#there’s more I feel like I should add but at the same time I’m not sure how to word them ;v;

[moody-alcoholic]

These Violent Delights

Chapter 18 - Bonus

Summary: poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o AU. WC: 607

CW: hints at past abuse/sa.

TVD masterlist - next bonus

“She asked about having sex with us.” Kyle says, Simon raises an eyebrow then looks over at John. There’s silence round the table for a few seconds.

“A few days ago.” Johnny adds.

“With you?” John asks shifting in his chair. Simon and Kyle look at each other.

“No with the ghost who lives in the attic.” Johnny scoffs.

“I think she wants to talk to you about it. She thinks she needs your permission.” Kyle says. John presses his lips together.

“Should I talk to her?”

“No!” They all say at the same time, he raises an eyebrow.

“I mean, she’s making big improvements. Today at the loch that was a big step.” Kyle says. “She might need time.”

“Why tell me then?” John asks.

“So when she asks you you don’t react the way you just did.” Johnny says. John frowns looking over at Simon who shrugs.

“Do you want to have sex with her?” John asks his hand gripping tighter round his mug. Kyle and Johnny look at each other.

“Maybe it will be good for her?” Kyle asks shrugging. “Means she’s opening up again.”

John sighs looking back down at his mug, it’s almost like he wants to say no. Keep you all to himself, wait until you want to come back to him. That’s what he wants the most, for you to just come back to him. Talk to him again look at him without hostility in your eyes.

They’re right though, you’ve made such good progress, maybe this is what you need. It feels wrong though, he’s not sure why, it makes the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. Last night when he came to your door he wanted nothing more then to just grab hold of you, pull you into bed and hold you in his arms.

“She doesn’t need my permission.” John says looking back up and Johnny and Kyle.

“Yeah but she wants it.” Johnny says.

“What did she say?” John asks frowning, there’s something they’re leaving out.

“She said it was normal for packs, to all be together.” Kyle says taking a sip of his tea before looking over at Johnny.

“We know how professor Hale treated her. I think this is her taking back control.” Johnny says.

“It was her idea to go to the loch, her idea to let Piper go. I think Johnny’s right, she’s the one making all the decisions not Hale or Piper, not even us.” Simon says.

“Maybe this is her way of healing. You’re her alpha, it’s probably the most intimidating thing in the world to talk to you right now.” Johnny says. John knows he’s just trying to make him feel better about the whole thing.

“We also don’t want you to think we’re stepping on your toes. She’s your omega-”

“Our. Our omega. We’re a pack.”

“Sure but-”

“No buts.” John lets out a sigh letting go of his mug and looking over at Simon. “Whatever she needs. That’s what she gets.” Kyle smiles at him taking another sip of his tea.

“Well, I’m off to bed.” Johnny says stretching then getting up and patting Kyle on the shoulder. “You coming LT? I need someone to keep me warm in this place.” Simon tuts but gets up anyway following him out the room. John smiles, and looks back up at Kyle who’s sipping his tea.

“She does miss you.” Kyle says sympathetically.

John nods. “I know. I miss her too.”

Chapter 18 - next bonus

Dividers by @plum98

[mejaemin]

my heart - johnny suh

day three of my valentine’s day countdown! ♡

wc: 1.1k

summary: yours and johnny’s valentine’s coffee date, where he proves to you time and time again how much he loves you, his heart ♡

warnings: hint of bsf2l, sm love, sm fluff. that’s it ♡⸜(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)⸝♡

an: finally it’s done !!! i might rewrite, proofread, and edit this later, but here it is for now :> i’ll add the colored text later too as i don’t have my computer rn !!! ik its probably really rushed so i promise i’ll edit it sometime soon, i just wanted to get it put for u all

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

you’re just finishing up getting ready, doing the last finishing touches to your look when you get a few text messages from your boyfriend, johnny.

john 🤍: hey beautiful, are you ready?

john 🤍: i’m outside ❤️

you: yess i’m coming now!! 🤍

setting your phone down, you grab your bag (adorned with all of the matching keychains and pins you’ve received from your boyfriend) and make your way to the front door. once it’s open, you nearly flinch when a conveniently placed gust of wind pushes a set of heart shaped balloons bump right into your face. jumping back, you finally take it in and realize there’s a gift bag with your name on it, paired with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a bunch of balloons, corny valentine’s day quotes and hearts covering them. you look up, seeing johnny run back to his car, catching his breath and pretending he didn’t run up to put them there, which is what you assumed happened.

from the sidewalk he calls out, “happy valentine’s day! go bring that all in, i can wait!” he winks, gesturing to the inside of your apartment.

you giggle, reaching down to pick it all up before bringing it all in. laying it on your table, you grab a vase for your flowers and leave the rest. you turn around to meet johnny and find him right behind you, pulling you in and giving you a kiss in greeting.

“you should really close the door behind you,” he kisses you a few more times, and you can’t complain when the feeling is so addictive, “someone might come in and kidnap you, y’know.” he’s smiling down at you as he leads you out of your home, out to his car and into the passenger seat.

as he buckles your seatbelt in you ask him, “i doubt anyone here wants to kidnap me.”

he comes around to the driver’s seat, getting in and beginning the drive to your date location. “i can think of a guy. you’ve probably seen him around before, too. pretty tall, funny, did i mention he’s hot shit?”

you hum, nodding your head. “hmm, from your description it doesn’t sound like too bad of an experience.”

you two share a laugh, falling into the same easygoing dynamic you share every time you meet. even though it’s a special holiday, one full of love and romance, johnny always makes it so easy to get comfortable and talk the same way you did before you got together. sure, the flirting and the way his hand rests on your thigh while driving is a little of an adjustment, but he couldn’t make you uncomfortable even if he tried.

after a while the car falls silent, but it’s comfortable. the ride to your date location is a little longer than usual, having planned to go to a certain café holding a valentine’s day event. for couples who come and order drinks, they’ll get to share a free cake together. it’s a little silly to go just for free food, but what’s more exciting than that?

after a while time flies by, and you’re finally parking by the sidewalk of said café. after a small bit of bickering when it comes to how he knows which store is the right one, it all fell silent once you both realized it was quite obvious. out of all the stores on the sidewalk, only one had heart paintings and garland on the outside. with a hand in yours, you and johnny make your way inside. he lets you find a table while he orders your drinks, not even asking what you want because he knows you well enough to not have to.

you pick a seat in the corner, right next to a window covered in pink and red hearts. it leaves a pink glow on your skin, and as soon as your boyfriend sits across from you he takes a picture of it. pocketing his phone, a hand reaches out for yours across the table, his other housing his cheek. for the time that you’re waiting for whatever he ordered, johnny reaches into his pocket.

“don’t get mad, don’t freak out, but i got one more gift.” he smiles at your skeptical expression, finally revealing the item closed in his palm, fingers pulling away to reveal a small white box.

he slides it towards you, gesturing for you to open it. slowly, unsurely, you pull the lid off, revealing a ring with your favorite jewel, paired with a chain and ‘j’ charm. your face lights up, and when you look up at him he looks shy, but happy as ever at your reaction.

“i didn’t know if you’d want it as a necklace or what, so i bought a chain too. oh, and there’s a j for me obviously, so you can keep me by your heart.” to laugh off the last of his nerves, he theatrically winks at you, eliciting a giggle from you both.

you take the ring and the charm out, before putting them on the chain and holding it out to him. “put it on for me?”

he gets up, taking the necklace from you and stepping behind you. fingers brushing your nape, he moves your hair from the back of your neck and clasps the chain together. he sits back down, and you readjust your hair before pulling out your phone to take photos of it on. one selfie, and one close up of the chain resting on your collarbone.

almost as soon as you put your phone down an employee comes to your table, taking two mugs off of their tray to place them in front of you both, along with a miniature cake covered in buttercream hearts. you thank them, taking a photo of the designs in the cups. one is a heart, and the other looks almost like a plant. once done, you’re about to reach for the plant one since it’s closest to you, but your boyfriend stops you, taking it and sliding the heart one to you.

“a heart for my heart.” he winks again, and you playfully roll your eyes before sipping on your latte. it’s flavored just how you like it, and you sigh in comfort.

“you’re so corny, i can’t believe i’m actually with you.” you tease, playfully giving him a judging look.

“i know why.” you hum, tilting your head, as he reaches for your hand. “because you love me more than you hate me.”

“hmm, i guess so…” you say, rolling your eyes.

he laughs, reaching out for the ring on your necklace to twirl it between his fingers. “you know so. and, you’ll love me forever, right? i know i will. this ring is proof.” the jewel shines in the sunlight through the window, highlighting the metal that’s in your favorite type, and the jewel being your favorite. without even having to ask, he knew just how you wanted it and bought it as a promise to love you and keep it in his heart forever.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

[transfemme-shelterdog]

Something about transandrophobia.

I don’t feel comfortable sharing this off-anon or on my own account due to harassment I’ve received basically every time I even implied anything about this. But I want to talk about it somewhere.

I really don’t like how masculine trans men are treated in queer spaces tbh. I can’t go out without hearing other queer people tell me how much better I’d look in a dress or skirt, that I should try on make-up, that "if I were a real man, I’d be comfortable dressing feminine", and similar sentiments.

I’ve never been particularly feminine. When I had a choice what I got to wear pre-puberty, I already dressed more "masculine"; back then, that was fine with my mother because it was funny when I was mistaken for my brother. When I got into puberty and grew out of all my comfortable clothes, my mother went incredibly hard on forcing me into femininity so no-one would ever "mistake" me for a boy again. I’m talking shit like every single one of my bras was a push-up bra because my tits were to small from thirteen. I had to beg for summer-pants longer than those super-short barely-covering-your-ass-pants because I straight up couldn’t sit in those pants.

Now that I’m an adult and can finally choose my own clothes again, I dress masculine again. And people hate that so much. From my relatives I hear or heard all the time (some have luckily stopped now) how much prettier I looked a few years ago and shit. And then I go into queer spaces. Spaces I should be able to present how I want. And hear the same shit.

But because they add "men can be feminine, too!" I’m not allowed to say anything against it because that must mean I hate feminine men instead of, yk, "I am not feminine".

I’m sick of being treated like, idk, eye-candy. Like I have to be pretty to look at for everyone, my own comfort be damned. As if what I want doesn’t matter, only what everyone else wants of me.

"You just need to get over your childhood trauma, then you’ll enjoy dressing feminine!" Because masculine people don’t exist at all or something. And the way to "get me over" my childhood trauma is to constantly re-traumatise me and expect that to ""fix me"" and make me nicer for others to look and gawk at.

"Trans men need to embrace their femininity" all power to those who want to but there’s literally no femininity for me to "embrace". It’s never been there. All traces of femininity on me have been forced onto me; that’s not me. Shedding "my" femininity and starting to dress and present masculine again has been the most freeing thing I’ve ever done. I won’t go back, no matter how many people tell me to.

Yeah that's just gross and I hate that. I'm sorry people treat you that way Anon. Masculine trans men are just as valid as feminine ones, and you shouldn't have people trying to coerce you into being something you're not. It reeks of transphobia, if I'm being honest.

[izumi-fanclub]

A3! Translation: Chikage SSR Card “Rouge Rose of Love” [Valentine’s Day Gossip]

How will Chikage deal with Valentine's Day this year? He receives a blessing and a curse of course.

Part 1

Chikage

Never thought I’d share lunch with Chigasaki.

Itaru

I mean, it’s just the pizza place if we’re looking at the big picture, that’s the only common link.

Pizza Shop Clerk

Thank you for waiting, here’s your parmesan and diavola.

Chikage

Thanks, diavola’s finally here.

Itaru

I’m surprised, I half expected it to look ridiculously red like some sort of challenge menu.

Chikage

Chigasaki-san, maybe you’re just not enough of a junkie?

Itaru

Ahaha, you’d be wrong.

Pizza Shop Clerk

Excuse me for interrupting your meal, but we’re passing out our new Chocolate Chunk pizza, would you like to sample them out?

Itaru

Hehh, looks good. Thanks for the food.

Pizza Shop Clerk

Thanks for your feedback! How about you, sir?

Chikage

Sorry but I’ll have to pass, my doctor told me to avoid sweets.

Pizza Shop Clerk

I see, I apologize. Please continue enjoying your meal.

Itaru

…Is that your new year’s excuse now?

Chikage

Whatever do you mean?

Itaru

It’s about to be Valentine’s soon.

Chikage

…Ahh, so that explains the chocolate on the new menu.

Itaru

That look on you, it definitely went over your head.

Chikage

Because I’m not interested.

Itaru

Senpai you might not be, but the female employees definitely are. I overheard them talking about giving out some love chocolate to a certain senior.

There used to be rumors of you having a fiancée, but they pretty much lost their status effect now.

You’ve gotten some before here and there too.

Chikage

Well, they say gossip stays around for about 75 days or so, someone out there probably thinks I’ve been married off silently.

Who am I to deny it, even.

Itaru

Come to think of it, you’re gonna go shopping with director-san today. Wouldn’t that be the perfect chance to get down on your knee?

Chikage

Kneeling in front of director-san in public would be too unfair to her.

…In any case, I feel guilty about pulling director-san into this mess, so I’ll try and think of something else.

Izumi

Wow, the star anises really have such a pretty shape to them!

Chikage

By the way, Tsuzuru said he’s gonna make fried rice tomorrow, buying this would make it more authentic, right?

Izumi

Hmm, that’s true but then again… they look so beautiful that it feels like such a waste.

Chikage

Then, how about we buy some cinnamon sticks and make some mulled wine?

Izumi

Sounds like a plan! Let’s go with that!

Spice Specialty Store Clerk

——Sorry to keep you waiting.

Regarding the spice you ordered, I checked and it seems like it’s gonna be delayed due to some logistics issues…

I apologize for not informing you in advance.

Chikage

No worries, so when can we expect to receive it?

Spice Specialty Store Clerk

I think you can get it in around 4 days.

Chikage

Four days from now… I have a meeting on that day, so I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make it before closing time.

Spice Specialty Store Clerk

I’m sincerely terribly sorry…!

Chikage

It’s fine, it’s not like we’re in a hurry. I’ll come by again on the weekend.

Izumi

Oh, well in that case, should I get it in your stead?

Chikage

You okay with that?

Izumi

Yup, I happen to have some errands nearby that day.

Chikage

Then please be my guest.

Izumi

Mhm, leave it to me!

Chikage

…Sorry, thank you as always.

Izumi

What’s wrong? You’re suddenly all serious…

Chikage

Nothing, just a lot on my mind.

Part 2

Tsumugi

…Whew, this mulled wine really hits the spot, it’s got some nice spices on it.

Citron

Gets me feeling all warm~

Azuma

The star anise adds a beautiful touch to it too.

Chikage

Director-san said the same thing too, so my suggestion on using it for fried rice was a no-go.

Azuma

Fufu, that makes sense. That’s definitely like her.

So, where’s the director at?

Chikage

Looks like the sleep got to her. To think she was the one who was looking forward to it the most.

Itaru

Sleeping this early is gonna mess up her sleep hygiene.

Azuma

Yeah, I received some chocolate that goes well with the alcohol, I wanted the director to try them out too.

Sakyo

You’ve got that pricey stuff on you again.

Banri

In a few days the place’s gonna get flooded with chocolate from everyone, so director-chan still got a chance to eat some.

Tsumugi

You’re right, Valentine’s is just around the corner.

Itaru

In other words, the overpowered senpai is gonna have his weakness revealed soon.

Chikage

This is a serious matter though.

Itaru

Just call it schadenfreude I guess.

Banri

Ain’t that old news?

Tasuku

So do you have any counter-measures in mind already?

Chikage

Nothing yet unfortunately.

Itaru

At lunch you turned down that chocolate pizza talking about some “My doctor told me not to eat it.” excuse.

Chikage

If I use that excuse at work, it’ll stir up a different kind of trouble.

Tsumugi

Hmm, then again it’s hard to come up with a reason to turn them down especially when it’s done out of the goodwill of the giver.

Chikage

But this year I got a full day’s worth of meetings scheduled so I think I can manage.

Banri

Oh, well that’s a relief.

Citron

It is no relief! Just a temporary solution! That will not do! The same troubles will appear again next year!

Itaru

…He’s being sensible for once.

Chikage

I forgot about it this year and couldn’t do anything so far, but next year I’ll be on a business trip.

Citron

No! That is still a temporary solution!

Banri

Feels like the issue’s just growing.

Citron

That is why we should practice rejection together!

Chikage

Practice rejection?

Azuma

Fufu, well isn’t this interesting.

Tasuku

That’s to be expected, honestly.

Itaru

…I’m not surprised anymore at this point, but still, why me?

Citron

But of course! This is a family matter for everyone!

Chikage

Sorry, Chigasaki.

Itaru

Nah, you don’t sound sorry at all. …Sigh, it’s a relief I got up and finished an event early.

Chikage

So Citron, we went all the way out in Veludo way, care to explain why that is?

Itaru

Yeah, you can practice rejection at the dorms.

Citron

That much is obvious. It is because we are actors! This is the only place to practice!

Chikage

That’s…

Itaru

Do you mean…

Citron

Frankly, a rejection etude! Yes!

Passerby A

Oh, isn’t that spring troupe?

Passerby B

It is! Think they’re up to doing a street act?

Chikage & Itaru

…

Itaru

…I’m not sure if I’m up for this.

Chikage

Let’s just get this over with.

Chikage & Itaru

…

Passerby A

…He’s looking at his phone, is he waiting for a notif?

Passerby B Maybe he’s checking the time.

Chikage

“Are you here to meet someone too?”

Itaru

“Eh?” Chikage

“I mean, isn't it Valentine's day?”

Itaru

“Yeah that’s true, some lady hit me up and told me to meet her here around 1pm.”

Chikage

“What a coincidence, I’m here for the same reason.”

“Whenever I get called out like this on Valentine’s Day, I get excited like some highschooler wondering what it’s for.”

Itaru

“Yeah, I get you. Me too.”

“Forgive me for prying but… have you decided on an answer yet?”

Chikage

“Hmm, I was thinking of turning down——”

Itaru

“Ehh, you too?”

Chikage

“So you’re in the same boat?”

Citron

“——Sorry, I was late!” Chikage & Itaru

“No, it’s fine——”

Chikage

“Ehh…”

Itaru

“Eh?”

Citron

“Eeh!? Chikage and Itaru, why are you both here…”

“...No way, silly me! I accidentally sent the message to both of you!”

Chikage & Itaru

“Huh…?”

Passerby A

… So basically, one of them’s the genuine one and the other is a backup?

Passerby B

Woah…

Chikage

“Um, Itaru-san, do you have a second?”

Itaru

“Yeah, of course. I was meaning to talk to you too.”

Chikage

“You can reject first.”

Itaru

“Eh, no way, that’d make me seem like the backup. You should be the first to actually say no.”

Chikage

“That’s gonna be a different story.”

Kanazuka

So this is Veludo Way. It’s my first time here, but there sure are a lot of people… Huh? Seems like there’s a crowd over there.

Chikage

“——I’m not giving up, even if I was just the second option, I can’t let it end like this!” Kanazuka

!? Is that Utsuki-san and Chigasaki-san from the company…!? This is unbelievable…!

Part 3

Chikage

Thanks for your hard work throughout the meeting.

Employee A

Great job as well. Ah, since it’s Valentine’s Day, I prepared some chocolate.

Employee B

This calls for tea time, then. I’ll go make some coffee. You drink coffee too, right, Utsuki-san?

Chikage

I——.

Employee A

Oops, I think Utsuki-san will get some from his girlfriend later.

Yeah, that’s right. Sorry about that, Utsuki-san.

Chikage

…? No it’s okay.

Then, I’ll take my leave.

Chikage

(If I head over there now, I think I can make it just in time for closing time. I wonder if I should contact director-san about how the spices are.)

Itaru

——Hey, senpai. You got a minute?

Chikage

Chigasaki?

Chikage

Is it something urgent? If it’s not, just tell me about it at home.

Itaru

Looks like the gossip hasn’t reached you yet.

Chikage

Gossip?

Itaru

Apparently, even though your fiancée is dating me now, there’s a rumor going around that you haven’t given up on her completely…

Chikage

…Hah?

Itaru

A co-worker saw that previous street act we did and mistook it for a fight between you and me.

Chikage

Street act…

You surely don’t mean the one where Citron pulled a bootcamp over dealing with “rejection”, right?

Itaru

That’s right, after all it wasn’t rehearsed at all and we ended up just going with the flow of Citron’s act.

Chikage

…So that explains it, is that why I felt a weird vibe during the meeting earlier?

Itaru

We’re actors, that’s understood by regulars of Veludo Way, but the co-worker that happened to witness it was someone unfamiliar with the whole concept.

Then the gossip mill jumped on the bandwagon and said stuff like “Maybe there’s some truth beneath the surface of that act.”

Chikage

Talk about a pain…

Itaru

You said it.

Chikage

(I kinda took advantage of that in the past, so I don’t really have the right to complain.)

Chikage

… Speaking of, what happened to the rumor that Chigasaki’s sister is my fiancée?

Itaru

I don’t know, I think they just assumed you’ve broken up.

Then, what do we do? Looks like senpai’s history with love is getting pretty complicated.

Chikage

Whatever, it’ll probably just die down soon anyway so I won’t do anything about it, I’ll just head home.

Besides, hanging around you like this might be counterproductive.

Itaru

True that. I’ll wrap up my overtime work and head home early too.

Chikage

(...Not sure if it’s the rumor’s effect or I’m just being overly conscious of it, but I didn’t get any chocolate at all.)

(...It could be better, but I guess it still works out in the end, that rumor will die down soon, and I’m sure the director——)

Izumi

Ah, Chikage-san!

Chikage

Director-san?

Izumi

I got to the store early and had some time so I thought of bringing it to you directly.

Chikage

That’s right, I was just thinking of telling you to meet there since I could make it before closing time, but…

I realized I completely forgot to do it.

Izumi

Really now? That’s pretty rare for you, Chikage-san.

Chikage

A bit of an unexpected issue came up.

Izumi

Good on you for dealing with it.

Chikage

… Director-san, are you in a good mood?

Izumi

Fufu, I just found something good, is all. Ah right, the spices, here you go.

Chikage

Thanks. You’re a huge help.

(... There’s a ribbon on it, is this part of the service?)

(From an outsider’s perspective, they’ll probably assume I’m receiving Valentine’s chocolate out of context.)

(Not sure if the director noticed, but I feel the gaze of people from the company around for a while now.)

Izumi

What’s up?

Chikage

Nothing, it’s just that it feels like a gift when it’s ribboned like this.

Izumi

It is… kind of a present.

Chikage

Present?

(There’s something else aside from the spices I asked her to pick up.)

Chikage

…Does this bottle also have spice?

[ Option 1: Open and see for yourself ] Izumi Open it and check it out. Chikage Right here? Izumi Is it not good here? Chikage That’s not the issue but… well I’ll just open it.

[ Option 2: It’s nothing suspicious ] Izumi Don’t worry, it’s not fishy or anything. Chikage Should I be concerned? Izumi No, I mean it! It really is just a gift. Chikage Well, as long as it’s director-san, I’ll believe it.

Chikage

…Chocolate?

Izumi

Yup, they’re spice seeds coated in chocolate, they were pretty good when I tried them out at the store!

I bought it thinking maybe Chikage-san could enjoy it too, it’s Valentine’s Day after all.

Chikage

…

Izumi

Oh, don’t worry about returning the favor, a tasty curry made with the spices would just be fine.

Chikage

(I didn’t mean to drag you into this again… I’m sure the gossip’s gonna get updated tomorrow.)

…It’s not my fault anymore, it’s the director’s.

Izumi

Hm?

Story Clear!

[balrogballs]

I’m the hair anon back again, I want to message you but I’m scared of sounding like a dumb American but what do you actually do with the oils you posted? Just put them in your hair? Is it before or after washing? Sorry again, your hair looked so gorgeous and I recently had a bad haircut, I asked for layers and they gave me Edna Mode, so any tips welcome lol!

sksksksk please don’t be afraid to message me i am also a silly little westerner, i only know the hair oil stuff because my mother quite literally inscribed the words onto my skull, i don’t think it’s common knowledge!

i also need to tell you that a good amount of these tips are, being from a desi mother’s cabinet, not exactly clinically tested/proven so please look them up, especially if you have allergies…

however, aggressively fixing regretful haircuts are 100% my specialty, though not one i thought would ever come in useful on tumblr dot com… so… list and pics etc are under the cut since i assume the general population wish to see balrogballs, not hairyballs 😇

amla oil — good for hair growth, lengthening, etc, and i think that’s what you’re after? a little goes a long way — rub a bit into your scalp before you shower, rinse it out completely. I usually take a coin-sized amount and rub it into my ends after washing, just because i love the smell.

almond oil does the same, if you can’t find amla oil (though any indian/south asian store should do it) but please use caution and don’t use this if you’re allergic to nuts because putting it in your hair is still directly coming into contact with it.

onion oil — technically onionskin oil, but yes it smells exactly what you think it smells like, so make sure to wash it out thoroughly. just a coin sized bit will do, and it’s good for hair thickness/hairfall (so less bad haircut and more hair loss). also makes your hair very shiny!

blackseed oil — again, good for promoting hair growth, reduces scalp inflammation, also makes your hair very shiny. this is usually sold as blackseed oil but the oil itself is made from nigella seeds/black cumin. a little goes a long way, smells absolutely delightful so i do the same that i do with amla oil, rub a bit into my ends.

coconut oil — benefits are widely known, great at moisturising and repairing, and you can use it in larger amounts as it’s cheaper than a lot of the others on the list, aka you can use it as a full on hair mask etc. however if your hair tends to be greasy, make sure you wash it out thoroughly, two shampoos may be required. if it doesn’t however, feel free to take a bit on your hands and rub it into the ends after you wash it as well, it can be quite protective against split ends etc.

mustard oil — speeds up growth (in my experience, very much so!) and has the added benefit of making your hair quite soft. honestly this can smell quite sharp if the brand you get doesn’t use fragrances, so wash out thoroughly.

eggs + yogurt — hear. me. out. absolutely outstanding conditioner, better than any name brand imo. i don’t use this all the time because it’s very sticky and effortful but i try to do it each weekend. DO NOT WASH YOUR HAIR IN HOT WATER IMMEDIATELY PLEASE RINSE WITH LUKEWARM WATER because believe me you do not want to be fishing out curd lumps and scrambled egg from the drain, ask me how i know 😇

OK once again, please DO NOT use all this at once, just use according to need, try one out for a few weeks before expecting results, use a tiny amount first, for the love of god please check every bottle for allergens because most brands add other stuff/fragrances, and always best to get the ones marked PURE _____ OIL etc.

also, again, these are all just ‘home treatments’ which have worked well for me/women in my family, i genuinely don’t know how it may work on non-desi hair or anyone else’s hair, hence me saying please look them up ahaha.

but yes, i had a very short (not edna mode but way shorter than i wanted) haircut early last year, i used blackseed oil + mustard seed oil and here’s what it looked like in feb (pic 1) vs september (pic 2) vs november (pic 3) before i cut it to the length you saw in the dress pics in dec so i am probably doing something right…

[hyohaehyuk]

Den of Geek - Interview With the Vampire Cast on the One Thing They Don’t Tell You About Playing Vampires

Den of Geek: Jacob, in the first episode, Louis asked Daniel to let the story seduce. Do you feel you’ve accomplished that, and how does it feel?

Jacob Anderson: Yeah, I think he does let the story seduce. I think it reveals at the end that Louis let the story seduce himself. I remember Rolin talked about this quite a lot, Louis tries to hypnotize himself a little bit when he’s telling this story. To the extent that he believes it himself. Maybe he believes there are things that he says that might not be completely reliable. But then, who among us really tells a reliable, completely truthful, story about our own lives and our own participation in our lives, and other people’s? Yeah, I think he succeeded. Maybe a little bit too well.

Sam, you are center stage in two character-defining genre moments. When you’re holding a head and punching tickets, is there an awareness of how this is gonna play on screen? And how does that energize your performance?

Sam Reid: Yeah, definitely, I think Rolin knew what he was doing, too, when he wrote those moments. I don’t write those beats, I see them on a page, and it’s my job to interpret them. Actually, the decapitated head had a lot of discussion around it, and whether it was going to be too far or not. I think I may have shot that sequence, and Bailey was there too, so I’m expected to remember, more times than I think I shot anything, ever. We did it so many times.

I always talk about the practical effects of this show, but they’re so astonishing. It’s almost worth ruining the illusion just to know how we shot it. So, when I kick open that door, I’m jumping across a little moving car that I’m standing on, to another one that’s being held by members of the production design team, shaking the cart. So, it’s being shaken by people, and then the carriage that disappears behind me is a 2-D flat piece of wood that is being pulled apart by a whole bunch of guys on ropes while I jump across it. It’s so detailed. Every shot was just beautiful the way they make those things.

Jacob Anderson: And fun fact, that head is the head of Adam O’Byrne, producer.

Sam Reid: Yeah, it’s the head cast of one of our producers on the show, which was very funny to walk around with his head and have to work out how to manipulate it into being a puppet.

Jacob Anderson: [Mimicking] Get back to work!

Bailey, you play the same scenarios in two different worlds. Louis’ first telling and then after Daniel bullies them into the real story. I’m assuming you shoot these on the same set at the same time? How do you differentiate these realities internally?

Bailey Bass: We have an incredible crew that’s very supportive. Alexis Ostrander was very great at directing how Claudia should feel, and Rolin Jones knew exactly how he wanted the audience to feel in those moments. Because I was playing Claudia so truthfully as her for most of the show, when I’m doing that scene that’s not true – that Louis made up to make himself feel better – it was a bit of a challenge. I was grateful for both of them, Alexis and Rolin, for giving me guidance on how to live Louis’ lie rather than Claudia’s truth.

When you add up all the vampire abuses, do you feel Lestat earned an attempted death sentence?

Sam Reid: I hope so. I hope he earned it, and I hope people feel like that was earned. I mean, God, what other choice do these people have but to kill him? And I think he knows that too. I really hope the audience feel that he should have died. Lestat, particularly at the end when he realizes that it’s Louis with the knife and not Claudia, he feels like, “Okay, I’ve gone too far. And I need to die.” [Laughs]

Bailey, Claudia instigated it.

Bailey Bass: I think Claudia is, definitely, like: “Yes, he should have died.” I’ve been watching every episode as it airs on AMC+ so I can live it with the fans, and there are all these arguments about Louis, Lestat, Claudia, and our relationships. It’s really interesting. Because of Rolin’s great vision and writing, our characters are so equally specific, which makes audiences fall in love with them. When I’m watching it as a fan, I see why people don’t want Lestat to die. But then I also played Claudia, and I know how her brain works. And of course, he deserved to die.

And finally, Jacob, you’re the one who left Lestat with the rats, do you feel he deserved it?

Jacob Anderson: No, I think Louis doesn’t necessarily feel like he wants him to die. I think a lot of it is about freedom. They’re trapped in his house, and Claudia and Louis are essentially prisoners. I think that the only way they’re going to be able to escape the situation they’re in, is for Lestat to just be off the board for a little bit. He needs to go and sit in the naughty coffin and think about what he’s done. It’s like they’re on a break, essentially. That break will facilitate Claudia and Louis being able to explore their existence a little bit more, and explore their relationship, and their lives outside of this house. Get out of there. They’re not going to be able to get out of that house, unless Lestat is also out of that house.

Sam Reid: It’s also a very kind gesture, in a way, for Louis to do it to Lestat, because Lestat doesn’t really develop that much as a character over the first season. He’s got a lot of issues that he doesn’t really deal with. And sometimes the nicest thing that someone can do, or that a monster partner can do, is kill you to instigate a bit of personal change. Hopefully, this is the first step in a character arc for Lestat.

Jacob Anderson: It’s like any relationship, right? Sometimes you just have to have the big, big, big argument that completely changes how you perceive your relationship. Without that, how can you move on and establish something new?

Sam Reid: Yeah, yeah. They live forever, you know? You gotta make big choices.

Cosmetically, technically, and emotionally, what is something no one prepares you for when you take on the role of a vampire?

Jacob Anderson: Nights. The nights.

Sam Reid: Yeah. Working at night.

Jacob Anderson: Yeah, because the scripts are so beautifully written. They’re so dense, full of ideas, and full of beautiful dialogue. You don’t want to mess any of it up. You have to switch your brain into a place where it can operate at full capacity. At 4 a.m., you’re having to do this very lofty stuff, and it’s very difficult to actually prepare for that without just doing it.

Bailey Bass: Because, eventually, we all have a time at night where we start to get delusional. I documented the whole show, I’m watching videos of myself and I can pinpoint exactly when I started to lose my mind. You have to rework it to keep acting at 100%.

Along with that, no one could have prepared me for the lenses. Your vision is restricted. Sometimes we couldn’t see our other actors’ faces while we’re acting, which can make it really difficult because one of the first things you learn when you’re acting, as part of acting, is reacting. It’s mainly: when you can’t see the muscles of your actors’ face, how are you supposed to do that? Along with that, the lenses change how they feel in your eyes, based on the environment you’re in. So, if we’re working at 4 a.m., depending on the degrees it is outside, it will affect how the lenses feel on your eyes. No one can even explain that until you feel it on your eyeball.

Sam Reid: Yeah, the nights and the lenses. It’s very hard to grasp what that feels like, for the extended period of time that we did it. You enter something like a dream world, literally, that’s the best way that I can think of describing it. It’s like this bizarre dream primordial soup.

How will season two deal with Claudia and Louis’ falling out?

Jacob Anderson: How exciting to find out. I can’t wait to find out.

[binders-and-beanies]

I hate rich people and no I’m not just talking about billionaires

[cuteniaarts]

Greyscale Midori sketch because I’m low-key artblocked

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

how do y’all move past the impulsive desires that come with existential crises?

[saritawolff]

Phew. This one took, uh… a bit longer than expected due to other projects both irl and art-wise, but it’s finally here. The long-awaited domestic animal infographic! Unfortunately, I didn’t have enough space to cover every single domestic animal (I’m so sorry, reindeer and koi, my beloveds) but I tried to include as many of the “major ones” as possible.

I made this chart in response to a lot of the misunderstandings I hear concerning domestic animals, so I hope it’s helpful!

Further information I didn’t have any room to add or expand on:

🐈 “Breed” and “species” are not synonyms! Breeds are specific to domesticated animals. A Bengal Tiger is a species of tiger. A Siamese is a breed of domestic cat.

🐀 Different colors are also not what makes a breed. A breed is determined by having genetics that are unique to that breed. So a “bluenose pitbull” is not a different breed from a “rednose pitbull”, but an American Pitbull Terrier is a different breed from an American Bully! Animals that have been domesticated for longer tend to have more seperate breeds as these differing genetics have had time to develop.

🐕 It takes hundreds of generations for an animal to become domesticated. While the “domesticated fox experiment” had interesting results, there were not enough generations involved for the foxes to become truly domesticated and their differences from wild foxes were more due to epigenetics (heritable traits that do not change the DNA sequence but rather activate or deactivate parts of it; owed to the specific circumstances of its parents’ behavior and environment.)

🐎 Wild animals that are raised in human care are not domesticated, but they can be considered “tamed.” This means that they still have all their wild instincts, but are less inclined to attack or be frightened of humans. A wild animal that lives in the wild but near human settlements and is less afraid of humans is considered “habituated.” Tamed and habituated animals are not any less dangerous than wild animals, and should still be treated with the same respect. Foxes, otters, raccoons, servals, caracals, bush babies, opossums, owls, monkeys, alligators, and other wild animals can be tamed or habituated, but they have not undergone hundreds of generations of domestication, so they are not domesticated animals.

🐄 Also, as seen above, these animals have all been domesticated for a reason, be it food, transport, pest control, or otherwise, at a time when less practical options existed. There is no benefit to domesticating other species in the modern day, so if you’ve got a hankering for keeping a wild animal as a pet, instead try to find the domestic equivalent of that wild animal! There are several dog breeds that look and behave like wolves or foxes, pigeons and chickens can make great pet birds and have hundreds of colorful fancy breeds, rats can be just as intelligent and social as a small monkey (and less expensive and dangerous to boot,) and ferrets are pretty darn close to minks and otters! There’s no need to keep a wolf in a house when our ancestors have already spent 20,000+ years to make them house-compatible.

🐖 This was stated in the infographic, but I feel like I must again reiterate that domestic animals do not belong in the wild, and often become invasive when feral. Their genetics have been specifically altered in such a way that they depend on humans for optimal health. We are their habitat. This is why you only really see feral pigeons in cities, and feral cats around settlements. They are specifically adapted to live with humans, so they stay even when unwanted. However, this does not mean they should live in a way that doesn’t put their health and comfort as a top priority! If we are their world, it is our duty to make it as good as possible. Please research any pet you get before bringing them home!

[iniziare]

Tag drop: Kafka

[sttoru]

Sukuna with clingy concubine 🛐🛐 like hella clingy, always clinging to sukuna, sitting on his lap and just following sukuna like a lost puppy

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. true form!sukuna x concubine! female reader. fluff. little bit suggestive. size difference. reader is clingy, a bit of an airhead ig. reader gets called ‘girl, brat’.

“y’re annoying me, girl,” sukuna grumbles as he walks to the courtyard. you had magically appeared behind him the moment he stepped out of his room to get some fresh air.

you flash him an apologetic smile “i’m sorry, my lord.” you’re not sorry, sukuna knows, though he doesn’t comment on it. it’s been like this ever since a week or two ago. he cannot recall why you’re suddenly so much more affectionate.

he doesn’t wait on you, however, and takes big strides towards the courtyard. if your little legs can’t keep up, that isn’t his problem. you frown and take on the challenge that’s been thrown your way.

you increase your pace and nearly run after sukuna. you have to lift your kimono a little to make sure you wouldn’t trip over the fabric. it doesn’t seem like you’ll give up any time soon as you follow him with that same content expression on your face.

sukuna can’t believe that a human like you dares to even be in his presence for so long. he didn’t call for you, so why are you adamant on staying with him? he concludes that something must be up, “what’d you want from me?”

there hangs a silence between you two afterwards. sukuna’s slow yet heavy footsteps reverberate through the hallway, followed by your quick and light ones. you pout as you notice that the king of curses isn’t even sparing you a glance, “nothing at all. i just like to be with you.”

you add the latter as an afterthought. you don’t expect sukuna to react to that, so you continue to trail behind him into the courtyard. “tch,” you hear him scoff in annoyance. you’re sure he doesn’t mean any actual harm by that, so you don’t take it personally.

sukuna eventually sits down on the engawa, where the servants have placed the comfy zabuton cushions. there’s always one for you as well—right next to sukuna’s. it’s become a habit for the maids to include you in sukuna’s daily routines since you’re always with him.

you eye your own cushion, though don’t make an effort to actually sit down on it. sukuna stares ahead, not bothered to notice you at the moment. you look down at his lap, recalling just how perfectly you can fit on it.

you don’t waste any more time and plop down on his thick thighs, your back against his chest. sukuna’s brow twitches at the sudden contact. his bottom pair of eyes look down at you whilst the upper ones keep looking at the nature in front of you both.

“get off me,” the king of curses commands through a low tone. he doesn’t push you off, however. that alone should tell you enough; he’s tolerating your behaviour as per usual. or perhaps he secretly likes your proximity.

you shall never discover which of the two it actually is.

“nooooooo,” you exaggerate with a whine. you don’t want to. you wrap both of your arms around one of sukuna’s—clinging onto him like your life depends on it. he simply responds by sighing.

you know sukuna’s able to grab you by the collar and force you to sit down on the cushion beside him, but he doesn’t. your heart flutters every time sukuna shows some tolerance to your clingy behavior. it means that maybe—just maybe—he’s opening up to the idea of being more affectionate with you.

“such a fuckin’ brat,” sukuna simply puts one hand on your waist, the others supporting his weight on the engawa. he grumbles, but there are clear signs of him relaxing with you in his presence.

you chuckle at the realisation and swing your legs in excitement. sukuna unexpectedly bites your ear in response to your increased activity on his lap, “stay still or i’ll kick you off.”

you let out a small whimper as you feel his fangs gently sick into your earlobe. you jolt back and rub the skin with your hand, looking up at sukuna with a playful frown before teasing him back. you roll your eyes and answer him with a firm yet mocking, “sir yes, sir!”

sukuna clicks his tongue at your tease. you answer him like he’s some general in the military. that’s not the kind of relationship he has with you—it’s more than that. even though he knows you’re joking, he dislikes it when you call him anything other than ‘my lord’, ‘my king’, or just his name.

he finds great satisfaction in the way you refer to him as such. you’re the only one who can make sukuna grin each time you remind him of his status and the power he has over you.

the power dynamic; it’s addictive.

he needs more of it.

sukuna reaches out to grab your face with one hand, but you’re quick to pull your head back the moment you see that intimidatingly big hand coming down onto your vision. you clear your throat and apologise, “i mean—yes, my lord.”

the king of curses hums in content. that title is exactly what he had been looking for. he retracts his hand and settles it back down on your waist, patting your sides twice to show his satisfaction with your obedience.

you stop squirming around in his lap and simply lay back down in his arms. you close your eyes and nearly fall asleep because of the comfortable atmosphere. the slight breeze against your face is relaxing and perfectly compliments the warmth from sukuna’s body.

what a perfect way to spend your day.

[pprodsuga]

.

[pencil-n-pen]

TONGUES AND TEETH

₊˚ʚ 🌲₊˚✧ ﾟ. °🍂 ೃ࿔*

jackson! joel miller x fem! loner! reader

masterlist | ko-fi

summary: Joel refuses to acknowledge the part of him that aches to be a protector. That is, until you come crashing into his life.

cw: canon-typical violence, reader had a rough go of things before Joel, nightmares, medical inaccuracies (oh the horror!) uhhh reader has a broken nose and it gets set, unspecified age gap, daddy issues but we all saw that coming and it’s vague, as an ellie lover and defender until the day i die, it pains me to say no ellie-au IM SORRY I COULDN’T MAKE IT WORK bella ramsey as ellie they could never make me hate you

tags/tropes: hurt/comfort as always, age gap, nightmare comfort, honestly just two messed up people loving each other

a/n: proof that i will find a way to write an eldest daughter fic for any fandom/universe

not officially writing for him !! just had this idea

another long(ish) fic. if you're here from my masterlist, now would be a good time to go pee, get some water, and maybe a snack or two :) same things for those of you scrolling. i see u

title taken from tongues and teeth by the crane wives (GO LISTEN TO THE CRANE WIVES !!)

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚🦴⋆｡°✩

Jackson living isn’t all Joel thought it would be cracked up to be.

Don’t get him wrong- objectively, it’s great. Running water, electricity, a clinic- three hallmarks Joel was sure he’d never see again. Not since the outbreak.

So by all means, he should be content. He goes out for hunting parties and patrols. Has his own house. Has a permanent place to keep his boots and his knives and guns and a bookshelf to make his way through. He has a bed. He has his brother.

But he’s restless.

Joel spent a long time walking. Searching. Surviving. You don’t quite slip back into easy civilian life just like that, no matter how perfect the conditions are.

At first, he solves this problem but going on more hunting parties, more patrols. He stays up late doing guard rotations and helps out his brother with projects when he can.

It doesn’t solve the itch, though. That sharp little thrumming, just beneath his skin: the need to protect. To have a job. To have something or someone to look after.

He denies this part of himself as much as he can, because he’s not that man anymore. Not after Sarah. He’s not. You don’t stay somebody dying to help and protect when you kill people. Because they’re still people, under the fungus. Under the parasite. Their brain’s still work. They still feel pain and anguish and fear.

He’s heard them cry before. Hunched over a corpse, body acting with somebody else at the reins, faces covered in blood and gore crying “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

So Joel isn’t a protective guy anymore. Had to take out those parts. Replace them with solitary and meanness and a distinct lack of sympathy.

It’s turned him into an angry thing. Like a gaurd dog; snarling, circling an empty pedestal it refuses to acknowledge is there.

He knows Tommy see’s it. Try’s to involve him in things whenever he can, invites him over to dinner. Hangs out at his house. Makes sure Joel isn’t alone-alone.

So Joel really, really should’ve seen it coming when he and the scouting party find you in the woods.

You’re just as surprised to see them as they are to see you. They thought they were tracking a deer— although some of the tracks and patterns of disturbance in the underbrush didn’t add up.

They’d entered a clearing, guns poised, just to see you, handgun leveled at them, perched in a tree. Way higher up than Joel would’ve dared.

“Stay the fuck away from me.” You’d hissed, voice carrying on the wind and rattling just like the leaves on the tree you’re in. How you managed to scale a tree that high in a busted pair of Doc Martens and lugging a backpack clearly full of supplies is beyond him.

But he doesn’t need medical credentials to know you’ve clearly had a rough go of things.

You’re young. Not young-young, but young. Dressed in clothes clearly pilfered, you’re wearing a thick brown jacket that probably would’ve belonged to a construction worker or something like that. It’s a few sizes too big, and the cuffs are frayed and there’s a hastily sewn patch on the elbow he can see. Your face and hair is littered with tree and other plant debris- though if this is a new addition from your tree climbing escapade, he’s not sure. Your nose has dried blood crusted under it, your lip is split, and there’s a cut above your eyebrow. Your knuckles and hands are equally torn and split, old and new scars and scrapes littering your skin.

In short: you look rough. And feral, in that way that cats that live outside a little too long and a little too far away from people end up looking.

“I said stay back!”

He remembers, abruptly, that you’re probably scared out of your mind and the rest of the scouting team is still pointing their weapons at you.

He makes the motion for them to lower their weapons, and he lowers his own, raising both hands in the universal “we come in peace” gesture.

You don’t lower yours, but your grip on it is looser.

“We’re from the Jackson settlement,” He shouts, hoping you don’t hear the gruff anger in his voice that Tommy always complains he needs to work on. “There’s running water and electricity.”

“I’ve heard that one before,” Your hands have begun to shake on the gun, ever so slightly. “So what’s your guys prerogative, huh? Cannablism? Religion? You planning on burning me at the stake? Or did you have something else in mind? I am a woman.”

Joel takes a step forward but stops when a bullet hits the ground right where his foot was about to be.

“If you take one more step you’re gonna find out exactly why I’ve survived alone this long.”

“Look,” He says, dropping his hands to his hips. “You can shoot us, and one of us will shoot you, and it’ll all be fine and dandy—“

There’s a chorus of whispers behind him.

“Or you can stay in that tree and not shoot us, and we won’t shoot you, and that’ll also be fine and dandy.”

He turns, jamming a finger in the direction of the settlement. “Jackson’s that way. Go or don’t go. I don’t really give a shit, but you look like you could use a bandaid.”

He jerks his head, and the rest of the party follows his lead, leaving the clearing —and you— behind.

—

A few hours after he returns, somewhere in the late evening when twilight is starting to set in and the crickets are chirping, Tommy knocks on his door.

“There’s a girl here for you.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Someone asked for me?”

“Well, not so much as for you. Her words exactly were “that gruff, mean looking asshole,” but I got the picture.”

He sighs, deep in his bones. A small part of him —the part that’s still connected to that dog, still circling— had hoped you would show up. However, it’s hopelessly overshadowed by the sheer exasperation of it all.

He’s silent save for non-committal grunts and hmm’s the way over to the front gates where the evening rotation’s guards have you standing between them.

You’re slightly worse for wear since the last time he saw you in that tree. Your jacket as a new rip in it, and your nose is sluggishly bleeding again. Up close, he notices it’s a bit crooked.

Gonna hurt like a bitch to set, He thinks absentmindedly.

He slows as he approaches you, hands in his pockets and shoulders back.

“See?” He huffs, gesturing with one hand behind him. “Not cannibals. Or whatever else you’re worried about.”

Your face is hard set as you look around. “That remains to be seen.”

“Hello!”

Joel looks back to see a pregnant Maria waddling over, a concerned Tommy at her side.

“I told you I’d handle it—“

“And I told you I’m fine. Now,” She props her hands on her hips. “Who’s this young lady now?”

You (hesitantly) stick out a hand to shake and introduce yourself.

She shakes your hand with a smile. Leave it to Maria to be able to read people with such ease. “I’m Maria Miller. I’m one of the settlement councilors. The golden retriever fussing next to me is my husband, Tommy, and the angry looking bear next to him is his brother, Joel. I understand a scouting party found you?”

You nod, eyes flicking this way and that, cataloguing the area.

“I’ve been on my own for… awhile. I don’t have any supplies to offer, but I’m smart and strong. I’m willing to work in exchange for a place to stay.”

Maria hums, assessing. “I’m sure we can work something out. You’ll need to come with me to speak to the rest of the council, for our safety and yours.”

You tighten your grip on your backpack but follow Maria and Tommy, only sparing one backward glance at Joel.

He spends the rest of the evening trying to forget the look in your eyes.

—

He fails spectacularly.

This doesn’t mean, however, that he’s anywhere near pleased when his nightly reading-as-a-poor-attempt-at-normalcy routine is interrupted by a knock on the door. One that sounds suspiciously like Tommy’s type of knock.

Only he hears two voices as he walks up to the door, and the other one isn’t Maria.

Joel opens the door with a glare already fixed on his face.

“There have to be other places.”

Tommy rolls his eyes. “It’s only temporary. The council agreed to let her stay so long as she’s watched by a trusted Jackson member, and well. You vouched for her.”

“And when exactly did I do that?”

“In the woods, when you met. You told her where you were from and how to get there. Honestly, Joel, you’re getting off light here. Some of the council members were not happy you told a random loner —no offense— where to find us. Kind of defeats the whole point.”

You huff a quiet “None taken.”

He can’t help the way his body tenses. “So this is a punishment?”

“Yes and no.”

“I don’t—“

“Look,” you interject, clearly fed up with the conversation. “It’s not the end of the world. I’m not going to murder you in your sleep and I don’t leave dirty clothes lying around. It’s only for three weeks. Get over it.”

Another sigh threatens to release itself, but he stamps it down, figuring he’s hit his sigh quota for the day.

“Fine. But take her down to medical first. I don’t want her blood all over my house.”

Tommy shrugs. “No-can-do. Maria needs me back at the house. You know where medical is. I’m sure you’ll manage.”

And with that, Tommy leaves, abandoning Joel and you at the doorstep.

Joel scrubs a hand down his face. “Wait there. I’ll grab a jacket.”

The walk to the clinic is awkward and silent, and just when Joel thinks it can’t get any worse, one of the staff tells him that since he’s your assigned supervisor/watcher/whatever, he has to accompany you. To everything.

To your credit, you don’t look very happy about the arrangement either.

Still, you bear through all the exams, a grimace fixed firmly on your face. Apparently (and not surprisingly) you’re malnourished, dehydrated, running a small fever, deficient in several vitamins, have two cracked ribs (most likely, no x-ray machine) and some run of the mill scraps and bruises.

You’re cagey enough on the details of the cracked ribs and nose that the doctor eventually moves on to the fixing you stage of things.

It takes awhile. There are a lot of injuries to cover.

When it comes to resetting your nose, the second the woman pulls out a needle and syringe, you go rigid.

“No.”

The doctor blinks. “This is just lidocaine, it’ll numb the area so—“

“No.”

“You wanna feel all that?” Joel asks, the first time he’s spoken during your entire exam, “It ain’t gonna feel great. Crooked nose like that won’t set with one go.”

“No needles. No numbing.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “What, you got a pain thing or something?”

Your hands go white-knuckled on the exam table. “Fuck. Off.”

You’re shaking, he notes.

Ah, He says to himself. Not a pain thing.

Fear.

The doctor shrugs. “Not like I won’t take the chance to save what we have. You’ll want something to bite down on. Or squeeze.”

You wrap your fingers around your own hand, a pathetic attempt at self-soothing.

He decides annoyance is the emotion he feels at your small movement. Nothing else.

He rolls his eyes as he grabs your hand, maneuvering it in place of your own.

“Good luck breaking it.”

You don’t respond. He wasn’t really expecting you to.

He knows without looking the exact moment the doctor starts resetting things because your grip on his hand quickly turns from barely there to crushing. You make no sound.

The doctor, to her credit, works fairly quickly, though by the time she’s finished a single tear has carved a path through the blood and grime on your face.

He thinks about how someone learns to cry without sound.

The doctor moves on quickly, cleaning and bandaging the wounds that need it and telling you detailed instructions for how to take care of your nose and cracked ribs and what things you should be eating to avoid staying vitamin deficient. It’s all a lot of words Joel is glad he doesn’t have to memorize.

They stick in his head anyway.

You don’t let go of his hand. You’re no longer squeezing the life out of it, but you’re not holding its gently either. When you do finally let go (after the doctor’s left and you can leave) you practically tear your hand away, as if burned. Like you’d left your hand on a stove as it was heating up only you just now noticed it was hot.

He doesn't say anything about it. He figures you're liable to literally bite his head off, or some other violent action close to that.

Besides. This is all awkward enough.

The walk back to the house is just as silent and strained as the walk to the clinic. Only now your breath is just a little more labored. Steps a little shakier. Your hand's twitch at your sides like they're reaching for something, and you don't quite manage to hide the way you look around every now and then, a restless, nervous action.

He knows what you're doing. He was you, back when he first got to Jackson. Granted, he wasn't as twitchy as you are. He kept his distance, stayed mean and scary (as possible.)

He holds the door open for you when you arrive back to the house, because his mom raised him to be a gentleman no matter the circumstances.

You toss him a look of confusion and annoyance but step into the house, looking around the modest living room with something almost like wonder.

He toes off his shoes, sets them by the door, and takes off his jacket, hanging it on the hook. "Shower before you touch anything. You're filthy. And don't think I'm giving up my bed."

"I wouldn't have taken it even if you had," You sneer. "Where's the--"

"Down the hall on the left. You got clean clothes?"

"...I have less dirty ones."

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Wait here."

He grumbles all the way upstairs, all the way through picking out clothes that'll fit you well enough until you either wash what you have or find something else.

He silently glowers as he comes down the stairs, thrusting the clothes out to you and turning on his heel when you take them.

"I'm going to bed. Don't wake me up."

When he lies in bed that night, he can't even pretend he's not thinking about you. In his defense, it's less about you and more about the new, strange, stand-offish person he's just supposed to live with for the foreseeable future. All because he had the bad luck of feeling bad for the battered, flighty, loner girl sitting in a tree.

He stares at his ceiling, internal clock (yes, he's old, he has an internal clock. Sue him) letting him know it is decidedly an hour he should be asleep. He refuses to go downstairs, on principle alone. He could get up and go find one of his books, but he knows that if you're anything like him, coming off of however long you spent alone, you're a light sleeper. You're probably awake now, listening to him toss and turn and being unnerved by the unusual silence of Jackson and the particular brand of night-noise it produces. That's what the first two weeks of Joel's life in Jackson consisted of, before he moved in here.

Maria had decided that Joel would stay with the two of them until he integrated in Jackson society. Perks of your brother marrying a council member, he guesses.

So he's not going downstairs. Not going to walk down there just to see a person, an entire person in his house looking like, looking like--

Fuck.

He throws his blankets off and angrily (but not loudly) marches downstairs to get himself a glass of water and the book he knows he left on the table by the couch when he was so rudely interrupted by you. This is his house, dammit, he refuses to be put out by a random girl.

Woman, his brain corrects.

The living room is completely dark when he makes his way down the stairs and he truly, honestly wishes he was surprised when there's a whoosh of air to his right and a knife embeds itself in the wall about a half inch away from the side of his face.

The living room is still and silent.

"I thought they took your weapons when you got here."

"I lied about what I had."

He scrubs a hand down his face, yanks the knife out of the wall, and tosses it back. If you can throw it, you can dodge it.

He doesn't hear any screams, yelps, or grunts of pain, so he assumes you caught it fine. Or at least dodged it.

He makes his way over to the kitchen, grabs the teapot, and takes down two mugs.

"You know they can kick you out for harboring weapons during your probationary stay."

He hears a rustle of blankets behind him. The sound of you stashing your knife, no doubt.

"Are you going to tell them?"

He snorts, filling up the teapot. "No. There's been a knife in my boot since the day I got here."

He hears more rustling, and decides against turning around. He's not quite sure what you've been doing down here all night since it's clear that you weren't sleeping.

He doesn't hear any footsteps, but when does turn around to set the mugs on the table, you're sitting at it, knees pulled up and head resting atop them, your cheek smushed. Now that his eye's have adjusted to the darkness of the living room, he can almost make out your features. They're easier to discern, now that you're not covered in blood and grime. You look... softer. Haloed in the glow of moonlight shining through the gaps in the curtains.

Your face isn't the only thing glowing. The tell-tale glint of a knife --a different, smaller knife than the one you'd thrown at him-- shines from it's spot, resting oh-so innocently on the table.

Joel just huffs.

"No weapons on the table."

He blinks, and it's gone.

He doesn't ask why you're still awake or what you've been doing instead of sleeping. You don't ask why he's down in the kitchen at all.

"What are you making?"

"Tea."

He gently places a teabag in each mug. He isn't really sure why he's doing this for you. You've done nothing but hiss and spit since he's met you.

But tonight, right now, blanketed in the not-quite calm of the night and the apparent unease you both drown in--

It's tolerable. You're tolerable.

So he takes the kettle off the stove and pours the water and places the steaming mug on the table in front of you.

To which you ignore, and snatch the mug out of his hands instead.

"Did you think I put that one," He points to the mug in front of you, "There for giggles?"

You cradle the mug in your hands, seemingly entranced with the warmth and steam. "You might've poisoned mine."

"Maybe I poisoned both."

You take a sip, then grimace when the too-hot liquid hits your tongue.

"You don't look like the kind of person to have built an immunity to poison."

"You also watched me make both beverages."

"So? It's dark. You could've slipped something in. Or maybe it was already in the teabags."

"What use would I even have for you dead?"

You shrug. "I don't know. You tell me."

“You’re a deeply mistrusting person.”

“And you’re not?”

Touché.

Joel remains in the kitchen, leaned against a cabinet sipping your tea, while you stay hunched at the table, sipping yours.

If he removes the irritability and the uncomfortable-ness of everything that involves you living with him, the moment is almost… companionable. Pleasant, even.

It… soothes that nervous part of him. Not the sad nervous. The angry nervous. That built up crack of anger.

There’s another person in his home that is neither attempting to perceive his problems nor actively attempting to kill him. Your belief that he might poison you aside, you still accepted the tea.

He firmly believes that Tommy isn’t right about the loneliness thing though. His brother being right is just a world Joel can’t live in.

Besides. It’s too early to tell anything anyway.

—

Unfortunately, the following few days do not go… terribly.

That isn’t to say they go well, though. Since he’s looking after you (read: making sure you’re not an axe-murderer or something) he’s not allowed to go out on scouting or hunting trips. Or solo guard rotations he’s come to covet.

It’s boring, and having you around is strange.

It’s interesting, when he gets bored enough, because if he focuses hard enough he can guess what events happened to you based on your reactions to certain things. He’s pretty sure you were drugged at some point based on your reaction to the doctor with the lidocaine. You’re general skittish and flighty nature can be easily attributed to the conditions in which everyone in the world is living in, but your particular brand of distrust and aggression says that humans, not the infected, have been the ones to hurt you the most. Your general unease in open areas or areas with not easily accessible exits leads him to believe that there have been several extremely close calls in several points of your survival.

He knows you’ve been shot before, but that one was an accident. He’d come downstairs, rubbing bleary sleep from his eyes and accidentally stumbled across you changing. Well, finishing changing. He’d quickly closed his eyes and turned around, and thankfully you hadn’t startled, but he had caught a glimpse of the stretch of skin not covered by the long sleeve undershirt you favored. On the left side, just above your hip and a few inches towards your bellybutton, there’s a jagged, raised, circular scar. Still pink.

He knows you have a very slight, very subtle limp. He’s not sure what causes it, but he knows you have one. It tends to act up when you do a lot of strenuous exercise for an extended period of time. Some days you wake up and it’s worse. On those days, you’re a little more mean, and a little more skittish.

He’s yet to see you actually, legitimately sleep.

He’s starting to think you haven’t, since arriving.

Which is insane, because it’s been four days.

The bags under your eyes are horrific, even to him. You’ve gotten clumsier and clumsier, your attention span and memory are terrible, and he thinks you might’ve started hallucinating, if the times he’s seen you staring off into space with concerned, fearful, or twisted expressions on your face and mumbled rambles he can’t make out are anything to go by.

On day five, when Joel comes downstairs in the morning and the knife you throw at him bounces harmlessly off the wall and clatters to the ground and you just stare at it, eyes foggy and unseeing, he decides to talk to Maria.

“I don’t really care,” He says, because he has a reputation to uphold dammit, “But I’m not sure how much longer she’s gonna last, and what she’s gonna do when she wakes up.”

“Mmm,” Maria hums, hands clasped on the table and staring at Joel with her best ‘I don’t believe you don’t care’ look. She’s really perfected it, “Well the truth is, she can’t go forever. It’s fear keeping her up now. Happens a lot with the loners that come in. Especially the women. She’s afraid that no one’s there to watch her back and terrified she won’t be strong enough to fend off any attackers.”

Maria looks at her hands. “The fear is exacerbated by the fact that the council took most of her weapons.”

“You knew—“

“She was lying? Of course I did. So did several of the other members, I’m sure. But she’s not a threat. She’s scared.”

He thumbs the thin scar on his cheek from the knife came just a little too close to hitting the mark when he sneezed in the kitchen. “She’s got a funny way of being scared.”

“Fight or flight, Joel. She knows flight isn’t an option.”

“Why are you lobbying so hard in her defense?”

“I’m not. I’m explaining her actions. Also,” She gives a knowing smile, “You’ve started to care. Otherwise you wouldn’t be coming to me about this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He grouses. “So what am I supposed to do? Just wait for her to pass out?”

“You could. It’ll happen eventually. She very clearly doesn’t have that many hours left in her. That’s probably freaking her out more. Or, you could subtly show her that she can sleep around you. She needs to know that she’s safe from whatever it is she’s running from.”

Joel keeps his eyes locked on the kitchen table, tracing the grain in the wood with an absent-minded finger.

“I know you pushed for her to stay with me.”

“The council wanted a punishment that fit the crime.”

“Look, I appreciate the thought—“

Maria’s expression flattens. “Joel. Do not sit at my table and lie about how you don’t need anyone and you’re fine on your own. You need this.“

“I don’t need this,” He scoffs, “She’s practically half-feral. No one needs that.”

Maria stands, shrugging. “Then I guess you’ll have to file for a name change, No-One Miller. Until then, make sure she’s not alone when she wakes up.”

—

He did leave you alone for the duration of his conversation with Maria, because fuck if he was bringing you to that, and he figured you both could use some time away from each other. He knows he can.

He’s not very surprised to hear the familar whoosh of a small, sharp object sailing through the air that tends to accompany his arrival into rooms you’re occupying (he’s pretty sure it stopped being a fear response after the first two times and now you’re just messing with him) but he is suprised to see that this time, the knife doesn’t even make it head height. Or to the wall.

It clatters uselessly to the ground near his feet. He stares at the metal between his boots and then up at you—

“Why are you sitting on the kitchen counter?”

“I don’t remember.”

He leaves the knife on the ground and makes his way over to you, watching with mock disinterest at the several-seconds-delayed flinch you make when he stands in front of you.

You look up at him, eyes glassy and unfocused and you just look so, so tired.

There’s a curl of protectiveness in his chest that keeps trying to spread, keeps trying to grow. Here, in the kitchen, your legs dangling over the edge of the counter, bathed in the glow of the mid-day sun, it takes root. Right in the center.

He looks down at your feet. “What happened to your other shoe?”

You scrunch up your face. “I don’t… I was getting in bed, I think. But it wasn’t my bed. I forgot that things aren’t—“

That things aren’t the same anymore.

He crouches down, untying the laces of your boot and shucking it aside somewhere.

“Alright, come on.”

You slide off the counter, clumsy and uncoordinated. He takes your hand in his, leads you up to the bedroom.

The stairs are difficult for your tired, barely working brain. He has to stop multiple times to physically lift your legs or stop you from falling over and cracking your head open.

You finally make it up there, though, and he realizes that you probably won’t want to sleep in your everyday clothes.

“One last step.”

He can’t help but notice how intimate the moment is. Not intimate-intimate, but. He instructs you softly to lift your arms so he can tug your shirt over your head and replaces it with a soft shirt of his own.

Staring into your eyes is too charged and allowing his eyes to wander is bad for obvious reasons, so he keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the junction of where your neck meets your shoulder.

He keeps his eyes there as he helps you out of your pants and into a pair of flannel pajama pants. The same ones he’d given you the first night you came. You’ve never slept and he’s never seen you go to any of the places he knows have extra clothes, so he’s almost positive you don’t have any pajamas at all.

His fingers work quickly to tie the drawstring on the pants, and even then, they hang low on your hips.

He doesn’t let his eyes linger.

“Come on,” He says taking your arm and tugging you toward the bed. “Time for sleep.”

“It’s the middle of the day,” You mumble, standing in place. “And I can’t, what if they—“

“I’ll be here the whole time. I’ll keep watch.”

You mull his words over in your head for a few moments before stumbling the final few steps into the bed. You practically collapse into it, shuffling for a just few seconds before your breath evens out.

You’re asleep.

He reaches over, adjusting the blankets a bit, before grabbing the book he’d left on the bedside table and settling down in the chair by the bed.

The hours tick by quietly, accompanied only by the quiet rustling of pages turning and your soft snores.

For the first time in awhile, he doesn’t feel restless.

—

You sleep for a full eighteen hours straight before you stir.

He’s a good portion of the way through his book before he see’s your body tense in the corner of his eye. Your breathes are still even and deep, so if he couldn’t see you, he probably wouldn’t notice you’re awake.

“You’ve been asleep for eighteen hours,” He says, voice rough and scratchy with disuse, “You got in bed voluntarily.”

“You changed my clothes.”

“You didn’t seem all that capable of doing so yourself and I didn’t think you wanted to sleep in jeans. You mind?”

“…No.”

“Good. Go back to sleep.”

“I can’t just—“

“You didn’t sleep for five days. If we’re going by the eight hours a night average needed or whatever, that’s forty hours. You’ve still got twenty-two left to catch up on.”

You roll over to face him with a grumble. “I don’t like how good you are at mental math.”

“Get better, then.”

You shimmy out from under the blankets, tossing him an “I have to pee,” as you make your way out of the room.

It’s early morning now, weak sunlight behind to strain its way through the curtains. He figures it’s a good enough time to make some food (and coffee) if you’re going to be going to back sleep, so he meanders down to the kitchen and throws together a small breakfast.

“Did you make us breakfast?”

He never really gets used to how quietly you move through rooms.

“Jesus— yes. Here.”

He hands you a bowl with oatmeal and a small plate with a slice of toast— toasted in a pan, because electricity aside, he doesn’t own a toaster. Why waste time scavenging for an appliance when something else works just as fine?

He sets a jar of jam on the counter that he’d picked up awhile ago in exchange for fixing the hinge on somebody’s door.

“You got any allergies?”

“None that matter.”

He nods to the table. “Go eat. Then get back in bed.”

“You’re so bossy.”

“And you’re annoying. Eat.”

You eat quickly and quietly, then wordlessly follow him back upstairs, climbing back into bed.

“Joel?” You whisper.

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

He tucks the blanket up over your shoulder. “Go to sleep.”

You obey easily.

—

Things between the two of you… soften after that. He slowly sees more pieces of your personality than the wild thing he met that day in the woods.

He learns that you love peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but miss peanut butter and nutella sandwiches more than anything. He learns that on good days, you like drinking coffee straight black, but on bad days, you like it with milk and sugar.

He learns that your limp is the result of one careless mistake you’d made when you first surviving on your own.

“I thought the house was abandoned. It wasn’t,” You’d rolled up your pant leg to show horrific, deep, jagged scars circling your ankle, “Guy had set out a bear trap to slow down some of the clickers in the area. It was dark. Didn’t notice it until too late.”

He learns that you, despite your snide remarks and sarcastic comments, like having him around. He feels a bit like earning the trust of a stray cat.

You begin to grow more comfortable with life in Jackson, though not by much. He’s sure you weren’t a people person before the outbreak, much less so now that he knows some of the horrors you’ve been through before you got here.

He’s even started getting used to how quietly you move.

It’s easy to fall into a rhythm, from there.

He wakes up, goes downstairs. Sometime’s there’s a knife thrown at him, sometimes there isn’t. You’re usually sprawled on the couch, drool coming out of your mouth and grumbling incoherently about “old men and their stupid early mornings.”

It’s almost endearing.

Since Joel spends a lot of time helping Maria and Tommy get ready for their baby, you, in turn, get to know the both of them by being stuck with Joel. Maria set you on edge at first, Tommy slightly less so, but through continuous interactions your prickly nature smoothed.

One night, you were all seated on their couch after enjoying a dinner together —not the first and definitely not the last— having quiet conversation. You’re totally passed out on Joel’s shoulder, dead-asleep and quite content to use him as a human teddy bear.

Maria smiles over her mug of tea. “She’s grown on you.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. She’s not all bad.”

“High praise coming from Joel Miller.”

You have grown on him. And in turn, your relationship has started to grow into… something else. Sometimes his eyes linger just a little too long, and the looks you share feel just a little too charged.

Tommy sends him a look full of words only true siblings can understand.

“No, Tommy.”

“Oh come on Joel! You both clearly—“

“We are not having this conversation right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because—“

You fling an arm out wildly, smacking him in the side of his face and grasping around until your pointer finger finally finds his lips.

“Shhhh. M’ sleeping.”

He wraps his hand around your wrist, prying your fingers off his face. “You know that’s what bed’s are for. Or couches. Or any number of surfaces I’ve found you sleeping on.”

“You’re a surface I’m sleeping on.”

“I shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not a bed. Come on, up and at em’.”

You whine at the loss of warmth when he stands, scowling as you haul yourself to your feet. As he’s putting on his boots by the door, he hears you thanking Maria and Tommy for their hospitality, and he can’t help the little smile that twitches on his face. Seems like his parents weren’t the only ones who made sure he had manners.

You meet him at the door, hopping in place to put your boots on and getting frustrated when they don’t slide on immediately.

“You know, it would help if you untied the laces—“

“Fuck off.”

He blinks. That seems a little more mean than you usually say nowadays.

So Joel takes a step back. Watch’s your legs and your shoes and your hands—

There.

Your hands shake as you fumble with the laces, unable to get a good grip on the thin cords to untie and re-tie your shoes.

He shoos your hands away from the singular boot you haven’t managed to get on.

“Sit.”

He’s thankful that he built the shoe bench for Maria a few weeks after he got to Jackson. It serves Maria well for not having to stand while she attempts to put her shoes on while heavily pregnant, a feat she bemoaned a few times, and now it’s serving you.

You plop down on the bench with a huff, crossing your arms as Joel crouches, undoing the laces of your boot and sliding it on.

“I can do it.”

“I know you can.”

“Why’re you doing it?”

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He secures the tie on one boot and moves on to the next. “It is tonight.”

Once both shoes are on, you both bid Tommy and Maria good night, and make your way home.

If your hand find’s Joel’s, then that’s not anyone’s business.

—

He notices things after that.

You’ve started snapping at him more often. You’re not sleeping as much. You’ve started flat out refusing to go with him on daily chores as tasks, which either leads to an argument or the both of you staying at home all day.

It all comes to a head when you wake up screaming.

He thunders down the stairs, ducking on instinct for a knife that doesn’t come. You’re not on the couch. He whips his head around, the screaming stopped he can’t find you—

A thud. A panicked gasp.

He moves on slow, apprehensive feet towards the kitchen, crouching down to see you huddled under the table, knife clenched in your hand and pointed toward him.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?”

Your eyes are wide and shining with tears.

“You died.”

“I didn’t. I’m right here.”

You shake your head, breaths coming short and shallow.

He settles on the floor, crossing his legs. “Here, take my hand. Come on.”

He extends his hand into the space between you two. Achingly slowly, you put down the knife, and take his hand in yours.

“See? I’m still here.”

Eventually, your breathing slows, and the fear begins to leave your eyes. You drop his hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

“No, no it’s just—“ You break off with a strangled noise.

He waits. Lets a few minutes tick by.

“Does this have anything to do with the fact you’ve been avoidin’ me?”

You look down. “You noticed?”

“I do have eyes, sweetheart.”

You grab the knife again, twisting it this way and that in your hands.

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of you.”

He tilts his head. “How come?”

You’re silent for a little while again.

“I feel… okay with you.”

“And that’s scary?”

“Yes,” You breathe, “You could leave, or die, and it scares me that I’m already attached to you. That having nightmare’s of you dying affects me so much. That they happen at all.”

He hums. “Seem’s were at an impasse.”

He taps a finger on his knee.

“It’s not all bad. To care.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Joel Miller?”

He huffs, shaking his head. “You know, against my better judgment, I’ve come to tolerate having you around.”

“Tolerate?”

“Mhm.”

“Nothing else?”

“No.”

“So you’ve never thought about kissing me?”

Heat rushes to his face. “Is that really a question you want to be asking right now?”

“Yes.”

“Mm,” He stands, “Well I don’t answer that kind of question at this hour. Come on.”

He reaches under the table and pulls you out.

You clamber to your feet, still a little shaky after your nightmare.

You turn to go back to the couch, but stops when he tugs on your arm.

“Mm-mm. No couch tonight.”

You look up at him, a question in your eyes he doesn’t know how to answer with words.

He steps forward, rough hands coming up to your face, thumb swiping the crest of your cheek.

“Tell me to stop.”

“I won’t.”

He leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss, soft and slow.

He pulls away after a few moments, searching your face for any sign of negativity or displeasure or disgust or, or—

You surge up, kissing him again, all the same fiery passion he saw the day you met.

“I suppose that answers my question.”

He chuckles. “You think?”

“I hope so.”

His hands slide down to your waist. and he can’t resist the little squeeze he gives the skin there.

“Alright. Back to bed, let’s go.”

“I forgot how tired old men get.”

“Please don’t call me an old man right after we kiss.”

He can hear your quiet snorting laughter as you climb the stairs, socked feet silent as always.

You climb into bed first, shoving yourself into the side by the wall and then making grabby motions for Joel.

“Am I just a pillow to you?”

“Yes. Come be a pillow.”

He rolls his eyes but slips into bed next to you and quietly relishes in the pleased hum you let out as you wrap your arms around his waist, practically smashing your face into his chest.

“You comfortable there?”

“Mhm.”

He curls one arm around you, his other hand coming up to cup the back of your neck. This close, he feels the shudder run through your body at the motion, and curious, he gives your nape a little squeeze.

Your reaction is instantaneous. You go limp- completely boneless.

“I got you, I got you. Go to sleep, now.”

It doesn’t take you long. And with you asleep so soundly in his arms, he follows right behind you.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

[lovelivision]

RUIN THE FRIENDSHIP!?

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: geto suguru/reader

𝐖𝐂: 11.9k

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: friendships are hard, especially when the lines are so blurry you can't tell where the both of you stand. so what do you do when you catch feelings on top of all that ??

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ only, smut, angst (?), swearing, making out, annoying drunk stranger, fingering, dirty talk, marking, titty worship, p in v sex, clit slapping, creampie, geto fucks mean, geto is a TEASE, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, f!reader, she/her pronouns used, no use of y/n, i think that's all !!

Being friends with Geto Suguru isn’t hard… in theory but in practice it’s one of the most difficult things you’ve ever had to do. It’s especially difficult because he does things for you that feel like they’re pushing the boundaries of a normal friendship without actually doing anything weird.

Things like his insistence on bringing things for you when you’re feeling down, showing you extra care in how he talks to you, hanging out with you and having frequent movie nights, being attentive to your needs. While those things are innocuous in theory, it’s the way he treats you, talks to you and how it makes you feel that has your friendship feeling like it’s on a precarious ledge. Caught between pulling back or pushing over.

Sighing, your foot kicks at his sitting form, “Don’t you have something better to do tonight?”

“Like what?” His eyebrow raises at you, eyeing your lazy form, spread out comfortably on your couch.

You’d feel bad for taking up the whole couch if you weren’t so comfortable, “I don’t know, like a date? Hanging with friends? Going out on the town or whatever youths do.”

“Firstly, I’m older than you–”

Interjecting to add, “–Not by much!”

He only rolls his eyes, ignoring your interruption all together, “To your other points, I’m not interested in dating right now, and I am hanging out with a friend.”

Sighing louder than last time, foot pushing him enough to sway him, “Aren’t you bored of me?”

“No?” his brows pinching in confusion, “Should I be?” Hand grabbing your foot to stop it from kicking at him.

You pout, trying to pull yourself free of his grip, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t say stupid things,” he huffs, amused by your struggle. “I could ask you the same thing you know.”

“I like hanging out with you,” you grumble at him.

“Yeah, well, I feel the same,” finally letting go of your foot.

You’re feeling restless, he’s your friend, you know he’s your friend, and yet you can’t help hoping that your friendship is just a little bit more special. You groan and kick at him with both your feet.

“Woah, hey!” Both his hands grab at your ankles, pinning them down into the couch, “What’s wrong with you tonight?”

“I’m annoyed.”

“I’ve taken notice,” he’s trapping you with a pointed look, waiting for more of an explanation from you.

If you had an explanation, you’d give it to him but as of right now, you aren’t even sure if you’re aware of what you’re feeling enough to verbalise it to him. You deflate, looking back at him sheepishly, “I know you want to know what’s wrong, but I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Or you don’t want me to know?”

Pushing yourself up, you cock your head at him, “The result is the same despite my answer, no?”

“No.” His tone resolute, “I could help,” he returns.

You deliver a very plain, “You can’t.” He’s the cause of your confusion, talking to him could make it all so much worse and you don’t really want to deal with the fallout of all that.

“Woah, awful dismissive of me, I might be able to fix what’s wrong easily.”

Turning so you’re facing the screen, you try to focus on the plot, “You can fix what’s wrong right now by being quiet and watching the movie.”

“I was watching the movie, you distracted me,” he pokes lightly at your shoulder.

Shushing at him quickly, “Shut, I’m trying to listen.”

He doesn’t say anymore, just goes back to watching the movie in silence, probably following the plot better than you are because you’re sat closer to him like this and can’t help but sneak glances at him.

It’s not fair, he looks pretty like this, face illuminated by the soft glow of the television, seemingly entranced by the movie playing. While gazing over his features, you find yourself constantly looking back at his lips, heart stuttering in your chest. You wonder how kissing him would feel like, would it help, wait.

Prying your eyes off him, you desperately hope to be shown some kind of mercy, you shouldn’t want to kiss him, you shouldn’t be thinking about kissing him. You need to get a hold of yourself.

Unfortunately, you are not shown any mercy and all you can manage to think about is him, how soft his lips might be, how he would kiss you, would he be tentative… or would he kiss you like he’s done it a million times before.

Not even realising you’re staring at him again until he sighs and locks his eyes onto yours, “Are you aware you’re staring at me?”

Trying to play it cool by answering, “I was not staring.”

“Are you alright?” He’s growing a little concerned by your unusual behaviour tonight.

“I’m fine! Good even, just… a little lost in thought is all.” You feel guilty.

“And just what exactly are you thinking about?”

Your skin flares at his question, feeling embarrassed by your thoughts, “Nothing! General thoughts… you know…”

“Right…” He’s clearly sceptical, not believing your flimsy answers for even a second, “Have I done something to upset you?”

He’s too much for you right now, you try answering confidently but fail miserably, “No?”

Moving so his body is facing you, he gets into your space, worried by your answer, “Why don’t you sound sure?”

“Why are you asking me so many questions tonight?” You avoid his gaze, flustered by him suddenly so close to you. Still thinking about his lips on yours, in the back of your head thinking about his hands on your body.

“You’re being weird, I’m just concerned,” his hand reaches for your face, “Do you have a fever or something?” His knuckles rest on your cheek, gauging your temperature.

“Seriously, I’m fine,” you’re fumbling more than you want to, eyes rounded and shocked looking into his.

It feels like you grow warmer the longer his hand stays on your face, it’s becoming difficult to think. If you had a good reason, you would kick him out right now but you’re already concerning him and you’re trying so hard to be normal. This night is taking a very unfortunate turn.

His face twists, concern written all over it, “You feel a little warm, are you sure you’re okay?” Hand slipping from your cheek, moving to rest against the back of the couch.

Trying to keep your answers short, you give a simple, “I’m sure.”

Geto doesn’t know where to go from here, his silence is evidence of that. You don’t blame him though because you’re not really sure where to go from here either, the thoughts of his lips on yours linger in your mind and you feel as if you could die.

“I just…” He looks to you when you start talking, ready to hear whatever it is you have to say, “I was just thinking – and don’t make this weird – but I was thinking about… how you would kiss me…” your words trail off slightly, growing quieter and quieter with each word.

His eyes widen slightly in response before he switches back to his neutral expression, “I–”

“–I don’t wanna know, don’t talk actually,” you cut him off abruptly, too embarrassed to dissect this any further and certainly not willing to have a conversation with him about it, already regretting having admitted to thinking it.

He questions you, clearly caught between being entertained and somewhat concerned, “I’m not allowed to comment?”

“No.”

“Even though you’ve been thinking about how I would­–”

Hurriedly moving your hand to cover his mouth, hissing out, “Shush!”

You’re closer like this, the proximity flustering you, the silence awkward, Geto glares at you from under your hand. He has something to say and is showing clear disdain for your repeated interruptions.

His larger hand reaches up and wraps around your wrist, trying to gently pry your hand away but you hold steady. Growing frustrated with this little tug of war game you have going on, he uses more force to pull your hand down, grabbing your other hand as well. Restraining them both in your lap, keeping you still.

Exasperated when he asks, “Don’t you think you’re overeating slightly?”

“No.” You tug back on his grip but get nowhere.

“Why are you annoyed at me over this? They’re your thoughts,” he reminds.

You’re irritated with how right he is, it’s not his fault you’re thinking like this, but it doesn’t change the fact that sitting right next to him makes it difficult for you to think of anything other than how soft his lips might be, or if he’ll hold you still while he kisses you, or if­–

He barks out a quick laugh, “You wanna kiss me that bad?”

Realising you were staring at his lips again you feel like you might spontaneously combust, struggling against his hold and huffing out, “Shut up, just forget I even said anything.”

He sounds restrained and incredibly serious when he murmurs back, “Might not be able to if you keep looking at me like that.”

“Don’t make this even more embarrassing for me, Suguru! It’s your fault,” you accuse indignantly.

Lips quirking evilly, “Oh? So, you want me to fix it then?”

“You should! Take a little responsibility,” you grumble out at him, all pouty and annoyed.

Leaning in closer to press you, “Do you want me to kiss you? Do you think it would help?”

“I don’t know… I mean…” you look to his lips again, gaze getting a little lost as you do.

If Suguru were being honest with you, he’d tell you how much you’re killing him when you look at him like that but he’s stubborn and a tease, so instead he says, “Eyes up here.”

Dragging your eyes back to his and staring daggers, completely pissed at him but mostly yourself for being so obvious again, “Do you think it would help?”

“You’d stop wondering,” he shrugs easily, like this is all so incredibly normal and not uncharted territory for the both of you.

“I don’t want this to make our friendship weird,” feeling pathetic as you look at him, you’re not even sure if what you have together is as simple as a friendship, it feels like so much more. At least, you’re kind of hoping it is, kissing him could do irreparable damage and you don’t just mean in terms of how you act around one another but specifically how you feel about him.

“I won’t let it,” he assures.

“I’m not worried about you…”

He’s taken aback by your small admission, it’s not clear enough for him to make any real conclusions from it or confront you on anything just now but he knows it makes his heart beat faster and flusters him slightly. In all his years of casual dating and serious relationships, you’re the only person to have ever made him feel like such a fool.

“It’s up to you then,” he smiles softly.

You aren’t sure if it’s worth the risk but if this is the only chance you’ll get then you don’t know if you want to risk letting it go by either, “I think… yes.”

Playing dumb, he asks, “‘Yes’ what?”

Your tone lowers again, confident answer short lived when he teases you, “Yes… I want you to kiss me…”

“You’re sure?” He asks but his hands are already moving up your body, one resting against the side of your neck, touch gentle and light.

“I mean… I’m not sure if this is a good idea but I’m sure I want you to kiss me.”

He huffs lightly in disbelief, breath tickling against your lips, “What’s wrong with you tonight?”

“You…” Frown dusting your features as you utter it, eyes already focused back on his lips.

He doesn’t say anymore after that, faltering in his movements a bit but ultimately moving in completely and pressing his lips to yours delicately. It’s featherlight, kiss shallow and simple, like he’s holding back. It’s still enough to have your head full, full of thoughts of him, of how soft his lips are, how gentle his kisses are.

Geto pulls back all too soon for your liking, putting some distance between the two of you, head cocking to the side as he looks you over, “Curiosity satisfied.”

“Is that really how you would want to kiss me?”

“What?”

At his question you’re suddenly all too aware how bold yours was, “I just… It’s nothing, sorry.” Fumbling over yourself, not wanting to hurt his feelings, “It was nice! It was a nice kiss.”

“No, no,” he squints at you, “Go on… say what you want.”

It’s quiet for a moment, your hesitance clear, “…Did you… kiss me how you wanted to?”

“I think if I kissed you how I wanted,” pausing to lean in closer, “You might pass out or something.”

“Oh, come on, you’re not my first kiss or anything,” you roll your eyes at him and his ego, “I was just curious, if that’s really how you’d kiss me then that’s all there is to it, it was a nice kiss,” you shrug at him.

“Why am I starting to feel like I’m being assessed?”

“If you feel that way then that’s on you.” Trying so hard to play it cool, like you can’t tell he was holding back, like you don’t want him to kiss you more, “Do you wanna go back in the movie? To where we were before?”

As you get up to move off the couch and find the remote, Suguru is pulling you back down to him, one hand gently holding the front of your throat. You don’t get a second to think about all the movements he just made, his lips on yours, rushed, like he’s suddenly, incredibly desperate to kiss you.

Barely able to keep up with him, head dizzy from the whiplash, this isn’t at all how he kissed you before. You’re basically panting against him when he does pull back, allowing you the small moment to catch your breath.

His thumb pulls down on your chin lightly, “Open your mouth more,” his eyes are lidded as he looks at you, tone deeper than before.

Obeying him wordlessly and then he’s kissing you again, tongue in your mouth. It’s all messy and rushed and has you losing your mind. Your arms wrap around his neck, and he pulls your body closer to his, hand moving to the back of your head.

When he sucks your tongue into his mouth and licks at you, you can’t stop the moan that leaves you. Swallowed down by Geto in an appreciative manner, his kiss lingers for a while longer, making you dizzy and thoughtless. He pulls back from you, connected by a string of saliva that snaps when he licks at his lower lip.

The look on your face is dumbstruck, eyes big and wet as you gaze up at him in a dazed manner. It makes him feel feral, not able to help the way he leans back in and presses more short, sloppy kisses to your swollen lips.

There’s a pause before you can regain your faculties enough to say anything to him and even then, the only thing you can manage is, “I… uhm…”

“Was that better?” He’s trying to be light-hearted about it, but his lips are swollen as well, and his eyes are lidded, and he looks… “You didn’t pass out did you?” His head lowers so his eyes catch yours.

Your brain feels fuzzy and all you can think about it how you’ve never been kissed like that before, that you want to keep being kissed like that, “What? No… I just… wow.”

“Live up to your expectations?”

“I didn’t really have any, I was only curious…” Smiling big at him, you add, “But yeah, maybe even exceeded them.”

“You aiming to boost my ego, or did I really kiss you stupid?” He can’t help the way he leans in again, just shy of your lips.

Mouth on yours before you get to answer or refute what he’s accused, you don’t stop him though, allowing him to kiss you fully, deeply. One of his hands on the side of your face, holding you, the other grips at your hip, almost tugging you in closer.

Before you lose focus again, you part to gasp out, “I don’t know if–” interrupted by his lips on yours, hand tangling into his hair to pull him back, he groans at the force of the tug, “Suguru, I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep–”

“–Just another kiss, one more…” breathless in how he asks, mouth hot on yours, tongue already in your mouth.

It’s almost too much, he’s so insistent, he’s kissing you like he might never get to again, like he’s trying to get the most out of this. He might actually have you passing out, it’s not even as if you really want him to stop but that’s part of the problem, isn’t it?

Pulling back, he sucks on your lower lip before nipping at it, the whimper he pulls from you is embarrassing and weak and you’re facing an internal conflict of so many emotions right now but mostly you’re struck by how badly you want to sleep with him.

You hadn’t realised his hand had snuck under your shirt, warm and large against your side, sending a shiver down your spine. The breathlessness you’re hit with has your skin feeling hot as you try to stumble out your words, “I, uh, think we should stop… here.”

“Why? Am I not a good kisser? Are you not enjoying yourself?” A smile creeps onto his face, “You sounded like you were enjoying yourself.”

“Don’t.” Your head tucks down and onto his chest, forehead leaning against him, “Please don’t embarrass me.”

He wraps his arms around your body, embracing you, “Can’t help it.”

You stay like this for probably longer than you should, enjoying the moment too much for someone who’s about to go back to being just his friend.

Geto breaks the silence first, speaking into the top of your head, “Is your curiosity satisfied or are you going to start kicking me again?”

“I can’t promise I’ll never kick you again but yeah… I’m satisfied.”

He laughs against you, “Alright, well, if you’re ever curious again… you know where to find me.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

It’s been about a week since you crossed a line you probably shouldn’t have in your friendship with Geto, and like the incredibly brave individual you are… you have been ignoring him.

Not on purpose though, you intend on replying to all his messages… but then you get nervous and freak yourself out and stop short of sending anything back. From his messages, you can tell he’s getting increasingly more worried… or maybe frustrated… you’re not sure, there is only so much you can infer over text.

Maybe you should reply, looking at his last message that reads, ‘seriously? answer me. today.’ Oh yeah… he’s annoyed, you have no idea how to reply to him, maybe something simple? Or maybe a long paragraph overexplaining yourself… or maybe–

Your phone screen changes to Shoko’s caller ID, saved by the metaphorical bell, “Hey! What’s up?”

She sounds a bit short when she answers you, “Are you coming tonight?”

“Tonight…” You trail off, completely blanking on what the hell she’s talking about.

Her reply coming incredibly deadpan and disappointed, “You forgot.”

“No noo, I would never forget about…” The rest of your sentence dropping off, silence falling over the line.

She fills in the gaps for you, “The stupid party that’s being thrown by our stupid friends to celebrate the stupid event that is a boring, normal, Friday night.”

She already sounds over it and you’re pretty sure she would’ve only just got there, “Okay, well… I now feel significantly better about the fact that I actually had forgotten what tonight was.”

“Yeah well I wish I had forgotten too because this is boring without you.”

“Didn’t you only just get there?”

“I feel like that’s beside the point,” you can feel her eyeroll through the phone, “So, when are you getting here?”

Sighing as you ask, “Do I really have to come?”

Not missing a single beat when she shoots back, “I’m here which means yes, you do.”

You go quiet for a moment, “…Will Suguru be there?”

“You’re more likely to know than me,” she sounds confused, “Listen, I don’t know what happened but surely you don’t think you can avoid him forever.”

“Not forever… just tonight,” you really don’t feel like running into him in person, not when you can barely get your head on straight long enough to message him back.

“I haven’t seen him, and he didn’t sound all that interested when this was first planned so I doubt he will show up.”

“You’re not just lying to get me there, are you?”

“Of course not,” it’s always been hard to tell when she’s joking but you’re pretty sure Suguru isn’t there, if you had been replying to him, you probably would’ve ended up hanging out together tonight just to avoid that pointless party.

Deciding to take the risk, you acquiesce, “Alright, I’ll be there soon, just give me a bit to put on something that isn’t pyjamas.”

Getting out of the apartment will be good for you, that and you’ll have the chance to catch up with Shoko, it’s been a while since you last hung out.

“Just come in your pyjamas.”

“Okay, now you’re being unreasonable,” you chuckle.

She groans through the phone, “Gojo and I just made eye contact, that’s like asking to be trapped in a conversation for at least an hour.”

You smile at her and her exaggeration, “That’s really funny, tell him I said hi.”

“Don’t hang up on me–”

The line goes dead as you hang up on her.

Nearly an hour has passed by the time you get to the party, but when you make eye contact with Shoko across the room – still stuck in conversation with Gojo – it looks like a century has passed for her.

Walking up to them both, you grab Gojo by the sides of his arms and shake him, making a loud noise to scare him as you do. He just about dies then and there, head whipping around to see it’s just you and gripping a hand over his chest.

He’s a little breathless when he scolds you, “You scared the fuck outta me, what the hell?”

“I thought it would be funny,” you smile bright at him, out the corner of your eye seeing Shoko fighting a smile and hiding it behind her drink.

“It wasn’t,” he half pouts.

“It kinda was,” Shoko interjects.

He just continues to pout over how badly you got him.

“Hi Satoru,” you chirp at him, trying to be as sweet as possible for scaring the living daylights out of him.

“Yes, hello,” he fights a smile when greeting you back, and then his face twists as if suddenly remembering something, “Hey! What happened with you and Suguru?”

Taken aback by his abruptness, “What?”

Staring intently at you, seemingly desperate to know your business, “I know something happened, you gotta tell me what.”

Honestly, you would’ve thought Geto would’ve told him by now, seeing as how they’re sort of attached at the hip, “He hasn’t told you?”

“He’s insistent that nothing is wrong.”

“Then nothing’s wrong.”

“I know something is wrong and I also know you’re dodging him because he made me text you to see if you’d reply and you replied within the same minute,” he squints at you accusatorily.

Arms crossing over your chest as you size him up, “You sent me a photo of the cat that hangs out in your neighbourhood as bait? That’s messed up Satoru.”

“I was investigating,” he defends.

“No, you were being nosy, just like you are now.” Something occurs to you very suddenly, “Wait, if you’re here… and I’m here… where is Suguru?”

“Here, obviously,” he shrugs.

Turning, you glare at Shoko who raises her hands in defence, “Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t lie, I really haven’t seen him. I’ve been trapped in conversation with this idiot the whole time.”

“Trapped? That’s so mean Shoko,” Gojo plays up his hurt, sulking and giving her the saddest eyes he can muster. It unsurprisingly has no effect on her.

He’s here somewhere, you need to leave before he sees you. You’re so annoyed at yourself for not connecting that Gojo being here obviously meant Geto was going to be here too, especially since he wasn’t with you.

Spinning, you go for the front door you came through not that long ago, getting it open a crack before a hand above your head closes it. Turning around, you come face to face with Suguru, a very annoyed Suguru. Polite smile painted on his face but his eyebrow twitches slightly.

His weight supported by his hand on the door, leaning down to you, “And where are you going?”

“I was just gonna… head home… get an early night?” Looking away from him as you lie poorly, not able to look at him without thinking about how he kissed you.

He points out, “You just got here though.”

“Yeah, it’s just… not my scene…” In your defence, not a complete lie.

“Really? Because it feels like you’re avoiding me.” He leans down to catch your eyes with his, sick of you avoiding eye contact.

You’re only able to look at him incrementally, eyes flicking from his, to the wall behind him, “No there’s no reason for me to be avoiding you, I don’t know why you would think that.”

“Oh good! That means you can stay then,” face scrunching with his – now – less than polite smile. Clearly growing frustrated with how you’re refusing to communicate with him properly.

You have no excuses to give, nothing good or even remotely believable anyways, “I uhh–”

Cutting you off to give an ultimatum, “–Either we’re leaving and talking like adults or you’re staying right here and suffering through this whole night with me right by your side.”

His choice in wording disgruntles you, locking eyes to say, “It doesn’t cause me suffering to be beside you, Suguru,” you want to make at least that much clear.

He gives you a tight-lipped smile, “Good. Then you won’t mind me not leaving your side.”

Weighing your options, you don’t know what would be better right now. On the one hand you’d get to leave but then you’d have to tell him about how much you’re affected by the line you crossed, about how you’re developing feelings for him that you shouldn’t have indulged in. On the other, you stay but he lingers around you all night and you’re left haunted by all the things you want to say but can’t quite bring yourself to.

“Let’s go back to everyone then,” you smile back at him.

His face drops, “You don’t wanna talk about it that bad?”

“Suguru, you’re looking for answers I don’t even know if I can give you.”

He relents and takes a step back from you, “Fine. But just so you know, you can’t get rid of me that easily.” Waiting for you to want to talk first seems to be his main goal but you can see just how impatient he’s getting.

You ignore his comment and walk past him back to Gojo and Shoko in the other room, they’re both exactly where you left them. It’s awkward, for you anyways, you don’t know about them or everyone else here, but you feel awkward.

It carries on for the whole night, it’s been a couple hours now and Suguru is still just following you around wordlessly. Only speaking to others when spoken too, engaging in some conversation, only to cut it short when you move on.

This really isn’t fun for you, normally not even bothering to come to house parties like this and only doing this as a favour to Shoko but she’s gone home now, and you’re left here with just Geto. You’d leave too, but you have a feeling Geto is going to follow you home, or at the very least make you talk to him before you try leaving and you’re just… so not in the mood.

Sighing softly to yourself as you walk into the kitchen, somehow managing to shake your tail, for now. Taking the small reprieve as a chance to breathe and think, which is cut short when some stranger starts a conversation with you.

“Hi! You’re really hot, do you want a drink? I can make you a drink. I’ve never seen you here before and trust me – I’d remember you.” He’s slurring his words slightly, “So, drink? You wan– I can get you a–”

He’s really forward, and drunk, it’s making you uncomfortable, especially since you’re far to sober and far too annoyed to have to deal with drunk men. “–I’m good, thank you, I’m not drinking.”

“Oh, come on! Jus one drink, it’ll loosen you up,” he moves in to elbow your shoulder lightly, “You’re too hot to be­– to be such a downer, maybe a smile would help.”

Completely unamused and slowly shuffling back away from him, “I think I’d prefer you just leave me alone; I’m not interested.”

“Don– don’t be like that,” he sulks at you.

Your back collides with someone’s front and looking up you can see it’s your missing stalker of the night. As annoyed at Geto as you are, you are endlessly thankful for his timing, physically feeling yourself relax now that he’s here.

Geto glares down at the pushy guy, “She’s not interested.”

“Oh man, I didn’t know she had– had a boyfriend, you know you should keep an eye on her,” the drunk idiot leers at you, “She’s kind of a tease, leading me on,” he shrugs.

Your face grimaces at his words and the way he eyes you, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. Suguru moves in front of you, shielding you from him, his lip twitches at this guy’s words, “Excuse me?”

“No, well… I jus mean she didn’t tell me­–”

“–She said she wasn’t interested, that was enough,” Geto’s tone is growing more irritated by the moment.

“Suguru, let’s just go, it’s fine,” you tug on the hem of his jacket, not really wanting to have to deal with the fallout of whatever may happen if this idiot keeps unwittingly provoking Geto. He tries his best, but he has a breaking point, and he tends to hit it pretty quick when you’re involved.

He glances back at you, “It’s not fine.”

“Okay, it’s not but I kinda can’t stand this guy and this party sucks and I’m annoyed, and I don’t wanna be here anymore,” you feel a little pathetic for whinging but you’re so drained and this guy was your breaking point.

All his attention drops from that guy to you, his hands coming up to either side of your face, taking in how tired you look. Thumbs stroking high on your cheekbones, “Alright, let’s leave.”

Relief in your bones at the fact you’re about to be gone from here, “Thank you.”

From behind Geto you can see the drunk take the opportunity to slip away, apparently smart enough to use this distraction to his advantage. If Geto notices, he doesn’t say anything, clearly done with him, all attention on you now.

He hums at you, asking, “How’d you get here?”

Your eyes flick back to his, “I didn’t drive, if that’s what you’re asking,” you took an uber, you thought you’d either catch a ride with Shoko, or you’d take another uber home.

“You’re riding with me then.” His large hand takes yours, “Come on,” he’s tugging you through the house behind him.

The car ride has been quiet, you can feel your head drooping and your eyes closing, very nearly falling asleep. That is until, you notice Geto isn’t taking you to your house, instead heading towards his.

Turning to face him, you ask, “Why are we going back to yours?”

Without turning to look at you, he replies, “Because you’ve been avoiding me, so I am now forcing you to spend time with me.”

He’s decidedly not funny. Sighing as you try to chide him, “Suguru–”

Finally glancing your way only to speak over you, “–Don’t ‘Suguru’ me, my place is closer and you’re tired, if you weren’t being so weird around me ever since I k–”

“–Shhh, be quiet.” Your cheeks suddenly feel warm at the memory of how insistent his kisses were.

“All I’m saying is, if you weren’t being so weird around me, you’d come back to mine tonight anyways.”

It’s frustrating to you that he’s right, you normally would just go back to his and crash in his bed and then you’d make him breakfast the next morning to make up for the fact that you’d taken up his whole bed.

The only thing you can think to say is a flat, “…Fine.” Crossing your arms and looking out the car window the rest of the short drive.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Back at his apartment, he lends you some clothes to sleep in. It’s all incredibly intimate, showering in his bathroom, using the spare toothbrush you keep here, wearing his clothes, has your friendship always been this intimate or are you just looking at it in a new light.

Leaving his bathroom, you find him in his room, getting his bed ready for you to sleep in, you stand awkwardly at the foot of it, “I’ll just sleep on your couch.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you always sleep in the bed with me.”

“Yeah but…” Your brows settle into a deep frown, “Do you not feel weird?”

He drops the blanket back onto the bed, exasperation with you clear, “I said to you – I wouldn’t let it affect our friendship, and that’s what I’m doing.” Turning to look at you before adding, “You’re the one making it weird.”

“I know that…” You also know that you were the one who said you weren’t worried about him.

His arms are crossed as he looks you over, “I’m gonna shower now, you don’t have to sleep in the bed, but I think you should, you know firsthand how awful that couch is.”

“Go have your shower,” you shoo him out of the room, standing in the middle of it, alone, considering what you should do.

The couch really is atrocious, it’s part of the reason why you started sleeping in his bed when you visited. He always says he’ll get a nicer couch or a blow-up mattress for you, but he never does, and you always end up in his bed anyways.

Deciding you’re too drained to think any harder about all of this, you crawl into his bed and make yourself comfortable. Everything is so frustrating to you right now, have you always felt this confused about your friendship or were the lines blurred for so long that you’re having trouble understanding where you both stand.

The irony of the situation is annoying and almost laughable because if it were about anyone else you’d be hitting up Geto and asking for his advice on it all.

When he comes back into the room, he shuffles around a bit before turning off the lights and getting into bed beside you. You’re lying on your side with your back to him, pretending to already be asleep.

His voice cuts through the quiet of the room, “I miss you.”

Your reaction to it is almost visceral, how are you meant to reply to that. It doesn’t help you feel better at all, only leaving you longing for something you don’t know if you’re allowed to claim.

Your friendship has always been on a precarious ledge but it’s only now that you let yourself acknowledge the disgusting depth of your feelings for him.

You mumble into the pillow, “I’m right here.”

“Then why do you feel so far away?”

Readjusting, you rotate so you’re facing him, not completely prepared for him to already be facing you. Propped up on his elbow, closer than your poor heart was ready for. You lower your head, so you don’t have to look at his face, “I wasn’t purposefully ignoring you, I really did want to reply.”

He pushes, “So why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t know what to say…”

“What can I do to help?” He lowers himself down to your level, head on his bicep.

You still avoid his gaze, “Nothing, you can’t do anything.”

“You’re being–”

“–You are the problem, Suguru, there is nothing you can do to help but get out of my head,” you meet his eyes, frown prominent on your face, “You and your stupid kiss, you made it all a thousand times worse for me.”

“Making out with me was so life changing that you can’t get it out of your head, and you’re annoyed at me for that? You’re the one who wanted to know what it was like.” He’s trying to keep his tone light-hearted but he’s struggling, seemingly growing more irritated by it all.

You grumble at him, discontent, “You don’t need to point out the obvious, stupid.”

A noise of disagreement comes from him, “Well, I feel like I kinda do, since you’re overreacting.”

“I am not overreacting.”

“You are though.”

“No because it’s not just…” you stop short, “…Whatever, I’m going to sleep so be quiet.” He smiles at you like you’re completely endearing, which only frustrates you further.

“The only reason you would be this annoyed is because you want to kiss me again, or more…” his hand reaches for your chin and tilts your head up towards him, “You tell me, are you still curious?”

“Shut up,” you huff out, going to move away only for his hand to slide to your cheek, holding you still.

“You haven’t asked me, you know.”

“What?”

“What if I want to kiss you again? What if I want to do more?” His forehead rests against yours, “You’ve been so caught up in your own head, acting like an idiot over this, that you’ve not even asked yourself about what I want.”

“I am not an idiot.”

“No, but you’ve certainly been acting like one.” His hand slides from your face, down the side of your body, landing on your hip. “At first I thought it was cute, the curiosity, the unawareness,” his hand tugs you in closer to him, body against yours. “But now… now I’m growing impatient.”

Your head feels fuzzy, pressed up against him and that seems to be the only thing your brain is processing right now, “I’m confused.”

“It’s really quite simple,” he leans in, lips ghosting against yours.

You want so badly to kiss him, breath catching in your chest at the way his lips tickle against yours. Your attention solely on the way he might kiss you.

“You like me, and while it’s endearing to watch you fumble your way through the realisation, it’s killing me to know you’re all caught up on how I kissed you and not even being able to get in contact with you.”

“What? What?” Your brain takes a second to catch up, “I do not– you can’t know– just– what?”

“I can know, you know how? Because you’re painfully obvious about it. So honest, telling me about how you’re thinking of me, not able to look at me without looking at my lips,” a light laugh leaves him at your expression, “And it’s sweet, really. But I’m getting annoyed by the fact that you’re so obsessed with your own feelings that you’ve failed to consider mine.”

He’s giving you so much whiplash right now, “You–”

“–You think I kissed you like that just ‘cause?” He frowns at you, “I kissed you like that because I wanted to, I feel I was a little obvious about it all actually.”

“I’ve been so worried about ruining our friendship,” you feel so pathetic when you say it.

“I know,” he presses a kiss to your forehead, “But I’ve hoped for nothing more.” He sighs, “I wanted you to come to me on your own, to talk to me about it but instead you hid from me.”

“What was I supposed to think? Through my eyes, I was stupid and asked you to kiss me just because I was thinking about it, only to not stop thinking about it, and then realise I like you, my friend.” You pull back from him slightly, “How was I meant to talk to you about it?”

“You think I’d kiss just any friend because they simply wondered about what it would be like?” his brow lifts at you, “Don’t you think our friendship has always been a little too intimate to just be a friendship?”

“Nothing was ever said… how was I supposed to know?”

“Okay, well, let me be perfectly clear,” he tugs you in close again, eyes meeting yours, like he’s going to say something incredibly important, only to plant his lips on yours in a full kiss.

Hand holding you to him tight, like he needs you to stay pressed up against him. His mouth on yours hot and consuming, kiss messy, tongue licking at yours. An involuntary moan gets caught in your chest and your hand moves to his hair, tangling in it.

Parting to pant out, “I like you–” kissing you again, “I like kissing you–” lips desperate against yours, “I want to do so much more–” he never parts from you long at all, barley willing to but needing to get his words out.

This is a feeling that you’re never going to be able to forget, the first time he kissed you overwhelming enough and now it’s like he’s completely following his instinct. No critical thinking happening in his head or yours. All your thoughts wash away from you, slipping through your fingers before it even occurs to you to form a thought.

Less scared now, throwing caution to the wind, not worrying about how you should stop, how you can’t ruin the fragility of your friendship. It doesn’t matter anymore, not when he already knows how you feel, not when he seems to feel the same, not when it feels this good.

He mumbles against you, “That clear enough?”

“No,” you huff back, “I think… I’m still a little confused.”

“Well, in that case,” he smirks before kissing you again.

Hand moving to your thigh, sliding it across your skin before grabbing at your knee and crooking your leg to rest on his hip. Leaning into you slightly, using his weight to push back on you, rolling the pair of you until he’s on top. Forearm holding himself over you, other hand still on your knee, holding you flush to him.

You gasp up at him when his erection ruts into your core, lips parting messily, spit connecting the two of you. A shudder runs down his spine when he looks down at you, at how you’re looking up at him. All big, wet eyes and kiss swollen lips, it’s like he feels all his insides softening for you in that moment, in the most sickeningly affectionate way.

His eyes suddenly look lost, and you don’t know why, going to say something only for his lips to land on yours again. Short, firm kisses planted on your lips over and over again, barely able to return them before he’s pulling back, just to do it again.

It’s sweet but it’s frustrating you, your hands are eventually grabbing at either side of his face and forcing his mouth onto yours, lips meshing together, kissing him fully. Tongue in his mouth, your arms wrapping around his neck, fingers playing with his hair. He moans at how you’rekissing him, at how both your legs are now wrapped around his waist.

Practically clinging to him, lips locked to his, your need making your body hot and head fuzzy. You’re trying so hard to not come across desperate for him, but you really can’t help the way your hips seek out his, grinding up into him.

His voice shakes with a moan, breaking the kiss, “–Ohh fuck – hah –” a breathless kind of laugh leaving him, "A little eager, aren’t you?"

"Should we stop then?” You ask with a smile, hands untangling and pushing at his shoulders.

He rushes out, “No no, I didn’t say that,” he pulls your arms, so they’re wrapped around his neck again, “Come back,” a light laugh leaves him, pressing kisses all over your face, lingering on your lips.

“So… you don’t want to stop?”

“Absolutely not, be as needy as you want,” he looks down between where his hips are resting against yours, his cock twitching in his pants, “Hell… be needier.”

“I don’t know… maybe this is all happening too fast,” you say it light heartedly, teasing him, “I mean… we are just friends.”

“Just friends?” He takes personal issue with that, even if he can tell you’re goading him, “Just friends but you’re grinding your pussy all over me?” His hand slips into the front of your borrowed sleep shorts, two fingers rubbing between your folds over your panties.

Gasp leaving you, chest stuttering, “S-Suguru, I–”

“Letting your friend touch you like this, hmm?” He pulls your panties to the side, “Fuck– this wet for your friend?”

Your back arches against the bed when his fingers slip over your clit, struggling to get your words out, “I– mmph– I get it, m’sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He smiles sweetly at you but two of his fingers are slipping inside you, quirking up and rubbing at just the right spot.

God, your eyes roll into the back of your head, cunt pulsing around his fingers so needily. Hands grabbing at him, tangling in his long hair, gasping for air you don’t really need but feeling like you can’t breathe from how he’s touching you.

“What are you sorry for, pretty?” He wants you back on track, he wants to hear you stumble out your apology to him.

“I-I’m sorry – hnnn – f-for…” your mouth drops open in a moan when his thumb rubs at your clit, “You’re not jus– you’re not just my friend – oh! You’re more– you mean more– Ah! Ah!” You can’t think, not when he adds another finger to your pussy, stretching you so open.

He leans in, fingers not stopping, “You mean it?”

It’s a question made to tease you but with your gooey brain, you look up at him so earnestly and answer, “Mhm, yeah.” Nodding your head firmly at him, even when your eyes look so fucked out.

Soft squelching noises fill the room with how his fingers fuck into you, your cunt clamping tight down around them. Walls so hot and wet that it’s driving him crazy, imagining how it would feel to have you wrapped so snug around his neglected cock.

He wants so badly to rip off your pants, so he can see just how well you’re taking his fingers but you’re pulsing so rhythmically around him, and your eyes roll with how good you feel, making the nicest expressions for him that he can’t even tear his eyes away from your face if he wanted to.

“Oh, you’re really cute right now,” he leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, his heart stammering at how your wet eyes sparkle at him, at how your bottom lip wobbles.

Pouting up at him, “You don’t– ah! think– think I’m cute all the time?”

“I think you’re downright adorable all the time,” he laughs airily, “But especially right now,” he’s gazing so intently at your face, “Because, I’m pretty sure…” his thumb speeds up on your clit, “…You’re about to cum all over my fingers.”

Oh, how his words effect you so deeply, his tone, the cockiness and if he weren’t touching you so right you wouldn’t find it as arousing as you do but you feel like you could cry from just how overwhelming it all is.

Shaking your head at him as if to say ‘no, you’re not about to cum.’  

“No?” He pouts at you mockingly, “You sure?”

Denying it really doesn’t get you anywhere, especially since he can feel how you tighten around his fingers, how your gooey cunt pulses for him. Your back arching meanly, legs wanting so badly to kick against the air. Hand tugging at his hair as you gasp, broken moans leaving you.

“I mustn’t be doing this right then,” he hums at you in thought, slowing his movements slightly, “Should I stop then? Change up what I’m doing?”

The thought of him stopping now, or changing what he’s doing kills you, almost literally. Your eyes widen and you shake your head vehemently at him, “Don’t stop– hnn– don’t– please,” begging him with your eyes.

“Only ‘cause you begged so nicely,” his tone so sweet on you.

He doesn’t change anything, keeps fucking you with his fingers in the way that’s driving you crazy. His mouth waters at how your pussy gushes for him, dick leaking into his pants, losing his fucking mind at how he’s able to finally touch you like this, how you’re letting him touch you like this, even begging for it.

Muscles pulling taut, hearing and sight going fuzzy, “I– ohh– Sugu I can’t– I’m gonna–”

“You can,” dragging it out in a singsong, “Doing so well for me, pretty.”

Biting on your lip to hold back all the moans tumbling from them, hands pulling at him as you struggle to breathe through it. Chest stuttering as your cunt clamps down around his fingers, pulling him closer to you and planting your lips on his, desperately kissing him as you cum all over his fingers. Tongue licking into his mouth, his own moans spilling into the kiss.

Panting against your open mouth to say, “Just came all over your friends’ fingers,” his smile taunting and bright.

Your head lolls to the side, “So you really do just like teasing me, huh?”

“Pretty sure I said I couldn’t help it,” his fingers slip from your core, sucking them into his mouth, licking them clean in a display so obscene that your skin feels warm.

If he were a lesser man, he’d cum from licking himself clean, groaning around his fingers, mostly for himself but also somewhat to embarrass you. Loving how you squirm, and your face pulls up in embarrassment. All dazed and stupid looking from your orgasm, it makes his heart skip and his dick jerk.

You shock him when you tug your shirt up and over your head, moving to pull at his but he’s too distracted by your tits to make any move other than to lean down and press wet kisses all over your chest.

“Suguru– hah– your shirt,” your fingers still pull at the fabric.

“You can’t–” he sucks and licks at your nipple, relishing in the reactions and sounds he’s pulling from you, “–You can’t show me your tits and expect me to not touch them.”

When he looks up at you, his eyes are lazy and dazed, his tongue drooling all over your boobs. Moving to plant more firm and wet kisses all over your unbelievably soft skin, sucking to leave behind his mark. Wanting to leave behind marks that he will see when he wakes up tomorrow, marks that he will leave marks over so that they never go away, so he will always have evidence of how he touched you. Of how you let him touch you.

Groping at all your exposed skin, pulling at you, fingers tugging at your nipple, while he salivates all over the other one. Your legs tug his hips down into yours, rubbing your clothed cunt all over him, wanting him to fuck you so badly. He’s working you up so unfairly, already making you cum and then playing with your tits in a way that has you itching to be full of his dick.

“Suguru,” he ruts his hips back down into you but doesn’t remove his mouth from you, so you pull at his hair harshly, “Please.”

He moans at how you pull at him, eyes lidded, “So demanding.”

“You’re taking too long.”

He tuts at you, nipping lightly at the skin between your tits, “You’re just impatient.”

“Yeah, I am,” untangling your legs from him, you shuffle your shorts and panties down and off your body, “Are you going to help?”

“How can I refuse when you ask like that?” The desire to lick at your pussy, make out with your cunt, is huge but with how you look at him, so needy and impatient, he needs to shove his dick in you. Now.

When you go to tug at his shirt, he lets you, letting you pull it off him completely, goose bumps breaking out across his skin with how you rake your nails delicately over him. The affection he holds for you feels like it grows tenfold at how you look at him, how tenderly you touch him.

“You’re so pretty,” you’re mumbling it out at him before you’re really registering that you’ve thought it, let alone spoke it.

His head drops into the crook of your neck, “So sweet on me, got me forgetting why I waited so long to say anything.”

You grin at him, “Because you’re stupid.”

“Oh, that’s right,” he sneers back at you before shuffling back to pull his pants off. Finding immense joy in how your smug little smile drops from your face when his cock is free, tip flushed a pretty pink and leaking profusely, precum dribbling down the sides of his dick.

Moving to get up before even really thinking about it, wanting to touch him. Only to fall into the pillows when his large hand pushes you back by your sternum. Looking to him just as he leans in, lips brushing yours so softly you’d think you’d imagined it if he didn’t immediately follow it up with a firm kiss.

“I want to touch you,” hands already finding their way back to his shoulders, his long hair tickling against skin.

His head is dipping low to watch how he moves his hands down your body, brushing against your inner thighs, opening your legs for him more, “Well, I want to fuck you.” He’s not capable of taking his eyes off your gooey cunt, so wet for him.

Goading him with your words, “What are you waiting for? A formal invitation?”

“Sharp tongue for someone so sensitive,” he muses, fingers slipping through your folds, gently over your clit to make you jolt, as if to prove his point.

Not giving you a chance to say another snarky comment, his fingers dipping into your hole again, fingers stretching you open obscenely, pulling back covered in cum from your previous orgasm and fresh slick. It’s almost embarrassing how soaked you are, at least it would be if he didn’t seem almost overjoyed at the sight.

His hand covered in your mess moves to his dick, stroking himself, lubing himself so you can take him easier. Wanting to rub your thighs together, to squirm at how he languidly pumps at his cock, how his brows upturn and his mouth gapes slightly.

Palm warm against your inner thigh, holding you still, moving so he can tap his dick against your clit, smiling at how your body jerks.

“Don’t be a tease,” your hand moves for his, but he grabs at you before you reach him, looping his fingers with yours.

His tone is cheerful and bright, “But you look so cute when you’re frustrated.”

“I’ll leave,” you threaten, not even a little convincingly, way too horny to be taken seriously.

“Really?” He raises a brow at you, intrigued, “I don’t think you’d get very far,” mocking pout settling on his features.

Nothing if not stubborn and true to your word, you push him back and roll to get out of the bed defiantly. Barely making it to the edge of the mattress when his hands are on your sides and manhandling you back into your previous position. Spreading your legs wide and rubbing the tip of his cock through your folds, just dipping into your hole before repeating the previous movements.

Biting his lower lip as he watches, his precum smearing all over your messy cunt, “Told you, you wouldn’t get very far.”

Your head rolls at how he dips his dick in more, beginning to stretch you open, his hips stuttering forwards, hand slapping down onto the bed beside you to stop himself from pushing you too far.

“Oh– oh– fuck! How­– h-how are you this tight, oh,” breathless not even beginning to describe how fucked out he already sounds.

“M-more, Sugu, please– I–”

At your insistence, he fucks himself all the way in, holding his hips to yours as he fills you to the hilt. Your pussy spasming and creaming around him, so worked up that he can feel just how aroused you are in the way you twitch, at how your fingers grab at his skin, how your breath is uneven and broken.

He can’t help but marvel at how you let out little squealed moans, how your cunt stretches to take all of him. On cloud nine at how you’re so horny over how heavy he’s sitting inside you that you’re close to tears.

The moan he lets out is debauched, unbelievably turned on when your hips struggle to grind down into him needily, working yourself up to an orgasm so fucking fast that he can’t do anything but watch in awe.

You can’t stop yourself, you know you should, should slow down and maybe calm down but it feels so good. He’s so big inside you, his cock pulsing in a way that has you memorising the thumping rhythm. Not usually so eager, never this eager, enthusiastically rutting down into him over and over again before suddenly cumming all over him.

Choked and gasped moans pulled from you as your hands reach for him, hoping for him to let you tug him down into you but he’s too busy watching how you pulse and cum all over him. Obsessed with how your cute, little cunt struggles with his size as you coat him in all your creamy cum.

“Holy fuck,” he laughs, “That was–”

Head dizzy and eyes lazy as you whinge at him, “–Don’t– don’t say anything.”

“You came as soon as I got inside you and you expect me to make no comment?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“I think it was adorable,” he hums, voice strained, much more effected by it than he’s willing to let on.

You whine when he leans down into you, cock somehow reaching deeper. Geto’s arms cage you in either side your head, resting on his forearms, his lips against yours in a breathless kiss. Beginning shallow thrusts, his lips insistent on yours, fucking you so carefully for now.

Quickly, the need to have him fucking you stupid grows within you again and your legs loop around him properly, pulling him into you, wrapping yourself around him, mouth panting against his.

“Fuck– hah– you’re so wet,” he’s fucking into you faster, hips becoming desperate, “It’s actually– it’s– hnn– it’s crazy how good you feel,” he moves his head to the crook of your neck, growling beside your ear, “such a soaked little cunt, taking it so– ohh– taking it so good.”

“Ah! Ah! Sugu, it’s– ohh– it’s– more– I need more,” your fingers dig into his back, depraved wet sloshing sounds of him fucking into you so well fill the room.

He nips at your neck, “Demanding little thing aren’t you?”

He’s pulling out of you and the moan you let out is small and pathetic, disgruntled by his abrupt movement. The last thing you see is his smug grin before he’s flipping you over onto your stomach, hands pulling your hips up and pushing on your upper back, manoeuvring your body into an obscene arch.

Taking his sweet time to slip back inside, eyeing up your pussy and how your hole trembles and drools for him. Your hips wriggle back at him and he finds himself incredibly amused at how blatantly needy you are, apparently honest with him in more ways than one.

Just as you were about to turn around and complain at how long he’s taking to re-enter you, he’s shoving his cock back in all at once, jolting your body up the bed and forcing a moan out from your lungs.

“Ohh– Sugu– I…” you trail off as his hips pick up, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Sliding your legs further apart to take more of him inside, arching yourself even more, greedy cunt sucking him deep inside. He’s barely able to withdraw before you’re fucking your hips back into him, desperately driving back, so fucking needy that if you had half your mind you’d be embarrassed but right now all you can think about is how his dick thumps against your walls, how his hands grip onto you tight, probably leaving behind marks to match the ones he left all over your tits.

Mouth gaping open, spit pooling onto the pillow below, drooling over his cock, God, you could cry from just how fucking good it feels. Pussy spasming wildly around him, the more you think about the fact that he’s fucking you, the more worked up you get. Insides flipping at how he seems to touch the most perfect spots inside you, full of butterflies and him.

His mouth by your ear shocks you, his voice chirpy, “What are you – hah – thinking about, pretty?”

“A-about how goo– good it feels, feels– ohh– feels so good, Sugu,” your words are slurred, mind reeling at how he doesn’t even seem to slow his pace.

“Flatterer,” he barks out a laugh, “You’re quite the little charmer,” he mockingly compliments, tongue licking meanly at your salty tears that you hadn’t realised you’d shed.

“Shh– shut up– ah!” gasping when he gives a particularly mean thrust into you.

He can’t help but smile at the fucked out look you’re wearing, eyes rolled back, dazed and not comprehending anything other than his dick rubbing up against your walls so perfectly. Your face turns into the pillow and you bite at it, muscles pulling tight as another orgasm crawls up your spine.

It shocks you, how quickly you cum, Suguru’s harsh thrusts, your ass burning with the smack of his pelvis against you. The sting biting at your flesh making you feel like you’re on fire, cunt tight around him and orgasm overcoming you so fast that you don’t have time to prepare for it.

And maybe if he hadn’t been caught up in how deliciously you squeeze around him, he’d have time to realise you were coming again and he could stop himself but when you shock the both of you with your sudden orgasm he whines into your back and cums deep inside you. Shivers running down his spine at how it feels, dumping so much deep inside you that the force of his continued thrusts has some of it leaking from you back onto him and down onto the bed, making the obscenest mess he’s ever seen.

Immediately he’s pulling himself back up to see how he’s coated your walls white, his dick covered in your shared cum, creamy and lewd and he’s not even going soft because how could he when you’re still wrapped so warmly around him and when you’re so fucking gooey and snug. He might die before he’s done fucking you yet and he can’t even find it in himself to care even a little bit.

You’re not capable of forming words together enough to think of making a sentence, only thing coming from you being your garbled, choked moans and the sounds of your plushy cunt struggling to take him and all his cum. Pussy bulging with the weight of his cock and the mass amounts of seed he’s just pumped you full of.

His own eyes are lidded and low, pussy drunk and loving every second of it, “So turned on you couldn’t even warn me before you came,” he bites out.

His hand rounds your body and his fingers land on your clit, the overstimulation too much, one of your own hands moving down to try and pry it away, managing to squeak out, “T-too much– ah! Too much, Sugu.”

Tone light when his harsh words are mumbled back at you, “If it’s too much, then why – hnn – why are you fucking back onto me like such a slut?”

He’s so mean, so mean to you while he fucks you so… meanly. Head whirling over how he speaks to you, not even able to think long before he slaps your clit harshly and your knees buckle, falling into the mattress under him. His dick slipping from you as you collapse into the mattress.

Geto doesn’t pick you back up straight away, oh no, because you’re leaking all of his cum out of your little hole onto the bed and he can’t take his eyes off of how much cum he managed to get inside you. It’s you who picks your hips up lazily, presenting yourself for him.

He chuckles at your loyalty to his cock, but he also can’t help the way the sight makes him twitch. Shoving his dick into you again, feral in his pursuit to fuck you, to fuck you full of more of his cum.

“S-so devoted– hnnn– doing such­– hah– a good job for me, pretty,” he slurs.

You feel like you might pass out, so lightheaded but meeting each and every one of his thrusts all the same. An arm wrapping around your front pulls your back to his chest, both his hands landing on your tits, fingers pinching and rolling your nipples, making your pussy shudder around him.

You want to fuck your hips back recklessly but not able to with this angle, only able to arch further and give shallow grinds while he fucks his hips into you. He plants kisses and bites along your neck, nipping your skin hard enough that you twitch and whine each time he does it.

One hand leaves your tit and trails down your front, going for your cunt, spreading wide around where he’s stuffing you full continuously. Getting an absolute mess all over his hand and fingers, only to shove those fingers into your mouth, leaving you to lick him clean. Crammed full by his dick and fingers at once, convulsing around him at the thought of it, at the reality of it.

“You like being stuffed full, huh?” He muses to you, an evil kind of joy in his tone. You don’t get to choose your own response, he’s already using the fingers he has in your mouth to nod your head yes, “Ah, thought so.”

Pulling his fingers from your mouth slowly to watch how you suck on them as he does, before he’s wiping all your spit down your chest to your tummy. And then he has another hand on the back of your neck and is pushing you down into the pillows again, this time he keeps his hand there while he fucks into you diabolically.

Somehow faster than before, relentless, reaching his own end and wanting you to cum all over him at least once more. Head dipping back as he groans out, thrusts harsh and calculated, hitting all the spots he’s just learnt about, having memorised just how to make you fucking squirm for him.

Which he succeeds in, if he didn’t have the hand on the back of your neck, you would’ve crawled up the bed to try and get away from his evil thrusts. Poor abused pussy creaming around him for the fourth time, orgasm blinding you, only seeing white spots behind your eyelids.

The sounds he lets out are wrecked and beautiful and have you wishing that you weren’t cumming so violently if only to see the way he’s spilling inside you for the second time tonight.

“That’s it– fuck– take it– taking it so fucking well– holy fuck–” every word he utters is breathless and broken, essentially fucking himself stupid too.

Taking a moment for himself to catch his breath before he’s slipping from you and pulling your ass cheeks apart to watch how his cum dribbles from your overfilled cunt. You try to wiggle away but he holds you steady, eyes trained on your dipping hole, overcome with the desire to fuck his tongue inside you but instead settling for shoving two fingers inside, plugging your hole to keep his cum in.

You whine at him, and he can only chuckle and find you incredibly cute in your post orgasm bliss. Barely able to keep your eyes open, let alone speak right now.

He does eventually pull his fingers from you, wiping the mess on your thighs before turning you onto your back. It feels like you’re looking up at an angel as he looks down at you, or maybe the devil, all flush and sweet smiles, too sweet for a man that just fucked you within an inch of your life.

“Y-you can’t smile at me like that, not after you almost killed me,” you babble back at him.

He rolls his eyes at you, “There you go overreacting again.”

“You fuck so mean, Sugu,” you accuse… accurately.

A smile grows on his face again, “Feels real good though, doesn’t it?”

You weakly slap at him, he just grabs your hand and tugs your body into his kneeling form, hugging you to him. Pressing kisses all over your face, “Think you can stand long enough to shower?”

Shaking your head at him, “Not without fainting.”

“Alright, bath it is,” he concludes.

He takes such nice care of you afterwards, a complete contrast to how he fucked you. It’s lovely though, the hands that grabbed and pulled at you now delicate as they trace over your skin, washing you clean.  

You rest with your back to his front in the bath, head laying lazily on his chest, “So… for the sake of clarity, we’re not just friends?”

His lips tickle against the tip of your ear, “I can fuck you all over again if you need more proof?”

“I fear you might actually kill me.”

“Then I guess you’ll just have to take my word for it,” he presses a single kiss against your cheek.

In the morning, for the first time ever, he makes you breakfast, to make up for all the marks he’s littered your body with. He also officially asks you on a date, which you pretend to think really hard about even though you’d already decided you were going to say yes.

In the end, being friends with Geto Suguru wasn’t hard… it’s just not what you both wanted.

𝐀/𝐍: this was a while in the making and the vibes of it changed so many times throughout 😭 it was supposed to be situationship but i fear i'm not well versed enough in what exactly one is to write about it properly.... anyways ! i hope you enjoyed regardless and thank you for reading !!! <3

[⚠︎] — 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision

[nosyp]

Game of Persistence

Continuation of this

Warning = smut🔞, stalking(?), consistently calling you, obsessive behaviour, posessive behaviour

Pairing = Salesman x reader

Word count = 2.4k words

Summary = He won’t stop calling, showing up at your door, and dragging you deeper into his world. Despite you rejecting him constantly, the tension between you builds, and soon, you can’t resist.

A/N = Idek where the story is going lol

You stir awake, your head heavy, and the world seems unclear… only for a moment. And slowly, your senses start coming back to you, and the realization… that something feels... off. The warm, familiar smell of your room should be comforting, but it isn't. It feels like a completely different room despite nothing different.

You blink against the dim morning light coming from the blinds, your body sluggish as you sit up on the bed. The covers feel too thick and heavy, and for a while you don't recognize the space around you. The soft hum of a nearby appliance fills the silence, but there’s something unnerving… something wrong.

Then you spotted a small black card with the words ‘Call me’ and a phone number behind it written in white ink. You stare at the card for a long moment, the words sinking deeper into your mind. Call me.

The idea of making the call terrifies you, but at the same time, there's an almost magnetic pull to it. What could it mean? Who left it? Why now?

But somehow you worked up the courage to dial the number. Your hands were shaking as you picked up your phone. Your heart raced as you pressed each number, the beeps almost deafening in the otherwise quiet room. The final digit feels like it echoes in your mind, each beep growing a sense of dread in your chest. Once the last number is entered, your thumb hovers over the call button for a second, and for a brief moment, you question if you should do it or not.

But the pull is too strong. You can’t stop yourself now.

You tap the button.

The phone rings, each tone stretching out longer than the last. Your anxiety spikes as you wait for someone to pick up, but the line is eerily silent. The seconds drag on like hours, and you find yourself holding your breath, wondering if this was a mistake.

Then, just as you start to convince yourself you should hang up, the call connects.

A deep, calm voice answers on the other end. “You called. Good.”

Your throat tightens. There’s something unsettlingly calm in the voice, as if they expected you to call all along.

“Who is this?” you manage to croak, your voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s me, the salesman you were with last night,” the voice says, smooth and unbothered, as though you should’ve known exactly who they were. "I trust you remember our little chat."

Your mind races, struggling to recall any conversation from the previous night. Salesman? What did they mean? The last thing you remember was... nothing. Blank spaces where details should’ve been.

“I’m the ddakji guy,” he adds, almost like it should be obvious.

Goodness, how could you forget about him? The pieces click together in your mind, and the memories return with sharp clarity: a strange man, a paper game, and a promise of something... more. Why is he calling?

You try to shake off the rising panic inside you, but it’s quite hard to ignore. “What do you want?” you ask with a shaky voice.

“I’ll explain everything to you, just wait for me,” he says. 

—

You stayed in your apartment, anxiously waiting for the man’s arrival. Hours seemed to go by as the weight of the situation slowly got heavier, each passing minute making you question if you had made the right choice.

And then, just like that, there was a knock at your door.

Knock, knock, knock.

It was the same consecutive three knocks like last night, the one you’d heard in your memory that you now couldn’t shake. Your pulse quickened as you stood frozen for a moment, hand hovering near the door.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. There was no turning back now.

You opened the door, and there he was. The salesman. His calm demeanor was exactly as you remembered, almost like he had been expecting this, expecting you to open the door.

"Good," he said with a smile, his voice calm and confident. "I was wondering when you'd open the door."

You stepped back, not sure how to respond, and he walked in without waiting for permission, as if he had already been invited.

His eyes scanned the room briefly before returning to you. "Let’s get to it," he said, his voice low and steady. He seemed to have all the time in the world, despite the growing tension between you.

Over the next few hours, he spent his time explaining the whole operation to you. He explained how it worked, the roles, and how you were needed to help with what he called ‘Squid Game.’ It wasn’t anything like you’d imagined. No deadly challenges, no players, just a whole system that needed people behind the scenes. Workers like you.

"...are you drunk?" you ask him, your confusion growing with every word.

He looks up at you, disbelief slowly appearing on his face, before letting out a sigh. "No, I'm not," he replies calmly, his eyes staying focused. He continues explaining. 

"I don’t even know what you’re talking about," you say, still processing what he’s saying. "You want me to... work for you? In this weird game thing?"

“Yes, exactly,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “But not as a player. You’ll be like me, recruiting players.”

You stare at him, trying to piece it all together. "I don’t get it. Why me?"

He leans back slightly, eyeing you carefully. "Because you’re perfect for the job. You have the skills we need. This isn’t a game you can just walk away from once you’re involved. It’s bigger than that."

You look at him, speechless for a moment. You hadn’t signed up for any of this, yet somehow it felt like the decision was being taken out of your hands. Despite yourself, the thought of turning it down feels... impossible.

“I don’t know...” you trail off, feeling the weight of the situation settle around you.

He doesn’t push. He simply nods, signalling that he understands you need time to think. "You don’t have to decide right now. But when you’re ready, I’ll be waiting."

As he turns to leave, the silence in the room feels heavier as ever. His words linger in your mind, leaving you to wonder if saying no was really an option anymore.

—

The days following the encounter with the salesman feel like they drag on endlessly. You spend your time replaying everything he told you in your mind, and try to make sense of it but you never quite got it. Every time your phone rings, your heart skips a beat, a small part of you hoping it's him, yet dreading it at the same time.

And then, it happens.

The first call comes the next morning.

Your phone lights up, and before you can even check the phone number, you already know who it is. You hesitate before answering, your thumb hovering over the green button. It's him again.

You take a deep breath and pick up the phone.

"Hello?" you say, your voice tight with tension.

"You ready yet?" His voice comes through, calm as ever, but there's something unsettling in the way he asks. It's almost like he knew you’d pick up.

You feel a wave of frustration bubble up inside you. "You can’t be serious," you mutter under your breath.

But he doesn’t miss a beat. "I’m serious. You’re perfect for the job, and you know it. You beat me all those times. All you need to do is just step up. I’ll be back tomorrow. We need to move forward."

Before you can respond, he hangs up.

The call leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth, a knot in your stomach. You didn’t ask for this, yet it feels like you’re being dragged deeper into something you can’t escape.

—

The next day, the phone rings again. It's him. Same number and the same calm voice.

"Did you think about it?" he asks, his tone light, almost too casual. "Have you made up your mind?"

You press your palm to your forehead, the frustration building. "You’ve got to be kidding me. I told you I wasn’t interested."

"You can keep saying that," he responds, "but deep down, you know you’re in this whether you want to be or not. I’ll be back tomorrow, and we’ll talk again. You’ll see."

And just like that, the call ends.

—

Day after day, the calls keep coming. Every time you think you’ve had enough, the phone rings, and he’s there, as persistent as ever. His voice is calm, almost soothing in its insistence. Sometimes he asks if you’ve thought it over, other times he just reminds you that you can’t get out.

It feels like an unrelenting pressure, each call more invasive than the last. His confidence doesn’t waver, and you begin to wonder if you ever had a choice at all.

One day, you finally snap.

"Why won’t you leave me alone?" you ask, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear. "I’ve told you no every single time and you just keep calling. What the hell is wrong with you?"

There’s a pause on the other end. Then, he answers, his voice almost too calm.

"Because I know you’re not done yet. And I don’t give up. Not on people like you."

“All I did was beat you in ddakji!!” you screamed at the top of your lungs. 

“But… we need you to help us,” he responds, still calm as ever.

“No you don’t. Leave me alone.” you angrily say before hanging up. 

—

The knock comes again.

Knock, knock, knock.

It’s always the same, as though he knows exactly when you’re expecting him and when you’re not. You don't even flinch this time. The uncertainty from the first visit is long gone. Now it’s a horrible feeling and you have no idea why. You’ve made your mind up. He’s coming, and this time, you won’t shy away from it.

You walk to the door, your pulse quickening. The room feels smaller now, the air thicker. You open it without hesitation.

There he stands, still wearing the same smooth, calm demeanor as before, but there’s something different this time. His intense eyes… they don’t just survey the space. They’re on you. The air between you both feels charged.

“Hello,” he says, the words almost too casual, too smooth. He steps inside, and without invitation like he usually does. He walks past you, invading the space of your room. You’re not really sure if you want him here in your room, but there’s an undeniable attraction in your chest for him. It’s like you’re being tugged toward him despite your better judgment.

"I didn’t think you’d let me in today," he says, voice dripping with a quiet, smug satisfaction.

You can feel your heart pounding as he steps closer, his eyes locking onto yours with that same unnerving confidence. The tension in the air is almost palpable.

“Why are you here?” you ask, your voice low but trembling with a mixture of frustration and something else you refuse to acknowledge. You feel like you’ve been backed into a corner, but this time... you don’t mind it.

“I told you,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “You can’t escape it. We both know it’s been leading to this.”

His hands brush against yours as he walks past you again, casually reaching up to close the door behind him. The click of the lock sounds louder than it should.

"You don’t know how badly I wanted to hear you say that," he says, his voice low and controlled, the same calmness that’s always unnerved you. "Say it. Say you want this."

Your breath catches in your throat, the words sticking, but something inside you makes the decision for you. "I want this," you whisper, almost against your will, the admission slipping out before you can stop it.

His smile widens, and that’s when you see it. The stupid satisfaction in his eyes, the knowing, predatory glint. He’s been waiting for this. And now, so are you.

Without another word, his hand finds your wrist, pulling you toward him with an undeniable force. You stumble but don’t resist. You never do.

His lips meet yours. The kiss was slow, deliberate, almost too gentle for a man who’s spent days pushing you into a dark corner. You hesitate for only a second before your body starts to react, betraying your mind.

You can feel him smile against your lips as you kiss back, your pulse racing. His hand slides up your spine, pulling you flush against him. His other hand snakes around your waist, pressing you harder against him, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

“You’ve been waiting for this,” he whispers between kisses, his voice darker now. His hands roam—never rushing, but never giving you a chance to catch your breath. “Admit it.”

You shake your head, but the words come out anyway. “I didn’t want this. I–” You cut yourself off with a moan as he presses his hips against you, his body heat radiating through his clothes.

“Don’t lie,” he murmurs against your skin, trailing kisses along your neck, his lips brushing so delicately that it sends a shiver down your spine. “You wanted it the moment you picked up that phone.”

Your hands move on their own, reaching for him, for more of the feeling. Or whatever it is that’s coursing through your veins. The lines of what’s right and wrong blur, and all you know is that you can’t stop now.

He pulls back, looking into your eyes as he unbuttons your shirt, each move deliberate. He watches your expression carefully, gauging your reactions like a predator. “Say it again,” he demands, his voice sharp. “Tell me you want this.”

Your body betrays you as you breathe, “I want this.”

A soft laugh escapes him, dark and pleased. “Good.”

His hands move quickly, and in the next breath, your clothes are discarded, the cold air hitting your bare skin. But the sensation of his hands on you, the heat of his touch… it’s enough to set your whole body on fire.

He leans in, his lips brushing your ear, his voice barely a whisper. “I told you that you’d never be able to walk away from this. I’ll make sure you never want to.”