byung hun forget? “you forgot to distribute the negative. kind of embarrassing for a teacher.”

oh you were bold. you caught him off-gaurd. he never would've known you'd act like such a brat after he only fucked you once; it amused him to say the least. you enjoyed riling him up, taunting him despite his frustrated grumbles and groans and the obvious bulge in his pants. he'll roll his eyes at you; something the class caught on to; attempting to hold himself back from admiring and touching your adorable body.

“let's see, shall we?“ he exhaled, stepping aside to rework the equation. the room grew tense as he went through each step on the board, taking his sweet, sweet, time.

“ah, turns out, i didn't forget anything. you, however, overlooked the substitution rule. this part," he'd say, unfazed as a subtle smile crept up his lips, circling the equation. "—is where you went wrong."

the class stirred with soft gasps and muffled laughter. byung hun paused, walking up to face you, before crossing his arms. your cheeks were burning up. not because of the embarrassment, no— but because of byung hun. he'd punish you. you made him thrilled.

“detention after school for you, stay in my class afterwards. feel free to brush up on substitution rules while you’re at it, you'll need them for the test next week.“

you were a brat begging to be tamed; but byung hun had self-control, able to hold himself back from re-enacting his fantasies onto you right in front of all his students. the hunger that festered in the pit of his stomach, beating with an erratic pulse and growing in restlessness. he has to push back the hanging reminder that he was hard, dick pressed against his suit trousers with a leaky tip. you'd think he'd have a hard time getting his dick up, his aging evident from the way the corners of his eyes crinkle every time he smiled— but no, all it took was you teasing him in front of his class.

it wasn't long before byung hun's hands slid down to your ass as the last of his students left the class, pulling you flush up against him, the raw intensity of his emotions— the restraint he had let go of, the vulnerability he now laid bare.

“you know what you were fuckin’ doing to me back there, yeah?“ he wasted zero time in shifting his belt open, tugging a finger to the waistband of his boxers as he fumbled his dick out; making it spring up and slap against his abdomen before taking his shirt off. anger filled his veins today, and he decided he'd needed to take this anger out into someone. more specifically, you. “you need to be punished.“

you don't mind. your gaze was smitten to his contoured body— his chiseled chest, huge shoulders that are the perfect leverage, his.. huge dick; so so perfect for his age. was he on steroids? that's insane. byung hun kept himself somewhat shaven, as you noticed. he doesn't have a lot of hair, but he has a trail of black hair running up his sturdy abdomen, as well as around his crotch. pretty little thing, you'd think to yourself before your teacher snapped you out of your thoughts.

“up, baby,“ byung hun said oh so hushed, pulling you up by your ass and bending you over on his desk— pages of assignments flying everywhere. his fingers would rub against the wet patch of your panties, tracing your folds and oggling at them. practically drooling as he tore your panties off. he spread your soft folds with such expertise while looking between your eyes and your pussy, begging to push inside. it made you wonder, how many women had he fucked before? did he even have a wife? kids?

his thick cock sat stiff in front of your pussy, tip so red and garbles of pre-cum drooled at the sight of your bare pussy spread out for him. it's hard to get used to the feeling of being pried open and split apart by byung hun, the splitting sensation of his boner being pushed into you. his hands would wander all over your bare, naked skin. so so so greedy. he wanted to have you whole; not knowing where to touch your body next. he pushed deep into your slit and let out breathless, guttural groans. taking him was painful, the sheer length of him foreign to your organs. you've only ever had sex with, what, two men? and both their dicks were tiny.

“i'm risking going to jail for you, slut..“ he snapped his hips forward, a gasp escaping your puffy lips as he bottomed out in the first thrust. byung hun held a finger to your bottom lip, before the hand trailed down your chin and grabbed onto your neck from behind, pressing it to restrict your airflow. it was such a tight, snug fit. it had you squirming. he left zero spaces open to waste inside your pussy. no holes for even air to fucking enter. your pussy was stretched to the max by his big fucking cock, your juices dripping down your thighs to the wood of his desk, wetting them. “so good, daddy..“

each thrust he made with his hips caused a grunt to slip from his throat. he huffs, groans out at the sensation against his covered bulge. “you're a needy thing, you know that?” he chuckles when he sees your fucked-out eyes, beyond desperation as your orgasm pools at your sweet cunt, desperate for release.

“s-so big-!“ you’re a whore, a blubbering mess, both legs hooked around his hammering hips whilst your arms kept a tight grip on his burly shoulders. you whine, mouth open as moans and ‘more's’ pour from it. his dick continues rutting into you, splitting your pussy apart in such an animalistic way it had you seeing stars— a pool of steam gathering down at your lower abdomen.

you were certain an orgasm on the brink edge of releasing was close, but when he spanks your ass as punishment, all it did was make him even hotter. “자기야 [baby].. you take my cock so well, but can't handle a slap? you need a roughening up, my dear...“

and the way his accent turns more prominent against your ear and his hot breath against your neck, it was all too much for a dumb, crying thing like you— unable to control the way your pussy uncontrollably clutches onto him, forcing him to shoot his potent, hot load of inside your puffy hole.

“i'm gonna.. fuck— i'm cumming..“ byung hun said as his pretty eyes grew half-lidded, strands of sweaty hair falling to his forehead as he shut his eyes completely, ropes of thick cum squirting from his still-swollen tip as he pumps you full. so full in fact, that he's actually pumping his cum out of you because you’re overflowing with his seed.

and once byung hun was done fucking a brain-numbing orgasm out of you, and fucked his own deep into your womb, he'd settle you down on his chair, your head lolled to the side as he finished slipping his softening dick back into his boxers— his eyes admiring your pretty state. you were so adorable like this.

his phone would ring as he fixed his tie, the contact reading ’Principal’ as you giggled to yourself— you knew he was in trouble all because of you. ♡

cr @inhogf dont steal

[chuluoyi]

𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒐 !

- gojo satoru x reader

valentine's is around the corner and word has it that you're going on a date with geto...? no way! gojo is going to make sure that you're saying no! ever wonder how gojo finally gets you to become his? be prepared for a confession of a lifetime!

genre/warnings. crack, semi-failed love confession (it's gojo, what do you expect?), poor geto, and of course, fluff !!

notes. i genuinely love writing this :') loser gojo has always have a soft spot in my heart *sighs* i'd recommend listening to beautiful & because of you - beast (highlight) for this !!

a part of gojo's love entries and valentine's special !

Satoru doesn't really pay attention to holidays. To him, it's all the same—he can turn everyday into a holiday if he wanted to.

However, Valentine's Day is an exception. He knows it and is somewhat excited even. Why, you ask? Because this is the moment he has chosen. He's going to make you his on that very day.

He had everything planned out to perfection: skylit rooftop, bouquet of roses, eloquent speech (at least, he thought so). He was going to charm the pants out of you and it'd be a smooth-sailing event, he was sure of it!

At least until he heard that life-shattering gossip—

"I saw Geto-san asking her out for the 14th just now!"

"What?" he snapped his head in Haibara's direction, who was eagerly sharing with him and the others what he had allegedly heard, his eyes practically sparkling with excitement.

"Ehh, not bad," Shoko mused with a hint of amusement, casting a curious look his way. It was obvious she was enjoying this.

Nanami let out a thoughtful hum. "That's quite a surprise. I didn't think they'll go that fast."

"But how?!" Satoru suddenly exploded, grabbing Haibara by the collar. "How did that slimy bangs go from saying nothing to asking her out?!"

"O-oh Gojo-san! Don't squish me, please!"

And from then onwards, his focus was set: preventing you from falling into Suguru's grimy hands. Absolutely no way! He was so close already. He was on the cusp of winning your heart, and he knew it!

Now, you laughed at his jokes, you didn't ignore him as much, and you even asked him if he was okay after his recent mission! That was huge progress, even Satoru knew as much. And no, even if it was Suguru, he refused to hand you over to him.

On the 14th, you were going to be his... even if it cost him everything!

Gojo Satoru is annoying. You supposed you knew that already, but over these past few days, his ability to get on your nerves somehow had ascended to a wholly new level.

"I'm telling you, you should go with me! I'm going to take you somewhere amazing!" he practically demanded right up in your space, prompting you to let out a long-drawn sigh.

By all means, his attempts to woo you were all lame. He didn't know the first thing about being humble, and logically, you should have been more inclined to push him away.

‘Should’ being the operative word, because, somehow, over the past few weeks, you've started to see his antics as not just bearable but even endearing in a way. No one had ever pursued you with such relentless zeal before him, and it became increasingly difficult to overlook the way your heart fluttered in response to his (occasionally dubious) attempts to win you over.

So, right now, it really wasn't because you were playing hard to get. "Gojo, I've told you already. I can't on that day, I've already got plans," you sighed, exasperated.

He shot you a glance, his expression shifting into a brazenly raised eyebrow. "With Suguru?"

"How do you—"

"Tell him no," Satoru pressed, scowling. "Tell him I asked you first."

"In fact, he asked first—"

“Just say no!”

“No!”

"You're seriously going on a date with him?" he questioned, almost in disbelief. "And what, you're going to confess to him too?"

His tone didn't sit well with you, causing your irritation to rise. You frowned and retorted boldly, "And if I do? It's not like you can do anything about it anyway."

Wait, that actually hurts. Satoru was now irked too. Hadn't he shown enough for you to understand just how much of a big deal it was for him? Didn't you know he actually likes you so much that it made him toss and turn on some nights?

(No, you didn't really know. He just made himself look stupid most of the time. You were not that impressed.)

"As a matter of fact, I can," he began, expression turning into a slight sneer. "I can and I will if you still insist on going with him."

"Wha?"

"I'm going to crash your party so hard, you'll wish you hadn't gone behind my back. The audacity he has, trying to steal my girl!"

"You sound like a creep," you couldn't help blurting out, wide-eyed. "And I'm not your girl—"

"You—are quite heartless." His gaze on you behind that glasses hardened, and you were suddenly taken aback by how upset he looked. "I'm giving you my all—I think about you all day and night I think it's actually making me crazy!"

You stared at him, genuinely dumbfounded this time, realizing that somehow or another now, he was pouring his emotions out.

"Nothing I say will make sense to you, but whatever—" he exhaled sharply in frustration. "It's always you—in my mind. Compared to anyone else now, you're the prettiest. And if you were to ask me to pull a Blue on Ichiji right now, I'd probably do it! You see now—what you have done to me?"

"Ichiji? Gojo—!"

"You might think I did all of this for your attention, and yes, you’re right! That's how much you've messed with my head!"

. . .

Oh, now he had really gone and done it, hadn't he? He had laid it all bare, every last bit of it—the chaotic heap stacking up as his botched confession. And there were no roses, no rooftop, and none of the grandeur he had envisioned. This was so not how he wanted it to go at all.

Satoru grimaced, suddenly regretting this turn of events. He had seen it coming already—you calling him a total weirdo and then leaving him in the dust. Just the thought was enough to make his heart squeeze. Wanting to escape before it became a reality, he abruptly turned on his heel and walked away from you.

He barely made it a few steps away before he felt a firm tug on his arm.

"Wait! Gojo!"

You grabbed his arm tightly, forcing him to turn towards you. Satoru stubbornly refused to meet your gaze, his lips pressed into a massive pout. Yet, beyond that display of defiance, you could discern a hint of heartbreak splashed across his face, and it made your stomach churn.

Always trying to make you look at him. Always trying to get you to smile through his lame jokes. Making himself stupid on purpose. Frustrated when his feelings went unnoticed… All Gojo Satoru did thus far finally added up.

So it's true... he likes me this much...?

In that moment, warmth flooded through you. This idiot. Everyone said he was no good, but your heart couldn't help but leap, and a flurry of butterflies seemed to dance in your stomach.

In this instant, everything seemed to fall into place. Any doubt you might have melted away, leaving only a sense of certainty about your feelings. Everything just feels absolutely right.

"I'm not going on a date with Geto, you know."

"Huh?" Upon hearing that, he swiveled to face you, his gaze intensively searching your face for further explanation.

With a huff, you elaborated, "It's for my Grade One promotion mission. Geto-san asked to join me for it."

"But why? He doesn't need to—"

"He wants to tag along to absorb more cursed spirits, you see..."

"Oh, amassing new little friends, I see," Satoru quipped, face scrunching up distastefully.

His mood seems better now, you noted. You exhaled, your heart suddenly felt like it was pounding louder. "So, you've got the wrong idea. It sucks but my Valentine's day is going to be spent on a mission."

A beat passed by before he finally spoke again, still sheepish and avoiding eye contact. "I'm coming with you too, for that... mission or whatever."

You pressed your lips together, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across your face. "And?"

"And... huh?"

"That's all? Nothing else you want to add?"

And suddenly his eyes sparkled back to life. Beyond those ridiculous round glasses, his bright, yet steadfast eyes met yours with such vibrant shine it made your chest thump so hard and face flush with matching intensity.

Silly, silly boy... liking me so much that he turns stupid.

"Actually, I've got plenty more to say!"

With an indignant snort, you released his arm. "Well, I'm waiting. Because what you just said before has to be the most underwhelming confession I've ever heard."

"Wha? Hey! That wasn't my confession! Just you wait, I'll do it over, and this time, I'll make you swoon so hard you'll forget how Suguru's face looks like!"

And on the night of February 14, he truly surpassed himself once again in making a terrible confession, and yet it still signified the day you truly became his—the beginning of your life together, which along the way, would be filled with more shenanigans, endless laughter and of course, love.

Epilogue

"Haibara, I really thought you're the most sensible here! I can't believe you!"

Suguru massaged his temples with utter grievance. So this was the cause of his headache and constant death stares Satoru gave him these past few days—the three people gathering in front of him!

"I've told you already, Nanami—Gojo is really going through with it," Shoko cackled with utter satisfaction. "Now, pay up."

"Ieiri-san... sigh— from now on, I'm not participating in your bets anymore."

Haibara, who went with Shoko's suggestion to incite this, sheepishly laughed. "Ehe, Geto-san, all that ends well is well though, no?"

"Satoru was really about to skin me alive! Ugh, and you almost ruined my date too..."

"Eh? Date?" All three sets of eyes suddenly fixed on him in utter astonishment. "Who?"

-> continue to 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 (with geto suguru—soon!)

[moonstruckme]

not sure this really applies for the blueberry muffin prompt but...update on roomate!james and reader? 🥺 (AND CONGRATS ON 7k 🥳🥳)

It does haha! I knew blueberry muffin would be my downfall (but it's okay I signed up for it and ily regardless). Please accept this garbage fire of a drabble <3

cw: modern au, alcohol mention

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 683 words

You’re squished between Sirius and James, the two people here least likely to allow you space to breathe. James has got you half in his lap, his arm around your waist and one of your thighs over his, while Sirius’ shoulder pushes into yours, his legs cast over the arm of his couch so he can kick gently at Remus when the urge strikes him. 

“Her coworker hates me,” James says. 

“He does not.” You roll your eyes. This is a topic you’ve been over before. “Art likes you just fine.”

“Does too!” He pinches your waist. “It’s because he’s in love with you.” 

You fight the urge to hide your face in his side. “He is not.” 

James laughs. “He is, sweetheart. You just can’t see it.” 

“You would hardly know, would you?” Sirius agrees, but he agrees with James on everything. You’re fairly sure that if James said the moon was green, Sirius would swear the same until his dying breath. “You didn’t know our Jamesie liked you until he practically confessed.” 

“I still doubt it sometimes,” you mutter, earning you another teasing pinch from your boyfriend. 

“Hold on,” says Lily, “she’s the one who works with him.”

Remus nods. While Sirius always agrees with James, Remus always disagrees with the both of them. You suspect this is mostly because he enjoys getting them riled up. “Exactly. I think y/n has had plenty more time to figure out if he has feelings than you have, James.” 

“He used to walk her home after every shift,” James argues. 

“Because he’s nice,” you sigh. 

“Nice to you, you mean.”

“It’s very normal to walk girls home from late shifts.” 

Remus hums. “Have you considered, James, that maybe because you’ve never worked in the service industry, there are norms you don’t understand?” His tone is smug. Sirius kicks his foot at him lazily.

James’ eyebrows rise above the frames of his glasses. “Have you considered,” he waves his free hand in your direction, “look at her?” 

Your face heats something atrocious. Sirius tsks. “He’s got you there, darling.” 

“Hush,” you say to James, though you can’t manage to infuse your voice with any sternness. “You’re the only one that thinks that.” 

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p. “Actually, it’s me and Art and every other seeing person on the planet. Sorry, sweetheart.” 

You’re not sure if he’s apologizing sardonically or genuinely, for the pain his compliments are causing you. A big hand cups the side of your head, bringing you closer so he can kiss your hair. 

It doesn’t pacify you. “You’re awful,” you say, slipping out from between him and Sirius so his friend nearly falls sideways onto James’ lap. “I’m going to get some water, does anyone want anything?” 

Lily and Remus say no, Sirius asks for a cider, and James is noticeably silent. You can’t say you’re surprised when he comes into the kitchen behind you. 

He gives you a sheepish look. You don’t believe it even a little. “Have I scared you off?” 

You go to Sirius and Remus’ fridge, grabbing the cider for Sirius. “No.” 

“But I embarrassed you.” James wraps his arms around your middle, smushing his lips to your hairline. “M’sorry, lovely.” 

“Don’t,” you say, though you’re far from pulling out of his embrace. “It takes more than that to scare me off.” 

“Yeah?” You can hear the teasing slip into his voice, and that scares you more than it should. “Good. Because you’re gonna have to get used to it, you know. I don’t plan on toning down how lovely you are just because you might get shy on me.” 

You tilt your head back to see him. “You’re insufferable.” 

“So you’re always telling me.” James’ grin is huge. He drops a kiss on the bridge of your nose. “You’re lovely, and I’m insufferable. How’s that fair?” 

“Dunno.” You kiss his chin in return. Fill your cup with water and brush past him out the kitchen. “Suppose you’ll have to get use to it.” 

It’s impossible not to smile when his laughter sounds behind you. 

[whoreforsexymen]

Guess who just finished acrane and is writing this with actual tears on my face!!! I need some Vander fluff- i think i will emplode- it doesnt even have to be anything specific i just need comfort after that shit storm 😭

Yes my child. Mommy will make good on your request.

And don’t even get me started on S2. I can’t bring myself to watch it yet. I’m still not even over S1 and I KNOW for a fact it’s not even as sad as I’ve learned S2 is.

But shhhhh, Mommy’s got you. Here’s the fluff you asked for.

Piltover’s Got Nothin’ On You | Vander Fluff Flash 🍺🤎

(GIF cred: me <3)

Pairings: Vander x GN!Reader

Pronouns: No pronouns used.

Rating: Slight NSFW because Reader and Vander are presumably half naked in bed, so 18+!! MDNI !! You WILL be blocked

Word Count: 524

Summary: Vander is enjoying a nice cozy morning with you, and reminds you exactly how he feels.

Tags: A little spicy, just because it’s a little maturely themed if you whip out a magnifying glass, Fluff, Tooth Rotting Fluff, Domesticity W/ Vander, OoeyGooeyRomance

Notes: None, just enjoy. Take a breather. 🤍

“Would I lie to you?” The question hung in the air, light yet loaded with meaning. It was enough to send a familiar flutter through your stomach, a soft, nervous twinge that made your heart skip. The sensation was strangely uncomfortable, yet in the most endearing way—like a gentle reminder of how much he could still make you feel, even in the simplest of moments.

You lay atop the man you were speaking to, both of you bare-chested, the warmth of your skin pressing together in an effortlessly comforting way. The coolness of the morning air was a distant contrast to the heat between you, a calm presence that made the moment feel serene to say the least. His steady breathing beneath you gave the moment a gentle rhythm, and for a while, there was nothing but the simple unspoken connection between you both before you responded.

“Maybe. Depends.” You tease, your words playful but laced with a hint of mischief.

His response is immediate—his large hand slipping into yours with a quiet sense of contentment, the warmth of his grip grounding you. There’s a comfort in the way he holds you, as if, in this moment, the world outside doesn’t matter. His touch speaks volumes, the unspoken understanding between you both more powerful than anything words could convey.

“Someone clearly thinks highly of me,” he teases back, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. Before you can answer, he leans down and places a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, his touch tender and full of quiet affection. The sweetness of the gesture catches you off guard, a simple act that somehow feels like the most genuine expression of his feelings—a quiet reminder of how deeply he cares.

You smile, a soft laugh slipping from your lips.

“All I was saying is that, as much as Piltover has its minor flaws—“ you begin, your voice light with amusement as you’re stopped short.

“Appalling flaws, really. Humongous, towering flaws,” he interrupts playfully, his tone teasing as he presses a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, still held firmly in his.

You can’t help but laugh at his wit.

“Yes, huge, appalling flaws. But despite all that, Topside is stunning at night. The lights here are beautiful, too, but nothing compares to the glow of Piltover.” You add, trying to make your point clear: a city’s beauty can stand on its own, no matter what darkness might lurk behind the scenes.

He regards you for a long while, his gaze lingering on your face with an amusement that never quite fades. The seconds stretch on, almost too long—what might seem like a few moments in the world’s rhythm becomes an eternity in his eyes. Each shift in your expression, each subtle change in your posture, draws him in, holding his attention as if time itself has slowed. And yet, even as eternity unfolds, it’s still not enough. To him, no amount of time could ever truly capture all he wants to see.

“That may be true,” he says, his voice steady, the smirk never quite leaving his face.

“But Piltover’s got nothin’ on you.”

[sanguineterrain]

gag gift | jason todd

Summary: A gift from a friend results in quite the evening for you and Jason.

Pairing: Jason Todd x AFAB!reader 

Word count: 1.5k

Kinktober fill: Day 2 - Pegging

Warnings/tags: pegging, strap-ons, anal sex, vaginal penetration, coming untouched, sub!Jason, bottom!Jason, reader refers to the strap as their dick, humiliation, size difference, pet names.

A/N: me every time I see Jason: he needs to be knocked up. anyways. enjoy :)

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Well. It started as a gag gift.

A kinky Halloween joke from a close friend. A big, black, double-sided strap-on.

So you'd showed it to Jason last night. His reaction had been surprising, to say the least.

...Now it's out of the box. On you.

"Look at how hard I am for you," you say, wiggling your hips. The strap stays put under your pajama shorts, though they do absolutely nothing to hide it.

It's meant to be a tease, your words, but then you look up at Jason and he's got a stunned expression on his face. His eyes can't stop flicking down.

"It's so big," he says, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. He's right.

You grin. "Think I'll fit?"

And judging from the way Jason shifts, he wants you to try.

So here you are.

You slide off your shorts and the strap juts free. You leave your shirt on, liking how the hem sticks out over your strap.

"So?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "Am I fucking you or what, baby?"

Jason nods and removes his pants and underwear in one go. His cheeks are slightly flushed.

He's already hard.

You join him on the bed, pushing your way between his legs. Jason lies down at your beckoning. You look down, positioning your hips against his. Jason follows your gaze.

"Look at that," you say, your strap against Jason's cock. "My dick is bigger than yours, honey."

Your pussy throbs at the sight. Jason whimpers as you slide your strap against his cock. He's usually huge, but next to your strap, he's kind of... small. Is that all it takes?

You imagine him shrinking as you grow impossibly bigger inside of his hole. You imagine a knot at your base, swelling as you mount and breed him like a dog. Looks like you'll have to do some research on toys later.

"All those muscles and height, and I've still got a bigger cock than you," you say, tone gentle even though your words are not. "Your cock is so cute, sweetheart."

Jason's chest is red with a humiliated blush. You're sure your pupils dilate at the sight.

"And I can stay hard forever. You blow your load after a couple of strokes."

You brush your fingers through his curls and get a good grip. You tilt Jason's head back, mouth slotting against yours. He makes a soft noise as you kiss him, lashes fluttering against your cheeks. You pull away slightly.

"Seems like I should be fucking you, huh?" you ask. "I don't get dumb and leaky when I fuck a hole like you do, sweetie."

Your strap pushes against his stomach. Jason whines when you tug his hair harder. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

"My big guy. Big, pretty guy. All you have to do is squirt on your tits."

"They're not—"

"Well, of course they are, honey bunches," you say, groping his pecs under his shirt. Jason hisses. "It's obscene, the way you go out in your tight little white shirts, nipples hard. Maybe I'll fuck your tits after."

You gesture for him to take off his shirt and he does. It lands somewhere behind you. You flick and pinch his nipples. Jason lets out a shuddering breath.

"Yeah? You like that?" you ask, pushing your hips against him.

"Uh-huh," Jason says, sensitive all over with how close you are, how every bit of his skin touches yours.

"Pretty boy," you say, hands going to his face. Jason dwarfs you like this, but you love how docile he is, how reactive to your touch.

"Did you do what I asked?" you say, gripping the back of his neck, lips on his cheek.

"Y-yeah, opened myself up," Jason says.

"Oh, yeah? So I can just push right in? Fuck you loose?"

You feel around Jason's hole, and it's indeed wet with lube. You grin.

"Such a good boy. You wanted to get fucked fast, didn't you?"

You grab the undersides of Jason's huge thighs and force him to bend at the knees so he's spread open for you. You pat him when you're satisfied with how wide he's spread.

"Hold your legs open," you say, and Jason does, grabbing his thighs and keeping them parted.

You cup his balls. Jason chokes and nearly releases his thighs. You tilt your head.

"You feel heavy," you say. "You need to come, don't you?"

You play with his balls, watching Jason's stomach twitch in response. His knuckles are white from how tightly he's holding his thighs. Your strap nudges Jason's hole and more precum beads on the tip of his cock.

"Please," he says. Your gaze sharpens at the first hint of begging.

"Please, what?" you ask. More pre gurgles out of Jason's leaky cock head.

"Want you inside, please."

"Sure?" you ask.

Jason nods frantically. "Yeah, yeah, please, c'mon, plea—hnngh."

"It's only the tip, sweetheart," you say, gleeful at the way Jason's eyelids flutter.

You rub his legs, then move to grab his waist instead. Your hands aren't even close to touching. Jason's stomach bunches in rolls, simultaneously strong and soft.

"'S big," Jason says, stomach tensed as you keep pushing in.

"I know," you say, ego tripping at the fact that you've only pushed in a little and Jason's already tightening around you. "Gotta relax for me, honey pie. Know my cock is big in your little hole."

You hear him force out deep breaths through his nose. Slowly, inch by inch, you bully your way inside. The strap presses back inside of you and rubs your clit, but not so much that it's a full distraction. You're still able to focus on the fact that you're stuffing Jason.

"Good?" you ask, a little strained from the pressure. The strap sinks further into you.

Jason nods, mouth parted in a tight moan. "Good, oh m'God. Y'dick feels so good."

You bite your lip and resist the urge to hammer away at him. You have to take it slow.

"If I had my way, you'd never get to fuck me," you say. "I'd be inside of you all day, baby. Every time I got hard, I'd fill you up."

Jason moans, lifting his hips so you can fuck him deeper. You hover over him, hands on either side of his head. You dip your mouth to his neck.

"Is that what you want?" you ask, breath hot on his ear. "Wanna get fucked everyday? Wake up with my dick in you?"

You look down and watch your strap slide in and out. The sight makes your brain buzz. All it took was a little petting and Jason's wet and easy for you.

"I... I can fuck ya too," he squeezes out. "Do it a lot."

You coo. "But I'm bigger than you, sweetie. And I last longer. Maybe I should tie up your stupid dick so you won't cream your pants every time I pet you a little. You need to be trained before you can fuck me again."

You bottom out before Jason can reply, his words melting into a high moan.

"How do I feel?" you ask, wrapping an arm around Jason's leg. He lets you push it back further, not even hesitating at the stretch.

"Feel s'good inside a'me," he says, blinking to focus. "Ah, p-please move, please, baby, gonna be so good, be so good for you—"

So you move. Now, the stimulation on your clit and inside of you is at its height. You chase the pleasure, the build of your orgasm.

Jason's being good, holding his legs open, even though his arms are shaking.

"I fuck you on my cock and you're already shaking?" you ask, diving down to bite the junction of his neck and shoulder. You busy yourself with marking him up, sucking his skin, until—

"Uh, uh, mmgh!"

Unintelligible sounds make you lift your head. Jason's eyes are wet in the corners.

"Th-there, right there—"

You thrust again and Jason's entire body tightens. Precum dribbles steadily from his cock.

Jason's not the only one who learns fast.

"Don't touch yourself," you say. "Hands off. Got it?"

He nods. "Got it. Please, please can ya—"

Again and again, you hit that magical spot, perfecting your angle in the process. Jason's moans become high, aching whimpers. His entire face and chest are red. Sweat beads on his forehead. His cock is steadily leaking onto his stomach.

Meanwhile, your own orgasm builds, the strap thrusting into you with every move. You feel that familiar curl of lightning low in your belly.

Jason's eyes are squeezed tight now and he sounds like he's crying a little bit. You don't stop your brutal pace.

"Gonna!" he cries, and it's the only warning you get before Jason comes all over his stomach and chest.

"Almost there," you pant, focusing on your release. Jason whines with each additional thrust, and you ease off, trying to keep them shallow for his sake.

It isn't long before you come too, pussy clenching around the strap while it's still inside of Jason. He moans when you come, bonelessly reaching for your body.

"T-too much," he says, voice wrecked, and you pull out, taking pity.

You roll over onto the bed, taking Jason's hand.

"Best gag gift ever," he says, after some time, and you giggle into his shoulder.

[deathbxnny]

hey i was wondering if you could do how arcane characters would react to seeing their partner looking really good dressed up?? also i love ur writing!!

Arcane characters reacting to their s/o dressed up really pretty. | Vi, Ekko, Jinx x Gn!Reader

Thank you for the request, Anon, and I hope you'll enjoy this!!<3

Content: Established romantic relationships, fluff, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VI

"Ooh... where are we going?" A wide grin rested on her lips as she watched you put on your fancy shoes and straighten out the last details of your pretty attire. "I'm going out with a couple friends." In other words, she was not invited. But Vi couldn't hear you over the sound of her mind spinning with many different thoughts.

Humming, she leaned against a wall next to you, intensely dark eyes staring you down with a glint that made you shake your head in defiance. "No." "Oh come on, Cupcake! Do you really have to go out today? I mean... I can go along. It's dangerous around this time of the night and-" "-Viiii. I can take care of myself." She pouted at your clear disagreement, hardly attempting to even hide how much she loved the way you looked.

"Aw... please? At least let me tag alone so I can show you off to everyone." Typical. And yet, you had a hard time denying her anything when her hands suddenly sneaked around your waist so smoothly. She always got what she wanted out of you in the end. Not that you necessarily minded.

"Fineeee... but keep your hands to yourself around them." You huff out whilst your heart warmed a t the sight of pure excitement on her face. But the slyness in her smirk didn't leave as she gratefully kissed your cheek and let go. "Can't promise you that when you're looking so good, unfortunately... but I'll try. For now."

Rolling your eyes with a smile, you let her happily run off to get ready, glad that she enjoyed your outfit a lot.

》EKKO

He was stunned at the sight of you emerging from the bedroom, fully dressed up so beautifully it left him speechless. The Firelights were having a huge festival in celebration of a recent successful mission, and of course, you were both expected to look your best. And you weren't the type to ever disappoint either.

It was rare to see you dressed up so nicely, the cute outfit being one he had only seen a small couple of times before due to your line of work and life circumstances. But in his mind, you looking so good was a sign of success. He wanted you to be able to dress that way every day, perhaps another motivation of his to continue going.

"How do I look?" You ask, the nervous tone in your voice making his eyes soften even further. "You look great. Who are you trying to impress, hm?" His words were playful as he grabbed your waist carefully. Ekko mirrored the shy smile that crept onto your lips at his question. "A certain someone. I don't think you know him, though." You played along, watching as he raised a brow with an unimpressed smirk.

"Hm... maybe we shouldn't go out then-" "-Oi! Why are you guys taking so long? Let's get going." Scar's voice made you both jump, as he appeared in the doorway and waved you over. A sly smirk crept onto your face as you quickly followed after the man. "Ah, there he is! See ya around, Ekko!" "Hey! I'll remember this-!" Running after you two, he couldn't help but laugh a little.

The festival was going to be great, to say the least.

》JINX

You were just trying out some new clothes you had gotten. Nothing special and definitely not for anyone else's eyes, except for hers. Once you were done, you were quick to hunt down your girlfriend to show her your outfit. "Jinx! How do I look?" You asked, a happy smile on your lips as you now stood next to her, whilst she tinkered away on some projects. Removing her googles, she glanced up at you and blinked in surprise, near speechless for a moment.

Nervously shifting under her intense gaze, you wondered if she didn't like it. "Uhm... should I go change or-" "-You look really good..." She muttered thoughtfully before a large grin crept onto her lips mischievously. "A bit too good! Makes me nearly jealous, pretty. How about you dress me up too so we can match?" You should have honestly seen this coming, as she enjoys doing cute things like that with you.

And so, you did as she asked, whilst she painted your nails to match her own. By the end of it, you looked like you were headed to a fancy event, something she found greatly amusing. Kicking a nearby radio to make it play music, she held out her hand to you with a bright smile. "Alright, let's get this party started!"

[lovebugism]

AH HI!! so... i love the way you write ditzy!reader, and especially with steve idk it just warms my heart yk? The way they interact 😭 it's so lovely

Since I'm an angsty girly at heart, I thought about a situation where steve gets a teeny tiny bit frustrated with ditzy!reader, but it's just seconds, even less than that but it's enough to make her upset for making him upset but also a super fluffy moment between both of them and steve being mesmerized by her and just so much in love

ahh thank u lovie! pls enjoy!! — steve gets frustrated with his sensitive gf and makes up with her accordingly (hurt/comfort, established relationship, 2.7k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

You keep Steve company during the last half of his shift like you always do. 

He’s grumpier than usual, though — all pouty and visibly brooding. 

You plop yourself on the front counter of Family Video and ask him what’s wrong, and he tells you that the day’s been hell and he’s just tired. There is no “but I feel better now” like there usually is when he’s upset but doesn’t want you to think it’s your fault. 

The “because you’re here” is typically implied. 

Not so much now.

You’re having the complete opposite day of your sulking boyfriend. Yours had been dreadfully boring, or at least you say it had been, but you find a million different things to tell him. You’re too excited after having spent so many hours without him, like a dog with a wagging tail. You’ve got the zoomies of the mouth, if you could even call it that.

“—And then I saw the cutest dog on the way over here. His name was Cappy, and he was huge, and the owner was so nice. He even let me pet him, and he literally felt like a cloud— the dog, not the owner.”

Steve is used to this. The whole rambling about nothing thing. He loves it about you, actually. It took him ages to coax you out of that shell after your asshole ex told you that you talked too much, convinced you that no one cared about what you had to say.

You’re more comfortable now, and Steve loves that you are, but right now he just can’t concentrate.

Keith’s been on his ass about inventory all day, and he just learned how to do it on the old, bulky computer this morning — but only after Robin made him an hour late to his shift. Everything’s just too much now. He’s overwhelmed to the point of spontaneous combustion. 

For the first time ever, you’re not helping.

“—And, like, I know when we move into our apartment, we’re technically not allowed to have pets, but like… What about a fish? Or a turtle?” you wonder aloud but don’t stop to let him answer. Sitting on the edge of the counter, you kick your feet and flit your eyes to the spotted ceiling. “What if I start feeding the deer in the woods, and they just start showing up at our backdoor? ‘Cause technically—”

“Babe, please,” Steve snaps suddenly when your sneaker knocks his chair. He’s buzzing with anger, and even though it’s not because of you, he doesn’t know where else to put it.

Your eyes go wide at the newfound bite in his tone. He’s not shouting at you, but it makes your heart stop like he is. You feel like a kid again, getting scolded for being “too much.”

“…What?” you squeak.

Steve sighs. A deep, heavy sigh. It doesn’t remove the leaden weight from his chest, though. 

“I’m… I’m really trying to concentrate here, and you’re just— you’re making it really hard,” he tells you through gritted teeth, trying hard to keep his composure.

You deflate like a popped balloon. “Oh…”

He can hear the waver in your tone, the way your voice sounds wet with unshed tears. But he’s too overwhelmed — internally raging and selfish with it. His sweltering temper makes his woe feel more important than yours.

“Yeah, so… Can you just— go bother someone else for, like, five minutes?” he asks, fists clenched on either side of the clunky keyboard, his gaze concentrated on the pixelated screen. “Robin’s probably sulking in a corner somewhere. Go find her.”

Your face crumbles like a balled-up piece of paper. Your chest gets all tight, and your eyes start to burn when tears gather behind them.

You’d always been a flower of melodrama — blooming eternally and constantly sensitive. So when Steve cut you off as you fantasized about a family of deer living in the backyard of an apartment you were supposed to share together, it felt like a knife in your chest. 

The irrational thought that he no longer wanted any of that with you was fleeting and vivid and burning. Irrational, still.

But now you’re annoying him. He’s told you as much, with an unusual harshness he’s never spat at you before. And now your fears feel much more real.

“I’m bothering you?” you ask him, barely intelligible through the whimper in your throat.

Steve huffs again. His elbows thunk against the desk when he puts his head in his palms, swiping his fingers through his hair like he always does when he’s antsy. 

“I just really need to get this done,” he tells you, softer now. He makes himself mad all over again, though, and gets sharper once more. “I need to finish this before I get fired, and then we have no apartment to move into because we have no money, alright?”

There it is. The root of all his anger. A lingering feeling of inadequacy. 

He wants a life with you, but all he’s got is a measly Family Video salary — which he’s lucky to have apparently, because he can’t seem to do anything right. It stirs like a fire in the pit of his stomach.

After another deep breath, he finally turns to look up at you. His honey eyes are wet and stern. The chiseled edges of his features are sharp. Gently, he pleads. “I really need to work here, babe.”

You nod, understanding and internally weeping. “Okay. I’m— I’m sorry, I was just— I’ve been missing you all day, and I got too excited, I think,” you confess, wringing your clammy hands in your lap like a scolded child.

“Don’t apologize,” Steve says with a huff, leaning back against the squeaking swivel chair. It’s old and has lost all its cushion. His stiff back aches all the more. There’s no relief, to any of it. 

He sits back up again and puts his unsure hands back on the keyboard. “Just— Just go, okay? Let me finish this.”

He leaves little room for argument.

You wouldn’t, though, even if you wanted to. Which you do. You’re just not strong enough.

—————

Steve tells you to go, but you end up in the kiddie corner across the store. 

Mr. Rogers puts on a bright red cardigan and sings a tune that makes you feel like crying. You sit on the color-blocked carpet, surrounded by block toys, and clutch a stuffed bunny to your chest. You can’t tell if the vintage VHS is making the screen blurry or if it’s the tears gathering heavy at your waterline.

Robin walks by you, does a double-take, and immediately reports to Steve.

“What did you do?” she interrogates with narrowed eyes, strolling up to the counter with a cart full of tapes to put away.

The hearty tap, tap, taping of the keyboard fills the silence. 

Steve doesn’t look at her until he’s finished up the last of his work. Only when it’s fully and finally complete does his hardened gaze dart to her. “What are you talking about?”

“Your girlfriend. She’s upset.”

“What do you mean she’s upset?”

Robin rolls her eyes at his obliviousness. “I don’t know. She’s singing the Mister Roger’s theme song and, like, crying. It’s weird.”

Steve’s brows pinch. His heart does, too. “Crying?”

“Well— not crying, exactly. It’s this really weird blubbering thing.” She fails to explain it so she tries to imitate it. A sobbing, sniffling sort of noise. She fails at that, too. Her scrunched face goes back to normal. “Like that.”

Deadpanned, Steve nods. “Wow, Robin. That was really helpful. Thank you.”

“Just go comfort your girlfriend, dingus.”

Steve still thinks she’s joking. Robin doesn’t lie, but she does have a tendency to overemphasize the mundane. 

He goes to see you anyway, though, and doesn’t think twice about any of it — about what Robin said or what he had said to you before that.

He finds you in the kid’s section, in front of the tiny television, surrounded by brightly colored toys. He smiles at the sight of you, exhaling a sharp laugh through his nose.

“What are you doing all the way over here, huh?” he questions to announce his arrival, which you seemingly hadn’t noticed. “This area is usually for kids, ya know? Well, kids and Dustin Henderson.”

He doesn’t sound as annoyed with you anymore. You’re grateful for that much, but you still feel a bit sick about the whole thing.

Your nervous hands pick the cotton of the fuzzy bunny in your arms. You keep your gaze on the television in front of you, but you aren’t really watching it anymore. “I used to watch this stuff a lot growing up. The nostalgia sorta makes me wanna puke. But, like, in a good way.”

Steve scoffs. “Well, maybe we should turn it off then, ‘cause if I have to clean up vomit after the day I’ve had, I might actually go insane.”

He’s kidding. Mostly. The universe tends to be cruel like that, but he’d clean up all your messes a thousand times over if he had to.

He laughs at his own joke as he crouches to sit down next to you. He bends his knees, props his arms on top of them, and looks over at you. You don’t crack a smile for him, which is weird because you always laugh at his jokes. Even the ones that aren’t funny. Especially the ones that aren’t funny.

His smile ebbs to a wavering half-smirk as he knocks his shoulder with yours. “You okay?”

You think for a moment, jutting your lips out, unblinking at the television screen. “No,” you answer after a few seconds of silence. “But I’ll get over it. I think.”

Your honesty makes his heart wrench — like you’ve wrapped both your tiny hands around the beating organ and squeezed. It knocks the breath out of his lungs, a fish so ruthlessly pulled from the water. He tries to speak through the sudden lack of air. “Wh—What happened? Was it… Did I do something? Did you—”

“No,” you cut off his stammering with a firm shake of your head. “I did something.”

“Oh,” is all he says, pink lips pouting and wide eyes darting. “What does… What does that mean? Did you, like, step on a rogue VHS or something? ‘Cause I do that all the time, and technically, that’s Rob’s fault for leaving them out, so—”

You shake your head again, digging your nails into the delicate cotton of the well-loved stuffy in your arms. “No. I was just— I was botheringyou, and now I feel bad,” you confess, all quiet like a meek child who’s learning what it means to be sorry.

Steve — your oh, so oblivious one — goes aflame with embarrassment. He’d been too clouded by his own anger to recognize the venom spilling from his mouth; to understand that it would inevitably hurt you.

With chiseled features twisted in confusion, he shakes his head and stammers. “What? No! You weren’t— You weren’t bothering me!”

You turn to look at him, for the first time since he sat down beside you. Your eyes are glassy and swimming with hurt. You try to keep your trembling features stoic. You don’t want to seem as hurt by it all as you really are. 

You feel like you should, anyway. What right do you have to be sad when you were the one being a bother?

“You said I was,” you remind him, still soft but sterner now. “You told me to go bother someone else—”

“Oh, babe…” Steve says, deflating just as you had. 

He knows how sensitive you are, how deeply you feel things. You’re vulnerable, raw — it makes everything feel more personal than it really is. It makes grumpy jabs from your dumbass boyfriend hurt like a lemon on a weeping wound.

He tries to apologize, knowing that he hurt you and that it’s not up to him to decide that he didn’t. 

“I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to, babe,” he murmurs, swiping a tense hand through his hair and then gesticulating wildly with it. “I was just being a dick, you know? I’ve been super stressed all day and—”

“Don’t apologize. I was being annoying.”

Steve blinks at you with wide, wet eyes — like you’ve hurt him by talking so cruelly about yourself. 

“Baby, no. No,” he urges, ducking down to meet your gaze when you look away from him. “I’m just an idiot, okay? I put off inventory until the last second, and Keith’s been on my ass all day about it, and I just— I took that out on you, and that’s not fair, and I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, pursing your bitten lips to the side and twisting the long ear of the bunny between your fingers. “It’s not your fault, Steve…” you murmur, almost inaudibly.

He scoffs. It sounds like a bitter laugh. “Well, actually, it kinda is.”

“I just… I don’t really understand what’s going on sometimes. Or, like, a lot of the time,” you admit with a distracted gaze, eyes flitting everywhere but to the boy beside you. You’re too ashamed to look at him now. “And it’s harder for me to know when I’m talking too much, you know? Or if I’m being super annoying.”

“I know…” Steve nods, trying his best to be sympathetic of you. He loves how soft you are — too much to understand you completely. He loves how gently you treat the rest of the world, how unusually giddy you get in your gentleness. 

You swallow through a tightening throat and shrug to pretend your world doesn’t feel like it’s crumbling around you. “And I don’t care about annoying other people— well, I do, but it’s different with you, you know? Other people can’t break up with me for being too much.”

“The idiot that told you you were too much had exactly zero personality,” Steve tells you, mostly because he means it but also to see you smile. 

You do, just barely. A grin so soft only someone deathly in love with you could see. 

“You’re never annoying me, okay? Ever. I love hearing you talk. I love having you around.”

“Yeah?” you ask him, blinking back burning tears.

“Hell yeah! You’re, like, the best part of my day! The only good part of my day, now that I think about it.”

Biting back a grin, you tease, “Well, what about Robin?”

“Robin made me late today, so we’re kinda not friends right now.”

“That’s mean,” you scold despite the growing smile on your face.

Steve shrugs. “We’ll make up before I clock out. No big deal.”

You go suddenly shy, smiling sheepish and tilting your chin to your chest to peek at him through your lashes. “Are we gonna make up before you clock out?” you wonder quietly.

“Only if you’re willing to forgive me for being an insufferable douchebag,” Steve answers, only half-joking. He very seldomly feels worthy of your softness.

You look at him with it, anyway. 

Full on beaming now, you reach across the short distance to wrap him in a firm embrace. The position is only slightly awkward. Sitting side by side with your asses on the hard carpet, your arms wound tightly around his neck — a bit like a snake smothering its prey. 

Steve feels grateful to be held so ardently. 

His nose smushes into your neck. The sweet scent of your perfume entwines with the warm scent of your sweater. He smiles into your shoulder when it makes you giggle. You pull back from him then, just to steal a quick peck a moment later. Your lips smack audibly against his grin.

“Can we make out before you clock out?” you lilt with a shy smirk.

“…That is the single best idea I’ve heard all day.”

Your giggle fills the empty store when Steve rises suddenly and pulls you with him. He leads you toward the back, tugging you by the hand down the short corridor and rambling all the way. “Keith left for the day, so his office is empty, which means it’s fair game—”

“I am not making out with you in Keith’s office!”

“But his desk chair is crazy comfortable, and also, he’s a dick, so… who cares?”

[notsunnyowo]

Iᖴ YOᑌ ᑕᗩᑎ'T ᗷEᗩT TᕼEᗰ - ᒍOIᑎ 'Eᗰ

Part 2

Summary: Gojo Satoru is known for being a flirt, but what happens when he gets a taste of his own medicine?

Content: Fluff, Flirt! Gojo, Female! Reader (AFAB), Gojo getting flustered, Teen! Gojo x Teen! Reader (Reader is the same age as Gojo)

Word Count: 778

It was well known that the infamous head of the Gojo-clan was a huge flirt. And understandably so. He was a striking young man with good looks that could rival the ones of even the Greek gods. Not to mention the personality to match.

He was a cocky little bastard. Always using his good-looks to his advantage. Didn't feel like paying the regular price for a double scooping of ice cream? - He'd just charm the vendor into giving him a "customer discount". Wanted to get into the VIP lounge of some club? - No problem. One wink, paired with a flirty comment towards the security was all it took for him to waltz right in like he owned the place.

Everyone knew he liked having things his way. After all, no one had ever opposed the strongest. And gotten away with it at least-

You supposed that's what ultimately resulted in his unique personality. . .

His boyish charm worked on almost anyone.

Except you.

There were only a handful of people that could resist Satoru's charming attitude and you were one of them. And for some reason it only made you a target more than everyone else.

But could you really blame Satoru for wanting to make the cute new girl wrapped around his fingers?

He just found you so interesting (not to mention adorable) whenever you rolled your eyes at his flirty pick-up line, brushing him off as if he wasn't the Satoru Gojo.

You were absolutely perfect.

One could only imagine the look on his face when you actually responded to his flirty comments.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" Satoru spoke in his usual charming tone as he leaned over your desk. "Don't you have someone else to bother Gojo?" Raising your head from the book you were reading, Satoru was met with your unamused expression. Letting out a dramatic sigh, Satoru answered. "No. Suguru's out on a mission and Yaga-sensei called Shoko to his office not too long ago. Said something about practicing for a medical exam, whatever that means." "Which means that you, sweet girl, get to spend the evening with yours truly." He added, flashing you his signature boyish grin. Rolling your eyes at his comment, you said sarcastically. "Gee. How lucky am I?" Grinning like the dork he was, Satoru completely dismissed your unenthusiastic tone and simply carried on with his 'speech'. "Don't get too excited now. I wouldn't want Suguru getting jealous." "But then again- Who wouldn't get jealous over the lovely little lady that gets to spend the evening with me?" He continued on with his 'speech'. Letting out a defeated sigh, you looked up at the white haired sorcerer. What was that old saying again? If you can't beat them - join 'em. "Y'know what.." You spoke up, capturing Satoru's attention. "You're absolutely right." "Oh?" The boy hummed, raising a brow at your response. Had he finally gotten to you? "Definitely." You chirped, shifting in your seat. "Heh, I knew you'd see it eventually." Gojo commented, his cocky grin resurfacing once more. "After all, it was only a matter of time till you fell for m-" His words were suddenly cut off by your hand tugging his shirt and getting him down to your level. Cerulean eyes meeting yours, Satoru could feel his heart picking up its pace at your close proximity. His breath hitched as he saw you lean in, till your noses were almost touching. "What's wrong, pretty boy?" You cooed, your grin matching the one on his face just a few moments ago. "Cat got your tongue?" There were no words to describe how fast Satoru's heart was beating in that very moment. Nor how lightheaded your words, and actions, made him feel. If his blood pressure didn't kill him you would. For once in his entire life. Satoru was left speechless. Chuckling at the flustered state you'd left him, you gently patted his rosy cheek with one hand, before pulling away. "Y'know Gojo.. You're not as bad when you shut up." You said, offering him a cheeky smile. "You should consider letting your face do all the talking next time." "Chao~" Once you were out of the room and Satoru couldn't sense your cursed energy any more, he let out an embarrassed groan as he raised a hand to cover his flushed features. He glanced back at the door you'd walked through a minute earlier as he muttered to himself, hand covering his mouth. "What a woman.~"

After that little fiasco, Satoru was never the same.

He had a new goal in his mind. Get the new girl to do that to him again.

Author Note:

OMG I did not expect my previous post to blow up this much-

THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR SUPPORT!!! <3

Also, I hope you enjoyed reading this lil' fanfic!

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ big gym energy (is this my fantasy?) | fushiguro toji

wc: 2.0k

summary: who would have thought the rippest DILF in all of Japan would get you to go to the gym everyday?

contains: gn!reader, non-curse au, college au, appearance of itafushikugi (mostly nobara), reader has a huge and lowkey delusional crush on toji, age gap

a/n: the gym toji fic! tone in this is a bit different from what i write, and it's lowkey a crack fic but i hope it's still enjoyable! listened to: big energy - latto & area codes - kaliii

part of the in's and out's new year/birthday event | request prompt: going to the gym for yourself (and totally not for that cute guy who sometimes says hi)

“You’re going to the gym?” Nobara halts smack in the middle of the busy hallway. Groans huff behind her, the rest of your class filing out of the lecture hall. You bow your head apologetically as you pull her to the side. 

“Yes.” 

She squints, skeptical, “You.” 

You nod.

“The gym.” she says it slower this time, tilting her head down. 

You nod again. 

Nobara blinks, shifting her weight as she reaches one hand inside the pocket of her overalls. There’s a long pause, rushed footsteps amplifying the suspense, then—

“Okay, what’s the bet? How much did Maki put out? I want in.” 

You roll your eyes, shaking your head as you loop your arm around hers and continue walking. 

There’s good reason for her to doubt you; she knows you best after all. In your little quad, you are the least likely to be found doing any physical activity or sport whatsoever—and that’s saying a lot, considering the other fourth of your group is Megumi. But at least he walks his dogs regularly. 

“Rude,” you scoff jokingly, “there’s no bet, just testing it out because they have a free trial promo.”

It shouldn’t hurt to check it out, you think. One of your resolutions this year is to finally get started on your fitness journey, whatever form it may be. 

“You should come.” 

Nobara snorts, “Wrong person,” you both turn at a corner, “ask Itadori.”

The gym is just a few blocks away from your campus, a good 18-minute walk if you’re counting—which is also part of what makes it so appealing. The ad you’d seen for the free trial is an early bird promo to attract new customers for the gym’s new branch launch. 

And it does make the most sense to ask him; he is the sports science major after all—

“No way,” you step out on the sidewalk, “telling him is practically committing to a membership.” 

—but Yuuji is a bit too eager when it comes to things like this. No doubt he’ll be at your heel, wagging his figurative golden retriever tail at the prospect of being your certified gym buddy. It’s endearing and you know he means well, but that’s way too much pressure for someone who’s just starting out. 

She laughs, readjusting her bag, “He’d know how to use the machines though.” 

“I watched some videos…” you mumble, because Nobara has a point, but if you’re being honest, you feel just a teensy bit embarrassed at the idea of anyone else knowing about your attempts at fitness this early on, lest it fail in the end. “I can probably ask someone there…” 

“Try the most jacked up person in the gym.” 

You shove her jokingly, her laughter echoing down the road. 

. 

The first person you meet at the gym is the lady at the front desk. Her ponytail sways as she greets you, a chirpy smile welcoming you in as she holds an iPad to her chest while touring you around—at the center, the main floor plan is decked out with machines; towards the back sit the squat racks, and to your sides are the private cycling rooms and multifunctional spaces. According to her, they also offer yoga classes every 6:00 p.m. on Wednesdays. 

You’d expected a lot more people to be in here at 7:00 p.m., but you suppose it makes sense others would prefer to spend their Friday nights elsewhere. 

Looking around, you spot a middle-aged lady you swear is Megumi’s English professor; on the treadmills, a couple your age share a laugh as they try to match pace. There are some machines you’ve never even seen in your life, Youtube videos included.

You take a deep breath. You can ask for help. 

After all, the crowd feels friendly enough, not too intimidating—

—until your eyes land on him, on the benches; an absolute tank of a man doing chest presses with what you think are probably the heaviest dumbbells on the rack. 

You try not to stare, catching only a glimpse of the way his biceps flex against the tight sleeves of his black compression shirt. 

Don’t be a creep, you tell yourself, walking towards the leg press machine. You may be new here, but you’ve learned that gym etiquette isn’t so far off from acting like a civilized human being. 

Thank god you never take Nobara seriously, because you can’t even imagine the stuttering mess you’d be if you had to ask him how to work any of these god forsaken machines. 

.

It’s a good thing, then, that help comes to you without you having to say a word. 

This is number four out of five sessions in your free trial promo, and you have no idea how to get the goddamn plates out of the barbell. You pull some out from the other side and the whole barbell comes along with it. When you attempt the other side, it does the same. Then when you finally do manage to get off the plates on one side, the whole barbell drops, clanging loudly against the metal foot of the squat rack set-up. 

(Now that you think about it, maybe it isn’t such a good thing that you’ve been offered help instead of you asking. There must be a reason someone thinks you could need it.)

Someone, who is also the last person you could ever possibly want to embarrass yourself in front of.

Someone, who just so happens to be the jacked up tank of a man you’ve admittedly glanced at a few times in your past few visits here. 

“To make it easier,” he crouches beside you, laying down a smaller plate and rolling the larger ones on the barbell over it. 

He unloads them like they weigh nothing—and with his physique, it isn’t hard to believe that they probably do. His biceps look to be the size of your head, chest popping out in ways you’ve only seen on those Tiktok thirst edits; his one hand is larger than a 2.5 kilogram plate, and his forearms look like they could ch—

Mind out of the gutter, you blink away, focusing instead on the metal bar in front of you. 

God, you don’t even know this man’s name. 

“T-thanks.” you stutter, embarrassed. 

He gives you a half-smile, lips turned on one side, “Sure.” then he walks away, the tightness of his black compression shirt hugging the ridges of his back muscles. 

You gulp. 

So begins your year-long gym membership.

(And maybe, just maybe, the kind-of-meet-cute of a lifetime. Who knows, really?) 

.

“Who would have thought the rippest DILF in all of Japan would get you to go to the gym everyday,” she snorts, fingers grazing over the curved edges of the heart-shaped watermelons in the fruit aisle.

You hush her, scanning the area around you for anyone who might have overhead. 

It’s 11:00 p.m. on a Thursday, so you doubt it, but you can never be too sure.

“He’s nice, you know.” you pout. 

“Yeah, what’s his name?” Nobara gives you a look. 

You glare, touché. 

Maybe you don’t know his name. Yet. 

But he’s always offered to stack on the heavy plates for you, and will oftentimes help in unloading them too. There are times when you aren’t quite sure how to work the machines and he swoops in like the gym buff version of prince charming, teaching you proper form just so you don’t get injured. He’ll wipe down a mat for you to use some days, because—

“Stretching is important,” he never fails to mention.

He’s nice. 

And you have an insanely delusional crush on him, but you don’t care, because why else would he be giving you this much attention if he wasn’t interested in you too? 

.

You find out many things about your gym crush, most of them completely unexpected. 

One: his hair is unusually soft for someone who looks so rough. Or, well, you think it looks soft, you can’t tell for sure; you haven’t actually touched it to be able to tell. The black mop on his head falls flat over his eyes on the few days you assume are right before his next scheduled haircut. It surprises you even more when he walks in the gym with a small hair tie holding his bangs up. 

Two: he does a considerable amount of bodyweight exercises for someone his size—Calisthenics, specifically. 

You watch him pull himself up the bar, biceps and back straining against the movement. The muscles ripple across the fabric of his tee, and it’s impressive how smoothly he’s able to go up and down; as if he isn’t exerting any effort at all. Then, the push-ups and dips. He can do them all, in every variation you never even thought existed, and it’s always done with so much ease. 

It gives you reason to believe that he could be gentle, controlled. In what? Well. You know. 

Three: he likes fruity things. You expected his go-to to be straight black, maybe a chocolate protein shake on other days too. But he shows up one day with a smoothie in the shade of vibrant magenta. Dragonfruit, you assume, from all the black specks floating in it. 

This also happens to be the first time you initiate the conversation with him.  

“Your smoothie looks good,” you mumble, a little hesitant. 

God, so awkward. 

He looks up from adjusting the plate stoppers on your bar. 

A hum rumbles from his throat before he flashes you the same half-smile he always does, “Strawberry, banana, and dragonfruit.” 

You don’t really know what to say after that other than, “Cool.” 

And you mentally facepalm yourself. 

. 

In your fourth month at the gym, you learn a few more unexpected things that change everything. 

You’ve just finished freshening up and you’re on the way out when you bump into— 

“Megumi?” 

He looks up from his phone, dark strands hitting the tips of his eyelashes as he pushes back one side of his headphones. He raises an eyebrow, confused and surprised.  

“You gym?” 

“What’re you doing here?” 

Pink dusts his cheeks as he ducks his head, motioning for you to go first. 

“Sorry,” you chuckle, adjusting the strap of your duffel bag, “I started going here a few months ago. You?” 

He looks a little surprised by it, probably more so at the fact that you’ve kept it a secret from him for so long, but he nods, “That’s good. You did mention wanting to work on your fitness more this year.” then, he shifts, adjusting his weight before hanging his headphones by his neck. 

“I’m waiting for my dad.” 

In the past few years you’ve known Megumi, he’s never mentioned his dad. You never bothered to ask because you suspected there was a good reason he never talked about him in the first place. 

And so comes number four, and maybe the last unexpected thing you find out about your gym crush— 

“Megumi!” 

You both turn around to the voice of none other than Nobara’s proclaimed rippest DILF in Japan; the most jacked up tank of a man who also happens to be the man you’ve crushed hard on for the past four months.  

Everything is snapping into place, information forming bridges you would rather not cross right now. 

He walks up to Megumi, duffel bag slung across his chest as he reaches for your friend.

Megumi looks like he wants to wither away, embarrassed at you seeing him tucked under his dad’s arm. But all your brain can really comprehend is that Megumi, your good friend, is currently squished between the bicep and chest you’ve been staring at since your first day at the gym.

You hold your breath, the realization creeping to the forefront of your mind. There had been signs that your gym crush was a dad; apart from being built like one, he’d offhandedly mention ‘son’ a few times. You didn’t think it would be—

“Oh, you two know each other?” your gym crush tilts his head, turning to you, “you didn’t tell me your friend signed up for this gym, Megumi.” 

“I didn’t know,” Megumi grumbles, and the look on his face can rival yours, for sure. Tough competition on ‘who looks like they want to die the most right now?’. 

But he can’t win. 

Because when Megumi begrudgingly introduces your gym crush to you as his dad, you’re pretty sure you’ve buried yourself twelve feet underground. 

(It doesn’t ease the embarrassment when you learn unexpected thing number five: he’s been a trainer at the gym this entire time.)

thank you notes: to @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat for encouraging me all the way!! ily ari

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[babygirlwritessmut]

♡︎ part5. front-row tickets to the show

・❥・pairing: vi (arcane) x fem!reader

・❥・ summary: you’ve got in a huge fight with Vi about last night, there are two options now. either you lose her forever or make things right

・❥・ genre: smut + grumpy x sunshine

・❥・ word count: 2.6k

✎ warnings: 18+, SMUT, dom!vi, swearing, teasing, verbal fight, drug use (weed)

MINORS DNI!

RIDE ON ME masterlist

thank God it's Saturday, so you’re not missing any classes because of your hangover. it felt like your head was going to split open the moment you opened your eyes. it took you nearly an hour after waking up to finally lift your body out of bed. what drove you was an overwhelming thirst, but even if water had run out in the entire world, you still wouldn’t have gone to the kitchen after last night. drinking straight from the tap it is, then.

the terrible metallic taste of the water made you grimace, but it was such a relief to finally quench your thirst. you grabbed some ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet, praying that it would save you from this headache.

finding your phone, you were surprised to see 15 text messages from your classmates. they had created a group chat called "rum and cola," how very funny. just the thought of alcohol made you nearly gag right there on the floor. you texted them back, saying you were fine and that you'd fill them in on Monday. "what will I even say?"

after that, you fell asleep again, waking up to the delicious smell of chicken later in the evening. that aroma pulled you to the door, where you stood listening. it seemed like someone was cooking in the kitchen. you dragged yourself to the shower, freshened up, and finally took off that damn dress, replacing it with some home shorts and a T-shirt. for at least ten minutes, you hesitated by the door, thinking of what to say to Vi. it reminded you of the day you two first met, how you stood at the door rehearsing a line. that memory made you smile, and you felt a warmth inside - probably the only normal evening you’d had since living here.

“okay, just stay calm,” - you muttered to yourself as you opened the door, and the mouthwatering smell of chicken hit you, making you close your eyes and savor it.

“after a rough night, you should get plenty of sleep and a good meal. you’ve already done the first, so now sit on the couch, dinner will be ready in five minutes,” - Vi said in a calm voice, but there was a slight tension in her body.

you looked at her with nervous eyes - "we need to talk, but how?" - and you quietly made your way to the couch, sitting on the edge, hands on your knees, rubbing them together from the anxiety.

“thanks for making me dinner,” - you said sincerely, forcing a smile, hoping she’d look at you.

“I'm cooking for myself, but I can't let you die of a hangover,” - she replied in that same cold tone, not even looking at you, as if you were talking to her back.

"no, not now, I can't just pretend nothing happened," - you thought, feeling tears prick at your eyes. "we have to talk, something happened between us, and I have so many emotions, I feel like I'm going to burst."

“Vi, thank you,” - you said, your voice trembling a bit.

“you already thanked me for dinner, remember?” - she said, still not turning to you as she continued cooking the chicken.

“no, I mean... thank you for taking me home last night. sorry about that stupid joke on the phone. and thank you for...” - you paused, your eyes shifting to her pink hair as you stared at the back of her head. “thank you for not taking advantage of me last night. I wasn’t myself,” you blurted out in a single breath.

Vi's muscular shoulders tensed slightly at your words, and she raised her head, staring at the wall in the kitchen for a few seconds before lowering it again and resuming her cooking. that reaction only upset you more, turning your tears into anger. you jumped to your feet, shouting across the kitchen, - “why won't you look at me?! we almost… at least talk to me! I'm already ashamed of my behavior, and you're not helping!”

when Vi finally turned to you, her face was filled with a level of anger you’d never seen before. “are you fucking kidding me? who do you think you are?” - she growled, stepping toward you until she was just an arm's length away. your face twisted in shock. “you said Kate was bad, but at least she doesn’t pretend to be some good girl who goes to class during the day and then gets so drunk at night that she doesn’t know who she's spreading her legs for," - she spat, her face flushed with rage.

“what? why are you so angry with me?” - you asked, wiping away your tears.

“because you've been here for three days, and you're already causing more problems than if you'd lived here for a year. you invade my life, eavesdrop when I'm having sex, tease me, get wasted, then beg to be fucked, rubbing up against me like I'm some toy for you to play with, and then the next morning you say I could have taken advantage of you?” - Vi was barely holding back from exploding in fury.

“but I just wanted to thank you,” - you stammered in confusion.

“I’d like to see how your classmate you were grinding on will be able to stop himself next time when you're lying there in front of him with wet panties, moaning about how badly you want to be fucked,” - her words were like knives, cutting deep. you couldn't hold back your tears anymore, they streamed down your face as you looked at Vi in stunned disbelief.

she just lowered her head for a few seconds, then threw the towel she had been holding at you and turned to leave, saying, “finish cooking yourself. I see you've got your energy back. enjoy your meal.”

at night, you couldn't sleep. her words still hurt you. yes, you acted strangely, you crossed a line. you turned to the window, looking at the stars - "maybe I should find another place to stay?". you sat on the bed, tucking your knees under yourself, lowering your head onto them, and holding it with your hands. “no, I have to fix this, she helped me.”

with these words, you headed straight to Vi's room - no more rehearsals or games, you had to say what was on your mind. it was quiet in her room, it was late, and she might be sleeping. “Vi, are you awake?” - you asked softly, and after a moment, you heard a moving in the room. “I know you hear me. can I come in?” - you asked carefully.

“come in,” - Vi's voice came from behind the door. you opened the door and stepped into her room. you noticed a punching bag, an unmade bed, posters of bands you had never heard of, clothes scattered on the floor, and an open window with an ashtray on the sill containing a lit joint. you walked over to her, Vi was sitting on the bed, so you sat down next to her.

“can I?” - you asked, gesturing to the joint.

“help yourself,” - she said. you took a drag from the joint and placed it back. the thick smoke instantly filled your mind, making you feel a bit lighter.

“I wanted to apologize for my behavior. I know you wouldn't have done anything that I would've regretted in the morning. It's just that I feel an intense pull toward you,” - you said, looking her in the eyes. “I've never felt like this before, I think I just don't know how to act around you,” - you exhaled.

Vi continued to look you straight in the eyes.

you went on, - “I'm sorry for acting yesterday like you were just some toy that didn't mean anything. please understand, we haven't spent much time together, but I think about you constantly - I wake up with thoughts of you, and I fall asleep with them. I hope you're not mad at me.” - you took a deep breath before saying, - “In the morning, I'll start looking for another place to stay, and I'll try to move out by the end of next week.” Vi just stared at you attentively, not saying a word.

“thank you for listening. I'm sorry if I disturbed you,” - you said as you were about to get up and leave, but Vi grabbed your hand and pulled you toward her.

your lips met, and for a moment, you sat there with your eyes open, not quite understanding what was happening, until you finally surrendered to her soft lips. the kiss was so gentle that you almost melted, and then she reluctantly pulled away. Vi looked into your eyes, gently caressing your cheek.

“Vi, what…?”

“forgive me too, cupcake,” - she said softly. “I didn't mean to hurt you with my words tonight. yes, you made me really mad, but that's no excuse. what you said about me taking advantage of you - it really hit me. what happened between us was one of the most real moments I've felt in a long time. you coming into my life turned everything upside down.” - she continued to hold your surprised face in her hands.

“I couldn't stand the thought of anyone else touching you, other than me. I would never hurt you or do anything without your consent.”

you reached for another kiss, this time more passionate, as her strong arms pulled you closer by the waist. your legs practically went weak from that movement. she was so captivating and mesmerizing. your lips intertwined, and you kissed her so fervently that you started to run out of breath. finally, you broke away for air, looking into her eyes once again.

“and if I gave you my consent? what would you do?" you asked, and the question made Vi smirk. she leaned in close to your neck and placed a gentle kiss, sending shivers down your spine. then, she whispered in a seductive voice into your ear, “I'd take you right here, undress you, and lay you on the bed. I wouldn’t rush - I’d explore every inch of your body. after I made you come, I'd have you everywhere - in the kitchen, on the couch, in the shower. I'd do things to you that would make you blush just thinking about them."

her confession made a wave of heat rise in your lower abdomen, and you closed your eyes, picturing the scene. you were brought back to reality by another kiss on your neck.

“then consider that you have my permission,” - you said, tilting your head to give her better access to your neck. but she pulled back and gave you the most seductive look.

“don't joke like that, cupcake,” - she said, leaning in to lick your lips.

"Vi, I want you. take me," - you said, and that was all she needed to hear.

Vi closed the distance between you so fast that you didn't even have time to blink. her lips devoured you hungrily. you ran your hands over her muscular arms, passionately kissing her lips. realizing the effect her touch had on you, she pulled you even closer with those strong arms. the heat radiating from her body was almost scorching, and you felt her heavy breath against your chest. her hands roamed over your back until one cold palm slipped under your shirt and settled on your waist. the unexpected chill against your heated skin made you moan. Vi noticed and smiled, pausing the kiss for a second. it was so seductive that you rolled your eyes back.

you tangled your hand in her hair, tugging it just slightly, which made Vi's neck arch toward you. you ran your tongue along her neck, and a low groan escaped her lips - the sexiest sound you had ever heard in your life.

taking advantage of the moment, you pressed your hand against her chest, pushing her back onto the pillow. her disheveled pink hair, swollen lips, and that sly smile drove you wild. wasting no time, you straddled her so that her thigh was between your legs. you loved the feel of her solid body beneath you. wrapping your legs around hers tighter, you arched your back, feeling the pressure against your core, which sent waves of pleasure through your body.

when Vi saw you arching on top of her, it was like she completely lost control to the desire surging through her. she grabbed you by the shirt and bit down on your neck, causing a moan to rip out of your throat that echoed through the room.

“do you like being on top, cupcake?” - Vi murmured into your neck, the vibration from her sultry voice traveling straight from your neck to your pussy. if you weren't sure how wet you were before, it was undeniable now, as a wet spot began to appear on your shorts.

“you said you wanted me to ride on you. I'm giving you front-row tickets to the show,” you winked at her.

the idea that you remembered her words drove Vi wild.

“don't stop then," she whispered almost breathlessly.

you continued to move your hips, taking pleasure in the pressure building between your legs. Vi pulled off your shirt and practically growled when she realized you weren't wearing a bra. "I wonder how she'll react to the fact that I'm not wearing any panties either," - you thought to yourself, biting your lower lip.        

Vi tossed your shirt to the floor and leaned back on the pillow, enjoying the show. your soft moans filled the room, the way you threw your head back, moved your hips, and hold her leg in front of you with your hands, bringing your tits together - it was like a drug to her. she placed one hand on your thigh, helping you to move a little faster, while the other reached up to your breasts.

when Vi's fingers touched your nipples, you rolled your eyes back. her touches were slow and deliberate, as if she wanted to savor every moment. her thumb started to gently massage your hardened nipple, pinching and teasing them, giving attention to every inch of you while you rode on her desperately.

you felt the wave of your orgasm building, so you began to move faster. Vi noticed it too, gripping your hips with both hands, guiding and encouraging your movements. your moans grew louder, and when you finally looked down at her, you saw the way she was watching you - her eyes taking in every move you made. her gaze was so intense that you almost wanted to hide, yet at the same time, you wanted to show her how proud you are to be hers.

as you were on the brink of your climax, you heard the words that drove you over the edge, "yes, cupcake, come for me."

[willyoubemycherryy]

Hypervision.

Older!Logan x reader

Warnings: cursing, flirting, s3xual innuendos but they’re tame I SWEAR, age gap, alcohol mention, one petname, cliffhanger :3

𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒆42 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖♡´ ◕ ᴗ ◕ ｡ `♡ : @th3mrskory @smutinlove @inthetub @multifandom-random @multifandom-rand0m @fictionalmen-dilflover

part 1 .❄︎.

[2]_car karaoke is just conversation

°

°

°

“Hey driver…”

Logan looks at you through the rear view mirror as your lilting voice reaches his ears. He briefly considers ignoring you for the sake of keeping things professional and because he could already hear the bit of mischief in your tone but decides to humor you, responding with a soft hum.

“I was just making a guess before but I really gotta ask- are you any fun?” When you were told there’d be a change in your team, nothing major just a new driver, he was not what you imagined. You had pictured someone bland and…inconspicuous; the man in front of you was anything but. For starters, he was huge. Standing at least 6’3 with thick dark hair peppered with gray strands and a beard that matched, a strong nose that contrasted such dreamy eyes. Even though he was clearly silverfox/beekeeping age older, you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t gorgeous.

You hear a light scoff after a minute, almost forgetting you ever even asked anything while looking at him.

“I wouldn’t bet on it. M’ too old for fun, kid”, he says and your heart jumps at how deep his voice is. There was definitely a backstory to the rasp, a low timbre that’s mixed parts alluring and mixed part warning but his answer piques your interest and you can’t help asking-

“How old are you?”

Logan can’t say 200 b.c and it feels suspicious to pass your question altogether, deciding to settle for how old he’d pass for in normal human years.

Your eyes widen as you pinch your lips in to hide the growing smile. God bless beekeepers. Logan notices your silence and glances at you through the mirror. He doesn’t really care about your reaction (in denial) but he’s curious enough to look yet you’re not looking at him any differently, still grinning in that way that makes him weary but also like he needs to keep an eye on you. Still, there’s a few things he wants to ask about. Not willing to be the only one put on the hot seat.

“How old are you?” Your eyes pop wider and you’re quiet for a second longer than what’s comfortable making him wonder if you’ll answer. It wouldn’t surprise him if you didn’t, a big part of your image is your mystery-

“I turned 22 a couple of weeks ago”, you say lightly and a bit of trepidation creeps into his system because he knew you were young but christ. You laugh again at the poorly concealed shock on his face as you scoot forward, wrapping your arms around the headrest of the seat next to his as you lean your face against it. It’s quiet for a bit but the silence isn’t uncomfortable, even with the slight shift in the atmosphere at how much closer you are to him, Logan doesn’t exactly mind it. Glancing at the gps, there’s still about 30 minutes left until you reach where he’s taking you but traffic might change that.

There’s a light sigh next to his ear and before he can look, your hand is reaching over to flick on the radio and suddenly he’s listening to a song called “indigo” by a woman named Niki while you grin innocently. “So…since you’ll be with us for a while unless you turn out to be a serial killer or stalker-“ Logan smirks in amusement at that, “what’s your name?” You ask, watching confusion flicker across his features before he snaps his head to face you at the red light, your heart quickening as he looks directly at you.

“What? Kid, nobody told you?” It didn’t make sense to him because if he was to be technically working for you then someone should have already passed the basics of who he was- on paper at least- to you but you shake your head.

“No. All I got from my manager was that he’d get someone to hire a new chauffeur so he wouldn’t have to keep driving me to everything.” Huh. So there were some things that Logan wasn’t the only one in the dark on. You clear your throat to remind him that you’re still waiting. He won’t admit but for some reason, it’s charming, the bit of attitude vaguely familiar.

“Well, I don’t know your name either”, he says but you’re not buying it.

“Of course you do-“

“No. Your real name.” You pout as Logan waits. It’s your move and you hesitate. “Besides, it’s not like you need my name for me to do my job.” Your frown deepens at that as the silence persists and Logan decides he’s humored you enough. Not wanting to get close or involve yourself with him anymore than what was strictly necessary but you want to push for just a little bit more. Your playlist is nothing but distractible noise in the background as it plays while you think, leaning back.

“Nobody knows my real name though. So it’s nothing personal,” You whine.

“I know.”

“Then-” Logan cuts you off, “then it’ll be our secret. Well, mostly yours but I’m no snitch, sweetheart.” Your heart leaps at the petname rolling off his tongue in that smooth drawl and you hum softly at that because you already knew he wasn’t the dishonest type just by the way he carried himself.

“But..” you start and Logan finishes, “but what kid?”

Stormy hazel eyes find your form again and he’s not sure what to make of you, not sure if he he needs to find out. It’s too soon to tell but you’re odd, cheeky, curious but you aren’t rude despite your status…charming too.

“But you can’t keep calling me kid, the same way I just can’t keep calling you driver”, you say sounding like the exact definition of petulance.

“Why not?”, Logan sighs back. Unbothered with his eyes one the road as you get closer to your destination.

“Take a wild guess”, and just to get you off his case…

“Because it sounds like a cheap porno?” The way your jaw drops makes him smirk, especially since you’re quiet then. But not for long.

“Yeah but that’s okay since the backseat is big enough…” Logan’s eyes pop open and he inhales sharply, a quick image of you on him in said backseat as he wills himself not to look at you. Hearing you shift in your seat but silent after, lost in thought.

It’s no big deal, it’s just a name…but nobody else knows except your manager. Taking a long look at him, you see the hardness of his features, the “stay away” cloud around him and make your choice.

“It’s…” your voice comes out in an almost hushed whisper and it’s soft, you heart pounding with anxiety until he repeats it. Low and reverent, it makes you warm and you nod your head at him, indicating it was his turn.

“…Logan.”

“Logan what?” He cuts you a look out the corner of his eye. You were pushing it.

“Logan Howlett. No more questions.” You smile, nodding. Logan Howlett. It suited him, both rugged and pretty. You could see yourself screaming it. You know….in case of emergency.

“Alright Eazy-E, no more questions.” Logan shoots you another glare but says nothing. The rest of the ride is mostly just music and your voice when you’d sing along. “You don’t talk much do you?” His answering hum tells you all you need to know.

Logan looks at the screen, you’ll be there in less than 5 minutes and he hums. The drive was more tolerable than he thought it’d be. “Where am I taking you anyway?”

“A close friend of mine’s birthday party. She picked the club so don’t judge me.” You put your hands up in defense of your innocence, the timing for it perfect when he pulls up to the front of a club named ‘The Naked Strip’.

Putting the car in park, Logan gets out and walks over to your side, opening the door as you get out. Using his arm to steady yourself, you squeeze the firm muscle there and think not for the first time that night- fuck was he big. You’re grateful there are no paparazzi yet because you aren’t subtle with the way you hang onto him. Softly biting your lip as you look up at him.

Meanwhile Logan is reeling not only are you standing close enough for him to feel your silhouette, catching whiffs of your sweet smell but also because he’s seeing clearly again. He wasn’t hallucinating it the last time and nothing hurt, unlike it usually did. Hundreds of thousands raced through his mind as to what the fuck was going on with him, mainly how but you call his name before he has the chance to think down the deep end.

“Thank you for driving me, Logan”, the way you seem to purr his name makes his nape warm as tingles settle over him. Lowering his head, he doesn’t just look at you- no- he sees you. Your eyes almost glow, the glitter around them making you look every bit the siren, pink lips shiny under the light pressure of your teeth and the contrast of your pretty little outfit brushing against his suit…

Clearing his throat, Logan reminds himself that he’s not supposed to be enjoying you. This was a job. Nothing more.

“I was just doing my job. No need to thank me but you’re welcome”. You nod, smiling- “But your job is also me if you ever plan on doing that…” Logan raises a stunned eyebrow and you’re giggling before backing up a few steps as you turn to go inside. Already eager for some drinks so you can tell your best friend all about your hot new driver.

“See you in a few! Don’t wait up!”

Logan watches the clear sway of your hips until you disappear inside, getting back in the car, no limp either as he’s remembering devious doe eyes, charming voice, soft wandering hands while wondering just how fucked he is….

He finds out exactly just how much when he picks you up.

Part 3_come over?….

[marionthegeek]

Stede is in the Gravy Basket, Izzy is Alive

The season 2 finale of Our Flag Means Death is odd.  It hits weird. I think I know why. And this is going to sound bananas, but give me a chance to explain.  Maybe you’ll agree.

It has a huge tonal shift. It seems to speedrun Stede and Ed’s romance. It feels like we’ve missed out on something from the end of episode 7.  The fight scenes and pirate plans are nonsensical, even for OFMD. And most egregiously, a prominent character is killed off in a way that feels disingenuous to his story arc, just for starters.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.  We need to go back to the beginning of season 2.  The season opens with Stede looking more piratey than ever. Beard, sash, earring… oh he’s his own fantasy of a real proper pirate.  He’s clashing swords with Izzy Hands and demanding to know where Ed is. He’s dreaming. In the dream he kills Izzy. He and Ed run into each other’s arms while screaming each other’s names. They crash into the surf. Ed says “I knew you’d find me, Babe.  I knew you’d find me, Love.” Stede keeps asking if they’re good. Ed dodges the question. Then Ed asked about the smell. Stede wakes up in a crowded room with farting and shushing roommates.

At first I thought the finale was supposed to be just a “satisfying” mirror to Stede’s dream. Stede and Ed call each other’s names and run into each other’s arms in a display that resembles a more grown up version of Stede’s dream fantasy. There’s some wild sword fighting not unlike Stede’s dream duel with Izzy. And Izzy dies.

It does mirror, but I didn’t find it satisfying. All of the characters except Stede feel flattened. Stede gets to make the heroic plan (that we never even hear) while there’s at least five pirates with better skill sets for it in the room. Ed, as Blackbeard, was described last season as “History’s greatest tactician”; Zheng Yi Sao conquered China; Jackie just took out a room full of British soldiers. Izzy and Auntie are right there. You could make arguments that Jim or Frenchie, or pretty much anyone could make a better plan. Then Stede says “It’s only suicide if we die,” which is horrible considering the plan gets Izzy killed.

Stede’s really the only person in that room who thinks Stede should be making the plans.  So I got to thinking, what if it's not just mirroring the dream? What if it is a dream? Last shot of episode 7 is an incoming cannonball. Maybe he’s unconscious.

Huge shout out to @Arty_Sunflowers on twitter (I’m not calling it X, fuck Musk) for pointing out that that isn’t the only episode that ends with a cannonball. Episode 2 ends with Jim swinging a cannonball down at Ed’s head.  Stede’s not just dreaming, he’s in the Gravy Basket!!!! (Stede even screams “Oh my God!” at the end of episode 7 in the same tone he screams “Oh my God, I don’t want to die.” in s1e9.

Stede’s hopes, dreams, and insecurities shape everything in the finale. And it helps explain the absurdities in the episode when you remember that Stede is living out pulp adventure and romance novels in his head. (He even looks like someone on the cover of one in his episode 1 dream.) But Stede can’t be dead, you say. He’s literally the main character. Well, Ed was dead for a whole episode. Let’s take a closer look.

I could and probably will do another essay on Lucius as a POV character and Ed’s mental health and how the threads they seemed to have dropped aren’t as dropped as they appear. But all of that hinges on me proving the Stede is in the Gravy Basket theory. So for this essay I’m focusing on that.

So for starters we’ve got the cannonball scenes. They’re eerily similar even if the method of cannonball propulsion is different. We don’t know Ed is dead and in the Gravy Basket for about half of episode 3. Neither does he. It makes logical sense you can be there without realizing it for a while. Buttons even said Ed didn’t know whether he was in the Gravy Basket or not in episode 4. It definitely messes with your reality.

One of Ed’s issues is self hate. He manifests Hornigold as his companion. Stede is desperate to be a good pirate and have people be proud of him. And he lives in his fantasies a lot.  So his dream shapes his experience. There’s a whole bit about Zheng needing “soft” and Auntie saying she’s proud of her. That isn’t their issue. It’s discordant with the show previously. But it is Stede’s issue. He’s manifesting.

When we first see Stede and Zheng in episode 8, they’re in a familiar spot for Stede, the bridge from episode 1. But why are they alone? When we last see Stede and Zheng in episode 7, several characters are within 5 to 10 feet of them. Did none of them decide to escape with Stede? Izzy, Lucius,  and Jim are closest. But we know Pete was there begging Stede to stay down during his fight with Zheng. Archie was definitely in the bar. That's why Jim entered the fight. So why is it only Stede and Zheng at the bridge? Because, going back to rescue others fits into Stede's hero fantasies. 

Zheng and Stede also argue about who pulled who to safety and how they got there. Stede waxes poetic about being a failure his whole life, but things always seem to work out for him. He’s such a main character mediocre white guy in this scene. He saves Zheng from two random soldiers, then she has to save him from them. Then they fight a bunch more soldiers on the beach until Blackbeard manifests in full leather from the ocean.  It looks cool. But it's absurd, even for OFMD.

Speaking of Ed, he begins the episode waxing poetic about nature and calling fishermen simple.  Those things are more Stede than Ed. Pop pop tells Ed, “You have no skills” which is something Izzy said to Stede in episode 5.  He also tells Ed, “If you were ever good at something, go do that, you bum.” If Stede’s insecurities could be distilled into one sentence, it would probably be that. (He also talks about being like a wave. I’m not 100% sure it's a The Good Place joke, but it would be thematically appropriate.)

Pop pop also tells Ed he “ruined dinner.”  Back in season 1, in Stede’s flashbacks to life with Mary and the kids, Stede thinks he’s ruined dinner. But remember, we also see another version of the scene where Stede is laughing with Mary and the kids.  Stede isn’t exactly a reliable narrator. Even in his own head.

Despite it being beyond unlikely, Ed finds soldiers reading one of Stede’s letters. I know physics in this show is sketchy, but this seems like a good time to point out no one found the red silk. Stede wants Ed to read a letter and for it to fix everything between them. The letter, plus Stede being in danger, make Ed swim out, find his leathers, and emerge from the sea with them on, while the music is the Swede’s solo from Stede’s fuckery in s1e6. Stede wants to be rescued by his handsome pirate in leather, again, just like a pulp adventure romance novel. Little chance of Ed swimming out and finding his kit.  Even less of him getting leather pants on under the water.

Back to the beach… for some reason two squads of soldiers are wandering around out on an empty beach. A visually incredible fight scene occurs. It honestly reminds me of Pete’s story in s1e2, including flips. Ed and Stede yell each other’s names exactly as in the dream. Like I’m pretty sure they used the same audio track. The same song (I Love My Baby, Nina Simone) starts playing. Ed says “I love you.” Stede says “I know.” (We’ll come back to the Han Solo joke in a minute.) They have a bit more absurd fighting then Ed, Stede, and Zheng sit on the beach complimenting each other. And Ed calls Stede “babe”.  He’s never done that outside of Stede’s dream and this moment. He’s called him mate a couple of times.  Babe is exclusively in Stede’s head.

Back in the Republic of Pirates, the crew are locked in a cell that is actually the “vista suite” at Spanish Jackie’s.  Izzy gets a heroic entrance. It’s as cool as Stede thinks Izzy is. And he gives a speech that sounds like what he probably told Stede to get him to relinquish the suit in episode 5. Piracy is about belonging to something. You can’t ignore the wishes of the crew.  Izzy also knows details about Captain Kidd and Pinocchio. Not impossible, but not exactly Izzy’s wheelhouse. It is Stede’s though. He’s obsessed with pirate tales and he read Pinocchio to the crew.

Stede, Ed, and Zheng show up just as Jackie has poisoned a bunch of soldiers. Stede makes a plan, despite everyone else being more qualified. Everyone disguises themselves as soldiers. Now we’ve seen the crew of the Revenge wear disguises. They never do the weird free styling they do here. Only Stede actually looks like a British officer. Zheng at least wears the disguise properly. Suddenly Ed has a multi gun bandolier like Blackbeard in the books. Pete ripped the arms off. Izzy is still wearing his vest. Doesn’t make sense if we’re going for stealth. Neither does not checking hostage Ricky for weapons or putting Izzy and his wooden leg at the front of the group.

If I'm right, Stede wouldn't know Ricky was behind the explosions. However,  Ricky is basically evil Stede. He's Stede's perfect foil. All of this is reflecting Stede's psyche. So, of course, it's Ricky.

Izzy gets shot and says quite a lot of nonsense in his death scene. “They love you, Ed.” Um, 3 of them were going to leave like five minutes ago. Ed has made some progress with the crew, but we’re not at “they love you Ed”.  The only person who thinks the crew loves Ed is Stede. Stede who weeps for Izzy while most of the crew aren’t showing much emotion. Stede can barely deal with his own big feelings. His fantasy doesn’t give the crew room to have them. Also, given the rest of the season, having Jim just let Ed be the person cradling Izzy doesn’t fit. The crew is also pretty stony at Izzy’s funeral.

I feel like it should be noted the last shot of Izzy in episode 7, he’s got one are around Jim and a hand on Lucius’s shoulder. He sat in Wee John’s lap in episode 6. Reactions to his death don’t make sense.

Also, Izzy’s terrible grave marker is very … Stede. He’d think it was a brilliant idea.

I didn't understand at first why Izzy had to die, even in Stede's dream world. Stede clearly likes him a lot better now. Why kill him? Well, it's because we're supposed to think Buttons is there to go to the Gravy Basket for Izzy. When actually he's already arrived in the Gravy Basket and he's there for Stede. Also, mentors die in pulp adventure novels. Stede sees Izzy as a mentor.

They go aboard the Revenge for Lucius and Pete’s wedding. It’s cute that the crew performs the ceremony, but I’d venture a guess that’s because Stede doesn’t know a captain should do it if it's legally binding. Stede does love the romance of it all.  The sudden uptick in monogamy is also very Stede. He barely understands monogamous relationships. Polyamory is beyond him.

Then Stede and Ed, who earlier told Zheng they’d help hunt Ricky, go back to the island where Izzy is buried to start an inn in a run down shack.  Stede knows Ed wants to do this because Ed told the (Taika’s) kids that they ran an inn.  We hear Ed ask “Jesus, what is that smell?” Now, at first, I thought Izzy, because Ed “knows the smell of my rotting first mate”. But what was the last thing to happen in Stede’s dream? A fart joke.

Last scene is Buttons landing on Izzy’s grave. To retrieve Izzy from the Gravy Basket? No, Izzy’s not dead. He’s with Jim and Lucius, probably watching over Stede’s corpse. Buttons is there to retrieve Stede.

This theory fixes the plot holes and dropped threads problem. We’re coming back to them next season. Ed's amends making should be far from over. And we see several moments during the season where he acknowledged that. And yet here on the island they've set up a horror movie and called it a happy ending.  Well, Stede is the type of boss who thinks things are fixed with a pizza (Calypso) party. In Stede's mind, this is a happy ending.  But really Ed is still off finding himself,  Stede is (temporarily) dead, and Izzy (who is not dead!) is probably guarding Stede's corpse.

They haven't resolved the domestic violence thread, but they haven't dropped it, either. Izzy is alive. Stede and Ed aren't together (yet). There's still time.

This also explains some of the freewheeling nonsense David Jenkins has been spouting in articles. Ed doesn’t see Izzy as a father figure and mentor, Stede does.  Stede almost turned to mush when Izzy approved of him. And David is writing a three volume adventure novel. Han Solo (Stede) is in carbonate (the Gravy Basket). The perfect end to the second act. See, I told you we’d get back to the Han Solo joke.

I still have problems with the season.  I really think they need a sensitivity reader. Even just implying a newly disabled character was fridged is certainly a choice. Especially given the amount of time devoted to how the character handled the disability. The DV scenes were brutal, as well as the suicide attempt, and the Human Puppet joke. I think they need someone trauma informed and disabled in the writer's room. (David Jenkins hit me up!)

Overall, I liked season 2. Especially once I realized Izzy wasn't dead. I'm looking forward to season 3, the conclusion of the Gentle Beard arc, and hopefully 6 seasons and a movie of Izzy (to be clear, he's not captain) and the kids sailing up and down the coast being gay and doing crimes, occasionally checking in with Stede and Ed.

Seriously, David, call me.

Historical Note: IRL Blackbeard died on November 22, 1718, killed in a naval battle off Ocracoke Island in North Carolina. IRL Stede Bonnet died December 10, 1718, hanged in Charles Town, South Carolina for piracy.  IRL Israel “Izzy” Hands survives piracy, death date unknown. I know this show doesn’t actually care about historical accuracy, but this lends a little support for my Ed died, then Stede died, and Izzy isn’t dead theory.

[sleepyhutcherson]

You’d Love My Bed

pairing: mike schmidt x gn!reader

summary: mike comes home from his shift at freddy’s and crawls into bed with you.

contains: fluff, no use of y/n, childhood friends to lovers, youre abby’s babysitter, sharing a bed!! also this does not follow the movie plot or anything.

you watched after abby while mike was working at freddy’s, you didn’t mind, you were doing your best friend a favour. mike wouldn’t ever admit it but he was more relieved when you were watching abby, he knew how great you two got along and well you also somehow always managed to get abby to eat her dinner.

it’s nearly time for mike’s shift when you walk into his place, abby’s in the living room laid out on the floor, crayons and paper spread around her with the tv on. once she hears you, she immediately jolts up from the floor to greet you. “you’re back!”

“hi, abs.” you smile, the smaller girl giggling as she wraps her arms around you. you hug her back with one arm, “what’re you up to? where’s mike?” you ask, slipping off your shoes by the door and pulling your coat off once abby pulls away.

“he’s getting ready.” she hurries back to the living room and grabs something off the floor—a paper; to be exact—and brings it back to you. shyly, she hands you the drawing. it’s a picture of abby and you, sitting at the dining table with markers and paper sprawled around the two of you, each of you working on your own drawings. it’s such a familiar scenery to you that it brings a smile to your face. then your eyes spot mike in the picture, he’s standing by the front door, wearing his security vest, and he’s watching you and abby with a huge smile on his face.

“abby, this is really great.” you say, your eyes fixated on the picture in awe. you then return your gaze to abby, “i love it, abs.” you chuckle slightly and add: “you even added mike in his security vest.” you say teasingly, raising a brow at her, reminding abby of her fight with mike only a few days ago when she tried to nick her brother’s work vest.

she glares at you, though you can spot a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “don’t talk about that.” she tries to say in a serious tone but then breaks down into giggles. “okay, i’m going to hang this up on the fridge.” she says before running off.

“hey.” you hear from behind you. instantly, you recognise the voice; mike. you turn around, smiling at mike who’s dressed for work. “thanks for watching abby again.” he says with a shy smile.

“yeah, don’t worry.”

“hopefully she eats something.” mike moves to grab his coat and keys, making his way to the front door, and like every other day you follow him to see him off. “she will.” you say confidently.

mike chuckles softly at that, nodding his head. “she does listen to you more.” his hand is on the door knob but he lingers there like he doesn’t want to go.

you grin. “favouritism.” you tease causing mike to smile at that. he couldn’t deny how much happiness it brought him seeing how well you and abby got along.

“well, i gotta go.” he sighs, opening the front door to reveal a rainy scenery outside. “i…” he rubs the back of his neck; a nervous look on his face suddenly. “you can, uh, sleep in the room, you know?”

you smile at the offer. “thanks but it’s alright, i’ll leave her to her space. anyway, the sofa’s not too bad.”

mike clears his throat. “i mean you can sleep in my room.” he says with a tad bit more confidence now.

your brows furrow at this. “where would you sleep then?” you ask, aware how tired mike returned from freddy’s, always heading straight to his room to sleep for a couple more hours.

there’s a cheeky smile that tugs at the corner of his lips. “sofa.” he answers, a sudden flustered expression on his face but you don’t question it.

anyway, who were you to turn down sleeping in a warm, comfortable bed? “you sure?” you ask.

mike nods, stepping outside to the front porch. “yeah, you’d love my bed. better than the sofa at least.” he says, shrugging on his coat.

“okay.” you agree.

mike says his goodbyes, telling abby to behave before leaving and then it was you and abby for the next couple of hours. you watched tv together for a couple minutes before you prepared the two of you a small meal. you managed to get abby to eat all of her food—though now you owed her pancakes for breakfast. once the two of you were done eating you sent her to shower and get ready for bed while you picked up the kitchen and living room, luckily there wasn’t too much to clean.

once you’re done you walk into abby’s room where she’s already getting into bed with her teddy bear tucked in her arms. “do you want me to turn the lights off already?” you ask.

she yawns, nodding. “okay.” you make sure the blankets are covering her up well, not wanting her to get cold throughout the night. “good night abs.” you kiss her head before making your way out of her room, making sure to close her bedroom door only slightly, well aware abby didn’t like it fully closed.

you decide to go to bed then. you make sure once more that the front door is locked, turning off all the lights as you make your way to mike’s bedroom. the clock on mike’s bedside table reads 1:47am, tiredly you crawl into his bed, the warmth of his bedsheets quickly warming you up. you’re curled up around the bedsheets finding a comfort in that scent that lingers in the sheets, falling asleep to it.

with how comfortably you were sleeping you didn’t think anything could wake you but the sudden dip on the empty side of the bed forced your eyes open. before you can even react an arm drapes tiredly around your waist startling you. “sorry,” mike whispers, noticing he scared you. “you didn’t mention how uncomfortable the sofa was to sleep on.” his warm breath is hitting the back of your neck, his body pressed up against yours.

you relax, though you're a bit flustered having mike’s arm wrapped around you. “did you just get back?” you ask. mike nods, though you can't see him you can feel him nodding, that's how close your bodies were. you assume mike wants his bed to his own, probably exhausted from his shift so you attempt to sit up so you can go sleep a little longer on the sofa.

"where’re you going?" mike asks, grabbing your hand to stop you from leaving. his hands are cold but you can't bring yourself to pull from his touch.

"sofa." you reply, stifling a yawn. honestly, you weren’t fully awake, you eyes daring to close.

"no, stay." he implores, and thanks to the window that allows the moonlight to shine in, you can see the desperation in his eyes.

“okay.” you agree, being won over with his puppy eyes. this wouldn’t be the first time mike won you over with that look. you lay back down, mike making sure to wrap his arm around your waist again, pulling you closer to him. “you’re so cold.”

mike chuckles, his hand travelling to grab your hand. “warm me up then.” his fingers intertwined with yours, and unconsciously you place your free hand on top of the one that’s intertwined with your other hand hoping his hand would warm up between yours. there’s a significance to your sudden touch, it’s such a nostalgic gesture for the two of you.

after a few minutes mike speaks. “i missed you.” he admits tiredly, though you can hear a smile in his voice. before you can even reply, mike presses a light kiss on your shoulder, “i think i miss you every time i’m away from you.”

you smile at that. “i know what you mean.” you say. and truth be told you did understand completely. since you met mike you found yourself completely attached to him, always longing for him whenever you were apart, even if it was for a few hours. you turn around finally facing mike, your legs are tangled up with his, your faces mere inches apart.

his hand moves up to caress your cheek, a smile appearing on his lips. you giggle, both of you flustered suddenly. mike’s eyes scan your face, a smile on his lips as he looks at you, he always found you so beautiful. he moves forward to kiss you, and desperately you lean in immediately kissing him back. the kiss is soft and slow and you can feel mike’s smile in the kiss but it makes it even more precious if anything.

you both pull away after some time, mike’s cheeks a crimson colour now. it’s adorable how smiley and red he is right now. mike kisses your cheek, he pulls you closer to him, your head buried in his chest now hearing how quickly his heart is beating. “let’s stay like this forever.” he says with a hint of fatigue in his voice. you laugh a little, kissing his jaw.

before he allows himself to doze off he whispers: “i told you you’d love my bed.”

[aayakashii]

Idk if your still taking requests but can I have nsfw of taiga hoshibami? 👉👈

oooo boy, writing for Taiga is very hard for me, because I don't wanna make him too ooc (´×ω×`) but I think I did it?? At least I hope you like it (´ᵕ `ก).｡

late nights with Taiga headcanons

Warning: NSFW !!! MINORS DNI !!!

You are not going to be at your dorm, oh not at all. You're his doll, and you're going to be right where he wants you to be, following all his orders – compliant, obedient.

He'll be putting his secret torture chamber to good use.

You'll be a little scared, granted.

But even if Taiga is intimidating during his daily life

When he's horny, all he thinks it's about your body and how many times he can make you cum for him.

He wastes no time stripping you off all your clothes and tying you to his chair.

His eyes are half-lidded and darkened with lust, the tent in his pants already making him more impatient than he usually is.

He doesn't care about taking his own clothes off, just undoing a few buttons on his shirt and on his pants.

If you wanted to see his beautiful toned body, I'm sorry, better luck next time~

Right now, it's all about YOU getting naked and pretty for him.

Taiga grabs an ominous looking box from one of the corners of his room, leaving them right beside your feet.

You sneak a peek at the contents and your eyes widen as you see a wide variety of dildos, vibrators, plugs and lubes.

He smirks when he sees your expression, biting his bottom lip with his pointy teeth so hard it bleeds.

His tongue darts out to lick the droplets of his own blood and, suddenly, he feels hungrier than ever.

Caging you in between his arms and the chair, he pants loudly against your face, his hardened dick making him move his hips unconsciously, desperately trying to find a way to get off.

Once he reaches the soft skin where your shoulder meets your neck, Taiga bites hard.

You gasp and moan in pain (or is it pleasure?) as you feel his sharp teeth pierce your skin, warm blood leaking from the punctures.

He laps up the fluid and shifts his position, resting his crotch against one of your hands and humping mindlessly.

Understanding the assignment, you grab his bulge as best as you can while tied, while Taiga fucks into your hand, still sucking the blood that leaks from the bite marks he left.

Right as you feel his cock twitch harder against your hand and his thrusts begin to feel erratic, Taiga stops .

“Not gonna cum before you” he murmurs, voice raspy and low, right next to your ear and you shiver.

Rummaging through the box, Taiga fishes out a huge vibrator, quickly turning it on to test it.

Once he sees how your eyes widen at the sight of how strong and fast the vibrator moved, Taiga smirked devilishly and immediately kicked the box to the side after grabbing a few bottles of lube.

“Let's see how you scream for me, huh?” he says, a crazed smile plastered on his face, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as he licks your neck

And he slowly inches the vibrator towards your most sensitive parts...

A loud gasp comes out of your mouth as the vibrator touches you, and you soon squirm against the chair, the stimulation being too sudden and too strong.

You beg for his mercy as your hips buck forward unconsciously, a puddle of wetness quickly forming under you.

Taiga laughs and latches his mouth onto your nipples, sucking harshly and nicking them with his teeth, the few and small droplets of blood making him groan against your skin as he pushes the vibrator forward and into your hole.

The sudden intrusion makes you squeal and Taiga gives it a few thrusts, before pulling it out and assaulting the area in which you were more sensitive again.

“Nah, the only cock that's going inside of you is mine" he says, sudden anger flashing on his eyes, as if he was jealous of how the piece of silicon made you feel

"Now you're just gonna cum with this” he claims, final.

It doesn't take long for you to be pushed over the edge – his name elongated into a loud moan while you cum and buck against the toy.

Taiga doesn't let you ride your orgasm, quickly fiddling with the ties that kept your limbs restrained.

He carries you onto his luxurious bed, throwing your body, that still buzzed with the mind-numbing orgasm you just had, onto the bed.

And he crawls over your figure, much like a tiger that is ready to pounce over its prey.

His cock teases your hole and he smirks at your moan, enjoying how sensitive you are despite how tired you got.

Now it's his turn to cum good and hard and you'll be the perfect tight hole to milk him dry~

[universitypenguin]

Chapter 31

Summary: Princess slowly recovers from her brain injury. Nguyen refuses requests for an interview, leaving many lingering questions hanging over the case. Lloyd makes a rash decision. 

Word Count: 3,175

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Warnings: Depiction of healthcare settings and brain injury recovery.

Chapter 31

Sunlight filtered in through the casement window of the rehab center and warmed the back of your neck. You sat on the edge of a chair and focused on the buttons of your sweater. First, tilt the button to the side…slip it through the hole… your fingers trembled as you fastened the top button of the cardigan.

“Very good,” the nursing assistant said.

You hated her bright, cheerful tone. It was more suited to training a puppy than addressing an adult. The worst part of it was that the assistant appeared to be even younger than you. For some reason, that rubbed salt in the wound.

“How about you try the next button?” she coaxed.

It was on the tip of your tongue to refuse and say you liked it better with only the top button fastened, but you knew that statement would wind its way back to your occupational therapist before breakfast was served. So, with unsteady fingers, you began to work on the second button.

Dressing on your own was a victory in itself. A month ago you’d graduated from a hospital gown to your own pajamas. This month you’d reached the greatest pinnacle of success possible in a place like long-term rehab: wearing real clothes. It was a huge improvement over being tethered to beeping machines in a sterile white room at the far end of the hall, which was where you’d started your rehab journey before being slowly downgraded through the different levels of care at the center.

The weeks you’d spent in the ICU were hazy, and your memories of that place were colored with an intense feeling of frustration.

Those feelings came back in full force when the nursing assistant spoke. “Good job!”

Your eyes flicked toward her, and your lip curled up in one corner. It was rude, but controlling your emotions—and facial expressions—was still a work in progress. While in the ICU, you’d learned there was a term for that condition: emotional lability. Basically, it meant that your feelings were intense and volatile. Emotional regulation was a natural state for you, something you’d learned so young it was almost an innate ability. Not having that skill post brain injury was a new experience—an unpleasant one.

The nursing assistant went to the bathroom and collected your makeup bag while she rattled off your morning schedule and filled you in on who was coming to visit you today. Lloyd would be here in the afternoon, and so would your mother and Vivian.

You took the makeup kit and carefully unzipped the bag, mindful of your movements. It took focus to keep your hand steady, applying the correct amount of pressure. Everything was slow these days, and it was hard not to slap the makeup bag off your lap and scream. Or maybe cry. You’d spent quite a bit of time alternating between both reactions, but at least now you could button a sweater. Hopefully, the results would compound, and you’d finally get your independence back.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“You’re saying we can take her home?”

Lloyd cut through the long-winded social worker’s analysis, stating what he’d understood.

The social worker clasped her clipboard to her chest. “Provided there are no stairs to navigate and she has someone available to assist her during the day. She’s made significant progress, but there are still areas where she’ll need support—particularly with fine motor tasks and spatial awareness. It’s not ideal for her to be alone for extended periods.”

Lloyd glanced at your mother. Her lips were pressed into a thin line. Vivian, her hand resting on her pregnant belly, which was just starting to show, shifted uncomfortably. The tension in the room was palpable as the practicalities of Princess’ care weighed on everyone’s mind.

“There’s a bedroom at my house on the main floor,” Lloyd said. “There would be no need for her to deal with stairs.”

Your mother frowned. “I don’t want to impose. You’ve already done so much.”

“It’s not an imposition. It’s what makes sense. She’ll have the space and the supervision she needs.”

Vivian hesitated, glancing between them before she finally spoke. “Mom, there’s steps leading up to my house. Your guest room is in the basement. Neither of us could take care of her. Not safely.”

The doctor nodded. “Given her current limitations, Mr. Hansen’s home is better suited for her recovery. She’ll have outpatient therapy here at the rehab center three times a week, but I do think she’ll make more progress in a less regulated environment where she can relax and practice the therapy skills at her own pace.”

“She would,” your mother was quick to agree.

It was true that you’d reached the end of your patience with the structured routines of rehab. The daily therapy sessions made you cranky, not because you didn’t want to make progress, but because you resented constantly being told what to do and it was hindering your improvement.

“Then it’s settled. She’ll come home with me.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Getting you discharged took three days. There were requirements to fulfill, like having a hospital bed installed in the guest room and arranging for in-home therapy equipment to be delivered. Lloyd handled it all with efficiency. By the time the paperwork was signed and your belongings packed, you felt more like a package whose delivery required a team of logistics experts rather than a human being.

The ride to Lloyd’s house was quiet. You spent it in silence, hoping that you’d start to feel like you were reclaiming your independence at some point along the journey. When you stepped into the guest room and came face to face with the hospital bed that had replaced the luxurious queen bed that used to dominate the space, you wanted to sit down and cry. This didn’t feel like a stop on the way back to normal. It felt like the rest of your life would be spent fighting for every zipper to unzip and every button to fasten.

“Princess?” Lloyd spoke from behind you as you stood in the doorway to the guest room.

“Did you put the bed in storage?”

“It’s downstairs in the basement. The hospital bed is just temporary, I promise.”

He wrapped his arms around you and the solid mass of his chest pressed against your back. “You know, graduating from rehab calls for a celebration.”

You snorted derisively, unable to stop yourself.

Lloyd released his hold on your waist and turned you around by the shoulders to face him. You lowered your gaze, but he took your chin and tilted your head up.

“What’s wrong?”

“I…” you broke off and closed your eyes. “I’m sorry. Thank you for doing this. I’m not trying to be difficult. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he pressed.

Your eyes filled with tears, and you shook your head, unable to speak past the lump in your throat.

“Come here.”

You sank into Lloyd, sagging against him, and soon the front of his shirt was soaked with tears.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said again when you’d cried yourself out.

This time you forced yourself to put the emotions into words, even though it was harder to express yourself that way now. Everything was harder now.

“I was thinking that celebrating couldn’t involve me eating because I can’t use most silverware right now. I imagined myself trying to cut a bite of food, and then I felt… upset. We can’t go out for martinis because I can’t drink on my medication. If we went somewhere I’d just get tired and fall asleep, regardless of the fact that I’ve had three naps today. I’m just feeling… hopeless. I’m sorry.”

Lloyd’s lips brushed your ear. “You are not hopeless. In fact, you’re the furthest thing from it.”

You bit your lip and choked down another sob.

“Luckily, my celebration doesn’t involve eating or drinking or going out. In fact…”

The rustling of tissue paper had you lifting your head from his chest. He’d reached around you to pick up a gift bag from the dresser beside the door. It was bright red and stuffed on the top with silver paper.

“Open it.”

You tore out the paper and dug into the bag to find a velvet box. It was large, surprisingly so. Definitely bigger than any jewelry box you’d received for your birthday or a holiday. Instead of trying to open it yourself, you handed it to Lloyd.

He lifted the lid of the case and revealed a pearl choker nestled in the middle of the silk-lined box.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Want to try it on?”

In answer, you turned around so he could access your neck.

The cool weight of the pearls settled against your skin as Lloyd fastened the clasp. You reached up instinctively, your fingers brushing over the smooth surface of the choker. It felt elegant and timeless. For a fleeting moment, you could almost forget the hospital bed dominating the room or the tremor in your hand as you felt the jewels.

“Perfect,” Lloyd murmured. He slid off the bed and stood to face you, inspecting the necklace. “It suits you.”

You looked in the mirror above the dresser to see your reflection. The pearls caught the light from the window, gleaming against your skin, and for the first time in ages, you felt like you recognized the person in the mirror. It wasn’t exactly the same person as before, but you weren’t as different as you’d thought you’d become.

“Thank you,” you said.

Lloyd smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. You wondered at the expression and then your own smile faltered at the realization that perhaps he was seeing the same thing you were—the lack of similarity between who you were before, and now.

“I thought you deserved something beautiful after everything that’s happened.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers still tracing the pearls. “It’s perfect. I love it.”

“That’s all I care about,” Lloyd murmured.

There was something on his face you couldn’t figure out, but you could sense there was more to this gift than just what he’d said. Unfortunately, your brain was too tired, and a headache was forming in your left temple. You promised yourself that you’d puzzle it out later, but right now your body was too tired, your brain too fragile to process anything. His words hung in the air between you, their weight heavier than the necklace.

“You need a nap, don’t you?” Lloyd asked.

“Mmmhh.” You rubbed your left temple, sighing. “I’m sorry. I’m not very much fun right now.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll celebrate once you’re fully recovered. I promise. Now go to bed. I’ll tuck you in.”

“Tuck me into my hospital bed,” you grumbled.

“Suck it up,” Lloyd said, smirking when you pouted.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Weeks turned into months. The hospital bed in Lloyd’s guest room became a distant memory as grueling physical therapy sessions eventually turned into real progress. At first, the exercises were agonizing, breaking you down before you could rebuild. Small victories marked the way—cutting food without fumbling, fastening buttons without trembling, ascending stairs without clinging to the railing like it was a life preserver. Each milestone was hard-won, but by the time you were cleared to return to work, you’d reclaimed most of your independence.

In January, stepping into your office for the first time since the accident felt like slipping into a favorite coat that had been left hanging in the closet too long. The fit was the same, the fabric still warm with familiarity, but there was a stiffness to it now, a faint scent of dust that made it feel a little less like home. The hum of voices from down the hall, the rustle of papers, and the faint smell of coffee grounded you. Flowers waited on your desk, accompanied by a card signed by the paralegals. For the first time in months, you allowed yourself to hope for a normal day.

Lloyd had seemed genuinely pleased to see you thriving, but the shadow you’d glimpsed in his eyes the day he gave you the pearl choker lingered in your mind, like a storm cloud on the horizon. In the four months since Shun Nguyen’s arrest, Lloyd had been busy with new cases and relentlessly pursuing an elusive interview with Nguyen, who was now a full-time resident at the Keen Mountain Correctional Facility. Despite Lloyd’s weekly requests, Nguyen refused to break his silence. 

Meanwhile, you’d been preoccupied with therapy and the slow crawl back to normalcy. Lloyd’s caseload meant he’d been working long hours, during which your mother or sister had stayed at the house. The gaps in your time together had felt like mere coincidences rather than anything more significant, but tonight’s dinner was meant to change that. You were back at work and that meant you wouldn’t just have your normal routine back, you’d also have Lloyd again, too.

The French restaurant near Logan Circle was dimly lit, its ambiance all soft candlelight and muted conversations. The semi-private booth Lloyd reserved offered a semblance of intimacy, but the space between you felt heavier than usual. He picked at his coq au vin, while you tried to fill the silence with stories about your first day back at work, therapy, and plans for the weekend. His responses were polite but distant, each word carefully measured.

“I’m proud of you,” Lloyd said abruptly, cutting into your rambling story.

You blinked, caught off guard. “For what?”

“For everything,” he said, setting his fork down. His gaze locked with yours, and for a moment, the shadow you’d seen before was unmistakable. “For how hard you’ve worked to get back here. For everything you’ve overcome.”

Your heart swelled, but before you could respond, he sighed, the sound heavy with regret.

“I wanted to wait to do this,” he began, his voice low. “I wanted to do it differently, but if I keep putting it off, it’ll never happen. And I can’t keep avoiding it.”

A chill ran down your spine. “Avoiding what?”

Lloyd’s mouth tightened as he looked away. His voice, when it came, was calm but unyielding. “We’ve been holding onto something that’s run its course. There were a lot of extenuating circumstances, and after what happened to you in September… you needed support. But this relationship was never meant to last this long or become so… involved. It’s not right.”

“Not right?” you asked, disbelieving. “You mean it doesn’t feel right to you.”

His face betrayed nothing. “It’s not about how it feels. It’s about what’s best for you, for both of us. We can’t keep pretending those are the same thing.”

Tears stung the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “What are you saying? If you’re breaking up with me, just say it. Don’t dance around it.”

Lloyd was maddeningly composed. “I care about you, but this relationship isn’t working for me. And it’s not working for you, even if you can’t see that yet. I can’t give you what you need—what you deserve. And I don’t want to keep holding you back.”

“This relationship is over. That’s what you’re saying,” you said. “You invited me to dinner to tell me this?”

“No, I didn’t—”

“Shut up,” you hissed, your voice low to avoid drawing attention. “Don’t tell me you care about me and then say you can’t give me what I need. That’s bullshit, Lloyd. I don’t understand where this is coming from.”

“We need to be realistic about what our future looks like.”

You scowled. “It sounds like you’ve already decided what it looks like.” 

“Think about it. Right now I’m forty-one and our physical relationship is good, but what happens in ten years, when I’m fifty-one? In twenty years?” Lloyd shook his head. “You might be attracted to me now, but when I’m sixty and my age starts to show, that’s another story. It’s going to happen sooner than you think, so ending this now is for the best.”

“What about when I’m in my forties? Will you be attracted to me?” 

“Forty is way different than sixty. Trust me, I’m in a lot better shape now than what I’ll be when I’m sixty. My expiration date is a lot earlier than yours, for looks, energy, and time.” 

“That’s ridiculous!”

“I’m sorry,” Lloyd said, his voice firm. “This is my decision and I need you to respect it. Please.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The ride back to your apartment passed in a blur. That night, you lay in bed, the scene at dinner replaying on an endless loop in your mind. By the time the sun broke through the blinds, you’d given up on sleep. You showered, dressed meticulously, and spent an hour perfecting your makeup to ensure no trace of the night’s turmoil showed on your face.

At the office, the cheerful bouquet on your desk felt like a cruel joke. The hollow ache in your chest burned with an intensity you couldn’t ignore. You felt like an open wound, raw and exposed. Unable to bear it any longer, you climbed the stairs to the top floor. Outside the patent department, you checked your watch. Ten minutes to seven.

The door swung open behind you. Bishop stepped in, brushing snow from his lapel. His brows lifted at the sight of you standing outside his office.

“Princess? How are you? How’s your second day back? You’re here early. Is something wrong?”

You drew a deep breath. “I would like to resign,” you said. “Effective immediately.”

Bishop froze, his expression shifting from surprise to concern. “Princess, I hope this isn’t about Lloyd. Let’s talk about this—come into my office.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Your words came out clipped, final, but you couldn’t stop the sting of tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. “I just… I can’t do this anymore.”

He sighed, motioning for you to sit down in one of the chairs in front of his secretary’s desk. “Look, I get it. Things have been… difficult. But you’re one of the best researchers I’ve got. What if we found a way to make things easier for you here? A different role—less overlap with Lloyd’s team? How about working for Andy? He’d give his left arm to have you on his staff.” 

The offer was tempting, but every fiber of your being rejected the idea of staying at Bishop & Howard. “I appreciate that,” you said, “but this isn’t about Lloyd. It’s about me. I need to go.”

His frown deepened, but he nodded. “If that’s your final decision, I won’t stand in your way. Just know you’ll always have a place here.”

You rose to your feet and extended your hand. Bishop clasped it firmly, his grip tinged with the same reluctance that lined his face. No matter how much it hurt, this was the right decision. You knew Lloyd too well to hope that he’d change his mind and if you didn’t walk away, you’d never heal.

“Thank you for everything, Mr. Bishop.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Next Chapter - Coming Soon

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