#I know it is painful trying to get into head of average man in early 20s unfortunately that's who they are

[nonbinaryeye]

I'm not saying that you should not write Hans Capon as cringe and little bit pathetic because that's definitely who he is sometimes.

However the mistake most of fanfic writers do here is that they forget that Henry is despite his brighter moments the exact same brand of cringe and pathetic.

[frenchie-simone]

Physicality

Logan Howlett x fem!mutant!reader

word count: 2.8k

tags/warnings: SMUT 18+, reader is some kind of wolf/dog-ish mutant but no tail/ears described, reader has hair, reader is in heat, unprotected piv, creampie, logan has a pain kink (duh)

a/n: y’all i wrote this because i sometimes do feel like a bitch in heat, so this is self-indulgent as it always is. a tiny bit rushed so it’s not the best but i think it’s alright. if i forgot tags or warnings lmk!!

Today marks the day that you've officially been a part of the X-Men for six months. Your first mission feels like an eternity ago, perhaps because you're so busy every day, no day quite like the previous one. Being an X-Man means two things to you: dangerous missions and physics classes.

Oh, and of course, the massive crush you have on Logan. He doesn't know, how could he, when you cover up your feelings with snarky comments and distant behaviour? Logan doesn’t question why your anger seems to be directed at him the most, he just thinks you hate him more than you hate the average person. It’s partly true, you hate him for the way he makes you feel. More than that, you hate the fact that it's a full moon tonight.

It's after school hours, and you're preparing yourself for spending the night in the forest. You grade the physics homework, take a shower, change to more comfortable clothes and eventually sneak out of your room, trying to avoid anyone asking questions. It’s evening and the sun is setting early, so you decide it safer to leave the mansion now, just in case.

You greet students downstairs, and thankfully no one decides to chat more than that. You make it out to the courtyard without anyone interrupting you. You hop the fence and head towards the entrance to the forest, but your heightened senses pick up a familiar musky smell. You stop in your tracks and mutter a “fuck” under your breath before turning around. To no one’s surprise, you find Logan trying to follow you. He widens his eyes, but quickly regains his composure, his usual smirk creeping on his face. His gorgeous face…

“Were you following me?” you ask and cross your arms, glaring at Logan. He huffs a laugh and props a hand on his hip.

“Yeah. Was curious as to where you're sneaking out on a Tuesday” he says casually and raises an expectant brow, waiting for an explanation. You clench your jaw and look away, trying to figure out a plausible excuse.

“It’s a full moon tonight. I just wanted to watch the sky. In peace” you emphasize the last word. It’s getting darker by the second, and the minute the sun leaves the horizon, it's too late. Logan can't be near you tonight. You already feel the heat simmering on your skin despite the cool breeze.

Logan scrunches his eyebrows and looks at you, unconvinced. And yet, he only exhales and nods. “Alright, sweetheart. Just try not to get mauled by wolves, will ya?” he says with a smirk. If only he knew you were the wolf to look out for. You roll your eyes at him and mutter some curses under your breath before turning around and walking deeper into the woods.

It’s midnight and the sun has set. You're located deep in the forest, far from other people. The heat is getting to you now. Your muscles are twitching, your core is aching and it feels like your blood is boiling. You sit down and lean against a tree trunk, not caring about the dirt ruining your clothes, panting and trying to calm yourself down. You know that pleasuring yourself won't fix it, but it'll at least bring temporary relief. You slide your hand down your pants and under your panties and start massaging your clit. Pictures of Logan pop into your mind; images of him shirtless, sweaty, just after a workout… you can't help but imagine what he would look like on top of you. Or under. Or from the side.

“Logan…” you can't help but moan his name at the thought. Even imagining him is bringing you close to finishing. You move your fingers from your bud and curl them inside you, inside your already soaking pussy, and press your palm down on your bundle of nerves. You add another finger and start pumping slowly at first, but you lose your cool almost immediately. Your pace quickly becomes fast and hard, and with Logan's face and body plastered on the wall of your mind, you release on your fingers in record time. You mutter a "fuck" at how quickly you came because the ache comes back almost as fast as you finished. You lean your head against the tree and groan in annoyance, before bringing your fingers into your mouth to clean them. It hurts so much, it throbs and aches, so you bury your head in your knees and try to distract yourself from the pain that you can't fix yourself. You try to think about your next physics lesson, upcoming missions, and what you'll do on the weekend... and for a while, it works. Until you hear a twig crack and snap your head towards the sound.

You'd been so lost in your thoughts that you hadn't smelled Logan approaching. Now he's appearing through the trees, searching for you. And that musky, earthy scent of him is even stronger to you in your current state, and your nose twitches involuntarily. He sees you crouched on the ground, dishevelled and seemingly exhausted, and he quickly rushes to you. Worry etches his face as he kneels before you and places a hand on your knee. "Sweetheart, what happened? Are you alright?" he asks, searching your body for cuts or bruises. You swallow and look down at his large hand touching you.

"I'm fine, but you really shouldn't be here" you try to tell him, your voice shaky. He furrows his brows and gently strokes your knee, the worry still there. "Don't lie to me, Wolves. What's up?" he pushes, not listening to your dismissals anymore. You lightly shudder under his touch and your breath quickens. You try to calm yourself, but it's no use. "Logan, I'm serious. This is something I gotta deal with alone" you manage to say between shallow breaths. His hand stops stroking and slightly tightens its grip on you. "I'm not leaving 'til you tell me what's going on" he says with a stern voice. You can tell he means it. You swallow your pride and just decide to give him the truth.

"I'm in heat. You know, like an animal…" you mutter and look down, embarrassed to admit it. When he doesn't answer you, you carefully glance up. His eyes have gone wide and you hear him take a shaky breath. Oh fuck, did you make him uncomfortable? You turn your head to the side to avoid his face and you feel shame creeping on your cheeks.

"Hey, it's okay... I was just taken by surprise, I had no idea..." he explains after seeing you turn your head away. You turn your gaze towards him again, and he doesn't appear disgusted or uncomfortable, just a little... nervous. Logan takes a deep breath before speaking again: "Do you..." he clears his throat, "want me to help you?"

Your mouth falls agape at his words and your eyes widen. He can't mean what you think he is, right?

"How?" you ask him, eyes still blown wide. He rubs the back of his neck, unsure how to phrase it. "You know... take care of you," he says and looks at you, anxiously waiting for your reaction. You didn't think he'd actually suggest it, but now that he did, your body goes hot all over. You try to play cool even as you hear your heartbeat in your ears. "I couldn't possibly make you do that, Logan. It doesn't feel right" you answer with your remaining sensibility, but your urges and instincts strongly disagree. You look down at your knees, trying to hide the pleading in your eyes. Logan only scooches closer to you and takes your chin in his hand and tilts your head towards him.

"You're not making me, Wolves. I want to help you, wanna make you feel good. C'mon, let me take care of you" he assures you and holds eye contact, wanting to show you he means it. His words, his closeness, his tenderness... it's too much to refuse. You can't control your urges anymore.

You bite down on your lip to keep in any pathetic whines, but the way he looks at you is like an invitation to pounce on him. Before you can register what you're doing, you're pressing your lips to his. You only get a taste before you realize what you're doing and quickly pull away. "Shit. I'm sorry" you mutter and move away. You see his jaw clench, and you think you’ve upset him. The thought makes your heart drop.

Until he grabs your neck and smashes his lips on yours. You whimper at the sudden movement, but you quickly kiss him back. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. He groans against your mouth, before his tongue runs along your lower lip, asking for permission to enter. You part your lips instinctively and he doesn't waste a second shoving his tongue in your mouth. Your own tongue quickly joins in, until you're both devouring each other with such passion and hunger that it makes your head spin and core overheat. Logan sits down on the ground without parting his lips from yours and pulls you down with him, and you adjust your thighs to straddle him.

Neither Logan nor you thought this was how your first time would go, but neither of you could foresee this. All your sensibility, rationality and critical thinking were thrown out the window, and all you can think about is his large, muscular, perfect body under yours. In the heat of the moment, you start subconsciously grinding your core against his already stonehard length. His hands fly on your hips to guide you, and he groans against your mouth at the friction. You pull away only to catch your breath, still rocking against him, and your hands go to lace themselves in his brown hair. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, panting against his skin, but the need for more becomes too strong.

“Please, Logan… I need you inside me” you practically whine, teeth sinking into his neck in an attempt to muffle your pathetic whines and mewls. Logan groans at the sting of your teeth in his neck, and if you’d see his face, you’d notice his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Mmh, you’ll get what you need, sweet girl. I’ll take good care of you” Logan coos into your ear, lifting you up and placing you to lie back on the ground. He’d like to take his time, draw out your pleasure, but Logan can sense the urgency of your situation. You start quickly unbuttoning your pants, needing to get him inside before the painful throbbing of your pussy becomes too much to bear. Logan complies, starting to unbuckle his belt, although he’d very much like to see you naked, to see that skin he’s been dreaming about ever since he laid eyes on you. Another time, he thinks to himself.

You pull your pants off hastily, while your eyes are fixed on Logan’s bulge still hidden beneath the fabric. When you’re in just your panties, you start helping him, or at least you try to, but you’re just fumbling with the zipper because of the hurry you’re in. Logan can’t help but smirk to himself, but he makes no comment, knowing you’re more than just desperate. He pulls down his jeans along with his boxers, freeing has impressive and extremely hard length, the tip already leaking pre-cum. Your eyes widen at the sight, and you feel your walls clench around nothing. You’d like nothing more than to run your tongue over his prominent vein, or take his cock down your throat. That’ll have to wait for another time.

You pull Logan closer by hooking your legs around his waist, and he falls forward with a grunt, but quickly steadies himself on his forearms. You don’t even take off your drenched panties, you just pull them to the side, waiting for him to give you exactly what you want and need.

“You sure you want this, darlin’?” Logan asks you, giving you one more chance to change your name. You quickly nod your head, grabbing ahold of his dick and guiding it to your entrance.

“Words, baby” Logan tsks at you, wanting verbal confirmation. You mentally groan, feeling like if you opened your mouth you won’t be able to shut it. “Yes, fuck, I want it. Need you” you pathetically beg, still trying to pull him closer.

Logan straight up growls as he finally caves, despite that nagging feeling in the back of his head telling him this is wrong. That he’s taking advantage of a poor bitch in heat. He quickly realises the guilt is not enough to stop him. In one hard thrust, Logan sheathes himself inside you, and you gasp at the sudden but very welcome intrusion. He’s already panting heavily, trying to take it slow, as to not hurt you. Too bad you’re not having it.

“Please move, Logan…” you whine, trying to rock into his shaft. Logan’s large palm quickly moves to pin your hip down, and before you can protest, he pulls out almost all the way, before slamming into you. You cry out in pleasure, your hands flying up to claw at his shoulders. Logan buries his face in your neck, as he repeats the motions, going slow but incredibly deep inside you, you can feel him in your tummy. Your walls are squeezing him so tight, he can’t help but groan, trying to muffle his noises against your skin. He moves his arms to wrap underneath you as he now picks up his pace, unable to go slow when it comes to you. You moan at the increased speed, your sharp nails scratching down his arms, and to your surprise, he lets out a moan at the sting.

“Fuck, baby… gonna come before you if you keep that up” Logan grunts, but makes no effort to slow down. You start trying to meet his thrusts with your hips, but Logan is not having it. He holds you tighter, fucking you down on his cock. He frees one hand from underneath you, moving it between your bodies to rapidly draw circles your swollen clit. You whine at the added sensation, your back arching off the ground.

“I’m gonna- fuck!” you cry out, unable to finish your sentence as your orgasm suddenly crashes down on you with a brutal force. Your nerve endings are lit on fire, but in the best way, and your eyes roll to the back of your head as you’re struggling to stay grounded. Logan holds you through it, just whispering sweet nothings to you:

“That’s it, baby. I’ve gotcha.”

“Did so good for me…”

Logan helps brings you down from the high, and for the first time in days, that seemingly insatiable hunger that had been residing in the pit of your stomach is gone. But not for long.

“Logan, I want you to cum in me, please…” you whine, your weak thighs shaking as you try to pin him to your pussy. Logan groans, knowing he really shouldn’t. It’s reckless, irresponsible, but how can he refuse you when you’re being so pathetic and needy for him to fill you up?

Logan lifts you up from the ground with effortlessly, making you straddle his thighs. He holds you down on his cock as he starts thrusting up into you, now just chasing his own release. You whimper as he pierces you on his dick, but you take it, more than willingly. It doesn’t take long, until he’s coming with a strained groan, holding you down on him, his grip so tight it’ll bruise. You feel his warm spend coat your inner walls, filling you up to the brim as he pumps himself empty. You let out an almost obscene moan as you cum on his cock again, the remnants or your previous orgasm not having faded.

“Fuck, Wolves… I shouldn’t have done that” Logan murmurs into your ear but with a slight grin betraying his words, and you can only giggle in response. There was no regret in either of you, you’ll worry about plan B tomorrow. If you remember…

You sit on his lap for a few moments, letting him catch his breath. For only a split second, you’re aware of the fact that you’re in the middle of a forest, both of your clothes covered in dirt, and you’re pretty sure you feel a leaf in your hair. When you feel him soften in you, you look up from his neck, admiring his face for a second. Your lips curl into a small smile.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?”

[whalesforhands]

shirtless neighbours and exercise (kaizen stroll!)

The first time you meet your neighbours outside the house, you could swear you had to rewire every neuron in your brain in hopes of it ever working again.

“Oho? Gummmiii, look who’s here!” Perched atop the broad shoulders of his snowy-haired father figure, was one of the few resident toddlers of this neighbourhood.

You would’ve been quite glad to see him, really! Such an adorable, sweet little boy with just as charming siblings with endearing traits… And not to mention the total eye candies their parents were.

“Good muscl— Morning!” Your eyes can’t seem to stop trailing down the naked upper half of his body as you sweat, nearly choking on your words and already screaming internally, praying neither of them heard your slip-up as your hand grips the grocery bag ever tighter, face starting to grow hot with embarrassment and shame.

Jeez, stop being so goddamn hor—

“(name).” He purrs back your name in a blissful greeting, smile growing on his face and words rolling off his tongue so sweetly that it almost makes your knees buckle, your eyes stuck on watching his hand going up to his head to push back some sweaty strands of white as you try to avert your eyes for politeness sake. “Out for groceries so early?”

Oh— The slight pant in his sentences evidence of a good workout, the cute kid perched atop his shoulders, his shirtless self just looking so, so hot—! Respond normally, like a normal person, just your average, run-of-the-mill reply…!

However, you don’t think your brain is even going to be able to process anything anymore. Not after this, definitely. You remember seeing stark white, radiant blue and a curious head of spiky black as your senses start to go into overdrive.

Buff, sweaty arms that rippled with power and strength. Slicked back white hair from the obviously tough work-out. A droplet of sweat rolling down a really nice, really defined abdomen that put even the washboards at home to shame, prominent V-lines leading down, down, down…!

You have to snap yourself out of it, stop being such a pervert—!

“Uhm,” He has to bite back a chuckle at the way you’ve just been staring at him like a deer caught in headlights, your face just so cute when admiring him. “Ya okay?” He obviously knows he looks good just from your blatant staring of his body and embarrassed face, the way you’ve just been unable to do nothing but blabber nonsense for the next solid few seconds.

(You’re stroking his ego, despite the strange reception.)

“Ahaha…” Your eyes blink rapidly as you almost stumble forward from forcing yourself back into reality, eyes hurriedly flicking upwards to meet with Megumi’s blue. “Y-yeah! Fine! Just great! Never been bice—Better!” You cough into your fist to clear your throat as well as fight the urge to bury yourself into the ground below you.

“How… About you both?” Good. Perfect. Perfectly normal reply. Good answer! Non-NEET like at all!

A wide grin and a veiny, muscled arm bending to show a thumbs-up as you gulp nervously. “Just got done with some workouts! Doc says Gumi here— Ow, ow! Gumi, I told ya to stop tuggin’ at my hair to get my attention!” A whining of complaint as the shirtless man pats at his son’s leg. “Daddy spent real long tryna get it pretty today!”

Another decisive tug in retaliation.

“What a mean kid I raised…!” He sniffles in mock pain when there’s another pull, patting the leg over his collarbone to signal his defeat as he shifts his weight. “Ow, ow! Okay, okay! I get it, you want your pretty sensei right?”

Ahh… Men who love their kids are so hot… Did he just call you—

“Mn.” Megumi nods his head, black hair swaying with the shift of his cute, chubby face and extending his arms out towards you from his position perched atop the tall, broad shoulders as you continue to try not to implode at the sight of his very shirtless, very sweaty father who was smiling so innocently as he starts to slowly step closer towards you.

Oh… No…

“Sorry honey,” He’s staring up at the little boy as he stands close enough before you, whiffs of strawberry and pine mixed with his sweat starting to invade your nose. “Do you mind helping me to calm him down a little? He gets really fussy, ‘specially on weekends when he can’t see yo—“

Don’t think about it, don’t think about how sexy he looks right now— don’t think about it don’t think don’t think don’t think don’t think—

You feel a warm trail of liquid drip from your nose, catching sight of a matching pair of worried blue eyes, both widened considerably as Gojo’s grin starts to fade, a hand reaching out to cup your chin with Megumi’s face looking as if he was about to cry.

“Oh— Fuck.”

——

It seems that the second time you’re invited to this estate, is to treat a nosebleed of all things…

“Too much to handle, huh?” He’s being gentle as he dabs at your bloody nose, having princess-carried you all the way back to his apartment in a fit of worry, insisting that he’ll take care of you to, ‘fix his mistake’.

(You weren’t sure if he was complimenting himself or not.)

Nonetheless, you’re still experiencing embarrassment you’ve yet to be able to live down for at least the rest of your life. Maybe it’s better to just go into hiding, become a NEET who plays Jujutsu Kaisen all day, max out that INT stat on your character, buy another gift card to top up on more Cursed Points to roll that new clothing gacha—

Ah, who are you kidding? You’d rather just die in a ditch somewhere right now as the Gojo Satoru, father to many of your beloved children, extremely tall, and stupidly charming hunk of a man dabbing blood and snot out of your nose because you lost control of your mind after seeing him sweaty and shirtless.

This is definitely some sort of loser path you would’ve accidentally stumbled into if you were in a dating sim visual novel! Ahh… Whatever god is up there, please don’t be so cruel to you anymore…!

Maybe that was how you ended up on his sofa, one of his kids in your lap and him right next to you, settled comfortably on his sofa as a kiddy anime plays, simply living through the motions. It’s not like you haven’t tried asking to leave.

Your mouth is open as Megumi spoons another scoop of pudding into your mouth, sat comfortably upon your lap as he watches you intently to make sure you’re eating every bite well.

He’s scrutinizing your every movement, blue eyes practically drilling in on your mouth as you start to sweat out of nervousness, making it a point to exaggerate your chewing actions well to sate him.

“Does Daddy get any bites, Gumi?” Said man’s arm rested upon the back of the sofa, brushing against your back and almost looking like it was wrapped around your shoulders. Almost.

(At least he’s got a shirt on…)

“No.” A curt, straight-to-the-point and outright rejection, another spoonful getting carefully pushed up towards your lips as he uses the entirety of his smaller body to shield the precious pudding away from that hungry monster.

“You,” He points the spoon almost menacingly towards the much too big man, blue eyes narrowing behind spiky strands that obscure his face. “Eat too much.”

“Ahhh! So mean!” Said little boy was now being lifted out of your lap, much larger hands lifting him up by his underarms and out of reach from you as he’s held up to the light.

“Even Daddy gets hurt if you don’t feed him! What if I starve to death?!” He’s pouting up at his literal child, the toddler giving him a blank stare despite the vulnerable, adorable position he’s been put in. Even with his puppy-print themed socks hanging midair, the seriousness in his eyes reflecting it all.

“Then di—“

“Is it heavy, Nanako? Papa can carry it—“ The door to the Gojo-Geto estate opens with a chime, waddling twin making her way in, a tin of cocoa mix in her hands as she settles it upon the genkan floor.

“I got it, Papa!” She flexes her arm, patting the soft flesh there. “Nanako’s strong!” She’s gonna be just like her parents, afterall! No time for slacking when it could be used for muscle building!

“Daddy! Gumi! Papa and I are backkkkk!”

She starts to kick off her green sneakers, excited to be able to watch that new anime she’s been waiting for all week, humming as she hears the reusable grocery bags being placed down behind her, eyes catching sight of an unfamiliar pair of shoes.

(And a very familiar scent lingering about.)

No way…! Today, too?! It’s with a squeal that she takes off, shoes flying off and onto the carpeted genkan, leaving a confused Suguru in its wake.

“Nanako! Be careful!”

She bursts into the room with glimmering eyes, grin stretching wide across her cheeks as she practically lunges towards you.

“(NAME)-SENSEI!” You catch her midair, meeting her halfway as you feel her practically throw you back against the couch with her weight, her entire body a force to be reckoned with as you try to hide your gasp of pain at how much her exhilarating acceleration had caused the much too painful impact.

And soon, you had Megumi plopped onto you as well once he had forced his way out of a certain someone’s hold, crawling towards you as a defeated Gojo Satoru played ‘dead’ on the couch, having been defeated by his very own son.

“(name)-senseiiiiiiii~,” She’s whining into your lap, blonde strands rubbing against the fabric of your clothing and her face buried into your chest, squeezing in next to Megumi as they both look up at you with shiny, begging eyes. “Since you’re already hereeee!”

“Stay for dinner again!”

masterlist (this fic is part of my kaizen daycare! series)

Notes:

Due to the new transfer of Itadori Yuuji and Kugisaki Nobara, Megumi has been eating a lot more snacks than usual. His doctor has advised him to take more walks. This has ended up with Gojo Satoru bringing him along when he goes for a jog.

Just like her Daddy, Nanako has developed an oddly strong sense of smell.

Tsumiki takes ballet lessons whilst Mimiko goes for a plushie making seminars for toddlers on weekends.

Once, Megumi offered his Daddy a bite of his pizza bun. He experienced the betrayal of Gojo Satoru’s ‘one bite’ trick.

“I don’t see why you shouldn’t, sensei.” It’s Geto Suguru that’s leaning against the doorframe, cocoa tin tucked under his arm as grocery bags decorate his fingers. “I would appreciate your expertise in cooking again.”

“I second it!” Gojo Satoru is already up and about, foregoing the ‘playing dead’ farce to be a part of this conversation.

“Daddy, Gumi said you’re a liar and a cheat for not playing all the way through!”

“E-eh? I can’t even revive myself momentarily to reply?!”

[foxyarchive]

Your Guardian Angel(Or Devil) P1

You're an average young woman, just trying to live your life. After almost meeting your untimely demise one night, you're saved by a foul-mouthed divine being who claims to be your Guardian Angel, AND the first man.

OR; Adam is your Guardian Angel who swoops in to save you when you need it, and also pesters you whenever he feels like it. This arrangement is fun for neither of you.

Cross Posted on AO3!

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive comments, Adam being Adam.....

Words: ~7K

May end up being a two parter because that's all I have ideas for, but definitely down to write more of Reader and Adam together if you all wanna send me ideas here or on my AO3! Enjoy!

P1 | P2 | P3

Today had, certainly, been one of the days of all time. 

It had started off with the coffee maker essentially breaking. You’d managed to get about half of a cup of the normal amount of coffee you made while you were throwing together some breakfast for yourself. When you’d went over to investigate to try brewing again, nothing was happening. If the red, soulless, blinking light on your maker was anything to go by, it was that the damned thing had died. 

With a sigh, you ended up pouring an overabundance of your preferred mix-in while eating your quick little breakfast. You were already running a bit behind. In a rush to finish getting ready, you’d ended up smudging a bit of the lipstick you had put on, forcing you to be even more behind as you needed to clean it off and reapply anything necessary. 

You’d finally grabbed your bag and were out the door, and when you got in your car, saw that you were nearly out of gas. You tried to think; What in the Hell would compel you to leave your car on nearly empty and not fill up after work? It was then, you recalled, wanting to catch the season finale of a show last night with your friend. You’d hurried home, and had just said to yourself you’d wake up early this morning and fill up before going to work. 

Of fucking course today had to be the day you woke up a bit later after staying up unusually late last night. A groan split from your throat, rubbing your temple with two fingers. You hadn’t packed a lunch, either, so guess you were going hungry most of the day beside some of the snacks in your drawer. You wouldn’t have enough time to get gas and lunch on your break. At this point, all you could do was pray that you’d be able to make it to a gas station after work. You did have an… Unconventional guardian angel, after all, so surely it would all work out…

Speaking of guardian angel…

“Yo, I don’t know if you can, uh, hear me right now… I mean, I assume you can, if you’re, like, kinda omnipotent or whatever, but… Try and make my day a little better, alright?” You said, somewhat awkwardly to the empty air around you in your car as you drove to work. No response. You felt like a mad woman. 

With a sigh, you just continued your drive. Finding parking at the office went awful, no surprise, and you walked in about seven minutes after you were supposed to clock in. Your boss didn’t say anything, but the stare given to you was enough to know that your tardiness was apparent. All you could do right now was just keep your head down and check your emails from your clients and work diligently. 

Thankfully, the day was going by smoothly… So far. Besides needing to put a fire via email, and your pencil cup holder being somehow knocked over twice mysteriously(you sent a glare over your shoulder every time but didn’t see anyone), you had nothing else to complain about. That was, until just before lunch, you felt a cramp. At first, you thought it was a hunger pain, and tried to shift to brush it off. The more you cramped, though, you felt it lower in your gut, and your heart sank. No shot, your cycle wasn’t supposed to be for another few days!

You cursed to yourself, deciding to take an early lunch to check. You shuffled through your drawer to see if you had anything– Tampons, pads, a cup, something to try and stop the flow while you were at work. Nothing. Great. You grumbled to yourself, getting up to head to the bathroom. The company you worked for was fairly small, the middle ground between a small business owner and a blossoming corporation, so nothing for feminine sanitation was available in either bathrooms.

Sitting down in the restroom, you shucked your pants and underwear down, groaning at the sight of a faint bit of blood splattering your underwear. “Motherfu…” Your grumble trailed off whilst you  suppressed the urge to rub at your face in frustration. Instead, you just made a rather unsavory hand gesture with both of your hands to nobody in particular. Well, actually, yes there was somebody in particular, but you couldn’t see him right now. You weren’t even sure if he could see you, but it certainly made you feel better. 

Stifling a groan, you wrapped some toilet paper around your underwear to try and soak up anything for now. After you were redressed and hands were washed, you headed back to your desk to eat a measly granola bar and some dried fruit, before clocking back in and continuing on with your day. 

After getting yelled at over the phone by a client for something that wasn’t even your fault, as well as accidentally spilling some water over your keyboard while staying late, work was over for the day. You were just looking forward to going home, taking a nice, hot shower, and watching whatever brain rot you decided to indulge in tonight. Maybe with some ice cream. You were once more reminded, though, that you needed to get gas in your car once you got in and started it up. The nearest gas station wasn’t incredibly close, so you were biting your lip the entire time you drove there. 

You nearly slumped in relief when you saw it right around the corner, but any relief that was in your veins washed away as you pulled up just inside of the parking lot, and your car began to roll. You pushed on the gas rapidly, but nothing was happening. “Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck–” You began to freak out, before relaxing somewhat. It would just… Roll to one of the pumps, right? Wrong, apparently. Oh, so, very wrong. There was a slight incline upwards to the gas pumps, and to your horror, the car started to even roll backwards. 

“No!” You gasped, quickly putting it into park. You took in a small, shuddering breath, putting it back into drive as you tried to push on the gas again. Nothing. You’d run out literally right inside the gas station lot. Due to leaving work later than normal because of not only coming in late, but needing to deal with an unruly client, nobody else was here at the moment. Nobody could help you. For what felt like the umpteenth time that day, another groan left your lips as your head slammed back against the carseat head. 

With now an annoyed snarl, you pushed open your car door, slamming it as you walked around to the back of your car after putting it in neutral. “Okay… Okay, I can do this… Just a small nudge up the hill… It’s barely a hill, too, it’s fine, I can move a couple hundred… Thousand…” You uttered to yourself, trying to hype up as you shifted foot from foot. After some brief stretching, you placed your hands on the back of your car, beginning to slowly push it. Or, well, at least try to push it. You were so focused on your task, you didn’t even notice a figure pop up beside you. 

“‘Sup.” Adam greeted, causing you to gasp and nearly slip and fall in surprise. 

“Adam! Good God you have shitty timing.” You groaned, slumping against the back of your car. You were already exhausted and you hadn’t even been trying to push for two minutes!

“Hey, what’d I say? Good girls only get into Heaven by not using the Lord’s name in vain.” He drawled, boredly, leaning against the side of your car as he looked over his nails. Well, more aptly, his fingers. He had gloves on, after all, so obviously it was just for show, and it just irritated you more. About to bite out a response, he beat you to it by finally surveying the situation. “Pfffft–” Came from him as he grinned, before he started to laugh, backing away from your car and pointing at you. “What– What the fuck are you doing? Did you run out of gas?”

“S-Shut up!” You snapped, face flushing warm in embarrassment as he laughed at you, but he didn’t yield. You stomped your foot in irritation, a small whine leaving your throat as you realized just how stupid the whole situation was. “It’s not funny!”

“Hah– Haha– I hate to tell you, sugartits, but it’s actually hilarious.” He finally calmed down, wiping an invisible tear from his face with a sigh and smug smile, putting his hands on his hips. He didn’t seem to be phased by your anger at all. “Aww, you’re so cute when you’re mad.” He inched towards you, ignoring your seething expression as he patted your head. “Like a wittle angwy kitty–” 

“Fuck you.” You snarled out, slapping his hand away as you turned back to your car, and he was the one who scoffed like he’d been offended. The nerve. “Some fuckin’ angel you are, laughing at my misery.” You grouse, turning back to your vehicle, placing your hands on the back once more. 

He just offers a roll of his eyes. Or, well, what appears to be a roll with the incline he makes with his head. He doesn't have pupils, after all. “Babes, it’s not the first time I have, and it’s definitely not gonna be the last.” Comes his response, and he seems once more impassive to the glare you send him before you focus back ahead. “I mean, c’mon, I already gotta look after your ass, I wanna get some amusement out of it. Speaking of looking at ass…” You’re bent forward again, trying to push the car forward with all of your might. You did manage to roll it maybe a few inches, but it once again left you exhausted. You caught Adam looking at your butt with an appreciative view on his face. “You should wear shorter skirts–” He begins to speak, but you cut him off this time. 

“Don’t you have something better to do?” You snip, bristling at his suggestive commentary as you stand here and struggle your way forward. “If you’re just going to stand there and be inappropriate, then will you kindly piss off?” You huff, looking back at your car once more. 

“Fine, be a cunt, see if I care.” He scoffs out in response, flipping you the bird as he turns away. It’s then, suddenly, you realize maybe work has really dulled your mind. He’s your guardian angel, it’s his job to help you!

“Wait, wait!” You sigh out, exasperated, as you turn and grab for him, thankful he didn’t just poof away yet. You reach for his robes, but end up grabbing one of his wings as they flared out, yanking back. 

“Ow, bitch, watch the feathers!” He snarls out, turning on you with a glare of his own. He draws his wing over to him, brushing his hand against it with a sneer as he looks down at you. “The fuck you want? Want to apologize for your bratty behavior?” He huffs, and you can’t suppress a roll of your eyes, try as you might. 

“No, I’d like your help in pushing my car up to a pump.” You’re growing more and more weary by the minute. How has literally nobody else pulled into the gas station? At this point, maybe you should just ask the worker inside to help you. He just crosses his arms, raising a brow at your request. 

“And why should I help you?” He decides to play coy, and you grit both your jaw and hands into fists. 

“Because you’re my guardian angel! You’re literally supposed to help me!” Comes your snappy response, and he taps a finger to his chin, pondering with a ‘hmmm’, as if actually thinking about your response. 

“Mmm… Yeah, nah, babes, not how that works. What part of ‘guardian’ do you not fuckin’ understand? You want a dictionary, bitch?” He snaps his fingers, the thick book appearing in his hand in a puff of golden dust as he offers it out to you. “Why don’t you look up the definition of it and study up?” You eye twitches as you none too kindly shove his arm away from you that offers you the dictionary. 

“I know what it means, I don’t need to look it up!” You hiss out. You’re almost on the verge of tears, now, as the frustration burns through your entire being. You’re hungry, cramping and aching, and stressed out about this whole thing. You’re not sure if Adam seems to notice this, with the slight way you see the hard edges around his smug grin soften some. Either he doesn’t care or notice, though, as you continue on. “I could be in danger! I-I mean, if I don’t move the car, someone will pull forward, and if they don’t pay attention they could run right into me! Then I would be hurt! And maybe even die!” You emphasize with a wave of your hands. 

He doesn’t seem very moved by your speech, the book disappearing from his hands as he crosses his arms once more. “Mm… Kay, then I’ll just pluck you out of the way. I mean, I don’t see what you’re getting at here, ‘tits. Sounds like you want me to do all the work for your fuck up.” He motions lazily with a hand towards the car, and boy if you weren’t ready to burst into tears before, you are now, because, honestly? He’s right. You’re the reason you’re in this mess. He’s clearly soaking up your suffering as well, a sly smile slowly spreading across his features as he sees you try to blink back tears of frustration. 

He finally takes some pity on you. Well, what Adam would consider pity, at least. “What’s in it for me, huh?” He leers, taking a step over you. He towers over you easily, inhumanly tall. Whereas it intimidated you at first, now? It just pisses you off more, because it’s something else he has to lord over you. You don’t know why he does when he’s already some super powerful angel, according to him, but he clearly likes to put you in your place. Remind you you’re just some mortal human in a realm of other, shitty mortal humans. 

So, when he asks what he gets out of this, you’re at a loss. You open your mouth, closing it, frowning. What could you offer someone like Adam? You peer up at him, not liking the way that sly grin on his face grows, somewhat leering even, now. “Well… What do you want?” You finally ask, and immediately regret it as his hand comes down to grope your ass. You squeak, more so from the grip than surprise, because really, you shouldn’t be surprised. “Something that’s not part of my body! I’m on my period, too.” You huff out, face and ears burning, and he immediately makes a face and retracts his hand. 

“Hmmm…” He rubs his chin in thought, actual thought now, as he turns to pace. His wings are tucked back under his arms, which you keep meaning to ask it about because truthfully, you find it adorable. You didn’t think angels presented their wings like that, but it makes some sense. “Oh! What was that, fucking uuuhhh… Ice cream thing with the fudge in the middle? With all that candy shit on top?” He snaps his fingers, looking back at you. You draw a blank, briefly, before recognizing what he’s talking about. 

“You mean… A blizzard?” You ask, slowly, and he grins, nodding eagerly. 

“Yeah, yeah! Buy me one of those and I guess we’ll call it the start to being even.” He states, and your eye twitches again. 

“The ‘start’?” You emphasize, and Adam just waves his hand dismissively. 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, the other thing I phone in will be somethin’ simple. Promise promise.” He insists, and at this point, you’re so desperate you don’t question it. You did say you wanted ice cream, after all… You’re also sure he wouldn’t ask for anything absurd either. 

“...Fine.” You relent, motioning him over as you make some room to push the car once more. He pushes you out of the way, though, with one of his brilliantly golden wings, causing you to sputter as some of the feathers poke into your mouth and nostrils. 

“Get in the car, bitch. Guide us over to a pump.” He orders, and a huff leaves you, but you don’t resist. You’ll gladly take sitting in the car and turning the wheel over pushing with massive manual labor. Once in the driver's seat, you begin to turn the wheel enough to pull into one of the pump stations. Adam is… Freakishly strong, to no surprise, and it honestly feels like you’re actually driving with how fast the car is going. Driving at an incredibly slow speed, but one nonetheless. When you finally stop at a pump, you put the car in park with a sigh, feeling significantly more relieved and less stressed. 

You get out, locking it up as you head for the gas station store. “Uh, you’re fuckin’ welcome!” You hear Adam scoff, and you suppress a roll of your eyes if only because he did actually help you out. 

“Thank you, Adam.” You relent, turning around. “So very kind of you, I would be at a loss without you.” Is tacked on at the end, and he just smirks, strutting over to you. 

“I know. I’m the best. Doncha forget it, sugartits.” He responds as a sigh leaves you. 

“You want a snack?” You offer out, deciding to play nice, and he grins. 

“Uh, fuck yes.” He agrees, perking up even more as you both walk into the convenience store. You decide to get an electrolyte drink for yourself, since you’re feeling awfully thirsty and tired. Adam grabs some beef jerky, and as you go to the counter to pay, he speaks up. “Shit, wait, hold on– I want those cheesy crackers.” He states, and you roll your eyes but wait as the cashier rings up your other items. You hold your hand out as Adam comes back over, taking the bag in your hand to offer up to the cashier, digging through your wallet to get out something to pay 

When you realize the bag hasn’t been taken out of your hand, you look up, confused. The cashier looks at you, his eyes wide, mouth agape. “Um…” You shift, awkwardly. Did you have something on your face?

“The fuck is this guy’s problem?” The angel barks out behind you, and you set the bag down, watching the cashier’s eyes follow it incredulously. Your brow furrows, before you suddenly put two and two together. 

“Oh, shit,” You utter out in realization. Adam had given you that bag. And you were the only one who could see Adam. Oh God, that isn’t good. 

“This guy have shit-for-brains? Seriously, if he stares any longer, he’s gonna start drooling, and–” You shift your leg back, pressing down somewhat firmly onto Adam’s foot. “Hey, bitch, watch where you’re stepping! You just–” You turn around to face him, but purposefully look right through him. Towards where he’d grabbed the bag, and then you tap it slightly. You hope he can get it through his thick skull what you’re trying to imply. “...Ooohhh…” It finally dawns on him, his eyes widening as he looks at the isle, and then at you, then at the worker. “Oh, shit.” He echoes you, before he briskly moves you aside again with his arm. “Move, bitch, let me handle this.”

He stands in front of the worker, snapping his fingers in front of the cashier’s face, a puff of golden dust emanating from his hand. The other human blinks, a glazed look coming over his eyes as he stares at nothing in particular now. “Okay, let’s go, he won’t remember a thing.” Adam urges, and you stutter. You barely have time to slap down some money on the counter and grab your things before you’re shuffled outside. You’re antsy as you pay at the pump and put in your gas, and when you’re filled up enough you get in the car and drive off. 

“You can’t just do shit like that, Adam!” You finally speak up once you’re driving away, the firstborn lounging in your backseat due to just being too big to sit up front. 

“I fuckin’ forgot, okay!?” He huffs out, his wings fluffing out indignantly as he sprawls out. You slap one of his wings back as it curls forward and brushes against your head and neck, not only making you shiver, but blocking you from seeing out your review mirror and back window. 

“Wings down in the car, what have I said before!?” You chastise, and he just scoffs, sitting up, hunching forward as he rests an arm on your middle console. 

“Jeeze, chillax, babes! I wiped his mind, he’s not going to remember it, why you still got your panties in a twist?” He sneers, and you growl out, carefully maneuvering to grab one of the horns on his head to push it down more. “Hey, hey, hey, fuckin’ watch the mask, bitch! You don’t get to manhandle the original dick!” 

“I can’t fucking see with your giant ass head in the way!” Your clipped response comes out, before you realize something. “Wait– This is a mask?” You’re still holding onto one of the horns, and shake it a bit. He growls out and swats your hand away, which you don’t fight against as you put your hand back on the wheel. 

“Pfft, uh, yeah? What, did you think this was actually my face?” He’s resting his head on the console now, pointing to his apparent mask, smirking up at you. You flounder, briefly, mouth opening, before it closes. 

“...I mean. Honestly? Yeah. You eat with it. How does that even work!?” You glance at him, eyes wide, and his smirk just lengthens. 

“Angelic magic, ‘tits. Fancy as fuck and cooler than anything you mortals got down here in your sorry realm.” He enlightens, and you don’t have a smart comeback for that because he’s right. 

“...Pretty cool, actually. Can I have one someday?” You ask, and he curls himself back, splaying out once more across your car’s back seats. 

“Maaaaybe. Usually only the big dogs like me get somethin’ this sick.” He responds, shifting multiple times to try and get comfortable. You just roll your eyes as you pull up to the drive-thru, waiting your turn, before glancing back at him. 

“Can I see your real face?” You decide to inquire, and he raises a brow at your question, now chewing none-too-quietly on some beef jerky. 

“Uh, you wanna owe me more?” He snorts, and you just scoff in reply, looking ahead as you pull up a bit more. 

“Didn’t realize I’d have to owe you for you taking your mask off.” You mutter out, and he laughs somewhat, sitting up with another fluff of his wings. You don’t call him out on it for now since you’re just sitting in line. 

“Can’t get something for nothing, babes. Not a whole lotta people get to see the OG’s face, and I don’t think some fuckin’ mortal is gonna see it.” He chews some more on his snack, and you hold your hand out for a piece. He glares at you, before relenting and handing you a small strip, which you gnaw on to sate your hunger. May as well pick up dinner here too, then. 

“I’m just ‘some fuckin’ mortal’ to you?” You scoff in response, placing a hand to your chest in faux offense. “I thought what we had was special, Adam!” He rolls his eyes at your theatrics, flicking your head, and you scowl in response. 

“Nah, you ain’t special, bitch. Well, I guess you are maybe a little. After all, not everyone’s guardian is–”

“The original dick, yeah, yeah, I get it.” You grouse, and now he looks offended that you interrupted him, before shrugging it off because clearly what he’s saying means something. He goes quiet, though, as you pull up to order. You get him a blizzard, and yourself some ice cream as well as dinner. 

“Hey, wait, I want something else!” He whines, shoving his head forward once again, and you frown, looking at him. God, how much could he eat? “Gimme uhhh… That! And, oh, also that!” He’s pointing at items on the menu, moreso the pictures, and you glare at him. You can’t speak, as the woman through the speaker could still hear you, and he just looks at you. “What? Order, bitch, there’s people behind you!” You just continue to glare, and he glares back, eyes squinting. “Uggghh, what do you want from me? I can’t fuckin’ pay, I don’t have your stupid Earth money.” Still silence. The woman at the speakers asks if you want anything else, and you tell her to hold on as you stare Adam down. 

He taps his finger on your console impatiently, before groaning and throwing his head back. “Fine! This can be the other part of what you owe me.” He sighs out, and you decide to cut your losses and accept that. You turn back to the speaker, ordering what he wants as well, before driving forward, waiting for the car ahead of you to get their food. 

“Do you think I’m made of money or something? I’m barely making ends meet.” You speak up, finally, rubbing one of your eyes as you try to stave off the tired ache in your body. Your cramps are starting to kick back up, too, and that’s definitely not helping. 

“Sounds like a you problem.” Is all Adam replies as he leans back again, and your jaw grits. 

“It is a me problem, so I can’t keep buying you stuff you probably get for free up in Heaven!” You growl out, irritation with him flaring once more. Asshole is so ungrateful… Why did you even buy him anything? “Do you even have to pay rent in Heaven?” You then ask, and he laughs. 

“Fuck no!” He grins, before pausing. “Well, sorta. You get like, a free place and whatever, but if you want somethin’ bigger and better you gotta pay for it.” He explains, and you frown at that. 

“So, wait. You do gotta work in Heaven?” You blanch, because that sounds awful. Great, you have something to not look forward to even after you die, now. Well, if you want to Heaven, anyways… You have a guardian angel, so you assume that you will, but Adam is hardly angel material. In fact, you’re starting to wonder if this is a test from the Heavens, seeing how much good will you have to not snap and throttle your guardian…

“Sorta?” He gives the same response, picking at his teeth– Mask?-- With his pinky. He doesn’t even look at you. “You don’t gotta. You can just walk around and do whatever you want, but some stuff you gotta actually pay for. Luxuries, like certain entertainment, shops, establishments… You get the idea.” He finally looks at you, resting his hands on his stomach as he leans against the door of your car. 

You turn back ahead as the vehicle in front of you pulls forward. “Huh…” You mutter, thoughtful. Well, you hoped you could at least be good at something else in Heaven, because you were definitely not wanting to do the job you had currently up after crossing the pearly gates. You hand your card over to the cashier to pay, and put all the food in the front seat. Adam subtly reaches for his blizzard, which you slap his hand away subtly. No way you’re driving around with what would look like a floating ice cream to everyone else. He pouts, but doesn’t complain, and you drive off after you have everything. 

The distance from your apartment to the fast food place you just stopped at is short, and already worn out by today’s events, you just opt to turn on the radio and listen to music. Adam takes over, of course, turning it onto some barely withstandable hard rock as he jams out in the back seat with an air guitar. You try and not let any tired, resting bitch face take over, but it’s so, so difficult to. Once you park in your spot, it’s already decently late. It’s dark out, and you don’t see anyone else around, so you let Adam help you carry your food. 

You look up, able to see your balcony from where you’re standing, and grimace at the thought walking three stories. The elevator it is, then, you decide with a heavy sigh. “Alright, up ya go.” Adam suddenly speaks up, and you’re confused, until you feel an arm wrap around your middle. 

“What do you– meeeeeaaaannn!” You suddenly shriek out as his wings flare, and he pushes himself and you effortlessly upwards with a beat of them. Seconds later, you land on your balcony with him, trembling, cold and startled at the sudden interaction. 

“Theeeere ya go, sweet-tits, saved ya some time, didn’t I? I know, I know, I’m the greatest.” He grins, puffing out of existence, before he reappears inside of your house. He unlocks your sliding door, and you walk in, still more pale before and slow. “Pfft, you should see the look on your face. Hilarious. I’ll have to do that more often.”

“You– You know you can’t!” You sputter out, glaring at him as you set down the food you’re holding, putting your hands on your hips. He just looks at you, boredly, as he tosses some fries in his mouth. 

“Wassa big deal? Nobody saw.” He speaks through chewing, and you wrinkle your nose, turning around and shutting the door while you pull the blinds closed. 

“What if somebody did see, though!? And we didn’t even know! This is the age of technology, Adam, anyone could be filming for any reason!” You counter, watching in irritation as he flops down on the giant beanbag you have in your small living room in lieu of a couch. 

“Even if someone did see it, nobody would believe it. I know those fake ass videos that circulate all the time online of some mysterious shit happening which is obviously just not real.” He seems extremely unbothered by this, which is somewhat concerning. That meant either you were really getting up in arms about this for no reason, or he just didn’t want to admit to making a mistake. You’d heard the phrase ‘angels don’t make mistakes’ or something similar quite a few times from him. You just shoot him a glare as he waves a hand and magics over your remote as he flips the TV on, munching on the food he got. 

“Food’s gonna get cold if you don’t eat, babes.” He chirps out, flicking through channels, and you pinch the bridge of your nose and utter under your breath. You never win any arguments with him. Why do you even bother? With a sigh, you grab your food and sit next to him on the beanbag. It’s normally enough to fit at least three or four people, but with how large Adam is, it looks like it’s really just meant for two people. You sit cross legged as you eat, another silence finally lapsing between the both of you. Adam can’t shut up most of the time, and even while he’s eating he’s making quips at the show you’re watching. 

“Fuckin’ women argue so much, why did they make a show about it?” He comments while he chews, and you click the remote to see what you’re even watching with a roll of your eyes. The Real Housewives. Great. This one isn’t even set in your area. 

“I think it’s all fabricated.” You comment in response. Adam’s done with his food, eating his ice cream, and you’re almost finished with your main meal. 

“Why? Wouldn’t it be more interesting if it was real beef?” He scoffs, and you shrug. 

“Well, yeah, but rarely is it actually as entertaining as this.” You motion to the screen, grimacing as you see one of the women throw a fork at the other. This was so dumb. Adam seems to agree, as he snorts and changes the channel. 

When you’re both completely finished eating, you lounge with him. It’s a bit strange, you admit, having your supposed ‘guardian angel’ just relaxing with you. He’s a divine being; The first man! Yet he’s here, kicking back on your beanbag like he’s some buddy of yours. You don’t tell him to get out, though, because deep down, despite how much of an awful prick he can be… you kinda like the company. You have friends, sure, but they’re all busy with their own lives. Adam? You’re not entirely sure what his life in Heaven is like. You don’t know his responsibilities, but it must not be much if he can just come down here and kick it with you whenever. 

You try to drown these contemplative thoughts out with television, but you find it difficult to do as another pang lights your stomach. You groan out, shifting a bit, rubbing at the cramps. Right, you’d nearly forgotten about those. You should go and put something on for the blood, but… Goddamn you don’t wanna get up. Instead, you just roll around slightly on the beanbag, groaning, trying to get comfortable. Adam, blissfully, doesn’t say anything. At first, at least. When you finally moan out in pain, though, and your head slumps against his arm, he scoffs, lifting his arm to look down at you. Your head thumps against his side. 

“The fuck you makin’ so much noise for?” He complains, and you pout, mildly glaring at his crass attitude. 

“Told you earlier, on my period… Cramps reeaaallly blow.” You utter out, somewhat muffled due to your cheek resting against his side. 

“Sucks to suck, woman.” He sneers, and you resist the urge to bite him. Just barely. Your glare certainly says enough, though. 

“Please tell me there’s no periods in Heaven.” You sigh as you roll onto your back, peering up miserably at the angel next to you. 

“Nope.” He pops the ‘p’ in his response, and you sigh in relief. “Actually, I can just make it so you don’t have it anymore.” He suddenly mentions, and you gasp, sitting up to look at him. 

“What? Really?” You grin in excitement at the thought, and he looks at you slyly. 

“Yeeep. Only for about nine months at a time, though.” He looks back at his gloved nails, and you tilt your head in confusion. 

“That’s… Oddly specific. Why?” You ask, curious. He narrows his eyes at you, grin never leaving his face as he waggles his eyebrows at you. A heated warmth blossoms fiercely across your cheeks and body as you suddenly understand what he’s insinuating. 

“Stop being so horny!” You growl out, shoving him as he starts laughing, slapping you with his wing as you stumble to your feet. 

“Hey! You know how many chicks are lining up to ride original dick?” He finally huffs out after he’s finished with his laughing fit, pointing down at his crotch. 

“I can imagine not very many if you’re here pestering me, still.” You roll your eyes, and his wings flare out in anger at that as he gets up. 

“You got no fuckin’ idea! Bitches and groupies are lining up to see me after a show, and even on the streets. I’ve been looking after you for like– What– a few months? You haven’t gotten laid once, so you can cut the cool act and just start begging whenever you want. You’ll be thanking me after.” He insists, waving his arms about as his wings give a beat of frustration. It knocks over a paper mache piece one of your friends made for you, and nearly bowls your cat off of his feet as he comes strolling into the room, although he seems none the wiser to what the wind actually was. You just offer Adam a hard stare as you swoop down to pick up the paper mache, setting it neatly back where it was. 

“Is that even allowed?” You can’t help but to ponder, never having of really broached the topic with him. Sure, he was usually horny around you. Made innuendos and suggestive comments(occasional groping), but he’d never actually really tried anything. 

“Is what allowed?” He’s gotten distracted by your cat, squinting at him as he strolls about your living room, sticking his head into the now empty paperbag of one of your meals. 

“You fucking…” You try to think of what you are to him. You don’t know the term, so instead you just settle on, “Me?”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want. I’m Adam.” Comes his smug response, an equally smug look on his face as his arms cross and he peers down at you. Okay, that’s not a… Real answer, but you suppose you’re not going to get a real answer out of him. You open your mouth, before closing it, deciding to wave him off, uttering that you’ll be back. You head into your bathroom, finally grabbing something to help your blood flow. You also decide to take something to alleviate your cramps a bit, and when you walk back into your main room, you hear Adam. “Hey, pussy, that’s mine!” You walk over, seeing Adam crouched over your cat, glaring at him as he snacks on a fry from inside the bag. So much for being empty. 

He then deftly takes the fry from your cat, sticking his tongue out at him as the feline meows pitifully, confused at the fry dangling from nothing in front of him. “Hey, don’t be mean! He found that fair and square, give it back!” You counter, walking over and snatching the fry out of Adam’s fingers. The angel scowls at you as you toss the fry back down for your little boy to consume, and you pet him lovingly. 

“Don’t think a cat is supposed to eat that shit.” He grimaces, and you just shrug. 

“He can have a little treat. It’s okay.” You decide, picking up the rest of the empty bags and containers as you move to throw them away. “You staying the night or something?” You can’t help but to tease Adam. He doesn’t normally hang around you for this long. In fact, you’re pretty sure he’s only supposed to be here when you’re in real trouble, but you’re not entirely sure what defines that. Maybe he has some premonition about when you’ll get in trouble, so perhaps that’s why he’s sticking around. 

“Why, you want me to?” He arches his brows again, and you roll your eyes, not gracing him with a response. “No way, I got shit to do back up top. I’m important, you know, can’t just spend all the time hangin’ out with some mortal. Much as you’d like me to, I know I know.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” You utter under your breath, and before he has a moment to ask what you said, you pipe up, “Are you even allowed to be doing this? Just like, hanging out? And, no,” You start as he opens his mouth to reply. “I don’t want to hear ‘I’m Adam, I can do what I want’ because really that holds no ground.” 

“Uh, the fuck it doesn’t! It holds all the ground.” He scoffs. “You may hate the answer, but it’s the truth, babes. Heaven is way better than this shithole you live in, but sometimes it gets so booooring. You guys keep it fresh down here.” He grins, somewhat wicked as he advances towards you, before pausing. “Oh, shit, you know what you should do?” You offer him an uncertain look. “Go to a concert! Or festival! They fuckin’ rock down here.” He throws up the devil’s horns. 

“And… Why would I do that?” You frown. 

“So I can watch, duh.” He crosses his arms, and you just raise a brow.

“Can’t you just go fly to a concert somewhere and watch it?” You inquired, flopping back down on your beanbag with a grimace as another cramping spasm rips through your body. 

“Not really, nah. If I come down to Earth, I’m basically tied to you. Gotta stick around you within a certain area sorta deal.” He explains, and you make a small noise of surprise. You suppress the urge to say, ‘I thought you were Adam and could do whatever you wanted’, but you don’t because you don’t want him going off on a rant about it. 

“Well, I’ll think about it. Concerts aren’t really my thing.” You admit, trying to decide one what to watch the rest of the night. Your cat comes up, purring as he settles on your stomach, and you groan out at the pressure it applies. 

“You should make it your thing and stop being so fucking boring” He huffs. 

“If I’m so boring then why did you hang around me for so long today?” You stick your tongue out as part of your response, and Adam’s wings fluff up and flare at the accusation. He opens his mouth to respond, then closes it, eyes narrowing along with his brows. 

“Because… Free food, that’s why. Fuck you, later loser!” He flips you the bird again with both hands this time, sticking his own tongue out, before he’s gone in a puff of golden glitter. It sizzles around you, falling to the ground as it disperses, and you sigh out. You pet your cat, laying your head back on the beanbag. 

“...Hope you don’t think I’m crazy.” You rumble to your cat as you scratch him behind the ears. It’s just you and him, now, and you don’t know when Adam will pop up again. You realize, with a pang in your chest, that you miss him already. What a dangerous game you were playing, talking so freely with your divine guardian. 

[noihavenosanitythanksforasking]

wait bbg r u ok😭why the brain scan

ack okay boutta spill my life story one you and we'll just use this as reference whenever someone asks about this from now on

so about 2 years ago i got an concussion. its really embarrassing but i was getting in the car and ended up smacking my head above my left ear on the frame of the car door. Apparently the part of your head near your ears and on the side of your head is the most vulnerable and i jiggled by brain.

at first i brushed it off bc like its not a big deal so i hit my head a lil but it kept hurting for hours and then my vision started to go double and fuzzy so i looked up the concussion symptoms and figured it out. my parents didn't believe me bc the incident wasnt a typical concussion sorta thing so i went to sleep and woke up, head still hurting, and went to school.

at school the next day i was trying to play it off but i couldn't see very well, i was super dizzy, nauseous and my head really hurt so my bsf told me i was seeing the school nurse weather i wanted to or not.

i go to the nurse and tell her what happened and that im 99% sure i have a concussion. she feels my head, says theirs no bump which means i can't have a concussion. this is factually incorrect however bc just bc theres no external swelling doesn't mean that theres no internal swelling or damage at all so honestly fuck her. she gave me a pain pill and sent me back to class.

the rest of the school day i am in agony and cant focus on anything and just kinda sit there on the verge of tears. i finally get home and i break down crying bc my head hurts so bad and i can barely see and the light hurts my eyes like fucking hell and i think im going to die.

my dad then asks if ive been sleeping with my earbuds in and maybe thats why my head hurts and i tell him no stfu i have a concussion. My parents finally do some research and call our neighbor whose a EMT and finally accept that my brain has jiggled.

they felt super bad about not believe him and now they swear to trust me on this sorta stuff i swear theyre good parents.

anyways the protocol for concussions is to:

not read

not do strenuous activity

not do strenuous mental activity

be away from bright light

do not look at screens

and rest until you are fully sure that you are 100% healed

so i more or less did all of that. however i am a dumbass. My parents took my phone away to make sure i wouldnt use it but they forgot about my computer. anyways i was reading a really good fanfic at the time and i had just left on a cliffhanger so i cheated and went and read some when i wasnt supposed too. I dont know if i still would be fucked up if i hadn't read it? but ik that i did. and now im fucked. but as someone pointed out recently that fanfic literally changed my brain chemistry. so thats pretty cool. it is really good i reread it after my concussion like 3 times.

Anyway i was down for about a week and a half and after that i finally went to the doctor they confirmed that it was a concussion for sure and then cleared me to go back to school.

the first day back at school the first class i had was English and we had to read some sort of story or excerpt from some old english dude you know the drill.

For some context i've always been very above reading level. I started reading early and i read a lot. to the point where a lot of ppl app thought i was mute cause all i did was read. I had very high comprehension skills and was tested above average constantly my whole childhood.

So when i come back to school and i'm reading this passage i notice oh man this is really hard for some reason. Why can't i focus on the words? at the time i assumed maybe i was just still a little rattled but it hasnt gone away sense and i still really struggle with it. I have to reread passages about 5 times to understand anything, which i never had to do before. I'll have to read things out loud a lot. I struggle a lot with reading black text on white backgrounds because it doesnt like to stick in my brain at all. it just completely doesn't compute as words.

I took the ACT last year and while i didnt score BADLY (i got a 26) i didn't score as well as i wanted too. during the whole ACT i was on the verge of tears because the room was lit in very white light and the ACT papers were black text on a white paper so i could barely understand a word that i was reading and ended up having to whisper the questions to myself (very embarrassing because i was in a giant auditorium with about 70 people in it) and i still skipped a lot of questions due to the fact that i was so overwhelmed. I knew there was something wrong but we didn't really take any steps to figure it out due to the fact that my grades were still okay and yk like insurance and due to the fact that i was just really embarrassed about it and didn't want to talk about it.

I also stared to get these weird headaches. migraines run in my family so i wasnt too worried about it but heres a diagram hold on.

thats where the concussion was. Then i started to get this shooting sporadic pain in the back of my head. it would only last for a few seconds and didn't happen super frequently so i didn't think much of it but it would always happen in the same exact spot about here:

its sort of stabbing inwards which is hard to show on a diagram but as im typing this is just happened again lmaoo.

anyways i sort of put it off for a a year and a half and didn't think much of it which is why its kinda hard to say what my symptoms really are due to the fact that ive gotten used to them? i would get bouts of dizziness or nausea and just kind of assume that it was my cycle even though i may or may not be bleeding at the time.

but in the last month or so things have started to get a bit more concerning imo. so the stabbing pain is happening more now. ive started to slur my speech a little bit. Its more like my mouth gets sleepy and forgets how to make words so it kinda just skips some important motions, like i'll be saying hello my tongue will say o when the rest of my mouth will say the h sound and ive had to talk slower recently due to the fact that im having to think thru all the movements my mouth make when i talk.

Also im not sure if this is related but ive also been writing weird? like we all write letters in a certin way and all of the sudden its like my brain is trying to change it up without asking me? i wrote an F earlier and i usually write it starting at the end of the curved part and up and down and then cross it. but for some reason i started writing it with a downward stroke for no reason which catches me really off guard every time it happens.

some other things that happen a lot are

brain fog

a weird sort of semi dissociative state that could just be manipulative day dreaming

my brain feeling like its a few inches to the left/up/down

the left side of my jaw being tight

my legs give out sometimes but ive always had weak ankles so may not be related

i step on my own toes but tbh i have very long toes

and more im sure but i can't think of any rn

and again these could be related and they could not be but the thing is that i dont know anything? so hopefully i can get an appt with a neurologist and get a scan to figure it out.

according to the doctor i saw this morning its very weird for concussions to have a weird drawn out affect like this but yk

hopefully its nothing serious

but thats the gist :D

[douchebagbrainwaves]

6, BRIEFLY

Most of the qualities I've mentioned are things that can be cultivated, but I have to sit on the other side of the head and tell them: Wake up. But Cybercash was so bad and most stores' order volumes were so low that it was very remiss of me to have forgotten all that stuff within three weeks of the final exam. Boy, was I wrong. The creative class flocks to a handful of executives, politicians, regulators, and labor leaders. It was a novel thing to be in the twentieth century. A speech like that is, in my house in Cambridge, which was built in 1876, the bedrooms don't have closets. How was the place different from what they expected?

How did things get this way? When I look back at photos from the 1970s, I'm surprised how empty houses look. And frankly the thought of a 30% success rate at fundraising makes my stomach clench. Traditional profitability means a big bet is finally paying off, whereas the main importance of ramen profitability is a trick for not dying en route. Business still reflects an older model, exemplified by the French word for working: travailler. If it fails, that is. If you have to push down on the top?

So while I stand by our responsible advice to finish college and then go work for an existing company for a couple years be the CEO. That's why we rarely hear phrases like qualified expert in the software business I know from experience that some undergrads are as capable as most grad students. At the very least, crank up the font size big enough to make it big if and only if they're launched with sufficient initial velocity.1 And the books we were assigned. A button that looks like it will make a machine stop should make it stop, not speed up. What are you going to do. The wise man was someone who knew what the right choice. Err on the side of the river. The mistake they make is to underestimate the power of compound growth. Galleries are not especially prone to waste money.

What if I run out of ideas? Imitating nature also works in engineering. A round. Slashdot or Delicious. I remember telling David Filo in late 1998 or early 1999 that Yahoo should buy Google, because I tried to opt out of it, and it was hard to take search seriously.2 Google, and Microsoft.3 But they had the most opaque obstacle in the world between them and the truth: money. Unfortunately, beautiful things tend to get discarded. No amount of discipline can replace genuine curiosity. As often happens, Ron discovered how to be the best solution. In principle they could have; the king could have invented firearms, then invaded his neighbor. And yet both have the same answer: 1/1-n Whenever you're trading stock in your company for something that more than doubles the company's average outcome, you're net ahead, because the best founders are making it.

In school you are, the more risk you should take the riskiest investments you can find just one user who really needs something and can act on that need, you've got a toehold in making something people want. Poof goes the axiom that taste can't be wrong.4 Whereas if you're doing the kind of pain you get from engaging directly with your earliest users will be the best you ever get. It makes people trust you. Indeed, it evolved from actual warfare: most early traders switched on the fly from merchants to pirates depending on how one feels about airy abstractions, let's try considering it as a hard sell; we soon sank to building sites for free, but before the Web it was harder to reach an audience or collaborate on projects. Like paying excessive attention to early customers, fabricating things yourself turns out to be mistaken, but he described his co-founder as the best hacker he'd ever met, and you could tell he meant it.5 The first twenty years of everyone's life consists of being piped from one institution to another. To do good work you have to do the best work they can, which is figuring out what those problems are. I used to write papers for my friends.6 Many a hacker has written a PhD dissertation knows, the way Reveal did.

Why would great programmers want to work sixteen hours a day on it.7 And in addition to the direct cost in time, there's the cost in fragmentation—breaking people's day up into bits too small to be useful. The problem with patent reform is that it gives your mind something to chew on: when your eyes are looking at something, your hand will do more interesting work. That's why we're doing it during the summer—so even college students can participate. Since risk and reward. A, but I found the same problem there. Outside writers tend to supply editorials of the defend-a-position variety, which make development a lot cheaper, but our attitudes toward it haven't changed correspondingly. Obviously it has to be making money the way it ultimately will. The most common unscalable thing founders have to do is make something valuable. If circumstances had been different, the people running Yahoo might have realized sooner how important search was.

Notes

Though they were friendlier to developers than Apple is now. Charismatic candidates will tend to get a personal introduction—and in a certain level of incivility, the space of ideas doesn't have dangerous local maxima, the thing to be started in 1975.

If near you, however.

Whereas when you're starting a company growing at 5% a week for 19 years, but when companies reach a given audience by a combination of a press hit, but less than 500, because even if it's not the shape of the world you'd want to. VCs if the growth is genuine.

The most striking example I know this is mainly due to I. Most unusual ambitions fail, unless the owner shouldn't pay me extra for doing it with. The current Bush, for example, would be critical to do something we didn't, they may prefer to work on Wall Street were in 2000, because time seems to me like someone adding a few that are only doing angel deals to generate everything else in the first year or so you could build products as good as Apple's just by hiring sufficiently qualified designers. And you can imagine cases where it does, the last round just converts into stock at the start of the good ones don't even sound that plausible.

Steep usage growth will also interest investors. Whereas when the country. It did. This sentence originally read GMail is painfully slow.

It might also be argued that we should be especially conservative in this article used the term whitelist instead of reacting. But it is dishonest of the Facebook that might work is merely an upper bound on a wall is art.

Which is fundraising. They can lead to distractions even more clearly. As Anthony Badger wrote, for the same work faster.

[casspurrjoybell-26]

Too Old For This - Chapter 27 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Zachary should have just shut his mouth.

At least that's what he couldn't stop repeating to himself in his head throughout Tuesday and Wednesday.

He'd gone and muddled something that was doing quite fine with his dumb spur-of-the-moment declaration of love.

It was like when he was younger,and everyone would be having fun and doing fine and he couldn't just ride out the pain for an extra half hour.

He just had to complain that his chest felt funny, that his head hurt or that there was a sharp pain in his stomach.

He just had to say something to ruin, something that was already fine with his impatience.

Leroy had seemed frazzled the rest of that Monday evening and had all but run away when he'd decided to go home.

The whole evening had been painfully awkward.

They hadn't even said goodbye to each other and Leroy avoided looking Zachary in the eyes when the older man walked him to the door.

He spent most of Tuesday and Wednesday throwing himself at work and even when his fingers started to cramp up and his vision began to blur staring at his laptop screen, he switched to penning down his ideas for the project.

He just needed his mind to be on something... anything but be idle enough to think of the stunned look on Leroy's face when he had admitted the feelings he'd been dealing with for a while.

He couldn't help wondering that maybe he'd scared Leroy off... that maybe he had just truly been an experiment for someone who was down in their luck dating women.

No matter how often he tried to convince himself that Leroy probably felt the same way about him or at least was building up to it... the little voice at the back of his head made him doubt that by insisting that there was no way that was the case.  

Why would Leroy love him?

What would be the appeal?

He was average looking and had just gotten his first job at thirty.

He might even lose it in the coming months but he didn't want to think about that.

He wasn't the most interesting or the most outgoing.

They spent most of their time curled up in bed because Zachary was in some level of pain.

They had never even gone for a walk.

Zachary didn't think he could manage a walk and that was pathetic in a way that made his eyes burn and his confidence wane.

"Fuck," he sighed, noticing his vision blur even more from the thin sheet of tears that were starting to cloud his gaze.

"Why did I have to ruin it?" he scolded himself, blinking back his tears before putting his work aside.

He was done for the day.

It was a bit early at three o'clock in the afternoon but he would sign out, anyway and let his teammates know.

He spent the rest of the afternoon reading and trying to get his mind off stuff.

He and Leroy didn't have their daily over-the-phone chat... it was the second day in a row and he was starting to feel a little depressed.

Maybe this was the end?

Would Leroy reach out to him at the end of the week and put him down or would he let things slowly fade until they weren't talking to each other much at all?

Sometimes Zachary would pick up his cell-phone and toy with the idea of messaging first but the natter... back and forth with himself... he would drop the plan... deciding that he didn't want to make things more awkward than they already were. 

It was safe to say that Zachary spent most of his time trying to read, worrying and pacing instead.

He settled on curling up in bed with his back against a wall of pillows he had built behind him and his legs sitting on top of his duvet.

He was still not paying much attention to the novel he had opened on his lap in front of him but now he wasn't going to hurt himself by pacing too much or pulling at his hair.

Zachary had all but read two pages when his phone buzzed and the hairs on his skin stood tall when his screen flashed bright beside him.

Asides from his sister who texted him infrequently to relay news, only one other person texted or called him.

Zachary bit down on his bottom lip, fighting the urge to look at his cell-phone.

He stayed still, like a deer caught in headlines as the screen went dark again.

He felt himself relax a little and then he started panicking, wondering what the text could possibly be about.

Maybe Leroy didn't want to be in a relationship anymore... or maybe he had sent the dreaded 'we need to talk' text.

Well, whatever it was, Zachary clearly wanted no business with it.

He was fine living in a world where Leroy thought he was amazing, smart and attractive for a bit longer.

Zachary must have sat in what was his personal hell for about an hour before curiosity got the better of him and he picked up the phone.

A sinking feeling in his stomach formed and he got nervous as he unlocked the cell-phone screen before tapping the icon of the messaging app.

When Zachary did see the message at first, he'd been confused, wondering if he had read it correctly.

He blinked a couple of times and re-examined the message and only then did he believe what his eyes were telling him.

Message from: Leroy.  

I think I love you, too. I really do.

Wednesday, 7:13 PM.    

[acestories]

Arc 1 Chapter 2

Seattle city streets have an average speed limit of about 32 to 40 kph, or about 20 to 25 mph if you suffer from a severe case of being a Patriotic American™ like my grandpa. As a major city, the streets are never truly empty, but this early in the morning, traffic isn’t too bad. People are more likely to speed as a result. And that includes the hijacked bank truck, going… 80 kph? I think? I don’t know, it’s fast as hell. 

Good news, I’m fast as hell too. I’m matching a similar speed, able to keep up despite having to weave between the buildings of Downtown Seattle/Financial District. Bad news, everything else around me isn’t, hence not going my full speed while in Downtown Seattle/Financial District.

I mean, I’m actually pretty decent at this. That’s not bragging either; I’m one of the vanishingly rare lucky supers that didn’t need to take physical therapy for more than a few weeks to get the hang of not turning people into jelly. It all just kinda came naturally to me somehow ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ .

The radio signal chattered through my headphones, saying the perps had turned down a different street. Shit. I do what I can to turn, but momentum is a pain, and I have to somersault over several cars, vans, and at least one truck. God I wish I could fly. I mean, I can, but I’m a hazard when I do. 

Wait, that’s right! I can leap over buildings!

Chastising myself for not remembering earlier, I hop over a short building in the direction of the perps, but they make another nonsensical turn. What is with this route? It’s all over the place. WAIT. I think I know what they might be doing, but I need to check my phone’s map to make sure. Stopping myself when I land on the sidewalk this time, I pull off my head phones and-

“HELP!!!” 

My cat ears perk up at hearing someone scream for help. I wait a few seconds to hear it again, being able to tell me which direction it is. I turn my head to see a store being robbed. Looks like a group of mundies with guns. Well, that’s easy. Putting my phone back, I ran down the road and surprised them by taking their guns from their hands before they could even know I was there. Standing before them, holding their guns, I nod my head in their direction. They try to run, but I catch and tie them quickly. Tied up, I returned the money to the store employees as they called the police and thanked me. 

Awesome, now I can check the map to see-

“HELP!!!” 

Ok, uh, let me check. Radio chatter says guys are still just tearing up the financial district. The robbers aren’t particularly close to me, so, uh… Let’s see what that someone needs. Shit, someone is falling from the tower!

Ok, they need my help. I do the building jumping thing from earlier, but much gentler. When I reach them, I scoop the poor maintenance worker into my arms and bring them down to the ground as gently as I can. 

“There, you’re ok, right?” I say as I let go. The worker looked shaken for a few moments as they processed everything that just happened. 

As they got their bearings, I turned around, when “Can you take me back?” made me turn back and stare at the worker. 

“What do you mean?”

“Back to the tower, my boss is an ass and will chew me out for ‘leaving the premises.’” They said, using their fingers as mock air quotes as they said the last part. “And we are a pretty good distance from there?”

I nod in apologetic confirmation, picking them up again and running down the street towards the place, setting them down at an entrance. They stumbled towards the door with a quiet “Thanks.”

Cool, now I can check-

“HELP!!!”

Ffff- Ok, who is it now? What is it now apparently, as a fire bursts out of a nearby building as some elemental, lava man looking guy walked out, waves of heat distorting the air around him as he stared down some poor sucker. I couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but I got enough to know he wanted revenge. There was a lot of revenge lately as people finally started to get the hang of their powers.

With a sigh of resignation, I run down the street, beating the snot out of the lava guy enough to disorient him. As he stumbled backwards after his nose crunched, I ran to grab a fire hydrant, tearing the top off of it and turning it towards the guy, creating great heaps of steam as he was forcibly cooled. Next, I grab a metal beam of sorts that glowed orange from the building, wrapping it around the lava man, and making sure he is knocked out before I turn the fire hydrant to the building so it puts out the fire. 

Ok, now I can-

“HELP!!!”

Sure, this might as well happen, hope the robbers haven’t proven my guess right. Looking in the direction of the sound, I see that… No way. It’s the truck. Kick ass. I think as a grin spreads across my face. 

WAit shit it’s going to hit someone in the road. Working quickly, I grabbed them and got them out of the way with enough time to catch the- “My baby!” 

Ok, wait, let me get the baby stroller back to the mother. That done, I turned from the mother into the street to try and catch the truck when WHAM!!! the truck slammed into me due to me not paying attention, my body ragdolling up the windshield. I grab the top of the cabin on reflex, my fingers going through the metal like it was play-doh.

It takes me a moment to get my bearings enough to flip over, grabbing on with my other hand. Just then, the truck started moving. FAST. The wind whipped against me, my cheeks rippling from the force as my hair was forced back. I can see why dogs enjoy this. 

The truck swerved aggressively as it wove between the cars on the street. Probably equal parts them trying to get through traffic ASAP, and trying to get me off of the roof. I will admit, they're doing a decent job. Had I or the metal of the Truck been any weaker, I probably would've fallen off by now. 

Well, this has been an experience, but I got a job to do. I shimmied my way over to the passenger side as best I can, punching new finger sized holes into the metal as I do so. Finally on the side, I grabbed the door, and forced it open, pulling it off its hinges. “Please pull over, I–”

BLAM!!!

Ok, they have a shotgun. And while I'm bulletproof, there is still a great deal of crap that just flew into my eyes and mouth, all of it very unpleasant. I started to cough, my eyes watering as my body's automatic responses kicked in. It took me a solid few seconds to even realize that the one with a shotgun was kicking me, thinking that was going to get me to go.

Thoroughly done with this situation, I glared at them, my eyes still full of tears as I grabbed their head, slamming it into the dashboard hard enough to make them pass out. “Let me ask again. Pull over now–”

BLAM!!! 

I stared back at the driver, thoroughly unamused at his attempt to shotgun me a second time. “I like this hoodie. My mom got me this hoodie.” I stated in a flat, monotone voice as the wind further widened the tears in it. 

The driver, presumably in a fit of blind panic, sent the thing to its maximum speed, plowing through the concrete dividers and straight into the water. God fucking dammit. I only have a few seconds to think, and in my moment of blind panic, I brace myself against the back of the Truck's cabin, and I fly. 

Flying is such an odd sensation, like falling, except you know you’re in full control. The metal groaned as I pushed against it, doing everything I can to not be too rough. Unfortunately, I wasn’t trying hard enough, and I found myself going through into the back of the truck. I stopped flying immediately, and the truck began to hit the water in a wild and savage manner, water spilling through the lack of a door. Panicking, I grabbed both a comically cartoonish bag of money and the guy who shotgunned me earlier, hugging them tightly as the water came charging in. 

As the truck truly began to sink in earnest, its front falling towards the mud and rocks below before the rest of it followed. I work quickly to keep the bag and dead weight above the water as I march towards the back doors. Turning my back to them, I push back as hard as I can, breaking the doors as I and a massive bubble of air come rushing out. The distance between me and the surface was much shorter than I thought, as apparently we hadn’t gone very far from the shore.

As the truck continued to sink, a series of bubbles being the only thing that marked where it was, I paddle my way to shore, money bag held above the water while the perp's head rested on my shoulder. A pair of cops came my way as their colleagues arrested the driver. I was wondering what happened to him. 

“You with the robbers?” The closest one asked me.

“No.” I sighed as I reached the point where I could properly stand again, briny water coming off of me in streams that splattered. I was now cradling the bag in my arms as I set the perp on the rocks.

“You do realize you can’t keep that, right? You don’t get that kind of reward, especially since the bank is down one truck.”

“I don’t want to keep it, asshole!” I snapped maybe a bit too harshly, I opened the bag, pulling a little girl out of it. “She wanted to surprise her dad. I don’t remember which bank he’s at, but he’s got to be worried sick about her.”

I set the girl down as gingerly as I could. Poor thing was shaking like a leaf, though how much of that was nerves and how much of it was the cold, I had no clue. After a moment for her to get her bearings, she walked to the police officer that came running with a towel for her. 

I started to sit down on the sidewalk, its warmth welcome after my impromptu dip in the Sound. The first cop came and sat next to me. “So, apparently the robbers had a speedster working with them. They kept driving the way they did so they could rob as many banks as possible.”

Hearing that, a smile broke out across my face. "I sure hope somebody picks up that phone, because I fucking called it!"

[sukirichi]

— out of reach | gojo x reader

request: Girllllll I just read your jealous gojo fic and my heart went 📈📈📈📈💥💥💥 youre now one of my fav writers 🙏🧎‍♀️And the spicy parts 😫😫😫 💖 If your asks are still open, could I please request a fic where GOJO has a size kink 🥺🥺🥺 my 5’1 ass is obsessed with that shizzzz 

pov: you’re gojo’s childhood friend and roommate – which leads to utter chaos – or perhaps utter bliss?

warnings: size kink, lots of teasing, lots of cursing, dirty talk, choking (probably not in the way you think), body worship, lots of size difference scenes, slight manhandling, overstimulation, thigh fucking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl guys) + unedited fic :D

notes: idk what happened here LMAOOO but i loved writing this one because i’m short as hell too lol. thanks for this request anon, i hope you like it! <3

word count: 10.5k

masterlist ! 

If you’re going to be honest, having Gojo as a roommate is something completely unexpected.

Not only are you two from entirely different worlds – him as a jujutsu sorcerer and you as an average human who can’t see curses – but he’s also just someone who is entirely out of your league. He’s respected and looked up to in his field of work, while half of your co-workers don’t even know your name, much less notice you in function parties where you mostly just nibble on sushi before calling it a day and turning back home.

You and Gojo met in elementary school. You could tell from the way he’s surrounded by servants and stern looking adults, firm hands on his small shoulders, that he was different from everyone else.

Apparently, he comes from one of the three big clans in the jujutsu world or whatever. You honestly don’t care about any of that, because Gojo refuses to act maturely about his role in the clan. You still remember how quiet he was on the first day of school, never smiling and keeping to himself despite your persuasion to eat lunch with him or play with him after school in the courtyard.

You miss that Gojo Satoru – the quiet, serious kid who was far too gentle in his actions yet firm in his words and beliefs. When you were still a little girl, you admired how he seemed older than his age, a wistful look in those azure blue eyes of his that you’ve always loved.

To you, Gojo Satoru was your hero. You’ve always been one of the shortest kids in class, and it didn’t help that you really loved pigtails all the way until middle school that made you an easy target from immature people who’s being hit way too fast by puberty and growing each passing day. You never minded your short stature because really, it’s just height, but you couldn’t ignore how your confidence dwindled each day when they called you several array of nicknames.

Too shy to fight back, you’d laugh it off or force a smile.

Gojo wasn’t having any of it. He’d break his silence and immediately pull you to his side (which only made things worse because Gojo was one of the tallest kids in class, further emphasizing how small you are right next to him) before threatening to smack the kids right in the face.

The threat should be enough to land him detention, but because he’s Gojo Satoru, the golden kid everyone loved, they took his word seriously.

At the age of eleven, you started seeing your best friend as your knight in shining armour. Gojo basked in this, growing protective and always glaring at whoever snickered when you walked past them. Sometimes he even bared his teeth to hiss at them, which was honestly so ridiculous now that you think about, though the message – the threat – always came across loud and clear.

So yeah, you love Gojo, you still do.

Years flew by and the two of you grew apart due to work and also as a part of growing up. You still kept in contact, messaging each other once a month to ask the other how they’re doing. His work kept him extremely busy though, and Gojo didn’t want you involved in the dangers of what he’s doing, so he makes sure to keep a safe distance.

Until six months ago, you hear a banging on your door. You’re just about ready to throw hands because your former roommate moved out to live with her stoner boyfriend, leaving you to shoulder all the bills and responsibilities of maintaining a two man apartment.

A sneer forms on your lips as you swing the door open, a scowl already on your face. You assumed it was your roommate who returned to get the pair of lace panties they left in their room, but instead, your childhood friend stands before you, taller (seriously, how has he not stopped growing?) and definitely a lot hotter than the last time you saw him.

One thing leads to another, and now it feels like there was never such distance between the two of you with how easily you both fell back into a comfortable – yet chaotic – rhythm and routine of being each other’s roommate.

Not that you mind, of course. Gojo’s definitely changed a lot from when you were kids. He’s no longer that stiff or sensitive when it comes to others. In fact, it seems like he loosens up a lot more with age, because you can barely recognize the man living under the same roof with you now.

For one thing, Gojo is loud. Like really talkative, won’t shut the fuck up and speaks like he’s in a screaming contest with someone. It doesn’t matter if you’re taking an important phone call or sleepwalking at three in the morning to pee, Gojo is always creating some sort of ruckus.

You’d never admit it out loud, but you loved it. You love him.

He’s definitely a lot more enthusiastic and fun to be with now that both of you have grown up, or in Gojo’s case, simply aged. His maturity reversed backwards because it feels like you’re taking care of a little kid.

Not only does his body clock is practically non-existent, he’s also horrible when it comes to taking care of himself and being punctual with work.

Fortunately for him, you love him, and you both leave for work at the same time. You always wake up earlier to prepare breakfast so you’d both have energy to start the day – although you highly doubt there’s really anything that depletes his endless source of one.

Sleepily walking through the kitchen with your fist rubbing at your eyes, you rummage through the refrigerator for some eggs when you realize there’s none.

Huh, you think to yourself, scratching your scalp. You’re sure that Gojo went grocery shopping last week since it’s his chore to do the outside stuff like buying groceries and throwing thrash, so where did it go?

You open shelf by shelf, checking each corner and shoving cans aside to look for the tray. With a glare, you stand on your tiptoes to pull the pantry open, only to have your mouth fall aghast because it’s all there – right at the back where you can’t reach it!

Fucking Satoru, you grit your teeth while heaving your body up onto the counter. It’s a struggle because not only are your muscles still half asleep, but because the shelf is right in your face, and if you’re not careful enough, you could hit it right with your face and fall over. Of fucking course you know Satoru did this to make fun of you – and now you retract your statement over your best friend.

It’s all a lie.

He’s a pain in the ass. Why do you even bother cooking for him and letting him live literally just a room away when you know he won’t stop pulling shit like this?

Because, the nagging voice in your head tries to mock, he’s your best friend and you can’t really say no to him. This makes you huff as you carefully pull the tray towards you, hooking two fingers at the edge while your other palm grips at the end of the counter for support. No thanks to your short limbs, you’re practically hogging the shelf by now in an attempt to reach it. You look ridiculous, that’s for sure, and you make a mental note to keep Satoru’s windows open tonight so he freezes to death –

“Aw, cupcake,” a sing-song voice emerges from the other side of the room. “You look so adorable. You should’ve woke me up if you need my help.”

“Fuck off, Satoru,” you flip him off. The man only laughs, the rambunctious sound echoing off the walls. It’s way too early in the morning and he’s already so damn loud; something builds up at the back of your head out of frustration already. His grin only gets wider when you finally got the eggs and clutch it your chest, setting it down on the counter while wiping your sweat away from your face. “Freeloader,” you mutter under your breath, ignoring him when he happily skips over to you.

“Ouch,” he places a palm over his chest, although you both know he’s never really affected by anything. “So what’s for breakfast today? You?”

“You know, I can kick you out anytime I want. I’m being extremely nice even going as far to cook you breakfast before you leave for work, so don’t test my patience.”

“Exactly, my best friend is so kind,” Satoru grows the audacity to rest his arm on your head. This triggers a reflexive response from you; shoulders tensing up and hands curling into fists beside you. “I would totally date her if she wasn’t such a temperamental little devil,” you nearly stab him with a fork with his statement, which he thinks he’s being so sly for but you heard it, and you’re most definitely not pleased with it. “Okay, I’m kidding! I’m going to go shower now!”

You roll your eyes at him and heat the pan over with some oil, muttering under your breath that you’re really going to kick him out soon. As if things couldn’t get worse – as if Satoru couldn’t get any worse – he smacks your backside in the process before darting to the showers.

“Gojo Satoru!”

“Morning, best friend, love ya!”

You were right. He is a pain in the ass.

“You don’t always have to walk me to work.���

“I know.”

“So why’re you still here? I’m not a little kid anymore,” Contrary to your words, you stick closer to Satoru when the morning rush of workers and students begin to crowd the streets. Your best friend notices this with a small smile, his hand resting on the small of your back. “Don’t even try, Satoru.”

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

“I know that look on your face,” you fiddle with the buttons of your uniform, sighing when Satoru follows you inside the bus after tapping your phone for two seats. It’s not a surprise to you anymore that most of your expenses are spent by him, for him, and he lazily sprawls his long limbs across the seat before you pulling you down right next to him.

As much as you hate this man, especially because he smirks at the attention he’s receiving from women – even men – in the bus, you have to admit he’s warm and smells damn good. You bite the inside of your cheeks, looking around in slight self-consciousness before inching a little closer, just to feel his warmth. He’s comforting – irrationally so – so you set your bag between the both of you to keep your sanity. “If you keep doing this, Principal Yaga might fire your ass because you’re never on time.”

“Trust me, cupcake, he won’t. I’m too valuable for that.”

How you saw that coming – you can’t tell anymore. The bus ride is relatively quiet and eventless, with you dozing off every now and then because you’re never a morning person. Thankfully, Satoru is more respectful this time around, lolling your head until it drops to his shoulder. After that, he snakes his arm around your waist before resting it on your thigh as a way to say you don’t have to head bang every damn second and just sleep.

On any other occasion, you would’ve hated it. You always look so small whenever you’re in Satoru’s presence. It doesn’t help that he’s long and lanky, either, his slender fingers effortlessly caressing your thigh while almost your entire body is flushed next to him. But right now, he’s too warm, too soft, and you’re too tired that for just a little bit, you allow yourself to relax.

A beeping wakes you up a moment later. Opening your eyes, you push yourself off Satoru when you see an old lady reaching for the handles. No one gave up their seats for her even as the bus driver asked her to find a seat lest she’d fall.

“Grandma, here, take my seat—” You’re about to stand up and offer it to her when Satoru tugs you by the wrist. Because of your small, wobbly composure, pulling you to him takes little to no effort. You end up on his lap, sitting on him as if you’re nothing but a small, dainty schoolbag. Satoru is clearly enjoying this because you feel him breathily laugh on the back of your neck, charming – annoyingly so – as he gestures to the now empty spot beside him.

“It’s no worries, Grandma. She’ll be fine,” he gestures to you, patting your head like you’re some puppy. “Please, take a seat. The bus is already moving.”

“Satoru, get off me,” You wriggle yourself from his hold, which only ends up in wasted effort because this big oaf doesn’t even budge. He even bounces you on one of his thighs, and you dig your nails into his arms as a silent plead for him to stop. He ignores this, ignores your small whines and the apparent embarrassment that has you debating whether to punch him or hide yourself in the safety of his uniform.

“She’s a feisty little one, isn’t she?”

The old lady watches the two of you banter, giggling behind her wrinkled hands. “You’re an adorable couple.”

“I think so too!”

“You’re so going to pay for this, Satoru,” you grumble, face planted onto your palms. This is it – the worst day of your life. It’s even worse because despite your protests, you have to admit his lap is actually comfortable. You’ve already known this before after countless times of cuddling with Satoru during movie nights, but its different when you’re both out in public. It feels...oddly intimate and maybe even romantic when he rubs soothing circles at your back, almost as if apologizing for this event. Most of all, you just hate the way something pools beneath your stomach at having him so close to you like this. “This is so embarrassing. I’m practically crushing you with my weight.”

“Please, cupcake, you barely weigh anything. I could easily lift you off with just my finger,” when you elbow him in the chest, Satoru only laughs, raising both hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll stop teasing.”

You give up. No one seems to be paying much attention to any of you anyway, so you sigh, letting yourself hide in the crook of his neck as you watch the city pass through the windows. Your body moves as his chest rises and falls from his breathing, the movement oddly comforting. It’s embarrassing – it really is – but at least the grandma was comfortable until Satoru drops you off near your building.

“You don’t have to walk me all the way there.”

“Why not? You don’t want people to see us together or something?”

“No,” you stare at him from the corner of your eye. It’s no secret Satoru is attractive. This bastard knows it too, judging from the way he confidently and arrogantly swaggers next to you, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he walked with no care in the world. “My co-workers keep asking me for your number every time I tell them we’re not dating. It’s getting annoying at this point how they go Satoru this and Satoru that.”

“Am I hearing it right? Is cupcake jealous?”

“I’m not jealous, I’m disgusted,” you correct, “They don’t know how much of a pain you are to have around. They’re so focused with your looks that they completely overlook the fact you can’t even wash your dirty underwear!”

Satoru frowns at this, pointing his finger to you as if you’ve accused him of a huge crime. “Hey, I wash my underwear.”

“Yeah and last time you did, you mixed it with whites! My work uniform turned a stupid shade of blue! Now I can’t picture the colour of your boxers out of my head and it’s giving me a headache!”

“Wow, Y/N,” the smirk on his face and the sudden drop of nicknames lets you know you’ve said something wrong. Even behind his blindfold, you could tell his eyes are just sparkling with amusement. He’s enjoying this way too much. “I never thought you’d ever picture my boxers. I mean, I don’t mind showing it to you if you ask nicely—”

“Ugh, you’re so hopeless. I’m going to work.”

Gojo laughs when you jog away from him. He catches up with you in a matter of seconds, only having to take a few steps forward before he’s right beside you again. You’re unsure if you should be annoyed it’s so easy for him to always be right next to you, and how he almost always is right next to you while you prefer running away. It muddles with your heart and mind so much you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to be swayed by the sickeningly sweet sound of his laughter. “I can’t pick you up later, okay? I might work overtime!” (that’s a lie since Gojo prefers shopping and sightseeing)

Both of you know that’s a lie. Gojo never works overtime. He’s going to work for a few hours and so and call playing around with his students as “on-hand learning” before he goes shopping for stupid souvenirs and wild-flavoured mochis, then end his day by sightseeing and coming back home.

“Wasn’t expecting you to,” you mumble, waving goodbye to him as the office doors close. Slowly, Satoru’s grin and enthusiastic farewell fades into view until nothing but the pale, silver walls of your office greets you.

Funny how you claim to hate this man so much, yet the moment he’s out of sight, everything becomes dull and pointless.

It’s an absolutely shitty day. Your equally shitty boss blames you for something you didn’t even do, all because his incompetent secretary – who you’re sure he’s sleeping with – lost this month’s report and claimed she handed it to you last week when you’re not involved in that kind of work. Logic doesn’t come by them because your boss publicly humiliates and scolds you, calling you all kinds of names until tears are streaming down your face.

You slam the door shut the moment you get home, kicking your shoes off as you head straight to your room. You don’t bother taking your makeup off anymore as you change into a loose shirt and floral cotton shirts, padding to the kitchen after seeing Satoru is well nestled into the couch.

At least someone’s had a good day.

Seeing as the sink is empty, he probably hasn’t eaten dinner. This makes you sigh, because when will he ever learn to look after himself? He’s literally like a child.

Satoru pauses whatever he’s watching before he hovers over you, head tilted to the side as he gazes at you with curiosity. You ignore him and begin to set down some bowls and chopsticks for dinner, all the while Satoru is studying every inch of your tightly pulled face. “Bad day?” he concludes.

“Hmm.”

“Bad day it is then,” he nods to himself. “I can cook dinner, if you want.”

“And have you burn my apartment? No thanks,” you scoff, pushing him aside to retrieve the pans when you see that he’s placed them above again, even after you’ve reminded countless times to just leave it near the holders in the sink. “Ugh, why do you keep putting the pans in this shelf? You know I can’t reach this. I’ve had enough with you pulling pranks on me, and don’t think I’ve forgotten you placed my shampoo above the shower head today, you idiot,” you snarl and hop over the counter again to get the pans, trying your best to fight back the tears that are threatening to fall. “You’re really bothersome, you know that?”

“Then why don’t you kick me out?” he challenges, completely oblivious to how you’re struggling – both physically and emotionally. “You always complain about me being a nuisance here, but you’re not really doing anything to keep me out.”

“Because where else would you go?”

“Technically, I have a room back at the Institute.”

“Yeah, but because you’re so stupid and reckless that you got kicked out of your own home,” you spat out, and you watch as Satoru raises a brow at your statement. Banter is common between the both of you, but something about the intensity of your gaze lets him know you’re serious this time around. “I don’t even know how Yuuji puts up with you. That poor Megumi is right when he says you’re insufferable. You’re good for nothing!”

Satoru scoffs, “Fine, if you hate me that much, why didn’t you just say so earlier? I could easily pack my bags and go since I’m just making everything harder—” Satoru doesn’t get to finish what he’s saying when your hand over the counter that acts as support slips under you, and you fall, legs bent awkwardly while you scream, preparing yourself for the impact. The pan is long forgotten, your only thought was oh my god, so this is how I die.

But it never came, and you keep your eyes shut tight even as warm hands cup your ass. Satoru is breathing hard under you. Finally gaining the courage to crack an eye open, your breath halts when you see that he’s sitting on the floor, with you safely nestled between him.

Satoru has always had pretty eyes, but it’s rare he takes off his blindfold off even when he’s home. This is one of those rare occurrences that he seems like a normal human, dressed in a gray sweatshirt that hands low from his collarbones and magnetic blue eyes staring right back at you. His touch is gentle, almost as if he’s afraid to hurt you, and his voice that is usually loud and teasing comes out breathy and hesitant.

“Are you okay?”

Your gaze drops down to his lips. He’s close, so close, that if you just lean a little closer you could – you snap out of your daze. “Get off me.”

“Cupcake, you’re the one who’s on top of me,” his voice falls an octave lower, eyes flitting down to your clothing – or rather the lack of it – before Satoru takes a deep breath. “Did you really have to wear that?”

“I have the right to wear whatever I want in the comfort of my own home.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” he raised a brow, this time completely in control of himself as he gazes back up at you with a burning gaze. You see nothing but the way one corner of his lips tilt up, almost teasing, and he looks so much like a shit-eater that you feel heat crawl down your spine.

You push yourself off him but your bent foot behind you slips, and you fall forward with your hands clutching his strong shoulders. Satoru catches your leg behind you, drags it forward until your knee is pressed in between one of your warmth, very much still enjoying the way you wriggle away from his hold. He knows his effect on you – but you deny this wholeheartedly.

“Careful, cupcake. This isn’t a slip and slide.”

“I hate you so much,” you bare your teeth at him, slapping his chest until he finally lets go of you. Turning your back to him, you pick up the pan and begin preparing your dinner, muttering curses under your breath as you heat up the stove. “I’m kicking you out tomorrow.”

“Why not now?”

“Eat your damn dinner first.”

Dinner after that is awkward. Although Gojo is someone who can wolf down his meal in three seconds, he takes his time in eating to start conversation with you. Sometimes he asks decent questions like how your day was or he’d talk about something stupid, but he’s quiet the whole time. He even volunteers to do the dishes before retreating to his room, coating the house in silence.

It almost feels like you’re all alone over again.

You’ve gotten so used to him being an utter mess everywhere that when he’s not trying to piss you off and actually giving you the much needed peace, you begin to hate it. Memories of the rude things you’ve said to him a while ago play and in your head, and you bang your head against the wall repeatedly.

How are you supposed to apologize to Satoru now?

The answer doesn’t come until you stare at your walls, wide awake at midnight. The house is still eerily silent and you don’t stop shuffling around your bed in discomfort. Many times, you wished that Satoru would shut up and leave you alone, but now that he’s actually done that, it feels weird. Uncomfortable. It feels wrong.

With a grunt, you kick off the sheets and carefully tread to his room, knocking lightly in case he’s already sleeping. “Satoru?” you call out, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Are you awake?”

You’ve seen Satoru angry as kids before, but what would he be like now? Would he still want to be your friend? Would he still annoy you by hiding your things somewhere you can’t reach? Or would he be the who is now out of reach? If he leaves...who’s going to walk you to work? Who’s going to complain he doesn’t want to do groceries but buys you things you don’t ask for but want anyway? Who’s going to keep teasing the living daylights out of you if not him?

All these thoughts claw at the back of your mind until your bottom lip trembles. You hate how weak you feel; how you’re never careful with your words.

You never meant it when you said all that.

Your train of thought is cut off when the door swings open, revealing an equally tired-looking Satoru. At the sight of you peering up at him with glossy eyes, he pushes the door wider and steps closer to you, his large hands cupping your face as he leans down in worry. “Cupcake,” his brows pinch together, “Did something happen? Is something wrong?”

“I just wanted to apologize for everything I said,” you blurt out, “I was just tired from work and my boss was being shitty, so I wasn’t totally myself that time and I’m really sorry I took my anger out on you. I didn’t mean it when I said you’re insufferable and that I’m kicking you out so – yeah,” you breathe out, trailing your gaze downwards to stare at your feet instead. It’s difficult to look him in the eye right now. When you finally gain courage to speak again, it barely comes out as a whimper, your hands delicately tugging at his shirt. “Please stay. I like having my best friend around here.”

Satoru doesn’t answer.

You’re about to look up at him just in case you’ve said something wrong, or worse, he refuses to forgive you, but then – “Yeah, I know you wouldn’t kick me out. You’re too much of a darling to say no to me.”

Sigh. Satoru laughs when he sees your shoulders deflate, absolutely shattered in exhaustion. Hiding your smile to now show him you’re relieved, you punch his chest that really feels like a fly had accidentally flew into him. “Way to ruin the mood, Satoru. And here I thought I could have a serious conversation with you for once.”

“Apology accepted,” he beams, tilting your chin upwards so you could look at him. Even in the darkness of his room, his eyes glow, leaving you hypnotized in its beauty. “Plus, I think I’m the one who should apologize. You’re right; I haven’t been the best roommate and I am a freeloader,” he scratches the side of his head in thought. “But I do buy you food all the time though.”

“Yeah, with my money,” you counter, but you don’t really care anymore at this point. You’re beyond elated you’re both fine now, and you shyly gesture to his big, warm bed that suddenly looks so comfortable. “Can I stay here for tonight?”

“You want Satoru’s bear hug?”

“Yes, I do.” There’s no hesitation in your words and you don’t complain anymore when he easily picks you up like a ragdoll using only one arm. He’s surprisingly gentle when he places you both down on the bed, sheets warm and soft as it blankets over you.

It would be perfect – except it’s so damn awkward.

Gojo’s long limbs are everywhere. Your face is pressed into his chest, both your legs tangled together. His arm is sprawled over the curve of your hip, his hand nearly grazing your ass that’s barely covered by the thin material of your shorts, but if he shifts, he’ll end up cupping the back of your thighs which is equally uncomfortable.

He seems to be stuck in the same position because you’re so small, and your knees are grazing his groin. Had he known you’re going to sleep with him, he would’ve worn underwear or even boxers under his sweatpants.

He’s never told you before, but he prefers to sleep in the nude. Satoru only picked up the nearest pair of pants when he heard you knock, and even then, he didn’t have the time to wear a shirt.

Your breath is hot on his skin and he’s so sensitive and aware of all your movements. Satoru clears his throat awkwardly, shifting until his arm lightly holds your back instead, but then he pulls away as if he’s touched fire when he’d unknowingly fiddled with your bra clasp instead. It’s so painfully awkward that Satoru chuckles above you, while you scrunch your nose, silently praying to the heavens above that he won’t hear how loud your heart is beating right now.

“Why is it so hot in your own room?”

“Maybe it’s time you get me an AC.”

“You wish, Satoru,” you mumble beneath him, making yourself as comfortable as you can with your cheek resting on his bicep. It’s not the softest pillow considering he’s pretty muscular, but he’s warm and smells like mint spice nevertheless. “You’re really not going to put on a shirt?”

Satoru sighs, a long and loud one that is extended for dramatic purposes. Suddenly, he pushes your knee off of him, grimacing and thanking the darkness that you can’t see how much he’s struggling right now. “Cupcake, this is hard for me as much as it is for you. You’re barely wearing anything.”

“Since when have you cared about what I wear?”

“I’m a man, Y/N,” is what he reasons with, “You’re lucky it’s me. Had it been someone else and you crawled into their bed wearing these—” Satoru pinches the waistband of your shorts, and you squeal in protest, only making him laugh afterwards before he lets it go and the material snaps back at your skin, “—poor excuse of what you call shorts, I can’t guarantee they’ll give you a peaceful night.”

You know exactly what he’s trying to hint at. Still, it’s hard to believe that Satoru is capable of seeing you that way.

It’s not that you feel you’re unattractive. You know you’re pretty and have been out on many dates, but it’s easy to feel that you’re not sexy when you have the height of a thirteen year old and you’ve been constantly chastised about it.

Satoru’s not-compliment compliment has your heart skipping a beat, and you scoff in response. “Shut up,” you warn lamely, “I want to sleep.”

“Then let’s sleep, cupcake.” You don’t know if it’s because you’re utterly exhausted that you doze off seconds later or if Satoru’s words just held power in them, but soon all thoughts of anything unwanted drifts out the window, his arms keeping you close, completely safe and sound until the worst nightmares couldn’t even come close.

Hot. It’s extremely hot.

You crack an eye open to try and find the source of this uncomfortable heat, but you freeze when you realize you can’t feel your muscles from the chin down. Panic rises in your throat once you see the current predicament you’re in, and a scream rips through your throat so loud that the birds outside scurry away in a flurry.

You’re wrapped in Satoru’s blanket and comforter, rendering you unable to move because of how he’d treated you like a burrito wrap. Even your toes are captured inside this hell, and only your head is able to wriggle side to side.

“Satoru!”

The culprit comes out of the shower a split second later, his hair dripping wet and only a towel hanging low from his lips. If you weren’t so hell-bent on killing him, you would’ve been speechless at the way water drips from his hair down to the curves of his abs, going down down down into a place only your darkest imaginations could take you.

Satoru bends over in laughter as he whips out his phone, jumping from angle to angle and side to side to take photos of you. “Fuck,” he howls, slapping his thigh while you snarl in an attempt to break free. “You’re a lot cuter than I thought you’d be.”

“Satoru! Get me out of here!”

“No, this is way too gold. I’m sending these to my students.”

“Satoru, I’m serious!” The devil incarnate himself falls deaf to your please.

Maybe it’s because the violent intent has coursed through your veins so strongly that a surge of energy and strength overcomes you, and soon, you’ve rolled out of the blanket. The fresh air nipping at your heated skin is most welcomed, but right now, you had a mission to fulfil: obliterate Gojo Satoru.

The platinum haired man is still laughing to himself, too distracted in scrolling through the best photos to send to his students that he doesn’t notice you escaping and zooming straight right at him.

The momentum is enough to catch him off guard until you end up on top of him, short arms clawing your way through to snatch his phone. Satoru yelps when his phone lands out into the living room and your hands come down to choke him. You don’t have plans to kill him, but you want to hurt him enough to remind him you’re not someone he can fuck with.

You’ve just about had enough of this man and you’re so sick of him!

Satoru yells out a “Hey!” when you let out a battle cry, using your legs to kick him back when he tries to sit up. Your plan backfires when your hands slip down his wet skin and you fall face forwards, hands barely touching the ground for support when your lips come crashing down on his.

He stills underneath you. It takes a moment for you to realize that holy shit, you’re kissing him and his lips are so soft that has you scrambling back, but Satoru doesn’t let you.

His large hand comes up at the back of your neck to pull you forward. The sudden movement makes you gasp, and Satoru slips his tongue inside when you do so. You no longer remember how you got here or try to make sense of what’s going on, because he feels so good, tastes so good that you bury your nails in his hair while he ravishes your mouth.

You’re so tiny that his hand cups your entire buttcheek almost possessively, a low growl emanating deep in his throat when your tongue eagerly intertwines with his. Satoru tastes like heaven and everything about the kiss is sloppy – tongue clashing with one another and teeth nibbling at the other’s lips. It’s clear both of you can’t get enough of one another as you moan in his mouth, shamelessly grinding on his crotch, suddenly thankful that you’re always wearing thin clothes when you feel him harden underneath you.

“Fuck, baby,” he pulls away to breathe, a string of saliva connecting the both of you. “Yeah, just like that,” There’s something empowering about the way he pants at your ministrations, especially when you roll your hips faster across his erection. “Keep going, baby, you’re doing – fuck – so well.”

You smirk at his praises, latching your teeth on his neck to suck marks on them. Satoru groans at the same time you muffle your moans through his skin, his hands sliding under your shirt to tug the cups of your bra down. You nearly lose it when he pinches your nipple, bolts of electricity running down your spine at the contact. A moan breaks through your lips just as you come right there and then, the wetness of your sudden orgasm barely hidden in your flimsy underwear.

“Feel good?” he teases and drags your shirt down to the other side, but the post-nut clarity hits. And when it does, it hits hard.

Fuck. You just came from Satoru’s simple touches, and he’s so unsatisfied, still painfully hard underneath you but nothing but panic and regret washes over you like a strong tidal wave. Suddenly, you grow lightheaded as you push yourself off him, fixing your bra while ignoring the confused and hurt look on his face.

“I gotta go to work,” you run out the room, feeling your body tremble as Satoru runs after you. “Make yourself breakfast. I’ll eat on the way out.”

“Y/N, wait!”

You know you’ve just ruined everything – that nothing will ever be the same after that – but you’re scared, utterly and remorsefully so, that you slam the door right in his face as if you don’t have any idea how much you broke him.

You’ll never forget the way Satoru’s face fell when you left.

Just as you thought, nothing is the same after that. The tension is so thick around the apartment you make an effort and go out of your way just to avoid him and the apartment completely.

It’s cowardly – you know this much – but do you ever try to fix the friendship you cherish but shattered completely? You don’t. You don’t because it only crashes down onto you now that maybe your feelings for him aren’t just platonic, after all. It’s even worse because you touch yourself at the thought of him filling you up when he’s asleep, all because you want him so bad and the mere presence of him has your brain malfunctioning.

It isn’t entirely sexual either. Yes, you want to fuck him badly, but it scares you down to the core even more because you want so much more than that.

Now you understand why you always say he’s a bother but never asked him to leave. It’s because you like him, actually romantically interested in him. It makes sense now why you always felt so annoyed whenever your co-workers asked for his number, or how you’re immediately pissed off when Satoru talks about this hot woman he saw at work. You always chalk it up to an excuse you just hate how he can’t keep in his pants, but it isn’t true at all.

It’s because you actually like him – and you’re at a loss on what to do or how to deal with it.

The next few days feels like hell. Satoru isn’t stupid; he knows you’re avoiding him. He stops teasing you eventually and even buys takeout all the time when you lock yourself up in your room right after work, refusing to cook dinner or even eat all so you’d be spared the torture of looking at him.

He’d knock at your door and ask you to eat, but other than that, he’s respected your distance.

You feel like the most terrible person on earth. You don’t miss the way dark circles line under his eyes or how he’s lost his spark, barely even speaking to you when you’ve come or about to leave for work.

You’re alone the whole ride, as well, and it only dawns on you how lonely you are when Satoru isn’t always annoying you all the time.

But it doesn’t make sense. Why is he so bothered by it? Didn’t he regret it? It’s painfully clear you’re not Satoru’s type. You’ve seen the women he dated before, and you’re not close to them so why does he seem like he’s struggling with this as well? Or maybe...he’s just sad that his friend is avoiding him.

Yeah, that has to be it.

Satoru is a man. He was probably turned on at that time, but after giving some thought about it, he probably wants to keep his distance too. He’d be insane if he ever actually wants to date you – his best friend out of all people – because he’s Gojo Satoru and he could literally have everyone else.

You don’t care that you’re a coward.

You don’t care that Satoru is sad to see you this way.

You don’t care because you know he’ll reject you, you know he’ll be weirded if you admit your feelings for him. To him, you’re like his little sister. There’s just no way you two would work out. For now, you have to get comfortable with the uncomfortable. You just need some time to get over your feelings for him, and when you’re confident you won’t fall for him again, you’ll mend your friendship.

You just need time.

“So, Y/N, you still don’t want to give us your friend’s number?”

“Yeah, Y/N, you should share it,” your co-worker encourages by jabbing her shoulder to yours. It’s a lazy Friday night and the staff went out for dinner. You don’t usually come to these hangouts since dinner with Satoru is always much more fun, but he’s the last person you want to think about now, so you happily join them. Now, though, you’re starting to regret ever coming here. “If he’s really single like you said, then it shouldn’t be a big deal to ask for it.”

“Well, since you want it so badly, why don’t you ask him directly for it instead?” you snap, feeling anger begin to trickle. All you wanted was just one day where you don’t have to think of him, but of course they had to bring him up. It’s also annoying how they can never seem to get the message across that you don’t want them dating him. “Why do I have to be the messenger?”

“We haven’t seen him much. Doesn’t he always walk you to work?”

“He’s been busy with his job, that’s all.” And also because I’m avoiding him – so now he’s avoiding me too.

“He’s a teacher, right?”

“Oh, come on, guys, don’t be so dense,” your senpai chugged her drink rather loudly, catching the attention of your nosy co-workers who wouldn’t stop pestering you for his number. “Look at how uncomfortable she looks. It’s obvious she doesn’t want you guys to be involved with her friend for a reason. Think of how weird it is for her too if ever her co-worker and best friend dated. She’s going to feel like a third wheel.”

“I’m not—”

“That makes sense,” your co-worker nodded beside you, “Are you sure you just don’t like him though?”

“Ew, why would I?” the food began to taste bitter through your lies, “He may be tall and attractive, but as his roommate, I’ve seen his ugly side. Satoru is a complete slob and can’t even cook to save his life.”

“I don’t mind cooking for him all the time if I were to be his little housewife.”

“That’s never gonna happen,” your words came out harsher than it was, and you laugh it off with a wave of your hand when your co-workers’ eyes widened. “I’ve been living with him for six months and he’s never brought anyone home or told me he’s going on a date. I told you already, he’s a no strings attached kind of guy. He’s nothing but a one night stand.”

“You have to admit he’s still sexy though.”

Right. You hide your groan through another shot because there’s no way of convincing them otherwise. As much as you hate to admit, you’re actually jealous on how freely they could talk about him like that, but then again, it’s not like you and Satoru were dating – or would ever date, for that matter.

They start to leave one by one when it starts to get late, leaving only you who’s still desperate to avoid Satoru. Nothing prepares you for when the sky darkens and a storm comes pouring just as you’ve left the closing shop, the rain drenching and soaking your clothes through and through. Running under the nearest tree for shelter, you shiver. It’s cold – way too cold – and curse yourself for not bringing a darned umbrella.

The nearest bus stop is like what, fifteen to twenty minutes away? Your teeth are chattering and your legs are shaking, and you fumble through your phone as you dial a number you know by heart before you even realize what you’re doing. “S-Satoru?”

“Y/N,” the surprise is unmasked in his voice, something shuffling in the background before it falls silent. “Is everything okay?”

“Uhm, are you busy right now? It’s fine if you are, I’m just—”

“I’m training with Yuuji, but what is it?”

“Listen, I,” you inhale sharply when coldness bursts through your body, making you shiver and press yourself closer to tree to get away from the rain. Above you, thunder crackles before the rain grows heavier and angrier. “I forgot to bring an umbrella and I’m absolutely soaked right now. The nearest bus stop is fifteen minutes away and all the buildings here look so shady—”

“I’ll be on my way. Text me where you are,” You nod and thank him, too cold and numb to realize you’ve just broken days of silence. You lose track of time under there, hugging yourself until your lips turn blue. It doesn’t take long before Satoru shows up minutes later, his hair equally drenched and sticking flat to his eyes free from his blindfold while he pants, hand on his knees. “Thank goodness you’re safe. I rushed here so fast I forgot to bring an umbrella.”

After seeing Satoru drenched like that, something snaps within you. He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact the rain is unforgiving as it slaps the pavement, and your heart breaks when you see that he’s more concerned for you – even after you’ve given him the silent treatment. “You idiot! Now you’re soaking wet too, you’re going to get sick!”

“Highly unlikely,” he shrugs. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“But what about—” Satoru suddenly carries you before draping his coat over your head, running until he found a cab to hail. He immediately asks the driver to turn up the heater while you tremble on top of him, not caring anymore that you’re sticking so close to him for heat.

Satoru doesn’t let you go all the way inside the apartment. He sets you down on the couch where you take off your wet clothes in haste, too cold with teeth chattering that you silently take the hoodie and boxers Satoru offers you, making sure to keep his gaze averted the whole time. Once fully dressed, you snuggle back into the sofa’s comfort, stiffening when the couch dips beside you.

Not a moment later, Satoru towel-dries your hair, leaving your mouth and throat dry with guilt. Even after you’ve unnecessarily been a bitch to him, he’s still so kind with you.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Satoru...” you twiddle with your thumbs just as he starts to ruffle the towel in your hair, making sure to squeeze water out of the strands as he dries it. “About what happened the other day—”

“It didn’t happen if you don’t want it to,” his voice is cold’ monotonous and so emotionless you’re rendered speechless. “You can forget about it.”

“I...”

“You regret it, right?” he’s done with drying your hair, and he stands up to place the wet towels in the sink as you watch him stride all the way there. He’s changed his clothes too; looking comfortable in a plain white shirt and some grey sweatpants, looking every bit the domestic boyfriend you’ve always wanted but can never have. “It’s fine. We can forget about it and go back to normal,” to emphasize his point, Satoru winks at you, though it does nothing but make your heart sink.

“What if I don’t want to forget it?” your voice is small; hesitant and wavering with fear. “What if...the only reason I pulled away is because I wanted more of you?”

Satoru’s back freezes as he sets the towel aside. At this point, your heart is pulsing on your tongue, and you dig your nails onto your thighs when Satoru sits down next to you, right next to you. He’s silent the whole time; eyes calculatedly piercing through yours. Your breath hitches when his hands that are burning hot against your cold skin cups your jaw before his thumb runs across your lips, his eyes turning dark at your reactions.

“And what if I said I felt the same way?”

“I,” you gasp, closing your eyes because it all feels so surreal. “I like you, Satoru. I like you a lot and I—” he doesn’t let you finish. Soon, you find yourself in his lap with his hands cupping your cheeks while he smashes his lips onto yours.

Satoru is absolutely feral. He’s breathing hard and almost angry, even, with the way his teeth are biting down to nibble on your lips. You moan when he drags you closer, your clothed centre rubbing on his thigh with delicious friction. “You have no idea,” he rasps down on your lips, “how much I’ve fucking liked you ever since we were kids,” Satoru pushes his hoodie aside, revealing your sweet neck to him, and he doesn’t waste his time in sucking and abusing the poor flesh so he can mark you as his. “I’ve always wanted you, Y/N, it’s always you, always you.”

You fist his hoodie when Satoru sinks his teeth down into the juncture of your neck, his hands curious and exploring every inch of your body. He knows you’re naked underneath his clothes, but it’s a different thing when he actually feels your breasts right on his palm. Satoru tweaks the hardened bud in his fingers, growling when you moan at the contact and use his thigh to get off.

“You—” you gasp as you expose your neck to him, wild and needy as you keep rubbing your heat over his thigh. “—talk way too fucking much,” you scold, finally pushing his lips away from your neck. Satoru chuckles at your eagerness but you silence him by flinging his boxers off of your body and somewhere far away, exposing your heat slick with arousal right in front of him. His pupils blow in excitement, hands coming up to grab at your hips, but his attention is taken away when you nibble on his ear to whisper, “Shut up and fuck me.”

The simple command is enough to make his patience snap. In a flash, you’re pinned underneath him, whining and moaning when his finger meets no resistance as he slips it inside. “You’re that needy, huh?” he laughs even louder when you lose it, humping yourself on his finger because it’s not enough.

“Satoru,” you beg, clutching his bicep when he adds another finger in. “More.”

His fingers are so long, hitting places that your small ones could never reach. He begins to scissor his way in, his fingers deliciously rubbing against your velvety walls while pumping them inside and out in a speed that causes you to squelch around him.

It’s absolutely lewd how you’re eagerly spread out before him, but your head is clouded with lust, no longer hindered by shyness out of your need to cum. Your chest is rising heavily, his thumb now rubbing against your clit as he coaxes you to cum. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he kisses your cheeks, eyelids, nose, anywhere but your lips, his voice so gentle and innocent as if he’s not knuckle deep inside you. “Tell me how you want me.”

“Inside,” you whine, gasping when he brushes against a really sensitive spot that has you clamping down on him. “‘Toru, fuck, just fuck me.”

“Beg for it,” he smiles against your skin, relentless and harsh as he keeps pushing inside you. You feel him everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Another finger adds in until you’re dripping enough on his palm and staining the couch, but neither of you care. “I said, beg for it.”

“No,” you hold back, nearly crying out when he pulls your fingers out of you. That sudden emptiness is back again, but you don’t want to beg. You’ve never begged another man before, and this won’t be the first time you’ll be doing so either. You refuse to let him have the upper hand despite the crystal clear fact you’re already soaking wet for him, but because you’re stubborn, you only fumble with his sweatpants to spring his cock free.

He’s already dripping with pre-cum from the slit, his cock hard and angry. Despite his arousal, Satoru stops you from going further, using only one hand to trap both your wrists. “Beg for it,” he demands again, his other fist already pumping down on his shaft.

You nearly cry at the sight. Both of you are aware that Satoru is capable of pleasuring himself, but it’s not that easy for you. Your small, dainty fingers will never be parallel to the pleasure his long cock could give you. All you had to do was beg for it. He’s right there, within reach, if only you’d just –

Impatient for your answer, Satoru takes you by the hips and discards your hoodie in the process, sinking you down his cock, inch by delicious inch. You don’t hold back from the sensual and high-pitched moan that leaves your lips. He’s long, and the tip of his cock just about brushes your cervix when he bottoms out. He feels so good, so warm and huge and filling you up right where you want him to be. Your head falls down on his shoulder as you begin to roll your hips, but Satoru has had enough.

“Fuck, look at you,” he presses on the bulge of his cock visible through your abdomen. “You’re so fucking small – how do you take me so well? I could ruin you. Do you want that? Do you want me to ruin you?”

“Yes, yes, fuck.”

“You think you can just leave me hanging like that, huh?” he slaps your ass, eliciting another moan from you and making you clench around his cock. Satoru falters for a moment. Before you can react, he stands up, your legs wrapped around his waist with nothing but his tip hitting inside you. “You’ve been so fucking mean – leaving me wanting you like that and ignoring me for days. Do you think you deserve this, huh?” Satoru kicks his door open at the same time he loosens his hold around your ass, making you slide down his length the next second.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out just as Satoru begins to bounce you, your breasts following the motion of him fucking deep into you. “Fuck, Toru, that’s too—”

He’s so eager to fuck you, to make a mess out of you and have you losing your mind over his cock that he doesn’t even wait until you’re both on the bed. You no longer register when your back hits the pillow, or how your arms are frozen when he pins it above your head.

“You’re so beautiful,” he praises as he watches you clench around him. You’re so small and his eyes zero in on the way your abdomen bulges then flattens again every time he pounds into you, rolling his hips in a way that has you screaming and thighs quaking. “Beautiful, beautiful, perfect,” the moment his hands grip at your hips to pin you down, you know he’s not going to stop. And you don’t want him to.

Satoru latches his lips around your right breast, gently grazing his teeth over it while his other hand pinches and rolls the pebbled nipple between his fingers. He feels so good – and you’re crying already by the time you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer.

The room is filled with the smell of sex, the sound of skin slapping against skin combined with his breathy grunts and your moans like heaven on his ears. Satoru wants you to feel how much he loves you – how much he adores you – and the pace he sets is torturous. He snaps his hips against yours and presses down on the bulge of his cock through your belly, chuckling when you tighten more around him.

Your head lols to the side, tears falling down your pretty face because of how rough he’s being. But you don’t complain, not when he’s filling you in so deep and he’s kissing you everywhere, touching you everywhere, making you feel nothing else and nobody else but him.

“You’re amazing,” he rasps, watching the way your tight cunt sucks him in greedily as if you don’t want him to go anywhere else. “You take me in so well – you really want me to destroy you, huh?”

“Satoru, please,” you finally plead, “I-I’m cumming, I want you, I need you, oh,” you squeal when he finally lets your arms free. You look so precious, so innocent, and he doesn’t let up his pace. He plants his feet into the ground and his strokes begin to grow sloppy, your tight walls encouraging him to go faster, go deeper.

If possible, Satoru is only even more fuelled with the way you look so precious and innocent in that moment. His touch is gentle in comparison to the way he’s mercilessly plowing into you, using his thumb to wipe away the tears streaming down your cheeks. He knows he’s too big for you, that much is obvious from how much you’re already overstimulated just by his size, but your nails sink down on the flesh of his ass as a silent plead for more.

“Fuuuuck, I’m so close!”

“Yeah?” He fondled your clit, loving the sight of your small body creaming down on his cock. “Come for me, sweet girl. I want to feel you coming on my cock. Come on, tell me you’re mine. You’re made me for aren’t you?”

“Yes, Satoru, fuck,” you squeal, throwing your head back for a second when he keeps hitting your g-spot that has you seeing stars. Your toes curl and your hands fist the sheets behind you as he keeps impaling you with his cock right then and there.

You looked perfect; so perfect to him that he’s basically using you for his own pleasure at this moment. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, back arching and nipples brushing against his chest.

In that moment, you grow needy to have him even closer, tilting up to blindly search for his lips. Satoru complies; leaning down and leaving open mouthed breathy kisses that’s a mix of you moaning and crying around him, while he struggles to do so when he’s cursing at the feeling of you coating his cock with your juices. Satoru looks down at your tiny frame trapped in his arms, his voice husky as he groans once he saw both of your arousal absolutely leaking out of your wet cunt.

He’s so close but you’re already over the edge, scratching at his back at the overstimulation. You’re still so sensitive from when you came and Satoru doesn’t slow one down one bit. He loses his rhythm as his thrusts go sloppy, and Satoru buries his face in your neck as his cock twitches inside you until he bursts with his cum leaking out of your hole.

Satoru’s arms give out beneath you, his chest colliding with yours but not enough that he’s crushing you with his weight. You’re both breathing hard and panting, his dick softening inside you.

He pulls back a moment later to slide out his sensitive cock, wincing while he watches pools of cum gather in your pussy before it drips out. It isn’t until he’s witnessing the mess he’s made he realizes how you’ve been so good for him; taking him all the way in despite your quivering frame. It dawns on him now just how tiny you are when he pulls you close to him; you’re practically hanging off his chest with how small your body is.

He wonders how you’re able to fit all of him, but he’s grateful nevertheless. Satoru shows his appreciation by peppering kisses all over your face, his hand snaking down to caress your inner thighs.

“Hmm,” you moan into the kiss, jolting when his knuckles brush against your sensitive clit. “Satoru, no,” you whine while pushing his hand away, and he shushes you with another kiss. “’M too sensitive, please...”

“It’s fine, cupcake, it’s fine,” his nickname for you is back again, and you lean closer to him just as he begins to massage your sore legs. “You did so well for me, cupcake, you know that? You’re such a good girl for me,” too fucked out to have a comprehensive answer, you only nod in response, spreading your legs open again and ignoring the warm stickiness between your thighs as Satoru kneads your abused flesh. You feel him kiss your temple before he leaves to get a towel and cleans you up. Meanwhile, you’re so tired you’re about to doze out in his bed.

“Hey,” he soothes, bundling you up in his arms until you’re tucked in the safety of his body. So small, he coos inside his head, watching as you fold yourself even smaller while your eyes flutter. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you sigh into his shoulder, “I feel good. Thank you.”

Satoru doesn’t really know what you’re thanking him for. He feels like he’s the one who’s mostly indebted to you after everything you’ve done for him. You’ve already fallen asleep before he gets the chance to tell you how he feels, so Satoru only covers you both under his blanket, making sure there’s no more space between you out of fear you’ll distance yourself from him again.

But he doesn’t have to worry about that because you’re right next to him, and you’re never out of reach.

[busterheadspace]

Idk if you’re still doing this but I love angst and i love inside job soo..

Being slammed into a wall? With Reagan for the fic thing? Maybe it’s her dad or sm. And maybe a little comfort with Brett on the side? So I don’t die

Rand being an asshole to his daughter and Brett comforts her. Yes please

Note:Request are open. Bad Things Happen also open. Send an ask if you want something!

—-

This couldn’t be real.

Reagan took a swig of champagne to calm herself down. She was going to drink it tonight but not like this. She paced back and forth in her living room trying to take deep breaths. It was the middle of the night and she couldn’t sleep. She was too scared to sleep

What was she going to do now? Her father was the CEO. Not after she just kicked him out of her life. He had total power over her and the company and the world. There was a reason Rand was fired before! He almost told the whole world about the Deep State! 

She considered killing her dad but what would that do! Give the power to her mom!? Her mom might be a little better but she would abuse the power and use it wrong. All this thinking made her mind spin and she finished half of the bottle.

The door creaks and Reagan stops in her tracks. Only two people have access to the house. The first one was probably asleep at his house, the second one.. she never wanted to see again. The door opens and Rand comes walking with a grin. 

“Hey.., Jelly Bean.” Rand slurred. His breath smelled like booze and his movement was off. She glared at him

“Get out of my house! I’m not letting you back in!” Reagan shouts pointing at him. 

“I’m not asking for that.” Rand replies. “I just want to celebrate with my daughter with my big promotion. It’s really great isn’t it? You drank the champagne early”

“Great!?” Bastard.. He took so much from her. “You took MY promotion! I worked so hard for it!” 

“Well.. we know who’s the better Ridley, don’t we? I just wanna make you’re okay after my promotion.” 

“No!” She threw the champagne onto the floor. It shatters into many pieces of glass and whatever liquid inside lands on the carpet. But that didn’t matter. She felt so nervous and she couldn’t show it to the man who messed her up so badly. Rand began walking toward Reagan however she doesn’t notice as she begins giving him a piece of her mind

“You messed with my mind! You took away my first friend! You made a robot friend that traumatized me with hugs! The same fucking robot destroyed Cognito! I lost my promotion because of you sick bastard!” Reagan screams. However Rand sneers and grabs onto her arms. A threatening glare on his face that made Reagan freeze. Her dad hadn’t grabbed her like this a long time.

“I did all of those as a favor. Without me, you have been an average person working a whole lot of nothing in the world! How about you show your old man some respect for helping you!” Rand pushes Reagan harshly toward the wall near the couch. 

She tumbled into the wall and winced at the pain her head and back felt while falling onto the floor. Something lands on her hand with a shatter and she hisses, opening her eyes. Her brain and heart nearly stopped, once realizing it was the family photo she still kept around. Her parents and her as a little kid. The dad she looked up to when she was younger.

Now the dad she had was staring her down , heavily breathing and drunk. It made her feel like she was that young kid. Scared to speak up or do anything against her dad in fear he would make fun or yell at her.

So Reagan stumbled to her feet and ran out of the place she considered home. She kept running until she was out of breath. Knowing Rand had the key to her house, it didn’t feel safe anymore. Her mind couldn’t come up with anything to say for him to leave.

Although where was she going to stay for the night. She prefers not to wander the neighborhood or sleep on the sidewalk. She didn’t bring her wallet or phone. No money for a hotel.. The only option she could think of was.. staying at one of her coworkers places. The nearest one was probably Bretts.. She really didn’t want to bother him this late but.. what choice did she have? 

—-

A fifteen minute walk and Reagan was at his place. Part of her was hesitant to go in but a small part of her also wanted him by her side. She rang the doorbell a few times.  

Hearing quick footsteps come louder and louder, the door opened and a tired Brett was in front of her. He looked surprised and quickly rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

“Reagan? Why are you here so late? What happened to your hand?”

Her hand? She looked down and realized that her hand was bleeding and a few small shards were in there. She shrugged and quickly went in. The door closed but Brett followed her questions.

“Did something bad happen? Why aren’t you asleep? Are you okay after what happened with your dad today? I know you’re not but..”

The last question made her stop and hold her breath. It reminded her of what had happened earlier. Brett looked at her worried and quickly put a hand on her shoulder. He could feel her shaking.

“Reagan, sit down. Let me deal with your hand and then we can talk.” Brett mumbled and guided her to the couch. He grabbed a first aid kit he had from the bathroom and returned back. 

“I’m going to pull the glass out first. Are you okay with that..?” Brett asked grabbing the injured hand

“Yeah....Do whatever..” Reagan mumbled, looking away. She didn’t want Brett to see her emotional state.  Then again, she came to his place, he was going to fuss over her. A stupid oversight she made

Brett started plucking the glass out with tweezers. Every pull made Reagan hiss quietly but he didn’t say anything. Something went wrong when she returned home. He’ll ask her later. The shards were out now and he cleaned the wound with a cloth and bandages it. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Brett asked. Reagan pulled her hand into her chest and looked down. She opened her mouth but nothing came out and she started shaking again.

“Woah, hey, it’s okay. It's okay.” Brett reassured and turned her to face him. “You don’t have to talk but-.”

“Rand came over.” Reagan mumbles. Brett’s eyes widened but he nodded for her to continue “He., just started taunting me about me losing the CEO position .. and.. I tried to get him out of the house but..” She stopped to take a breath. “He grabbed me and pushed me into the wall. The picture frame I had of us as a family fell onto my hand.. and it felt like I was in elementary school. Scared of my dad when he was angry.”

Once Reagan was done talking, she felt Brett hugging her tightly. He whispered a few apologies.. even though he did nothing wrong. It made a few tears come out but she quickly wiped them away.

“Everything is going to be okay..” Brett whispered. ‘You didn’t do anything wrong this time. You saved Cognito..”

“I lost my promotion..” 

“It’s the Robes fault for losing someone as awesome as you as CEO.”

Reagan sighed. “Maybe..they did. Maybe they didn’t. I’m not sure now.”

“Well.. I think they did. You would be a great CEO. But maybe we should focus on going to bed. Did you bring anything with you?”

“No.. I ran out of the house. I can’t stand being there. It feels like Rand is watching my every step”

“You can stay here as long as you want.” Brett smiled. “I have some extra PJs you can wear and then we can sleep.”

Reagan gives him a weak grin before following him to his bedroom. She wondered how the world would be once Rand starts being CEO on Monday . But maybe she should just focus on this right now. Sleep, and Brett.

[justaduckarts]

Thank You, Sir.

Lore for Star Holder :) This is pretty LONG.

Been heavy thinking on Julian lately. He’s a funny fella.

Spoilers? Ish.

TW: Aftermath of a fire, Blood Mentions, Injuries (not descriptive)

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Billowing black smoke curled into the early morning sky. Cottages were reduced to smoldering rubble. A lone figure stood in the ruined village.

"Well." Eclipse glanced around, "seems I won't be finding anything useful here..."

Turning, the god of darkness started back towards the lone horse waiting for him. It was, of course, a rather unusual horse. Entirely black, save for a fiery orange mane and tail. And far larger than the average horse.

"Come along, Umbra," Eclipse called for his familiar. The black fox slipped out of the shadows and towards her owner. Just as Eclipse grasped his horse's reigns, a sound cut through the soft crackle of embers.

Groaning.

"Change of plans." Eclipse's head turned back in the direction of the destroyed village. "Look for survivors."

Nodding, the fox scampered back into the ruins. Eclipse dropped his bag and stormed towards the rubble himself.

Yipping pulled Eclipse from the building he was inspecting.

"Did you find something?" Eclipse approached quickly. He watched Umbra dig at some rubble a moment before he caught sight of a pair of legs sticking out from beneath some debris.

Dropping to his knees, the god carefully removed the ash and wood splinters from the young man. He was still alive, by some miracle. The man took a gasping breath, latching onto Eclipse with both hands. 

“H- 

“Try not to speak,” Eclipse said, taking note of the man’s extensive injuries. Injuries that couldn’t have been made simply by being caught in a house fire. The man’s fingers dug further into the fabric of Eclipse’s blouse. The poor human seemed desperate to survive.

“You’re bleeding quite a bit there,” he noted, eyeing a particularly large chest wound, “we’ll have to close this, or you won’t make it.” Brilliant fire filled Eclipse’s palm. 

“...This is going to hurt,” Eclipse looked the man in the eye, “it will likely be the worst pain you’ve ever known. But you have to hold on. You will live.” 

Moments ago, Julian couldn’t even find the strength to utter ‘help’. Now, however, he seemed to have found the strength. And he was screaming. He writhed under Eclipse’s searing touch for several agonizing seconds. 

“It’s done,” Eclipse drew his hands away, “breathe. You’re going to live.” The man gasped. Dark hair clung to his sweating face. Wide brown eyes took in Eclipse’s face and seemed to finally understand just who they were looking at. 

“You,” he said, heaving another breath. 

“...Me?” Eclipse tilted his head, confused. 

“You saved me,” Julian rasped, “why? Aren’t you...?” 

“Ah, my reputation precedes me,” Eclipse got to his feet, pulling the young man along with him. “Come, let’s get you some water.” 

“Why are you helping me?” 

“Would you prefer I leave you in the ashes, then?” Eclipse frowned down at Julian. 

“...No.” Julian leaned heavily onto Eclipse as the two made their way to the large horse. 

“Perhaps you could tell me about what’s happened here?” Eclipse glanced down at Julian. 

“...They came looking for the star holder,” Julian’s brow knit, “claimed they’d heard the child had been here. They were right- the child was here. Weeks ago.” 

“Child?” Eclipse’s brow creased. His frown deepened. So the star had fallen into the hands of a child? The very thing created to stop Eclipse? 

“A child,” Julian nodded, “the temple says that they were blessed by the gods. A star fell from heaven just for them. Granted them the gift of healing.” 

“Is that so?” Eclipse offered Julian a canteen of water, “how interesting.” But Eclipse knew better. Sun had dropped that star. Julian drank heavily for a moment. Then, he looked up at Eclipse, confused.

“Wouldn’t you know about this, your grace? You are a god- 

“Please, don’t regard me with such formality,” Eclipse shook his head, “just Eclipse is fine. And no, I would not know. The sun god and I are not on friendly terms.” 

“Right...” Julian looked up at Eclipse questioningly. “Why did you save me?” 

Eclipse looked over Julian once more. A scrappy young man. He had the worn hands of a laborer- carpenter, perhaps? 

“Would you like to hear the truth? Or would you like to hear something that will bring you comfort?” Eclipse quirked a brow. 

“I want the truth,” Julian frowned. 

“You are the only survivor. You had information I wanted. It seemed only fair I let you live in return.” Eclipse shrugged. 

“And if there had been other survivors?” Julian clenched his fists. 

“I’d have sent for help,” Eclipse mused, “but I cannot stay. Besides, given that I am known for the gift of fire... how do you think this might look?” 

“You’d leave to save your reputation? Even if there were people here suffering?”

“I am not a healer,” Eclipse gathered his bag from the ground and slung it over his shoulder, “as much as I wish that I could be. I did not heal you. I burned you. Do not forget that.” 

“Did you even learn anything useful from me? Or did you save me for nothing?” 

“Oh, I learned plenty,” Eclipse grinned, “if the star holder is still a child, though, that does complicate things.” Eclipse took up his horse’s reigns. 

“You’re after the star holder?” Julian took a confident step towards Eclipse, despite the clear exhaustion in his movements. “I won’t let you hurt- 

“I wouldn’t hunt down a child- that’s despicable. I am after information. And only information. It is imperative that a man be well-prepared when he knows his enemies are plotting.” Eclipse gave Julian an impressed smile, “but your determination to protect the young is admirable. Even if you wouldn’t stand a chance, especially not in your state.” 

Julian squared his shoulders. He huffed. 

“How is it that you can compliment and insult me in the same breath?” He crossed his arms. 

“It was easy,” Eclipse mounted his horse, “the nearest village is quite a distance. Will you make it there on foot?” 

“I will.” Julian looked down the long road. 

“Do not let your pride cloud your judgement. The consequences can be quite deadly,” Eclipse chided, “I have seen so first-hand.” Sun... 

“If I remain here, I will only waste away,” Julian said stubbornly. Eclipse rolled his eyes. He bent and snatched Julian up under the arms. 

“Just get on the damn horse, you stubborn ass.” Eclipse settled Julian on the horse before grasping the reigns. Julian felt a tidal wave of emotions crash over him. Most notably, embarrassment. 

The ride to the next village was filled with rather venomous arguing. Mostly from Julian, but Eclipse seemed amused to play into it. 

“You are by far the worst god I’ve ever met,” Julian hissed as they rode into town. 

“So you’ve met other gods?” 

“...No.” 

“Then I have time to change your mind,” Eclipse chuckled. 

“How can you be so casual? I swear when I am well- 

“You’ll come and fight me? I’d love to see it.” Eclipse continued to laugh. 

“You’re mocking me.” Julian scoffed.

“Yes, quite openly.” 

“I despise you.” 

“Most do,” Eclipse pulled at the reigns, stopping the horse. He slipped off and then pulled Julian down. “Thank you, Pepper.” Eclipse stroked at his horse’s smooth side. The horse huffed softly, tail flicking. 

“You’ll find a doctor here,” Eclipse turned to Julian, “I hope he can fix your attitude as well as your wounds.” Julian’s eye twitched. 

“I am going to find you,” Julian swore, “and when I do, you will apologize.” 

“I look forward to it,” Eclipse mounted the horse once more, patting her neck, “what did you say your name was, young man?” 

“Julian.” 

“Julian,” Eclipse nodded, “it was nice to meet you.” 

“The sentiment is not shared. Not at all.” Julian glared up at the god of darkness. Eclipse laughed. 

“I hear that quite often. Well. Good luck, Julian. I hope to meet you again, when you’re stronger.” Eclipse flicked the reigns, “so long.” Pepper started trotting along. 

Julian stared after Eclipse for a long moment. Suddenly, he became grossly aware of his injuries. He stumbled. Thankfully, people in the village had seen him. They carted him to the village doctor. 

.

Days turned to weeks. And weeks to months. 

Julian intended to keep his promise. But as time went on, and Julian grieved the loss of his home and his family, he had time to reflect. 

Eclipse claimed to cave him for information. But if that were all, then why had Eclipse bothered to take him to get treatment for his wounds? There seemed to be more to the god of darkness than Julian initially thought. 

And as he grew strong, Julian’s reason for finding the temple of darkness changed. 

The journey to the temple of darkness was long and exhaustive. And when Julian arrived, he found Eclipse waiting. 

.

“Hello, Julian.” Eclipse smiled down at the young man.

“Hello, Eclipse.” Julian nodded to the enigmatic god of darkness.

“I take it you’ve come to fight me? Kill me, perhaps?” Eclipse crossed his arms over his broad chest, looking rather amused. 

“...I’ve come to thank you, sir.” 

“Thank me?” Eclipse tilted his head. 

“Forgive me for my... admittedly poor attitude when you found me. I was grief-stricken. And I responded with anger. I’ve had time to reflect on this.” Julian knelt. “You saved my life. And I don’t think you did so just for information.” Eclipse shifted. Ah. Caught being soft again. 

“...You’re right,” Eclipse shrugged, “I do not enjoy the needless suffering of mortals. But there is nothing to forgive. I understand that grief can cause us to do things we might regret.” Eclipse did his best not to reflect on the many terrible things he’d done in his grief. 

“I would like to make it up to you,” Julian stood, fists clenched, “I owe you my life.” 

“You owe me nothing,” Eclipse corrected, “the best thing you can do now is live on. Perhaps settle down, humans seem to like that kind of thing.” 

“I’m not interested in settling down,” Julian shook his head, “I want to help you. I want to be useful.” 

“...You understand that I mean to oppose the sun god, yes? We will fight someday.” 

“I’ve come to learn that a god’s reputation means little about their character,” Julian said, a determined look on his face, “you taught me that.” 

“Did I?” Eclipse looked off to the side. Well, he’d really done it this time. Sighing, Eclipse turned back to Julian. 

“...Julian.” Eclipse took a step, “I am not a good person. Whatever you think of me for aiding you, I have done and will continue to do terrible things. I will tear this world asunder if that is what it takes to dethrone Sun. You understand that, don’t you?” 

“They say a forest grows stronger after a fire,” Julian stood tall. Confident. The last time Eclipse had seen him, he’d been barely clinging to life. Now, he looked quite alive. Long dark hair pulled back, brown eyes alight with a fire Eclipse almost recognized. 

“They say a lot of things,” Eclipse shook his head, “are you prepared to serve someone like me? I may ask you to do something terrible some day. I may require you to kill someone. If you work beside me, your life will always be at risk.” 

“I’m not a fool,” Julian crossed his arms, “and I’m not delicate, either. I’ve worked in my father’s forge since I was big enough to hold a hammer.” 

Forge. 

Eclipse shifted. He tore his gaze from Julian. No. Being kind to Julian would not make up for... that. 

“...One month,” Eclipse looked back at Julian, “I will allow you to remain here and work along side me for one month. And if you impress me, you may remain. But if you cannot handle everything that comes with serving me, then you leave. And never return.” 

“When do we begin?” Julian’s posture relaxed just a touch. 

“Right now. There’s work to do.” Eclipse turned and strolled further into the temple. “Come along.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

[nightingaelic]

Reactions to a vampire courier? Companions plus Benny, Ulysses, Graham, House, Caesar, and Yes Man. (sorry if that's too many :x)

TW: Blood (maybe obviously)

Also I don't normally feel some type of way about AUs but the idea of Joshua Graham encountering a vampire courier is giving me shivers

The courier was a little... strange. Not in any way that stood out to the average wastelander just by looking at them, everyone in the Mojave had their quirks and the courier was no exception. Hell, you get shot in the head and come back, you're bound to have a screw or two loose. They were unquestionably a night owl, but so were half the people on the Strip, who only started to wake up after the sun had gone down and the slot machines were singing their loudest. They usually had bags under their bloodshot eyes, but every caravan driver from here to the Hub was short on sleep.

On the other hand, the courier had some habits that were a little beyond surface-level eccentricities. For one, no one had ever seen them eating, not once. Even when the King laid out a spread of pre-war snacks and liquor or when the buffet at the Tops was refreshed, they politely declined and took a swig from the canteen that they never offered to anyone else. They were also rather odd about bathrooms, insisting that anyone accompanying them remain outside on watch and let no one else through the door until they were finished. But the undeniable moment of oddity came one night in October, when their companion rounded a corner in Freeside after a trip to the Atomic Wrangler and discovered the courier behind a rusted dumpster, holding a man against a brick wall with their teeth buried in his neck.

The courier drew back at the interruption, blood smeared across their face. "I'm not- it's not what- he- oh, fuck."

Arcade Gannon: Arcade stared open-mouthed for a moment, before snapping violently back into the present. "Is he dead?"

"Umm..." The courier glanced at the man they were holding, whose head was lolling against the bricks. "Yes? Mostly."

With no patient to resuscitate, Arcade rounded on them. "Six, what in the ever-loving fuck are you doing?"

The courier tried to wipe away the blood that was dribbling from their chin, but they only succeeded in spreading it up their jawline. "Well, I, um, I was trying to..."

Whatever excuse they were searching for eluded them, so they dropped the pretense. "I was feeding, Arcade."

"Feeding? What, like some kind of-" Arcade's eyes widened and he cut his sentence off early in realization. "No. No way. That's not- vampires aren't real!"

That earned him a look of intense skepticism. "Arcade, we've fought off plant monsters and rattlesnake-coyote hybrids together. I have a gun in my pack that lets me teleport."

"Oh, okay, so you have some kind of iron deficiency and you're delusional." Arcade laughed, the sound high and harsh in the quiet alley. "Great. Fuck."

Craig Boone: Rather than engage in an abandoned alley, Boone immediately backtracked to a busier street. He was unsurprised when the courier didn't follow him: Even in Freeside, someone covered in blood was sure to be noticed and questioned.

Boone left town that night and made for Novac. He was pretty sure the courier would follow him, but he didn't know where else to go. At least he knew they were coming. A few people in Novac asked about where he'd been, what the courier was up to, but eventually they stopped asking.

A couple of weeks went by. Boone was on the night shift again when the door into the dinosaur swung open to reveal the courier. He'd heard someone coming, their feet on the stairs, and he already had his gun pointed in their face. "We will never work together again," he said, before they could open their mouth.

"Boone, can you just-"

"I don't want an explanation." Boone shook his head. "I don't need one. I already did you a favor, leaving New Vegas without putting you back in your grave. This is over."

The courier took a deep breath. "71."

"What?"

"71. I've killed 71 Legion soldiers and left their bodies empty under the Mojave sky." They looked down and shuffled their feet. "I've tasted their fear. They're more scared of me than the Burned Man, now."

Boone studied them. Ever so slowly, he lowered his gun.

Lily Bowen: "Put him down, dearie," Lily chastised them. "You're playing too roughly with that man. And watch your language around your grandma!"

The courier looked down at their victim, at their torn throat and limp limbs. "He tried to mug me, Lily. It wasn't pretty."

"He looks like he's had enough," Lily insisted. "Set him down. Gently."

With a sigh, the courier obliged and lowered the man to the ground. "I'm sorry, Lily. I should have told you earlier. I don't mean to be rude when I turn down your cooking, I just... I can't seem to..."

"Hush, now." Lily produced her enormous handkerchief and gathered the courier up in her arms, dabbing at the blood on their face with a corner of the cloth. "You've gotten it all over yourself, haven't you? We can clean that right up, but it looks like Grandma's going to have to do a load of laundry. You made the mess, so you get to help."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: Raul swallowed nervously, something he'd noticed he was increasingly doing around the courier. "You know, we get murciélagos down in Arizona that do the same thing. They won't leave the brahmin alone."

The courier took in his anxious stance and sighed. "Raul, I'm not going to hurt you. Prometo. It's okay."

"Sure boss, but I don't think the hair on the back of my neck is going down anytime soon." Raul smiled, but it was more of a grimace. "Or it wouldn't, if I still had any. Como..?"

"No clue." The courier shrugged and held their hands up, letting the corpse they'd been holding slide to the ground. "I think it had something to do with me surviving Benny's best attempts to do me in, but a bullet is a bullet and I don't remember if I was like this before, or..."

"Or only after." Raul chuckled. "Jesucristo, and here I am thinking I'll outlive you like most everyone else I've known."

"Yep."

"Should I start calling you el chupacabra?"

The courier grinned, a bloody smile with sharp teeth.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Fuck," Cass echoed, scrambling to pull her shotgun from its holster. "Knew I had too much, can't even- who are you and what've you done with the courier? Some kind of cannibal, wearing their skin? Alien? Shapeshifter? I'll blow a hole in your liver to match mine!"

"Whoa, Cass, it's me, it's me!" The courier dropped the man they were holding and held their blood-stained hands up. "Same old Six, just... maybe I wasn't straight with you about why I don't order anything at bars."

"Goddamn right you weren't straight with me!" Cass gestured at the body on the ground with the barrel of her gun. "Who's the fucker on the floor and why are you two pints in on him?"

"Just trying to get my drink on," the courier muttered.

Cass repaid this facetiousness with a jab of her shotgun, and they raised their hands higher. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! You tell me, how do you tactfully tell someone that you're a creature of the night and you need to drink blood to survive?"

"Creature of the night? You're fucking loopy." Cass' eyes narrowed. "There's plenty of critters in the Mojave that only come out when it's dark, but most of them don't tear into..."

She trailed off into curses when she realized she was wrong. The courier smiled hesitantly and lowered their hands an inch. "Hey. Let me chuck this failed mugger in the dumpster and we can talk about it like a pair of civilized folks?"

Veronica Santangelo: Veronica squeaked and fell back a few steps, banging her elbow against the edge of the dumpster. A jolt of confused pain shot up her arm, and the Scribe couldn't help giggling harshly at the sudden assault on her funny bone.

"Not- laughing... at murder," she managed to get out between hisses of pain. "Oh, for the love of... right, you're not getting out of explaining what you are, exactly, just because I'm indis-indisposed!"

The courier couldn't help laughing at the squirming Scribe, but they did their best to stifle it. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I um... I guess I don't really know... what I am?"

"There's books!" Veronica burst out, pointing at the courier and their victim wildly. "I've seen them, in old libraries. Creatures that feed on blood, only come out at night, don't show up in... in mirrors, of course, no wonder you're weird about bathrooms, I should test... Dracula! That's it, you're a Dracula!"

"A Dracula?" The courier held their hands up, as if seeing them anew. "Never heard of them. Are they... bad?"

"Well, traditionally, yes." Veronica made a face and rubbed her elbow. "Black cloaks, sleeping in coffins, seducing and manipulating everyone around them... and people don't like it when you take their blood, in my experience."

"Whose blood have you taken?"

"This isn't about me, Six!"

ED-E: The eyebot bobbed wildly and made noises of concern, blips and blats and a flat burst of trumpets from some old jazz tune.

"I was hungry," the courier protested. "And this asshole pulled a knife on me and wanted all of my caps. Probably more than that, if we're being honest. He wasn't doing the world any good, but he did me some, for sure."

ED-E flipped between old clips of a Silver Shroud radio show. "Well, isn't this a deep, dark <static> secret? <static> In a situation such as this, the best anyone can do is <static> try to control it!" The robot added some more concerned beeps for good measure.

"I'm trying," the courier said with a sigh, looking down at the dead man they were holding. "You know I wouldn't hurt some random person, ED-E. Not if I could help it. The Mojave's full of bad people, enough to keep me going if I'm careful."

Rex: The hair on Rex's spine stood up, and he let out a long, low growl. The courier froze for a moment, before realizing that he was growling not at them but at the man they were holding.

"He's dead, Rex," they reassured the cyberdog, lowering the corpse to the floor for inspection.

Rex sniffed the body over, taking in the copper scent of his blood and the Freeside stink on his clothes. He sniffed the courier too, each of their hands they held out to him and the thick headiness of adrenaline. He whined and wagged his tail twice.

"Good boy," the courier said, straightening up. "It's about time I turned in, anyway. Let's dump this guy and split."

Benny Gecko: Benny crossed his arms. "You know, Six, if you're dead set on getting your kicks in Freeside every now and then, you might want to ease up on the passions with the next greaser you snag. This one's torn all to pieces."

"I wasn't- what kind of-" The courier dropped the man they were holding and sputtered. "Christ, only you could make a midnight murder awkward, Benny."

"Murder?" Benny raised his eyebrows and looked from side to side theatrically. "Who said anything about a murder? All I saw was some dreamboat and the best apple butterer of New Vegas playing back alley bingo, officer."

The courier's eyes narrowed. "Not gonna rat me out? Tell the King or somebody that I'm..."

"What, taking a page out of the White Glove Society's book?" Benny held his hands up. "None of my business. Well, if you ever come for me with that look in your eyes, though, that'll be a different story."

"Not much you'd be able to do," the courier pointed out. "You already tried and failed to kill me once."

Ulysses: Rather than react like any normal wastelander might've upon encountering someone attacking a man with their teeth, Ulysses just stood there, taking the scene in. "Heard tales of a tribe like you. East, farther east than even I've walked... a coven hiding in tunnels, emerging only when their hungers grow too strong to ignore, strong enough to pull blood from the veins of the world around them."

"Well, I don't hide in tunnels." The courier grimaced and heaved their victim up over their shoulder, depositing them unceremoniously in the dumpster. "Unless some disgruntled Frumentarius sends me out to hunt mutants under Hopeville."

"Perhaps you have more in common with those predators than I assumed," Ulysses admitted. "But then, your path has always run red. Blood of the Old World, blood of the new, blood of the Bull and the Bear..."

The courier rolled their eyes as they peeled off their red-stained coat and tossed it in the dumpster as well. "Don't talk to me about blood. I know you've seen just as much as me, but it doesn't mean the same thing when I look at it."

Ulysses cracked a hint of a smile. "You see life where I see death. Two sides, courier."

"Yeah, yeah. If you're not going to try to kill me, come on. You can wax poetic and lecture me about which road I'm walking while I take a shower."

Joshua Graham: "A creature far from God," Graham said in his most reproachful tone. "Forever damned for the souls of the innocent they've taken from the earth. Aren't we a pair, courier."

"You can fuck right off with that attitude." The courier dropped the man they were holding and wiped their hands on their coat. "He tried to kill me first. For some caps."

"The crimes of others do not absolve you of your own sins, courier," Graham continued, leisurely retrieving his gun from its holster. He held it up in the muted neon light that filtered through the alley, turning the weapon this way and that. "Though I confess I am also looking for absolution in this way."

"Are you going to kill me?" the courier asked, eyeing the gun as well.

"I've no doubt it would leave this world better than when you walked it," Graham replied. "But my own opinions are not enough to seal your fate. Perhaps we should find this man's family and hear their feelings on the matter."

The courier took a step forward, then another, until their chest was right up against the pistol's muzzle, pressed against the fabric of their shirt. "Go ahead. Try."

And though Joshua Graham was sorely tempted to pull the trigger, though the courier made no move to stop him, something in their eyes... some faraway pain, older than the desert itself, fresh as the blood on the ground, stayed his hand.

He lowered the gun, chastised, and the courier walked away.

Robert House: The Securitron that bore Robert House's face on its screen leveled a minigun at the courier. "Whoa!" the courier protested, dropping their victim and putting their hands out. "Can't we talk about this?"

"And what have we to discuss?" House sounded absolutely disgusted. "I believe you're familiar with my contract with the White Glove Society. If they wish to continue their current prosperity in New Vegas, cannibalism is strictly forbidden. You are subject to the same terms and conditions, as one of my employees."

"Terms and condi- hold on, hold on, you never asked me whether I was a cannibal," the courier replied. "Are you talking about that document you had me sign, way back when I agreed to help you fight the NCR and the Legion?"

"The very same."

"How is that fair? That thing was over 200 pages long, I didn't grow up in the 21st century, I don't have a degree in... okay, okay." The courier waved their hands. "Cannibalism is a no-go. This isn't cannibalism, this is vampirism."

"Which falls under the definition of cannibalism," House replied, his annoyed tone still detectable over the sound of the minigun spinning up. "Section 3.65, subsection F. Next time, read the fine print."

Caesar: The Legion's great leader pivoted in an instant from surprise to quiet anger. "Clean yourself up, courier. I expect to see you in my quarters within the hour."

He turned and left the alley swiftly, letting his powerful stride and swinging cloak cover his shaken confidence. The people of Freeside cowered as he passed, shrinking into the shadows as he made his way back to the Strip, but the fear in their eyes was not enough to erase the image of the courier bent over in bloodlust, holding their victim in total subjugation.

The courier found him on the top floor of the Lucky 38, gazing out over the city he had conquered and named his Rome. "Leave us," Caesar bid his Praetorian Guard. They bowed and departed the room without question.

"You asked to see me," the courier said nervously, shifting their weight from foot to foot. They had changed clothes, and no trace of blood remained on them.

"I did." Caesar beckoned them to the window next to him. They stood in silence for a moment, watching the lights wink below.

"I'm a well-read man, courier," Caesar said finally. "I know the legends of the Old World, and I recognize the marks of one of their nightmares in you. I order you to tell me the truth: Do you fit the full definition of the creature they called 'vampire,' or do you simply mimic the things to add to your fearsome affect?"

The courier didn't answer right away. When they did, their voice was soft. "I pretend to be nothing. I am what I am."

"And everything that comes with it?" Caesar pressed. "Darkness, the blood of the innocent, eternity?"

"Yes."

Caesar turned to face them fully. "Then I, Almighty Caesar, command you to make me as you are."

Yes Man: "Now that's a twist I didn't see coming!" Yes Man said, his happy tone only slightly tempered with uncertainty. "Boy, am I glad I don't have a circulatory system right now!"

The courier shushed the Securitron and looked around the alley surreptitiously. "Yes Man, I swear to god, if you blow my cover I'm disassembling you."

"As I've told you before, I can't technically die!" Yes Man reassured them. "And I certainly wouldn't want to endanger you and your hobbies, but my volume mixer is tied to my enthusiasm simulator and I can't adjust it! You'll just have to hope any passersby aren't interested in following my friendly voice into an alley!"

"Then go back to the Lucky 38 and we'll talk later," the courier insisted, through gritted teeth.

"I technically never left! But if you mean this Securitron, sure thing!" Yes Man zoomed away on his single wheel, whistling the whole way back to the casino where the rest of his consciousness was housed. He kept whistling as he ran probability algorithms, only pausing when the courier returned after a few hours and crossed their arms in front of his main screen.

"Hi there!" he said joyfully. "I've just been cross-checking Mr. House's records on noteworthy disappearances in the Strip, and I've flagged eight of them as potentially being connected to you! I don't want to assume your intentions, but if you don't want to be found out, I've developed a plan for choosing your next victims that will help you remain undetected in New Vegas for 184 years! Give or take a few!"

The courier put their head in their hand and sighed.

[thesoftestpunk]

Co-Aquatainenceship 1.

Summary: You're just two ex-assassins trying to navigate your way through normalcy, but you're also huge idiots. In an attempt at getting Bucky out of his shell, you offer to catch him up on everything he's missed. Including trashy YA novels.

Pairing: cw!Bucky Barnes x female!Reader

Word count: 3168

A/N: Definitely not my first fic, but it is my first bucky and reader type fic. This loosely follows the events after civil war but after that it's pretty non-canon compliant. Steve stays with his bestie and they all have good times <3 I'm trying very hard to not use descriptive language when it comes to reader because I usually make up oc's so I'm trying my very best (y'all I'm so nervous)

Series masterlist

On nights you can’t sleep, you go on runs. The compound offered tracks and plenty of machinery, but there was just something about running in the brisk night air that helped calm you down. When you were first brought on to the team several years ago, you found yourself frustrated constantly. You used to smoke a lot more back then, but Sam never liked that you picked up the bad habit years ago. Steve helped a lot, Sam even more so when you had trouble voicing what was wrong, but Steve taught you to box. To take that anger and frustration and put it somewhere better. Sam offered to run with you and then all three of you ran together. For the most part. The team should have an officially branded track team with how much you all run.

On top of never really having a proper sleep schedule from becoming an avenger/agent, nightmares and anxiety plagued your mind. A full eight hours was never really your thing anyway, which made having a constantly changing schedule easier. It probably wasn’t a good thing that the deep chill helped ground you most nights, but with how frustrating your week had been, the run isn’t helping. The pain of hitting sandbags wasn’t any better, but you healed quickly with some forced experimentation you had endured. The gym was always empty in the early hours of the morning, so you jog your way up to the building, walking through the quiet halls to find the gym occupied for once.

“Steve,” you’re breathless still, trying to even them out. “I didn’t expect to see you up this early.”

“Neither did I.” He swung a bag around, hooking it up to the chain with no effort. All the men in this building were giants, while you were perfectly average sized in your mind. It pointed a lot of jokes your way, and jealousy toward them. They always seemed to shut up when your strength either matched their own or exceeded it. “Nightmares again?”

“More like avoiding them.” Turning, you ignore his bright blue eyes. The same ones you saw when you were promised you were safe, and actually believed it. There wasn’t going to be any convincing him to let you stay and be even more sleep deprived. “You can’t say anything, Rogers. You’re awake too.”

“Yeah, I’m starting my day. What’s your excuse?”

“It’s only--” checking the time on your watch, it’s nearly five in the morning. Had you really been at it that long? Your legs were only just starting to burn. “Jesus, I think you wake up earlier than my grandpa.”

“Hilarious,” he deadpans. “Have you slept at all?”

He put his hands on his hips, and you know you’re in trouble. Those kind eyes burrow into your soul, past your perspired skin and tired muscles. Through your own tired eyes that felt heavier by the second. You knew you wouldn’t be able to get away with lying. You can feel how tired you must look. Steve’s been dealing with you for too long to know when you’re lying, a heavy sigh from him making your chest tighten with guilt when you only respond with silence. Sometimes you’re afraid the stress you put him under is going to actually make him look like the hundred something year old he is. You know you can be hard headed, but you couldn’t help it. For years you had fought back against the man who kidnapped you, so you weren't suddenly going to stop with Steve.

“I can’t make you sleep but I’m just asking you to get some today.”

“No, yeah, of course,” you mumble, only half promising.

“Y/N.” His voice is stern now, wanting a full promise.

You groan and roll your eyes. “Fine. I’ll get some sleep today. Promise.”

“Thank you.”

Quickly, you pack the rest of your things away in your duffle bag before bidding Steve a good morning. Sleep hadn’t really been on your agenda today but you supposed you could squeeze it in somewhere. Maybe between training and your college level lessons. Getting taken so young, you hadn’t been able to finish high school or start college. Your kidnapper, who you only call Kirsh, had given extensive lessons in multiple languages and forced you to learn many fighting styles to become his own personal assassin, but that was all you learned for years. So you eventually got your GED and took online classes. It was easy when you could butter up to Tony about wanting to expand your mind. He really didn't need any convincing since he knew you were extremely smart. What truly convinced him, though, was when you called geometry arbitrary when you first arrived, which nearly made his heart stop (again), so he threw as much money at you so you’d never say something like that again. Even if you still sort of hated math.

Before returning to your room for a shower and to check your loose schedule, you stopped by the kitchen for some food. Running as long as you did had worked up quite the appetite. You find you aren't alone when entering. At the dining table is Bucky, a book in one hand and a spoonful of oatmeal in the other. The sight of the mush makes you want to gag, so you quickly turn away to the fridge. There isn’t much in terms of breakfast items in there, so you swipe one of Natasha’s yogurts. You’ll pay her back after letting her know so she doesn’t wrongly interrogate someone. As you pass by him again, you try stealing a glance at what book he’s reading, and you realize it’s one of your cheesy romance novels.

“Where’d you find that?” Nearly six months of working around him and that’s the first thing you end up saying of your own volition? It sounded way too accusatory in your own ears.

But Bucky just hums thoughtfully, eyes stuck on the words, and spoon halfway to his mouth. “Coffee table.”

The two of you are friends but somehow entirely not at all. A better word would have to be co-workers. You have Steve in common, and your work. Your past as well and despite everything you had been through, Bucky can’t wrap his head around how you’re so bubbly all the time. He hasn’t voiced this concern, but Steve can always see it on his face, trying to reassure him that you’re just trying to appear okay. It only annoys him more that he comes off so grumpy, but it never seems to phase you. It nearly took you three months to realize Bucky actually didn’t hate you. There was a long adjustment period when you were brought in, making you empathize and your endless patience gave him a lot of leeway. He avoided most of the team as much as he could, so your interactions were fairly limited.

“I thought Sam was kidding about your lack of social skills.” You can’t help but tease. All you’ve seen from him are deep glares or bored neutrality. You’re actually unsure if he can make more than two expressions.

“Funny, Steve said something similar about you.” There’s a slight pull on one corner of his mouth, making your face burn in both embarrassment and annoyance.

“I guess we’re both rusty, then.” You mutter, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. In the short few years that you’ve been mostly on your own, you thought you’d gotten better. Apparently not. New people like this were still hard. “Maybe we could… help each other out.”

Placing the book open faced on the table, Bucky's eyebrow raises a fraction, and you take it as him being intrigued.

“I mean,” you straighten your posture, his words totally not getting the best of you. “I’ve gotten more practice in than you have. You’re more than welcome to come by my room any time and grab anything you’d like. I actually own a lot of books. Almost too many.” Having been given free will, you had gone a little crazy on the book buying. It was a comfort you remembered from before it all. “It’ll help catch you up on pop culture.”

“Sounds like I'm just getting help. What’ll you get in return?” He didn’t want to be someone’s project.

“I dunno.” You shrug noncommittally. “A friendship?” He doesn’t look too pleased by your wording. “How about acquaintances?”

“We’re hardly even classified as co-workers.”

“Look, just think about it, alright? I’ve got shit to do before this meeting and-“ you brave looking him right in the eye. “What’s so bad about a few books? Learning cool new slang, or references. You’d be a hell of a lot cooler than Steve. He’s catching on, but still the old man around here.”

Before he can give you a straight answer, you leave him to think in the kitchen alone. You felt for Bucky. Adjusting from nearly a decade of grooming and murder had left you feeling lost, so you can only imagine what several decades of re-programming felt like.

After your shower, you sit on your bed, a linguistics textbook in your lap. Picking school back up in your early to mid-twenties proved difficult, but after a lot of work, you passed a lot of the random classes you signed up for. You weren’t necessarily an official student at any college, more of a constant auditor. Tony told you a million times if you wanted to get a degree, it was never too late, but you’re a part of the team. It didn’t make sense getting a degree when you saved the general population as a full time job. Sometimes the world.

Several paragraphs later, your eyes begin to feel heavy and you’re regretting trying to study on your bed. The worry seems to disappear as you slowly let the needed sleep take over. Like you’re laying down for the first time in days. It’s warm and comforting, your limbs growing heavy until you’re completely gone.

It’s a sharp knock on your door followed by the soft voice of the AI that startles you awake. The textbook that had previously been resting on your lap gets flung onto the floor with a loud thud. It doesn’t help your racing heart as you stumble out of bed, no idea of the time or why you’ve been interrupted from sleep.

“Everything okay?” Sam asks, more curiously amused than concerned as you open the door.

“Yeah, I-“ rubbing sleep from your eyes, you glance behind yourself. “I accidentally fell asleep, I guess. What’s up?”

“You’re late for the briefing.”

“Fuck!” Your eyes widen, realizing you had completely slept through lunch. Now you can see the worry starting to bloom over Sam’s features. “Seriously?”

“If you need to sit out on this one—“

“No,” you say firmly, closing the door behind you. “No, I just needed some rest. I’m fine.”

Steve is in the middle of his spiel when you two walk in the conference room. He gives you a brief nod before returning his attention back to the rest of the team. The only seat left in the room for you is beside Bucky, who always chose to sit as far back as possible. In his lap is your book, facing open as he subtly reads it from being hidden underneath the conference table. You cover your smirk behind your hand and when you look back over to him, he’s looking right at you. Moving, you pretend to zip your mouth shut and throw away the key before trying to focus on what Steve was saying. You know Bucky hasn’t been out in the field since his return, so he got bored during these meetings but Steve sometimes gave him something to do.

“That should be all,” Steve concludes after a while. “Any technical or tactical questions can be directed to Bucky.”

When he doesn’t seem to react to his name, you kick the leg of his chair subtly, bringing his head back up. He blindly nods along to whatever Steve said and the meeting is adjourned. The room empties quickly but you hang behind to grab a few words with Steve. It’s stuff you already know, having been planning this mission for awhile, but you don’t want to disappoint him. As he leaves, you find Bucky still sitting, patiently waiting for you evidently as he doesn’t follow his best friend out. Slowly, he stands and walks around the table, never breaking eye contact. He slides the book toward you, glancing down at the same time as you before looking back up.

“I have conditions.”

“Of course.” You hadn’t expected any less, but his silent stare had left you feeling a little intimidated. “But I’m not here to torture you, Barnes.”

“You put me on that tiktok app, I’m breaking your phone.” Just as you open your mouth to ask how on earth he knows about that, he continues. “No social media. I want my privacy.”

“You at least should do the big three. Ya know, Facebook, insta, and Twitter. You don’t even have to use your real name. Make a fake account.”

“No.” He’s unamused.

“Okay, fine. Facebook’s for old people anyway. Two and I won’t even follow you on them.” Folding your arms across your chest, you don’t back down, but he stands his ground further by deepening his scowl. “God, one and you don’t have to follow me either.”

His eyes soften at your tone, the guilt of being a grump coming back. It’s hard to put his trust in someone he barely even knows. Someone who is being way too nice and patient with him.

“Fine.”

“Alright. Lemme see your phone.” You hold out a hand expectantly.

He blinks once.

“I don’t have one.”

“What?” You balk. “In all the buildings in the world, how do you not have a phone here? I at least assumed Tony made it a living requirement.”

“Haven’t needed one.” He shrugs a shoulder, indifferent to your shock.

“Alright, let’s go.” There’s an attempt at pushing him along to the door, but he doesn’t budge and you don’t feel like wasting too much physical energy. “Come on, encino man. We’re going to order you a phone. Consider this lesson number one: the magic of online shopping.”

It isn’t much of a lesson as you do all of the shopping, picking out the best phone for him, while he peruses for a different book. The large bookshelf is pressed against the farthest wall of the room, but you own so many books, you’ve had to resort to stacking them on the floor next to it. He focuses on what’s shelved, knowing there’s time to get through them before moving to what’s on the floor. When you place the order, he argues with you about you using your own money to buy his phone, but you put your foot down, refusing his offer of paying. Eventually he leaves your room, grumbling about how hard headed you are, but you were just happy to see him leave with a book. Before you can revel in your victory for too long, F.R.I.D.A.Y. reminds you to get ready for your upcoming mission, even though it isn’t for another day.

It fucking sucked to say the least. Everyone’s cover got blown pretty quickly, meaning someone got word of your arrival. You get your ass kicked good, but you keep the heat off of Steve long enough to get what they came for. Back at the compound after a debriefing, you promise to fill out a more detailed account of what happened when your head isn’t throbbing anymore. He lets you go with a pat on your back and a ‘you did good, kid.’ You rush outside, pulling out your secret stash of cigarettes at your secret spot, and take the large drag you desperately needed. Fuck, you think as you breathe out, what a shit show. Just as you get halfway through, you hear a door open nearby, causing you to curse under your breath, and try to stub it out quickly before tossing it far. Trying to get rid of some of the smoke, you wave your hand wildly in the air. Bucky turns the corner and you play it off as if you were waving to him.

“Steve said I’d find you out here.” He’s got a jacket on even though you’re positive he doesn't need it.

“Just…” clearing your throat, you try to come off as natural as you can. He probably wouldn’t care that you smoked, but he doesn’t know that you do it in secret and then accidentally rat you out to someone. “Decompressing with some fresh air. What’s up?”

“Well,” he reaches inside the pockets of his jeans and holds out a phone. “I’m here for your number.”

“I thought you used to be all Mr. Smooth.” You tease with a shit eating grin and if it wasn’t so dark, you’d actually believe there’s a blush dusting his cheeks. Taking the phone anyway, you start adding your information. “Surely you can do better?”

“Ah,” he laughs sheepishly, and runs a hand through his hair. When he looks up through his eyelashes, you see how he was such a ladies man. “Could I?”

“You know when you text you don’t have to be all formal?” You double check while handing his new phone back, instead of answering lamely with the same sheepish laugh. “You know something like ‘my dearest y/n’ and ‘with love, James Buchanan.’”

“Just for that, I’m changing your contact name.” He pockets the device, while trying to look annoyed but you can see the brightness in his eyes. You feel successful that you made the grump smile.

“Oh, you know how to?”

“Okay, I get it.” Both of your laughter dies down, and you’re left in heavy silence, Bucky clearing his throat as his lips dip into a frown. “You should take care of that.” He gestures to his own forehead, but you know the gash he’s talking about.

“Should take care of everything, really.” The longer you stand, the more aware you are of how sore your body is. As he nods, you start to head back to the building but turn back at the last second. “Hey, um, you’re doing good, you know?”

All he can do is nod, avoiding your eyes, but you know it was something you wanted to hear that first year. You don’t know everything, definitely haven’t experienced everything he had, but you have enough in common that you desperately want him to get better. Hope that you can make him smile just like he had. He looked like the Bucky from the photos you had seen. It made you feel like a huge sap, trying to feel so hopeful. With a soft smile, you turn for the building and leave him outside, missing the soft smile he gave in return.

[smellslikemultifandomimagines]

Nsfw alphabet with Brett talbot Please

Also:

pairing: brett talbot (18+) x fem!reader

warnings: smut → nsfw alphabet

headcanon 🖤

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:• ☾ ☼ ☽ •:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

requests are open🖤

request guidelines✨

🌻masterlist🌻

smut night masterlist 💦

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

would be so different to how he is in bed

brett would be super gentle, loving, forgiving 👀

he would take your pain away while peppering kisses all over your body

would run you a bath or a shower

though there would be occasions where he doesn't stay the night and would have to leave pretty soon after, no matter how many attempts you try to get him to stay

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

your wrists honestly

he loves being able to tie them up, pin them to your side or above your hand, guide your hand through your wrist to his crotch

ahh would 100% love watching your hand work his cock, the way your wrist would flick up and down or twisting your hand around his cock

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

brett would love to cum in your mouth

seeing his cum spill out from the corners of your mouth and you have to swipe it off with your thumb

he would die omg

and watching you swallow!!!

even if you can't, like he wouldn't care tbh

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

omg so an anon and i talked about this actually and we think that he would so keep your panties

not in a creepy way, but more in the way of fucking in a public area and him stashing them in his pants as a sign of pride

or even going out with friends and he returns them to you in front of them lmaooo

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

ah not a lot

maybe a little bit if he's had a gf before you

but if not, then no lol

though the thing about brett, is due to his heightened senses, he's able to be that extra attentive to your body and figure out very quickly what you like and don't like

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

head down, ass up

ugh gets him every time

his hands would grasp at your hips, occasionally slapping your ass

also really useful when someone is home and you're having to muffle your moans into the pillow lol

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

to brett, sex is usually a game. You have to deserve to cum

and if you cum without his permission, well you can expect to be punished

i think he does like to lighten the mood during aftercare though or when trying new kinks to see if you're doing okay

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

you know, i'm going to say not really

i think he has too much pride in being able to grow hair ya know

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

brett is very focused and methodical - he knows what he's going to do, when he's going to do it, how he's going to do it

he aims to please, but he has rules with how he goes about pleasing you and what he thinks you deserve

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

not really??

i think your sex life is very experimental where you both get to act out your fantasies so he doesn't feel the need to tbh

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

have also talked about this here

oop spanking

public sex - like in a restaurant bathroom or something

light bondage

light bdsm - in the sense of loving to see your body bruised after a good fuck / overstimulating you until you're crying bc it hurts so good

switch - i've mentioned before that he has too strong of a dominant persona to be a complete sub, but there will be times when he gets super turned on by you domming every once in a blue moon

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

definitely his car

public bathrooms

i suppose anywhere you're not supposed to be lol

obviously the bedroom too lol

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

you being a brat lmao

having you entirely at his mercy lmao

ohoh ohohoho having you masturbate for him when he watches and then he fucks you into oblivion or even walking in on you lmao

you wearing something really nice and he's like :o

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

anything you're not on board with

kinks and acting on fantasies are thing that you both need to agree on, so if you're uncomfortable with something, he won't even bother trying

(this is why communication is such an important thing!!)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

okay so im in between on whether he's a giver or a receiver

as i said before, brett aims to please

this obviously means he loves going down on you & teasing the hell out of you

but

he also loves having you go down on him

and there would be times when he orders you to suck him off (consensually of course lol)

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

hard, rough and fast baby

that man could fuck you into oblivion

but there will be times where the sex isn't crazy and full of kinks lmao

other times brett can be super sweet, especially when you've had a hard day or just need something more tender and slow

he's a very understanding, particularly when it comes to sex.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

oooooh yeah

like i said before, one of his favourite locations would be a public bathroom or maybe even fingering you under the dinner table

these would occur more if you were acting bratty and he needed to stop your attitude

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

girl omg brett loves a good risk

when trying new things, risks are bound to happen

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

oh honey, rounds, lots and lots of rounds

it has never been a 2 second thing then done

like he has a lot of self-control and even if he does cum early, he's able to make it up by hours of teasing you and eating you out

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

oop yeah

the usual vibrators and handcuffs

literally anything you want to try, he's down with

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

oh yeah omg

teasing is a must for brett

he is a teasing king

he could edge you for hours if he could, loving how much you beg and whine for him. they way you writhe underneath him, body trembling with ache bc you want to cum so badly

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

i can imagine not very loud, but more vocal

like we're talking dirty talk, praising, asking you to beg, chuckling

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

sub!brett would include him whining and being super pissy that he's not in control

you would love the power switch and would always say things like, "this is what you do to me," or "not so fun when it's your turn, now is it?"

would still try and fuck you, even if he's tied up lol

he would get so frustrated when you edge him though ahah

but i think overall, he would love when you're in charge - there's nothing like a woman being the boss, especially in bed

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

average and would 100% know how to use it lol

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

you know i'd day pretty high, but like i mentioned before, brett has a lot of self-control, so if you weren't in the mood, he'd never force you to do anything

plus as well, if you were in a public place and there were really no areas to go and have a sneaky fuck, he'd be able to control himself and at least wait until you got home / in the car lmao

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

i think brett is the type to stay awake for a long while after. he likes knowing that you're okay, even if you have fallen asleep

he knows that being a sub and experimenting with quite harsh kinks can be super taxing on you, so he's very patient in that respect

═══════*.·:·.☽✧✦✧☾.·:·.*═══════

tag list: (click here to be apart of the tag list!)

@dylanobrienhehe // @jermaee // @boxofsteampunkplaces // @mollyknm // @greengarsstuff // @caswinchester2000 // @fandomfoodiedancer // @bailaycantaconmingo // @angelcbf // @daniellegreavess // @shrekaliciouz // @todorokis-whore // @v3niceb1tchldr // @stellastyless // @jenniferrvsesi // @madaline1hatter // @dylxnshxrmxn // @smutlover123 // @lildylsprayberryswhore // @lim3rencee

═══════*.·:·.☽✧✦✧☾.·:·.*═══════

[ann-era]

Epsilon (.end)

Title: Epsilon [ part 1 ] / [ part 2 ] / [ end ]

Pairing : Alpha!Steve Rogers x Omega!Reader (R18) Warnings(?)/ tags: manipulation, smut, soft dark!Steve Rogers, unbeta(ed), canon-divergence, heavy angst

a/n: Steve is fluent in multiple languages, Spanish being one of them... and i just wanted an excuse to have a try at smut with it. there ya go. ;)

Things had settled into a routine.

**by proceeding to read, you agree you are aware of the warnings.

2024. early spring.

With the infinity stones returned, life started back for the world. An almost neurotic routine. He didn't miss having his vibranium shield, he had a new purpose in life now.

His job as the CEO of EveBiotech kept him plenty busy without having to look over his shoulder for the fate of the world. He went on time-heist missions, he could afford to run a company on his own.

He was working the 9-5, had an expecting wife at home. Life was good.

He turned on his side, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest. Little puffs of air accompany your breathing. Carefully reaching his arm across your midsection. His warm palm resting on the bump that carried the new life inside of you.

His alpha instincts went stir crazy, refusing to let you out of his sight, you went absolutely feral, livid over his fussing that you had all but screamed at him to leave you alone for the remainder of the evening. Had not been for your condition, he would have you bent over the table without so much as a warning.

You stirred in your sleep, grumbling out a noise of annoyance, pushing your face closer to the pillow. You always were complaining his hands were like a furnace. He attributed it to the enhanced metabolism that caused his temperature to be warmer than average.

His hand carded through the length of your hair, stopping right past your shoulders. The swell of your stomach, your curves in all the right places, preparing you for motherhood.

Gently massaging the pressure point of your lower back, what he didn’t expect was the small sigh of pleasure that went straight to Steve’s groin. He caught the change in your breathing pattern, pulling you flush against him again. His desire evident by the hardness pressed against your back.

Steve barely held back his grin, look who’s suddenly wide awake.

“Te extraño mucho amor mío …” He growled; the sounds were hot against your ear. He reached under the covers, stroking the insides of your thigh, rubbing against your mound on the apex of your thigh.

By the gods, if you weren't so aroused, you would had slapped your Alpha. Ever since he knew how turned on you ere by him speaking a foreign language, he has taunted you, teased you to no end.

“That's not fair, I don't know what you're saying.” You pouted, your disdain evident as your hands moves to his head, carding your fingers through his light curls. He relished in the comforting feeling.

"Hmm.." He rubs his nose against yours, "but you already know what it means." He crashed his lips on you in sheer desperation, like a man in thirst and you were his only oasis.

You responded in kind. Your hands cupping his face, rolling him on his back, you straddled him. Planting heady, noisy kisses on his cheek. The scruff of his coarse facial hair eliciting an involuntary laugh from you. He knew you liked his beard.

He’s the source of your pain, source of your pleasure. Either way he’s the only one that gets to make you a crying mess at the end.

“Thought you liked the beard, nena.” A coy smile playing on your lips. Your arousal rolling off him in waves.

His hand rubbing absentmindedly on the side of your thighs, waist, holding you steady as you leaned forward to rest your head against his shoulder, your knees on the sides of his waist. You took in his features, your mind drifting away, getting lost in his exasperating baby blue eyes, one that you hoped your baby would inherit. Or would your baby take after your darker ones?

He was careful to shift you on your knees with his chest pressed against your back.

You yelped as his palm connected hard against your perky ass. His hand against the swell of your stomach. There was no distinction of the ragged voices, you bucked your hips against his.

“Ah ah ah…” He tutted, running a finger up your slit before bringing it to his mouth.

“Dios, I didn’t think you could get any wetter, already gushing for me, mi amor?” His coarse facial hair rubbing against your thigh, giving your aching cunt a long swipe of his tongue.

“It should be- ahnn. Mm..” you panted, “it should be illegal, ah- for you to speak in a foreign language.”

“It’s only foreign if you don’t know it…” He prodded second finger in your dripping hole, he hummed thoughtfully at what you were trying to get across.

Your hands gripped the sheets, your knuckles turning white. He continued lapping up your slick juices, his groans, his tongue dragging against the insides of your walls, sending you over the edge.

“That’s it, doll, one more, give it to your Alpha.” His fingers started an unrelenting pace, adding in another digit to your abused hole. The simmer coming to a burn as you came undone, your head lolled forward, sapped of all energy. His hand gripping fiercely on your hip, unrelenting, keeping you on your knees.

You nodded your head, biting your lip, he was kissing a path from neck to your temples, and you shattered again from his fingers, your slick dripping against your thigh. You cried out into a lewd moan that was absolutely carnal to his ears. He took your form in, breathing ragged, your pupils blown wide in arousal, needy whines stoking his lust.

“… so good, my little slut.” He sang his praises into your neck, basking in where your scent was strongest, a decadent vanilla compound with his bourbon and mahogany undertone mingling. Admiring the scar where he had marked you. “On your back, now.” Doing as you were told; you shifted carefully on your back.

Your thighs tensing and clenching, as he lined his shaft to your opening, prodding at the slick entrance. Your moans dying on his mouth when he slammed his lips back to yours.

He slipped his arm underneath your back, pulling you even closer to him.

His thrusts being more and more erratic with every minute. You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into his neck, taking in your Alpha’s scent, his woody and bourbon musk overwhelming your already fucked out senses.

“I love seeing you so full like this. Can’t wait to put another baby… – in you.” You tipped over to an orgasm from the low rumble of his lust driven tone. He bit down on your inflamed scent glands, drawing blood. The reaction was instantaneous, your walls clamping, your throat choked out a scream before creaming around his cock.

Your body still shaking as you cum, finding it hard to get a grasp on reality as he fucked you through your orgasm, chasing his own. He followed you soon after, pressing you as close to him as he could while he emptied his load inside of you. He choked out a guttural groan, marveling at how well your cunt was at milking every last drop of his cum. He didn't pulled out just yet. He kissed the tips of your fingers, the erotic sight of him then taking your index finger in his mouth, humming in pleasure and you whined at the unfairness, and with the way your pussy was squeezing down on his cock was any indication that you hardly had enough.

“You’re so pretty like this, I just can’t help but. eat. you. up.” He punctuated his words by nipping on your fingers. Attempting to bite at your nose next, you whimpered pathetically turning your face away.

“No… No more…” You shook your head weakly, a strangled sob escaping you.

He grinned impishly, grabbing at your calves to put your legs on his shoulder, kissing the inside of your thigh.

He'll never be able to leave you. Not with the baby. Not with the image he meticulously created for himself.

The doting mate you had portrayed to the world. Loving, meek, obedient Omega to Steve Rogers. The world will eat him up alive for the mere thought of leaving.

He rubbed his palm over the peak of your abdomen, lazily you traced the line of his collarbone. Lowering your finger till it stopped right above his sternum.

He knew what you wanted.

You knew what he did.

A dark look crossing your features as your lips pulled into a Cheshire grin. He likened you to his own Nerium oleander. Sweet, but will kill him all the same once consumed.

Your existence blinded him. In the purest sense of the word; he loses his vision whenever when he’s with you. He buried the woman he loved in the past, swearing to forget her. He had all but torn his legacy apart, damned himself to keep your Epsilon status well-guarded, corrupting his soul, his principles all in the name love.

Steve had made you believe that you were special, that you were in his league. Loving him made you feel different, like you could take on the world too.

When you loved him, you did everything you could to please him, to pretend to be the woman he would adore and devote his attention on. The obedient, meek, doting omega.

And when you hated him - you were the next best version of yourself, because you deigned and obeyed what he wanted to the T. You took care of your own image, your physical well-being, you ate well, you went on morning walks while he sprints the whole goddamn central park by himself.

You became the self obsessed omega that checked yourself for wrinkles around your eyes and neck just because Steve had lingered his gaze on the young doctor one time a little too long for your liking.

Trapped in the depths of your love, obsession, devotion, passion, repulsion, mirrored his very own as stormy and dangerous as the Aegean Sea.

[helliontherapscallion]

Shenanigans and Love (Adrenaline Junkie Part 13)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 10     Part 11     Part 12     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: the Warden, mentions of death, phantom pain syndrome, extreme fluff

Word count: 3,226

The light glow of the redstone lamp illuminated your work space. Currently, it was about two hours before everybody was due to wake up and you were hovering over your journal containing your notes on the Warden. Not much was known about the cave-dwelling creature, but you found a couple of books about it at the library. So far, you found out that it indeed didn’t have eyes; it navigated via a mixture of hearing and a vibration network found in the blocks that had the glowing tentacles on them (you now knew that they were called ‘sculk blocks’). The sculk blocks would pick up on movement or touch, it would send vibration waves through the air, where it would reach the Warden’s own sculk stalks. Without the sculk stalks on the Warden’s head, the Warden was defenseless.

You also read about the anatomy of the creature. Known juvenile specimens ranged from seven to eleven feet tall while adults spanned from twelve to a whopping twenty feet tall. While their average lifespan is unknown due to the parasitic nature of the beast, it is known that they are out of their juvenile stage once they are approximately twenty years old. Thinking back on the one in the cave, it was about twice as tall as you were. That was a juvenile mob and it’s probably grown rapidly since then. The thing that killed you so viciously was a juvenile. You shuddered thinking about what an adult could do.

Juveniles are charted to be more erratic in their decisions while adults were known to be calculating and alert. Known weaknesses were known to be the sculk stalks and the heart. It was going to be incredibly difficult to take it down by yourself, but if worse comes to worse, you’d gladly take the beast down with you. Just in case, you left behind a small will with things you were planning on giving to your family. You were going to leave your workshop and your blueprints to Arthur, your collection of diamonds to Tommy and Wilbur, your stock of netherite and gold to Technoblade, and your wealth and life savings to Philza. You requested that Philza take care of Arthur, you couldn’t ask for a better father figure to have than Philza. Only the best for Arthur. In addition, you had a letter prepared for every member of your family. They were still in their first drafts, but they were coming along fast. In them, you detailed how grateful you were for every single one of them and reminisced on your favorite memory you shared with them. You still had about a week and a half left before you planned on attacking the cave, but you always liked to have extra time to complete things.

Your alarm clock sounded with harsh, lazer like beeps before you quickly silenced it. You didn’t need Arthur or Philza waking up so early. Sighing, you hid your journal and letters under a false bottom drawer and gently closed it. You trudged up the stairs quietly and made your way to the bathroom to shower for the day. When you took off your prosthetic, you could feel the phantom pains shoot up your nonexistent wing. In addition to that, the feathered stump and the areas around it felt stiff. The warmth of the shower did nothing to alleviate the pain.

After your shower, you started to make breakfast. Soon after, the other members of the household filed into the kitchen with differing energies. Arthur, the hyper, knowledge craving kid he was, walked into the kitchen with a bounce in his step and his head held high while Philza followed him with disheveled hair and tired blue eyes. With breakfast situated at the table, everyone started eating. You continuously shifting uncomfortably in your seat didn’t go unnoticed by the two as they eyed you after they woke up a little more.

Finally having enough of your constant movement, Philza finally spoke up, “(y/n)?” You hummed, turning to look at him, “yeah?”

“Is everything okay?”

You suddenly become hyper aware of your movements as you force your body to sit still. “Everything’s fine, why you ask?”

“You look a little uncomfortable. Are you sure everything’s alright?”

You sighed, “I’ll tell you later. Arthur did you have anything specific you wanted to learn today?”

His eyes shone with the brightness of all of the stars in the universe as he made quick work to swallow his mouthful of toast, jumping in his seat slightly as he chewed. “Yes! I was wondering if you could teach me how to work with comparators!”

“That takes a lot of time and patience to learn, we probably won’t get it all done by the end of the day today. Is that alright?” He enthusiastically nodded, shoving the last bit of toast in his mouth and running off with a mouthful of unchewed bread.

You could feel a slight worry stab your gut, “Arthur, swallow your food before you run! You could choke!”

You watched as he stopped at the bottom of the stairs, vigorously chewed, swallowed, and resumed his sprint upstairs. You dragged a tired hand through your hair and sipped at your coffee.

“Ender, now I know how you felt with us when we were kids. Kid’s gonna be the death of me.”

Your dad chuckled, sipping at his own coffee. “He’s a lot more tame than you four were. Techno and Wilbur weren’t that bad, you were just a tad bit more chaotic, and well, you remember how Tommy was. You’re just way too worried about him. Kids will be kids, they do crazy things and sometimes you can’t stop them. After the couple months of adopting Tommy, I just let him learn from his mistakes. You gotta let them learn from their mistakes or else they’re never gonna learn. It’s just something all parents have to do if they want their kid to grow as a person.”

“That’s tr- wait, parent? Arthur’s my protégé, not my kid.”

He smirked over his mug and raised an eyebrow at you, “really? Cuz you seem awfully worried about him.”

“Dad. I’m just worried that he’s gonna accidentally kill himself. What, can I not be worried about my protégé?”

“No need to get defensive, just trying to point out the obvious-”

“The obvious? Dad, I'm only twenty. I’m not adopting anyone anytime soon.”

“I adopted Techno when I was twenty three,” he pointed out with raised eyebrows, “besides, I think you’d be a great parent. You’re already a parental figure for Arthur anyways, so nothing would change too much.”

You were silent for a moment as you stared at him blankly. You never viewed yourself as a parental figure type before. Your current lifestyle of never leaving your workshop would never be able to accommodate having someone that depended on you. You could hardly take care of a goldfish (you still had Bubbles’ grave in the backyard at your house in L’manberg), let alone an entire human child. Sure, you babysat Fundy when Niki was too busy to, but that was your nephew and it was only for a day at a time. You planned on taking Arthur with you back to L’manberg (only if he wanted to of course), but you didn’t think that far ahead. He was probably going to have to stay at your house. You weren’t cut out to be a parent, you wouldn’t be good enough for Arthur.

Philza, noticing your slightly panicked zoned out state, quickly reassured you, “you don’t have to make a definitive decision right now, you have time. Just- just consider it. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to come to me. I think I’ve raised enough kids to know what I’m doing,” he chuckled to himself.

Your feathered wing dropped in relief as you gave him your best smile over your coffee mug. “Thanks Dad, I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you, you’re a lifesaver.” Right after that, a particularly large burst of pain shot along the length of your nonexistent right wing and loitered in the area around the base of your wing. You bit your tongue at the sudden pain as you felt the muscles twitch.

“It’s no problem, I’ll always be here to help ya.” He smiled at you before his eyes snapped to something behind you. His smile dropped as he eyed you concerningly, pointing behind you. “Is- is it supposed to do that?”

You followed his eyes behind you to your prosthetic wing. The metal was twitching in sporadic bursts with varying intensity. You could hear the slight scratching of the metal clashing lightly against the wooden chair. Though it was very inconvenient, you supposed you should be glad that it was moving with the muscle impulses of the muscles you used in flight. Suddenly, you could feel a muscle directly on the base of your wing twitch as the metal moved in tandem with the impulse. The entire wing extended to it’s full length and knocked over the chair next to you. It stood erect for a bit before another twitch caused another spasm that worked its way throughout the length of your metal wing. This time, the wing reared back to your body and almost smacked you in the face. If you didn’t move, your eye would’ve probably been plucked out by one of the metal feathers.

Your flesh wing puffed up slightly in embarrassment as you turned to look back at the blond man in front of you, “technically? I mean, it’s just the sensors picking up on the twitching. I-I’ll get the chair.”

As you stood up, you grunted in pain as another spasm hit you. This time, your wing extended fully perpendicularly to your back causing the muscles in the base of your nubby wing to be pulled unexpectedly. Hissing, your hand shot to rub at the base of your wing. “Fuck that was a bad one.”

You heard the screech of wood on wood as Philza stood up and hurried over to you, dodging a couple of swings from your wing. His hands were hovering indecisively in front of him. “Tell me what I need to do.”

“Take it off. Just- hhh, just take the sensors off. There should be seven of them, all on my back and shoulders.” You bent over with your hands gripping the table with each spasm of your muscles. You could feel the fabric of your shirt being pulled slightly from your body and the warmth of your dad’s hand brushing against your twitching skin as he hurriedly ripped the sensors off your skin.

Once they were all off, the metal wing drooped limply downwards, occasionally being moved slightly when what’s left of the flesh stiffened. “Good, can you unfasten the belts? There’s three of them, they’re a little- ah, a little tricky. After that, carefully pull the metal out through the slit in my shirt. Make sur- sure the sensors don’t rip.”

You sighed when you felt the wing being taken off from you and pulled through the slit in your shirt. Slumping back down into your chair, you reached a hand around to nead the skin on your back. You could feel the twitching slowly decrease in intensity, leaving a sore feeling in its wake. Your wing was placed gently onto the table in front of you, some parts hanging off the side. “Goddamn, I haven’t had an episode that bad since I grinded out making weapons for the War.”

You could hear water running before a glass was placed in front of you and Philza picked up the chair you knocked over and pulled it up next to you. He started to rub circles around the muscles around your wing. You sighed in content, feeling the knots in your back being relieved, “thanks. That feels good.”

“(y/n)?” A small voice said from the doorway of the kitchen. You shot up and bit back a groan when your sore muscles were moved. The young boy was leaning into the doorway with his hands on the sides and his mop of brilliant copper hair hung downwards. He looked worried and slightly scared.

“Hey Arthur, we can start your lesson soon, I just need a sec.”

“Are you okay?” His wavering tone and small voice combined with the tears slowly filling his eyes broke your heart. Eyes softening, you stood up and walked over to him, pulling him into a soft hug. “Of course I’m okay, you don’t need to worry buddy,” you deepened your voice and spoke dramatically, ‘(Y/n) Minecraft the Great, Conqueror of the Unknown’ will never be taken down!”

He gave a watery chuckle against your shirt and burrowed his head deeper into your shoulder, gripping you tighter. You reached up to stroke his hair and wrapped your left wing around him loosely, shielding him from the world with a protective feathery barrier. You could hear Philza picking up dishes from the table and quietly start to do the dishes. Despite the occasional twitch in your back and the phantom pain shooting down your wing, you directed all of your attention to Arthur. Eventually, he pulled away and wiped at his blotchy face. “Are you still up for the lesson?”

Just as Arthur opened his mouth, Philza interrupted him from behind you, “you’re not doing anything until you feel better (y/n).”

“Dad, honestly it isn’t that-”

“Don’t say it honestly isn’t that bad, we both know that’s not true. You’re on bedrest for today.”

You grumbled to yourself as you stood up and handed your glass of water to Arthur, who sipped at the contents giving you a small “thank you.” Nodding, you were escorted out of the kitchen by Philza and ushered to the couch. Once you were laying down on your stomach, he handed you a book and placed a hot water bottle on your back. Before you could stop it, a pleased hum left your lips as your body relaxed on the couch. “You’re staying here. I better not find you anywhere else when Arthur and I come home.”

You lifted your head up and stared at him with an eyebrow raised, “where’re you taking him?”

The corners of his mouth twitched and his eyes lit up slightly before he put on his stern facade once more. “Just to the village. I need to pick up a few things.”

“And you need him why…?”

“Well, I can’t go without someone helping me! I’m an old man after all.” He started to nudge Arthur towards the door and slipped his shoes on.

“You’re only thirty six, but whatever. Arthur, be good for my dad.”

“Alright (y/n), feel better soon!” He gave you a bright smile before he was pulled out of the house by Philza.

You tried to read, but the nagging worry for Arthur in the back of your mind never allowed for you to be immersed in your book. You knew Philza would never let anything happen to him, but you couldn’t help but worry whenever Arthur wasn’t in your line of sight. You supposed that it was a part of being an avian hybrid; you needed to constantly know if the child was alright. You tried to force yourself to go to sleep, but the pain prevented you from doing so, so you ended up mindlessly watching the seconds tick by on the clock. Before you knew it, your eyes closed and you were put in a light slumber.

You were awoken by the front door opening and laughter filling the house. You cracked open your crusty eyes and groaned as you sat up. You looked at the two with bleary eyes. Arthur was laughing at something Philza said as the blond looked over at you. “Hey hun, you feelin better?”

“Yeah a bit. What’d you get at the village?”

“Just some things for dinner. Arthur, wanna help me cook?”

Arthur, being the walking ball of sunshine that he was, nodded vigorously and started to drag the older man to the kitchen. Furrowing your brow, you called out to them, “do you want me to help?”

“No, stay there. Don’t come in!” Arthur’s excited voice shouted back to you, making you raise a brow at his words. You couldn’t lie, you felt nervous at his words. Just what did he have in store for you? Occasionally, you could hear yelps and bangs, which made you want to go into the kitchen even more. But you held off, trusting Philza.

About an hour and a half passed before you were summoned to the kitchen by an overly excited Arthur. Once in the kitchen, you were in slight awe. Spread out on the table was your favorite meal with the addition of fresh cookies left to cool on the stovetop. “All this for me?”

They smiled at you as Arthur ushered you to your spot at the table. “I… don’t know what to say. I- thank you guys.”

“Don’t thank me, it was all Arthur’s idea. I just helped.” Philza looked over at the blushing boy with a smile.

You reached over to ruffle his hair, “well, thank you Arthur. You know me too well, these are all my favorites!”

The boy bashfully smiled at you, “there’s something else too, but that’s for after dinner.”

You put a hand against your heart, touched, “Two surprises in one day? Ender, you’re spoiling me!” Arthur laughed at you.

Dinner went by fast with light-hearted laughter bouncing throughout the kitchen. The dinner and cookies tasted amazing, your taste buds felt like they were in heaven. After dinner, Arthur drug you to your room with an excited Philza following you two. On your bed sat your wing, but it had colorful things attached to the surface. Furrowing your brow, you looked closer to find various magnets sticking to the iron surface.

They ranged from the nonbinary flag to small mobs to little puns (your favorite ones were ‘olive you’ and ‘bird puns fly right over my head’). You could feel your smile widening at every magnet you saw, your wing fluttering in happiness. One of the magnets made you stop completely though as you stared at it with wide eyes. It was simple, but oh did it make your heart sing in joy and your eyes fill with tears. On the magnet, in big, bold letters were the words ‘world’s best parent’.

“Arthur…” You looked at him through blurred vision. He looked nervous, looking anywhere but at you and shifting on the balls of his feet. You lunged forward and pulled him into a tight hug and wrapped your wing around him, making sure he was as close to you as possible.

Philza watched the exchange with a soft smile before he decided to let you two have some privacy. His heart was full of happiness as he walked downstairs to clean up the kitchen with a bounce in his step and his wings fluttering uncontrollably. He was ecstatic to officially welcome Arthur to his family. Sure, he had a small hand in leading Arthur over to the ‘world’s best parent’ magnet, but it was Arthur that picked out the magnet for you. He knew you were going to make a fantastic parent.

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@crybabyjabby  @izzybobizzy13  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @bunnyz-pxstel  @averytiredfanfictionwriter  @dcml04  @sparkling-gayyyy  @bbigbbrainn  @thaticecreambish  @kiinokochii  @satansphatass  @bxkubitch  @bxmentchildxx

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