#being in the middle of it is so different than just listening

[after-witch]

Damn Your Eyes Chapter 2 [Yandere Ren Hana x Reader]

Title: Cream and Sugar [Damn Your Eyes Chapter 2] [Yandere Ren Hana x Reader]

Synopsis: A fateful meeting at a bookstore between you and Ren Hana, years upon years after your escape from Strade, turns into a coffee shop date. You're not supposed to accept drinks from strangers, but Ren's not a stranger--so it's fine, right?

Word count: 5,322

notes: yandere, descriptions of violence/death/wounds, drugging

AO3 LINK

How did one get over something like Strade? Get over that house and that basement? How do you move on with your life when you’ve seen someone’s guts spill out of their body while they’re still alive, and you’ve been instructed to pick them up and play with them for the delight of sick fucks watching it all on a paid stream?

The pretty answer, the one everyone recites when asked, because that’s what you do: with therapy and time and forgiveness for yourself. You take it one day at a time. You treat yourself. 

The real answer: You didn’t. You don’t. You can’t. 

Not fully. Because “getting over” something like that means it will eventually no longer affect you, no longer being a part of you. 

And sure. You will, eventually, go about something that feels like an ordinary life. 

You will walk into a grocery store with a tidy little list, you will roll your eyes at the rising cost of laundry detergent, you will smile at a cashier who says they like your outfit. You will date and drink coffee and sway to your favorite song while making dinner. 

But inside, inside of you , you are still there--still hovering at the last step of the basement stairs, listening to someone’s guttural shrieks as their skin is blow-torch melted down. Still clinging to Ren in the middle of the night, flinching when his hands wander over a recent gouge, a hastily stitched cut--an accident, he whispers, and you’re never sure if you believe him.

And that is what happened to you. 

It took years, of course, to even get close to that semblance of normalcy. A few years were spent in feverish hiding, running from place to place with no paper trails that might lead some gorehound that subscribed to Strade’s torture porn sniffing at your door, hungry for more. 

But you settled down, in time. Slowly. Bit by bit, piece by piece, inch by inch. 

That took years, too--the settling. 

It started with staying in an apartment for more than three months at a time. It started with going to the grocery store wearing only sunglasses, instead of sunglasses, a wig, and the most nondescript clothing you could fish out of a bargain bin. It started with applying for real jobs, not just seedy work that paid cash, quick.

It ended here, in this quaint little home that you shared with your husband for the past five years, though you’d lived together for longer. It ended here, with a modest marketing career that you’d built up after going back to college. It ended here, with a life you built for yourself; frail and a bit unorthodox, but a life nonetheless. 

You wouldn’t have been able to survive, if you hadn’t adapted. There is only so much terror the human man can manage before breaking entirely, and so--adaptation. 

It was a gift that your husband didn’t mind your… differences. The heavy insistence on home security, the desire for privacy, the slow way you gave trust to strangers--if you gave it at all. 

Some things did bother him. He grumbled about your lack of social media presence, and you’d once had an awful fight when his sister put a photo of you on Facebook that you’d demanded, in furious tears, be taken down. 

But, deep down, it wasn’t like you could blame your husband for bucking against your near tantrum-like reaction. For the way he sometimes sighed as you locked the front door with triple locks, and an electric sensor. For the way his jaw sometimes set, when you did something that wasn’t normal to anyone who hadn’t been the extended torture victim of a serial killer that doubled as a snuff porn producer.

Because you knew--deeper down--that you were still haunted by the ghosts in that basement. Strade and the torture victims and Ren and yourself, shaking like a leaf, bleeding onto concrete. You knew, even if the man you slept beside in a bed every night had no inkling of it, that you could never step back across that threshold and be the way you were before.

But.

And there’s always a but, isn’t there?

But… that was okay. It was okay that you could never go back; it was okay that you were someone new; it was okay that you weren’t okay, and you’d never be okay in the fullest sense of the word.

Your life was a life you created out of shaking fingers, something clawed out with dirty fingernails. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours.

What more could you ask for, after Strade?

What more could you ask for, after anything ?

--

Books are a vice. More than smoking, more than sex. You could give up sex, you could swear you’ll never buy another pack of smokes, but you could never give up books. 

Okay, okay. You’re being over dramatic and theatrical. But how can you think of books as anything other than a sinful pleasure when you’re surrounded by these shelves and stacks, imagining that one day you can afford an extension on your home and dedicate an entire room (or two--why not, in a daydream?) solely to books?

You’re not even supposed to be here today. It was your day off, and your calendar was packed to the brim with mundane errands. Today’s schedule certainly didn’t leave room for indulgently browsing at a bookstore, but sometimes you just have to live a little, don’t you? 

Although if you come home with yet another bag of books, your husband is bound to shove his face into the nearest couch cushion and scream. But c’mon. It wasn’t your fault that you’d long since run out of shelf space and were prone to stuffing the books into boxes that cluttered the closests. 

Your fingers wander over the spines of the books crammed onto the shelves, catching the uneven mismatched spaces between with every dip. The spines are often worn and weathered, some of them even peeling a little. 

This was why you preferred secondhand bookstores. No neat lines of fresh new books set up to catch the eye and make a sale here. No, instead there were countless books shoved together with no care for size or color or sometimes (depending on who was stocking that day) even genre. 

For instance, today you find a battered paperback copy of Carrie by Stephen King right next to a suspiciously pristine How to Keep Your House from Drowning that probably still has an uncracked spine. That poor soul, with a messy house. Maybe they should have read the book. 

You’re about to keep moving when, on second thought: Your partner might get a kick out of finding that book on his nightstand. Or he’ll chuck it at your head (lovingly) for bringing it into the house. It’s a 50/50 gamble that you’re willing to take.

And so you go to pull it out, a private little grin on your face, just as another hand reaches across for Carrie.

Fingers and elbows bump together and you feel that slight flush of awkward embarrassment rush to your cheeks as you sputter out, “Sorry!” Your voice even goes up an octave, an annoying habit that you’ve been trying to train out of yourself.

The stranger pulls away and mutters their own low apology. They sound just as awkward as you, which makes you feel a little better, at least, so you turn to look at them and offer an embarrassed smile and you think, briefly, maybe you’ll grab Carrie for them or cheekily ask if they were going for the cleaning book--

But when you turn to look at them, all thoughts and cheek are snuffed out.

Not because the man in front of you is wearing a nicely tailored business suit and matching fedora hat; a dark gray complimented by a muted burgundy tie. Like he’s off to a meeting or comes from a big city where such outfits are often found in shops and cafes during lunch hours.

Not because the man in front of you is attractive, with red hair with a bit of ever so slightly silver sticking out from underneath his hat; his cologne, soft but spicy, tickles your nose. 

But because the man in front of you is Ren. 

Older, yes. His hair and face peppered with signs of time, just like yours. There are scars on his face that you remember--some etched onto his flesh right in front of you, and some from that gray area of before, when Strade had yet to take you--and some you don’t. 

Your body is lead, your throat is closed up. Speech and movement are now foreign, unknowable things, because Ren is standing right in front of you.

It takes you a moment to shake it off; no, two moments. No, three. 

And then you can finally speak, although the word comes out hoarse and whispered, like every ounce of spit in your mouth vanished the instant you saw him. Perhaps it did. 

“ Ren ?” 

He blinks. His eyes narrow, eyebrows furrowing. For a terrible moment, you find yourself thrown back down the basement steps, when knowing the difference between Strade’s brows furrowing in annoyance or amusement could mean the difference between the degree of your upcoming burns.

And then his expression opens, widens, just enough for you to recognize that he knows who you are now and you’re here, in a bookshop, decades on; not there, not in the basement, where you left Strade’s corpse to rot.

Ren--for he is Ren, and you know it--lifts his hat, his lips turning up in a smile that makes your heart twist painfully, and shows just the bottom edges of his ears in greeting.

He says your name and your ears ring, high and tinny. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a cashier standing at the till rearranging trinkets while clearly spying on whatever bit of vaguely interesting gossip this might turn into during their lunch break. 

You had, in truth, imagined this moment before. Countless times. Usually at night, though you weren’t terribly picky; a long trip on a bus, head pressed against the window glass, was also a great time for such thoughts. 

You’d imagined finding Ren some day, in many different ways. 

In some fantasies, you look him up in the phonebook (a stupid idea fit only for a fantasy, because Ren would never put himself out there like that, just as you hadn’t) and give him a call and meet up at a park and you apologize until your lungs stop working. In another, you run into him somewhere else, a store or park; a coincidence just like this one. In still others, he finds you, offering to meet in a public space because he knows you’d be scared and he wants you to be comfortable and Ren would definitely think of things like that, considering your shared experiences. 

In your daydreams, you had a speech prepared. It was always moving, of course. It culminated in a soft, unbearably sweet hug where the two of you squeezed out the pain from the preceding decades and parted in mutual understanding. Maybe with each other’s phone numbers on slips of paper. 

But those were daydreams. This is real life.

In real life, your throat feels closed up; your eyes burn with hot tears that want to spill out, and everything from your chest to your cheeks feels hot and swollen. In real life, it is not the daydreams but your nightmares that worm their way into your brain: those nightmares you have (yes, have, still--even this far down the line) where he hates you, where he tells you that you left him there like he’s nothing, where he throws back all your whispered conversations in the dark back in your face.

In real life, you can only stammer out, expecting the nightmarish worst: “Ren. I’m s…sorry. I’m sorry . I shouldn’t--I shouldn’t have --”

Ren raises his hand; his brows furrow again. He says your name, once, twice. Softer. Gentler. 

“It’s okay,” he says, low. You don’t know if he means that it’s okay that you left him (it isn’t, is it?) or that it’s going to be okay or that he’s okay or--

Ren must sense your upcoming lack of steady breathing, because he places one steady hand on your shoulder. The way he used to do, when you started thinking about the fact that you were going to die in that house, and it would be an awful death, and the thought of it made you want to tear into your own skin. 

It brings you back down to the ground, which only makes you want to cry for a different reason.

Ren’s face has a touch of sticky pity on it when he smiles at you. 

“Why don’t we go somewhere we can sit down and talk?” 

--

You are sitting in a coffee shop across the way from a fox man who used to be tortured with you in the basement of a serial killer's home that doubled as a snuff film studio. There are people around you, but they might as well be invisible, be nothing at all. 

Because every nerve in your body is focused squarely on Ren, sitting in front of you with a muted awkward expression as the pair of you wait silently for the barista to call up your order. 

Neither of you have spoken since you sat down.

Sweat is beginning to stick to your neck, but you don’t want to move without warning--don’t want to startle Ren. If you do, maybe he’ll run off, and… no. He wouldn’t run off now. You can tell. He’s not like he used to be, and neither are you. 

There are decades between you, and yet--and yet that thread is still there, isn’t it? You could never fully cut it. Maybe it pulled, instead. Pulled and pulled and eventually lost all of its slack on this unassuming afternoon, when the two of you met again in a bookstore. Reaching for books with cracked and weathered spines, lines creasing over the paper like scars on the skin.

Your scars. His scars. 

How many times have you traced over the marks on your skin? How many times has he? Maybe he didn’t do it anymore. Maybe he was in a much better space than you, and that’s why he looks so awkward and you feel like your heart is about to pound right out of its chest. Because he’s moved on and you, stupid thing, just woke up in the basement in the middle of a sunny afternoon.

His shoulders straighten; you imagine, under his hat, that his ears have perked. For a moment,, a familiar sensation washes through you. Danger. He’s coming down the stairs and it’s going to hurt.

But Strade is dead. And you are alive, and Ren is alive, and his attention only raised because the barista set both of your coffees down on the counter. Nothing more than that.

Slowly, the world seems like it regains its normal gravity. The sweat clinging to your neck feels silly and not ominous. You can breathe, and the world of the coffee shop seems to settle around you like it would have on any other day.

“I’ll get them,” Ren says, quietly, eyeing you with wariness–like he’s the one worried about you bolting. Fuck. He’s probably right to think that; a moment ago, you might have been the one to run.

Ren pauses after he stands up, and there’s something soft and sad in his eyes when he looks at you. Part of you thinks he’s about to say that he’s going to leave, that this was a mistake. But instead, his lips curl and the softest of smiles, and he asks:

“You still like cream and sugar?”

Oh. 

“Yes,” you say, automatically. But you don’t. Not anymore. Tastebuds change and you drink it black with no cream, when you do bother to drink it. It’s not worth correcting, and you don’t. You just watch as he grabs both cups and heads over to the counter on the far side of the coffee shop, where there’s oodles of sugars (and sugar substitutes); creamers; and little tins of milk to add to your drink. 

Then your phone vibrates, and the “fuck!” that comes out of your mouth is involuntary. It was about the time that you should have been heading home, bookstore stop  notwithstanding. What were you going to say to him? That you’d run into someone from your past that used to get tortured with you? That you remember what Ren looks like when his flesh is sliced into and pulled apart? 

You heading home? Took ground beef out for dinner. Tacos?

Your thumb hovers over the phone screen. You’re going to lie. You already know that. Even if you were ready to tell him about your past, it would not be like this. Even you, not particularly attuned to mobile etiquette, knew it was better to confess something like this in person. Although the temptation to confess it all and  add silly emojis to punctuate the gritty details was very strong.

Ran into an old friend , you type, finally. They want to hang out a bit. Tacos are fine, don’t wait up! Xoxoxo.

It feels so normal. And that’s okay, isn’t it? That you’re being normal right now. It’s a sign that you’ve come so far, if anything. And you’ll take any of those signs that you can manage to get, so when the text comes in–

Can’t wait to hear about it!

I don’t guarantee there will be tacos left. 

Kidding.

… Maybe.

–you let that normalcy wash over you, and it helps you settle as Ren returns, coffee mugs in hand.

His expression is lighter, too. He probably notices the weight off your shoulders, the way you’re trying to look interested and perhaps even excited to see him, rather than looking like you’re about to throw up on a half-empty stomach.

He slides your mug across the table and you can tell at a glance that it’s going to be sweet. A hesitant sip, your tongue curling back from the warmth and inevitable sugar, confirms it. Milky and creamy, just like you used to take it.

“Do you live around here?” Ren asks, taking a sip from his own mug.

Such an average question. It’s almost enough to make you snort. Really, you should be asking him when he got out of that basement and whether or not he ever thought about cutting you open and if he still had dreams, like you did.

Instead, he’s asking something you might ask an old high school friend that you haven’t seen in twenty years. 

Fuck. What a world you live in. 

Maybe he senses your thoughts. Maybe the two of you really are in tune from what you went through together. Because he cracks a smile, the edge of a sharp tooth showing. And then the smile spreads and turns into a little chuckle. It’s not the giggling snort he would sometimes fall into at the house. It’s something older and more reserved, but that shouldn’t surprise you. You’re the same way.

You take another sip of the coffee. It really is too sweet. That’s how you took it at the house, though. It was better to drown your sorrows in creamer and packets of sugar–pilfered from diners that Strade went to, sometimes to scope for victims–than mope about them all the time.

“I really am curious,” he says, voice light. “If you’re okay with telling me.” Something different in his tone. Offense, maybe? God, it’s strange, being on the lookout for what someone’s tone really means again. 

But it’s just Ren. You shouldn’t be so worried about it.

“It’s fine,” you say, just as light. “Yeah, maybe about half an hour away? I have a little house…”

Ren’s eyebrows raise. Not in surprise, exactly. But in interest. It relieves you, just a little, that he didn’t let out some sarcastic remark about having your own place away from him.

“Do you have a garden?” He asks. “You always did talk about getting one.”

A twinge in your heart. Bittersweet and old. Sometimes at night, when the two of you were allowed to curl up together, you would talk about a fantasy world. A world where you never came here; where you’d be and what you’d do. Sometimes, you’d be in a pretty little cottage with a pretty little garden in a pretty little town.

Well. Your garden is pretty, even if your house isn’t an adorable cottage and you live at the edge of sprawling suburbs where you have to drive 20 minutes to get to anything useful. Close enough?

You tell him about it. The house and the garden. You even tell him about your partner, and maybe his smile does quirk down a little, then. But you could be imagining it. 

“Do you have kids?” Ren asks, next. If he were anyone else, it would be a mundane question--the kind you ask every couple who's been together a while. In Ren, it feels different. Serious. Sincere. He tilts his head a little, taking another sip of his coffee, which prompts you to do the same.

Kids. Hah. It wasn’t like the thought had never crossed your mind. But it didn’t happen. For a lot of reasons, it didn’t happen. Mind and body and the basement worked against you, and maybe there was a part of you that was afraid to bring anything into the world, because you knew it could be taken away. Taken to someone’s basement and hurt and hurt and hurt –

Ren says your name.

Ren’s hand is on yours. 

You glance down at his hand–see a familiar scar, see that your hand underneath his is curled up and tense–and then look  up at his face. 

Oh, the passing of time. 

“Me neither,” he says, softly. Like he knows why you didn’t and couldn’t, and maybe he was the same way. 

It hurts too much to think about. So you clear your throat and slowly pull your hand away, letting it rest on the now cooling mug of coffee. You take another swig, despite it not being to your taste anymore. Ren really did put in a lot of creamer.

“What about you?”

His head tilts, almost slow, almost curious.

“Me?”

He blinks.

You blink back. 

“Do you live around here?” 

A smile–an Ahhh sort of smile. 

“No,” he says, simply. He shakes his head. “I travel a lot.” He nods his head. “For business.”

“Oh,” you say. “What sort of business?”

A flicker in his gaze. Something sharp and familiar. It’s gone too soon to matter. 

“This and that,” is all he says.

And there’s a strange sort of realization in your head. A fuzziness that seems to spread right to your scalp. This is all too casual, too normal. It’s not at all what it was supposed to be, when you met. Asking about homes and gardens and kids and what you do for work; fuck, you two had been tortured together. Had watched people die. Had helped other people die. 

This should have been about more than banal pleasantries. This should have been about reconnecting. About that thread between the two of you that couldn’t be cut, even now.

Maybe it’s that fuzziness in your scalp and maybe it’s the lurching of your heart, but you reach out your hand again towards Ren; your hand and your heart reaching and aching –

“Why did you run that day?” Soft and to the point. All the years have led to this question. 

The question drops your hand straight to the table. The thud feels harder than it sounds. What ease your heart had mellowed to earlier melts away entirely, and you can feel adrenaline beginning to pump, your heart pounding and racing. Your ears hurt.

Why did you run? It’s the question you wanted him to ask, isn’t it? The question that would lead to your big sappy explanation and apology and the sentimental hug before you two parted ways, perhaps with phone numbers in your pockets? 

But now that Ren is real again; now that he’s here, lines around his eyes and a touch of silver in his hair, you don’t know how to answer.

You ran because you were scared. Scared of people from Strade’s fucked up streams finding you in that house. Scared of Strade’s corpse rotting in the basement. Scared, too, of Ren. Of being chained to him, or by him, and you could never be sure which was more likely. 

You ran because you weren’t strong enough to face whatever was left behind for you in that fucking house. 

Thickness lodges in your throat but you swallow against it. This is not a daydream. This is real life. And you have to own up to what you did now. 

“Ren, I–” 

The words don’t come, because the world suddenly spins. The fuzziness prickling on your scalp, your ears ringing, your heart going too fast–this has all been too much for you, you should have known that. There are brief thoughts–heart attack, stroke, fuck, fuck, FUCK–and then Ren’s hand is gripping your upper arm so you don’t fall out of the chair. 

“Are you okay?” Your vision is clear enough to see the concern in his face. His brows furrow together and he looks around, telling someone– ”Yes, I'm going to get her home” --and you’re about to tell him not to take you to the hospital because your insurance has a high deductible for the emergency room when another dizzy spell hits you, and you’d rather be in debt than dead.

“Should I call an ambulance?” He asks, voice low, calming. Your mind latches onto it. You’re not alone, it’s going to be okay. Someone is here to take care of you, and if you have to go to the emergency room, well, it couldn't have happened at a better time.

Ambulances cost too much money, though, and Ren 

“Could you drive me?” Even as you talk, you know something’s wrong. The words come out too slow, a little slurry. Almost like you’re drunk. 

Ren starts to shake his head and your dizzy self makes a pitiful sound. 

You swear you can see Ren’s ears twitching underneath his hat. You don’t have the presence of mind to think about why–where and when he’s heard that pitiful whimper before–so you just cling to him as he gently pulls you out of your chair.

He grabs your purse and carefully leads you out of the shop. Someone holds the door open, and he tells them that you’re going to the emergency room, thank you for the concern. Your head swims and you might mumble thank you to them, too, but you’re not entirely sure. Are you dying? Is it a stroke? Will the last thing you texted the love of your life be about dinner? It’s funny in that awful, delirious sort of way.

“Ren?” You ask, helpless. You’re holding onto him as tightly as you can, but your fingers feel fuzzy. Your whole body feels fuzzy, actually. Heavy and strange. Drunk and leaden.

“It’s all right,” he murmurs. “Let’s get you into my car, all right?”

You don’t have the presence of mind to wonder why his car is already out on the curb, running, with a driver in the front seat. You aren’t coherent enough to think about things like that; but then, even before you drank the coffee cup laced with a sedative, you didn’t notice the black car following the pair of you down the road to the coffee shop. 

You didn’t notice it follow you to the bookstore, either, nor did you give it a second glance when it pulled out of the lot after you stopped in at the grocery store to pick up a few miscellaneous items.

You really had lost your touch after all these years.

Ren grips you carefully while he opens the back door to the car. It’s roomy, expensive. Clean black leather seats that probably don’t show stains. Up front, a driver sits, wearing a hat and sunglasses and a uniform.

There’s a brief thought–Jesus, what does Ren do for a living to afford this?--before Ren is helping you crawl into the backseat.

The movement only makes you dizzier, and you’re telling the person in the front seat, whoever they are, that you need to get to the nearest hospital please.

They don’t even turn to look at you. It’s strange. But then Ren is there in the backseat with you, and you’re mumbling the same thing to him. Rattling off your symptoms–dizzy, fuzzy, confused, tingling hands. You try to remember the test for a stroke but can’t.

Ren smiles at you.

Why is he smiling? That thought comes through loud and clear, but it doesn’t stick for very long.

“Ren,” you say, slurring. “The hospital, the nearest one is… I think it’s… you have to…”

And those words, difficult as they are to get out, slowly drop away. Because while your mind is not capable of many things right now, it is capable of registering something unusual.

Ren. 

He doesn’t look worried anymore. No more concern furrowing his brow, no more softness. 

Instead, he looks pleased. There’s a smug smile on his face, and you’ve seen it before, but it’s older now. Wiser. Less impulsive and more assured. 

A cat–a fox–that caught the canary. And you, what little remains of your logical mind tells you, are one dumb bird. 

And he knows that you know. Because he jerks his chin at the driver in the front, who must press some kind of button; the doors lock. Loud. Hard. Your numb hands fumble for the door handle but no matter how much you try to shove the door open, it doesn’t budge.

 You're locked in.

“Back to the hotel for now,” Ren says. Not to you. To the driver. Who–to your horror–begins to pull away from the curb.

“Oh, no–” You try to scream. It’s not quite loud enough. Not quite sharp enough. but maybe someone can see you, even through the tinted windows. Or they’ll hear you and tell someone, who will maybe tell someone else, who might call the cops. If you’re lucky.

Ren’s hand cups your mouth firmly. 

“Don’t waste your energy, you’ll need it soon.” The hand moves from your lips to your cheek, resting there. The look in Ren’s eyes is blurry–whatever he drugged you with is making it hard to focus–but you recognize bits of it, because you felt the same damn thing.

The awful mixture of nostalgia, regret and ache.

Maybe if you explain everything. Tell him why you ran. Apologize like hell. You won’t be hugging after this, but you won't be drugged up (what did he give you?) in the back of his car, either. 

“Ren– the hous e–I ran–I–let me explain, it–”

Ren’s hand trails back to your mouth. The sharp edges of his nails graze against your nose.

“Hush. We’ll talk about all that later.” 

Later?

Oh, fuck –

There’s an awful, stabbing pain in your thigh–you look down and see Ren pulling away a syringe with a bright silver needle.

Ren–you try to say his name, but when you open your mouth, nothing comes out. Your lips gape and close and words no longer form.

Your head is swimming now, all highs and lows, dipping and rising over waves that never seem to end. It’s like you're falling asleep in the worst way, hard and rocky.

Like you’re falling backwards down the basement stairs. 

Ren’s voice is the last thing you hear before you black out.

“Sweet dreams.” 

[radawayghoul]

His Little Dove | Chapter 1

The Plan

Warnings: cursing, slight age difference, innuendos, height difference, ummm calling people names, angst, i think i switched from second to third POV at a certain point so..bad/subpar writing is a warning lol, 18+ only, MDNI

Pairing: Lee Russell x Reader (AFAB)

Word Count: 2,123

A/N: it's finnniisshheeddd!! ugh i actually am so insanely proud of this chapter!! thank you so much to everyone who has been waiting to read this!! i'm genuinely so honored and am starting chapter two as we speak!! the comments and stuff really motivate me so much 🥹

 Following behind Lee and Neal, Y/N listened in on their conversation, a bit confused as to why you’d been invited. 

“Oh, Jesus Christ, the bloodbath begins,” Lee said around a mouth full of smoke, “She’s got me off my rocker, Gamby. We gotta act quick,” Lee adjusted his hold on his cigarette, “Now, she’s tied up in teacher reviews for the next 72 minutes. That gives us some time.” 

Y/N arched a brow. “Time to do what, Lee?” You questioned him, “Who exactly are we sabotaging?” Y/N knew the name of Lee’s game by now. 

“Oh, great, Russell, why did you invite her?! She’s not even familiar with the parameters of our plan!” Neal exclaimed, yanking his toothpick out from between his teeth, pausing in the middle of the school parking lot. 

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Gamby!” Lee whined, “Treat Y/N with a little respect! Ohhh, Y/N, darlin’, I’m so sorry for this fat fuckin’ losers disrespect, please just ignore him, okay, pretty bird?” Lee gave you a sickeningly sweet smile before turning back to Neal with a disgruntled look, “Loosen the fuck up or I will do this shit on my own motherfucker. Now, let’s go dig up some dirt on that grimy bitch.” 

Neal scoffed but followed after Lee begrudgingly, Y/N speeding up her steps to keep up. 

You had no idea WHO you were sabotaging but you weren’t one to say no to Lee. You never said no to Lee Russell. And you absolutely never fucking would. 

-----------

The three of them rolled up on a house that Y/N knew all too well. Lee’s house. This did little to lessen your confusion but you trusted Lee. 

“Is this where she lives? What a shit-hole.” Neal chuckled. 

Y/N snorted as Lee ripped off his sunglasses. 

“This is my house, motherfucker! It’s a mid-century sea ranch!” Lee yelled, huffing a sigh before continuing, “Now, stay here, I gotta go get somethin’.” Lee got out of the car and strutted towards his front door. 

“You should go easier on him, Neal. Really.” Y/N said, crossing her arms, leaning back into her seat. 

“Oh shut up, Y/N! God! Stop being so pretentious.” Neal groaned, rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses. 

Y/N looked over as Lee was followed out of the house by his screaming mother-in-law, Mi Cha, looking stressed to the heavens. 

“Shut up! Shut up! All I hear is gibberish from you, shut up! Go back in the house!” Lee yelled before turning to walk towards the car, “Like nails on a fuckin’ chalkboard.” He groaned, stopping when he got to the car, closing his eyes in frustration as the woman kept screaming, “GO BACK IN THE HOUSE!!!” He yelled louder this time, pointing angrily at the open door. 

“FUCK YOU!” Mi Cha yelled, finally walking back inside. 

Lee grunted as he got back inside the car, a noise that made the butterflies in the pit of your stomach stir, shoving a bag into the back of the car into your lap. 

“Y/N, would you be a dear and hold this?” Lee smiled at Y/N, always being so sweet with her, even if he was out of breath. His smile dropped, however, the minute he turned towards Neal. “Go.” Lee demanded.

“Everything okay?” Neal questioned. 

“Just go.” Lee sighed, leaning heavily into the passenger seat. 

Y/N’s heart hurt for Lee. He was always under so much stress. Ever since his mother-in-law moved in, he had not been doing so well. He’d been a bit…wilder than usual. Always wanting to get into something scandalous or cause some sort of raucous to relieve his stress. Was it always the best solution? No. No it wasn’t. But, Y/N wasn’t going to deny Lee any sort of stress relief…even if it did mean they’d have to cover for him. 

-----------

Neal cleared his throat as the three of them continued their journey to wherever it was that they were going. 

“So, uh, was that woman your wife?” Neal asked, looking over at Lee nervously. 

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle slightly. 

Lee looked at him completely disgusted. “Don’t be asking me personal questions. We ain’t fuckin’ friends, okay? This is business.” Lee scoffed. 

“Leeee..” Y/N said quietly, leaning up slightly to rest their hand on Lee’s shoulder, “Breathe.” Y/N massaged his shoulder, trying to help him relax. 

Lee relaxed a little into Y/N’s touch, taking a deep breath. Y/N was really the only one to have this sort of effect on Lee. She could calm him in almost any and all situations unless he was really, really stressed. 

“Friends?” Neal laughed, “I am not trying to be your friend.” 

“Over here tryin’ to make a fuckin’ friend and we about to do a mission.” Lee scoffed, leaning back into Y/N’s touch even further. 

Neal looked between the two of them with a raised brow, “You’re the one trying to make friends the most.” Neal challenged. 

Lee sighed, slipping his sunglasses back onto his nose. “Just shut up, Gamby, god!” 

Y/N shook her head at the two of them, pulling her hand off of Lee to sit back once more. 

-----------

The group of them rolled to a stop in a very well-off looking neighborhood. 

“Who are we here for, Lee?” Y/N questioned, peering out the window of the car. 

“Dr. Brown’s deep, dark secrets.” Lee smiled mischievously, chewing on his bottom lip. 

“Belinda?! Lee…honey, I need you to bring yourself back to earth for a moment. You know I support you in all that you do but this is a suicide mission, sweetheart.” Y/N told him sweetly, sighing a little. She knew this man was up to something scandalous. 

“Don’t start, Y/N. God, you both just really wanna piss on my parade, don’t you? Maybe you two should be fuckin’ butt buddies and I’ll do the work that fuckin’ matters.” Lee grumbled, getting out of the car. 

Y/N sighed, following after him while Neal awkwardly stayed in the car. 

“Lee, sweetheart, you know it’s not like that at all!” Y/N said, walking over to place a hand on his back, “Don’t get all grumpy with me like that, it hurts my feelings, doll.” Y/N frowned up at him. 

Lee scanned Y/N’s face with his famous sad puppy dog eyes before letting out a frustrated sigh. “Alright fine, fuck!” He exclaimed, looking down at his feet, “I’m sorry, okay? There I said it. Now, come help me take this dirty bitch to hell?” Lee looked at Y/N with a cute smile, batting his lashes at her. 

Y/N closed her eyes. “I’m gonna regret this..but fine. I’d do anything for you.” Y/N muttered, shaking her head. 

“Are you two weirdos finished? We’re running out of fucking time!” Neal grumbled as he stomped over to them. 

Lee rolled his eyes, grabbing Y/N’s hand to drag her towards Dr. Brown’s house. “Shut up, Gamby!” 

The three of them shortly arrived at Belinda’s house where Neal and Lee began digging their way through the woman’s garbage. 

“Ugh,” Y/N gave them a disgusted look, “Lee, I love you, but that is fucking repulsive.” 

“Oh, please, just pretend I’m digging in your ass, that’ll make the picture a whole lot prettier.” Lee winked at Y/N with a smirk.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, heat rapidly rising to her cheeks. “Lee fucking Russell, do not say that shit to me,” Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, feeling sheepish. 

“Don’t pretend like you don’t love it when I talk dirty to you, darlin’.” Lee’s smile grew as he took in her red appearance. 

“So..uh..I’m confused, are you two like..dating..or..?” Neal questioned, watching the pair with an expressionless face. 

“NO!” Y/N said much too quickly before steadying herself, “No, we’re just friends. Lee just doesn’t know how to shut the fuck up.” She grumbled. 

Lee placed an offended hand on his chest. “That no was a little too quick for my liking. What? Am I not good enough for you little miss honors English teacher? Huh? Not good enough for the little straight A, fuckin’ teacher of the goddamn year?!” Lee scoffed, his brows narrowed slightly. He looked genuinely hurt by her rushed response. 

“You’re fucking married, Lee!” Y/N yelled at him, eyes wide, “Why the fuck would I ever agree to someone asking if we’re dating, idiot?!” 

“Oh, don’t you start callin’ me fuckin’ names now, missy!” Lee pointed an accusing finger at her, scrunching his face up the way he does when he’s upset about something. 

“Right. Okay um, it seems like you two have a lot to work out and I really don’t care to hear the rest of this conversation because you’re both fucking stupid and I don’t care about either of you.” Neal ranted awkwardly before walking towards Belinda’s steps.

Y/N and Lee rolled their eyes at each other, following after Neal. 

“Oh..there’s no fucking way we’re breaking in here!” Y/N scolded, giving Lee a disapproving look. 

Lee shrugged, shooing Neal towards the door. 

Neal popped off his tie, wrapped it around his hand, and busted open one of the windows on the back door before sticking his hand through to pop the lock. 

“Jesus Christ,” Y/N muttered, shaking her head. She pinched the bridge of her nose with a sigh, “what are y’all getting me into?” 

“Oh shush.” Lee scolded, waltzing into Belinda’s house behind Neal. 

Y/N followed close behind. “Lee, we should not be doing this. You’re smarter than this.” 

Lee stopped and turned around to give her a cold gaze. “Am I, Y/N? Hm?” He challenged, walking towards her dangerously slow, “You don’t really know me all that well, do you?” He smirked, standing so close to her she could feel his breath fanning her face. 

Y/N gulped, trembling slightly as she peered up at him. “Stop it,” She said quietly, looking away from him, “You always fucking tease me and it’s not fucking fair, Lee, jesus.” She snapped, immediately turning and walking back out the door. 

Lee chased after her, grabbing her by her elbow. “Hey now. What's the matter with you?! Where the fuck are you going?” 

“Back to my fucking job, Lee. I am not doing this. Belinda hasn’t done shit to me. Look…I love you, Lee, I really do. You’re my best friend but this job is my fucking life. But you wouldn’t get that, would you? Because you’ve got fucking everything. You’re married, you’ve got a beautiful home, a nice car.” Y/N took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. She was overwhelmed with her feelings. His teasing usually never bothered her but today...today was different for some reason. She just couldn't go through with this any longer. “I understand why you’re doing this..and I want to help you, Lee, believe me, I do. But I can’t lose this job.” Y/N finally looked up at him, almost taken aback by the sincere look on his face. 

“Go,” He said, softly, “I’ll meet you back at the school..okay? For lunch. Like always.” Lee held out his pinky. It was their tradition to link pinkies when making plans as a promise to not let each other down. 

Y/N nodded, curling her smaller pinky around his larger one. “Like always.” She pulled her hand away, starting her journey back to the school on foot. It wasn’t far, she wouldn’t have any trouble getting there but leaving Lee behind like that when he had been counting on her to help him really broke her heart. But she couldn’t lose this job. It was all she had that kept her connected to Lee and she’d be the first to go if anyone found out about this scheme. She couldn’t risk it - couldn’t risk her livelihood and her job. Lee was everything to her. Everything. Lee was and always will be her livelihood. 

-----------

Back at Belinda’s, Lee walked back into the house with a determined look on his face, now upset that his one and only friend bailed on him. 

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” Neal said while scanning the wall of Belinda’s photos.

“What the fuck did you just say to me, Gamby?” Lee said pissily, narrowing his brows at him. 

“That girl loves you..and you’re just blind to it..I’m not good with women but you shouldn’t use her the way you do.” Neal shrugged. 

“Shut the fuck up, you ass face, you have no fucking idea what you’re even talkin’ about.” Lee scoffed, stomping off up the stairs of Belinda’s house. 

That couldn’t be right, could it? Could you really love him in that way? 

‘No,’ Lee thought, shaking his head, ‘There’s no way…right?’ 

Right? 

--

tag list: @one-of-thewalkingdead @itsyellow @ajeff855 @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @casiaregina @dried-mushroom @justme12200 @wtfwhyanyway @sequoiassoul @saturnbourne @ryankaylamartin96 @avidreadee123 @theweirdoneee @saltysultry @radskull-69 @deviantgamergirl @caligrl1992 @littlenosoul @sir-henry-may @spatialwave

[the-bitter-ocean]

Howdy! As you know the lovely @pixxyofice made a timeloop support group au for ISAT featuring mine and other mutuals aus that we made. I wanted to post the writing I did based on the awesome fic that Pix wrote, which you can read here! This writing as well as the Au in general is set post game so full game spoilers are expected.

(The order of the loopers arriving is Odile -> Mirabelle -> Isabeau -> Siffrin) so for chronological order read Odile’s POV first, then Mira’s then, Isa’s POV. WRITING IS UNDER THE CUT:

{ It is 7:07 pm.}

{ You are currently walking back home to your family, carrying a bag of books in your left hand and a bag of fruits in your right. }

{ You are very excited!!}

{ Your whole family is going to read stories alongside you together!}

{ You whistle to yourself happily.}

{ You hadn’t had the chance to do a book club meeting in practically forever- Madame Odile insisted that you wait until your health fully recovered back to normal. }

{ It was a smart idea to listen to her, so you did your best to not over exert yourself.}

{ You knew that she was right but you still couldn’t help feeling anxious and restless during that time.}

{ You hadn’t fully adjusted to the idea of not needing to heal anyone or not being able to do something productive.}

{That initial week was kind of a nightmare in more ways than one!}

{ You cringe a little at the thought of it.}

{ But it’s different now!}

{ You’ve been doing really good lately! }

{…}

{ Some days are easier than others.}

{ None of that matters though! You’re almost home!}

{ You approach the clock tower.}

{ You wish you could be more honest in how you feel with your family.}

{ You wish that your family could be able to truly understand how the loops changed you.}

{You wish for the courage to be able confide in your family again without fear.}

{ You sigh.}

{ There’s no use daydreaming about that now!}

{ This is a new day for you!}

{ There’s no need to think about the loops at all! }

{ With newfound resolve you reach out to open the door and you-}

{ …?! }

{ WHERE THE CRAB ARE YOU?}

{ You look up to see a sign on a building that has “TIME LOOP SURVIVORS SUPPORT GROUP” plastered on the front. }

{ You stare in disbelief. }

{You don’t know where you are. You don’t see anyone familiar. You try not to panic. }

{ You pinch yourself hard, once twice thrice!}

{Your arm is lightly bruised now.. so you’re probably not dreaming?}

{ A familiar dread kicks in and you reach to touch your ears in confirmation. }

{ The crescent moon earrings sway back and forth- going ding ding! }

{ Not in the loops. Probably. Hopefully.}

{ Change please give you strength to not have a meltdown in the middle of nowhere. That would be embarrassing. }

{You breathe in and out slowly.}

{ The quicker you figure this all out, the quicker you can return home.}

{ You can do this Mirabelle! Just go inside and ask for help on how to get home! }

{ You cautiously go inside the building.}

[denial-permanente]

Tom, here's a question I wrestle with some myself so I'll ask you about the last time your penis was actually inside Mrs Edge. Would you have preferred to know in advance that it was going to be the last time? If you did know in advance, what would you have tried to do differently? I've settled the thought in my mind that I was better off not knowing with my wife so that I was fully able to enjoy it without the mental torture of knowing it would be the last time. Just wanted your thoughts on it also

🔏 In the late winter or early spring of 2018, we didn't know that it was the last time I would ever be inside her, or even allowed an orgasm in a more conventional way. We did not know that it was going to be permanent. While we had a shared fantasy of going years - or forever - it never really went beyond the fantasy stage.

Except as the months ticked by, we both enjoyed the dynamic. At nine months, my wife said that we needed to go for a year. After a year, she decided that she wanted to go just a little longer. The next thing we knew, we were passing two years. By the time another six months had passed, she was talking herself into going on indefinitely. After four years, I asked if she wanted to try the larger Ranger X. It didn't take long before she was talking about making it permanent.

Now, notice that this entire time it was my wife who was making the decisions. This goes along with the agreement we made fifteen years ago: she has complete, 100% control over what happens with my equipment. No argument from me. If she wanted it locked for five days or five months, it was her decision and I would go along with it.

So, as to your question. If she came to me and said "Hey, last night was the last time," or "I've decided that tomorrow night will be the last time," it would be hot simply because (for me) it's hot when @mrs--edge exercises that kind of control.

But... for a year or more, I got to watch her slowly come to the realization that she *could* be sexually satisfied keeping me locked. I got to listen to her talk herself into the idea of keeping me permanently caged through her sexy bedroom talk and half spoken fantasies. I got to experience her going from questioning and checking in with me to see if I was okay being locked, to being confidently assured that she could do as she pleased. And more recently, I've watched her become more vocal and expressive in bed as she enjoys the bigger Vixskin Ranger, and listen to her describe how it has become her favorite.

And all through this I have had to deal with my own feelings of "is this really happening?" and "How do I cope with never feeling her again?" I had to learn how to eroticize the situation knowing that, unlike in the past, there would be no "end" to this.

To me, being in the middle of this kind of evolution, being part of the process of my wife's decision making is way hotter and more exciting than just having a decision made. The hot part isn't the destination, it's the trip itself. 🔏

[lees-chaotic-brain]

So happy for your 300 followers! For your event, can I please request Nanami. The song is Mine by The Chainsmokers. Genre, maybe keep it cute and fluffy, domestic romance?

WC: 4.1k (holy shit i have no idea how that happened)

CW: reader is called a girl once, angst to fluff, lovers to strangers to lovers, marriage proposal, a ton of sappy dialogue, light swearing, if the readers emotions make no sense because they're all over the place it's because reader is me coded (as always lmao)

a/n: hi vee tysm!!! this somehow became not very cute and fluffy, but i hope the ending makes up for it :') special shout out to @not-enough-homestuck-upinthis @hcdwigs @valentiraa + @yeshnn for help with headcannons for teenage nanami!!!

listen to this while reading

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You had known Nanami since before your days at Jujutsu Tech, your friendship spanning all the way back to middle school when you moved in next door. In high school, the two of you dated, falling deeply in love only for your relationship to end suddenly with the death of Haibara.

One day you were dating your best friend who you knew better than you knew yourself. You knew that he was a bit of a dork who had My Chemical Romance paraphernalia hidden around his room.

You knew that he was shy, and that he placed so much importance on doing the right thing. You knew that when he was thirteen he wanted to learn to play the stylophone and electric guitar so he could start his own band. That he unironically spoke in an old fashioned manner for a few months because he wanted to be “proper.” 

You knew that he always brought extra pens in case you forgot yours; his favorite type of bread, and why he loved it so much. You knew that blue was his favorite color because it reminded him of the ocean, that he wanted to go to Malaysia so he can experience true peace without the chaos of the jujutsu world around him.

You knew everything about him, from the bigger aspects to the small quirks that made him him, then you didn’t. After Haibara’s death the boy you knew and loved just…disappeared. He withdrew into himself, stopped talking to you, didn’t show up for your date, unresponsive when you reached out to him. Then after graduation, he just left. He didn’t break up with you, didn’t even say goodbye. He left a note informing you that he was leaving the jujutsu world, and that was it. 

So when you bumped into him outside the gates of Jujutsu Tech, to say you were surprised was an understatement. Honestly, you had given up hope of meeting him again a long time ago, resigning yourself to remain in this weird limbo where you had no closure but no means of getting it either.

But there he was, completely different from the man you used to know. The lankiness of his teenage day had long been outgrown, replaced instead with sheer muscle and power. His long hair had been cut neatly into a practical style that was low maintenance and kept it out of his face. His shyness had morphed into reserved stoicism.

Locking eyes with him, the two of you stared in silence for some time, neither sure where to even begin speaking. All you knew was you felt like you were looking at a stranger. Not the boy you had once loved.

I look at you and you look at me Like nothing but strangers now

Despite both of you being so different, falling back in love with Nanami Kento was so simple, like slipping into the familiar warmth of a well used hoodie, because you had never truly fallen out of love with him. 

It had only been weeks since you had seen him again outside of the school gates, but you were already back to the way you had been a decade ago; young and in love. It was like nothing had ever happened. Like the past ten years never happened.

The two of you left work together every night and walked over to the food stall you visited every day in high school for dinner. You checked in on each other before and after missions, made sure the other was drinking enough water and taking care of themselves. It wasn’t until Shoko pulled you aside and mentioned it that you realized you had never actually addressed the slight awkwardness in your relationship due to his leaving.

And maybe it was stupid, or selfish, but you didn’t want to talk about it with him. You had missed him so much you just wanted to enjoy spending time with him now that he was back. Your hearts seemed to be the same as they were then, young and burning with the force of your love, so why would you do anything that could potentially jeopardize that? Was it really so bad that you didn’t want to risk extinguishing the passion that seemed to still exist?

Two kids with their hearts on fire Don't let it burn us out

Eventually you realized how much you needed to have the conversation with him. You couldn’t pretend that nothing had happened. For the last ten years you had lived in a weird existence in which he hadn’t broken up with you, so you were technically still together, but he had abandoned you without even a proper goodbye.

Now he was back and the two of you had fallen back into your old relationship without addressing the massive elephant in the room. Up until now you had convinced yourself that you were fine with that, the only thing that mattered was that he had returned. But as the weeks went by you began to realize that you were lying to yourself.

Of course you weren’t okay with what happened. You were angry. You wanted answers. How dare he just disappear one day, then waltz back into your life one random day almost a decade later?! Amping yourself up, you gather the courage to bring up the topic you had spent so much time and energy avoiding.

Which brought you to your current predicament, sitting across from him as you ate dinner together, hyping yourself up for the conversation ahead of you. Clearing your throat awkwardly, you got his attention, setting your chopsticks down in your bowl.

“Listen, I know we’ve both been trying to avoid this conversation, but I’ve been thinking about it lately and I realized some things.” He looks at you intently, something strange crossing his expression before disappearing. Taking his attention as agreement, you take a shaky breath then continue. You can do this. Just like you practiced in your head. Easy as pie.

“I’m not okay with this!” All prior thinking and planning goes flying out the window as the words burst from you, and once the dam broke there was no going back, the words flowing from your mouth as irreversible as a floodgate breaking.

“I’m really not okay with this. I mean, I don’t even know you now! I can’t keep doing this. I can’t allow you to waltz back into my life and my heart when I don’t even  know why you returned! Or even why you left! You said you came back because of your morals. That you couldn’t live with yourself if you sat by as innocent people suffered. But if that’s the only reason you returned, and I’m only a side perk that comes with being part of the jujutsu world, I'm not going to be part of your life at all.”

You take a moment to catch your breath, feeling like a weight has been lifted off your chest as you lay down your ultimatum. You were nearly giddy, woozy with relief. It was up to him now, and what he said next. You didn’t have to worry about this any longer. It was all up to him.

“So. Tell me. Do you need me in your life? Am I important? Or am I going to walk out of here tonight and never see you again?”

Think about what you believe in now Am I someone you cannot live without?

In the aftermath of the line you drew in the sand, a boundary you constructed to protect yourself, you find yourself holding your breath. As liberating as it felt to pass the burden onto him, your fears only intensified because it was truly up to him now. 

As much as you talk the big talk, you’re not sure how you’re going to survive if he tells you he doesn’t need you. Because even after ten years, you still don’t know how to live without him. And you really don’t want to learn now.

'Cause I know I don't wanna live without you, yeah

He sat perfectly still for a moment, and you waited for his reaction, your inability to see past his stoic mask just another reminder of everything the two of you had lost. Awkward silence permeates the air, coiling its oily tentacles around your throat and making it hard to breathe. 

You can’t do this. You have to get out of here. Screw standing up for yourself and protecting your heart. You’re not brave enough to sit here and look him in the face as he tells you he doesn’t need you. 

Just as you go to push your chair back and flee, his voice cuts through your panic, its familiar warmth pulling you out of your panic. “I’m sorry.”

Bring it all back to the bar downtown When you wouldn’t let me walk out on you, yeah

You almost break your neck with how fast you meet his eyes, stunned as you notice him fidgeting with the edge of his napkin. You had forgotten that he did that when he was anxious or uncomfortable. Suddenly anger bubbles in your gut, and you explode, unable to hold back any longer.

“What does that even mean at this point?!” Your voice is sharper than you intended, and you see him flinch slightly. “You walked out on me! You disappeared! You didn’t even say goodbye. Nanami I-”

“Kento.” He interrupts you, looking at you oddly. Was he…hurt? You make a vague sound of confusion, too distracted by the pain and guilt in his eyes to formulate a proper response. 

“That’s my name. Kento. I’ve put up with you using my family name these past few weeks, but I can’t tolerate it any longer. To you I am Kento. Never Nanami.” 

Slight vulnerability shines in his eyes, the first real emotion he’s let you see all night. But you can’t bring yourself to care, too caught up in your own anger and rage. “You know what, Nanami?” You place emphasis on his family name, not caring how petty it was. 

“I only call people I’m close to and know well by their first names. And unfortunately for you, I no longer consider you someone I’m close to. You’re a stranger to me now. I don’t know why I’ve been pretending otherwise these past few weeks.”

Sighing, you lower your voice, suddenly exhausted. “Yeah…I have no idea why I’ve been pretending you’re anything more than somebody I used to know. Please, let’s just forget these last couple weeks and go back to the way things were before, each of us leading separate lives.”

You grab your purse and take out your wallet, hoping to pay the bill and get out of there as soon as possible. You went into this night a mess of emotions, willing to let bygones be bygones as long as he told you he still cared. Only for you to realize that you weren’t okay with that, and he’s hurt you too badly for your relationship to recover.

 In the wake of your rapid emotional development, you’re left feeling dull and empty, which probably accounts for why you didn’t realize he was even speaking to you until he reached out across the table and grabbed your wrist.

Distantly you hear him saying your name, but you’re so out of it you don’t look up until he stands and rounds the table, dropping to one knee in front of you as he gently tilts your chin up and takes your hands.

Nanami Kento, all crisp ironed lines and strict discipline, knelt on the ground before you, dirtying the knees of his pristine slacks as he grovels. People around you are staring, and while some distant part of your brain is embarrassed, the vast majority of it is occupied by the feel of his hands holding yours.

You hated yourself. You hated your traitorous hands for seeking the warmth of his, your stomach for filling with butterflies against your heart. You hated your heart and mouth for staging a mutiny against all common sense, hardly believing the words that left your lips.

“I’m sorry.” You blink down at him. “I missed all of that. Do you want to go somewhere quieter to talk?”

Unfettered relief filled his face and within seconds he was flagging down the server and paying the bill, not even allowing you to open your purse. He zipped you up into your coat, making sure  he had all of your belongings and was ushering you out of the restaurant in two minutes flat, as if he was convinced that if he gave you any longer you would change your mind.

Which he wasn’t entirely wrong about. You were already feeling your apprehensiveness creeping back in. Who in their right mind would consider taking someone back just because they knelt on the ground and took your hands. Apparently you, although you didn’t feel like you were in your right mind at the moment (you never were when he was involved).

The two of you loitered awkwardly on the sidewalk, neither of you sure where to go before you finally mustered up your courage and spoke. “There’s a bench in a park around here that I like to go sit on a lot. And it’s fairly secluded, although I doubt many people will be in the park at this time of night.” He just nodded, and the two of you set off for the proposed destination, you leading the way.

Which is how you found yourself perched next to him on your bench, the quiet practically screaming at you. Say something!!! You screeched telepathically at him, hoping he got the message. Please don’t make me regret this. Prove to me that I’m not an idiot for giving you this chance. Please just-

“Listen I-” He cleared his throat, cutting off your attempts at sending him your thoughts. “I know that what I did was unforgivable, and I will spend the rest of my life regretting the hurt I caused you by leaving.”

His shoulders drooped, and you could practically feel the remorse emanating off of him. “Trust me. If there was any way I could go back and time and punch myself in the face I would. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to change my poor decisions.”

“But you can’t.”

“I know that.”

“Can you at least tell me why you did it?” Your voice cracks slightly, and he graciously ignores it. “Can you at least tell me what was going through your mind? What led you to abandoning me without a word? You say you loved me, but if you did, why did you leave?”

“I left because I loved you.” His deep voice is full of regret, and you pause, incredulous. “Kento, that makes no sense.”

“I know that.” He takes a deep breath and holds it for a second before letting it out in a great whoosh of air. “After Haibara died, I realized how powerless I truly was. I was right there, yet I couldn’t save my best friend. Hell, I could barely save myself. The only reason I made it out alive was because reinforcements arrived.”

The desolation in his voice hurt you, so against your better judgment you reached out and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He squeezed back, and continued, this time with tears hanging on his water line.

“And if I can’t trust myself to keep myself safe how can I trust myself to keep you safe? And you-you’re just  better than me. You’re braver and stronger. I knew that no matter what I said you wouldn’t leave the jujutsu world because you weren’t a coward like me. So I convinced myself that the best option was for me to leave.”

“Kento I-” You start speaking, suddenly flooded with guilt. You had had no idea he was struggling that much. But he simply squeezes your hand and gives you a look that asks you to allow him to continue, so you shut your mouth.

“I thought I wouldn’t be able to survive losing you. That I wouldn’t be able to live knowing that every time you left I might never see you again. And since I wasn’t strong enough to protect you, I decided I needed to leave the jujutsu world. At least then there was a chance you would leave the jujutsu world to follow me. And if  you didn’t, you could be with someone who wasn’t such a selfish coward. Someone who deserves you.”

At this point he was crying, and you were too. Your anger fades away, and in its place comes sorrow and…relief. Sorrow for all the years you lost, but relief because he didn’t leave because he stopped loving you. Relief because he still loved you even after all these years, he hadn’t stopped loving you once.

“Hey.” You brush his tears away, your own tears spilling down your cheeks. “You’re a dumbass, you know that?”

“I know. I spent every day for the last ten years regretting the decision I made. I’m so sorry that it took me so long to work up the courage to come back to you. But I need you to hear this.” His face grew serious, and he held your face in his warm palms as he looked at you intently.

“I will stay in your life as long as you permit me to, and spend that time repairing the damage I have inflicted. If that is only a week, then that will be the most cherished week of my life. If it is only a month, then I will use every second of it. And if it is the rest of your life, then I will spend the rest of mine loving you.”

He paused, cheeks reddening slightly. “The latter would be my preference. As long as what you plan to do with your life has space for me, I will occupy it gladly. I do not care if that means you leave me in a year, two years, three. I just-”

For the first time since he had reappeared in your life you laughed. And laughed. And laughed some more. Clutching your stomach and wiping a tear from the corner of your eye, you looked at him, eyes shining.

“Kento.” Your voice was soft, despite the traces of mirth still lingering in it. “I appreciate your confidence in me, but I don’t even know what I’m doing for the rest of tonight, let alone for the rest of my life. Why don’t we just take it one day at a time, okay?”

He slumped forwards in relief and wrapped his arms around you. 

“Thank you. Thank you. That sounds much more than okay sweetheart. Sounds perfect, actually.”

You said, "Hey, whatcha doing for the rest of your life?" And I said, "I don't even know what I'm doing tonight"

Time went by, and you relearned everything about the man named Nanami Kento. You learned that he still wanted to go to Malaysia, and that he moped around for a month after his favorite bakery closed down. You learned that he had tried to take up painting as a hobby in his early twenties only to discover he was extremely bad at it and quit, and that he pretends to be reading when Gojo is around so he has an excuse to ignore him.

You noticed that he was less open with his emotions than he used to be, but that didn’t stop him  from expressing his affection in other ways. Be it always greeting you with your favorite pastry and a coffee in the mornings, or going out of his way to profess his feelings towards you, he made sure that you never had another reason to doubt his love for you.

It took time, and while it never fully went away, the hurt and anger faded until it was unnoticeable. When he left you had been in love with the eighteen year old version of him, and you got to experience falling in love with him all over again, this time with his twenty-seven year old self.

Fast forward two years, and the two of you are taking a nighttime walk in the park from two years ago, holding hands as you enjoy the peaceful night air when he suddenly speaks, startling you.

“Love.” You jolt looking up at him. “Yes? What’s…”

Part of you relished in the fact that you could see past his stoic facade straight to what was in his heart again, but tonight the intensity of the emotions swirling in his warm brown eyes caused you to trail off.

They weren’t bad emotions, in fact, they were far from it. He was looking at you like you were his whole world, like he could spend the rest of your life gazing into your eyes and still not have enough of your face. A little flustered under his full attention, you spluttered, then became deathly still.

Maintaining eye contact the entire time, your boyfriend got down on one knee just like he did all those years ago in that restaurant when he was begging for another chance. Except this time he reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a velvet ring box. And suddenly a simple, yet elegant diamond was twinkling up at you from where it was nestled in the plush velvet.

You looked at me and I looked at you Like we'd never look away

Your hand flies up, covering your mouth as tears fill your eyes. “Ken are you…?” He smiles tenderly up at you, and the sweetness of the moment absolutely nearly gives you heart palpitations.

“Y/N.” He looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on with so much conviction that you can’t help but believe him. “The first time I met you I knew you were the one for me. I-”

“Hold up.” You hold a hand out, cutting him off with a watery giggle. “The first time you met me I was laughing so hard about a dick joke Shoko made that I shot soda out of my nose. That’s what sealed the deal for you?”

He chuckled dryly. “What can I say, I saw a beautiful girl who was unafraid of expressing her joy to the fullest extent. When I heard your laugh, it literally gave me butterflies. It was beautiful, unrestrained and full of joy, just like you are.”

Taking a deep breath, his expression sombered slightly and he continued. “I know that I hurt you when I left. I will never forgive myself for that. And I will never stop being grateful to you for giving me another chance to prove my love to you. I won’t be as bold as to ask you to be mine; I know I don’t deserve that”

At this point you were openly crying, the moonlight glimmering off the unshed tears in his eyes as well.

“But, if you would give me the honor of being yours, of becoming your husband, I promise you won’t regret it. I promise that you will always be supported and valued. I promise that I will stay by your side and love you through thick and thin. So, would you give me the honor of being yours? Of staying by your side and loving you for the rest of our lives?”

You fling yourself at him and wrap your arms around his neck, crying into his shoulder. “Save the vows for the wedding loverboy, what are you going to say when we get married now that you’ve already made all of your promises to me? Huh?”

“When we get married?” His arms wrap around you as his voice trembles. “So, is that a yes?”

You lean back the salt from your tears mixing as you plant a sweet kiss on his lips. 

“Of course it is. You’re mine. That’s something that’s never going to change. However, Mr. Nanami Kento, would you give me the honor of being yours?”

He throws his head back and laughs. “Of course I will. Is that even a question you have to ask?”

And as he slips the ring onto your finger (it fits perfectly, of course) you know that being his is the one decision you will never regret.

And you said, "I never regretted the day that I called you mine" So I call you mine

taglist: @ponderingmoonlight @arlerts-angel @m0k0k0 @starlightanyaaa

[bingbongsupremacy]

Strangers

Accidentally posted this one first. Oh Well. I'm working on Notice Me.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Steve from school is completely different than Steve in the back of his car at 12 in the morning. Why is it that he only talks to you when he wants something from you?

Warnings: asshole!steve, cursing, idk if there's anything else.

I tried to make this as non-specific as possible. If I happened to specify anything, please let me know and I'll fix it.

*Not Proof Read*

Based on Strangers by Kenya Grace.

��♤♤♤♤♤

" I like being here with you. " Steve's voice is soft. He gently brushes a strand of my hair out of my face, his eyes staring into mine.

I smile at him. " I like being here with you too. "

His eyes shimmer in the glimmering moonlight. His lips curl into a smile, his teeth barely peeking through.

We don't say anything else. Instead we both stare up at the sky, enjoying each other's presence.

The air is cold but I don't mind. Steve's close body helps to keep me warm. It's moments like these I love. The world feels so safe and peaceful. No stress. No anxiety. Just us and the stars.

Steve gently draws circles onto the back of my hand. His touch is faint and tender but it leaves a patch of heat behind its path. He has that effect.

I wonder what he's thinking. When he looks at me, what does he see?

" I should get you home. Don't want you to break curfew. " Steve breaks the silence. He gently pulls my hand up to his lips before leaving a soft brief kiss on my knuckles. It's so light I can hardly tell he touched me.

Steve stands up but doesn't let go of my hand. Immediately, I miss his warmth and the smell of wood mixed with aftershave that always follows him.

Steve helps me stand up before finally letting go of my hand to pick up the blanket we were on. We make our way back to Steve's car, listening to the faint cricket noises as we step off of the field we're on.

When we get into his car Steve asks me about my day. He always checks in about my day on our way back to my house. It's sweet.

The night is over before I'd like it to be. Soon Steve is pulling onto my street and eventually stopping at the curb by my house.

It's about right now when I begin to wish the trip to my house was longer.

" Here we are. " Steve says while looking over at me. " I'll see you tomorrow? " His eyes are hopeful.

I smile. " Of course. Bye Stevie. " I open my door.

" Wait. " Steve calls, gently grabbing my arm. His other hand gently cups my cheek and brings me towards him. His eyes flicker down to my lips before making their way back up to my eyes. His breath is warm on my skin, the faint smell of peppermint lingering on his breath. He slowly leans down and his warm, soft lips meet mine.

His kiss sends shivers down my spine. Warm butterflies erupt in my stomach. I gently run my hand through Steve's already slightly messed up hair.

His lips feel desperate and hungry. His hand slides around to the back of my neck as he gently cups my head.

I want to stay like this forever.

Unfortunately, we can't. We both break away, breathless and flushed.

The cold air from my open door floods my heated skin.

A small smile breaks onto Steve's face. " Goodnight, baby. "

" Goodnight. "

Steve watches as I make my way into my house, ensuring I get inside safely. I lean against the closed front door with my ear against it. The sound of Steve's car fades away, muffled by the wood.

Until tomorrow.

♤♤♤♤♤

" Eddie stop scaring children. " I roll my eyes at the older boy who's mid lunge at a group of freshman.

His hands are up high, fingers spread out to look like claws. His lips are twisted into an exaggerated grin.

One of the underclassmen let's out a started yelp before dodging behind their friends. The group of freshmen moves away from us, curses and middle fingers flying towards Eddie who returns the gesture.

Eddie let's out a loud laugh as he rushes to catch up with me. " Somebody's gotta humble those fuckers. "

We stop at my locker. " What'd they even do? " I ask while spinning my combo into the lock.

Eddie leans against one of the lockers near mine. " They made fun of the club's shirt design. " He gestures to his chest where the design is currently located. " Dustin spent hours making this. That little shrimp put his heart and soul into this thing. How dare they shit on it. " Eddie's words are frustrated.

" I'm sorry, Ed. " I sigh sympathetically while setting my stuff inside my locker.

" I'm just hoping Dustin doesn't catch wind of what they're saying. " Eddie replies honestly. He crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes wandering to the boy who's chatting with his friends at the end of the hall. " Little dude's already having a tough enough time dealing with the outrageous amounts of homework they're piling on him, he doesn't need to be worrying about making a new design too. "

I've always admired how protective Eddie is over his friends, especially Dustin who he treats like a brother. He will always stand up for them, no matter how stupid it makes him look.

" There's Tweedledee and Tweedledumbass. " Eddie nods to someone behind me.

I look over to see Steve walking down the hall with his group of friends surrounding him. His laugh sends butterflies soaring around my stomach.

Tommy sticks his leg out partially, causing a passing boy to trip and nearly drop his books. This sends Tommy and Carol into a bout of laughter.

" What an ass. " Eddie mutters. " Carol and Steve are no better. "

" Eddie. " I sigh, a frown forming on my lips.

" What? They just stand there and let him do shit like that. They're bullies, just like him. They're shallow jerks who don't have enough brain cells to realize that other people in the world exist and not everything revolves around them. I mean, have you ever seen either of them stop Tommy or help someone he's fucked with? "

He has a point. While Steve might not be engaging in the bullying, he definitely doesn't do anything to stop it.

But he's not a horrible person. The Steve I know, the Steve who's with me almost every night, is kind and gentle. He's caring and smart. He's different.

" He's just complicated. " I defend the boy.

" Why are you defending him so much? " Eddie asks, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Steve and his friends pass by and I manage to catch his eye. I send him a small smile.

Steve sends me a small nod, quickly returning to his conversation with Tommy.

I've given up on saying hello to him in the halls. The last time I tried he gave me a forced awkward smile and Tommy wouldn't stop questioning him on why he was talking to me.

It's just easier to not say anything and smile. He knows I'm saying hi.

" Fuck no. " Eddie blurts. " You're with him again. "

I turn my attention back to Eddie. " Ed-"

" What the fuck? He treats you like shit! Why the fuck would you get back together with Steve Harrington? " Eddie hisses. He's never been the biggest fan of Steve. Actually, he's one of his biggest haters. When he accidentally found out Steve and I were hanging out, he lectured me for an hour on why I shouldn't date someone like Steve.

Like I said, he's protective over his friends.

I slap a hand over Eddie's mouth, looking around the make sure no one's paying attention. " Shut the fuck up, Eddie! Someone could hear you! " I let go of his face and drag him towards one of the empty classrooms. I close the door behind us.

" What the fuck are you thinking? Steve of all people? "

Anger bubbles in my chest. He thinks he knows Steve. He doesn't. Steve isn't as bad as he thinks. " You don't know him like I do, Eddie! Stop pretending you to! He's sweet and kind and he gives a shit about me. "

Eddie scoffs. " He's trying to get in your pants. Why else would he be forcing you to keep your shit a secret? Really, think about it. Have you two ever actually gone out together? Have you been seen together? " Eddie's eyes are narrow with anger. " He is using you and you refuse to see it. He barely even acknowledges you in the halls. "

" I'm a big girl, Eddie. Look, I appreciate your concern but I am going to do what I want to do. This is my life and I know what I'm doing. I don't need you to protect me from this. "

Hurt flashes across Eddie's features. " You know what, fine. " He walks towards the door and grabs the handle. " I know deep down you know he's using you and you're just too afraid to admit it. Do what you want but don't say I didn't warn you when he breaks your heart. " With that Eddie leaves, not bothering to shut the door behind him. I watch as he disappears in the crowd of students.

A sinking feeling fills my stomach. Deep down I know he's right.

But if I admit that, then I have to end things with Steve and I don't know if I'm ready to do that.

♤♤♤♤♤♤

Steve has never taken me on a date in public. It's always a late night picnic in the park or a pool date at his house.

It didn't use go bug me. I was just happy to be with him. Happy to get to know the real Steve.

But ever since my conversation with Eddie a few days ago I've started to notice the things he pointed out.

Eddie's still mad at me. He's back to talking to me but it's superficial and short. Not like how it used to be.

The ride back to my house is quiet and honestly I'm thankful for that. I need to think.

Why does Steve only want to hang out after dark. Is he embarrassed of me? Why is he so open when we're alone but so distant when we're at school?

Steve pulls to a stop. " I'll see you tomorrow? " He asks like usual.

The moon lights up his face, casting a beautiful glow over his features. A loose strand of his now messy hair lays gently against his forehead. His eyes are big and bright.

He looks so good.

" Steve, " Am I really doing this? " I actually need to talk to you. "

Confusion flashes over his face. His smile fades slightly. He picks up my hand and gently begins to draw invisible shapes on my palm. " Sure. Is everything alright? "

Here we go.

" Actually no. "

Steve tenses.

" This has been bugging me for a little bit so I'd figure I'd ask. " I take a small deep breath. " Why are we doing this? "

Relief floods Steve's face and he let's out a small nervous chuckle. " What do you mean. I like you and you like me so naturally we hang out. "

I shake my head and pull my hand away from the boy. " That's not what I mean. Why are we doing this in secret? Why won't you say hi to me in the halls? "

Steve's smile fades. " What? " He obviously wasn't expecting this.

" Why do you treat me so differently at night than you do during the day? "

My heart is pounding. I'm afraid to hear his answer.

Steve sighs. " Because...Because I thought you liked hanging out at night. "

" I do, Steve. I really do. But the problem is you don't even acknowledge me at school? I'm confused what the fuck is going on between us. " Anger bubbles in my chest.

" It's just what we've always done. " I can tell Steve's beginning to get a frustrated.

" That's not good enough. "

" I don't know what the fuck you want me to say! "

" I want the truth, Steve! I just want the truth. " I answer honestly. " I'm confused about us and- "

" I'm embarrassed of you! " Steve blurts.

My heart drops. " What? "

Steve's eyes widen. " Fuck! I didn't mean to say it like that. "

" Then how did you mean to say it, Steve? "

" I-Look, I really like you, Y/N, but we don't...run in the same circles. " Steve states slowly.

" So? "

Steve lets out a sigh. " You...I hang out with people like Tommy and Carol. You don't. It just...if we went public it would...complicate things. "

I'm not good enough for him. He's basically saying I'm not popular enough for him. What the fuck.

" Because I'm not popular and you are. " I scoff, shaking my head. " You know, you act like a dick at school and some part of me thought that deep down there was no way you were actually like that. I was wrong. You're an asshole, you know that? I never realized you were so shallow. You are just like Tommy and Carol. "

Steve's eyes turn dark. " I am not like like Tommy. "

" You're right. You're not. You're worse. At least Tommy's upfront about being an asshole and isn't tricking people into thinking he actually gives a shit about them. "

I feel like crying. I'm so angry right now.

" What the fuck do you expect? You hang out with people like Eddie Munson and his little band of rejects! " I've never seen Steve this angry before. " This was a fucking mistake. We never should've started doing this. "

That hurt. His last sentence sends a blow to my heart, officially shattering it into pieces.

For a moment I'm silent, trying not to cry. Suddenly this car I've grown to love feels suffocating. Memories of our times in the back seat or on the hood watching the stars fill my mind. What was the fucking point of all of this for him?

" You know, Eddie may be a 'freak', but at least he doesn't give a fuck what other people think. He doesn't care if others see us together. His whole life isn't a popularity contest. " I whisper. " You're right Steve, this was a mistake. Don't talk to me again. Whatever the fuck this is ends now. " With that, get out of his car, not bothering to look back when I make it inside.

Unlike every other night, Steve's dropped me off, I don't wait by the door to listen to him drive away. Instead, I head upstairs debating whether to call the guy I know I can rely on.

He's mad at me though.

But he still cares.

" Hello? " Eddie's groggy voice mumbles through my telephone.

" Eddie. " I swallow harshly. " I'm sorry. " I try not to let the tightness in my throat prevent me from talking. " I should've listened to you. "

Eddie sighs, sounding more awake than he was moments ago. " What happened? "

" I ended it. You were right. He's embarrassed of me. He was fucking hiding me to protect his ego. "

" I'm sorry, kid. " Eddie's tone is sympathetic. " He's a dick. You deserve better than to be treated like that. You deserve someone who knows you're worth. Someone who's not afraid to be with you. You'll find that person someday. "

" I don't know, Ed. I miss him. " It feels so stupid it's only been a few minutes, but I do miss him. " But I'm also so fucking angry. He's so shallow. I'm so mad at myself for getting myself into this situation. "

" You fell in love. You can't choose who or when you fall in love. Unfortunately, you fell for the wrong guy. You'll get over this, kiddo. You just need to keep moving forward. "

I lay down on my bed, staring up at the poster on my ceiling. It's a poster Steve gave me on my birthday, one from one of my favorite bands.

I don't know where I'd be without Eddie. He's different than how other people expect him to be. He's always looking out for the people around him.

" Eddie? " I whisper after a moment of silence.

" Yeah? " He responds back, equally as quiet.

" Thank you. "

I might not have Steve anymore but I'll always have my friends, and that's the most important thing to me.

[james-p-sullivan]

there’s nothing quite like band class in high school where you’re shoved into a room with 30 other kids at 7AM while creating some of the most chaotic, yet beautiful music you’ll ever hear

the maestro threatens to throw a trumpet out the window. the world rejoices.

[lloydfrontera]

'live up to your name' au where og knight of blood and iron javier gets "killed" in the middle of the plot but instead of dying he's transported to modern south korea, waking up in a random alleyway with no injuries whatsoever. and because he's a protagonist no matter what universe he is in, despite being deeply disoriented and confused when he sees a group of thugs harassing a guy he steps in and chases them off with no problem and barely any mention of cutting off limbs. and then after making sure the guy is okay he very sheepishly asks him if he could please help him because he was lost and had no idea of where he was or how he got there

and kim suho who just saw a gorgeous but obviously foreign stranger in awesome cosplay chase off his would be muggers with what looked like a real ass sword and is currently high and smitten in "oh thank god i didn't get my week's work salary stolen" endorphins and is about to have the weirdest week of his life innocently says "yes of course"

[bmpmp3]

after six years of the game being out and after three and a half years of me actually playing the game i have finally beat botw. did u know finishing video games is. fun,,

[chryzure]

jacks being characterized as a lame geek riding on the coattails of his bestfriend girlfriend’s popularity is more accurate as a modern au reading of him than the “rich bad boy” archetype. if he’s rich, then he’d be the lame fucking son of a country club family that can’t even ride horses. jacks is lame. he’s so uncool. and pathetic. nobody knows him like i do its so distressing

[holyshit]

.

[britneyshakespeare]

a couple of girls on the playground today were asking me if i was married, if i was ever going to get married, and one of them said “do you want to be an old cat lady?” and i replied “well i wouldn’t mind it,” completely forgetting that old cat lady is a mocking trope of single women after a certain age, and then she said “don’t you wanna be a bae?” and i was like oh yeah sure. i thought you meant would i like to have cats. yes i would.

[ayakashibackstreet]

Gave the headphone jack a proper cleaning, actually seems like it made things worse :/ Oh well, it's not that bad yet, if it gets worse I'll take it to the repair shop I guess

As I took her apart I realised that for a device I've been using extensively pretty much every day for 8-9 years, her battery life is still amazing? She easily lasts more than 10 hours of continuous music playback on one full charge, I take her on train rides and after 6 hours, she still displays half the battery. They don't make them like this nowadays (mainly because they don't really make them nowadays at all, 'them' being Sony)

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ PARTNERS — GOJO SATORU. (rich boy! au)

contents. college! au, rich boy! gojo, established relationship, you and suguru are partnered for a project instead of satoru…and he doesn’t take the news lightly, dramatic toru and INSTIGATOR suguru

satoru is sulking—you’d find it a little amusing any other day, but he seems a bit more upset than usual. and quite frankly, suguru isn’t really helping things out either, so you feel just a little bad.

“baby,” you poke his cheek, “it’s not our fault! we just got randomly assigned—”

“whatever,” he huffs. you tug at his arm, but he pulls it away.

it just so happens that the three of you seem to share a class this semester—but unfortunately, suguru is assigned as your partner for a project. it’s the same project satoru wanted to be paired with you for. he seems convinced it’ll be you and him that are called—which, in all honesty, the likelihood of being paired with you out of the multiple people in the class is low, but it’s only added insult to injury that suguru had the odds in his favor.

satoru is not handling it well.

“toru,” you insist, pinching his cheek in hopes to cheer him up. he scowls at you—as if this is your fault, “c’mon, cheer up! now that it’s suguru, you can just tag along when we work—”

“tag along?” he cuts you off, tone bordering on hurt, “so now i’m the third wheel?”

oh dear.

“n-no!” you say quickly—suguru has the audacity to snicker, earning a warning glance from you, “you’re never the third wheel, toru. you’re the first wheel! the only wheel. really!”

“y’know,” suguru starts—you already know whatever he’s about to say is going to make things ten times worse. you try (and fail) to glare at him until he’s silent. “if i recall, the two of you got together through a project, didn’t you? who knows, maybe you’ll have the biggest crush on me after this is over.”

suguru drops the bomb and winks. you look at him like you want to kill him. satoru’s face is devastated.

you think this might be the end.

“what?” satoru gasps, turning to you quickly, “tell him that’s impossible, tell him! tell him he’s hideous and that you only have eyes for me—”

“toru, of course i only have eyes for you, don’t listen to him, he’s just pushing your buttons—”

“hey, you never know. i might charm you,” suguru adds fuel to the fire—this time, you throw your water bottle at him. he catches it with ease, throwing you a smug grin that makes you scowl deeper.

“you’re hideous, suguru,” satoru spits, “no way anyone would leave me for you—”

“that already happened. remember your girlfriend in middle school?”

“that doesn’t count! we were too young to know what love was back then!”

satoru is practically inconsolable now—you consider dropping out of this class just for the sake of peace. maybe you can take it over the summer and be paired with a random stranger that won’t bother your dramatic boyfriend. maybe you can evade the project altogether with a different professor. maybe you can kill suguru and the misfortune of a dead partner can grant you an automatic exemption from this assignment.

you weigh your options as satoru slumps with a pout.

“whatever,” he grumbles, “i don’t even care. have fun without me.”

suguru chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. you sigh before cupping satoru’s cheeks and giving him a small kiss to his forehead to cheer him up.

not surprisingly, it doesn’t seem to work.

“cheer up, baby,” you reason, “at least since it’s just suguru, you won’t have to leave us alone to work! it won’t be awkward if you’re there too.”

“but you’ll be too busy working with suguru to talk to me,” he says bitterly.

“at least i’ll have a handsome face to keep me motivated,” you grin, kissing his jaw—now that…that seems to cheer him up considerably. he brightens, plastering that usual smug grin he sports, as if the world around him wasn’t ending just moments ago.

“i am handsome, aren’t i?” he hums, wrapping an arm around you—mission accomplished, you think happily.

“yeah,” you nod quickly, “and suguru is hideous anyway. i’d never leave you for someone with a tacky man bun—”

“hey, leave my hair out of this—”

“it is pretty tacky,” satoru nods and agrees.

suguru crosses his arms, glaring at the both of you before he opens his mouth to retaliate. you cut in before he can say anything else to worsen satoru’s mood any further.

“and maybe you can help me—you’re smarter than suguru too.”

“he is not—”

“you’re right baby,” satoru hums, “maybe this is for the best. i’ll save both of your grades this way.”

suguru’s vein all but pops. “we don’t need your help—”

“don’t worry suguru,” satoru grins confidently, pointing to himself with his thumb, “i’ll save your grade. no need to thank me—ow!”

you watch tiredly as suguru throws your water bottle at satoru’s head—it’s going to be a long project.

i already know the switch boy! au people are gonna start the “suguru definitely wants reader” comments. i’m waiting for them i can sense them already

[specshroom]

*°~There are many benefits to being a mage~°*

Includes: Fem reader x male orc, size kink, "human fetish", friends to more?

In which: Orc with a big problem confides in his mage friend who decides to help him out with a useful spell~🪄

You've been in this town for quite a while now, almost 3 years. That wasn't the original plan but It just so happened that this seaside town was more welcoming than many places you've been to on your travels. It sits at the coast of two major trade routes, connecting people of many different walks of life.

The friendliness and diversity you experienced allowed you to make a few friends you might not have otherwise.

Like the one you're sharing breakfast with right now. His name is Grimmok and he's the self-proclaimed, "Best fisherman in this damn town". He's your typical young, burley orc.

The first time you met him was in the local pub, you were intrigued when a crowd formed infront of the huge orc. He was dramatically telling one of his fisherman's tales and the small crowd hung onto his every word. He was a very good story teller and you happened to be very interested in folklore and myths. You made a habit of just walking up to him, if he didn't look busy and asking him to tell you a story. Soon it wasn't uncommon to see you sitting on the docks listening and writing intently as he waxes on about some old wives tale while repairing his nets.

Now you sit in his home, eating breakfast while he grumbles on about having to train a new fishing boy.

"The boy gets distracted by the smallest things, every time someone even resembling female walks past the docks he's panting like a dog." Grimmok bites into his ridiculously large breakfast sandwich signaling the end of his rant.

He did look more grumpy than usual when he opened the door to let you in for your weekly Sunday breakfast. His shoulder length black hair was tied into a hasty half up half down bun and his stubble looked more scruffy than usual. You can only huff in amusement at his troubles.

"Cmon, don't be too harsh on the kid. You did the same thing with Rosie Cotton, remember?"

The orc stills and huffs indignantly, scratching at his neck. This makes you grin.

"Mhm, you'd be telling me a story and then just stop in the middle of a sentence. I'd look up and sure enough there's Miss Rosie walking on by. Fiery hair flowing in the wind, cleavage spilling out her dress, swaying those hips and-"

Grimmok interrupts your overdramatic musing by flicking your pointy hat off your head.

"Hey!"

"You're acting like you didn't like looking at her too." The big guy grumbles almost like a child. He wipes his hands on his plaid pajama pants and picks up his empty plate, heading towards the sink.

You lean down to pick your hat off the floor, dust it off and mumble,

"Yeah, but I never got to bed her."

The dishes in the sink clatter a little too loudly as he tenses up. You hardly try to stifle your laugh.

"We didn't actually...she was...too small... For me to...." The orc struggles out as he wipes his plate clean.

It's quiet for a minute until you ask.

"But she did try, right? I'm pretty sure that counts, Grim."

The orc just grumbles something unintelligible. You want to sympathise with the poor guy but imagining Rosie Cotton, a "short stack" type of woman, trying to fit his massive green cock in her little pussy was pretty erotic.

"I want to feel bad for you mate but you kind of bring this on yourself. You obviously have a bit of a human fetish."

"It's not a-" The orc goes to defend himself but stops and just sighs when he realises it's no use.

"...and a size kink to boot." You mumble with toast in your mouth.

"I can't help it if I think horny humans trying desperately to take my cock is literally the hottest thing to me!" Grimmok finally lets the dam of sexual frustration burst after you've done a sufficient amount of poking at it. You always were good at getting him to actually talk about his problems.

"But the problem comes in when I actually have to fuck them, they can barely take half! How am I supposed to fuck them!? I'm too big! I'd kill them!"

You can't help but choke on your toast as a cackle forces itself from your throat. "Sorry. I'm sorry!" You struggle between snorts. Your big green friend just stands there with a grimace, arms crossed as he waits for you to finish.

You sigh and wipe your watering eyes. "Well, I'm glad you've confided in me because now I can help you." You wipe your hands clean and stand up from the orc sized table.

"You know that cool thing I can do with my hat?" You take your hat off and reach inside of it, the magic pocket space allowing you to reach your whole arm inside of it when you physically shouldn't be able to.

He nods sceptically still leaning against the sink, a bit concerned about where this is going. He thought by "help" you meant like you were going to pep talk him or something.

"We just have to do this but with...." You gesture down to your crotch.

Grim stands there, mouth slightly agape, blinking at you.

"I mean it's not exactly the same obviously." You pull your trusty spell book out of the hat before placing it back on your head while the pages of the spell book fly open to the page you want. "You basically draw this sigil on someone and then they'll be able to take whatever they can push inside no matter how big. Girth might still be an issue though..."

You explain this to him like you've explained many other spells, like you're reading him a recipe, deliberating what ingredients would work best. He doesn't even know how to react honestly.

"You're serious?"

You clap the book shut and adjust your hat on your head, smugly shrugging,

"This is what I do."

The poor guy just stumbles in disbelief.

"Magic, I mean.... Magic is what I do." You correct yourself a bit awkwardly and clear your throat, regaining your confidence.

"It's a pretty easy spell so we can try this whenever you want really."

"We?"

"Alright! Alright."

"Well yeah, unless you want me to go up to Rosie Cotton and say "Hey love, you mind if I put this sigil on your womb so my friend can finally pound your tight little-"

Grimmok rubs his face with his hands, sighing again and looking unsure. You lean against the sink next to him, barely coming up to his pecs.

"Look, it'll just be a one time thing so you can actually see if human pussy's all that and if you like it, I'm sure we can find plenty of humans who would love to try it out."

"...Alright. That sounds good."

You give a slap to his thick bicep and an encouraging "ata boy."

"and if you don't like this one, I'm sure I could find a spell that'll just make you..." He doesn't miss how you glance down at his crotch. "Smaller."

He huffs and pushes your shoulder playfully, he liked how you could always joke away the tension in any given situation. You walk up to the big wooden chair you were sitting at a second ago and pull it away from the table so that it's facing outward, struggling a bit as it's very much orc sized like most things in his house.

"Cmon. Sit."

You pat the chair, looking at him expectantly.

"Now?"

He's really not used to other people being so forward especially not when it's his mate. You shrug at him.

"Why not? I mean we can wait till you're ready, I don't mind. I have literally all day."

You put your hands behind your back and rock on your feet as you both just stand in his kitchen for about a minute...waiting. He eventually huffs and steels himself, fully committing to the idea and walking over to plop himself in the chair. He's going to put his dick inside one of his best mates.

You place your hat on the table so it doesn't get in the way of your activity and step in front of him. You levitate your spell book In front of you, looking down at the page with the sigil that's way more familiar than you're letting on.

"Okay, I'll face this way so it's less....personal." You turn around so your back is facing him. "You do still need to take off your pants though."

He smacks his teeth, "I figured that." He mumbles, pushing his soft pajama pants down to his mid thighs, immediately freeing his cock as he wasn't wearing underwear. He leaves his white long sleeve on, the sleeves folded to his elbows, giving you a perfect tease of his thick strong arms and multiple tattoos. When he looks back at you and sees that you've already disappeared your pants, he quickly looks away.

Sensing his nervousness you ask with a softer voice than before,

"can I sit?"

He clears his throat before grumbling a "Yeah."

You gently lean down and sit your naked ass onto his lap, legs open wide over his own you can see his half hard cock laying between his legs but try not to stare. Obviously Grimmock is a big guy but he's even big by orc standards so of course his cock is massive even when he isn't fully hard.

Grimmock clears his throat and jolts you out of your thoughts. You adjust a bit on top of him feeling his happy trail against your lower back. Your eyes skim the page levitating in front of you, when you finally find the incantation passage you straighten up and start chanting the ancient words in the text. Your eyes glow and the air feels static, Grim has seen magic before but the novelty never truly wears off.

An intricate shape starts to form right above your pubic bone, where your womb would be. The sigil glows brightly on your skin as Grim peers from above your head to look at it. At first glance he thinks it looks a bit demonic but then remembers he doesn't know anything about magic and decides not to mention it. When the sigil is complete you clap the book shut, immediately cutting off the static energy in the room and startling him in the process.

"That should do it."

You place the book on the table and lean back against his clothed chest, feeling the tension in his body not letting up.

"Damn, I can't believe little Miss Rosie took half of this. What a lass."

Your joke lightens the mood once again as Grimmock scoffs at you. Feeling him relax, you bring your hand down to finally touch the wetness that's been growing for awhile now. "We should still do some prep before you put it in. Is that alright?"

He nods and watches your hand disappear between your thighs. You readjust so that your boot clad feet are on either side of the chair rests. Opening yourself up to the air and to him, he can see you've already got two fingers pushing inside. He hesitates before reaching for his cock and slowly starting to stroke himself under you but it was painfully clear he was holding back.

"I know I'm not as short or.... endowed as Miss Cotton but I could put on a red wig if you'd like."

Grim huffed a laugh at the mental image of that.

"Oh wow~ Grimmie, you're soooo big and strong~"

You say in a high pitched voice (that doesn't sound anything like Rosie Cotton), using her embarrassing pet name while looking up at him and batting your eyelashes dramatically.

Grim scoffs and holds his hand over your mouth "Stop playing around." He tries to sound serious but his smile and the grumble in his chest betrays him. You laugh against his hand holding his wrist. You slowly pull his hand off your mouth and inch it gradually down your body giving him ample time to pull away. He doesn't and you move his hand to rub against your wet pussy ever so gently.

You're both looking into each other's eyes, this was not supposed to be so intimate but it doesn't look like he minds when he takes charge and slowly eases two fingers inside your aching pussy. His thick fingers stretch your pussy so good as you lightly buck into his hand, greedy pussy already hungry for more. The way he's looking down at you with so much need gets you so hot inside. A heat that only increases when he starts pumping his fingers in and out. Grim works you open with one hand and pumps his fat cock with the other.

This entire situation has you pent up and impatient so you pull his hand away and sit up, "I can take it now." He can't help but groan at your words but remains concerned at the perceived lack of prep. Whenever he fools around with humans most of the engagement is spent just doing prep so he's more than a little worried, "Are you sure?"

You don't reply as you gently take his fully hard cock from his hand, holding it up against your stomach to see how far inside you this thing could go. You both groan at the comparison between his ridiculously massive dick and your body, he reaches way past your belly button and into your stomach. Definitely more than a human could safely take. You adjust your legs so that you're almost squatting on his lap, your feet plant on the seat on either side of his hips.

You support yourself with your hand resting on the seat between his legs and lift yourself so you can rub your wetness along the length of his cock. He brings his rough hands to hold your hips gently, not applying pressure but just resting there so he can have something to hold.

You lift yourself up until his tip is in-line with your entrance, slowly rubbing it against your clit. You both groan lightly when the tip pops in and you slowly ease yourself down his cock. He's amazed at how easy your cunt swallows him. You pause half way down to adjust and give a few pumps to the rest of him before your hand leaves his cock to settle next to your other hand on the chair in front of you. He squeezes your hips a little in silent concern and you smile before easing the rest of him in, gently descending until you reach the hilt. Your pubes kiss his and he can't help but let out a weak moan at the sight and feeling of you taking all of him. Finally feeling tight walls grip the entire length of his cock has him reeling. You're overwhelmed as well, It's been a while since you've taken someone this big.

You slowly circle your hips around so that you really feel his cock against your walls deep inside you, you're obviously very pleased with yourself. Grim is seeing stars, eyes shut, head tilted back, trying to regain himself even a little while his literal dreams are coming true.

"Well, we know it works. I guess that's it then." You move to lift yourself off his cock as if your work is done.

"Nononono, Please no. Please."

Comes Grim's hasty but soft displeasure, both his thick arms circle around your waist to keep you in place as he leans against your back, head resting on your shoulder.

"What's the matter big guy?" You lean into his chest, stroke his arm and turn your head to look at him. He huffs, you know exactly what's the matter. He takes a deep breath and lifts his head to look at you.

"I need you."

Your heart jumps in your chest.

"I need you to fuck me...please."

You look up at him, wide eyes, mouth agape as he looks back down at you. The moment is almost sweet until your mouth forms into an evil grin and you snicker softly, a dreadfully familiar mischievous glint in your eyes. Grim closes his eyes and almost regrets all the choices that lead him here.

"Riiight~. I almost forgot, this is probably the first time you've actually been able to fuck someone sooo much smaller than you."

"Poor guy, you must be so pent up, huh?"

You reach down to gently hold his massive ballsack, making him suck in a breath and twitch his thighs.

All he can do is let out a choked moan of your name which only makes you chuckle.

"I can really play the part for you, if you'd like. Y'know the, "Ah, your so deep!" and "You're filling this human pussy up so good!""

You laugh when you feel his dick twitch. Poor Grim can only grip your waist and try to keep his hot face from getting hotter. He looks down at you with pleading eyes and you decide you're not so evil after all. You pat his arms and move them so he's holding your waist. He startles a little when you playfully kiss him on the cheek.

"I've got you big guy."

You lean forward again with your feet under you and start to lift yourself up very slowly until the top of his cock is juuust about to pop out. Your thighs burn as you stay there for a few seconds, teasing Grim and yourself. Grim thinks he might actually cry if you don't move.

Suddenly you grip the edge of the chair and force yourself down hard on his cock, taking him all the way to the hilt in one hard thrust. You both groan very loudly, he downright yelps with the sudden movement. You grip the chair and clench around him so hard he can't help the way he grips your waist tightly. One hand covers his mouth as he tips his head back and tries to not cum immediately. He tries to regain his breathing but you have other plans. You can feel him twitch inside you and a desperate need to be filled engulfs you.

You start thrusting up and down on his dick, moving your whole body up and down his length. It's a good thing he can't see your face because you are enjoying this way too much. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you bite your lip, the sensation of being filled to the literal brim is intoxicating. You work yourself and him so diligently, it's no time before your thrusts become more frantic and you're right at the peak. With one final deliberate thrust you cum hard around him, clenching and unclenching like you're trying to milk him dry.

You both moan freely now, though his are more like growls. Your pulsing walls quickly lead him to his own climax, holding you close to his chest and thrusting up into your cunt, spilling hot seed deep inside your womb. You shake and squirm even more with the blissful feeling of your walls being coated with his spend.

After a few moments of you two spasming and twitching you eventually ease up and fall limply against his chest, adjusting your thighs to rest on top of his again. You breathe out a long sigh and bask in the fullness of your cunt, stroking your stomach up and down.

You're blissfully unaware of the knowing smirk that grows on his face. He cards his fingers through his hair, composing himself a little more. His warm hand joins yours in caressing up and down the expanse of your stomach and chest, loving how small you feel in his hold.

"You've done this before." His voice comes out in a low growl that makes you shiver, not expecting it. You crane your head up to see him smirking down at you and all you can do is sit and stare. He chuckles deeply,

"There ain't no way, this is your first time taking a cock this size."

You stumble for words but none come out. His hands caress your thighs and one hand comes up to gently hold your jaw. He leans down really close to your face.

"You're a size queen."

You suck in a breath and your pussy clenches involuntarily around his cock which you only noticed now hasn't gone down at all. Grim laughs louder this time.

"I should've known the second you pulled out that spellbook."

You sit there, quite embarrassed at being caught. You smack his hand away from your waist.

"Shut up, you're the one with the-"

"Yes, we both know about my kinks, you teased me about it enough which is very hypocritical of you."

Grim is just loving the way you fluster and fumble for words right now.

"Oh, so you don't have a thing for inhumanly huge cock?"

He challenges and uses both his hands to bring your naked thighs to your chest, exposing your pussy, leaking with his seed.

"So you don't like the way I stretch and fill this little human pussy?"

You can't help but whine at his dirty words and the position he's binding you into. His cock adjusting inside of you, hitting a new spot.

"If you don't, I guess I could just pull out and-"

"Nonononono... Grim Cmon."

You frantically babble your disagreement, shaking your head. He chuckles again, very pleased with himself at turning the tables on you but thankfully for you he's not as evil as you are and his dick is still painfully hard.

"Alright Darlin, I'll take care of you."

He lifts himself from the chair, leaving a puddle of both of you when he stands. He comforts your whines when he pulls out to set you ass up on the table and just stands at the edge, one hand on his hip and the other leisurely stroking his cock.

You look back at him with confusion, expecting him to just fuck you over the table already.

"If you ask nicely."

He says looking real smug, you sigh in defeat and turn your body so that you're facing him. You disappear the rest of your clothes, leaving you stark naked on the large kitchen table you were just eating breakfast at. That realisation makes him pump his cock harder.

You press your knees as close to your chest as possible and bring your hands down to your puffy, leaking pussy. You spread your folds for him with your fingers and say, as sexily as you can manage.

"Please fuck me Grim."

Grim is so fucking floored, he's cursing himself for not thinking of doing this sooner. He sighs and pumps his cock harder, lining the leaking tip up to your pussy lips. He eases it inside and the new position makes for a new sensation for both of you as different spots are brushed and tension melts away. Once he's balls deep again he gently worms his arm underneath your back to lift you up with ease. You wrap your arms around his neck for support being mindful not to pull his hair. Suddenly you're face to face, looking into his eyes for the first time since you started.

You look into his dark eyes and they relax you, this is your best friend, you trust him. His eyes leave yours to stare at your parted lips. When he sees that familiar quirk on your lips he looks back to your eyes, catching the mischievous glint. You lean closer so that your noses are just brushing against eachother. You feel his breath hitch when your lips meet his. He spares no time getting into it and moves his lips against yours. You make out while he adjusts your body in his hold, one hand on your ass and the other on your waist.

He then, without warning, lifts you up and brings you down hard thrusting the whole length of his cock into you in one hearty thrust. You break from the sloppy kiss for a moment to groan out in absolute ecstasy, loving the way he takes the lead from you effortlessly. He brings down your whole body to meet his upwards thrusts. The way he's basically using your entire body like a fleshlight makes you embarrassingly horny.

It feels like it's been years since you were fucked like this, the way your body is reacting, so sensitive you're sure you could cum again any minute. This is exasperated greatly when he brings you closer to his chest with one arm locked around you so that he can worm his other hand in-between you two and rub at your engorged clit.

You grab at his wrist as he frantically works you to your climax, you basically scream when you finally reach that high. Clenching and shaking on his cock while he holds you up with his buff arms. You cling into him so tightly, getting drool on his shirt. You even squirt a little, getting your wetness all over his cock and the floor. Your intense climax once again has him reeling. The sight of you clinging onto him, squirting and losing yourself on his cock makes his balls clench painfully as his frantic thrusts turn faster and sloppier. He reaches his climax as he holds you close, groaning into your neck, pumping another thick load deep into you.

You both stay like that for a while, coming down from your respective highs. Your fingers slowly unclench from his shirt moving down to lazily caress his chest, feeling it move with his breaths as you rest your head on his shoulder.

He slowly manoeuvres your legs so he can sit back down on the chair, holding you to his chest. His hand strokes down your back as you both soak in the warm, tranquil after glow. His breathing evens out to a steady rhythm and your eyes flutter closed.

Knock knock knock

You both jolt awake and stare at each other wide eyed and then at the front door, which is very much visible from the kitchen. You both stay quiet and he holds you closer to hide your fully naked body if the rude intruder somehow manages to break the door down.

Knock knock knock

"Uhh Mr Grimmock Sir?"

The tension in Grim's body sags when he hears who's on the other side of the door. A hand goes to massage his impending migraine.

"BOY! What do you want?!"

You can imagine the way the poor fishing boy cringes at the anger in Grim's voice.

"Sorry Sir, I was wondering if you could give me some extra lessons on the boat?"

Grim growls in frustration, you chuckle in amusement and start kissing up his neck which settles him down a little.

"Tomorrow lad, it's Sunday."

"But I was-"

"Tomorrow."

The finality in his tone seems to get through to the young man as he mutters an "Alright Sir, see you then." Before walking off, his steps getting lighter and lighter.

"He doesn't want to work all week but suddenly he wants to work on Sunday?!"

Grim's irritation is clear as he gestures to the door incredulously. You can't help but laugh at the orcs misfortune. You settle your arms around his broad shoulders, one hand playing with his hair as his hand begins to stroke down your back again.

"Thank you for...helping out"

He says, quite genuinely.

"Anytime."

You throw him a thumbs up and he has to laugh and shake his head at the award winning nonchalance. When the amusement fades though he leans forward in the chair and brings his hands lower to cup your ass cheeks.

"Anytime?"

You can feel his soft cock gradually hardening inside your pussy and you look up at him in utter disbelief.

"Unbelievable."

You shake your head and chastise him but the smile that breaks on your face rats you put. He grins and lifts you up, walking out of the kitchen. His mouth marks up your neck and his stubble tickles, dull tusks dig into the sensitive skin.

"Just unbelievable."

You mutter to yourself again as your legs hug around his waist tighter and you feel his cum dripping out of your hole, leaving a trail all the way to his bedroom.

[usedtobecooler]

sexual content minors dni.

the thought of eddie munson just being so desperate and aching in the middle of the night that he sleepily, desperately ruts up against the curve of your ass, tip leaking steadily all over the silk of your sleep shorts.

it’s. a thing. always has been a thing. your shorts meant the green light for him to grind and slide up against you in a feverish heat, moonlight peaking through the gap in the curtains and casting the hasty motions in your shadows.

you’re barely awake, only just rousing enough to get with the program and wiggle up against him, make it known he’s okay to keep going even as you bury your face into the pillow sleepily. you roll your hips, marvelling in the way his length kicks up at the movement.

he’s plastered right up against you from chest to thighs, moaning high pitched and desperate into your ear, mouthing at your neck as he ruts a little quicker. until he slides against you differently, askew enough to have his entire shaft slipping between the apex of your thighs, nestled in the tight heat of your sweaty skin, the curve of his tip slipping over your clit through a thin layer of satin.

“please, please baby, lemme stay here. can i?” he begs, peppering kisses against your shoulder and you can’t help but nod when he slides between your thighs again and nudges that bundle once more.

it’s hot, sweaty, the steady stream of pre leaking from his flushed red tip more than enough to slick up the way as he thrusts inside your thighs. you moan, can’t help yourself as the prickle of heat and want shoots up your spine and buries deep. you never expected it to feel so good, to keep you stimulated as much as it did him.

“so fucking good, sweetheart. even your thighs fuck me up, so tight.” eddie’s so stuck to your back he’s practically moulding into you, the bite of his fingertips teetering on painful in the dip of your waist as he uses his grip for leverage to keep thrusting. his curls stuck to your sweaty skin, kisses turning to biting and sucking as he teeters close.

you can’t help the noises that fall from your own lips, needy and hungry for it. it feels good. so good. to feel how desperate he is to get off, listen to how pathetic he sounds being brought to the edge by nothing more than the squeeze of your thighs and the roll of your hips. he knew how to make your head big, so in love with you and turned on by your body that he’d fuck any part you were willing to offer up.

it’s all too much, even with your eyes shut. so when you open them and look down, watching the head of his cock sliding in and out of your thighs and covering you in creamy spatters, it’s too much. your body coils tight like a spring and you’re reaching your own peak before he reaches his, clamping your thighs even tighter with the sheer force of it.

“holy shit, did you—? oh god, fuck it’s so wet, ngh,” eddie thrusts behind you sporadically, sucking right on the tip of your shoulder as he cums in between your thighs, thick spurts soothing the slight sting of your skin, painting you in a gorgeous pearlescent mess.