#this was so much fun like i wasn't expecting to enjoy this as much as i did but like!! complementary colours go brr i guess

[houseofaegon]

SKINNY DIPPING pt. 1 ✩ Wally Clark

Pairings: Wally Clark x Fem!reader

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. very slow burn. semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, teasing, heavy sexual tension, explicit dirty talk, praising, degradation, skinny dipping in a public pool, possesiveness/jealousy, light choking, rough gripping & mandhandling, overstimulation, wally being a cocky little shit, risk of getting caught, begging, breeding kink. wally whimpering???? (god have mercy)

Summary: For what feels like an eternity, Y/n and Wally have been nothing more than just friends. but that changes one reckless night when they decide to cross skinny dipping off their "100 things to do before crossing over" bucket list. Teasing and meaningless flirting turn heated, and the tension that has been simmering between them finally snaps. Under the moonlit water, boundaries blur, and their friendship is completely wrecked, in the best possible way.

Author's note: God bless Milo Manheim!!!!!!!!!! I love this idea of having a bucket list of things they want to do before crossing over. It might be cool to make it into a series. idk. We'll see. :) For now, enjoy!! I hope you guys like it. <3 xoxo, nai.

Word count: 1714

Song choices: lose control - teddy swims, tear you apart - she wants revenge, closer - nine inch nails, flawless - the neighbourhood, do i wanna know? - arctic monkeys, TiO - zayn.

masterlist. part 1. part 2.

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Wally had been wandering the halls of the school, bored out of his mind, his thoughts drifting aimlessly as he just tried to make it through another day—not that he ever expected much on a normal one, at least. But then, there were those days. The ones that turned into trouble. The kind of trouble that you made happen.

It didn't really take much to turn an average boring day into something unforgettable when you were involved. You were the life of the party. You and Wally? Every single time you two were together, trouble seemed to follow.

And today? Today was no different.

You had both made a promise long ago: make eternity fun. It was a pact, a way to deal with the fact that you two were dead, with no going back to your old lives. So, you'd sworn to make the most of every single day, even if it meant causing chaos along the way.

You'd even written down an entire bucket list with him. Wally named it "100 things to do before crossing over." You two hadn't really crossed off many of the things you'd written down; some of them were not very possible, given the fact that you two couldn't really leave the school grounds. But that didn't stop you from trying to make every day feel like it mattered.

After walking aimlessly around the school, Wally finally spotted you, sprawled out on the bleachers of the football field. The sun was making your skin glow, and despite the fact that you couldn't tan anymore, you still seemed to soak up every single ray as if you were trying to relieve the feeling of it. One arm draped over your eyes, one leg over the other. Wally smiled; you always found a way to look effortlessly cool and beautiful, even in moments like this.

Wally climbed up the steps, settling on the one just below you, his eyes studying you. "We're gonna have field day in an hour," he said, his voice light. "Mr. Martin wants to do something...different. A bonfire or whatever. I don't know. Rhonda told me."

But you didn't respond. Your silence made him arch an eyebrow.

"You good?" he asked, his tone shifting to a more serious now. He wasn't too used to you being so quiet.

You opened your eyes, lazily glancing at him. “Just thinking,” you murmured, your voice soft.

“Dangerous,” he teased, though he could tell something was off. You smiled at him, rolling your eyes, but he noticed they didn't have that usual sparkle.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked again, a little more worried now.

You propped yourself up, your gaze flickering to the school building for a moment before focusing back on him. “Yeah,” you said, your voice steadier this time. “I’ve just been thinking about that list we made.”

“The one with a hundred things we’re supposed to do before crossing over?” Wally asked, smirking. “We’re halfway through, but there’s still plenty of time left.”

He watched your expression closely, trying to figure out what was going through your head, but you were unreadable as ever.

You shook your head. “We haven’t really crossed off much…” You trailed off for a second, your gaze flicking to the sky before you let out a sigh. “I just feel like... days are getting boring, Wally.”

He tilted his head. “Well, let’s do something not boring, then. Something stupid.”

“Define stupid.” You raised an eyebrow.

Wally’s lips curled into that signature cocky grin. The one that always meant he was about to take things to another level.

“Number 16,” he said, his eyes gleaming.

“Do you expect me to remember?” You shot back, trying to act nonchalant, but there was a flutter of excitement in your chest.

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Skinny dipping, dumbass.”

You froze for a moment, processing his words. Your mind raced, the idea catching you off guard. It was reckless, a little insane—but totally on brand for the two of you.

"You're serious?" you asked, staring at him with a mix of disbelief.

Wally leaned forward slightly, his voice low, his gaze burning with that familiar mischievous fire. “Dead serious.”

You couldn’t help it. A wicked smile spread across your face as you locked eyes with him. It was just a stupid thing to do. Just another one of your meaningless games. No harm in it, right?

"You're insane," you muttered under your breath, pushing yourself off the bleacher to stand right in front of him. You looked down at him, your gaze meeting his with a challenge in your eyes.

Wally just shrugged. “Yeah, well, eternity wouldn’t be fun if we weren’t at least a little bit insane.” His eyes traced the curve of your body, the unspoken tension between you both suddenly feeling palpable, thick in the air.

You swallowed, suddenly aware of the heat that seemed to spark between you both. “I swear you’ll get us caught.” You half joked, but the wild idea was starting to feel too good to back away from.

“Let’s make it quick then,” he replied. “We’ll make sure no one sees us.”

"I swear, Wally, if we get caught... I'll kill you," you warned, your voice a mix of a playful threat.

Wally chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "You wouldn't," he teased, but there was a spark of mischief in his eyes that made your stomach flip. "Besides, it's not like anyone's out there anyway. Everyone's off by the bonfire, telling ghost stories or whatever it is they do. We're fine. I'm sure they won't miss us."

You shot him a skeptical look, doubting if you should agree to it but you craved the adrenaline more.

"Come on," he grinned, grabbing your hand. "Let's go have some fun."

The thrill and the adrenaline coursed through you as you followed him, letting him guide you through the school. Wally was always the one to get you into trouble, but you couldn't deny how much you loved it.

As you both snuck through the hallways, being very careful to avoid Rhonda, Charley, Mr. Martin, or anyone who might spot you. You both could hear the muffled sounds of chatter echoing from the field.

When you finally reached the indoor pool, Wally paused at the entrance, opening the door slowly, and scanning the room. It was empty. The sun was almost gone, and the full moon shone brightly through the roof, illuminating the pool in a way that made the entire space feel almost otherworldly.

Wally turned back to you, a grin spreading across his face. "Looks like we have the place all to ourselves."

"Good," you smiled. "Kinda wanted some alone time, y'know?"

Wally's smile grew bigger, his gaze deepening. He took a step closer to you, his eyes locked onto yours. "I was actually thinking the same thing," he said, his voice low, more intimate. There was a flicker of something between you, a feeling that had been there for a while but neither of you had ever acknowledged it. "Just you and me."

"Just you and me," you repeated slowly, the words lingering in the air between you two.

For a second, everything faded away. The pool, the school, the world—it all felt distant, like a memory. It was just you and him, standing there in the moonlit pool, the adrenaline cursing through your veins.

Wally's hand was still intertwined with yours; his touch was warm, and even though you were technically dead, you still felt alive in moments like this. His gaze never left yours as he stepped closer, his breath becoming quicker.

"You sure about this?" he asked, his voice a mix of excitement and something else, something deeper, though it was hard for you to place.

You met his gaze and smirked. "Dead serious."

Wally's lips curled into a grin, there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes and it made your pulse quicken. The weight of his gaze on you caused your head to spin, his presence was overwhelming. He leaned in, his voice lowering to a whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "Just us?"

"Mhm," you nodded, your gaze never leaving his.

There was a subtle shift in Wally's demeanor, a possessiveness in the way he looked at you, but it wasn't the kind that felt controlling, it was the kind that made you feel like he was claiming this moment, claiming you, without saying a word. The air grew heavy with the weight of unspoken thoughts, you couldn't really tell if it was the adrenaline or something else, but you felt your heart pound louder in your chest.

"Yeah?" Wally repeated, a challenging tone lacing his voice, his smile never wavered. He stepped a little bit closer, closing the distance between you, his body just a fraction of an inch from yours. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the tension between you so strong, so thick you could almost touch it.

You tilted your head slightly, feeling the weight of his gaze, how it seemed to pierce right through you, taking in every single inch of you. His pupils were wide, dark, hungry, and the intensity of his stare made your heart race faster than before.

There was no going back now.

And honestly? You did not want to.

"Yeah," you whispered, a little breathless, words barely escaping your lips.

Just you and him, no distractions, no one to come between you two, no rules, no secrets, no limits.

Just you and him.

"So...Skinny dipping?" his lips brushed against your ear, his voice now a low whisper.

This might actually be the worst idea you've ever had. You'd suggested skinny dipping as a joke, both drunk and laughing while writing the list, not actually expecting him to go forward with it.

But here you were, bodies so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him, the air thick, almost suffocating. His eyes so dark, filled with something you couldn't quite describe, but you knew this wasn't just about a dare anymore.

This wasn't just a game.

It was about to become something entirely different, something that could change everything, ruin everything, but... maybe, just maybe, you wanted it to. 

[sunshinehaze1]

Sizzlin’

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: Your friend convinces you to attend a BBQ at her boyfriend’s friend’s house. The last thing you expected was meeting Frankie.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI. meet-cute, drinking (beers), slight dubcon (both reader and Frankie have had 2 beers, Frankie checks in), f!oral (it is Frankie, duh!), protected PiV, no use of Y/N

a/n: This was written for @yxtkiwiyxt’s NHIE Challenge. I received the prompt, “Never have I ever slept in someone else’s bed.” I LOVED this challenge and this was so much fun to write. I hope you enjoy! Thank you to my beautiful beta reader @80ssong 🥰

word count: 5,176

ao3 | ml

"Come on, his friends are really hot!"

Sabrina has been bugging you to attend a BBQ with her boyfriend's friends this weekend. They've been dating for over a year, and you've hung out with him a few times, but his golden retriever puppy energy can be overwhelming. He's a great guy, though, and he makes her happy. You're thrilled your closest friend has found someone who treats her right.

You roll your eyes. "I'm not looking to date right now."

"Who said anything about dating?" your friend counters. "You could just have some fun."

You brush her off at the suggestion. "Please, will you just come? His friends are a lot of fun."

Finally, you relent. "Ok, fine, I'll go. It's not like I had any plans this weekend anyway."

Sabrina lets out a delighted squeal and wraps you in a bear hug. "Perfect, I'll send you the address and meet you there at 3."

"Should I bring anything?" you ask as you walk your friend to the door.

"They're simple guys. Beer will do just fine." Sabrina waves goodbye and closes the door behind her.

—

With the address in the GPS and a couple of six packs in the passenger seat, you begin your drive. You're nervous about being in a new place and meeting new people, especially those who are "really hot." It's early fall in Florida, so you can still get away with wearing a sundress. The heat won't take a break for at least another two months, so you wear your favorite one to boost your confidence. "Fake it til you make it," right?

You pull into a quiet neighborhood. The streets are lined with older homes shaded with mature trees, dripping in Spanish moss. The GPS pings as you approach your final destination, and you park on the street in front of a one-story brick home with a driveway full of pickup trucks and Jeeps.

Before you exit the car, you take a final look in the rearview mirror to adjust your hair and ensure your makeup hasn't melted off. Taking a deep breath, you grab a six-pack in each hand and head toward the house.

—

"Pope, for fuck's sake!" A broad-shouldered man, who fills the entire door frame, swings the front door open just as you reach for the doorbell. Your arms flail in surprise, and you fumble to keep the beer from crashing onto the pavement.

"Oh, shit." the man startles. "Sorry about that; I was just going out to get something from my truck. Here, let me help you with those." His calloused hands brush over yours to grab the cartons from your hands.

"Um," you stammer. "Thank you." Sabrina definitely wasn't exaggerating. Benny's friends are hot—at least this one is.

You take him in, starting with broad shoulders covered in a washed-out maroon t-shirt underneath a chambray button-up. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off his sinewy forearms. You notice a small bullseye tattoo on his hand resting between his thumb and index finger. A ballcap with an unfamiliar logo sits atop a mop of brown curls, which peek out in the back. His eyes are a rich brown; crinkles form at the corners when he smiles wide, dimpling his right cheek.

You follow him inside the house. He sets down the beers and extends his hand to greet you. "I'm Frankie. You must be Sabrina's friend."

"It's nice to meet you, Frankie." His strong hand wraps around yours, and you introduce yourself.

Frankie quickly excuses himself and heads back outside to his truck.

—

"HEEYYYYYYYY!!!" you hear Sabrina sing-song as she walks into the house from the backyard. "You made it!" She greets you with a kiss on the cheek and a warm hug. She whispers in your ear teasingly, "So, I see you've met Frankie."

Shyly, "Yeah, we met. Almost lost a few beers in the process."

"I'm so glad you made it!" She drags you behind her toward the backyard. "Let me introduce you to everyone else."

You were surprised to see only Benny and two other men outside. This was a more intimate gathering than you had realized, immediately putting you at ease.

Sabrina introduces you to your host, Santiago, or "Pope," as you soon learn. Benny is two for two on the handsome friend count. He's shorter than Frankie, has dark hair and features, a broad smile, and a gregarious personality.

Next, you meet Benny's older brother, Will. Blonde hair, blue eyes, much more reserved than his brother. A strong, silent type. He seems content to be in his own world while he attends the grill.

You hear the grind of the sliding glass door behind you. Frankie walks through the threshold, waving a stack of folders in the air. "Got 'em!"

"My man!" Santiago slaps him on the back, "Thank you."

With his mission accomplished, Frankie finally has a chance to take you in fully. His gaze travels the length of your body, taking in your soft features and plush curves and admiring the cut of your dress, which perfectly accentuates your breasts, hips, and ass. The short length leaves your bare legs on full display.

—

The backyard is beautifully appointed with sable palms, hibiscus bushes, and a well-manicured lawn. There is a jacuzzi to the right of the grill, which doesn't surprise you; Santiago seems like a lady's man. No bachelor pad would be complete without a jacuzzi. Adirondack chairs encircle a small fire pit in the back corner of the yard. You reckon it only gets used during the short window when it is cold enough in Florida to have a fire and not melt.

"Food's almost ready," you hear Will call out.

Sabrina looks to you. "Come help me get the sides?"

You follow her back inside to the kitchen.

"What did I tell you?" Her eyes widened. "They're all hot, aren't they?"

You respond with a shy smile, "Yeah, you weren't lying."

She nudges her elbow against your arm while holding a bowl of potato salad. "I saw Frankie checking you out."

"You…" stammering out skeptically, "…no way?!"

"Yes, way! You look hot in that dress; why wouldn't he check you out?!"

You attempt to conceal your smile by focusing on the tiled floor. "He does seem nice."

"Oh, honey, he's not just nice! He's sweet, funny, and gorgeous," she whispers conspiratorially, "And it looks like he's packing some serious heat."

"Sabrina!" you scoff, playfully smacking her. "You're not supposed to be checking out your boyfriend's friend's package!"

"Says who? I can look, and you can touch to prove me right." She leaves you speechless, holding a tray of crudites, as she walks back outside, cooing to the boys that it's time to eat.

You make your way to the table with bench seats on either side. After you set the tray on the table, you take a moment to contemplate how to sit without exposing yourself in your short dress. Slowly, you lift your leg to straddle the bench, but your sandal catches, and you're thrown off balance. You brace yourself for an embarrassing fall until you feel strong forearms wrap around your waist to hold you steady. Frankie walking by at just the right time.

"Whoa, you alright there?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." sheepish and embarrassed, "Thank you."

He grabs your hand and says, "Here, let me." You begin your second attempt at climbing over the bench, flattening the back of your dress underneath you before you sit down.

Frankie looks down at you. "Would you like a drink?"

"That would be great, thank you." Anything to wash down the embarrassment and cool off from the heat of Frankie's touch.

He fishes out a bottle of beer from the cooler. Out of your periphery, you ogle him as he's bent over. His shirt stretched across his back, rugged khakis taut over his ass. You're suddenly much thirstier than you thought.

He returns to the table and sets the bottle before your plate. You feel the warmth radiating from his chest against your back, his bicep less than an inch from your face. A slight turn of your head and your nose would be in his armpit. You hold your breath, afraid that if you let yourself breathe in his scent, you'd succumb to the physiological response. That and the fear of getting caught sniffing a man you just met in front of his closest friends tempers your impulse.

Frankie sits across from you while the rest of the group sits around the table. Serving platters are passed around until the plates are full.

Frankie finds himself distracted by your sweetheart-necklined dress as everyone begins to eat. The hem curving over the top of your breasts, meeting in the middle at a point, which draws his attention to the tease of cleavage. He's completely ignored the clamor of conversation around him. Suddenly, a baby carrot lands in his lap, and he's brought back to the present. "Hermano, did you hear what I said?"

Frankie stumbles a response, "What's that?"

"Malo." Santiago shakes his head and huffs a laugh, "Pretty girl in front of you, and you lose all sense."

You feel the attention of the table shift to you and quickly avert your gaze, picking at the food on your plate and fixating on the pattern that outlines the rim of the dish. Your cheeks heat from the eyes burning into you. You're cautious about looking up to gauge Frankie's reaction; you don't want to become even more flustered.

Frankie flings the carrot back at Santiago, "Shut the fuck up, man!" But he's quick enough to bat it away before it hits him. The rest of the table erupts with laughter, allowing the awkwardness of the moment to dissipate, and you and Frankie join in.

Will asks, "So, how long have you and Sabrina been friends?"

You're thankful for the segue. "We lived on the same street growing up in Orlando. She followed when I moved to Tampa a few years ago for work."

Sabrina chimes in, "Yeah, you wouldn't make it here without me!" You both giggle.

"Sabrina tells me you all served together in the Army?" the men nod in unison.

They briefly share how Frankie, Santiago, and Will met in basic training. Benny joined their unit a couple of years later. They share minimal details about their deployments, not wanting to dredge up too many memories of that time, especially with new company present.

They've all retired from the Army and returned to civilian life. Will tours the state, speaking with personnel considering retirement from service. Santiago runs a security firm where Benny works. Benny is also an amateur MMA fighter, which Sabrina isn't fond of, but even she can admit he's really good. She's even told you that watching him fight does turn her on.

Lastly, you learn that Frankie has transitioned to civilian piloting and leads helicopter tours of the Bay. He has a four-year-old daughter, Lila. When he talks about her, his eyes sparkle. Clearly, she is the light of his life.

You hesitantly ask about her mom. You're nervous that this guy you've developed a crush on in a short period isn't single. "We split up over a year ago. It wasn't working, and we can be better parents to Lila this way."

You're impressed with Frankie's maturity and self-awareness, which enable him to have an amenable relationship with his ex. As a child of divorce with parents who were unable to put their grievances aside, you know how vital co-parenting is for a child. "I'm glad you could figure out what works best for you both and Lila."

Frankie nods before he takes a swig of beer. You watch as his thick fingers wrap around the bottle's neck. You're fixated on his throat; his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows the bitter IPA—the prominent vein on the side of his neck, with moles that dot along his tanned skin.

You and Frankie have been in a bubble. The friends surrounding you have been long forgotten as your conversation flows naturally. He has a calming presence that makes you feel comfortable and at ease. He's confident and funny, with a raspy laugh that takes over his whole face and radiates through him and a smile so broad that his eyes disappear.

Subtle flirting has become more overt. Your hands brush against his when you reach for the bowl of chips at the same time. You accidentally bump into him when you stretch your legs in front of you underneath the table. But he doesn't pull away, the rough sole of his shoe brushing gently against your bare leg. You glance at him with a sheepish grin, and he returns with a toothy smile. Fuck, he is handsome. Your eyes remain locked on each other, heat coiling within your body, and you sense the same in Frankie.

"I'm going to grab more ice for the cooler from the garage." Frankie stands up from the table, his eyes silently communicating to follow his lead.

As you get up from the table, you take his cue and ask, "Do you need any help?"

"Yeah, that would be great." A sly grin emerges. "Thanks!"

Frankie follows you through the door, his hand brushing softly against the small of your back. The contact sends shivers down your spine, and your pulse quickens as you feel his warm palm against the thin material of your dress.

"Garage is this way." Frankie guides you down the hall to the right of the kitchen.

When you turn the corner, Frankie is immediately on you. He is unable to hold back a second longer. He has you pinned against the wall, his arms bracketing you above your shoulders. Hunger swirls in his eyes, and you feel his breath against your cheek. He's so close to you that you're sure he can hear your heart beating.

"You are so god damn pretty." his finger trails along the strap of your dress and loops underneath, "And you're fucking killing me with this dress. I needed to get you alone."

A sigh escapes your lips, overwhelmed by his closeness and his touch on your bare shoulder. Unable to speak, Frankie fills the silence. "Can I kiss you?"

All you can manage is a nod, your bottom lip held between your teeth in anticipation.

He leans forward until his plush lips connect with yours. A moan escapes you both at the contact. What begins as a sweet, chaste kiss quickly becomes more intense.

He licks at the seam of your lips, seeking permission to enter. The bill of his hat hinders him, but he quickly flips it around to devour your mouth fully. It's a flurry of tangled tongues as he licks into your mouth. A groan escapes him when you grab his bottom lip between your teeth. A gentle nibble quickly soothed by the swipe of your tongue.

With his arm around your waist, he pulls you closer to him, the weight of his bulge pressing against your thigh. You feel wobbly even though you're sandwiched between Frankie's solid frame and the wall, forced to grip his shoulders for purchase to remain upright. Your fingers map the sinew of muscle along his traps and deltoids as he dives in for another kiss. Which somehow leaves you even more breathless than the last one.

The feverish kiss continues as he pulls you further down the hall. Twisted limbs tripping over each other, bumping into the walls, leaving picture frames askew. Spurts of laughter echo through the hallway as you fumble around, fingers tangled in the fabric of each other's clothes. His wide palms rest against your hips before snaking around to grip your ass cheeks. You can feel the slick arousal pool in your panties.

Emboldened by the drinks you had earlier and Frankie's attention, you suggest finding somewhere more private.

Frankie growls and grips your wrist, taking you further down the hall until you reach a threshold with a closed door. His arm reaches behind you to turn the knob, and you both fall into the dimly lit room. Dark curtains are draped in front of large windows, and the setting sun peeks through the gap in the fabric where they meet. You and Frankie stumble your way further into the room, hands groping manically over each other's bodies.

You slide Frankie's button-up shirt off his shoulders and let it fall to the ground. Then, you tug the T-shirt underneath from the waistband of his pants. His hands travel under the hem of your dress, his fingers dimpling into the supple flesh. He shuffles you toward the bed and tosses you against it, giggling as you flail backward onto the soft mattress.

"Fuck, I could get used to that sound." he huffs.

Propped up on your elbows with one leg crossed over the other, you give him a coy smile. Frankie's eyes burn with lust as his gaze trails up your bare legs to your core. "I'm going to need you to open up, baby."

You slowly uncross your legs and spread them into a wide v. Frankie watches you intently, eyes focused on the pull of your dress up your thighs exposing the gusset of your panties, enraptured by the blooming wet spot caused by your arousal.

He hums as he falls to his knees. Leaning into your center with a deep inhale. "Fuck!" His palms warm on your thighs, his eyes pleading, "Can I?"

"Can you what, Frankie?" you tease.

"Can I taste you?" a desperate tone to his voice, "Please?"

You nod, and he's on you within seconds. His fingers slip into the sides of your panties, and you lift your hips so he can pull them off. Your slick folds glisten in the soft light of the room. "Fucking gorgeous cunt."

"Frankie, please."

"I got you. I got you."

The swipe of his tongue through your folds emphasizes his reassurance, and you cry out with relief. The whiskers of his beard brush against the sensitive skin. Frankie moans into your core as the sweet, musky taste of your arousal dances across his tongue. A sample is not nearly enough to satisfy him; he dives in for more.

Desperate for better access, he spreads your thighs further apart, pushing your legs up until your thighs meet your stomach. He holds you down with his palms flat against the back of your thighs. He leaves a wet trail along your skin as his arousal-soaked lips slowly kiss up and down your thighs. A gentle bite on your ass cheek sends a jolt of surprise through your body that you can't help but squeak out a laugh.

You can't even recover before the tip of his tongue journeys across your outer folds, looping around to the other side before sliding through your seam again. Up, up, up until he reaches your clit. His lips wrap around your sensitive nub. Sucking it into his mouth, lapping kitten licks with the tip of his tongue. Your body writhes below him, pulsating need coursing through your veins.

You reach between your legs, eager to feel any part of him, and yank the hat off his head. You fling it behind you, where it lands on the floor with a thud. His gorgeous hair is now unencumbered, your fingers free to roam through his soft curls. You grip the brown locks between your fingers and pull him further into your pussy, his nose bumps against your clit as he eats at you. "Fuck, frankie, you're incredible."

And he is. He really is. The best head you've ever experienced. Somebody who was a stranger just a few hours ago. You can't recall the last time you've been with such an enthusiastic lover. Especially one that is so wanton, eating at you, bringing you intense pleasure, and not making you feel like its a chore or an obligation.

You practically had to beg your ex to go down on you, and when he did, he expected you to return the favor. It never was about your pleasure. Frankie is different. He eats at you like it's his only way of survival, as if he'll die if you don't come by his tongue.

He groans into your cunt, shockwaves pulse through your body, at the precipice of your orgasm, "I'm so close."

Frankie, seeking relief from his painfully hard cock, reaches down to unfasten his pants. He releases his cock from his boxer briefs with a sigh. With a swipe of his hand, he gathers the precum that has leaked from his tip to coat his cock before he begins slow strokes up and down his length while he continues to devour your pussy, suckling at your clit. You're near the edge, ready to tumble forward as your legs shudder, the grip on his locks tighten. Your pussy begins to flutter around his tongue as you tumble over the edge, coating it in your release. "Frankie. Holy shit." you try to catch your breath. "Oh my god."

You lift his head from between your legs, and he reluctantly pulls away with a disappointed whimper. "Too much." you pant, "You're too fucking good at that."

Between your thighs, a crooked smile appears through his slick lips and his glossy eyes connect with yours, "Fuckin hell, you taste good."

Frankie moves from the floor and crawls up your body. The weight of his cock resting against your worn out pussy. He leans down to kiss you, leaving a trail of nibbles along your jawline until he reaches that soft spot behind your ear. Licking and sucking down the column of your neck to where it meets your shoulder. His tongue swipes along your collarbone as he slips the straps of your dress down your shoulders to reveal the lacy cups of your bra.

His lips traverse the plane of your chest, hot breath hovers over the supple skin spilling out of the cups. He grips the fabric of your bra between his teeth and pulls down one cup and then the other to release your tits. He lathes over each nipple, pulling the hardened buds between his lips, flicking them with the tip of his tongue before a gentle bite and releasing with a pop.

You emit a low moan at the combination of his mouth on your tits and his dick sliding through your soaked folds, the tip brushing against your sensitive clit.

"You're so beautiful." Frankie shakes his head in disbelief. "Do you want to keep going?"

As if it were even a question. Of course, you want to keep going, but you appreciate Frankie's check-in. You grabbed his head between your palms and brought him closer, eyes locked on his, sealing your enthusiastic "yes!" with a feverish kiss.

With that, Frankie sits back on his haunches and searches the room. He knows he doesn't have a condom in his wallet. He hasn't needed one in a while. Even if he did have one, it would have expired anyway. As he becomes more acquainted with his surroundings, he slowly realizes where you are and breathes out, "Fuck!"

You sit up in bed, holding the top of your dress against your chest. "What's wrong?"

"We ended up in Pope's room." he runs his palm over his face, scratching the whiskers of his chin. "And I don't have a condom."

You push aside the inevitable embarrassment you'll face for fucking in your host's bed and suggest with a mischievous grin, "Surely, Santiago has condoms."

The distraught look on Frankie's face disappears with a broad smile, and he shifts on the bed to open the nightstand drawer. When he opens the drawer, a Costco-sized box of condoms greets him. Relief washes over him, and he's grateful he doesn't have to cut things short with you.

He reaches into the box and pulls out a foil pocket. You lean back, propped up on your forearms to admire Frankie as he tears open the package between his teeth while stroking his cock with his other hand. Sabrina will be happy to know she was right. His cock is beautiful. Thick, long, and uncut. Your mouth hangs open as you watch him roll the condom down his length. His eyes never leave yours.

"Don't worry. It'll fit; I'll go slow." He reaches up to the neckline of his shirt, gripping its back and pulling it off in one smooth motion. "Lay back, baby."

He positions himself back over you. The broad expanse of his tan chest blocks the view of your surroundings. Not that it matters anyway; all of your attention is on Frankie. Captivated by his gorgeous face and the moles that scatter along his neck and sternum. You've already forgotten you're in Santiago's room, about to fuck this beautiful man, on his bed. He leans down to press a chaste kiss against your lips as he notches his tip at your entrance.

"You ready?" You nod, eager to feel him inside you.

It's been so long since you've had sex and you've never had a dick as large as Frankie's. As promised, he took things slow, feeding his cock inch by inch. Allowing time for your body to adjust before going further. There's a pleasurable stretch as your walls accommodate his girth and length as he reaches the hilt, kissing your cervix. "Pussy is just swallowing my cock, baby."

"It feels so good."

"Yeah?" He searches your face for any sign of discomfort. "You ready for me?"

"Yes! Fuck me, Frankie!"

Frankie pulls out until just the tip rests at your entrance. You whimper at the loss of him inside you, but he quickly soothes you with a thrust of his hips into you, pushing you further up the bed. He pulls out slowly, repeating the motion a few more times before he lands on a steady pace that has you seeing stars. "Hnngh, she's so tight." he moans, "Fuckin hell!"

"Harder, Frankie." you pant louder than you anticipated, "I can take it! Please, fuck me harder!"

Frankie slows his thrusts and quickly closes his palm over your mouth, "Shh. Shh. You gotta be quiet."

You hear the din and laughter from the backyard. You had been so distracted by Frankie's dick, you forgot you weren't entirely alone. "If I move my hand, can you be quiet?"

You nod. Frankie reignites his pace with more fervor this time. The tension built up over the afternoon finally comes to a head. Low moans rumble through you with each thrust. Your legs wrap around his hips.

"That's a good fucking girl." He reaches between your bodies to thumb at your clit. "I feel you squeezing me. Need you to come for me."

You scramble to reach the pillow behind you and hold it over your face to muffle your scream as you begin to pulse around his cock. Frankie continues to fuck you through your orgasm, his own imminent. It only takes a few more thrusts before he's spilling into the condom before he collapses onto you, breathless.

Your fingertips trail along the plane of his back and shoulders as his cock softens inside you. He peppers feather light kisses along your cheek before he reaches your lips and seals it with a searing kiss.

He pulls away to scan your face. "How are you feeling?"

"Perfect. Fucking incredible, Frankie"

—

You and Frankie sit together at the edge of the bed in your half-dressed, disheveled, fucked out state. The two of you savoring the afterglow of an incredible fuck and also delay the inevitable for as long as possible. You rest your head on Frankie's bare shoulder and express your embarrassment at a whopper of a first impression with his friends.

Frankie reassures you that it isn't that big of a deal. He kisses you gently on the temple and encourages you to get up so you both can rip off the bandaid. He scoops your dress up off the floor, and you flit around looking for your panties and bra while stealing glances at Frankie as he gets dressed.

When you're finally presentable, Frankie opens the bedroom door, motioning for you to go before him. As you head down the hallway, you're greeted with a chorus of cheers and slow claps.

"So, where's the ice?" You hear Benny boom out.

The group erupts in laughter, and you bury your face into Frankie's bicep. Standing next to Benny, Sabrina catches your eyes. With her palms facing each other, she subtly moves them closer and further apart, eyebrows quirking up. You avert your eyes to avoid her silent inquisition. You won't be able to handle her smugness over being correct about Frankie's size right now.

Frankie turns bright red while he stomachs pats on the back from his friends. Santi grips Frankie's shoulders from behind with a shake. "'Bout time you cleared out those cobwebs, hermano. But did it have to be on my fucking bed?"

—

You head back outside with the group for one last drink. Sabrina approaches you with a smile and wraps her arm over your shoulder to follow the guys. Another round of drinks is passed around, and fortunately, the topic of conversation has shifted quickly from your dalliance with Frankie.

Frankie sits next to you at the table, his thigh pressed against your bare skin.. He rests his hand just above your knee, offering a gentle squeeze. When you look up at him, his gaze focuses on you, and he smiles warmly.

The sun set a few hours ago, ushering in chillier air. Frankie notices you shiver. He pulls off his button-up and places it over your shoulders, returning his hand to your bare leg. You lean into him, savoring his warmth.

A few hours pass before you decide to call it a night, and Frankie offers to walk you to your car.

"It was really nice meeting you." You catch him nervously rubbing his hand against the back of his neck.

You grab his hand and squeeze, "You too, Frankie. I had a great time."

He smiles at this. "I'd love to see you again. Take you to dinner."

"I would love that!"

When you reach your car, you exchange numbers. With your back pressed against the door, Frankie's arm propped against the frame, he leans in for one last kiss. He squeezes your hip before he pulls away to open the door for you and as you turn to enter your car, he teasingly smacks your ass.

Before he shuts the car door, he offers, "Drive home safe. Let me know when you get home."

"I will." You nod. "I'll see you soon, Frankie!"

Frankie waits until you drive off before he turns to go back inside. A wide smile stretched across his face. A smile that won't be going anywhere any time soon. He's excited to find out what the future has in store for him, especially if that future includes you.

Thank you so much for reading! I’d love to hear your thoughts. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. 🫶🏼

tagging some folks who engaged in my WIP posts on this fic: @peepawispunk @burntheedges @joelmillerisapunk @baronessvonglitter @ak-vintage @probablyreadinsmut @goodwithcheese @almostempty (please let me know if you’d like to be removed)

[fromdawntiltwilight]

Move close to me and hear what I say

Now it's time dance and time to pray

It's torture time my little child

So follow me into the night

Let me drag you down

Let me kiss your neck

Please don't be afraid I'll show

Things you won't forget

Bloodsucker ~ Paralyzed Age

I wasn't expecting this to need tws, but, uhm, I got carried away. So: verbal abuse, I guess? Mentions of violence. Assholes acting as such. Angst? Hurt and no comfort? Uhm.

"I'm not falling for it", she said. Sitting on the barren earth against a tree at the edge of the meadow where they camped, Dawn looked up towards Astarion. She could hear the others celebrating in the distance: the chatter, the music, the laughter.

She'd had her fair share of cheap wine that night: it would've been easy to use it as an excuse to say yes to the pale elf who was towering above her. Instead, she looked at him, her lips pursed and her chin up.

Astarion laughed at her response. A dry chuckle that couldn't reach his crimson eyes. "Falling for what? My offer is quite simple and honest, darling. Here", he said. He reached for her hand and she let him place it on top of his exposed chest. She blushed and averted her gaze. "I swear it on my dead, little heart." He leaned against the tree, still towering above her, yet close enough that she could hear him whisper. "I want you." A purr echoing in her mind and choking her dry throat.

She swallowed and let out a soft breath. It could have been easy to pretend, to let him get away with it. Maybe, if she deluded herself hard enough, she could close her eyes and pretend that he really loved her. But it wouldn't do either of them any good.

"You don't want me", she retaliated instead, retracting her hand. Astarion blinked, his smile faltering. "And I don't...", she stumbled upon her words and had to look away. "Fuck for fun", she spat out. She forced herself up, still dizzy from the wine and thankful for the rough bark of the tree against her back, grounding her. She was now standing as tall as him.

Their eyes met again and she could see a vulnerability behind his mask, making her resolve weaker for a brief moment.

"Not like this", she added, shaking her head.

"I'm not going to offer it again", he said, his voice sharp as the blade of the knives he used to slaughter his enemies. He leaned further into her, not touching her but close enough that she could feel his breath on the tip of her nose.

"I enjoy your company too much to take you on your offer, Astarion". He froze in place.

And then, he started laughing. She turned her head on the side, letting out another sigh, before meeting his gaze again. The way he looked at her now sent a shiver down her spine. Finally, she could see the vicious predator, the vampire, the anger behind the perfectly crafted mask.

"You don't know me. You know nothing, miss know-it-all. You are naive, sheltered, blinded by your limited beliefs, by your limited life experience." His voice was sweet as honey when he spoke, but his eyes were darting daggers her way, keeping her in place. She blinked slowly and swallowed hard, then nodded. Her passiveness encouraged him to continue. "You are right about something, though. I don't want you. How could I?" He laughed in her face. She felt her heart heavy in her chest and a knot in her stomach, as if all the wine that she had during the night wanted to come out. But she wasn't going to take the humiliation without putting him in his place. She could feel her fingers tingle, and imagined all the possible ways in which she could make him pay. For a brief second, he disappeared: all she could see was darkness, all she could hear was a rumbling thunder in her ears and the fire pulsating in her veins.

She wanted to hurt him back, but she knew better than that. However he must've sensed the shift in the air, noticed her tensing jaw or her cold glare, because his nostrils flared, pupils dilated and he had stopped laughing. His reaction brought her back. She frowned, shaking her head, a familiar shudder taking over her body.

"Enjoy the rest of the night", she muttered before disappearing into the forest.

[zombie-bait]

Full Moon

Ok so I don’t normally post about Helluva Boss but the newest episode touched on an interesting concept I haven’t necessarily seen represented in media. Back when I was on Twitter (derogatory) a few years ago there was this now deleted viral thread where someone discussed how their struggles with mental health affected their relationship with their partner and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. 

This is such a good, short example of how anxiety and depression can play tricks on you. It becomes so easy to envision yourself as a nuisance, a constant burden to those closest to you because they cannot possibly genuinely enjoy your company, right? But in doing so you create this arbitrarily cruel version of the people you love, people who would otherwise never behave like this outside of your own mind.

It's mean. Because your mind wants to be mean to you under these circumstances. It wants to put everyone else's emotions and desires above yours, both in worthiness and validity. And that starts bleeding into your understanding of other people, especially those you care about.

Now. Helluva Boss.

"Can I get a fucking MINUTE to think after everything you put me through you pompous rich ASSHOLE? Treat me like one of your little butler imps, you can’t just dismiss me like that! I mean, you royal fucks think you can do this every time, like you can just play with our feelings because we’re smaller and not as important. Well I’m not letting you, BITCH! Let’s go!" - Blitz

I find it really interesting how Helluva Boss decided to approach this conflict between Stolas and Blitz. Obviously, the difference in power matters. It's the underlying tension of their entire relationship and their lives. Stolas is burdened by the mountain of expectations thrust upon him from a very young age while Blitz is constantly reminded that he can NEVER be part of that world, that he is "smaller and not as important" not just in Hell's hierarchy but in his own life and family. Stolas very literally has power over Blitz (through the grimoire, the arrangement, his position in society) and Blitz uses their relationship as an excuse to reverse those roles. But that power dynamic, in one form or another, never truly goes away. And for Blitz, it's a lot easier to paint Stolas as this manipulative symbol of power and himself as nothing more than Stolas' plaything. It's easier to be angry than to be vulnerable and accept that someone might care about him.

"Dismiss" is the keyword in that quote. All that Blitz has been able to process is that Stolas has decided to end the relationship that they have. He feels ls like a choice has been taken away from him so he lashes out because he's not ready to emotionally tackle what the rest of Stolas' offer might entail. If Stolas hates him, just wants to play with him, then he is justified in his anger, his self-destruction, his isolation. If the world is mean, you're "allowed" to be mean back.

But

In that moment he forgets that Stolas is someone he actually cares about. Someone he's known for way too long and clearly wants to keep in his life, no matter how reluctant he can be to admit it. Someone who is not innately cruel or manipulative but sad and desperate for connections in a lot of the same ways that Blitz is. And Blitz immediately sees that he's miscalculated something.

Somewhere along the way the fictional version of Stolas that he's allowed himself to be mad at and the real one that he's not ready to admit he cares about have merged into something real that he has actual power over. Stolas can get hurt and Blitz can be the one who does it. He has once again allowed his greatest fears (which Stolas so frequently symbolizes) to co-opt his loved ones, to give him an "out" even though he didn't actually want one in the first place.

I'm definitely not the first person to say this but I think this is an example of the miscommunication trope done right. Their individual struggles are what cause them to be unable to connect during this conversation or to even have a proper conversation in the first place. There is no convenient misunderstanding or third party fabricating this rift. Both of them have preconceived ideas of what the other one is thinking but those ideas are flawed and rooted in self-hatred. They also both shutdown in their unique ways when the conversation starts heading in the direction they'd feared it would.

Blitz and Stolas work because they're both fucked up in similar ways, because they want similar things. That's the same reason why they're uniquely designed to hurt one another. A fear of rejection and a yearning for happiness. To borrow a quote that has been used by literally everyone from Spiderman to Evangelical preachers, "hurt people hurt people."

anyway, I really liked this episode.

(twitter thread screenshots sourced from this reddit post)

[cordelianewman]

There was almost a relief in Cage's eyes when she said she wasn't going to make this into some kind of thing they planned every single bit of. Maybe if they hadn't conceived in six months to a year they would consider talking to a fertility doctor and tracking at least ovulation but there was no need to go that way until they had to. They had the knowledge to know that Cordelia could get pregnant, it was just more about being the right time and hoping that it actually stuck around. Everything he said made sense, "No I get it, I don't want sex to become a business transaction, something we're strictly doing to get me pregnant. Kind of takes the fun out of it and I don't think we need to do that when we have a pretty great sex life as it is." Which was true, why ruin a good thing? Giving a roll of her eyes, "I didn't mind the bruises on my thighs and hips, I liked it." Looking at him a grin tugging at her lips, "I mean it, I enjoyed it, more than I wanted to admit because I was angry, but angry sex, kinda hot. Maybe a lot hot." she pointed out, because it kind of was, "And it's not some sadistic karma that caused all of this, it was the fact that my body wasn't ready to be pregnant. Maybe stress played a factor into it but no one knows the exact reasons, it wasn't like I fell, it wasn't like I got hurt or did anything crazy it just wasn't the right time. There's nothing wrong with how our first would have been conceived but I get wishing you had been more excited and I won't pretend that I wished you had been happier but I also understand that you weren't there yet." It was hard that for him to realize what he wanted he had to lose that very thing and then have to live with it as much as she did, only experience a different type of guilt feeling. Though neither one of them were guilty of anything. They had done their best with what they had been given, and now moving forward all they could do was try and hope for the best and that it wouldn't become a stressor to them personally or their marriage. Honestly, Cordelia was just happy that Cage was opening up about how he was feeling and everything that had been on his mind. Maybe getting away from Merrock for their anniversary had been the best thing, a place to openly talk away from everything, memories and just get it all out on the table and now look where they were? Communication was at least far better right now, not that she didn't expect there to be hiccups at times. "I can promise you that you will not catch me attempting to pick up hay bales prior to getting pregnant either." After losing the pregnancy so early she wasn't going to risk doing anything too crazy in case she got pregnant, and like what happened didn't know and cause any potential issues, but she also knew she'd go about a lot of her normal every day life like she had before. "Think that sounds fair, Twix and I will give you scores on how good you are at moving the bales, I'll get her her own little score board too." she offered a grin pulling to her lips, "But remember she may love you but she's a harsh critic."

Reaching out she shoved him gently, "Oh shut up, I could have cravings without being pregnant." Which was very true, Cordelia loved food and there was always a chance something could pop up in her mind that she would want, and it didn't mean she was pregnant. "Just buckle in, that's all I'm saying, because who knows I could have wicked cravings, or I could be horribly sick and threaten you to keep all food far, far away from me." Might sound a lot like her saying keep it out of the house and dramatics being her favorite form of emotions she might come up with some kind of crazy thought of get rid of it all, but she wouldn't actually mean it. They had four kids to keep fed, two of which were growing teenage boys that she was convinced were actually trying to eat them out of house and home. "No I agree, I was worried about telling them." When she had been expecting, the way her gut would drop remembering they had to break the news in a way that was kind of like, well here this is, without even having a conversation that they had or hadn't been considering this. Talk about the worst proof of non-safe sex to say it just happened to two teenage boys. "Know that that is where we're at that we can give this new little one, when he or she is ready to you know.... happen, the love and time they deserve. Deep down I think Colton and Shawn would love to have a baby sibling, I know Colton got to be around Rosalyn once she was almost a year old but think he would have enjoyed her as a baby baby, and like you said, Shawn loved having Cienna." she pointed out, maybe it wouldn't go so bad if they pointed out the fact that it was because of the four of them and how much love they proved in their family that gave them the ability to know one last child would be given that same amount of love, respect, and care needed. As she saddled up towards the few cases of jewelry it didn't take long to feel Cage behind, press up against her slightly, hands on her hips. "You know I've always loved the idea of a vintage piece, something that had history even if we don't know the history." Of course her ring was technically going to eventually fall into that category given it had been his mother's diamond. A woman approached them with a soft 'hello' and how could she help them. "Oh we're just looking, we're here on vacation for our anniversary and I kind of wanted to take a peek at a few things special maybe." The woman was kind and generous, asking them how long they had been married, them taking turns to explain the finer parts of their relationship from high school to reuniting, maybe leaving out their difficultly at first reconnecting and the whole soup debacle. "I was hoping to look at some bands maybe? For my left hand. Something antique, maybe pre-1940's if you have anything?" The woman nodding happily before returning with two trays of rings. "Oh!" Cordelia's eyes sparkling seeing all the pretty rings in front of her, definitely obvious that they were dated given the looks of some of them. Trying on a bunch the woman took the time again to explain each ring, the period it was from, Cordelia holding her hand up for Cage to see, knowing he was mostly there to oh and ah, before she picked up a particular ring, this one slipping onto her finger with ease. The woman explained it was from the 1920's, with miners cute diamonds, 7 to be exactly, and Cordelia knew it, the second it fit on her finger and held it up, the seven stones sparkling in the light, she had fallen in love.

There was a sense of relief that filled Cage as Cordelia talked about not wanting to schedule this pregnancy, knowing that it was something that had weighed heavily on him. This couldn't be scheduled or planned, not like her school, his work, their childrens' day to day lives, this had to happen when it happened, naturally. When the time was right. "I don't want to have sex to make a baby," Cage chose his words carefully, narrowing his eyes as he thought it over, "I want to get pregnant because on a random Wednesday night, you looked at me a certain way and I kissed you a little too long in the hallway and it just happened, you know?" His voice was softer as he said it, almost a little shy, but he didn't want or need the fanfare. If they couldn't pinpoint the exact moment that they had made a baby because it was borne out of the love between them, then that was more than enough for him, and he paused for a moment, emotion thickening his tone the tiniest amount as he pulled his teeth from the lip that he had bitten onto while thinking and spoke, drawing in a breath, "as sad as I am about what happened and always will be, there's a part of me that's relieved that I can do this right." It was tough to admit, and he didn't want to say it out loud, but felt like he needed to, felt like they had to go through every step of this honestly with one another. "You know that I will love our baby, no matter what, but there was a part of me that was… ashamed, that -- I don't know, that I left those bruises on your thighs and hips and got you pregnant when we were angry at each other and then reacted the way I did, that I couldn't just be happy, even though I wanted to. It's part of why I felt like it was my fault… that we lost the baby. Like maybe it was some sort of sick karma." Cage knew better, but it had still stuck in his gut, twisting beneath his ribs when he thought about it. And he had admitted it to her, but he hadn't been able to put words to it until everything had finally settled. Until he knew it wasn't true, until he had digested the news over and over again. He lifted his free hand to brush at the corner of his eye, not realizing that they had become wet, blaming it on the slight breeze that day before he let out a laugh, shaking his head, "no, nothing like that. You know better than anyone what you can handle, but I'm going to step in and put my foot down if I catch you trying to carry around hay bales at eight months pregnant, and I think that's fair. Instead, you can watch me haul around the hay bales and spend time with your best friend Twix. How's that?"

Cage's face scrunched up as Cordelia talked about the possibilities of cravings, making note of what she would and would not want, and how fast that could change, holding his breath before letting it out. "Too late to change my mind, I guess?" But he was only joking, knowing that nothing about her cravings would ever push him to take back the decision that he had made, even if she woke him up at three in the morning with an elbow in the ribs and wanted pickle flavored something or other that made him gag at the thought of it. He'd find a way through it. "I think that's part of why it's important to talk to them now," he squeezed her hand as he said it, "to understand how they are going to feel about it, and have the time to talk to them and make them understand how we feel about it -- or try. It's better that we're all able to talk than to just drop it in their laps." Telling the boys that Cordelia was pregnant, that they were having a baby, without giving them any indication that they were trying might have come across as though they didn't care about their opinions, that they were moving on with their lives. "I think…" he wet his lips, "maybe telling them that we want to have a baby because we feel like we have the perfect family to love them, to help raise them and take care of them will help them realize that they're a part of it, does that make sense?" he looked down at his wife, "that the only reason we feel like we can do this is because we know how good they are, how much they love each other, and we feel like it's the right environment for them to love another little girl or boy." That was the catch, that this wouldn't just be Cage and Cordelia's biological son or daughter, that this little one wouldn't be any better or more important than any other Newman or Austin or Browning under that roof -- but it would be Shawn and Colton and Cienna and Rosalyn's little brother or sister, it would be as much a part of them as it was their parents. He rolled his own eyes playfully as she talked about the clothes disappointment, and then stole another kiss, before he found himself browsing the little shop, enjoying a few items here and there, but ultimately letting her lead him back down the sidewalk, until… oh no, shiny. "Wait up," he groused on a laugh, heading in after her and knowing that she was going to make a beeline for the sparkly things, coming to a stop behind her with both hands gently resting on her hips, body brushing against hers from behind as he looked over her shoulder at the pieces she had been drawn to from outside.

[o4o41]

Satisfactory outcome

[astranauticus]

had to relisten to 2.4 for my last drawing and got compelled to draw the scene of dani point blank shooting her own dead dreams so here we are

[monstergoblin]

Anything i should add or take away from this piece. i got the pose from a painting of Anne Bonny actually.

Oh I love it! I think the best part of writing a fic is seeing everyongs ideas on how the characters dress/look! Also mama Eda protecting her lil baby <3 As I've said before I 100% love seeing peoples takes on it! I saw your post too (to answer the question it wont be historically accurate Im a dumb bitch who don't know history too well) but I love to see the take on it being that way!! Historically accurate pirates are just as amazing and fantasy pirates (I love pirate aus.. whod have guessed) It looks amazing!! Make sure to tag me again when it finishes so I can see it!!! I love seeing the art thats inspired by my stupid lil fic <3 <3 <3 EDIT: I was so in love with the art i didnt even answer the ask woops. I think the piece is amazing as it is! I don't know alot bout historical pirates (I read fantasy stuff) But now you got me looking up Anne Bonny so I'm sure that wont be a hyperfixtion.....

[louisa-gc]

how to start reading again

from someone who was a voracious reader until high school and is now getting back into it in her twenties.

start with an old favourite. even though it felt a little silly, i re-read the harry potter series one christmas and it wiped away my worry that i wasn't capable of reading anymore. they are long books, but i was still able to get completely immersed and to read just as fast as i had years and years ago.

don't be afraid of "easier" books. before high school i was reading the french existentialists, but when getting back into reading, i picked up lucinda riley and sally rooney. not my favourite authors by far, but easier to read while not being totally terrible. i needed to remind myself that only choosing classics would not make me a better or smarter person. if a book requires a slower pace of reading to be understood, it's easier to just drop it, which is exactly what i wanted to avoid at first.

go for essays and short stories. no need to explain this one: the shorter the whole, the less daunting it is. i definitely avoided all books over 350 pages at first and stuck to essay collections until i suddenly devoured donna tartt's goldfinch.

remember it's okay not to finish. i was one of those people who finished every book they started, but not anymore! if i pick up a book at the library and after a few chapters realise i'd rather not read it, i just return it. (another good reason to use your local library! no money spent on books you might end up disliking.)

analyse — or don't. some people enjoy reading more when they take notes or really stop to think about the contents. for me, at first, it was more important to build the habit of reading, and the thought of analysing what i read felt daunting. once i let go of that expectation, i realised i naturally analyse and process what i read anyway.

read when you would usually use your phone. just as i did when i was a child, i try to read when eating, in the bathroom, on public transport, right before sleeping. i even read when i walk, because that's normally a time i stare at my screen anyway. those few pages you read when you brush your teeth and wait for a friend very quickly stack up.

finish the chapter. if you have time, try to finish the part you're reading before closing the book. usually i find i actually don't want to stop reading once i get to the end of a chapter — and if i do, it feels like a good place to pick up again later.

try different languages. i was quickly approaching a reading slump towards the end of my exchange year, until i realised i had only had access to books in english and that, despite my fluency, i was tired of the language. so as soon as i got back home i started picking up books in my native tongue, which made reading feel much easier and more fun again! after some nine months, i'm starting to read in english again without it feeling like a huge task.

forget what's popular. i thought social media would be a fun way to find interesting books to read, but i quickly grew frustrated after hating every single book i picked up on some influencer's recommendation. it's certainly more time-consuming to find new books on your own, but this way i don't despise every novel i pick up.

remember it isn't about quantity. the online book community's endless posts about reading 150 books each year or 6 books in a single day easily make us feel like we're slow, bad readers, but here's the thing: it does not matter at all how many books you read or what your reading pace is. we all lead different lives, just be proud of yourself for reading at all!

stop stressing about it. we all know why reading is important, and since the pandemic reading has become an even more popular hobby than it was before (which is wonderful!). however, there's no need to force yourself to be "a reader". pick up a book every now and then and keep reading if you enjoy it, but not reading regularly doesn't make you any less of a good person. i find the pressure to become "a person who reads" or to rediscover my inner bookworm only distances me from the very act of reading.

[sysig]

Your Weekly TV Guide

On Monday you can expect:

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2:30 PM: SCII - Helix

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2:30 PM: SCII - Helix

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2:30 PM: SCII - Helix

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[homunculus-argument]

As a kid, I wasn't taught any concept that there's a difference between wanting to do something, and enjoying it. I was a largely unsupervised kid with undiagnosed ADHD and parents who expected their kids to just raise themselves on their own. So when I was capable of spending hours drawing or reading a fun book, but couldn't even remember that I had homework, ever, I was told that I simply didn't want to do well in school. And who was I to question that, I'm eight years old.

Enjoyment and passion were the only forms of motivation I knew, and if I couldn't make myself either love doing boring math homework as much as I loved my hobbies, or force myself to push through things I hated with sheer willpower alone because I want to succeed so bad, then clearly I was simply not as good as all the other kids, who could do that. And that attitude carried onto adulthood. Every time I struggled to muster genuine love and passion into something, I thought that I just don't want it badly enough. Not to enough to love it, or to suffer through it.

Being medicated for the first time was a game changer. Like holy shit, so this is your brain on dopamine. And suddenly I wanted to do things, turned my life around, took up the passion career I had never dared to try. And when the first "honeymoon phase" of the meds wore down, the same fear came back - I don't like this anymore, do I not want it bad enough? What else could I possibly want?

And I shit you not I was literally 30 years old when I understood that life isn't just either loving every minute of pursuing a passion that you love, or joylessly dragging yourself through things that you don't even want to do. I can just tell myself "just because I don't like doing this doesn't mean I don't want to be doing it." It's not a mark of failure, weakness or lack of motivation, if sometimes the career you want to be doing just feels like having a job.

[lunamugetsu]

Danny is a house husband.

That's it, that's all it is.

As the years went on. Danny retired from being a superhero. There was no need for Phantom when the GIW were dealt with and all the ghosts were under control.

Now what's left for him to do but to just sit back, relax, and finally be able to live his life.

Sam and Tucker on the other hand....

Well, they had plenty of pent up rage, wits, and chaos inside their mind to become villains.

But they had one rule.

Never bring work home and to never involve Danny in any of their supervillain business.

Okay that's technically two rules, but they're kind of synonymous especially since Danny has been taking care of their house while also entertaining himself with trying new hobbies.

Tucker and Sam both make sure that they never bring any of their villainy home to Danny, because all they want is for Danny to enjoy his happy hero retirement.

And Danny in turn, doesn't bat an eye when watching the news and seeing that there were magical plants that were attacking sites that oil companies were digging or that somehow Lex Luthor had lost five hundred million dollars and had somehow leaked records showing he was building weapons of mass destruction.

He also doesn't bat an eye when he sees that Tucker had brought home a telescope that definitely looks like it came from some fancy lab because hey, Tucker was making him an observatory so he can look at the stars and planets. While also how they were able to make a great gaming pc with computer parts that are definitely not sold in stores, because hey at least the newest update of Doomed wasn't lagging.

Or that Sam comes home with various plants and animals that are definitely not from planet earth, but hey the three headed wolf-lizard-eagle- hybrid thing (that Danny has affectionately named Fluffy) is pretty great at keeping the pests away from his vegetable garden and likes to eat any of Danny's new food creations and is a great playmate for Cujo.

So you can imagine how the Justice League thinks when dealing with the pair of new villains: Upload (Tucker) and Sam (I could not think of a villain name that would suit her, so it's up to you what you think her villain name would be)

And how they were currently wreaking havoc in the city either by cyber warfare with robots or by magic plant monster or a Frankenstein of both approaches. The heroes had all evacuated the civilians from the battle zone and are currently fighting a losing battle. When they've been effectively captured and restrained by the two. Right before the villains could go into a monologue, they hear a person clearing their throat.

Everybody looks to see a 25 year old man wearing a sweater vest (he made it himself, thank you very much) currently holding onto the leash of a giant glowing green dog and some kind of giant animal hybrid. The man's arms were crossed and was currently not sporting a very happy look on his face.

Tucker and Sam (looking at Danny with hesitant smiles): Hi honey.

Danny (frowning): you missed our anniversary dinner.

Tucker and Sam both pale as they quickly realized what the date and time was.

The league all watch as Sam and Tucker immediately start apologizing to the man that just walked into a battle zone.

Danny (still frowning): Hmph! I guess since you two didn't want dinner you can go back to your little fight. Don't expect me to make you any lunches for the next month, and since you two are having so much fun here, you'll be sleeping by yourselves for the next couple weeks.

The league all watch as they were let go as Sam and Tucker yell as they run after Danny yelling apologies as he was walking away from them.

This is not the last they see of Danny.

When Danny is displeased with either of his partners, he'll invite a hero over to have lunch of afternoon tea.

[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates pt. 3

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : life on campus with a killer on the loose, the FBI makes an arrest word count : 2k warning : canon-typical violence, swear words (one use of the f-word) A/N : thank you so so much for all the love on this story !!! I'm so glad you all enjoy it <333 I'll probably do a part 4, it may be the last part, idk yet :)

part 1, part 2, part 4

"Spencer, I realise your concern, but lots of women look somewhat like this." It wasn't lost on Spencer what Hotch was trying to do by calling by his first name. "Hotch, she- she could be right next to them. She fits his type right down to the colour of her eyes!" "Spencer, man, you need to think rationally." Derek placed a hand on Spencer's shoulder. "Lots of women have that hair colour and length, it's in style right now, right Emily?" "Yeah, definitely." "Look, I just- I need to make a call."

When Spencer had called you sometime in the evening, you'd been expecting him to tell you he was going to come home late and to not wait up for him. What you weren't expecting was for his voice to be the most serious and stern you'd ever heard it. "Don't go outside until I come home, okay?" He knew it was entirely irrational. The unsub only took women in broad daylight, you weren't facing any more risks than usual. But he couldn't take a chance. Not with this. Not with you. "What? Why?" "Just- I'll explain everything when I come home, I'll be there in a couple hours, but please, don't leave the apartment. And make sure everything is locked." "Spencer, what's going on?" "Can you just-" He paused, forcing himself to remain calm. "Look, do as I say, please. I'll explain everything later, I promise." You hesitated for a moment. Luckily for you, you weren't working at the bar tonight. Luckily for Spencer, you liked him enough to indulge him. "Okay." "Thank you."

"Oh my God, no, absolutely not!" "Y/N, it's for your safety, don't you understand that?!" "My safety? What about my life?"

This was the first real fight you'd ever had. You'd had disagreements, of course, he didn't like you leaving your empty cups and glasses all over the place. You told him off for waking you in the morning by making too much noise. Sometimes you'd get jealous if Geoffrey slept in Spencer's bed rather than yours. Yes, you'd had your fair share of arguments, but none quite like this.

"I'm not asking you to give up your life, you're being totally-" You scoffed loudly, interrupting him. "Spencer, you might as well! Do you realise what you're suggesting I do? You want me to give up on going outside, not go to any of my classes, not see any of my friends, not go to work, don't you see what bullshit that is? It's putting a cross on my social life, my education and my work!" You gesticulated angrily as you speak, feeling heat rising to your face. "I already told you, it's for your own safety." He sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He wasn't even looking at you. A tiny, tiny piece of you wanted to slap him. "I will not stop living my life because some psycho thinks it's fun to kill innocent girls! I won't!" You crossed your arms over your chest and resisted the urge to stomp your foot.

"You're being incredibly childish right now." You hated how he managed to stay calm. You wanted him to get just as angry as you were, livid even. It wasn't fair that you were the only one getting upset. "Are you making all the girls who look like me give up everything for the sake of their safety?" Your tone was mocking and mean but you didn't have it in you to care at the moment. He met your eyes at last, lips turned downwards into a frown. Finally, some sort of emotion. "Don't do that, Y/N," he warned in a low voice. "No, I think it's a valid question. Is your boss making an announcement to the press that all the girls in Mary Washington University who look like the three last girls should stay inside? Is he?" you pushed. Spencer looked away from you again, shaking his head in disbelief at your attitude. "No, he isn't."

"Then why do you expect me to do that?!" You threw your hands in the air, beyond frustrated. For a logical person, Spencer's behaviour wasn't making any sense at the moment. "I don't expect you to do it. I want you to do it, I need you to do it." You could feel his calm facade breaking, piece by piece. "Why, Spencer, fucking why?!" "Because!" He finally exploded, jumping to his feet and slapping his palms onto the table. You didn't jump. "Because it's you, Y/N! I can't work this case if I know you're in danger every single day! If I know yours could be the next dead body students ogle at on the university's front lawn! If I know it's your picture they're going to hang up next to the other victims! I just can't do it!"

Oh.

You let yourself fall down on the couch, running your hands over your face. You were both stepping into uncharted territory. You'd tip-toed this line before but had never crossed it yet. And this was not the way to do it. You were not going to cross the border from friendship into something more by screaming at each other. Spencer seemed to read your silence as distress.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell." He softly trudged over to the couch and sat down next to you. "No, it's okay, I- I kind of wanted you to. I'm sorry for getting so upset." You take his hand in your lap and intertwine your fingers. "I understand, I'm asking too much of you, it's selfish." He gives your hand a squeeze. "I just can't stand the thought of anything happening to you." You sit in silence for a little while, processing.

"I just can't hide while I wait for other girls to be killed, Spencer, it wouldn't be fair." Sometimes, Spencer hated how good of a person you were. If your morals and personal ethics were some of the things he liked about you the most, he couldn't help but curse them in this moment. "I don't care about fair," he mumbled, hating how puerile he sounded. You cooed and laid your head on his shoulder. "I know, I'm sorry."

"I won't promise you anything, but I'll try to always be with someone around campus. I'm usually with my friends anyway. And I can share my location with you all the time if that's reassuring for you." "I'd like that, thank you. And... what about when you're at work?" "I can ask Paul to walk me to my car." Paul was the manager at the bar you worked at, Quantequila. His past was a mysterious blend of prison, MMA fighting and crochet clubs. He liked you plenty and you knew he wouldn't mind walking you to your car for a while. "Thank you."

Over the next week, you did just that. Many students started moving in groups and avoiding being alone at all costs after the FBI released the profile and the pictures of the last victims.

"We're looking for a local white man, early twenties. He may have moved here a year ago, we figure he's either in his first year of BA or MA. This is someone you don't notice, he's shy and introverted, he doesn't participate in class and he won't talk to people if he can help it, especially not women. This man is a loner and does his best to be invisible. We think he stalks his victims for a while before attacking them, so if you start seeing someone you've never seen before in strange places, please notify us. My name is Aaron Hotchner and you'll find the hotline on the screen you're watching this on."

You always had at least two friends with you whenever you were roaming about on campus. Though no one really spoke about the situation, the energy had changed. People were becoming tense and suspicious. Friends were fighting over who should accompany who, when and where. A place which had once gathered so many motivated and joyous students now had those very people looking over their shoulder.

You hated it.

Truly, you didn't want to underestimate this killer, but you were getting tired of it all. You'd wish the BAU would just catch him, but, as Spencer had explained to you multiple times, they had incredibly little to go on. What you knew without him telling you was that they needed another victim to predict his next move. Still, you were a person who appreciated alone time and you had gotten none in the last 10 days. So, when two of your friends who were supposed to walk with you from your class to the subway bailed on you, you weren't that upset.

You put your headphones on, listening to your favourite song of the moment and started walking. You had a tendency of getting lost in your thoughts and didn't notice the sound of heavy footsteps following your own over your music. What you did notice though, was the reflection of someone walking close behind you in a cafe window. You looked over your shoulder, frowning. The sun was in your eyes, blocking your vision, but you managed to perceive an average-sized man with long-ish black hair which hung around his face in greasy strands. Not thinking too much of it, you continued on your way.

You didn't think too much of it when you saw him sitting a few tables away from you when you were studying one afternoon at the library. You were captivated by the Middle English poem under your eyes, wondering what the author had meant with the particular use of the kenning "earth-cave". When you looked up and caught his eyes, cold and unnerving, you didn't overthink it. There were some weird people on campus. Who were you to judge?

When you saw him at your grocery store, though, that was when you started worrying. You were picking up a box of After-Eights for Spencer when you saw him looking at oatmeal raisin biscuits. What really tipped you off was that no one really liked those, so he must have been pretending to look occupied. A chill ran down your spine as all the other places you'd spotted him came back to you. Your lecture hall, the cafeteria, sitting in the lawn under a tree, the main hall,...

You decided that the next time you would see him, you'd tell Spencer. You didn't want him to worry if this turned out to be nothing. Maybe the man was just an exchange student? Or had joined during the academic year?

Two days later, the FBI made an arrest. A man named Ben Colton fitted the profile exactly. In his dorm room, they'd found pictures of women who looked exactly like the last victims and of resembling women on campus, you were part of them. You didn't know that, Spencer had felt you didn't need to be aware of that specific detail. The only problem was that the BAU had no physical evidence tying him to the crimes yet. The arrest had been sanctioned by higher authorities while physical proof was searched for. Police dogs and officers had been tearing through all of his possessions while Garcia had gone through his entire online life. Nothing tying him to the murders had been found.

The general public knew nothing of this, of course. To them, someone getting arrested meant they could go on with their usual lives. The man you'd been seeing left and right had left your mind entirely as you celebrated your regained freedom with your friends.

Of course, Spencer had warned you. They were 99% sure this was the unsub, they just needed the evidence. That didn't eliminate the 1% chance it wasn't him. But 99% chances were good enough for you. You trusted the BAU. Specifically, you trusted Spencer. With your life.

So you started living your life normally again. You left for class a little later because you didn't need to walk with your other friends. You stopped sharing your location with Spencer. You put the volume of your music higher again. You started leaving your pepper spray at home. You started texting while walking again.

Needless to say, you were wholly unprepared for the violent blow to your head as you walked to class one morning. How ironic, you thought as you blacked out, that Mary Goldman had probably experienced the same thing exactly two weeks prior.

Taglist : (all of you who asked for a part three <3) @princess-ofthe-pages @usuck @theylovemelody @empressgraytea @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillianacristina @venomsvl @user-3113s-blog @pumpkin-cake @redros3y @faunrasthewinterelf @puppykinsthepotato @bookishnerd1132 @bonza-bear @teeshamcbeesha @hades-disappointment-child @princesssparkle2024 @darlingcharling-blog @yasmin12312 @khxna @jamieeboulos

[starmapz]

BLOW ME (ONE LAST KISS)

𓉸 fwb!satoru gojo x f!reader

𓉸 kinktober smut oneshot

❝ it's been two years since you last saw satoru. showing up at his door in the dead of night wasn't on your list of things to do today, but when things don't work out with your boyfriend, you find yourself back at your old best friend and fuck buddy's door. ❞

𓉸 warnings ; 18+ only. contains explicit content. fwb to strangers to lovers type thing. pwp. fluff. hurt/comfort. gojo's a lovable idiot. sub!gojo. whiny!gojo. pet names (baby, sweetheart, pookie, darling, pretty girl, pretty, love). slight spitting. slight overstim. oral (m! and f! receiving). praise. handjob. unprotected. creampie. p in v. fairly soft n sweet.

𓉸 words ; 10.8k.

𓉸 a/n ; this turned out so much longer than i expected but i had a lot of fun writing the story so i hope you enjoy!

masterlist || kinktober 2024 masterlist

Bleary-eyed with exhaustion, Gojo’s barely able to keep himself upright as a knock at the door urges him out of bed at three in the morning. He yawns tiredly as he pulls on a pair of sweatpants and shuffles down the hall to his front door.

He wouldn’t say he’s shocked to see you standing at his door, it’s not the first time you’ve made your way over unannounced. No, the shocking part of this encounter is that he hasn’t heard a peep from you since two years ago when you ended your ‘benefits’ agreement with him after getting a boyfriend.

He scratches his bare chest, looking you up and down. Your hair is a mess, mascara streaks are smudged on your cheeks in a lazy effort to cover up the evidence of your tears and the little fuzzy kitty cat shorts and matching shirt you’re wearing tell him everything he needs to know.

But why come to him?

“You broke up.” It’s not a question, he doesn’t need you to answer. The proof is written across your face.

“Something like that.” Your voice is raspy, throat raw from the sobs that wracked your body earlier, though now you just seem exhausted.

But why come to him, not your close friends?

Silently, Satoru’s eyes raise to your car. All of your belongings are clearly stuffed in the back seat from what he can tell. You’re shuffling from foot to foot, standing a small distance away from him.

“So are you here to fuck?”

It’s blunt, but it’s the truth of the agreement you once had. Though Gojo’s somewhat bitter tone is a reminder that you had forgotten about the ‘friends’ portion of that agreement somewhere along the way.

You hesitate, jaw opening and closing once, twice, three times as you search for an explanation but in truth you aren’t sure why you’re here. The thought tears you apart inside and you bring your arms up around your torso, shrinking in on yourself. That can’t be all that’s left of what was once your closest friendship.

But after all these years, maybe it is.

“No, I’m not,” you whisper softly, avoiding his gaze. “I… I should go.”

Even in his bitterness, your ex friend doesn’t have it in him to let you drive off to god knows where in the middle of the night alone when you’re clearly upset and came to him for help. With a tired sigh, his hand grabs your wrist and he tugs you inside.

You let out a surprised gasp as he easily pulls you into his house, shutting the door behind you. He takes a step back, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he waits for an explanation that never comes as you grapple with your own thoughts. His mind drifts back to the last time he saw you, a bitter taste bubbling in his throat at the thought.

He remembers the way you excitedly told him you had a date. He’d smiled, turning to face you on the couch, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He doesn’t think you noticed, too caught up in your own excitement.

You had told him the benefits needed to end. It didn’t matter to him, he was never in this for the benefits.

In truth, he figured you would come back to him with the realization you had feelings for him. You were always so enthusiastic around him, you were the one always pushing the boundaries you had established. Satoru never minded, but the longer the agreement went on, he was sure you would come to the same realization he had.

He was so sure you would reciprocate the feelings he was so afraid to voice out of fear of losing his closest friend. After all, he had really only agreed to your whole ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement because he thought it would give him the opportunity to get closer to you.

The cocky asshole that he is, Gojo Satoru thought that his dick game was so good you would fall for him.

Then you went on a second date with the guy, gushing to Gojo about him with a movie playing in the background and he realized just how wrong he was.

He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up so colossally and he didn’t know how to fix it. He didn’t know if he even could fix it.

It was on the fourth date that your new guy made it official and you texted Satoru right away.

He feigned happiness. He would be what you needed him to be.

But the recoil of his complicated relationship with you hit him fast and hard.

It started with a decrease in time spent with you, which he could live with. Then, it was a decrease in excited texts. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt, when his time had once been completely occupied by you and only you. Regardless of the benefits of your friendship, that was never what mattered to him.

You were like the sun to him. You shone brighter than anyone he had ever met, your smile as radiant as it was beautiful. Burned into his mind like a polaroid, cherished, even in the two years since he’s seen you.

There was no argument that ended everything, no big explosion or blow up of emotions that caused something so dear to both of you to fizzle out suddenly. It all came from a place of not knowing what to do after the benefits ended.

It wasn’t like sex was the only thing you did with one another. In fact, most of your time spent together was watching movies, playing games, or just gossiping and chatting. When the sex ended, however, something lingered.

It was that lingering feeling that shattered what remained of the bond you shared. Between longing looks from Satoru while out on a bubble tea run, and lingering physical attraction to him that left you uncertain, it was too much for you.

Just like that, you slowly stopped responding. You can’t blame Satoru for the fact that he stopped trying to reach out either, if you were in his place you’re certain you would have been embarrassed by the amount of unread messages he’d sent.

Now, you’re ashamed for letting your greatest ally, your biggest cheerleader and your most eager movie buddy slip through the cracks so easily. So blinded by new, young, love that you never stopped to see what was already in front of you.

Although the loss of your closest friend was gradual, fizzling away until there was nothing left, it changed you irreparably. The changes were small at first, they came in the form of little things that would bring your mood down as you reached for your phone to excitedly text him only to falter. With time, the uncertainty and lingering sorrow became a constant numbness and you were so caught up in your own world you couldn’t identify what caused it. You couldn’t make out the little hole in your heart in the shape of Satoru. With time, the hole grew until it was so immense that it resulted in a fight with your boyfriend.

A long fight in which he had insisted that although he cared for you, he had come to terms long ago with the fact that you didn’t feel the same way that he did anymore. The most gut wrenching part was that he was right, but you couldn’t accept that he was right for so long, because you couldn’t accept that you had feelings for someone you hadn’t seen in two years.

Now, standing in front of him, you’re at a complete and utter loss for words. All this time without a word and to think that he’d still let you in. No, he’d pulled you in. After two years of silence, two years of doing him so painfully dirty, he was still here. For you.

“Why are you here?” He asks again when the silence grows so loud he thinks he might be going crazy.

“Can we sit down?” You ask him quietly, feeling guilt wash over you as your eyes trail his washboard abs, as though you have any right to admire just how good he looks.

He steps aside, letting you walk into his living room. It looks almost the same as the day you were last here, probably yapping about your date like a damn fool. The only real difference is that the photo that once sat on a shelf in the corner of the room of the two of you at an aquarium was gone. A pang of sadness courses through you at the realization that he’s probably let you go.

You’re too late. You fucked up.

Gingerly, you take a seat on the soft couch, squirreling your way as far into the corner as you can. You feel small in his presence, unable to read him as you once could. You’re not familiar with the painfully neutral expression he wears, masking what lies beneath. The hint of bitterness to top it all off only adds to the taste of bile in your mouth.

“I owe you a lot of things, Satoru,” you begin. You’d run over what you planned on saying for an hour in the car before gathering the courage to walk to his door, yet the words died in your throat as soon as you took in the sight of him.

He sits opposite you, the distance between the both of you like a rope pulled taut. All you want to do is pull him towards you, but you fear the rope might snap if you do, frayed at the ends. You swallow hard, chancing a glance at those gorgeous blue eyes of his.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. It will never be enough. You left him behind, and no apology will ever do him justice. “I’m so sorry,” you whisper again, choking on your words as tears burn in your eyes.

Satoru lets out a long breath. He never stopped hoping, praying, you would come back, but now that he has you here, something holds him back. Fear, maybe. Dejection, assuredly.

He doesn’t want to be your second choice.

As a tear trails down your cheek whilst you try your best to stay strong before him, the grip that fear has on him becomes frail, crumbling at the sight of his best friend, his movie buddy, his girl, crying.

“C’mere,” he sighs, sliding across the couch as he closes the distance between you. You cling to him like a lifeline as you sob against his bare chest. His skin is soft and warm, just as you remember it, tainted by your salty tears.

It takes him a moment, but his arms do eventually snake around your waist, pulling you into him.

“You deserved so much better back then,” you hiccup, a sound that has Satoru shutting his eyes as your pain crackles in the air around him, charged. “You deserve better now, I shouldn’t be here, I-” You panic suddenly, pressing open palms against his chest to push yourself away but his arms don’t relent. In fact, he rests his chin softly atop your head as he tucks you back against his chest in an effort to soothe you.

He still doesn’t say a word, but the silence and his insistence on holding you tightly serves as your encouragement to talk. That’s all Satoru wants, it’s all he needs. He needs to understand what happened. He wants to know why you’re here after two years of radio silence.

And do you ever talk. The words spill from you, messy and unorganized thoughts falling from your lips like a waterfall.

“You tried so hard to get through to me, and I was such an asshole. I kept trying to- to-” you stammer over your words as you catch your breath between sobs, “-to tell myself my attraction to you was just physical, but then I cut you off anyway and that wasn’t fair. I just don’t think I ever realized-” again, a sob wracks your body, “-that I had feelings for you, I wasn’t willing to admit it because that was my number one rule between us and then I ruined everything anyway, so what does it matter?”

You sniffle, the tips of your fingers gripping at his skin.

“I was so stupid, and everything was so much worse without you. I wanted to text you to tell you little things but anytime I stared at your contact, it scared me how long it had been and how awful I felt and now- now-” you swallow hard, “-now I’m here in front of you and I don’t know what I’m even saying. I- I-” you stammer, your breathing picking up as the words fall from your lips before you have a chance to think twice about them. “-I think I’m in love with you.”

Satoru stiffens beside you, his arms rigid with the revelation. It takes a moment to sink in, before his chin lifts from your head and he pulls back to see your expression. Your cheeks are puffy, eyes red, pupils blown. You look exhausted, and somewhat shocked, as if you’ve just realized this yourself.

His eyes have the sea held within them as turmoil flows through them. Wave after wave, each crashing ashore as he wrestles with his own thoughts.

He whispers your name in a sigh, running a hand through his hair. He should have told you two years ago, before everything became so complicated. “I can’t be your second choice,” he sighs, rejecting you, although his arms don’t leave the tight grip he holds on you.

Of course he never stopped loving you. He got together with others afterwards, had the odd fling here or there, but it was never enough. It never filled the hole in his heart that you’d carved to fit you and only you.

Yet you didn’t fit within that hole either now, he feared. His heart had been hollowed out for someone that didn’t exist anymore.

“We broke up,” you tell him, as though he doesn’t already know. He just stares at you, so you continue. “He told me something changed after we started dating. Like a part of me died and he was never sure why,” you sigh, staring blankly at Satoru’s chest. “He said his feelings weren’t being returned, and he was right.”

Satoru’s grip on you tightens. It’s miniscule, but you feel the way he pulls you just the tiniest bit closer.

“I just couldn’t admit it to myself. It felt wrong because of all the rules,” you try to explain, but it’s all a pathetic attempt at what you’re trying to get to. “You were never my second choice, Toru.” The nickname sets his heart racing beneath your palm. “You’ve always been it for me. I was just too caught up in those stupid rules to see that.”

Pain lingers in the back of his mind, but something new seems to fill his chest. Like you’ve found the hole in his heart that he was so sure could never fit you again, and you’re molding it to fit you as you are now. Healing him in your own way.

“I’m not a rebound,” he blurts out. He can’t let you in so easily, not when you could snap him in two like you had once before. Yet beneath the walls he’s trying to uphold, he’s so painfully vulnerable, an open book for you to see. Behind your tear-filled eyes, he knows you recognize this.

“Never,” you agree, the tips of your fingers tightening against him. “Promise, pookie.”

The nickname he’d used to tease you all those years ago feels foreign from your lips, you’d always hated when he called you it, yet he can’t help the way it makes his lips quirk up. He chuckles, unable to resist the laughter bubbling in his chest.

Such a stupid nickname.

You laugh along with him, sniffling as the lighter air between the both of you settles comfortably.

“Four years and three months, by the way,” Satoru’s fingers fiddle with the hem of your shirt as he holds you to him. The curious tilt of your head that’s oh so cute to him is enough for him to continue. “That’s when I fell for you.”

Your eyes widen at the realization you’ve both just confessed. Your heart races in your chest, battering at your bones like a caged animal. “Four years and three months…? What…?” You trail off, brow furrowed.

“We went bowling with Ieiri and Nanami. You and I versus the two of them.”

“I remember.”

“They were beating us until the last frame. You bowled a strike and ran back to hug me.”

The memory feels fresh in your mind as you recall how silly Satoru looked in those oversized bowling shoes. You’d all looked like clowns, but Satoru had playfully dressed the part too in an ugly over-patterned button-up, always the butt of all jokes as long as it meant making everyone smile.

In reality, it was always to make you smile. He never cared about the scoffs and playful banter from the rest of the group. He wanted nothing more than to hear your pretty laugh.

“That’s it?” You ask, mouth agape. You and Satoru have so many similar memories from many years prior, so why that one?

“Dunno. There was just something so endearing about you running into my arms over bowling. You looked so gorgeous.” Satoru pauses for a moment as he grins to himself, reliving the memory. “You were smiling like winning bowling was our greatest achievement, wearing those stupid bowling shoes and you had on ugly socks specifically for the occasion-”

“They were cute,” you pout. “They had snails on them.”

Satoru snickers. “The snails looked high, sweetheart.”

“No they didn’t!” You whine, although you can’t deny the heat in your cheeks as he relaxes with you, observing you with the fondness of someone who never lost sight of you, even when all seemed hopeless.

“Their eyes were literally red.”

“Nooooo,” you whine, jutting out your lower lip. Gojo’s eyes flicker down to your lip, returning to your eyes. “It was just a design choice,” you insist.

“A design choice that made them look high,” he snorts, rolling his eyes.

You laugh through the remnants of your sobs, running a hand over your face in an effort to wipe away what’s left of your tears. To your surprise, Satoru’s hand closes over yours, moving your hand away from your face as he softly wipes your tears away.

“You asked me why I was here,” you state as Satoru watches the movement of his thumb beneath your tearline, wiping the liquid from your lashes. “I think I’m here because it’s the only place that feels right.”

His face softens, and what’s left of his bitterness sputters away like a candle burning out. It leaves warmth in its wake that spreads through Satoru’s body. Although he thinks the pain will take time to heal, it’s not like the hole that you left when you shut him out, one that hollowed his very soul. Time will heal his wounds, he just hopes that this time around, you’ll let him in. Although you’ve both confessed, he knows you well and he can feel the way you’ve carefully barricaded your heart.

For now, he just hopes you can get some rest as he takes note of the heavy dark circles beneath your eyes.

His hands grip your waist, long thumbs settling beneath your breasts, brushing their undersides. You have no bra on, you’re in pajamas that Satoru’s seen a thousand times before. It’s clockwork, the way he shifts you until you’re settled comfortably on his lap while he leans back.

“Movie night?”

You nod, eyes widening hopefully, a familiar sparkle shining within them that warms Satoru’s heart.

He hates to see you cry. It brings him more pain than he could possibly have imagined, even after two years of bitter silence.

He uses his foot to pull the remote on the coffee table towards him without needing to move you off his lap, leaning you both forward before resting back. Your head rests comfortably on his bare chest, his arm circling your waist like it belongs there.

There’s no question of what you’ll be watching as he turns on your favorite Studio Ghibli movie. Not a single memory of you has been lost to him, each one fresh in his mind as though you never left.

He sets the remote down, reclining back on the couch with his feet up on the table. Your knees lean over his thighs, hands resting comfortably on his muscular arms that hold you flush to his skin. Settling comfortably, you do your best to focus on the movie and keep your thoughts from spiraling, although it isn’t so easy.

“I’m sorry, Toru.”

Satoru’s white lashes flutter as he hears your voice amid his near-slumber halfway through the movie. He blinks a few times to wake himself up, inhaling as he looks down at you. Your head still rests on his chest, eyes looking up expectantly at him.

“It’s okay,” he shrugs blearily.

“No, it’s not. It never will be. I’m not asking you to tell me what I did was okay,” you insist. Satoru observes you quietly. You’ve matured over the last two years in ways he’s never considered. “You don’t have to forgive me right now, but I’d like a chance to earn your forgiveness.”

In truth, Satoru thinks you might have had his forgiveness since the moment he saw you standing at the door. The depths of his pain are already long forgotten as his sorrows wash away to leave space for blossoms taking root in his veins.

He’s not one for caution. Satoru has always been the type of man to dive headfirst into something without a second thought, that’s how the two of you ended up in this situation anyways. A joking suggestion on his part taken entirely too seriously to land him the official ‘fuck buddy’ status.

This time, as he dives headfirst into your request, it’s not a joke or a dare or anything of the sort that he’s so used to.

You’re taking this seriously. You’re taking him seriously. Taking into account his feelings of being a second choice, a rebound, and you’ll spend a lifetime showing him he never was to begin with if you have to.

He shoots you a tired smile, head flopping to the side in a lazy fashion. His white hair falls over his eyes, obstructing your view of his gorgeous cerulean irises. “Consider your wish granted,” he agrees.

You return his smile, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair, unaware that you’ve soothed him almost instantly to an easy sleep as his gentle snores fill the air.

Despite the events of the long night and the early morning light beginning to peek through the windows as dawn approaches, you settle into an easy sleep in his arms.

When you awaken the following morning, the two of you have somehow shifted to be on the couch horizontally. You’re tucked between the back of the couch and Satoru’s chest, his arms wrapped protectively around your middle. His breath fans the crown of your head, his grip on you almost suffocating, he's holding you so tightly.

You don’t dare wake him, not after the night he had. Settling back comfortably against his chest, you rest your eyes as you wait for him to stir. It isn’t too much longer before you feel his muscles begin to twitch and the pace of his breathing increases. After a few minutes, his eyes flutter open and he takes in his surroundings, but more importantly, the gorgeous girl in his arms.

It’s a dream he’s had so many times that it can’t be real, can it?

“Ow! Did you just pinch me, Toru?”

“Sorry,” he mumbles groggily in a voice so incredibly sexy you can’t believe you didn’t notice your feelings sooner. “Had to make sure you were real.”

He shifts, moving to pepper kisses over your hair. Your giggles are musical as he showers you in affection, but when he pulls back, he catches a glimpse of… something that he can’t place.

“What’s on your mind, pretty girl?”

Your worries are forgotten momentarily with each pet name he uses, but you find your words soon enough. “I guess I just feel guilty,” you admit with a shrug and Satoru sees it again. He sees the walls you’ve built reflected in your eyes, shadowed with guilt.

“Eh? Nothing to feel guilty about,” he grins, but the look you shoot him in return tells him you’re not in the mood for him to take this so lightheartedly.

“I’m serious. I missed two years of your life.”

Satoru’s thumb rubs circles beneath the fabric of your pajama shirt with one hand, bringing the other up to rub his eyes. He’s not sure he’s awake enough for this conversation. Certainly not in a serious capacity.

“It’s not that long,” he shrugs, moving his free arm beneath his head as he shifts on the couch to lay on his back with you tucked into his side. He stares up at the ceiling. “I mean, you owe me a lot of movie and game nights, but that just means I get to make you pay,” he smirks, prodding your side.

It’s not the serious response you’re hoping for, but it does wonders to quell the nerves bubbling beneath the surface. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You better go easy on me though, you’re not a cheap date.”

He pouts playfully, lip jutting out as he prods your side beneath your ribs. You squeal in surprise at his finger jabbing into your side and in an effort to escape the ticklish sensation, proceed to shove him off the couch.

With a thump and a soft ‘oof’, he lands on his side on the (thankfully) carpeted floor.

“Sorry, Toru!” You squeak, peering down at him.

He rubs his shoulder with a wry smile. “Geez babe, I thought you were trying to make things up to me,” he grumbles as he pushes himself up off the floor.

You flash him an apologetic smile, taking a moment to admire him as he stands at his full height before you. He’s always been handsome, but even in the couple of years since you’ve seen him, he’s filled out and bulked up further. There’s a faint hint of barely visible white stubble growing along his chin and his hair is a breadth longer than you remember and falls in a more intentional manner over his head rather than its usual disheveled style.

He’s breathtaking, and you wonder how you were ever so foolish to begin with.

Unfortunately, he’s also just as frustrating as the day you last saw him.

“See something you like? You know, if you really wanna make it up to me-”

You cut him off by getting to your feet and shoving a hand against his stupidly pretty face, shutting him up with the action as he reels backwards. Catching his balance, he chuckles and trails after you as you walk into his kitchen just as you had so many times before.

Aside from a few new magnets on the fridge and a new set of dishcloths, it’s just as you remember it. Something about the knowledge that even in two years, things haven’t changed so dramatically that you’ve missed everything helps to keep you from feeling guilty.

“You know, I was gonna say if you wanted to make it up to me you could make me breakfast,” he grins cheekily as he leans into your personal space.

“No you weren’t.”

“I thought about it,” he shrugs as you catch him in the act of lying. You can’t resist the way your lips quirk up into a smile. He’s still so Satoru and his presence comforts you in a way you didn’t know you needed.

Opening the fridge, you take a look at what he’s got available, or more like the complete and utter lack of food in his fridge.

“Have you always lived like this?” You ask as you move to his pantry, which is somehow equally empty apart from a jar of peanut butter sitting beside some protein powder and a sickening amount of sweets.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He whines as he stares over your shoulder at what looks like a perfectly full pantry to him. It has mochi and chocolate and-

“What do you even have for breakfast usually?”

He purses his lips, staring up at the ceiling. His hair falls back over his ears as he does so, his skin so perfect you’re almost jealous at just how blessed he is with good looks. “Dunno. Mochi and some eggs?”

You recoil at the thought of mochi and eggs as a meal, nose wrinkling. “What happened to pancakes or omelets? We used to make them all the time.”

Something akin to sadness flashes in his eyes and you turn your full attention to him. “You weren’t there,” he says simply, his voice lowered, his tone unusually vulnerable. “I only really made them because you wanted them.” He doesn’t say it with the intent of making you feel guilty, but your shoulders fall to your sides as your chest coils with the emotion.

“Right.”

“Hey,” he raises his hand to cup your cheek and pull your attention away from your feet. “That’s behind us, yeah?”

Your eyes flit between his, the way they seem to hold galaxies within them. His face is so close to yours that his breath fans your face and your heart speeds up as you glance at his lips-

Like a gentle reminder of your wrongdoing, guilt churns in your chest and you stumble backwards out of his grip. Although he’s already forgiven you and given you another chance with him, you can’t help the way your heart stutters around him and your walls heighten out of fear of fucking things up again.

Yet your behavior only serves to confuse Satoru, who had been so sure you were about to kiss him and his heart is still hammering in his chest as you nearly trip over a flat of outdated soup cans, which is wild because how do soup cans even get outdated?

Before you can crash into the shelves behind you, Satoru reaches out to wrap a strong hand around your forearm and tugs you from the pantry.

“Um-” you clear your throat, trying to divert his attention away from your sudden meekness. “Can we order something?”

Satoru observes you for a moment, his expression unreadable before his usual grin finds his face. “Sure, pretty. You want your usual?”

Your eyes widen slightly, the guilt burrowing itself deeper into your chest as you realize just how many pieces of you remained tightly wound within his life all these years. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

He saunters off to his bedroom to grab his phone and place an order, your eyes trailing after him until he’s out of sight. With a sigh, you bring a hand up to clutch at the shirt hanging over your chest with a photo of a little cartoon kitty on it. Your heart hammers against your hand and you wonder what you’ve done to deserve such kindness from him when you had left him behind so easily.

Well, no, that’s a lie. It hadn’t been easy. It left a hole so deep within you that it tore you from a two year relationship and brought you here to Satoru’s door in the middle of the night in pieces. It was selfish, really, to ask him to help put you back together, and seeing how eager he is to have you back in his life does little to quell the growing feeling of wrongfulness.

With a deep breath, you try to remind yourself of the fact that he’s giving you another chance and you need to use this opportunity to prove yourself rather than shut him out again. Letting the breath out through pursed lips, you pad slowly from the kitchen to the living room, looking around the familiar room in daylight.

The TV is newer than you remember and there are a couple of mostly dead plants that you wonder if he’s ever watered that are new to you. A couple of empty mugs sit atop a table to the side of the couch and there are some new movies and games stacked in the bookshelves at the side of the room.

Before you even realize you’re moving, you stand in front of the shelves. Sitting on one of the lower shelves beneath a thick layer of dust is a small bowl you recognize all too well.

Satoru hadn’t been too keen on the idea of taking a pottery class with you, but he couldn’t resist your doe-eyed pleading. He always was weak for you, and so you had learned how to make bowls together. He had beamed at you upon completing his bowl, showing it to you with such childlike glee that it had warmed your heart.

Taking the bowl delicately into your hands, you flip it and feel your heart clench as you see the familiar initials carved into the bottom. Yours, alongside Satoru’s, with a heart. How had it never occurred to you?

How horribly clueless had you been?

You set the bowl down as your gaze trails the rest of the shelves. There’s a small collection of rocks from each of your beach trips, a strange tradition you had shared after finding a fossil lodged into a flat stone you’d been intending to skip across the water.

Finally, you stare at the empty spot where a framed photo of the two of you once sat. Although the photo was gone, you would never forget the day. You had visited the aquarium together with Suguru and Shoko very shortly after becoming friends with benefits. Suguru had noted that the two of you seemed particularly close, but you’d brushed off his words.

He was right, though. It solidified your friendship. It was the beginning of something beautiful and you regretted ever letting it turn ugly. Blinking, you bring a hand up to your face to wipe away the beginnings of tears when you catch a glimpse of something laying on the top shelf where the frame was just barely in view.

Reaching out, you pick it up and your jaw practically drops, your heart gripped with so many emotions you don’t know where to begin. Relief, longing, fear, uncertainty, guilt, and most importantly, love. Satoru never let go of you.

There, in your hands, is a photo of Satoru grinning with an arm around your shoulders as you peer up at the whale shark behind you, wide-eyed with awe at the beautiful creature. The photo never moved, he’d just laid it down when it became too painful to look at.

“Alright, I ordered all of our favorites and some new things I wanted to try-” Satoru comes around the corner from his room, phone in hand, peering into the kitchen before he finds you in the living room. “They had something called a Croffle, I just had to- are you crying?”

Satoru’s hand falls to his side as he hears you sniffle. You straighten, refusing to face him as you attempt to compose yourself.

He takes a step towards you, setting a large hand on your shoulder as he peers down at your hands. “Oh, pretty girl. C’mere,” he coos, pulling the frame from your fingers with one hand as he wraps the other around you. He sets the photo back in its place on the shelf, upright now, before his full attention is on you.

He sways you softly from side to side, soothing his hand up and down your back as he tucks your head beneath his chin. Your cries are silent, the only sign of your sobs being the way your body shakes and the warm tears that wet his bare chest. He stands with you like that, swaying you gently from side to side and humming gentle “it’s okay”s into the crown of your head for a couple of minutes.

With a sniffle, you pull back and wipe the remnants of your tears, keeping your head down in an attempt to prevent him from seeing your puffy features. “Sorry, I- I don’t know what came over me,” you croak with a half-hearted laugh.

Satoru is silent for a moment as he quietly observes you. “You know,” he starts, “if you keep shutting me out, you’re not gonna be able to make things up to me.”

“I’m not shutting you out,” you retort stubbornly, peeking up at him.

He dramatically swings his head back to stare at the ceiling. “You show up at my door at- what-? Three in the morning? To try to fix things- which is working, by the way- and now you shut me out?” He asks, reeling back and crouching until he reaches your eye level. You can’t escape those stupidly gorgeous eyes of his now, taking in a deep breath as you attempt to compose yourself.

You pull your lower lip between your teeth, mindlessly chewing on it as you consider what he said. You’d be foolish not to take his words into consideration given that he’s right, you are here to fix things, and the fact that he said it’s working sparks hope you haven’t felt in a long time within you. Yet, you’ve upheld your walls for so long that it’s difficult to let him in. Years of rules between the both of you, no kissing, no cuddling outside of aftercare, no PDA, they all still lived within you, even if you wanted to break them down. Sure, the rules were broken often, but not without reminding yourself why they were there later.

Then there were the walls you built to protect the Gojo-shaped hole in your heart. The hole that you couldn’t identify the shape of until now. With Satoru standing alongside you attempting to crawl his way into that hole and fill it, it scares you. Having what you didn’t know you needed for two whole years, if not more, is a terrifying thought.

You glance up at him, patiently waiting on your response as you consider his words while his thumbs rub soothing circles into your upper arms.

With your attention now on him, Satoru takes the opportunity to slide one hand down to your waist, taking a small step towards you until you’re flush to him. You hold your breath at the contact, giving him a wide-eyed stare. His words replay over and over in your mind as his other hand slides up your neck to rest on your cheek. He deftly tilts your chin up as his eyes bore into yours.

“Let me in, sweetheart,” he whispers, his face so close that your entire body feels as though it’s on fire and you can’t help the way your eyes flicker to his lips, so soft and close.

The air between you is charged, tension crackling in the air as the world seems to pause just for you. Your heart beats erratically and you fear it may escape its cage if it pounds any harder.

Satoru swallows hard as his thumb runs across your lower lip. Your breathing speeds up, as though it’s racing with your heart as you cling desperately to his chest like a deer in the headlights. His heart races beneath your fingertips, the only sign that he’s anywhere near as flustered as you are.

“Can I break rule number one?” He whispers, his voice low and sexy in a way that you’ve heard so many times but it’s charged with something new. Something more tender than you’re used to.

You glance between his eyes and his lips, letting out a shaky breath as you throw caution to the wind and slide your hands up to wrap around the back of his neck and pull him the remaining distance down to your lips. Time stands still as his lips softly capture yours, moving slowly as he pours every ounce of adoration into the kiss. As though he fears he may never have the chance to kiss you again, he puts everything he has into it.

It takes only a faint brush of his finger along your chin to tilt your head up to give him better access as his tongue crests your lips. You’re pliant against him, your lips parting for him as he breaks down your walls. His tongue takes over your mouth, his minty taste flooding your senses as his fingers grip your waist almost bruisingly with how tight he holds you.

He hesitates as he pulls back, both of your eyes fluttering open to take in the sights before you as you catch your breath. Satoru’s cheeks are red, white lashes fluttering as he blinks quickly.

“Why did you never say anything?” You ask, your voice barely a whisper.

“You had so many rules. You’d scold me for just putting a hand on your shoulder in public, what was I supposed to do?” He examines the way your expression returns to guilt, pressing a quick peck to your lips once more in an attempt to pull you away from the walls he’s trying to break down. Your eyes shine once again and he lets out a breath of relief. 

“I’m sorry, Toru.”

He kisses you softly again. “Stop apologizing. Just be with me here and now, we can figure everything out, yeah?”

As you nod, there’s a knock at the door and Satoru grins.

“Now come try this Croffle thing I got.”

“Am I supposed to know what that is?” You tilt your head as you trail after him to the door.

“Croissant Waffle.”

“Right. Of course,” you shrug playfully, heading back to the living room where Satoru sets the delivery bag on the coffee table. The two of you had always had a habit of eating anywhere but the kitchen table and it seemed that wasn’t about to change now.

As he pulls out your favorite order of pancakes alongside his own, you shoot him a lopsided smile at the fact that he remembered every single little detail of your order, right down to the specifics of no whipped cream as it was too sweet. He always insisted it was perfectly sweet, but maybe that’s just because of how saccharine Satoru himself is.

“Okay, I got a sweet and a savory one,” he beams, holding up what you can only assume is the Croffles. They seem to be just croissant shaped waffles, though you assume the dough is likely flaky.

“There’s no world where you eat the savory one, so just give me that one,” you chide with a roll of your eyes.

“Ouch,” he pouts, “I’m an adult, you know. I can eat it.”

“Satoru Gojo,” you get his attention and his back straightens as though he’s in trouble with you. “Look me dead in the eye and tell me you would eat your pancakes and a savory Croffle.”

The way he avoids your gaze tells you everything you need to know and you burst into laughter, followed shortly after by his own. You snatch the savory Croffle from his hands as the two of you share your favorite breakfast once again. It doesn’t surprise either of you to find the Croffle is also delicious and you may need to change your orders. Then again, everything from this restaurant is delicious.

“I missed this,” Satoru hums as he adjusts the way he’s sitting on the floor, leaning on his elbow over the short coffee table.

“Me too,” you hum, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips as you set your breakfast down to stare at it.

“Ah-!” Gojo blurts out a noise and just as you look up at him, he’s tackling you to the floor, pressing short and chaste kisses to your lips followed by your nose, your cheeks, your chin, and your forehead. He peppers them across your face as you squirm beneath him, laughing as he refuses to relent.

“Toru! Toru, stop!” You whine through giggles, pushing against his chest.

“Nope! Not until you stop trying to shut me out,” he insists, his hair draping around your face like a curtain as he holds himself just above you, pressing more chaste kisses to your face and lips. In an effort to stop his relentless attack, you pull him down and deepen one of his kisses. He hums contentedly into your lips, letting you lead.

You move slowly at first, cherishing the gentle feeling of his soft lips, but the way he treats you as though you’re porcelain causes something to coil in your stomach and you greedily pull him down harder, deepening the kiss as his lips part. Your tongue explores his mouth, the taste of sugar and syrup fresh on his lips but it’s the way he whines that sets your stomach on fire with need.

You part from him, the evidence of your lust now wet in your panties as you stare at him with blown pupils. He recognizes the look on your face and tugs you to your feet in one fluid motion. Like every other time you’ve done this dance, you figure you’ll end up in his arms, making out as he stumbles to his bedroom and tosses you on the bed, but to your surprise, he instead scoops you into his arms bridal style.

You yelp in surprise, snaking your arms around his neck as you cling to him. “Toru?” You question as you peer curiously up at him. He shoots you a genuine smile, filled with glee.

“Lemme treat you like a princess for once,” he grins. Your face softens and you bury your face into his chest. Who would have thought your eager fuck buddy would be such a romantic sweetheart?

He sets you gently on his bed before sitting beside you, the bed sinking beneath his weight. To your delight, he pulls you into his lap so that you’re straddling him. Leaning back towards him, you capture his lips in an eager but passionate kiss and it seems the dissolving of your rules has changed the way it feels being with him.

Where once you kept kissing always off the table, the addition of it changed the entire tone of being in his bedroom. Where once you would eagerly fuck like rabbits, using the act purely as a way to relieve stress and have some fun, now it feels like a union of years’ worth of emotions. The way Satoru holds you as though he’s afraid the moment is fleeting, the way he puts his soul into the kiss just as you do, it’s a moment you know will play in your mind like a movie years into the future.

Satoru moans needily into your mouth as you let your hands roam, exploring the peaks and valleys of his abs. He’s grown bulkier since you last saw him, clearly continuing to work out. When your eyes flicker open as you catch your breath, his eyes are locked on you with a look of wonder that’s entirely too sweet given just how badly you want to see him between your thighs.

You set your hands on his collarbones, pressing him down onto his bed. You’ve had sex more times than you can possibly count, but everything about this still feels new. Satoru has always been fairly dominant, but the man looking up at you now is needy with lust and willing to relinquish all control to you. He’s looking at you like you hold the sun up in the sky and he wants to worship you for it. His gaze holds such adoration that you could melt into him.

You grind against the growing bulge in his sweatpants as you lean down and hungrily capture his lips, tugging his bottom lip with your teeth. He whines into your lips, sliding his large palms along the length of your curves. He tugs your pajama shirt over your head, breaking the kiss only to toss it aside before he pulls you back to him.

Parting from the kiss to catch your breath, you trail the tips of your fingers down his broad chest, past his chiseled abdomen, until your featherlight touch reaches the waist of his sweatpants. His cock noticeably jumps beneath you and oh how Satoru yearns to submit wholly to you, to be yours and let you do anything you wish to him.

Satoru’s pupils are blown with desire, his jaw slightly ajar as he stares at the swell of your breasts, admiring the way you look on top of him, so pretty. You smirk at his reaction to a simple drag of your fingers along his skin, wondering what else you can elicit from him now that you have him laid out beneath you.

Now that you’ve tested the waters, you cup Gojo’s face gently as you press a kiss to his lips before sitting up on your knees to shimmy out of your shorts and panties. Satoru thinks he may actually be seeing stars when your fingers card through his hair and you sit on his face. You sharply inhale when he moans at the taste of your pussy, at being used by you and the way his lips vibrate from the guttural noise sends white hot lust straight to your core.

“Shit, Toru-” you breathe out, throwing your head back as he laps at your entrance, pressing chaste kisses to your clit that have you whimpering as you rock your hips forward with need. The additional pressure you place on him that restricts his breathing subtly sends him into a haze of pure lust as he tightens his grip on your thighs and plunges his tongue between your folds.

As you pant and fist his hair harder, Satoru’s tongue delves deeper until he’s tongue-fucking you so well you’re seeing stars. “T-Toru- hah- don’t stop,” you pant, legs trembling as he eats you so expertly you’d think he’s a professional. With how many times he’s eaten you out, he may as well be. He still knows exactly what you like as he nudges your clit with his nose, sending sparks through your body like only he knows how to.

Grinding harder against his tongue, Satoru relishes in the sounds of your pleasured pants and moans mixing with the obscene squelching of his practiced tongue as your gummy walls pulse around him. He can tell you’re close by the way you grip him, the way you tug his hair and subtly restrict his breathing between your thighs in an effort to chase your high.

Your stomach tightens and twists as you hurtle closer to the edge and you lean forward, eyes locking with the definition of an angel beneath you. “Look at me, Toru,” you pant between pleasured mewls. One look from those lust-blown eyes sends you over the edge and you collapse forward as your body trembles and shakes.

With languid licks up your folds, Satoru draws out every last drop of your orgasm, eagerly drinking up every last bit until you weakly push his head back into the mattress out of overstimulation. His lips are parted as he pants weakly in an effort to catch his breath.

“Tastes so good,” Satoru moans from beneath you. You take the opportunity to push yourself back up and slide down his torso somewhat to look at him, shooting him a lopsided smile. He grins back at you, slick dripping down his chin.

“You’re still so good with your tongue,” you whisper in a sultry voice. He swallows hard, his abs noticeably tensing beneath your thighs as his cock jumps. All these years and you had absolutely no idea Satoru got off so much on praise. “Such a good boy,” you purr, testing just what sets him off.

Immediately, his fingers tighten bruisingly on your thighs and he whimpers. “Please, baby. I need you.”

Your lips curl into a devious smirk as you slide down his body until you’re on your knees at the base of the bed. Satoru sits with his legs thrown over the edge and a look of pure eager desire as he watches the way you slowly leave a trail of kisses up his thighs.

There’s a noticeable wet spot on his gray sweatpants from where his cock is steadily leaking with pre-cum and you tease the spot with a kitten lick and a glance up at him. Satoru whines, relieved when you tug his sweatpants down to the floor, his blue boxers following shortly after. His cock springs to attention, the tip swollen and leaking for you.

Just as he thinks you’ll bring him relief, you duck your head down to kiss a trail up his inner thighs once more. Satoru mewls, babbling out a needy “please- please, sweetheart, please,” as he attempts to direct your lips to his jerking cock.

The sound of his begging is intoxicating but you want to drag out the pleasure for you both. “Let me take care of you, Toru,” you hum, pulling away when he attempts to move his hand to your hair. He lets out a broken groan as his hand goes back to the bed, gripping the blankets beneath with enough force to turn his knuckles white. “Good boy,” you purr.

Satoru’s breath hitches, pre-cum leaking from his cock as it jumps again, aching for your touch. Sparing him of your teasing, you finally swirl your tongue over his swollen tip. He lets out a tortured groan, his abs contracting with the effort of not immediately cumming onto your lips, so needy for you that he’s not sure he can last.

“Sh- Shit,” he whispers, watching intently as you lick a stripe up his length so slowly that he mewls. The amount of time he’s spent fantasizing about this moment is shameful, really, and now that it’s here, he’s sent into a frenzy. His thighs are twitching, abdomen clenching with the effort of not blowing his load immediately.

“Tell me what you want, Toru,” you whisper, your breath ghosting warm over his leaky tip.

“Need you, baby, need your lips on me so bad, please pleasepleaseplease-” he babbles out, swallowing his broken moan when you teasingly kiss his tip, chasing after his desperate reactions. Pleased with his begging, you take his cock between your lips, sinking down slowly over him as you take him to the hilt.

His cock nestles into the back of your throat as you choke on his length. Bobbing your head as you set a slow pace, Satoru’s brain turns to mush as pleasure courses through his body. You take him so well and he’s already careening dangerously close to the edge of an orgasm, abs clenching as he throws his head back when your pace picks up. What sends him over the edge is the feeling of your little hum when you take him down to the hilt again.

His hand reaches out to hold you steady as a broken cry leaves his lips when his orgasm comes crashing over him suddenly, cock pulsing as he paints your throat with his arousal. You swallow it with a hum that makes his whole body jolt. He gently pulls your lips from his cock, leaning back on his hands as he comes down from his climax.

A chaste kiss left on his cock makes him shiver. Glassy eyes meet yours, pleasure swirling within the barely visible blues of them. “Such a tease,” he murmurs before pushing himself up the bed and flopping down on his back.

He smirks at you as you slide back on top of him, your wet cunt grinding over his hardened length. “So fuckin’ gorgeous,” he groans, warm hands coming to rest on your hips. Rocking your hips back and forth as you chase the friction you so desperately crave, Satoru throws his head back. “Fuuuuuck, pretty. So fuckin’ good.”

You lean down to kiss him, slowing your ministrations as you capture his lips in a heated kiss laced with your own desperation. His tongue eagerly explores your mouth again, the taste of him fresh on your lips. Every second of you on top of him sends him into a spiral of glossy-eyed pleasure that he hopes he can bask in for the rest of his life.

When you pull back suddenly, he whines, sitting up on his elbows to watch your movements as you slide down the bed with a predatory gaze. His lashes flutter as you intently watch his reaction while you spit on his swollen cock head. His jaw hangs slightly open and he groans when you use your thumb to spread the saliva down his shaft.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he groans unevenly between shallow breaths. His length jerks as you slowly pump your hand, so slowly it’s painful. “Baby, ne-need you,” he babbles, bucking his hips to chase the friction of your hand.

You grin, kissing his tip. “Yeah, Toru?” You purr, reveling in the way he turns to putty in your hand. “Think you’ve been a good boy for me?”

“Mhm. Wanna cum inside you,” he pants, raking his hands through your hair.

Your breath hitches as you crawl back up his body and position yourself over his twitching length. You don’t have the strength to tease him anymore, more for your own sake than his.

“Please,” he begs once more, leaking pre-cum as he waits to feel your walls squeeze him. No matter how many times you’ve had sex, this is entirely different. This is full of a new kind of desperation, full of a new kind of adoration as you grip Satoru’s shoulders tightly while sinking down on his cock slowly. Satoru’s long thickness makes you moan as you break past the first ring of resistance.

Your pussy is heaven for Satoru, a moment he’s dreamt of so long he has half a mind to pinch himself to make sure this isn’t the world’s most vivid wet dream, but he’s entirely too fucked out to manage a sane thought.

“So tight, love,” Satoru moans, his grip bruising on your hips. Every bone in his body begs him to fuck up into you, desperate to feel your gummy walls milk him. 

You hold still for a moment as you adjust to his length, whimpering at the feeling of his cock twitching within you. As the pain of the stretch turns to pleasure, you begin to rock your hips slowly, leaning back on his cock as it brushes your g spot and bliss floods your body.

Suddenly snapping, Satoru grips you tightly as he matches your rhythm and rocks his hips in tandem with yours. Every stroke of his cock within you pushes you both closer to the edge and as your nails rake his chest, you can hardly manage a coherent sentence.

“Toru- so big-” you moan, your pussy fluttering on his length as he needily whines along with your words.

“Shit, not gonna last long baby, I’m-” he watches your heavenly expression as you whimper and babble through your own words, both glassy-eyed and fucked out. He can tell you aren’t far behind him in spite of how teasing you’ve been all night, increasing the pace that he rolls his hips at until he feels your cunt pulse and your orgasm hits you like a wave.

You hunch over on him, your pace slowing to a halt. Your body trembles with the strength of your climax and your walls milk Satoru’s orgasm from him at the same time. “Fuck- nngh- feelsogood-!” He slows his rhythm as he works wave after wave of both climaxes out, chest panting from the overwhelming feeling of reaching such a high with you.

The sounds of your breaths fill the room as blood roars in your ears. After a moment of catching your breath, your eyes flutter open to find Satoru already staring up at you. His eyes are glazed in pleasure, but the look of pure adoration is what makes your heart flip. If your cheeks weren’t already flushed, you’re certain the look he’s giving you would have that effect.

“Toru?” You breathe, staring down at him.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers as his breathing begins to steady. You can’t help the grin that spreads over your features as you giggle at the man beneath you. Both of you so clearly spent in the afterglow of sex, and he’s being entirely too cute with his cock still nestled deep within you.

Sucking a breath through your teeth, you push yourself off of him, flopping down on the bed at his side as his slick drips from your folds and paints your thighs.

Comfortable silence settles between you both as you bask in the moment. Sparrows sing outside the window and the faint sound of distant traffic breaks through what’s otherwise a silent room. Your mind wanders to every moment in the past where Satoru shot you a longing gaze, where his words implied more than just friends. To each moment where you had brushed him off, assuming he was just pushing your buttons because that’s just how he is.

Now, each one of those moments held a different, new meaning. You turn your head to take in the sight of Satoru. He looks angelic in the morning light with his hair slightly disheveled, skin warmed by the sunlight peeking through the blinds.

“Where do we go from here?” You ask suddenly, pulling his attention to you.

Cerulean irises take in the sight of you just as you had done for him. It takes him a moment to reply, admiring your features and committing your face to memory as though he might lose you if he utters the wrong words. “As long as you’re by my side, I’ll go anywhere.”

“Satoru that’s… Cheesy and not what I meant,” you giggle. “But I’d love to start with a date. I know it won’t begin to make it up to you, but-”

“Sweetheart. Stop,” Satoru leans up on an elbow, kissing you so softly you would assume he thinks you’re glass. “I forgive you. I forgave you the moment I saw your pretty face last night.”

“Toru, please, let me make it up to you-”

“I forgive you. I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you. Okay? Stop worrying.” He peppers kisses over your face amid playful giggles as he speaks, eyes warm with mirth.

“Let me take you out, then. Just- Let me do something, at least,” you insist.

“Yeah, gonna plan something, baby?” Satoru smirks, pressing a kiss to your collar. You nod eagerly. “Sounds like a plan, then.”

Sitting up, Satoru shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. Quietly, you admire the musculature of his back and arms, smiling to yourself. You have to consider yourself lucky that you have this chance at all, grateful you didn’t miss your opportunity with the angelic man.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Satoru hums as he bounds to his feet. In spite of his own tiredness, there’s a pep in his step that makes you grin.

“Satoru?” You call after him before he can disappear, sitting up on the bed. He pokes his head back around the corner, giving you his full attention. “Since we’re doing everything out of order anyways, uh-” you hesitate for a moment, not because you doubt what you’re about to say, but because you don’t want to scare him off. “I love you.” Although it’s an admission you made last night as well, without the tension of the prior night it holds a new meaning.

His expression softens but his eyes seem to glow as he grins. Giddily, he quickly makes his way back to your side and kisses you with all the passion in the world. “I love you too, you gorgeous, wonderful, maybe a bit sticky girl.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Did you have to mention the sticky part?”

Bounding back over to the ensuite door, he hums affirmatively. “Yeah, if you keep calling me back and don’t let me clean you up.”

And with that, he disappears to grab a warm cloth as you stare with a smile at the place where he just stood. You sigh to yourself at how goofy Satoru has remained over the years, always the butt of the joke and the life of the party.

Now you think he just might be the light of your life too.

masterlist || kinktober 2024 masterlist

𓉸 a/n ; i don't know what happened this was meant to be like. 3k words of pure smut. but here we are so i hope you enjoyed! ♡ writing sub!gojo was a CHALLENGE for me it's not my usual thing so i hope i did it justice. as always likes, reblogs, and comments are super appreciated :))

𓉸 taglist ; currently open. please comment here or on the masterlist to be tagged in the rest of my kinktober work ♡ @tojis-ball-sack @rathreads @sukunadckrider @nxcxllxsevens @r0ckst4rjk

[bluerosefox]

Selina's New Kittens

Once again. A new DPxDC idea/prompt.

(Deaged! Danny, Dan, Ellie, and Jazz!)

Enjoy my random ideas.

Look.

Selina....

Selina wasn't expecting this when she decided to have some fun and do what she does best.

She just meant to sweet talk her way into Master's gala/party. Flirt and get info, maybe some blackmail. Steal away the rare cat themed artifact he had recently gotten (and also steal away his actual cat, such a lovely little diva it is too). then she was going to disappear into the night like always.

So...

Selina casted her eyes into the mirror of her car and could see the tiny children she had rescued from Master's hidden basement lab. All but one was asleep, the oldest out of them, although she seemed to be losing that fight from the way her head was falling forward, eyes closing but would jerk herself back awake when she realized she was falling asleep.

Curled up as hard and as much as they could towards the little redhead was three dark haired children, Selina mused that they'd fit right in with Bruce and his little bats/birds.

Two were near identical boys, though one seemed to be much paler than the other and if she remembered right one had red eyes and the other had blue, and the last one of the sleeping kids was a tiny toddler, a girl she heard was named 'Ellie' from the others.

Selina took note that the red head, Jazz, had finally fallen asleep a few minutes later. With a deep breath as she drove further and further away from that... that insane Fruitloop (she overheard the two boys call him that as they ran to her car) Master's place, she blindly reached for her phone and pressed a single digit on the screen, knowing it will connect to her car and call up the only person she can trust to help her with this.

"Selina." came the gravely voice after a single ring, sounds like she caught him on patrol but he seemed to be in a spot where he was okay to say her actual name over coms or she caught him before his night shift started.

"Hello Darling, I need your help with some kittens I found and to help me... Put away their terrible old owner."

[aliyahwritings]

PROTECTIVE INSTINCTS.

Summary: Rafe Cameron gets into a fight, and Sassy!Kook!Reader helps him clean up his wounds.

Warnings: childhood friends, overprotective!rafe, alcohol/coke mentioned, blood, dumb ahh inlove, annoying mf.

Words Count: 3163

A/N: my first 'official' post ohmygawwddd!!!! i hope you will all like this. u can imagine this out of the obx plot bc in this universe sarah and rafe lowk get along and she's not w topp*r. i imagine rafe being 20/21 and reader is js a year younger

Getting an invite to Topper's party was supposed to be the highlight of your week—a chance to let loose, drink, dance, and maybe sneak in a smoke or two. You were determined to have fun. You and Sarah had been buzzing about it for days, thrilled at the idea of a night out after what felt like an eternity of being buried under schoolwork. It had been ages since either of you had gone to a party, and with all the stress piling up, you needed the break.

But, of course, Rafe had to go and ruin it by reminding you that he existed and was going to attend the party.

As the night of the party arrived, you spent way too much time getting ready—your reflection in the mirror repeatedly checked as you perfected your messy dark eye makeup. Black heels on, strapless mini-dress in a black fabric. The waist is drawn with a thin, satin black ribbon into a neat bow. The skirt flared out slightly, you knew you looked stunning. Sarah had already sent you a dozen texts about how she couldn’t wait to hit the party, and you were just about ready to go.

When you arrived at the party, it was even more packed than you'd expected. Music thumped through the house, bodies swayed on the makeshift dance floor, and the smell of coke, smoke, and alcohol lingered in the air. Sarah grabbed your hand, pulling you through the crowd as you both laughed. That was exactly the chaos you both needed.

"God, I've missed this!" Sarah shouted over the music as we moved to the dance floor. You smiled, matching her energy, the rhythm pulling your bodies into a sway.

For a while, it was easy to forget everything—school stress, drama, even Rafe’s looming presence at the party.

That is, until you saw him.

Rafe Cameron, leaning against a wall with his usual arrogance, a bottle of beer in his hand and his eyes scanning the room like he owned the place. It wasn't long before his eyes landed on you, and as usual, he didn’t look away. His eyes tracked you from across the room. He always watched you—like it was his job to make sure you were okay, even though you made it clear you didn’t need him playing bodyguard.

You groaned inwardly. 

“Just ignore him,” Sarah whispered in your ear, sensing your mood shift. “Come on, let’s dance.”

And you did—letting the music take over as you moved with your friend, blocking out everything else. For a moment, it felt like maybe, you could enjoy the night without thinking about him. You walked away from your friend to get both of you a drink but as you arrived at the bar, a guy who you didn’t recognize walked up to me, his breath hot and alcohol-laced as he leaned in too close, his voice low and crude.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he said with a smirk growing on his face. “You look stunning tonight. That dress—damn, it’s doing wonders to your body.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore him as you focused on getting your drinks. “Thanks, but I’m not interested,” you replied coolly, turning slightly away from him.

“Oh, come on now,” he pressed, undeterred. “Don’t be like that. I could make your night a lot more fun. I know how to show a girl a good time. I could take you somewhere private, just you and me. I bet I could make you feel better than any of the other guys ever could.”

You felt your stomach churn, irritation rising as you glanced around for an escape. “I really don’t think so,” you said firmly, your patience wearing thin. “Just back off, alright?”

But he stepped closer, invading your personal space even more, a cocky grin plastered on his face. “Why're you playing hard to get when we both know you’re a slut. You don’t gotta pretend with me, baby—”

You rolled your eyes, about to insult him but the sound of a bottle smashing to the floor before Rafe’s fist collided with the guy's face.

“Say that again,” Rafe growled, his voice deadly calm as he grabbed the guy by the collar, pulling him close. The crowd around you froze, the music blaring in the background as Rafe’s knuckles bled from the punch he’d just thrown.

The guy stumbled, trying to mumble something that sounded like an apology, but of course, Rafe wasn’t done. His jaw was clenched, his eyes burning with a fury that sent chills down your spine.

“Rafe!” you shouted, pushing through the frozen crowd to get to him. “Let him go!”

But he barely heard you. His focus was locked on the guy, like he was two seconds ago from throwing another punch. It took Topper and Kelce rushing over to pull him off before things escalated any further.

The guy backed away, rubbing his jaw, his eyes wide with fear. “I-I didn’t know, man—”

“I don’t fucking care. Get out of here!” Rafe yelled, cutting him off, his chest still heaving with rage.

You watched as the guy walked away, his tail between his legs. Your attention shifted to Rafe, who turned on his heel and headed towards the stairs. You followed him with your eyes as he ascended until he disappeared into one of the rooms upstairs, shutting the door behind him.

You glanced around, searching for Sarah. When you spotted her you waved to catch her eye. She looked over, and you mouthed, “I’m going to check on Rafe.” Sarah gave you a quick nod.

With a deep breath, you pushed your way through the crowd and made your way upstairs, the noise from the party fading into the background as you reached the top. The hallway was quieter, the air heavier. Without hesitation, you headed straight for the door you saw Rafe disappear behind. You didn’t even think to knock; there was no need for formality between the two of you. It wasn’t in your nature to tiptoe around Rafe, not when you’d known him your entire life.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. He glanced up when you entered, surprise flashing briefly in his eyes before it was replaced with that familiar guarded expression.

He opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off, “What the hell is your problem, Rafe?” you told him, crossing your arms on your chest. “You can’t just go around hitting people!”

He stood up, glaring at you. “He deserved it,” he shot back. He turned away from you, pacing the room like a caged animal. “Did you hear the shit he was saying to you? You think I was just gonna stand there and let him talk to you like tha?”

You sighed, frustrated but not entirely surprised. This was Rafe—impulsive, overprotective, and always ready to throw a punch when it came to you. “Yeah, I heard it, Rafe—he was talking to me. And I could’ve handled it. I don’t need you acting like my knight in shining armor.”

His head snapped up at that, and he took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “Really? You think you could’ve handled him? Because from where I was standing, he wasn’t taking no for an answer.”

You huffed, shaking your head. "That’s not the fucking point! You always do this. You’re always trying to play the hero when no one asked you to." You met his gaze with a hard stare of your own, refusing to back down.

Rafe’s eyes darkened, his jaw clenching as he stepped even closer, closing the distance between you. His voice dropped lower, almost a growl. "Maybe I’m not playing. Maybe I actually give a damn when some asshole thinks he can talk to you like that."

His proximity made the air between you feel charged, and you had to fight the urge to step back. Instead, you held your ground, your heart pounding in your chest. "And maybe you should learn to pick your battles instead of flying off the handle every time someone so much as looks at me the wrong way," you shot back, your voice just as sharp as his.

His lips twisted into a smirk, though there was no humor in it—just frustration. "Pick my battles?" He echoed, his voice low and dangerous. "Like you would ever let me. Every time I try to protect you, you act like it’s some kind of personal offense. Like I’m doing something wrong by giving a damn about what happens to you, Y/N."

You scoffed, crossing your arms tighter across your chest. "Because it’s not about me! It’s about you needing to feel like you’re in control of everything. You can’t just punch your way through life, Rafe."

"It’s not about control. It’s about not letting anyone treat you like that. I’m not gonna stand by and watch it happen. Not when it’s you."

For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of his words hanging between you. You sighed, the fight slowly leaving your body. “You’ve always been like this, you know?” you said, your tone softening just slightly. “Even when we were kids. You were always ready to defend me.”

His expression softened, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, well, some things don’t change.”

You shook your head, biting back a smile. “You’re impossible, Rafe Cameron.”

He let out a low laugh. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real bite behind it. The anger between you was fading. He infuriated you, but deep down, you knew his heart was in the right place—even if he had a habit of making things way more complicated than they needed to be.

Rafe’s eyes lingered on yours, the tension still there but different now. He stepped closer again, but this time, there was no anger in his movements, just something more... deliberate. His voice dropped, barely above a whisper. "You looked good tonight, by the way."

Your breath hitched, and before you could stop yourself, you met his gaze with a smirk of your own. "You’re just now noticing?" you teased, though your voice came out softer than you intended.

"Trust me, I noticed the second you walked in."

You cleared your throat, breaking the intense moment between you two. “Let me see your hand,” you said, trying to refocus on something else.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his usual cocky smirk creeping back onto his face. “What? Worried about me now, princess?”

“Hardly, but you’re a mess and someone’s gotta clean you up before you bleed all over Topper’s sheets.”

He grinned, stepping back slightly and letting you grab his hand. His skin was warm under your fingers, and you tried to ignore the way your pulse quickened as you turned his hand over, inspecting the damage. His knuckles were raw, a few cuts oozing blood.

You glanced around the room, spotting a small bathroom attached to the guest room. “Sit down,” you ordered, nodding towards the bed. Rafe didn’t argue—surprisingly—but the amused smirk never left his face as he sat down, watching you with that intense, unblinking gaze of his. You walked over to the bathroom, rummaging through the cabinet until you found some bandages and antiseptic wipes.

When you returned, Rafe had leaned back against the headboard, legs spread slightly, his arms resting on his knees like he was waiting to be entertained. 

“Hold still,” you said firmly as you sat on the edge of the bed beside him, gently taking his injured hand in yours. 

"Careful," he teased, his voice low and husky. "I might start thinking you actually care."

You shot him a quick glare, your eyes narrowed. "Or maybe I just don’t want to deal with your whining if this gets infected."

He chuckled, the sound deep and almost... seductive. "Trust me, I’m not the whining type. You, on the other hand, love getting under my skin."

You ignored his comment, though the corners of your mouth twitched in amusement. “Here you go, telling lies. Unlike you, I am responsible—something you wouldn’t understand.” 

Rafe’s smirk widened, his blue eyes locked on yours as you worked. “Yeah? Is that why you spent half the night trying to avoid me?” He tilted his head. “You’re terrible at it, by the way.”

“Maybe I was avoiding you because I knew you’d do something stupid. And look, I was right.”

“So, you were watching me all night, huh? Didn’t realize I was that distracting.”

“More like I could sense the chaos coming from a mile away,” you shot back, the corner of your mouth twitching despite your best efforts not to smile.

“Admit it, you’d miss me if I didn’t cause a little chaos.”

You snorted, playfully nudging his good shoulder. “Miss you? I think my life would be way more peaceful.”

He gave a dramatic sigh, clutching his chest with his uninjured hand. “Wow. You really know how to wound a guy. If I wasn’t already bandaged, I’d need another one for my heart.”

You smirked, shaking your head. “Please, Rafe. You’ve got an ego the size of this entire house. I think your heart’s just fine.”

He chuckled, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Maybe. But you like me this way.”

“Oh, do I now?” You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “And what makes you think that?”

Rafe leaned in just a little more, that teasing grin still plastered on his face. “Because, no matter how much you complain, you’re always right here. Taking care of me. Telling me I’m an idiot. It’s kind of your thing.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, though the sass in your voice was playful. “It’s called charity work, Rafe. I should be getting paid for dealing with you.”

He laughed, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before flicking back up. “Oh, I’ll pay you back. Trust me.”

You tilted your head, giving him a sly smile. “Yeah? And how exactly are you gonna do that?”

Rafe’s grin widened at your challenge, his eyes gleaming with mischief. He shifted a little closer, the air between you growing even more charged. “Oh, you’ll see, princess. But you’ll have to be patient. I know that’s not your strong suit.”

You rolled your eyes, scoffing as you leaned back on the bed, crossing your legs. “Patience? With you? That’s asking for a miracle, Cameron.”

He chuckled, his hand resting just beside your thigh. “Miracle? More like a blessing. I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you, and you know it.”

You shot him a look, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Best thing? Don’t flatter yourself. You’re like a stray dog that keeps following me around, begging for attention.”

Rafe smirked, leaning in so his face was closer to yours, his voice dropping low. "And you love the attention. Don’t act like you don’t.”

“Please, the only thing I love is the peace and quiet I get when you’re not around.”

He let out a mock gasp, putting a hand over his chest. “Ouch. Again.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Dramatic again. Besides, you can dish it out, but you can’t take it.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, that cocky grin never leaving his face. “Me? Can’t take it? You must be thinking of someone else, sweetheart. I can take anything you throw at me.”

You leaned in a little, matching his energy. “Anything? That sounds like a challenge.”

He tilted his head, his blue eyes locking onto yours, full of playful intensity. “It is. Go ahead, try me. What’ve you got?”

You pursed your lips, pretending to think for a moment before smirking. “Alright. How about this? For starters, you’re predictable. Every time something doesn’t go your way, you throw a tantrum or a punch, like you’re still a spoiled little boy.”

Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter, if anything, it grew. “Predictable? That’s rich, coming from someone who’s always acting like she doesn’t care when we both know she does.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “I don’t care. I just know how to deal with your dramatics.”

“Right. That’s why you followed me up here, bandaged my hand, and now you’re sitting here flirting with me,” Rafe said, his tone smug.

You blinked, caught off guard for a second. “Flirting? Don’t confuse taking care of your stupidity with flirting, Cameron.”

He leaned even closer, his lips just inches from yours now, his voice a low, teasing whisper. “Oh, so this isn’t flirting?”

You bit your lip, fighting the heat rising in your cheeks. “No. This is me being nice because you’re too dumb to take care of yourself.”

“Sure it is,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that husky tone that always made your heart race. “You’re really bad at hiding it, you know.”

You raised an eyebrow, challenging him. “Hiding what?”

Rafe grinned, his gaze flickering down to your lips for a split second before meeting your eyes again. “How much you like being around me.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “You’re delusional. I’m just here so Topper doesn’t kill you for bleeding all over his stuff.”

“Uh-huh,” Rafe replied, his thumb lightly tracing circles on your thigh, the gesture casual but full of tension. “And I’m sure you’d leave the second I’m patched up, right?”

You blinked, but your voice didn’t waver as you answered, “Absolutely. As soon as I’m done here, I’m out.”

“Really?” His eyes sparkled with challenge, his breath warm on your skin. “Then why haven’t you left yet?”

You faltered, trying to keep your cool, but his proximity was intoxicating. “Because... You needed help for your hand and I couldn't let you be miserable.”

Rafe chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. “Always gotta get the last word, huh?”

“Someone has to,” you shot back, but your voice was quieter, less sharp as the tension between you both thickened.

He watched you for a long moment, his gaze intense but soft at the same time. Then, with that infuriating smirk still on his face, he leaned back slightly. “Alright, I’ll let you win this round. But don’t think I didn’t notice how close you got just now.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up from the bed. “I was checking your hand, not getting close to you.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, princess,” he teased, watching you as you walked toward the bathroom to put away the bandages.

You turned back to him, shaking your head with a smile. “You’re annoying.”

“And yet, you keep coming back,” Rafe quipped, standing up and stretching.

And he was right…

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