#And like. It's not like either of them are really in denial about what they are or are becoming

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Special Episode VI 

Labor of Love - Part II

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's insanely talented creator @zestys-stuff. Thank you so much for allowing me to play around with your characters!

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (25) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (20) featuring Metkayina!Zu’té (29)

Warnings: zero smut, angst angst angst, mention of past trauma, expletives, pregnancy, contractions, heavily described labour, blood, mild physical violence, reader is really going through it, ralak is too but he'll be alright i promise, brother!neteyam makes a star appearance, cute family fluff, let me know if i forgot anything

Word Count: 6.5k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Hope you're enjoying your tour in angst town...we're almost finished. You could say we're nearing the final attraction, so continue to keep your seatbelts buckled. lol why am i like this? anyways... please don't hate me for this chapter, and i will try my best to get the next one out quicker so you guys can get some closure lool :)

Synopsis: You didn't plan for things to turn out this way. But no amount of denial can make reality go away...

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And when Ralak sees it, he almost caves in on himself. His mask of indifference—of intimidation, cracks. Hell, it shatters. Into thousands of pieces, scattered at his feet. Tonowari’s previous right hand. The banished.  His karyu.

Time chips by at a torturous pace. You spend the first hour sitting on the beach, eating some fruit whilst watching what your brothers get up to. Neteyam, of course, is bearing most of the responsibility whilst Lo’ak and Tuk are taking a more easy approach to the day. Mom and dad made sure to leave them with a list of things to get done whilst they’re away—number one being to keep an eye on their sisters. 

Number one, check. 

All that floods your mind is your mate and if he’s okay. You try to process everything he’s said but it’s all too much to wrap your head around. All too new. Your brothers aren’t much help either, as they claim to be ‘out the loop’ as much as you are. You know it's bullshit, and probably just another thing that they’ve been ordered to keep from you so as not to ‘stress you out’. 

Regardless, it’s all you can think about. 

Until you feel your son do a flip in your womb, big enough to make you gasp. Your hands immediately fly to your belly, feeling around to gauge his position. A pressure begins to grow against your bladder. One so intense it presses into your tailbone too. The pads of your fingers sink into the skin, tapping around as you make out a leg, then a knee. A hand to the left. 

Is he…head down? You think to yourself. 

“Everything alright?” Neteyam asks, concern wrinkling his forehead.  

“Hm?” You look up, seeing the outline of his silhouette in front of the sun. 

“You okay? You’re…you look a little—”

“Oh, yeah. Everything’s fine. He’s moving a lot today.” You smile, catching Tuk excitedly running over in the corner of your eye. 

“Really? Can I feel? Please?” She squeals excitedly, falling to her knees in the sand next to you. 

“Of course, Tuk.” You smile, and place her hand on top of your stomach, right where his foot is. Only a few seconds pass by until your son gives Tuk a strong kick, making her mouth open with glee. 

“Wow! Tey, you gotta feel this!” Tuk exclaims, tugging your brother by the hand so he’s next to you too. Neteyam looks at you, unsure if you’re okay with it. You nod with a gentle smile, tugging his hand over to the other side of your stomach. His hand hovers as he hesitates for a moment, this is his first time feeling his nephew move. He gives you a final look, and gently rests his hand on your belly

A few moments pass and nothing. 

“Aww, he stopped moving.” Tuk sighs with a pout. 

“Patience, Tuk.” You whisper, feeling him kick on cue. Her face lights up with a beaming smile and Neteyam seems to be in awe with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. 

“Woah, y/n. Your tummy’s getting hard.” Tuk says innocently, looking at her brother to see if he feels it too. 

“Hm?” You hum, feeling a bit spaced out and achy.   

“It is.” Neteyam lets go and keeps his hands to himself, feeling like he’s invading your personal space. A heat floods your back, and you feel your thighs spasm. You begin to groan, holding your breath until the strange feeling subsides. “Hey. You okay?” 

You nod, finally release your breath, and hear Tuk’s excited voice. “It’s all soft now!” 

“All good.” You smile, but Neteyam doesn’t seem convinced at all. “Ronal says they are normal. They aren’t the real thing. Mom had them with Tuk, remember?” 

Neteyams' features soften as he nods, prying his little sister's hands off of you. “Ease up now, Tuk.” 

“Sorry, sis.” She says quietly, ears laying flat to her head. 

“Nothing to be sorry about.” You say as you roll to your side to get up, shamelessly using Neteyam to gain some momentum. “Think it’s time for me to take a walk, though.” 

“Yes, sure. Where are we going?” Neteyam asks, ready to accompany you anywhere.

“I’m going down to the rocks.” You emphasise on the first word, making it clear you need some alone time after being babysat all day. “I think Lo’ak needs some help with the net.”

Neteyam and Tuk look over to see their brother struggling with a tangled fishing net, and turn back to see that you’re already waddling down the beach. 

——

Suddenly, Ralak’s back inside of his family marui pod on his iknimaya night. Trapped. Small. Powerless. Cornered by a person he once looked up to. A person he trusted. Manipulated by her heat— her pheromones. A crime punishable by banishment. Forced to give, forced to receive. A betrayal he’ll never forget. A face he swore to himself that he would never see again. 

No wonder they ‘demanded’ his presence.

Tonowari and Ronal lose their colour when their eyes land on her. It’s been so many years. They quickly look over to Ralak, who is seemingly falling to pieces where he stands. The expression on his face is no short of pure shock and… terror. Truthfully, the last time they’d seen such an expression on his face was the deaths of his parents and spirit brother. Jake and Neytiri aren’t aware of what’s going on, but they know it must be serious for Ralak to be so…expressive. 

They can even see his shoulders heave from how hard he’s breathing, and how his face of terror quickly morphs into something of fury. Tonowari notices the way he tightens his grip on his weapon, and his eyes as they gloss over red with rage. It takes a lot to make this man blind with anger. Tonowari knows if he doesn't step in now that this could turn sour in the blink of an eye. 

——

Two.

Releasing a shaky exhale, you begin your walk back to your siblings. That was the second ‘practice’ contraction you’ve had since starting your walk, and your third since coming here with your brothers. Your waddle is becoming more sluggish with each step and the fire in your back is beginning to burn hotter rather than fade out. 

“Not now, little one.” You whisper as you caress your bump. “…please.” 

Weariness sets in as you make it halfway back, making you perch on your knees to take a break. The fire spreads from your back to your thighs, and up your stomach. You brace yourself for the tight feeling, holding your breath in the base of your chest. You grumble a little, swaying side to side until it passes, which thankfully doesn’t take more than a few seconds. 

Three.

Finally making it back to the beach, you see Neteyam and Lo’ak hauling a few sacks on their backs, with Tuk skipping behind them. You overhear Lo’ak trying to convince Neteyam to let him be with the other warriors, and Neteyam reminding him of your parents orders. They stop mid sentence when they hear your heavy, muffled footsteps, taking one look at you and knowing that something isn’t right. Lo’ak in particular, to your surprise. 

“Damn. You look exhausted.” Lo’ak says, earning a jab in the rib by Neteyams elbow. “What? She looks like she’s about to pass out.” 

“You can’t say that to a pregnant woman, skxawng [idiot].” Neteyam hisses.

“It’s fine. He’s not wrong.” You say, tail dragging low and heavy behind you. Ralak still clouds your mind, and you’re eager to know if he’s back yet. “I want to go home now. I really need to lie down.” 

Neteyam just nods, understanding that something deeper is going on. “I will take you.” 

“I got it, bro.” Lo’ak interjects, plunking the sack off his back and onto the ground.  

“Stay with Tuk.” Neteyam orders, clicking for his skimwing. 

“Why don’t you stay with Tuk?” Lo’ak snaps back. 

“Guys. Please?” You sigh, waddling towards the winged beast, throwing a leg over its tough back. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Come ‘teyam.” Neteyam smirks, making the bond with the beast and mounting it in one swift move. 

As you arrive at your marui, you see Zu’té at the outside fire pit, concentrating on not burning yet another type of meat-on-a-stick. Hearing your arrival, Zu’té turns and acknowledges your presence. He puts down the sizzling meat on a leaf, allowing the fire to continue to burn as he begins to make his way over to collect you. Neteyam and him exchange glances and silent greetings, and suddenly the air is thick. 

“Right…I’m going up. Thank you, tey. See you.” You say out of breath, giving him a quick hug.

“Let me—” Neteyam begins.

“No, I’m okay.” You cut off your brother, hualing yourself off the tsurak. 

“Right. Kìyevame [see you again soon]. If you need me, send your watchdog.” He speaks clearly, holding you by the wrist to steady you as you get off. 

“I will, tey.” You chuckle lightly and make your way to the marui. Neteyam waits patiently, making sure you get in safely. 

Zu’té is only half way there when you reach the bottom step, already offering his arm for the stairs. You sigh and shake your head, hurriedly climbing the stairs as fast as your swollen ankles will allow it. For some reason, his gesture really annoys you. Your mood is off and you feel queasy and achy—like your entire body is throbbing. 

All you want is for everyone around you to stop babying you, and let you be alone for the rest of the day. 

“I got it.” Your voice strains as you wobble ahead, leaving Zu’té and your brother behind. Neteyam remains silent for some time, locking eyes with Zu’té. 

‘Keep a close eye.’ Neteyam signs with disquiet wrinkling his forehead. Zu’té gives him a puzzled look at first, but slowly nods when he successfully deciphers the message. Neteyam nods as well and dives underwater. 

By the time Zu’té gets to the bottom step, you’re already at the top, clutching onto the railing as you lean forward in pain. You couldn’t even make it into the pod without another hitting you so soon. You take a few deep breaths rather than holding it in, waiting until the tight feeling subsides. 

Four.

Zu’té darts up the stairs to your side, offering a hand in support only to be swatted away. “What is it?”

“It is nothing.” You catch your breath and insist that it was nothing—because it was nothing, right?

His brows furrow in disbelief, a look of concern washing over his face. Zu’té allows his eyes to fall to your bulging, veiny belly for the first time, taking in the sight. “You were in pain.”

“I’m fine.” You’re short with him, stony eyes staring into his.

“Someone once told me no good comes from pretending that things don’t hurt.” 

“Well nothing’s happening until my husband is back. Okay?” You try to remain nonchalant, to believe your own words. 

He simply stares down at you for a bit, analysing your facial expression. Despite your stone cold facade, he can easily  see the fear etched into your features. Fear that this baby may come before Ralaks return and that if you allow yourself to accept reality, then it may really come true. He glances down at your hand still stuck to the side of your stomach and swallows, looking back up to you. 

“Understood.” 

“Right. Now...” You huff, contemplating if you should say what you want to say. You feel like telling him to back off—to give you some space. But he’s obviously just making sure you’re okay. “...I need to lie down. Just, keep an eye out for—” 

“My brother? Sure. Rest well.” 

——

“Ay’ana.” 

The Olo’eyktan lets out a lengthy growl, earning a look from the traitor herself. 

“Waari.” She sings with a grin, shifting her leer to his mate behind him. “Ronal.” Her eyes fall to her swollen belly, “You are expecting…again.” 

It wasn’t a, ‘congratulations’ either, no. But rather a ‘I see that you are the most vulnerable.’

Ronal scowls, hissing through her teeth. Tonowari steps in front of his mate, blocking her from Ay’ana’s view. 

It was one thing to commit kawngkem [a crime; evil deed] and be banished for it, but it’s another to seek uturu with the enemy. She is no longer considered to be among the ‘banished’, but is now the ‘enemy’. 

Ay’ana looks behind Tonowari, not at Ronal, but at the two deeper skinned, slender na’vis. She scoffs, the corner of her mouth pulling into an evil smirk, revealing her sharpened teeth. Tonowaris eyes widen when he sees that she’s completely adapted to this vile peoples’ ways by putting a file to her teeth. Her eyes flick past them to the last person, the most important. 

“Ralak.” She slowly moans his name as she peers up at him with sultry eyes, allowing her tongue to glaze over her canines. “Such a pleasure.” Ralak winces, chest heaving violently as it fills with repulsion and loathing. “Ah. I remember you being quiet, but not this quiet. Nothing to say to your karyu?”

——

A couple hours have passed and the pain is enough to disrupt your rest. The sunlight dulls with each passing minute, casting a familiar orange hue into the marui. It comes in waves, rippling through you like a bolt of lightning striking the tallest tree in the forest. Making it hard to tell yourself that things are okay—making it hard to keep things quiet. 

“Agh!” You groan suddenly, feeling another jolt of electricity shoot up your spine. It stops you in your tracks, the tracks you’ve been burning into the floor with your constant, nervous pacing. You quiet down into a whisper, “...please wait for your sempu [daddy], my child.” 

“You—uhm.” You hear Zu’té clear his throat at the door, projecting his voice so that you can hear him through the curtain, “You alright in there?”

“Mmn—yes! Fine.” You grate out, making your way back to the bed to lie down. Your feet are so sore.

“Hungry?” He asks, food in hand in the case you were. 

“‘m not.” You try to speak up, but you’re still in the height of the contraction. 

He grits his teeth, leaning into the frame of the marui door. “I didn’t burn it this time.” 

You wish you could laugh, but you can’t even muster up the strength to raise your voice.

Zu’té lingers at the door quietly, knowing plain as day that you weren’t okay. “...what about water?” 

“No...I’ve got.” You say at a normal volume, finally released from the constraints of your pain. 

You begin closing your eyes in hopes that sleep may find you, even if it's just for a few minutes. Zu’té remains at the door for a moment longer, feeling so helpless and useless. He sinks back to the floor, putting down the meat and picking up a new, special piece to weave. 

Weaving passed the time, distracting him from the tiny sounds that managed to escape your mouth. 

Until night fell, and those tiny sounds morphed into deep, lengthy groans and high pitched wails. 

——

“Let us begin.” Tonowari speaks over Ay’ana, averting all attention back to their leader, another female that goes by the name of ‘Varang’. 

She’s almost grey in colour, embellished with a red headpiece that resembles something of an ikrans wings. Her eyes narrow as she looks straight at Tonowari, standing close to his height. 

“Let us.” She hisses with a smile, leading Tonowari to a smaller, private room sectioned by a leather curtain. She motions to Ay’ana to accompany her, leaving the rest of her men to stay with the others. Tonowari lets out a soft grunt, and grits his teeth. He knows he must choose, but his mate is heavy with child and Jake has no interest in leaving his mate in such a place alone. Therefore, he must choose his right hand—Ralak. He motions with a quick tilt of his head, prompting Ralak to clutch his weapon close to his chest and follow closely behind. 

——

“Y/n.” Zu’té’s at the curtain again, half considering to pull it back and come in on his own terms. But he would never invade your privacy like that. And by the sounds of it, things are picking up. “Do you need the healer?”

“No!” You shout out of breath, wobbling to the door with a hand clutching your stomach. You lean all your weight against the wall, knowing he’s on the other side waiting. “No healer.” 

You’re drenched in sweat, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. He hears your back slide against the surface, and he mirrors your movements, sitting on the floor too. Only a wall sits between your backs, separating you two. 

“You’re in labour.” Zu’té speaks, his poor attempt at urging you to face reality.

You know that. Of course you know that. But you don’t want it to be true—you didn’t expect it to happen this way—you didnt want it to happen this way. You take a few deep breaths, concentrating on breathing through the remainder of this horrible feeling. And when it’s finally over, you rest your head against the wall and close your eyes—leaving silence to fill the air. 

Where are you, Ralak? 

——

The room is much smaller than the one they were in, equipped with some sort of table or workbench with a few spears and bows mounted on the wall. Ralak stands quietly behind Tonowari, as does Ay’ana to Varang. 

As they negotiate the terms of the treaty, Ay’ana keeps her eyes locked onto Ralak with a smug look on her face. Her hungry eyes wander, shamelessly taking in every inch of the man before her, surprised by how much he has changed. He’s much bigger, more filled out in his warrior attire. His muscles—more defined, thicker. His skin—calloused and scarred. Inked, unlike before.

And as her eyes trail down the line between his abs they lay upon the six stripes that peak out over the band of his loincloth. Her eyes widen and glisten with greed before darting back up to his face, meeting his eyes that bore into her fearlessly. 

What’s worse is that she can see that his mind is elsewhere. 

That his mind runs on you. You’re all he’s been thinking about since he stepped off the reef. He feels deep in his heart that something isn’t right back home. That you need him. That perhaps, you’re calling for him right now, swollen and heavy with his child. 

And it bothers her. 

“It is decided, then.” Tonowari speaks in a confident tone.

“Yes, it is.” Varang’s smile is uncanny as she unsheaths a small, double edged knife from her hip. 

She grabs Tonowari by the hand, placing the blade in the middle of his palm, and closes his fingers around it. She rips it from his hand, drawing blood, and then hands Tonowari the knife and gives him her hand. He returns the unsettling act, slitting her palm. She keeps a smile on her face, locking hands with him until their blood combines and drips to their feet. 

Supposedly, it is a method of establishing some level of trust between the two. Where each has the ability to do much greater harm, but makes the deliberate choice not to. Then, when blood has been drawn, it is mixed by bringing the hands together, sealing the treaty. 

“Bound by blood.” Varang whispers, letting go of his hand to bring hers to her mouth for a taste. 

She sighs and smiles, popping a thumb in her mouth before gesturing to him that they leave. Tonowari fights the flinch on his face, disturbed by her behaviour. Ay’ana stays back, watching the two leaders exit the room. But as Ralak is about to leave behind Tonowari, Ay’ana calls for him. 

——

Another couple agonising hours pass, and you’re constantly changing positions in hopes of finding some relief. Desperation sets in, making you beg the great mother herself to guide you through this. To bring your mate back home. But there’s still no sign of his return. The night dew settles on all the surfaces around you. Pacing no longer helps, leaving you to take refuge in your bed, panting and shivering. 

No matter how much you twist and turn, your stomach only tightens more. Deep groans rip past your lips to cope with the feeling—the pain shooting through your core. Beads of sweat roll off your body at an alarming rate, soaking the sheets on your bed. You feel him move further down, his head now sitting plush in your pelvis, creating an immense pressure that’s almost unbearable. His feet press into your ribs, and with each strained breath you begin to yearn for your mate more and more. For his comforting touch. For the bond.  

“Ralak…” 

——

“Ralak.” She sings, making him stop dead in his tracks. “A word.” 

His ears tuck back and he looks at Tonowari, who gives him a begrudged nod. Ralak sighs and turns around, fixing his mask of indifference tightly to his face. He remains silent, his hand practically bonded to his spear. 

“Still tight lipped, hm? Come now, tak. That is no way to treat your karyu.” She speaks in a condescending tone, approaching him warily. 

Ralak nearly takes the bait, a heat growing in his chest so hot it makes his jaw tense. How dare she call herself that? To taint such a word? He swallows, taking a single, deep breath to recenter himself as he looks away from her. 

“I have to admit.” She steps towards him, the crown of her head meeting the bow of his shoulder. “You have grown into a fine man. You are taller than me now.”  

Ralak just looks down at her, still as stone, his mind consumed with the fact that he could be on his way home to you but this…vile creature is keeping him away. But he will do what he needs to keep you safe, even if it means to tolerate this for the time being. 

With no reaction, Ay’ana grows frustrated and begins circling him, a single finger tracing around his body. 

“You know…My body still yearns for you.” She speaks with a sultry voice, stopping at his side and bringing herself to the tips of her toes to whisper in his ear, “...especially when I’m in heat.”

For a second, Ralak succumbs to her tactics, the ones she used to use on him years ago. A memory, forcibly resurfaced, reminding him of the way she whispered in his ear on that night. It makes him feel so small. Impotent. But only for a second. Ralak recoils, stepping back to create distance between them. He towers over her, dwarfing this small, lanky woman, regaining his confidence and power. 

“Is that all?” He growls, looking her dead in the eye—facing his past with no fear. 

Facing the reason why he lived in a bottle before he met you. You. You. He can feel you. He can feel you yearn for him and he’s ready to come home to you. For this to be over. 

He’s too focused on you to even notice Ay’ana’s face of shock. Shock to know that she’s been releasing her pheromones this entire time and he’s been completely oblivious to them. Which only means one thing. 

“You’re mated.” She gasps. 

And he’s back. 

Staring at a mirror now that he is, too, in a state of shock. Ralak’s heart leaps out his chest, beating so hard that Ay’ana can hear it. How could she know that? He watches as a grin spreads across her face, ear to ear. She knows she’s got him now, despite the jealousy bubbling inside her. She could use this to her advantage—it didn’t matter to her that he’s called for, after all. 

“Using tsaheylu for such useless things.” She bellows a wicked laugh, which fades out when she sees an even more serious look on his face. A look that tells her he’s trying to mask something more, something deeper. “Oh? Is there more to it?” The twitch of his brows and quick flare to his nostrils reveals the truth. “I have to know. What is it, hm?” She nears him once more, two fingers walking up his chest. “Come now, you were never this hard to read.” 

Ralak remains silent, focusing on slowing his heart rate. 

“Is she ill?” She asks as she searches his eyes, fingers grazing across his quivering jawbone. “No, no. It’s not that.” She sighs, stepping closer and closer until his back hits the wall. He moves his head away from her touch, still looking her in the eye—refusing to be the first to break eye contact. Her eyes light up and her ears stand tall.

“She carries your child, doesn’t she?” Her eyes gloss over green with envy. “Pregnant.”

Ralak swallows his spit, the lump in the column of his throat quickly undulating. 

“There it is. I knew you would make strong babies.” Her hand slips down his chest, slithering over his abs and down to the twine of his loincloth, causing him to jolt. “Ralak.” She moans his name slowly, “Oh, Ralak. The last I see of you, you were barely covered in this vile ink with no one at your side…and now you are mated and a father to be.” Her fingers tickle the raised skin on his most intimate tattoo. “I have always longed to be bred by you.” Her fingers attempt to burrow themselves under the band of his loincloth.

“Enough.” He lets out a deep growl, shoving her away, dropping his weapon in doing so. She loses and quickly regains her balance in a few seconds, throwing herself on him. He grabs her by the wrists, restraining her with ease so that she can’t come any closer to him. 

“Perhaps we need to renegotiate the terms so that you are a part of them, yes?” Her voice is full of desperation, trembling as she strains against him. “How does that sound numeyu? You know we have a population problem, right? We could all use you.”

“I have no interest in being your stud.” Ralak spits, forcefully shoving her away, causing her to stumble back and for her head to hit the table. 

He moves quickly, picking up his spear off the ground and heading for the door. She lunges at him, dagger unsheathed from her hip and armed in her hand, whilst her other arm snakes around his throat to pull him onto the ground. 

During the struggle, Ralak drags her off his back, resulting in a nasty gash from his collarbone and down his shoulder blade. He hisses from the burn, instantly assuming an offensive stance to plunge his spear through. Ay’ana returns the hiss, crouching with her bloodied dagger ready to strike.  

“I will kill you.” Ralak threatens, nearing the pointed tip closer and closer to her chest. “And I will take great joy in doing so.”  

“Is that right?” Ay’ana hisses, tail wagging in excitement with unsettling smile spread across her face. She looks as if she’s toying with him. As if she’s playing a game and she’s winning. “Let me have a taste of you.” 

“Nìtam! [Enough!]” Tonowari roars as he yanks back the curtain, instantly averting Ay’ana’s attention to him. Perhaps it was her roots calling her to respond to her true leader. Varang appears beside him with a scowl stained on her face, displeased with her subordinate. One more move and the treaty would’ve already been broken. 

“Easy, Tak.” Tonowari murmurs, and Ralak relaxes into position next to him, blood trickling down his chest and back. 

“Come with me.” Varang snarls at Ay’ana, seizing her by the queue.

“Night has fallen. We will take our leave.” Tonowari speaks roughly, trying his hardest to contain his anger as he rests a careful hand resting on Ralak—leading him out the room.

“In another ten years, Olo’eyktan.”

Tonowari grunts as he and the rest push past the swarming ash people. As soon as they’re far enough, he stops Ralak and has Ronal safely look at his wound. It’s weeping and open, prone to a nasty infection if not dressed immediately. She unclasps her medicine pouch from her hip, and retrieves a small bottle of iridescent liquid, a viscous concoction of herbs, and a needle and thread.

“Come, son.” Tonowari speaks softly, ripping the cork from the small bottle with his back teeth and spitting it on the ground. “That vonvä’.”

Ralak sits on the nearest rock, elbows propped on his knees and head hung low to hide his face. Jake and Neytiri observe in silence, cringing as Tonowari douses the gash with the liquid as Ronal prepares the needle and thread. 

Ralak groans, biting down tooth on tooth. 

Tonowari leaves a little left in the bottle, offering it to Ralak who is visibly trying to keep it together. He plucks the bottle from Tonowari’s hand and knocks it back, puffing out a sigh. 

“Keep still.” Ronal orders, driving the wooden needle through his skin. 

Ralak grumbles, letting his head hang between his knees and his hair fall forward. At this point Neytiri looks away, but Jake can’t. His eyes are plastered to the scene unfolding before him as he recognizes his son-in-law’s strength and perseverance. 

“That should hold until we are back.” She declares, gathering her supplies and stuffing them back into her pouch. 

“Irayo [thank you], Ronal.”

“You’re strong, boy.” Jake mumbles, patting Ralaks back as he gets up. “Anyone care to explain what the hell happened back there?” 

Ralak just shakes his head, leaving Tonowari to speak for him. “I will explain on the way back. You all have someone waiting for you.”

Ralak’s ears spring up at the thought of you, giving him a burst of energy to spring to his feet, gather his gear and lead the trek himself. The women walk behind him, concerned about his wound. Tonowari and Jake are left at the back, sharing a look before they begin their journey. 

——

“Fuck. Fuck.” You pant, looking down at your trembling hands that sink into the bed through double vision. You sway from side to side, trying to take steady, deep breaths, but the pressure between your legs is starting to make you panic. The possibility that you may have to do this alone is quickly becoming a reality. 

Zu’té is the one doing the pacing now, unable to sit still in his spot for much longer. He has long abandoned his woven pieces, burning lines into the patio floor as he walks back and forth outside—conflicted on his next move. 

He doesn’t want to go against your wishes and call a healer without you requesting it. But he must keep his word to Ralak—to keep you safe—which means calling for a healer. He chews on the toughened skin on his thumb, listening to your continuous whimpers and whines. By the sounds of it, you’re in active labour now, ready to give birth at any moment. 

——

A few hours have passed since they started the trek back home. Everyone has fallen into new positions that work for them. Ralak, eager to be at his pregnant mate’s side, leads the pack, clearing the path for the others. Jake and Neytiri stay not too far behind him, keeping a vigilant eye on their surroundings. Tonowari and Ronal are far at the back, linked together as she trudges on despite her extreme weariness.

“Let us take another break.” Tonowari speaks quietly to his mate, hand on her stomach. They share a look, speaking to one another with their eyes. She doesn’t want to hold up the group much more than she already has. 

“No. We are almost there—ugh!” Ronal lets out a sudden groan, clutching her stomach as she doubles over. 

Everyone stops dead in their tracks, turning around with wide eyes. Tonowari supports her, and carefully walks her over to a nearby fallen log, lowering her down onto it. She takes a few deep breaths as Neytiri and Jake rush over to her. 

“Is it time?” Neytiri asks, crouching down next to her. Ronal nods once, completely in tune with her body and aware of exactly what’s happening.

Which is why she insisted they continue, or else she won’t make it back in time. Ralak watches at a distance, his face contorting with sheer worry. No, borderline distress. He looks almost mortified, but not for the reasons that one may think. They all know why, it's obvious. If Ronal is in labour,

…that means you probably are too.  

“Go ahead.” Ronal pants, beads beginning to form at her temple. 

But Ralak doesn’t move. He can’t move. He’s at conflict with himself. An internal battle of knowing that he should stay and help, even though he really wants to go—needs to go. 

“We got it, son. Go to her.” Jake huffs as he helps Tonowari lift Ronal to carry her. “Go on!” He shouts, prompting Ralak to look to his father figure for approval, to which he meets him with a quick nod before averting his attention back to his labouring mate. And with Neytiri’s soft smile of reassurance, Ralak takes a few steps back before turning his heel and booking it home. 

——

“Haah…holy fuck—holy fuck.” You moan, feeling another contraction start up and the pressure between your legs intensify. 

This one has you on your hands and knees, clutching the bed head so hard your nails dig into the wood. It’s undeniable now. This baby is coming whether you like it or not. And as the contraction reaches its peak, you scream. 

“Zu’té!” It pains you to cry out for his name and not your mates. Hearing your call—your permission to enter—he finally bursts through the door and rushes to your side. 

“I’m here, I’m here.” He’s out of breath and on edge.

“I think—oh god—I think the baby’s coming!” You cry out, swooping your hand between your legs to try and feel what’s happening. 

“Shit. Like now? Like right now?” Zu’té panics as he watches you, hands hovering around you, unsure of what to do. 

“I d-don’t know! I—I don’t—I want Ralak! Fuck, fuck. I want lak!” You cry out in sheer agony. “I want my mate. I-I need him!” 

“Y/n. Eywa.” Desperation is potent in his voice now. 

The fact that you’re calling out for his brother means the time has come and he feels like a fool to have let this get this far without stepping in. He swallows and takes a breath to calm down, just as your contraction ends and leaves you sobbing on your knees. 

“I’m getting the healer.” He says firmly, turning his heel to leave but you grab his wrist before he can walk away. 

“No! Don’t leave…Please don’t leave me alone.” You beg, fear glossing over your eyes until it spills onto your cheeks once more. He looks at you with furrowed brows, lamenting for you. Now he’s really conflicted, because this means…it’s him or no one. 

“Ah, shit. Shit. Uhm.” He rakes his fingers through his scalp, thinking about his next move. He’s seriously considering going regardless, able to see the situation for what it is.

“Please, Zu’té.” You plead weakly, slowly lowering yourself onto your behind and off your knees, leaning back into the bedhead. 

“Okay, okay.” He nods and you let go of his wrist, immediately using your hand to support your stomach. You let your eyes close, they’re swollen and heavy. “Uh–right, right.” 

For some reason he can’t stop repeating himself twice. Perhaps it’s his way of keeping grounded. He heads straight for the bucket of water and rag to bring it over to you. He dips the rag into the water, and wrings it out. You barely open your eyes at the sound of the bucket making contact with the floor, and see that he’s nearing you with a damp cloth and raised brows. He’s waiting for your go ahead. 

“Yes.” Your voice is hoarse and trembling. 

Zu’té begins to wipe away the sweat that’s dripping in your eyes, your forehead, neck and chest. Dipping the rag back into the water, he wrings it out once more and wipes down your shoulders and arms. You can’t help but sit there and close your eyes, allowing him to do it all, exhausted.

Feeling something press against your lips, you open your eyes in a daze. Zu’té holds a cup of water to your mouth, and you drink ardently, gasping for air and closing your eyes when it’s emptied. Sleep calls to you, taking you as you barely manage to mutter out a weak, “...thank you.” 

Zu’té calculates another five minutes before your next contraction, giving him enough time to fetch a fresh pail of water—something absolutely necessary for the birth. He leaves you sat up against the bedhead, rag on your forehead as you sleep. But not even three minutes go by before he hears your languid moan. 

Abandoning the bucket, he rushes back into the marui, finding you standing and holding onto the marui stilt with one hand as the other tugs at the strap of your top. Seeing you try to undress has him stopping in his tracks and turning his head to look away. 

“Y/n—”

“Ughhaa—” You grunt, untethering the knot of your top. Your body is trying to get comfortable for the birth of your son now, and these pieces of cloth feel suffocating. “Get out!”

With that, Zu’té turns and retreats back to the patio, hands on his head as he begins to make his plan. If he flew on his skimwing, he could make it to the village and back with a healer in about ten minutes. But would that be enough time? What if you didn’t have ten minutes? Your pained groan turns into a howl and it makes his ears twitch. 

By the sound of that, you might not even have five minutes. 

“Come on, baby brother. Don’t make me do this. Please. Don’t make me go back in there. Oh shit—I’m going to have to go back in there, aren’t I? Eywa. Eywa. Okay—It’s okay. I can do this. Childbirth. It’s just childbirth. Right? Right.” 

Zu’té tries to convince himself that he’s capable of this despite this not being what he signed up for. 

“Okay, Toto. Just do it. Go in there.” Zu’té sounds breathless as he speaks to himself, turning around to face the door. He hears your whimper and his jaw tightens. “Shit. Okay. Right.”

Just as he raises his hand to pull back the curtain, he hears a winded voice. 

“Brother.”

[cher-rei]

hopelessly obliviously devoted to you [ T.A.A ]

"but baby can't you see? I'm hopelessly devoted to you" [hopelessly devoted to you- olivia newton john]

pairings: trent alexander arnold x fem!reader

summary: when your best friend needs some moral support for her date, you don't hesitate to ask trent for some help. but something else sparks that evening instead

[wc: 2.8k]

genre(s): fluff, idiots in love, denial is a river in egypt

notes: call me capser with the way that I ghost.

"I need your help."

you didn't look up from your phone and continued to aimlessly scroll, hoping that if you avoided eye contact with your friend mia, then she would leave you be.

however, she didn't leave and stood in front of you in your living room, her hands on her hips with a look that screamed "I know what you're doing and it's not going to work".

you could feel her glare boring into your forehead, but you tried your best to persist but you were weaker than you thought. a heavy groan left your lips and she smiled in victory but you knew what you were getting yourself into.

you looked up at her with pursed lips. "I'm not lying to anyone again, or pretending to be your doctor so that you can stay out of work, or--"

"woah, okay." mia waved her hands in front of her in urge for you to stop, a shameful blush flushing her cheeks at the list of things you'd "helped" her with before. your eyebrows raised as she promised that it was nothing of that kind, and that you barely had to do anything.

you nodded in intrigue and she continued with a hopeful smile. "I have a date on friday."

your stomach dropped. "with dean right?"

mia and dean had only been seeing each other for about a month now but it was going well, so you were hoping that she wasn't about to ask you to tell him that she died or something. but to your surprise she said that she liked him a lot, and intended to see where it lead her.

"and you need my help with this how?" you asked with a quirked eyebrow. mia then took a seat next to you and plaved her hand on top of yours, a pleading look in her eyes as you mentally prepared yourself for her answer.

she gave your hand a tight squeeze. "we're going to the arcade and I'm really nervous because you know that's not really my scene. so I was wondering if you could tag along and just ease my mind a little?"

just as you were about to interject and refuse the invitation to third wheel the entire evening, mia pulled you back down with a look of utter desperation.

"you can bring trent or something since you two are like--" she made a gesture in the air with her hands. "--like whatever you two are."

if there was something that you hated talking about, then it was that you and trent had a thing for each other. which wasn't true at all! you'd known each other for a while now, about 4 years, and you admit that you were close but nothing special.

"literally everyone can see it except you two oblivious idiots," mia spewed, which took you by surprise. you were just about to agree to her idea of tagging along and she decided to be a little brat.

that's when you made your dash out of the living room, yours and mia's voices sounding over each other as one apologised and the other screamed to block them out.

"I can't hear you!! la la la!"

you ended up going to the arcade.

trent didn't hesitate with his answer either, despite that he wasn't too fond of being around new people which surprised you. his excuse was that you hadn't gone to the arcade in a while anyway, so it would be doing you a favour.

when mia heard the news, she was ecstatic, to say the least, and rushed off to tell dean that you'd be tagging along. so now here yo you in your room, tidying up your outfit while waiting for trent to come and pick you up.

dean and mia left a while ago because they had dinner plans before the arcade, but you made it clear that you and trent would not be joining for the formal stuff.

yname added to their story

it wasn't long before you heard your apartment door open, meaning that trent had arrived. a small smile tugged at your lips as you grabbed your bag from your bed and left to the lounge where he was, a look of surprise on his face.

"where are the camera's?" he asked suddenly and starting looking around, lifting the pillows from the couch before looking back at you with a look of mock disbelief.

your eyebrows furrowed at his absurd question. "what are you talking about?"

he took out his phone and pointed towards the time on the screen. "you're actually done on time for the first time in years."

your jaw clenched at his comment, a flush of red rushing to your cheeks as you threw your handbag at him. "shut up and get in the car. I can't believe I said yes to this."

a hum left his lips as he locked the door behind him, listening to you complain all the way to the car. you didn't notice it, but this was one of those moments where mia would sit back and watch the two of you in slight disappointment and hope.

she would sit in the back seat of the car and watch as trent's eyes stayed on you whenever you spoke, a flicker of something lingering in his eyes and on his tongue. mia would notice the effortless gestures between the two of you, such as trent holding the car door open for you no matter the circumstance, the occasional buckle of your seat belt if your hands were full.

how you would mindlessly cling to his side or interlock your arm in his wherever you were. there were always the flirtatious comments that were thrown around but neither of you showed any reaction that wasn't irritation.

it was so obvious to her. so obvious that either of you would always think of each other first before anything or anyone else.

when you arrived at the mall, it was no later than 6 p.m but the mall was already packed with teenagers and family's who couldn't have waited until saturday to enjoy their lives. you took a deep breath and followed trent inside, banter firing back and forth as you tried to find mia and dean.

"we're in the food court and they're not here," you said exasperated and dialed mia's number so you could call her.

trent forced a smile, "well how about you try and look instead of standing in one spot."

that earned a glare from your side, and before you could argue back mia's voice sounded from behind you, to which you mouthed a proud "told you so".

just from the looks of it, mia could tell that this was going to be a long night.

after the introductions were over, the four of you leisurely made your way to the arcade on the 3rd floor of the mall. laughter and excitement boomed from inside and you couldn't help but be a bit giddier than you expected.

there was some skip in your step as you trailed in front of the others, commenting on how it's been forever since you'd been to an arcade— just as trent said. mia and dean walked hand in hand beside trent, who wasn't bothered with trying to hide his smile as he watched you.

you turned around to look at them, "you guys are walking like a bunch of old people hurry up."

dean chuckled at your quip while mia rolled her eyes instead. "I thought you said you didn't want to come to the arcade."

a dramatic gasp left trent's mouth. "she would never. arcades bring back so many memories for us."

a lump formed in your throat when he said that, your heartbeat speeding up at the memory of the incident less than a year ago. the two of you swore never to talk about it again, but you couldn't deny that ever since that evening something between you two shifted.

you were brought back from your daze by the gentle touch of trent's hand on the small of your back. "I'll promise to let you win this time though."

with that, he dragged you off to the token station, leaving behind a very confused dean and a fed-up mia. "I thought you said that they're not together?" dean muttered loud enough for his girlfriend to hear and she clicked her tongue.

"they're not."

40 minutes passed and you and trent were back at it again. it was two completely different sights for the people in the arcade. on one hand, dean and mia were at one claaw machine, giggling and gently guiding each other the best they could to successfully grab the plushy.

and then there was you and trent right beside them at the other claw machine to say that you were screaming at each other would be an understatement, the both of you swearing that the other wasn't going to get it in, shoving each other at the side to take over.

"no, not that one!" you screamed as you watched trent move the claw with indescribable concentration to find the correct ninja turtle plushy. "mikey is the one with the orange mask!"

a stressed huff left trent's lips. "baby, I can get you a private meet-up with mbappe instead! it's practically the same thing!"

you didn't register the term of endearment at all and instead continued to whine about the plushy until he finally got it. 5 attempts later. but it was done and it was worth it to see you smile that beautifully.

you looked up at him and nudged his arm, "you see. that wasn't too difficult."

he shook his head in disagreement and took your hand into yours again to drag you over to the basketball machine. "you owe me for that later."

you brushed his comment off with a scoff, not thinking much of it.

the evening continued and you couldn't deny that it was the most fun you've had in a while. that and trent had become way more touchy than usual. were you complaining though? hell no.

the basketball machine was one thing but then you stumbled across the photo booth at the back of the arcade, which was surprisingly empty. you tried your best to walk past it as quickly as possible but he spotted it, and you knew what was coming.

a cheeky smile drew to his lips. "I'd like to cash in that favour now."

no. that was your answer, plain and simple. not after what happened last time you were in there. the memory alone was enough to have you feeling lightheaded.

the embarrassed look on your face didn't go unnoticed, and that made him chuckle a bit. it took you a bit of convincing and to no one's surprise, you found yourself on the right side of the photo booth with trent sitting beside you and closing this curtain.

"talk about deja vu," he said jokingly which earned him a slap on the arm, out of embarrassment more than anything else.

nevertheless, you shook off your nerves and got on with it. it was just a few pictures, what's the worst that could happen?

the pictures started normally, just as playful and cute as you'd hoped and the photobooth was echoing with laughter and banter as usual, that was until you turned to look at trent only to realise just how close you were.

it went quiet for a moment, and before you knew it your lips were on his. now this was deja vu. he knew exactly what he was doing when he said that you should take these pictures and you weren't any smarter to say no.

the featherlight touch of his fingers beneath your shirt was the reason you pulled away. unlike your bashful expression, trent was smiling from ear to ear.

"okay, now that was on you," he said playfully and you groaned. "last year it was me, I admit that, but this time you kissed me."

your words were lodged in your throat and you found yourself unable to speak, or move, or anything really. the heat that was on your cheeks spread throughout your entire body and all you wanted to do was hide in a hole.

after a moment of recollection, you were met with a look of anticipation from trent who was waiting for you to say something. you sighed and nodded your head, "yeah, this one was on me."

"yes!" he clapped in victory and took the two photo strips, and took the one where you were kissing for himself.

before you could interject, his lips met your again for a peck. "I'm glad the feeling is mutual. let's hurry back to my house, I need to explore these new found feelings of ours with a little more space than a photobooth."

hopeless. you were utterly hopeless as you found yourself trying to suppress your smile, and the sound of mia saying, "oblivious is in understatement."

yname added to their story

[yslende]

cabin 16 ー children of nemesis headcanons

| author's note: yeah i only really made this because i figured out that nemesis would be my godly parent. quite a few of these are based on me. probably not going to do any more of these, if only because i'd be unable to emulate this amount of detail again.

vindictive. do i even need to say it.

ambidextrous. the lot of them.

all of them have stares that seem like they look right through you. 

insane resting bitch and poker faces. nothing shows unless they explicitly let it.

⬆️ however, any emotion they feel, they feel it STRONGLY. happiness? more like euphoria. sadness? more like depression. annoyance? more like fury. (the furies *wish* they had what nemesis kids do.)

they're the type of people to be fashionable by default because all they wear is black, red, and Leather Jacket (which is a color in itself.)

⬆️ despite this, they don't mind the camp shirts, if only because everyone else is wearing them.

three options: read rulebooks for fun, be the reason rules are created, or both. 

they treat death like a trip to the dentist: an unpleasant inevitability. 

unshakeable loyalty. once you've got a nemesis demigod on your side, they'll follow you to tartarus and back.

⬆️ likewise, if you harm them or their friends, there is nothing they won't do to get back at you. nothing is beneath them. be terrified.

natural skeptics. nemesis is a daughter of nyx, so some of her kids have likely been to the underworld. they've met shades. even so, they'll passionately argue against the existence of ghosts.

weirdly good memory. of course, they remember every insult said about them, but they also remember how many arrows you shot into the woods at archery practice last tuesday. especially good with remembering strings of letters or numbers.

⬆️ they're some of the few demigods that can do math. they do it for fun, that's how bad it is.

really good at strategy, but often people don't go along with their plans. see: nothing is beneath them.

geese fucking love them. a common sight at chb is watching geese try and bite everyone's faces off, then trip over themselves to be pet like drugged cats by the nemesis cabin.

all super good at board games, especially chess, settlers of catan, and monopoly. uno skills are 50/50.

they're the type of people to save every deus ex machina item in a video game for later, and then proceed to never use them.

great sense of balance. they're great at tightropes, and can do triple pirouettes (a type of turn in ballet) easily. they like perching in trees and watching during capture the flag if they're not fighting.

if you're unwilling to debate or close-minded, be prepared to find spiders in your underwear. *especially* if you're an athena kid.

⬆️ probably have a tarantula as a cabin pet, named 'houdini,' because he keeps ""escaping"" to the athena cabin. it's super unfortunate like that.

⬆️ they also probably have a favorite wild goose, too. 

there are no extroverted nemesis demigods. if one seems like an extrovert, they're either in denial or masking super hard.

they're the type of people to do all of the group project work alone. they have no patience for anyone who can't pull their weight.

each have their own methods of organization. if you touch their stuff you will die. they always know.

can't sleep without the ends of their blankets tucked underneath the mattress and the sides perfectly even. it just feels off to them.

socialism. communism. literally anything except pro-capitalist. look at me in my face and tell me i'm wrong.

optimistic pessimism? very 'the glass is half-empty, but at least there's something in there' vibes.

about as blunt as a club. if you want the brutal truth, ask a nemesis kid about your swordsmanship. you'll come out crying.

they take things very literally. jokes often fly over their head, but they catch sarcasm and veiled insults faster than hermes runs. 

always take things seriously. even things that aren't supposed to be taken seriously. like 'packing rocks in snowballs' seriously.

all of them despise bullies with all of their being. there isn't a nemesis demigod who won't introduce their knee to a bully's crotch for fun. hades, they'll *pay* you to let them do it.

their fighting skills and athleticism increase when serving justice, revenge, or vengeance. like normally, they're really good, but then someone steals their marshmallow or something and then they get REALLY good.

like to put extra effort into scaring and prank new campers before being nice to them. trial by fire, i guess.

however, after the inital hazing, they protect unclaimed kids with their lives. again, see: nothing is beneath them.

want to know everything, including but not limited to why you didn't put any grapes on your plate to every single reason why your godly parent acts the way they do towards you. once again, see: nothing is beneath them.

fight best with either a sword or a shield, but they're especially good with both. 

(sidenote: their favorite swords would probably be executioners' swords, which imo are super fucking cool. their favorite shields would probably be aspis (roman: clipeus) but specifically the ones with faces or figures carved in them.)

nemesis isn't a super caring mother tbh. she punishes her children mercilessly if they do something wrong or malicious. however, likewise, she praises them lavishly whenever they complete a quest or do something that demonstrates the power of cabin 16.

⬆️ her kids either have huge problems with authority or zero problems with authority. most swing wildly between the two, but that's what balance means, right?

friends with cabins: 1, 5, 8, 13, 15, 20

chill with cabins: 3, 9, 12, 14, 17, 19

does not get along with cabins: 4, 6, 7, 10, 11, 18

[trillscienceofficer]

B'Elanna has few episodes that center on her and by all means she should've had many more! but also as a Dax fan (a character with roughly the same amount of episodes) I think the quality of some of B'Elanna's episodes is way better... obviously Rejoined is up there and Blood Oath is also good but then?? To be clear I don't really like some of the B'Elanna-centric episodes (Faces, Blood Fever and Day of Honor are especially bad imho) but the rest of them hold up really well compared to, say Equilibrium, Facets or Field of Fire. I don't know. I would get way more out of rewatching all of the B'Elanna episodes than all the Dax-centric ones even though I love Jadzia and Ezri very much!

I think I making a comparison now because I just rewatched Remember and it was a much more effective episode than I recalled, and while it was a recycled pitch for TNG (it was supposed to feature Deanna Troi) it still manages to be an episode about B'Elanna and her own sense of justice, while also talking about the importance of remembrance and tastimony in the face of atrocity denial. But what got to me is that the way remembrance was tackled in the episode was essentially Trill-like, B'Elanna was not a spectator but rather put in place of the person remembering. And I understand that DS9 couldn't do a similar plot with Dax having Kira already fulfilling that duty of testimony for Bajor but. Idk. It just put into perspective how small Dax plots often were.

And it's not just a matter of scale either. When B'Elanna has episodes focusing on her own personal struggle they feel so much more real and immediate than any of Daxes' plots, except maybe Prodigal Daughter (which the writers thought it was a complete failure!!) And I'm so so glad B'Elanna got them! It's just that the difference feels really stark sometimes, again for two characters with a similar amount of episodes.

[monitorkernelaccess]

I think it probably is more likely that Falin chimera was purposely trying to disarm Laios by crying for help, rather than that part actually being genuine. Cause it happens at a moment when she’s temporarily disarmed from being electrocuted and then she does make a smug face afterwards. But I’m sentimental and I Want To Believe

Uhh it could also maybe be both? Like both an intentional tactic (from the dragon side?) and also a sign that at least some part of Falin is in there and wants to be saved

The way they animate it, her eyes go from dragon-like slitted pupils to normal round pupils as she says it. And then a tear falls from one eye, while the other eye stays completely dry

Looking at all that again with a bit more context and possibly a clearer mind, that looks like it’s all to make the ruse look more realistic. If it were more of an outburst as I originally believed (or was trying to convince myself), then the pupils wouldn’t have changed probably? It seems like an intentional move

In addition to the pupil change, the single tear seems forced as well. Like she could only muster up one fake tear while the other eye remained completely dry.

On the other hand…it’s kinda hard to force tears at all, especially so quickly. And if we imagine for the moment that the tear was genuine, could the fact that it only fell from one eye mean that only half of her was crying? Like maybe the dragon is really mostly in control, but it let Falin out as an emotional manipulation tactic. Meaning that the cry was both genuine and just a combat strategy/self-defense measure.

And I’m still not sure what to make of the fact that she pushes Laios out of the way before crushing Kabru. Like was it just an accident then? Or is it more just a side effect of Laios being essentially the main character and no one in the main party gets killed in that scene? Or…could it still be that maybe, deep down, Falin doesn’t want to hurt her brother?

[thethingything]

I find it kind of interesting that we have a couple of delusions (and the hallucinations that come with those) that just kind of involve gruesome stuff happening to us, especially because they weren't as gruesome at first but have gotten more so over time.

the hallucinations are all somatic ones (sensations instead of visuals or audio) but they're stuff like I guess what our brain thinks it would feel like if our organs were decomposing, or being eaten by maggots, or just stuff with a similar vibe to that?

I can put up with it for the most part, but like I did nearly throw up on the bed because of it earlier and I'd really like to not experience that again

[mintytrifecta]

Anyway Parallax is so Rebellion Homura Akemi-coded

[dramarants]

I've said this before but as much as I was screaming at my screen, this is an opportunity for ttj to raise roots somewhere that not only includes the love of his life but also relationships without ridonkulous power imbalances among a supportive community and a new way of life outside the expectations set upon him since birth. who knows, maybe he'll choose to embrace his devil god fate lord knows the tension would not only be palpable but sexy af or maybe he'll become the supreme ultimate botanical sword master but he finally gets to be an active agent of his own life, choosing people, values, and goals for his own future, and hopefully, his journey (and lss's own growth returning + learning her identity) will reunite them knowing they're stronger, happier, and simply uplift each other when together. ttj's enduring love surmounted death and five centuries of agony to bring him to her place in the immortal realm, now it's up to them to figure themselves out and truly make it their home.

[quadrantadvisor]

My headcanon about Richard Simmons is that he has a few beliefs that he struggles with, including, but not limited to: toxic masculinity, puritanical ideals about work and worth, internalized homophobia, general queerphobia, etc., etc. And that trying to reconcile those beliefs with his own feelings of inadequacy and his place in the wider world causes him constant mental suffering for many, many years. And that dealing with that suffering and trying to compensate for his own self-loathing and hypocrisy makes him act like an absolute ass.

And then one day there's enough evidence, there's enough understanding of the people in his life, there's enough budding respect for himself that the switch just. Flips. And he's like "wait none of that fucking matters."

The thing about Simmons is that he doesn't do anything halfway, when he believes in something he gives 100%.

What I think is funny about that is, from an outside perspective, one day Simmons is trying (and failing) to do """locker room chat with the boys""" and the next day he's read 7 books on queer theory and he's haughtily telling people that their gendered language is reductive. Like everyone knew he was in denial but there were NO SIGNS that he was getting over it whatsoever, he is Just Suddenly Like This and trying to pretend that if he ever said something that wasn't socially progressive no he didn't.

Like he's still overcompensating for something and he's still kind of an asshole about it but now it's even funnier. To me and maybe also Donut. For the rest of the cast it is the most confusing day of their lives.

[down-thedrain]

yk what if cesar does end up with a bowl cut i'll still love and accept them idc. crewdela wants me to hate him but i'm a cesar fan for LIFE 🔥🔥🔥🔥

[yongseungkim]

.

[hoshigray]

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 | satoru gojō

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : The start of the spring semester is supposed to be fresh and new, not be cramped up in a closet with your frenemy at a party! And what's worse: you actually like the feeling of his lips on yours!?

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern + college AU - frenemies to lovers - Gojo and reader are at least age 20 - implied that reader is a virgin - first kiss - awakening feelings - virginity loss - kissing/making out in a closet - thigh riding - grinding/humping - sex in shared rooms; college dorms (empty) - breast fondling + sucking + nipple play - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - orgasm denial- clitoral play (sucking, pinching and swiping) - missionary position - protected sex (psa: wrap it up or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, gorgeous, pretty, princess, sweetie) - cameos: Utahime, Geto, Shoko and Mei Mei - humor bc I'm [not] funny - mention of vaginal pain, spit and tears.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.3k (i'm so sick...)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: yessirrrr let's get this party started, shall we? >:333 plz enjoy the first part of this series!! and tysm for 5.3k !!! y'all are too kind && happy bday to my gal, jazzy!! hope you enjoyed your special day, jazzy jam c:

❤︎ « next story

“GO FUCK YOURSELF, SATORU GOJO!”

“BETTER THAN FUCKING YOU, Y/N L/N!”

“They’re at it again already, huh?”

“Yeah, man, it’s going to two o’clock. Might as well enjoy the show.”

College is hard enough as is. The fact that you’re now back for the spring semester is tiring enough, wanting to get these classes over with and wrap this up. Spring, Easter, and Summer break are just right around the corner, the cherry on top for this exhausting second half of your junior year. Those are the end goals!

But alas, the semester just started. The students scramble around buying their textbooks and switching courses around, struggling to make final move-in decisions and already stressing over seasonal depression at this time of year. Spring semester, huh? Same old, same old.

Although there are negatives that make it nerve-racking, there are still good things that come with this junior year. Finally over with winter break, you’re excited to be back to living with your roommates, Utahime, Mei Mei, and Shoko! They’re your girlfriends for a reason; missing hanging and stressing with them as they made your college experience much better than you expected. 

And it doesn’t end there, either! You missed study sessions at the campus café with your second-year peers, Yu Haibara and Kento Nanami. The two best friends always help with your studies whenever you need it. And, of course, you can’t forget about their roommate and your friend, Geto. The tall, raven-haired Biology major is always looking out for you and paying visits to study with Shoko. There was even a time he helped with a mouse situation in your dorm! Poor Utahime that day – saw the rodent when she came out of the shower.

However, you’re not exactly thrilled to see everyone after coming back. You throwing a middle finger at someone on the opposite side of the pathway should be evidence of such. “Oh, go jump off a cliff, Gojo!”

“Hah! I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction!” Satoru Gojo was the direct roommate of Suguru Geto, best friend of his and Shoko, and was the star player of the campus basketball team. But most of all, he’s the kid you despise with every fiber of your being. “I’d be more entertained with you slipping on some ice.”

“Oh, you wish! I saw you slip on some ice yesterday on your way to Professor Yaga’s class.” You puff your chest with pride when you see the white-haired guy suck his teeth in annoyance. “Made my whole day, what a fucking moron. How about slowing down next time? You were late anyway!” 

Snowy brows furrow with a scoff. “God, you really are a perfect roommate for Utahime; the both of you are so tiny and angry at the world around you for no reason.” 

Utahime, standing beside you during this yelling competition, decides to chip in after that remark. She almost popped a vein, “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU SAY, SATORU!?” 

“You heard me!” He barks a laugh at the two of you, turning around to go on his way. “Heard it’s gonna snow later tonight. Be sure to find a nice, big, puffy jacket and some boots so the storm doesn’t sweep you away, Y/n~.”

“I’ll be sure to shove an icicle up your ass before that, you fucker!” You turn on your heel and stomp your way out of the scene, Utahime following your move. “Hmph! Hate his ass so much…”

“Tch, right there with you.” Your roommate sighs heavily to exude the aggression. “But damn, the way you two go at it is worse than mine.” 

She is not wrong; it’s true – everyone within the campus grounds knows how much you and Gojo can’t stand each other. It’s no secret; at least you two make that apparent everywhere you go. This little feud between you started freshman year with you two in the same first-year engagement program. Tiny disagreements turned into narrowed glares, which then pivoted into prominent arguments, and now here we are. 

You hoped that freshman year would be the last you’d ever see of that snow-haired prude. Unfortunately, you were wrong. The year after, you were unhappy to discover he’s best buds and roomies with Geto. And what’s worse is that you were ill-fated to share a class with him every semester — especially this one with Professor Naga for Contemporary Issues. Is this the universe’s way of punishing you for something? For what!?? 

You’ve been a good kid, doing what you can and getting the grades that brought you merit and accolades. So, you don’t get how this one guy with his stupid round sunglasses is getting under your skin. So fucking annoying…

You hate him. You hate everything about him. From the way he immediately gives you a smug look when you walk into the room and take your seat right in front of him. The way he surprises you from behind because he finds your reactions amusing. The way he relentlessly calls your name to get your attention when you’re obviously ignoring him, even when he doesn’t need you for something. 

It all makes you heated. You hate Satoru Gojo. I hate him so much!

“…hear me?…Y/n?”

You blink, realizing you were too deep in thought for your ears to pick up Utahime calling out for you. “Hmm? What’s up?”

She pulls out the keys to the dorm from her coat. “So? You coming along?”

Huh? “Where are you going?”

“To Haibara’s get-together?”

Oh, hell no! “No, Uta. I think I’ll stay here.”

The dark-haired girl watches you walk past her when she opens the door. “Why?? It’s the first Friday night of the semester; it’s not gonna be a big party or anything. Just close friends.”

“What are we talking about?” Shoko chimes in after leaving the bathroom, brushing her teeth with sleepy eyes. “Haibara’s thing tonight?”

Utahime nods hurriedly at the drowsy nursing student. “I’m trying to convince Y/n to come!”

The brunette shrugs at the comment, following you two to your room. “Well, it’s not like I’m going either.” She snickers when the eldest dark-haired roommate turns to her with a hurt expression. “Sorry. I already have notes I need to get behind on. You can tell the guys I said hi, though.” 

Another sigh leaves Utahime as she puts her bag on her desk. “…Mei Meiiiii,”

“Yesss~?” The fourth roommate calls out from the hallway. 

“Are you going?”

“Mmmm, not sure.” Mei Mei comes to the doorframe, her long silverish-blue hair done in pigtails with a green skin-care mask covering her face. “Got a meeting for my club to head to later. And even then, it might still be a while for me to join, depending on if people are hanging out afterward.” 

Now is when the Utahime whines to her hands before she turns back to you, sitting on your bed. “Y/n, please, come with me!”

You don’t give in to her cries. “No, think I’ll stay and keep Shoko company.”

But she doesn’t give up. “Please! It’s just a small group of friends and maybe a few classmates Haibara’s familiar with. No biggie!”

“Small group of friends, huh?”

“Yes!”

“You know who else are his friends?” You lift a brow when she does the same. “His roommates: Nanami, Geto, and—“

“Gojo…” Utahime completes your sentence in defeat, understanding why your reluctance is present. 

“Sorry, Uta. Maybe next time.” 

Now, you’re not saying you’ve never been to the guys’ place before; they reside on the other side of campus where senior housing is (Nanami’s pick because he’s an RA). However, it’s the first Friday night of the semester. Meaning it’s the first free weekend for most students. And you’re going to ruin everyone’s fun by being in the same place as Gojo? Yeah, no thanks.

That is until Mei Mei says, “Actually, I heard from a friend that the basketball team are planning on going out somewhere tonight.”

Shoko adds on while taking out her toothbrush to appropriately speak to her friends. “Yeah, now that you mention it, Gojo told me he probably won’t be at the place in the first place. Something about meeting up with a group for one of his classes.”

All separate reasons from different accounts, yet that only fuels Utahime to beam out of her mini-depression and face you once more. “See? Gojo won’t be there by the time we get there! He’ll be busy with a group project – or whatever – and will hang with his sports buddies. So, you up for it now?” 

Your brows trench down. “I…I don’t know—“

If there’s one thing the oldest roommate is good at, it’s not giving up. And it’s because she bats her pretty brown eyes and gives you the most grandiose pleading puppy face she can. It’s the oldest manipulation tactic in the book, yet it works by making your heart cringe.

Of all things to be dragged into now, it was a party? The semester just started, and you haven’t even touched a single piece of reading yet. Is this a good idea? You can’t really go based on the perspective of your roommates because what’ll happen on the off-chance you do see Gojo? The thought of it is already headache-inducing.

Then again, it’s the first time since last semester that you’ll be able to see the other guys. You didn’t say goodbye to Geto and Haibara before break because they were swarmed with finals, and Nanami was gone the moment he found out all his exams were take-home. You’re not much for parties, to be quite honest. Regardless, it would be nice to catch up on the gang and see how they’re doing before we all revert to non-stress-free college life.

You release a sigh through your nostrils before making your decision begrudgingly. “...Don’t make me regret this.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

I regret this so fucking much…

Well, this night was going to be quite a drag. Why? Let’s go over the reasons, shall we?

The party that was supposedly at Haibara’s dorm? So, it turns out, there was a change of plans, and to be relocated somewhere else — like outside campus grounds. Screw walking, you and Utahime had to go by car with Geto to go to the party, following down the main street into this big, beautiful neighborhood and parking by a big house. Perfect for housing an event for many people to drink, dance, and vibe.

Oh yeah, that was another thing, too; the many that were attending this fucking party. Word got out about the get-together, so, of course, lots of people wanted to come and celebrate the first weekend. So, not only are you outside campus grounds, but now you’re forced to interact with a crowd rather than a small group of people. You practically have been to every corner of the place to disassociate with people you didn’t know. 

So, where are you now? Upstairs in one of the bedrooms, where the bass of the speakers downstairs can be heard. You’re not alone — sitting in a circle with Utahime, Geto, and a couple of other kids who’re present at your university. What’s happening in the room? Just a chill game of truth, drink, or seven minutes in heaven; either you answer truthfully to a question, drink to avoid it, or go to the closet and do what you want with the person who spun the bottle on you.

But, there was nothing chill about the game, and the players would agree to that notion apprehensively. Because you most definitely silently dreaded every second of this entire night. Why? How about asking the person across you that you’ve been glaring at since you opened the bedroom door and saw his face?

Apparently, as word got out about the party, the college basketball team heard about it and decided to come and celebrate. Meaning the whole team is at this party. Let’s say that again: the entire basketball team – all the players – are here to enjoy the party.

The person who stood across from you sat criss-cross with long, jean-covered legs, leaning with his hands behind him, a navy blue sweatshirt, and dark round shades that cover his eyes that you know are looking dead at you. And a smug grin that patronizes you to the core.

You peer to your night, giving Utahime the nastiest look you can. And the eldest could only meekly mumble an “I’m sorry…” with twiddled thumbs.

Satoru Gojo looked at you, and you frowned right back at him. The tense atmosphere between you two was enough to suffocate the other players. Some would try to break the tension by playing the game. But even then, it was still strenuous. One girl rolled the bottle on Geto, to which he picked “truth” and answered her question: “How did you and Gojo meet?”

Even though he didn’t pick the option, he’d take a small swig of his beer. “Satoru and I have been friends since middle school — same with my other bud, Shoko. We’ve been inseparable since, and now we’re here. He can be an asshole, though, so watch out.”

A guy spun the bottle on Utahime and asked, “Were you ever interested in Gojo?” The raven-haired girl clicked her teeth and took a chug, drinking the whole thing in one sig. 

“Hmph! I’d rather drink sweat from Professor Gakunaji’s crusty beard and eyebrows!” She’d admit after a burp.

“Ahaha! That’s a sight I’d like to see,” Gojo would chuckle at her insult, prompting a few around him to laugh. “Bet you’d get more satisfaction from it than being with me anyway.” 

The senior rolls her eyes before opening another bottle. “Fucking bastard…”

Another spin to the bottle after a couple comes out of the closet all close and giggly. This time, it lands on you. Some bubbly girl who had her eyes all up on Gojo, her nipple piercings able to be seen from her crop tee, was the one who spun it. She asks you, “Y/n, could you please tell me why you hate Satoru so much?”

You couldn’t fight the twitch of your eye. Of fucking course. You’re in no mood to drink, and you barely know this girl to think of being in the closet with her. You exhale through your nostrils, “….We’re friends, to an extent.”

“To an extent?” She asked more questions with a naive tone. “But Satoru's so nice, no?”

Oh, drop it, will you? And why are you referring to him by his first name like you know him? “We’re—“

“They mean that we’re kinda friends, kinda not.” Of course, nothing can be to yourself because the white-haired nuisance went ahead and answered your question. “They’re friends with my roomies, and my friends are their roomies. So, I guess that makes us friends by association. At least that’s the only way to see it since we nearly argued our heads off freshman year.”

You scoff with narrowed eyes, “By association, huh.” 

He quirks a brow up. “Mhmm.”

Good God, the more you two throw invisible daggers at each other, the more uncomfortable people feel being in this room. Oh, but don’t worry; the night gets even worse. Three turns later, it was your turn to spin the bottle. And – sit with me here – just guess who it lands on? Bingo! Satoru Gojo.

The hushed gasps that filled the room were telling; it was bound to happen, but no one thought it would happen. The star-crossed haters spun the bottle and landed on each other. And since Gojo doesn’t drink (and he finds the questions rather lackluster), he chooses the closet. The gasps were louder that time, and your blood began to boil.

The first time it happened was uneventful; it’s what you preferred. After the door closed, you told him, “Don’t even think about touching me.” It was just pure silence for the entire seven minutes. You sat on one side of the emptied closet while Gojo was on the other. There were the occasional sniffles of your nose and his loud yawns. But other than that, you two stayed at your respective sides of the closet. Seven minutes of no words, just keeping to yourself and watching the lava lamp in your corner be your light. 

You two survived the first set of seven minutes, not a scratch on either of you, to everyone’s thankful stars. Keywords: first set. Because why wouldn’t there be more? 

When it got to Gojo’s turn, he spun the bottle and got you! So, here you are, walking into the closet again with your notorious opp. You swore to God this had to be the universe’s way of toying with you as if the start of this semester wouldn’t be a handful to deal with already. 

You’re back on your side of the closet, groaning at your hands. It’s okay, Y/n, calm down. You can sit through another seven minutes. You got this! Don’t even act like he’s there…

And so you compose yourself, watching the heated, yellow wax of the purple lava lamp prompt up to the top to cool and sink back down. Six minutes…Five…Four—

“So, let’s say, hypothetically,” your eyelids closed shut for your eyes to roll freely. “I asked for a little something-—“

“I guess I should’ve added no talking, too. Thought that was rather self-explanatory to you.” You shut him down quickly. “And I thought I said don’t even think of touching me.”

“Well, you’re not in control of my brain,” you don’t have to turn your head to know that the fucker is looking at you. “Besides, I did say hypothetically.”

This motherfucker… ”Well, then, I’d, hypothetically, break every single one of your fingers and give them to Mei Mei so she can sell them to all your fangirls.”

“Hah! Nice to know you see me of high value.” He shifts his feet around from their crisscrossed position. “Bet you’d keep one of them.”

You scoff. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself! I’m annoyed just from not looking at you; what the fuck would I need your stupid finger for.” 

“Hmmm, I can think of many, like—“

“Do not finish that sentence, Gojo.” Your tone dialed lower; a warning. He notices it, bringing his hands up defensively. 

“Jeez, lighten up, Y/n.” He says while leaning against the back wall. “With an attitude like that, no other guy or gal in that room will ever want to be in a closet with you.” 

Oh, you don’t say, fuckface! “I barely want to be in this closet with you. Hell, I didn’t even want to be here! I only came for Utahime, assuming it would be a small party…How the hell did you even get here? I thought the basketball team was going out somewhere.“ 

“Awww, you spying on me, Y/n?” Oh, you hate his fucking snicker, shoving a middle finger in his direction. “We were supposed to be at some restaurant joint, but a few of the crew flunked out on us and said they’d go to some ‘big party,’ then everyone wanted to go, and now we’re here. You know I don’t like alcohol, but I just tagged along because Suguru was here. I didn’t know about you, though.” 

You bring your hands to your face to sigh in private. “We gotta stop meeting like this…It’s like I can never escape you.”

“…Is that a bad thing?” 

You open your mouth to refute, but no words leave….Huh?

That was…..odd. Why did he ask that question like that: you couldn’t detect a remnant of childish malice he’d been throwing at you back and forth. Even when you faced him, his face was straight ahead. But when you don’t answer, his left eye goes to his peripheral to glimpse at you.

What the…Is he being genuine right now? 

You gaze at him briefly before turning away, “I….I don’t know.” He hums to your response. “….Do you think so?”

Gojo shrugs. “Can’t say so either.” You hum back, and the silence takes over once again.

Okay, now things are even more awkward. You came into this closet with irritation, yet somehow, it vanished into thin air. It was the one thing that’s been constant throughout this evening. Now that it’s gone, you can only replay the moment from a few seconds ago in your head. 

Is it a bad thing? Why would he ask that? Of course, it’s a bad thing! Has he forgotten how much hostility we have for each other? Jesus Christ….Wait, why did he say he didn’t know either? What does that even mean!!??

“You look nice.” 

You—……I’m sorry, what???

The way you snapped your head back to him, you could’ve sworn you heard your neck crack. Holy fuck, why the hell was he looking at you right now? His round glasses shine from the lava lamp, so you can’t see his eyes.

“Wh….What?” It was cold; the weather app said it would snow later tonight. Therefore, the temperatures and winds were unforgiving after sunset. So you took it upon yourself to dress warmly. It was all simple, just a white, long-sleeved halter blouse that matched your black skirt – it was the only nice thing you had outside of regular leggings. And you covered your legs with black pantyhoses but decorated with cute white knitted leg warmers. 

He repeated in a singing tune. “You look nice.”

When it came to the white-haired guy in this closet with you, there were rare moments where you felt as though you were shocked by him. This was beyond astounding, the comment continuing to ring throughout your ears.

You blinked at him before averting your eyes down to your hands, trying to distract the increase of heat on your cheeks by intertwining your fingers together. “….Thank you, Gojo.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he’d shrug again, chuckling to himself before adding on. “It’s way better than your other outfits. Baggy old sweatshirts, bags under your eyes even if you’re wearing glasses, sweatpants with stains. You look like a homeless librarian.”

Annnnnd just like that, with the drop of your quivering lip, all the warm feelings you felt for a minute evaporated in seconds. The anger returned with the twitch of a brow. “…Tch, gee, thanks. I can’t say the same for you.” 

“Oh, you know you look cute when you’re jealous~.”

You almost busted a nerve. Who the hell are you calling, cute? “As if. From the sound of it, you must be jealous of me; who told you to be looking and criticizing what I wear? Must be rough not being able to wear comfortable clothes all the time, huh?”

“Shut the hell up,” he finally snaps, and you stick your tongue out in victory.

“No, I’ll keep going! I’m sorry, Mr. Perfect, but not everyone wants to put on their best outfits to impress you, not like your fangirls who get their best bras to push up their breasts for you to notice.”

“Huh, you lookin’ at other girls' boobies? Wow, Y/n, never took you as a pervert.” He laughs at your stare of pure anger. “You are jealous, huh? That I’m talking at other girls and not you? Awww, don’t be so selfish; there’s plenty of me to go around!” 

You snarl at him. “Ugh, you’re so gross! I don’t want anything to deal with you. So all those girls can have you and rip you to shreds for all I care. Let them know how much of a big fucking baby the wonderful, amazing Satoru Gojo is when he drops his ice cream on the floor and cries on Geto’s shoulders. Or that you’re such a lightweight that you accidentally vomited in Nanami’s cup one time, which he threw at you...Or maybe I should tell them.”

His brows furrow, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would, and then some.” You sneer. “In fact, I’ll go downstairs, grab that red punch, and spill it right on you in front of that girl next to you. I’ll make your hair look like strawberry shaved ice.” 

He leans his cheek against his fist with a huff. “I take it back; you don’t look nice at all. So uncute.”

You gasped with trenched brows. “Excuse me!?”

“You heard me, you’re uncute!” Yup, today was the day: you’re going to choke the hell out of this motherfucker. “I feel bad for any guy who'd wound up in this closet with you, dealing with such a little devil.” 

“You’re one to talk, dickhead! I’d much rather be stuck in this closet with anyone else — even Geto!”

“Taah, as if! I bet you never even had your first kiss with such an attitude like that.”

Again, you open your mouth to say something, yet words evade you at that very moment. And Gojo catches it quickly. Because his brows raise, lifting his head back up, eyes scanning your face. 

Oh fuck.

“...”

Don’t.

“….Y/n,”

Don’t say it.

“You never had your first ki—“

BEEP!! BEEP!! BEEP!!

He couldn’t finish that sentence, thank God, because the phone alarm from the outside rang. Seven minutes are up — this session is up, so you quickly stood up and opened the closet door. 

With swift feet, you sit back next to Utahime, your eyes downcast to the bottle, avoiding Gojo’s feet coming around and taking his spot across from you. Your roommate perks at your silence, “You okay, Y/n?”

A nod is offered to her, “Yeah, I’m fine.” No, you weren’t. Your heart was pounding like crazy, your skin dropping in color. And you can feel the eyeballs from across boring into your being. “Let’s just keep playing.”

And so the game carried on from Gojo’s turn. Your eyes could only ever look at the bottle, hoping it would never land on you from there on out. But that would be the easy way out, and – as life is – nothing goes your way when you want it to be.

Because when it gets to your turn, you watch with patient eyes as the glass spins on the cold hardwood floor. One spin goes by, and another swings around. Finally, it stops, the neck of the bottle pointing vertically from you, and your whole figure washes in apprehension with the hushed sounds of exclamation of the other people in the room. 

Alas, the bottle pointed to Gojo. It was inevitable – you couldn’t avoid his presence since the last session anymore. You look at him, your brows scrunched with mercy. But he points to the closet with his chin, and you follow his lead to the small space with anxiousness at every step. 

Back to your respective stations in the closet. You can only use the mesmerizing wax of the lava lamp as a sort of comfort – a distraction for your nerves that are at an all-time high. Why were you so nervous? All he did was ask if you ever had your first kiss taken.

Yeah, that’s the problem! Why did he have to know that!? Ughhhh, I should’ve just lied or something…Now what? Will he make fun of me for not having my first kiss taken yet? What is this, middle school!?? The thoughts in your head were a battle to deal with, one personal worry after another.

But all that washes away when the silver-haired guy finally breaks the quiet after a minute. “…Wanna kiss me?”

It felt like your heart dropped at that abrupt question; the warm circulation coursing through your body transitioned to an ice-cold sensation. Your breathing stops, and your eyes shoot wide at the person you’re with. “….Wha….What did you say?”

He doesn’t hesitate at your request. “Wanna kiss?”

Have….Have you lost—“your mind!? Why would you ask me that??” You whisper yelled at him so the people outside don’t hear you.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Why not?”

Why not?!? “Gojo, you can’t be serious. Just because I never had my first kiss doesn’t mean I need it to happen this instant! Are you that much of a horndog that you’d ask—“

“Let me explain, alright!?” He yells in whispers back with a hand raised to stop your rambling, and you hold your tongue. “Listen, I’m not asking to be a dick, okay? I just thought that…ya know, being in a place full of strangers, someone’s bound to be in this closet with you and ask you for a kiss.”

Your face screws to a magnificent expression of confusion you could ever contour. “Why are you concerned about who I kiss? It’s not like I’d agree or—“

“Yeah, but like, what if they did, huh?” His sky-blue eyes peek from above his sunglasses. The sharpness they carried told you he was serious about this — like he was serious about you. That…That was so off of him. “What if some weirdo forces themselves on you, and me and Suguru can’t help you in time, huh? I can think of two guys in this room who’d probably do that.” 

It takes a few seconds for you to soak in his words, “….So? What are you getting at?” He opens his mouth but stops from saying something, his pointer finger up but back to a fist. You could tell; whatever he was thinking had him in mental turbulence.

He releases a deep sigh before saying, “I’m just…I’m saying, wouldn’t it be better to have your first kiss with someone you know, at least?”

You couldn’t believe he was saying such things to you. “And…you think you’re the one I should….kiss?”

“….I don’t hear a no.” 

You wanted to refute that statement — challenge him or prove him wrong! You looked at his face, examining every feature to find an indication that whatever he was saying was just a way to get under your skin. He loves to poke fun at you, so why wouldn’t he use this as a perfect opportunity?

However, you couldn’t find anything. His eyes were sincere, stationed right back on yours. You saw his Adam’s apple move from a gulp, letting you know that he was a little nervous, too. And your gaze drifted to his mouth, the thought of his lips being on yours staining your brain for the first time. It was scary to think about, your heart racing to no end. 

“Y/n,” he said your name so quietly that you almost missed it. “Do you trust me?”

What an odd question to ask in this awkward atmosphere. Do you trust Satoru Gojo, the boy you would smack with a given chance? He’s undoubtedly the most annoying person you’ve ever bumped into — a thorn in your side since freshman year. He is such a tactless fool, doing and saying whatever he thinks comes to mind, picking on you like you were a child, and not taking you seriously when you wanted him to. You could list many things that you saw wrong with this guy.

Yet, he wasn’t the worst. There hasn’t been an instance where you felt uncomfortable around him, only annoyance. He was friends with Geto and Shoko; that alone should be enough to tell you he’s someone worth depending on. And even when you two would be tasked to do something together, you’d surely click your tongue and bicker until the cows came home. But at the end of the day, you still knew how to work with one another and get the job done.

In all things considered, Satoru Gojo was an irritant. Even so, he was an irritant you could depend on — to trust. 

Breathing was a hard thing to do, taking in air and exhaling excruciatingly slow. You chew on your bottom lip and give him a curt nod. “I…I trust you, Gojo.”

He lets your answer sink in for a bit before he moves his position, his back to the wall while facing you, legs straight down to the ground. He pats on a thigh, “C’mere.”

Hesitance was there for a split second, but you followed his command and quietly maneuvered your way toward his direction, situating on top of his legs. Of course, you were anxious as hell; your ears and cheeks shared a warmth unbearable to host. Your figure being so close to his, you had to be dreaming. 

But you weren’t. The hands he placed on your waist prove so, earning a gasp to leave you. His voice is low for just the two of you to hear. “Put your hands on my shoulders…Ya scared?” A slow nod is what you give him, and he chuckles lightly. “It’s okay. Try closing your eyes for me. Relax, I’m not gonna do anything dumb.”

He only said that because of that look you gave him. He is going to do something to you — just nothing too rash. 

“Trust me, pretty.”

Pretty? Yes, he just called you pretty. You were used to him calling you dumb names to get you riled up, yet none nearly sweet and fitting the mood like this one. It made your heart skip a beat.

With that, you held back reluctance when closing your eyelids. It made you a little uneasy, unable to see him in front of you, what he was doing, what he looked like while having you on him like this.

Suddenly, you squeak when something softly presses down to your clavicle. It was his lips. 

He snickers, “Ya know, I gotta admit.” He brings his mouth up your neck with kisses, your breath shaking with every peck, and your hands clinging onto his sweatshirt. “It’s kinda nice seeing you be all shy on top of me like this.”

“Go..jo...” you flinch at his soft kiss on your forehead, his hands rubbing your sides.

“Don’t do that. Call me by my first name.” You can feel him bringing a hand to your cheek, caressing your bottom lip gently with his thumb. “I know you know it. I wanna hear it with your voice.”

Holy fuck, this got intense way too fast. He brings his nose close to yours, and you shiver at the contact. It only means he’s mere centimeters away. Thank God your eyes were closed now because you swear you’d turn to stone if you snuck a peek.

“S..Sa…Toru—Mmmph!?“

And there it was, the inexorable. Gojo’s lips fleshed with yours softly, nothing too explicit or unpleasant for you. It was a simple kiss, yet it felt so foreign to you. Your first kiss had been with Satoru Gojo. What a momentous day.

It lasted a few seconds, your body stiff and hands balled to fists nonetheless. He removes from you with a soft noise between your lips, the heat from his face taken with him now that you have space to breathe. You open your eyes for him.

“There ya go,” he says with a small smile, stroking your cheek with his thumb while his forefinger plays with your earlobe. “Was it so bad?”You huffed, shaking your head no. Gojo hums, the hand on your waist gripping your flesh faintly. “….Can I kiss you again?”

Your breath hitched. It was a tiny request. One more wouldn’t hurt, right? You nod, closing your eyes again and awaiting his move.

Gojo leans in and claims your lips again, a soft hum from him when his face is back on yours. The next one was a little more risqué than the last, your bottom lip being taken by his playfully. The third kiss was where the mood dialed to a more wanton plane, him nibbling on your lip to allow him access. It’s here that Gojo can’t contain the reins, removing his glasses, “Come here, cutie.”

And you can’t help yourself either, succumbing to these smooches while wrapping your arms around his neck. Gojo’s no better, snaking his hand to the back of your neck and his other sneaking down to your butt.

You break the kiss to inquire, “Hahhh—…you pervert,” your eyes half-lidded. 

He puffs a laugh, “Whaaat? I thought you’d like me to be touchy.”

You don’t admit anything to him, just slamming your face to his again. You decided to be a little adventurous and lick his lips. Gojo senses the initiative and takes your tongue to suck on. The whimper you let out was too cute, egging him on to suck and tease the muscle more. 

It makes you dwell in the moment more, your limbs no longer stiff, yet your hips subtly move voluntarily. The friction from your groin rubbing on his jean-covered thigh was strangely enticing, your restraint becoming lesser the more you moved. And it gets worse after both Gojo’s hands creep into your skirt and tease your ass with squeezes.

“Ahhh, mmmm, Satoru..” you wailed. 

“Relax, baby,” there it goes again, another cute pet name to call you. He really knew how to get you going. “Let me take care of you….Mmmm”

He shoves his tongue into your mouth – not too forceful to scare you, but enough to get that he is impatient. You moan to his mouth, a hand grabbing tuffs of his snowy hair. 

His nose is pressed to your cheek like yours, and it’s getting harder to breathe now that things are getting intimate. But it all felt good, and the mood was just right. You rub your chasm onto his leg, which he lifts just a bit to make grazing your groin a little better. And God, the way his hands groped your butt, it turned you on even more. 

Ohh fuck, tongues swirl around each other, your head begins to pound, and your ears ring from the heat on your face.. Oh, God, you could feel a hand come up to the top of your stocking, teasing its way down your skin and to the hem of your underwear. Please, please—

BEEP!! BEEP!! BEEP!!

Even so, everything freezes in time, and both you and Gojo stop whatever you’re doing. Lips still on lips, your ass on his lap, and his middle and forefinger barely grazing the crack of your ass. It’s here that everything hits you all at once: you are not the only one here — you’re not even in your room! You’re still at the party you were dragged into, in some stranger’s bedroom closet, smooching with your supposed most hated person. 

You immediately withdraw from him, Gojo removing his hands from you to put up defensively. Your hands rush to cover your lips, which are wet from spit. A thousand thoughts run around your head. Holy shit, what the hell was I doing!? Did I really just kiss Gojo? Satoru Gojo!? What was I thinking!!?

And Gojo didn’t say anything, only gauging your reaction to see what goes from here. The light from the lava lamp behind you is sheltered, your silhouette drawn to cover the guy in front of you. 

I need to leave. That’s your final thought, taking an immediate stand and storming out of the closet. Utahime noticed you make a beeline to the door, and the roommate pursues right behind you down the stairs. She moves past drunk dudes to grab your wrist, “Y/n! What’s wrong – are you okay?”

It’s time to lie. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just tired, you know.” You lead her to the broom closet where all the initial guests’ jackets were stored. You grab for yours and put it on, “I think I’m just gonna call an Uber and head back to campus before the snowfall.” 

Her face contorts to an expression of worry. “Are you sure? I’ll come with you; this place bugs any—“

“No, no. You don’t have to worry, Uta.” You place a hand on her shoulder before she can move another step. 

“When you say it like that, I can’t help but worry.”

Your lips twinge to a smile to display faux comfort. “It’s okay, really. You don’t have to ruin your fun for me. Besides, I saw some underclassmen waiting to speak with you all night somewhere down here.”

Utahime doesn’t buy it, and you knew she doesn’t. But thankfully, she doesn’t try to fight with you and gives you the okay. She watches you open the door before leaving, “Make sure you call or text me when you get to our dorm!”

It made you laugh; the girl can be such an older sister. “Don’t worry, Shoko’s still there, remember? Cya later, have fun!”

“Bye, be careful!” A final warning to you before the roommate closes the door for you.

You spoke too soon. Now outside, snow was already falling to the ground, probably a few minutes earlier since it wasn’t sticking to the ground yet. The little cold flakes touching the skin of your face were almost remedial, evening out the warmth of your cheeks.

You use this moment to recuperate from what transpired in that house. It was so out of the ordinary and was completely weirding you out, but not in a terrible way. It was more like odd-ish, strange, downright out of the norm. The more you think about it, visiting back to the senses of your hands in his hair, his slender fingers teasing the flesh of your butt, and the pillowy sensation of his lips glued to yours while whispering sweet things…..

….Nope, the cold was not helping at all. There goes the warmness creeping back on your cheeks and ears. Let me hurry and get the fuck out of here, grabbing for your phone and unlocking it to find the Uber app.

“Y/n!”

But before your thumb could press on the application, you instinctively turned around to see the door was open again. And the person who called out to you had your breath come to a complete stop.

Gojo closed the door behind him, coming down the driveway while hurriedly putting on his grey Chesterfield coat. “Fuuuuuck, it got cold quick!”

“G–Gojo!” You stuttered when out by the time he could make it to you. “What’s up? What are you—“

“I saw you weren’t in the bedroom, and Suguru told me you headed downstairs. You could’ve told me you were leaving; that fox with bangs was giving me an earful,” he stuffs his hands in his pockets and then curses. “Fuck, I should’ve checked for my gloves before I left….Anyway, where are you heading off to?” 

You were a little taken aback. “Uhhh, back to the dorms?”

“Great!” He wraps an arm around your shoulders and walks with you down the road. “My car’s over there; let’s hurry before we freeze to death.”

Huh? “Hurry where??”

“Huh? We’re going back to campus, no?”

We!? “Together!?”

“Yeah?”

“Gojo, please!” You promptly removed yourself away from Gojo, standing in front of him. “Why are you doing this? Why are you being all nice now?”

He shrugged “Ehhhh? Are friends not supposed to give friends rides back home?”

“No, not us! We aren’t friends; we’re friends to an extent, remember!?”

“Ahhh, stop being a baby. You act as if you’ve never been in my car before.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Yeah, but not when I’m alone with you, dummy! “C’mon, it’s gonna get colder with this snow.”

“Okay, just—Stop!” Your hands go up to prevent him from getting any closer to you. He stops, the fallen flakes camouflaging with his hair. “Gojo….you understand what just happened back there, right?”

He doesn’t say anything, only a single nod. 

“So, you know that my mind is going at like a hundred miles per hour right now.”

“….Yeah.”

“Okay….So, just please…I need a minute.” Your face goes to your feet to divert your thoughts elsewhere because you don’t know if you could handle looking at the white-haired man for a mere second.

Gojo looks at you mumble to yourself, avoiding him. He releases a deep sigh, walking towards you and lifting a side of his coat to shield you two from the windows of the house party. “…You’re doing it again.”

His shoes come to your direct line of sight, your heart pounding even more. “…Doing what?”

“The thing where you push people out whenever you feel overwhelmed.” You flinch when his finger grazes the back of your palm. “Don’t do that, not right now. I want you to talk to me.”

What is there to talk about? You could’ve said that to throw him off — be avoidant to this whole conversation. But it’s futile after he brings your chin up to face him. 

“Did I make you uncomfortable back there?”

“….No.” 

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I….I don’t know.” Honestly, you did not know. Your mind had too much to go through; so many memories and phrases from moments ago hit you all at once. You’re fighting the urge to tremble — not from the cold, but from overstimulation of brain power and senses.

His eyes are still fixed on you, noting you chewing on your lip. “Come with me.” The sudden revelation quirked your eyebrows up. “Whatever’s going on with you is obviously because of me. So, I’d feel like a dick if I just let you leave because of me. Plus, there’s no way you’re getting an Uber from here. Shit is like $20, I checked.”

“Gojo, I—“ he silences you with a kiss on your forehead. The feel of his lips on your skin again almost made you shut down.

“Sorry,” he whispered while placing his forehead on yours. You never really noticed how tall he was until he did that, your heart skipping again. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

Picture it: you are out in the cold with Gojo, snow falling down silently onto your figures, him bringing his coat up to shield you from the world. If you were naive enough, you’d mistake this as a scene from a fairy tale. And how he was looking at you, too; his sunglasses were back on, but you could make out the blue orbs that lingered on yours. It’s as if he didn’t want to look at anything else. Just you and only you. 

You don’t know where the hell this side of confidence came from, but you lifted your hands to cup his cheeks and bring him in for another kiss. Cold lips instantaneously warm up at each other’s contact, Gojo leaning into your touch more. 

Snow continues to fall and stick, and the music from the house can still be heard from the outside. Yet it doesn’t bother you because it all drowns out in this moment you feel with him. Whatever these feelings you are experiencing are something new — scary, but new. And for some reason, it felt right to have them for him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

A sheet of white cascades over the university grasses, students’ cars topped with sprinkles of snowflakes, and the lampposts emit a glow that fits the dark, cloudy weather. 

You were back on campus but not in your dorm where you told Utahime you’d be. You did text her when you arrived, so she doesn’t have to worry too much for you. In turn, she texted back that something had come up and is going to another event with Haibara and some other friends. She said she wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning; it sounds like she’s having a good time. 

The same thing goes for Geto, only that the raven-haired boy called Gojo to say he’d be home in the morning because he was getting “private” with someone he met at the party. “Will be back in the morning. Don’t cause a fire alarm like last time, you dork." 

Haibara is supposedly with your roommate, meaning he won’t be back until the morning, either. The only person left to account for would be Nanami, who is currently away for the weekend because he had to visit home to grab last-minute things from break. 

That leaves only you inside their apartment – in Gojo’s room on top of his bed with your top and bra down on the carpeted floor, along with Gojo’s sweatshirt and jeans. His bed is like any other twin bed for college dorms, a little impossible to move around for two people and limited positions. Nonetheless, to start things off slow, you lie comfortably on his bed with your head to his pillow as he crawls above you and works from above.

Gojo is straddled on top of you, kissing your lips and sucking on your tongue, evoking the prettiest wails he’s ever heard. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders while his are busy roaming your body.

The kiss is broken when you gasp at the contact of his pinkie grazing a nipple on your breast. “Ahhnn, Satoru, don’t touch…Mmmph!”

“Hmmm, what, gorgeous?” He places his lips from your chin down to your neck, sucking on your skin and leaving ticklish nibbles. “Don’t touch what?”

“M–My ni—Ohhoo!” He gives the hardened bud a tweeze, and your cry results from the sudden action. 

He chuckles, “So cute.” Kisses travel down from your collarbone, your breasts, and finally, your other unattended nipple. A whimper leaves your lips at the wet sensation of his tongue swirling around the sensitive nob, and you shriek when he takes it into his mouth. The frequent grazes of his teeth and the tongue pushing your nipple to the roof of his mouth — it all felt surreal.

Yet, it wasn’t as surreal as the next thing he was about to do. Sucking on your tit was the perfect distraction for him to sneak a hand down into your pantyhose, sinking it to the lower regions of your underwear. You gasp at the feeling of a digit pressing on the wet spot of your underwear.

“W–Mmmph…’toru, wait…” you pat him on his shoulder to get his attention, yet he doesn’t lift from your breast yet. “Don’t—Stop, it’s embarrassing—Khhmm!“ Shivers shoot up your spine after Gojo uses his middle and forefinger to go in between your panty-covered folds. Your wetness sticks onto him the more he rubs. 

Gojo lets go of your nipple with one last suck, the cool air chilling the wet bud. “Awww, is my lil’ princess shy?” You could only answer in pants and puffs, his blue eyes surveying your entire body laid out for him. “Heh, shit, you look so good...Hmm? Hey, you got a tear down here.”

“Huh?” You follow his eyes down to your tights, bringing your attention to a worn-down incision where Gojo’s hand is between the material and your underwear. It must’ve been from when I was grinding on him earlier today…

The snow-haired boy removes his hand from inside your tights and uses both to make the rip bigger. Your eyes shot wide, “Wha—What are you doing?”

“Making it easier to see your pussy.” He continues to tear a hole big enough for the damp spot of your pussy to be prevalent. 

Your face dials up in warmth at the vulgar word. “You could’ve just taken them off, you idiot…”

“Pssh, that’s no fun. Besides,” Gojo uses a thumb to remove the panty barrier to reveal what he’s wanted to see the moment you crawled up on his bed. Your bare cunt, wet substance glistening the pretty folds of your labia. He bites his lip. “I’ve been dying to see this pretty thing you’ve been hiding from me.”

Your hands rush to cover up your vagina, “D-Don’t say such embarrassing things, Gojo!”

“Hey, hey, let me see it,” his hands are used to pull yours aside, your slit throbbing from his gaze without your control. “And what did I say about calling me by my last name?”

It was a force of habit, dummy. “...Just be gentle, okay, Satoru?”

He beams a smile at you, the dimples on his cheek prevalent with his childish manner. “I will, princess! Now, what’s goin’ on here…” 

He ditches his head down to your chasm, giving the inviting genitalia a slow lick up to your clitoris. You bucked your hips in shock, jerking at the sudden intrusion of his tongue situating between your slit. He uses his hands to keep your legs still while he sucks and teases your vagina.

You grab for his hair, “—Khhaa!! Ohhh, ohhfuckkk, Satoru, no—Ohhh!!” Your eyes screw shut, mouth open to let your cries fly out. 

It only pushes Gojo to keep going, his tongue ravaging your folds as if he’s going to lick you clean. And when he sucks on clit? Holy fuck, you could’ve sworn your soul left your body right there and then.

“Satoruuu!! Ohhhshit, ohhhh…Mmmph,” the noises that come from the commotion below of Gojo’s tongue lapping and slurping your essence were so pornographic to the ears as if they’d melt on the spot. “Oh, God, I’m gonna cum, I think I’m gonna…Nnmmph!”

Gojo hears you; that’s why he removes his mouth from your clit before you can experience your orgasm. You throw an unsatisfied whine at him, a shit-eating grin apparent on his face. “Sorry, cutie. But I wanna have a feel for you first.” He straightens his posture and spreads your legs for him. You follow his hands that land at the hem of his boxer briefs, where a tent protrudes until his erection is sprung out with one fell swoop.

The erect limb you gawked at was definitely something you weren’t mentally prepared enough to see. Your eyes take in every single detail you can: from his pink tip, where precum exudes from the urethra down to the underside of his cock, to the long body curved slightly to the left. A whole living a breathing dick — and it’s Gojo’s dick, of all things. It was oddly pretty, you had to admit. 

“Ya ready?” You snap back to reality when Gojo calls out to you as he scoots forward to you after putting the condom on, the cockhead aligning with your labia. You hold your breath at the proximity, “Listen to me, Y/n. Since this is your first time, I need you to take deep breaths and try to relax for me. Think you can do that for me?” You sigh through your nostrils, but you nod. “Heh, good. Now stay still, and let me know if it hurts, okay, princess?”

He lightly pushes his glans to your labia, swirling it around to warm you up before kissing the entrance of your vagina. He begins to propel into you, and you begin to brace yourself for the pain that accompanies his insertion. You grab the pillowcase, your teeth clinging to your bottom lip as tears well up. But you remind yourself to breathe, drawing out as much of an exhale for Gojo to shove the tip in.

And when it does get in, you release the loudest gasp you’ve ever expressed that night! Your body froze stiffly as Gojo plunged more of his length into you; the curve scraping your side caused such an exhilarating spike in your nerves that your walls immediately began clenching around him. 

Oh fuck, It’s coming, I’m gon— “Ahhhh!”

And just like that, your orgasm that was avoided before came back in seconds., the walls of your slit fluttering on Gojo’s cock like crazy, electric shocks climbing up to your head and pulling you in for a haze.

The sudden contraction of you makes Gojo hiss, “—Fuuuck, you’re gripping me like crazy…! Damn, you feel so fucking good…” He continues to push himself onto you until the base rises your southern lips and grinds his pelvis, which only fuels your screams even more with the overstimulation. “—Khhh! D-Damn…did you cum, baby?”

You can’t even form a proper sentence, your lower half feeling too full to speak, and your figure trembling from the crescendo. 

Your expression has Gojo bend down to laugh. “Never had that happened before. Heh, glad I could make you cum for the first time. Congrats, pretty…” Pillowy lips claim yours again, taking your whines and whimpers as he roughly grinds his hips to you.

Gojo begins moving his hips at a slow pace, letting you adjust to his size and shape. However, the peak has made your entire lower body dial-up in sensitivity, your back arching to him every time your clit is barely touched. Tears have long fallen since he successfully entered inside you.

Jesus, the fucking curve of his shaft was so fucking dangerous! Not only was the feeling of his veins coming to and fro with your inner walls had you twitching, but the way the tip of his cock was scratching and poking every spot that had you humming was so unfair. Especially now, when he changes the rhythm to a faster cadence, you’re bound to come again! 

“Ohooo, ahahhh, Sa-‘toru…! Ughhh, Jesus, it feels so….Hooohhh!!” Your words slurred in between kisses, almost choking on your tongue with the slap of his balls hitting your taint. 

“Yeah, baby…—Ohhh, shit, shit, shiiiit…!” You feel so good to Gojo; he can’t help but slam onto you with all his might. Your nails were causing eclipses on the skin of his shoulders. He didn’t mind; he knew it was because you were feeling good, too. “Hnngh…How’re you feelin’, Y/n? Hmm?”

“—Eeshh!! I–I…don’t know…” Your brain was too mushy to think adequately, too distracted by what was between your legs.

But Gojo wasn’t buying that mess. “Ohoho, I think you do know, sweetie.” The tall silver-haired boy creeps a hand down to your clit to give it a pinch. You scream, your legs wrapping around his hips involuntarily. “How’re you feeling?”

“—Fuuuhucck!! It feels good,” There, you finally said it. “It feels soo good…Hic–pleaseeee, make me feel good, ‘toruuuu!!”

He puts his forehead to yours before kissing it. “God, you’re so fucking, cute…” 

Gojo increases his tempo to an erratic fashion, your howls bouncing off the walls with every plunge of his dick inside you. Your gummy walls clamp onto him while his fingers swipe around your clitoris, and more tears strike down your wet cheeks. 

The familiar tingling sensation from before begins to climb up. Oh, God, it’s happening again. “Ahhooo—OhmyfuckingGooood!! I’m gonna cum again, I’m gonna cummm…! Aiiishh, ahhhhh!!”

And there it goes, your second crescendo hitting you like a wall. Your walls twitch around Gojo’s length again, prompting the man above you to impetuously thrust in a harsh motion, evoking more choked sobs from your puffy lips. And when he dwells into a finish of his own, you can feel his limb pulsate along with your contractions withering away.

The two of you heave and pant close to each other before Gojo slumps his body on your nude figure, allowing him to rest while he pumps his load into your stimulated cunt. The sheets beneath you stick to your sweaty skin, the air of Gojo’s huffs tickling your neck. 

When you feel your body subsided from the excitement, you two turn to each other. Noses touching each other, eyes locked into each other’s stares. 

“….So,” he’s the first to speak in a whisper. “…What does this make us?”

His eyes were so alluring to look at, like looking at the most beautiful azure gems in your adjacency. “…I’ll punch you if you say I’m your girlfriend.”

That has him chuckling in shaky breathes. “Fair enough, but it’d be dumb if we didn't talk after this.”

A curt nod in agreement, “…Is there a thing called frenemies-with-benefits?”

“Pfft, I don’t know, but why not? I wouldn’t mind.” Gojo then decides to get up and finally remove himself from you, slowly taking out his cock with the condom. The bed creaks when he leaves to remove the plastic and wrap it to discard it. “You okay?”

You ponder for a few seconds before coming to an honest answer. “I think so…My pantyhose isn’t fine, though, you fiend.” 

He flashes another smile at you, his dimples taking your heart away. “Yeah, yeah, sorry about that. I’ll get you another pair.”

“You better.” 

BZZZT!! BZZZT!! BZZZT!!

Before you could get off the bed, a vibration came from Gojo’s dresser top. It was his phone, the caller ID reading as “punk-boy bangy wannabe” 

You blink and give the phone to Gojo after he puts his sweatshirt back on. With raised brows, he says, “It’s Suguru?” His thumb presses the green button before bringing the device to his ear while he puts his limp dick back in his boxers. “Yo. Wassup?”

“Okay, good, you picked up. I’m getting in the elevator right now to grab something from the room real quick. Open the door for me, will ya?”

The white-haired roommate couldn’t express his shock in time because Geto ended the call before he could have the chance. He turns to you slowly, and you can tell whatever he’s going to say isn’t good based on that dumb look on his face. “Suguru's coming up…now.”

Panic spiked up as it rightfully should. You were still braless and topless, for Christ’s sake! And wearing torn tights!? Something you did not want Geto to see in the likes of his and Gojo’s room. “W–What should I do?!”

Gojp quickly scans the room for a plan, immediately pointing to a door to his right. “Hide in my closet!” He hurries to grab the door open. “Quick, grab your clothes and get in here!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…!” You grab for everything in your direct line of sight, making a straight beeline to the closet when you’ve got everything. “Don’t forget my shoes at the front; just quickly hide them somewhere!”

“Okay, okay—“

“I’m serious, Gojo! Do not do anything stupid!”

“I heard you, jeez.” He watches you move around the closet, moving his shoes to one side while trying to hide behind one of his suits. Jesus, you looked real cute even when you were scared. “…Hey.”

You peer up at him, moving his blazer so he could see your complete face. “What?”

“Be careful not to leave your panties here ‘cause I might not give them back.”

The last thing Gojo saw within that second was one of his dress shoes thrown dead at his face. His hands come to his stinging nose and cheek, exclaiming at the pain with a loud groan. “Fucking pervert, quit playing dumb games and get my shoes!”

I take it fucking back. He slams the closet door closed. “So uncute…”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 ❤︎ reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ dividers by @/cafekitsune & @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[tender-rosiey]

hiii 😭 I REALLY LOVE UR GOJO X YN SO MUCHHH 😔😔 I was also wondering like maybe what if y/n has a wound, like any where 🥲 it could be either on her back, arms, legs but she doesn't wanna tell gojo abt it and she hides it, then he will find out about it either she winces when gojo hugs her, starts wearing long sleeved clothes or her shirt lifts up while sleeping 🤧 TYSMM❤❤

strain — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: I am honored that you like my works, love! hope you enjoy this as well 🫶💕🫶 also happy birthday to the man, the myth, the legend: gojo satoru!! (it’s still his birthday in my country so hush I am not late)

you are more than a capable sorcerer. in fact, you are one of the strongest in the field.

however, like anyone else, there are some moments where things get a little out of hand, and you come back bearing a rather long slash on your left arm.

but since it’s pretty late, you decided you will bother shoko about it in the morning. that is how you’re finally in your home, with satoru nowhere to be found.

you frown lightly at the fact that he is still out there fighting curses, but a part of you feels relieved that you don’t have to explain your situation right now.

the night should pass by smoothly, and you will go to shoko tomorrow: a fool-proof plan!

so you do what you can to sanitize the wound, and cover it until you can get it treated properly. you also take the chance to indulge in your favorite snack as a good job treat.

after finishing your food and tidying up for the day, you’re finally in bed, all-cozied up and avoiding anything touching your wound as much as possible.

a deep breathe in, a deep breathe out, and you slowly drift to sleep.

not much time passes before satoru’s familiar footsteps echo throughout the house.

your husband has an abundance of energy.

but it seemed like today’s missions have drained him a bit more than normal, so he skips eating anything and heads straight to your shared bedroom.

his heart softens, and his muscles relax upon the sight of you tucked in bed. he walks to press a small kiss on your forehead, quickly changing into his pajamas and settling right by your side.

he stretches a bit and turns to spoon you as per usual, eyes closing in contentment.

but you wince, even if adeptly, and it sends alarms ringing through his head.

he jerks up, and his hand is instantly placed on your arm again, softly. there is an ever so faint change in your expression as your eyebrows furrow, and he has never pulled his hand away so fast.

he keeps debating in his head whether to wake you up or not, but he swiftly settles for the former.

he needs to know what happened. so he, regrettably, nudges your sleepy form, “y/n?”

you groan, but, nonetheless, you reply, “…what?”

while satoru often likes to base theatrics around his every move and phrase, but he also knows when to get straight to the point, “did you get hurt on today’s mission?”

you’re no longer half-asleep, and you quickly sit up, eyeing your husband. knowing there is no escape nor denial, you fidget with your fingers and nod slowly.

then you hurriedly utter, “but I was going to see shoko first thing in the morning; I promise!”

he nods slowly, holding your hands in his own. you’re left to look him in the eyes. satoru’s eyes being exposed makes him feel so vulnerable, or at least that’s how he is with you.

you can see every wrinkle, and every crease; you can see what he is thinking about in real time. he has long given up hiding anything from you, and, besides, it feels fresh to just let go.

but right now, as you look into his eyes, you see them swarming with confliction, pain, and worry.

he doesn’t scold you about not going right now because he knows that you will tell him that you either thought it wasn’t a big deal or that you didn’t want to bother shoko with it.

instead, he settles on a hushed whisper of “can I see it?”

you throw him a confused look, “why? I am getting it treated tomorrow anyway,” then you smile, “it’s not going to permanent if that’s what you’re worried about.”

he shakes his head, “it’s not that; I just—“ he takes a deep breath then looks at you pleadingly, “just let me see it.”

perhaps it’s to silence his thoughts and to show him that you’re truly okay, as okay as you can be.

you’re still alive, and that’s what matters, he thinks. nevertheless, he feels the need to see just how serious is the wound anyway.

reluctantly, you slowly take off your jacket to reveal the poorly bandaged gash on your arm.

he looks up at you, asking for permission because even if he needs to see it for his own selfish reasons, he has to put you above anything and everything else.

you nod, giving the free reign to slowly take off the bandages. you can barely hold back any pained noises, but you can’t help the wincing of your body.

satoru’s frown deepens, and with every move, your husband’s heart aches. it goes like that until the wound is finally unveiled.

you feel satoru observing the cut so intently that you look away. satoru curses everything that he can think of, and never has we wanted the ability to heal others more than right now.

he straightens his back, “that’s a deep cut, y’know.”

“I know…”

“you also realize that the wound could’ve hit your chest and inevitably heart, right?”

you huff, “listen, if you’re going to give me a lecture or keep making me feel bad about it then I will have you know—“

“you could’ve died.”

you notice the strain in his voice, so you turn to finally look eyes with him. he looks pained, so hurt, maybe even terrified at the fact that there was a chance that he could’ve lost you.

your expression immediately becomes that of sympathy, “but I didn’t, and dwelling on the fact that I might’ve died will only bother you for no reason,” you hold his hand, “I am here and alive, aren’t I?”

your husband sighs, resting his head on your right shoulder, “you’re hurting my poor little heart whenever you put yourself in danger like that.”

a giggle escapes your lips, and your hands naturally find their way in his hair, fingers gently carding through, “whatever shall we do.”

“if things went my way then you would just stay home looking all pretty like you always do,” he states, and you roll your eyes.

“well, they’re going my way tonight, so—“ the clock strikes twelve, “happy birthday, silly boy.”

his eyes widen and he pulls away to look you in the face. he blinks dumbly then looks at what’s in your hands: a cupcake with a candle.

a wide grin of unbridled joy appears on your husband’s face. his eyes shimmer in the moonlight as he laughs, “I really didn’t expect it this time!”

“you outdid yourself, pretty girl,” he hums, hand caressing your cheek.

“I still have a lot more things for you,” you beam with pride. satoru can’t contain himself anymore, and he pulls you into a loving embrace.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs beside your ear, pressing a light kiss to the side of your neck.

you pat his back, “I love you too, ‘toru,” you laugh, “but you’re pressing on my wound, and I think I am just going to cry and not because of overwhelming love.”

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[specialagentartemis]

I get variations on this comment on my post about history misinformation all the time: "why does it matter?" Why does it matter that people believe falsehoods about history? Why does it matter if people spread history misinformation? Why does it matter if people on tumblr believe that those bronze dodecahedra were used for knitting, or that Persephone had a daughter named Mespyrian? It's not the kind of misinformation that actually hurts people, like anti-vaxx propaganda or climate change denial. It doesn't hurt anyone to believe something false about the past.

Which, one, thanks for letting me know on my post that you think my job doesn't matter and what I do is pointless, if it doesn't really matter if we know the truth or make up lies about history because lies don't hurt anyone. But two, there are lots of reasons that it matters.

It encourages us to distrust historians when they talk about other aspects of history. You might think it's harmless to believe that Pharaoh Hatshepsut was trans. It's less harmless when you're espousing that the Holocaust wasn't really about Jews because the Nazis "came for trans people first." You might think it's harmless to believe that the French royalty of Versailles pooped and urinated on the floor of the palace all the time, because they were asshole rich people anyway, who cares, we hate the rich here; it's rather less harmless when you decide that the USSR was the communist ideal and Good, Actually, and that reports of its genocidal oppression are actually lies.

It encourages anti-intellectualism in other areas of scholarship. Deciding based on your own gut that the experts don't know what they're talking about and are either too stupid to realize the truth, or maliciously hiding the truth, is how you get to anti-vaxxers and climate change denial. It is also how you come to discount housing-first solutions for homelessness or the idea that long-term sustained weight loss is both biologically unlikely and health-wise unnecessary for the majority of fat people - because they conflict with what you feel should be true. Believing what you want to be true about history, because you want to believe it, and discounting fact-based corrections because you don't want them to be true, can then bleed over into how you approach other sociological and scientific topics.

How we think about history informs how we think about the present. A lot of people want certain things to be true - this famous person from history was gay or trans, this sexist story was actually feminist in its origin - because we want proof that gay people, trans people, and women deserve to be respected, and this gives evidence to prove we once were and deserve to be. But let me tell you a different story: on Thanksgiving of 2016, I was at a family friend's house and listening to their drunk conservative relative rant, and he told me, confidently, that the Roman Empire fell because they instituted universal healthcare, which was proof that Obama was destroying America. Of course that's nonsense. But projecting what we think is true about the world back onto history, and then using that as recursive proof that that is how the world is... is shoddy scholarship, and gets used for topics you don't agree with just as much as the ones you do. We should not be encouraging this, because our politics should be informed by the truth and material reality, not how we wish the past proved us right.

It frequently reinforces "Good vs. Bad" dichotomies that are at best unhelpful and at worst victim-blaming. A very common thread of historical misinformation on tumblr is about the innocence or benevolence of oppressed groups, slandered by oppressors who were far worse. This very frequently has truth to it - but makes the lies hard to separate out. It often simplifies the narrative, and implies that the reason that colonialism and oppression were bad was because the victims were Good and didn't deserve it... not because colonialism and oppression are bad. You see this sometimes with radical feminist mother goddess Neolithic feminist utopia stuff, but you also see it a lot regarding Native American and African history. I have seen people earnestly argue that Aztecs did not practice human sacrifice, that that was a lie made up by the Spanish to slander them. That is not true. Human sacrifice was part of Aztec, Maya, and many Central American war/religious practices. They are significantly more complex than often presented, and came from a captive-based system of warfare that significantly reduced the number of people who got killed in war compared to European styles of war that primarily killed people on the battlefield rather than taking them captive for sacrifice... but the human sacrifice was real and did happen. This can often come off with the implications of a 'noble savage' or an 'innocent victim' that implies that the bad things the Spanish conquistadors did were bad because the victims were innocent or good. This is a very easy trap to fall into; if the victims were good, they didn't deserve it. Right? This logic is dangerous when you are presented with a person or group who did something bad... you're caught in a bind. Did they deserve their injustice or oppression because they did something bad? This kind of logic drives a lot of transphobia, homophobia, racism, and defenses of Kyle Rittenhouse today. The answer to a colonialist logic of "The Aztecs deserved to be conquered because they did human sacrifice and that's bad" is not "The Aztecs didn't do human sacrifice actually, that's just Spanish propaganda" (which is a lie) it should be "We Americans do human sacrifice all the god damn time with our forever wars in the Middle East, we just don't call it that. We use bullets and bombs rather than obsidian knives but we kill way, way more people in the name of our country. What does that make us? Maybe genocide is not okay regardless of if you think the people are weird and scary." It becomes hard to square your ethics of the Innocent Victim and Lying Perpetrator when you see real, complicated, individual-level and group-level interactions, where no group is made up of members who are all completely pure and good, and they don't deserve to be oppressed anyway.

It makes you an unwitting tool of the oppressor. The favorite, favorite allegation transphobes level at trans people, and conservatives at queer people, is that we're lying to push the Gay Agenda. We're liars or deluded fools. If you say something about queer or trans history that's easy to debunk as false, you have permanently hurt your credibility - and the cause of queer history. It makes you easy to write off as a liar or a deluded fool who needs misinformation to make your case. If you say Louisa May Alcott was trans, that's easy to counter with "there is literally no evidence of that, and lots of evidence that she was fine being a woman," and instantly tanks your credibility going forward, so when you then say James Barry was trans and push back against a novel or biopic that treats James Barry as a woman, you get "you don't know what you're talking about, didn't you say Louisa May Alcott was trans too?" TERFs love to call trans people liars - do not hand them ammunition, not even a single bullet. Make sure you can back up what you say with facts and evidence. This is true of homophobes, of racists, of sexists. Be confident of your facts, and have facts to give to the hopeful and questioning learners who you are relating this story to, or the bigots who you are telling off, because misinformation can only hurt you and your cause.

It makes the queer, female, POC, or other marginalized listeners hurt, sad, and betrayed when something they thought was a reflection of their own experiences turns out not to be real. This is a good response to a performance art piece purporting to tell a real story of gay WWI soldiers, until the author revealed it as fiction. Why would you want to set yourself up for disappointment like that? Why would you want to risk inflicting that disappointment and betrayal on anyone else?

It makes it harder to learn the actual truth.

Historical misinformation has consequences, and those consequences are best avoided - by checking your facts, citing your sources, and taking the time and effort to make sure you are actually telling the truth.

[gamermattsgf]

I mean it // homewrecker Matt

Warnings: smut / cheating plot / thigh ride / dry grinding / wet grinding / degradation kink / praise kink / spit kink / dom Matt x sub fem reader / mentions of drinking + smoking / mentions of drugs / hair pulling if you squint / cum kink / princess kink

Summary: in which Matt is only friends with a guy because he really wants his girlfriend…

Author’s notes: this is my longest one yet but I don’t know how I feel about it yet, I might warm to it later, who knows… obviously, I do not condone cheating, nor is it an acceptable thing to do to anyone, so again if you don’t like it, don’t read it. However, if Matt Sturniolo came up to me one day and offered to steal me away from a current boyfriend… I would not hesitate to take my clothes off on the spot. I rest my case.

“She wears a ring? Came through without it, you really think she stays true? I doubt it, because I am fucking your girlfriend and there’s nothing you can do about it” - I mean it, G-Eazy

‘Yeah but Matt’s a dick…’

You shrug at your friend’s pointed comment, swishing around the last half of the strange alcoholic mixer that had been thrust into your hand the minute you had walked through the door.

Both of you stand to the side of the noisy, open living room area whilst your backs lean against the cold wallpaper of some rich kid’s penthouse.

‘Yeah… I know’

‘I could literally list all of the things wrong with him on my fingers and I would run out of them. I don’t even know why your boyfriend chooses to be friends with him’. She continues, taking a sip of her own drink whilst you stare off into the distance, mostly looking over to the opposite side of the room where a ping pong table has been set out and both the boyfriend in question and Matt - the subject of your degrading conversation - are playing in a heated game of beer pong.

‘I’m not sure either’

‘He’s a womaniser with literally no respect for anyone around him, he’s a narcissist, and he’s just constantly rude to people.’ She continues to rant aimlessly, her very large hoop earrings jingling as she shakes her head and denies someone who was offering her a selection of ecstasy pills on a silver platter.

The person doesn’t seem to care for the denial and instead shrugs his shoulders before moving on to pester the next highly intoxicated person, coaxing them into falling even more inebriated by placing the tempting round pill into the palm of their open hand.

She then starts again, waving her hands about dramatically whilst you secretly get lost in your own thoughts.

‘You should have heard what he said the other day about a random girl who passed us on the sidewalk, if I-’ but then her voice slowly fades into the distance the more you focus in on Ryan, who stands next to a Matt that cheers him on whilst he aims a ping pong ball up to throw it into one of the cups opposite them.

Matt wears a baggy dark green zip up hoodie that looks almost black in the flashing red LED lights of the room as weed smoke blows up into the air in thick plumes, like tiny little volcanos releasing their clouds of ash.

Suddenly, your heart squeezes strangely and you find yourself beginning to blush in embarrassment when Matt senses someone staring at him and so flicks his eyes over to you. He has his hands tucked into his hoodie pockets and wears a cheeky little smile on his face that puckers even more after he deflects his eyes to the back of Ryan’s head. He then looks back at you and makes a face, as if to playfully scold you for staring.

You bet he finds all of this so funny. The fact that you are looking at him instead of Ryan.

It immediately makes you feel bad, because you know that if you bump into Matt later tonight, he is most definitely going to bring this up just to tease you about it. However, something within the look of his eyes makes you inwardly squirm. Or maybe it’s the way his smirk suites his face so attractively…

But then you come to the conclusion that it is neither of those things, because what it really is, is the way he inconspicuously lifts his middle and pointer fingers up to split them at either side of his mouth and 'scratch his face’ whilst making direct eye contact with you.

He’s got a pair of fucking balls to innocently mimic the dirty joke of eating someone out, you’ll give him that. Whether it is intentional or not, it still makes you screw up your face in disgust and avert your eyes, to which Matt smiles in victory before re-joining the conversation that is being shared around the ping pong table at his end.

His lower half isn’t visible as he stands behind a Ryan that holds a cup in his hand already whilst his other one lets go of a white ball. Everyone watches it bounce to the other side of the table before it neatly splashes into one of the opposition’s cups.

People cheer for Ryan whilst the other random guy groans with his head thrown back. He playfully points at Ryan and Matt, saying something before he swipes up the shot and knocks it back with a screwed up face of disgust.

They’re probably all drinking the equivalent of burning gasoline in those vile, non-diluted drinks. And judging by the way Matt and Ryan have polished off quite a few of the cups on their side already, it’s clear that they must have come to get absolutely shit-faced at this party.

You secretly roll your eyes and nod along as you hum, pretending to listen to a word your friend is saying before another random girl who - your guess, knows her - comes up to chat.

This gives you an excuse to slip out of her eye-line.

Matt.

Aka, the asshole of all assholes, however… also more fondly known as ‘your boyfriend’s best friend’.

It’s not like what your friend says isn’t true, because all of it is. He is a womaniser, he is a narcissist, and he most definitely is disrespectful to everyone most of the time. In fact, Matt sometimes scares you. You don’t like opening your mouth in front of him at all, nor should anyone else, because no matter what is being said, he’ll still manage to be rude about it.

To say he is a fucking bully is an understatement. He’s the kind of person that will snigger at a guy in glasses and whisper about his appearance after he has passed by to his friends or trip up someone in the school hallways ‘by accident’, only to then watch their folders go flying for the fun of it. He is mean and unpleasant, and quite frankly a terrible influence on Ryan.

Plus, annoyingly, as your friend also points out, Matt loves girls, and he loves the attention he receives from them, because he knows he’s hot. Which doesn’t bother you at all, because you’re with Ryan. But what does concern you however, is that more often than not, you catch Matt looking at you in ways that clearly shouldn’t be allowed, especially since he knows that you are taken. No less taken by his best friend.

They are subtle, and he always immediately looks away after you catch him, but usually with no regret in his eyes and sometimes even with little conniving smirks on his face as though you are both sharing a little inside joke.

Ryan is as clueless as ever of course, he trusts too many people, and only ever really sees the best in Matt. He refuses to believe that Matt could be using his friendship for something else entirely. Because unfortunately, sometimes guy are only friends with other guys because they really want their girlfriends.

And lately… Matt has been absolutely oozing those vibes. Sometimes, you get inwardly pissed at Ryan for not realising the obvious signs, because Matt really doesn’t make it discreet. At all.

It always starts with the stupid shit like looking over at his phone whilst he’s texting Matt to arrange a hang out time, only to see Matt replying with an oh-so-innocent ‘oh cool, will ur gf be there?’ as a sneaky way of making sure that you’ll be around.

Either that or it’s him making blatantly flirty remarks, right in front of Ryan.

Stupidly… most of the time all of these go over Ryan’s head and you just have to roll your eyes at him.

The other thing that also leads you to this conclusion is the very worrying fact that you know Matt has a clear track record of being a notorious homewrecker. It’s like… his thing.

He loves pursuing something that people tell him is actually out of his reach. He loves being able to feel like he can touch the untouchable. And here he is, best friends with Ryan, but only because Ryan has a girlfriend… you.

Someone that he maybe- possibly? To your recollection… wants to fuck.

But that’s just your take on it, and it might not even be true, who knows what actually goes on in the complicated weave of Matt’s mind.

Heading further into the haze of the party, you stroll about, practically choking on the smell of sweat, perfume, nicotine and weed. Not to mention the fact that you almost get crushed in between the grinding body parts of people as their skin brushes and presses up against your own.

You trip up on your feet a couple of times and find it pretty hard to breathe in amongst all of the party goers as you barge your way through the claustrophobically intense crowd that flashes generic neon party colours of red, blue and green from the installed lights above.

Your ears ring and your head thumps at the sound of the tasteless rap music still playing, so you decide to do what any normal person would and go up the stairs to find an unoccupied room where you can just lie down and have some peace and quiet. You’re sure the guy throwing this rager has a couple to spare, even if in some of them people have already gone to fuck.

You’re not too drunk to have lost your grip on what is actually going on around you… you can still think straight, however, you’re not exactly stone cold sober either. So, you wobble your way up the stairs and then walk along the corridor, having to try a few rooms before finding a nice empty one.

Sitting down on the plush double bed you sigh. However, in your intoxicated state, you don’t quite realise that the light to the bathroom suite is on and that someone else is also shuffling around on the other side of the door.

Who that someone is, is only made apparent to you after the bathroom door unlocks and he comes stepping out whilst flicking off the light switch.

You quite literally freeze, and part of you thinks you get so much of a fright that you sober up a little when you gaze upon a full bodied Matt standing in the darkened doorway of the bathroom.

Oh…

Matt looks equally as caught off-guard as you as he narrows his eyes.

‘What are you doing in here?’ You stupidly announce, as if it is your own private room that he is in. He rolls his eyes and scoffs, his usual clipped tone being exercised on you as he responds with a sharp ‘I’m just looking around, jesus it’s not like it’s your bathroom’.

You gulp and shake your head in understanding, inwardly scolding yourself on the idiocy of what you had just said. Trying not to stumble upon your words the next time around you keep your eyes trained on him as he marches across the room to have a nose at some of the pictures hanging up on the walls. Now, your hands are shakily white knuckling the bedsheets… fuck, you can’t just leave! That would be weird.

You don’t have to start speaking again however, because Matt does it for you.

‘So why are you up here by yourself? Thought you would have been begging for Ry’s attention by now’. You can feel his smirk through the back of his fucking head.

Pretty much everything that comes out of this man’s mouth makes your blood sear hotly within your veins. Who the fuck does he think he is to say something like that about you?

‘Well I’m not am I?’

This is the only good comeback you can manage to think of and bite back in the time that he gives you. He is already starting to make your hands shake with nervousness.

His back is turned, but he always somehow manages to command your attention.

‘Yeah I guess so’ he shrugs, but then starts an annoying chuckle as he suddenly looks over his shoulder at your body sitting meekly on the bed, his jawline still as sharp as ever and protruding from his neck. ‘Seems like instead you’re looking for my attention then huh?’.

The quipped hum that travels from his throat makes you flush a cherry pink, and you struggle to keep up with his wit since you get nervous about the way he looks at you and the way he commands himself. ‘Oh really, and what gave you that impression?’. But immediately after you say this you wish you could take it back, because Matt swivels on his feet as though you had walked directly into a trap of his own making.

Which to be honest, you kind of had…

‘Well for one, you’re in here… with me. And two, you just couldn’t seem to keep your eyes off of me earlier… and that’s not really supposed to be what loving girlfriends do’ he pouts his lips and tilts his head meanly, already psychologically bullying you because of how much you had looked at him earlier at the ping pong table in comparison to Ryan.

This time you directly roll your eyes at him and decide to get back up from your position on the bed. At least now you feel like you’re not at a loss for power due to the height difference. You don’t like the way that it’s too easy for him to completely tower over you from your spot on the patterned bed covers.

You can tell that Matt is also a little tipsy based off of the way he sways a little as he stands still, but just like yourself, it’s not enough alcohol to make him completely lose his grip on reality and who you are. So why is it, that he looks at you as though you are a hunk of fresh meat up for grabs?

Suddenly he looks away, taking a deep breath and reaching his hand to the nightstand next to the bed. He swipes up the book resting on top of it, and then slowly reads out the title of the classical novel. ‘The Lover’s Den… it’s one of those must reads isn’t it?’ He asks, still with the added patronising tone that never fails to tick you off.

Your skin feels itchy, and you want nothing more than to run out of this room and away from Matt’s presence, because his attitude really affects you in the strangest of ways. ‘Sure I guess…’ you shift awkwardly, trying to keep your answers as brief as possible.

You wish he would just put the book down, but instead he flips it around and starts to read the blurb.

‘An erotic romance filled with dark twists and a lover’s secret…’.

As he speaks these words your heart plummets into your ass. Next come his hooded eyes that flick up to yours and narrow impishly.

Please just let this be over.

You don’t want to be around Matt any more than you can help it, for conflicting reasons. If before you weren’t sure if whether or not he wanted to fuck you, now you’re pretty much certain he did.

You just hate the way that he is so critical about you, and how he can easily make you feel shy and embarrassed about yourself.

Matt is really attractive, almost unfairly attractive, which just makes you feel sick to your stomach about how often your feelings fight with one another when discussing the concepts of right and wrong. Because you shouldn’t be thinking about that at all, especially when you’re in a supposedly “loving” relationship with Ryan- that transforms into a less loving relationship with every single step Matt takes to get to your heaving figure.

By now he has dropped the book and it’s flopped quietly back down onto the mattress, the suggestive pages of the erotica long forgotten by Matt in favour of him getting to what he really wants… you.

‘Aren’t you a little tired of your relationship?’ He gently starts, as if trying to take on the tone of some kind of marriage counsellor. Your heart squeezes as little paper butterflies make their way around the step ladders of your rib cage.

Oh fuck, how the hell are you supposed to respond to that?

You end up simply keeping your lips sealed in shock. Instead, you opt to nervously gulp a drop of your saliva down your scratchy throat as one of your feet naturally takes a step back from his advancing body.

‘Maybe you want to explore a little before you tie any proper knots with your boyfriend no…?’

Matt has reached you now, and as a natural reaction you simply freeze in your spot of one foot stepped behind the other, your heart still galloping and your eyes blinking up at him widely.

As you begin to stutter, Matt’s mouth peels up into a satisfied smirk with his jawline sharp and his hot breath dispersing directly onto your face because of just how close he is. In fact, he’s so close that you can see the small little pores where his dark stubble grows in to shape his beard.

‘Y’know I like exploring too… a lot…’

His voice reduces to nothing more than a mere whisper now as his face gets incomprehensibly closer to yours. Your hands lay limp by your sides, that is, until Matt slowly gravitates his veined ones forward to pinch your softer skin in between his rougher, more masculine grip whilst his thumbs rub temptingly over the flesh that conjoins your pointer fingers to your thumbs.

Your breath is shaky and audible as Matt falls into a hushed quiet, taking your own silence as permission to press his lips against yours.

Something within your brain sounds a shrieking siren that screams ‘RYAN! RYAN! RYAN!’ Over and over again as Matt’s soft lips enclose over yours with a gentle victory that he treats cautiously at first. He’s buttering you up with his tender caresses and soothing voice, knowing exactly how to play to your weaknesses since he’s had practice at swinging sledgehammers at other people’s happy relationships before.

But, unfortunately for Matt, the little nagging voice of Ryan inside of your head succeeds.

Bile almost rises in your throat as reality comes to slap you in the face. You’re knocked out of Matt’s bewitching trance and are absolutely horrified as to what you are doing with him whilst your boyfriend is most likely located just down the stairs from the two of you.

Ripping yourself away, you jump back in terror and leave Matt to open his eyes and blink them, his lips already swollen with arousal before his hand comes up to smoosh against them in a vampiric manner. He then rubs away any saliva that might have oozed from out of his mouth as though he were swiping away blood.

Shaking your head in silence, you once again have practically no words to utter and instead spin on your heels. Making a beeline straight to the door, you leave Matt’s sexual aura behind, his presence and strong smell of aftershave still polluting your nose and playing with your senses before you grasp a hold of the doorknob and slip outside.

However, regrettably, you don’t leave Matt standing alone in the centre of the room for long, because as quickly as you had closed the door right in his face, you are shyly cracking it back open again and sliding into the room with a guilty grimace once more.

Matt only stands there with his arms crossed and a smug fucking smile on his face, the dim bedside table lamp lighting up both of your complexions with a yellowish lustre. It’s as if he knew that you wouldn’t be gone for long - which to be fair, was right - but it still irked you to admit it.

With a final swallow, you put a signature on an imaginary infidelity contract whilst standing meekly a couple of strides away from him. Fiddling with your hands self-consciously, you voice a curious but soft ‘tell me more…’.

Matt’s shoulders rise and his chest expands with a satisfied sigh, knowing that he has won and absolutely loving it in the process.

Walking up to you, his feet pad quietly on the carpet whilst your breaths once again mingle with one another. Regrettably, you feel now that the heartbeat is not just within your chest, but also in between your legs as Matt easily slips his body around to your back.

He exhales another gentle sigh, now a cool air hitting the side of your neck and making you shiver whilst his chest presses against your shoulder blades. Taking your hands within his once again, he now does something that makes you screw your eyes shut and completely mentally kick yourself because of how much you enjoy it.

Pressing his flat palms over the tops of your hands, he splays them onto the bottom of your thighs before sensually sliding his fingers into the slots between yours. Then, he starts dragging both of your hands up each of your thighs, making sure that you can feel as much as he can underneath the pads of your fingertips whilst he breathes into your ear and expands his chest along your back.

‘Hm… I also like a lot of touching…’ he whispers into your ear before nudging it with his nose.

The more you let him guide both of your hands, the closer they get to your now throbbing centre as they slip up your tender inner thighs. But before you two touch it, he expertly manoeuvres them back out to the sides.

Once again, the sensation of your boyfriend’s malicious best friend touching you without him knowing catches up to you and you accidentally freak out.

Jumping away slightly you shake your head and this time move further into the room rather than sprinting back out of the door again.

You begin to pace.

Matt looks at you as though he has the praying eyes of a panther, predatory instincts kicking in as soon as you move away from him.

Smacking his lips in annoyance he raises his eyebrows sassily at you, his earrings glinting in the small stream of light and glittering every time they wobble when he moves.

Making up your mind and making it up quickly, you throw your whole entire relationship built up on trust into the trash as you stutter out a pathetic, cheating question that you hope will answer the doubts running around in your head.

‘You won’t tell a fucking soul about this will you?’

Matt raises his eyebrows again to look at you in judgement before substituting his incredulity for a smirk instead. Placing one of his hands over his heart, his other one raises to his head whilst he pledges allegiance to you with a mocking nickname lilted onto the end of the quip for good measure.

‘Cross my heart and hope to die, sweetheart’

With this… somewhat reassurance, you genuinely believe that Matt won’t tell a soul. So, you decide to think like a man… with your clit instead of with your brain, just as they would with their dicks.

‘So… what else do you like?’ You curiously ask, your voice still laced with a huge amount of hesitance, because you know of Matt’s dating history… and based off of some of the horror stories you’ve heard, you’re sure he likes a lot of different things. He doesn’t seem to be the picky type.

But you let Matt answer for himself, and you also let him once again walk back up to you, this time allowing him into your personal space without any fight at all. In fact, you’re actually more responsive to his touch.

He trails his hands around the hem of your jeans, before fiddling with each side of your shirt whilst his seductive eyes mimic his raspy voice.

‘I like things sticky… wet and messy… if it’s not messy I don’t fucking want it’.

His voice is slow, like dripping hot honey coated in sugar. The overall sensual manner of it makes your panties pool and you can practically feel yourself sticking together down at your core. Matt plays on this a little bit more after he sees how much it affects you.

‘Can you do messy baby? With those gorgeous thighs of yours? You wanna be my good girl tonight?’

He pouts boyishly and then tilts his head just that little bit so that he can feather a teasing kiss onto your lips before pulling away.

By now he is standing in the gap between your legs, enough so that when he compliments your thighs he can reach down to them and cup the backs of them, giving them a testing little squeeze.

His nose runs down the arch of your neck to your shoulder as he does this and at the same time, you both test the waters by giving each other an inconspicuous grind. Matt moans slightly into your skin at the erotic motion whilst the scruffy hair by his ear rubs against your jawline.

Throughout all of this dry sex however, he still manages to keep cool and collected. Unlike you, who practically falls to a puddle at his feet. The only thing keeping you up is his big palms supporting your thighs whilst his lips pucker and pepper a sprinkling of small kisses all along your exposed shoulder.

‘You wanna know how I taste don’t you? How I feel’. His voice rasps cheekily whilst referring to his cock. Now it’s your turn to let something of a stuttered whimper out into the air that gets semi-trapped on the way up because of just how far back your neck tilts to let Matt in to your exposed skin. You notice that now, your back is also arched for him and his cock as well. God how needy could you be?

‘I bet you’re just aching to hear what I sound like when you pull my hair…’ he continues his tease, showing you no mercy as your own hands grip and tighten onto each of his shoulders. They tremor in apprehension.

And now, Matt decides, is the best possible time to give you another kiss. Only this time, it’s longer, heavier and thicker with the feelings of lust laced within the twists of his tongue. Matt also lets your thighs go just so that he can grab a hold of each side of your jawline to steady himself better into the kiss.

Just like he had said before, it’s messy, and it’s sloppy. You easily feel the slick consistency of your salivas layering over the fullness of your lips. He rubs his own pair against yours before trapping them and sucking them, his tongue licking slowly over the plump pink flesh.

‘Give me your tongue baby’

He speaks quietly into your lips, pinching your hip bones after he teases his hands underneath your shirt. Clearly wanting you to reciprocate his tongue motions, it doesn’t take you long to do so whilst he gently pushes his nose to nudge against yours. Sensually, he starts to walk backwards.

Bending his knees, he falls down onto the bed and it squeaks underneath his heavy weight before his thighs spread open and he hauls you to sit on top of one of them. You can feel your cheeks burning.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, just to gaslight yourself into believing that you’re not really doing what you’re actually doing.

If you can’t see Matt and see the way you’re perched on top of his thigh as he easily cradles your ass possessively within his hands, then it’s not happening.

After you start to use your tongue more, from Matt’s tilted neck, you hear a throaty hum of delight before he rasps a quick ‘that’s my girl’.

Only your stomach pools with regret. Because you’re actually not his girl. You’re supposed to be Ryan’s.

You try your best to push the thought to the back of your mind however, and instead focus on the way Matt gently starts to apply pressure to each of your ass cheeks, willing them to slide forward, before he moves his thumbs to the front of your hip bones so that he can dig them into your skin and push you back into a grinding motion.

Your breathing is heavy, as is his, but you still continue to kiss, the sounds of your lips erotically moving together being pretty much the only sound in the room until you decide to speak up in response to what he had said earlier.

‘Well it serves Ryan right for being so stupid and not dropping you when he should have…’

Matt sniggers meanly with a toothy smile through your kiss, almost triumphantly at the fact that he had managed to slip past Ryan’s eyes with ease and take you as if it were like taking candy from a baby.

‘Fuck… you’re just as bad as me baby, aren’t you?…’ he muses in surprise, raising his eyebrows teasingly whilst you break away from each other’s kisses just so that he can look into your eyes. His irises flick between the left side of your face to the right, his hands still working you into a soft grind above his thigh whilst he passes his reddened tongue over his moist lips, almost hungrily. You find it within yourself to weakly smirk at his statement.

‘I’ve been waiting to put my hands on you for so fucking long baby, you have no idea’ he mumbles, again with another low and conniving laugh, not even a single thought about how Ryan would feel about all of this travelling through his mind.

Nope. His only concern currently, is how he can’t wait to hear the way you breathe his name through sweat, tears and pleasure as he has you in any way he wants. He feels proud, as if he is finally claiming his prize for being the shittiest friend known to man. But Matt isn’t really a friendly type of guy anyway. So he doesn’t give a shit.

The only thing he had been interested in was you in the first place, all he had needed to do was find a way into your life without making it too obvious that he was trying to steal you right from underneath Ryan’s nose.

Slowly, he slips his hand down to the front of your jeans, swiftly and expertly manoeuvring his fingers to the button so that he can pop it open and yank down the zipper with a desperate speed about him.

‘Shut up Matt… I don’t want to hear you gloating about this’. You whine pathetically, shyly looking down at Matt’s spread legs and the bottom of his green hoodie that currently covers his black belt, just so that you don’t have to look into his eyes.

He scoffs, yourself still not safe from the sharp edge of his tongue. You yelp when he decides to flex his torso and flip you two around.

‘Oh so you’re gonna be a cheeky little bitch about this then hm? Well, maybe you don’t deserve to have my cock…’ the spit he comes out with is ugly and threatening.

You’ll admit… you’re not quite expecting the change in power dynamic, and just the very sight of seeing Matt crawling his body over yours and trapping you with an animalistic look in his eyes makes all of this seem very real. There’s no going back now…

You gulp and blink with doe-like shock whilst Matt hooks his thumbs into your jeans to pull them halfway down your legs.

He sighs. ‘What would you rather me talk about then?’

But you only pant in return, cautiously looking down towards your jeans that are slowly being peeled from your smooth thighs as Matt’s face finds itself extremely attracted to your open neck.

‘Ugh, I don’t know Matt? Just… anything other than Ryan’ you complain, mildly rolling your eyes. Before he can go in to kiss your flesh, Matt catches this and actually snorts a laugh in response, clearly finding your lack of care for your shitty boyfriend highly amusing.

‘Hey, don’t worry, as soon as I’m finished with you the only name you’ll be able to remember is mine…’. Your thighs subconsciously squeeze at this comment, but you can’t quite clamp them together fully because Matt’s hips are in the way. He notices the tension in both of your muscles and so decides to milk it further by leaning his face down closer to yours whilst whispering a gorgeous ‘yeah? You like that?’ that rolls from off of his tongue with ease.

‘Mhm hmm’ you hum in return, trying to keep your mouth closed so that you don’t whine into the air when responding. Matt is clearly happy at this, reaching down one of his hands to his own pants that are fitted nicely around his legs.

He then places his other hand flat on the bed right next to your hip before using it to hoist all of his body weight up so that the hand down by his pants could expertly undo his belt and slip it out from the belt loops.

It’s extremely attractive, to see him towering over you like this just to undo his belt, and you feel your clit throb behind your panties once again when he bites his lip in concentration to get the rest of his pants undone just by using a single hand.

‘I wanna taste you so bad, but we’re gonna have to be quick baby…’ he mumbles to you after both of your attentions are side tracked to the door, where loud voices can be heard as people walk down the corridor and bypass the room. Too many people know who both of you are at this party, so it is risky doing this in here anyway, considering the fact that there is absolutely no lock on the door.

Pushing down his pants, you nod once again to agree with him before gulping at the slivers of his tanned thighs that reveal themselves the further down his jeans drop.

‘How do you wanna have me?’ You speak up timidly, feeling an awful lot like a mouse in the presence of a lion, one wrong move from you and you’re toast. But you decide to play along with Matt, because he seems to like it when you play the clueless game with him.

‘Have you ever had someone’s thigh before princess?’

Matt seems to immediately know what he wants to do to you with how quickly he responds and seems even more delighted at your virginal response of ‘what the fuck does that mean?’.

‘Sweetheart… has Ryan taught you nothing?’ He coos softly, his patronising tone still there whilst he sneakily slips his hands into your panties to pull them down and have cool air hit your centre. He has to bite his lip at the sight of your gushing wetness.

‘Well not really… he’s always sort of wanted to be on top so I’ve just let him…’. At this response, Matt scoffs and shakes his head in disappointment.

‘God Ryan what the fuck are you doing man?’ He quickly mumbles under his breath as if Ryan is in the room with you two before he turns his attention back to your needy figure.

‘I want you to cum all over my thigh angel… think you can do that for me?’ He questions encouragingly, your panties now also half way down your legs and sitting just above your sagged jeans. Your heart flutters and your back arches up once again whilst you hesitate.

Now, the throbbing is turning into a stinging because you haven’t touched yourself at all since this whole encounter has started, so you decide to simply answer with a quick ‘yes Matt, I-I can do that’.

He praises you right after with a sultry ‘that’s my good girl’ before getting up from his position over you and instead sitting down on the edge of the bed beside you.

Sitting upwards a little, you help Matt grab onto you, and his hands practically swallow your sides whilst he stretches you out onto his lap. Moving a little further up onto the bed his cattish eyes gaze up into yours with his pupils dilated and his mouth a blushing red.

Getting you onto a singular thigh, your knees plant on either side of the mattress and sink down softly due to the weight of your upper body. Your sensitivity touches the lower part of his thigh when you press yourself onto him.

Hissing, you whimper slightly in open-mouthed pain whilst your hands claw onto the sleeves of his green-hoodied shoulders.

You look down at the dark haired skin of his powerful muscle, testing the waters of what he’s about to make you do before you hear a low and guttural ‘spit’ violently exhale from his mouth. Glancing back up at Matt you see that he has an expectant look laced within his eyes.

And it doesn’t matter how much your brain screams that this is all terribly wrong, because you still will you mouth to produce an acceptable amount of saliva before knocking your head downwards and letting it all slowly drip from your open mouth.

The thick globule splatters noisily against Matt’s thigh and now Matt finds himself continuously throbbing at the look you give him as the last remnants of your spit linger around your mouth in mid air like a small spider’s web tendril blowing in the wind.

At least, it’s like that until Matt reaches out one of his fingers to whip it away and lick it into his own mouth.

Your saliva glitters in the low lighting and is soon joined by Matt’s own spit after he gathers it into his mouth and also releases it onto his now already lubed up thigh.

‘Fuck angel you are going to love this…’ he muses cockily, grabbing both of your hips within his hands before groaning whilst he lifts you slightly to place your aching and bare centre onto the sticky consistency of your strings of saliva.

Gritting your teeth upon first impact, you have to close your eyes and try not to whimper at the strange sensation Matt’s thigh gifts to you whilst Matt himself looks up at you, proud of what he has made you feel thus far.

He knew you weren’t going to last long at all.

Your face gets very red and very flushed, very fast. As soon as Matt starts to use his hands in a similar way to how he had when you were both clothed, the pressure it brings to your core nearly makes you light headed. You feel so sensitive, and you can hear your spit being spread about his thigh as he tenses his muscle and then relaxes it to give you a perfect pleasure point when rubbing you over it.

You still have your eyes closed, but from the darkness of your vision, you can clearly hear Matt’s smooth voice cooing a gentle ‘open up those pretty little eyes for me…’.

You struggle to do this in between screwing up your face in pleasure, and knocking your head back automatically every time he decides to lift his thigh up a little into the grind so that you can feel it even harder when you ride him. But you slowly manage to peek both of your eyes open ever so slightly.

‘Fuck sake Matt what are you doing to me…’ you breathe out shakily down to him, both of your noses brushing from your position straight above him. After getting used to his motions, you also decide to help him out a little by engaging further and now using your own legs to hoist your harder and faster on his thigh.

‘I’m just doing what Ryan never could…’ he whispers back up to you in a snake-ish manner, knowing how good he’s fucking you and also knowing that it’ll never be the same with Ryan ever again after this. You’re just simply going to want more and more of Matt instead…

‘It would always make me so jealous whenever he put his hands all over you. I swear he did it on purpose just to tease me… and it killed me every time because I so desperately wanted to know what kind of face you’d make if it were my cock stretching you out…’

Whining to him in stimulation once again, your gut flutters and you have to bite your lip to suppress dizzy spells because of how perfectly he’s using his leg.

‘I love feeling you on me like this princess, you feel so fucking good…’ he breathes back up to you in response. ‘I won’t even have to jerk off later because you’re gonna make me cum in my pants’ he continues.

‘But… what about - fuck - giving you a taste?’ You moan into his lips after you start to messily make out with him once again, now both of your lower and upper body halves at work to help you reach your high.

Matt hums a groan in response to this, bucking his hips forward a little in excitement yet still keeping the quick rhythm of his thigh for you.

‘It’s okay, it’s okay, you can let my face have a turn next time’ he utters quickly and without worry, automatically assuming that there’s going to be a next time - which probably is accurate with the rate that this is going at. Yet, it’s still bold of him to assume.

However, most of your thinking is forgotten as you soon feel like you have bypassed a certain point within your build up stage that tells you that you are ready to cum, because it starts to burn in your gut and you feel like you seriously can’t keep quiet at all anymore with whimpers, whines and moans expelling from your mouth into Matt’s.

Uttering something completely inaudible to him, he seems to catch on that you’re close to finishing and so reaches one of his hands up the front of your top to play with one of your tits beneath your bra. This only enlarges the feeling whilst Matt praises you with showers of ‘you’re being such a good girl for me’ and ‘you’re doing so well angel… just a little more’.

The last remnants of his praise are eeked out of him before something within you snaps and a gushing waterfall of pleasure rolls all the way up your gut like some form of ricocheting explosion. You almost cry, and your eyes certainly dampen a little with tears as your mouth drops open.

From below you, Matt admires the sounds of ecstasy tumbling from your lips as you cum.

‘Shhh, shh- shhh, I know baby, I know…’

Whilst he helps you ride out your high, he hushes you gently like a baby, stroking your back and gazing up at you sympathetically, as if it wasn’t just him who had caused your body to react in this astronomically earth shattering way.

‘Jesus pretty, you’ve soaked my thigh…’ he remarks in absolute shock after you wobble your way off of your seat on his leg to crash tiredly next to him onto the bed. You smirk in exhaustion, before your squished lips mumble a ‘yeah well that’s all of what Ryan couldn’t give me, so savour it Matt…’ into the mattress. Matt also snorts, before cleaning up a little bit of your sticky cum and licking it from off of his finger right in front of you.

‘There… I did get to taste you in the end…’ he muses playfully, to which you hide your face into the blanket and groan at what you had just done.

The feeling of realisation after you’ve made a mistake is never a nice one, however, what is as equally concerning is the fact that you don’t seem to care as much as you thought you would have, which sends warning sirens off in your head once again.

You had just cheated on Ryan… but what’s even worse is that you had cheated on him with his so-called ‘best friend’, the same best friend who had coaxed you into cheating with him in the first place.

‘Ryan can’t know about this…’ you croak fearfully into the mattress whilst Matt stands up to put his pants back on properly again.

He spins around to you, his skinny, short figure accentuated in the light as he does his belt back up with a cheeky grin on his face. His hair is fluffy and tussled at the front from when you had carded your hands through it a couple of times whilst you had fucked.

His little chain with a small horse pendant on it also glitters with malice and cockiness at the state he had left you in, crumpled on top of the mattress. God, he’s going to love sneaking around behind Ryan’s back to fuck you, he always gets a free high from playing these kinds of games with people’s heartstrings.

‘Don’t worry… I don’t kiss and tell… plus, keeping it a secret is all part of the fun anyway…’

Author’s notes p.2: TW: Ryan… the only thing going through my head when writing this was the song ‘Homewrecker’ by Marina and the Diamonds lol, Matt is such a dick but I absolutely LOVE IT. Also guys I’ve literally reached the limit of the amount of people I can put on my taglist, so I’m going to have to tag the rest of u guys in the comment sections now sorryyyy hehe, shits crazy. Thank you so much, I’m always so eternally grateful for all of the love u give my writing, I love reading all of ur asks and messages, so please write more!! 🎀

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[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Overindulgent father Astarion who tells his children they’re allergic to any kind of jewellery that isn’t made of the highest grade Dwarven crafted gold. 

It’s not even because Astarion might have a certain aversion to silver, no, he just raises his children to have standards, thank you very much. 

And it doesn’t end with shiny things, oh no… 

The Ancunín brood is known to be dressed in perfectly woven cotton, silk and soft leather clothes, no matter the occasion.

They’re seen playing with expensive toys, reading artfully illustrated books that certainly belong behind thick glass, not in children’s sticky hands. 

There’s even talk that one of the children is not as naturally inclined to music as his parents claim him to be, surely his lyre must be enchanted—the instrument certainly looks extravagant enough! 

And then there’s always this air of effortless haughtiness surrounding the Ancunín children whenever their nannies and servants are parading them through town as if they were perfect little dolls; objects to show off the wealth their parents acquired in quite the mysterious ways. 

So, it’s no secret that Astarion and Tav are pampering their children—some might say they’re even spoiling them rotten. 

And maybe they are, especially Astarion.

But he doesn’t see why he should raise them any other way, nor does he want to.  

When it comes to his children, Astarion has his own standards, and as long as Tav agrees with him nothing really matters. 

Because, these people, they don’t know anything about the Ancuníns. 

They don’t know that it’s not unusual for Astarion to wash out dirt and mud and strawberry stains from comically small finery, leaving behind only the memories of a day spent playing in the garden, chasing after ducks, picking flowers, lazing in the sun…

That any holes and tears the children’s clothes might suffer are quickly mended, making them look as good as new in no time. 

Nor do they know that Astarion doesn’t mind fashioning a brand new dress to match that of a favourite doll, either. Or to embroider a pretty vest with the likeness of that stray cat the children seem to adore, although their father would rather they don’t touch the mangy animal. 

No, those people know nothing at all...

“Not tired!” Astarion’s youngest cries; the vehement denial of her father’s earlier accusation is cut short by a telltale yawn.

The room still smells of fragrant lavender oil and peaches even when the bath water has already grown tepid, just one or two degrees above what Astarion would consider too cold to be enjoyable. 

Amused, he raises an eyebrow at the protesting toddler before he lifts her out of the copper bathtub with little effort. 

By now, he knows every step of this game.

“Tut-tut, my dear child, what did mama and I say?” Astarion kneels, quickly wrapping a soft towel around the child to keep her warm. “We only tell lies outside of this house.”

Unfazed by her father’s gentle scolding, the girl crosses her arms that haven’t yet lost their puppy fat across her chest, reminding Astarion a little too much of a very displeased Tav. 

Suppressing a sigh, he leans back to consider the pouting child, wondering what could possibly be upsetting her this time—the list is growing longer by the day, after all. 

“What’s the matter, dear?” Astarion asks gently, hoping it’s something easily fixable as it’s growing rather late. 

“Want apple!”

Decades ago, Astarion might’ve rolled his eyes—he knows exactly which stupid apple the child wants, it’s been haunting him all day—but once he started to treat his children’s problems as if they were his own, his life has grown somewhat easier. 

“Why, let’s get an apple on our way to bed, then. Would that be alright, Your Highness?” 

The girl promptly nods her head, allowing Astarion to pat her hair dry before dressing her in a clean night dress. 

She rests her cheek against her father’s shoulder as he carries her first to the kitchen to grab a fragrant apple and a knife, then to her bedroom where they settle on the cosy window seat, just like they do every night.

Soft moonlight is pouring through the windows; the child giggles at the way the knife’s blade is catching the silver light as Astarion peels and cuts the apple into even pieces.

“Here you go,” he finally says, giving the slice of apple one last examining look before surrendering it to the impatient little hands reaching for it. “A sweet treat for my little sweet. Doesn’t it taste so much better when we don’t eat it off the floor, darling?” And when it’s not crawling with ants…

The appeased toddler nibbles at the juicy fruit as Astarion carefully combs through her still-damp curls. 

Her hair’s getting long, he notices, knowing that taking care of it will become more time-consuming each day. 

Once, Astarion would’ve thought this task tedious, brushing out hair that’s not his own, oiling and braiding it for no other reason than knowing his children enjoy him doing it. 

But that’s why he loves doing it in the first place, he supposes.

Astarion can tell by his toddler’s heartbeat that sleep is about to claim her. 

The half-eaten slice of apple is still clutched in her little fist as he cradles the child to his chest, slowly rising from the window seat to put her to bed. 

He’s just about to lay the child down that the fruit drops to the floor, his daughter’s tiny hand clutching at his shirt instead.

“Thank you, papa,” she mumbles, more asleep than awake.

Astarion pauses.

He breathes in the clean, yet unique scent of the little girl that is forever engraved in his brain, the same way he knows under which exact constellation she was born. When she took her first steps, what her first word was. Soon, he will have to memorise her favourite colour, and what she likes to eat when dirty apples won’t be that appealing anymore. 

By now, Astarion knows this game by heart, knows that with every year that passes, he has something new to learn about his children.

And sometimes he wonders what it’s like to grow up with clean bed sheets and full bellies. Sleep filled with naught but warmth and happy memories. Ever open doors and tears that are dried by tender kisses. Living in a house where mistakes and anger are welcomed, safe. 

He wonders what it’s like for his children to know that their father’s love comes without conditions. Not now and not ever. 

Sitting down on the bed, Astarion holds his youngest a little closer to his chest, unwilling to let go of her, yet. 

He’s often accused of spoiling his children when most people can only just grasp the very surface of his love for them, the bare minimum of what he feels for his one and only, precious family. 

These baseless accusations are as unimportant to Astarion as the people voicing them.

He’s raising his children to have standards, wants them to take their father’s love for granted, to accept nothing less but pure devotion.

It’s the only way Astarion knows how to love them, the only way that comes most naturally to him. 

Astarion looks down at his little girl, now fast asleep, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. 

After all these years—all these children—he’s still in awe watching them sleep in his arms as if no harm in the world could ever befall them.

And it won’t—not if Astarion can help it. 

“No, thank you, my heart,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against the crown of the toddler’s head. 

When it comes to his children, Astarion holds himself to the highest standard.