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starmapz · 5 months ago

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what you know - ch9: (ex) friends || r. sukuna

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. implied injury. family trauma. mutual pining. smut. slow burn. anxiety. panic (attacks). mentions of difficulty eating. vomit. tags will be updated as series continues.

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.

❦ words ; 12.2k.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

With a soft click, the Career Services Office door shuts behind you. Dropping your bag on the bench just outside the door, you pull Shoko’s attention from her phone.

“So? How did it go?”

Slipping paperwork carefully into your bag, you nod. “Good! I only need to make a couple of changes to my resume and cover letter and they gave me some good suggestions for options,” you explain.

As a part of your final couple of semesters in your final year, your Copy Editing and Proofreading class has an internship requirement. On one hand it’s stressful, especially given that you’ll need to adjust your life to the schedule of having an internship on Tuesdays and Thursdays on top of classes throughout the week, but you’re also excited.

And then there’s the case of Sukuna.

Although you wouldn’t exactly call the last time you saw him a pleasant encounter given Sukuna had broken down, not to mention his abrupt departure, his emails had been a bit more reassuring.

[email protected] - Friday, 6:02 PM home?

[email protected] - Friday, 6:24 PM Home! Thanks for checking in, Kuna :)

[email protected] - Friday, 6:29 PM yeah. thanks for earlier. makes it easier to be around the kids

You had smiled to yourself as it seemed he was finally admitting to the fact that maybe help wasn’t so bad. Maybe he didn’t have to handle everything alone.

More encouraging still, was his follow up email.

[email protected] - Friday, 6:32 PM can you watch them more? i’ll find a way to pay you back after the trial

You hadn’t exactly considered the repercussions that looking after Sukuna’s little brothers would have on your schedule on top of the fact that you’re required to get an internship to graduate.

But if Sukuna can handle it, then you’re more than willing to bear some of his burden if it means he’ll accept your help. Maybe you can lessen the dark circles that seem burnt into his skin like a brand, even if it means you take on a burden of your own.

It’s worth it. He’s worth it.

Shoko groans, pulling your thoughts back to the present. “God, I hope my resume only needs a couple of tweaks. I don’t think it’s very good,” she mutters, pulling it out of her bag.

Peeking over the top of the paper, you shrug. “If it’s any consolation, it’s pretty.”

“Did you just call my resume dumb but pretty? I feel like you did,” she chides.

You laugh in unison with her, shaking your head. “I haven’t even read it! It’s probably more impressive than mine is.”

As her laughter dies down, Shoko rolls her resume up in her hand, batting your shoulder with the paper. “Nice save,” she snorts. Giggling, you step aside as she stands up to head into the Career Services Office next. “I’ll catch you later,” she waves as she steps inside.

Slinging your backpack over your shoulder, you make your way to the car and return home. As if projects and studying weren't enough, to think that you now also need to apply to publishing houses while competing with every other student in your program is… a lot.

With a sigh, you stretch your arms over your head as you take a seat at your desk and begin the long application process of applying to nearly every publishing house in town.

–

Rocking back and forth on the ball of your heels, adorned in cute knee-high boots that match your beige knit sweater, you await one of the three brothers at the door. Over the past couple of weeks, your tattooed counterpart has slowly allowed you to help him.

And thank god for that.

After the intensely emotional moment you’d shared with him outside his apartment after meeting with Hiromi, Choso and Sukuna’s behaviour had grown increasingly worrying. Yuji’s boisterous personality remained somewhat dulled with an underlying sadness, but every so often he would relax under your care and his giggles would light up the apartment.

Choso was a different story. You wondered often if he had heard the discussions between the four adults chatting about legal papers. His already extremely reserved personality had faded into a monotonous and ghostly presence of what was once a very bright and lively child. If ever someone had seemed to be running on auto-pilot, this was it.

Your concern had only grown when you’d stood beside Sukuna just outside of your Literature History class as he received a phone call from Choso’s teacher, concerned for his mental health and well-being.

How Sukuna is meant to explain his child brother refusing to speak not only to classmates, but even his teacher, neither of you truly knew. The pride Sukuna carries on his back that strains and weighs down his already heavy shoulders prevented him from telling the truth. He’s not the picturesque guardian that the school expects him to be at the end of the day, but to admit that he’s about to fight to keep his brothers in his custody feels like defeat to a man like Sukuna.

The battle hasn’t even begun and he’s already losing.

Sukuna remained nestled carefully within your heart, lighting a fire deep within that urged you to help him fight. Like a firefly, it seemed to buzz within, guiding you towards the man you’d come to know as surprisingly warm and thoughtful, in spite of his rougher edges.

Yet it seemed that man was buried under so many layers of stress that you hadn’t caught wind of that warmth in weeks. Sukuna had become somewhat of a shell of his former self too, more on edge and growing wearier by the day. You may see him every couple of days as you look after his brothers or he manages to make it to class or lunch, but between his quick departure and the bone-tired state he returns in after his shift, you don’t get many opportunities to speak.

The only positive you can find across the whole situation is that he’s accepting your help. He’s trying with what meager energy he can find.

In the midst of your troubles with the three brothers, your schedule had briefly become a scattered mess as well. Between running to interviews, classes in which Sukuna struggled to arrive in a timely manner, and looking after the boys, you had been spread thin as well.

At least your schedule would become more predictable, beginning today.

The door creaks open just far enough for Choso to peek up at you. His eyes are devoid of anything beyond recognition as he steps back to let you in. It tugs at your heartstrings to see him so withdrawn.

“Hey sweetie,” you greet him softly, gently ruffling his dark hair. He blinks as his hair, which has grown quite long now, falls into his face, obscuring his vision, though he doesn’t otherwise react.

With two months until the court date, you pray he comes out of his shell again. Two months of reserved silence doesn’t bode well for his mental health, especially when you’re certain Sukuna will win the case regardless.

Sure, his odds aren’t amazing, but those kids love him and in spite of the fatigue that plagues his mind and body, you catch glimpses of the fire lit within to win the court case.

“Where are your brothers?” You query with a small tilt of your head.

Choso’s gaze drifts to the hall where the bedrooms are. You shoot him a tight-lipped smile, sighing as you reach the hall. The bathroom door is shut, the sounds of running water penetrating the barrier. Brushing past the room, you poke your head into the open door to Yuji’s room. The most lively of the bunch, his feet are kicking as he sits at his desk, crayons scrawling across paper.

Stepping inside, you greet him with a smile.

His response isn’t as enthusiastic as you hoped, but he still calls your name out as his eyes brighten at the sight of you.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you ruffle his hair as you step up behind him to peer at his coloring page. To your surprise, it isn’t the Avengers book that he’s been coloring over the course of the past few weeks (Spider-Man is his favorite), but a page with a familiar blue hedgehog on it. You blink once as you recognize the pose, it looks like it’s straight from the cover of the GameCube game you’d left here a while ago. More notably, you notice that the lineart doesn’t gleam in the same way the printed pages usually do under the lamplight.

It’s drawn in marker.

Faint traces of erased lines remain at the edge of Sonic’s eyes (are they eyes? Is it one eye? How does that work?) and now that you’re standing over the desk more, you can see the faint outline of another character at his side. Shadow.

You smile to yourself, somewhat bittersweet, at the sweet sight of Yuji leaving the sketch blank and staying in the lines to the best of his ability. He likely hopes that at some point he’ll be able to complete his joint artistic effort with his brother.

The sound of a door opening grabs your attention and you excitedly make your way over to Sukuna, who’s clad in a blue polo and khakis. Clearly he’d be stocking shelves for the evening. Running a hand through long salmon locks, his eyes slide over to you as you appear from the doorway of his brothers’ room.

The dark circles under his eyes don’t look so bad today, though his expression remains stoic. There’s no cracks to his practiced facade of control, his crimson eyes set on your face as he examines the way you actually bound towards him, clearly excited. He raises an eyebrow as he casts his gaze down to your hands, fidgeting with the hem of your sweatshirt.

“Something happen?” He brings a hand up to casually scratch beneath the collar of his shirt, the polo material irritating against his skin.

“You remember how I needed to get an internship this semester?”

“Mhm.”

“Aaaaand you remember how I was really hoping to get a position in that printing house on the main bus route to save some money on gas?”

His lip quirks upwards at the corner as he takes a step towards you. One strong arm wraps around you in something between a headlock and a hug, causing you to giggle. “‘Course you got it. Atta girl,” though his tone lacks the usual timbre he reserves for you and his brothers, you can see the way something within him shifts, something akin to pride resonating through him.

With your face practically shoved into Sukuna’s way too bulky chest, your cheeks quickly warm. You’re more than positive that he can feel it when you stumble back as he releases you after a moment, a glimmer of mischief buried deep beneath the haze of exhaustion.

“Thanks Kuna,” you can’t help the way your eyes crinkle at the corners as your heart pounds in your chest.

Loving him from afar isn’t easy, but it’s better than not loving him at all.

Sukuna makes a motion that he’s headed for the kitchen. You trail after him, watching as he reaches into the fridge for leftovers and a water bottle.

Choso sits silently at the table towards the back of the apartment, leaning on his palm as he stares outside. With tupperware in one hand and a large metal bottle in the other, Sukuna pauses to stare at him. Something akin to guilt flashes through his eyes, but he quickly steels himself.

You briefly wonder if he believes he can win, something you’ve been doing your best to reassure all three brothers of. Something you genuinely believe.

“When do you start?” Sukuna gruffs, turning his attention back to you.

“Tuesday next week.”

“Excited?”

“I’m a bit nervous, but… yeah,” you smile, grateful he’s entertaining the conversation given how clipped chats with him have been over the last couple of weeks. During lunch or classes on campus, you can usually goad him into a conversation about your professor’s strange obsession with conspiracies (which turned out to be true, much to your dismay), but that’s the extent of his chatty mood usually. You don’t blame him, though. You know he’s worn thin.

The only sign that the Sukuna you know is still there are the minute breaks, the moments where he silently seeks your company, falling into step with you and letting his arm brush against yours. The days when he spreads his legs while he sits at the lunch table and you would give him a hard time for manspreading when his thigh leans against yours, but he only does it to you, so you second-guess teasing him.

“You’ll be fine,” he assures, taking a seat on the couch as he stuffs his dinner into his backpack. “You’re a hard worker.” He smirks, though it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Compared to you, I seem like I sleep on the job.”

Your smile falters as Sukuna forces a laugh. “Hmph. Maybe.”

Sukuna’s capacity for conversation has grown infinitely thinner as the days pass and his sleep lessens. Where that leaves his anger and frustration simmering beneath the surface, he does what he can to keep it at bay, especially when it comes to you and his brothers. Unfortunately, it comes at the cost of his conversational skills.

The air grows quiet, interrupted only by the gentle creak of the chair that Choso shuffles quietly on and distant cars in the January cold.

“I can’t believe this is our last year,” you comment mostly for the sake of creating conversation. You know Sukuna doesn’t have much gas in the tank for it, but you find yourself wondering if talking at him helps ease his worries and distract him from the thoughts that plague his restless mind.

“Mm. You lookin’ forward to working?”

“I think so! What about you?

His gaze flashes towards you, narrowing slightly as he straightens, pulling a pair of keys from the bottom of his bag. “No.”

Heat creeps up the back of your neck. “You have time! Especially if you decide to change your major-”

“Why would I do that?” He snaps, lip curling into a snarl. Crimson irises flit between your wide eyes, your brow knit together by a crease.

Shit.

That carefully composed facade Sukuna’s been sporting the last week cracks, his simmering frustration crashing through the walls he’s erected to protect those around him from his own gripes.

Biting your lip in uncertainty, you stammer as you attempt to backtrack under his harsh stare. “I- I just thought-”

“Thought what? Thought I’d be better off doing something more useful? Something that makes more money?”

“What?” You blink as you process his cold tone. “No, I-” your words die in your throat as you examine his set jaw and the way he’s gripping his backpack with white knuckles. What really strikes you is the way something akin to offense gleams in his eyes. You’re accustomed to accidentally prodding where he doesn’t want you, but his edge isn’t usually so cold when you dig a little too deep into his psyche. “It just seemed like you were considering something else.” You want to tack on a mention of an art degree, but Sukuna scoffs before you can continue.

“Is history not good enough now, princess?”

You visibly recoil at the cold way his nickname for you slips off his tongue like venom. What nerve had you struck? “No, what-? No. I’m sorry, Sukuna. I just got the wrong idea, I guess.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have prodded into something that can be a touchy subject for him, but you thought you’d moved past this, and he asked first. Then again, this isn’t the Sukuna you’ve come to know after all these months. The man staring back at you is a product of a world that’s tearing him apart, his emotions awry.

But it still hurts when he takes it out on you.

With a sigh, he checks his watch. “I gotta fucking go,” he mutters, zipping up his bag and grabbing his coat from the rack near the door. Tossing them both on, he slips his hand into his pocket, surely shuffling through it in search of a cigarette, before the door shuts behind him with a slam.

You can only watch in confusion and dispiritedness as the lock flicks shut and the sounds of his footsteps fade outside.

One step forward… two steps back.

You sigh, shutting your eyes for a moment as you stare where he last was. Dragging your hands over your face, you push to your feet, deciding for once to forgo studying in favor of finding something to do with the kids. Maybe it’s time you litter the apartment in bead frogs to go with all the lizards that are still haphazardly strewn everywhere.

To your dismay as you turn towards the hall, you find Choso staring at you from the table. Fuck. You’d forgotten he was there. His expression is unreadable and your chest tightens.

With the most convincing smile you can muster, you usher him from his chair and lead him towards Yuji. “Did you two ever figure out how to make bead frogs?”

Choso’s deep brown eyes examine you as he stares straight up at you. “Are you okay?”

It chokes you up to hear the little boy worry about you. You don’t dare look at him, lest he see the way your eyes burn with salty warmth. So you just smile, nodding. “Of course! Let’s go find your brother.”

Hopefully your tone was more convincing than your expression.

–

The door opens thirty minutes later than usual. Both boys are already asleep (you hope), and have been for a while now, which is unusual for Sukuna’s evening shifts.

He pauses at the door with his keys, a habit you’ve noticed he picked up since the day he found Choso asleep on your lap and had nearly awoken him with the clattering of his keys on the table. When his eyes meet yours, he drops the keys onto the table and locks the door behind him without a word.

His backpack slides from his shoulder with a thud and a muffled clattering of utensils. “You can go.”

You purse your lips at his blatant dismissal of whatever the hell happened earlier. Had you really upset him that much?

“Sukuna, can’t we talk about-?”

He firmly says your name, his eyes steely as you stand and take a step towards him in an effort to reach out. “Not right now.”

Your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. It’s almost embarrassing; to stand there and so blatantly have him deny your request to talk things through after you’ve looked after his brothers for over nine hours. After he’s finally accepting your help and allowing himself to be vulnerable in your presence. “Please, Sukuna-”

Your name rolls off his tongue again, unyielding. “Go home.”

It’s always like this with him. Where that hole in your heart that Sukuna’s nestled so comfortably within eats away at its own chasm. It punctures you, twisting along with the way you still feel for him, knowing that his cold demeanor is the product of a world that threatens to crush him.

But the rational part of you is reminded of Kento and Shoko pulling you aside to warn you not to let him step on you.

Picking up your jacket and bag, you pull your boots on without shooting him another glance. “Asshole.” It slips past your lips before you can really think twice about it, but you’re too caught up in your emotions to care.

You’re gone before Sukuna’s frustration can flare and he’s standing alone in his apartment. The air is still, sound for the heavy air that suffocates him. The TV is still on, you were quietly watching Holes. He supposes there aren’t many non-horror options that you likely haven’t seen with the kids at this point given that he doesn’t have cable or any subscriptions of any kind.

His hair is sticking to his forehead, his skin sweat-slicked between his shoulder blades as he sits down on the couch, dragging his hands roughly over his face. The kids don’t usually pick this movie. He doesn’t remember it.

“You’re mean.”

Carefully guarded, Sukuna raises a brow. “Why’re you awake, brat? You got school tomorrow.” Choso doesn’t reply. With a sigh, the oldest brother scratches the back of his head. “She’ll come around, Choso. Go to bed.”

Choso stands his ground, not moving.

God, the first words he hears from his brother in days and it’s that he’s mean?

Is he really?

He examines Choso’s face, his eyes trailing up to the two bundles of his long hair gathered at the back of his head. Had you put his hair up? Surely the kid hadn’t done it himself. It suits him, and frankly Sukuna’s just glad his hair is out of his face.

He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he has a stare-off with his little brother.

This isn’t that big of a deal. He just didn’t want to hear you point out his inadequacies. He knows his major is useless. He knows he shouldn’t smoke. He doesn’t want to hear it. Surely he hadn’t been enough of a dick that he was wasting what had been laid out clearly as his last chance with you. Right?

You don’t curse often, but even you had called him an asshole.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, pushing up from the couch and pulling on his shoes without a second thought. He’s down in the parking lot as fast as his legs can carry him, searching for your car. To his relief, you’re waiting for the engine to warm up in a guest parking spot.

He jogs over, knocking on the window. You bristle, practically jumping out of your skin at the sight of the burly man at your side.

“Sukuna, you scared me,” you gasp.

“Sorry.”

You frown, avoiding his gaze as you set your phone down. “It’s fine,” you mumble quietly. “What do you want?”

“To talk. About how I was an asshole.”

You stare blankly at him, quietly examining his face. “I told you that you had one chance-”

“Then don’t let it get that far. I’m not wastin’ my chance, I’m fixing things before it gets to that point.”

“It’s not fair that you get to decide when we do or don’t talk about things.”

Sukuna leans his forearms in your car, sighing as he hangs his head within the heat. Your car dips somewhat under his weight. “I know, princess.” He lifts his head, his crimson eyes gleaming in the glow of your dash lights.

You figured he would keep talking but when he just stares blankly at you, you find yourself sighing. “I thought you were letting me in. Letting me help.”

“You are helping me,” he points out.

“I’m helping the kids.”

“That helps me.”

Groaning, you frustratedly run a hand through your hair. “That’s not what I mean,” you grumble, shooting him a glare. “You keep pushing me away.” His fingers flex into fists as he leans into the warmth of your car further.

“It’s better this way.”

“You’re so frustrating,” you groan, slumping back into your seat. “It’s not better! I’m trying to be your friend, I’m trying to be here for you, but I can’t if you won’t let me in.”

Sukuna’s jaw clenches as he merely listens.

“Honestly, tell me what you would have done if I’d left like you asked me to when you had a panic attack.” You look at him expectantly, watching the way that the lights on your dash suddenly seem very interesting to him. He swallows hard, crossing his arms as he continues to lean into the car, perched on his elbows.

Your heat is working overtime to keep you warm as the air that slips past Sukuna clings to your skin, raising it in its wake. Sukuna seems unaffected by the cold, focused anywhere but you. His mind is racing, searching for an answer in the white noise of the car, as though the check engine light will provide the answers he’s searching for.

“You should check your engine.”

You want to groan, roll your eyes, and scream in frustration all at once, yet all you can manage is to stare, stunned to your core that those are the words he chose. Your hand finds the gear shift to put the car in reverse and finally he gives in.

“Fuck, wait.” He huffs, reaching way too close across your body with his long arm to stop your hand from moving the gear shift. His fingers are chilly as he pulls your hand back, proceeding with the familiar act of fiddling with your fingers.

Sensing that this won’t be a short conversation, you flick the key in the ignition once, shutting off the engine, but keeping the heat on. As the engine rumbles to a halt, the distant sounds of cars down the road and faint chatter fill the air. The bulb that illuminates the entry of Sukuna’s apartment continues to flicker, the occasional darkness casting a serious air over his sharp features.

“The first time I ever had one was the day after my dad died,” Sukuna admits with a strained voice. His thumb slides along your knuckles. “It didn’t matter how sick he was. He never wanted me to have to take care of my brothers more than for a few hours.” His face contorts into something between sadness and anger. “I didn’t know how to change a diaper. Didn’t know what Yuji liked eatin’ ‘sides chicken fingers and shit. I think he really believed she’d come back n’ take care of us, or at least them.”

Your lips part as you sympathetically squeeze his fingers, but you don’t dare interrupt.

“Had to look it up on YouTube. How to change a diaper, I mean.” He scoffs, bitter resentment painted across sunken eyes. “Yuji wouldn’t stop cryin’. It was all fuckin’ day, all the time. Must’ve been five in the morning when I finally got both kids asleep at the same time.” His tongue runs along the seam of his lips. “Dunno if you’ve had one before,” he casts a glance at you as he references a panic attack, as though he’s unwilling to admit what it is. You nod. “But I just remember layin’ on the floor of the washroom, staring at the ceiling. Couldn’t tell ya how long I laid there.”

It never seems to matter how upset you are with Sukuna, his situation always manages to twist your heartstrings. He can play you like a violin and he doesn’t even seem to have any clue of the kind of influence he has over you.

“So, if you wanna know what I woulda done,” he shrugs half-heartedly. “That, probably.”

Undoubtedly, this is his best effort of letting you in. Showing you he’s listening. Fixing things before they’re blown out of proportion because he got short with you.

You offer him a sad smile. “I’m glad it didn’t come to that.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Me too.”

“Next time, can we just talk before things get this far, Kuna?”

He lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding as the familiar nickname slips so easily off your tongue. “There won’t be a next time.”

Your lips quirk upwards, brow raising as you challenge his statement. “With you? There will be. Next time though, just start by telling me you aren’t in the mood to talk about something, okay?”

His lips press into a thin line at your lack of faith in him. He knows it’s founded, but it hurts regardless. Still, you somehow seem to find the space in your heart to be patient with him when he needs it most and for that he’s grateful.

“You got it, princess.” He pauses, tapping the side of the car as he drops your fingers into your lap. “Listen, I think I gotta start taking more shifts.”

“More?”

The concern etched into your brow is cute. “Yeah. I need to almost double how much I usually make. So, double the shifts.”

“You already missed class yesterday,” you point out.

He shrugs. “Wouldn’t be the first time. I get by.”

“You’re lucky you’re the type of guy who barely needs to study to pass,” you grumble with narrowed eyes.

He snorts, amused. “Yeah, maybe.” He sighs. “I know you got your internship startin’ up next week, but…” he trails off, as if he’s debating whether he should even ask you.

“You need help?”

He sighs. “I gotta take some night shifts.”

Dread churns in your stomach. “You’re never gonna get any sleep.”

“I’ll find time.”

“Where? Your schedule is full.”

“What other option do I have?” He grunts, exasperated. “An extra months’ rent ain’t gonna appear outta thin air.”

“You could always ask Toj-”

“No.”

You should have expected that. Red irises stare you down firmly, pupils mere pinpricks.

“You can take my bed if you stay,” he doubles down, scratching his chin.

Heat travels up your neck, finding a place on your cheeks and the tips of your ears. Something about staying in his room, in his bed, makes your heart take off. Yet he can mention it so casually, like it’s not a big deal.

“Um- right. Sure,” your words come out more mousey than intended, and you can only pray that the dim light that barely illuminates you is hiding the nerves that would otherwise show in the way you avert your gaze and chew on your lip.

To your dismay, that doesn’t seem to be the case.

Sukuna blows air out through his nose in a faint laugh as he slides a bit closer to you. The heat of his breath is warm, hotter than anything the car can manage as it tickles your neck. “Cat got your tongue?”

The battle between warm and cold air suddenly seems suffocating. The distant chatter seems to scream, and the motors of passing cars feel as though they could shake the ground you walk on.

“No!” You exclaim, a little bit too quickly as you find yourself wincing. “I’m fine. Just cold,” you lie, shrinking as you hug yourself.

His chest rumbles in laughter as he stands, slapping a hand down on the roof of your car. “I’ll email you my shifts. Go home.” This time when he says it, his tone is mild. “Didn’t waste my last chance?” He asks, turning his attention back to you with a conviction in his eyes that has you smiling sympathetically.

“Not yet.”

“Good. Let me know when you’re home.” With that, he turns on his heel and heads back into the warmth of his apartment building.

Your eyes trail after him as he pushes through both sets of doors, leaving you alone in the quiet of the night. Shutting the window, heat wraps around you, enveloping you once again within its embrace. Yet for some reason as you stare at the spot where you last saw the tattooed man, a shiver wracks your body.

–

Smoothing your pencil skirt, you push through the doors of a warmly-lit restaurant. The little local spot has an air of familiarity to it, decorated mostly with photos of dishes served nightly and the occasional photo of the owner’s family. Tucked away in the corner is a table with a spare seat reserved for you.

With a sigh of relief, you take a seat beside Suguru, your eyes trailing the length of the table to see who was able to make it. You notice two things at a glance. One, you’re severely overdressed, though you knew that would be the case after coming from your internship. Two… Why is Toji sitting across from you? No, the real question is how are Toji and Satoru sitting beside one another?

The question must be written across your face in bold lettering, because Toji nudges Satoru with a chuckle as everyone greets you happily. Satoru’s mischievous grin matches Toji’s smirk as he spots your confusion.

“They have more in common than I think anyone expected,” Suguru comments with an amused smile.

“Aw, that’s sweet,” you grin, taking a moment to attempt to rub the tiredness from your sunken eyes without smudging your makeup. “I’m glad everyone’s getting along.”

Suguru leans forward to get a better look at you, eyes narrowed as he examines your expression. “Can you look at me for a moment?”

Confused, you tilt your head as you turn to face the raven-haired man. Leaning back in his chair, you watch his expression subtly downturn.

“Have you been sleeping?”

“Of course!” You jump to your own defense quickly, straightening in your seat as you brush imaginary crumbs from your lap. “I’m fine, Suguru. I just had early class today, then my internship, and now dinner.”

“I see,” he hums, moving on. “How’s the internship?”

“Ooh, I wanna know too!” Shoko leans forward over the table to better see you. You can practically envision her kicking her feet under the table in search of details (and gossip).

At this point, even Kento’s attention is now drawn to you from the end of the table and you feel yourself shrink as the table begins to turn their collective attention to you. Everyone here may be your friends, but it’s still a lot of pairs of eyes.

“Um-” You chuckle, running a hand through your hair. “It’s going well! Everyone’s been really nice. Well, mostly everyone- but they have me doing coffee runs and shadowing the other editors right now,” you explain.

“Sounds like you’re well on your way to your career,” Suguru smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Suguru, you gotta ask the hard-hitting questions,” Shoko scolds playfully with a light smack to his bicep. His brow raises as she practically tries to lean over him to get to you. “What do you mean ‘almost everyone’?” She asks, her interest piqued.

Chuckling, you shake your head. “It’s really not that exciting,” you insist. “There’s this one Literary Agent, I think he’s the boss’ nephew or something, that’s just a bit much. I can’t really tell if he’s hitting on me or insulting me half of the time.”

Shoko’s nose wrinkles in disgust as Nanami recoils with a roll of his shoulders.

“And our graphic designer is just weird. She cooks bacon in the breakroom on one of those plug-in hot plates.”

“That is odd,” Suguru agrees.

“I think I get six coffees per day for her alone. Oh- and the other day I spent my whole break listening to her talk about this book she read over the weekend. I swear I could tell you the whole plot.”

“Sounds riveting,” Suguru chuckles, a glimmer of light passing through his gaze. “I’m sure the rest of your colleagues are fans as well.”

“Our publicist was telling me they have a drinking game during Christmas parties where they send the graphic designer to talk to the boss and every time he yawns or checks his watch, they drink.”

“Sounds like my kinda people,” Shoko snorts, grinning at you as the table returns to individual conversations.

Throughout the dinner, you’re quick to notice the way Toji seems to meld to the group seamlessly, offering snide remarks that have you wondering at times if you have a second, more gruff Satoru. It’s almost like he’s a strange blend between Satoru and Sukuna in a sense, and you can definitely see how Toji and Sukuna would be friends.

It’s heartwarming to see him blend in so seamlessly, because if Satoru can get along with Toji, he can get along with Sukuna as well, if they can both quit being haters for ten seconds.

Despite how worn out you are from the long day, the dinner with friends was much needed (even at the cost of two drinks for Satoru and one for Suguru), given that you’ve had to skip out on lunches with them every Tuesday and Thursday and even the occasional other weekdays as well in favor of your harsh schedule. Once you’ve paid, you get to your feet and pull your coat over your shoulders, brushing yourself off and grabbing your keys when you’re tugged aside harshly.

Yelping, you blink as you’re standing in front of Kento and Shoko.

“C’mon, we’re going for dessert,” Shoko insisted, tugging you along.

“What? I’m not hungry.”

“Doesn’t matter, dessert goes in your second stomach,” Shoko dismisses you.

“My second what?”

Before you know it, you’re whisked away to a small bakery down the street that you’re beyond certain is Kento’s choice. As much as he gives Satoru a hard time for sweets, the man has a fairly big sweet tooth himself- as long as the sweets include pastries. A good strawberry mille-feuille would have the man starry-eyed with his wallet on the counter.

Shoko, on the other hand, opts for a single macaron, which you second. Who can say no to a macaron shaped as a little kitty after all?

Holding the treat delicately in your hands as you smile at the sweet orange decorated kitty, you cross your legs and take a look around the bakery. Loaves of bread likely line the walls during the day, the displays usually vibrant with the reds and blues of fresh fruit pies. It’s fairly barren now, but the smell of bread and warmth of the oven still carries with it a sense of peace that puts you at ease.

“This is nice,” you comment, taking a bite of the macaron.

Kento nods. “It’s been a while since it’s been just the three of us.”

With a scoff, Shoko points her brown macaron straight at you, a bite taken out of it. “Yeah and whose fault would that be?”

Pouting, you nibble at the shell of your dessert. “There’s just been a lot going on,” you insist, leaning back in your chair. “Sukuna’s been-” you pause, lifting your head at the realization that Shoko doesn’t know about the lawsuit. Your eyes trail to Kento, whose gaze flashes with understanding.

“Sukuna’s been what?” Shoko pushes. “I swear I’ll shove his balls so far up his-”

“WOAH, woah! Okay Shoko,” your eyes widen and you find yourself nearly dropping your treat at the mere mention of whatever the hell she was gonna say. “As i was saying,” you flash her a glance, willing away the heat creeping up the back of your neck. “He’s been taking more shifts than usual, so I’ve just been balancing that with the internship and classes.”

“And sleep, and studying, and projects,” Kento points out, crossing his arms as he finishes his blueberry mochi cake. “When was the last time you read a book, or watched a movie?”

Hesitating, you find your gaze drifting to the wall. “... I watched Ice Age.”

“No, you watched Yuji watch Ice Age,” Shoko accuses, a brow raised. Finishing her macaron, she dusts her hands off on her pants and sighs. “Listen, we know you like him a lot and it’s great that you’re helping him- and thank god Kento knows so I can talk to him-”

“You’re such a gossip,” you mutter under your breath.

She just shoots you a sweet smile, continuing. “But seriously, you need to put yourself first. I’m glad he’s treating you better-” she pauses, staring expectantly at you.

Your gaze flickers between your two friends. “He’s treating me fine, stop worrying.”

“Great. The point is, he needs to go easy on you. I know he’s got a lot of shit going on, but so do you.” Shoko taps her fingers on the table, leaving the ball in your court.

“Sho, I swear I can handle it,” you roll your eyes, “but if it’s too much, I’ll talk to him. Promise.”

“Pinky swear, girl. You’re way too sweet to that man and I know you’d put him before yourself.”

Wrapping your pinky around hers, you roll your eyes, though you’re unable to help your smile.

“You owe me a girls’ night for bailing the other day by the way.”

“I’m sorry, Sho,” you pout.

“I’ll get over it. Ken here got to be my girls’ night buddy. I couldn’t convince him to get a color but he did get his nails done.” Shoko pulls his hand out from where it was crossed over his chest. You can faintly make out the gleam of clear polish on his nicely manicured nails.

“I have no need for colored nails,” he neutrally declares, shooting Shoko a mildly distasteful look as she holds his hand out to you.

Leaning back, you squint at him. “I think blue’s your color.”

Kento frowns. “Did you mishear me or are you choosing to ignore me?”

Shoko hums. “No, I see it. Like a darker blue.”

“Girls. Please,” he sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose at your antics.

“Don’t act like you’re above this, Kento. I bet you still have a bottle of black nail polish back home somewhere,” you tease.

“That was a long time ago-”

Shoko leans in, resting her cheek against her fist. “Oh yeah, you had an emo phase, didn’t you?”

Laughing as Kento blushes profusely, rose dusting his cheeks, you lean back in your seat, relaxing in the warmth of your friends’ care. Your bed may be calling you, but Kento had a point when he asked when the last time you’d read a book or watched a movie was. But it wasn’t a book or movie that you were really missing, it was a girls’ night (featuring Kento).

You stay at the cafe much longer than intended, finding yourself curled up in thick blankets well into the night, but with a content smile on your face.

–

After the fourth day that you don’t see Sukuna at lunch, Uraume had approached you to bring him some worksheets, not to mention he has a paper due literally tomorrow that he doesn’t know about and you won’t see him until the weekend.

His schedule had been rough on you, but it had been downright cruel to him.

When he did manage to make it to a lunch or class, he would pass out within seconds, softly snoring on whatever surface he found himself on. It seemed he had to be physically moving in order to stay awake, otherwise he was dragged into the clutches of the sandman with no fight left to give.

The worst sign of his fading will was when you had gotten a call from Choso and Yuji’s school that Sukuna hadn’t arrived to pick them up. There was a surprising amount to unpack with that call between the fact that Sukuna had missed their pickup time and the fact that you had now been marked down as their emergency contact.

The latter… That was something you would unpack later.

As for the former, when you arrived at his apartment with both boys and rang the buzzer not once, not twice, but thrice, he was little more than a zombie, barely managing to stay on his feet. You swear you saw his drowsiness pop like a bubble over his head at the sight of you with his brothers, downright shocked.

Swears had poured from his mouth like floodgates had opened and all you could do was watch as he dragged his hands over his face in frustration, thanking you before shutting the door, claiming he would be getting some real sleep, lest this happen again.

Making your way up to his door now, you hope the man who greets you has a little more life in him than that day, but it’s not usually a good sign when you haven’t seen him for a bit.

Squinting as you approach the buzzer, you raise your brow at none other than Toji Zenin, sliding his finger along the metal box hanging on the wall in search of the number to dial for Sukuna. Stopping beside him, you stick your finger out to point at the number, which happens to be unmarked.

Toji flips to face you, face relaxing from his squint.

“Fancy findin’ you here,” he grins, the scar at the corner of his lips stretching.

“Hey, Toji!” You greet, returning his smile. The sight of another of Sukuna’s friends at his door is relieving given just how drawn thin he’s been lately. “Visiting Sukuna?”

“Mhm. Got somethin’ for him.” He wiggles a small box in his hand as he dials up to Sukuna’s apartment. “Fuckin’ asshole didn’t even tell me he moved, had to steal his address from Uraume,” he grumbles, more to himself than you.

You blink at him. Huh. Well that’s… Considerably less reassuring than Sukuna reaching out to Toji. Especially if Toji isn’t aware that Sukuna’s dad passed away, he’d have no clue about-

There’s a small click and the sounds of shuffling, before Choso answers with a disheartened “hello?”

“Choso?” Toji’s brow furrows in confusion. “That you, kid?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Toji?”

Your brow raises as Choso recognizes Toji’s voice. You’re aware Toji’s known Sukuna for a while, but you honestly weren’t expecting him to know Choso if he didn’t know about Jin’s passing.

“You visitin’ your big bro?” Toji queries.

“... I live here.”

Toji scowls deeply, casting you a confused glance. When you don’t mirror his confusion, he clicks his tongue.

“Hey, Cho! Can you let us in?” You call out, attempting to warm your fingers in your pockets as Toji doesn’t budge.

Shuffling resumes on the other line, followed shortly by the telltale buzz that the door’s unlocked.

“I’m missin’ somethin’ here, ain’t I?” The raven-haired man asks, a gruffness to his tone that’s familiar in the way Sukuna also speaks. They’re so similar in some ways, though Toji is far more outgoing than Sukuna. You suppose it’s probably the fact that he’s the Football team’s resident kicker. Still, they share a resemblance in their attitudes.

With a tight-lipped smile, all you can do is nod in reply.

“Shit,” he mutters, following you into the building as you lead the way up to Sukuna’s apartment.

You knock politely, clutching the folder of papers you have for Sukuna to your chest.

“- and add the potatoes when the water starts boiling. Use your fork to test- what are you doing here?” Sukuna turns his attention to his friends at the door mid-sentence, slipping outside and shutting the door behind him abruptly. You step aside, casting a glance between the two ridiculously tall and muscular men as Sukuna glares at Toji.

Sukuna looks… well, better than you were honestly expecting. He doesn’t look like he’s on the verge of passing out or being sick, a The Misfits black hoodie hanging loosely over his shoulders while a pair of dark gray joggers cling to his hips. His hair isn’t styled, stray strands of pale pink sticking out in different directions while some hang over his forehead.

“Got somethin’ for ya. And since your stubborn ass never shows up to lunch and you won’t answer my damn emails, I know ya need it.” Toji holds a visibly calloused hand out, the unmarked box you’d previously noticed now held expectantly for Sukuna to take.

Sukuna’s sharp glare flickers between Toji and the box. With a huff, he lifts the box from Toji’s hands, opening the tabs and peering inside. An old Samsung with a crack through the side of the screen sits at the bottom of the box. Sukuna’s head whips up to face Toji, his eyes blazing. “I don’t fucking need this.”

“My ass. Your phone’s been broken for months,” Toji scoffs, completely unphased by Sukuna’s irritation. “It’s just my old one anyway, but it’s better than nothin’.

Sukuna straightens and you spot a familiar flicker in those crimson eyes. Offense. “If I needed a fuckin’ phone, I woulda bought one,” he grits, shoving the box against Toji’s chest.

As he straightens, it strikes you just how tall and imposing Sukuna is. You can’t imagine it’s easy to make Toji look small when he’s nothing to scoff at either, but Sukuna manages it without fail.

“Don’t gimme that bullshit. I’m not fuckin’ stupid, Ryo. I know somethin’s up and you need a hand.” Toji rolls his eyes, shockingly relaxed for someone under Sukuna’s fire. You know they’ve been friends for a while, but you can’t say for sure how much time they ever spent together. Yet, Toji stands up to him like he knows nothing will come of his anger, as though it’s a facade.

“I’m managing just fine,” Sukuna hisses.

“Are you?” Toji quips, a brow rising behind the black strands of his bangs. “‘Cause I know Jin wouldn’t dump Choso on your ass outta nowhere, so what the fuck is goin’ on?”

Sukuna’s seething at this point, taking a step towards the football player. That may work on others, but Toji isn’t so easily intimidated.

“That’s none of your fuckin’ business,” Sukuna grits.

“Stop bein’ such a fuckin’ prick!” Toji finally snaps, his free hand flying through the air in exasperation. “You used to be my best friend, asshole! You were my fuckin’ family and you fucked off like it was nothin’!”

Sukuna doesn’t respond, brow furrowed and jaw set. His teeth grind from the pressure of his clenched jaw, sending the tension straight to his head as a headache begins to set in.

Left in silence, Toji continues. “Don’t look at me like that. I tried to get you out to the basketball courts with me, to see a movie, anything’. Somehow, you became more of a colossal asshole than I am,” Toji hisses.

As you realize this isn’t going anywhere anytime soon, your eyes flit to the door, wanting to slip inside and escape the uncomfortable situation you’ve found yourself in the middle of. Unfortunately for you, Sukuna’s blocking the door and you don’t exactly feel like interrupting is the best course of action here, leaving you to simply watch.

You’re accustomed to Sukuna being quiet, he’s never been all that chatty, but during arguments is when he tends to run his mouth. Now, standing in front of Toji, the silence of his simmering anger is off-putting. Toji seems to realize this too, shifting on the balls of his feet.

But words evade Sukuna. His mind races with rage-induced insults, anything to drive Toji away, get the man out of his business.

Yet his tongue is tied because Toji is painfully right.

Toji has always had an attitude that rivaled Sukuna’s and never backs down from a fight. His sharp and witty tongue would tell off Sukuna whenever he needed some perspective and the two were fiercely protective of one another. Toji was like a brother to Sukuna back then.

But he was also an asshole. Still is. He was raised by a family notoriously well-known for being as equally wealthy as they are terrible and Toji had always been on the receiving end of it. He’d grown rebellious and indifferent at a young age and acted out at every turn, eventually settling as he got older into brutish and cocky indifference, though most just branded him as an asshole.

Yet Sukuna made him look like a saint as of late.

“Christ, Ryomen. You really got nothin’ to say ‘bout all of this?” Toji runs a hand through his hair in exasperation, the black strands slipping down over his forehead once more. “Maybe I should just ask your fuckin’ brother, I swear sometimes it’s like Jin didn’t even raise yo-”

Sukuna’s anger flares once more, pulled from his thoughts of the past. “He’s fucking dead, Toji.” Venom drips from Sukuna’s words, silencing not only his friend, but the world around you seems to hold its breath too. Nothing about the tense situation is comfortable but you don’t dare move, biting your lip to keep from making any noise.

Toji blinks once, twice, three times. The words take a moment to process as he stands straight, before his brow furrows deeply. His mouth opens and closes a number of times as he searches for something to say, his spare hand scratching at his chest before hanging there for a moment, clutching at his shirt.

“When?” To your shock, Toji’s eyes are glazed with tears, and all you can do is shuffle from foot to foot, feeling nothing but sympathy for the poor man. From what you know of Jin, he was patient and kind and if Toji was Sukuna’s best friend, you can imagine he likely shared that kindness with Toji.

Sukuna’s expression takes a somber turn, the tension in his jaw dissipating somewhat. “Been a bit over three years.”

Toji blinks, a warm trail running down his cheek which he quickly wipes on his sleeve, burying his unprocessed grief beneath a layer of anger as something occurs to him.

“You didn’t think I’d wanna know?” It’s more of a rhetorical question, they both know the underlying issue of their problems all stem from Sukuna’s stubbornness. “You didn’t think to fuckin’ tell me?” This time, there’s more bite to his words. He may be glossy-eyed with sorrow, but he’s equally pissed now.

“It’s not your fucking business!” Sukuna barks, gripping the door frame with a white knuckled hand as he grits his teeth again. You peer past him at the door, searching for an escape, but Sukuna’s still soundly in your way.

“Like hell! He was more of a father to me than my parents ever were and you know that!” Toji takes a step back, turning to pace in a circle as he drags a hand down his face in disbelief. “Y’r such a fuckin’ prick, Ryomen. You always were, but shit.”

Someone clearing their throat down the hall turns your attention towards them. A kind-looking older woman with gray hair and soft eyes is just barely leaning out her door. “Sukuna, dear. Can I ask you to take this elsewhere?”

Turns out she’s your guardian angel.

To your relief, Sukuna simply points at the elevator, making a point of staring down Toji. The football player sighs deeply, rolling his eyes as he leads the way in silence. Sukuna casts you a glance, which then flickers towards the door in a silent question.

You nod, relieved, and slip into his apartment, finding Choso standing in the kitchen alone staring at the floor. He looks startlingly like a puppy with its tail between its legs.

Of course he would have heard everything.

As the door clicks shut behind you and you shuffle to slip your boots and jacket off, his gaze rises to you. A deep crease knits his brow, his eyes searching yours for something he doesn’t seem to find. Kneeling down, you wrap your arms around him in reassurance.

“Hey, sweetie.” You keep your voice soft and kind as Choso’s arms gingerly wrap around you. “Your apron looks great.”

He doesn’t reply, clinging tightly to you.

“Have you checked the potatoes?” A nod. “Are they ready yet?” A shake of his head. Frowning at his silence, you nod. “Do you wanna sit down?”

Choso nods again, pulling back and plopping down right in the middle of the kitchen.

“Oh, I meant-” Choso looks up at you with those sad puppy-dog eyes and you plop down beside him. “Nevermind.” Sitting cross-legged, you glance around, but you don’t hear or see Yuji. “Where’s your brother?”

“At a friend’s.”

That’s a relief. You nod, ruffling Choso’s hair. At least you’ve gotten a couple of words out of the reserved little boy.

“What are you making?” You ask curiously, trying to peer up at the counter. From where you’re sitting, all you can make out is the top of the pot that you assume the potatoes Sukuna was giving instructions about earlier are boiling in.

Choso fiddles with the bottom of his apron. “Pie.”

“Pie? Shepherd’s pie?”

Choso nods.

“That sounds great,” you grin in an effort to lighten the mood, but Choso isn’t receptive to your efforts. You shuffle to sit closer to him, wrapping your arms around your knees. You’re not built for the floor like the kid is. “Do you wanna talk, Cho?” You query, quietly observing the way that his little hands, fiddling with his apron, slow to a halt before dropping into his lap.

“Why’s Kuna mad at Toji?”

You sigh. “It’s complicated.”

“I like Toji. He’s nice. Mostly.”

You blow a breath out through your nose in a semblance of a laugh, a faint smile drawing your lips upwards. “Mostly?”

Choso doesn’t share your amusement outwardly, but he entertains your question. “He was like another older brother,” he shrugs.

“With all the good and bad of a big brother. I get it,” you chuckle, shifting to lean back on your arms as you struggle to find a comfortable way to sit on the kitchen tile. “Did you spend a lot of time with Toji?”

Choso nods. “They ditched me at the theater once.”

Your brow raises. “At the theater?” Your question is laced in disbelief.

Choso nods.

“Why?”

“They wanted to see a scary movie.”

“Wow, they were mean older brothers,” you agree, absolutely planning on giving Sukuna a hard time for that.

“Dad grounded Kuna for a month.”

“He deserved it,” you smile, rubbing the kid’s back gently. Looking for any excuse to get up off the floor, you point up at the pot on the stove where the water continues to boil. “Let’s check the potatoes again.”

Choso nods, getting to his feet and stepping up onto a small stool.

“Careful not to burn yourself,” you urge, standing behind him as he takes a fork and stabs a potato. When it comes up on the fork easily, Choso turns off the stove, shooting a glance at you in a silent question of whether that’s what to do. You nod, helping him dump out the water and potatoes into a strainer and teaching him to mash them.

As he jabs the masher into the bowl of starch, he sticks his tongue out in concentration as you add salt and milk to the mixture for him.

Out of nowhere, Choso slows to a halt, his head whipping to face the window. Tilting your head, you follow his gaze when you realize that the two men who walked outside to continue their argument have raised their voices and they must be right below the window as you can faintly make out their words.

“Why wouldn’t you ask for help?”

“I don’t need help!”

Turning to Choso, you smile. “Keep mashing, okay?”

His eyes trail after you as you grab your boots and slide the balcony door open, stepping out into the cold. Hugging your arms around yourself in an attempt to keep warm, you peek over the railing at the two men below.

“If you weren’t my friend, I swear I woulda socked ya in the jaw by now, you-”

“Hey!” You call down, catching their attention as they both look up at you. “You’re upsetting Choso.”

Sukuna inhales a long breath, sighing loudly. “Look-” Sukuna begins, his voice strained in an effort to keep it down for Choso’s sake. “I don’t need any help-”

“Don’t need any help or don’t need my help?” Toji interjects, casting a glance at you. Your eyes widen slightly, heat rushing up your neck. Yeah, you could understand Toji being a bit hurt at the idea that Sukuna let you in while he pushed away his best friend.

Sukuna’s fingers curl at his sides into fists. “I don’t need your help,” he snarls.

“Fine.” Toji finally gives in, sick of not getting anywhere with the brash and stubborn history major. He shoves the box against Sukuna’s chest, turning on his heel to walk away. “My number’s on the note in the box. Call me if ya decide to stop bein’ a prick.”

Sukuna seethes as he watches Toji get in a beat up old Honda and drive off. If it were any colder, you swear you would be able to see steam coming from his ears. When the car’s out of sight, Sukuna’s sharp gaze rises to you, his expression unreadable besides his obvious anger. “Go inside. You’ll catch somethin’,” Sukuna calls.

“I will. You come inside too, you don’t have a jacket,” you point out.

Sukuna hardly even noticed, in truth, but regardless he makes his way inside just as you do. Shivering as warmth envelops you once more, you run your hands up and down your arms a few times in an attempt to generate heat while you pull your boots off.

Choso’s standing by his potatoes, unevenly chopping carrots and putting them in a smaller pot alongside some corn. He’s shockingly good in the kitchen, making his Christmas gifts and his eagerness to follow you as you cook make more sense.

Returning to Choso’s side, you help him fill the pot with water, setting it on the stove as you wait for the veggies to boil.

“Why are Kuna and Toji mean to each other?”

You ponder his question for a moment, dreading the idea of the former walking through the door anytime now. “They’re not very good at talking about their feelings,” you land on as an explanation.

“Why?”

Frowning, you contemplate his query.

You’re glad Choso’s speaking more, but his questions are giving you a run for your money.

“Not everyone is as good at understanding their feelings as you and I are,” you explain. “Your brother isn’t very good at it.”

“At what?” He gruffs, pushing through the door.

Fuuuuuu-

“Don’t worry about it.”

Luckily for you, Sukuna isn’t in the mood to argue with you. “Need a minute to cool off,” he grumbles, trudging to his room and shutting the door with an unintentional slam.

Sighing, you return to the vegetables as they steadily come to a boil.

Choso stares hard at the boiling pot above his line of sight, his brow knit into a deep scowl.

“What’s up, honey?” You ask with a tilt of your head, leaning down a bit to his height. He shakes his head in an effort to get his long hair out of his face, deep in thought. When it doesn’t work, he pushes it from his face, but it just falls back into his eyes. “Can I help?”

He nods, watching your movements as you quickly jog to the washroom to grab a couple of hair ties that you’d left behind the last time you’d helped him put his hair up. It only takes a moment before you’ve tied two messy buns up at the back of his head.

Now able to see, Choso’s thoughtful expression returns. “What’s up, honey?” You try again.

“Will you talk to Kuna? He listens to you.”

You chuckle quietly. “I don’t know about that.” Still, he does listen to you… a portion of the time, which is more than can be said for most. “What do you want me to talk to him about?”

“Being friends with Toji.”

Your heart twists at the meaning behind Choso’s words. Whether he misses Toji or simply wants Sukuna to be happier, you can’t say for sure, but it’s endearing nonetheless.

Gently rubbing his back, you nod. “Sure. When you can stab the carrots with a fork, turn the stove off, okay? Be super careful.”

Choso nods.

Making your way over to Sukuna’s door, you cautiously knock.

“Come in.”

Twisting the knob, you push inside slowly. His room is a bit messier than the last time you were in here, the memory making your heart race as you recall your heated kiss. Light floods in from the window, better illuminating the art and posters on his walls, as well as what you’re sure is a pile of lightly used hoodies that seems to have taken over his desk chair. His weights are scattered carelessly in front of his dresser, his work polo discarded atop the wooden furniture.

Sukuna eyes you from where he leans against his headboard, his gaze still filled with mild irritation, though he is holding the phone that Toji handed him. You suppose that’s an overall positive.

“Whaddya want?” Sukuna grumbles, though the frustration within his sharp gaze doesn’t carry over to his voice.

“Well,” you begin softly, making your way over to his bed to take a seat beside him. “I originally came to drop off some stuff and let you know you have a paper due tomorrow-”

“Fuck that,” he groans, slumping down as he goes through the new phone setup screen.

“- five thousand words, by the way.”

“On what?” He sighs, the phone illuminating his features as he continues going through setup.

“Charles Dickens.”

“No. You’re fuckin’ with me.”

“I’m unfortunately dead serious.”

Crimson eyes finally part from the phone as Sukuna scowls at you, searching for any sign that you’re lying. When he doesn’t find one, he flips onto his stomach with a muffled groan into the pillow. His bicep brushes your thigh and you swallow hard, reminding yourself he doesn’t feel that way for you and it’s just an accident.

“I fuckin’ told you she’s a conspiracy theorist,” he gruffs from deep within the pillow, barely audible past the material.

You giggle, thankful for the somewhat lighthearted subject. “I still can’t believe you were right.”

“Wish I wasn’t.”

Silence falls over you as Sukuna remains buried in his pillow, finally raising his head with a prolonged sigh. He rests his chin on the pillow, staring tiredly at the gray material of his headboard. The fabric is worn where he usually sits, beginning to tear where his back slumps against it when he uses his laptop.

Not like he has the cash for a new one anyway.

“Is that all ya came in here for?” He asks finally, eyes still trained on the way threads are pulled taut in the fabric, barely held together as they wear thin.

“Uraume had me drop off a couple of things too. But-”

“Why’d you bring Toji?” Sukuna interrupts suddenly, lifting his gaze to scowl at you.

Blinking at his sudden change in demeanor, you shake your head. “He was here when I got here.”

“That prick,” he mutters under his breath, dropping his chin to stare at his headboard.

“You know, Choso sent me in here.”

“Great,” the salmon-haired man mumbles, “what does the brat want? I left the recipe for him.”

“Be nice to your brother. He’s going through a lot,” you scold.

“And I’m not?” He hisses, his head raising to look at you. When you return his scowl, he backs down, chin on his pillow again.

“Cho misses Toji. He wanted me to talk to you about being friends with him again.”

Your words silence Sukuna’s sharp tongue as all he can do is stare down at the black pillowcase beneath him. He shuffles slightly, his arm pressing into you.

He may be stubborn about Toji, but his brothers never fail to crack his tough exterior. As of late though, his demeanor doesn’t simply crack when it comes to his brothers, it crumbles. Sukuna flips onto his side, eyes downcast as he faces you now with one arm under the pillow and the other moving up to rest on your thigh.

Your breath catches in your throat at the feeling of his large hand squeezing the plush of your thigh.

Mirroring Sukuna’s frown, you set your hand over his softly. “What happened between you two anyway?”

Sukuna sighs. “Nothing, really. We just didn’t talk about heavy shit so I never told him what was goin’ on.”

Of course that’s all there is to it. Grimacing, you drum your fingers lightly over the back of his hand as you debate whether you want to say something. His eyes watch the movement intently, drawn to the way your fingers feel so soft on his skin.

“I’m gonna say something-” you pause, watching his eyes flicker up to meet yours, “- and you aren’t allowed to get upset with me.”

Sukuna’s brow twitches, curling into a scowl. “I don’t get mad over every little thing.”

If ever there was a time you gave Sukuna a look, this was it. “So last week, when you chased me down to my car-”

Flipping back to his stomach until his face is shoved back in his pillow, he mutters a “shut up” that barely makes it to your ears, thoroughly muffled. Regardless, you laugh, gently patting the hand that remains on your thigh.

“I know you’re letting me in, and that’s great, but Toji’s just trying to help too,” you point out.

Sukuna doesn’t move, the musculature of his back rising and falling steadily as he stubbornly keeps his face buried in his pillow.

“You never told me he used to be your best friend.”

“You never asked.” Again, you can barely make out his words.

Sighing, you rest a hand on his back. His muscles seize briefly beneath the tips of your fingers, before relaxing as you rub small circles between his shoulder blades. Sukuna lifts his head finally after a moment, turning his face to you as he remains on his stomach. He looks more at ease than he has in a long while, likely because he obviously skipped class to sleep, though you’re sure the gentle massaging of your hand is nice too.

“Why is it so bad to let him in?” You query, the tips of your fingers brushing against his spine. A shiver overtakes him, though he does his best to mask it.

“I took the damn phone,” he grumbles, as though there isn’t a bigger point to this whole situation.

Your lips press into a thin line as you stare at the stubborn man. Your fingers pause as you contemplate your next words. “The Zenins are pretty rich, aren’t they? Why don’t you ask for a hand with the lawyer-”

“I’m not a fucking charity case,” he hisses, every muscle pulled taut as he glares at you, an unspoken warning laced within his tone that you’re pushing his buttons.

You work your fingers across his muscles again, soothing him to release the tension in his shoulders. Slowly but surely, he relaxes in the silence, basking in the warmth of your hand.

“I never said you were. You could pay him back.”

“No.” He gruffs firmly.

It takes everything in you not to raise your head to the heavens and groan. Sukuna can be so ridiculously frustrating sometimes.

Stubborn as a mule, you have no other option but to give in. “Well… Just remember what Choso said.”

“I took the phone, isn’t that good enough for the brat?”

“It’s a hand-me-down phone, not a friendship bracelet,” you point out, unable to stifle the giggle that comes with your words.

Sukuna cracks an eye open, rolling it dramatically before flipping his face to stare at the wall. A comfortable silence hangs over you as Sukuna shuts his eyes after a moment, enjoying the feeling of your fingers smoothing across his muscles. The sun warms your skin through his window, goading a yawn from you as you find yourself leaning against his headboard. Your fingers slide along his shoulder blades as you find yourself shutting your eyes in the serene warmth of the afternoon sun.

Your hand slowly begins to still as fatigue overtakes both of you, and you bask in the cozy environment like a cat finding a patch of light.

It’s not until you hear a clank from the kitchen that you’re snapped out of your drowsiness and realize that Sukuna’s not the only one with a paper due tomorrow.

Glancing at the time, you pat Sukuna’s back gently. His head raises as he blearily looks you over, a questioning look on his face. It’s painfully sweet, the way he seems to be wondering why you stopped like a cat wondering why you’re no longer petting them.

Seems like you were a pair of happy cats for a moment.

“I need to go write that paper, and so should you.”

He hums in acknowledgement.

“I’ll help Choso get the food in the oven, sound good?”

Sukuna hums again, rubbing his eyes.

“Send me your number, by the way. I’ll see you in class tomorrow?”

“I have a morning shift after I drop the brats off,” he grumbles. “I’ll try to be there.”

“Just don’t forget about your paper!” You remind him, slipping off the bed towards the door.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Bonus points if you talk about Dickens’ death conspiracy theory!” You chant when you reach the doorway, a mischievous smile pulling at the corners of your lips.

He snorts, rolling his eyes as he pushes himself into a sitting position. “Where he died doesn’t fuckin’ change anything.”

With a grin, you just giggle along, heading out the door.

With his hands clutching the edge of the mattress, the burly man stares silently at the gray carpet beneath his feet. He can barely make out the sound of your voice, saccharine sweet and gentle, as you direct Choso while helping him put together the meal.

Lifting a hand, he subconsciously scratches at his spine between his shoulder blades, sending a shiver through his body.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

❦ a/n ; soooo this was originally meant to end on a different scene but by the time i hit 20k words i figured i should split it LOL sorry for the delay! had to take a small break for my mental health, but! the next chapter is already at 8k since i chose to split this, so i should be able to get it out soon <33 as always, thank you so much for all the love! i've gotten so many sweet comments, rbs, and asks and i absolutely love hearing everyone's thoughts on the chapter. ily all <33

❦ taglist ; OPEN. please comment here or on the masterlist if you would like to be tagged. age MUST be easily visible on your blog.

@yenayaps @rinachains @aiicpansion @fushitoru @gojoscumslut

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writing & format © starmapz. art © 3-aem. dividers © adornedwithlight & cafekitsune

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insomniac4000 · 6 months ago

Text

Bite Me

Chris Dixon SMUT ChrisMD/female reader.

Chris has a habit of biting his friends when drunk, one night it goes even further

Chris Dixon, known to millions as ChrisMD, had built his reputation opening FIFA packs before moving to football challenges and written and sometimes cheesy jokes. However, among his close circle of friends, he was known for something a little more bizarre: his habit of biting people when he’d had a few too many drinks, his fans were starting to see it more too as his videos started to feature alcohol more and more.

No one was entirely sure how it started. Some blamed a raucous night out in Ibiza. Others swore it was during one of the Sidemen charity matches when Chris, newly single for a few months and overtaken by adrenaline and too much post-match beer, had sunk his teeth into Harry Lewis’ broad shoulder. Whatever the origin, the biting had become a staple of Chris’s intoxicated antics, it was like it was now a meme of sorts but it real life. Every night out it happened and everyone would wait to see who the unlucky victim would be. It wasn’t an aggressive or malicious action from Chris, more like a spontaneous, drunken act of camaraderie. His friends had come to accept it as one of his peculiarities, though that didn’t mean they were entirely okay with it.

In particular George and Arthur Frederick were the ones who protested the most, George remembers the first time it happened to him. The group was gathered at George, Chris and Arthur’s flat for a casual evening. Pizza boxes were stacked on the counter, and the remnants of some games lay scattered across the living room. As the clock ticked toward midnight, Chris’s cheeks were flushed from laughter and a few cans of lager.

George had just finished recounting an embarrassing story about the time he fell into a fountain during a Tiktok he was recording roughly two years ago when Chris pounced.

“Mate, you’re such an idiot,” Chris said, staggering toward George with a grin.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” George replied, shaking his head.

Before George could react, Chris leaned in and chomped on his shoulder.

“OW! What the—Chris!” George yelped, pulling away.

"It’s affection!" Chris declared, grinning. "It’s like a hug but more memorable."

George rolled his eyes. "You’re a menace."

The room erupted in laughter.

“There it is!” ArthurTV declared, pointing at Chris. “The Dixon Bite™. Knew it was coming.”

“It’s like clockwork,” Arthur Hill added, shaking his head.

George rubbed his shoulder, half laughing, half glaring. “You’re like a drunk toddler, mate. What is wrong with you?”

Chris, unfazed, raised his can of beer in mock salute. “I told you it’s affection, George. Pure, unfiltered affection.”

Most of the time though it was usually Arthur Frederick, also known as ArthurTV who was on the receiving end of the Dixon chomp.

The first time it happened on camera was during Chris’s first pub golf video, they were a long time into the video and a lot of alcohol had been consumed. They were sat outside on a wooden bench, others were ready to get up and leave with only Chris, Arthur and a cameraman remaining.

“These arms have so little fat on them” Chris slurred as he attempted to pinch the bicep and got his face right up to the muscle in order to admire it. Arthur paid absolutely no attention to his old school friend as he was playing chess on his phone. Suddenly though the brunettes attention was grabbed by the mistakable feelings of two small rows on teeth on his bicep, he looked and there was Chris hanging from his arm.

“Get off me,” Arthur cried and shrugged the smaller man off who could only give a very drunken giggle in response.

“I am the envy of every girl in my Youtube comments right now.”

There was one person who was very bemused by the whole thing, and that was Y/N. Y/N was a relative newcomer to the Youtube scene, she had started out on TikTok but had branched out to Youtube over the past eighteen months, it was a very similar story to George so because of that the two became quite good friends. She could be incredibly sassy, which was good considering she spent a lot of time keeping in check a lot of rowdy boys.

The group were out for karaoke, it had become quite a staple for all of them, joining the aforementioned group of George, Chris, the Arthur’s and Y/N was another relative newcomer to the content creating scene; Italian Bach. Dutch courage was always needed for people to get up in front of a crowd and sing, and that also meant that everyone was waiting for Chris to pounce, today it was Arthur Hill’s turn.

“You haven’t eaten dinner and with your stature that can only spell disaster, here have this,” Arthur suggested as he pushed a bottle of water in Chris’s direction.

“You’re a good mate, Arthur,” he said, accepting the water. Then, without warning, he lunged and bit Arthur’s upper arm, his mouth still wet from the beverage.

Arthur froze, staring at Chris in disbelief. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“Consider it a thank you,” Chris said, grinning.

Arthur sighed, shaking his head. “You know, one day someone’s going to bite you back, and you’re not going to like it.”

Y/N shook her head from her seat. “You’re like an overexcited puppy, Chris. Maybe someone needs to get you a chew toy.” Y/N and Chris had a budding friendship, it was really awkward at first as the pair didn’t know how much they had in common until they both really got to know each other more. Chris really liked the when Y/N took charge too, he needed a girl just like that to keep him on the straight and narrow. Not that he needed parenting or anything but he knew he sometimes took things too far and needed someone to tell him when it was enough and when he needed to wind his neck in. Chris stared at Y/N intensely, she gave back a slightly bemused expression as she watched him bite his lower lip slightly.

“Or my cock… wait what?” ArthurTV added trying to cut the tension.

Nights out with the group were very often, especially for the group who lived together and Arthur and Y/N tagged along often as they were all single. As Bach had a girlfriend he wasn’t always present. The group this time was missing Bach as well as Arthur Hill who was busy rehearing for his upcoming tour. Chris was particularly buoyant that night, fueled by tequila shots and the high of securing a girls number. Y/N was standing at the bar, chatting with George, when Chris appeared out of nowhere.

"Y/N!" he exclaimed, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "You’re a legend. An absolute legend."

"Thanks, Chris," Y/N said, laughing. "You’re not so bad yourself."

Before she could say more, she felt his teeth on her upper arm as it was exposed by her sleeveless top

"Chris!" she shouted, jerking away. "Did you just bite me?"

"It’s a compliment!" Chris insisted, grinning. "Means I like you." This was the first time Chris had done it too her and when he let go and looked at Y/N he had such a cheeky look on his face, she tried to be angry but couldn’t help but laugh at the dopey expression, it was quite cute plus she liked the idea she had sort of now been through the initiation ceremony to join the group. She felt like it was a rite of passage she had just gone through.

She stared at him, half-annoyed, half-amused. "You’re lucky I don’t bite back."

The idea must have planted itself in Y/N’s mind, because the next time they were out, she decided to test his theory, They were at another bar. Chris was his usual tipsy self, moving through the group like a whirlwind of energy. Y/N watched as he playfully bit ArthurTV on the shoulder before bursting into laughter.

“You’re going to pick on the wrong person one day,” Y/N mused finished her drink and placing it on the table behind her.

“Hey, I have never had any complaints about my mouth skills before now,”

“You are so full of it aren’t you?”

“You want to be filled…” While Chris was distracted by talking Y/N leaned in and bit him on the arm—not too hard, but enough to make him yelp.

"Ow!" Chris exclaimed, clutching his arm. "What was that for?"

"Just returning the favour," Y/N said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Chris stared at her for a moment, then burst into laughter. "Alright, fair play.”

The rest of the night, there was a palpable shift in the dynamic between Chris and Y/N. They found themselves gravitating toward each other, the biting incident breaking down some unspoken barrier. Their banter was sharper, their laughter louder, and there was a spark in their interactions that hadn’t been there before.

At one point, they were sitting at a table, sharing a plate of chips. Y/N reached for the last one, and Chris playfully swatted her hand away.

"Hey!" she protested. "I’m hungry."

"So am I," Chris said, popping the chip into his mouth with a cheeky grin.

"You’re impossible," Y/N said, shaking her head. But she was smiling.

Chris leaned in slightly, his voice softer. "And yet, you’re still here."

Y/N felt her cheeks flush but didn’t look away. "Maybe I like impossible."

They stayed like that for a moment, the noise of the bar fading into the background. Then, without thinking, Chris closed the distance between them and kissed her.

Y/N didn’t pull away. Instead, she kissed him back, her hand resting lightly on his arm. When they finally broke apart, Chris looked at her, a mix of surprise and delight on his face.

"I didn’t see that coming," he admitted.

"Me neither," Y/N said, laughing softly. "But I’m not complaining."

Chris smiled and leaned in again, the kiss wasn’t as soft this time, less tentative and more passionate. Y/N kissed back with full gusto, letting out a small moan when she felt a slight nibble on her bottom lip.

It felt like moments until the pair were in an Uber, Chris’s hand moving up Y/N’s leg the further they got to his flat. The lift ride was quiet and as soon as they reached the black front door to the flat Y/N was pinned against it Chris kissing her again. They fumbled their way to the bedroom Y/N knocking into a plant as they went discarding clothes along the way.

Y/N moaned as Chris’s kisses and light nibbles moved down her jawline and neck.

“You like that?” Chris smirked peppering his kisses lower, removing Y/N’s shirt and bra before carefully placing one her breasts in his mouth.

“Fuck Chris,” Y/N gasped as he liked and again gently bit her where she was most sensitive.

“God you moaning my name is sexy,” he whispered removing Y/N’s underwear. He planted kisses up her thigh, too slowly for Y/N’s liking “Chris please I need you,” she managed to breathe out, that was all Chris needed before his tongue made contact with Y/N’s clit causing her to moan incredibly loudly. It was an ongoing joke that Chris had recently had a lot of practice with women but Y/N was now reaping those rewards massively as Chris was showing her he knew exactly what he was doing, eating her out, his tongue working wonders as a hand massaged her clit simultaneously. Y/N’s breath quickened and her moans loudened as she felt the familiar feeling bubbling in the pit of her stomach, but she also wanted Chris to get his.

“Come here,” she demanded pushing Chris’s face from her pussy and forcing him to look at her. He removed his boxers and was surprised as Y/N pushed him back slightly and Y/N crawled onto Chris’s lap kissing him as she lowered herself onto him, lotus was one of her favourite positions. She bounced on him with as much gusto as she had, only stopping to moan slightly when Chris kissed her, adding the odd bite. Soon enough the pair entered a climax shortly after another before collapsing exhausted in the bed.

Chris was awake first the next morning, he went to grab a coffee hearing that George and Arthur were already awake.

“And where did you get off to last night?” George asked with a smirk as he leaned against the breakfast bar.

“What do you mean?” Chris tried to shrug it off as he poured his cup of morning.

“Well there’s the fact you left without saying goodbye last night, then when we came home we find the plant half hanging off the table, tripped over women’s shoes and some very obvious sounds,” Arthur replied also smirking as he grabbed his cup.

“Well it sounds like you’ve already made your minds up,” Chris shrugged, he looked up at the creaking door to his room and Y/N walked in wearing her outfit from the night before. Her big eyes went even bigger as she saw three men staring back at her she quickly tried to scramble for an excuse.

“I erm.. got too drunk and Chris bought me back here, being a gentleman though he slept on the floor…”

“Y/N that would be so much more convincing if it wasn’t for the fact your neck and shoulder looks like you’ve had cupping treatment,” George replied. Y/N walked towards a mirror and sure enough Chris has definitely made his mark.

“Chris we really need to talk about this biting thing,” she sighed.

#chrismd #chris dixon #chrismd x reader

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seiwas · 1 year ago

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contains: suggestive, slight mentions of alcohol, a lil bit cheesy but when is love not, unedited happy birthday, my love 🥺

hajime doesn’t care much about his birthday.

at least, not as much his mom and oikawa do, with lit up candles and striped party hats in his rumpled godzilla pajamas. it's greetings at midnight, on the dot, no matter what—even through the crackling sound of static over ocean waves.

he definitely doesn’t care about it as much as his college friends do, with them slapping his back and elbowing his side until his ribs hurt just so he can down another shot for the 'nth' year of his existence.

(they try with all their might to get him past the 5th, but he's driving tonight; and if there's anything about hajiime stronger than his tolerance, it's how resolute he is—firm in his beliefs and even more with his principles.)

so, hajime doesn't care much about his birthday.

but you do, and when he says things like—

"it's not that important, we don't have to."

—all you hear is, 'bla bla bla, it's important, bla bla bla we have to.'

you prepared a picnic for him, among all the other activities you planned for today.

this morning, you served him a hefty stack of pancakes with a rice bowl full of his favorites (that he took a bite from oh-so-sweetly, only to push it to the side before gripping your thigh, deciding that he wanted something else for breakfast instead).

then, you went on a hike. just a short trek up his favorite spot an hour out of town. hajime likes being under the sun; he loves the heat, the sweat that trickles down the divots of his muscles because they mean hard work. a good effort. a sign of trying.

he loves tackling you the most in this state—sticky and sweaty, a little slippery. you hate how it mixes in with your sunscreen, but love how hajime feels against your skin, arms wrapped tightly around your waist, and chin tucked sloppily against your neck.

so you let him.

(and even though you tell him he gets a pass because it's his birthday, he knows that isn't true. you always let him do this, anyway.)

his favorite roast beef sandwich, then a shower and dessert (yes, together) later have found yourselves here, at the cusp of sunset, a drive up at your favorite spot overlooking the city.

you prepared a picnic for him, packed all his favorite snacks and berries; made a small chocolate cake with the letters 'hbd hajime ♡' in even smaller fondant cut-outs. simple and minimal (because you know he would prefer it). you intended to watch the sun go down cuddled up in the few blankets you brought, but the weather’s been gloomy for the past 30 minutes, and even worse than that—it's begun to rain.

hajime can sense your stress, he always does, and when he rubs circles on your back telling you, "it's not that important, we don't have to."

you only feel the need to prove him wrong.

if you push forward the chairs in the middle row of his suv, you'll have enough space at the back. and if you park the car to face the view, you can still catch the twinkling of city lights when it turns dark.

the cogs in your brain turn and your brows scrunch as you remain silent, so much so that it begins to worry him.

rain patters against the windshield, and hajime leans over the center console, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"it's okay, babe, you've done so much for me already. we can go back—"

"no," you look him in the eye.

because, it is important.

hajime, the man you love and have loved for the past 4 years; the most hardworking, determined, and considerate man you've ever known was born today, 26 years ago.

and hajime might not care about his birthday because he doesn't think it matters all that much, but it matters to you, because this has been the most important day of the year to you since first meeting him.

"give me a bit," you twist to face the back, "excuse me," urging hajime to move to the side as you cross the center console to the seats at the middle row. you push the seats forward and bend over the backrest, hauling your picnic basket, blankets, and pillows to the now vacant and spacious trunk.

"i can help—" you hear his door handle click.

"no!" you shout from the back, "remember, we agreed! birthday boy relaxes and enjoys!"

he isn't happy about it, and you know he'll insist that he can only relax and enjoy if you're relaxed and enjoying, but you work quickly enough that he doesn't get to argue.

when you call him to the back, you've set up the entire space. the picnic mat is laid out, pillows placed comfortably in areas you both can cuddle in. a bunch of berries and crackers are laid out in a makeshift food section, along with a few bags of chips and the small chocolate cake you stayed up last night making. you serve water as your drinks because hajime prefers it that way.

the sight that greets him is more than anything he thinks he deserves, but what truly takes the cake is you, sitting on the palms of your feet with your baby hairs matted to your forehead and the sweetest smile reaching your cheeks. you hold up your phone to show a live youtube video of a setting sun in some place, somewhere in the world, and amidst the rain pattering against the roof of his car, hajime thinks he would rather have this over a real sunset, somewhere in the world, without you.

he crawls over to where you are, careful to avoid the food you set up. his cheeks hurt from smiling, eyes crinkling as he takes your cheeks in the palms of his hands, squishing them together before kissing you with all the love he can't put into words.

hajime doesn’t care much about his birthday.

but as he parks the car in reverse, positioning the trunk to view the city lights down below, he sees the twinkle in your eyes and can’t help but love how happy his birthday makes you.

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hajime x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #shotorus.bubble #happy birthday hajime #i love him so much 🥺🥺🥺🥺

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sinofwriting · 5 months ago

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All Relaxed - Jenson Button/Reader/Logan Sargeant

Words: 1,698 Summary: Jenson sees how stressed Logan and his girlfriend are and just wants to get rid of it for them. Note(s): Slightly NSFW, Dom/Sub Relationship/Dynamics. Dom!Jenson, Sub!Logan, Sub!Reader. Don’t be like them and approach a brand new dom/sub relationship like this, I beg of you. Also, no one ask how this ship popped into my head, I can’t be held accountable for my thoughts.

Masterlist | Support Me!

Jenson watches as both Logan and Y/N practically stumble into where the fan stage would be happening. You’d think they had just woken up, but he can tell that still sleep is invading them. The circles under their eyes have worsened and his worry grows when he notices them both shake their head at food being offered. The same thing they did yesterday as well.

He more than knew how rough Formula 1 could be and that was before they made the calendar twenty-four races long. But he never had been that exhausted. Some of it was without a doubt the treatment of Williams affecting him and Jenson had tried alleviating that, trying to somewhat step into the mentor role, but it was obvious that he wasn’t doing enough.

And poor Y/N had broken down in his arms the last time they saw each other about everything going on with her family and school.

He wants to fix it. To see them without any worries, to see them relaxed. All loose limbs, no tension, eye bags and circles gone. He’d like to see them not look so gaunt as well. He’s sure Elias is fine, but it’s obvious he doesn’t know Logan. Benny would have straightened Logan’s current less than stellar eating habits in a few days and Jenson knows it’s been at least a month of Logan barely eating anything unless it’s one of his premade meals.

It’s the thought of wanting to see them all relaxed that has him begin to plot. It would be far too easy to invite them to his house in California. Undisturbed, no close enough neighbors to really bother them, not that he planned on really having them leave the house. If anyone spotted them it would be the end of a peaceful trip. And he knows that they are both free for the next two weeks. He had heard Logan mention it just the day before.

He starts making a list of groceries that need to be ordered, then he makes an email to a friend who owns a private jet and owes him a favor. He texts his housekeeper, asking if she wouldn’t mind going to his house today if she has time and straightening up the place.

As he starts to order the groceries, his attention is drawn away by the sound of a breathless sort of sigh. His eyebrows quirk up when he notices that it was her and he follows her eyes and fully understands, his throat going a little dry.

Logan had been put into a tight-fitting team shirt, something either tailored to him or knowing Williams and their budget they had just given him a smaller size and it looked good on him. The thin fabric clinging to every muscle and inch of his upper half. Jenson hadn’t realized that Logan had gained that much muscle since last year, even despite not eating it seemed he was keeping it well.

He watches as Logan smiles at him before looking at his girlfriend, sending her a small wink and Jenson can’t help but look at her, see how she reacts, and he shifts in his seat seeing the grin on her face, the way her shoulders have slightly relaxed.

What he wouldn’t give to see them both all relaxed for him, laying flat on their backs in his bed, letting him take care of them. He nearly drops his phone as the thought strikes him. Fuck.

—

Jenson watches amused as they walk around his house. Perhaps it was stupid to still invite them to his house after realizing he wanted them both in his bed. But he couldn’t continue to let them go about running on fumes.

“You guys go get settled, take a nap, rest, and I’ll cook dinner.”

“Let me help, Jenson.”

He shakes his head at her offer, “I’ve got it, sweetheart. I’ll come and get you both when it’s all ready.”

She looks ready to protest again, Logan as well, but he gives them both a stern look, and a simmer of arousal hits him as they both immediately start walking to the guest bedroom with quiet thank you’s. This might end up being a bit harder than he thought.

It does end up being harder than he thought, a lot harder in fact. It seems him realizing he didn’t just find them both attractive but also just plain and simple liked them had opened the floodgates. And their responses to him taking care of them was certainly not helping either.

It was only the third day of them being here but Jenson was sure he was going to cause a bit of an issue with the water with how many cold showers he might end up taking. His satisfaction of them letting him take care of them instantly turned to arousal.

That same day however after dinner as they laze about in the living room while he cleans up the dishes he realizes that they might feel the same way. They can’t stop looking at him. At first, he thought maybe they wanted something but were too shy to say something but when he looked over, they both looked away, clearly flustered at being caught and when he went back to cleaning up, their eyes were on him again, lingering.

It’s confirmation, but he doesn’t plan on doing anything about it, not until hours later as he does his rounds in the house, making sure everything is locked up and he passes their room and he hears them both.

The light sound of skin coming together, small whines and breaths that are more like gasps. His hand palms himself before he can stop it and then he hears it. His name. He freezes, thinking he must have misheard, but then he hears it again, the both of them moaning his name.

He barely makes it to his bedroom, back against the door as he presses his hand into his bottoms and jerks himself off, finishing quickly and making a mess of his sweatpants.

Jenson of course brings it up the next morning. The two are so flustered that even if he hadn’t heard he could guess that something happened.

“Good sleep?” He starts off with, hiding his smirk by taking a drink of coffee.

They both nod, shoulders tensing a little and that has him frowning, setting his mug down. He just started making progress on their tension. “You both sounded lovely.”

Logan’s head snaps up, eyes wide as he looks at him while she gasps, hands coming up to cover her face.

His eyes flicker between the both of them. “I wouldn’t mind hearing you both say my name like that again. Maybe with the visuals as well.”

She makes a squeaky noise at his words and Logan’s cheeks have managed to turn more pink.

“And just to be clear, I wouldn’t want it to be a one time thing, or just sex.”

“But, you want the both of us? I mean more with the both of us?”

Jenson smiles gently at Logan’s nervousness. “Yes, the both of you. I want to take care of you two. And sex doesn’t have to be on the table, I’ll still happily do it without anything sexual, but I figured I’d put it on the table.”

Logan looks a little confused but before Jenson can say anything else, she’s giving a slight tug to Logan’s shirt.

“He’s offering to be our dom.” Her voice is quiet, the words clearly meant for Logan, but her eyes flicker over to him as well.

The American’s eyes widened. “Oh. I, we’ve never,”

“Done this before?”

They both shake their heads.

“I sort of figured. It’s not something I’ve done lots of either to be clear and never on this level. The last time I dommed was years ago and it was just sex. What I would like with us would be more than sex if we even agree to have sex be a part of it at all or to do this.”

“Why do you want to?”

Jenson smiles at her question. “I like you both and want to take care of you. You’re both stressed, spiraling. Barely sleeping or eating. Your shoulders are practically touching your ears with how much tension you both are carrying. I want to ease that, take everything off your shoulders, make it better or rather easier to deal with.”

“And you like taking care of people.”

“Not everyone.” He corrects. “I’m a bit too selfish for that, but certain people,” and his eyes flicker between them. “Absolutely.”

It’s not a very long talk, not as detailed as it should be. But he promises himself that he will sit down with them tomorrow to talk everything out, but they’ve got the basics down. They all are interested in the sexual and in private, like Jenson’s home, are happy to be submissive but don’t want it to bleed into their work/student life as much as they can. He makes sure they know to tell him no. He doesn’t foresee himself pressing too hard about taking breaks and such that it would make their work and student life suffer, but it’s always a possibility and he is far from perfect.

And now not even two hours after waking up he’s got them both in his bed and he can’t help the slight amusement he feels seeing them both wearing Logan’s boxer briefs, he’ll have to see about getting them in his next time. His amusement doesn’t last long however as he takes them in, both laying flat on their backs, upper halves completely bare, both stunning.

“Gorgeous.” He murmurs, sitting at the end of the bed and pressing a kiss to Logan’s calf and then hers. “Both of you look gorgeous for me.”

Her breath audibly stutters, while Logan lets out a keen, fingers twisting in the sheets.

He tuts at the tight grip, running his fingers over the younger man’s until he loosens it. “That’s better. Let’s get you both all relaxed for me, yeah?”

“Yes, Jenson.” They say together and his cock twitches. Fuck is he lucky.

#jenson button x reader x logan sargeant #jenson button imagine #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x reader #jenson button x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #sins fics

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mattsobvimyfav · 5 months ago

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Y/N has always played it safe—balancing her job as a pediatric nurse, and her careful lifestyle. But one night out with her friend, Jordan, changes everything. When she meets Matt and Chris—two dangerous, enigmatic brothers—she’s drawn into a world she doesn’t belong in. But the more she resists, the harder they pulls her in.

p.2 pt. 3

chapter 1

Boston in the early summer has a certain charm—sunlight reflecting off the Charles River, the distant hum of traffic blending with the laughter of people enjoying the warmth after months of bitter cold. It’s home, familiar and comforting.

At twenty-two, I’ve checked off one of the biggest milestones of my life—graduating nursing school. Now, I’m officially a pediatric nurse at one of the best children’s hospitals in the country, something I’ve worked tirelessly for. My days are filled with tiny hands gripping mine, sleepy smiles, and moments of both heartbreak and hope. It’s exhausting, but I love it. Every shift reminds me why I chose this path—to help, to heal, to be there for the little ones who need it most.

When I’m not at the hospital, I spend my time buried in books, or going out shopping with friends, But if I’m not reading, chances are, I’m with the family I’ve worked for since I was eighteen.

The Moore family hired me as their nanny fresh out of high school, and somehow, four years later, I never left. Their two kids—Owen, now five, and Ella, two—have become like little siblings to me. I’ve been there for scraped knees, school projects, and bedtime stories, and even with my busy schedule, I can’t bring myself to give it up entirely. Their parents understand; they know I care too much to walk away completely.

My life is a carefully balanced routine—nursing shifts, nannying, the occasional days with friends, and nights spent curled up watching my favorite show or reading my favorite book. And yet, despite how full my days are, there’s a small part of me that wonders if I’m missing something.

Thursday night was another long one. I worked the second shift from 7 PM to midnight in the respiratory section of the children's hospital, a place where the air always seemed just a little heavier. The unit was full—kids battling asthma flare-ups, pneumonia, and RSV, their small chests rising and falling with labored breaths.

My first patient of the night was a five-year-old girl named Lily, who had been admitted earlier that day with severe asthma. Her mother hovered anxiously by her bedside, asking a million questions as I checked Lily’s oxygen levels and adjusted her nebulizer. I did my best to reassure her, keeping my tone calm and steady. It wasn’t lost on me how terrifying it must be to watch your child struggle to breathe.

After Lily, I moved on to a toddler with RSV, his tiny frame looking even smaller beneath the tangle of tubes and wires. His parents had stepped out for a quick break, so I sat with him for a few minutes, rubbing small circles on his back as he dozed in and out of restless sleep. Moments like these made the exhaustion worth it—being able to offer even the smallest bit of comfort.

The night continued in a blur of vitals checks, medication rounds, and hushed conversations with worried parents. Around 10:30 PM, I grabbed a quick snack from my bag, savoring the brief moment of stillness before heading back into the harsh reality.

By the time midnight rolled around, my feet ached, and my body begged for sleep. But as I clocked out and stepped into the cool Boston air, I felt something else too—gratitude. For the kids who fought so hard, for the parents who loved so fiercely, and for the privilege of being there to help, even in the smallest of ways.

It was now Friday morning, and I can already feel the excitement bubbling up inside me. The week has felt so long, but today is all about taking a break with my friend, Jordan.

I get up, stretch, and head to my closet, trying to figure out what to wear. After a moment of hesitation, I grab my white cardigan. Underneath, I slip on a black cropped tank top that I know goes with pretty much anything. Then, I pick out my favorite khaki mini skirt. I pair everything with my white converse.

I grab my phone, scroll through a few messages, and decide to head out early. The morning air feels nice, so I make my way to the front steps of my apartment and sit down, legs crossed. It’s quiet outside, the kind of peaceful stillness you only get in the morning. I take a deep breath, enjoying the calm.

I’m just scrolling through my phone when I hear the sound of an engine approaching. Looking up, I see Jordan’s bright blue Jeep Wrangler coming down the street, turning the corner as it makes its way straight to me.

I smile as she parks, rolling down the window. "Ready for our girl's day?" she calls out, her grin already spreading across her face.

"Always," I reply, jumping to my feet, grabbing my bag, and heading over to the Jeep.

I hop into the passenger seat of Jordan's Jeep. She pulls away from the curb and grins at me, her hands gripping the wheel.

"So, what’s the plan for today?" I ask, turning to face her.

"First stop for breakfast. Then, I need to make a quick pit stop, then go shopping" she says with a mischievous smile.

I raise an eyebrow. "A pit stop? What are we talking about?"

Jordan just shrugs, her grin widening. "You'll see. But first, we need food. I’m starving."

I laugh, the anticipation building as we head to our favorite café in town. It’s a little spot that serves the best avocado toast and strong coffee, perfect for getting our day started. We pull into the parking lot, and I can already smell the rich aroma of fresh coffee drifting out as we walk in.

The café is quiet, the morning rush already over. We grab a table by the window, and Jordan places our usual order—avocado toast with eggs and two iced lattes. I don’t mind—she always knows exactly what I’ll want. As we wait for our food, we chat about the week, and was in the middle of telling her about my patience last night when I noticed a couple of people at a nearby table glancing over at us.

Jordan notices too and raises an eyebrow. "What’s going on? You seem a little tense today."

I shrug, "I don’t know. Just feels like people stare at us sometimes."

She smirks. "Y/N, we clash pretty hardcore. I mean, look at us."

I roll my eyes, though I know she’s right. I can’t deny it—there’s something about the way I carry myself that screams "basic good girl." and she’s the blueprint definition of grunge.

Jordan nudges me, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Relax. They’re just looking. Let them." We both laugh just as our food arrives.

"Alright," Jordan says as she sips her coffee, "after we eat, I’ve got to make that stop."

After breakfast, we slide back into the Jeep, the warm feeling of a good meal still lingering.

"Get comfortable," she tells me, glancing over with a half-smile. "It’s gonna be a little bit of a drive."

I nod, still curious about the “pit stop” she mentioned earlier. The roads blur by as we drive through neighborhoods I don’t recognize, the buildings getting more worn down as we leave the busier parts of town. Finally, she pulls up in front of a rundown house on the edge of a quiet street. The place looks like it’s seen better days—paint peeling off the siding, the yard overgrown with weeds.

Jordan parks the Jeep and sends a quick text, her fingers flying across her phone. I glance at her, feeling a strange unease settle in my chest.

"Who are we meeting here?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

Jordan looks at me for a second, the serious look returning to her eyes. "Just stay calm. It’s no big deal, I swear."

We wait in silence for a moment before the door to the house creaks open. Two guys, who look nearly identical, step out onto the porch. They’re dressed in baggy sweatpants and wife beaters, they glance to their left and right before walking over.

Jordan rolls down her window as one of them heads straight for her side of the Jeep. The other boy makes his way to my window, giving me a once-over before leaning against the door.

"Hey" Jordan says coolly, and I watch as they exchange a few words. I can’t make out everything they’re saying, but I know it’s about weed. I always knew Jordan smoked but she had never brought me to pick up her supply.

The guy by my window with dark hair and a cocky grin—glances at me, sizing me up. "Who’s this pretty little thing?" he asks, his voice smooth and a little playful.

Before I can respond, Jordan cuts in sharply, her voice low but firm. "No, Matthew. She’s off-limits. She doesn’t belong in your world."

I blink, a little taken aback by the way Jordan says it. The guy, Matthew, chuckles darkly, clearly not bothered by her words.

"Relax, Jordan. It’s just a question," he says, leaning closer to my window.

Jordan gives him a hard look. "No, Matthew. Hands off. She’s not for you."

The other boy who’s been standing by Jordan’s side, smirks. "C’mon, Jord, let us meet the girl," he says, his voice more playful than Matt’s. "What’s the harm?"

Jordan shakes her head firmly. "No, Chris," she says, her tone leaving no room for argument.

I watch the two boys exchange looks, their attention flicking between Jordan and me. I start to put their names to their faces: Matt with the easy grin, and Chris, who seems like he’s having too much fun with this.

Matt suddenly turns his attention back to Jordan. "You hear about that party tonight?"

Jordan sighs, her expression softening. "I’ll be there," she says.

Before I can ask her anything, the deal wraps up, and Matt gives Jordan a nod, Chris handing her something small. The air seems to shift as everything falls back into place.

"Let’s go," Jordan mutters, her foot hitting the gas as the Jeep speeds off.

As we drive away, my mind is buzzing with questions. I glance at Jordan, who’s still focused on the road, I can’t keep quiet anymore.

"Who were those guys?" I ask, trying to keep my voice casual, though I’m definitely curious. "Matt and Chris."

Jordan lets out a small sigh, and I can tell she’s debating whether or not to tell me more. Finally, she speaks up.

"They’re triplets," she says, her tone a little more serious now. "They have another brother who lives out in LA. The three of them—Matt, Chris, and Nick—are big-time dealers. The kind of guys you don’t mess with unless you really know what you're doing."

My eyes widened a bit, the weight of her words sinking in. I always knew Jordan was in the know, but hearing this side of her world feels a little... overwhelming. "Wait, so they’re like legit drug dealers? And you hang out with them?"

Jordan glances over at me. "Yeah, but don’t get the wrong idea. I know them from way back. They’ve always been around, but we keep it casual. I don’t get too deep into their business. I keep my distance."

I nod slowly, "And their brother in LA, is he in the same line of work?"

"Yeah," Jordan confirms with a slight shrug. "That’s just the way they roll. You’ll get used to it."

I don’t know if “used to it” is something I want to get, but I keep my thoughts to myself. My mind drifts to what happened earlier. The way Matt kept eyeing me.

"So, what about tonight?" I ask, my curiosity getting the best of me. "The party Matt mentioned. Are we going?"

Jordan’s hands tighten on the wheel, and I catch a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. "You’ve never asked to go to a party before," she says, almost as if speaking to herself. "It’s always just been my thing. You’ve never really been interested in it."

I raise an eyebrow. "Well, there’s a first time for everything I guess."

My heart beats a little faster at the thought of stepping into that world, but then I catch a spark of excitement in Jordan’s voice. She’s got that fire in her eyes.

"Okay," I say, biting my lip nervously but also feeling the pull of curiosity. "Let’s go get me a new outfit."

Jordan flashes me a grin, her excitement matching mine. "Perf. Let’s go shopping."

A few minutes later, we pull up to a little boutique in the city. It’s not too far from where we were, but it feels worlds away from the rundown house we just left. I follow Jordan inside, the bells above the door jingling as we walk in. The place is packed with clothes—bright colors, edgy designs.

"Alright, pick something that’s revealing and sexy. You’ll wanna fit in.’" Jordan says with a wink. "You need something bold. You can’t show up in the same vibe as that avocado toast and cardigan look."

I laugh at the little stray she threw my way "Okay, okay. Let’s see what you’ve got in mind."

We spend the next hour in the boutique, Jordan practically dragging me from one rack to another, pushing me to try on things I never would have considered before. She pulls out a black corset top that looks a little daring, with intricate lace detailing and a structure that feels way more bold than anything I’d normally wear.

"You’re going for something sexy tonight," Jordan insists, tossing it at me. "Trust me, this will make an impression."

I hold it up to myself in front of the mirror, considering it. "Are you sure this is my style?" I ask, a bit unsure. The corset is tight, the cleavage daring, and the fabric feels both delicate and bold all at once.

"It’s not," she urges, giving me a knowing look. "That’s the point."

I give in and head to the changing room. When I slip into the corset, I’m surprised by how good it actually feels on—tight in all the right places, highlighting my waist in a way I didn’t expect. I step back into the main area, and Jordan’s eyes widen.

"Okay, okay, you look amazing," she says, nodding approvingly. "Now, let's get you some jeans to go with it."

I follow her to the denim section, and after a few minutes, I grab a pair of light-wash, wide-leg jeans. They’re flowy, a little more relaxed than the jeans I usually wear, but they somehow seem like the perfect balance to the corset’s structured look. I hold them up next to the top, and Jordan gives an exaggerated thumbs-up.

"Yes! These are perfect" she says. "This is how you’ll fit in."

I grab them, along with a pair of mini black heels that match the edgy vibe we’re going for. They’re simple but have just enough height to make me feel confident, without being too much.

When I step out of the fitting room in the full outfit, Jordan looks me over, a grin spreading across her face. "Girl, you’re ready. You look hot."

I laugh nervously, standing in front of the mirror. "I don’t even know if I can pull this off... but I kind of love it."

Jordan raises an eyebrow. "You’ve got this. Trust me, I’ll be by your side the whole night."

"Alright," I say, taking a deep breath. "Let’s do this."

After we finish shopping, Jordan insists on stopping by a few other places. We grab lunch, then swing by a beauty store for some makeup essentials.

"Trust me," she says, tossing a tube of mascara into the basket. "We’re going all out tonight."

By the time we’re done, the day has flown by. We’re laughing and chatting about random things, and the excitement I felt earlier is turning into a nervous energy that I can’t quite shake. Every now and then, my mind drifts back to the conversation about Matt and Chris.

When we finally get back to Jordan’s place, she pulls into the driveway with that same determined look she’s had all day. “Alright, babe, it’s time.”

I stare at her, my heart doing a little flip. "Time for what?"

"Time to get ready," she says, hopping out of the Jeep before I can say anything else.

I grab my shopping bags and follow her inside, my pulse picking up pace. Jordan leads me to her room, which is filled with a mix of clothes and half-open drawers. She’s already pulling out a few items, and I can’t help but laugh nervously.

The next few hours feel like a whirlwind. Jordan’s apartment is a crazy mess as we rush to get ready.

“Okay, sit down,” she orders, motioning to the chair in front of her vanity. I do as I’m told, watching her rummage through a drawer filled with makeup products. “Let’s make sure you look amazing tonight,” she says with a grin.

I glance at my reflection in the mirror, still not quite used to the corset top and the wide-leg jeans. The outfit is bold, daring, but I can’t help feeling like I’m playing dress-up in someone else’s clothes. Still, Jordan seems so confident in it, and I trust her.

She starts with my face, prepping my skin with some kind of serum and moisturizer she swears by. I close my eyes and let her work her magic, her hands light but sure as she applies the base, blending everything seamlessly. My skin already looks smoother, more even than it usually does.

“You’re gonna love the foundation I got for you,” she says, swiping a brush across my cheeks. “It’s got this glow to it—makes your skin look like it’s glowing from within.” She finishes with a dusting of powder, setting everything in place.

I watch as she moves to my eyes. “We’re going for sultry, babe. Just big huge lashes,” she says, applying a thick coat of mascara, making my lashes look long and voluminous.

“Open your eyes,” she says with a smirk as she steps back to admire her work. I glance in the mirror and can’t believe how much my eyes pop just from mascara.

Jordan then turns her attention to my lips. She picks up a pink lip liner, carefully lining the edges before putting on a pink tinted lip gloss

I smile nervously. I’m not used to this kind of attention. My usual look is… nothing. I’ve never done lip gloss or anything like this before. But tonight, I feel like someone else.

“Now for your hair,” Jordan says, pulling me from my thoughts. She grabs a curling iron, giving me a teasing grin as she begins to curl my hair in loose waves. The heat feels strange against my hair, but the result is incredible—full, bouncy curls that make my hair look effortlessly voluminous. She finishes with a little hairspray, just enough to hold everything in place without it looking stiff.

By the time she’s done, I’m sitting there, staring at my reflection in awe. The outfit, the makeup, the hair—it’s like I’m looking at a completely different version of myself. The girl in the mirror looks confident, daring, ready to take on whatever comes her way.

Jordan steps back, inspecting me one last time. “You look incredible, Y/N. Trust me, no one’s going to be able to take their eyes off you tonight.”

I swallow, my heart racing. “Are Matt and Chris going to be there?” I ask, almost hesitantly.

“Absolutely,” she says, giving me a wink. “and you're absolutely staying away from them.” She finished with a straight face.

I giggle at her firmness. Jordan grabs her own outfit, pulling on a leather jacket and running a hand through her hair as she heads for the door. “Alright, You ready?”

I cheer a little, feeling the rush of nervous excitement flood over me. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Jordan’s Jeep rumbles down a dark road, the streetlights becoming fewer and farther between. The neighborhood looks eerily similar to the one we were in earlier today—rundown houses, cracked sidewalks, I shift in my seat, glancing at Jordan, but she looks completely unfazed, focused on the road ahead.

When we finally pull up in front of a house, my stomach twists. It’s a large, old place with chipping paint and music blasting from inside. There are people lingering on the front porch, passing around drinks and cigarettes, their laughter mixing with the heavy bass of whatever song is playing.

Jordan throws the Jeep in park and turns to me. “Alright, listen,” she says, her voice firm. “Stick with me, have fun, but stay away from Matt and Chris. Got it?”

I roll my eyes, unable to hide my curiosity. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

She gives me a knowing look before hopping out of the car. I follow, as we make our way up the front steps and through the open door.

Inside, the air is thick with smoke, the scent of weed and something else I can’t place. The place is packed, people spilling into every room, music vibrating through the floors. Jordan walks in like she owns the place, immediately getting daps and side-hugs from a few guys as we move through the crowd.

“Jordy!” A girl with long, dark braids grins and pulls Jordan into a hug. “I didn’t know if I’d see you tonight.”

Jordan smirks. “Had to make an appearance. Thought I’d bring my girl Y/N with me.” She pulls me forward slightly, and I suddenly feel all eyes on me.

The girl gives me a once-over and smirks. “Cute. You don't really look like you belong here, though.”

Jordan just chuckles. “Last I checked, you're not the one who makes the calls around here, thanks for your opinion though!”

I laugh nervously, as the girl looks me up and down again before scoffing and walking away. Jordan hands me a red solo cup filled with something that smells strong. “Drink up,” she says with a wink. “It’ll help you loosen up.”

I take a sip and wince at the burn, but I don’t complain. The warmth spreads through me almost instantly, and suddenly, the party doesn’t feel as overwhelming. Jordan keeps introducing me to people—some friendly, some giving me lingering looks that make me shift uncomfortably. But with each sip of my drink, I relax a little more.

An hour or so passes in a blur of music, dancing, and conversation. At some point, Jordan disappears into a crowd of people near the stairs, leaving me standing alone in the living room. My cup is empty, and the warmth in my chest is starting to fade, so I decided to get another.

Making my way to the kitchen, I squeeze past groups of people talking and laughing. The kitchen is slightly less crowded, but it’s still buzzing with energy. I grab a bottle of some kind of alcohol, about to pour myself another drink when a deep voice cuts through the noise.

“Didn’t take you for the kind of girl to be here.”

I freeze for a second before turning my head.

Matt.

He’s leaning against the counter, watching me with an amused smirk. His eyes flicker over my outfit, lingering just a little too long on the corset before meeting my gaze again. He’s effortlessly put together—black jeans, a fitted long-sleeve shirt, and that same dangerous charm radiating off him like a magnet.

I clear my throat, trying to keep my cool. “I didn’t take you for the kind of guy who lurks in kitchens.”

Matt chuckles, stepping closer. “I don’t. I was actually looking for a drink, but now I think I found something more interesting.”

I roll my eyes, but my stomach flips. “Smooth.”

He grins. “I try.” His body close enough that I can smell his cologne—something dark and expensive. “So, tell me, Y/N, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

I lift a brow. “You say that like I don’t belong here.”

“Because you don’t.” His voice is low, almost teasing. “You’re different.”

“Different how?” I ask, genuinely curious.

Matt’s eyes flicker to my lips before back up to my eyes. “Too sweet. Too… innocent.” His lips twitch like he finds it amusing. “It’s refreshing.”

I swallow, suddenly feeling like I need another drink. “Maybe.”

Matt chuckles again, shaking his head. “Oh, trust me, sweetheart, you are.” His voice drops slightly, the edge of danger in his tone making my pulse quicken. “That’s why Jordan warned me to stay away from you.”

I blink. “She did?”

“Oh yeah.” He smirks. “Made it very clear. Told me you're too good for me.” He leans in slightly, his voice just above a whisper. “And maybe she’s right.”

I should probably listen to Jordan. Every instinct in me says Matt is the kind of guy I should stay away from. But the way he’s looking at me, the way his presence pulls me in like gravity—I don’t move.

Before I can even think of a response to Matt, another voice interrupts.

“Finally,” the voice drawls. “We get to meet you without Jordan shutting it down.”

I turn my head to see Chris sauntering toward us, looking just as sharp as Matt but with a slightly more mischievous smirk. His eyes flick between me and his brother before settling on me.

“How about you come sit with us? Let us get to know you,” Chris suggests, motioning toward a worn-out couch in the corner of the room.

Before I can answer, Matt’s hand is already at my waist, guiding me toward the couch. My heart pounds as we move through the crowd, Chris leading the way, Matt’s presence heavy beside me.

As soon as we reach the couch, I start to sit down, but Matt subtly steers me to the middle, settling me between him and Chris. The warmth of their bodies on either side of me is immediate, a stark contrast to the slight chill in the air. Matt drapes his arm lazily over the back of the couch, fingertips just barely grazing my shoulder, while Chris stretches out comfortably, his knee nearly touching mine.

Chris grins. “Let’s play a little game. Twenty questions.”

Matt chuckles, his voice low. “You up for it, sweetheart?”

I glance between the two brothers, fully aware of how much trouble I might be walking into. But something about Matt’s quiet intensity and Chris’ playful attitude makes it impossible to pull away.

“Fine,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. “I’m game.”

Chris smirks. “Alright, I’ll start. First question—where are you from?”

“Just outside the city,” I reply, relaxing just a little.

Matt hums. “Explains why you seem so… untouched.”

I roll my eyes, but my cheeks burn. “Next question.”

Chris leans forward, resting his arm on his knee. “Biggest fear?”

I hesitate. “Losing all of my teeth.”

Matt’s fingers tighten slightly against the couch cushion behind me. “Interesting.”

Chris raises a brow. “What’s your guilty pleasure?”

I bite my lip, thinking. “Old romance novels.”

Chris groans. “Lame.”

Matt, however, smirks. “Nah, that tracks. You seem like the type who loves the idea of some brooding, dangerous guy sweeping you off your feet.”

I don’t respond. The look in his eyes tells me he already knows the answer.

Chris continues. “What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”

I hesitate before admitting, “Probably this. Sitting between two guys I barely know at a party I wasn’t even supposed to be at.”

Matt’s arm shifts, his fingers brushing against my shoulder. His voice is laced with amusement as he murmurs, “Damn, sweetheart. That’s your craziest thing? We’ll have to change that.”

Chris smirks. “Alright, let’s up this. Next question—what’s your biggest turn-on?”

My breath catches in my throat. My instinct is to play it safe, but the heat from Matt’s gaze and the mischief in Chris’ expression make me feel bold.

“Confidence,” I say, tilting my head slightly. “But not arrogance.”

Chris raises an eyebrow. “So you like guys who know what they want?”

“Yeah,” I admit. “But not the ones who feel like they need to prove something.”

Matt hums, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against the fabric of the couch beside me. “Good answer.”

Chris leans in slightly, his grin widening. “What’s your biggest fantasy?”

I keep eye contact with him, watching as his expression darkens slightly with intrigue. My cheeks warm.

“That’s a little personal, don’t you think?” I tease, trying to deflect.

Chris laughs. “That’s the point, babe. You’re the one who agreed to play.”

I bite my lip, contemplating. The heat in the room, the tension in Matt’s touch, the look in Chris’ eyes—it makes me want to say something I normally wouldn’t.

I take a slow sip from my drink, gathering my courage before answering, “I guess I like the idea of someone being completely in control of my body.”

Matt’s fingers tighten slightly behind me, his breath hitching just a little.

Chris whistles. “Damn. You might be more fun than I thought.”

Matt finally speaks, his voice low and edged with something I can’t quite place. “Careful what you admit around us, sweetheart.”

I arch a brow, feigning innocence. “Why’s that?”

Matt smirks, his arm brushing against my back as he leans in, his lips barely grazing my ear.

“Because we don’t play fair.”

tag-

(divider by @cafekitsune) @tbfaptbfae @ch0llies @2muchofaslvt @rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @mattscore @watercolorskyy @urfungi @slut4christopherr @mattsturnii @christmastreecake @izzylovesmatt @larnieboox88 @realuvrrr @namelesssav @matts-girlfriend @emely9274

#christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo triplets #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #chris sturiolo fanfic

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ethereacals · 1 year ago

Text

“mini-me”

synopsis; your little sister captures the hearts of your boyfriends, you may even say she has a little crush on james.

contents; sexual activity mentioned, fem!reader, reader has a cute lil sister, poly!marauders, james has baby fever, you have baby fever, i have baby fever, everyone has baby fever

warnings; none! just a brief mention of sex but nothing bad (;

a/n; i’ve been daydreaming about this fic for so long

“NESSIE! FINALLY MY BEST FRIEND IS BACK!"

roared a thunderous James Potter who’d spotted your little sister— Vanessa.

Nessie was all over the boys, and they were all over her. she was a first-year hufflepuff and a true sweetheart.

Sirius silently adored how similar you two looked, it was like looking at twins— except one of them happened to be five years older than the other.

He was too afraid and stubborn to admit it, but Nessie gave him a heavy dose of baby fever.

was she a baby? no, not even close. but something about her cheeky smile, the way her robes hung over her like how a child pretending to be an adult’s would, and how her hand (which was considerably smaller than his) slid into yours lovingly at any given time.

maybe it was just that he wanted to see you as a mom, or that he longed for a family that was warm and loving.

“y/n, dear.” Sirius caught your attention quickly, even though you were watching James ramble on to Nessie like it was an oscar award winning film.

“hm—?” you hummed, attempting to pry your eyes away from the sweet scene.

“what do you think i’d-be like?”

“what do i think what would be like?”

“you know, having kids.” he could tell from your flustered expression that to were certainly not expecting that.

“o-oh… w-well…”

luckily the conversation had been interrupted by one Nessie.

Nessie ended her conversation with James, earning a “hey!” when she walked away from him.

“Siri.” she tugged in his sleeve.

“yes, darling?”

she blushed at the pet name, and started twirling her hair.

“um.. will you guys take me to Hogsmeade…?”

“Hogsmeade? Ness, only third years and over can go to Hogsmeade—“

“Professor Mcgonagall said if i went with you then it would be alright!”

She tugged on Sirius’ slightly oversized leather jacket once more, as he stumbles from the unexpected tug.

“whats going on in here— AGH!”

Remus stumbled backwards as Nessie pounced on top of him like some wild animal who was about to feed on him.

“hi— oof— hi Nessie.”

Remus was taken aback by the little first year jumping around in him in a circle chanting;

“i’m going to Hogsmeade!”

“Ness, he gets it.” You groaned from your position on James’ lap.

“Get off!!” Nessie shoved you with all of her pre-puberty force.

“N-Nessie!” you ‘gently’ hit the bedpost as Nessie locked herself onto James.

“What candy is she on? Pixi Stix?”

“Oh, suck my dick, Moony.”

“Gladly—“

“Oi!” Barked James.”

“whats a dick?”

“Nessie—..”

HOGSMEADE was beautiful in summer time.

obviously— it wasn’t summer yet, but with April coming to a close and blossoming like a flower, you could basically say it was summertime.

you walked along with Remus and Sirius, as Nessie was hanging around with James as they skipped ahead down the alleys and walkways of Hogsmeade.

you adored James, and how sweet he was to your sister, she was such a sweet kid and deserved the love.

"James?" Nessie stopped skipping for a moment, keeping a steady walking pace instead.

"Hm?"

"Do you love my sister?"

"I do."

"so why don't you marry her?" Sirius burst into a quiet laughter, and Remus tucked the hysterical boy into his chest.

"i- marry her? i'd love too, but we're a bit young."

“but Snow White was 14 when she got married.”

“Oh.” James was clearly a bit flustered, his cheeks turned to a shade of pink.

Remus watched his lovers interact with Nessie, and it sparked something deep inside him.

Remus (until now) had ruled out a happy ending for himself.

being a lycanthrope, he never wanted to pass that burden to his child. so he couldn’t— no, wouldn’t have kids.

but somehow, someway, as he watched you with your little sister. he realized how badly he wanted you to be a mom.

for the first time, Remus realized that he could live happily.

“Remus? are you alright?” You tapped his shoulder rapidly, and he snapped out of his trance.

“Y-yes, sorry I got distracted.”

“you don’t have to apologize.” you smiled brightly up to him, the smile he was so in love with.

the smile he wanted his kids to have.

you four dropped Nessie off back at her common room, and Sirius immediately sprung onto you, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Siri?” you asked through soft giggles.

“I can’t wait to have a kid with you.”

#marauders era #fem!reader #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #marauders #poly!marauders x reader #fanfiction #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #james potter x reader'

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lucius-i-ran · 3 months ago

Text

"Where's the mud, Nico?"

Nico took a moment of silence to understand if Percy was fucking with him. When he saw the dead serious expression carved onto his friends's face he started looking around, searching for black mold or something similar that might have warranted (almost) perfectly sane Percy to get him one sandwich short of a picnic.

"What?"

Percy picked up on Nico's absolute bewilderment

"When I was little I was obsessed with mud, you know? but you understand that there's is not much to be found in a condo right in the center of New York City, right?" Nico nodded. "Before my mom could understand that she could not leave me home alone, she used to go to work and like clockwork, as soon as she stepped out of the house, I would walk no- run to the kitchen sink. With at least three toilet rolls, a gallon of water, eggs and some undetected 'son of Posidon' magic I would create mud-"

Nico imagined little Percy, tiptoeing to the kitchen skin, hands deep in his infernal poultice and forced himself to swallow a laugh.

"-Of course, I was a fucking menace but I wasn't stupid so as soon as I understood that if I was to wash that away, the sink would clog and my mom had to phone that smelly brute of the plumber to repair our sink again, I would absolutely go bananas-"

Nico felt the side of his lips quivered as a less amused, smaller Nico tried to desperately kick a laugh down his throat.

"-And in my paniked, eight year-old brain-"

"You were eight??"

Percy was stone cold serious and Nico was trying really, really hard.

"I'm sorry, please keep going"

"I'm giving you classified information di Angelo, you should be grateful"

"I am" Oh, he was.

"Anyway," Percy gave him a sharp look "the most brilliant idea I could come up with was to hide it in a random point of the house. And somehow, my mom always knew. She says I had got this panicked, adorably guilty look on my face so she would ask: 'where's the mud, Percy?' "

"What has this got to do with anything?"

"I've never had the pleasure of looking myself in the mirror right after hiding the mud, but if I had to guess, I'd say you have the same guilty look in your eyes. So, where's the mud, Nico?"

And Nico realised just how grateful, truly grateful he was Percy told him about the mud.

It was like it closed a gap between them. Like the first brick for the bridge was placed, the first thread of a connection and Nico was glad Percy had been the first one to wove it.

"If I tell you where's the mud" Nico's voice trembled and he took a moment to decide if it was from the tension or the ridiculous thing he just said "Will you promise me not to be angry at me?"

"Do you think my mother never got angry when I hid the mud?"

Nico lowered his head and shook it, tracing small circles in the sand with his hand.

"Exactly, but I was still her son and she still loved me" Percy turned, slightly squinting, the sun hurting his eyes "I'm 98% sure you're not my son, Nico, but you're still my friend. A good one, and I'll still love you." he turned face first into the sun again, closing his eyes, basking in the warmth. "There are worse things that you could do than hiding mud, Nico." that conversation was getting out of hand. "You already did, actually"

Nico looked hurt "Hey.."

"You sold me to your father for informations"

"I was twelve"

"And I've never held that against you"

"Oh, haven't you?"

"Point is" Percy shook his head "I'm still here, talking to you. I went all the way to Rome to save your sorry ass, so I can confidently say that what you're about to tell me will not strike a dent in the affection I have for you"

"Really?"

Percy shrugged "Sure, I might get mad, but I'll get over it in a couple of days. Weeks if it's really that bad. But I can promise you I won't try to strangle you this time. Maybe"

They looked at each other. Man, Nico was glad Percy was so.. Percy. Shiteating grin and all.

"I'm scared" Nico's voice got tiny, almost a whisper.

"Why?"

"Because. This-" he gestured a flat hand between them "-dynamic that we have is already as weird as it can get. What if this is the breaking point?"

"Nico" Percy's voice got firm and kind of dark all of a sudden. It made Nico feel like he was getting scolded by his father. "The only thing you could say to really get me not to talk to you for at least twenty years is that somehow you managed to wipe blue food coloring from existence" then his voice softened "Besides, I really have to go to the bathroom so you either get this over with or I'm pissing off some tree nymphs and trust me, you don't wanna see that"

In normal circumstances Nico would've rolled his eyes and laughed, but in that moment he couldn't even get something similar to a colic-induced smile to grow on his face.

He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. Or at least, he tried to.

"The reason I acted the way I did years ago wasn't because of Bianca" Great start, Nico. "I mean- it was, for a while. But then I realised I wasn't angry anymore. Not at you or Bianca, at least, but at myself"

Percy nodded thoughtfully.

"I didn't hate you" a pause.

"Well.. that wasn't that bad"

"No, you don't understand, Percy. I didn't hate you"

Silence.

"I don't get it"

And Nico had to suppress a curse. How in the earth and heavens below did he ever get a crush on this moron. He felt his cheeks burning with anger and humiliation and Cupid laughing at him, all the way from Croatia. He mentally sent a message to him: kill yourself.

"I- I had- oh gods. I loved you!"

"I would sure hope so! Do you know how much it takes to go from California to Italy?"

Nico had to channel all of the discipline the nuns taught him in elementary school not to rip Percy's hair out, make a wig out of it, put it on his head and start running around camp screaming 'Look at me! I'm Percy Jackson and I'm oblivious as shit '

He straightened himself up and got to his knees, almost pleading for at least two of Percy's braincells to have a conversation about something that wasn't the nautical distance between San Fran fucking cisco and Rome.

"For the sake of all that's good and pure, Percy. I had a crush on you! I was head over heels! Smitten! I fell for you. And I carried the damn torch up until last summer!"

Silence. Nico eased his breath, collected his thoughts and sat back down, just processing how damn stupid he had been.

"That's why I was such a brat. Always distant and- and" he sighed "That's why I kept running away. I couldn't even look at you because it reminded me that I was different. That I wasn't cut out for love. It was killing me"

Silence.

"I'm sorry. I promise it's all over now, it has been for a while. It wasn't even love probably, just you know-" big, fat tears welled up in Nico's eyes "I'm sorry, Percy" he whispered.

He let them fall, silently and warm, striking his cheeks. Looking straight ahead of him, all of his confidence and courage leaving his body to find someone less problematic. Someone who wouldn't tie all chances of a friendship to a boulder, put it on his shoulders and dive into the sea to drown with them.

Percy got up but Nico didn't even dare to take a glance in his direction. He heard his steps getting closer and wished that the son of Poseidon would yell at him or beat him up rather than doing nothing at all. That would kill him.

Fortunately, Percy wasn't Nico and had a secret fourth box in his list of Nico's Coming Out reactions.

He sat. Much closer this time.

He scooted over.

He wrapped an arm around Nico's shoulders.

He held him tight.

And Nico, that up to that point had been absolutely mangling his lower lip trying to kill his sobs, couldn't help but bury himself in the crook of his neck and cry.

All those years of anxiety ridden nights, of buried feelings and humilation. He let them slide down with his tears, swiping them away with the back of his hand, thinking about nothing but the arms that were embracing him. Welcoming, warm, shielding. Familiar, just like the ones that Bianca used to give him. The ones that now he gave to Hazel.

And it was quiet all over again, occasional sniffling and soft sobbing playing along with the leaves to break the silence.

They stayed like that for a good ten minutes.

Percy's hold kept steady, trying not to rush him.

Nico eventually lifted his head and immediately getting embarrassed for the wet splotch he left on Percy's shirt. His mind was quick to come up with something to distract him from it.

"You're not my type anyway"

Percy was the first to yell out his laugh and Nico galdly followed, stopping only when the nymphs nearby peeped their heads through the branches and trunks to check that whatever animals were doing those horrible screeching noises were okay, then rolling their eyes realising they were just two demigods who had officially lost the plot.

They eventually caught their breaths.

"Totally a blow below the belt" Percy 'socked' him in the arm.

"And I'm totally using that mud story against you"

"Well I'm sorry for you but the egg is on your face. The Stolls beat you to it and found my mother's number, somehow. They got her to spill all the embarrassing details"

"What do you mean 'got her'? Sally Jackson enjoyed every second of it and you know that"

An hysterical fit of laughter was threatening to break loose but Percy was quick to change the subject. "So who is your type?"

And in real Apollo kid style, Will Solce made his grand entrance off camera, yelling with the might of a thousand chihuahuas:

"C'mon di Angelo! Three days in the infirmary started five hours ago! Chop Chop!"

"Yup, definitely not you're type"

#it was up to you to find out what it was about #hope y'all like it #cause I do #pjo #percy jackson #nico di angelo #hoo #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo thoughts #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the titan's curse

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film-in-my-soul · 2 months ago

Text

taxonomy | 532 | historymiss

Summary: Jayce can’t look at him. God, how to explain? That Viktor consumed him the way Hextech did? That he wanted nothing more than to make a complete taxonomy of his partner, from the red rings his goggles left around his eyes to the mole that peeked out of his collar even now? That he was, and always had been, a complete and utter fucking fool?

The Secret Equation of Chocolates | 1,379 | CaptainHollow / @captainhollowstories

Summary: Someone left a box of chocolates on Viktor’s desk. He attempts to figure out why.

and they were roommates | 1,392 | historymiss

Summary: Jayce’s eyes dart across his face, and Viktor wonders what he sees. The narrow lines drawn by a childhood of illness and malnutrition? The shadows he can’t seem to get rid of, no matter how many years he spends in Piltover? Or the mind behind it all that calls out so desperately for another?

Lost in my Head | 4,694 | ironcy / @ironcy

Summary: "Jesus, Vik," Jayce said. There was a slightly sharp edge to his voice that was entirely unfamiliar. "Because I was - fuck, because I'm embarrassed." Viktor notices a pattern: the days grow short and Jayce stops smiling.

(see more recommendations below!)

A Lifetime Giving You My Heart | 1,815 | Frawg_Spawn

Summary: “Please, go to bed,” Viktor implores. “I’ll be along shortly.” Jayce only concedes to leave after he’s received not one, not two, but three reassuring kisses.

An Un-Scientific Breakthrough | 2,270 | OrangeChickenPillow / @orangechickenpillow

Summary: Without thinking, Jayce brought his other hand up, placing one on either side of Viktor’s neck. The smaller man didn’t seem to notice, so there was nothing to stop Jayce when he began to squeeze lightly. Running his thumbs along the back of Viktor’s shoulders, he sought out the collections of tense muscles. When he found a particularly bad spot, he dug his thumb into it, rubbing circles against the knot. “Ow, Jayce,” Viktor jumped, craning his head around to shoot the man an annoyed look. “What are you doing?” “Trying to get these knots out,” Jayce shot back plainly. “Well… stop it,” Viktor chuckled nervously, but there was hardly any punch to his tone. Jayce didn’t stop. He knew that he couldn’t have even if he wanted to.

Catch the Fire | 2,822 | Avelera / @avelera

Summary: An extended version of Viktor's awakening scene in Arcane 2.02 "Watch It All Burn" Viktor knows that Jayce's arms around him are the only thing keeping the voice of the Hexcore at bay. He knows he has only a few moments before it takes him away from Jayce forever. He will have to make these moments count.

Vitya | 3,138 | AppleSharon / @applesharonfiction

Summary: “Do you have many friends down here?” Jayce presses the issue, realizing how little he knows about Viktor. He wants to know as much about Viktor as possible. Viktor shrugs and wraps his free arm around his waistcoat, bringing his cane closer to his body as he walks. “Not really.” Early into their partnership, Jayce wants to learn as much as he can about Viktor. Viktor makes it difficult until he doesn't.

Oh No, Mistletoe | 3,544 | zillac / @zillac

Summary: Viktor doesn’t know anything about mistletoe. If Jayce had known that before kissing Viktor, perhaps they might have avoided some misunderstandings.

Academy Tattoo and Piercing | 5,622 | bluejorts / @wolverineheight

Summary: Jayce takes a deep, steadying breath. He can do this. He's been looking for an apprenticeship for MONTHS.

Heaven | 1,792 | LiterallyThePresident

Summary: Heaven was the instant boner that sprung up when an irate Viktor whacked him with his cane, cluing Viktor in on the fact that his partner had a certain taste for pain. Heaven was the spark of intrigue in his eyes when he asked Jayce to teach him how to indulge those tastes.

one simple trick | 2,644 | weatheredlaw / @weatheredlaw

Summary: "Are you scared of fireworks?” Viktor asks, loading the last of the plates in the dishwasher as Jayce looks out the window for the tenth time and says, Maybe we could watch a movie?

Captivated (but I’m so confused) | 3,285 | InAllPossibilities

Summary: “Gods, I love you.” “Fuck, I love you, you brilliant bastard.” “Bye, I love you!” In the early days of hexgate technology development, Jayce starts saying those three little words. Viktor can’t solve the equation of what it all means.

Occam's Razor | 3,718 | RedNightingale

Summary: “Let’s go clubbing tonight. Find a guy you like, see how it flows, and then you can decide what to do with that coworker of yours.” Completely unforeseeable consequences that no one could have possibly predicted ensue.

City of Sunlight | 9,843 | Tlon / @tlonista

Summary: Leaving Zaun for the academy is supposed to give Viktor a new life. Instead it drops him into a world where he never quite fits, until he meets the one man who can make it feel like home. Or, five times Viktor felt out of place in Piltover, and one time he didn't.

Whistled a Tune to the Window | 14,809 | 27dragons / @27dragons

Summary: In which Caitlyn bullies the boys to go with her on a skiing holiday, even tho Jayce has massive trauma about snow and Viktor is too frail for skiing but WHATEVER, and also there's only one bed. (Caitlyn might have planned it that way.)

Novocaine for the soul | 1,931 | MGCraig

Summary: Historically, Jayce doesn’t say filthy stuff in bed. Just a lot of choked-off swearing and repeating Viktor’s name like a prayer and the inherent filthiness of otherwise milquetoast phrases like lift your hips for me and stay just like that and I got you, it’s okay. Sometimes he says something truly transcendental, but it’s always in the moment, always unplanned. Sometimes he forgets he said it at all until Viktor’s reminding him after and saying you should talk like that more often, Jayce. So that’s what Jayce is trying to do. He’s really nothing if not eager to please Viktor.

Lost Time | 2,017 | spicedrobot / @spicedrobot

Summary: Viktor was wrong about so many things, but he wasn't wrong about this. Jayce had understood.

gravity field | 2,718 | eloboosting

Summary: It was with no surprise that he ended up distracted. Unable to concentrate on their work, more scatterbrained and tangential than usual. But it wasn’t an issue, not until he nearly slammed his own hand with a hammer and Viktor stopped him with a concerned, “Are you all right?” He was as all right as a man desperately pining after his male partner and best friend could be. His male partner and best friend who seemed to be fucking every eligible man in Piltover with even the slightest resemblance to Jayce himself.

Favors | 3,220 | the_patron_saint

Summary: Viktor's leg cramps up after hours in the lab, and Jayce offers to give him a massage.

nature of praising | 3,849 | Lorrens

Summary: Jayce is exceptionally receptive to the praise. Viktor finds this fact curious.

Like pressing a kiss to an oncoming train | 4,069 | hexhomos

Summary: Weird. Weird. Viktor had looked so pleased just a few moments ago. Almost glowing. Maybe even happy, for a split second; the sort of thing he only ever is when one of his prototypes turns out successful. Jayce had managed to land a comment smart enough to wring a laugh out of Viktor; and he'd smiled like they were having fun, but now here's that thing again. The borders, the quiet nudging, pushing him away as if he's unable to recognize it. No one else does this to him, not anymore; not when his face is on the newspapers and his name is on everyone's mouths. It's only Viktor. "Do you hate me?" Jayce asks, before he has a chance to process which words his mouth is forming. It feels childish, out in the open cold, spoken like that. It feels like a stupid thought.

Head like a hole | 4,220 | MGCraig

Summary: “You don’t really think you’ll…die,” Jayce says. “You mean that as like, a hyperbole. Right?” “Jayce,” Viktor says. He yanks his bleeding hand free from under Jayce’s hold and rips open Jayce’s dress shirt with both hands, buttons popping across the linoleum. “Look at me. Something is wrong. I don’t know what the hexcore did to me, but my body is saying that if you don’t do this it will shut down. So please, Jayce, help me.”

Notes on delicate treatment | 4,485 | MGCraig

Summary: The thing is, Jayce isn’t worried that he won’t enjoy choking Viktor out. He isn’t worried that it won’t be fun to pin him down and leave long-lasting bruises and ruin him for other men, or whatever power play it is he wants from Jayce. Far from it, actually. Jayce is worried that he’ll like it too much.

It's been six months | 4,768 | MGCraig

Summary: Maybe it’s the laser focus that makes him so appealing. Maybe it’s the thrill of stealing his attention from his work, the prospect of being the most important thing to him for even a moment. Okay. Maybe Jayce is a little obsessed. But Viktor was the only person who believed in him—and hextech. Viktor saved his life. At this point, he’s split his memories into two sections: before-Viktor, and after. “Jayce,” Viktor says, and turns without warning. Jayce is still staring at him. Phenomenal.

Something to hold when I lose my grip | 6,515 | MGCraig

Summary: This isn’t their first attempt to relieve Viktor’s stress. Viktor’s been wound tighter and tighter every day over the last several weeks, it seems. He’s in and out of bed, joining Jayce sometimes as late as three in the morning and then still tossing and turning, and Jayce can’t do much but avoid the condescension of asking can I help and just quietly try to help. But nothing’s worked so far.

System of touch and gentle persuasion | 6,635 | MGCraig

Summary: Four times Jayce was jealous over Viktor, and the one time he acted on it.

Practical solutions for executive burnout | 8,133 | MGCraig

Summary: Jayce slumps back against the wall and Viktor squeezes back across to face him. It’s the only position that maximizes their space in the box, even though Jayce is still intimately aware of the mere inch or two that separates their bodies. “Surely our panel got pushed to the next timeslot,” Viktor offers. “They’ll be back soon.” “Viktor,” Jayce says. “We’re stuck in a box.”

deeper glens. | 8,861 | PineAndPetrichor

Summary: Jayce says, “I’ve given massages before. It could help." Viktor’s eyes fly open on the pillow. “What? To who?" “Girls.” Viktor’s cheeks darken. "And family." Oh, Jayce really fucked it up now.

knowledge (and all of its consequences) | 23,233 | Folie_a_duex

Summary: He’s familiar with the space Viktor takes up, standing next to him by the blackboard or sitting down at the tables. He knows how Viktor will shuffle underneath Jayce’s arm to correct a mistake in his maths, or rewrite a messy theory while Jayce prattles on about the next steps. He knows the surprising sturdiness of Viktor’s cane, as it smacks at his ankles when Jayce doesn’t make room fast enough. Viktor is no stranger to Jayce.

Blog Info ☆ 2025 Reclists ☆ 2024 Reclists

#jayvik #jayce/viktor #jayce x viktor #jayvik podfic #reclist #jayvik reclist #fanfic reclist

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davrinsleftpectoral · 1 month ago

Text

A Word with Friends: Davrin week edition

*taps mic*

Hello! I’m your host for the week, DLP. I spent way too long looking at ridiculous words. I was angry at the English language for not having words for the specific thing I wanted. My sister @blackwall-my-tiny-husband said I annoyed her about it. I looked for a word for one afternoon and discussed it with her when she got home. But she ended up finding this one and I enjoy the way this one sounds when spoken out loud. I think it feels good in the mouth. Thank you @hedwigoprah for starting such a fun game and trusting me to pick a word this week lol.

Rules: Use the challenge word to write a sentence or scene and then tag a few friends. Happy writing!

I included definitions from multiple sources. Anytime I see the word for the week, that is something I do, to really get a feel for the word, so I thought I’d share my research with the class.

This week's word is susurration

Noun

the indistinct sound of people whispering

whispering, murmuring, or rustling. “The susurration of the river.”

In modern usage, we use the word to name a gentle sound characterised by a soft murmuring, persistent whispering, rustling, or even a barely audible buzzing.

I chose this word to be able to be paired with Davrin week, if you wanted. No pressure to use it that way of course, but Davrin is a pretty cool guy. Just saying.

Today’s Davrin prompts are

Shepard/hunter, nature/nurture

Davrin crested the hill ahead of Glandival and Cagan. They were coming along more slowly. At 10 and 4, their stamina naturally didn’t match his. He smiled at them fondly, thinking he should find a place for them to camp for the night. They’d been tracking the halla heard since shortly after sunrise and it was well into the afternoon. The children had kept true to their word, neither had complained about the journey. But he could see their fatigue showing.

Huffing and puffing they came to stand beside him. Cagan came in close and hugged his leg. Davrin reached down and patted his son’s pink haired little head affectionately. Glandival was looking out over the woods before them. She was a very observant child, even at just 10 years old. She wasn’t wild and restless like her mother. Instead, she sat back and took everything in, always watching and noticing things that even Davrin sometimes didn’t see. She did have her mother’s bright pink curly hair, something all their children had inherited, but that was just about the only trait they shared.

Where Esha loved to explore the ruins and find artifacts, Glandival had no interest in them. She was drawn to the forest for entirely different reasons. Glandival was drawn to the animals. She shared a bond with Assan that was entirely different than his own. She also was exceptionally good with the halla, and loved learning how to track them and watch over them. Her natural shepherding instincts were something Davrin and Esha were happy to foster in her.

The susurration of the wind through the leaves was all he heard until Assan let out two cries. His signal that he’d spotted a herd. Davrin searched the skies again and spotted Assan in the air, circling an area not too far off.

“I see Assan has found us a herd. I know you guys must be getting tired. Should we stop here for the evening? I’m sure we can catch up to them in the morning.” Davrin was curious what the pair would say.

“I can keep going,” Glandival said, lifting her chin, daring him to say she couldn’t. Davrin looked over to Cagan. He was younger, smaller than his sister. He wasn’t particularly interested in the halla, he just loved going with Davrin any chance he got, and had begged to come along. Cagan looked up at him with distress. Davrin could see that he was tired, but he didn’t want to say it.

“Okay, if you say you can keep going, we will. Cagan, would you like to ride on my shoulders? That way you can help me spot the heard as we get close?” Davrin asked.

Cagan immediately perked up at the offer of a ride and the chance to be useful in their trek. Davrin lifted the boy up easily, and he squealed in delight at being up so high and close to Davrin. Davrin looked over at Glandival, smiling. He enjoyed the warmth blooming in his chest, something he seemed to feel near constantly when he was with his children. He had never expected to have them, but now with 4 and one more on the way, he was living a dream he didn’t know he’d wanted.

“Let’s go see some halla.”

Tagging to start: @strugglinggranola @serensama @tkwritesdumbassassins @thedissonantverses @tacoteddy22 @thecraftybaroness @himluv @notyourmamasdeerbat @bubblecat-co @mythals-whore @operative-arrow @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @seaglassmelody @sidneysussex @biowaredisasterbisexual @woundedsoul12 @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai @jenn2d2 but anyone can jump in if they'd like! If you do it, tag me! I’d love to see what you do with this word.

@datvcompanionweeks thanks for a great prompt list!

And a bonus meme featuring my rook Esha and Davrin.

#davrinweek2025 #day 1 #davrin dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age veilguard #post game

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lost-romantique · 6 months ago

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Top 5 Moments from each Helluva Boss Episode (Season 2.5)

What better way to welcome the upcoming New Year than to give everyone my favorite moment from each Helluva Boss episode that released this year!

I would love to know what your favorite moment from each episode in Season 2.5 is, so feel free to go ham!

Full Moon

youtube

While absolutely heartbreaking watching these blorbos unknowingly trigger each other as their miscommunication reaches a whole new level of disaster. Blitz's tirade in particular, is my favorite, the sheer emotion, the anger, the betrayal, and the pain coming out of his voice is immense. Brandon Rogers, the voice actor you are...

" What?! FUCK you, Stolas! You spring this feelings bullshit on me, are you fucking kidding?"

"Can I get a FUCKING minute to think after everything you put me through, you pompous, rich ASSHOLE?!"

"Treat me like one of your little butler imps?! You can't just dismiss me like that! I mean, you royal fucks think you can do this EVERY TIME, like you can just play with our feelings because we're smaller and not as IMPORTANT! Well, I'm not letting you, BITCH! LET'S GO!"

Apology Tour

youtube

My favorite scene from Apology Tour is also my favorite heartbreaking scene from Helluva Boss in general. Blitz puts down the cake Verosika left for him, puts his hood on, and walks down the staircase as he's forced to see the carnage he unknowingly caused by hurting people the way he does.

This scene in particular, where Blitz watches Stolas supposedly having the time of his life dancing with BTB kills me because it's one of the only times we see Blitz completely give up Stolas, his "heart".

Ghostfuckers

Ghostfuckers is still most definitely one of my favorite episodes from Helluva Boss, and the scene where Millie comforts Blitz is one of my personal favorites. When Blitz feels like he's nothing more than a monster that destroys everything he touches, Millie tells him he's wrong because he gave her, her entire world.

"He gave me so much: a career, a husband, a future, and now... he's my best friend."

"You... you don't hate me?"

"Naw, never."

"Look. What I said earlier, you've just always been so unbothered by everything. Almost bulletproof and, I guess I never realized how much I depended on that. I didn't know how to react to you being reduced to…Bethany. But I should've respected you like you always do for me. I'm sorry."

Mastermind

youtube

Mastermind has so many memorable moments: from the beautiful Stolitz duet that I'm still obsessed with to the little cheek kiss at the end. However, no scene can beat the desperation and terror of this scene.

Just when Blitz came to the full realization of his feelings for Stolas, he now has to watch the love of his life die for his sake. Blitz sounds so scared, so desperate. He never wanted to die, but he especially doesn't want someone he cares about to die for him, for his sake.

"No! No, th-Stolas, you- you can't! You can't do this! Stolas please! Get the FUCK off me! Stolas! STOLAS!! Stolas! Fucking-use your powers, do something! Stolas!"

Sinsmas

youtube

Sinsmas was filled with so many great and beautiful moments, but this scene in particular means so much to me. We've now reached a point in Blitz's character development, where Blitz allows himself to dream of a happy life where he and Stolas can eventually settle down with their daughters.

It's a real full-circle moment for Blitz because it really shows how much he's grown as a character. Full Moon Blitz would never allow himself to dream of such things. However, Blitz, right now, has grown so much to the point where he is now able to believe that he himself is deserving of love.

"You okay, dad? I can handle this one. You know, if you're not up for it."

"Really?"

"Nah, fuck this. We're going home."

Honorable Mentions

Full Moon - When I See Him

Apology Tour - Blitz & Stolas' Argument

Ghostfuckers - Blitz's Lament

Mastermind - Blitz's (Supposed) Execution

Sinsmas - Stolas & Blitz's Dance

#helluva boss #blitzo #blitzø #helluva boss blitz #ro rambles #stolitz #helluva blitz #stolas #blitzo x stolas #stolas goetia #millie #sinsmas #full moon #apology tour #mastermind #helluva boss season 2 #ghostfuckers #Youtube

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atopvisenyashill · 2 years ago

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patterns of abuse with jaehaerys

this post made me deeply depressed and i reread f&b which was my first mistake.

tldr i’m making the argument that jaehaerys definitely sexually abused saera and alysanne, and likely viserra and gael, and also i hate this man. if you disagree and want to say so *nicely* that’s cool but if you hardcore love jae and don’t want to hear criticism, maybe just scroll past bc i’m not nice to him at all (obviously, i’m accusing him of csa lol).

breaking this down by each woman, so there’s 6 sections: saera, viserra, daella, gael, alysanne, and alicent.

saera targaryen

If she were the king’s firstborn, or better still his only child, she would be well content. Instead she finds herself the ninthborn, with six living siblings who are older than her and even more adored. Aemon is to be king, Baelon most like will be his Hand, Alyssa may be all her mother is and more, Vaegon is more learned than she is, Maegelle is holier, and Daella…when does a day go by when Daella is not in need of comfort? And whilst she is being soothed, Saera is being ignored. Such a fierce little thing she is, they say, she has no need of comfort. They are wrong in that, I fear. All men need comfort.

that’s septon barth’s opinion on her and barth is always right. simply put, she’s a deeply neglected child who acts like a brat to get her parents attention because she’s learned the only way they’ll pay attention to her is if she’s causing a problem.

Before she was eleven, she was stealing wine and ale instead. By twelve, she was like as not to arrive drunk when summoned to the sept for prayer.

The king’s half-witted fool, Tom Turnip, was the victim of many of her japes, and her unwitting catspaw for others. Once, before a great feast where many lords and ladies were to be in attendance, she persuaded Tom that it would be much funnier if he performed naked. It was not well received.

stealing alcohol at 10 and being a committed alcoholic at 12 is not normal behavior. it is a sign of something deeply at wrong at home. also, the way she kind of, sexually humiliated tom, someone who is too “innocent” to even realize she’s sexually humiliating him…gives me the ick re: how she views sex.

Saera had learned the art of getting anything she wanted from her father: a kitten, a hound, a pony, a hawk, a horse (Jaehaerys did draw a firm line at the elephant). Queen Alysanne was far less gullible, however, and Septon Barth tells us that Saera’s sisters all misliked her to various degrees.

i don’t like this. nothing wrong with giving your child gifts (see ned going above and beyond to get arya not just instruction on how to fight but also a specific style that would gel with being smaller than your average opponent) but in conjunction with “jaehaerys ignores saera unless she’s pressing him for an expensive gift which he immediately gives her and alysanne doesn’t get why he caved so quickly” its an alarming dynamic.

also speaks to how isolated saera specifically was, that the only siblings that like her (aemon and baelon) are usually out and about, and there’s a clear wedge between saera and her sisters, even viserra.

The screams were coming from Tom Turnip, who was lurching helplessly in circles trying to escape from half a dozen naked whores, whilst the patrons of the house laughed uproariously and shouted on the harlots. Jonah Mooton, Red Roy Connington, and Stinger Beesbury were amongst those patrons, each one drunker than the last. They had thought it would be funny to see old Turnip do the deed, Red Roy admitted. Then Jonah Mooton laughed and said the jape had all been Saera’s notion, and what a funny girl she was.

again with sexually humiliating tom.

it continues with her friends. it’s not unusual for a 15 year old girl to want to fool around with other 15 year olds but alys and perri are all guilt ridden and upset and alys is with child. it reminds me a lot of cersei sexually abusing taena in affc. when she’s caught (now, mind you, she’s been marched in front of her parents sitting on the throne and not brought to them in their private rooms. she’s being treated right off the bat as if she’s guilty of a crime and not guilty of being a shitty teenager):

“She went from denial to dismissal to quibbling to contrition to accusation to justification to defiance in the space of an hour, with stops at giggling and weeping along the way,” Septon Barth would write. “She never did it, they were lying, it never happened, how could they believe that, it was just a game, it was just a jape, who said that, that was not how it happened, everyone likes kissing, she was sorry, Peri started it, it was such fun, no one was hurt, no one ever told her kissing was bad, Sweetberry had dared her, she was so ashamed, Baelon used to kiss Alyssa all the time, once she started she did not know how to stop, she was afraid of Stinger, the Mother Above had forgiven her, all the girls were doing it, the first time she was drunk, she had never wanted to, it was what men wanted, Maegelle said the gods forgave all sins, Jonah said he loved her, the gods had made her pretty, it was not her fault, she would be good from now on, it will be as if it never happened, she would marry Red Roy Connington, they had to forgive her, she would never kiss a man again or do any of those other things, it wasn’t her who was with child, she was their daughter, she was their little girl, she was a princess, if she were queen she would do as she liked, why wouldn’t they believe her, they never loved her, she hated them, they could whip her if they wanted but she would never be their slave. She took my breath away, this girl. There was never a mummer in all the land who gave such a performance, but by the end she was exhausted and afraid, and her mask slipped.”

What does Jaehaerys ask after all of this? “Have you given any of these boys your maidenhead?” Her response:

“True?” said Saera. It was in that moment, with that word, that the contempt came out. “No. I gave it to all three. They all think they were the first. Boys are such silly fools.”

Now mind you, Alyssa and Daella have both died of childbirth recently and her parents are mad she had sex as a 16 year old bordering on 17 year old, and not the fact that she like, at best peer pressured her besties into having sex and now one of them is pregnant. jaehaerys has only asked if she’s still a virgin.

“I will be married,” the princess said. “Why shouldn’t I be? You were married at my age. I shall be wedded and bedded, but to whom? Jonah and Roy both love me, I could take one of them, but they are both such boys. Stinger does not love me, but he makes me laugh and sometimes makes me scream. I could marry all three of them, why not? Why should I have just one husband? The Conqueror had two wives, and Maegor had six or eight.”

i keep trying not to give my opinion and just lay it all out but the thing is i’d just be reposting the whole scene because it’s just filled with so much weird sex stuff. if you don’t remember it, go reread it. it doesn’t feel (to me) like regular “george is bad at writing sex” vibes but “george is purposefully trying to skeeve you out” vibes but i am willing to admit i could be wrong and he really just doesn’t understand what he wrote.

anyways remember how i said saera acts out to get attention from her parents? all she’s done here is act out, her “crimes” are basically nonexistent; beyond how alys feels about being pregnant, saera consensually had sex with boys around her age who aren’t married, and then blithely compared herself to some asshole relatives. if your teenager idolizes dick cheney that’s probably worrying but not a crime! this is not how jae treats it however.

When the princess heard his words, she rushed toward him, crying, “Father, Father!” but Jaehaerys turned his back on her, and Gyles Morrigen caught her by the arm and wrenched her away. She would not go of her own accord, so the guards were forced to drag her from the hall, wailing and sobbing and calling for her father.

The king was angry and unyielding, for his shame was deeply felt, and he could not forget Saera’s taunting words about his uncle’s wives. “She is no longer my daughter,” he said more than once. Queen Alysanne could not find it in her heart to be so harsh, however. “

saera tries to escape.

This time the princess was not allowed to return to her own chambers. She was confined to a tower cell instead, with Jonquil Darke guarding her day and night, even in the privy.

Princess Saera watched from the window of her cell. Jonquil Darke, her gaoler, made certain that she did not turn away.

that’s as her dad is murdering stinger btw. is he a creepy 19 year old? yeah. but like, making your 15 year old watch you murder her 19 year old trust fund baby stoner boyfriend sure is something.

so then they sent her to the silent sisters where she’s beaten all the time and has to pray all the time and she runs away, becomes a sex worker and literally never looks back.

The truth did not come out until a year later, when the former princess was seen in a Lysene pleasure garden, still clad as a novice. Queen Alysanne wept to hear it. “They have made our daughter into a whore,” she said. “She always was,” the king replied.

“You need her as a Dornishman needs a pit viper,” Jaehaerys said. “I am sorry. King’s Landing has sufficient whores. I do not wish to hear her name again.”

but before we move on, let’s look at one more related ick, when saera’s sons show up to the great council:

From Essos came three rival competitors, grandsons of King Jaehaerys through his daughter Saera, each sired by a different father. One was said to be the very image of his grandsire in his youth.

after her drinking, acting out, and jaehaerys’ focus on calling her a whore, explicitly pointing out that one of her grandsons looks just like jae is a choice. i know they’re super inbred. it’s still uncomfortable in context.

viserra targaryen

alysanne makes no sense here but i’m just gonna quickly explain instead of lay it out or we will be here all day bc viserra’s engagement is completely nonsensical. theomore manderly is old, ugly, has a shitton of heirs, and viserra clearly doesn’t want to marry him. also if she wanted to be queen, why is she going after baelon, aemon is still alive. anyways jaehaerys is no help here, then she goes to baelon for help, but she’s also super drunk.

Frustrated, Viserra next turned to her brother Baelon in hopes of rescue, if court gossip can be believed. Slipping past his guards into his bedchamber one night, she disrobed and waited for him, making free with the prince’s wine whilst she lingered. When Prince Baelon finally appeared, he found her drunk and naked in his bed and sent her on her way. The princess was so unsteady that she required the help of two maids and a knight of the Kingsguard to get her safely back to her own apartments.

she gets drunk with some friends again, goes riding, breaks her neck. i wanted to point out this pattern of drinking and acting out at a young age. as well as this pattern of targaryen daughters who aren’t “meant” for a brother and are promised to men who are old and with heirs

daella targaryen

i wanted to add daella because her getting married at 15 makes as little sense as viserra, and her match to a old man with several heirs is equally nonsensical. but also this:

“I would never marry her,” the boy said, in front of half the court. “She can barely read. She should find some lord in need of stupid children, for that’s the only sort he will ever have of her.”

where did vaegon get that mouth.

Daella was not clever, even her septa had to admit. She learned to read after a fashion, but haltingly, and without full comprehension. She could not seem to commit even the simplest prayers to memory. She had a sweet voice, but was afraid to sing; she always got the words wrong. She loved flowers, but was frightened of gardens; a bee had almost stung her once.

Jaehaerys, even more than Alysanne, despaired of her. “She will not even speak to a boy. How is she to marry? We could entrust her to the Faith, but she does not know her prayers, and her septa says that she cries when asked to read aloud from The Seven-Pointed Star.”

The queen always rose to her defense. “Daella is sweet and kind and gentle. She has such a tender heart. Give me time, and I will find a lord to cherish her. Not every Targaryen needs to wield a sword and ride a dragon.”

so daella is 12 at this point.

Her sixteenth nameday was fast approaching, and with it her womanhood. Queen Alysanne was at her wit’s end, and the king had lost his patience. On the first day of the 80th year since Aegon’s Conquest, he told the queen he wanted Daella wed before the year’s end. “If she wants I can find a hundred men and line them up before her naked, and she can pick the one she likes,” he said. “I would sooner she wed a lord, but if she prefers a hedge knight or a merchant or Pate the Pig Boy, I am past the point of caring, so long as she picks someone.”

i just don’t like this. other “simple” targs are not required to marry, like vaella and aelora, two of daeron ii’s grandfaughters so i don’t get why daella is pressured into marrying before she’s even of age. at least jae 2 forced rhaella and aerys because of a prophecy? what is jae’s reasoning for so sexualizing his daughter?

gael targaryen

this one is definitely a reach but i’d like to point out that this is basically all we know about gael:

Princess Gael, a sweet, shy child of seven, became the queen’s constant shadow and support, even sharing her bed at night.

and our information on how she dies is so shady:

A sweet-natured girl, but frail and somewhat simpleminded, she remained with the queen long after her other children had grown and gone, but in 99 AC she vanished from court, and soon afterward it was announced that she had died of a summer fever. Only after both her parents were gone did the true tale come out. Seduced and abandoned by a traveling singer, the princess had given birth to a stillborn son, then, overwhelmed by grief, walked into the waters of Blackwater Bay and drowned.

how does gael get pregnant by a traveling singer when she never leaves her mother’s side? why doesn’t anyone in court know gael got pregnant and killed herself until after aly and jae both die and how was this even found out?

am i implying that jaehaerys sexually abused all four of his daughters? yes because he literally sexually abuses his own wife.

alysanne targaryen

“I am forty-two years old,” she told the king. “You must be content with the children I have given you. I am more suited to be a grandmother than a mother now, I fear.”

King Jaehaerys did not share her certainty. “Our mother, Queen Alyssa, was forty-six when she gave birth to Jocelyn,” he pointed out to Grand Maester Elysar. “The gods may not be done with us.” He was not wrong. The very next year, the Grand Maester informed Queen Alysanne that she was once more with child, to her surprise and dismay.

he uses the birth that killed their mother and that is condemned by rhaena and alysanne as reckless and cruel of rogar to force on her. that birth.

at this point as well, he had abused saera and daella, then they’re gone, then viserra starts drinking and dies, then jae marital rapes aly into having gael, giving him access to another young girl to abuse…i’m aware this is a very uncharitable reading of him but…

alicent hightower (and kind of alyssa targaryen)

Ser Otto’s precocious fifteen-year-old daughter, Alicent, became his constant companion, fetching His Grace his meals, reading to him, helping him to bathe and dress himself. The Old King sometimes mistook her for one of his daughters, calling her by their names; near the end, he grew certain she was his daughter Saera, returned to him from beyond the narrow sea.

saera is the one he fixated on yet again but notable that he’s fixated on his daughters as he dies and not his sons, despite jaehaerys turning to drink after aemon died bc he was so upset.

He announced his intention to wed Lady Alicent of House Hightower, the clever and lovely eighteen-year-old daughter of the King’s Hand, the girl who had read to King Jaehaerys as he lay dying.

The Hightowers of Oldtown were an ancient and noble family, of impeccable lineage; there could be no possible objection to the king’s choice of bride. Even so, there were those who murmured that the Hand had risen above himself, that he had brought his daughter to court with this in mind. A few even cast doubt on Lady Alicent’s virtue, suggesting she had welcomed King Viserys into her bed even before Queen Aemma’s death. (These calumnies were never proved, though Mushroom repeats them in his Testimony and goes so far as to claim that reading was not the only service Lady Alicent performed for the Old King in his bedchamber.)

i know it’s just mushroom being a perv but a rumor that 15 year old alicent “serviced” jaehaerys existing besides rumors that he mistook 15 year old alicent for the daughter he last saw when she was 17 - and viserra was 15, gael 19, and daella 15, all around alicent’s age and all died before age 20. all the targaryen girls that weren’t born “for” a brother exit the narrative after some sort of sexual abuse that centers around jae, as teenagers; daenerys was born for aemon, alyssa for baelon, and maegelle for vaegon before they both fucked off and maegelle was too pious (and too old). this idea of being “for” a brother leads directly to alyssa’s death before 30:

“You were made for battles, and I was made for this. Viserys and Daemon and Aegon, that’s three. As soon as I am well, let’s make another. I want to give you twenty sons. An army of your own!” It was not to be. Alyssa Targaryen had a warrior’s heart in a woman’s body, and her strength failed her. She never fully recovered from Aegon’s birth, and died within the year at only four-and-twenty.

and alysanne being “for” jaehaerys is how he excusing sexually abusing her into a risky pregnancy. essentially what i fear is that because saera, daella, viserra, and gael aren’t “for” someone, jaehaerys gets it into his mind that that are for him. even without him raping them tho, that subtext is there! he is entitled to saera’s virginity and calls her a whore multiple times, even decades after she’s left, and murders her boyfriend in front of her. he claims a weird sexual ownership over his neurodivergent daughter daella and his alcoholic, depressed daughter viserra, and we get zero information on gael’s pregnancy or his reaction to it. but jaehaerys deciding his daughters are “for” him certainly has a basis in canon just judging from the erratic and worrying behavior of his younger daughters.

jaehaerys is a creep and i hate him and i don’t know how much of this is on purpose (like, will aegon vi or dany find out jaehaerys was a shady pedo and it shatters their world? will dunk and egg find it out and it affects their plot somehow? did george just put it in there to make a comment on power and monarchy and misogyny, similar to aegon iv raping the bracken women? or is just there for window dressing creepiness, like “i will pepper in the fact that jaehaerys is sexually obsessed with his daughters” thing?) or if george just made jaehaerys sexually obsessed with his daughters on accident?

on the one hand, it seems out of character for george. he romanticizes drogo thru dany’s eyes but it’s clear he’s meant to be seen as a creep (dany talking about being pregnant followed by “she had just turned 14” is sickeningly jarring for a reason) and also, drogo dies bc of his own pride. sansa doesn’t like any of the old dudes touching her; she is at least marginally freaked out by her wedding night, the unkiss, and lf & dontos taking liberties with her, and rightly. the story that’s told about the mountain raping a girl and making the father pay him is meant to disgust us. the walk of shame is a harrowing chapter to read, because whatever cersei’s crimes, this sexual humiliation is not something she deserves. on and on. yes, we all hate the way arya is sexualized in the mercy chapter, but crucially, she’s not blithely and happily seducing these pervs, she’s going hard candy on their asses. is this just messy set up for something like that?? i think, given how little dany knows about her family’s crimes that somehow learning jae sexually abused (and maybe even impregnated) his own daughters after she herself experiences sexual abuse would be huge. the same goes for aegon vi learning that sexual abuse runs rampant in his family tree; would he empathize with saera hiding out in essos to escape the sexual abuse of her father, see some of elia and his own plight in her? in gael?

or did george really just. not realize how sexually obsessed jaehaerys was with his daughters?

idk how to end this. where’s the winds of winter george i need answers.

#anti jaehaerys targaryen #anti fire and blood #valyrianscrolls #saera targaryen #viserra targaryen #gael targaryen #debated the vs tag bc i know it’s probably gonna annoy some people but. i do actually wonder if this will be a plot point in the books #or if it was an accident #rani attempts meta #gael and the bard #saerhaerys #jaehaerys the cruel

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caystar13star · 2 months ago

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This will hopefully eventually be expanded, but I wanted to share this for daggerfest since it’s Rooster. Definitely has some angst. Sorry about the spacing as well- posting from my phone:

“This is how I find out you’re stateside?”

Bradley shrugged, unrepentant as he strode over to the pool table. “Thought I’d surprise you.”

Phoenix nailed him with her pool cue as punishment, either for the lack of communication or his smart mouth. “Guess I surprised you back.”

Straightening up, he hugged her. He had seriously missed his best friend while he was overseas. “Good to see you.”

She smiled, patting his shoulder. “Good to see you too. Where’s your shadow?”

Jake chose that moment to announce himself. “Bradshaw! As I live and breathe.”

Phoenix piped up again after they were done peacocking for each other. “I meant your smaller shadow, not Bagman.”

Bradley chuckled, wrapping his arm around his boyfriend as he turned to answer her. “Nicky has been staying with Jake’s mom. She’s bringing him out here tomorrow since we’re both stationed here for however long.”

Jake grinned as he pulled out his phone, always happy to show off. “Look at these pics she sent. He’s gotten so big already! Definitely gonna be a giant like his daddy,” he joked fondly, nudging Bradley.

“You have a son?”

The sheer amount of hurt in his voice was obvious to everyone listening. Bradley whipped around and stared at the man he hadn’t seen in way too many years.

Mav was shaking his head and backing away. Tears filled his eyes as he stared at the boy—man—he realized he didn’t know anymore. He didn’t know if he had ever really known him.

“I called you—repeatedly—when Ice had cancer. I sent you an invitation to our wedding. I guess you ignoring those should have told me how you felt. But this…this really takes the cake.”

The team stood there stunned as the older man turned and pushed his way out of the bar. They had no idea who he was, or how he was connected to Rooster, but judging by the tears in his eyes, he definitely wasn’t a stranger.

Phoenix was staring at her best friend like she’d never seen him before. “Who was that? How does he know you?”

Jake looked equally as confused, but he rubbed comforting circles on his partner’s back. He had an idea who that might be, but he would wait until they were alone to ask his Roo.

Bradley couldn’t get his voice to work. He felt absolutely gutted by the sheer amount of pain in Mav’s voice and the tears in his eyes. He hadn’t set out to deliberately hurt the older man; his life had just been a whirlwind from the time Nicky was unceremoniously dumped on his doorstep two days after he was born. He’d been lucky that he and Jake were “on again” at the time, and that they were stationed in Texas near Jake’s mom and sisters. The Seresin women had stepped in and taken over care of the newest Bradshaw, and his daddy as well.

While he had considered reaching out to Mav, he felt it was hypocritical of him to do so when, as Mav had pointed out, he had ignored them when they needed him the most. He was actually planning to call Mav and Ice once he got Nicky settled with him at North Island. Mav had apparently found him before he could get that far, though.

#top gun maverick #daggerfest #bradley rooster bradshaw #hangster #jake hangman seresin #pete maverick mitchell

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queerly-autistic · 1 year ago

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Right, I think it's time for some positivity, and also a reality check (and I mean that in the most loving way possible) regarding the campaign to save OFMD. I've seen a lot of people saying 'it's been nearly a month, we should have been picked up by now', and whilst, yes, some cancelled shows have received very quick movement to other streamers, it's absolutely not the story for all of them. We've seen numerous shows follow different journeys from cancellation to pick-up, and there's no way of knowing what journey we might be going on.

Are we in the fast lane where we get picked up the next month (lookin' at you, Lucifer and The Expanse)? The middling lane where it takes months for a pick-up deal to be hashed out (lookin' at you, One Day At A Time, The Tourist, and Warrior)? The slow lane where we keep pushing for years and then eventually crowdfund a film (lookin' at you Veronica Mars)?

I think we have to consider the fact that OFMD being cancelled was a last minute thing that blindsided the cast and crew (and shocked people across the industry). So we're going into it in a different position to other shows that had maybe had a hint/suggestion that cancellation was coming before it happened. This is because if there are rumours of cancellation circling, it gives a chance for feelers to be put out to other networks/by other networks before the actual cancellation is confirmed. That didn't happen here. Which is important.

It's not just wham bam thank you ma'am and now you've been picked up by Netflix (or insert streamer of your choice). It's a negotiation. It's a process. It takes time. There is a very good reason that people heavily suspect that Brooklyn 99 had already been picked up before the cancellation was officially announced, and that the cancelled-to-new-home-in-24-hours thing was pretty much just a marketing stunt. No way was that all negotiated to the point of announcement within a day,

There are many reasons why any potential pick-up elsewhere might take a bit more time. For example, if David is (hopefully) juggling interest from multiple different networks, then that has to be hashed out and negotiated to make sure the best deal is reached for everyone. Also, OFMD is potentially a more complicated show to negotiate than we imagine: at a very basic level, it has a large ensemble (a large international ensemble), which would need to be discussed and negotiated, and it's filmed in New Zealand, which would need to be discussed and negotiated. That doesn't work against it in terms of 'it's more complicated, so it won't be picked up' but it could very well mean that the time needed to negotiate a pick-up is longer.

Remember: One Day At A Time had a much smaller cast (which wasn't an international cast) and it basically had one single studio set (being a sitcom), and that took three months to be saved.

I chatted with my friend, also a fan, who has worked in television production previously and is currently working as a screenwriter, and she confirmed just how much time, discussion and negotiation this stuff takes. She basically said: yep, this all takes time and this is very normal. And this is coming from someone who is very firmly in the 'I am refusing to get my hopes up because I can't bear to get hurt again' camp of trying to save the show.

On that note, I think it's important to address David's silence, because I've seen a few people panicking about that. There's a very good chance that if he is in negotiations right now (and I do not know if he is, he might not be!) then there would be a lot he wouldn't be able to talk about. And he knows that we dissect every single syllable of his posts, so posting anything would be risky. Negotiations are tricky things that involve juggling multiple balls (and torches and knives and chainsaws), and a lot of push-and-pull, back-and-forth, variables-upon-variables, and so going silent on social media would be absolutely what I would expect from him if that was happening.

It's eerie for us because we had a burst of activity from David, a lot of noise and a lot of confidence, and then...nothing. That's jarring, and anxiety-inducing. But I want us to think of it this way: David did a big post about being back in New York, about things looking up, and then he went uncharacteristically silent, which is what would happen if things were going on that he couldn't talk about. I have no idea what, if anything, might be going on, but it's important not to see this as a bad thing.

As someone on Twitter, who also works in the industry (they work as an actor) said the other day: in this business, no news is good news.

(also important to note: if he suddenly reappears on social media, that also doesn't mean that any negotiations have fallen through, and we should all panic; anything could be happening, and I know we're little anxiety gremlins - me included, bigly - but until we are definitively told that this is over and there's no hope, then it's not over and there is hope)

There's no way of knowing what is going on, or how long whatever is (or isn't) going on might take. This might be a sprint, but it could just as easily be a marathon. The show not being picked up immediately does not mean there is no hope, as we have seen with numerous other shows. Look at fandoms like Shadow and Bone, who are still fighting tooth and nail for their show because they refuse to give up on it. They haven't given up, and neither should we.

We need to decide if we love OFMD enough to fight for it long-term, to settle in for a long battle, and keep pushing for as long as it takes. And I think, as difficult as it might be, we all know that this show, and its cast and crew, is worth it.

#ofmd #our flag means death #save ofmd #save our flag means death #renew ofmd #renew our flag means death #adopt our crew #be a lighthouse

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peeves-gurl · 2 years ago

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Thighs

Fred Weasley × BigThigh! Female

i literally have no idea where this is coming from after a year of writing nothing.

Summary: She hates her thighs, but her boyfriend loves them, and he wants to make sure she knows.

Warnings: established relationship, self hate, body dismorphia, lots of fluff, pet names (sweetheart/baby/darling/ love), mention of pregnancy, 18+ MDNI!!

FEMALE CHARACTER HAS NO NAME, AND NO SPECIFIC SKIN/EYE/HAIR COLOUR (partly because i couldn't make my brain come up with so many details😭)

smut: oral fem recieving, thigh fucking, face sitting, unprotected p in v, praise, body worship, hickeys? idk

She looked at herself in the mirror, light makeup highlighting her features beautifully. The thin straps of the sundress hanging across her shoulders, the top resting just above her bust, not exposing much, but not too conservative either. The fabric was a light powder blue with tiny flowers along its length, and it hugged her figure perfectly. It was the perfect summer dress, upto her mid thigh.

She looked alright in her opinion, good even, but for her thighs. They were too thick, with too many stretch marks. The cellulite was dimpled and heavy, and jiggled with each movement of hers, and it truly disgusted her with herself. She was okay with her body, and honestly thought she was attractive when she was dressed well, like today, but her thighs were always the problem.

Gritting her teeth in annoyance, she flung open the door of her wardrobe that she shared with Fred, and picked out a different dress. It was a pale pink one, loose and long, and extended beyond her knees, hiding her biggest insecurity. Still slightly grumpy, she completed the finishing touches to her look, when she heard her boyfriend's voice from the door.

"You ready love?" Fred called out, leaning against the doorframe.

"Yeah. All done." She smiled, grabbing her purse and slipping on her sandals, before walking towards the handsome man. He was dressed in a white tank top vest and blue jeans, and a blue and white floral shirt wrapped around his broad shoulders, completing the summery look.

Fred held out his hand to her, and she delicately placed her much smaller one into his, and he gently pulled her closer to himself. Placing a tender kiss on his lips, she smiled up at him, admiring his beautiful eyes and perfect freckles and his signature Weasley hair that she loved so much.

Fred's eyes trailed down her body in admiration, before he turned back to meet her eyes with a puzzled look.

"You didn't wear that dress?" He asked sincerely, hoping to finally see her in it since she had been so happy buying it weeks ago.

"Not in the mood." She lied, and he nodded convincingly, though he was anything but convinced by her answer.

"Gorgeous, never the less," he said, complimenting her as he always did.

"You more," she smiled, kissing his cheek.

Since buying the dress, it was the only thing that she had talked about. She gushed over how her bag and sandals went perfectly with it, and how she'd style her hair whenever she'd get the chance to wear it. And now, she stood there, wearing something else, and Fred was sure there was more to it than she was showing.

They hurriedly locked their place and apparated to their destination, Lee Jordan's housewarming party. It was just a close knit celebration that he and his girlfriend, Andrea, were hosting together, since moving into their first appartment in London.

She blended quickly among the known faces, smiling and chatting with all their old friends and then joining Andrea and Angelina in a small tour of the appartment. The entire party then ended up in the living room, and she, along with Fred, George and Angelina hopped around their circle, enjoying the little reunion they were having with the entire gang from Hogwarts.

Fred couldn't help but look at her. He always thought her to be the most beautiful woman in the world, and himself to be the luckiest man in the world, to be able to call her his girlfriend. He loved looking at her hair, her soft makeup and her smile, but today it wasn't as big as it always was, and he knew it wasn't as real, and it physically hurt him to not know the reason for it. He was sure it had something to do with her dress, because every time someone complimented her tonight, there seemed to be a bit of hesitation before she uttered her usual 'thank you'.

She'd been saving it up for some 'special occasion', and as soon as Lee had called to extend an invitation to the party, she had been delighted at the idea of getting to wear it the way she had wanted. Fred was happy that she was happy, and now she wasn't, and he didn't know why.

It was nearly midnight when the party ended, and Fred and George finally bid goodbye, ready with their plan to spend the next day together at their shop, as per usual. She hugged Angelina, and then got hold of Fred's hand and apparated them back to their front door. Fred unlocked it and hung the keys in their spot as she headed back to their room to change into her pajamas. The feeling of her thighs touching each other under the dress made her want to throw up. She felt disgusting in her body and she just wanted to cover herself from head to toe and bury herself quietly into the blankets.

Her expression must have given it away, because Fred walked into the room right as she took out her pajamas.

"Hey," whisper into her ear, kissing her neck softly, and his hands circled her waist. "Don't change just yet, love. I haven't had the chance to admire you properly tonight."

"The dress is a bit uncomfortable", she replied, trying to stop her voice from breaking.

"Just a few minutes, please?" He requested, and she complied, twisting around in his arms to finally face him. His eyes were so full of love for her that it nearly made her cry, and when he leaned down to press his lips to hers, a stray tear managed to find its way down her cheek.

"Baby what's wrong?" He asked, gently wiping the tear away.

"Nothing, just tired," she lied.

"Why didn't you wear that dress today?" He asked again, and she repeated her previous answer of not being in the mood to wear it.

"Don't lie to me," he condemned softly, and she knew she was caught. "Tell me love, why didn't you wear it?"

The singular tear that had made its way out of her eyes was now followed by many more, and before she knew, she was a sobbing mess in front of her boyfriend. Fred pulled her into himself and comforted her, his hands gliding over her back and just letting her know that he was there, and he would be there forever.

When she had finally calmed down, Fred gently guided her over to their bed, and sat down, as she stood before him with puffy and swollen eyes. He slowly pulled her onto himself, making her straddle his lap and resting his hands across her back.

"What's the matter Princess?" he coaxed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "It's something about that dress isn't it?"

She breathed in deeply, contemplating weather she should tell him or not. Of course she can tell him, he's Freddie, her Freddie, and he'd always understand.

"Ihatemythighs" she blurted out in a single breath, only to find Fred looking down at her, amused.

"Try saying that slower baby? I'm not that smart," he joked, earning a small smile.

"I hate my thighs," she said finally. "They're fat and ugly and they move around a lot, and that dress reveals them too much."

"Don't say that darling!" Fred said seriously, upset over what she'd just said about herself. "I've seen you try that dress on and you looked gorgeous!"

"Those trial room lights make everything look good, but I look horrid in that dress." She said.

"Do not say that about yourself," Fred scolded. "You're the most beautiful woman I've seen, with the most beautiful body and the most beautiful thighs. I won't hear anyone talk like that about you, even if you're the one saying it."

"You'd obviously say that, you're my boyfriend," she reasoned.

"I'm not lying sweetheart, I swear. You don't have to be insecure about anything." He said, only to be matched with a blank look from her.

"You don't believe me." He stated in disappointment, settling his hands over her thighs, through her dress, his fingers steadily moving towards the hem. "Can I?" He asked cautiously, not wanting to make her any more uncomfortable. She took a deep breath before nodding, allowing him to flip it up and run his fingers on the smooth skin.

"I love you. Every thing about you is perfect. You've got the most beautiful face, and I can't stop looking at it. Your eyes, your lips, your cute button nose," he said, leaning in to peck it. "I love your hair, and you look gorgeous when you leave it down. I love your neck, and that tiny freckle on your collarbone." He buried his nose at the base of her neck, breathing her scent, and nibbling gently.

"I love your boobs, and I can't stop thinking about them when you're not around, and your bum too," he smiled cheekily as his hands trailed up her thighs to gently squeeze her ass, and then returned to their previous place. "I love your arms, the way they wrap around my neck when I kiss you. And those damn hands, those fingers, could very well be the death of me." He smiled, kissing her exposed shoulder, and then her upper arm a few times.

"And your stomach is so soft darling. I love just looking at it, thinking if someday you'd let me put a baby in there?" He smiled, earning back a smile and a nod from her. "Your pussy, baby. I'm not even going to say anything, because you know she's better than drugs. And I love your legs, especially when you show them off in pretty skirts and dresses. I love it when you wrap them around me and pull me closer when I make love to you."

"So pretty," he whispered, caressing her thighs, barely audible. "Such beautiful thighs baby, so soft. I want to bury myself into them right fucking now."

"Freddie, please" she whispered back, not even sure what she was pleading for.

"Can I baby? Please?" He said, running his fingers over the smooth skin, and she nodded without thinking.

Fred's arms looped around her back, holding her tight to himself as he stood up and turned them around. He gently lay her down on the bed and got on between her legs. Leaning down to kiss her deeply, he whispered praises to her, making her feel so loved.

He kissed her neck and collarbone, leaving a few stray hickeys, and then pushed the straps of her dress aside to show the same love to her shoulders. Looking up at her for confirmation, he slipped her dress off her body and tossed it away in the room.

She was there now, in nothing but a pair of panties, and she could feel her usual confidence seep back into her body. She reached for Fred and pulled him back in, kissing him passionately and lovingly. Her hands fisted his shirt and pulled it off him, soon followed by his tank top vest, leaving his torso as bare as hers.

"Hmm that's how I like it," he encouraged into the kiss. Soon enough, he moved to her breasts, biting and sucking, and the room was filled with her moans. He kissed his way down to her panties, and she lifted her hips to let him pull them down. He placed her legs over his shoulders, and she shut her eyes in anticipation.

Instead of going right to her clit, he began to kiss and caress her thighs. "They're so pretty sweetheart. Why would you ever dislike them?" He whispered, teasing the skin with his teeth. He licked up the length of her left thigh, but stopped short of where she needed him. He began to suck and nibble the flesh there, drawing moan after moan from her throat. Soon enough, he was repeating his actions on her right thigh, and she was getting hornier by the minute.

Finally, his tongue reached where she wanted, and her eyes rolled back into her head at the feeling. Her fingers found themselves intertwined in his hair, pulling and tugging each time he did something more pleasurable than he'd done previously. Her walls had began to clench around nothing, and the pleasure she felt was too much to hold back. She was so close to her climax, moaning Fred's name, at the edge of bursting, when Fred stopped his actions and pulled away. Groaning, she sat up to face him, as he smiled through his slick covered lips.

"Sit on my face," he demanded with a grin.

"What? No." She said breathlessly.

"Please baby, it's not something that we haven't done before," he reasoned.

"But my thighs are really big and you..."

"No buts, come on!" He said, lying flat on his back, waiting for her to climb onto him.

Still not very sure of the idea, she positioned herself, but didn't put any weight on him, choosing to hover over his face instead. A blush crept up her neck and made its way to her face at being so spread out in front of him.

Fred smiled and licked a stripe from her entrance to her clit, and her head hung back at the feeling, as he picked up right where he had left off. Seeing her pleasure, his hands caressed her ass, before he pulled her onto himself entirely. He moaned at the feeling of being between her thighs, and began eating her out with even more enthusiasm than before.

She was so lost in her pleasure that she forgot her insecurity and began grinding down his face once his tongue entered her, and her moans were reciprocated with his own. She was coming in mere minutes, and it was probably the one of the best orgasms she'd had.

As she came down from her high, she shifted back from his face, sitting on Fred's chest now. His eyes were drowsy and his face was covered in her slick, as he smiled up at her. She immediately felt something hard behind herself and instantly reached her hand out, unzipping his jeans and letting her hand slide under the waistband of his boxers to reach his dick. Fred groaned in pleasure when her hand brushed against his sensitive tip, and instinctively jerked his hips forward.

"Don't," he grunted, almost sounding pained. "I won't be able to hold it in."

"Then don't hold it in, Freddie." She smiled, leaning down to kiss him, moaning at her own taste all over his mouth. She quickly whispered a soft "I love you," only for him to hear.

"Want to fuck you baby," he said. "Please."

She let go of him at his request, and climbed off him. Her hands busied themselves with getting rid of his jeans and boxers, as he lay on the bed watching her. As soon as he was completely undressed, he sat up, and then proceeded to get off the bed, much to her confusion. He walked over to ger dresser, hurriedly tossing everything off it onto the chair next to it. He came back towards her then, offering his hand to her, and she took it, following him off the bed.

"Going to fuck your thighs today, baby." He declared, "Need you to know how much I love them. Is that okay?"

She nodded, letting him sit on the sturdy wooden table, with his back against the mirror, and stood right between his legs. One of his hands rested on her waist as he finally took his length in the other and guided it to her slit, rubbing it through her wetness and letting his head fall back against the mirror in pleasure. She had enough of his teasing now, so she quickly took matters into her own hands. Her fingers pulled away his own from his dick, and she wrapped her palm around him now. He let her take the lead, both his hands clutching onto her waist, and holding her in place. Spreading her hickey covered thighs a little, she guided his tip through the gap. He thrusted forward in relief, and he brushed perfectly against her clit, giving her just as much pleasure as him. His head now rested on her shoulder, and his moans went straight into her ears, turning her into a complete mess.

It was slow at first, since they had never tried this before, but once the pleasure built up, Fred's thrusts became more confident and sure, until he was close enough for them to become sloppy once more. She was just as close, her clit throbbing with each stroke against it.

"I'm so close baby," he whispered hoarsely. "Where do you want it?"

"Inside Freddie, please!" She replied, barely able to keep her eyes open. He immediately pulled her onto himself and she was straddling his lap now, her hand guiding his tip into her warmth. She sat down as soon as the tip was inside, completely sheathing him, and burying her face into his chest.

"So warm love. So good." He moaned, thrusting up into her mercilessly.

"You're so big Freddie. Could never get used to you," she said back in her state of complete haze. Her walls fluttered around him, and he connected their lips, his tongue intertwined hers as she came hard. Fred followed seconds later, his moans swallowed by her as their lips remained connected, and his warmth coated her insides.

She once again buried herself into his chest as they stilled, her arms in their rightful place around him, and his softening dick still inside her. He held her close to himself, warm breath fanning her back as his head rested on her shoulder.

"Baby?" He whispered after a few moments of silence, and his voice was laced with his usual mischief.

"Hmm?"

"Do you like your thighs yet? If not then I'd love to try again."

#fred and george #fred weasley #harry potter #weasley twins #fred wealsey fic #fred weasley smut #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfics #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fluff #fredweasley #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley imagine #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter smut

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