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roosterforme · 2 days

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Aim for the Sky Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Somehow the timing was just right, and Bradley's arrival meant he could join you for your appointment. He'd find out if he was having a son or daughter in person, with you. The enormity of Bradley's affection seemed to grow every day now, just like the Nugget he loved so much.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, swearing, pregnancy

Length: 4900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"Bradley," you gasped, head tipped back against the pillar that was pressing into your shoulder. "Your duffle is here. I can see it." Actually, it was just going around and around on the conveyor belt while Bradley sucked gently on your neck and slowly bunched the fabric of your dress in his hand over your bump. And just like that, once again, your focus drifted away from the bag as soon as he spoke.

"I'll get it in a minute," he murmured next to your ear. "I'm a little busy."

You were getting side eye from a woman, and a random man was outright gawking at you, but you didn't really care. The airport was busy, but it wasn't enough to make you pull your fingers from Bradley's soft hair or tell him to stop kissing his way back to your lips. His bristly mustache made you sigh when he reached his destination once again, and you let him taste your tongue before you pulled away slightly.

"Roo. We're kind of on a tight schedule." When he just grunted in response and headed for your lips again, you laughed. "Daddy! Let's go see the Nugget."

He seemed to snap out of it a little bit, the desire in his eyes giving way to excitement. "Right. Let's go. I can taste you everywhere at home later."

When he took you by the hand, you had to dig your heels in. "We need your bag!" you said with a smile. Then he led you in the opposite direction and snatched his massive duffle up like it was nothing and tossed it over his shoulder. You had to hustle along next to him as he exited the airport through the sliding doors and headed for the parking garage. It was like he knew you parked near the spot where he totaled your beloved little Honda when he finally got you pregnant on his birthday. You felt your cheeks grow warm as you recalled the details.

He must have seen his blue Bronco in the last row, because he picked up his pace a little bit more. "I don't think we have time for reunion sex yet," he muttered, glancing at you and letting his gaze dip down your body. "But I'll take care of you later. You got along okay without me?"

You let out a little squeak as he tossed his bag in the back and headed for the passenger side door so he could unlock it for you. "Honestly? I haven't been as insatiable since the first trimester ended," you told him, leaning closer to inhale the scent of his deodorant. "At least... I wasn't until right now."

He pulled you close again and tilted your chin up so you were looking at him. "Listen, I'm a little keyed up, and I don't think I can be quick. Can you wait until later?"

"Oh, God," you whined, your skin tingling at the thought of how long he might last for you and how good he would feel. "This is just as exciting as when I felt the baby moving on Halloween."

His brown eyes went wide, and his lips parted in surprise. "You felt the Nugget?!" When you nodded, he asked, "Why didn't you tell me before?"

You just gaped at him. "Seriously? You had your mouth all over mine! How was I supposed to tell you anything?"

"Shit," he hissed and handed you the keys before his hands settled on your belly, drifting around, trying to feel something. "You drive," he said, slowly guiding you to the other side of the Bronco. "I need to work on feeling a kick."

As he buckled you in behind the wheel, you didn't have the heart to tell him that the baby wasn't even moving around much right now, or that it would probably be weeks before he'd be able to feel anything externally. He was too adorable when he was this excited, and you watched him run around the hood and jump inside like an overgrown golden retriever who had been offered a treat. His eyes were wide as he got himself buckled before placing both hands on your belly.

"Okay. I'm ready to go," he informed you with a nod.

"You sure?" you asked, smirking as you put the key in the ignition. "A minute ago, you looked like you were ready to have parking garage sex again, and now you're all over me and the Nugget."

You shifted into gear, and he whispered, "I'm ready, Baby Girl. I'm so fucking ready to learn what we're having, and if I feel a little kick on the way, it'll be like a cherry on top of the best day."

You paid the parking fee and pulled out onto the main road as you realized you only had about twenty minutes to get to Dr. Morris's office on time. "Don't get your hopes up," you said while Bradley felt you all over. "You probably won't be able to feel anything. It's still early for that."

"Hey, not to be rude, Sweetheart, but I'm actually going to need you to stop talking."

"What?" you asked, so startled you laughed a little bit. "Did you just ask me to be quiet?"

He kissed your cheek while you drove and whispered, "It's just that I can't tell if it's the vibrations from your voice or the baby moving. Please? I love you." Now you were laughing even harder as his big hands moved all around on you. "No, no, that's- see you're actually moving more when you laugh though." He kissed your cheek again as you rolled your eyes and smothered your laughter. "That's better."

When you pulled into the parking lot of the medical complex, your husband's fingers were stroking your belly gently, and when you parked again and looked at him, you saw a few tears in his eyes. "You okay?" you asked softly.

"Yeah. I'm good. Like really fucking good."

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Bradley was forever wondering when his luck would run out. His life just seemed too good to be true. He was holding hands with his hot, pregnant wife in the waiting room, just buzzing with excitement. In a few short minutes, he was going to find out if he was having a son or a daughter. He wondered if this was how his dad felt in 1984. He wondered if Nick Bradshaw ever wanted to randomly get on his knees for his wife for no reason.

"They called us," you whispered, kissing his cheek before you stood up. Bradley jumped to his feet as well, so deep in thought, he hadn't heard anything. He'd never admit it to you, but this was probably more exciting than the day the two of you got married.

He pressed his sweaty palm to yours and walked past the reception desk at your side. Three short hallways later, and a nurse led you into a large, dimly lit room with huge computer monitors on one wall. "I'm so fucking excited, I might pass out," he said, voice deep and raspy.

The nurse eyed him cautiously. "Perhaps you should have a seat while Dr. Morris performs the scan?"

He nodded, intercepting the cotton gown before you could take it from her. "That's a great idea. I'll do that."

Once she was gone, Bradley turned to you and started unfolding the gown while you stepped out of your boat shoes. "Are you really going to pass out?" you asked him as you started to pull your sinfully snug dress up your legs.

"Let me do that," he grunted, kneeling on the floor and pushing the fabric up and over your belly. He kissed your tattoo through your underwear, and then he kissed the spot next to your belly button where he always imagined the Nugget was hanging out. "I love you," he whispered before getting to his feet again and pulling the dress up and over your head. You weren't wearing a bra, and your breasts looked so fucking incredible, he wanted them in his mouth.

"You're staring at me," you said, reaching for the gown as you shifted back and forth in place like you were getting cold. "I know I look different. I gained like eight or nine pounds while you were gone once I stopped throwing up all the time."

Bradley let you take the gown from his hands. "Jesus Christ, maybe I really should sit down," he muttered, dragging a chair over next to the table where you'd be sitting in a moment. "And I was just staring at your tits, Baby Girl. You don't look different, you look fucking hot pregnant. God, this is more exciting than when you let me fuck you in the ass."

And that was the exact moment when Dr. Morris entered the room and cleared her throat. "Lieutenant Bradshaw," she said, reaching out to shake his hand as he hovered awkwardly over the chair before standing up again. "It's so nice to have you back with us." You were cradling your head in your hand in embarrassment as he shook hands with your obstetrician.

"Dr. Morris," he murmured. "I only missed the last appointments, because I was deployed. There's nothing else that could have kept me away, I swear."

She laughed and looked between the two of you and said, "Well, we do like a supportive and adventurous partner."

"Roo," you groaned softly as you started to climb up on the table. Bradley turned to help you, and you let him.

"She's a doctor, Sweetheart," he whispered. "She's heard it all."

"That's true," Dr. Morris said as she washed her hands, and you gave Bradley a bland look as you settled back on the table which was bent at an angle that would let you see the monitors. He was so excited, he just kissed your forehead a bunch of times while Dr. Morris asked, "Are we ready to get started?"

"Yes!" he practically shouted while you responded in a much calmer tone. He eased himself down into the chair and looked up at you as he reached for your hand.

"This is it," you told him with a nervous smile. "Any final guesses?"

He shook his head, his attention drawn to the monitors as they came to life. "I don't care one way or the other. I just want to know everything I can about the Nugget."

Then he took your hand in both of his bigger ones and brought your fingers up to his lips as you said, "Me, too."

Bradley's heart skipped around as Dr. Morris spread the warm gel on your belly, and he had to press his lips together to keep quiet. He'd imagined himself holding a son, and he'd imagined himself holding a daughter. He had thought about names he liked for both. He considered what wild colors he might one day paint the bedroom walls, and he looked forward to it. He thought he'd be good at being a basketball dad or a dance dad or a cheer dad or a soccer dad. And that's why it didn't really matter what Dr. Morris said today. It didn't really matter what his kid was into or not into, because the Nugget was going to be an extension of the two of you. Somehow that equated to perfection in his mind.

"Let's count some little toes," Dr. Morris said, and then Bradley squeezed your hand as two tiny feet appeared on the screen.

"Holy shit," he whispered. There were ten perfect toes on his perfect baby, and he had to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand as you laughed softly in awe. The Nugget would be smart and confident just like you were. Bradley would get the attic taken care of, and he'd put together the jungle gym. He would do every single thing that needed to be done to make a perfect home for this child. He would take care of you every day right now until he was taking care of both of you.

"Now let's check on the fingers."

Ten tiny fingers, attached to the cutest baby he'd ever seen in his life. Bradley took a deep breath and let his forehead rest against your arm as he tried to get himself under control. "Oh my God," he whispered, knowing he'd be able to count those toes and fingers in person next year. He could tickle them and send piggies to the market. He could kiss them and watch them toddle across the living room floor after Tramp.

"Let's just get a look at the heartbeat and a few other things here." Dr. Morris was taking her time, which Bradley appreciated. He liked a thorough doctor, but the anticipation was killing him.

The heartbeat on the screen had you mesmerized when he looked at your beautiful face, but then you turned to look at him. Once again, he had no idea how he ended up this lucky. "I love you, Roo."

His already blurry vision just got worse as he sucked in a deep breath. "I love you so much."

This time you brought his fingers up to your lips and kissed him as Dr. Morris added a little more gel to your belly and smashed it down with the ultrasound paddle. "Are you sure you want to find out the sex?"

"Yes!" you said, smiling at Bradley like you fucking knew you were his whole world. Like you didn't mind sharing him with the Nugget from now on. "We want to know!"

Bradley watched your face as you watched the monitor. His fingers on your wrist told him your heart was racing just like his was, and you were licking your lips in anticipation. You were perfect. His life was perfect. His baby was going to follow suit, no doubt about that. A smile found its way to his lips, and his shoulders relaxed, knowing that the next words he heard were going to be perfect, too. How could they not be?

"Congratulations. It's a girl."

The feeling inside his body was something he never knew before. He felt as much love as he had when he listened to you read your wedding vows, but this was something more. He was going to have a perfect little girl. Tears filled his eyes as he realized he was going to get to love and take responsibility for raising a daughter.

"Roo!" you sobbed, reaching for him, and then he was on his feet and kissing you.

"A girl," he said even as he mashed his lips to yours. "A daughter."

He wasn't sure if he felt his own tears or yours on his cheeks as you pressed your forehead to his and asked, "Are you happy?"

It took him a few seconds to get control of his voice as he held your face in his hands. "I'm living the life of my dreams."

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

Bradley had tears in his eyes and ultrasound images clutched to his chest as you led him outside to the Bronco. His free hand was clasped tight with yours, and you'd never seen him look so happy in your life. "A little girl," he said, handing you his keys once again, and you already knew what he was going to do when he buckled you into the driver's seat. "We're having a girl," he whispered, brown eyes wide as he kissed your wedding rings.

You nodded and wiped your thumb along his cheek. "It just makes sense somehow."

"It does," he agreed, kissing your lips before leaning down to kiss your bump through your dress. "I love this Nugget," he whispered. "My daughter."

You whined his name as he said those words, and when he looked up at you, all you could say was, "You're going to be the best Daddy, Roo." You thought about it all the time. The way he'd carry the baby around and read bedtime stories. The way he'd always be patient and sweet. You weren't sure if you'd always imagined a little girl or not, but it made so much sense right now.

"Let's go home," he rasped, kissing his way up from your belly until he got to your tender breasts. Technically you were supposed to work this afternoon, at least that's what you'd told Bickel. As Bradley ran around to the passenger side, you dug your phone out and texted your boss, letting him know that the baby was fine, and you'd see him on Monday.

"What's wrong?" Bradley asked as you tossed your phone aside and started the engine.

"Nothing. Everything is right. I'm taking the rest of the day off so we can spend it together," you replied softly as his hands found their way back to your belly. It had been too many weeks since you'd been touched, and it felt so good, you had to press your lips together to keep from moaning. "I want to spend it with you."

He grunted and kissed the side of your neck as you pulled out of the parking lot. "I'm not letting my girls out of my sight all weekend."

"Bradley," you whined, feeling so much desire for him. The two of you could start talking about nursery decor and girl names and when you wanted to break the news to everyone else. You could do all of those things this weekend now that he was home. But you were also just needy for him.

You made a little noise as you tried your best to go the speed limit, and you knew that your husband knew what you needed. "I'll take care of you, Sweetheart. Don't worry about that. I'll take care of everything."

He was tracing hearts along your belly, and you turned to look at his slightly lovesick eyes when you stopped at an intersection. "I know you will." You delighted in the fact that you were having a little girl who would get to share all of his love with you. The enormity of Bradley's affection seemed to grow every day now, just like the Nugget, and pretty soon she would be showered in it too.

When you pulled into the driveway and parked in the tight spot next to your red Bronco, Bradley eyed the pallets of jungle gym pieces. "I can't fucking wait to build that thing. I've been dreaming about it for so long." Then he was jumping out the door as you shifted into park, and he was around to your side in an instant. "Been dreaming about this day for ages," he whispered as you climbed down and into his arms. His hands found your lower back as he added, "Been thinking about you and the Nugget since I left."

You smiled up at him. "You know what might be fun, Daddy?"

"What?" he asked, keeping his eyes on yours as he started to lead you up to the porch.

"If you start building the Nugget's playset tomorrow, and you get all sweaty and let me watch," you said, your voice turning into a soft whimper at the end.

Bradley jammed the house key into the lock, and shoved the door open. He hooked one arm around your waist and pulled you inside with him as Tramp started jumping around like a maniac. "Hey, buddy," Bradley told him with a smile. "I missed you, too. But I need some time with my girls first."

"It's okay," you said as you closed the door behind you. "He probably won't calm down until you play with him a little bit."

But Bradley was pushing you back against the door even as Tramp ran around in circles. "Wait right here," he commanded softly, and lust rippled through you at the sight of his pupils blown wide. "Don't move an inch."

You felt like you were barely even breathing as you stood very still and watched Bradley lead Tramp past the piano and out the back sliding glass door. "I promise I'll play with you next. I just desperately need to fuck my wife." Then he made his way back to you, his lips set in a determined smirk, and his movements beyond sexy. "I promised I wouldn't leave you hanging."

You closed your eyes as his palm came to rest on the wooden door just next to your head. His warmth was so close, but he wasn't touching you yet as you whispered, "You always take care of me."

His fingers started to pull up the hem of your dress as he crooned, "Why don't you go ahead and tell me how much you missed me."

You tipped your head back until it met the door, and you kept your eyes squeezed closed as you whined, "Couldn't go another day without you." When his lips met your cleavage, your eyes flew open. His lips grazed your nipple through the thin fabric as he slowly knelt in front of you, and you told him, "Your daughter and I missed you terribly."

When he looked up at your face, he pulled your dress up and said, "I'm so in love with you." He ran his lips along your bare belly. "And you." Then he pressed the bunched up fabric against your ribs, and when he said, "Hold this for me, Baby Girl," you did exactly as you were told.

"Yes, Daddy."

"Fuck," he grunted, rough hands on your thighs as he kissed your belly button. "Do you have any idea how perfect you are?" His eyes met yours again. "You asked me if I was happy. I've been happy since I met you. Since you gave me a purpose. Since you let me love you." His hands found the scrap of your white lace underwear and started to pull it down your thighs. "God, I missed this," he murmured, pressing his lips to your pussy as soon as you were free of the lace which slipped all the way down until your panties hit your boat shoes.

"Bradley," you croaked, the second syllable sounding much longer than the first as he licked his way up your slit to the patch of hair that you kept neatly trimmed. He licked along this same path again, this time pressing deeper with his tongue. The third time, he separated you a little more, and then he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked gently. All the while he kept his big hands on the swell of your belly. "I really missed you."

He responded by kissing your dainty rooster tattoo and burying his face in your pussy. Bradley gently nudged your legs further apart so he could taste you everywhere, and each time you started to buck, he pushed your hips back. You were gripping your dress so tight in both hands, you were afraid you might rip the fabric, but he just kept going in a smooth up and down stripe until you could tell you were dripping wet.

"Yeah, you missed me," he grunted, kissing your tattoo one more time. "I can taste how much."

"Roo."

He got to his feet and cupped your pussy below the swell of your belly, circling your opening with the tip of one finger as he leaned in close. "Will you let me take you to bed and show you how much I missed you?"

Your voice shook as he pushed his finger inside you, just a promise of what was to come if you agreed. "Please!"

Barely ten seconds later, you were on your back in bed, your dress pushed all the way up, exposing your breasts and belly to him. Your soaked pussy was already clenching as the cool air hit your skin, and you watched Bradley wrench his shirt off and unzip his pants. But he didn't penetrate you yet. He pushed on the backs of your thighs so your knees got a little closer to your shoulders, and you whimpered his name.

His eyes were a little wild as he said, "Yeah, I'll take care of everything, Sweetheart." Bradley wrapped his hands around your thighs and leaned down to kiss at your furled nipples, his mustache leaving you squirming, searching for release. "Your fucking tits are huge. My God. And so warm."

He nuzzled himself against your breasts which were in fact getting to the point where your bras were fitting a little too tight. He sucked and swiped his tongue along, and you let your fingers sink into his hair as he brought you close with his mouth wrapped around one nipple then the other. "Oh my God," you panted, just spurring him on. Because next, his mouth trailed back down to your belly where he whispered and worshipped you.

"I love my girls," he crooned, spreading your legs open wider as you tugged on his hair to keep yourself grounded. "I love you so much."

"Please," you begged softly, and he finally put that mouth back on your soaking wet core. You were about to come, grinding against his lips and his nose, his name falling from you like a depraved prayer. Eventually he paused before filling you with his cock instead. You cried out as he stretched you fully for the first time in so long, and almost immediately he was fucking you to completion. You came hard, your back arching off the bed as you grabbed at his shoulders, but you knew he wanted his share, too.

Bradley fucked you through your orgasm, lips pressed to your ear so you could hear every word he said and every deep rumble at the back of his throat. "You were made for me, weren't you, Baby Girl? And I was made to worship you."

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By the time Bradley came, he was sweaty and babbling like a lovesick idiot. Everything he cared about most was right there in his arms as you took him deep, always welcoming him into your sweetness. The relief he felt was incredible as he finally rolled onto his back, pulling you a little closer as he went.

"I'm gonna be a girl dad," he said with a smile as he looked at the ceiling through his post orgasm haze. "I can't wait."

The slick friction from his cum teased at his leg hairs as your pussy rested against his thigh, and you snuggled up against his chest. "Me too, Roo. I'm so excited to meet her."

Your fingers teased along his abs, lulling him ever closer to an afternoon nap. He knew that one of you needed to let Tramp back inside, and he was going to have to scrape together something for you to eat soon. But right now, he didn't want to move.

"What happened with your deployment?" you asked softly as he yawned. This was the last thing he wanted to talk about right now when he knew you were carrying his little girl, but he should have known you'd have questions.

"It fucking sucked. Being away from you gets harder and harder each time now. They kept tacking on more weeks of these random bombing runs, and the weather was miserable. We had to fly in the rain half the time."

He listened to you hum, contemplating what he said. "It was so scary when you got called to action in the middle of talking to me over FaceTime. I couldn't stop crying. And then it was weeks before some random guy in personnel called me to let me know you were on your way home."

It was hard to believe he was on that flight back to San Diego just a few hours ago. "Honestly, in all of the excitement today, that already feels so distant in my mind," he told you, kissing your forehead as he thought about how long he had been away from you. "We didn't really know we were heading home until it was happening. And it was so late here when we got released, they told me they'd have someone reach out so I didn't have to wake you up again. Then there was only one seat left on the first flight home, and once Payback and I were being airlifted to Hong Kong, they told us to decide who was taking that spot. He gave it to me, no questions asked. Told me to get home to you and the Nugget."

You gasped and murmured, "Reuben is the sweetest."

Bradley chuckled as his fingers grazed along the side of your bump. "Yeah, well, you actually owe him three dozen chocolate chip cookies. That was the only stipulation for the deal."

Your laughter made Bradley's smile grow. "Totally worth it. Actually, since you made it home in time for my appointment, I'll make five dozen for him."

"No wonder everyone thinks I'm spoiled," he told you, tugging on you until you were straddling his hips and looking down at him with your hands braced on his chest. "Fuck. Just look at you."

His sticky cum was matted in your pubic hair, and your tits looked delicious. There was no way he'd be able to keep his hands away from you now that he'd seen and felt your little bump in person. His daughter was growing in there. He smiled and ran his palm gently over your skin, stroking you with his thumb as your pretty gaze stayed transfixed on his.

"I'm happy you're home, Roo."

He nodded, eye lids growing heavy from jet lag and the time zones, and he simply didn't argue when you kissed his cheek and said you were going to let Tramp inside and then take a nap with him. Soon enough, Bradley was snuggled up in bed with his head resting next to your belly and your fingers tangled in his hair. Your sweet voice lulled him to sleep for the best afternoon nap of his life.

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This has been a very emotional day for Bradley. He's home with his hot wife, and now he gets to start planning for the arrival of their daughter in a few more months! Thank you so much for reading about the Nugget! More to come soon, including the first wedding anniversary! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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buttdumplin · 2 days

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The sweet, lovely poly 141 boys and their Spanish-speaking latine partner.

This was meant to be a quick little thing, but boy did this get away from me lmao. This is the fluffiest shit I've ever indulged in and I love it. Big thank you to @mikichko for inspiring and helping with this!!!

CW: poly 141, gn!reader, latine reader, mexican slang, hint of d/s dynamics in Johnny's

Price, god love the man, is the one who seems to stumble the most. It's almost comical, considering the fact that Spanish and Arabic are so similar due to their histories. But there's a big difference between the Spanish he's learned to recognize and what you throw at him on the daily. He truly thinks it's because of his age, window of acquisition and all that. John does not expect to be able to speak fluently with you, but he does at least want to understand you. What he really wants, though, is to make you feel more fully at home with him, and he is forever grateful that you feel comfortable and safe enough with them to embrace all parts of your identity.

"Hola, amor mío. How was your day?" you greet him from the couch, eyeing him from tip to toe and almost whistling at seeing him in uniform. "Sigues rechulo, mi güerito, so I assume all went well?"

John swings down to kiss you, gripping the back of your neck to prolongue the kiss, trying to soak in as much of the affection as he can while also disguising the fact that he still doesn't fully recognize what came after.

"Yours was good too, I trust?"

"Yeah, but my brother called. El güey still con sus pinches mamadas and asking for my help. Aguas, in case he shows up this week."

"I... will keep an eye out, dove."

"Call me si les arma pedo and I'm not around."

He just nods sagely and squishes up against you on the couch, letting your warmth seep into his tired bones.

Later that evening, he rounds up the boys while you're in the shower and pulls out a small notebook where he's written things out phonetically. John may not have all the knowledge he needs, but he sure as hell is good at getting it.

"'Güey,' that's the brother's nickname?"

"No, that's like 'man/guy.' But it's also an insult. But not always," Johnny supplies.

"Fuck me, okay. 'Rechulo' is... I got nothing for that one."

"The 're' is for heavy emphasis, 'chulo' is 'cute/handsome/pretty.' 'Re' can go on practically any adjective," Simon steps in.

"'Aguas' and 'pedo' CANNOT be what they are, right?"

Kyle takes his hand and chuckles, "No, sweetheart. The first is like a warning, the second a fight or scene or scandal. In this context."

John's shoulders finally relax and he lets out a heavy sigh, putting the final touches on his notes of the day.

"Thank you, boys, for your patience and your kindness. And your secrecy," John huffs a little laughter and gives them his sweetest smile, the one where you can see the dimples poking out through the beard.

They all reach over to gently caress him, taking turns kissing the parts of him they can reach.

"Thank you, John, for trying so hard."

Beautiful, wonderful Kyle, the delight of a man that he is, is the one giving it as good as he gets. He's the one crooning in your ear, showering you with the most decadent terms of endearment, knowing full well they make your knees much weaker in Spanish. He'll use the advantage every single chance he has, don't doubt that for a second. But truly, it's the soft seclusion of those moments that he cherishes most, when you're looking up at him with big bright eyes, knowing you fully trust him to take care of you.

You're grumbling away as you wash dishes after dinner when Kyle comes up behind you, arms making the way slowly around your waist, chin dropping onto your shoulder.

"Oh, tesoro mío, look at you working away, working so hard for us."

You refuse to look at him and give a fussy pout. He knows it's your least favorite of the house duties. So much so that you're always willing to do almost anything as long as you don't have to touch wet food.

"It looks like you've done enough, cariño. Come join us in bed."

"No. None of you wanted to trade with me so se aguantan," you try to wiggle and bump his head away from yours.

"Come on, cosa hermosa, we need you with us to settle for the night," he pulls your hands from the water, drying them and turning you towards him.

You immediately bury your face into his chest. Can't look him in the eye, he'll win you over the moment you do.

"So they send in the smooth talker, huh?"

Kyle laughs, clear and bright, and he wraps you back up in his arms, gently cradling your head until you give in and look up at him.

"Or," he says, making you both rock gently, "I'm trying to sneak in a little solo time."

Your body melts against his as the words sink in, big eyes blinking softly up at him, "Besito?"

"As many as you want, mi vida. Until you grow bored of me," and you're letting out a sweet sigh as those soft lips meet yours.

His hands move to bring your body closer to his, to milk this quiet moment for as much contact as possible, to sear it all into his memory.

"You two are awfully quiet out there," Simon calls from the bedroom and it makes you break apart with a little jump.

You hear frantic rustling that has to be Johnny, "Hold on, what happened to doing the dishes!"

A chuckle escapes the two of you, sparkling eyes meeting in the low light from the stove hood. The sound of John huffing to get comfortable floats in from the bedroom.

"Just a minute more, hermosura," he mutters against your hair. "Wanna stay here a bit longer."

"Really liking all those pet names, aren't you?"

Kyle laughs again and gives you a squeeze, "Mean every single one of them."

And you happily linger, not pointing out that you've noticed an endearing pattern of Kyle wrapping up nights in the kitchen with you in his arms and a faint love song echoing down the hall for you two to sway to.

Beloved, darling Simon, he hides his own understanding of the language. He understands it nearly perfectly, with just the tiniest margin of error, nothing too big to bring attention to it. Overall, he's able to catch almost everything you mumble. It's not to be sneaky or anything like that, Simon would never do anything to compromise your privacy. It's more that he doesn't quite see the need to verbalize it. To him it's nothing special, no need to make a spectacle. Instead, he lets it seep into his actions, ever the acts of service lover that he is.

You're spread out on the couch, on the phone with your mother, complaining, "Como chingan los del trabajo. Me pidieron un reporte para el viernes y ahora me reclaman que todavía no se los he dado y apenas es miércoles."

There was a tension in your shoulders when you came home from work, he didn't miss that. Caught you jolting to a stop mid-stretch. And as the call goes on longer, Simon picks up on more.

"No he tenido chance de lavar ropa, ni una putisima pijama... Traigo un pinche antojo de mole, pero es un chingo de trabajo y ahorita no le puedo dedicar el tiempo..."

He quietly moves to gather the boys as you continue ranting and pace around the room. You're too caught up in your call to see them forming a massive huddle and their nodding at Simon right as the break and throw their joined hands in the air.

By the time you're off the phone, it's dark out and you notice the house is quieter than usual. You move to look for the boys (they can't have left without telling you, right?) when Simon pops out from the hall, crooked smile you love so much adorning his face, and he simply takes your hand to pull you into the bathroom. A hot bath greets you, some honeyed bath bomb already dissolving in the water and your laptop set up on a bucket besides the bath, your comfort show already pulled up and ready to play. Simon then points to your softest pajamas washed and set out on the counter for you.

"And you'll help me with my lotion too?"

He kisses your forehead, "When do I not?"

"The boys?"

"Setting up dinner. Kyle and I are making your favorite."

You whip around to face him, eyes wide and excited, "With fresh tortillas?"

With a low, affirmative hum Simon pulls you in closer and just holds you. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't need to. But he lends you his strength, which is all he can really hope for. The steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his arms around you help release the tightness in your body. Letting out your own little hum, you give him a squeeze and he squeezes back harder, crushing you in the way he knows you find comforting. There's a soft devotion in his tenderness with you, an unshakable support in every single thing you do.

"So you gonna undress me too, or...?"

A peal of laughter escapes you as he playfully swats at your butt, "Undress yourself. I've got cooking to do."

A day without hearing your laughter is a day poorly spent to Simon.

He's almost to the door when you pull him back into you, hands tugging on his shirt to bring him down to your height. His own laughter rumbles in his chest as you cover his face in loud kisses, and he stays locked in place. He will for as long as you need him to, never mind his back. If it's gonna go out eventually, he'd rather it go out from his time spent like this.

Johnny, bless the boy, is desperate to hear it, to have you address him directly. You speak plenty around the house, on phone calls with friends, talking back at the tv (some shows have been put on temporary bans, or at the very least you're not supposed to watch them alone), at the lovely crooked cat yall adopted. You shower them with pet names with every breath you take. And he loves it all! Loves that you so willingly share so much of yourself with them. But Johnny boy is dying for something specific- "Love, why don't you call me papi?"

When he voices it, it's a complete surprise. Simon and Kyle both laugh so hard so suddenly that they find themselves choking on their own spit. Price himself is caught so off-guard that he fully looks up from the dinner he's prepping in the kitchen, raw chicken slipping out of his hands and plopping back into the flour bowl. You at first laugh it off lightly, thinking it was one of his cutesy jokes he makes to get a giggle out of everyone. That would have made the most sense, honestly. But when he looks away, big blue eyes shining with the softest hint of embarrassment, it sinks in.

You shift in your seat a fraction, "Johnny, I don't even call any of you that in English. You know it's not exactly the same thing, right?"

"I know but the little old lady from the corner shop calls me "papi" and so does the older man who brings the water and other people too and it's always so affectionate and so I thought..."

He spares a glance at you, hoping he hasn't completely overstepped.

"Where did this come from?"

"Ale let it slip last time we grabbed coffee and the joy on Rudy's face was so blinding that I thought maybe we should try it."

"Honey--"

"Please, just once."

"But I--"

"It doesn't have to be a title! It can be soft and casual, no expectations."

"You don't--"

"I promise I'll be good for it."

Oh.

Your gaze meets the other boys' and you all take a good look at your Johnny. At some point during his pleading he brought himself down to kneel in front of you. His broad shoulders are slumped forward in submission, his hands clenched together so tightly his fingertips are completely white. Price nods at you, the other two eagerly nodding along as well.

Leaning forward, you grab him by the jaw, gently bringing his head to rest against your thigh.

Running your fingers through his hair, you utter out a low, "Sweet little thing like you just wants to be good, don't you papi?"

Johnny's eyes glaze over slightly, a shy, dazed smile growing on his face. There's not an ounce of hesitation in him as he nuzzles his face into your thigh, just sweet elation. Pleased grumbles escape the others, making Johnny's smile grow bigger.

You make sure to add it into your regular circulation.

#poly 141 #poly 141 x reader #poly 141 x latine reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mactavish #captain john price #ghost x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #price x reader #i cannot emphasize the poly of this enough #this is truly some of the most self indulgent shit i've ever written and i've never been happier lmao #honestly this is just precious moments with each of them #i'm definitely going to be writing more 141 x latine reader #prepare to be fucking sick of me #frfr tho this is the first long thing i've written in years and ngl it feels good to be doing it again #also yeah i tend to sprinkle in commas like they're condiments

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gardengirl222 · 1 day

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lene we need some 80s slasher JB!!!

ohh shure! he gives creepy summer camp counselor vibes - 80s!slasher!john b

₊ ⊹ warnings! 18+ - p in v, non con, blood, violence, death, threats, slapping, spitting, obsessed!john b - ₊˚⊹

you'd gotten the most perfect job for the summer as a camp counselor at a sleep-away summer camp. after meeting everyone at the orientation you've become close to another counselor who will be working with you, john b.

he was in charge of the boy's cabin and you the girls, and your groups would meet up for activities, bonfires, smores, and lunch. he'd honestly grown really attached to you since you were always doing things together, whenever he'd see you chatting with another guy he'd feel possessive and you weren't even dating! yet john b would also embarrassingly get hard watching you slide down your shorts, staring at how tight your bikini bottoms fit around your ass. he'd spend that night in his cabin jerking off, picturing your pretty body bouncing on top of him, wishing he could grab fistfuls of your ass. he'd finish in his fist all sweaty and out of breath.

you sat at your group's table in the mess hall facing john b's table, both of you making eye contact every few seconds.

when the dessert was ready, each table was called to go pick up their plate of cherry pie with vanilla ice cream. john b's eyes followed your figure as you walked up to the counter, waiting until all the little girls got their slices. one of the guys that was working inside the kitchen, clearly flirting with you, asks if you want some. you decline with a smile but the young man insists, saying he made it himself, he lifts up the fork with a piece of the warm pie and dripping ice cream to your lips. you indulge him by opening your mouth and closing it around the fork, swallowing the desert you widen your eyes and nod. "it's really good!" you smile, the guy's hand reaching out to swipe the little bit of ice cream that stayed on the edge of your lip.

watching this, john b was furious, letting that fucking feed you, touch your lips....

that night, the little girls knock on your cabin door, right next to theirs. they complain that they heard someone scream coming from the mess hall and are too scared to sleep. you tell them it's probably nothing and to go back to sleep, that you'll check it out.

the girls do as they're told and you walk over to the mess hall and walk inside the dark space to see what could have been the noise, hearing some sort of noise coming from inside the kitchen you figure it could be an animal that got inside, you press your ear to the swinging door honestly too scared to actually look inside.

the door then swings open, causing you to stumble back and meet eyes with john b, with blood on his shirt, hands, and on the knife in his hands. you stand there confused...'did he cut himself?' you think, then you see it, through the open door is the pie guy dead on the floor with his blood pooling around his body. john b's hand is quick to cover your mouth before you can scream, "shshsh, you don't need to do that bub, you're fine." he whispers, maintaining eye contact with you.

you nod your head slowly, chest heaving.

"i'm gonna let go now okay? need you to be quite f'me, can you do that?" he raises his eyebrows and you nod again, he takes his hand off our mouth. "m'gonna need to take your clothes off...got blood on them..." he tells you rather than asks you, he raises the knife and cuts your top up the middle.

"john b? what's going on..." you whisper, clearly scared.

"i can't wait anymore, you drive me crazy, i need to do this." he rambles while tugging off your shorts rather roughly.

"john b did you stab the kitchen b-" he cuts you off with a rough kiss to keep you quiet. he manhandles you over one of the tables and lifts you on top, facing him.

you whine as he brings the knife up to your face.

"don't scream, don't want to whole camp to hear you, n'i don't want to hurt you pup"

you nod, tears spilling down your cheeks as he cuts your panties to get access to your hot messy pussy.

"awww she's so pretty..." he coos, his big rough fingers slowly rubbing your clit, making you mewl.

"jombee...i don't wanna...you killed someone!" you shake your head, almost hyperventilating crying.

"hey, nuh uh, stop that." he pats your face to get you to listen to him. you watch as he pulls off his bloody shirt and unzips his shorts and pulls himself out, your eyes widening at the size. "he's not the only one i killed." he looks back into your eyes and you swear your heartbeat sped up and so did the pulsing of your cunt.

"you're a murderer johnbee," you whisper but then gasp when you feel him start to push in, stretching your pussy.

"i know, m'really mean, huh puppy?" he pouts mockingly and pinches one of your nipples making you squeal.

"don't like being mean to you, but when you walk around acting like an angel, when i know you're a little tease...kinda have'ta put you in your place," he grunts, pounding into hard now, you can see the little bulge in your tummy.

"i wasn't! i didn't mean to be! i didn't do anything!" you sob, one hand grabbing onto the table and the other hand gripping his bicep. blood sorta covering both of you from where he had touched you, he grabs your face with his hand and forces you to look at him.

"wish you could be my good girl right now n'just take. it." he thrusts harder with his last two words. you wish you could scream at how scared you are of him but also at how good it feels.

"open." he grunts, squeezing your jaw a little. you shake your head no as best you can, causing him to let go of your jaw and slap you, making your drooly cunt clench around him. "m'not asking again." he grabs your jaw again, and you open your mouth, and he spits into it making you whine in disgust. "swallow." you do as your told and swallow tears continuing to fall.

"that's how a dumb little doggy gets treated, they get spit on." he grins and pulls out of you, manhandles you off the table, and bends you over, tits and face pressed against the wood.

"nooo...no.." you drool onto the table.

he bends down a bit to be right in front of your ass and spits on your other tight little hole, watching as his spit drips down to your pussy. you squeeze your eyes shut at the feeling and sob a little louder.

he stands up straight again and reaches around to pat your sloppy little cunt now covered in his spit, and slides his cock back in.

"s-so gross..." you mewl, making him laugh quietly, bringing the back of his bloody hand up to your face.

"cum around me or i'll smear this on your face, you want that? hmm? some guy's blood on your face?" he threatens. "c'mon..." he bends down to press icky wet kisses to your cheek that instantly cum on on him, pulsing and squeezing him as your mind goes dumb. his big hand covering your mouth as you moan.

"there she is, good girl...yeaaah" he praises, thrusting into you more sloppily until he's pumping you full, flooding your poor little pussy.

after a few seconds, he pulls out and uses his tip to smear yours and his cum around your pussy lips.

"here." he hands you his bloody shirt for you to put on knowing it'll cover you enough to get back to your cabin decent, you pull his shirt over your head and make sure it covers your ass.

"we'll talk more tomorrow, okay sweetie? gotta go...clean that up." he tilts his head toward the body. "goodnight kiss?" he bits his lip, squinting his eyes, taunting you. you stand there lifting your head, he leans down to give you one last kiss on your lips, a string of saliva connecting your lips when he pulls away. ᥫ᭡

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pandoraslxna · 3 days

Note

Congrats on 10 K ,Luna!We're all so proud of you,thank you for contributing to our whole community😊🎀

As for your asks,could I request 📝? I was thinking Neteyam being submissive (because I just love how you write him, especially in Unwinding Together and on the Cockwarming prompt from Kinkmas,that always makes me crazyyyy😩)

Here's a cake to celebrate!!🎂 So proud of you!!!

-🦅

Thank you so much, pookie!! I hope you like it 🥹🩵

Neteyam x female human reader, minors dni 🔞

He has never seen a silk dress before, but great mother do you wear that little piece of tawtute [sky people] clothing well.

Neteyam closes his eyes and inhales shakily as you leave a red lipped kiss on his lips. The next time he opens them, it’s all darkness behind the fine woven cloth you’ve bound around his head, taking away his sight. Now your fingers are trailing down the exposed skin on his abs, lower and lower, before they suddenly stop and he lets out a whine. That earns him a mean little bite to his earlobe. It stings, but makes him quiet. The night has just begun, anyway.

The warmth of your mouth wandering from his ear to his throat makes him shudder, but he doesn't make a peep. He’s not ready for another bite... yet.

Five solid minutes of silence, safe for the sound of his heavy breathing as you kiss up and down his face, throat and collarbone, before Neteyam begins to hear something wet. By your following heady breaths, he realizes you must’ve started touching yourself, right in front of him. Silence falls again but is quickly broken when he feels your moist fingers against his bottom lip. "Taste", you tell him, and his tail whips against your mattress in excitement.

"You want more, hm?" You purr and he moans around your fingers, and that‘s all the approval you need.

Neteyam feels the silk of your thighs framing his head just before you push your wet cunt down harshly against his mouth. With one hand tangled in his braids, and one against the wall behind your bed to support your balance, you begin to ride him. His mouth sets to work immediately, tongue swirling around your clit, lips kissing and sucking wherever you guide him, and you let your head fall back as you enjoy the ride.

"Good- Fuck, N-Nete!" But then you push yourself away just as he's about to push you over the edge. The groan of protest earns him a tug to his tail, that has been trashing around right next to you this entire time. This time it’s enough to elicit a complain from his parted lips that you couldn’t quite understand.

"What was that?"

"Nothing", he mumbles, then hisses when you tug on his tail again, harder this time. A reminder of his manners. "Thank you, yawne. I'm sorry, yawne."

You reach behind yourself then, fingers slowly tracing the tip of his cock, dipping down to teasingly stroke the thick girth of his shaft. You can practically see him vibrating with the force of staying still, but you know he's strong enough to break the ropes around his wrists at any moment. He doesn’t, though. He just loves this game just as much as you, and he’s not ready for it to end yet.

"What do you want, Teyam? Do you want me to take you in my mouth, choking on you even while I deny you permission to come? Or does my filthy little pet want to get his dick wet, hm? Want me to ride you nice and slow, see how long it’ll take you to beg for it? What do you want? Speak." You command, squeezing especially hard around his base and he groans.

"I want... you, yawne." You giggle, oh so sweetly, as he stiffens in your hold. "Hmm, that's not an answer. Why don’t you show me, baby?"

The last thing you see before he rips those leather ropes to shreds and takes you, are his fangs poking out from under his slick covered lips as he grins at you. He’s strong, almost too strong and your heart races as he drills his cock into you in one fluid thrust. He still can’t see through that blindfold, but he has your knees over his shoulders and you sandwiched between him and the mattress.

"Take. It. Off." Though the pleasure coursing through your veins you finally figure out he’s talking about the blindfold. Pulling it down his face, you see the fire in his golden eyes a split second before his tongue is down your throat, probing and tasting as he fucks you hard enough to make you cry out. You cling to him, his cock brushing against your g-spot flawlessly as he slams into you like a jackhammer, all feral rage and passion. He bites down on your neck and you scream as your orgasm makes you tighten around him. He only follows after the final tremors of your orgasm have been forced out by his length.

When he finally stills, all cum successfully planted deep inside your core, he’s laying himself down on top of you, panting against your hair with his face buried against your throat.

"Did I please you, yawne?" He asks coyly, tail wagging behind his back in anticipation.

"God, yes," You respond in a hushed giggle, a little short of breath, "You did good. So good."

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wheels-of-despair · 1 day

Text

Heaven and Hell (Or: Eddie and Evil Woman Do… Prom?!) Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie and Evil Woman are *checks notes* going to prom? Like normies?! Contains: A high school prom, two nervous freaks, an ill-fitting wardrobe, an unfortunate zit, dancing, references to other E/EW fics nobody will remember, relentless teasing, a happy ending. Words: 4.5k

"Prom's next month."

You stop playing with Eddie's hair and look down at the head lying in your lap in surprise.

He keeps his eyes on the TV. A blush creeps into his cheeks. Is Eddie Munson seriously thinking about going to prom? You fight a smile and start working your fingers through his hair again.

"Yup… that's what they said on the morning announcements."

Silence. No way he's that interested in the orange juice commercial you've seen ten times today. Eddie Munson is thinking about prom, and he's in the process of chickening out.

"You ever been?" you ask.

"Nah," he says, eyes still on the TV. "You?"

"Nah."

He bites his lip. You can't take it anymore.

"You thinkin' about going?"

He shrugs.

If you were a more patient person, you could poke and prod at him until he finally asked you. However…

"Well, if you were planning on asking me, you're too late."

He finally looks up at you, confusion on his face.

"I've rekindled my romance with Chief Hopper."

A smile spreads across Eddie's face.

"I'm sorry, Eddie," you sigh. "What we had was fun, but you just don't have the stamina. Sometimes a girl just NEEDS full night of porking."

You both snort at the same time, which leads to a fit of giggles.

When you recover, you brush his bangs out of his face. He sighs.

"So, uh…" He licks his lips while he tries to find his words. "If the bacon falls through, would you maybe think about going with me?"

You open your mouth to respond, but he cuts you off. "Because it's kinda my last chance, and I know it's stupid, and it goes against everything I stand for, and it'll probably be miserable, and the music's gonna suck, and you probably have a way better idea of what we could do that night, but… ugh, never mind."

Eddie turns back toward the TV, shaking his head so some of his hair hides his burning face. You gently brush it back behind his ear, looking down at him with all the love in your heart.

"Eddie?"

"Hm."

"You're the only person I'd think about going to prom with."

"Really?" He looks up at you with an uneasy smile.

"Yeah," you answer, tracing the shell of his ear.

"We don't have to."

"I know," you smile. "I want to go with you." He smiles back sleepily. "But if I get Carrie'd, I can't promise I'll spare you."

"Kay," he chuckles.

"Mother?" you ask, hovering in the living room doorway.

"Daughter?" she responds from the couch, without looking up from her book.

You take a deep breath and stare at the floor.

"Ineedapromdress."

"What?"

You sigh and raise your head. "I need a prom dress."

Her book drops to her lap, revealing wide eyes behind her glasses.

"What did you just say to me?"

"I need a prom dress," you repeat with a roll of your eyes.

"Oh my god! I have a child who's voluntarily attending a school function!"

"What's up?" Gareth asks from behind you.

"They're going to the prom!"

You slowly turn and see him looking at you in amusement.

"Shut up," you order before he can even say anything.

"She's even gonna wear a dress!" your mother shrieks.

"Shut up," you repeat, glaring at Gareth's stupid smirky face. "Kay, I'm going to bed, open to shopping suggestions and financial contributions, good night."

You squeeze past him and make a mad dash for your room.

"They're all gonna laugh at you!" Gareth warbles in his best Piper Laurie impression.

"Shut up!" you repeat one last time, then slam your bedroom door.

"He's heeeere," Gareth announces as he passes by your bedroom door.

"You look perfect," your mom assures you.

She's been working on your makeup for fifteen minutes, and it's finally the way she wants it. And you have to admit… you look pretty damn good.

She'd taken you to the city for a day of shopping, and after several hours of hunting, you'd actually found a dress without puffed sleeves, ruffles, or tulle.

"Give me a minute, I want the camera on his face when he sees you," your mom says excitedly.

"Mother, it's a high school prom, it's not our wedding."

"Let me have this!" she whisper-yells. She grabs her camera and leaves the room.

You take one last look at yourself, stand, and slip on your shoes. Heels. You're even wearing fucking heels.

You walk down the hall and turn into the kitchen…

Eddie Munson is wearing a suit.

You'd offered to help him look for one, or find him something in the city, but he said he had it covered. And he did. He's even wearing a tie, and he's tamed his hair somehow. He looks freakishly presentable (for Eddie) and is holding what you imagine is a corsage in a box.

"Hi."

"Hey."

You stand there and stare at each other. Awkward. It's awkward.

"Eddie! Give her the corsage!" Your mom stage-whispers.

He tries to hold it out to you, but fumbles it and drops it on the floor. You both reach down to get it, and you hear a RIIIP tear through the kitchen. You both stand immediately, looking and feeling your outfits.

"Was that you or me?" you ask, trying to feel the back of your dress. You knew this fucker was too tight. But your question is answered when all the blood drains out of Eddie's panicked face.

"Let me see, honey," your mom says gently, putting a hand on his shoulder to turn him. The seam in the back of his jacket has ripped.

"Dude! You Hulked out on prom night," Gareth laughs from his seat at the kitchen table.

You give him a warning shush, and for once, he obeys.

"Slip that off, I'll have it as good as new in no time." Your mom helps Eddie out of his jacket and takes it in the direction of her sewing machine. You carefully retrieve the corsage from the floor and put it on the table.

"Uh… that's for you," he mumbles, the color returning to his face.

"Thank you," you smile, leaving the box closed until your mother can return and witness this sacred and not-at-all stupid prom ritual.

You turn to Eddie and lift a hand to run through his suspiciously tame hair.

"Don't look at it," Eddie mumbles.

"Don't look at what?" you ask.

"His third eye," Gareth supplies helpfully. That's when you notice the zit between his eyes. Eddie's face reddens so much that it almost blends in. Gareth snickers. You pick up a damp kitchen towel, ball it up, and throw it at him. It hits him in the ear.

"Don't you have some place to be?" you ask pointedly.

"Nope," he grins, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head. "Mom's taking me to Jeff's after you leave."

You roll your eyes, reach for Eddie's hand, and pull him to your bedroom.

"Sit," you instruct, pointing at your desk. He drops into the chair with a defeated sigh. You start digging through your extremely elegant shoebox full of makeup, then realize what you need. "I'll be right back," you whisper with a kiss to the top of his head.

You return with a cotton ball.

"What's that?"

"Wite-Out. My make-up's too dark for you," you joke.

Eddie's brow furrows, and you apply a dab of peroxide to his unfortunate growth. When it dries, you reach for the concealer.

"What are you doing?" he asks nervously.

"Covering that up."

He sits silently and watches you reach for this and that to cover his bump, and when you stand back and smile, he frowns.

"What's wrong?" you ask. "I can wipe it off if you want, I thought you wanted it gone."

"I feel like a clown," he grumbles.

"You are a clown."

He pouts. You point at the mirror, and he leans over to see his camouflage… and his jaw drops. You lean down until your head is next to his, so you can see what he sees.

"Witchcraft," he whispers.

"You know it, babe," you wink.

"One freshly tailored suit jacket for the young lad," your mom announces as she steps into the room. Eddie stands, and she helps him into it. She brushes her hand along the seam. "Good as new!" she declares. "But no break-dancing tonight." Eddie laughs.

After the official corsage and boutonniere exchange in the kitchen, you're marched into the living room for pictures. Each pose is goofier than the last, but you aren't allowed to leave until your mom finishes off a roll of film.

You both breathe a sigh of relief when the van doors slam shut.

"You still wanna do this, or do you wanna go get blazed and hide out at my place?" Eddie asks, probably about 40% joking.

"What time is it?" you ask. Eddie consults his watch and reads the time back to you. You pretend to consider it for a second, then shake your head. "Chief Hopper is expecting me in 15 minutes, and my little piggy does not like to be kept waiting."

Eddie snorts and starts the engine. Hawkins High Prom 1986 it is.

"Where'd you get your suit?" you ask a few minutes into the surprisingly awkward drive.

"George. The thrift shop guy. Told him I needed something prom-worthy. This was his grandson's. 'He's a lanky thing, just like you,' he said."

"It's nice," you admire.

"It's a little small, but… y'know." Eddie shrugs. "Price was right."

"Is it uncomfortable?"

"It's… a little tight," he admits.

"Baby, you don't have to wear stuff if it makes you uncomfortable."

"It's fine… as long as I don't have to move my arms much."

"Is it the shirt too, or just the jacket?"

"Mostly the jacket, the shirt's got some stretch to it."

"Ditch it."

"Ticket says jacket and tie required."

"Ditch it as soon as they let us in."

"This is why you're the brains of this operation," he mumbles as he pulls into a parking spot.

"Correct," you grin.

"Stay," Eddie orders, hopping down and scrambling around the front of the van to open your door. You're suddenly reminded of your first official date; he'd tried so hard to be someone else, but you didn't want someone else. You wanted Eddie Munson, and you wanted him just the way he was. You take his hand and slide to the ground, wincing as your heels hit the pavement.

"Is your battle armor in here?" you ask, nodding toward the back.

"Of course."

"Fetch."

Eddie smirks and walks toward the back, and you shut your door and follow him. He grabs his leather jacket and patch-filled vest, and hugs the pair to his chest.

You reach for them, and he hands them over. You separate the pair while he watches nervously, like you're separating conjoined twins that he personally gave birth to.

"Lose the child-sized suit jacket," you instruct. He tries, but gets stuck almost immediately. You muffle a laugh and step behind him to help him out of it, then slide his plain leather jacket on.

He looks more comfortable already. And considerably more Eddie-like. You go to transfer his boutonniere to his jacket pocket… but he doesn't have one. A bit of quick thinking and one rip later, his dumb little flower is attached with a strip of duct tape. You step back to admire him.

"There he is," you smile.

"Now he's gotta find his girl," Eddie says, "and then they can go do this damn prom thing."

You look down at your outfit and back at him, but he's already digging… through your overnight bag?

"Eddie, what--"

He cuts you off by slapping the soles of your favorite sneakers on the floor of his van.

"You've been wincing with every damn step since you walked into the kitchen. Lose the shoes."

You grin and sit down to swap your heels for sneakers. Sneakers that Eddie vandalized during a particularly boring assembly. It was one of the reasons why they were your favorites; the boy's a ballpoint artist. The other was--oh, that's nice. You stand comfortably and breathe a sigh of relief.

"You want a little liquid courage?" Eddie asks, shaking a bottle of liquor at you.

"Sure," you answer. You each take a swig in hopes of making your night a little more bearable. Eddie stashes the bottle in the van and slams the back doors shut.

"M'lady," he says, offering an arm. You take it, and walk toward the Hawkins High gym doors. Any time now, alcohol.

A cheerleader-in-training eyes you warily, but takes your tickets and lets you pass by her table into the gym… decked out in streamers and balloons. Wicked classy, Hawkins High.

"And you say I never take you anywhere nice," Eddie grins.

"I have literally, not once, ever said that."

Eddie laughs and takes your hand.

"Munson?!" a voice shrieks.

"Yeah?" he asks uneasily, turning to see Mrs. O'Donnell.

"What are you doing here?"

You look at each other, and back at her.

"Whatever people usually do at prom, I guess?"

"I'll have no shenanigans from you tonight, Munson."

"Wouldn't dream of it, O'Donnell."

"Don't even think about going near that punch bowl," she warns.

"Why, what's in the punch bowl?" he asks. You try to keep a straight face.

"Just punch, and that's the way it's going to stay. Isn't that right, Mr. Munson?"

"Yes, ma'am," he says innocently.

Mrs. O'Donnell looks you both up and down, sucks her teeth in disapproval, and walks away without another word.

"Like I'd waste good liquor on these ungrateful assholes," he mumbles. "Do have an emergency flask in my pocket, by the way."

"Aww, and I thought you were just happy to see me."

"That's in the other pocket," he winks.

"C'mon," you laugh, pulling him to the other side of the gym. Once you're in a quiet spot, you scan the room for familiar faces. You knew you were pretty much on your own - all of the other Hellfire boys were having a movie marathon and sleepover at Jeff's - but you thought you'd look for potential allies anyway.

"There's Nancy Wheeler," you notice.

"And the Elder Byers," Eddie points out.

"I think we're on our own, babe."

"Just how I like it," he grins.

"You gonna dance with me, or just stand here lookin' pretty all night?" you ask.

Eddie responds by flipping his hair over his shoulder dramatically.

"C'mon," you smile, nodding toward the dance floor. He balks.

"This song sucks."

"Every song's gonna suck," you remind him.

"This one sucks more than average."

"Then how 'bout we visit the snack table and lay a curse on the punch while we wait for something that sucks slightly less?"

"This way, m'lady," he says nerdily, holding out his arm. You roll your eyes and take it anyway, working together to assemble a plate full of cheap snacks and two cups of unspiked punch. You retreat to the bleachers and pick at your bounty.

"So… this is a high school dance," he remarks.

"Yup… imagine, some people's entire high school careers revolve around this thing."

"I'd kinda rather be at home," he confesses.

"In our pajamas," you add.

"Watching shitty movies," he continues.

"Eating shittier pizza."

"Maybe fooling around a little?" He waggles his eyebrows and tilts his head toward the door.

"We went through a lot of trouble to get here, Edward. I went shopping. With my mother. You put on a suit. And a tie. And grew a stress zit."

"Shut up," he grumbles, hand instinctively touching the bump between his eyes. You lean in to kiss his cheek.

"Let's give it an hour. You've gotta dance with me at least once."

"Fine," he pouts. You feed him crackers, and he starts to relax a little.

When the opening chords of "Footloose" blare through the speakers, Eddie cringes. The people on the dance floor go wild.

"C'mon," you order, standing up and reaching for his hand.

"No."

"Yes."

"Absolutely not."

"Eddie Munson, you get your spastic ass on this dance floor with your dumb-ass classmates right now."

He whines, and looks… nervous? You sit back down, face full of concern. He scans the crowd, and you look too. Eyes keep darting to you. Not outright staring. Just keeping an eye on you. Like your whereabouts are a matter of public safety. You've been so focused on Eddie, you haven't bothered to pay attention to everyone else.

"It's just…" he starts, and then stops.

"Eddie?" you ask quietly, turning your head back to him. "This is our prom, too." You slide a little closer to him and hold his hand. "And I'm glad I'm here with you."

Eddie leans his forehead against yours and squeezes your hand.

"You think they're upset that we had the nerve to show up?" you smirk.

"Probably ruined their whole night," he grins. "Dear Diary, the freaks crashed prom."

"And ate all the fucking snacks," you laugh.

A flash makes you both jump.

"Sorry," Jonathan Byers smiles apologetically from behind his camera. "You guys were being cute, and Nancy demanded a photo for the yearbook."

"It's cool, man," Eddie grins. "Can we get a copy of that?"

"Sure," Jonathan nods. "They hired a professional photographer for portraits, by the way. Over in the corner. It's included in the ticket price."

"Cool," Eddie says.

"Anddd Nancy's waving me back," Jonathan groans. "You guys have fun tonight. At least some of the freaks should."

You and Eddie both chuckle as Jonathan goes back to Nancy for his next assignment, hearts in his eyes completely undermining his complaints.

"Well…" Eddie puffs his cheeks and blows out a breath of air. He's experienced all that prom has to offer, and is clearly not impressed.

"One picture, one dance, and we're the fuck outta here," you propose.

"Deal," he agrees.

You walk, hand-in-hand, over to the photographer's corner and get in line behind three other couples. Well, two. Kimmy Little sees you standing in line behind her, and drags her date off in the other direction. You and Eddie share a knowing look, but say nothing.

When the time comes, the photographer instructs you to assume the traditional prom photo position, and you do. You let Eddie hold you around the waist and smile like a total fucking jackass for several seconds while you wait for the flash. You and Eddie stumble away with spotty vision and hands tightly clasped. He's your lifeline, and you're not letting him go.

When your vision returns, you look from the bleachers to the exit. Is it really worth walking all the way back over there to sit and be bored, when you could just leave and have this lame night be over with?

Cyndi Lauper's "Time After Time" starts playing through the gym's shitty speakers, and you smile. You're a sucker for this one. Eddie looks at you with dread. He knows what's coming.

Silently, you slip backward into the crowd and pull him with you. He doesn't protest this time. He follows, eyes not leaving yours. The crowd must have parted for you. Perhaps there are advantages to loving the resident freak. You stand close and put his hands where they belong, and then yours. You stare into Eddie Munson's eyes and sway slowly to a song he tolerates, only for you.

You're glad you came. You're glad you're with him. You're glad this is the song you got to dance to. You're glad he made you swap your heels for sneakers.

But mostly, you're glad when the song is over, because you come together for a quick kiss and make a mad dash toward the exit.

"You son of a bitch," Eddie growls, trying to force his suit onto a hanger.

"Leave it, gremlin, I'll do it."

"Thank you," Eddie grins, throwing his suit on the bed and kissing your freshly scrubbed cheek. You'd washed off all your makeup and hair products together, had a little fun in the shower, put on pajamas, and smoked a joint to wind down. You were thrilled to look and feel like yourselves again. "I'm gonna go pop a pizza in the oven. Put something good on, I need to cleanse my poor ears of the top 40 garbage they were subjected to tonight."

"Yes, dear," you deadpan, hanging up your dress as he exits the room.

"Music!" he whines from the hallway.

"FINE!" you yell back. You pop in the first mix tape you find and turn up the volume. You force Eddie's suit on a hanger, put the formal-wear in the hall closet, and join him in the kitchen.

He's sitting on the counter, watching the clock and drinking directly out of a nearly empty two-liter pop bottle.

"You really know how to treat a girl," you smirk.

He burps in response.

You feel like you should roll your eyes or pretend to be annoyed, but you're so in love with this fucker, you find every dumb thing he does to be charming. You lean on the counter next to him, and he hands you the bottle. You take a swig, then pretend it's a microphone.

"I'm here with Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin, who has just been to his first and last school dance! Tell us, Eddie, how was the Hawkins High prom?" you ask, placing the open bottle by his mouth.

"Sucked dick, thanks for asking!"

"It did not suck dick!" you protest, slamming the bottle on the counter with a slosh.

"It sucked some pretty major dick," he argues.

"You got to spend time with the woman you love! In a formal setting! She wore a damn dress for you!"

"I like her better in pajamas."

"Only because I'm not wearing a bra," you scoff.

"Well… I mean, yeah," he says, hopping off the counter and taking your hands in his. "Don't get me wrong, the dress was great. Have deposited the cleavage situation in the spank bank, so thanks for that. But this is just… better. 'Cause this is us."

When you're right, you're right.

The opening chords of Black Sabbath's "Heaven and Hell" play through Eddie's bedroom speakers, and a wave of appreciation for where you are and who you're with washes over you.

"No bowtie-wearing jocks or frilly little bitches staring at us," you smile, sliding your hands to his shoulders and pulling him close.

"No restrictive clothing," he smirks, letting his eyes linger on your chest as he settles his hands on your waist.

"Eyes are up here, Munson," you remind him as you begin to sway subtly.

He looks up and grins. "Those are pretty okay, too, I guess."

You smack him in the chest, and he laughs.. and then his face falls.

"You tricked me," he accuses.

"How did I trick you?"

"This is our second dance!"

"Yes, but its to our music, so it's counteracting the pop-adjacent one at the actual dance."

"Ugh, fine," he pretends to cave with a roll of his eyes.

You keep dancing until the song starts to pick up, and Eddie looks at you with his eyes full of mischief. He starts moving just a little faster from side to side, swaying with the music as it builds. Before you know it, those spastic moves you tried to coax out of him at prom were coming out in his kitchen. You would have been perfectly satisfied to just watch him dance like a dweeb, but he grabs both of your hands and forces you to join him. You do so happily.

You dance, you spin, and you laugh together in the Munson's kitchen to a mixtape of Eddie's own making. It's the most fun you've had in weeks. Why did you spend so long stressing over prom? Prom was nothing. Prom was a bunch of rich kids in tacky, overpriced clothes that you'd be laughing at in twenty years. This is real. This is what you should be living for.

When the song begins to wind down, you and Eddie are nearly out of breath from all the head-banging and jumping around. The slow dancing resumes without complaint.

"I think this is the Heaven part," you observe.

"Huh?"

"Heaven and Hell," you say, looking up into his beautiful red face. His bangs are stuck to his sweaty forehead. His zit has lessened in intensity after a post-shower application of peroxide. His eyes are big and round and curious. This boy is perfect, and he's all yours. "Prom was Hell. Other people are Hell. This, right here? Me and you? This is the Heaven part."

Eddie's eyes crinkle as he smiles. He pulls you in close and crushes you in a hug. You squeeze him back and breathe in the calming, familiar scent of him. You love this boy more than anything.

"I love you," you mumble into his shoulder.

"I love you too," he responds. "Even if you did make me go to prom."

"This was your idea, fool," you laugh, giving him a backwards shove.

"Not how I remember it," he grins. He laces his fingers and holds them under his chin, bats his eyelashes, and continues in a high-pitched voice that sounds nothing like you: "'Oh Eddie my love, please, won't you take me to prom? It would be the highlight of my life!' Pretty sure you begged. Groveled, even."

"You are insufferable," you laugh, pushing him away from you.

"You're the one who made me go to prom!"

"You know, Munson, according to the pamphlets that everyone's been throwing at me all week, most teenagers have sex on prom night. But I think you're gonna have to get your ass kicked instead. C'mere."

"No!" he yelps, backing into a corner. "Please! I have children!"

"We don't have to share our pizza with them, do we?" you laugh, too lazy to engage in a play-fight with him.

"Pfft. No." He relaxes. "I wouldn't even share with you if I didn't have to."

Your jaw drops.

"I'm kidding!" he insists, coming forward to envelop you in a hug. You go rigid and refuse to hug him back. "I'm kidding. You know I'd save my last Fudge Round for you."

"Oh, really?" you smile, looking up at him.

"Eh… Nutty Buddy, maybe?" He screws up his face in concentration. "Nah. Oatmeal Creme Pie?"

"You are unbelievable," you scoff with a shake of your head.

"You love me anyway."

"Yeah, I guess," you sigh in defeat. "But please don't tell Chief Hopper. It would break his heart."

"Oh my God," Eddie groans, pushing you away and rolling his eyes toward the ceiling.

You cackle, and the oven timer dings.

This is definitely Heaven, but you've still gotta give him a little Hell.

#writings of despair #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x evil woman

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golden1u5t · 2 days

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wait your turn | a.r x s.r x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: anonymous

ꨄ genre: smut

ꨄ summary: having two partners is great and very fun until you're stuck on the sidelines while they have all the fun.

it was a little after 7pm when you were getting home from work and usually you'd be greeted by aaron and spencer on the days they weren't on a case. your eyebrows furrowed as you set your bag down on the kitchen table and pulled out your phone, you hadn't gotten any messages from either of them saying they got pulled away to a case and plus, you could hear the tv playing from in the living room.

brushing it off, you set your phone down on the counter and headed down the hall to your bedroom. though, as you got closer to the door you could start to hear small grunts and groans coming from the other side of the door. as soon as you walked in aarons head snapped up, though a small smirk played on his lips once you locked eyes.

"hi, honey. how was work?" he asked as if he wasn't fucking spencer into the mattress. you couldn't ignore it though, your eyes were trained on the way spencer was trying to jerk himself off in time with aarons thrust but he couldn't keep up and you felt a pang of jealousy shoot through you because that was usually your job, you usually laid under him and stroked his cock or you laid under him with his cock nestled deep in your cunt while aaron fucked him.

choosing to ignore him, you quickly started to pull your clothes off until you were only in your panties. you made your way to the bed and kneeled beside aaron, cupping his face and turning his head so that you could kiss him. after being satisfied with kissing him you pulled your panties off and tossed them somewhere across the room so that you could situate yourself under spencer and pull him into a searing kiss.

you swallowed all of his whines and whimpers until he pulled away to rest his head against your chest. the second you wrapped your legs around spencers waist, aaron swatted your legs away.

"wait your turn, love.” aaron knew exactly what you were going to do if he hadn't stopped you and he could've let you but he wanted to see you squirm and pout. "he's all yours once i'm done."

"that's not fair." now it was your turn to let out a whine but still, you laid back against the pillows and waited for your turn. it wasn't often one of you had to sit on the sidelines while the other two got to do something, you all liked to be together and as close as you can get to each other.

when you were put on the sidelines you like how you could clearly see how they treated each other during intimate moments like this, not just taking turns making sure you felt the most pleasure the entire time.

"fuck- fuck- fuck-" aaron hissed out as he quickly pulled out of spencer, his head falling back as he quickly stroked his cock over him until he was cumming all over his backside. spencer let out a soft whine as his own orgasm died down. you watched how hard his chest rose and fell until he came back down, he moved from behind spencer and sat at the edge of the bed to fully regain himself.

"you think you can fuck me now or do you need some time, baby?" you asked spencer, pressing your lips to the side of his head. he lifted himself up on shaky arms to look at you, you reached up and pushed away the hairs that were stuck against his skin.

"yes, please. i wanna feel you." he nodded his head quickly but waited until you gave him the go ahead, you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him into you. spencer took ahold of his cock and guided through your slick a few times-even though you both were wet enough-before lining up with your entrance and slowly pushing into your warmth.

the gasp that came from both of you blended together perfectly as he bottomed out. spencer's ducked down and he tucked his head into the crook of your neck while your hand went straight into his hair. he took a moment to calm himself down before he started to pull his hips back and fuck into you, he didn't want to cum so fast but then again he hardly didn't get a break from when aaron was in him to being in you.

spencer lifted his head up and crashed his lips into yours, the kiss was sloppy and urgent but that made it all the more better. while you two were caught up in each other, you hadn't even noticed that aaron wasn't in the room anymore. spencer lifted himself up and tucked his hands under your thighs so he could pull your legs over his shoulders.

as spencer leaned back over you his cock slid deeper into your walls. you eyes practically rolled back in your head as the tip of his cock started to repeatedly stamp your spot. "right there, spence. fuck- just like that, good boy."

a soft cry left his lips at the praise and at the feeling of your walls clenching down on his cock, almost pushing him out. soon enough, you were moaning out his name as your release rushed through you and he was pulling out to cum over your pussy.

despite the sticky mess he made, spencer let your legs fall back down onto the bed and he fully laid himself on top of you. you both laid there with your eyes closed until aaron came back with warm cloths to clean you both up.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #aaron hotchner x spencer reid #aaron hotchner x spencer reid x fem!reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #x reader #spencer reid x y/n #aaron hotch smut #spencerreid smut

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remindingpersephone · 2 days

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Here we go again

Hi gang. I'm back on my Chris-Get's-Healthy kick, again. I know I've talked about this and asked for your help in the past. I am once again attempting to quit sugar and work out more.

If you have offered me advice in the past and are tired of my requests, yet again, for advice and ideas, I understand. I get it. Believe me, no one is more tired of my bullshit and my inability to stick to a regimen and make the healthy choices than I am.

This last time I was derailed by my mom's illness and death. I just did not have the mental space or physical energy to commit to disciplined nutritional choices and consistent work outs while taking care of her. But the reasons don't really matter because there were excuses before this one, and on and on. I have been starting and giving up on, healthy living routines since I was 18 years old. Let's do the math, that's 30 years!

A little background: I am not a yo-yo dieter. I very slowly put on weight starting with my first desk job at 20 and never dropped it. The weight has never bothered me. I am a confident woman who has never needed to fit into a six 6. I am also single by choice and nothing in the last 30 years has given me a reason to change my mind about this.

This situation now is that I'm looking hard at 50 and the little aches and pains: the trick knee, the occasional sciatica, the feet that get a little too sore too soon, are, I feel, all red flags signaling that hitting snooze on my health is no longer an option.

I truly believe that fitness and nutritional eating are not only the key to staying fit and active, but I think if I just commit and get through those first few tough months, I would actually like it.

Lately I've been drinking my Dr. Pepper and eating my high-calorie cheesy pasta and lots of sourdough bread (all my favorites), but they just haven't been as satisfying as they once were. [Sidebar: I realize some of this could be residual depression and grief making life just not as wonderful as it once was. That will take time.]

Mostly, I'm just tired of giving the "I have got to get my health in order" thoughts the mental real estate in my brain. I need to deal with it so I can move on from it. So it is not such big part of my daily thoughts.

My long-winded and self-indulgent post here is just to ask once again - and I swear for the last time - what do you all find works for you as far as fitness and nutrition goes? My fitness goals are:

to get stronger and improve flexibility and mobility while protecting the joints and ligaments

staving off osteoporosis

alleviating some peri-menopause symptoms

My nutrition goals are:

to kick the sugar addiction once and for all and change my palate so I don't crave sweet things so much

prevent diabetes/heart disease, etc. before they start

improving gut health

I welcome all comments and advice, and that includes the tough-love "girl, you have got to get your shit together!"

#fitness and nutrition #here we fucking go again

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thiniceofeternalyouth · 1 day

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MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER ELEVEN

A RUNAWAY AND A DEADMAN

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology.

Words count: ~14k

⊲ previous

Under the concentrated puffing on the left, you tried to chop the chocolate bar as small as possible. Over the past couple of hours, you and Megumi have identified a not perfect, but decent recipe for chocolate muffins through trial and error. The boy slowly and methodically stirred the resulting dough with a whisk, trying to get rid of any lumps. When you reached for the bowl to taste the mixture for sugar, you received a resounding slap on the hand. You rolled your eyes and continued chopping the chocolate, trying to turn it to dust.

"Maybe we shouldn't be doing this," muttered Megumi absentmindedly, watching the batter drip off the whisk.

You had to strain your ears to hear what he was mumbling to himself. "What if ya add more flour?" you asked uncertainly, looking at the too-liquid consistency.

"I'm not talking about muffins," Megumi snapped. A chill immediately spread down his back, making the boy shiver – it was all the fault of the sharp sound of a knife sticking into a cutting board. With a sideways glance, Megumi caught sight of you leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over your chest and staring at him. "Sorry."

"If it's not the muffins, then what is it?" you asked, peering into the profile of the frowning face.

"I...," he began, hesitating. "I'm not sure if we should put up with her anymore."

"Has your love gone away, too?"

Megumi looked up sharply, and you could see the anxiety spreading across his young face. "Has it gone away for her?"

"How would I know?" you shrugged dryly. "Ya both sitting silently in your corners and ya seem to be hoping that it'll work itself out there somehow," Megumi took a whisk out of the bowl and pointed a finger at it meaningfully. You chuckled quietly. "Dany always loved chocolate muffins. Kudos for volunteering," you jokingly gave a bow of your head. "Still, that doesn't explain your hesitation."

"Well...," the boy started stirring the dough slowly again as if it was a ritual that brought tranquility. "It's just... Does it make sense?" asked Megumi weakly, and you only hummed thoughtfully. "In the end, it doesn't matter how many friends and loved ones we have. We die alone anyway," the fridge started humming twice as loud, except it was a distortion of Megumi's hearing. He could even hear his own heartbeat, annoying and fast, all from you being silent. He coughed and glimpsed at you, making sure you were still standing next to him. "You don't think so?"

"To be honest, I, uh... I hadn't thought about that at all," you chuckled nervously. "I'm still a little confused... Ya mean that when ya die ya'll have no one around ya, or vice versa, that despite being surrounded by loving people, ya'll go into oblivion alone?"

"Is there a difference?" he asked warily, almost fearfully.

"Yeah, ya right, I guess. There's not much difference," you sighed, scratching your forehead. "Look, Megumi, if ya wanna live your whole life in some small house in the middle of nowhere alone that's fine. If ya wanna live your life surrounded by a bunch of friends that's fine. If ya wanna live your life with only one person that's fine too, but it's all okay only as long as it's your personal choice.

"Fear rarely leaves a choice," Megumi doubted quietly, dumping your previously chopped chocolate off the board into a bowl.

"That's what I'm telling ya," you said, grabbing the cutting board and putting it in the sink. "Ya'll probably have a brick fall on your head tomorrow, and ya'll be lying in a dark alley all dead and alone," even though the sound of water running and a washcloth rubbing against wood was beginning to echo through the kitchen, Megumi could hear you clearly. "Scared to go outside now?" slyly glancing at the boy and seeing him shake his head in the negative, you smirked contentedly. "Ya can be afraid, but don't let something so ephemeral stop ya from living your life the way ya want to. It'll be fun if at the very end all ya have time to think about is how stupid ya were, not that ya're alone. If ya make it at all, of course," you scrubbed the board clean, but Megumi remained silent. Your patience was wearing thin. You needed either confirmation or persuasion. "So," you chuckled snidely. "What are we deciding? No, no, wait, don't say anything!" you turned to him and waved your hands, stopping him. "Ya better do. I'm offering you a choice - either ya keep making muffins or ya can go cry in your room. I'll understand either way."

Megumi gave you a glare that glinted angrily in the light of the kitchen garland. "You remind me of someone," he hissed, and continued kneading the chocolate into the dough with double zeal.

You watched his eagerness with satisfaction. "That's what I thought. Okay, philosophical musings are all well and good, but let's have a little talk about training and a plan of action," Megumi glowed when you said that. As much as he could, but you hadn't even noticed the change. "I think it's time for ya to learn regeneration."

"Wouldn't it be better to start with rel-"

He didn't get a chance to speak, for you pressed your palm sharply against his mouth. "Nah-uh," you said slowly, shaking your head and looking into his rounded eyes. You didn't immediately realize that you were clutching his shoulder tightly with your other hand. "Ugh," you exhaled, pulling your hands away from him. "For now, forget that word, do ya understand?" you made a grabbing motion with your palm as if taking the word from his vocabulary. Megumi, pressing his lips tightly together for a second, nodded. "Ya'll be relocate with me anyway, so that's not really important at first times, but the thing that will save your life more than once is running and regeneration. But mostly running, of course," you pointed out.

"I'm used to standing to the last man," Megumi objected sullenly.

"Ya'll wean," you chirped carelessly. "We're not known for heroics."

"And what the hell do I need this training for then?" blurted Megumi in the way he usually did - though his appearance remained calm, steel rang in his voice. "To run away like a coward?"

"So ya won't die," you parried. "How many people will ya save by being in the grave?"

"Will I save many by running away?" he persisted.

"At least ya'll stay alive and learn your lesson," you reasoned, spreading your arms out to the sides. "And if ya learn it right, ya'll be stronger."

"At the cost of the lives of the people I left behind?" Megumi continued to snarl.

"Exactly," you snapped, and Megumi bit his lip without expecting it himself. He was used to you and your perpetually calm and cheerful tone, and the way it shifted at the snap made the hairs on the back of his neck stir. "Ya volunteered, and now ya're my apprentice. I don't care if ya want it or not, but you will obey me now," you spoke coldly and distinctly. Relaxing your clenched fists, you looked at Megumi. His body was still the same size, but it looked like he was shrinking. Taking a mug from the shelf, you started brewing coffee. "The rest of the voidrunners will start evacuating in a couple weeks, we will join them a little later," you announced, softening your tone. "Ya want coffee?"

"Tea."

"Okay," you said, pulling out a second mug.

Megumi didn't give up trying to protest. "I can start along with them-"

"Ya can't," you replied dryly. "Ya'll only go on raids with me."

"Do you distrust others that much?" the boy asked, raising his eyebrows skeptically.

You shrugged idly. "It just makes me feel better."

"Isn't it the same thing?"

Letting his words pass your ears, you continued your admonition. "When we're in the void, just drop the bags of supplies and run to the nearest rift. If anything goes wrong and we get separated, don't trust anyone, don't look at anyone, don't talk to anyone," you sighed restlessly, pouring coffee into one mug and putting a tea bag in the other. "Ya'll never guess who's standing in front of ya there," you added quietly.

"Don't you...," Megumi's voice came up, hesitating. "Don't you know how to tell the difference?"

You, with a fussy chuckle, began pouring boiling water into cups. "No, none of the hunters have built-in internal radar, only experience. And experience, as it goes, comes with the years."

"Too long," grumbled Megumi gloomily. "We don't have that much time."

You set the mug of freshly brewed tea next to him. "Ya wanted it all at once?" you teased him, smiling. "Ya gotta pay tribute to dioreacts. They've spent thousands of years learning how to act like humans. They learned not only how to stir tea or blink, but how to perceive our world in general," you circled the space with your hands for extra convincing. "The first dioreact didn't know that all the electromagnetic waves around them were just color to humans because that's exactly our interpretation of electromagnetic waves, and there is no color anywhere in the universe outside of the human brain. Perhaps the dioreacts even now don't know what color is, but just... Uh, I dunno, adjusted? Maybe they can see wavelengths and have memorized that that wave over there is green and that one over there is grayish brown. Hunters used to catch them at it a lot, but the more time the dioreacts spend among us, the more they learn about our perception."

"What else?" inquired Megumi impatiently. Your hand with the cup of coffee froze at your lips, and you stared at the boy warily. "Forewarned is forearmed, no?" he quipped.

You tapped your fingernail on the cup thoughtfully. "Frank used to tell me that hunters used to catch dioreacts at the 'where ya from?' question. The poor things would just freeze in place with their mouths open, unable to say anything. Probably because humans don't have a single word to describe their homelands because we can't have that knowledge," you sighed sadly without realizing it. "Now the dioreacts have learned, and if you ask, they'll tell ya about all the places on Earth they've been, and they'll tell you their family tree too. I'm exaggerating," you added, noticing Megumi squinting at you incredulously. "But ya," you pointed a finger at the boy. "Don't ya dare pry into anyone in the void with questions. If it's a demon, it'll know right away what ya're up to, so it'll either run away immediately or kill ya," you slid an assessing glance at the boy. "In your case, it's more likely the latter. No offense."

You nonchalantly continued sipping your coffee, hoping it didn't hurt him too much. It didn't occur to you that Megumi had gone through similar words and phrases many times before and he hardly paid attention to yours. Why did it seem to him right now that a previously unsuccessfully nurtured stimulus was faintly stirring inside him, though? "Y/N?" hesitantly Megumi turned to you.

"Hmm?" you hummed detachedly.

"Is Gojo okay with that? Well, that you're training me."

"Yeah," you sighed, setting the empty mug back in the sink. "He grumbled a little, though... But he couldn't just throw ya into the basement with chains with a shout 'I won't let anyone have you'."

"Well, actually he could," Megumi muttered, wrinkling his nose squeamishly.

"But he didn't," you quipped.

"Yeah, he didn't," the boy agreed with you. "Thank you for that."

"I had nothing to do with it."

"That's what you think," the unfamiliar slyness in his voice sent shivers down your spine. "I talked to others, so... You know, we've decided that if we ever move out, you can keep him."

"Thanks," you snickered, and Megumi was already grinning openly. "Go ahead and make the muffins. When ya're done, I'll go over to Dany's and then we'll practice tonight."

Megumi turned sharply toward you. "What?" he blurted out grumpily. "What do you mean 'I'll go over to Dany's'? What about me? Is this some kinda joke to you?" glaring angrily at you, he pointed at his clothes that were almost completely covered in chocolate mixture.

"Ya're not much of a diplomat," you teased, making a face at him. "I gotta feeling her out first, and then ya can talk without me. Now let's get to work," you nodded toward the bowl of dough.

You stood under the boy's angry gaze for a few more seconds before he went back to making muffins in silence. It was a good thing Megumi was silent, because if he'd said a word, the laughter you were carefully suppressing would have burst out.

It was a cute yet funny picture of Danielle weeding in the afternoon sun. The girl kept straightening the straw hat that had fallen off her head with her hands smeared in the ground – almost the same color as her bright sparkling hair.

You stood outside the backyard entrance, hesitant to open the wooden gate. Your hand clutched the package of homemade muffins - small but tasty - tighter to your chest, and the thought slipped into your head that if this treat won't help you, nothing would.

You opened the wicket with a deep breath, and Danielle reacted instantly, raising her head. Her hat flew off her head, and the girl, trying to steady it once again, stiffened in surprise. The hoe Dany was holding in her other hand fell to the ground along with the hat.

"Hey there, bun," you said, waving awkwardly at Danielle. "Before ya chase me away, I brought something in my defense," you informed jokingly, covering yourself with the treat package.

Maybe it was the physical exertion, but you wanted to believe that she did feel better. You wanted to squeeze her ruddy cheeks because in addition to the flushed red color, they had gotten a little chubbier. "Hey," you missed that kind tone and the way she was striding toward you to meet you. "I hope it's something edible," she whimpered, wrapping her arms around your shoulders.

Relief spread through your body as Danielle held out her arms to you. You gladly hugged her in return. "Like I don't know ya," you whispered into her hair and heard a soft giggle. "Let's sit down," you suggested and pulled Dany by the arm toward the garden bench that stood neatly against the wall of the house. Barely dragging her feet, Danielle made her way over to the bench, leaning her limp body against the wall. You sat down next to her and put the package on her lap, but she didn't move, half lying there with her eyelids closed. "Frank forced ya into?" you asked sympathetically.

"Yeah," Dany exhaled exhaustedly. "But there's an upside to it!" she braved it cheekily, as much as her strength allowed. "While ya're doing all this shit, all ya can think about is that ya can't wait for it to be over," Danielle said before she could finish - a laugh forming on her lips, and you chuckled in unison with her tired but still gleeful laughter as you admired her.

"He forced me too until I was about twelve," you smirked.

"How did ya get to escape this plantation?" inquired Danielle enviously.

"I rioted," you said belligerently, and the two of you giggled again. "I ripped up everything that was growing in the beds and stomped on it. Frank was so mad," you said, sucking in air through your teeth.

"How did ya even stay alive?" worried Danielle.

"Shaya saved me," you said, getting nostalgic. "She hid me behind her while Frank threatened to whip me."

"And Shaya didn't do anything to ya?" asked Dany incredulously.

"Nope," you shook your head. "She took me to my room, and when I asked what she was gonna do to me, she said I'd already punished myself," you exhaled convulsively, wrapping your arms around yourself. "I spent the whole night agonizing and thinking about her words, trying to figure out what she meant. I didn't realize until this morning. I was the one sowing and weeding those damn beds," Dany opened her eyes slightly. She was watching you from under half-open eyelids - at the way your gaze roamed the garden across from you. The girl rarely heard the longing in your voice, and every such moment returned with an unaccustomedness in her heart that made it beat faster. "I want ya come back home with me," you asked quietly.

"I want it, too," Danielle muttered in embarrassment, closing her eyes again.

Her desire was reflected in your phone. Not a single call, not a single message. "Why don't I keep ya as a garden slave for a couple more weeks?" you blurted out indignantly. "It gives ya a zeal, I see."

With eyes already wide open, Dany jumped up. The box nearly flew off her lap. "No!" she begged, looking up at you and clutching the package back to her.

"If ya want something, you have to say it," you muttered indignantly. "Ya'd better open it," you said, nodding toward the box. "Ya were hungry, weren't ya?"

With a hesitant nod, Danielle slowly unwrapped the package. She didn't know whether it was the sight of the ridiculous chocolate muffins or the tart but sweet smell that clouded her mind faster. She grabbed one and swallowed it whole, oblivious to herself or her own name. You mentally thanked Megumi for his decision to take the smaller baking dish.

You coughed meaningfully, slyly examining your nails in the sunlight. "Ya know, I didn't actually make them."

"What?" she whimpered excitedly with her mouth full. "I said I'd come back, but I didn't say anything about a relationship with Megumi-"

"Yeah, yeah," you sarcastically interrupted her, carelessly waving her words away. "Sure."

[June 19, 2020; 01:23am; hunters' hq]

Feeling the warmth of the couch was all your back had been asking for lately, and you'd been obediently fulfilling your body's desire despite your own. Your head rested peacefully in Kyle's lap, your eyes roaming the news feed on your phone.

You didn't notice how restlessly you fidgeted with your legs from time to time, not even the annoying sound of the soft material rustling could quiet you. Every time you fidgeted, you felt a soft scratching at the back of your head as you turned from one side to the other.

"What's wrong?" asked Kyle puzzled as you rolled over once again, sighing irritably.

"Everything's fine," you waved it off indifferently.

"Ya have a disgruntled face," he remarked, grinning.

You pulled yourself up and sat down, leaning back against the couch. "Rach only brought out two people," you rambled worriedly. "Only two, Kyle," you shoved a hand in his face with your index and middle finger raised. "That's an incredibly bad start."

Kyle intercepted your palm and kissed the pad of your finger. "Oh, come on," he laughed, looking at your perplexed face and releasing your hand. "It's a good start. She brought your new acquaintance out with her, by the way," he reminded you reasonably. "And Issu might bring more people out with him."

You turned and stared at the infirmary door, remembering the way Doc had slammed it shut in front of you and Kyle. Doc was an irritable, taciturn man, but the thought of how much work he'd have to do in the next few weeks made you shiver.

"...to the previous news. The incident that occurred in April this year in the nightclub N..."

Even though you were in your own thoughts, your skin began to itch painfully in places. You wanted to catch a glimpse of Nora, or Rachel, or that old lady whose name you couldn't ask - the old woman who'd come out of the void unconscious and ended up in the infirmary.

"...contacting the police station. Now, the police have suspended the investigation for unspecified reasons. In the following footage you can see a protest organized near the police station by the parents of the missing as well as concerned people..."

"Hey," Kyle called softly, tugging gently on your earlobe. You stirred, tore your gaze away from the infirmary door and dropped your head back into his lap. "Don't distress yourself. It's gonna be okay."

"I know," you exhaled gloomily. "It's just that I'm freaking out about being banned from the void and there's no way I can check to see if everything's okay."

"Oh, what bad guys we are," Kyle drawled sarcastically, pinching you again. "Taking care of your health."

"That's not what I meant," you muttered, waving his hands away. "Ya remember what Rach said after she came out of the void?"

"Yeah," Kyle nodded briefly. "That people are afraid to come out. They don't even believe Jonah."

"Exactly," you said. "Do ya remember any of this ever happening?" you tried to speak calmly, but you were out of breath.

"I'll still go on the raid after Issu, and I promise ya, I'll figure it out," he assured you softly, stroking your forehead with his thumb. "Don't worry."

"...at least twenty people. To date, eighteen of the missing have been identified..."

From the TV screen, neither pictures nor photographs looked at you. Ghosts. They wandered, hovering around you, but they dared not touch you. Against your better judgment, you felt their presence, felt their stares, felt even their silence. It felt like a dark silent whisper on your skin as if the ghosts were breathing right next to you. "Twenty-three," you said in a mesmerized whisper, looking at another picture of familiar features on the screen.

Kyle glanced fearfully at your face. It seemed pale in the light from the TV. "What?" he asked perplexedly.

You lifted yourself up again and sat up, tucking your legs under you, but you didn't do it as quickly as you had the first time. "Kyle, I haven't told ya everything," you said, guiltily hiding your gaze from his. "I think there's a diomorphea in there."

A second long silence made you look up. "Why didn't ya... Why didn't ya tell me at once?" there wasn't an ounce of accusation in his voice. Rather, a genuine misunderstanding of your disbelief.

"I was afraid ya'd tell Rach," you justified, looking at him dejectedly and shaking your head. "Ya know her, she would have just stormed in there and god knows what would have happened. Either she'd be dead, or a bunch of demons and with them the ones we're trying to save. Or both of it. I'm sorry," you shook your head harder.

Gently wrapping his arms around your shoulders, Kyle pulled you against him. "What did I promise ya just now?" he asked, leading you to think.

You rested your head on his shoulder, but you didn't dare take your eyes off the pictures. "That ya'll figure it out," you exhaled. "Kyle, ya can't keep fixing our fuck-ups forever."

"I'm your big brother," he grinned, stroking your back. "That's my job."

Wrapped in a blanket of warmth from a loved one, you couldn't help yourself. These people were still here with you, even if they didn't realize it. They were staring at you, drilling you, making you grit your teeth. You couldn't even cover your eyes because you'd just thought the russet-haired girl looking at you from the screen had blinked.

[June 20, 2020, 20:01, Tokyo, Tokyo Prefecture]

As you made your way along the roads of the busy evening city, you kept looking at your phone, for only maps helped you not to get lost in the stone jungle. Even though there were signboards at every turn, all those bright colors combined with the abundance of symbols and running from side to side to avoid hitting anyone in the crowd of people made your head spin.

You couldn't count the number of crosswalks you'd crossed, you didn't want to think about how many of them you'd crossed for nothing. Your desperate attempt to find a nightclub had taken you to unfamiliar places, and you stopped and sighed disappointedly, staring at your phone again, completely oblivious to the people you might be interrupting.

Disappointment was immediately replaced by bewilderment when a name popped up on your phone instead of maps. "Yeah?" you said hesitantly, bringing the phone to your ear.

"I can't leave you alone even for a minute, huh?" resented Gojo. "Where did you go?"

"I...," you started in confusion, looking around. "Uh," you muttered, turning around the other way, looking for clues. "I think I'm somewhere in Tokyo's downtown, but I'm not quite sure."

An irritated tongue cluck was heard on the other end. "What do you see?"

"Hmm," you pondered, continuing on your way. "I see a dental clinic," you looked over the hospital sign and cast a glance back over your shoulder. "Behind me is the Minami Hotel, I guess?" puzzled, you stopped at a crossroad. "There's something else around the corner that looks like a park and playground-"

Someone's arms went around your waist. "Boo!" they shouted in your ear, but you didn't even flinch, just squeezed your eyes shut at the loud sound. "Hey, you could at least look scared," came a cranky voice from behind you.

You tilted your head up, and instead of an offended face, you were met with a bright smile. "What, in public?" you asked hesitantly.

Gojo rubbed his nose against your forehead. A brief gesture that sent warmth through your limbs. "I'm not shy about expressing my lo-"

"I mean about the teleport," you interrupted quickly.

With an irritated snort, he let you out of his arms and you moved forward. "So where are we going?"

"To a nightclub," you replied carelessly.

"At your age?" resented Gojo, wrinkling his nose. "It's a little too late for that."

You paid no attention to his words, just continued to look around at the signs, completely oblivious to the fact that you now had a tour guide beside you. "Ya wouldn't happen to know anything about what happened at Nightclub N, would ya? It's still on the news, even though it happened back in April."

"Oh," stunned Gojo. "I was there day after, but no curses or cursed energy was there."

"And ya didn't tell me?" you huffed, glaring at him judgmentally.

"I didn't even think about it," he admitted honestly, shrugging his shoulders. "And you weren't back then," Gojo glanced at you, and seeing no anger or disappointment on your face, he exhaled in relief. "So what are we doing?"

"It would be a good idea to start by talking," you reasoned, looking ahead. "I had Meg do some snooping, and she found out that it's not just visitors who've been hit, but employees too. One, at least."

"So-so information," he grudgingly opined.

"Maybe," you agreed. "Better than nothing, though."

Surprisingly, things did go faster with Gojo, and you didn't feel so lost in the dust of the big city. You'd been wandering around that nightclub all this time, but for some reason you'd ignored the turn into the courtyard. He took your hand in his and led you to the right place in a few minutes - the best guide ever.

You pulled a wireless earphone out of the case and put it in your ear. "Meg, turn it off," you had only one answer to Gojo's questioning look. "Cameras," you explained with a shrug.

Nothing stands out - your first thought when you found yourself at the front doors. There weren't even any neon signs in this place - a simple gawker would easily miss a place like this in the night. While you pondered, Gojo walked to the door. Opening it, he gestured for you to come inside.

The first thing you encountered as you walked down the hallway dotted with plastic vegetation was the hostess desk. A woman in a white dress seemed to be filling out something, paying no attention to you. "Ahem," you coughed quietly, stepping closer to the counter.

The girl raised her head. "I apologize," she said sincerely, bestowing a welcoming smile. Her gaze focused as if she had just been pulled out of her thoughts. You nodded understandingly in response.

The hostess stared at you for a second, then looked behind you. Her eyes widened in surprise for a moment, and a blush appeared on her snow-white cheeks. It was obvious without words who she was admiring. "I apologize," she repeated, barely moving her eyes to you. "We're only open from ten p.m. onwards. Would you like to make a reservation in the VIP area?" she handed you one of the sheets she'd just filled out. "You can look over the seating and choose the one that best suits you."

"That's not why we're here," you said quietly and the corners of the woman's lips slowly but surely crept down.

She glanced furtively toward the dance area, which was behind a decorative grid. The grid was covered with flowers, but you could see the bar, where someone was already standing and looking in your direction. "If you're journalists, just go away," she whispered anxiously.

You took the sheet from her hands, and began to pretend to consider the seating plan. "Ya misunderstand," you assured her. "I'm a private investigator, I was hired by one of the families of the missing," the hostess shifted a concerned yet questioning look to Gojo. "Don't worry, it's just my comp-"

"Her husband," he stated, putting his arm around your shoulders. "Just family business."

"Well, or so...," you muttered, sighing.

"Mochi, have you already chosen where we're gonna sit?" his voice was already too ringing at times, but this time it was as if Gojo was deliberately speaking louder than usual. "Smile," he addressed the girl, and in contrast, his words sounded very quiet. You glimpsed again at the bars - it seemed that those who stood there had ceased to be interested in you.

She put on a duty smile. "Reservations are optional if you want to visit the dance area," she said in a minted but sweet tone.

You pretended to stroke Gojo's forearm that wrapped around your collarbones. In one deft motion, you pulled the picture from inside pocket, placing it under the sheet you were holding. Placing the paper on the counter, you tapped a random spot. "I think we'll sit here," you pushed the sheet away. "Do ya know her?" your quite question caused the girl's ribcage to begin to heave heavily when she saw the russet-haired girl. You mentally scolded her for potentially attracting unnecessary attention. "She worked here."

"Did her parents hire you?" the hostess fought her inner emotions for an outward smile. "I don't know," she whispered fearfully, though she was still smiling full-mouth. "I really don't know anything," her eyes glittered dangerously, and you carefully covered the picture with the paper. "Please, go away."

"Thanks," you said loudly and cheerfully, backing away from the counter. "See ya later," you nodded her goodbye and took Gojo's hand, and you headed toward the exit.

Barely waiting until you were on the other side of the glass doors, he stopped right in front of you. "So that's it?" he lamented. "We're just gonna leave like this?"

"No need to draw unnecessary attention. She was scared enough. I thought she was about to cry," you sighed doomfully. "But I left her phone number on the back of the picture."

"Okay," he drawled, smiling slyly. "Now what?"

After sneaking through a narrow alleyway and soiling your clothes in wet dust, you wandered around the back of the police station. Stopping at the wall of an adjacent building, you decided to exhale and think. Why was the hostess so scared? If it wasn't the employees at the bar, then who was standing there during off hours? Moreover, why did the girl only shake harder when she saw the picture?

From Gojo's perspective and in his opinion, you looked suspicious - two subjects loitering in the back of a police station. What was he supposed to do when he heard the back door click? Nothing but that - that's how he reassured himself as he pressed you against the wall. "Just play along, 'kay?" he whispered, facing your panicked incomprehension - you'd been pulled from your thoughts too abruptly.

You nodded hesitantly, but you weren't reassured by his plan or his actions. For the moment Gojo cupped your cheek, you felt that his fingers trembled. "Have you ever kissed?" you couldn't hear the inherent curiosity in his voice, the only thing you could catch among the words he spoke was sincerity. "Take it off," he demanded, leaning his forehead against yours. "Take off your mask," his words and actions became more insistent - his hand pressed you against him with such force that it was physically hard to breathe.

"Hey!" a sharp exclamation gave you the strength to push him away from you. "Girl, are you okay?" the police officer asked, flicking ash off his cigarette.

"Yeah," you assured him. "W-we just... Uh, we just forgot ourselves a little. I'm sorry," you said, taking another step away from Gojo.

"Kids...," the officer muttered. "You should go home and do this sort of thing," he admonished. Taking one last puff, the policeman put out the cigarette butt, tossed it in the trash can, and went inside.

"Uh, well," you sighed, making up for the lack of oxygen. Looking around the wall of the one-story police station, you noticed that there were two windowless passages - probably one of those rooms was what you needed.

Carefully making sure no one was looking in your direction from the windows, you moved closer to the wall, Gojo's confusion replaced in an instant by a prick of anger. He was immensely resilient, but even he was beginning to tire of your behavior. It was as if nothing had ever happened.

"And how would we get there?" you muttered to yourself, squinting at the brickwork.

Of course, he couldn't pass up the opportunity to tease you. It was beyond him. "What, are you out of energy because of your shaky legs?" he asked in a teasing tone, coming up behind you.

"No, it's just that I can't teleport to a point I haven't seen before," your seriousness made him roll his eyes so hard he could have sworn he saw his own brain. "There could be anything in there, after all. A box, another wall, or an iron pole. And I don't really wanna become a part of that."

"What a weakling you are," Gojo grimaced, grabbing you under the armpits and lifting you into the air. When he released you, you were already standing on the floor. Indoors.

It was dark here - not a single light bulb shone, but even so you could make out a bunch of metal lockers against the walls, a few long benches, and some scattered things. Locker room. No hits. Next room across the hall, then.

You went to the door and stood still, listening. There were no voices, no footsteps, no rustling. You gripped the knob and pulled gently, turning it. When the door wouldn't budge, you applied force and pulled a few more times. Nothing.

A tired, condescending sigh came from behind you. Gojo grabbed your shoulder and pulled you aside, then grabbed the handle of the door and opened it with a quiet crack.

In the darkness, you met only his arrogant smile. "Congratulations," you said sarcastically. "When they see this, everyone will realize someone's been loitering around here."

"And this is your gratitude?" whispered Gojo indignantly.

Instead of answering and bickering, you grabbed his hand and dragged him as quietly as possible down the hallway in the right direction. When you came to the next door, he moved you into the room without thinking or warning.

That's what it took to get to the evidence room, but it didn't look the way you'd imagined. The shelves were more for show, for there were boxes and packages scattered carelessly on them, just as there were on the floor.

Gojo picked up one of the clear bags, and after looking it over, handed it to you. You grinned approvingly when you saw the date and place written in black marker.

You silently began to scour the shelves and floor in search of at least the year you needed. The place was a mess, but systematicity still seemed from around the corner, slyly peering at what you were doing. You had already made it to January, and not wanting to miss anything, you took your time. "What makes you think demons are involved here anyway?" asked Gojo, setting another box aside.

"I saw them," you replied, scrutinizing the dates. "I saw those people right before I came out of the void."

"That's how," he replied, catching a glimpse of you. His tense shoulders relaxed every time he saw you start to put on weight. He'd already gone through almost the entire March, and after tossing aside a few more unwanted plastic bags, he got to the right one. "Hey," he quietly called out to you. "Is this it?"

You took the box in your hands.

#413091

April 6, 2020

Tokyo, Tokyo Prefecture, Nightclub N

Sealed

"It is," you answered without much joy. As you weighed the box in your hands, you looked up at Gojo with a puzzled look. "What kinda mockery is this?" you asked warily, setting the overly light box on the floor. Breaking the seal and opening it, you pursed your lips in frustration.

There was almost nothing, just a few cigarette butts with lipstick marks, a couple of bottles, a folding knife, bloody napkins, but, remarkably, one bag of white pills. "Not only did the police shut down the investigation, but the club was still working while the investigation was ongoing, now there's no evidence. Who's protecting them?" you wondered, reaching for the bag of pills.

"Probably the one who dragged people into the void," Gojo suggested, trying to find anything else on the bottom.

"Well, or at least someone closely associated with them. It wouldn't be a bad idea to find the owner of the club," you considered the pills, but there was nothing remarkable on them. Just a pure white color. "If the owner is aware of what's going on and he isn't a fool, there's probably some subsidiary company attached to the club, followed by the parent company, and the real names in that holding company are no longer to be found," you opened the bag and held it up to your nose. Nothing. Frowning puzzled, you slipped the packet to Gojo. "Smell anything?"

As soon as he brought it to his face, he immediately pulled it away, pinching his nostrils. "God... The smell is nice, but it's so pungent that...," he stammered, wiping away the tears that came to his eyes. "Put that away," he said and threw the bag at you.

You caught him deftly, and you and the pills stared at each other. The gears of your mind whirred again. You knew of only one demon capable of such brazen machinations right in front of everyone's eyes. If the pills contained black orchid that didn't bode well because in small quantities it was like a drug that induced a state of euphoria, and judging by the number of pills, the demon was obviously not alone in that club.

You glanced at the broken seal - eventually they'd find out that someone had been digging around here. The question was whether they'd find out who it was. "Let's get out of here," you said to Gojo and was about to move towards the door, but with the edge of your thief eye you caught a shine. "O-oh, what do we have here," you drawled mesmerized, reaching for the sealed bag containing the necklace.

"Are you crazy?" blustered Gojo, intercepting your hands. "We're not stealing evidence!" you snorted meekly but grudgingly, wrenching your hands free and quickly hiding them in your pockets, which made him squint his eyes suspiciously. "Empty your pockets," Gojo demanded in a commanding tone, to which you only flinched. "I said empty them!" he exclaimed, and despite your resistance, he did find what he was looking for, but not under the right conditions. A pair of gold rings. Gasping with indignation, he tossed them farther into a pile of boxes. "We're not stealing evidence! Geez, adults once told me not to get with the wrong crowd, but here I am," he whimpered, running a hand through his snow-white hair.

As he lamented, you couldn't stop the process - thoughts raced, each one trying to overtake the other. You couldn't hear the key turning in the locks or the quiet footsteps because of the silent noise. "Hands up," you raised your head, only to be met with an unfamiliar face and a gun pointed in your direction. "I said hands up!"

"Hey, hey," you justifiably rambled, raising your hands. "We can explain-"

"We?" barked the police officer. "Girl, are you out of your mind?" You barely had time to turn your head back before you heard the safety click, but even that couldn't alarm you as much as the realization that there was no one behind you. "Face the wall," the officer ordered, muzzle pointing at the wall.

You went obediently to the wall, and when you were almost there, you were pushed against it. Holding you by the neck with one hand, the policeman snapped your arms, and there was a clinking sound. Handcuffs.

If someone asked you at the beginning of the day how you'd spend your evening, you could list a bunch of options - watching a TV show, meeting with insiders, chasing the next artifact, sitting around a campfire with Kyle or Rachel, having a cup of tea or even a glass of wine - but you'd never guess how you'd actually spend it.

Part of your evening consisted of traveling to the holding cell at gunpoint.

When your handcuffs were removed, your phone, belt and earrings were taken away, the bars slammed shut behind you with a deafening clang. You pressed your face between the steel bars. "Hey," you called out to the departing cop. "I'm entitled to one phone call."

"Why don't you get a lawyer, too?" snickered the duty officer.

"Preferably. But ya'll need it if ya don't let me call," you said nonchalantly, keeping a friendly attitude.

Of course, you could have vanished from the cell as soon as he left, but you didn't want to be known as a fugitive on news programs across the country.

The man paused for a moment, thinking about something, and then turned back to you. With his piercing gaze boring into you and his hand on his holster, he handed you the phone, and as soon as you picked it up, it rang.

You shrugged your shoulders and backed away from the bars to avoid having it taken from you. "That'll count as your call," the man warned you.

You brought the phone to your ear, mentally preparing yourself for what awaited you. "Say please," Gojo scoffed from the other side. "Come on," he coaxed, taunting you. "Say please and maybe I'll get you out."

"I hope ya're pleased with yourself," were all the words that you could muster, stepping over your pride. "Please."

You heard neither confirmation nor another round of teasing; only short beeps. Despondently, you handed the phone to the officer, and as long as you had strength left, you clung to the iron bars and listened to every action that took place. The police officer seemed to be watching something, and every now and then, you heard the clatter of a mug against the table.

It seems like five minutes or fifteen have passed - you can't count in a cramped cell without a clock. The front door slammed, and loud footsteps sounded. "Please excuse my wife," a familiar chirp tickled your ears. "She's having a seasonal exacerbation."

***

You had already traveled a great distance, leaving the police station behind, but you hadn't said a word, which amused Gojo and worried him at the same time. Anyway, you still let him hold your hand, which meant you weren't that angry.

He was annoyed that he couldn't read your emotions because half of your face was hidden - it was like ripping half of a book out before he could read the rest of it. The question was no longer whether you were angry or hurt, but did you feel anything at all? "Well," he began slyly. "Are you gonna sulk like that?"

"I can't believe it," you said reproachfully, shaking your head. "Ya left me. Ya left me, abandoned me, humiliated me-"

"Is that how you talk to the man who bailed you out?" laughing, he stopped and stood right in front of you.

"It was a bribe!" you retorted indignantly.

"I'd do it again," he admitted solemnly, looking haughtily and cheerfully into your eyes.

"I know," you whispered. "But I thought we were best friends," he didn't notice the triumph replaced by panic the first time he saw your wounded gaze.

"No, no," he rambled anxiously, gently cupping your cheeks. "It's just a joke, really, I was just kidding-"

"I would never do that to ya," you managed to say, swallowing the lump in your throat. You wrapped your palm around his - the one that pressed harder against your face. You bit your lip in frustration. "I would never leave ya," seeing the glint in your averted gaze made everything inside him flip - from his soul to his organs. That wasn't the kind of glint he wanted to see. "I know I don't act the way ya'd like me to sometimes, but- Oh," your face changed immediately, from sadness to pure curiosity, and you let go of his hands and stepped around him, heading somewhere.

He was one-step away from bursting into tears himself, but your actions have left him stumped. After a moment of standing as if you were still here, he turned around. You were striding briskly toward the huge red glowing sign that read 'Spicy Dumplings'.

One might have thought that this was not enough to stomp on his heart, but then, as luck would have it, he thought that it had become too light in his pocket. His purse were missing. "Seriously?" he sighed, throwing his head back and staring up at the night sky covered in light noise. "There are so many people in the world, why her?" the stars were hidden - the stars were silent.

Megumi had seen his reflection in the mirror countless times and just as many times he'd experienced nothing - a man like a man, a person who didn't stand out, but now, as Kyle walked around him in circles with a measuring tape around his neck and pins stuck in his shirt, the boy felt genuinely excited.

Even though Megumi felt like a mannequin being abused, occasionally getting needles under his skin by accident, he still thought it was worth it. Megumi glanced at the mask made for him. Even without filters, it looked heavy, but the precise curves of its rigid material made it somewhat dangerous.

The boy jerked when Kyle once again grazed the skin on his shoulder with the pin. "Sorry," Kyle muttered. "I'm not very good at this."

"Then why don't others do it?" grunted Megumi, staring at himself in the mirror again.

The man only chuckled - no offense intended. "May I remind ya," he began softly in between. "Ya don't have to do this."

"I know," Megumi replied stubbornly. "I don't know how to do anything else, though."

"Do ya?" wondered Kyle sincerely. "What, no hobbies?"

Megumi looked at Kyle as if he was hearing those words for the first time. The man pressed his lips together understandingly and continued his tailor's work. Seeing another section of loosely dangling fabric, he pinched it down the boy's body and secured it with a pin. "Ya know, when ya get back, we can go fishing with together," he suggested light-heartedly, pulling out the now unnecessary needle and, finding no better option, jammed it between his teeth. "Or I could teach ya how to play the guitar," as Kyle cheerfully enumerated, Megumi only frowned his eyebrows harder. "In a pinch, we can weave beaded bracelets with ya," he laughed and his soft, deep voice floated around the room. "Okay, well, try this on," Kyle said, handing him the mask.

The mask was a little heavier than it looked, and Megumi held it for a moment before taking a deep jagged breath and leaning it against his face. The mask, making a clicking sound, sat perfectly. "How's that? Fine?" inquired Kyle, not giving up on trying to get Megumi to talk.

"Yeah," Megumi replied indifferently, and his voice came strangled and mechanical, but Kyle was used to that. "Just hot in this uniform."

"That's what ya saying now," Kyle pointed out. "Ya'll thank me a hundred times in the void."

"You?" the boy asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

The room went up in flames in an instant as if everything was lit up in red flames, but barely had the flash subsided when Megumi saw that it was Kyle's hands that were burning. "Me," Kyle said cheekily but still jokingly. "I'm the one in charge of thermoregulation here."

Megumi stared mesmerized at the man's hands - a second ago, they were still burning, burning as bright and hot as his disheveled gut. "I want that, too," the boy muttered quietly.

"Too, huh?" Kyle smirked meaningfully. "So ya okay with everything else?" turning away in embarrassment, Megumi tried to pull the mask off, but it wouldn't budge. He kept tugging at it while Kyle watched his desperate attempts. "Lemme help ya, you're gonna rip your face off," the man offered. "There are buttons on the sides," he informed, pulling the mask off the boy.

"You couldn't tell me before, could you?" an indignant Megumi panted, rubbing the line of his chin.

"My bad. Sorry," Kyle couldn't help it - the smile wouldn't leave his face. "By the way, uh… How's it going... with Dany?"

Megumi hated it when someone poked their nose into his life, much less his personal life. Shutting down, withdrawing into himself was the first reaction brought on by years of building up an internal psychology, but now that Megumi saw the unfamiliar warm gaze, he was glad that there was at least one person who was genuinely interested in his inner state. "I don't know, she doesn't talk to me," the boy said sullenly. "It would be better if she just told me she doesn't like me anymore," he added quietly.

"And how is that better?"

"Then I'd know for sure I don't stand a chance anymore," Megumi despaired. "I've been trying to catch up to her in training, but she's even running faster than me. I can't look for her in these damn woods," Megumi muttered, pulling off the top of his uniform and handing the fabric to Kyle.

Kyle knew that he shouldn't laugh at problems - neither big ones, nor small ones, nor their description. He was trying his best to remain silent now, only nodding significantly. "Well...," he drawled. "So there's definitely motivation to train even harder now."

"People have their limits," Megumi frowned, tugging on his home t-shirt with a jerk. "I think I've reached mine."

"Ya'd best remember well what ya just said," the man said sternly. "Remember it well and forget it. Otherwise, if I hear ya say that again, we'll stop training ya."

"And I'll continue without you," Megumi stubbornly persisted. "I may not be in control of it yet, but with or without you, I can still walk into the void."

"And die," Kyle finished for him, though the boy's sentence didn't require it. "Ya know what that's called? Cut off nose to spite face," seeing Megumi's haggard face, Kyle softened. "Come on," he paternally patted the boy on the top of his head. "How about this. When ya get back, I'll set up a rendezvous for ya and Dany."

Megumi hummed incredulously, shifting from foot to foot. "Can you really make it?"

Kyle didn't know what he was signing up for. Persuading a stubborn girl and trying to change her mind was a deep hole that couldn't be climbed out of with walls or even a ladder, but when he saw the faint smile flash across Megumi's face, he knew it was worth it. "I'll try."

You were already cooing with the waiter when you'd been apart for a minute – that was what Gojo saw in his mind, distorted by an unknown feeling. When the corners of your eyes crinkled once more, he felt an unfamiliar tingle under his ribs. It was directed, burning.

In two strides, he'd covered the distance from the front door to the table you were at and plopped down across from you. "Baby, could you not run away from me like that anymore?" shifting his gaze from you to the waiter, it went from soft to steely, all the blue was gone. The waiter was embarrassed by his direct gaze, and after glancing at you and seeing your nod, he hurriedly retreated to the kitchen. "So much for service," he muttered, looking after the waiter. "I didn't even order anything."

"I ordered ya mild shrimp dumplings and two cheesecakes," you said, looking at his profile - something in the air felt spicy from more than just the smell of the local sauce.

He didn't realize whether he liked it or not that you knew him well, the only thing that bothered and hurt him was that he didn't know you. Not even that. He knew something about you, but only from other people's words and among them was none of yours. "Well?" he inquired, finally turning in your direction. "What's next?"

"Cholesterol plaques," you chirped in pleasant anticipation. "I've been eating nothing but soup and porridge for weeks now, one more day like this and I'll hang myself."

"I'd look at that," Gojo drawled detachedly.

"Is something wrong?" you worried. "It's like ya angry."

He was silent for a few more good moments, staring out the window and tapping his finger on his chin. "Frank told me you've been missing for three years. What have you been doing?" you swallowed all the words out of surprise and stared at him stunned. "What?" asked Gojo indifferently. "You know everything about me, I know nothing about you. That's not very fair."

"It's not like I have a choice," you tried to gently remind him.

"Really?" his voice remained calm, but it still made you want to squirm in your seat. "My negligent students tied you up and made you listen to all the facts about me?"

"It's dif-"

"Different, yeah," he interrupted, shaking his head and leaning back in his chair - away from you. An inner voice yelled at him to shut his mouth, too bad Gojo was deaf at that moment. "Tell me, what does human meat taste like? I heard somewhere that it tastes like chicken, is that true?" your heart was definitely tied with fishing line and started to squeeze, and if not, why did you feel like blood was dripping off it? "Oh, come on," he laughed, seeing the subtle change on your face. "Well, you ate a couple people, who among us is not without sin?"

You looked around, almost unable to see anything through the haze, but there didn't seem to be anyone near you. "If we don't shut this down, I'm gonna eat ya too," you tried to guffaw, keeping your face straight. "Alive."

"I'm just trying to get to know you better," Gojo stared at you, trying to catch everything he could - gestures, facial expressions, anything. Every time he caught something he wanted, satisfaction involuntarily spread through his body. Paradoxically, the thought of enjoying it made him sick, but he couldn't help it - your hypocrisy was wearing him down. You were the one who'd first said you'd never revisit the subject, and yet every day with every unspoken word, you reminded Gojo that you didn't trust him. "I get that you're trying to seem mysterious, but have you ever wondered how it looks?" he chuckled sarcastically. "You look like a wretched runaway," you sat up, listening and memorizing every word. "Maybe I should tell you what happens to people who don't open up to anyone?" he leaned closer to you as if he wanted to tell you a secret that was known only to him. "Let me better demonstrate, though," Gojo got up from the table, and still looking at you, distanced himself a couple steps away. "Look at that," he snapped his fingers, pointing to his now empty seat and grinned contentedly. "You're all alone."

Gojo didn't try to get to know you better because then he could have asked you what your favorite color was, or movie, or music, but no. He got under your skin. Deliberately and painfully, choosing words that scratched and bit, and you didn't even have time to ask 'why' because his back, which had already disappeared behind the front door, would hardly have answered your question.

[June 30, 2020, 23:14, hunters' hq]

[10:59pm] You: We are going on a raid in an hour

[10:59pm] You: Megumi will text ya when he gets back

This message, like the previous ones, remained delivered but unread. Looking at it again, you went back to your routine. Books, lots of medical supplies, and more dry rations were what lay on the table. You and Kyle spread it all out into gym bags as compactly as possible, good thing you could carry twice as much into the void this time - thanks to your new apprentice.

Worries and doubts scrabbled at your mind as you put another packet of ibuprofen in your bag - did you tell Megumi everything you wanted to? Had you conveyed everything to him? Did he understand everything? The only thing you knew for sure was that you couldn't let him out of your sight. The first few times, at least.

You never missed an opportunity to remind the boy that if anything went wrong, he should run and not look back, and each time you said it aloud, you caught an increasingly annoyed look in his eyes. You believed that at the right moment, your words would play an annoying song in Megumi's head and he would do what you wanted him to do, even if it was against his own will. "Okay," Kyle pulled you out of your thoughts. "I got rid of most of the wardens, but others could come, be careful," he admonished you for the umpteenth time. "Remember they have been abused badly, more so than the others have ever told us, that's why they so afraid to come in contact. But I've prepared the ground," he poked you quietly with his shoulder. "Since Rachel took out three people, Issu will probably take out as many more, which means there will be at least two more in the hut," he wasn't discouraged, and you hummed in response. "Well," Kyle began in between, seeing your state of mind. "He still hasn't called?"

"Busy, I guess," at this point you ratted yourself out, for your brother didn't even give a name.

"I bet," Kyle muttered, pressing the contents of the bag to make some more room. "Why is your face long?"

"Not long, but focused," you brushed it off.

"Yeah, as ya say. Ya've been frowning for over a week. Even if I can't see it, I can feel it. And he hasn't been here in all that time," even though Kyle didn't like Gojo, there was a touch of sympathy in his voice. "What happened between ya two?"

"Nothing happened," you retorted. "And nothing's gonna happen," you added, softening. "He just... Dunno, he just got mad all of a sudden. Maybe it's because I don't tell him anything about me or what happened to me," you sighed sadly, your actions becoming slower and moodier.

Kyle was angry. You'd never told anyone anything, not even your loved ones, so where did Gojo get this idea of his uniqueness? "He'll get over it," he muttered. "If he doesn't, the hell with him. Let him cling to someone else."

"Ya'd be happy to," you said, grinning slyly. Maybe there was truth to Kyle's words, but you couldn't wash away that sticky acrid feeling with water or soap. Gojo must have felt the same way then. You were both disappointed in you. "We forgot the sugar," you said, going through the supplies on the table. "I'll get it."

At your brother's concerned look, you walked out of the workroom, went up the stairs and down the hallway. You were already a foot away from the fridge, only the sickening feeling of suddenly soaked socks made you cringe. "What the...," you squeaked, taking a step back.

There was water under the refrigerator. In spite of the puddle, you walked over to it and jerked open the door - not even a light bulb on. "Great," you mumbled to the empty room, and jerked the door back shut.

As if you didn't have enough troubles already, now you had to buy a new fridge. You liked it, though. It might be red, it might have daisies on it, but you were too used to it. "How much longer ya gonna look for sugar?" Kyle asked rhetorically, leaning against the doorjamb and watching you search the drawers for a rag. "Come on," he walked over to you, putting his arm around your shoulders to ward off all the fuss. Kyle glanced first at the refrigerator and then at the puddle that had spread beneath it. "That thing was barely hanging on. I'll walk ya out, and then I'll clean this place up."

Something was pressing against your shoulders. It clearly wasn't Kyle's hands. They might have looked massive, but everyone close to him knew how gentle the man could be.

The door creaked open on the second floor. "Please don't go," a pleading voice made your heart clench. "Ya're not ready yet, ya've had too little practice," came the sound of footsteps - some hurried, others hesitant.

Everything fell into place when the two persons finally came down - Megumi and Daniel. She grabbed his sleeve, asking him to stop, but he didn't even look in her direction. Yanking his arm out of her weak grip, he stood beside you. "Y/N," the girl pleaded. "Please tell him he's not ready."

"But I already told him he's coming with me today."

"W-what?" she asked in a stammering voice, looking at you as if you'd plunged a dagger under her ribs. "No-no-no," she shook her head desperately. "Why didn't ya ask me?"

You raised an eyebrow uncomprehendingly. "Should I have?" you asked indifferently. "If ya'd given him a chance to talk to ya once, maybe ya would have found out sooner."

"Don't ya fucking dare put the blame on me!" she shouted, and the outburst made the tears she'd been holding back roll down her cheeks. "Ya owed it to me to tell me!" her ringing voice began to break. "Ya took my mother away from me," she muttered. "Y-ya took my father from me," she continued to squeeze the words out of her through all the pain and hardship. "Now ya want him too?"

"Dany, not in public-"

"Not in public?!" she yelled. "He could die out there and all ya're worried about is me telling about your sins?" she laughed bitterly, wiping her wet face with her hands.

"Megumi, go to the workroom," you said softly, nudging him toward the exit. The boy hesitated a few steps and stopped, but you weren't looking at him.

"Now ya wanna take my boyfriend too," it wasn't a question anymore. It was a statement. A weak, quiet assertion.

"Dany, please calm down," Kyle gently tried to reassure her, cautiously stepping closer to her. "Megumi's gonna be fine-"

"Back off," she pulled away sharply from Kyle.

"Should I mention that he's no longer your boyfriend?" if there had been thread in the room, you would have sewn your mouth shut. There weren't, though. "You dumped him, remember?"

Danielle's rage didn't disappear - it just became as quiet as the girl's tears. "I hate ya," the words were almost impossible to hear, but you understood everything from her barely moving lips. "I hate ya so much that not even your death will make me love ya again."

Before she turned away from you, you saw the helpless anger in her eyes. You watched in a daze as she went up to the second floor on weak legs and then disappeared from sight. "Dany," Kyle called out to her, forcing you out of your stupor.

You quickly followed her upstairs and sighed as you realized you hadn't made it in time - the door to her room had already slammed shut. You banged on it with all your might. "Dany, open up!" instead of the usual words or silence, you were met with a ragged sob. You and Kyle looked over at each other anxiously. "Danielle!" you groaned again. "If you don't open it, I'm gonna kick the fucking door down!" you warned.

Your eyes blurred as her sobs subsided.

There was a rustle of sheets followed by quiet footsteps. The lock of the door clicked.

You were greeted by your loved one's face, but it was very different from the one you'd seen in the kitchen. No more anger, no more rage - just disheveled blond hair, red puffy eyelids, and grief. "Dany, I-"

You were interrupted by your own phone, and you almost whimpered in frustration. You glanced at the screen, and the evening's call from that person didn't bode well. It was Rachel.

"Answer it," she said weakly. "It must be very important," you didn't get a word out before she closed the door quietly in your face. Kyle turned the knob with a barely perceptible movement to leave a small gap.

You pressed the screen with force, and only a miracle saved it from cracking. "Speak," you snapped into the phone.

"Ah- H-hey," even if Rachel hadn't stuttered, you'd have realized she was drunk. "I can't re- relocate. I can't catch a cab either. Get me out of here," she whined.

"Okay, Kyle will pick you up-"

"No!" she yelled into the phone. "If ya don't get me out of there, I swear ya will be no longer my fucking sister," Rachel hissed.

"Rach, I've got a raid-"

"I'm supposed to care about that?" she hiccupped angrily. "Kyle always has to do everything for ya, doesn't he? Kyle this, Kyle that- Hey! Hey, asshole!," she was still yelling, but her voice was muffled. "Ya blind? No? Then maybe I'm nothing to ya?"

You and Kyle looked at each other grimly - even from here, your brother could hear the mayhem going on at the other end of the phone. The crack of wood, broken glass, shouts, muffled thuds - you squinted your eyes at every sound. "Hey," Rachel's voice was back to ringing, distinct and drunken. "Anyway, pick me up already. I rarely see ya, I feel like I don't even have a sister."

You didn't get a chance to ask where she was. Rachel just dropped the call. "What kinda day is this," you whispered in a broken, shaky whisper, rubbing your hot forehead with the palm of your hand, still staring at the phone screen.

Kyle wrapped his fingers around your chin, forcing you to look up at him. "Go," he ordered, trying to ignore your glistening eyes. "It's okay, just go get Rachel."

"But what about-"

"Today was supposed to be my shift anyway," he reminded you, hugging you. "Ya'll just go after me."

"Alright, then tell Megumi we'll be leaving in three days," you nodded briefly, snuggling up to him.

"Nah, he's waited long enough," he laughed. "I can't stand the even more sullen face he has now," feeling you clinging to his t-shirt, he tried to reassure you as best he could and knew how. He pulled you even tighter against him and burrowed into your hair. "It's been so long," he whispered. "It's high time ya learned to believe in us."

"Okay," you exhaled raggedly, unable to tear yourself away from your brother. "Take care of him. Take care of yourself, too. Please," the glimpse of black streaks creeping up your fingers made you pull away from him. Kyle kissed your forehead briefly, but you felt his lips linger on your skin a little longer than usual.

You took a couple steps away from him, and after taking another look at him, you turned around and headed for the stairs. "Y/N?" he called out to you.

You were so expecting it that you turned to him again without thinking. "Yes?" you asked with hope in your voice.

He winked slyly. "See ya," he waved goodbye, and you caught the glint of his silver bracelet.

"See ya," you giggled, waving back at him.

As you walked away, you tried to keep a confident gait, but some thing pressed on your shoulders again.

Half the bar was trashed, no customers, only one redheaded girl sitting on a stool with her head on the table, either asleep or unconscious. After leaving Kyle, you called her a dozen times, and on the millionth call, you were swearing at everyone and everything. After you'd gotten her on the phone through your despair, you'd gotten her address, and there you were, standing there, among the shards of mugs and chips from tables and chairs.

Under the wary gaze of the man in the black shirt, you walked over to Rachel and shook her by the shoulder. She mumbled inarticulately. "Do you know her?" he asked sternly.

"Yeah," you replied indifferently, still trying to rouse your sister.

"All right," said the manager. "Then I'm calling the police," he informed.

"Please don't get the police," you begged resignedly. "I'll pay for everything, just... Really, let's not do that. I'll leave you a phone number," you said, picking up one of the surviving napkins from the table and turning around to face the man. "Do you have a pen?"

He looked at you incredulously from head to toe, but your earrings seemed to convince him. He handed you a pen, and you quickly wrote your number on a napkin. "Here," you held out the phone number to him. "You can check it out."

Done. He dialed the number you had written, and your phone rang. "I'll send you the bill," the manager said formally. "Now get her out of here before she trashes the surviving half of the bar."

"Yeah, just...," you swallowed uncertainly. "I'll just bring her to her senses," the manager nodded, but didn't move. When you looked at your sister again, rage came over you, but remembering that you were in a public place, you immediately nipped it in the bud.

Grabbing Rachel by the scruff of her neck, you dragged her into the restroom. She struggled sluggishly and mumbled something, but you paid no attention. Kicking open the door, you tossed her right into the sink. "Did ya have fun, bitch?" with helplessness, your voice started to break again. You opened the faucet, and to your delight, ice-cold water came out of it.

You held Rachel's hair with your hand and tried to keep her head close to the stream, otherwise she'd just slide to the floor; with your other hand you scooped up the water and smeared it right over her drunken red face. "Do ya even remember ya have a son? Why aren't ya at his place?" you began to gasp along with her - she from the water, you from despair.

"I can't see him-" she stammered and choked, and you wondered if it was really the alcohol, the water, or her own words. "I-I'm gonna throw up," she practically forced the words out of her, choking on the water.

Whimpering, you pulled her hair and dragged her straight to the toilet stall. As soon as her head was bent over the toilet, everything started coming out of her. She coughed and spit, and you held her unruly hair back, even though the only thing you wanted to do right now was drown her in her own vomit. "Are ya having fun now? Do ya like living like this?"

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, and the sounds of vomiting were heard again. "I... I won't do it again."

You bit your lip, almost tearing it off - how many times had you heard those words, and there was no truth to them, like wandering through a dark forest without a light, looking for a path. It was the same thing over and over again. "Wait here," you said, not sure why - she couldn't have disappeared in her condition.

Leaping out of the restroom and grabbing the first whole glass you could find, you went back in and filled it with water. "Drink," you commanded, shoving the glass under your sister's nose.

"I don't wanna," she tried to push your hand away weakly.

"I said drink," you grabbed her hair again, forcing her face up. As the water poured into her open mouth, Rachel leaned over the toilet again, choking.

They didn't want to leave you alone, the ringing of the phone hit your ears again, making you grit your teeth. "Speak."

"Young lady, what kinda tone is that?" resented Frank. Your insides dropped as you felt Rachel was about to throw up again.

"Sorry, Frank, I didn't see who was calling," you said absently, turning away and putting the receiver away from the source of the noise. "Look, lemme call ya back in an hour, 'kay? We're just at the bar with Rachel, it's not really convenient to talk right now."

"One hour," the man snorted angrily and hung up.

"Thanks," Rach mumbled and as you watched this, you slid down the wall, falling to the cold tile. Looking at her sweaty face and the wet red strands sticking to it, you were furious that you couldn't do anything about it. But if you couldn't do anything about it, then why were you even bothering with it? "I kinda feel better," she mumbled more clearly already, wiping her lips. "Let's go home."

Sighing, you grabbed her under the armpits, forcing her to stand. Rachel leaned on you like a personal prop, and you waddled away from the bar to the judgmental stares. When you reached the alley, you pulled your sister tighter against you.

"Relocate."

You fell onto the soft bed in your sister's room just as you'd been in the alley a second ago - tired, in dirty clothes and shoes. When you sensed something wrong, you moved Rach to the edge of the bed and rolled her onto her side, and went to the bathroom to get a basin, pour some water into a glass, and grab some micellar water.

Before Rachel threw up again, you managed to put the basin on the floor. Putting everything else on the nightstand, you began to undress her. Clumsily pulling off her sneakers, you couldn't lift her torso to pull down her pants. "Help me already," you groaned, tugging at her legs.

Grumbling to herself, Rachel lifted her hips, and you yanked off her jeans with. You realized you didn't have the energy for outerwear - let her sleep like that. Rach was still stirring restlessly, apparently never having fallen into slumber.

You sat down next to her, and after soaking a cotton ball in micellar water, you began to wash off her makeup. "Ya mad?" she asked weakly.

"Not really," you lied, trying not to take the anger out on her face.

You were smearing mascara and eyeliner all over her cheeks, and no one really knew how much absorbent cotton and micellar water it took you to wash it all off. Rachel was already breathing normally, though she was lying in an uncomfortable position - her right arm oddly bent over her face. But she seemed to be asleep.

You rolled her onto her side again, and praying that she would stay that way until morning and not choke on her own vomit, tried to crawl quietly off the bed. "Don't go," she begged quietly, grabbing at your sweater. "Lie with me for a while."

"Okay," you gave in to her helpless pleas and gently lay down on the other side of the bed.

Who knows how much strength it took for her to turn around to face you? "I miss ya," she sobbed.

You realized she wasn't talking to you at all. "I know. Go back to sleep."

There was nothing left in the room but your breathing. As she fell asleep, you knew that tomorrow Rachel would have a headache, and she would snap at everyone she met. You watched her face sink deeper and deeper into the pillow, her occasional smacking of her lips, her frown, and reassured yourself that maybe she was dreaming something good this time.

The warning signs were scattered around the kitchen. To be more precise, they were sitting there. Director Yaga stared in amazement at you coming down from the second floor, for he had been informed of your absence. "Mr. Director," you greeted him in a surprised but tired manner, glancing around at the others. There was Shoko, standing at the open window, blowing cigarette smoke, Yuji, who didn't look up from his desk, and Megumi, who had finally returned, alive and well. "Back?" you asked the boy, grinning approvingly. "Good. Go rest."

You probably said it to yourself - you were barely thinking. Automatically shuffling your feet, you headed for the workshop. "Y/N," a distressed voice stopped you.

Your face contorted instantly. Your eyes squeezed shut on their own and your lips pressed into a thin line against your will. 'Don't ya do this to me,' you begged silently someone who wasn't in this room.

Wiping the pain from your face with your hand, you took the only acceptable emotion you could muster. Benevolence. You turned around, and walking over to the table and standing in front of Megumi, you continued to pretend that everything was fine. "What is it?"

You refused to see the fear in Itadori's eyes, but you couldn't help but notice the fear in the black-haired boy's young features. Maybe if you hadn't looked so straight ahead, maybe if you'd known to look away, you wouldn't have seen the guilt.

Megumi refused to look you in the eyes - he was drilling a point near your neck, hiding his hands under the table. "I...," he began, but a gasp knotted his throat, and he clenched his teeth with such force that his tense jaw showed through his skin. "I'm... I'm- I'm so sorry," let it be his words - he was holding it together just fine, unlike Itadori. As soon as Megumi finished speaking, tears began to stream down Yuji's cheeks. It felt like molten metal had been poured into your lungs instead of air. It filled you from the inside out, rising higher and higher, coming up to your throat. "It's my fault," he admitted, reaching his hand out from under the table and handing you a silver bracelet.

You wanted to ask the boy a stupid but sincere question - whose bracelet was it? But as soon as you took it in your hand, you already knew the answer, for the size of the jewelry left no doubt as to who had once owned it.

"What...," you stammered, feeling the jewelry in your hands. It was warm, almost hot - apparently, Megumi had warmed it in his hands for a long time. "What happened?"

"Jonah brought more people to evacuate," the boy began in a trembling voice. "Kyle said we couldn't get everyone out at once. I insisted, though. I promised them I'd get them out," his eyes finally glistened, but not a single tear still fell. "I said I could take them out, but Kyle warned me that I couldn't take out six at a time. Then the people started... Th-they... They begged, begged me to take them out right now...," he sobbed, pressing himself harder against the back of the chair and lowering his gaze, hiding his face in his hand. "I convinced Kyle that I could do it. I really felt it," the boy pleaded, raising wet eyes to you. "He went to walk us to the rift, except...," he breathed intermittently and shallowly, swallowing thick saliva. "When we were close to the rift, it turned out they weren't people at all," he looked up at you, making sure you understood what he meant. "I wanted to stay, but he pushed me away, and I think I ripped it off him at that point," he glanced at the bracelet in your hands, licking his chapped lips. "First he pushed me away, then relocated me closer to the rift, and then I think he relocate himself, but...," stingy tears spilled from his eyes like begging atonement. "Before I went in, I turned around. They- They torn him ap-"

"I got it," you interrupted without listening to the rest of the story.

It was as if all the water had evaporated from your body - it was so dry it was hard to move your limbs, your eyes refused to blink, saliva pooled in your mouth as if you'd lost all your basic reflexes. "There's nothing ya can do now. Go to bed," you said blankly. Your gaze fell on the pack of cigarettes that was peering through the white robe of Shoko, who had approached you. Ieiri silently reached into the pocket, pulled out a cigarette and held it out to you, paired with a lighter. "Thanks."

It was a long walk to the window, for the floor underfoot was not parquet, but viscous glue. The phone rang for the umpteenth time, but you weren't angry or annoyed. You didn't care. That's what you thought, until you saw the name of the caller.

It was Frank.

You took a cigarette in your teeth and lit it, but you hesitated before answering the phone, your numb hands deliberately delaying the moment. The phone screen went out, but immediately lit up again. "Hey, Frank."

"It's been well over an hour," he sighed. "If ya can't call me back, at least send me a text so I don't worry-"

"Frank."

"Don't interrupt me, that's not what I taught ya," he frowned, reminding you of childhood admonitions. "How's Rachel doing? Have ya been watching her?"

"Frank," you tried again.

"Did she drink a lot?" the agitated man persisted. "She did something wrong, didn't she?"

"Frank!" you shouted into the phone. The silence was so empty and impersonal, only the waves crashing against the rocks reminded you what kind of world you were in. You took a puff for the first time in a long time. Your head was spinning, but you remained standing at the open panoramic window. "Kyle, he's... He's dead."

When you said it aloud, you brought it to life, bringing chaos not only to your soul, but to the souls of others as well. There was a long silence, and the sound of the waves began to subside along with the beating of the heart. It would have been better if Frank had never spoken, for instead of his words you heard only something mechanical, and the ringing in your ears made it impossible to make out what was said - past, future, anguish, joys, sorrows and moments of happiness - all merged together and seemed to sink into the bay before your eyes.

You threw away the burnt cigarette and pulled the silver bracelet out of your pocket; it was cool as it lost its warmth. There was no blood on it, no pieces of skin. You put it to your lips, hoping to feel Kyle again. It was no use. The jewelry gave off only your warmth.

You didn't immediately realize that Frank had gone silent. 'Yeah, okay,' you said on automatic. You seemed to hear the words 'Hopetown', 'funeral', 'two days'. Were 'two days' accurate? Did Frank say three? Did he say anything at all?

Before you could come to your senses and have time to ask again, Frank hung up. "Y/N," Principal Yaga's worried voice came from behind you. "Is there anything we can do for you?"

You lost your brother, and you are unlikely to ever see again those people who were first gifted with hope and then left in the void. "Yeah," you replied coldly, turning to look at those present. You were still desperately pressing the jewelry to your lips. "Your job."

Seeing the principal nod briefly, you walked past heading for the workroom, throwing all Kyle's hopes, plans, dreams, and silver bracelet into the trashcan.

next ⊳

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literary-motif · 3 days

Note

andrew nsfw pls :>

Migraine (NSFW)

Andrew Marston x Reader

Andrew knows an unconventional way to help you with your migraine.

The pressure in your forehead makes it nearly impossible to focus on the words in front of you. The page is blurry, the black ink morphing together until it is nothing but an indecipherable mass of something vaguely resembling letters. You pause, pinching the bridge of your nose in annoyance and downing another glass of water. Migraine auras are a new experience, one that you do not like at all.

Despite the headache you had woken up with, you did not dare take a day off when the amount of manuscripts on your desk had made you feel on edge for a few days now. You couldn't afford to take a break, could not risk falling further behind than you already were. The thought alone was enough to make you sit down at the desk, pain be damned. The stress of being behind schedule was so much worse anyway.

Pushing through it with a few extra drinks of water and curtains half-closed had not been a good idea.

The mediocre headache keeps getting worse, pain making it hard to think clearly. With the letters swimming in your vision, it is impossible to get any work done, and the sheer annoyance you feel at being unable to complete your work makes you want to scream in frustration.

There is nothing left to do but wait, find some relief from it, and perhaps you could get back to work in a few hours. If you managed to get rid of the migraine, that is.

Water, contrary to popular belief, does not fix everything. Acupuncture did not work for you, and stretching left you dizzy.

You massage the muscles in your neck, stiff from being hunched over your desk all day. A hot shower would be perfect to sooth your aching muscles and get rid of the tension, but the prospect of getting up and going through the motions feels like it costs an overwhelming amount of energy, so you stay put.

“Darling, I found that tea you liked at the store!”

Andrew’s call makes you hiss, burying your face in your hands as a sharp stab of pain shoots through your head. The reply to his happy exclamation dies on your tongue as you squeeze your eyes shut and just breathe through it.

“Darling?” Andrew knocks softly against the half-open door, hesitating at your silence. “What is it?” he asks in light voice.

“I’m fine,” you whisper in response, raising your head but keeping your eyes shut. You reach out your hand, finding his immediately to give it a reassuring squeeze. “Could you draw the curtains properly, please?”

The chaste kiss against your skin is all the answer you get as Andrew moves to darken the room. You sigh in relief, blinking your eyes open slowly.

Light is still faintly streaming in from the open door, and the curtains do not block out the rays of shining sun entirely, but the gentle darkness makes you feel tenfold more comfortable already.

“Headache?” Andrew asks, standing beside you to offer his hand to you. Taking it, you allow him to guide you towards the bed. “Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

His whispers of concern, while not unusual, still cause warmth to spread across your chest, and a small smile appears on your face at the evidence of his infinite care and love for you.

“Fine,” you murmur, sinking into the mattress and rolling over to lie on your back, patting the space beside you in silent invitation.

Andrew hesitates, and you can clearly see the gears turning in his head, his beautiful mind trying to come up with ideas to help you, ways to ease your discomfort.

“Just stay here with me,” you say, "that's all I need, honestly. If you're not busy, that is."

He huffs, lying down beside you and opening his arms for you to nuzzle against his chest. "I'm never busy when you need me, darling," he assures you, his hand tenderly running through your hair and massaging your scalp. "Is this alright?"

You hum, melting under his touch. Although it does not help to lessen the pain, the care Andrew pours into his caresses is soothing, making you drift in his arms.

After a while Andrew sighs, pressing feather-light kisses against your forehead. "Has it improved at all?”

“No,” you answer honestly.

Andrew pauses in contemplation again. “You know,” he begins, “I read somewhere that, well— just in case you’re up for it, of course" — Andrew hesitates — "I read that orgasms can be a relief for headaches. If— if you would like to try it out, I could assist you."

You chuckle at his nervousness, wincing in pain a moment later. "Where did you read that?" you ask exhausted, not oppose to giving it a try.

“I looked into how to treat headaches since you get them so often,” Andrew explains casually as if his words don't make your hear swell with appreciation, nearly bringing tears to your eyes from how much he cares. “I want to help. Last time, you did not want a massage, so I thought an orgasm might be the next best thing to relax you, but it is just a suggestion, as I said. The decision is yours, of course. There is no pressure, darling. We could try a heating pad instead?”

You smile, brushing your hand across his cheek before resting it against the back of his head and pulling him in for a kiss. Nobody has ever made you feel so loved.

He sighs in contentment at the feeling of your lips on his, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

"I like your first suggestion better," you say, unhurriedly returning to meeting Andrew's soft lips. "But only if you'd like to. I don't want you to feel obligated just because you want to help me."

"I would love to, darling," Andrew murmurs, shifting to disentangle himself from your embrace. "Taking care of you is never a chore. You know I love doing it."

His palms caress your hips, roaming over your thighs before his fingers work to undo your pants. You shrug out of them with his help, releasing a small moan in anticipation.

Andrew rolls to the side of the bed and pulls out a bottle of lube from the bedside drawer. He positions himself between your spread legs, resting his fingers on the hem of your undergarments for a moment, silently asking for permission to remove them.

“Go ahead,” you whisper, closing your eyes and allowing your body to relax, knowing Andrew will take care of you. With a kiss against the inside of your thigh, he pulls them down, exposing you to him.

It does not take him nearly as long as usual to push his fingers inside you. “It’s the orgasm that helps,” he murmurs, softly kissing your stomach as he picks up the pace. “I don’t want you to suffer if I can prevent it.”

Normally, he would have you begging to be fucked before he even unbuttoned your pants, endlessly teasing you because he knew how much you loved it when he took his time , caressing every inch of you and showering you with kisses as you saw the overflowing adoration in his eyes when he glanced up from between your legs.

You chuckle at his sweetness, thankful that he does not feel the need to tease you too much today. The rhythm of his fingers is gentle, working you open and brushing against spots that have quiet moans tumbling from your lips.

“You feel so good,” you whisper in a near whine, arching your back. Through half-lidded eyes, you can see Andrew's sly smile. The pleasure twisting in your core choked back any witty remark. His fingers curl a bit more, making your breath hitch.

"Right here, darling?" he asks, noticing your squirming. You whine, immediately regretting it as stabbing pain shoots through your head again, making you groan instead. His teasing tone fades into one of soothing sincerity, "Relax, I've got you." Andrew slows down, giving you a moment to catch your breath.

“I thought you didn’t want to drag this out?”

“I also don’t want to hurt you,” he answers quietly, slowly picking up the pace again, angling his fingers just right. “Tell me if I’m going too fast. I don’t want to pound you too hard.”

You exhale, getting lost in the pleasure building steadily. “God, if I didn’t have a migraine I would let you rail me into next week.”

Andrew sputters at your words for a long moment and you can clearly picture his flustered face as he leans down to place his lips against your hips, muffling his moan.

“If you keep— ah— right there,” you gasp as he increases the pressure on that sensitive spot, leaving you breathless.

“Are you close?” Andrew asks, the grip you have on his hair tightening as your thighs begin to shake. He keeps going, adamant to have you reach your high. “Come for me when you're ready, darling," he whispers, trailing kisses over your skin, "Whenever you're ready."

As you succumb to the building feeling, the pain in your head is overshadowed by the pleasure dragging you under as Andrew rides out your high, only ceasing when oversensitivity makes you shudder.

"Is it any better?" he asks, lying down next to you. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. It's slightly better," you answer, placing a tender kiss against his forehead, "Thank you, Andrew."

“You know there is nothing I like more than helping you, darling. How about a shower now?”

#sakuverse #andrew marston x reader #andrew marston #minors dni

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midnights-cosmic · 14 hours

Text

Stay as Friends

Jeong Yunho x F!Reader

Moving on from Yunho is slow but it's sure.

"Aren't you coming with us?" Your colleague asked. You've been working non stop since you got back from your trip in Italy. It was fun and it finally brought you the peace that you've always wanted to experience.

It wasn't like you were going through a break up or what. You and Yunho weren't even official. There was no label, really. It's just complicated. You're just really grateful on what relationship you both had and cherished it. Yunho may have enjoyed that simple-no label relationship, well you did too, until you fell. Hard. You took it upon yourself to distance yourself from him. And though it hurts, you made through it.

Still, there was a bitter taste in your mouth when you saw how Yunho adjusted to that so well. There were many times that you passed by each other in the hallway where you would avoid his gaze but he would smile at you.

Or sometimes be in the same elevator, unexpectedly, in which he would greet you hello and ask you how your morning went. You would always answer with a simple 'good' then that's it. You would stand there like a pole, not moving or talking until one of you has to leave.

Who are we kidding, you've told him many times that it's not his fault, and will never be.

That was about 8 months ago. Your last day at KQ was the beginning of your getaway to Italy. Honestly, you don't know what Yunho has been up to these days. Last time you heard, Ateez has been busy for their overseas schedule and preparation for their next album.

Other than that, you don't really know what's going on in his life. There were few posts from Ateez's instagram that you'd scroll by but that's it. Nothing deeper than pictures they show on their social media account.

"I don't get what you two have." Mingi said referring to you and Yunho, while looking out the ocean. Yunho and Wooyoung were too busy trying to throw each other in the water, laughing and wrestling.

KQ's CEO decided to treat Ateez and the staff to a trip in Jeju. Every one has been working hard and because of the many success of their hard work, Jeju trip it is.

Ateez were rarely recognized here, which in times like this, is really important. They get to walk around the neighborhood and even go to food markets. Sometimes, people got curious if they are celebrities because of their stylish outfits, but none of the members really dare to mention of them being idols.

You can only guess that they also want to make the most out of this break. You're sure Ateez knows that by the time they go back to Seoul, it means back to work.

"We don't have anything." You replied after a long silence. Yunho was able to throw Wooyoung into the water but Wooyoung grabbed his shirt, dragging him along. You can hear their laughter all the way from where you and Mingi are; just a small cottage to keep you off the blazing heat and serve as a shed.

The other members are still in the house, resting from the insane long ferry ride.

"So... The holding hands, having lunch and dinner together, sleeping in your house, ordering take-outs for each other is 'nothing'?" Mingi snickered.

You shrugged your shoulders. You don't even know what you and Yunho have. None of you has ever confessed, and none of you tried to initiate the conversation on what your relationship really is.

"I really hope this all works out for you." Mingi suddenly said. He stood up and picked up his phone.

Right... The only reason why he's not sleeping now is because he wanted to catch the sunset and take pictures. The sky is slowly fading from dark blue to an orange hue with tints of pinks and purples.

"I know you like him Y/N. I can't tell if Yunho feels the same way, but I'm sure he'll understand better if you say something." You watched Mingi took his strides, his figure getting smaller and smaller from your sight.

And just like that, your eyes flickered back to where Wooyoung and Yunho was supposed to be. You were slightly taken back seeing Yunho already looking at you. You smiled and gave him a small wave.

He waved back at you, but before he could say something, Wooyoung appeared behind him and dragged him back into the ocean. The corners of your mouth turned up at the two goof balls in the water.

Wooyoung's loud yapping and Yunho's protests was all you can hear, completely shutting out the voices of people passing by and the harsh gusts of the wind.

"What's your instagram again?" Yunho furrowed his brows, trying to remember the username you mentioned a few hours ago.

"star_light.0823" You rolled your eyes.

"Star... light... dot. Zero-eight-twenty three." You watched him, sprawled in your couch like he owns it, typing away your username.

"Shocking. You're not private."

"No one would follow me anyway, except for my friends so..."

In just a few minutes, Yunho has reached your posts from way back in high school. You both laugh at some of your ridiculous heavy filtered selfies and landscape photos. Even the pictures that you've long forgotten were suddenly brought back to your memories.

"And this?" It was a photo of you holding a pepero and a bouquet of fresh flowers.

"Well, what can I say, I'm pretty and I'm popular in high school." You whipped your hair boastfully.

"Uh huh." Yunho teased. "How many peperos are these? Let me count."

"Yah!" It was clearly seen on the picture that there are only 2 boxes. The living room was filled with laughters and high school stories that whole afternoon. Both of you sharing different yet fun experiences from years ago.

"Yunho, thanks for being here with me."

"Hmm?"

"Whatever this is," You started, "I mean, I hope we could be as friends for as long as we can."

"I'll always be here for you when you need me, Y/N." He assured, and in that moment, you were satisfied. There was no label needed. Your loyalty for each other is enough to keep it.

"God, I hate it here." You mumbled under your breath. Big or small, it was dumb for you think that all agencies work the same. YG Entertainment being the bigger one, doubles the workload that you used to have in KQ. Not to mention the management were astronomically different.

If back then in KQ you can interact with artists just fine, here in YG, they are stricter. You're not allowed to talk too much with the artists unless they chat with you. Not that you're planning on getting close with the artists anyway. You already know how that turn out the last time you got close to one.

Your phone vibrated with a text message, prompting you to look. A groan escaped your lips as you were reminded of the piling folders of today's work.

I did put this phone over here so I can remember every thing I need to finish, You thought.

Expecting an urgent message from your boss, your eyes almost rolled at the back of your head when you saw that it was from your colleague and long-time friend, Jia.

Jia Jaebeom wants to say hi to you.

You This is the third time. Not interested.

Jia Boo. Single.

You poked your head from your cublicle and look for your friend. You were not surprised seeing her holding her phone, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. You raised your brow back and all she did was stick her tongue out at you.

Jia Boo! Still stuck on that Ateez guy :P

You chuckled. Sometimes it really does cross your mind whether telling your friend about Yunho was a great idea.

You Nope, Italy changed me. Who's that Ateez guy again? Jia Sure sure. Jeong Yunho

You look up from your seat, watching how your friend giggle at her reply.

You What a real friend you are, bitc-- Jia Jeong Yunho :P

Shaking your head, you couldn't help but smile at your friend's childish behavior. Well, at least the mention of his name doesn't make you want to curl up in ball and cry like they used to. You're getting there, slowly but surely. Maybe one of these days, you'll have the guts to reach out to them again.

Even after every thing that happened, you miss their unpredictable funny moments and that familiar melody of Yunho's laugh. And maybe, just maybe, get to know each other again.

"So, you did confess?" Jia's eyes went round. "Holy shit!"

"Uhuhm." You hummed in agreement.

"And then what happened?" Jia scooted closer, nudging your shoulder at the same time.

Your heart was pounding and your mind is clouded. You're not really sure if this is the right thing to do. Honestly, you blame the book that you read last night. Something along the lines of regretting the chances you didn't take and you wouldn't see it unless you try.

The concert ended about an hour ago and you asked Yunho to meet with you at the private parking lot before you part ways. You were blowing on your freezing hands when Yunho appeared.

You both said your hi's and hello's, and for some reason, Yunho's face is flushed and his eyes are beaming. "I also want to tell you something."

You gulped, you want him to go first. Before you could tell him, Yunho started excitedly on his speech.

"Remember that girl from weeks ago?" The idol trainee, yes. You uncrossed you arms and let him continue. "Well, she attended the concert tonight and..." Yunho is practically bouncing on his toes at this point. "...And she said, hear this, I was her favorite." He was glowing like the morning sun.

"Oh..." You bit your lip. "That's really good to hear."

"Right? I think I like her, too."

Late. That's all you could think of: You're late. You relaxed your breathing and forced a smile on your lips. "I, uh..."

Yunho's eyes narrowed at you. "Something wrong?"

You shook your head, "Nope."

"Well actually," You bit the insides of your cheek. "I like you."

Every thing then was a blur. Yunho spurting words of sorry's and apologizing. He was holding your hand when he did, but you assured him that it was okay. And that this is not his fault.

You were even able to throw a line of someone being better. There would be someone out there better. It was more of a comforting word to yourself, than a joke you told Yunho.

He laughed and agreed, "I'm sure you'll find him."

"Of course, I will. Duh. Remember those peperos in high school? Psh."

"Wow, I can't believe you're a martyr, Saint Y/N." Jia teased with humor.

"What can I say, this is me." You responded.

You were staring at the series of pictures you've recently posted on Instagram. Starting from the mess of your kitchen after you and Jia baked cookies, to the mini clips in between of Jia mixing and fooling around, and finally the baked cookies. You made sure to include the first batch which was half burnt.

jiaaaaaa_ dare i say, i'm the best baker

Jia's comment was at the top, with a couple of your friends that sarcastically said it's the best looking cookies they've seen in a while.

You were about to exit the app when another notification popped up.

yu_yu.0323 liked your post yu_yu.0323 commented on your post

You can hear your heart beating from your chest. Of course, he doesn't have any profile picture on nor any info on his profile at all. But that username is and will always be familiar to you.

Absentmindedly, you clicked on it.

yu_yu.0323 the most peaceful cookies i've ever seen tbh :))

Yunho was defintely referring to the failed cookies which was either burned to crisp or the cracked ones. You don't know whether to ignore or reply even with just a simple emoji. It doesn't seem wrong to acknowledge his comment anyway.

star_light.0823 @yu_yu.0323 they really were. just not sure about it having a 'peaceful' taste.

You closed the app after that. Maybe it's better this way. No need for complicated things, just two friends interacting on social media.

You really do wish you would've just met now, though. This version of you is your best version. That version of you was a scared little girl. You would've told that girl to not run away and face it; it's okay to face rejections.

Someday, maybe you and Yunho will cross paths again. And maybe by that time, things would turn out better than it did.

[Unedited. Not yet proofread]

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez imagines #jeong yunho #jeong yunho ateez #yunho #ateez yunho #yunho x reader #yunho imagines

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reidsdimples · 2 days

Text

POV: You're Spencer's dom/mistress

Spencer Reid x Reader

18+

Submissive Spencer/ Dominate fem/ begging

"Sit down, Spencer," you demand again. You're pacing back and forth in front of him, his eyes unable to leave you.

You surprised him in his apartment, already dressed in the leather little get up that weakens him. He had a long few days at work, you know that. You know he's tired and stressed. But you also know that's why he needs this, he needs the release that only you can give him. God does it drive you crazy to see him tensing with need, his eyes blown wide, his eyebrows arched in curiously.

His hair is deliciously tousled from a long plane ride and he's shocked you're there. You purposefully ignored him all day just to put him on edge, just to make him squirm, and now you're going to make him beg. He loved to beg for it.

He does as he's told at takes a seat in the wooden chair, his eyes scanning over your exposed legs, ass, and breasts which are being pushed upward by the lingerie. You take the tip of the riding crop and use it to tilt his chin upward so he meets your eyes.

"Were you good while you were away?" You ask him. His brown eyes widen at that and he looks away briefly. "No?" You tilt your head before bringing the riding crop down on his leg, snapping his attention back to you and causing him to jump.

"I- I was good but I needed t..." he trails off when you crouch down in front of him. "Please mistress, I'm sorry," his cheeks are red. He made himself cum without telling you, without your permission.

"Bad boy," you tut. But you love it, you love the thought of him alone in a hotel room stroking his cock and biting down on his whimpers as he makes himself cum. You trace the leather tip of the riding crop down his forearm, across his long fingers, and back up to his neck until goosebumps appear. He's nervous, he doesn't know what you're going to do.

"Please, I- I need you," he whimpers. His perfect mouth forms the word 'please' so prettily, you'll never tire of it. His cock is straining against his pants, his mouth watering.

You bend down in front of him and hover your lips above his, teasingly close. You finally kiss him when his breathing shudders, the need burning him alive. He needs to taste you, to feel you, he desperately needs to come apart at your command.

He mouth melts into yours and it's heady the way his taste goes straight to your head. He reaches up to grab at your waist but you place a hand on his chest and pin him back into the chair. He huffs in frustration.

You palm his cock through his pants suddenly, forcing him to still completely. He tilts his head back when you start rubbing the length of him slowly, your own pussy quivering with need for it. This little game you two play is equally as fulfilling for both of you. You pull his cock free of his pants a step back, he snaps his gaze to you as you take him in- hot and needy and exposed.

"Show me how you made yourself cum, show me just how bad you were, Spencer," you demand and sit on the table in front of him.

He swallows nervously but does as he's told- gripping his cock and pumping it slowly. You spread your legs, your feet on the bench below you, and run your fingers between your pussy lips. His mouth pops open as he takes in the sight of you. You rub circles around your clit through the thong before pushing them to the side to give him a better view.

"Fuck," he groans and picks up his pace. His jaw clenches as he pumps himself harder, faster. You plunge your fingers into yourself, soaking them. He eyes your dripping pussy and licks his lips as he squirms and pumps his hips into his hand.

"Stop," you demand. He does, but not without narrowing his eyes on you. He bites back whatever sassy thing he may have thought to say. "Come here, now."

He doesn't hesitate to close the space between you. He leans on the table, arms on either side of you, eyes digging into you. You love when he becomes more dominate as his need grows. But this is still your game. You shove your wet fingers between his pouty lips and he sucks them in deep, his tongue swirling and lapping up every bit of your arousal with a satisfied moan.

You keep your eyes locked on his and lay back on the table, raising your legs onto his shoulders.

"Fuck me, Spencer," you instruct. His jaw relaxes, his mouth falling open in awe at the sight of you below him.

He grips your hips and pulls you closer to the edge of the table, the thong hurriedly removed. He sinks his cock into you, filling you so completely that you moan as he works his way in.

He grips your ankles, hugging your legs as they're wrapped around his neck and thrusts into you. He finds a quick and violent rhythm, pounding into you as you urge him on.

"Fuck yeah, baby just like that," you nod and grab at his tie so he looks at you. "You're such a good boy," you reassure him which only causes him to fuck you harder.

"I'm your good boy," he breathes out as he arches to find that spot inside of you that causing you to cum.

"My good boy," you roll your head back, taking every inch of him as your orgasm builds. He pulls your legs to wrap around his waist, finding an even better angle and begins rubbing your clit.

"Spencer," you moan as you exploded around him, soaking him in your orgasm. He looks down, eyes wide and in shock. You'd cum for him many times but never squirted. He smiles and continues his thrusts into you, more desperate, more sporadic. "You're close, you can cum for me," you give him permission.

His nails dig into your thighs as he whimpers, the sounds of wet flesh slapping together filling the space. It feels so good, too good. His breathy moans and grunts of appreciation intensify as he grips your tits, squeezing and rolling the nipples between his fingers.

"You're doing so good," you moan.

You feel that send him over the edge, his pulsing cock pulling another orgasm out of you with a scream. You tighten around him as he pumps you full of cum, both grinding out almost pained sounds of pleasure. Too good, it feels too good. He shudders and stills, holding himself up on the edge of the table.

Your eyes meet, both of you panting. But the night is just getting started.

#spencer reid #dr reid #mgg #matthew gray gubler #matthewgraygubler #criminal minds #spencer reid one shot #spicy Spencer reid

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2af-afterdark · 1 day

Text

Once a Decade Hobby

Fandom: What in Hell is Bad? Content: Foras & GN!MC (they/them), fluff turns into mild violence, MC is a little unhinged and selfish, Summary: MC asks Foras to teach them his hobby. They throw a tantrum when they don't get their way. A/N: You know what? I love terrible MCs. I love when they are absolute garbage. Long live these bitches! Word Count: 709

“I don't think I'm doing this right,” they say as they turn the thick horn over in their hand. The rough, bark-like exterior has chips and gnashes in it from where the knife had dug too deeply or had slipped out of their control.

They had imagined this would Be more fun than it actually was due to Foras unusually bright smile while widdling.

“The outer layer of horns like those needs to be scrapped off before they can be shaped properly,” Foras reminds them. “It also allows you to see if there are unseen cracks that run through the core or up the sides which could jeopardize the integrity of your sculpture.”

“I know that's what you said, but that doesn't make it any easier.” They look over at the horn that he's carving – a smooth, curved one that's marbled with turquoise and seafoam – and pout. “You didn’t scrape yours off? Can we switch? That one looks more simple.”

Foras looks at them with expressionless eyes. “This one is more difficult due to its shape and the fact that it is thinner and more delicate than usual. I didn't scrape its outer layer because so much of it is damaged. If I tried, I would have very little left to work with. The one you have may seem like more work, but that's because it's healthy and thicker horns are more forgiving if you make mistakes.”

“I can be careful. I promise.”

They're bored though. The horn Foras gave to them to experiment on and fiddle with is black and the shape doesn't inspire any creativity in them. They want something prettier. Something that shimmers. Something that inspires them.

“No. Beginners should work with sturdier materials that are more forgiving to mistakes.”

Foras is the type of devil that seems hard to approach because of his unintentional directness and tactless behavior. They couldn’t even recall how many times he had scared them after suddenly turning visible after following them in secret for an unknown amount of time. But, in this moment, he seems like a completely different devil. His passion makes him act like someone else.

They stare at him while he carefully works the sharp edge of his knife across the supposedly delicate horn. Each stroke releases a small sliver of the outermost, seafoam-speckled layer. Each shaving gathers as little curls in a messy pile in hip lap. They are beautiful flakes, like glitter under the light.

They place the rough horn with small notches down on the ground beside where they sit, having lost all interest in it. They stand with their knife in hand. Slowly, they take a step closer to where Foras sits, working on his once-in-a-blue-moon hobby. They sneak around behind him to watch him from the back. His eyes, that would normally be carefully watching every moving object in the room, flicking back and forth so quickly that they would almost appear to be staring straight forward. For once, he is so engrossed in a singular task that he isn’t watching the rest of the world as if it’s a play being put on around him.

Foras is cute when he’s passionate.

So cute that they can’t help but wrap their fist around his beautiful, shimmering horn and yank his head back.

“If you won’t share that one, I'll take this one instead.”

A coy smile creeps across their face as they lean in close, forcing Foras to look at them the way he usually did. They run the flat of their tongue from the base of his horn all the way to the tip, smirking at the sound of his surprise and arousal.

If the horn in his hand sparkled like glitter, then his own horn

“Yours looks healthy, so I can have it… right? Like you said, an amateur like me needs something sturdy so I can make lots and lots of mistakes. We can even start from the top.” They pull away, replacing their tongue with the edge of the knife they are still carrying. “Teach me how to saw this off. I'm feeling inspired to make something.”

Foras will look lovely with a collar made from his own horn snapped tighter around his throat than even Leviathan’s noose.

#2af writes #what in hell is bad #whb foras #gender neutral fic #cw violence

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vodika-vibes · 2 days

Note

Hi sweetheart; I've been feeling really down and stressed today and I was wondering if I could please have a female reader x Jango Fett scenario where he knows whenever she's stressed and depressed by how much chocolate she has throughout the day I.e. Chocolate Caff, or hot coco and triple choc chip cookies, and several pieces of her favorite chocolate block etc and he tries to ask her about it, but she brushes him off and doesn't want to talk about it, so he just hugs her until she responds and feels better? If you can't make it work with Jango Fett, feel free to go with whichever clone inspires you most for this. Thank you either way. 💖

An Observant Man

Summary: Jango knows his riduur better than anyone, so when she has a bad day, he knows just what to do.

Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader

Word Count: 936

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I'm sorry you're going through a hard time right now! I hope this helps, at least a little bit. I decided to write it solely from Jango's POV. I hope you feel a little better soon.

Jango has always been an observant man.

As a bounty hunter, he has to be observant. Able to recognize the ins and outs of every place that he visits, able to determine if something is unusual or not.

It’s a talent that’s kept him alive on more than one occasion.

And it’s one of the more useful skills he’s learned over the years. Though, it’s also one of the skills that he has the hardest time turning off, even when he’s safe in the arms of his riduur.

So, when he comes home after a long hunt that turned even longer, he can’t help but take note of the things that have changed in the home he shares with his beautiful riduur.

He takes note that she rearranged the front hallway and added a bench for him to sit on when he removes his armor. He notes that there’s a new painting on the wall near the front door, likely a gift from their nephew, based on the…unique color choice.

The front hallway smells like a mix of flowers and chemicals, which suggests that she invested in some of the carpet powder to use when he’s away. So long as she doesn’t use it when he’s here, he doesn’t mind.

He quickly removes his armor and moves through the house, taking in several of the other small changes. Several items have been moved to better locations, some pieces of furniture have new coats of paint, or stain-

There’s a new blanket tossed over the arm of the couch, one made by her own hands, if he had to guess based on the color of the yarn used. Jango releases a fond laugh as he picks up the blanket and trails his fingers over the soft material.

Maybe he can talk his riduur into letting him bring this back to his ship.

He just…has to find her first.

Jango folds the blanket and sets it on the couch, before allowing his feet to lead him through the halls until he reaches the kitchen. The kitchen looks the same as ever; the same pale yellow paint, the same kitchen table and chairs, the same scent of cinnamon and apples that always fills the room-

And there, absently stirring a mug, is his riduur. Her hair pulls off her neck with a ribbon, clad in one of his older shirts, her feet bare.

She truly is the most stunning woman in the galaxy.

He leans against the door frame and watches her for a moment, a small smile on his lips. Though, slowly, the smile fades as his gaze slides across the kitchen counter.

Hot chocolate mix. A handful of chocolate truffles. The block of rich dark chocolate he brought her from Alderaan the last time he had to visit that planet. The box of chocolate brownie mix sitting, forgotten, on the kitchen table.

A bad day then.

Hopefully not longer. The idea of her suffering without him here to support her breaks his heart.

“I’m home, riduur.” He finally says quietly, and he knows that she knows that he’s there, because she doesn’t jump or start. Instead, her hand pauses from where she’s stirring her drink.

Tellingly, she doesn’t turn to look at him for almost half a minute, and when she does, her smile is painfully fake. “Welcome home, Jango.” Her smile might be fake, but the relief in her voice isn’t.

“Have you had a bad day, love?”

“I’m fine.” Her answer is absent, automatic.

“Ah, cyar’ika,” he pushes off the wall and walks over to her, slowly encouraging her to slide into his arms, where she fits against him like two pieces of the same puzzle, “I know that’s not true.” Jango folds his arms tightly around her, “Will you tell me about it?”

“There’s nothing to tell,” She replies as her hands curl into the material of his flight suit, “I’m fine.”

“Hm.” Jango’s arms tighten around her, “I’m not sure if you actually believe that, beautiful, or if you’re just trying to keep me from worrying about you.”

She shrugs and presses her face against his shoulder, “Can’t it be both?”

“I’m sure it can.” Slowly he starts rubbing her back, offering silent comfort and support. “Come on, riduur. Talk to me.”

She sighs softly, “I don’t know, Jango.” She finally says softly, “I’m just…feeling off.”

“That’s okay, everyone has off days.”

“But this has been going on for days now-”

Jango’s heart clenches painfully, “I’m sorry, cyar’ika. I should have been here to support you.”

“S’not your job.”

“It is my job,” Jango corrects, “It became my job the moment you said yes to dinner with me.” He lightly kisses the top of her head, “How about, we go and cuddle on the bed. And tonight I’ll handle everything.”

“That…doesn’t seem fair to you.”

“You’ve been carrying this burden alone for days, cyar’ika. Let me carry it for you for at least one night.”

And she sighs, and pulls back to look up at him, “I love you, you know that.”

Jango smiles softly, “Not half as much as I love you, riduur.”

Finally, a small, but genuine, smile lifts her lips and tension drains from Jango’s shoulders. Quickly, he ducks his head and drops a light kiss on her lips, tasting chocolate as he kisses her, and then he pulls back and lightly urges her towards the bedroom.

It won’t help immediately, it’s going to take time for his perfect riduur to recover, but he’s going to be there every step of the way. After all, that’s his job as riduur.

#star wars #star wars legends #jango fett x reader #jango x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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baldursgate3tempobsessed · 6 months

Note

Hiii!

I love your writing, especially Mirror, Mirror! Are you still taking request? I‘ve been thinking about Ascended Astarion and female Tav/Reader attending a ball for the politicians and nobles of Baldur’s Gate, getting all dressed up and socializing, dancing and Astarion flirting with her all night long. Astarion obviously wouldn’t waste a chance to be alone with Tav/Reader, takes her on a romantic stroll in the gardens and has his wicked way with her somewhere in a dark corner 👀

I can not make Ascnedant Astarion not dark I am SORRY but I can't help myself. The intro to this is sad bad, but honestly it gets pretty fun later down the line. Gotta set up that Stockholm syndrome. You gots it here.

Tw: Murder, Violence, not much but it is there, graphic smut, 18+ sweet dark fluff. I do consider this Stockholm on your end. Very inspired by the in-game quote of locking you away for a decade. Also, never write shit only in tumblr post editor, I lost half of this right before I was going to post last and it almost killed me

Astarion was.... aware that you'd been having a hard time as of late. If anyone could empathize with the complications of being a vampire spawn, it was certainly him. Even though his circumstance were obviously much, much worse than yours ever could be.

He was no Cazador. Astarion was different, he loved you. He knew what was best for you. All that needed to happen now was for you to accept it.

And in your defense, you were trying. It had taken a long time for you to finally come to terms with the full extent of power he had over you as his spawn. He would always know where you were through sensation alone. Always ready and willing to drag you back home if need be. He could compel you to his side at any moment, though he did have a bad habit of going out to find you during your little tantrums. It seemed to work better to put you in your place, especially since he had very little self-control when it came to who you associated with. Many a possible friend had died at his hand, in front of your eyes. A waste, really, one that wouldn't be necessary if you would just listen.

But the demonstrations had been useful. Slowly but surely you were learning that the option of secrets between the two of you had died the second he sunk his fangs into your wrist. He had personally put an official stop to all of your extracurricular activities. The things you used to do in your spare time were silly and dangerous, always going out of your way to help the undeserving. But now he had the control to stop you, to sequester you at the estate where you were safe.

You had nowhere to be besides his side and you were finally starting to understand that. Things were so much easier when you gave in and listened, happier and more fun.

Lately, it had almost felt like another honeymoon phase, with your sudden predilection for extreme loyalty. It helped that he could still see into your mind through the new connection, fully aware that your love remained real and pure, if not a bit melancholic. It was silly really, the guilt you felt towards him for letting him ascend. Never mind the thousands he sacrificed, you were too concerned with how power had chanced him.

It was cute. Stupid, but cute. Because obviously it had changed him for the better. How else would he be where he was now? With his hands already in nearly every major part of Baldur's Gate's governance? He had made wide, sweeping moves to gain control in the past year, banking on your dual hero status to deflect from his more... unsavory attributes. But it was working, and in a few years time this city would belong to him. Then the two of you would be on to the next major conquest. A future that you were just now coming to terms with.

And Astarion wanted to reward you for that acceptance. He had been a bit paranoid of late, paranoid enough to not let you out of the house for a solid fortnight. But for good reason. The last of the Gur had come out of the woodwork recently, looking for revenge for their children and fallen comrades. With a specific interest in you. It had made sense, in a way. You were his greatest weakness after all. So of course he had to take it upon himself to personally hunt the last of them down to tear them limb from limb.

But now they were officially gone, and he was finally feeling comfortable with letting you out into the world again. Just not out of his sight. And tonight was the perfect opportunity. He had a mandatory soirée to attend, populated by neighboring nobles and a few powerful foreigners. One that would be so much more entertaining with you willingly by his side. Or forced, if need be. Depending on if you decided to be in one of your moods, though they were a rarity nowadays.

But no, you turned out to be too excited at the prospect of leaving the house to even attempt being a brat. Astarion watched you with a smile as you appeared at the top of the staircase, dressed to the nines. He whistled as he watched you descend, beyond pleased with how you looked. He met you at the bottom of the landing, easily wrapping an arm around your waist before setting a quick kiss to your temple, "You look beautiful pet. Absolutely stunning."

You truly did. A navy satin gown that matched your skin tone perfectly, fitted with delicate straps and a low bodice. Perhaps the slit in the leg was a little high, revealing too much of your perfect thigh for the rest of the world. But you looked too good for him to complain.

You really were so gorgeous, could he be blamed for wanting to dress you up?

You rolled your eyes, but Astarion didn't miss the tiny smile dancing on your lips, "You're the one who picked it out."

"And you wear it perfectly," Astarion praised, already leading you out the door. He kept you close to his side during the short journey, his eyes darting around your surroundings every few moments. His paranoia had been quelled, but it hadn't completely died out. But he had already made the decision that he was going to be on his best behavior tonight, and that included not indulging in his protective nature. You deserved nothing less.

But that didn't stop Astarion from taking some mental notes on those who stared at you too brazenly when you arrived. Part of him couldn't blame them, not when he could understand your thrall better than any one else. But the other, more fun part of himself was too busy imagining ripping them apart for the audacious, lustful stares.

But he didn't drag the two of you out for strictly fun, a fact that he was quickly reminded of when you were approached by the main host, "Lord Ancunín! I'm so pleased that you could make it."

Astarion vaguely remembered who he was, though he was much more interested in his friends than the man himself. The man turned his attention toward you, brow raised, "And who is this beautiful creature?"

Astarion could feel his brow twitch at the insolence. How dare he not know who you were? The Hero of Baldur's Gate, his consort, the love of his life, how could someone of his breeding be so ignorant? You had to many titles to choose from for introductions, so Astarion decided on the most important, "This is the future Lady Ancunín, my fiancé."

He could feel you tense at his side, staring up at him with wide eyes like what he said was surprising. Which was odd. He had been extremely clear about his intentions since the day he ascended, marriage was the obvious next step for the two of you.

"Well it's lovely to meet you," The noble said with a smile, his attention going straight back to Astarion, "Now if you'll excuse us, I have a few matters to discuss with your future husband."

Astarion was startlingly close to hurting this man. What on earth made him feel as though he had the right to dismiss you? He tightened the arm he had around your waist, sneering at him, "There is nothing that you can say that she won't eventually know. Don't waste our time."

Then he proceeded to do just that, wasting Astarion's time with useless information and worthless attempts at allyships. It seemed to be an unfortunate trend as the night progressed, just reinforcing how utterly useless the gentry could really be. Not to mention their constant passive dismissal of you. He really was going to need to start letting you out more often, though he had to wonder if they were even worthy of your presence. He would have been a bit more forceful regarding his own displeasure at their arrogance if you weren’t so distracting.

It was hard to hold onto his own indignation when you seemed so content. You were leaning into him the whole night, smiling softly through all of his inane conversations. Never failing to be adorably pleased at your introduction. It made Astarion want to fawn over you, alternating between whispering sweet nothings in your ear and sweeping you onto the dance floor. All of your pleased laughs and giggles music to his ears.

He kept you close all evening, never allowing you to wander past his sight. His arm stayed firmly around your waist, never quite shaken off after your first waltz together. But you didn't seem to mind. If anything you were glowing under the attention, happy in a way he hadn't seen for a long time. Too long. Beautiful enough for him to have the overly romantic thought that he never wanted the night to end.

Even after he had done his rounds, engaged with all whom he had planned on, he wasn't quite ready to leave. They had all been dreadfully dull, but at least a few conversations would prove useful in the future at the very least.

He started to steer you towards the back garden doors, whispering in your ear, "Take a walk with me?"

You followed him easily, happy to leave the bustle of the ballroom and step into the coolness of the night. You both started walking, hand and hand in a comfortable silence. It was a pretty enough garden, hedges and ivy lining the walkways, a white slightly weathered gazebo placed in the center.

"You know," You said eventually, as the two of you went up the gazebo steps. You leaned against the railing, looking at him with a coy smile, "I don't recall you ever proposing."

Astarion barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes as he crowded around you. It was an unnecessary question, considering how you would have no choice in the matter. But he was playing nice tonight. Astarion grinned at you, bracing his hands on the railing to cage you in his arms, "If you want a proposal, I'm more than happy to oblige."

"I do," You were playing with the lapel of his jacket, looking up at him through your lashes, "Sooner than later if you don't mind."

"Your wish is my command," Astarion murmured, shameless as he started to kiss along the line of your throat, "I'm proud of you pet. You've been an angel all night."

"You haven't given me much to complain about," You said with a small laugh, your breath hitching when his fangs scraped against your delicate skin, hard enough to make pinpricks of blood bubble to the surface.

"You know..." Astarion started, pulling back to look you in the eye. His voice gentle but serious, "It could always be like this. If you let it."

"I... I know," You admitted, biting on your lower lip as you struggled for the words, "I-I want that. I want you. Even if... it's like this."

Astarion would take offense at the subtle dig if it was anyone else. But with you? He was just happy that you were finally coming around, at long last willing to accept the fate he'd set for you.

"You have it," Astarion promised, tilting your chin up to press a light kiss to your lips, "For as long as I breathe my love, you're mine. And I'm yours-"

You kissed him before he could finish, wrapping your arms around his neck, forceful in a way that he had desperately missed. But you were pulling back too soon, your mouth swollen and your lipstick slightly smeared, smiling at him like the precious thing you were.

How could he resist?

"I think you deserve a reward for tonight my pet," Astarion said, leaning in to softly kiss along your jaw, "For being such a sweetheart."

His hands were wandering, already moving to pluck at the delicate straps of your dress, slowly teasing them to drop down your shoulders.

You made no moves to stop him as your eyes darted around the empty space, "H-Here? But what if someone sees?"

"Then I'll tear their eyes out and feed them back to anyone who stumbles on us," Astarion said simply, smiling at the way it made you laugh softly.

"Violence isn't always the answer you know," You said, your breath hitching as he lightly bit your neck. Your dress still slinking down all the while, "I thought we talked about that?"

"Perhaps," Astarion murmured, "But it seems to usually work in my favor."

He had already managed to slip the straps down enough to ease the way, brazenly tugging the fabric until your breasts spilled from the top. He leaned back in, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth as you gasped; mewling when he began touching you, shamelessly pinching your nipples just to hear you whine.

He adored all your little noises, so easy to coax out of your mouth. He could feel his own cock pulsing in the confines of his trousers, the feeling getting worse and worse as you started to whimper.

Astarion let one of his hands travel further down, right through the slit in your gown. He traced the seam of your pussy through delicate lace, smiling into the kiss from how the simple touch had your hips pitching forward. He could feel you getting wet, already seeping through the fabric of your panties, your needy cunt already begging for his touch. And Astarion was more than happy to oblige.

He tore them from your hips, letting the tattered pieces fall unceremoniously to the ground before he started to rub his palm against your clit, more slick gushing out as you moaned.

You were clutching at his shoulders, panting into his mouth as he played with you. Your thighs tightened around his hand, your cunt wet enough to fill the air with messy, indecent sounds.

Whatever trepidation you had before was quickly dissolving, a small chant escaping your lips as you two kissed, Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.

Astarion was more than happy to oblige.

"Hold onto me darling," Astarion ordered, giving you a split second to tighten your grip around his neck before he was lifting you in the air, settling you on top of the thick railing with your legs spread wide. He made quick work of taking his weeping cock out, rubbing it along the seam of your cunt as you moaned. And then he was pushing inside, the slide soaked and easy.

You felt so tight around him, tight and sopping wet as he started to fuck into you. He bent his head down, popping one of your hard nipples into your mouth as you cried out, your nails clawing into his shoulders. You wrapped your legs around his hips, trying to pull him in even closer, despite the fact that he was pressed deeply inside of you. Hitting all of your sensitive places.

He could tell that you were close, your whining getting more and more high-pitched by the second, your sweet cunt pulsing around his cock. Astarion started to rub at your clit again, at the perfect angle to make you tense up and cry out. And just like that you were squirting against his hand, breathing heavy as your orgasm ravaged through you.

Astarion grinned, popping off your breast to kiss your slack mouth. Naughty thing that you were, making a mess all over your fancy dress. He pulled back to look at you, debauched and panting, your pupils dilated at you stared up at him. You looked gorgeous, fucked out and perfect.

He started to fuck you harder, the erotic image was too much for his mind to handle. You where whining with each thrust, no doubt oversensitive as he roughly slammed into you. But you were a good girl, taking it without a single complaint as you held on for dear life, tears springing to the corners of your eyes. But lucky enough for you, you didn't have to wait long.

Astarion spilled inside of you with a drawn out moan, grinding circles into your cunt as you quivered. You pulled him in for another kiss, messily sliding your lips together as he filled you up. The two of you stayed like that for awhile, lazily kissing as he softened inside of you. It felt good, it felt right, the perfect end to a great night.

Astarion pulled out slowly, cooing at you as you gasped at the feeling. Your legs were still trembling as he set you back on the ground, bad enough for Astarion to wonder if he should just pick you up before you crumpled on the floor.

But first...

Astarion dropped to his knees, ignoring your surprised gasp as he spread your legs back apart.

"Hush darling," Astarion ordered as he pushed your dress back up, "Let me have a look at you."

Astarion was aware that he had gotten a little rough near the end there. It wouldn't be the first time he made you bleed during sex, nor the last. But he would hate to do so accidently. But no, your pussy looked perfectly healthy, if not a little swollen. Flushed and pink, your hole still twitching the slightest bit. The sight of your pussy all slick and red was nearly enough to make his mouth water.

"Spread your legs a little further pet," Astarion murmured, looking just to look. He gently added pressure to your shaking thighs until you complied, "That's it. Good girl."

His cum was already starting to leak out of you, the smallest bit of white making it's first appearance amongst your wet folds. No doubt it would be sliding down your legs soon enough. He could do something about that. But then again... the alternative sounded like too much fun.

Astarion stood back up with a smile, patting your pussy once before letting your dress fall back down, "Try to hold it in darling. We wouldn't want to make another mess, would we?"

You nodded slowly, still looking half out of it. A sweet, hazy look still plastered onto your face. You were already leaning in for another kiss, naturally desperate for more contact. Contact that Astarion was more than happy to give. He pulled you closer, kissing you deeply; your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him even closer. He wrapped his arms around your back, dipping his tongue between your lips as you dreamily sighed.

You pulled away first, to his displeasure, but you didn't go far. You rested your forehead against his, smiling softly with loving eyes, "Hi."

Astarion couldn't help but smile back, taking the time to tuck a wild piece of hair behind your ear, "Hello my treasure. Did you have fun tonight?"

"I think you know the answer to that," You giggled softly, "I'm not even sure I can walk."

That he did. And there would be many more nights like it. Though for now, he'd prefer to get you home. He felt a bit reluctant to parade you back out there for the masses eyes, so obviously debauched by his hands. No, the sight of you happy and flushed was for his eyes only. Your night would be ending here.

You squeaked as he swept you up in his arms, already muttering the magic for a portal under his breath. And just like that the two of you were gone, completely uncaring to give any good byes.

The two of you popped right into the entry hall of the estate, sudden enough to nearly scare a maid half to death. Astarion paid them no mind, too busy with carrying you upstairs to the sanctuary of your quarters.

You cuddled into his chest, looking up at him with a nervous look, "Did... Did I do good tonight?"

"Of course you did," Astarion cooed as he kicked the door to the bedroom open, trying to softly drop you on the bed, "Perfect creature that you are, what else could have possibly happened?"

But you didn't let go when he tried to pull back, clinging hard enough for Astarion to simply follow you. But he didn't mind, no he preferred you like this. Needy, wanting, and his. He twisted the two of your around, settling only when he had you laying on top of him. He would set a bath for the two of you later, but for now he was more than happy to lay here, watching as your tired to stay conscious. You always got so tired after sex, just one more silly thing that he was endeared by.

"I love you," You mumbled, your eyes falling closed, "Thank you for taking me tonight. For trusting me. I... thank you."

"I love you too darling," Astarion murmured back, kissing your forehead, "You get better by the day. I really am proud of you."

It was true. You were learning, adjusting. Give him a decade and you'd be completely immersed in your new life, all thoughts of useless things like "freedom" forgotten.

You were his. Until the end of time, you'd be together.

He'd make sure of that.

#astarion x reader #astarion #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #ascended astarion #asks #you'll pry my long posts out of my cold dead hands #long fic #this took awhile #I'm slowly working through these asks but i can not make #anything simple #apparently #but i lost half of this near the end of the process and it broke me #she dirty #im telling yeah #she is

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nanaslutt · 6 months

Note

oh my god please make another part of gojo teaching us that was so good holy shit

Gojo teaches you how to touch him<3

Pt. 1 here

contains: fem reader, guided jerking off, experienced gojo, size kink if you squint, so much dirty talk, corruption kink, overstimulation, first time making out, gojo walks you through everything, cum eating

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

“Wanna learn how to touch a dick?” his question rang in your ears like a flash grenade had gone off. He was referring to himself right? You had to remind yourself how to breathe at how anxious his question made you. Touching yourself had made you embarrassed and self aware enough as it is, so touching someone else? The thought made you feel mortified.

Gojo must’ve picked up on your anxiousness because he used his big hands to rub comfortingly up and down your forearms, “Hey, if you’re not comfortable we can always stop here, you’ve already done so good.” He comforted.

Gojo might be unserious 99% of the time, but when it came to making you feel safe, he really nailed it. You came to the right person in asking for help with this kind of thing.

"N-no, I think I want to its just.. I dont know what im doing." You confess, even though he already knew. Gojo giggled, making the weight on your shoulders lift a bit at the sound, "Baby, I know, thats why Im gonna teach you, if you’ll let me." He smiles, leaning his body forward so you could see his face-- the visual of him smiling eased your nerves slightly.

"Right.. but what if I'm still not any good?" You say, shyly. "I almost came in my pants just watching you cum so.. I'm pretty sure you will do juuust fine." He confessed, making you huff out a laugh. "O-okay, what should I do?" You asked, turning your body so you were facing him, reaching over to grab your previously discarded panties while you waited for him to answer.

"The first thing you can do is forget about these," Gojo took your soaked panties from your hand, making you scoff as he twirled them around his finger before pocketing the fabric as quick as he snatched them, "The view of your little pussy is so cute, don't want these to get in the way of this eye candy." He praised, making you blush and look away from his intimidating gaze.

He brought his hand up to your face after pulling his hand out of his pocket-- caressing the side of your cheek comfortingly, "Come here." He instructed, sliding down on the headboard so he was propped comfortingly against the pillows, "On my lap," He adds when you hesitate to move twords him.

You situated yourself comfortably on his thighs, right under his crotch, you placed your hands on his lower stomach, staring at his intimidating bulge while you waited for his words to come. "You wanna start by touching it over his pants, just like you did for yourself." He instructs, speaking generally.

You picked your hands up from his stomach, hovering them a couple inches over his crotch before taking a deep breath and biting your lip. "How should I.. touch it?" you ask uncertainty laced in your words. "Wrap your hand around it the best you can and rub," He tells you, placing his hands on your thighs and rubbing his thumb on your skin for comfort.

You held your breath before you made contact with him, making him hiss air into his lungs through his teeth at the feeling of properly being touched after so much tension. You softly rubbed him up and down, gulping at how big he felt in your hand. "You can rub a little harder, it's not gonna break," He laughed, making you blush and whisper out a quiet 'sorry' as you briefly made eye contact with him, quickly averting your gaze back down to his crotch.

You gripped him through his pants, stroking him rougher now but still slowly, up and down. You took a peek at his face from under your lashes, watching him lick his lips and blink rapidly, his eyes focused on your hand at work on him.

"Yeah, yeah, just like that." He praised, keeping his eyes glued down between the two of you. You felt your face heat up when his cock jumped against your hand, it felt so hot even through his pants. The thought of seeing a real dick, unobstructed by fabric was making your head spin.

The man underneath you truly thought he would've came the second you touched him, it was a miracle from the heavens that he had managed to hold back and not bust in his pants at the first contact.

Your inexperience turned him on to no extent. He just loved the idea of corrupting you, showing you all of the amazing things you could feel, everything that you've been missing out on. He swore he would ruin you for anyone else—make you addicted to him so you never even thought about doing this with anyone else.

"D-does this feel good?" You ask genuinely, you had noticed his expressions and reactions to your touch—and they seemed like good ones—but you had no idea how someone was supposed to react when you touched them like this, hence why you asked for his confirmation.

"Feels better than you know." He grinned, his body running warmer the longer you stroked him over his pants. "It feels so big." You confessed, unaware of how your words went straight to his head and dick.

"Yeah?" his smirk grew as he felt his own ego inflate at your words, not like he needed that. "Yeah.." You meekly replied, "It keeps twitching too," you told him like he was unaware. "I know baby, means you're doing a good job." He praised once more, making you pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Wanna see it?" He asked after he deemed that you had been touching him outside his pants for an adequate amount of time. You swallowed hard, stilling your hand on his cock as it continued to jump under the weight of your palm. "Yes, please." You answered, sliding your hands up his shirt and feeling his hard abs before you slid them back down to hold onto the hem of his pants. "Should I take your boxers off too, or?" You question, hesitating.

He smiled at you, giving you a short nod. You grabbed his pants and boxers alike, beginning to pull them down his body— gojo lifted his hips up to aid your efforts, jaw dropping in an open-mouthed smile when his hard cock sprung up and slapped against his abdomen.

Your mouth opened in a small o shape, running dry at the sheer size of his now unobstructed cock. There was a string of pre that had already dropped down against his abdomen, connecting the two.

It looked as thick as it felt, a nice upwards curve to it, and the tip was flushed a pretty pink color. It was the prettiest and only dick you’d ever seen.

“You like what you see, cutie?” he teased, making his cock jump as you stared between the appendage and his penetrating gaze. “Fuck.. y-yeah.” you confessed, feeling yourself start to throb between your legs at the new visual.

“Go ahead an touch it, the same as you did before.” Gojo instructed. You slowly reached out, wrapping your hand around his length, noticing that your fingers couldn’t wrap all the way around his girth.

The man underneath you couldn’t resist as he thrusted his hips up into your hand, biting his lip at the direct contact. “Your hand is so fucking soft” He praised, “Go ahead and spit on it for me, it doesn’t feel very good when it’s dry.” he told you.

The gears in your head were still turning at what you were actually doing right now. Without saying anything, you leaned down a bit, collecting the saliva in your mouth before you spit right onto his cockhead, making him gasp.

You brought your hand to his tip, rubbing it around in circles before sliding your hand down the length of his cock and coating it in your spit, easing the slide. “Fuuuck, just like that, shit-“ Gojo cursed, tipping his head back against the pillows and squeezing his eyes shut.

“S-squeeze harder at the tip,” he instructed, remembering he was supposed to be teaching you, so staying silent and moaning probably wouldn’t do you much good. “T-the tip is more sensitive than the rest of the cock, so make sure to pay more attention to it.” he tells you.

“Is it kinda like the clit?” You ask, which makes him giggle before he responds, “Sorta..” he answeres, staring at the ceiling in thought before he continues, “Yeah actually, pretty similar, but if you spend too much time on just the tip it can get a little too sensitive.” He explains.

“Sensitive how?” you ask, continuing your slow but heavy strokes on his cock, using the knowledge he just told you in squeezing harder against his tip. “Why don’t I show you?” he says.

“Take one hand and keep stroking me just like you’re doing, with the other, lay your palm flat- yeah just like that- then curl your hand over the entirety of my tip, and rotate your wrist in circles.” Gojo instructed, digging his nails into your thighs prematurely as he braced himself for the intense overstimulating pleasure that was about to come.

“This won’t hurt you right?” you ask, getting your hands into place but keeping them still as you awaited his answer. “You’re so sweet~” he cooed, “I’ll stop you if it’s too much.”

With that, you started, quickly jerking the length of his cock while rotating your wrist over his dick in quick circles. Immediately his body started reacting, back arching and abs clenching uncontrollably as he bit his lip and dug his nails deeper into your skin to keep himself grounded.

“K- haaah- keep g-going-“ he moaned out, his legs jerking and twitching underneath you as you kept up your antics. “Fuck! f-fuck-“ The white haired man squeezed his eyes shut as his body spasmed without his permission.

Your cunt was throbbing at how you were able to bring a man as strong as Gojo to this state. “Ngh~” he was whining and moaning against the sheets, head thrashing back and forth as he tried to keep his voice down.

You never wanted this to end, you finally understood what he meant when he said he was worked up from just watching you play with yourself, as you felt your cunt clench, slick dripping down your leg from your tight hole.

His large hand came down to stop your wrist, panting heavily he spoke, “O-okay, okay- fuck, that’s enough.” He groaned when the pleasure quickly became too much. "S-sorry, are you okay?" you choked, once again making him smile at how sweet you were. "I'm just fine baby, it's just a little overwhelming," He said, releasing your wrist and placing his hand back on your thighs.

"Did so fucking good though, listened just like I told you to." He smirked, gripping your thighs and making you look up at him through your lashes. You pouted out your bottom lip a bit in embarrassment, trying your best to not look away from his intimidating gaze. "Alright, class is back in session, go ahead and pick up where you left off." He continued.

You released your hand that was caressing his tip, going back to jerking him off steadily with the one hand. "Don't forget about the balls either, you just wanna massage them softly," he instructs after a couple seconds of your continued ministrations. You nod, acknowledging his words before you spit on your other hand, and bring it down to his warm balls.

"Oh shit- haha- didn't even have to tell you to spit." He says, amazement laced in his words, "You had n-nothing to worry about, you're doing so fucking good." He reassured when you started to expertly roll and massage his sack in your hand, timing your motions perfectly with the jerking of his cock.

"Cmere baby," He asked, growing needier and needier at the more stimulation you provided him with. You tilted your head at him, confused, making him laugh. "Come give me a kiss, pretty thing." He clarifies. You hesitate slightly, You've kissed one or two people before, but you've never made out with anyone per se, which is what you were assuming Gojo wanted right now.

"Follow my lead, I'll show you how to make kissing feel as good as sex." He boldly said, making you blush. You released your hold on his balls, opting to place your hand against his hard chest for stability as you leaned forward, not stopping your ministrations on his cock. He gave you a toothy grin, his big hands coming up to grab your waist before he opened his mouth, huffing out a small laugh before he pressed your lips together.

He immediately took the lead, moving his lips against your own, massaging his soft lips with his. He groaned into the kiss, which made you reciprocate the sound, whining into his mouth. Where you normally would've pulled away by now, Gojo instead opened his mouth against you and pressed another kiss to your lips, repeating the action, and continuing the kiss.

You unawarely squeezed his cock harder at the stimulation, you had no idea that kissing could feel so erotic. When Gojo felt your fist tighten up around him, he pulled back half an inch from the kiss, panting slightly against your lips before he spoke needily, "Faster baby, give it to me faster." He rushed before conjoining your lips once more, rougher this time.

You felt him poke his tongue out and lick against your lips, "Open your mouth for me, baby," He said to you between kisses, to which you complied. He took this new opportunity to lick his tongue into your mouth. You thought French kissing would feel gross and unpleasant, but this was nothing of the sort, it really felt like he was fucking your mouth. He expertly massaged the inside of your mouth with his warm appendage, making you throb between your legs.

You remembered his words; which had told you to follow his lead; as you reciprocated, darting your tongue out and intertwining it with his, and it felt even better. "Mmmmm" Gojo hummed against your lips when he felt your tongue join the fun. Hips lips suddenly attached to your bottom one, slowing down the kiss briefly as he sucked it into his mouth and bit it between his teeth, smirking before he let it go, chasing your lip as it bounced back to your face.

You had switched up your technique on his cock just seconds ago, rotating your wrist over his entire cock, and pulsing your grip to imitate your pussy walls, giving him harder strokes when you slid your hand down him; you were having fun with it, and it must've been working.

Gojo pulled away from the kiss, allowing you to sit back up as he panted heavily, his cock was steadily dripping more and more pre onto your fingers, easing the slide against his cock while you jerked him off. "Did you like that?" He asked, referring to the kiss. "Y-yeah, I didn't know kissing could feel so good," you replied honestly, making him smile.

"I know~ made your pussy feel all needy again, huh?" he said, having noticed the wetness that was coating your inner thighs, his words sending a wave of sudden awareness through you, making you want to cower away. "Aww, don't get shy on me baby, look at me," He started, "I'm the one getting my cock jerked off, about to fucking burst," The man giggled, "If anyone should be embarrassed it's me~"

"You're about to cum?" You asked, those words being the only ones that made it into your dizzy head. "Yeah, and it's all cos' of you, didn't even have to give you that much i-instruction, you're a pro." he praised, making you look away from his gaze and instead focus on his cock in your smaller hand. "You wanna make me cum?" He asked.

"Wanna watch you cum.." You replied, making him laugh breathlessly as he felt your words go straight to his balls, "Oh don't worry, you will," He informed you, tipping his head back once more against the pillows, and letting himself really feel as you stroked your fingertips along his lower abs, while keeping the steady and mind numbing pace on his cock.

"Fuck, wish I was cuming inside your pussy," He suddenly moaned, catching you off guard with his words as he gripped your hips with his large hands. "Would fill you up so fucking full." He babbled, inching closer and closer to his high with every stroke, slightly thrusting up into your warm hand.

proofread-----

"If I try hard enough, your little hand starts to feel like your perfect fucking cunt," He groaned through his teeth, "but I just know you would be so much warmer and wetter- fuck-." He moaned at his own words, working himself up as he dropped his chin forward to look at your hand on him, his jaw opened in a small o shape.

"You want that? Huh? Want me to split you open on my cock and fill you up with my cum?" His words had gotten so filthy and shameless, and so fast, it was giving you whiplash. You nodded meekly, not trusting your voice right now as his words alone made you feel like you were going to cum. But that wasn't good enough for Gojo. "Gotta hear you say it baby, need you to tell me you need it." He groaned through his teeth, making your body move above him as he thrust his hips upwards, helping you fuck his cock with your hand.

"Y-yes Satoru I want it." You said, meaning every word, "What do you want?" He rushed out, trying to hold back from cumming to hear you say those magic words. His balls and shaft alike were twitching so strongly against your hold, getting ready to release his seed. "W-want you to come inside me, please give it t-to me." You blushed at your own words, the embarrassment worsening when he groaned shamelessly at them. His pretty eyes rolled back in his head as his orgasm crashed down on him. "Fuck- coming-" he warned before you felt his warm seed start to cover your hand.

Long rope after rope of his cum coated your hard, making you moan with him at the erotic sight. His abs were clenching under your hand, body twitching and back arching slightly, similar to how your own did when you had cum, as you fucked him through his high. You kept jerking him off even after the spasms of his body ceased, and his cock started to soften in your hold.

His large hand shot up and gripped your wrist harshly. "C-careful," He laughed, heaving air into his lungs, "It's so fucking sensitive right after we cum." He said.

"Shit s-sorry," You blushed, releasing his dick from your soiled hand as you stared at his seed that covered it, amazed by how much there was. "Don't be sorry baby, I haven't cum that hard in my life, and all just from your hand" He laughed, rubbing his large hands up the length of your torso while he let himself catch his breath, his soft cock resting against his tummy.

An idea popped into your head, remembering how he had sucked off your cum from your own fingers after he made you finish, and it made you wonder what he tasted like too. Absentmindedly you brought your hand up to your mouth, not paying attention to the man below you as he watched your every movement with bated breath, knowing exactly what you were about to do.

You let your tongue poke out from your open mouth, licking up his seed at tasting him on your tongue. It was bitter, but not overwhelmingly so, there was something almost sweet about it, which made you suck your fingers completely into your mouth, swallowing his seed that coated them.

Gojo watched with a slack jaw at the show you were putting on, his cock twitched to life as he watched you eagerly lick up his cum. "Fuuuck." He drew, bringing your attention back to him as you popped your fingers out of your mouth, giving him a small smile that made his brain short-circuit.

"I have so much to teach you." He grinned, caressing the side of your face as you closed your eyes, and leaned your face into his hand.

pt.3

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omgeto · 8 months

Text

☆ COVER UP — tattoo artist!GETO SUGURU

summary: all you wanted was a cover up tattoo to replace the name your ex left on you. you didn't think you'd be leaving the tattoo shop with a replacement for your ex's tattoo and a replacement for him as well.

wc: 3k

cw: afab!reader, geto gives you backshots, he's kinda obsessed w/ your ass here, unprotected sex (since I forget condoms) BUT he's a gentleman pulls out </3 your kinda a meanie. he's kinda a meanie so light angst (?) but barely. MDNI

an: haven't posted a longer work in a hot minute, but here is how you meet tattoo artist boyfriend!geto soooo give this one a chance big fanks to my lil twat @kazushawty for helping me out and reading bits of it.

as you push open the heavy glass door of ‘cursed ink studios,’ a subtle bell chimes softly, announcing your presence. instantly, the atmosphere inside crackles with an electric charge. the air is thick with the intoxicating scent of ink, mingling with the sterile bite of antiseptic. the walls are adorned with vivid flash art form a chaotic tapestry, while the rhythmic hum of a tattoo gun echoes through the room.

and there he is, geto suguru – a tall, enigmatic figure with jet-black hair and sleeves of mesmerising tattoos that seem to tell stories of their own. he sits at his workbench, surrounded by an array of ink bottles and tattoo machines, his piercing eyes never leaving the art he's creating. a carefully curated playlist of music plays softly in the background, punctuated by the occasional buzzing of the tattoo gun.

he glances up from his intricate work as you enter, his gaze slowly travelling up and down your form. there's a hint of curiosity in his eyes, as though he's wondering why you, of all people, have ventured into his sacred space. his expression, however, suggests that he's far from thrilled about the interruption.

"need something?" he asks, his irritation evident.

"i need a cover-up” you swallow your nerves, holding your head high, your voice steady, ”my ex's name."

geto raises an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed by your request. "ex's name, huh? you people never learn."

your jaw clenches at his condescending tone. "well, i'm here now, so can you do it or not?"

he continues to scrutinise you, his gaze feeling like a judgmental weight. finally, he nods, albeit reluctantly. "fine, show me."

with a sigh of resignation, you turn around, your heart pounding as you pull down the waistband of your jeans just enough to reveal the offending name covering your left ass cheek. it's a constant reminder of a relationship gone wrong, and you're more than ready to be rid of it.

"this won't be easy," he mutters, his fingers cool against your skin as he traces the outline of the name. his touch lingers, just a little too long, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. his fingers, skilled and confident, continued to trace the inked letters of your ex's name on your skin — almost toyingly. and you could feel the chill of the tattoo parlour's air-conditioning contrasted by the warmth of his touch.

his voice, though still gruff, held a trace of disgust "who did this?" he asks, not looking up from the tattoo.

you hesitate, your memories of that past relationship flooding back. "my ex-boyfriend," you reply tersely.

geto's fingers stop their tracing, and he lets out a low, almost imperceptible sigh. "you let your boyfriend do a shitty tattoo on you, and you let him make it his name," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "you practically let him brand you."

“is it your job to be such a bitchy artist?” you snap, already fed up by his comments. you’ve heard it from your parents, your friends, ever since you got that trashy tattoo. but couldn't disagree with that sentiment — you knew it was a shit tattoo. “i thought i was paying you for your artistry, not your smart mouth.”

"listen," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "you walk in here with that god awful mess on your skin, and you've got the nerve to criticise my attitude? if you want to be rid of it, you'll do well to keep that attitude in check, sweetheart."

you bite back a retort, realising that you've indeed crossed a line with your comment. there's a palpable tension in the air now, a simmering anger beneath the surface, and it seems that geto has no intention of backing down.

with a deep breath, you swallow your pride and offer a reluctant apology. "i'm sorry," you mutter, a touch of remorse in your voice. "i shouldn't have snapped at you."

he continues to hold your gaze for a moment, his expression still stern, before finally nodding. "apology accepted."

you didn’t actually have an idea of what you wanted for the cover up, you just knew you needed it gone. geto was a highly sought out cover artist so you had no doubt that he’d be able to do you good. with your initial meeting being heated, you thought it was best to leave him to do his thing.

with a sense of relief that the confrontation has subsided, you decide to give geto some space to work his magic. "i'll leave you to it," you say, your voice quieter now, and you turn away from him.

"good," he mutters, his focus fully on his ipad as he starts to sketch, not even looking as you leave the shop.

geto usually was quick to draw up tattoo sketches for clients, but when it came to you he was stunned — too busy thinking about how your ass looked rather than what he was meant to tattoo on it. from the moment you stepped in his shop, he was intrigued, you didn’t see the type to get work done by him and the marking stretched on your ass didn’t seem like it would belong to someone with an attitude like yours.

his mind was anything but focused on the design. he couldn't help but replay the encounter with you in his thoughts, your brashness and the way you'd stood your ground, even under his scrutiny.

"why the hell did she get that shitty tattoo?" he mutters to himself, his fingers deftly working his pen. the sketch was beginning to take shape, but his mind kept drifting back to the curve of your ass. he couldn't deny the attraction he felt, and it frustrated him. he was supposed to be a professional, detached from his clients beyond the art he created on their skin. but something about you had thrown him off balance.

“so you ready to get this tatted on you?” is the first thing he asks when you return the following day. you inspect his sketches in awe, of course you never doubted his talent but you didn’t think he’d be able to draw something you wanted without you even having to say.

“well it seems you do live up to your reputation,” you comment with a neutral facade, but you both know that you were downplaying your excitement — you were pleased. and like with any client, that made geto satisfied that he was doing his job correctly. but when he saw the way your eyes lit up when he initially showed you the sketches, it was a sight he wanted to see again. “i guess we can start the tattoo.”

“okay i’ll get my stuff set up, get rid of those,” he says nodding towards your jeans, “and lay down when you’re ready.” you slip yourself out of your bottoms, leaving the itty bitty thong that you knew you’d need for the appointment and that a small part of you hoped he liked.

he pauses when he sees you laying down on the seat in his station, your head resting in your arms, your ass slightly raised. ‘this is gonna be a long session,’ he thinks to himself as he smirks, shaking his head as he works his way to his seat.

as he sits down, he places the stencil over your ass, and you berate yourself for getting giddy at the feeling of him rubbing over the design to make sure it was in place — wishing that his hand stayed for longer.

“how are you with pain?” he asks, and from the way you were laying you weren’t able to see the way he was gawping at your ass.

“what type of pain?” you retort.

“y’know the type of pain where someones drilling into your ass for hours,” he comments as if it’s obvious but you both knew his words were hinting at more than just the tattoo.

“choice words there,” you muse, “but any type of pain i’m alright with, so give me your best.”

geto's needle hovers just above your skin, poised for action. "you sure about that?" he murmurs, his voice low and suggestive.

a coy smile tugs at your lips as you respond, "I can handle it if you can."

with a deliberate, almost tantalising slowness, he lowers the needle to your skin. the first touch is a sharp, stinging sensation, but you refuse to flinch. you're determined to hold your own, to meet geto's challenge head-on.

he continues to work, the needle dancing across your skin with a practised precision. the room is filled with the rhythmic sound of the tattoo machine, creating a hypnotic backdrop to your growing tension.

as minutes turn into hours, you find yourself lost in a strange mixture of pleasure and pain. the pain is undeniable, but there's something oddly exhilarating about it. you steal a glance at geto, his intense focus on his work, and you can't help but wonder if he's enjoying this as much as you are.

"still doing okay?" he asks, his tone a mix of concern and something more primal.

you bite your lower lip, suppressing a moan that threatens to escape. "i told you, i can handle it."

geto smirks, his gaze locked on your ass as he continues to tattoo. "you've got quite the threshold for pain. impressive."

“is it really? i'm sure you’ve worked on a lot of other clients with higher thresholds for pain.”

“but none of them have had an ass like yours though,” he mumbles to himself — but you hear him loud and clear, a grin forming on your face at the confession. “anyways, we’re all done now, go ahead and look in the mirror.”

you stand in the full length mirror, your head slightly turned at an angle as you gawp at your ass. your eyes widen seeing what was once your shitty exes name, now turned into a piece of true art.

“so what d’you think?” he asks, and you didn’t even notice him coming to stand behind you until you felt his breath on the back of your neck, “this shit is hot right?”

“you can say that again,” you agree, keeping your eyes focused on the tattoo, trying to ignore the quickening of your heart beat at the presence of him, “this is really great though, like i couldn’t imagine my ass could look this good after having that tattooed on on it all his time.”

“well no need to imagine anymore,” geto’s face forms a smiling grin, you can tell he was admiring way more than just his artwork, “you mind if i take a picture… for my instagram?” he says, barely asking as his phone is already out of his pocket and is in his hands, he looks up at you for permission and you give a slight nod before he’s snapping away at your ass.

“are you sure this is for your instagram,” you tease, as he continues to take photos crouched down, as he circles your ass with his phone, “or is this just for your personal wank bank?”

“would you like it to be?” he retorts back swiftly, there wasn’t even any mischief in his eyes as he looks up at you, just pure lust.

“um i–” you stutter, only now feeling exposed — as if he hadn’t been working on your ass already for the past six hours.

“don’t get shy on me now,” he coos, standing up to face you head on, “y’gonna let me finish off making you forget that ex or yours or what?”

“be my guest,” you respond, trying to come across as nonchalant, but the eager look in your eyes gave geto all he needed to know.

he pushes you softly, as he commands, “hands against the mirror and spread your legs.” and you do just that, as he comes behind you, fitting in between your legs perfectly. his hand forces ur back down, deeping the arch of your spine before both of his hands grab onto your ass.

geto really rubs and digs his thumbs into your cheeks, biting his lip at the sight at the way his fingers mould into your ass. “fuckk man,” he groans out, he’s not even in you yet and he was already obsessed with every inch of you.

he frees his dick from his pants, and pumps it quickly before sliding it across your already gushing slit. you hiss at the contact, a pleased smile working its way on your face as the tip of his dick edges into you.

“s-shit,” you stammer, as he inches himself into you deeper, “w-what about the rest of the shop?”

“what about them?” he shrugs, “you don’t want them to hear naught you’re being right now? HEY GUYS—”

“oi,” you hiss out, your eyes widening as you turn your head to look directly at him.

“i’m just playing, i’m not ready to share you quite just yet,” he retorts, his dick moving in you at an achingly slow pace, “now, keep your eyes focused on the mirror, and you better not let those hands slip.”

before you can respond, he thrust his hips into you as deep as he could, his dick slamming into you. you moan out at the surprising force, trying your best to keep your palms flat on the surface of the mirror, as you stare straight at him — watching how he works his hands from your ass to your hips so he can drive into you with all of his force.

“this pussy is s-so fucking good,” he praises, the sloppiness of your cunt making it easy for him to slide his dick in and out of you. “oh and this ass,” he continues giving a hard spank on your ass cheek, to emphasise his point, “c’mon throw your ass back on my dick, i wanna see it bounce.”

you fuck him back, doing exactly as he says, your ass meeting his hips with the same amount of force. his spanks encourage you to be quicker, to give him everything he wants. his repeating, strong strokes, have you feeling weaker, your hands slipping as you try to stay up right, when all you want to do is collapse and cum everywhere.

“f-fuckk it’s too much,” you whine, as he drills into you.

“nah,” he says, shrugging his head, “it’s not enough,” he lifts up his legs, his digits pressing into your deeper, as he now angles his strokes even further into your pussy, hitting your spot with ease. “give it to me harder, i know you can” he encourages, another two swift spanks landing on your ass.

with his continuous contact of your ass and his hips, and the way his dick pushes into you deeper, you felt like you were splitting in two. but you kept going, thinking back to your earlier conversation, you didn’t want to prove him wrong, you wanted to show him that you can handle it, handle him.

geto was practically beaming, licking his lips feverishly at the sight of your fucked out face through the mirror as he watches himself plough into you, your body rocking forward with every thrust. his eyes concentrate on your ass, as he says, “d’you see how your rocking my work on you now?” and you nod dumbly, too busy trying to reach your climax to string a sentence together, “so fuck that ex of yours and his shitty ass tattooing, from now on you only can me on your body, you got that?” he asks and you nod again, but he shakes his head, his hand moving from your waist to your chin as he grips it making your eyes stay locked on his through the mirror, “i said do you got that?”

“ahhh s-shit yet i do, i do,” you say, mirroring his words, “i will only have you on my body, ‘promise.”

“good girl,” he approves, giving your chin a squeeze before letting go, “now cum.”

with those simple words, you release all over him, your stance getting weaker, as you shoot out cum all over his dick. he’s quick to pull out of you though, stroking his dick as he sprays his cum all over your ass, with a deep groan.

your hands are still on the wall, as you take deep breaths, trying to recollect yourself. but you turn around swiftly seeing a flash of a camera behind you, and geto is back to crouching down, with his phone out, taking pictures of your cum covered ass.

“you mind if i keep these in my wank bank forreal this time?” he asks, smirking as you nod, “i’ll take some more later, but i got two questions to ask.”

“and those are…” you say, prompting him to continue.

“first, let me take you out after this?” he asks with a smirk, already knowing the answer. after the way he just dicked you down, you’d be a fool not to let him wine and dine you, “second, y’gonna come suffocate my face with that ass of yours or not?” you couldn’t even answer the second question since he’s pulling you down to the floor with him, with a joyous grin on his face.

AN: IGNORE THE FACT THAT HE CUMS ALL OVER UR FRESH TATTOO. LIKE JUST IGNORE IT. just focus on the fact that you have a lovely ass and geto loves it too. but yes do you want to see more, I HAVE ENOUGH IDEAS TO EVEN MAKE A LIL MASTERLIST FOR IT. I love tattoo artist boyfriend!geto so so much, like when u guys become an established relationship it actually gets so good. BUT I DONT REALLY LIKE THIS ONE, BUT IF U GUYS FW IT I PROMISE ILL ACTUALLY WRITE AND POST THE ONES I LOVE. BUT I FELT LIKE I HAD TO WRITE THIS FIRST SO YOU COULD SEE HOW U AND GETO STARTED. LMK UR THOUGHTS

#stampedwithanE★#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto x reader #geto smut #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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