#3 4 compression tights

[ianthedebonair]

pulling threads

[sempiternalmuze]

And we go on.

dr abbott x third year resident who feels with her whole soul. late night chinese takeout is how they connect

tags: dr. jack abbott x female!reader, jack calls reader kid ONE TIME, more off a slice of life deal we've got going on here, reader probs has anxiety ngl, full scope of relationship never really established, just kind of implied, jack abbott please save me pookie, reader loses patient, probably medical inaccuracy (sorry pitt and greys you raised me better), first fic in five minutes but I NEED this man, no use of y/n, female reader

enjoy and let me know <3

ϟ.·:¨༺ ♡ ༻¨:·.ϟ

"That's enough. Clock out. Now." Robby whispered, firmness and anger dripping from his tone.

You looked up at him, jaw clenched as you pushed around him, past Dana despite her best attempts to reach you, and straight to the elevator. You practically punched the fading 4 and waited for the doors to close. When they met in the middle you slid down the wall, breathing heavy.

Head pounding, fingers flexing as you recounted every step you'd taken on the patient. It should've been easy. Bag them, push the meds, step back. But something happened. She coded, her heart refused to cooperate. Robby had walked in, and that's when your head started spinning because god forbid you lose a patient in front of him. He'd told you to stop compressions five minutes ago. It wasn't fair.

The elevator stopped, you stood up, entering one of the empty rooms. This part of the hospital was empty, and the beds were heavenly after a shitshow in the Pitt. You sat, took down your hair. You glanced at your hands. They were shaking. A sob escaped you, a quiet, strangled sound that you fought hard to keep down.

The patient had been in her sixties, she was frail for her age. It probably wasn't your fault, but that didn't mean you weren't going to take it to heart. She had a life, a family. She woke up this morning, and now she was dead.

The tears had long run out. The AC was turning off and on, the buzz kept you awake. Your shift was over, but you didn't really want to go home. A buzz lit up your phone. You grabbed it, the text message bright as day.

Come downstairs, from Jack. You sighed, stood up and went back to the elevator.

When the doors opened, there he was. Dark washed out jeans, a tight blue tee, curls a bit disheveled.

"Robby called me." He barely had time to finish the sentence before you were pressed against him, arms holding tightly around his neck, as you breathed him in.

He didn't say anything, his arms wrapping around you, strong hands rubbing up and down your back. His head rested on yours, letting you take your time, regain your peace.

"Wanna get some Chinese?" You laughed and looked up at him, his soft eyes already looking down at you. You nodded. He presses the basement button, and the elevator moves. You two stand side by side, fingers brushing softly as the hum of the fluorescent lights sing around you.

You elect to grab your things during your next shift and soon enough you and Jack are off, walking in a hushed silence with the promise of orange chicken awaiting you.

At the restaurant (which is so courteous to be open late for the hospital workers or the loud college kids) Jack pays, much to your protests ("During my third year I could barely pay rent, you're not paying for your dinner") and you two sit in a booth in the back.

The food comes, the zesty warmth like a hug on what has been a shit day. After a few bites Jack pushes his white rice to the side and reaches across the table to you, his hand quick to find your own, fingers rubbing tiny shapes across the back of your palm.

"What happened out there today kid?"

Kid. It was such an arbitrary nickname that he'd assigned you when you two had first met. It made you feel small, like he didn't see anything past your age, past the gap of years between the two of you.

"I couldn't help her." Was all you could muster, barely looking up at him.

"No, you couldn't. She threw a clot. There wasn't anything anyone could do at that point. Not Robby, not me...not you sweetie." He leaned closer, his hand traveling to your arm now, pressing thumb into your forearm.

"You couldn't save her, but you've still got your pulse. You carry on. I'm not saying you should move on, I'm the last one to be giving out that advice." He smiles. And when Jack smiles you have to look, because its almost rare, almost a foreign action from him. So you look, and he catches your eyes, and you can't look away.

"I know you love with everything in your heart. I know you feel it all, its part of why I love you so damn much. But this work—and its work you are damn good at—you gotta pack it and set it on the curb."

You nod. His words have such power, they're so calculated but genuine. Never has Jack made you feel like your problems were small and stupid, or that you needed to get over it. But he did make sure you knew that you had to pack it up and move on to the next.

"How else are we supposed to live? We don't have to remember the reason, we just have to know its there." He'd told you after the fourth date.

You and Jack pack up the rest of the food, lunch for the next shift. He walks you home, he comes inside. Its quiet, the way you two interact. He doesn't push you, you don't need to thank him, because you both know where the line is, where the other person's head is at, and its so perfectly meshed for you both.

Its 10:43 pm when you crawl into bed, Jack laying beside you.

"You don't have to stay." You whisper.

"I know." Is all he whispers back, pulling you so your head rests against his bare chest, his arm hugging you close against his body. The night takes over, and you tangle your body with his.

And your head quiets.

ϟ.·:¨༺ ♡ ༻¨:·.ϟ

a/n: lol posting for the first time in MONTHS and I hope this is enjoyable. if you liked please like/reblog, it helps so much. give me feedback, I felt like I could see this "oc" coming together in my head and i'm wondering if I should make some sort of series from it. lots of love - muze

[cams-cult]

compression pt. 4⭐️

{ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 }

stepbro!chratt x brattystepsis!reader

★★!!NOT FUCKING INCEST!!★★ don’t read if your panties easily get in a twist, or do i don’t control you★★

summary- your dad and stepmom decide to take everyone out for a family day. so you decide you wear your bestest outfit to make your stepbrothers suffer.

your dad and stepmom had been planning this big family day full of activity and “fun” as your stepmom called it, meanwhile you and your idiotic stepbrothers had to obviously tag along.

although you thought the day would be disappointing and boring, it actually turned out to be very fun on your behalf. not to your stepbrothers though, they were absolutely miserable. your awfully short skirt hiked up your ass as your cleavage spilled out of your tight tank top.

it was lunchtime and you couldn’t be more excited. your stepbrothers on the other hand were not. they had been sending you daggers with their eyes all day. not to mention the snide comments they had been making.

it thrilled you all the more that they were feeling this way. it gave you a reassuring sense that you got them back at their own game.

the 5 of you sat at the table at this fancy restaurant that was treated by your father. your dad and stepmom on one side, and the 3 of you seated at your infamous placement which included you being sandwiched by the two boys.

your plan was to act completely oblivious to what you were doing to them. then again they knew that you knew that you were teasing. it felt amazing to give them a taste of their own medicine. besides, they couldn’t do anything to you in public.

or were they that low..?

you sat flipping through the menu, biting your lip, feigning innocence as you see chris shift in his seat through your peripheral vision. matt on the other hand managed to stay composed. you thought so atleast.

you look at chris, your eyes wide with mischief and ideas, “found something on the menu, chris? or having a hard time?” you bite your lip as you redirect your gaze to your own menu.

all of a sudden you feel a hand grip your thigh. you feel chris’s hot breath hit the side of your neck, sending chills down your spine.“you’re fuckin’ dead when we get home” he growls as he lets go of your thigh roughly, before pretending to look at the menu.

you smirk to yourself, having atleast one of them right where you want them.

the smirk that was plastered on your face was immediately wiped off as you feel yet another hand on your thigh giving you immediate flashbacks to the dinner table that started this all. matt who was the culprit, inches his hand further up your thigh making you all the more nervous.

“no no no no…please not here” you grab his hand, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “what are y’fuckin wearin’?” he scowls under his breath, pushing your hand away as he inches his hand back up your thigh.

“clothes? what? d’ya not like them?” you smirk mockingly as you feel your panties get pushed to the side. your eyes widen as you immediately enter panic mode.

you then feel a hand on your opposite thigh, sending shivers down your spine. “lucky f’you there’s extra clothes in the car” chris growls in your ear secretively.

“and?” you scoff as matt’s fingers trace along your wet slit, earning a subtle whine from you. “you can either go change, or get finger fucked under the table—y’decide” chris smirks devilishly as he too pulls your panties to the side.

“but i like this outfit!” you whisper protest as you glance at the both of them flushed. “y’look like a slut, and not just f’us” chris takes his hand out of your panties and grips your thigh possessively.

“go change or get finger fucked—your choice.” chris repeats again as he once again slides his finger up and down your thigh, inching closer to your heat. “you’re already in f’it when w’get home—might as well go and do this and we maybe will let you walk” his words send chills down your spine and a rush of heat to your throbbing cunt.

“fine!—fine! i’ll go change.” you slap their hands away as you slide your chair out and politely excuse yourself.

you walk out of the restaurant and into the vehicle as you search for the said clothes that were promised for you. you find a graphic tshirt that chris had worn several times and matt’s sweats that hadn’t been washed from the gym prior to yesterday.

lovely. a hobo tshirt and smelly pants. you roll your eyes as you grab the clothes and quickly change in the car, making sure outsiders wouldn’t see you.

your cunt was still dripping as you changed. they drove you ballistic but you couldn’t get enough of them. they were all you thought about anymore. anything you did was for their attention and their attention only. you loved getting reprimanded by them and punished by them. it was so wrong but it was such a rush. you craved their words of correction and their gaze of disapproval. it just meant that you were in for more. that’s all you needed.

once you’re finally dressed you head back into the restaurant and see your two stepbrothers smirking mockingly at their seats. you quickly squeeze back in and plop down next to them.

your legs pushed together almost instantly as you tried to soothe yourself. they of course noticed because they notice everything.

“happy now?” you mumble under your breath earning a chuckle from matt. you did NOT want to go anywhere else after this in these clothes. you had to make up a white lie so that you could go home and soothe yourself and get away from the antichrists that were your stepbrothers.

“daddy, can we please go home after this? i don’t feel s’good” you whine as you try your best to put on the act that you really were sick.

your dads expression changes to worry as his attention is redirected to you “is everything okay, sweetie?” your dad puts his fork down, looking worriedly at you and your sudden change of tone and clothes? “i don’t feel s’good—i have a headache..” you whine as you put your head down.

your stepbrothers clearly weren’t buying it, but your dad and stepmom did and luckily for you, plans were changed and now you’re going straight home after this. but at the same time you were quite unlucky. your stepbrothers had it in for you for teasing them all day.

you then feel two sets of hands back on your thigh as you shoot both of the boys a glare. “such a good girl, hm?—y’look s’pretty in our clothes.” matt coos as he pats your thigh.

chris traces circles on your thigh “you’re still in trouble though—don’t let that go unnoticed.” he scoffs as your dad writes the check and the 5 of you head out.

a/n: i needed to feed you all. this one is definitely not my favorite, but pt. 5 will be out soon!

taglist: @starrii-sturns @sturns-mermaid @emely9274 @hjvi @chrepsi @chrisstomach @izzylovesmatt @mattssslutbby @pr3ttylittleslutt @chrisslut04 @fratbrochrisgf @sturnsxbitvh @grace-sturnz @victoriassadcorner @divinesturn @sturniolo-szn2 @riasturns @chrissweetheart @mattssslutbby @jensturnss @athaliahxoxo @whore4chris

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Your lips | Pt. 2

(A/N) Good god, I love the scottish translator. Also, thank you for all the notes on Part 1. 🥺

Pairing: Simon x fem!pregnant!Reader

Warning: mutual pining, medical stuff (nothing graphic), mention of scars, pregnancy, kissis

Synopsis: Simon makes sure to take care of you. Especially when a certain someone comes back into your life.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Epilogue

Two steps out of your house and you almost dropped your decaf coffee. Not that that wasn’t a common occurrence, not since the baby had started kicking and you started getting Braxton Hicks contractions. But this time, you almost dropped it because of the man standing in your driveway. The man and the car behind him.

“Simon?”

He wasn’t wearing his standard uniform, instead sporting grey sweatpants, which hung dangerously low on his hips, and a very, very, very tight black compression shirt. You couldn’t decide if he looked as if he had just rolled out of bed or as if he had just gotten done working out. Secretly, you hoped it was the second option.

“How long have you been waiting for?”

As quickly as your state allowed you to, you walked towards him, but ever the gentleman, he met you halfway and immediately grabbed the bag from your shoulder, before offering you his arm, just like the day before.

“Only a few minutes.”

(He had been standing in that one spot for almost 40 minutes, waiting for you to come out.)

You glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow once he turned his head to look at you as well.

“Already told you, you shouldn’t be on your feet this much.”

He quickly turned his head, instead focusing his eyes on the car he was leading you to, but you would swear on your life that you saw a little bit of pink peeking out from behind the mask he was wearing. Your lips pulled into a smile as you felt your own cheeks heat up.

Within ten minutes, Simon parked the car right in front of the clinic doors. You frowned slightly, watching Simon round the car and open your door to help you out.

“Don’t worry, I just want to get you inside, then I’ll leave.”

You chuckle as you link your arm with his.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

Once you realized what you just said, you slapped your free hand over your mouth.

“I-I mean I…ahm…I mean thank you. I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to get rid of you. Not after everything you’re doing for me.”

You could tell by the crinkles surrounding his eyes, that he was smiling.

“Well, I’m glad you’re not trying to get rid of me.”

You grinned at him, ignoring the stares from your colleagues as he slowly guided you to your office. Once inside, he made sure you were sat down and had everything you needed before he bid his goodbye and swiftly left.

Within seconds of his departure, one of your favorite colleagues entered the office, a stupid grin on her face. But you held up your hand before she could say anything.

“No, nothing is going on between us. He’s just being nice and taking care of a lonely, pregnant lady.”

You stopped for a second, looking her in the eyes before a grin took over your lips.

“Do I wish something was going on? Definitely.”

This caused your colleague to squeal in excitement as she rushed towards you. On her way, she grabbed the stool on wheels, sitting down midway and using her momentum to slide and stop right next to you.

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

So, you spend the hour you usually took to prepare for the day, recounting everything that had happened so far for her. She listened as if you were telling the most amazing tale, asking questions at the perfect moments and nodding along.

Once it was time for your first patient, you had to usher her out of your office, promising to tell her more during lunch break.

A few days later

You smiled at your phone, a new text from Simon popping up.

“Got a long lunch break. Anything you’re craving?”

You quickly typed your response, naming a few items from your favorite fast-food restaurant. Simon sent back a thumbs-up emoji and you couldn’t help the excitement bubbling up in your stomach. Or was it butterflies?

But before you could focus on lunch, you had one more patient. Although you didn’t know who it was, you knew that it was a check-up for an old injury. All you had to do was check it out and either prescribe further treatment or give them the clear for duty.

When the awaited knock sounded out from your door, you called out to enter without looking up from your screen. You heard the door open and a few steps, before they stopped abruptly. Confused, you lifted your head and locked eyes with a person you thought you’d never see again. Your name left his lips as a whisper. A few months ago you would’ve smiled, jumped to your feet, and hugged him, but now, hatred filled you instead.

Slowly, you got to your feet, never taking your eyes off of your ex.

“Leave.”

He repeated your name this time louder and took a few steps in your direction.

“Stop. I said leave. Go.”

He shook his head.

“Please…I’ve been trying to reach you for months. It was a mistake to leave you, I-”

“I don’t care. I don’t care about your stupid excuses. The fact is, you left me. You left me knowing I was pregnant with your child.”

His eyes immediately flickered to your swollen stomach. He started moving in your direction again, his hands held out as if he wanted to touch your stomach.

“I said stop-!”

Before your ex could take another step, he was pulled back by the scruff of his shirt. A dull thud echoed through the room as his body hit the floor, Simon quickly pinning him down. While the man on the floor struggled to throw Simon off, he just looked back at you, brows furrowed with concern.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, but Simon noticed the way your body was shaking. He needed to get rid of that prick, so he could take care of you. While keeping your ex pinned to the floor, he grabbed his phone and dialed a number, raising the device to his ear.

“Got a muppet causing trouble, can you come in here and take care of him?”

He quickly hung up and a few seconds later, the door to your office opened and a man with a mohawk entered. As soon as he caught sight of you, a low whistle escaped his lips.

“Ah see whit ye'r talking aboot L.t.”

“Johnny.”

“Right, sorry.”

With practiced ease, Simon pulled your ex to his feet and handed him off to the other man.

“Wha would've guessed? a recruit o' ours. Ah will tak' him tae Price.”

Simon nodded, watching until Johnny and your ex left the room. Then he quickly closed the door, before crossing the room to reach you.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

You started to nod before reality came crashing down and you started to shake your head as tears rolled down your cheeks.

“I-I thought he was gonna hurt me. And the baby.”

Simon gently pulled you into a hug, holding you as tight as he could without squishing you. You leaned into his touch, the shaking slowly subsiding as Simon gently stroked your back.

“It’s okay. I got you.”

You stayed, wrapped up in his arms, until you calmed down. Well, actually your feet started to hurt and you wanted to sit down. So, you slowly peeled away from Simon, before grabbing his arm and leading him over to the bed, where the two of you sat down next to each other.

After a few moments, Simon asked you to wait for a second, before he got to his feet and left the room. Alone, your mind kept flashing back to your ex. He looked just as he had when he left you. Like a coward.

With a dry chuckle, you wiped the tears off your cheeks. He would and could not affect you like this. Not anymore. You stood up and started walking back to your desk when the door opened again and Simon walked in.

“What are you doing?”

You frowned.

“Getting back to work?”

Simon shook his head and walked up to you, pressing his lips to your hairline, through his mask, before pulling back to look at you.

“Just talked to your supervisor. You got the rest of the day off.”

As if nothing just happened, he walked around you and packed your bag, before throwing it over his shoulder. Once he was done, he walked back to where you stayed, rooted to the ground. He looked confused, waving his hand in front of your eyes. You snap out of your stupor, your eyes finding his.

“Can you do that again? Kiss me?”

Your cheeks heated up under his slowly darkening gaze as your words sank in. Your bag hit the floor with a quiet thud as Simon leaned down until his face was right in front of yours. With one hand, he gently grabbed your chin, lifting it slightly, while he used the other hand to pull his mask down.

And then his lips met yours.

When you were a child, you read all these books where kisses were described to feel like fireworks going off. But when you had your first kiss and felt…nothing, you were disappointed, thinking that all these books just lied. But now, here, you felt it. Fireworks going off in your stomach as your lips moved against Simon’s.

All too soon, he pulled back and your eyes fluttered open. And for the first time, you saw his face. All of it. You couldn’t help but reach out, gently tracing over a scar that ran from his chin to his cheek. Simon closed his eyes, a shaky breath escaping his lips as you carefully touched him.

“Sorry, I-”

Simon shook his head and leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before pulling back and moving his mask back over his mouth and nose.

“Don’t worry, love. Nothing to be sorry for.”

You nodded with a small smile and watched as he picked your bag back up, before threading his arm around your waist, pulling you close.

“Now, let’s get some food in you, huh?”

Please consider reblogging and following me! It helps a lot!

Call of Duty - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

Tags: @brinteylovesaliens @m3ntally-unstable

Like what you're reading? Buy me a coffee!

[coachs-kit-bag]

I love your advice about dressing in the right gear to get oneself in the mindset to transform into a jock this year.

Any suggestions on a ‘starter pack’ of things that one might need to go down that path?

With your ambition to transform yourself this year, you may have gotten a boost from this recent post on the same topic. Creating a starter pack is an intriguing thought exercise as there are many different routes that one could go down. Happy to help!

1. Jockstrap

I have mentioned on this blog several times that committing to wearing a good jockstrap as daily wear is one of the strongest adaptations an aspiring jock can make. Classic styles (such as the original Bike brand) or increasingly the black Nike model are widely available and good to experiment with.

2. Sports Socks

Secondly, and easily overlooked by many, choosing the right pairs of Socks will keep you grounded in your path. Anything from a basic 5-pack of white Adidas socks will suffice, but, in my experience, you can make sports socks fit with any attire. I often wear knee-length Rugby socks underneath my suits in the workplace or a pair of Nike Elites with casual trainers (graciously gifted by a follower of this blog).

Whatever choice you make, commit yourself and your wardrobe entirely and trust the process.

3. Spandex/Lycra

It will be no surprise for a regular viewer of this blog that I advocate for skintight spandex/lycra within this list. You can even see this as your new 'jock uniform' for a good workout. Under Armour, Nike Pro and Skins Compression are all solid brands, but anything skintight is right by me. At first, you may feel that you need to wear a looser pair of running shorts, but within time you will quickly realise that the more you wear, the more correct it feels to wear alone.

Short-sleeved shirts with shorts, especially in matching or complimentary sets, demonstrate pride in your appearance. In addition, a pair of full-length tights should be in every jock’s wardrobe as standard practice. Once you start collecting, you might find it hard to stop buying, and even resist wearing anything else.

4. Vest

For those moments when you need a loose-fitting, casual look, a vest and short shorts come in handy. Showing the right amount of skin is paramount - you never know when you’ll be called to perform a good flex for the camera. Show off those gains!

5. Cap & Headphones

Lastly, as you requested a real “starter pack” to assimilate yourself fully as a jock - a good cap and pair of headphones will be vital to help you connect to the right frequency, zone out of the mundane and lock in to your goals.

This might seem like a lot at first, but before long you’ll realise just how important your new wardrobe will be!

For more ideas, you can always check the posted tagged “jock” for more inspiration.

For those lured in and wishing to purchase kits for others rather than for themselves, my Ko-Fi is always open and for TF posts you can visit @coachs-locker-room

I would be open to do another one of these starter packs focusing on a specific items, or other sports. Let me know if that interests you or leave a comment if there is something you would recommend.

[rstarsims3]

TS3 - Energy - Male CAS set - Download

General details:

Original meshes by me;

Age: (young) adults;

Base Game compatible;

All LODs & Morphs;

Disabled for random;

2k textures;

Normal maps included;

Custom thumbnails for both Launcher and CAS;

sims3pack & package files;

Compressed;

Meshed with Blender, adapted to TS3 with Milkshape, Photoshop, TSRW.

► Energy Hoodie

Poly: 4,5k

Tops section;

3 presets, 4 recolorable channels;

Categories: Everyday, Athletic.

►  Energy Sleeveless Hoodie

Poly: 3,7k;

Tops section;

3 presets, 2 recolorable channels;

Categories: Everyday, Athletic.

►  Energy Sweats

Poly: 1,3k;

Bottoms section;

3 presets, 3 recolorable channels.

Categories: Everyday, Sleepwear, Athletic, Outerwear.

►  Energy Shorts

Poly: 1,1k;

Bottoms section;

3 presets, 3 recolorable channels.

Categories: Everyday, Swimwear, Athletic.

►  Energy Sneakers

Poly: 1,6k;

Shoes section;

3 presets, 4 recolorable channels.

Categories: Everyday, Athletic, Outerwear.

►  Energy Running Tights

Painted on the base mesh;

Accessories/Socks section;

4 presets, 1 recolorable channel.

Categories: Everyday, Sleepwear, Swimwear, Athletic, Outerwear.

———————————————

Download on PATREON (Early Access; public on May 4th, 2024)

Hope you enjoy them!

Thank you & Happy Simming!

———————————————

You can also support me on Ko-fi.

———————————————

Thank you to my supporters on Patreon & Ko-fi!

———————————————

TOU 🔊 Do not re-upload my creations. Do not claim as your own. Do not put them anywhere up for download and don’t add adfly to my links.

[kestrelteens]

Sooo, autumn is already here, right? Right? Well, September is in a few days and summer and I are no longer on good terms ('cause of the unbearable temperatures) so autumn it is! 🦔 And our simmies need some cool outwear, right? Whether they're going trick or treatin' or simply strolling through Downtown and getting a pumpkin spice latte, their outfits should be on point. 🍂

The set consists of:

Charlotte coat (AF, top only, both morphs, 6 swatches, 6,696 polys, sorted as outwear) paired with @sforzcc's Mariner undershirt underneath and Tahliah hat (TF-EF, 9 swatches, 574 polys, both as accessory or jewellery) by @serenity-cc from their Neve set;

Vicki jacket (AF, both morphs, 3 swatches, 1,530 polys, sorted as outwear) by @madlensims;

Alyson skirt (AF, both morphs, 5 swatches, 962 polys, both as everyday and outwear) by @adrienpastel-blog paired with @ridgeport's Mynx tights and @solistair's Wolfe boots (608 polys);

Dream jeans (wide) (AF, both morphs, 8 swatches, 1,196 polys, both everyday and outwear) by @sforzcc also paired with Wolfe boots.

Verona hairstyle (on the right) by @okruee (TF-EF, 4 colors binned, animated, 11,411 polys);

Ami hairstyle (on the left) by @miikocc (PU-EF, 4 colors binned, animated, 2,916 polys);

This download is for Sims 2.

Everything's compressed, enjoy! ♥ Some additional important info under the cut!

download (sfs) // alt download (mediafire)

download charlotte coat as casual + outwear here (sfs)

The hat works pretty well with most hairstyles, especially the straight hair ones and there's almost no clipping, but unfortunately it won't work with every hairstyle!

There's some minor clipping with the coat when the sims sit down, but it didn't seem like too much of a big deal. 🐸

I have thoroughly play-tested the items and haven't noticed any major issues with clipping, but if something occurs please let me know and i will do my best to fix it! ♥

[sashi-ya]

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑨𝑵𝑺𝑾𝑬𝑹 「cuts of freedom: final part 」 soshiro hoshina x f! officer! reader

a/n: and the end is here! i'm not gonna lie, I wish for this story to last forever. And, actually, I might add some little updates about these two here and there sometimes! anyway, please enjoy! And thank you so so much for being here since the very beginning when this started as a simple scenario 💖 a/n 2: some clarification about the contents: "せーの!”  is the classical expression "seeh・noh" in Japanese used like "ready, set, go!". Tanabata, is a very well known festival in Asia celebrated during July- Aug. The Hoshina clan is real clan! I did my research, that's why I added the "Fukushima" patterns. tw: mdni! sex explicit scenes. masturbation. nipple bitting. marking. public car sex. wc: 3.5k // part 1: cuts of freedom // part 2: かんぱい！// part 3: stuffed // part 4: side B: relax // part 5: mirror, mirror... // part 6: sex for breakfast // masterlist

Eyebags puffy and visible, you haven’t really sleep much. Breakfast -and sex after breakfast- though, tasted delicious.

Should you both arrive together? Where are you, exactly, after all?

“Come on, did you bring the uniform?” Soshiro asks, putting on one of his classic black compressive shirts.

Your heart breaks, as the abs you adore get once again covered by that tight fabric. You are not mad, though.

“I haven’t- I just brought normal clothes…” you sigh, remembering the fact you left your boiler suit at the base.

“Then wear mine” he says, pretty naturally, handing you over one of his suits.

If there is something us women like, is to wear our couple’s clothing. And you aren’t any different. Instantly, you take -almost snatch- it from his hands. You are eager to see if it smells like him, you are eager to feel hug and warm by even his clothing.

And, indeed, it has a faint trace of his perfume. Manly and delicious, you engulf the smell, feeling your insides get filled with butterflies as you do.

“Should I take it off? Or wanna wear it around?” Soshiro asks, laughing cutely while coming closer to you. His delicate fingers graze the little enamel pin on your chest.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“Hoshina Soshiro ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 3rd Div. Vice Captain”

You smile softly, eyelashes fluttering slowly, looking down at his hand. Of course, you’d love to wear it around; because you are his… but you aren’t ready for “he say she says” although rumour already has it that you two have something going on.

“Do you think is it ok? Isn’t it against the rules?” “Indeed it is, doll. Give it back, haha!”

Your cheeks become hot from embarrassment. Of course it is against the rules. And sometimes with these type of little pranks, Soshiro can be a little bit annoying.

“Don’t be sad, I promise you I will search for my old badge, and I will give it to you. Ok?” he says, kissing the tip of your nose as he takes off the pin from your clothes.

You nod, sweetly. Like a little girl, you are instantly happy and satisfied with such a beautiful and cute promise.

Soshiro doesn’t pay much attention at anything besides you while walking out of his apartment. His hand is placed on your lower back, guiding you through the hall towards the elevator.

“You look so good with my clothes, hun” he whispers, closely to your ear right from behind.

A shiver runs down your spine and it travels to every little sensitive spot on your body.

“Thank you… Soshiro~” you answer, not sure if you wish the elevator to arrive faster or slower.

Unfortunately -or not- the doors of the lift open, and the sterile white lights of the mirrored inside receives you reflecting all of your angles.

You remember Soshiro complaining of the cameras inside the elevator, and as much as you wish he could push you against the walls to grope you, you know it is impossible. But nothing is when it comes to Hoshina Soshiro who is apparently crazier for your sex more than what you could think of.

He, then, proceeds to stand right at your back. It is him who’s against the bars attached to the mirror wall, now. His hands slowly slide from your waist to your front, getting into the front pockets of your boiler suit.

With his chin carved on your shoulder, he smirks to the mirror in front of you. His fingers reaching for your core, pushing quite strongly against it in tiny circular motions.

“I really want my suit to get covered by your scent… would you make a little mess for me?” he asks, pressing his crotch against your ass, showing you how hard he is once again.

You swallow; it wasn’t necessary to ask, if he keeps doing what he is doing you will for sure make a mess in it.

“So-Sosh-ngh…” you fidget around his index going crazy over your clit. “Mmh? Don’t be that noticeable… you know I don’t want the guards to see you! plus, the doors are about to open. What if a neighbour sees you?” he says, in such perverse tone it makes you tremble.

You bite your lips shut, taking a big gasp of air, wishing for his fingertips to finally touch you without anything in between. Your eyes shut closed, inevitably thinking of what he said; what if the doors open and someone sees you in such state?

The “ping” announces the doors are about to open, your heart rising faster, your inner thighs dripping with sensual wetness.

“せーの!”  he whispers. And as soon as a fine line of light filters through the sliding doors, he takes his hand off the pocket -and your sex-

You sigh loudly, putting yourself together in a matter of seconds.

“Morning, Soshiro-chan!” she says with a lovely tone, as if this happened every day.

“Morning, Mrs. Tanaka!” he salutes her, like a usual daily happening.

An old woman stands right in front of the elevator, with an as old as her poodle in her hands. The dog barks annoyingly at Soshiro and you, as it might have seen a cat… well, Soshiro kinda looks like one.

“Go kill many Kaiju, boy!” “I sure will, Mrs. Tanaka! Give Mr. Tanaka my regards!”

Apparently, that woman is Soshiro’s neighbour. Did he know she was going to be there by the time the elevator reached the floor level? He is more perverted than what you could have ever imagined…

You smile all throughout the mere seconds the conversation lasts, walking out of the mirrored lift trying to regulate your accelerated breathing.

The moment the doors close, he turns to you too look into your eyes. He burns holes into yours, with a smirk that shows he is not quite over with it.

“See? I told you…” “Soshiro, sometimes I think you are just a villain…”

He laughs, loudly, like he is used to do. From his pocket, he takes the keys of his car, and both walk to the little parking lot right behind the building.

He opens the door for you, putting first your little bag in the backseat and then letting you sit on the front. He then closes such door and jumps into the drivers seat.

And despite you thinking he was going to start the engine, he had first quite different plans...

“You said you thought I was a villain…” he mumbles, looking at you, coming closer to your lips with his index under your chin.

“You must be ~” you playfully back up.

He smirks and it’s all you need; next thing you know, is him pulling you from your seat to straddle your hips on top of his lap.

“Then, as the villain I am, allow me to finish my perfect crime…” he whispers, lowering the zipper of your -his- suit open.

You wonder if this man has a “public sex kink” or he actually just don’t care the rest of the world but you; Soshiro wants to have you at any time, in any place, whenever he desires.

His hand slides down your belly and into your panties. Wet as he wanted you is what he founds. And he is pleased.

Soshiro’s free hand pulls you closer as he pushes your lower back further. Your breasts, free of any other clothing, bounce temptingly in front of his face. It doesn’t take him much to finally attach to them with lips and teeth. Sucking like his life depended on  it, he makes you whine loudly from pleasure and pain… boy, those fangs are certainly sharp.

While he delights himself with the taste of your nipples, his thumb finishes the work he started in the elevator; masturbating you so good you soon forget about the weak morning light bathing the parking lot, or the fact Soshiro’s car windows have a barely purple tint on them.

Soon enough, your thighs accompany the spasms your inner walls experience. And climax hits you uncontrollably; the mess Soshiro wanted, had finally been materialized… his suit will hold the stains of your relief exactly as he wished.

“As long as I wish to fuck you hard, we are gonna get late there. I don’t want Mina to scold us” he says, helping you sit on your spot back again.

You are trembling still, only recognizing his voice, and the sweet way in which he closes the zipper and fasten the seatbelt to keep you safe.

You blink twice, still in awe. You look into the little mirror, seeing your heated cheeks and the mess of your hair that you slowly fix while he starts to drive. The pony tail you just finished, your hands still around the elastic band… the lustful idea of pleasuring him while he drives; after all you believe in equality, and just as he made you come… you must make him come, too.

You drift to the side, still without catching much of his attention. You bend slowly; waiting for a red light to make him stop. Your mouth is watering, and it is that Soshiro somehow tastes so delicious. Maybe it is his healthy life style, maybe is the testosterone of a modern samurai or it is just that you are infatuated with him.

“Wha- hahaha- what are you doing?!” he laughs, thinking you are just being funny. “I think I want my mouth to be a mess as well” you whisper, moving like a cat about to pounce on a little mouse.

His eyes now open widely; looking down as you lower the pants’ zipper.

“This is one of the things I love about you, (Name)-san… go ahead, feast on it” “It will be my pleasure, fuku-taichou” you sing, kissing the bulge before finally freeing his sex from his briefs.

You can feel on your chest the little ups and downs of his legs while he drives, and every bump pushes his dick inside you even deeper against your throat. Your tongue makes sure to damp the whole shaft, while your bobbing head and sucking lips make him grunt.

Soshiro’s hands grip tightly to the wheel; a little drop of sweat forms on his forehead. His sex becomes harder, ready to burst. The way you let his dick go deeper into your throat, allows the tip of your tongue to reach for the base and even more if you use your hand to play with his balls. The poor soldier is doing a great job while driving through the busy streets of Tachikawa, fast enough to park right at the base for the moment he reaches the peak…

“I’m gonna… come… you-“ “I won’t let a drop mess with your seat, don’t worry…” you whisper, giving him the last pumps this time with your hand and your tongue against his tip.

Soshiro retorts in silence, letting scattered “nghs” and “fucks” as he finally bursts. He grabs your pony tail, having the hair tangled on his fist, burying your head down so that he can finish right into your throat.

Eyes watery, lungs using the last molecule of oxygen, nose inhaling his skin’s perfume, your tongue feeling the accelerated pulse on his sex’s veins… oh, the delicious warm seed of Hoshina Soshiro going down your throat.

“You are gonna be the death of me, babe…”

The return to the base felt silent; both got out of Soshiro’s car, smiled at each other and parted ways. He needed to go back to his office, while you had to go straight to morning training. Your muscles were screaming at you; they didn’t want any more exercise this morning… but you simply couldn’t skip it.

The day went by fast and in between building strength and weapon management; by the time the afternoon arrived, the constant memory of Soshiro’s promise for tonight’s plans that reverberated in your brain, fade off to the point of almost forgetting about it.

However, there are certain things you couldn’t escape from, and you were about to find out.

By the time the training was over, and everybody was stretching, you began to win a couple of looks; your suit didn’t feel like yours and indeed it had a special pair of little straps on the back that you didn’t take in consideration when you chose not to change into yours…

“(Name), what is this?” Akari asks, passing her finger in between one of the hoops that’s clearly meant to be used to hold a certain type of blade.

“What?” you ask, still unaware.

“Oh, oh… don’t tell me you are a double blade user like Hoshina Fukutaichou, (Name)?! Platoon leader Nakanoshima says, laughing loudly with clear intentions of teasing you. She continues, also, telling Ryo he owes her money for winning “the bet”… “I told you they were screwing!”  “Nakanoshima -.-“

Your eyes open like two pair of eggs. Your cheeks turn to fire, the whole squad laughs and other start whispering… yet, none of those reactions were filled with bad intentions. In fact, it was quite the opposite, making even Mina give Kafka a soft little smile in complicity.

“No, no I- We aren’t… It is not what it seems like! We aren’t… uh…“ you try to excuse yourself, being aware that this could be detrimental to your relationship. You aren’t sure if Soshiro wants you like anything else than an “acquaintance”. This rumour could fuck everything up.   

“There are no rules against it, (Name)! don’t worry!” Kikoru smiles, assuring an essential truth; her parents were known to be one of the strongest couples inside of the JAKDF.

You give a sweet smile to your young but strong nakama; she doesn’t really need to know the details of how intricate adult relationships really are… yet.

The commotion gets instantly silenced by Mina ordering you all to go back to your stretching exercises. You all bow respect to your captain, and fast enough you all continue with your duties.

Soon, as the training finally finished, everybody start walking back at the barracks. You needed a bath, perhaps more than anyone else in that place… this morning “mess” was still unwashed.

None of the women said much as you walk to the bathrooms; everybody seemed more tired than ever. Probably, like you, they all had fun on that free day you were given yesterday.

It was not until you undressed that you noticed the marks all over your body; fangs that carved into your flesh have left a vast area of purple and painful spots all over that have been developing all throughout the day.

“There is no way I will make another scene. I must shower when everybody is done…” you think, suddenly remembering the day Soshiro cut open your anti kaiju suit; the day he saved your life, and the day both skins touched for the very first time in such intimate and deep way. This, lead you to remember, also, the so mentioned “plans for tonight”.

What were those plans? Were they still happening? What if he -and probably he already does- knows about today’s fuss on you wearing his uniform? He hasn’t reached out yet…

By the time you are out of the shower, you keep lost into your thoughts and memories of Soshiro’s sweet kitty face.

“(Name)? you lost your intercom again. Here…” A soft voice, calm and patient pulls you out your own thoughts and hands you over a little white earphone.

You blink twice, noticing captain Ashiro being as delicate as a flower while she gives you the ear piece. She simply takes his index to her ear and taps twice leading you to wear what she gave you.

You haven’t lost it, though. You simply didn’t wear it today; nobody was expected to do so, either way. But you understand, almost immediately, that you must follow your captain’s orders because something beautiful was waiting for you.

She turns around, fluttering her onyx hair while holding her towel on her shoulder, and disappears through the door to leave you alone.

You put the little intercom on; tapping twice on it.

“Hello?” “Hello, Miss (Name). Would you please come to my office?” Soshiro says, playfully acting like your vice-captain. “Yes, Sir!” you say, clearly and loud. However, your insides were turned into a holy mess; the butterflies felt like Kaiju flying around your stomach.

You run; you couldn’t hide it anymore. The halls of that base felt endless, why did it feel like Soshiro’s office had changed places with any other room?!

It took you a couple of minutes to get there. Panting, you wait for a couple of seconds to regulate your breathing. A single desktop lamp turned on guides you to his desk. However, Soshiro isn’t there, but a washi paper wrapped box waiting for you with a note on it.

“Dear (Name), please wear this and talk to me so that I can guide you to your next destination. Be aware the clothing and the hair pin you will find inside this box has a long history in the Hoshina family ~”

Your eyes get a little watery; you weren’t exactly sure on what to expect… but this is definitely something better than what you could ever. This seems truly romantic, and you are by far speechless.  

You open the box, taking care of not ruining the paper… you really wish to keep at least a piece of it. Inside it lays an even more beautiful piece of traditional clothing than the one you wore at his apartment; a yukata, purple with hints of lilac flowers, typical Fukushima Aizu patterns from where the Hoshina clan are the originally founders.

The hair piece, looks like two little representation of katanas imbued in sakura flowers of silver and purple little stones.

You cover your face in total awe; deep inside you still think you don’t deserve to wear such beautiful piece of art. But you end up doing it, Hoshina Fukutaichou said so, right?

The Japanese silk falls so delicate on your skin, kissing it softly with cold pecks on every mark he has left on you. You take a last look at your image on the little mirror he keeps on his office, still unable to process how beautiful you look, and double tap your intercom.

“You ready, princess?” he asks, curious.

“I am… Soshiro, this is… beautiful” you whisper, blushing harder with every word you mouth.

“Not as you, (Name). Now, please walk to the back of the base. There is a zen garden, you will find your next surprise there… and the answer you’ve been waiting for”

“Yes, Soshiro ~”

Walk? He said walk? who could walk?

Run, run, run. Your hair set free, only holding by a single strand to silver blades,   dances with the wind your own speed creates. Run, run, run. Through the halls of the base that’s been your home, your dream and your begin and end….

Fairy lights look like blurry dots, like fireflies, by the end of the hall; you run to catch them all. To see him, to hear an answer your heart already knows.

“Soshiro!” you whisper, when you stop all of a sudden, noticing how beautiful the Zen garden had been decorated. Warm lights, and every branch of the bamboo holding little multi-coloured papers… have you forgotten? It’s the night of Tanabata.

Your lips tremble, your eyes become watery once again; never experienced something more beautiful, even more because it was prepared for you… and only for you.

“Welcome ~” he sings, lifting his two hands and indexes up. “You look, and I know I told you this before, so beautiful wearing my family’s clothing… Please tell me you are the type of person who loves Tanabata” he continues, a little insecure now.

You wipe a little tear off the corner of your eye; anything you could love or even hate means nothing compared to him… you are the type of person who loves… him.

“This is… more than beautiful… why? I don’t deser-“ you start, but his hands grabbing yours stop you from keep on talking.

“You do deserve it; shall we write our desires in the little papers? Let’s go, I’m sure the Hanabi are about to start ~”

You nod, following him to a little table where two little papers lay on top, and each one has a pen to write on. Soshiro allows you to write yours, and then he does with his, not before asking you to wait until you read.

When both are ready, he guides you with your little paper towards one of the trees. Such tree, the tallest of them all, seemed to be fading into the night sky. Stars shining like diamond dots, like the river that separated Orihime and Hikoboshi but not you two.

“Let me tie yours, and you tie mine” he whispers, while both exchange your desires. As you grab his, you proceed to read...

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“I wish to be yours, (Name)”

“Soshiro… is this…?” “That’s my answer, (Name)… I really, really wish to be yours. Can you cut open this jail and set me free from this doubts? Am I yours? You are the one to tell me so” “Read mine, and you will find the answer Soshiro…”

ㅤㅤ“For him, the man who set me free with cuts of love, to be mine forever”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ… ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑬𝑵𝑫 ~

dear reader: thank you for reading! hope you liked this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! hope all your dreams come true! 💕 ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Sashi 🌱

[simtanico]

Joliebean's part of the Joliebean x Imvikai Karaoke Set for Teens and Adult females in The Sims 3

Original found here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/82813176

Fell in love with this set the moment I saw it. The ONLY thing that I didn't convert from the original set is the glimpse necklace. I do have it! I just suck at necklace bones sorry. :( This is a lot at once so let me know if I forgot any LODs or a thumbnail or something.

Details:

6 items - Top, bottom, 4 accessories. Hat is slider compatible | Available for teen and Y/A adult females

15 presets on most items but the earrings and watch. RECOLORABLE/TINTABLE AREAS + Top - 2 (shirt, top, ribbon) + Skirt - 2 (Skirt, Metal button base) + Earrings - 2 (Metal component, pearl) + Watch - 3 (Metal components, watch band, watch face) + Hat - 2 (Hat, metal component) + Tights - 1

1024px textures for the outfits and tights. Smaller textures for everything else.

Each file ranges from 0.5MB to 1.6MB, compressed

Clothing enabled for Everyday, Career // Disabled for random

Custom Thumbnails

Polycount: Top - 7224, Skirt - 1182, Earrings - 2408, Watch - 1058, Tights - N/A, Hat - 1322

Credits: @joliebean; milkshape; blender; Photoshop; TSRW.

Please adhere to my TOU and the original creator’s!!

Notes/Known Issues:

As always there might be clipping and stretching with poses, animations, and certain sliders.

Textures can get pixelated!

Boucle areas are not very recolorable, beware.

Tights have some texture stretching near the shins and calves and some ugly bits on the foot.. can be ignorable.

!!!!! The top has a very very slight seam between the torso and bottom. Is unseen with high waisted bottoms and/or matching skirt.!!!!!!!!!!! I don't remember how to fix it like I did on other stuff before :(

I do not suggest using patterns on the tights. it will not turn out cute

Download the .zip at Simfileshare 💖:  https://simfileshare.net/download/3969727

[lisenberry]

The mountain is you

Chapter 4: I'm scared to let go of what I'm scared to lose

Dom Price x Fem Reader

MDNI/NSFW/18+

CW: Dom/Sub, Bondage, Sex Work, Voice Kink, Size Kink, Oral Sex, Bathroom Sex, Mirror Sex, Boot Riding, Orgasm Denial, Possessive Behavior

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 5)

AO3

No two sessions with John were the same.  You learned something new about yourself with each one. 

That the act of waiting could be so therapeutic.  Had you ever been so still as when he took his time looping ropes around your arms, breasts, ribs and waist?  Tying the intricate knots just right, in perfectly symmetrical patterns, carefully avoiding your neck and throat.  Reminding you to breathe, and hold your posture, in that voice that sounded so rough you wondered if it caused him pain just to speak. 

That a deep, dull ache that never wavered, no matter how you squirmed or struggled, could be as cathartic as a sharp, fervent strike.  When the bindings compressed your tissue and made your muscles throb with confusion.  Like your skin was too tight, and you’d burst from the pressure.  Until you finally broke through the building panic and let yourself melt into the fibers like well-tailored Chanel suit.

That being helpless wasn’t the same as being out of control.  That surrender wasn’t as much about giving up as it was giving yourself over to something else.  Someone else.  To trust that his patience was his gift to you, and that he didn’t ask for anything in return for a reason.  Maybe being there for you was enough for him. 

He’d certainly been greedy for your abandon.  Collected orgasms from you like they were precious stones, with his mouth and his hands.  Played your body like an instrument to be drummed and plucked.  Mouthed and blown.  Percussion, string, and wind.

All to make you sing.

Little deaths.  Little victories each. 

But it had you feeling a bit like a selfish Sub.  You listened.  You obeyed.  You cried.  You came.  But the more you played, the more anxious you became to give him some release.  Relief.  You wanted to see him taken care of, too.

You’d never bothered to explore new things with Ghost.  He’d had a list of services he offered, but you hadn’t been tempted to branch out from the standard package.  Anything extra, like temperature play or Shibari would cost a premium due to the additional time needed and the specialized skill they required. 

Anyone could spank your ass, you supposed, but you had to pay extra for the finesse.  Now, it seemed like you were getting it all for free.  Or perhaps John didn’t desire anything more from you.  It was simply a one-sided transaction for him, and he was just being nice.  A favor for his old friend. 

But you tried to shake those thoughts away when they threatened.  He’d promised that you’d always know what he wanted.  And never be left wondering what he was thinking.  There was no room for insecurity when he’d stuck to the book when it came to everything else.

And once each scene was over, you stayed a little longer.  After the first, when you’d practically run out the door like the building was on fire, he’d made a point to have food on hand that you could eat together.  Something tasty and satisfying sitting in his gigantic, high-end fridge waiting to be heated up in the microwave and eaten cross-legged on his couch.

Conversation developed more easily, and you weren’t too shy to talk about the things you liked the most (rope play, hot showers, barehanded spanking, his aftershave), and those you weren’t keen to try again (so far, blindfolds hadn’t added anything to the experience for you).  You found him to be funnier than you expected, with a wry sense of humor and an easy laugh. 

You always left feeling...secure. 

*****

The two men sitting across from you at the table of your go-to restaurant for closing deals with pushy potential clients were a father and son, CEO and VP team.  Your company offered a service that they needed desperately.  And they had the audacity to demand it at a cut rate.

They tried so hard to impress you with their staggering wealth and impressive portfolio, they must’ve forgotten that this was your job.  That you weren’t fooled by overwhelming displays of douchebaggery.  By smoke and mirrors.  Cutting through the bullshit was what you did best.

And as dinner went on, they piled it waist high.  Flung it around like monkeys at the zoo.  In the end, you just had to plug your nose and wade through it with patience and your head held high.

Fuck them, their rare car collection, their villa on Lake Como, and their 75-meter yacht.  You were ready to give in, to take the loss just to get them to stop fucking talking so you could go home and take off your bra.

The waiter had just brought over another round of drinks when you looked up to see John find a seat at a nearby table with an older couple who looked to be in their late sixties, and a beautiful woman in her early thirties.

It only took a second for his gaze to meet yours across the room.  It was exactly the type of situation you had avoided with Ghost.  That awkward breaking of the fourth wall when you ran into each other in the real world.  Outside the protection of your carefully curated sessions.

You tried not to stare, but it shook you more than you thought it would.  Part of your contract was that you’d be exclusive.  For safety purposes, you’d have no sexual partners outside of each other throughout the duration.  It was one of his hard lines. 

One you could easily keep.  Was it so hard for him?

He even had the gall to look angry, eyes darkening perceptibly even in the distance as he held up his phone briefly. 

A second later, you received a message on yours.

Meet me in the bathroom.  Five minutes.

Surely, he wasn’t serious.

Your companions were still talking away, congratulating each other on their mastery of the universe, as you quickly typed your response.

Wife or girlfriend?

Taking a sip of your water, you smiled impressively to the older man naming dropping who he was playing golf with over the weekend.  Taking great care not to turn back toward John, whose daggers you could feel as sharply as though they were lodged in your skin.

Sister.  Fucking the father or the son?  Or both?

You looked up at the dynamic duo and stifled the urge not to vomit a bit in your mouth.

Ick, no.  Clients.

There was a long pause before he responded, but you still didn’t look back at him.  His presence was too much for the room.  His hold on you too strong for polite company.  The vibration of the next message jolted you like a jump scare.

I gave you an order.

The blood drained from your face.  Your mouth went dry.  Your panties, on the other hand, seemed to catch both like a grounding rod of sensation.  Hot and slick.

Fine.  But don’t be nice, you typed, before adding.  Please.

You did look up then, just in time to see John nod once before excusing himself and disappearing down a long hallway.

“I’m getting the feeling that I’m being dicked around here, gentlemen.  I’m going to take a minute in the ladies’ room.  When I come back, if you don’t have a number ready that I can work with, I’m going to walk out that door and instruct my assistant to stop taking your calls.”

Not that she could anyway.  You were still working on that particular aspect of her job description.

But that, along with any other concerns, disappeared below the surface when you opened the door to the single restroom in the back of the restaurant.    

“Did you really just say ‘fine’ to me, like a whiney little brat?  ‘Don’t be nice’?  Hope you know what you’re asking for, sweetheart.”  He growled from the corner behind the door, just before he pounced on you like a panther in the dark.  Eyes flashing with a sort of calm, primal hunger.  The kind that waits, as long as it takes, despite the sweet smell of fear in its prey.  Despite the promise of how good it will taste.

You stumbled back out of instinct, only to hit the hard wall behind you.  Trapped.

“Yes, sir,” you stuttered.  Suddenly not really sure at all.

Outside of your sessions, text messages had been an open space.  Where you were free to object to somethings and discuss others.  Negotiate times and dates.  But as his hand spun you around gruffly and gripped your hip from behind, fingers just above your pubic bone while his thumb massaged deep circles where your ass met your spine, you realized you’d miscalculated somewhere.

You'd never thought of yourself as manageable.  Moveable.  You took up space.  You were a lot to handle.  No one ever called you “cute” or commented on how nicely you cowed and begged over their knee.  Not until him.

Not until you watched from the mirror above the cold, stainless steel sink as his other massive paw cupped your jaw.  This man made you feel like a ragdoll.  A toy.  A mouse trapped in the jaws of that big dark jungle cat.

"Just for me, aren't you?”  He raked teeth and stubble along your cheek.

You were boneless then, even more pliable under this sudden mean streak.  The hand at your jaw trailed lower, skipping past your throat and neck, and your head rolled backwards against his chest without its support.

It paused to slip under the fabric of your top and bra, to cup your breast and pull it free.  There was a primal hitch of breath in his teeth as he admired the way he could cover it all.  A stiff, darkened peak notched between his knuckles as he gave it a painful squeeze. 

“Use your fucking words.  I thought we’d been through all this.”  He didn’t sound like himself.  Patience had gone out the window somewhere and you scrambled to right yourself.

To get him back.

“Yes, sir.  All for you, sir.”  You met his eyes in the mirror in the way he trained you.  Wanting to be good.  “I’m sorry, I just—"

Another squeeze, tighter and concentrated on the bud of your nipple.  This time, the hiss was yours as the sensation rippled straight to your sex.

He was big enough to swallow the moon.  Eclipse the sun.  Envelope you into darkness.  There was nothing but the stars bursting behind your eyelids as his other palm slunk lower from your hips to the hem of your skirt. 

As stealthily as an avalanche of rocks and sand.  Abrading and disrupting everything in its path until it settled back up to the base of you. 

"Please,” you whispered, whimpered, on some foreign tongue that felt too big, too thick, to be yours.  

Because he was in your mouth.  Lips against yours, tongue pummeling inside. No affectionate peck, but an assault that promised to leave you maimed.  A kiss you’d never get used to.  One that would only consume you.  His solid body against yours from behind as he bent over you and arched you into him.

The grip you had on the sink felt strong enough to leave marks.  Dents.  Tiny little divots like bird prints in the snow.

"Open up, brat.  If you ever hope to fit the real thing, you still need more practice."

He found you wet, a small accommodation as you muttered a silent thanks to your nature.  Your brain needed him, and your body did its best to oblige.

"I want it.  Please, I’m ready."  He’d dangled what you desired most in front of you like carrot.  You’d get down on your knees and beg if you could only escape his hold.

"Maybe next time.  After you show me how good you can be."

His long, thick fingers disappeared three at a time, to the gnarled and swollen knuckles before your eyes in the mirror.  Knickers notched to the side and your skirt up around your waist.

The cry that slipped from your lips would’ve been heard across the restaurant if hadn’t had the clarity of mind to bite your tongue.  The satisfied huff from his could conjure magic.  Gods and monsters.  Things best left dormant. 

He liked it like this, you could tell.  Where you both could see in the stark, fluorescent reflection.  The dark hair of his hand reemerging from your depths silky and dripping with slick.

The glass was like a barrier, a window or a picture frame that kept you hanging just on the outskirts of real and make believe, as he circled those same fingers again and curled them back inside, tormenting your most vulnerable weakness.  

While his other still worried and bullied your poor nipple.  He stretched the offering of your flesh up to his mouth, biting and sucking until you bucked and writhed along his hand for more, more.  Just a little bit more.

He felt on top of the world.  And you were his puppet on a string.  Brought to life.

But in your mindless dash to reach the end of his rope, to plummet off the side into the wind, your backside hit against his rigid length.  Once again reminded of what you’d been denied.  What you were fighting for.

You leaned into it, ignoring your own pleasure to steal a chance at his.

But he spun you around so fast, his fingers leaving you cold and empty, that you teetered precariously before he could lean you back against the sink.

“Spoiled little bitch, always whining and going on.  Haven’t I been nice to you?”  His tone lightened, to the point of…regret?  “I’ll indulge you, then.  But will you like what you get?” 

"Yes, please, sir!”  You weren’t going to waste the kindness as you settled down in front of him.

The tile floor of the bathroom cold and hard on your bare knees.

“The only way you’re coming today is on my old boot,” he slipped his leg between yours, helpfully, giving you something to sit on and a needed friction along your unsatisfied folds, “while you fuck me with your pretty little face.”

Sir thought you were pretty, was the only message your horrifyingly needy Sub brain could hear.  You weren’t too deep in subspace yet, but if you weren’t careful, you’d need to be carried from the restaurant in his big, strong—

He interrupted your warring brains with the tip of his cock against your cheek and a warm, heavy hand on the back your head.  Not even enough pressure to guide you.  More of an anchor, as it tipped you back just enough to find his eyes.

Signal fires, burning bright.

Emboldened, you opened your mouth as you would for your inspection, flattening your tongue and waiting for him to test you.  Eager to please.

“Don’t look at me like that.  You’ve got the big brass now, don’t you, brat?  So, show me,” he taunted, the flesh bobbing heavily just out of your reach.

Tentatively, you moved forward, clutching the sides of his thighs for balance and licking out at the rosy meat in front of you.  You’d never expected to see it for the first time in the dingy bathroom of an overpriced downtown restaurant, but it was indeed massive.

He wasn’t being overly boastful in that you’d have trouble taking it unprepped.  As it was, your mouth could only work him in halfway, as you hollowed your cheeks and took him just to the point of gagging.

You could still breathe through your nose, and you weren’t choking yet.  You were doing okay, but that didn’t stop him from using that hand on your head to pull you back when your throat started to fight him.

“Easy, now,” a softening at the corners of his eye lids, as your own teared up at the intrusion. 

Somehow, you fell into a clumsy rhythm where he didn’t take any control and you focused on the enjoyment of him.  The smooth, salty skin of his dick along your tongue.  The rough loops of his shoelaces against your bare cunt.

And before you knew it, you were so close to coming that he pulled his foot away just in time for his cock to go rigid against your tongue.  

“Ah fuck, that’s good, sweetheart,” he muttered an oath to the ceiling.

You blinked your betrayal through dazed eyes and shuttered around nothing while he took his release all over your face.  By the time he milked the last drops along your chin, he paused only a second before wetting a paper towel in the sink to clean you up.

He tenderly wiped away the pearly ropes of his spend first, then the eye makeup that had smudged along your cheeks.

You didn’t look that bad, you thought, as you focused on yourself in the mirror and quickly put your tits away.  You were a bit wrinkled, and your nose was leaking snot like a puffy faucet, but no worse for wear.

“Tell those wankers you had an allergic reaction or something.  You’ll be fine,” he assured you as he found your lip gloss in your purse and moved to help you apply it.

You let him, with a reassuring smile of your own, before taking his hand along with the gloss.

“You all right?” you asked, needing to check on him.  You’d done something new.  Potentially crossed a line.  It mattered to you that he’d enjoyed it.

“Bloody grand,” he grinned in a way that made you believe him.  Left no shadow of a doubt.  “Now get out there and give them hell.”  He gave you one last once over before slapping your ass and sending you out ahead of him.

“Yes, sir.”

You left the restaurant on a high like you’d never felt before.  Your cunt ached, inside and out, and it hurt to swallow, but you’d closed the deal.  With your clients, and with John, too, in some way.

And you swore you heard him chuckle as you texted him to set up your next session on your way out the door.  He’d left you hanging without an orgasm. 

Not nice at all.

[owliellder]

Two's A Crowd

College Bully! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5)

Description: College is proving to be a lot harder than you imagined. You cannot fail this math class. So when you've tried everything else, a well-known student is recommended to you by your professor for tutoring lessons, not really leaving you with much of a choice but to work with him.

Warnings: Not proofread, No Use of Y/N, Dub-Con, Unprotected Sex, Bullying, Yelling, Cursing

Tags: College AU, Bully! Leon, Shy! Reader, both are in their early 20's, Leon is Rude AF in the beginning, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Fingering, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Tags to be Added

Author's Note: I've been late posting this entire series 😭. i explained a bit when anon asked, but i LOST my compression gloves and got a new pair relatively quick on top of my $200 medication 💔 my wallet is in shambles guys

ANYWAYS thank you all for sticking around and bearing with me!! i kiss and hug everyone!! even though i haven't responded to comments lately, i read every single one and it always makes me giggle ♥️♥️

Cross-posted onto AO3

Chapter 5

The drive back to your university with your mom was excruciating. You hadn’t told anyone what’d happened which meant you had to keep a happy demeanor around them throughout the holidays up until now. Dread had settled in your stomach once the drive began and continued to spread the closer you got, similar to when you’re headed to the doctors or the dentist, just a million times worse.

Texting Ella and Sky had helped a surprising amount, turning the majority of your anxiety into rage. Ella was furious when she found out, so her fury, and Sky’s, quickly became yours.

They hyped you up, ready to be at your side and assist in tearing “that shitty fratfuck” to shreds. The support meant so much after everything, especially after the reality of it all set in; you’d seen the picture via snapchat from someone you didn’t know, so how many others had seen it?

Your worst fear was being seen as easy, being used like you were. But you weren’t, were you? Your friends had made sure to try and convince you otherwise, you had to give them that, yet even with the facts laid out in front of you, it was still hard to divert your thoughts away from that ever-looming self-doubt.

Seeing the campus come into view only served to solidify those thoughts and feelings. No matter what Sky and Ella had tried or are willing to do for you, it just wasn’t enough to fix what’s been done.

Your mom helped you bring your suitcase up to your dorm, giving you a tight hug and a kiss on the temple before saying goodbye and heading on her way. Playing okay around your family all winter break was exhausting, so you just chose to sit in silence on your bed instead of unpacking your stuff. Always prepared, you wanted to get here a few days early, using unpacking and settling back in as an excuse, when really you just needed time to collect yourself before the inevitable happened.

He was here, and you were sure he’d seek you out eventually once he spotted you, or maybe when one his friends did and the word made its way back to him. Whichever way it happened, you knew it’d be unfavorable. 

“Hey,” Ella’s voice from the doorway caught your attention, “you look miserable..” How hadn’t you heard the door open? 

“I am miserable, but uh.. let’s just pretend I’m not, okay?” You replied, barely cracking a smile as you glanced up at her. 

She gave you a weak laugh in return, letting the door close as she slowly sauntered over to you, plopping down right next to you on the edge of the bed. “Fine, yeah. You haven’t shown me your schedule yet, by the way.”

“Oh, right-” you paused to reach over and grab your bag, rifling through the various papers in there until finally pulling out the schedule you printed out a couple weeks back. “It’s mostly the classes that aren’t fun.” You stopped to look at your schedule for a brief moment before passing the paper over to Ella, who quickly snatched it from your hand.

She squinted dramatically, holding the paper only a couple inches away from her face. “Yeaaah, these aren’t the best. At least it looks like you’ll have the majority of your pre-reqs out of the way for next year though.” Her observation made you chuckle with a nod.

“Which is what I’m trying to do. Work myself to the bone now, chill out later.” 

“Don’t kill yourself trying to do everything in one fell swoop.”

“I promise I won’t Ella, this is just how I-” A knock on the door drew both yours and Ella’s attention away from each other, an immediate scowl settling on her face. You wanted to ask, but it seems she already knew what you were going to say, quickly shushing you in a hushed voice, “Sky won’t be here until tomorrow night. Don’t answer that.”

You paused, thought for a moment, then nodded once with pursed lips. Ella was a pretty serious person, the mom of the group you could say, so when she pulled that tone, you knew better than to test it. Besides, you didn’t want to see who or what was on the other side of the door, you needed more time.

The next day was a little better, if uneventful. You finally brought yourself to unpack your suitcase, a chance to reorganize everything since you’d gotten a few new things over the holidays. Ella stuck close, bringing food up and into your dorm to take advantage of the empty mini fridge while the two of you binge watched a few random movies.

You stayed cozied up in your bed, having already mapped out and memorized your walking path for each class; longer, less foot traffic to and from. All you had to do was get through the rest of this year, that’s all. Little extra walking never hurt anyone, right?

When classes actually started, the long and complicated walks actually worked for a time; no one gave you strange looks, no one tried to talk to you, and it was pretty quiet. Scenic. But everyone knows everything good must come to an end eventually, and of course it had to be when you were just starting to forget all of this mess.

He caught you between classes. Scenic walks backfired massively when you realized there wasn’t anyone else around on that part of campus. Guess you didn’t think this one all the way through.

You couldn’t help but notice he looked pretty roughed up, sporting a few bruises along his cheekbone, a split lip, and a healing black eye. Seems he’s been busy over winter break.

“Listen, please listen-” Leon pleaded, holding his hands out in a weak attempt to trap you in the hallway. All this did was make you even more uncomfortable. “I know what I did was wrong, but I was not the one who sent that picture around, I swear.” You just stood in place after a few tries to get around him, giving him an almost bored stare. He didn’t really expect to finally catch you, so he stumbled over his words as he continued to ramble.

“I-.. I’m so, so sorry for doing that to you,” he slowly lowered his hands back down to his sides once he was sure you’d stay to listen, “I know that what I did was terrible, and I mean it when I say that I am sorry. I wish there was a way to turn back time and undo it, but I can't. I can't even explain why I did it in the first place, but that's not an excuse. I just- I messed up big time and I was- am stupid for letting it happen.”

To you this seemed sincere, but you really couldn’t be sure and it was safe to assume it wasn’t. Leon managed to trick you for months, who’s to say this wasn’t a trick as well? 

Your look turned skeptical, crossing your arms tightly against your chest with a shaky breath. Despite handling this better than you thought you would, it was still nerve wracking having this kind of talk.

“I'm not good at this, but I'm more than willing to do whatever it takes to make things right, if that's even possible..” Leon breathed out, panting as he tried to catch his breath after talking so fast. “I managed to uh-.. to find everyone who had the picture and I made them delete it.”

“I made them delete the picture.” He repeated, taking another moment to breathe before suddenly looking down to yank something out of his pocket. “I-I got your uh-.. these-” 

Seeing him hold up your panties so casually made you gasp, immediately looking around the hallway to make sure it was still empty before shooting him a glare, whispering a harsh “Put them back! Put them back!” which made him scramble to hide them in his pocket again. 

“Right- right, sorry! Sorry…” Leon was sweating at this point, growing increasingly anxious under your gaze. He didn’t want to mess this up any further, but man he was doing a pretty shitty job at that right now.

His hands were shoved into his pockets as well, both of you blushing with embarrassment, and also shame on Leon’s part. Once he managed to slow his breathing, he started to talk again, a noticeable frown tugging at the corner of his lips. “You don’t.. have to forgive me or anything, I just wanted to make sure you knew that hardly anyone knows and-” His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed dryly, turning his head to the side to look at the wall, “.. and that I’m sorry. I really do like you, I guess I just took a little too long to realize it…”

You made another quick glance over your shoulder before looking back at the man trembling in front of you who was still avoiding your gaze. You wanted to hate him so bad, so bad, but it was hard when all you could see was the Leon who was so sweet, the Leon who let you cry to him when the weight of the world was on your shoulders and made you feel so wanted and loved.

“Can we-” you cleared your throat and pulled the strap of your backpack further up onto your shoulder, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. “Can we talk later, maybe? Like, in my dorm? I don’t want anyone overhearing any of this..”

Leon perked up when he heard you talk, pulling his hands from his pockets to nervously rake his fingers through his hair, which was now partially damp from the sweat beading off his forehead. “Oh- OH! Yeah, of- of course, yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t- I just needed to-”

You waved your hands in front of your chest, shutting him up so he didn’t spill any further. "And throw those away." He nodded silently, wiping a hand down his face until it settled right in front of his lips, probably knowing he was talking too much at this point. 

There was one more class you needed to go to that day, so you hurried off after telling him to wait outside your dorm until you were done, and he promised he would. Very adamantly, too. At least he held true to his words, standing in the hallway right in front of your dorm room like a lost puppy when you turned the corner. It was cute for a second, though annoyance quickly replaced that feeling as you walked over and let him in.

You weren’t exactly ready to have a full blown talk, but then again, no one ever was. What made it easier was your roommate never returned that semester, assuming she dropped out, so you basically had the whole dorm to yourself for the rest of the year. Or until someone had a roommate issue and needed a change. Didn’t really matter to you at that point.

There was really only one thing on your mind and that was getting Leon to explain this whole ordeal to you. You needed detail, clarification, anything to help you understand what’d been going on behind your back during that time. And he did, telling you just about everything he could; who suggested the bet, who roped him into the idea, the second guessings he had since the start, how he could’ve done literally anything else to avoid the way it all played out, everything.

Obviously you couldn’t just forgive him like that, even though he kept telling you how sorry he was and how terrible he felt about it. You wanted to forgive him, but you weren’t ready, and he understood that. He would’ve been satisfied with any response you gave him, so having been given the chance to really explain and have you listen was more than enough in his eyes.

“And just so you know, my friends aren’t going to let you off the hook,” you pulled your legs up so you were sitting criss-cross on the bed, looking across at Leon who was sitting on the bed opposite of yours.

“Yeah, I know..” he chuckled awkwardly, reaching a hand back to rub at the nape of his neck. “I was honestly expecting them to jump me, but they just give me evil looks whenever they see me.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, making a mental note to question Sky and Ella about that later. “You’ll never get nice looks from them again and I won’t be vouching for you.”

Leon nodded, silence blanketing the room as you’d finally run out of things to discuss. Though it was awkward, it was nice to have him hanging around again. “Anyways,” you started, standing up from your bed slowly as you vaguely gestured towards the door, “I need to study, sooo…”

“Oh, yeah, totally, uhm..” he followed suit, standing up from the other bed before sauntering over to the door as you held it open for him. He walked out and turned around almost instantly, a small smile suddenly appearing on his face once his eyes met yours, his arms jerking upwards slightly as if to suggest a hug.

“Don’t push it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

tags:

@kayotee4 @k-fallingstar @bobastayhigh @mi-zer-y @chasingkennedy @l30nva @espressonerd @jjouki @5tarx @bunnybreadloaves @whoisgami @cyanscribe @c4b3r1a @darichvep @mmmangel @kingtacocat @klee-iii @baby--vera @dakiniii @kenma-izhu @aliidarling @leonsmamacita @deadghxsty @nekoheist @dumbassmortal @cassiecasluciluce @iovewilliams @maeplayscello @deddiemunsonsblog @paranoid-but-android @mariesmain @tteokhwaa @bonnibuckets @eilonwykennedy @1dk-anym0r3 @papatyacikcik @animesnowstorm @lexi-zsy09 @mylifedoesntexist @ifeellikedying @yourmommylol04 @ravioli19 @dakiniii @papichulo120627

(few of your blogs won't pop up, i tried though 😩)

[spacecowboyy0]

autistic reader with bucky needing an extra tight hig because they love the compression or a!r with nat playing in a pretend kitchen next to her while she cooks readers safe food

4 times you asked for a tight hug, +1 time you didn't have to

second part of this ask (playing pretend kitchen) will be posted seperately! thanks for the request anon <33

summary: reader needs good hugs and gets them from bucky, peter, frank, bruce and natasha!

notes: reader is on their period in part 1, student reader in part 2, little!reader only in part +1, reader isn't explicitly autistic, mild swearing like twice

~1.2k words

Bucky

You’re on your period and you feel like shit. Walking around the house is a trek, and you have to pause to ride out the nausea. You’ve taken all the pain medicine you can, and you’ve got a hot water bottle, hot enough that it’ll leave marks. You’re hungry but desperately don’t want to stand long enough to make a meal, or even to warm something up. 

As you make it to the couch, Bucky opens the door, arms carrying grocery bags. You groan as you sit down, and make sure the hot water bottle is in position. You lean your head against the cushions and close your eyes. You hear rustling as Bucky puts down the bags and takes off his jacket. “Hey sweetheart, how are you feeling?”

“Mmm, not great.”

“You need something?”

“A hug.”

He sits down beside you on the couch, and you sit up to embrace him. He’s warm, and the hug is tight enough to be satisfying but not enough to put more pressure on your uterus. 

“Can you make me food?” You feel his chest move as he laughs. He kisses your forehead and smiles at you.

“Yeah of course.”

2. Peter

You walk out of your class, teary eyed and desperate for some comfort. You're so tired from all the late nights of studying and you're sure you just failed your midterm. You had tried your best, but some of the questions surprised you and you're not confident about your answers. You just need to get out of the building. You pull your phone out of your bag and call Peter. His classes are done for the day so you know he’ll pick up. Thankfully he does on the second ring.

“Hey, how was the test?”

“I don’t even want to talk about it, I’m going to start crying. Can we meet at the cafe by your place? I need a treat.”

“Yeah sure, I’ll be there in 15.”

“Great, see you.” You hang up and sigh, feeling mentally drained and in need of some happiness. You put your phone in your pocket and start in the direction of the cafe. As you walk, you think about what you'll get. Maybe you’ll treat yourself and get a pastry and a drink.

It isn’t long before you're opening the door, and a bell jingles, announcing your entrance. You scan the place and find Peter at a table in the corner. It's tucked away but right by a big window, letting in the natural light. He's looking at his phone but glances up as you approach. You hang your bag on the back of the chair and sit down. You give him a tired look. 

“Hey.”

“Hey. You look rough.”

You huff, and bury your head in your arms. Your voice was muffled but his enhanced hearing picked up your response. “Thanks shithead, I’m tired and just bombed my midterm”

His hand pats your head gently, and then moves to rub your arm. 

“I just meant-” You hear him sigh. “You know I don’t like seeing you like this.” You lift your head, and meet his eyes. He looks so sincere, and it makes you want to cry. 

“Well, a hug would help.” He gets up from his seat, the chair legs scraping against the hardwood floors of the cafe. You do the same, although slower (to avoid the awful scraping noise). You wrap your arms around him, and he hugs you tight, soothing over the painful emotions of your day. 

“C’mon, I’ll pay for what you want.”

3. Frank

You had messaged Frank, asking if he was available to train. He had offered to train you a few months ago, and now you two meet up about twice a week so he can teach you proper fighting forms and techniques. 

Tonight you have some restless energy, your mind is buzzing and your legs are bouncing as you try to work at your desk. You need a break, and an outlet. 

~

When you walk into the gym, Frank can already see that you aren’t in the right headspace to train. You have enough energy to workout but your mind isn’t in it. He isn’t sure how to address it, so he just continues like normal, letting you stretch in silence. Then as he is wrapping his hands, he hears you speak up. 

“Frankie? Can I just have a hug before we start?” He's a little caught off guard. He isn’t a touchy person, but he's been making more of an effort to give you more physical affection because he knows you love it. 

“Yeah, c'mere kid” You get up from the floor, and walk over to him fast enough so you can’t overthink it. You melt into the hug, but it isn’t enough. You hug him tighter and he seems to get the message. He pulls you in tighter and he can feel you sigh against his shoulder. He pulls back and puts his hand on your head. “Good?”

You rock on your feet and flap your hands a bit, before standing still. “Yeah, let's do this!"

4. Bruce

You're helping Bruce with dinner for the team tonight and you're in charge of chopping the vegetables. You've had a stressful day, too much on your plate, and this morning you had to wake up extra early. Cutting the vegetables was relaxing but it hasn't gotten rid of the tight feeling in your chest. Your breathing is more shallow than usual and you can’t get a deep breath, so you unconsciously let out more sighs. You don’t even notice it, focused on your task. 

“That’s a lot of sighing over there." You glance up from your cutting board and see Bruce stirring a pot at the stove but looking at you. 

“Oh uh, yeah I guess so.” You look down and start chopping a carrot again but slower. “I don’t know, just can’t take a deep breath. It’s been an anxious day.”

“You let me know if there’s anything I can do, ok?” His tone is firm and comforting, you believe him. You nod, and there’s a few minutes of silence before you speak up. 

“Actually, um… could you give me a hug?” He turns his body towards you and puts down the wooden spoon. “But like a tight one, with pressure.” You clarify.

He opens his arms and you walk into his embrace. He squeezes you, tight enough that it releases some of the weight in your chest. You break away from the hug and you feel lighter, and can breathe easier.

“Thanks.” You give him a grateful smile, and he smiles too. You both return to your jobs in comfortable silence. 

+1. Nat and Bucky

You watch nervously as Bucky and Nat look at your drawing, holding it between them. 

“Do you like it?” You drew the three of you, referencing a photo of when they took you apple picking. You used your good oil pastels to create a fun border, adding some colour to your graphite piece. You also took out your special stickers, putting one cat sticker in each corner of the page. 

Nat put the piece on the coffee table in front of the couch and pulls you into her arms. She squeezes you tightly, and you feel Bucky’s arms encircle you both. You’re squished in the center of a wonderful hug, and they attack you with quick kisses all over your heated face. 

You giggle and wiggle in their embrace. You feel warm and soft, in a peacefully, hazy headspace. 

"We love it, bug." Nat murmurs against your head.

ahhhhh so soft n fluffy i neeeeeeeed it

[nanamineedstherapy]

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceress CEO Reader X Gojo Satoru X Nanami Kento

Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage. A/N: This chapter is 24k words & Tumblr won't let me upload it all in one post so cutting it off in four smaller parts.

Previous Chapter 19 - Part 3 (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 19 (alt ending 2.10) - The Anatomical Weight of Neglect in Infinite Drops - Part 4

Father Time: She fell asleep on the couch.

Daddy: And?

Father Time: Her shirt rode up. She’s… showing.

Daddy: 👀👀👀👀

Father Time: [Attachment: picture of you sleeping, slight glimpse of your bump exposed under the shirt]

Daddy: KENTO. This is PORNOGRAPHY.

Father Time: Don’t be ridiculous.

Daddy: Look at the curve. The ROUNDNESS. How is this allowed???

Father Time: …It’s hard not to stare.

Daddy: Yeah, no shit.

Father Time: I feel like a pervert.

Daddy: Congratulations on realizing that now. 😈

---

4 Thursday

Gojo didn’t look up from his phone when the first woman slinked up beside him.

"You're Gojo Satoru, right?" Her voice was sweet—that fake syrupy kind that people used when they thought men like him were too dumb to spot manipulation.

"Mmm," Gojo hummed absently, scrolling through what you’d texted him earlier. Something about Feral Rizz biting Nanami in sleep. He snorted.

"Wow," the woman continued, inching closer. "You’re, like... really tall."

Gojo’s grin widened. "You don’t say." He was still not looking up at them, used to people flocking to him ever since he was born, more focused on sending you a raccoon meme.

The woman giggled, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "It must be so exhausting having to... share your wife."

Gojo’s hand froze over his phone. Slowly, he turned his head to look at her, his grin still plastered across his face—but his eyes? They sharpened, glinting like shards of ice under a winter sun. The air around him seemed to crackle, heavy with the weight of his infinity.

“Sorry?” He repeated, his voice light, almost playful, but there was an edge to it now—dangerous, feral.

"I mean... she’s so busy these days, right? Must get kinda lonely."

Another girl appeared on his other side, practically cornering him against the weights. "Yeah, we were just saying... It’s such a shame."

"What’s a shame?"

"You," she purred. "All that power... all that energy... and nowhere to put it."

Gojo blinked once.

Twice.

Then—

"Hey, Kento?" he called across the room.

Nanami, currently adjusting the barbell weights on the bench press, glanced up with all the enthusiasm of a man deeply regretting coming to the gym with Gojo Satoru.

"I’m busy."

"Yeah, no, you’re gonna wanna hear this." Gojo grinned and turned back to the girls. His eyes gleamed with something cold. "Ladies, mind repeating what you just said?"

Nanami walked over, rolling his shoulder. His compression shirt sleeves were tight around his biceps, and there was a slight sheen of sweat across his forehead—a result of Gojo trying to sabotage his workout earlier.

"What’s the problem?" Nanami asked, voice low and flat.

"These lovely ladies," Gojo drawled, "were just suggesting that I might be feeling... unsatisfied."

Nanami’s gaze flicked to the women. He looked them over once—slow, unimpressed—and turned back to Gojo. "So?"

"So...?" Gojo blinked.

Nanami reached up and started rolling his sleeves back down, unfolding each fold neatly. "So I assume they’re volunteering to die."

The girls stiffened.

"Whoa, whoa," Gojo held up his hands mockingly. "We can’t just murder people in public, Kento."

"I can if they’re stupid enough." Nanami’s tone barely changed, but his gaze darkened.

"Relax," one of the girls laughed nervously. "We were just teasing."

"No, no, I get it." Gojo clapped a hand over Nanami’s shoulder. "I mean, we’re obviously desperate. It’s been... what, three days since we last had her attention?"

"Four," Nanami corrected dryly.

"God, you’re right." Gojo exhaled over-dramatically. "I might not survive another week. I’m practically wasting away."

Nanami’s eyes flicked to the girls again. "If you’re going to start fires," he said quietly, "make sure you’re not standing in gasoline."

"What does that even mean?" one of them muttered.

"It means," Gojo grinned, leaning closer with the lazy arrogance of someone who knew he couldn’t be touched, "that if you think we’re the kind of men who wander just because she’s busy, you clearly don’t know her very well."

"Or us," Nanami added coldly.

The girls shifted uncomfortably. "Weren’t you both accused in the media of cheating on her? That’s why you stormed her building?"

"Yes, but with each other, not with random people," Gojo said cheerfully, stepping back and tossing his towel over his shoulder. His smile wide. 

“That doesn’t make it better.” One muttered.

"I know." He tapped his sunglasses back down over his eyes.

The girls left quickly.

After that, Gojo got sad, so Nanami gave him heavier-than-usual weights and told them they were his usual.

---

Later That Night

You were stretched out on the couch, your Switch balanced on your lap as Gojo flopped down beside you.

"You’re breathing loud," you muttered, tongue poking out slightly as you attempted to maneuver around a difficult platform.

"I almost got hit on today," Gojo pouted.

"Tragic."

"It was," he sighed. "I don’t think I’m emotionally prepared for that kind of harassment."

"Mm-hm."

"I was violated.”

"Then you were mildly inconvenienced.”

"I’m just saying, we’re too hot for this world," Gojo grinned.

Nanami snorted after appearing from a fresh shower, hair damp, ready to leave for Haibara’s penthouse.

"I mean it," Gojo continued, eyes flicking toward you. "Look at her—sitting there like she hasn’t ruined two grown men’s entire lives."

You grinned, still tapping away at your game.

"We’ve been married for years, and she’s been pregnant for six months with our kids, and I still don’t know if she’s flirting with me or threatening me."

"Both," Nanami muttered, walking out.

Gojo grinned wider. "God, I love you."

"I love you too," you murmured.

Gojo’s smile faltered for half a second—like if he squeezed just hard enough, he could stop himself from wondering if you meant it for him… or Nanami.

For once, Gojo stayed quiet.

---

One month before you got pregnant, and they…. you know….cheated….

"You’re hard to flirt with, Nanami."

Nanami’s brow twitched. He lifted his wiskey to his lips, gaze steady over the rim of the glass. "I’m not hard to flirt with. I just don’t respond to stupidity."

"Rude." Gojo grinned, sprawled back against the leather couch with his arms slung over the backrest. His sunglasses were tucked into his shirt collar, leaving those too-bright eyes half-lidded and gleaming in the low light of the karaoke bar. His long legs stretched out, one foot nudging lazily against Nanami’s shin. "Besides, it’s not like anyone’s even tried properly."

"Mm." Nanami took another sip. "Or maybe I have standards."

"Or maybe you just suck at flirting."

"Excuse me?" Nanami’s tone flattened.

"Yeah," Gojo’s grin widened, "if you were a little more approachable, maybe people would actually try."

"Right." Nanami’s voice was dry. "Because I need to be approachable. Like you."

"I’m very approachable!"

You snorted. "You’re about as approachable as a landmine."

"Hey!"

"She’s right," Nanami muttered.

"Okay, well, you don’t count," Gojo huffed, "because you’re you."

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Means you’re not flirty material like him."

"Oh?" You sat forward, setting your empty glass down with a sharp little clink. Your head tilted, lips curling into something sharp. "I don’t know… seems pretty easy to me."

Nanami’s gaze flicked to you.

You leaned in, eyes gleaming. "Wanna bet?"

"Ooooh," Gojo’s grin widened. He straightened, a dangerous gleam cutting through his usual smugness. "Yeah, let’s see this."

Nanami’s brow furrowed. "This is ridiculous."

"No, no, don’t be shy, Kento." Gojo’s smile sharpened. He reached out, pushing at Nanami’s shoulder until he was sitting more upright. "Let’s see you try to resist."

"I’m not—"

You stood, walking around the table, heels clicking softly against the scuffed floor.

Nanami’s gaze tracked you automatically, the slight tension in his jaw betraying his calm exterior.

"Oh, come on," Gojo purred. "Just play along."

"I’m not playing—"

You slid into Nanami’s lap.

Nanami froze.

You draped your arms over his shoulders, your legs settling on either side of his hips. Your palms rested against the clean line of his dress shirt. He smelled faintly of soap and whiskey—sharp and grounding beneath the neon haze of the room.

"What are you doing?" Nanami’s voice was low, strained.

"Just helping," you said, voice honey-sweet. You leaned in, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. "Mr. Nanami."

You said it in the sexiest way your mother tongue could sound, the words curling off your lips like smoke, rich and intoxicating. Nanami’s breath hitched, the sharp intake of air betraying his usually stoic composure.

Gojo’s eyes widened.

Nanami’s hands twitched against your thighs.

"That’s cheating," Gojo muttered, sitting up straighter.

"No," you murmured, tracing your fingers along Nanami’s jaw. "This is flirting."

Nanami’s golden eyes sharpened. His hands slid up the back of your thighs, settling just beneath the curve of your hips. His gaze was heavy-lidded and dangerous beneath the gold glow of the bar lights.

"You’re playing dirty," he said quietly.

"You like it when I play dirty."

Gojo let out a strangled sound.

"Okay," he said, "this is getting out of hand."

"Is it?" Your lips brushed against Nanami’s jaw.

Nanami’s hands curled tighter around your waist.

"Okay, okay," Gojo’s smile thinned, the barest edge of tension creeping beneath the surface. "That’s enough."

"Why?" you hummed, nipping lightly at Nanami’s ear. "Jealous?"

"Terrified," Gojo admitted, his smile faltering.

Nanami’s gaze sharpened.

"Don’t worry," you murmured. "You’re next."

"Oh?" Gojo’s grin returned—forced this time.

Nanami’s eyes narrowed.

"Sit," Gojo said smoothly, rising to his feet and holding out a hand toward Nanami. "Let’s see how hard I am to flirt with."

Nanami’s gaze darkened. "This is ridiculous."

"You scared, Kento?"

Nanami’s jaw tightened. Slowly, reluctantly, he stood, setting you down beside him before Gojo slid into his place on the couch.

Gojo spread his arms wide, his grin widening as he settled back. "Alright, sweetheart. Let’s see you try."

You smiled.

Then you climbed into his lap.

Gojo’s breath hitched.

"Oh?" you purred, fingers sliding into his hair. "What’s wrong, Satoru? Nervous?"

"No," Gojo said—except his hand was already gripping the back of your thigh.

"Hm." You traced his jaw with one fingertip. "Not even a little?"

"Maybe a little."

You leaned in, your breath skimming the corner of his mouth.

"Mr. Gojo," you whispered, like you’d said his name the first time you met him.

Gojo’s eyes widened.

"Oh, hell no," Nanami muttered.

Gojo’s mouth opened—but you were faster. Your lips skimmed just beneath his jawline, and Gojo’s grip on your thigh tightened.

"You’re… better at this than I expected," Gojo admitted.

"That’s what makes it fun," you hummed.

"And dangerous," Nanami said darkly.

Gojo’s hand slid beneath your knee.

"So…" Gojo smiled faintly. "What’s your secret?"

"Secret?" you tilted your head.

"Yeah." His smile sharpened. "How are you so good at this?"

You smiled, leaning closer until your lips brushed against his ear.

"I flirt when I’m bored."

Both men blinked.

"I’m sorry," Nanami said, setting his glass down. "You what?"

"I flirt when I’m bored," you repeated. "People get attached."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Gojo muttered.

"Relax," you teased, leaning back. "I don’t do it when I’m not actually interested, unlike you."

Both men stared at you for a beat too long.

"I only flirt like this, I mean physically, with you two. What they confuse for flirting is mostly when I’m drunk; I compliment someone, and people are so attention-starved these days they think being kind is also somehow me being madly in love with them."

Gojo’s smile came back, “Oh god, yess. I hate when they think I actually care about them.”

Nanami rolled his eyes.

"Yeah…" Gojo’s fingers curled more tightly around your hip. "It’s just… kinda scary, right?"

Nanami’s gaze narrowed. "What is?"

"The fact that she’s more like you than me."

Nanami’s lips twitched. "And what’s wrong with that?"

"Means you both don’t need me."

"We’ll always need you," you murmured, raking your nails through Gojo’s hair.

"Sure?" Gojo’s smile was thin.

"Yes."

Gojo’s eyes softened.

Nanami’s hand slid to your back, grounding you.

"Good," Gojo murmured. "Because you’re not getting rid of me that easily."

---

Present Day

Gojo Satoru was trying very hard to behave.

But you were not making it easy.

You were in your third trimester—not that Gojo needed reminding. He was hyperaware of it at all times. Every shift of your weight. Every hand pressed to your lower back. Every sigh when you struggled to roll out of bed. His instincts were screaming at him to fix it, to help you, to take care of you.

Except you wouldn’t let him.

Nanami’s rules had been clear. No touching.

So Gojo sat, sprawled across the couch like a large cat, arms spread across the backrest. His sunglasses were balanced precariously on his nose.

He wasn’t wearing a shirt—which was intentional, because if he was going to suffer, so were you.

You were perched on the armrest of the opposite chair, legs crossed beneath you. Your hand idly traced over your belly as you scrolled through your phone.

Gojo’s gaze tracked the movement.

Your mouth twitched. "You’re staring."

Gojo’s mouth curled lazily. "Am I not allowed to look at my wife?"

"You’re not allowed to touch me," you reminded him.

Gojo’s smile sharpened. "Technicalities."

You hummed. Then—

"I need something."

Gojo sat up a little straighter. "What do you need?"

You swiped at your phone screen, and Gojo heard the soft chime of some luxury website opening.

"… What do you need?"

You turned your phone toward him. "This."

Gojo tilted his head. "Is that a… $25,000 baby bassinet?"

"Yes."

"For twins."

"Yes."

Gojo’s smile widened. "Why do I get the feeling this is a test?"

You set the phone down on the armrest. "Because it is."

Gojo’s grin brightened. "And if I say yes?"

"You pass."

"And if I say no?"

You shrugged. "Then I guess we’ll just have to sleep with the babies in bed with us."

Gojo’s pupils dilated.

Dangerous.

"That’s playing dirty," he said, leaning back.

"You’re not allowed to touch me," you said lightly. "What’s the harm?"

Gojo’s gaze sharpened. "Nanami will—Oh, you know exactly what you’re doing."

You smiled.

Gojo smiled. "Fine. Done. Anything else?"

"Actually…" You shifted, fingers brushing idly over your belly. "There’s a matching set of cashmere blankets."

"Cashmere?"

"Organic."

Gojo exhaled slowly. "This feels like extortion."

"You’re very rich."

"And you’re very spoiled," Gojo muttered.

You smiled. "Isn’t that the point?"

Gojo’s gaze darkened. His knee started bouncing.

"How much?"

"Ten thousand."

Gojo’s mouth curved. "Per blanket?"

"Of course."

Gojo grinned. "Add them to the cart."

You raised a brow. "That easy?"

"You’re asking me for things," Gojo said, his tone softening dangerously. "That’s progress."

Your hand traced absently over the curve of your stomach. "And if I ask for something else?"

Gojo’s smile sharpened. His knee bounced faster. "You’ll get it."

"And if I don’t say please?"

"Still yours."

"And if I ask for something unreasonable?"

Gojo’s gaze darkened. "Define unreasonable."

You leaned forward, voice soft. "Touch me."

Gojo’s breath hitched. His knuckles whitened. "That’s against the rules."

"Is it?" you asked, tone lazy.

"You’re dangerous," he murmured, staring at your lips.

"You married me," you replied.

Gojo's knee stopped bouncing. His breath was measured. His hands flexed against his thighs.

"If I break the rules," he said, "Nanami will kill me."

"Probably," you said.

"But you wouldn’t stop me?"

You smiled. "Did I say that?"

Gojo’s gaze darkened dangerously. His hands curled into fists against his knees. His jaw flexed.

And then—

"Goodnight, Satoru."

You stood, brushing a hand over the curve of your belly as you walked toward the bedroom.

Gojo watched you go, his breath unsteady.

His hands curled into fists. His pupils were blown wide.

"I’m in trouble," he smiled to himself.

He was absolutely going to buy the bassinet and those blankets in every color you liked.

---

Daddy: Do you know how fast she waddles now?

Father Time: Waddles?

Daddy: YES. I watched her shuffle across the kitchen at a full 2 mph.

Father Time: Impressive.

Daddy: When I pointed it out, she threatened me with a frying pan.

Father Time: Good.

Daddy: Why are you taking her side???

---

Gojo Satoru was many things. A genius. A menace. The strongest. A man with no concept of personal space or financial restraint.

A good husband?

That was... debatable.

He stood in the doorway, white hair perfectly tousled, dressed like an overpaid actor trying to avoid paparazzi. He had two iced coffees in one hand and a ridiculous grin on his face, which immediately faltered when he saw you.

"Hey, pretty lady." He tilted his head, looking you over. You hadn’t moved from the couch. "Wow. You look..."

You raised a brow.

"...Murderous?" he finished weakly.

You ignored him.

Gojo cleared his throat and sat down beside you, trying to subtly inch closer.

You subtly inched away.

Gojo pouted. Tragic.

"So..." He slid an iced coffee toward you, like a peace offering. "How’s my favorite wife doing?"

You finally looked at him. "I’m your only wife."

"Exactly! That’s what makes you so special."

Silence.

You took the coffee, but Gojo didn’t miss the way your fingers trembled slightly.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be near him.

It wasn’t that you didn’t still love him.

It was that love was complicated now.

You had spent months feeling invisible. Months of watching him and Nanami slip away.

And now he was here. Acting like everything was fine.

You inhaled deeply. "What do you want, Satoru?"

Gojo blinked. "I can’t just want to spend time with my amazing, beautiful, totally-out-of-my-league wife?"

You stared.

Gojo fidgeted. "Okay, okay. Listen. I planned something."

You raised a brow. "Planned what?"

Gojo grinned. "A date."

Silence.

"A what?"

"A date! A day just for us. Just you and me. No Nanami. No rules. No thinking. Just pure, unfiltered chaos."

You blinked slowly. "That sounds like a terrible idea."

"That’s what makes it fun!" Gojo winked.

You sighed, pressing your fingers against your temples. "I don’t want to go anywhere crowded."

"Done."

"Or anywhere loud."

"Obviously."

"Or anywhere that will stress me out."

Gojo smiled brightly. "Okay, so that rules out haunted houses and underground fight clubs. Got it."

You exhaled sharply. "Satoru."

"Trust me, sweetheart." He leaned closer, testing the waters. "I just want to make you smile again."

Gojo’s idea of "low stress" was dragging you to an entire luxury shopping district and buying everything in sight.

"Babe, this dress is made of pure silk!"

"Satoru, I don’t need—"

"Yes, you do. Look at it! It’s so soft. You deserve soft things. I'm buying it."

"Satoru—"

"Ooooh, matching shoes."

Ten minutes later, he was trying to buy the entire store.

"Sir, we don’t actually sell the mannequins—"

"I want this one."

"That’s not for sale—"

"Everything is for sale if you are rich enough."

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

Meanwhile, Gojo was texting Nanami unhinged updates.

Daddy: Kento. You’ll never believe this.

Daddy: I am a changed man. A mature man.

Father Time: I highly doubt that.

Daddy: I am doing my husbandly duties. I am providing.

Father Time: What did you do.

Daddy: Took our lovely, radiant, glowing, potentially still mad at us wife on a date.

Father Time: …How much money have you spent?

Daddy: 🧍🏻‍♂️

Father Time: Satoru.

Daddy: [Photo Attachment: The trunk of the car, completely full of shopping bags.]

Father Time: SATORU.

Daddy: :)

A "Casual" Jewelry Store Incident

It wasn’t your fault that Gojo was emotionally repressed and used money to make up for his guilt.

"Pick something," he said.

You frowned. "Satoru, no."

"Sweetheart, yes." He leaned against the counter, grinning. "Anything you want. A necklace? Earrings? A crown? I think they have those in the back—"

"I don’t need anything."

"Yeah, but I need you to let me spoil you so I feel less like human garbage. Let me have this."

You sighed. "You can’t just fix things with money."

"Of course not. But it does make everything a little shinier."

You stared at him.

Gojo smiled. "Come on. Just one thing. It doesn’t have to be expensive—"

"Everything in here is expensive."

"Fine. Then it doesn’t have to be too expensive."

You rolled your eyes. But deep down… you saw the way he was looking at you.

He was trying.

And maybe—just for today—you could let him.

You sighed. "Fine. But nothing ridiculous."

Gojo lit up. "That’s my girl."

By the time you got home, you were exhausted.

Gojo was still buzzing with energy.

"That was fun, right?" he asked.

"I’m too tired to answer that."

Gojo laughed, but then… his expression softened.

"Hey." His voice was quieter. "You feeling okay?"

You hesitated.

Because no.

Not really.

Not in a way that was easy to explain.

Gojo shifted closer, hesitant. Worried.

"You know I’d do anything for you, right?"

You swallowed.

"I know."

"Good." Gojo reached for your hand, thumb brushing over your palm.

You let him.

For now.

Because this was progress.

And for now, that was enough.

---

Gastronomy, Murder, and the Art of Annoying Nanami Kento

Nanami hated being here.

The penthouse was too modern, the walls lined with pretentious art that screamed "I have money, but I am also deeply emotionally unavailable." Megumi sat on the far end of the room, scrolling through his phone with the air of a bored assassin in a board meeting.

And Haibara?

Haibara was staring at him like he was deciding between fucking with him or throwing him off the balcony.

Nanami had known Haibara was unhinged. But seeing it up close, without the buffer of his wife, was a different experience entirely.

"Kento," Haibara said, leaning against the counter. "Sweetheart. Love of my life."

Nanami ignored him.

"Oh, don’t do that," Haibara drawled, stepping closer, all sharp grins and calculated chaos. "I just want to know… how does it feel knowing your wife is alone with Gojo right now?"

Nanami’s eye twitched.

Megumi sighed, not looking up from his phone.

"Oh, Megs, don’t be boring—"

"Do not call me that."

Haibara grinned. "I just think it’s fascinating, you know?" He turned to Nanami, eyes glinting with menace. "The whole ‘two husbands’ thing. The whole ‘you left her long enough that she ran’ thing. The whole ‘she might still be mad enough to leave again’ thing—"

Nanami stood.

Megumi immediately shifted, tense.

Haibara?

Haibara just smiled wider.

"Did I strike a nerve, Nanami-dono?"

Nanami inhaled deeply. "I will not dignify your existence with a response."

"Ohhh, that’s good. That’s CEO-level burn right there. But you know what’s better?" Haibara leaned in slightly, voice lowering—"Knowing I was there when she needed someone, and you weren’t."

Nanami’s cursed energy flared.

Megumi looked up immediately. "Haibara."

"What?" Haibara was utterly unbothered. "I’m just reminding him. Y'know, in case he forgot that she had to sleep alone for months while he and Gojo were busy sucking each other off and ignoring her."

Nanami’s fingers curled into fists. "If you think—"

"No, no—I think you think. And that’s the problem, isn’t it?" Haibara tilted his head, mockingly thoughtful. "You thought she’d just… stay. Thought she’d just wait. But let’s be real, Nanami—if Gojo hadn’t dragged her back, she wouldn’t even be your problem anymore."

Megumi exhaled sharply. "Haibara. Enough."

"Oh, come on, Megumi—don’t act like you weren’t thinking it too."

Nanami’s jaw flexed. "You really want to die, don’t you?"

Haibara’s grin widened. "I’m actually quite fond of living. But you? You look like you’re one bad conversation away from cardiac arrest."

Nanami exhaled slowly. "I am not going to engage with a sociopath."

"Smart man. You know, I’d hate to break up a marriage, but since you and Gojo already did that yourselves—"

Megumi threw his phone down. "Haibara. Shut the fuck up."

Nanami sat back down. "He won’t."

"Oh?" Haibara’s smile was sharp. "And why’s that?"

"Because he enjoys this. Because he’s a fundamentally insufferable little pest who thrives on making others suffer. Because he has all the emotional intelligence of a brick and the impulse control of a caffeinated raccoon."

"Oooo, good one." Haibara winked. "But let’s not pretend you’re immune, Kento. Because I know something."

Nanami sighed. "I highly doubt that."

"No, no. I do. You know what I know?" Haibara leaned in closer, grin lethal.

"I know that when she was gone, you still didn’t fucking notice she was gone for a month and a half."

Nanami went still.

Megumi blinked.

Haibara’s voice was a whisper now, just between them. "And it barely takes thirty minutes for me and Megumi to hide a body; imagine what she could have gone through."

Nanami’s jaw clenched. "Would you like to be thrown off the balcony, or do you prefer the stairs?"

Haibara laughed. "See? This is why I like you, Nanami."

One Hour Later

Nanami was in the kitchen, ignoring Haibara’s continued existence, measuring out precise amounts of protein-balanced, vitamin-optimized ingredients.

Megumi walked in.

"You’re actually taking this hobby seriously?"

"Unlike you two, I have self-control."

Megumi raised a brow. "…You just threatened to throw Haibara off the balcony."

"And yet, he is still here. See? Self-control."

Megumi sighed, watching Nanami plate an obscenely gourmet dish with the determination of a man who’d never let you go hungry again.

Then—Haibara strolled in.

"Ooo, what’s for dinner? Am I invited?"

Nanami didn’t even look up. "No."

Haibara grinned. "God, I love this arrangement."

Meanwhile, in your penthouse…

Your phone pinged.

Kento: (1 attachment)

— I made a dish for you to try later.

— It’s a protein-balanced, low-acid meal to help with nausea.

— And, before you ask, yes, I researched optimal nutritional needs for twin pregnancies.

You smiled.

You: You’re such a nerd.

Kento: I take offense to that.

You: What is it?

Kento: Steamed white fish, quinoa, and a fennel citrus salad.

You: What if I just want to eat a whole cake?

Kento: Then I will make one.

From across the penthouse, Nanami heard Haibara shouting.

"ADMIT YOU’D SPOON-FEED HER SPROUTS IF SHE ASKED!"

A pause.

Then—Nanami’s irritated sigh.

---

Gojo was sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching you with laser focus as you did prenatal yoga.

You were in leggings. Stretching.

Gojo was sweating.

Then his phone buzzed.

He glanced down.

Another TikTok.

"If your baby daddy doesn’t instinctively press his hand to your belly every time you walk by, why are you even with him?"

Gojo’s jaw flexed.

You shifted into another stretch, hand pressed to your lower back. Your shirt lifted slightly, exposing the curve of your breasts.

Gojo’s pupils dilated.

You caught his gaze and smiled. "Problem?"

Gojo's hand twitched toward your stomach.

But he wasn’t allowed to touch you.

Nanami’s rule.

Gojo’s jaw flexed. "No problem."

You turned away.

Gojo stared down at his phone.

Father Time: Did you get another one?

Daddy: Yeah

Father Time: What was it?

Daddy: … Belly touching

Father Time: Do not engage.

Daddy: She looked at me like I should’ve done it.

Father Time: You will be killed.

Daddy: Worse ways to go.

---

Gojo Satoru had faced curses that could level entire city blocks without breaking a sweat. He’d stood in the face of death itself and laughed.

But nothing — nothing — had ever filled him with as much cold-blooded panic as the sight of you crying in the middle of the produce aisle.

You were standing between the apples and oranges, one hand braced against your belly, the other half-clenching a watermelon. Silent tears were streaking down your face. Your breathing was uneven, and your lips wobbled like you were fighting to keep yourself together—and losing.

"Sweetheart?" Gojo’s voice shot up an octave, his usual lazy grin wiped clean off his face.

You turned your wet, blotchy face toward him. "What?"

His stomach dropped.

He didn’t even think—he just moved. Within seconds, Gojo’s hand was on your back, steady and warm, his body half-shielding you from the rest of the store.

"Hey, hey, hey…" His voice softened. "What happened?"

Your shoulders trembled. "Nothing," you choked out. "Nothing happened."

Gojo’s fingers pressed gently against your back, rubbing slow circles. "Babe," he said carefully, "I have known you for years. This isn’t a ‘nothing’ face."

You sniffed hard, roughly wiping your eyes with your sleeve. "I’m fine."

"You’re crying in front of the mangoes." Gojo’s hand moved to your shoulder. "I don’t think you’re fine."

Your lip wobbled again.

Gojo’s hand curled protectively over your upper arm. "Sweetheart," his voice was lower now, softer. "Just talk to me."

And that did it.

The dam broke.

"I—I was just—" your breath hitched, "I was reading the label on the watermelon and it said ‘seedless for your convenience’ and—"

Gojo blinked. "…Yeah?"

"And I just—" You hiccupped. "I just felt so… so grateful for whoever’s job it was to make watermelon without seeds—"

Gojo’s lips parted. "The watermelon?"

"Yes!" you cried. "They did that! For me!"

Gojo blinked again. "For you?"

"For everyone!" Your voice cracked. "But also me!"

Gojo stared at you like you’d just declared you were moving out of the solar system.

And then, to your horror—

He laughed.

It wasn’t mean or mocking—it was light and relieved, like the weight of the world had just rolled off his chest. He clapped a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking.

"Don’t laugh!" you whined, fresh tears welling. "I’m serious!"

Gojo’s face snapped back into something softer, but his smile lingered as he cupped your face with both hands. "Sweetheart," he said again, voice warm and affectionate, "I’m not laughing at you." His thumbs brushed under your eyes, carefully wiping away your tears. "I just—" His voice cracked slightly. "You scared me."

Your chest tightened. "I scared you?"

"Of course you did." His hands slid down to your shoulders. "I thought someone hurt you. I thought—" He broke off, jaw clenching. "I thought something was wrong."

Your face crumpled. "I’m sorry—"

"Don’t be sorry." His hands moved back to your face, cradling you. "You’re okay. You’re fine. I’d be more worried if you weren’t emotional." His gaze softened. "And hey... thanks to those watermelon scientists, you don’t have to deal with seeds. That’s a win, right?"

You let out a watery laugh, half-sniff, half-sob. "Why are you so calm about this?"

"Because you’re allowed to cry," Gojo said easily. His hand slid over your stomach again, his gaze soft. "You’re growing two whole human beings. Cry over watermelon if you want."

Your eyes softened. "You’re not mad?"

"Mad?" Gojo’s brows lifted. "Why would I be mad?"

"Because I’ve been—" You hesitated. "—kind of awful lately."

"You’re not awful," he said quietly.

"You’re just saying that because I’m pregnant."

"No," Gojo said. "I’m saying it because it’s true."

You inhaled shakily. "But—"

"No buts," Gojo interrupted gently. His hand cupped your face again, his thumb tracing the line of your cheekbone. "Hormones or not, you’re still you. I’m not going anywhere."

Your throat tightened. "Even if I cry over watermelons?"

"Especially then," He said.

Your lips trembled. Gojo leaned in, brushing his mouth lightly over your forehead.

"Let me fix it," he murmured.

You frowned. "Fix what?"

Gojo pulled back and grinned.

"Stay here," he said.

You blinked. "Satoru—"

"I’ll be right back."

Five minutes later, Gojo returned with two full bags of watermelons.

"Where did you—"

"Talked to the manager," Gojo said smugly. "Turns out they had some in the back."

Your mouth parted. "You didn’t—"

"I did," Gojo said, grinning. He set the bags down next to you and slid onto the bench again, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

Your throat tightened. "You didn’t have to—"

"Yes, I did." Gojo’s gaze softened. "And I’ll do it again. Just say the word."

You stared at the bags of watermelons. "Satoru…"

Gojo’s hand slid beneath your chin, lifting your gaze toward his. His mouth curved.

"I’m not going anywhere," he said softly. "No

---

Chili Rating Poll: Rate each husband's progress in couples therapy (1-5 🌶️): 1 🌶️ = Still setting fires in Sims 4 3 🌶️ = Gojo bought apology watermelons 5 🌶️ = Nanami admitted he’s a simp Bonus: How many times did you scream ‘JUST COMMUNICATE’? So how many parallels did you catch???🤔🌚 Or what was your fav line??? 👀

Next chapter 20 (alt ending 2.11) - The Fault Lines: The Honored One’s Guide to Fumbling the Bag (And Other Love Languages) - Part 1 - (Tumblr/Ao3)

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[quillver]

NOT YET

a guide to writing tension that lingers

Tension isn’t what happens.

It’s what doesn’t.

It’s not release, it’s restraint.

Not the blow - the breath before it.

Not the confession - the moment they almost speak, then choose silence.

It’s not about stakes. It’s not about spectacle.

It’s pressure. The kind that wants to break and hasn’t.

This isn’t about making things louder.

This is about refusing to let go.

1. Suppress first. Always.

Tension doesn’t begin with action.

It begins with what isn’t said. Isn’t touched. Isn’t admitted.

A want that isn’t safe to want yet.

A truth that enters the room and no one names it.

How to use it:

– Start the scene beneath the surface.

– Let the reader feel what’s being swallowed — even if the characters won’t.

Suppression is the wick.

Everything else is heat.

2. Stack contradiction inside the moment.

Tension lives in compression.

Two truths, both real, both incompatible - and both happening now.

She smiles like it’s fine. Her hands say otherwise.

He doesn’t answer. Not because he doesn’t know - but because he does.

How to use it:

– Put conflict inside one gesture.

– Let action and emotion split.

– Let the reader feel what doesn’t align.

One emotion isn’t tension.

Two, knotted tight — that’s voltage.

3. Put the outcome within reach. Then deny it.

Tension doesn’t come from distance.

It comes from proximity — and the refusal to touch.

The door is half open.

The hand almost lifts.

The truth is one breath away — but it stays unsaid.

How to use it:

– Make the desire visible.

– Stall just before contact.

– Let the reader feel what could happen — and doesn’t.

They could touch it.

That’s where it snags.

Let them almost reach it — and stop the breath. That’s what bruises.

4. Make silence the most violent part.

Silence is not neutral.

It’s pressure. It’s a defense. It’s an edge.

She could have denied it.

She didn’t.

And that was worse.

How to use it:

– Don’t explain the silence. Let it speak.

– Use breath, breaks, and shape.

– Show what they almost say — and what they do instead.

Silence isn’t absence.

It’s everything unsaid, straining to surface.

The hardest part of tension is trusting that nothing is still doing something.

5. Let the structure flinch first.

Form is part of the tension.

Use it.

A long sentence holds control.

A short one lets go.

A paragraph break is a fracture you don’t show.

How to use it:

– Break the line where the voice might crack.

– End the scene before the pain finishes its arc.

– Use the white space to hold what the characters can’t.

Structure isn’t just shape.

It’s breath control.

When you cut the line early, the silence keeps writing.

Let the story hold its breath before the characters do.

6. Deny the release.

Tension isn’t resolution.

It’s refusal.

He walks in ready to break the silence.

He walks out with nothing said.

But the silence leaves marks.

How to use it:

Don’t tidy the end of the scene.

– Let it bruise. Let it throb.

– Let the reader feel what almost happened — and know it still matters.

Sometimes the hardest thing isn’t writing what happens.

It’s knowing what to withhold — and letting it ache there, quietly.

Write the scene that wants to resolve.

Don’t let it.

Leave it unfinished.

If you’re doing it right…

The silence is saying more than the dialogue.

The desire is clear - and unanswered.

The emotion contradicts the behaviour.

The form is holding the pressure.

And the reader feels the hurt before it happens.

And one last thing.

The most painful scenes to write are the ones where

no one gets what they want —

and no one admits they wanted anything at all.

That’s tension.

That’s the bruise you build the story around.

Let it stay tender.

You don’t write tension to shock them.

You write it to haunt them.

That’s what they carry.

[kestrelteens]

I came up with this set when I converted these 3 hairstyles and I actually hate taking hair preview pics so I though it would be way more fun to come up with a clothing set as well. And ever since @paluding's Tattooer came to life, converting cute texture based clothes has been a dream. ♥

Sooo, this set consists of:

plaid tights by @miikocc (AF, paired with my conversion of these loafers, both morphs, 11 swatches);

the witching hour blouse by @mossylane (AF-TF, both morphs, 7 swatches);

the reno blouse by @sforzcc (AF, both morphs, 9 swatches);

marigold hairstyle by @miikocc (AF-CU, 4 colors binned, animated, 5,042 polys);

coco hairstyle by @twisted-cat (AF-CU, 4 colors binned, animated, 6,663 polys);

blair hairstyle by @aharris00britney (AF-CU, 4 colors binned, animated, 12,418 polys);

Everything's compressed, enjoy! ♥

download (sfs) // alt download (mediafire)

[lilafunger]

More of these design interpretation things done,,, I went back and forth a LOT on the twins' hair, because I wanted to try to interpret it in a fun 1940s-y kind of way, while still keeping the silhouettes. I did a bunch of research and thinking to make sure Olivia's clothing was comfortable and practical sudjklm.,xc peak example of putting all your headcanons on your favourite character,,,,, (I Might not remember them All, but some of them are gloves to make moving her wheels easier, compression tights, a wrap-skirt that she can just sit on and button up & 3/4 length sleeves that won't get Caught as easily,,)

I was pretty sick when I did most of this tbh but I think they turned out okay considering that.

Also Fun Fact, when i showed my partner the original lineart, they said it looked like Abella had top surgery scars. I changed it bc it wasn't my Intent but I do like that idea a lot too... Abella is Agender to me,,, except it's the 40s and knowledge of be nonbinary is Limited. But you know what I mean. Inwardly....... it's there...................and honestly even if I Didn't think that, Cis Girls with Top Surgery are Peak.