#hi! sorry it's been a year. i was-- uhh. busy.

[oldpotatoe]

Chapter 22 ;)

in which--

[dr3amfyr-e]

brat. - j.v. ( w. 4.5k )

꒰ in which the boy you see every summer enrolls in the same university as you. ꒱ — modern!jacaerys velayron x reader

୨ ⎯ i cannot stress enough, football means ⚽️ not 🏈. childhood-friends-to-lovers, but you have to get through my 2000 word psychoanalysis and backstory first. light angst. mention of the death of a parent. lots and lots of talk about the velaryon-targaryen-hightower family dynamic. light make out action. reader's family is implied to be wealthy enough to have a summer home. almost everyone lives au. set in the uk, not westeros. omitted daemon rhaenyra marriage because there’s no way to to make it even semi-normal. realizing now i omitted daemon entirely erm sorry. pushing the laenor agenda bc he’s my favorite character. this is abhorently long. extreme overuse of the em-dash. uhh the perspective is wonky in a few places. will prob get a pt.2. ⎯ ୧

i had to write this twice. i'm offering this to you with shaking hands, like a peasent child begging for coins. i may write a part two because i have more to say, but i don't want to figure it out rn.

On the cold January morning that Jacaerys Velaryon-Targaryen was born, the media went into a frenzy. 

The Targaryens were old money, their fortune rooted a century back in good investments. Historically adept at finding their way into things, the empire had a string to pull in every industry. From art and law to technology and shipping, if business prospects looked good there would be a Targaryen investment.

And then there were the dogs — regal greyhounds, with long, thin bodies and sleek coats. The Targaryens bred them as far back as bloodline records went. The pups were never for sale; sometimes they were used as show dogs, and successful show dogs they were, but more often they were pets. It was a status symbol, to nonchalantly own such a coveted creature. 

The Targaryens were idolized in the public eye. They were all stunning, with sharp features and silver hair, and each member of the family seemed to possess a Midas touch. But, where Valyrian blood ran hot, so did the press. It was no surprise when magazines started to turn a profit from silver heads plastered across their glossy covers. It was the price that came with God-like aristocracy.

From editorials to gossip columns, people devoured the insider life of the untouchables. When Aemma Targaryen died, there was a four-page spread in nearly every magazine; complete with pictures and quotes. Business papers filled with opinion pieces about Rhaenyra’s inheritance claim to her family’s empire; magazines exploded with the announcement of her engagement to Laenor Velaryon, and subsequently Viserys’ marriage to Alicent Hightower, the daughter of his lawyer. 

When Jacaerys was born, reporters lined up outside of the hospital doors. There were cameras and microphones and crew trucks, and Rhaenyra hated it. It wasn’t the way she wished to welcome her child into the world — swarmed by people who didn’t know nor care for him.

Laenor had always been good at navigating the attention, and Rhaenyra was constantly grateful. So, when he pulled his gaze from the babe and steeled himself to deal with the onslaught of reporters outside, tears pricked at her eyes. Appreciation, exhaustion, adoration? She couldn’t be sure. 

Looking down at her son, she thought, he’s perfect. He had a smattering of dark hair, and he was quiet but not concerningly so. Wispy lashes fell upon his cherub cheeks, and when he eventually blinked up at her his eyes were dark. He looked nothing like her — she didn’t care. 

She refused to talk to anyone outside of her family, and had the curtains in her private room drawn. To expose her son, her heart, to the prying eyes of the bored masses with nary a care for his well-being was a nightmare. She wouldn’t have him exploited. 

At the time of Jacaerys’ birth, she and Laenor had been married for a little over a year. Laenor’s father, Corlys, managed the bulk of the import and export for Viserys’ company. Corlys was a good man, he hadn’t dreamed of marrying his son off. But Laenor and Rhaenyra were both in the same impossible situation: the wiles of youth mixed with the ever critical public. 

They had both fallen into scandalous relationships, both preyed on by paparazzi. If they married one another, it would save face for both of their families. Plus — both being the eldest and heir, this would clear the expectation of a dignified marriage. They agreed to leave each other to whatever youthful fun they wanted to have, as long as everything was discreet. 

Both the Velaryons and the Targaryens kept a summer home in Dragonstone, a private community in coastal Wales. It was the perfect place for Rhaenyra and Laenor to begin their life — far from her father, close to his parents, and out of the line of sight for any nosy journalist. 

The public eye had looked to other things by the time Lucerys was born, two years later. Again, Laenor dealt with the small gathering of reporters with the utmost grace, and Rhaenyra submitted a written statement. 

Alicent divorced Viserys that same year. 

As she watched her boys grow up, full of energy and life, Rhaenyra thought, there was no one better to parent with than her best friend — a title Laenor had rightfully earned. They hadn’t had much choice in knowing each other, and they certainly would never have chosen to be married, but he made a bearable roommate. They had things in common; they liked the same music, and the same men. They drank the same wine and frequented the same restaurants. And, they both loved their boys. 

As Jace and Luke grew up, they found the best company in each other — the school in Dragonstone was so small, though, that there were very few other options. They both played on the school’s small football team, and Jace took piano lessons while Luke learned to fence. Where Jace was driven by emotion, Luke was level-headed; where Luke was cautiously quiet, Jace spoke his mind. It was an ideal childhood, the Welsh coast was an idyllic backdrop to grow up upon, with the sea in their backyard. 

They were ten and eight when Joffrey was born, both excited for their new brother. Their mother brought him home, bundled in a soft red blanket. The boys sat on the couch beside Rhaenys and stared at him for upwards of an hour. 

Hardly a week had passed when Harwin Strong died. He was a family friend, a frequent presence in their home and life — Jace and Luke had been upset by this, of course. 

In time they came to understand the situation fully. Jacaerys first, fitting the pieces together with the evidence he found in the mirror. Neither Rhaenyra nor Laenor had dark hair, like he and his brothers. 

His matriline was uncontestable though, as he grew into himself. He possessed the same nose, jaw, brow, and high cheekbones that Rhaenyra wore. The comparisons between the two became more frequent as he grew older, and he found himself to be quite proud to look like her. 

Her attitude lived in him as well, the temperament she had been so notorious for as a girl festered in her eldest son. She had once been christened ‘The Princess of Dragonstone’ after flipping off a reporter at their summer home. Jacearys earned it for himself when he was fifteen, after loudly berating a reporter. He had been defending Luke, but no one seemed to care when they deigned him ‘The Prince of Dragonstone’. He took it with grace, claiming that he couldn’t help but be his mother’s child.

It instilled a sense of public propriety he strove to uphold. 

Rhaenyra remarried the same year — to Alicent Hightower — and moved her children from Wales to London. It took a while to adjust to the new life — Jace liked his new school, but he detested his step-brothers. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t come around to the idea of living with Aemond and Aegon, who took so much pleasure in making he and his brothers miserable. 

After the first month, Jacaerys fell in brilliantly. He performed well in school, quickly being enrolled in the advanced literature and history courses. He got on well with his peers, and made a number of friends. He joined the football team and spent his Sunday afternoons learning piano concertos. 

Living in London made him a more publicly prominent figure in his family's legacy. He knew how to play his role as heir; he carried himself perfectly — confident and charming and elegant. He didn’t particularly like being in the public eye, but there was a certain sense of satisfaction when he did something to receive positive public attention. 

King’s Landing, much like where he had grown up, was a community reserved for the upper echelon. Situated in Northwest London, and surrounded by wrought iron gates, it was regal and dignified. The house had high, vaulted ceilings, large stained glass windows, and more than enough bedrooms. It rained more, Jacaerys noticed in the first month. When it had rained in Dragonstone he would watch the droplets bounce off the sea, where it lapped at the sandy bay. Here the rain splattered unceremoniously upon the pavement. 

For as wonderful as life in London had turned out, Jacaerys found himself longing for what was left behind in Dragonstone. Laenor lived there still, and while he called often and visited as much as he could, it wasn’t the same. Jace’s childhood bedroom remained, along with all of the memories in the house he grew up in. And his friends. There was an assortment of people he only saw between late May and early September; the children of the other seasonal residents. The number had dwindled in years past, with fewer of them returning for break — favouring more interesting places, like Ibiza or Rome, as they got older. 

Far too few of his childhood friends he kept in contact with, especially after the move to London. You were the exception. 

He was grateful, on days when it stormed in London, to receive a silly text or too-long voice note. It made things feel less dull — you had a way of doing that. 

He took to reading theory around the time he turned seventeen. It’s queer theory, at the suggestion of his cousin Baela, who lent him his first Judith Butler book. He finished it that weekend. 

His aunt Laena and her two daughters lived in London, and Jace found a close comrade in Baela. She played competitive tennis and listened to riot grrrl, she was much cooler than him and he knew it. Her bedroom held two massive bookshelves, and she let him pillage her collection for De Bouvier and Didion and Gay. Hours were spent lying across the floor in Laena’s house, studying, or reading, or talking. He enjoyed Baela’s company more than any of his school friends, favouring anything with her over anything with the boys from his football team. 

His youngest sister, Visenya, turned one around the same time. Baela, staying with Jacaerys while he babysat one night, inducted him into the eldest daughter club. 

“You’re so keen on driving your siblings around, and taking care of them. Plus, aren’t you your mother’s closest confidant?” She asked. 

True, Jace supposed. He was the oldest of Rhaenyra’s children, and the most responsible of his brothers and step-siblings. His mums both worked full time, they were busy but as involved as possible. Jace just did the menial things. He made Joffrey breakfast, picked Luke up after school, and watched Visenya when necessary. He didn’t mind.

Baela argued that he should mind. 

He had been a sensitive child, more so than his brothers, but it made him incredibly emotionally adept as he aged. So many boys his age prided themselves on stoicism, but that was never something Jace felt connected to. He always felt things too deeply to bottle them up — it accounted for the occasional temper that flared up when he was upset, but also how empathetic and kind he was. 

Jacearys was set to graduate with honours in the first week of May. It was three months before when college acceptance letters began to appear in the mail. He had applied to a number of places, and been accepted everywhere. The University of the Vale was where his hopes hinged though. 

Just after Valentine's Day, it showed up. The envelope was wide and stuffed full, and sealed with a wax stamp. His acceptance letter was on the very top of the stack of papers — the thick paper heavy in his hands, as he admired the blue printed border and silver flocking. 

Rhaenrya sorted through the informational packets while Jace reread the letter. Part of him couldn’t believe it was real.

He sends you a picture of the letter, and you respond in kind with one of an identical nature. 

You hadn’t planned to go to the same university, but it certainly was a happy coincidence. 

After graduation, he was beyond excited for the reprieve that Dragonstone granted. The promise of early morning hikes, and evenings spent on the beach — the once empty house, full of life and bustling with bodies. 

You were the first thing Jacaerys thought to look for when he set his bags down in the summer home. 

It was late May, and you were guaranteed to be out of school. I’ll text after I unpack, he thought, pulling clothes and books from his suitcase. 

His room in Dragonstone had once been his childhood bedroom. The walls were a warm tone of white, and the small bed was still covered with his blue and white checkered duvet. Piano scales and pictures of his brothers and friends adorn the walls. There was a soccer trophy on the back edge of his desk, something he had won when he was eleven. It was stuffy from nine months of stagnance, but familiar all the same. 

He pushed the curtains back from the window to let sunlight filter into the dusty room, gazing down at the beach, when he spotted your figure. He was quick to rush downstairs, out the backdoor, and across the stone path that leads from the patio to the beach. He greets you with a call of your name and a tight hug, sunglasses perched atop his head and linen shirt half buttoned. 

It had been a year since he’d last seen you. You had kept in touch during the school year; Jace favoured Snapchat and FaceTime, delighted with the pleasure of seeing the mundane things you were up to. There was a nearly constant text thread, and voice memos passed back and forth. But, it all paled in comparison to physical company. 

He abandoned his housekeeping duties, keen to sit on the beach and talk. And you did so for hours, about everything and nothing. He tells you about his last year of school and listens as you do the same. When the sun dipped past the treeline, he leaned back on his elbows, watching the water crest on the sand. He felt more at ease than he had in a while, enraptured by the ease of your presence. The conversation flowed, there were no awkward lulls and no pressure to talk about something dignified. It was comforting to be so close to someone who didn’t see much of his life in London — you knew the best version of him. 

Your friendship had always felt like that, from a young age. On days that smelled of sunscreen and sea salt in his mind, you would meet in the mornings and depart past dark and then do it again the next day, never tiring of each other. Your parents knew his, so you had always been welcome in his home — invited or not. You had shared a bed during sleepovers, drunk from the same cup, and fallen asleep on the couch during movie nights countless times. Quick glances and imperceptible expressions were a language you communicated in, reading each other without words. In your presence, Jace was the most comfortable.

The summer slipped away as it always did, taking long nights and leaving memories of sand and sunshine. The days were ambled away in the water, on rocky hiking paths, or in the meadow that sat a mile away from all of the homes. 

Jace had started The Hobbit before school ended — most days he found himself sprawled out in the park or on the beach, reading. He had also taken to running with his dog, Vermax, in the mornings. He relied on the serotonin boost to start the day, and with no football to play a jog was a decent alternative. 

When the summer drew to a close, the typical melancholy that befell the return to the real world wasn’t present in Jace’s mind. He presumed it had everything to do with the fact that he would see you every day now

You have one college class together — a nine a.m. medieval literature discussion. 

Clinging to familiarity in the new environment, he glued himself to your side for the first week of classes. He memorized the way to your dorm, meeting you outside every morning to walk together to your first lessons. The meandering conversation was a good start to the day, and he silently relished in your tired eyes and quiet voice, not yet used to the early schedule. 

On Friday he all but begged you to come back to his dorm after the discussion; it was your only class that day so you had given in. You hadn’t seen his living quarters yet, and he wanted to spend time with you, worried for when your schedules would fill up and you would lose room for each other. 

The discussion had been mind-numbing. You reviewed the same syllabus as the lecture, and went over the same rules and policies as every other class. With the thirty-five minutes remaining, the teaching assistant made everyone watch an incredibly monotone video about the history of medieval England. 

Jace linked his arm into yours in the hallway after class, pulling you to the doors. The cool morning air was refreshing, waking you up more as you walked across campus. His dorm building was new and modern, seventeen floors with grey siding and big windows. It was private housing, clearly expensive. 

He had a single room with an adjoining bathroom and a small common space. The walls were typical dorm white, with laminate wood flooring. Joffrey’s school photo is hung on one wall, the frame clearly decorated by the child with glitter and string. Scattered across the other walls were photographs in thin silver frames, a large world map, a clock, and a cross-stitch of a rainbow stag beetle.

Sitting on the couch, you observed the unframed photos that lay across the coffee table, inspecting a leggy grey dog as you plucked it from the pile, “Who is this?”

Jace leaned into your side, gazing at the photo, “My mum’s dog, Syrax,” He reached over you to tap the picture, “Syrax is my dog’s mum.” 

He slipped his hand into yours as you walked with him to his second class of the day.

In the third week of school, Jace asks you to attend a mixer for a pre-law society with him. He doesn't know anyone, and doesn't want to be alone at the party. You meet at his dorm at a quarter-to-six so you can walk to the event together. 

The dress-code is emi-formal, and when he opens the door to you his hair is slicked back with water and he smells like his cologne — musk, sandalwood, and amber. 

“Are your clothes pressed?” You ask, grinning at his freshly ironed slacks and the three buttons undone on his shirt. 

He rolls his eyes, locking the door behind him as he escorts you down the hallway. The walls of the elevator in his dorm are mirrored, and you laugh at him when you catch him taking pictures of himself. He makes you take one with him, and sets it as his lock screen. 

The mixer was in the dean of law’s massive house, buzzing with young people in smart outfits. Jace abandons you about fifteen minutes in, spotting a group of poli sci majors from his social psychology class. 

From his childhood spent between galas and his mother’s business meetings, Jace was good at navigating these situations. He was charming, leveling the professors with charismatic smiles and confident posture. He was good at holding an intelligent conversation, discussing theory and strategy. 

You were on the patio, watching the stars, when he found you an hour later.

His arms brushed yours as he leaned against the railing, “Sorry for leaving you,” His voice was quiet, and he stared at your profile, watching the way the moonlight illuminated your skin. 

You wave his apology off and make him buy you coffee in recompense on the way home. 

You’re stood talking together on the quadrangle a few weeks later, a cup of hot chocolate warming your mitten-less hands, when you realise just how cold it’s gotten. It's just too cold for the thin jacket that you try to sink further into, hiding from the wind that bites at your delicate skin.

Jace watches you shiver, observing your lack of appropriate attire. 

“Are you cold?” He asks, reaching out to run his hands up and down your arms, half to warm you, half to gauge how thick your jacket is. Not very. 

You nod, “I didn’t check the weather this morning.” 

He sighs with exaggerated exasperation and slides his arms around you, careful of the paper cup you held. Of course, he’s worn the right coat, and you feel the downy material of his hood against your cheek as he rubs your back to generate some warmth. You smell the cologne on his collar and the expensive shampoo he uses; he grumbled something about taking better care of yourself. 

Then, one particularly cold Friday morning he has forgotten his coat. Dressed in a hoodie, he mirrors your excuse from the week prior, smiling sheepishly — face flushed from the chilly air, dark curls blowing around his head like a halo. You take pity on him, slipping your scarf off. You loop it around his neck, tucking the ends down into the collar of his sweater, and leave him with a fond peck on the cheek; his skin is cold. 

He's appreciative, though the scarf does little against the cold wind cutting through his sweater. Still, he doesn't give the scarf back. 

With the cold, comes midterms. You’re the first person Jace asks to study. 

Your dorm room is closer to the central part of campus, and thus a shorter walk in the bitter cold. Jace brushes snow out of his hair as you unlock your door, ushering him inside. It's small. Two twin-sized beds, one on each wall, with nary enough room for two bodies between them; a desk is crammed into the small space between your bed and the window. You let him take the desk, spreading your books and notes out across your bed.

Your dorm is old, and the room has very little ventilation. Despite the frigidity outside, the room is stuffy and almost hot with both of your bodies inside. An hour into studying Jace shrugs off his heavy, knit sweater and pushes his glasses up into his hair. 

“What are you working on?” You ask, leaning forward. You’re bored, working on the same power point you started yesterday. You want to talk to him, though he doesn’t seem keen on the idea

He doesn’t look up from typing as he speaks, “Analysing The Art of War.” 

You shut your laptop, bent on distracting him, “The book?” 

He nods but doesn’t give a verbal response. 

“Who's that by?” You ask, fighting to suppress a grin

This time he does look up, glaring at you over his glasses, “Sun Tzu.” 

His tone is short, but it's amusing to annoy him so you grin, suppressing a giggle, “Sounds very interesting.” 

“What do you want?” He asks after a beat, still holding your gaze. 

You shrug, “Nothing. I’m bored,” 

The next time you study is even less productive, school work discarded on his floor in a matter of minutes. 

“We can’t be trusted to work together,” He tells you, watching as you calculate his astrological chart, geometry homework forgotten. 

You attend your first college party together in November. When you arrive at his dorm, he’s dressed much more casually than normal. 

You reach out to tug at the thin silver chain peeking out from his shirt collar, “This is fun,” You tease, giggling, “Aiming to impress tonight?”

He rolls his eyes in mock-offence, turning you around by the shoulders to shove you out of the doorframe. 

The lights in the house are dim, and they strobe slowly through different colours. It’s too dark and too bright all at once. The music is almost unbearably loud and people are packed in like sardines, it’s all incredibly overstimulating. 

When he senses your unease, Jace takes your hand, pulling you tight against your side to lead you through the throng of bodies. He’s looking for someone, but you’re unsure who, and he canvases the whole space before giving up on finding them.

The backyard of the house is quieter, but the ground still vibrates from the bass of the music. People are scattered about, smoking cigarettes and sipping from bottles of cheap beer. 

You both learn what Jell-O shots are, and make out in the bathroom back at his dorm. It’s not the first time you’d kissed each other, trying it a few times in your adolescence just to see what it was like. But this is different, tipsy and sloppy, as you giggle into his mouth. 

It's forgotten in the morning, when you wake up in his bed still dressed in your going-out clothes, head pounding.

But then it happens again, the week before finals.

You had stayed at the library far too late studying, leaving the pair of you to walk back to his dorm in the dark. It's positively frigid, cold December air whipping snow into your face. 

There are still snowflakes in your hair as you shed the thick coat you’re wearing, pulling off your gloves and hat. 

There's a bottle of wine in Jace’s freezer, left by Aegon the weekend before. It's expensive and rich and red, and Aegon would likely skin you if he found out you were drinking it — but, that's part of the fun. There's a baking show on the small television, and you’re curled into Jace’s side to steal some of the warmth from his body.

When the program lulls he brings his hand to your hair, combing through the tangled strands. You pay it little mind, leaning into his touch as you watch a contestant on-screen whip macaron batter. His fingers slide down to your jaw, turning your head so your eyes meet his. He’s studying your face, cheeks flushed from the wine or the cold. 

The attention is odd, and you giggle nervously under his gaze. His hands come to cradle your jaw as he leans towards you, nose brushing yours. The air is charged with an unusual tension, his mouth a breath away from yours. 

When he kisses you, he’s slow and gentle, his whole body angled into yours. Everything feels warm, a welcome contrast to the weather outside, and you chalk it up to the glasses of wine coursing through your bloodstream. 

It's pleasant, different from times past; this certainly doesn’t feel like an innocent, experimental kiss. It's heated, tinged with passion. He uses the placement of his hand to ease your jaw open, tongue sliding slowly into your mouth. 

There's a vibe, something you hadn’t felt before with him. It's communicated through the gentle touch of his hands, and how his breath hitches when you kiss him back with the same sort of force. 

The moment is broken by the announcement of a winner on the television. His hands slide down, resting on your shoulders, pulling your frame into his. 

You don’t talk about it afterwards. 

[literaila]

did you miss me?

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: in which you're only going to stay for 'a little longer' (no but seriously this time)

warnings: satoru is still bullying megumi, a bit of angst (nonserious) and fluff (duh)

last part | next part

*

year one.

“did you tell megumi that the monsters wouldn’t want to hide under his bed?” 

your head hurts a bit, as the light hits your eyes. you squint to where satoru is sitting on the couch, his hands behind his head, feet propped on the coffee table. 

just the very image of him makes you want to roll your eyes (and climb on top of him). 

satoru opens an eye, peeking at you. his smile is pompous, and his face is ludicrous. “why would they want to hide under the bed when the closet is right there?" he asks, with an obvious superiority complex. "seriously, spacial awareness.” 

you try to stay mad at him--and all of the ridiculous things he says--but his voice almost always makes you want to laugh. it's a secret form of serotonin. 

you walk over to him, kicking his feet from the coffee table so you can move past them. 

“that’s not what that means,” you tell him, sitting down. “and don’t tell megumi that monsters are hiding in the house. he’s already wary enough.”

his eyes are wide as his face turns toward you. “they’re there.” 

“oh, really, mr. honored one? you’ve been too busy to take care of them?” 

“why does it have to be me? i’m the honored one, my talents should be used on something other than bedtime monsters. i’ll leave those to you.” 

“this isn’t my house, dipshit.” 

“it could be,” satoru smiles cheekily at you. 

you roll your eyes and sigh into the couch, leaning even further against the pillow. mock satoru all you want, but you will admit that he has good taste. 

his house is so much comfier than yours. it lives in an era of relaxation, which isn't that surprising when you consider everything that satoru is. he also probably had one of his servants (assistant supervisors) decorate it.

“didn’t you tell me not to swear?” he nudges you with his foot. 

you hum. 

“oh, but you can?” 

“when you reach a certain age, swearing is a natural privilege you get. sorry, satoru," you smile very innocently at him. 

and then you wait for the furrowing of his brows, which happens almost immediately. 

“i’m older than you," he claims. 

“mental age.” 

he scoffs and moves his foot off of you. his eyes close once more, blocking you from a world of seafoam and skies, and he leans back with you. his face is a foot away, and if you concentrate hard enough, you might be able to feel his breath as it fills the room. 

but you've never been that great at concentrating when satoru is this close to you. 

and you don't live in a world of foolish ideations. 

satoru hums, the back of his throat making it seem like a groggy sound. “are they asleep?"

you lip twitches at the memory of saying goodnight.“tsumiki wasn’t even awake when i went to tuck her in," you answer, laughing a bit. and then you glare at satoru, once again. "and megumi probably won't be able to sleep after you scared him.” 

satoru's eyes open again, and his relaxed, easygoing smile turns a bit malicious. “i just said that under the bed is a terrible hiding spot.” 

“and this topic of conversation came up naturally?” 

“i was just wishing him goodnight!" his entire body turns towards you as he pleads his case. "all i said was that the monsters wouldn’t be able to get him if he went to sleep, so he would fall asleep faster.” 

you groan, hands flying up in exasperation. “satoru. he knows monsters are real.” 

“i’m preparing him.” 

“you’re lying.” 

“pfft, megumi isn’t scared," he waves you off, hands streaking through his hair, "i showed him a fly head the other day, and the kid didn’t even blink.” 

you sit up. “why was there a fly head in the house?” 

“uhh… it got stuck? in my hair?” 

you blink at him. “things don’t get stuck in your hair, satoru.” 

he scoffs, poking your forehead to get you to sit back again. “you think my infinity considers fly heads a threat? please. we might as well eat them.” 

“ugh,” your mouth turns in distaste, and you smack his hand away. “don’t even. and i know that's not true! earlier when megumi tried to hit you it was up!” 

satoru raises his brows. “um, yeah.” 

you give him a blank stare. “you think megumi is more of a threat than a fly head?” 

“have you met that kid?” 

you look at satoru with a scowl and then remember the topic at hand “no, hey, stop distracting me. don’t tell megumi about monsters before he goes to bed!” 

“i said they wouldn’t get him," he rolls his eyes at you. like you're not the one who had to open the closet door to show megumi there was nothing there. 

“don’t say anything at all," you tell him. "you’re banned from speaking to either of them.” 

satoru smirks at you. “you want me to ignore them when you’re not here?” 

“i want you to not try to scare megumi all of the time," you pinch his thigh and lean away from him, irritated and somehow entertained. 

satoru's hand rubs at the wound. “i’m just testing the boundaries.” 

you stare at him. 

“and, i mean, obviously he doesn’t need to be worried," he points to himself. "he knows who i am.” 

“who you are?” 

his cheeks are a bit flushed, you notice, as he smiles adoringly at you. “you haven’t heard of satoru gojo?” 

“yesterday you jumped when there was a spider in the sink.” 

“i was caught off guard!” his head rolls to the side, fed up with you.

“and then you begged me to get it out," you add.

“it was a test.” 

you roll your eyes but give up. there's no winning with satoru, and you don't feel like bothering him about megumi or the things he tells him. it's probably a good thing that he enjoys messing with the little boy so much. 

and, anyway, you don't feel like watching his limbs fail or his smile tease anymore. it's very late, and you're very tired. 

so you lay back on the unnaturally comfortable couch, telling yourself that you'll only stay for ten more minutes until you go home. 

“hey,” satoru says after the moment passes. 

“hmm?” 

"c'mere." 

you open your eyes. satoru's arms are out, strong as ever, and he's got his head tilted in invitation. 

(you almost jump to his side, like a dog waiting at the door). 

but you frown. "what? no." 

"c'mon, we've cuddled before." 

"when there wasn't any room for all of us on the couch in shoko's room without me sitting on your lap," you contradict, trying to subtly move away. 

it doesn't work. satoru's hand grabs onto yours. and then it moves, cradling around your leg like a threat. he could pull you to him in one simple motion. 

"don't be dramatic. when was the last time you hugged me?" 

"literally never." 

"well then, we're long overdue." 

you try to pry his hand off of your thigh to no avail. "hug that pillow or something." 

"i just want to lay here for a bit," he says, "and you look cold." 

"i'm not cold," your hand goes to his wrist instead, pulling backward. he doesn't budge. 

stupid training and stupid boys with their ridiculous body strength. 

and stupid satoru for even trying to suggest this. 

"six eyes, remember?" satoru murmurs, teasing, gesturing with his empty hand to his head. 

"i know that's not how that works." 

"but do you?" 

and, finally, as you always knew he would, satoru pulls you towards him with his grip around your leg, and you're suddenly atoms away from him. 

you meet his eyes, and this time you can actually feel the air from his breath. 

"okay," he whispers, simply. "put your arm here," he moves your arm to lay across his torso, "and wrap your legs around mine," he moves his legs instead of yours, trapping you between his thighs, "and your head," he pulls you in by your neck, "goes here." 

and suddenly you're laying on his chest, his arm around your waist, laying languidly with satoru gojo. 

and he's honestly pretty comfortable. he must've learned it from the couch. 

"this is stupid." 

"you're not even trying to get away." 

"like you'd let me," you whisper, shaking your head against him. 

but he's right. you don't try to move. not even a little. 

and sure, it's partly because you know that satoru won't let you--for whatever idiotic reason of his--and partly because you don't really want to. not that you'll ever acknowledge that. 

so you listen to his heart instead, and you feel, for just a moment, like it beats differently than everyone else's. maybe faster, maybe stronger. 

but that thought passes as quickly as it comes. 

satoru is just human like this. with his arms around you. 

and he proves it when a couple of seconds later, he whispers, “can i ask you something?” 

you open your eyes and turn your head up toward him--only seeing his jaw and the tip of his nose--and wait. 

satoru must be smiling, because he always is, but there's something unnatural about his face from this angle. kind of like this cuddling position. 

“did you miss me?” 

you frown. “what?” 

“when i was gone," his fingers tap against your stomach. "we didn’t see each other for a while.” 

“what?” you repeat, dumbly. 

he pouts. “you didn’t notice?” 

you swallow, looking back down, to his chest, or the tiny piece of lint stuck to his shirt, or the air, or anything else. "why are you asking?" 

you try to leave the pleading out of the words. it's not like satoru is intentionally ruining this moment by asking. it's not like he's ever meant to hurt you. and it's not like you would tell him if he did. 

you just... hadn't realized that he'd even noticed. that he thought of time apart as if it was something, its own thing, just like you. 

"i'm curious," he shrugs, and his arm wraps a little bit tighter around you. 

your mouth is a bit dry. "you're curious about what i thought during the six months you ghosted me?" 

"what?" satoru looks down at you, but you don't move. "i didn't ghost you." 

"i think not returning my calls or coming home ever counts as ghosting, satoru. i'm pretty sure that's like the exact definition." 

you might be joking. you're trying to do what he always does--deflect or make a joke out of it all. but you're less practiced. but you feel so much more. 

"...you called?" 

"seriously?" 

"i--okay, so i was a bit, eh, distracted. i was doing a lot more missions than i'm doing now. i had to threaten the higher-ups just to get a break." 

you hum against him, though there's that emptiness in your chest. the reminiscence of several months alone. 

but you're used to that feeling by now. it's an old friend. 

so you just sigh. "yeah, i was working a lot too. don't worry about it, i'm not mad, or anything." 

"you're not?" 

"no. i mean, you graduated. it's not like i expected you to show up to my room in the middle of the night or meet me for breakfast anymore. i get it." 

there's a pause where you don't say that you actually did expect him to do all of that. that you'd never thought things could change so significantly in such a short amount of time. 

and satoru breathes. "yeah," he whispers, his breath warm on your head. 

and you're both lying. you can feel it, in the way he shifts, the way he says it. 

the way it feels to just say the words to him. to be here like this and try not to care about him--about where he was and what he was doing all of that time, without you. 

but you're tired, and satoru doesn't like to talk about these things. 

in a more rational mindset, you might wonder why he started the conversation in the first place. 

so you just lay there, feeling it as he swallows, hearing it as the blood pumps through his veins. 

and when satoru finally asks, "you missed me, though, right?" 

you only answer with a hum. 

and fall right to sleep. 

*

megumi is staring at the drool on your face. he hasn't ever seen you sleeping, and he should probably be thankful for that. your hair is messed up and you look a lot more childish than he's used to. 

he's seen satoru asleep before--when he shakes him awake in the morning to make breakfast--but not like this. megumi didn't think the man could grin any wider, but apparently, it's possible.

tsumiki is trailing after him, her feet quiet against the floor, just a minute behind. they usually wake up at the same time. 

"hi," she greets him as he looks on. "are they asleep?" 

"yeah." 

unlike megumi, tsumiki smiles at the sight of you curled into satoru's chest, hands wrapped around his waist, spit pooling on his shirt. 

"should we wake them up?" megumi asks his sister, a bit bothered by the view. he'd just wanted a glass of water. 

"no," tsumiki grabs his hand, pulling him away. "let them sleep. c'mon, i'll get the cereal." 

and megumi takes one more look--at the two people now responsible for his wellbeing--before he walks away. 

and, fine. it's a little cute. 

*

next part

[aventoru]

falling

character : itoshi rin

warning(s) : childish behavior lmao, idiots in love ig, pretty rushed but like-

a/n : not really a repost from my old blog because i was shadow banned when i posted this=))

The bell rings, signaling the end of your class and the start of lunchtime. You and your best friend walk to your locker to put away your textbooks before heading to the cafeteria. Most of the students are already getting their lunch and there was not a single soul in the hallway. Or so you both thought.

After placing the textbooks in your lockers and shutting the doors, you two happen to catch sight of none other than Itoshi Rin as you were heading to get lunch yourselves. Usually, during lunchtime, Rin would be practicing soccer on the field outside but he seems to be idly scrolling through his phone today. (Well, it’s not like that’s any of your business.)

Itoshi Rin, as far as you're concerned, is a soccer superstar with…a cold demeanor. To put it bluntly, he has no friends. You wish you were kidding when you say so, but it’s common knowledge amongst the student body at this point. Sure, he was popular and many people admire him for his talents, but it was so difficult to get him to even speak that others just gave up trying to befriend him in general.

That didn’t stop you from having a massive crush on him, though. He’s been your table mate for the past 2 years of high school and it’s hard not to take notice of his stupidly pretty face everyday. Sometimes, you envy RIn for not only having a perfect physique but also beauty as well. How do his bangs fall so naturally over his eyes? Why are his eyelashes so long? Why are his cheeks so puffy? You can't help but blush every time his features come into your field of vision.

Your friend, upon obtaining this precious piece of information, teases you every chance they get. And today is no exception.

Your friend suddenly stops you and mischievously wraps their arm around yours, pulling you in Rin’s direction. “Uhh…why are we heading towards him?” you pause in your tracks, turning to your friend in confusion. “I’m gonna help you confess your feelings to him!” your friend beams, eyes twinkling. “WHAT??” you whisper-shout, not wanting to catch Rin’s attention.

You pull your friend in the opposite direction, trying to stall the impending doom settling on you. But you were no match for their unearthed strength and will to get you to confess. After all, they've been your #1 shipper for as long as you could remember. Once you got close enough to him, you friend pushes you in Rin’s direction, causing you to collide directly with his body. His head shoots up at the sudden contact and he quickly catches you in his arms with his godly athlete reflexes.

In that moment, you don’t know what to feel. You are flustered that your crush was holding you in his arms yet mad at your friend for putting you in this situation. Rin surely isn't making it easier for you to think straight with his firm grip on your body. As a spontaneous decision, you’ve decided to deal with your friend first then explain the situation to Rin later in class. You quickly realize that if you don’t escape from Rin’s grasp and the awkward tension building up in the air, you actually might explode.

Unfortunately, when you turn your head back to shout at your friend, they’ve already rushed down the hallway, their echoes reverberating against the floor. “Thank me later!” is all that echoed from the hallway as your friend escapes your seething wrath. You try to remove yourself from Rin’s arms to chase after them only to be tugged back into his chest.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s not your fault they played dirty” he chuckles and you can feel the deep vibrations through his toned chest. You smile politely and successfully back away this time. “Oh- right, I’m sorry,” you bow your head in apology. “I’m glad you’re okay but why did your friend do that...?” Rin hesitantly inquired. “Uhmm it’s nothing, just a harmless prank, that’s all,” you murmur quickly, hoping to gloss over the topic.

Rin already knows about your crush on him. It’s pretty obvious considering the way you stare at him in class everyday. You’re not a subtle as you think when your attention is on him instead of on the teacher. He knows you pretend to be stupid to get him to help you on those practice questions (and he plays along). He knows you’re the one who keeps leaving snacks and drinks on his desk with a cute little sticky note. Long story short, he knows everything. He just wants to see how far he can go before the dam bursts and you admit your feelings to him. Surprisingly for him, he doesn't have to go that far.

“It doesn’t seem like nothing, considering I'm the only person in this entire area? And what’s with the ‘thank me later'? Just tell me what’s wrong y/n,” Rin pretends to get mad at you as he stares at you coldly.

You make the mistake of glancing into his eyes and immediately fold under his intense gaze. You're pretty certain of the inevitable outcome of getting rejected so, there’s nothing for you to be afraid of at this point. “I-it’s because I have a crush on you and my friend was trying to tease me, sorry for disturbing you bye—” you cut yourself off and start backing up away from him. But before you can get too far, Rin tugs on your arm and you fall into his body again. Your face comes in direct contact with his built chest and now you’re really confused. Why is Rin pulling you against him every chance he gets?

A beat of silence passes as you wait for him to say something. “Thank god,” he sighs as he wraps his arms around you and practically encases you against his body. “Huh?” you mumble, your voice muffled by his shirt. You lift your face up to look at him, your chin coming in contact with his shoulder. Rin holds you in his grasp and looks down at you with absolute adoration in his eyes. “I like you too, silly,” he whispers. Your eyes widen in initial surprise but wrap your arms around him nonetheless. You think your heart is about to burst at how gentle he is with you. Your last straw comes in the form of the gentle kiss that he places on your head. Blood rushes up to your cheeks and you nuzzle your face into his chest out of sheepishness, to which he chuckles at in amusement. You two stay in each others arms for a long time.

You definitely have your friend to thank for.

…

“You know, you aren’t really slick when you stare at me in class right?” he teases you as you two walk to lunch together hand in hand.

“Hey!!!”

[kyluff]

— ↺ Young Love

✎ yuuji x reader !

✦ summary ➠ yuji was just a sweet, teenage boy. How could he not develop a crush on one of his fellow first years?

✦ warnings ➠ none

— She’s so pretty, that’s what the pink haired man thought. His elbow rested on the desk and his hand was tucked under his chin as he watched you from his seat in the classroom. You were conversing with Nobara at your own desks in the first years room, Nobara was most likely spreading gossip. But he didn’t care much what the two of you were saying, he was in a trance, stuck looking at the face he has loved ever since the beginning of school. Ever since you first met.

“Are you just going to stare the whole class?” Nobara sassed. “Cause it’s starting to creep me out.”

“Uh, no. Sorry, I just zoned out!” He was stuttering, scared that they (mostly you) had caught him in his antics. He quickly turned his body forward, sitting properly.

You thought he was the cutest when his voice betrayed him, leaving broken words.

“You know Itadori, you’ve been acting awfully weird lately.” The girl remarked, eyeing the boy with a grin on her face.

“R-really?!” The said boy swallowed the lump forming in his throat from his friends sentence.

You see, Nobara has been keeping a close eye on Yuuji as of late, she’s noticed a few odd things that the boy has started doing recently. First, she noticed the way Yuujis eyes wandered and how they stuck to you whenever he had the chance. Then, Nobara picked up on the way that Yuuji would go out of his way to do any task for you, to help you however he can, he’d do anything for you. The final quirk that surfaced was how the boy struggled to talk in your presence, he always seemed to turn red and stutter with his words.

That last one was her personal favourite, she would tease him about it constantly.

“I just zoned out! Really, honestly I did!” He tried to reason with her, but he knew that she had him figured out. There was no escaping this now.

“Oh, I believe you on that. I know you zoned out, you just didn’t zone out on me.” She concluded. “You were zoned out on Y/n!” She was now sprung up out of her seat and pointing an accusing finger at Yuuji.

“What?! No- I, I wasn’t! I swear, I was just uhh watching the door for when Gojo was going to show up!”

“The door is on the opposite side of the room, Itadori.” Megumi added in finally, he had actually been here the whole time, but just wished to mind his own business until class started. But Megumi couldn’t let that remark be left unpunished, it was just too stupid.

Yuuji left out a sound of defeat as his head smacked down against his desk, he was so embarrassed. His face was so red and radiated heat.

You had also begun to feel embarrassed, was there actually a chance that he liked you? I mean why else would he be staring at you and get so flustered when someone called him out on it.

You let out a small giggle, many emotions running through your body.

At this, Yuuji lifted his head slightly, just enough to see your face. You were smiling, eyes closed and cheeks pink. You were so cute, he was starting to stare at you again.

“I have to go.” That was all he said as he ran fast past everyone, shooting out the door to who knows where. He didn’t, he just wanted to get away from that damn room. He didn’t want to be seen by you like this, it was too much too fast.

“Yuuji, Wait!” You stood up, your chair screeching behind you from the speed that you got up at. “Nobara, you embarrassed him!”

“Hey, he should’ve known that I’d find out.” She smirked, shrugging his shoulders up with no care.

You shook your head, she could be so inconsiderate sometimes. You followed Yuujis trail, hoping to find him quick. Class would start soon but you didn’t mind. You just hoped that Yuuji was alright wherever he was.

You sped down the hallways for quite some time, turning a few times until you found him. He was sat beside a vending machine, head resting against the wall.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” You panted out, stepping closer to him. He didn’t move, staying is his spot. “Why’d you go and run off like that, Nobara was just trying to get a reaction out of you.”

His head fell against the machine now, his eyes softly closed and his lips pursed slightly.

“You know I don’t care if you were looking at me. Everyone zones out once in awhile. It’s normal.” You tried to comfort the poor boy. He looked so defeated.

You were starting to get worried now, he wasn’t responding. You moved beside him, sliding down the wall so that you were sitting by him now.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You leaned downward to get a look at his face, he was avoiding eye contact even.

“Have you ever had a crush?” He blurted out fast. That was odd, really random too, you thought to yourself.

“I mean, ya. I’ve had a few before.” You laughed a little, not knowing how to respond really.

“Oh, ok.” That was it? Why was he acting so depressed. You frowned, reaching for his hand. You just wanted to console him. He’s your friend after all and you wanted to be there for him if he was struggling in any way.

He flinched away from your touch, curling into himself as much as he possibly could.

“You know, if you ever need to talk I’m here. You’ve always been there for me when I needed, so you can tell me anything you want.” You grasped his hand anyway, wanting him to truly know you meant what you were saying. He looked down at where your hands met each others and then made the hold tighter.

“I like you, Y/n.” He finally made an effort to lock eyes with you. “I have for awhile now, that’s why I’ve been ‘acting weird’ as Nobara would put it.”

He looked ashamed of what he was confessing. “I just, when I see you, I can’t help but stare. You’re so beautiful and nice and you always share your food with me and you always make me laugh. Oh, your laugh is so damn cute too and- ”

You had to stop his rambling, so what better way of doing that then giving him a tender kiss on the lips. His eyes stayed open because of the shock coursing through his body, had you really just kissed him? This can’t be real.

You pulled away, laying a final kiss on his cheek this time. You couldn’t help but laugh at his facial expression. His face still had a look of shock, mouth slightly opened and eyes blown wide.

“I like you too.” You smiled up at him, confidently looking into his eyes.

“Oh….” His facial features started to morph slowly, a grin growing. “Oh!”

“Come on, let’s get back to class before Gojo comes looking for us.” You tugged him up along with you, making your way to the room that held the rest of the first years.

“Yes, please do hurry. Don’t want to be too late now do we?” A teasing voice came from deeper into the hallway behind you.

You both shared a similar look of surprise and fright as you turned around to find out who it was, deep down you both already knew who it was.

“Gojo sensei, when did you get here. Haha?” Yuuji scratched his head, looking anywhere but Gojos eyes.

“More importantly, how much did you see?” You added, looking down towards your feet.

“Long enough to know my beloved students are going to be a couple!” The teacher exclaimed in a very cheery voice. “Now, let’s get you two love birds back to class so we can start our lesson!”

You and Yuuji both cringed simultaneously, begrudgingly following behind the tall white haired man that they called their teacher.

[sugurusdiscordmoderator]

Sukuna one shot

inspired by @rinhaler’s plug sukuna that has been living in my brain rent free

mdni 18+

cw: age gap, oral (f and m), face fucking, hickeys, daddy kink, praise kink (way too many ‘princess’s) , hint of possessiveness at the end

Everyone when they’re first on their new college campus feels like hot shit. And you’re no exception. You graduated high school with a 4.0 moved away from your home town and broke up with your boyfriend so you could have fun.

You show up to your first day of astronomy class, a stupid course you have to take as a liberal arts college even though you’re a business major. You thought it would just be freshmen in your introductory core classes, but oh you couldn’t have been more wrong.

You sit towards the back of the class, not too far back that you won’t seem like you’re not paying attention, but not close enough for you to seem like you’re trying too hard. You got there about 5 minutes before class started to be punctual but a lot of the seats were taken. You took out your notebook, pen, and the syllabus the professor emailed you ahead of time to have printed out.

Within the last 60 seconds before class started one particular student walked in. He had to have been a senior, or even a fifth year, with tattoos, pink hair, and a not-too-excited to be there expression. Just your luck, the last seat available was to your left which was like awkwardly close between the wall and your seat. He looks at you and raises his eyebrows as if saying “hey” in a fuck boy way. You can’t help but look at the way his red tshirt hugs his biceps as he pulls out the chair and sits down. He doesn’t attempt to take anything out of his book bag, and you think to yourself ‘there’s no way this man is a freshman’.

The attendance sheet gets passed around and you sign your name and pass the paper over to him. Of course he doesn’t have a pen or pencil so you clear your throat to offer yours to him. He says “thanks,” under his breath not making eye contact but taking special consideration to look at your name written above his.

This professor is pretty annoying and asking people questions off the syllabus so you decide to be nice and place yours between the two of you. He finally makes eye contact with you and you smile, like a little naive freshman that you are. God, dressed all nice for your first day of class wearing that cute little dress he would love to just ruin you. You watch his eyes go up and down your body and you just sit there and take it. Watching his Adams apple bob as he swallows. The sexual tension is thick, and you don’t even know his name. But you know that you want him, regardless of his age or grade or how little he cares about school.

Class was soon over and you found yourself looking forward to the next time you had class with him, as it was a Monday Wednesday Friday class.

Wednesday you get there just a little bit earlier and grab the same seat but you don’t get your hopes up that pink hair-big bicep-mystery man will sit next to you again. As you’re unloading your things out of your book bag you hear someone sit down next to you. You look up to see the same guy from the first day of class with a book bag this time, sitting down in the same spot.

“Hey!” You decide to speak up with a blush on your cheeks.

“Hi,” he says quietly wondering why you are talking to him.

“I’m y/n, I just wanted to introduce myself if were going to sit next to each other!” You say a little to enthusiastically.

“Are you a freshman? Most people don’t do this kinda shit.” He says smirking at you and you can’t tell if he’s being a dick or flirting.

“Uhh yeah. I just wanted to make a friend in this class, sorry for bothering.”

“Not bothering me Princess, just giving you a hard time. I’m Sukuna.” You blush at the pet name he calls you and he makes a mental note to call you that when he fucks you over the desk eventually.

“Nice to meet you, maybe we can study together some time once we actually learn new materials?”

He raises his eyebrows at you smirking, “Sure. How about I get your number then?” You write your phone number on a corner of your notebook paper and rip it off and hand it to him.

“Cute handwriting.” He says as he slips it into his pocket. And that was all for your interaction the second day.

On Friday you both happen to walk into class together and smile at each other.

“You didn’t text me.”

“So needy,” he smirks at you as you settle into your regular seats. “My frat is having a party tonight, do you and your friends want to come?”

Oh god your first college party and you’re getting invited by this guy?

“Yeah that sounds great, will you actually text me the details though?” Pulling out your best flirty-ness.

“Sure princess.” He says pulling out his phone. You see your name saved as “ y/n - astronomy 🥵” and pretend you didn’t. He sends a text with the address of the party and class gets started for the day. You decide to walk out of class together and small talk about how boring the professor is. He suddenly interrupts you -

“Hey would you be interested in showing up early to my house to pregame for the party? Ya know just cause you probably don’t have a fake ID yet and don’t have any alcohol.. and stuff.” He scratches the back of his neck.. is he.. nervous?!

“That sounds fun yeah sure.”

“My little brother will be there. He’s also a freshman so maybe you guys can be friends.”

“Yeah I haven’t really made a ton of friends yet so that would be sick.”

—

Later that evening you head out of your dorm around 8 o’clock. You’re wearing a frilly crop top and a tight light denim skirt with cute platform white sneakers. You shaved your whole body in anticipation and decided you’re going to walk the few blocks to Sukunas house. You show up around 8:30 and sweetly knock on the door. A smaller more kind looking version of Sukuna opens the door. The same pink hair but no tattoos, less muscle, and a friendlier smile. Almost the exact opposite.

“Hi! Are you Sukuna’s friend?”

“Yeah I guess that’s one way to put it, yeah,” you laugh nervously, “I’m y/n”

“Welcome in I’m Yuji. He’s in his room if you want to go up. It’s the first door on the right.”

You thank Yuji and start going up the stair. You feel so nervous like a little high schooler as you get closer to the door. Like there are a thousand butterflies between your stomach and your pussy that can’t wait to see him. You knock gently on the door and hear a muffled “come in” and turn the door knob.

You see Sukuna sitting on his futon shirtless rolling up a joint on his little coffee table. “Hey princess,” he mumbles not looking up from his work in progress as you walk in and sit on his bed adjacent to his futon. As he finishes rolling he smiles up at you. You feel a little awkward sitting here as you’ve only seen him a few times and know nothing about him.

“Do you smoke?” He asks knocking you out of your thoughts.

“I haven’t ever tried but I’m willing to” you say all too innocently back.

“Hmm okay we’ll I guess you came to the right guy.” He motions for you to come sit next to him on the little futon couch he has and lights up. He hits the joint a few times and passes it to you once you look confident enough. You hold it in between your pointer finger and thumb and inhale and exhale just like sukuna did. “That’a girl” he says as his hand finds a home resting on your exposed thigh. You squint your eyes and smile at him.

Sukuna calls for Yuji to come upstairs and a few seconds later the cute brother opens the door to the bedroom. “You wan some of this?” He asks the younger brother and sticks out his hand with the joint in it. “I don’t want to finish it all and sweetheart here has never smoked so I don’t want her to do too much.” Yuji sits where you were on the bed taking a huge rip of the joint and your eyes widen at his lung capacity.

“I’ve done it too much. Maybe some day you’ll have a tolerance like us.” Yugi says with kind eyes. You notice him look down to where his brothers hand rests on your thigh.

“So how’d you guys meet?” Yuji asks smiling only looking at you.

“We have astronomy together,” you smile back before Sukuna could retort some smart ass answer.

“Hey Yuji, can you go get stuff ready downstairs for the party? Mhm thanks” Sukuna says and shoos his younger brother out of the room before he can get another word in.

He smoothly walks back over to the couch you’re sitting on, putting a piece of hair behind your ear. “Princess will you let me try something with you?”

“Mmhmm sure what is it?” you bat your eyelashes at him.

There’s only a little bit of the joint left and Sukuna takes a large rip of it, as he sits back down next to you. His left hand moves to your jaw, his thumb i opening your mouth as he leans in to kiss you. Oh god you’ve seen this at parties before but never done it. As he opens his mouth against yours you inhale, trying your best to impress him. He backs his lips off yours just enough for you to exhale the remaining smoke.

“Gooood girl,” he mutters looking into your red eyes. His lips collide with yours again, passionately. You can hardly even think straight he is dominating you even just kissing. His tongue slips past your lips and makes it way through your mouth. You hear people talking downstairs now as it’s about 9 pm but neither of you could care. His lips continue their assault on your jaw to your ear, down your neck. Pecking, licking, assaulting your tanned skin that smells like innocent girl perfume and a cute little necklace that you probably got from a high school boyfriend, sukuna thinks.

Without warning he pulls down your top, exposing your bare chest without a bra. “Hm a little risqué? Maybe not quite the good girl that you act like?” He smirks up at you before taking one of your hardened nipples in his mouth. He uses his other hand to run the other, twisting and twirling it in between his thumb and pointer finger, the same ones he was just holding the joint with. You can’t help but let out a little moan and roll your eyes back at the feeling. You run a hand through his hair, spreading your legs with your skirt on so we can see your panties. There’s a little wet patch that’s growing on the white lace that he so desperately wants to tear to shreds. He starts trailing down kisses from your cute nipples down your still covered stomach.

You try to reach down to rub the growing bulge in his pants, being so greedy and horny. “No,” he responds grabbing your wrist and moving your arm back up by your head. You’re confused but don’t care as long as you get touched soon. Just then sukuna tugs your soft lace panties down your legs, admiring them before stuffing them in his pocket. You produce a slight gasp at his actions but try to be patient for what he’ll do next. You feel the cold air of Sukunas bedroom against your newly exposed delicate cunt. He bends down to start leaving messy kisses around your inner thighs and pubic area. He teases you getting close to licking up your folds but ultimately enjoys watching you writhe in how turned on you are.

“Please” you whimper looking down at him, trying to give your best puppy eyes

“Please what?” He asks before placing a gentle kiss on your clit.

“Please S’kuna” your voice cracks you are begging and whining for him so much, looking like you are about to cry.

He latches his mouth around your clit, sticking his thumb inside your warm hole. “fine” he mumbles as if he isn’t about to give you the most life changing head you’ve ever had. Sukuna thinks you look like a portrait of a goddess, your cute skirt bunched up at your hips, pussy out, and shirt pulled down exposing your tits, the way your mouth makes a perfect “O” while your eyes scrunch shut.

You let out something between a deep breath and a moan a few times before Sukuna stops licking your cute button. He waits for you to open your eyes to look at him “louder f’r me”. He takes his thumb out of you, holding it up to your face for you to lick clean. You use your tongue to swirl around his thumb, sucking on it like your life depends on it. He pulls away once he is satisfied and hears you whimper “thank you” quietly.

“Pretty girl, did you just thank me for tasting your juices on my finger?” Your face heats up getting redder each word he says. “I didn’t know you were so obedient…good to know” he says almost to himself instead of you. He switches to use his ring and middle finger inside you, lapping around your hole and clit fucking his hand into so quickly you can’t help but let out a loud moan. At your reaction he moves his free hand down to palm his erection through his pants.

By this time the music is bumping pretty loud downstairs and you assume no one can hear you. Sukuna seems to enjoy eating your pussy just as much as you’re liking it, muttering to himself while licking at you things like “pretty little freshman pussy” and “begging for me since the first day of class”. Your legs start to close as you feel yourself getting closer to your high, but his pumping into you doesn’t slow. He now uses one hand to finger you and the thumb of the other hand to rub your clit, spitting on it. He wants to watch you cum for him. He wants to see every second and can’t risk getting carried away tasting your cunt.

You reach to grab some of his pink hair, begging for release. “C’mon princess you can do it”, “cum for me”, and “goood girl” he groans as you begin arching your back off the sofa. His fingers are reaching a place yours never could and you begin seeing spots and close your eyes again. Your ab muscles flex and you start pulsing on his fingers. He slows down his pace once you start your orgasm, rolling his eyes back and groaning when he hears you moan “Sukunaaaaa” loud enough that anyone on the upstairs floor could hear it.

He stands up and cleans his fingers off in his mouth and wipes them off on a tshirt that was on his bed which he proceeds to now put on (yeah he was shirtless that whole time). He walks back over to help you up, pulling your top up to cover your tits, just barely, and pulling your skirt down to where it belongs but he still kept your panties.

As you regain your senses you ask “Is that it? What about you ‘kuna?”

He chuckles a bit mocking you “‘is that it?!’ Was that not enough? Sorry but you have to earn more.”

“No” you groan walking up to him, “I meant ‘is that it’ as in ‘are you going to let me take care of your massive bulge?’”

He kisses your forehead then responds, “hmm sure princess were already late for the party night as well.

You willingly get down on your knees right in front of him like he is your king. Maybe that’s why he calls you princess so much. He uses his clean thumb to wipe off a little bit of smudged makeup under your eye “so pretty on your knees…” he starts unbuttoning and zippering his pants, “might actually have to keep you around.”

You don’t even react to what he’s saying as he pulls his pants and underwear down revealing a massive cock. Larger than the average man for sure, but also a pretty color and the perfect number of veins. You can’t believe he wasn’t in pain keeping an erection that big in his pants. It was going to stretch you out for sureee. Your pupils grow at the sight of him gripping the base of his manhood and and putting one hand behind your head.

You know what this means, you’ve deep throated before but god you’ve never gotten facefucked. Let alone a dick this huge?

He lets you make the first move, opening your mouth and letting his tip fall on your tongue. You taste a tiny bead of his precum and become insatiable for more. Sukuna watches the lust in your eyes grow as you begin licking up and down his shaft.

You then begin to bob up and down, hoping that your head is good enough for him. You can only reach about half of his dick before it starts to go down your throat, but you’re desperately trying to take as much as you can. His hand still gently resting on the back of your head, not testing you yet.

You remove your mouth and look up to the handsome man asking, “daddy, can you help me?”

Sukuna can hardly believe his ears and is taking everything in him not to cum on the spot from hearing your sweet voice call him that. As soon as he realizes what you were asking he responds “sure, princess.” His grip tightening on the back of your neck, using the free hand to slap his cock on your tongue and face. He still doesn’t want to be too rough with you, delicate little freshman. But you did just call him daddy … so …

He begins to use your mouth to fuck his cock, slowly at first making sure you adjust, pushing himself down your throat until you tap his leg for air “mmm good girl you’re mouth is great” he says as you replied your air. As he sticks himself back in again he goes faster this time. Hitting the back of your throat with each stroke but not forcing himself down like the last time. He moves his free hand to grab the front of your throat squeezing so even less air can come through.

Fuck this is turning you on so much you can feel your slick dripping down your leg. Your vision goes a little blurry from lack of oxygen before he releases his hand, still continuing his praise and moans. He lets you breath again for a minute, making you jerk him off while you catch your breath as his head is thrown back “fuck y/n, pretty face, pretty pussy, and a pretty mouth” followed by a grunt/moan. You are determined to make this man cum on your tongue and begin sucking at a faster pace. You feel the tip going down your throat and just let it keep going until you find your nose touching his well trimmed hairs against his pubic bone. You stay there and wiggle your tongue around the part you couldn’t reach before as he looks down at your pretty eyes tearing up. You come back for breath and decide to suck the top and jerk the bottom because you were pretty sure guys liked that too? Sukuna looks down at you moaning “fuck, fuck, fuck” and you watch his hips twitch knowing he is getting close. He pulls your hair a little harder than he means to while you’re finishing him off, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he lets out a last “shit y/n” and releases on your tongue.

He recovers rather quickly compared to you, putting his now soft penis back in his boxers and jeans. He looks up to see you sticking out your tongue with his cum on it. Without warning he pulls his phone out of his back pocket and takes a picture of you with the flash on. “Swallow princess” he tells you after he groans at how sexy the picture turned out.

You both get ready to finally attend the party now around 9:30 with what sounds like lots of people downstairs. Sukunas tries to get you from looking in the mirror so you don’t see the 4 not-so-subtle hickies he gave you. He runs his hands through your hair because it looks like… well it looks like you just had sex. Grabbing your ass under your skirt, still panty-less he opens his bedroom door.

“Be a good girl and I’ll let you come back up here after the party is over” he whispers seductively in your ear.

He lets you go down the stairs first, keeping his hand on your shoulder as you go.

He’s not letting you leave his sight tonight.

—

A/N it took everything in me not to have someone barge in on them like yuji or someone looking for the bathroom. Happy to write a part two or series of these if anyone likes them. Also feel free to leave requests in my inbox. Thank you sweet cheeks 🫶

[moeyynorris]

Streaming and Daydreaming

Lando Norris x F!Streamer!Reader

Warnings: Just super cute fluff, some fans teasing the two of you, maybe a hint of angst, and mention of being shot at in a video game.

A/N: I’m flirting with the idea of a part 2. Let me know what you think!

Moeyy’s Master List

“Hello everyone, and thank you for joining the stream. Sorry it’s been a little while since I’ve been on, but my day job has been a bit busy lately.” Lando winked at the camera as he addressed his fans. “But, I do have a treat for you lot. One of my dear friends, the ever so beautiful Y/N, will be joining us. You can follow her stream at @ynusername and you will be able to hear her and see her camera on my own.” He grinned, waiting for you to chime in.

“Hello everyone,” you greeted, the smile obvious in your voice. You could feel your cheeks heating up as you stared at Lando through your second screen. You knew you didn’t have stage-fright, so you were hoping the fans tuning in wouldn’t notice.

“Ready to get your ass handed to you at some Fortnite, girlie?” Lando chuckled as he teased you. You sucked in a breath at his smile.

“Excuse me, Norris, but I’ve been playing this game for almost two years longer than you have!” You giggled, then stuck out your tongue at the camera. “You started, what, three weeks ago? Let’s see who has their ass handed to them.”

Lando shook his head, laughing as the chat on his stream went wild. You could see multiple people typing “Lando ❤️😍🥰” and “That smile 😍😍😍”, and all you could do was laugh.

Same, fans. Same.

“Ok, Y/N, get ready and let’s go!”

As the two of you waiting for your game lobby to fill, you greeted some of the fans in the chat. Lando did the same, the two of you taking turns.

“@papayaprincezz1 asks, ‘It’s been all smiles since the two of you signed on. Is there anything going on between the two of you?” Lando froze after he read the last word aloud. He stared directly at the camera for a moment, then huffed a nervous laugh. “Y/N and I have been friends for a while, but there is nothing more between us right now.”

You he glanced to his left, at his second monitor, where he was streaming your stream. You stared up at the camera, offering a smile. The chat started filling up with “right now?” and “what does he mean by that?”

Before you would say anything, your screen flashed to your character preparing to drop into the map.

“Where we droppin’ Lando?” You asking, scanning the map.

“Uhh, let’s do the Peninsula thing next to that castle thing.”

You laughed. “You mean near the Citadel?”

Lando scrunched his nose. “Yeah, that thing.”

“You sure you don’t want to do Slappy Shores?” You offered, preparing to leave the Battle Bus.

“Nah, babe, that place is too hard. People are gnarly there!” Lando followed your lead as he left the Battle Bus.

You blushed at his use of that word, and the chat definitely heard it too. There was another instant barrage of comments about Lando’s choice of nickname, but you tried to ignore it.

mclarengirl04: they would be so cute together! 😍

f1gamergirl0416: he called her babe. There’s gotta be something there between them!

drsdiana55: Lando + Y/N = shipped. 🥰

You glanced away from the chat the moment you heard something whizz by your head. Someone was hiding and sniping at you. You spun your character around, trying to find who was shooting at you.

“Lando, I’ve got a sniper,” you announced as you scanned the land around you. You saw something move in a tree, so you took a shot, and numbers popped up instantly. “I shot him,” you muttered, continuing to aim.

You kept shooting, hitting the player just about every other shot.

“Knocked him.” You furrowed your brow as someone from behind you started shooting at you. “Lando, where the hell are you?”

You glanced up at Lando’s stream and froze. He was just sitting there, staring to his left, at your stream. His eyes appeared to be almost glazed over, like he was daydreaming.

“Earth to Lando Norris!” Your voiced raised a bit, snapping him out of his haze.

“Sorry, I, uh, where are you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Where I’ve been the last four minutes, love.” Your cheeks flushed as the word left your lips, but you shoved your feelings down and focused on the game.

“Right,” Lando muttered, his cheeks redder than you had ever seen them. He nibbled his lower lip as he focused on the screen in front of him.

You sighed in relief when Lando finally came to your aid. You both fought in silence for a few minutes. Then, your stomach flipped as you noticed the chat blowing up again.

formula1fangirl98: I want a man who looks at me the way Lando looks at Y/N.

battlebusdriver249: He’s in love for sure. Ain’t no one look at someone like that unless they in love.

myra_norris: Lando just daydreaming about his dream girl.

Your eyes widened and your stomach tensed as you read the hundreds of comments about you and Lando. There was no way he was staring at you, not consciously. He was probably just daydreaming about something else and happened to be looking at your stream when he zoned out… Right?

One last shot, and you were taken out. You sighed, relaxing your shoulders. Lando leaned back in his chair, his hands cradling the back of his head.

“Well, that was interesting.” Lando yawned, then smiled. “I guess 4th isn’t too shabby.” He peered down at his screen. “Is everyone in the chat still awake? Maybe I should read a couple of these—“

Lando’s eyes widened as he glanced down at the chat, his eyes scrolling over the various messages.

“Oh,” he gasped, glancing back up at the camera. “Uh, I don’t—uh.”

“Are you okay? Did your brain break?” You chuckled. You tried to maintain your cool while watching Lando stumble.

“Well, I think the chat is trying to call me out.” Lando’s cheeks flushed.

“Oh what?” You tried to play naïve, but you knew what they were saying. You weren’t blind.

“Well, let’s see. ‘Lando got those heart eyes’. Oh, and there’s ’His heart exploded and short-circuited his brain’.” He kept reading different comments in the chat, all of them hinting at one thing:

He was too busy staring at you to pay attention to the game.

“Oh,” was all you could muster up. You both stared at each other through the camera, both unable to say what you both knew needed to come next.

You sighed. “Well, are they right?” You winced as the words left your lips. This was not how you thought the day, or stream, was going to go.

“Haha, uh.” He sucked in a breath, then chuckled again. “Well, fans and friends, thank you for joining us today. I hope to be in here soon, and hopefully this lovely lady here will join me too.” He waved to the camera. “Goodnight, or day, everyone. Cheers.”

And with that, his screen went away, leaving just you and your stream. With a reluctant sigh, you said your farewells to your fans, and signed off too.

He just signed off like that? Not wanting to talk? Why would he read those comments off his chat if he wasn’t going to get to the point?

You leaned back in your chair just as your phone vibrated on your desk.

Text Message

Lando 😎🏎️🧡

Can you hop on Skype? I think we have a convo to finish.

You sent him a quick thumbs up emoji and pulled up Skype on your computer.

Within 30 seconds, you were getting a call from Lando, which you quickly accepted. His face popped into view, without his usual grin.

“Hey,” he muttered before letting out a sigh.

“Hey back.” You licked your lips nervously as you waited for his next words.

“Uh, so, sorry for earlier. I got a bit distracted.” Lando fiddled with his fingers.

“Yeah, I noticed. But what was so distracting?” His eyes shut for a moment at your words, then opened again. His gaze locked on the camera.

“You, obviously. As the chat said, I was mesmerized, transfixed,” he admitted. “I was distracted by watching you.”

You huffed a laugh. “By me playing a video game?”

He nodded. “Playing a video game, concentrating, analyzing, smiling, just being you.” Lando ran his hands over his hair. “Y/N, I was admiring how stunning you are. You’ve known me for what, a year now? And every single stream you’re on, I’m there right? Sure, you’re a pretty decent player, but I’m also there because watching you smile and laugh makes my stomach flutter like some stupid fucking romance movie. And for the races you’ve been at, I pushed harder than I thought I could because I wanted to make you proud. Not the team, not Zak, you.”

The only response you could give was a smile. A wide, gleeful grin as you listened to goofy, wacky Lando Norris spill his heart out to you.

“So, you’re saying—“

“I love you, Y/N. I have fallen head over fucking heels for a beautiful, funny, smart, quirky gamer girl named Y/N Y/L/N. And there’s no turning back now.” Lando’s lips finally curled. “And I hope—“

“I love you too, Lando. I knew you meant something special to me shortly after we met. I never thought a Formula 1 driver would have followed my gaming Twitch account, let alone become my friend.” Your cheeks heated while tears welled in your eyes. The man really meant a lot to you, and the fact that he felt the same way was magical.

“And maybe, uh, maybe more than a friend?”

You blinked the tears from your eyes and you chuckled. “What exactly are you asking, Mr. Lando Norris?” He cleared his throat then giggled, flashing that award winning smile.

“Y/N, will you, uh, would you like to be my girlfriend?” You both laughed.

“I would love to, Lando.” You both chuckled again. “And very smooth delivery,” you teased, but offering a wink.

“Ha, thanks. It did the job, didn’t it?” It sure did. You couldn’t argue with that.

When the giggles stopped, you both sat there, not sure what to do next. But, it didn’t matter. You were still swimming in the high of what just happened, that Lando Norris confessed to being in love with you.

Lando sat up a little, a grin across his lips. “Hey, I can ask for an all access pass to next weekend’s Grand Prix. If you would like to come and see it, that is.” That million dollar smile struck your heart as you considered his words.

“An all access pass to the Monaco Grand Prix? I could never say no to that.” You winked. “I heard there’s a really cute guy racing for McLaren.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll have to keep my eye out for him.” Lando smirked as you rolled your eyes.

The two of you continued to plan for the Grand Prix, like when you would leave and where you would stay. Lando beamed as he talked about this race, and you knew it was a special race for all of them. And sure, you had seen him race at Silverstone, Barcelona, and in Miami, but this one was going to be special.

“Hey Lando?” you asked as a random thought crossed your mind.

“Yeah, love?”

You let out a breath, then smiled. “When were you going to say something? You know, if thousands of people hadn’t called you out on it?”

Lando pursed his lips. “Well, I was planning on inviting you to the Grand Prix at the end of the stream. I was hoping to talk to you then. Maybe.” He nodded as he spoke.

You peered down randomly at your phone and gasped at the amount of notifications on the Lock Screen. X, Facebook, Instagram.

“Oh boy, we’re viral,” you muttered as you opened each notification. Most of them were just photos of Lando’s stream, his staring at your stream or blushing on camera. Fans had multiple hashtags, like #landoy/n forever and #flirtingonstream.

You rolled your eyes while Lando laughed hysterically at some of the posts.

“I guess the secret is out now the press are going to have a field day with us at the race.” You shrugged, realizing it may not be a calm little visit like before.

Lando chuckled and smirked. “Well, then let’s give them something to write about.” He winked, which made your stomach swirl.

This was going to be an interesting weekend.

[pixxiies]

— WHEELS ON

THE BUS . 𓂃 ㅤ۫ ㅤ⊹

————————————————————————

︴﹒ warnings ; smut (obvii), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up buddy), pet names (baby and angel), highschool au (characters are 18+), first person pov, y/n is used like once, degradation if you squint, lowercase intended, public sex, and praise

︴﹒ summary ; theres a field trip and theres not that much space on the bus so reader sits on chris’ lap and it leads to smth (i HATE doing summarys)

︴﹒ paring ; switch!chris x switch!reader

︴﹒ haven’s notes ; IM BACK!! sorry for not writing in a while i have been busy w school 😞😞 also are u guys interested for a part 2 for make it up?? i might scrap it but idkk 🙁 also this was based on a request

————————————————————————

ˋ☆ — i was waiting in line to get onto the bus for the end of year senior field trip. as sad i was for this to be my last field trip ever, i was excited to go to disney to be my last one. i got on the bus, seeing how there wasn’t that much room.

my eyes darted towards an open seat in the back. with a small sigh of relief, i made my way to it. i sat next to chris that i was somewhat friends with. “hi.” i speak softly. “oh hey, you excited?” he asked me, flashing me a smile.

“yeah! i haven’t been to disney in a long time, how about you?” i reply with a small smile in return. “eh, sort of. im not that much of a disney person, i really like universal more.” the brunette boy told me. my eyebrows raised slightly. i hum softly in reply before my eyes looked around the bus. it was incredibly crowded and to make it worse, a teacher came up to us.

“is it alright if you can move so i can place this box there?” the blonde curly haired lady asked me while holding a box filled with lunchboxes. i bit the inside of my bottom lip. “oh? uhh i don’t know where else to sit.” i say, my fingers starting to fidget with the lace on the hem of my shirt. “you could sit on my lap.” chris suggested nonchalantly. my face turned to face his, “you sure?” i said with a slight tint of worry in my voice.

“yeah i dont mind.” he said. after we got the approval from the teacher, i crawled onto chris’ lap. my back pressed against his chest comfortably and i placed my draw string bag on top of all the lunchboxes. “let me know if ya’ get uncomfortable.” chris reminded me as he awkwardly placed his hands in my lap. i nod, blushing a little bit when he placed his hands on my lap.

the bus started moving after a little bit, and as time passed i was getting bored. i turned towards my bag and grabbed my headphones and my phone so i could listen to music. just as i put one of the airpods in, the bus drove on a speed bump, making me bounce a little bit on chris’ lap. i heard his breath hitch a little bit, making me ask him if he was okay. “‘m okay.” he said, his hands starting to play around with my thighs that were being barely covered from my jean skirt.

as i sort of expected, i felt chris get hard underneath me. he started to ramble to me about what i would be doing this summer, trying to get me to not notice his boner that was rubbing against me. “chris its not working.” i giggle quietly as i place my phone and airpods back into my bag. “whats not working?” he asks me quickly, his words laced with anxiety.

“i can feel your dick.” i laugh again, turning around a bit so i could see his face. chris let out a small defeated sigh, earning a small smile from me. “im sorry, its a instinct.” he said quietly with a little embarrassed smirk. i shook my head, “dont worry chris.” i say, rocking myself onto his hardon. i smiled a little bit as i felt his hands quickly grip onto my hips.

“y-y/n.” chris stuttered as he leaned his head back slightly. i whined out quietly, thankful that the bus was loud enough to cover it up. i kept grinding against him, getting wetter and wetter to the sounds that he was making into my ear. “fuck.” he whimpered, leaning his chin on my bare shoulder. my eyes fluttered shut slowly as i teased chris a little bit by slowing my pace until it came to a halt. “why did you stop?” he pouted.

i looked to the side where i thought there would be other students sitting but instead it was just other boxes. “good.” i whispered under my breath as i sat up a bit. i guess this was a hint for chris to unzip his pants. as he did so, he also pulled his boxers down to his upper thigh. i lowered my ass down while my fingers pulled my white lacey panties to the side.

i shuddered when i felt the burning sensation of him stretching me out as i sunk down his cock. his hands found my hips again and he gripped onto them, guiding me as i rode him. my hands rested on top of my thighs, gripping onto my jean skirt. “your taking me so well angel.” chris breathed into my ear, sending me shivers down my spine. “shitt.” i dragged out quietly as my mouth fell agape from pleasure. my hips swayed against his a bit quicker now, earning whines from him.

“shh, don’t want anyone to hear you baby.” i say, turning around to look at him slightly. he nodded slowly, making me go back to doing my thing. i smiled when i noticed how grabby chris was getting. his hands grabbed and touched anything he could. “can’t believe your riding me in the back of the bus like a slut.” the boy with brunette loose curls laughed dryly. i turn to face him again and looked at him with doe eyes.

“well you were the one who suggested for me to sit on your lap in the first place, sturniolo.” i state, my voice a little bit unbalanced since the head of his cock hitting my sweet spot perfectly. after i turned my head back, chris grabbed onto the back of my skirt. my back arched off of his chest as i just let him thrust up into me. “f-fuck im gon— ahh, im gonna cum.” i breath, biting my bottom lip to prevent myself from making any loud sounds.

“cum with me baby.” chris whined into my ear while wrapping his arms around my waist just so he can hold me still to thrust into me. i let my bottom lip bounce back and my mouth fall agape. soon enough, i came all over his cock. i threw my head back on his shoulder with his chin on my shoulder.

i then felt him fill me up with his seed, making me whine a little bit. the brunette kissed my temple softly before he spoke. “you okay?” he asked. i nodded, my hand reaching up to my hair and tucking a small strand behind my ear. “yeah, i have uhm.. tissues in my bag.” i say while reaching over to the pink bag and grabbed a few tissues from inside so we could clean up.

after we did so, i managed to squeeze between chris and the box filled with lunchboxes. i looked up at the blue-eyed boy and smiled. “we’re at disney.” he said. “happily ever after then.” i joked with a giggle.

————————————————————————

︴﹒ haven’s notes pt2 ; hope u guys liekd this :3 im gonna write more after this week i promise yalll

︴﹒ taglist ; @mxqdii @espressomads @luverboychris @sturniol0s @mattsluttywaist

[watchmegetobsessed]

“Who’s is it”

JUST HANDS

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry, your college best friend has offered to help you move, but neither of you expected him to find your dildo in the midst of packing. And you especially not expected what came afterwards.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

You know you’re fucked the moment you see Harry grab the blue shoebox from under the bed, but it doesn’t process until he opens the lid and pulls out your trusty purple dildo.

This was not on your bingo card. Your best friend holding your beloved cock replacement that has gotten you through so many droughts and heartbreaks when you couldn’t even bear to look at a man.

Now that dildo is being held up by Harry and you feel like you’re about to scream and burn the apartment down. 

“Um, whose is it?” Harry manages to ask, his cheeks turning cherry red, but he is still holding up the fucking dildo.

Once your muscles are over the shock and you finally force yourself to move you step to him over the plenty of boxes and bags on the floor and grab the dildo from him before shoving it into one of the bags.

“Who do you think it belongs to, idiot?” you snap, the heat that’s crawling up your neck is dizzying. “We’re packing up my bedroom, whose fucking dildo would it be?”

Harry clears his throat and just stands there for a couple of moments while you busy yourself with emptying the dresser. But maybe it wasn’t the best idea, because now Harry is watching you throw your thongs and all kinds of underwear into a bag, making it even more awkward.

This is not how you imagine this afternoon when you asked Harry to help you pack up your room. You’ve been living here for the past two years, sharing the apartment with two other girls, but you finally found a nice studio apartment for your senior year of college, so you’re moving now. Harry has been a huge help so far, but right now you wish you never asked him to come over.

Minutes pass by and he is still just standing there, staring at you and it’s now pissing you off.

“What?” you snap with a sigh as you finally dare to look up.

You’ve known Harry since the first day of college. He spilled his green juice on your right before your first ever lecture and then switched shirts with you just so you could make a good impression on the professor. So you sat in an oversized, simple black shirt while Harry sported a sheer white blouse with a big green stain on it, ignoring every curious eyes that turned to him.

You’ve been best friends since then, but you’ve never seen him look at you the way he is looking at you right now. Pupils dilated, the friendly green of his irises has disappeared, his pink lips are parted and there’s something new in his posture as well, but you just can’t put your finger on it.

And it’s making you sweat.

“Uh, n-nothing,” he shakes his head, breaking the eye contact at last. “It’s nothing.”

“Then let’s just move on, alright?”

He only hums as he grabs a box from the floor and gets back to work. But it’s not the same. You can feel the tension as you silently pack next to each other and you catch Harry staring at either you or the bag you shoved the dildo into. When some time has passed and you’ve passed by the embarrassment you finally work up the courage to address the situation, hoping to ease the suffocating tension.

“Um, sorry about… the… I forgot about it and didn’t think you’d find it.”

Harry looks up at you from the pile of shoes he’s been placing in a box, he looks like a deer caught in the headlights for a brief second before a smirk tugs on his lips.

“Forgot about it? So you haven’t used it lately?”

“That’s not… that’s not what I mean. I did use it recently–” 

Did you really just admit to masturbating to him? With your purple dildo? For fuck’s sake, this is getting worse by the minute.

“I-I mean, uhh–”

“I know what you meant,” he chuckles, looking down at the shoes as he shakes his head, but you notice his ears have turned red. “It’s just… never mind.”

“What?”

“Nothing, let’s just move on.”

“No, tell me! I wanna know what you wanted to say.”

Sighing he drops the pair of tennis shoes from his hands and looks up at you.

“I just never thought you’re the kind to use… help, like toys.”

You blink at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Your thoughts are racing a million miles per second, trying to process his words. He never thought you were the kind to use toys? You’re not ballsy or freaky enough to use a dildo? Does he think you’re too prude for sex toys? And most importantly, has he actually been thinking about your ways of masturbating?

Harry shrugs as he stands, hands on his hips. 

“It’s just that I always thought you either get a hook up or just use your hands.”

“Why? You think I’m too prude to use toys?”

“That’s not what I said,” he chuckles, but you’re not done pouring questions at him.

“And do you often ponder about how I usually masturbate? Because you seem to be having a very strong opinion about the topic.”

“What?” Now his face has gone blank and you can sense his discomfort.

“Just so you know, I very much love to use that dildo and I’m also a fan of rabbit vibrators, I used to have one, but I dropped it and it broke and haven’t gotten a new one.”

Harry’s eyebrows rise and you swallow hard as you realize just how much you gave away about your private life. Neither of you speaks and then you both just sort of go back to packing without acknowledging the things said, but you can’t stop thinking about it.

This might not feel like this big of a deal if you haven’t been crazily into Harry these past months. You have no idea when your feelings shifted from friendly to “I want him to fuck me in the school cafeteria”, but it’s been messing with your head. Your dirty dreams about him don’t help your case either. 

Just as you recite his words probably for the millionth time he breaks the silence.

“I do, by the way.”

“Huh?” you ask with a dumb frown.

“I do think about how you pleasure yourself. Pretty often. Mostly when I’m wanking.”

Your mouth drops open and whatever was in your hand now drops to the floor as you stare back at him. He is holding your gaze smugly, as if he is challenging you to react and make the next move.

The ball is in your court.

Your chest is rising and falling rapidly as you’re trying to wrap your head around where this conversation has gotten to and you make a decision within a second.

“Do you want to actually watch me touch myself?”

The words sound distant, but you know you said them. And you watch Harry’s eyes turn darker than ever as he slowly nods.

“Yeah.”

Your desires take over your actions, rationality has been thrown out the window as you walk over to him and take his hand, pulling him over to the dresser that’s facing the bed. 

“Stand here,” you tell him as you position him against the dresser and then you climb onto your bed, making yourself comfortable in the middle, opening your legs so Harry has an excellent view of the way you run your hand over yourself, only your tiny cotton shorts covering your pussy from his greedy eyes.

“I could use the dildo, or just my hands. What do you want, Harry?” you question, while you keep rubbing yourself over the fabric of your shorts and there’s probably a wet stain already showing through it.

“Hands,” he answers eagerly. “Just hands.”

Lifting your hips you push down your shorts and underwear, over your knees and then kick them to the side before opening your legs again, this time exposing your naked cunt in front of Harry.

When you hear a shaky moan from him you lick two of your fingers before reaching down and keeping eye contact with him you start circling them on your clit the way you like it.

“You like it?” You ask, words turning into a moan when you hit the right spot.

“Yes,” he breathes out and as your gaze drops to his crotch you notice just how much he is enjoying the show. The outline of his cock is teasing you from across the room and though part of you wants him to fuck you until you forget your own name, you’re also enjoying this little game you’re playing and you want to finish it.

“What else do you want me to do, Harry?”

This time he needs a few seconds before he can answer.

“Finger yourself.”

“Want to see my fingers fucking my pussy?”

“Yes,” he nods eagerly and you see his hand twitching, but he doesn’t touch himself, instead, he looks you in the eyes and asks: “Can I touch myself too?”

Fuck, you love this obedient side of him, love that you feel in charge of him.

“Yes. I wanna see you play with yourself while I fuck myself.”

Harry groans as he rushes to undo the button and zipper of his pants and tug them down halfway on his thighs, just enough to let his hard cock finally spring free. Your mouth waters and you whimper as you push two fingers inside you, pretending like it’s his cock that’s filling you up, though you know it will be a whole different feeling when his dick finally pushes into you.

Leaning against the dresser he is jerking himself off while watching you edge yourself closer to your orgasm. Curling your fingers, pushing, pressing and pinching, you already know you won’t last much longer, not when you’re staring at Harry’s throbbing cock.

“Are you close?” you ask, gasping for air, your back arching from the mattress.

“Yes, fuck, I’m gonna come,” he hisses, his eyes glued to you. 

“Come with me, Harry!” you whine and he nods, his hand going even faster now.

You stare at each other the moment you both reach your climax. Your legs are shaking and you can’t quiet yourself while you watch Harry’s cum squirt onto the floor in waves, he gasps for air and calls out your name like a plea.

Minutes pass by and the two of you remain in your own respective spots, trying to catch your breath and return to reality. When it finally happens you sit up and you’re met with Harry’s eyes already resting on you. For a moment you have no idea what’s gonna happen, but then you both suddenly start to laugh. 

“That was… unexpected,” he admits, lazily pulling his pants back up as you scoot to the edge of the mattress. Harry walks over to you and helps you up from the bed. Now you’re looking at each other from up close.

“But did you enjoy it?” you ask with a sheepish smile.

“The proof that I enjoyed it is on the floor now,” he chuckles and it makes you laugh as well.

“Maybe… next time we could be closer to each other. Even touch each other,” you muse.

Harry smirks as he takes your chin between his thumb and index finger before running his thumb across your lower lip.

“I would love that.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[soupandsimple]

Coach P. (with James Potter)

[ gym coach James being called out by a student for often visiting you during their art class ]

* simple fluff 💜

** muggle au

This was requested: see the ask here

……………………….

Knock knock knock

You looked over to the little window of your classroom door while in the middle of demonstrating to your students how to create clean, even coverage brush strokes with a paint brush and saw James Potter, the school’s gym teacher waving at you.

You smiled, held up your pointer finger informing him to give you a moment and continued on explaining the method.

“There, that easy” you said to the group of twelve year old children once you finished. “Now I want you all to practice this technique on the mosaic sheet designs you made yesterday. I’ll be coming around checking your progress in a bit,” you concluded.

As the kids stood up to gather their painting supplies from the back of the room, you went over and finally opened the door.

“Sorry for the wait” you apologized to James.

“No, no- you’re here to do your job. I have no trouble waiting around for you…here, I brought you these” he said, handing you a bag of fruit snacks that were carried in the school’s vending machines.

“Ugh, you know I can’t say no to fruit snacks” you admitted as you grabbed the bag. “I’ll just save them for later, it makes me sad to eat them with the students watching” you forced a little laugh as you set them on your desk.

“Such a thoughtful thing you are,” James half joked, half gushed.

“As are you coach Potter,” you playfully bantered back, resulting in a shared shy laugh as you each looked in different directions.

“No but seriously though James, thank you for the snacks,” you spoke in your normal tone of voice now, with a smile of gratitude on your lips.

Before James could reply, Lawrence, one of the more outspoken boys of his year, called out, “Hey coach P, why do you always come in here during our class?”

Some of the students laughed while others internally gasped and stared at each other with knowing looks, looks that told you they all speculated there was something between you and James.

“Uhh..well it’s my free period Lawrence,” James replied back as casually as he could.

“Yeah but you like always come in here, can’t you go home during your break or take a nap?”

“No, work is still work. I can’t leave the school and I certainly can’t sleep.”

“That sucks Coach…I bet you still look forward to your free period everyday anyways don’t you?” Lawrence said with three comical eyebrow wiggles.

A group of girls giggled and even you wanted to laugh at the fact that James was being called out by a twelve year old but luckily you were able to contain your lips in a subtle smile.

A red hue quickly spread across James’s cheeks as he let out an airy chuckle, “Okayyyy Lawrence, enough of that. Why don’t you get back to your work.”

Lawrence shrugged and went on about his business.

What the students didn’t know was that during the summer, James and you had been set up on a blind date by mutual friend Remus Lupin but that once you met and found out you’d be working at the same school that year, you both decided it’d be better to keep things simple and just be friends. The feelings between you two, however, were undeniable and it was really only a matter of time before you both accepted you were not meant to limit yourselves to a friendship.

“Well, I should go,” James said pointing to the door with both hands then walking backward towards it to keep an eye on you. “But oh, hey, you going to Rem’s birthday dinner tomorrow night?”

“Mhm,” you nodded.

“Good, um me too. I’ll see you there then?”

“Yeah, see you there,” you assured him happily with a little wave goodbye.

James smiled and cutely saluted you in exchange of a wave and as he walked out of the door, Lawrence eagerly shouted out …

“Have a good weekend coach P!”

… to which James pretended not to have heard and kept on his way without a look back.

Naturally though, he couldn’t help the small smile that escaped his lips as he exited, just as your lips did the same inside because you both knew you’d be getting to see each other outside of school hours for a change; and well, that certainly made for a good weekend. <3

[miniwheat77]

Maybe One Day. (Ghost x Petite!Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, Size kink, Ghost being a little talkative, petite!reader, unprotected sex, some sad parts, mentions of death, blood, violence, (sorry if I missed any)

(Summary): Reader is in love with Ghost but is okay with the fact that it’ll never lead anywhere.

I got a petite!reader ask, you can find that here.

If she wasn’t on her phone, working, or buried in a book, she was thinking about him. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley.

Y/N has worked alongside Ghost for quite some time now. A few years. From the very moment she’d laid eyes on him, she fell in love. As time went on, her feelings only seemed to grow for him. Up to this point, the fifth year working alongside him, she’d had very limited conversations with him. Anytime she made an attempt to deepen any kind of conversation, he shrugged her off. At first, she thought maybe if she talked to him enough. Close enough to him, maybe. Just maybe something would happen. But he ignored her, walked away from her, and always kept it short. So she gave up after about a year. From then on, the last four years after that, she kept it professional. Only talked to Ghost on missions when she absolutely had to. Didn’t interact with him on base aside from small waves, and kept to herself for the most part.

She made an attempt to hide the feelings she had for Ghost, but it didn’t always work. Most people caught on. The waves, the way she smiled and acted all giddy when he was around. Everything. She was nice to everyone but it was different when it came to Ghost. Nearly anybody could tell. Soap looked at her from the hallway. Ghost stood next to him. “Are you sure about this Ghost?” Soap asks. Ghost nods his head. You were currently folding up a table cloth. Soap sighs, spinning on his heels and entering the mess hall.

"Hey." He smiles. "Uh.. hi." You smile. "You scared me."

"Oh, my bad." He smiles. "I just heard you come out and thought I'd come talk to you."

“About what?”

"Simon."

"What about him?"

"I.. think you know."

You pause for a moment. Looking down at your feet.

"That obvious ah?" You smile. "Uhh.. maybe just a little bit." Soap laughs. "I just… I wouldn't want you getting hurt Y/N. He's kinda.. guarded. Yknow?"

"Oh I know Soap. There's no chance in hell we'd ever work out. Hell, it'd be a shot in the dark if he was even into me." Soap knows you're keeping it together but he can see the hurt in your eyes.

"What?"

"I'm.. not that interesting." You laugh. Simon waited right on the other side of the wall, listening in.

"I think he's just well guarded Y/N. There's nothing wrong with you."

You let out a small laugh, looking down at the ground. "Yeah. I know that nothing will ever come of it. It's just a dumb crush, nothing more."

Soap was only talking to you because Simon asked him to. He told Soap that there was no chance anything would ever work between the two of you and he needed you to know exactly what to expect. After finishing up the conversation with Soap, it had been made clear. Ghost had put Soap up to it. Which meant Ghost was getting tired of it or you’d been making him uncomfortable. You just wished Ghost had come to you about it personally rather than making it everyone else’s business and embarrassing you like that. After that day, you started ignoring Ghost. No more small waves when passing by. No more making conversation with him up on the roof when you took over watch, no more offering to take over his shifts or helping him with his chores. You drew back completely and passed by him with a cold shoulder. You were short when he needed to talk to you, just like he’d been with you. He noticed it immediately.

After a week or so, everyone noticed you hadn’t been active. Nobody had seen you in passing, nobody had talked to you or seen you during meals, and they noticed your captain was picking up your part of the chores. It was unusual. Eventually after they all pestered their Captain enough, he finally caved. “Alright fine. Meet in my office after Lunch and we’ll talk. But this stays between all of us.” He glares. They all nod their heads. After lunch, everyone met up. Ghost waited until a few minutes after, hiding in the hallway. “Alright. Y/N has been on rest in her room until we can get her home. She got a phone call about a week ago that her younger brother was killed in a car accident. She’s very upset, and you guys need to leave her be unless she comes to you for help. Am I clear?” He says. Everyone nods their heads. As everyone finishes up the conversation, Ghost notices a flash of black pass by the doorway to Captain Price’s office. He follows whatever it is, noticing you in the mess hall picking up the lukewarm pot of coffee. Once their conversation was done, Captain Price came in. When he sees you, he’s curious. “Hey, what’re you doing out of your room?” He asks. You raise the cup of coffee. John nods. You say nothing, making your way back to your room. It was odd for the both of them to see you in night clothes. Just shorts and a t-shirt. John looks at Ghost, getting a shrug back.

The following day, Ghost is eating breakfast with Soap in the mess hall. It’s only them and Captain Price inside so far. To their surprise, you walk inside. Broom in hand. You start sweeping up the mess hall. Something you did on a daily basis. It was a very small part of your chores. Not just that, you have your full uniform on. “Uh.. Y/N.” John looks up from his coffee. You pause, looking at him. Your eyes are bloodshot. You look like you haven’t slept in days. “You don’t have to do that, I got you covered. We’re trying to get you home.” You don’t stop sweeping. “They had his funeral already, I have no reason to go home. I’ll be just fine here, thanks anyways Captain.” You sweep everything into the dustpan, walking off. John sighs.

This goes on for a couple days. You’re on edge. Nobody sees you eat, you don’t sleep very well. You’re struggling and there’s nothing anybody can do. Everyone tells Ghost to check up on you. You like Ghost, maybe you’d open up to him. And he did try. Went out of his comfort zone to ask you how you’re doing. You gave him a short “I’m fine.” And shrugged him off after that.

To you, he didn’t care. Nobody cared. They were coworkers, nothing more. They didn’t care what you were going through, they only cared about what you were useful for.

You sat quietly on the chopper. Everyone else made small talk but you, you just stared ahead. You had a blank expression on your face. Like you were staring right through everything. Expressionless, emotionless. Like you weren’t there. Soap is the first to notice, but knows not to get involved. You’re struggling. The last thing you need is someone pestering you. “Alright. Don’t forget the plan. Y/N and Ghost are frontlines. Entering through vents on the rooftops. Gaz and I will be posting guard with rifles, Soap will be entering through the mines. It’s where the least amount of threats are.” Your Captain explains more details before the chopper lands, and when it lands it’s a go. You and Ghost quickly make your way inside, dropping tear gas through the vents and waiting for it to dissolve completely before jumping in.

Ghost notices immediately you’re more ruthless than before. Wearing no emotion on your face as you ambush people, stabbing them. Blood spatters over your face and you don’t even flinch as it does. It’s shocking to see someone so small being so violent. Successfully at that. When the buildings are clear, you’re leaning up against a pool table in the back room. Ghost is sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. “You told Captain they had his Funeral already. They didn’t wait for you?” Ghost asks. “No.” You rolls your eyes. “Why?” He asks. Drawing a chuckle from your lips. You cross your arms, not turning your head to even look at him. “Deadbeat parents, they don’t give a fuck about me or how I feel.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He sighs. “Luck of the draw, how d’ya think I ended up in this shit show?”

The body in front of Ghost has one of your knives in his chest, you walk over to it. Pressing your foot down onto his shoulder and pulling the knife out of him. You wipe it off on your pants before returning back to where you were leaning at the pool table. Everyone else walks into the room, lowering their weapons when they see you and Ghost waiting patiently. They look like they had a hell of a fight. “We gave you guys the hardest task and you look untouched.” Captain Price laughs. “Just too good.” You shrug, walking passed them. Soap smiles, stepping in. “Successful mission.” He holds up a flash drive. The one you’d been looking for. “Fuck yeah.” You smile. You still had that same pain in your eyes. No matter how happy you seemed, it stayed there. You twirl the knife in your hand the entire way back to the chopper, and just like before. You’re staring off into space. Brain in an entire different dimension as you spin it around in your hand.

Overtime, Ghost notices you more and more. How much different you’ve become, how cold you’ve been acting. You’re still giving him the cold shoulder. Still not making much conversation with him.

He makes his way onto the watch post, seeing you sitting back in a chair with your feet kicked up, looking at the room full of cameras. He makes his way up to you, he’s a few minutes early. You stand up, picking up your items and going to walk away. “Leaving so soon?” He asks. You pause, body going rigid. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?” You still have your back turned to him. “Just thought you’d want to make some small talk. Talk about what’s going on.” He shrugs. You turn around, a smile on your face. “Yeah, let’s be friends, we’ll exchange stories about our shitty lives. It’ll be a sleepover.” You smile. “So that’s a no.” He chuckles. You bite your lip for just a second, taking a step toward him. “What? You want to be friends now? The few times I tried making small talk with you, you had Soap tell me to leave you alone. So no, I don’t really feel like talking.” You roll your eyes, spinning to walk around. “I had him tell you to back off because I could tell you liked me. I knew you wanted to be more than friends.” You laugh, “See that’s where you’re mistaken Ghost, we’re not friends. Hell, we’re not even acquaintances. You and I? We’re just coworkers. Nothing more.” With that, you walk down the stairs. It stings Ghost a little bit that you’re so cold to him, but really he asked for this. “Hey!” He calls to you. “I’m your superior, when Captain Price isn’t around, you answer to me, Sergeant.” You turn around, smirk at your lips. You cross you arms, taking a couple steps up the stairs. “Yeah? What can I do for you, Lieutenant.” The venom in your voice is potent. “Go back inside the watch tower.” You roll your eyes. “Yes sir.” You throw your bag back down once you step inside. Ghost closes the door. “Sit down.” You hate that you have to listen to him. But you do anyways. Crossing your arms and leaning back. “Good. Now talk.” He looks at you. “About what?”

“What’s bothering you?” He asks. You narrow your eyes. “You already know what’s bothering me.”

He shakes his head. “Can we just be done here? Or am I going to have to fight my way out?” Ghost let’s out a deep chuckle. “Sweetheart, you can’t fight me. You won’t win.” A scoff leaves your lips. “The hell is that supposed to mean?” He laughs. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re tiny. I could pick you up with one hand.” He sits back in his chair, the tight shirt he has on tightens perfectly over his arms and shoulders. You swallow hard, but Ghost doesn’t miss it. “You’re hiding something else, something else was bothering you.” You raise your eyebrows, giving him a ‘are you fucking serious.’ Look. “You’re joking right?” You laugh. He looks confused. “You assumed that I like you, and instead of coming to me to tell me to back off, you told someone else to come to me and say it. Not only is that a concern that should have stayed between the both of us, but it’s pretty embarrassing that everyone knows now.” You roll your eyes. “Okay. That was a bad call on my part. I’m sorry.” He places his hands on his thighs. Your eyes glancing at them for a split second. “Are we done now?” You swallow hard. “I suppose.” He mumbles.

—

A few weeks later, Captain Price put you on leave for a week.

When you come back, you seem in worse shape than before. Ghost is the first to notice. You look like you haven’t been eating or sleeping. It’s late and he can hear weights crashing in the gym, pulling himself out his bed to go check on whoever it is, not surprised to see that it’s you. “Bad idea to do that without a spotter.” He mumbles. He rubs his eyes tiredly. His mask isn’t on straight, he just threw it on really quick. You say nothing in return. “Y/N, what’s going on?” You’re breathing hard from lifting the weight up. “Parents lied about my little brother dying, wanted me to send money for his funeral so that they could just have the money.” You breathe. Teeth gritted as you lift the weight. “They’ve brainwashed him, made him hate me. I got nobody left.” You’re panting hard, groaning as you lift the weight. Ghost takes it from your hands, lifting it up with one hand and laying it in the rack. “Talk to me.” He breathes. The action doesn’t go unnoticed by you. What you were just struggling to lift, he lifted with one hand.

You shake yourself out of your thoughts. “I don’t have anybody either. That’s why I joined the military in the first place, but it’s not exactly worked out too well in my favor because 141 is like my family. Something I’ve never had.” He breathes. You laugh. “How sweet.” He rolls his eyes. “I’m serious. We look out for each other. Make sure everyone is okay all the time, why you think I’m here hm? Everyone worries about you.” You laugh. “That’s complete bullshit and you know it. I used to try to talk to you all of the time and you just shrugged me off like nothing. Nothing was different between then and now. You’re free to leave whenever you want, Ghost.” You roll your eyes. He takes a deep breath. He’s clearly getting frustrated with you. “Why do you care about em? Hm? They don’t give a fuck about you, never have. Why lose sleep over it? I don’t.” He shrugs. “Rough concept. Maybe you’re just mentally stronger than me. But that’s not exactly my point.” You roll your eyes. You stand up, walking away to another area to work out. “Look. It’s almost midnight and we have to be up at 6. I’m not too keen on losing this much sleep. Let’s go to bed, we’ll talk more tomorrow.” He mumbles. “Go ahead, I’m not making you stay here.”

“Goddamnit.” He mumbles. He makes his way near you as you reach for a bar, he lifts you up with ease, throwing you over his shoulder. “Simon! Put me down!”

“No. You’re going to bed.”

“I’ll just lay awake.”

“Than you’ll lay awake in my bed.”

Your body goes rigid and Ghost chuckles. He opens his door up and spins around to close and lock it behind him. He throws you down onto his bed and you bounce up, scrambling to prop yourself up onto your elbows. He grasps the hem of his shirt, pulling it off. “Um.. what the fuck is going on?” You ask. He straddles your hips, leaning down into you. You let yourself fall all of the way back, backing away from his face. He laughs. “This is what you wanted, right?” You shake your head. “No-no. I don’t want your weird pity s-“ he covers your throat with his hand, the small size of you has him smiling. He likes the control he has over you. “Mnot trying to fuck you out of pity. I know you like me, I know you want to fuck me. I wanna fuck you too.” He mumbles. This side of Simon is weird. You’re used to the guarded, quiet Simon. This was new. “I like you, have forever. S’just a bad idea to start something with someone when you could die any day. But you don’t mind right?” He smirks. He pulls his mask off, and you swallow hard, seeing him.

All of him.

Everyone on base but you had seen his face.

“You’re so tiny..” he mumbles. “So easy to..” he pins your hips down into his bed. Earning a gasp from your lips. “You want me to fuck you or not?” He bites his lip. You swallow hard, cheeks burning. You nod slowly. He smirks, tugging his sweatpants down his legs. You’re only wearing a tank top and shorts, since you were working out. He tugs them off of you quickly. He is massive, you swallow hard when you see the size of his cock. He can’t help but chuckle at your reaction. “Don’t worry, M’gonna make you feel real good. Just try to be quiet for me.” He lines himself up with your entrance and you breathe out. All of the pining you’d done. The sleep you lost over him, everything. And now? A deep breath leaves your lips when he prods at your opening. The tip of his fat cock disappearing between your folds. He’s stretching you already and he’s barely started. He groans out, holding onto your hips tightly. Holding you exactly where he wants you. He clamps a hand over your mouth when he thrusts all of the way inside of you, enjoying the way your eyes roll back as he bottoms out. He’s huge. When he starts fucking into you, it’s intense. You’re watching him disappear inside of you. He says something but you aren’t listening. “Don’t tell me you’re cock drunk already?” He chuckles. He pushes you back by your chest, shoving his thumb into your mouth. “Such a good girl.” Your mouth makes his cock twitch slightly. You’re tight around Simon and he moans out. “So. Fucking. Good.” He groans between thrusts. You’re surprised how vocal he is.

You feel a high approaching already and he notices how wet you’re getting on him. He bites his lip. Lowering his gaze so that he can watch his big cock disappear into your little hole. He’s gritting his teeth, keeping a steady pace and you tilt your head back. “Ah! S-Simon-“ you whimper. “S’alright. You can cum baby.” He mumbles, leaning down slightly and attaching his lips to yours for the first time. It sends you right into a su space, the softness of his lips has you disappearing. Your moans get muffled by him as he fucks you through your first high. It won’t be your last of the night. Your thighs shake as he overstimulates you. Not giving you anytime to adjust to him. “Fuck you get so tight on me when you cum.” He groans. He starts to rock his hips into yours a little faster than before. He’s eager, wanting his own high. “Why don’t you ride me, hm?” You nod your head. He slides out of you, moving so that you can sit up. When he lays down you straddle him, lowering yourself onto him. Hissing at the new angle, he’s going too deep. He chuckles. “It’s okay.” You rock your hips up, turning around to see how far you’re taking him down. “Try to take all of me.” He mumbles. “I-I can’t.” He chuckles. “You can. Just relax for me.” You nod your head, if you wanted to stop now, he’d let you obviously. He runs his hands up your thighs, resting on your hips. He licks his lips when he forces your hips down onto him, a gasp leaving your lips as he bottoms out again. Your legs weaken and you rest yourself onto him.

You give yourself a second to adjust and he doesn’t try to make you. Letting you rock your hips into him, getting used to it. Pretty soon, you’re bouncing on his cock, moaning out. He’s smiling a lazy smile at you, loving how dirty it is. You’re addicted to him, chasing your high on his cock. He’s getting close and he can tell you’re close too by the way you’re tightening around him and the intensity of your moans. He’s panting hard, thighs clenching and lower stomach knotting up. That sweet knot was going to unravel and against his better judgement, if you don’t stop. He’s going to fill your little pussy full of his cum. You’re rocking back and fourth in him, feeling so good. He loves seeing it, loves seeing you pleasure yourself on him. It’s just a bonus that he gets to watch it, and cum too. This is so much better than jerking off. It’s all he’s done to cum in the last few years. He wanted to make a move on you sooner but knew it was a bad idea. He grips your thighs, helping guide you onto him. “Got me fucking close baby.” He groans. “M-me too.” You pant. Your eyes are watering from being overwhelmed. He lifts his hips into yours, getting frustrated and holding you up so he can thrust up into you. “Oh fuck-“ his voice cracks and a whimper leaves his lips. “I’m gonna cum.” He pants. “Fuck I’m gonna cum baby-“ he cries. “Me too Simon-“ a gasp leaves your lips when you hit your second high, feeling his warmth spill into your depths. Filling you up. Your lips are parted and you’re resting your hands on his chest. Feeling him leak down out of you.

You climb off him, going to stand up but he stops you, pulling you back into him. “Relax.” He breathes. “Sleep here.” He mumbles. Pulling you into his front. “Simon-“ he stops you. “We can talk more about this tomorrow alright? But you need sleep, and I got you. I always got you. Just sleep for now.” He breathes. Feeling his warmth and the way his arms are wrapping around you is too much. You feel your eyes getting heavy.

@clove-shitposts

[ivystoryweaver]

Still With You

A With You standalone sequel - can be read on its own

"Salvaging discarded things knocked the edge off wanting to drink."

"...but where Marc's hands restored and your hands healed and Steven's hands inspired and instructed, Jake had brutal hands."

based on this nonnie and this @purple-amaranthe request

Pairing: Marc, Steven, Jake x gn!reader || Word Count: 3.2k

Content: they're all trying hard ok, domestic life, self worth probs, mentions of alcoholism/drinking, angst-ish, domestic fluff, moon dads-to-be, romance, sensual content, but nothing explicit

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

MARC

10:58 A.M.

Florescent lights flickered out an annoying buzz in the otherwise silent waiting room.

Thumbing through an outdated parenting magazine, you intermittently pointed out cute toys or outfits to your husband, who would grant you a curt nod each time.

Realizing you likely weren't helping the situation, you set the magazine aside and covered his hand with your own, if only to stop his fidgeting. "Almost time."

Marc squeezed your hand, grateful for your grounding touch. "You're sure we're not late?"

"We're right on time. It's still not even 11:00."

"Okay," he huffed out, his knee bouncing of its own accord. The cheap vinyl of his chair squeaked as he shifted, attempting to externally calm and internal storm.

You smiled at him sympathetically, remembering how far he'd come to even get to this point.

Just yesterday, he paced the floor half the evening, pushing his hands tormentedly through his curls over and over.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

"They'll never approve me," he lamented. "I'm not...they'll think I'm not ready."

"Baby, we've taken all the classes. We've passed the home inspection." You nodded around at your new bedroom, eyes landing on the salvaged and restored night table he presented to you a while back.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Marc had taken on several projects since then, turning one bedroom of your new place into a workshop and the other into a nursery.

"Do you think she'll like girl colors?" He asked, flipping through paint swatches at the local hardware store.

"Uhh, what are 'girl colors'?" You smirked.

He swatted your nose with his finger. "I'm trying to pick out what color to paint that vintage toy chest I restored for Akeyla."

Your heart melted at the sound of your future daughter's name, not to mention the fact that Marc had put together nearly every piece in her nursery himself.

When he wasn't on a mission for Khonshu, he liked to keep his hands busy. Sometimes that meant his hands were all over you for "stress relief." Otherwise, he would drive around town in the old truck he bought, looking for unwanted and discarded furniture to fix up, repurpose for the house, or sell.

He still labeled himself unemployed, but he sold a few refurbished pieces a month, which more than paid for the hobby, his truck insurance and even left some spending money.

Salvaging discarded things knocked the edge off wanting to drink.

"Maybe like...turquoise?" He prodded, tracing his fingers over a row of various blues and greens. When you neglected to answer what you assumed was a rhetorical question, he assumed it was a no.

"Or purple? Sweetheart?" The full intensity of the Marc Spector stare fell on you as he waited for the verdict.

"Sorry." You smiled at him, nodding toward the turquoise swatches. "Trust your instincts. You're always right." Leaning closer, you kissed him adoringly on the cheek.

"That's not what you said about the yellow bench," he chuckled, selecting a swatch labeled "Ebbtide".

"That's pretty, I like it."

Marc needed to hear your words. After a couple years of marriage, you knew this now more than ever. Whether telling him what you needed in bed, or giving your seal of approval for his newest restoration project, he valued your opinion more than anything and it meant so much to him to hear you voice it.

Akeyla's nursery had been ready for weeks. The vintage toy chest was the final touch. Marc found a rocking chair, a book case that Steven requested, and chest of drawers to restore. You drew the line at a creaky old toddler bed. Steven went with you to pick that out, brand new.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

It was finally here. Today was the day you would meet your little girl.

You weren't ready to take her home yet - that was longer process - but you would meet her and start visits. Very soon, she would enter your home through the foster system, and after a while, she would be yours forever, by adoption.

"What if they change their minds?" Marc urgently whispered, there in the waiting room, gripping your hand so tightly it hurt. "They'll want to put her somewhere without someone - "

"Marc," you reminded him, "they know all about us. It's okay."

"I know, but - what if they find out about Khon- "

"Hi, are you the Spectors?" a kindly voice interrupted Marc's fussing.

A smartly dressed young woman holding a tablet adjusted her glasses and smiled.

"Yes," you quickly answered, standing up and pulling Marc with you. "That's us. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." She shook each of your hands. "Ready to meet her?"

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

"What if I..." Marc whispered against your temple, holding you against him in bed the night before. "I want to be there to meet her, but if I'm not, it isn't because I..." He shifted restlessly, trying to explain.

"You know what I always say," you gently reminded him, raking one hand through the curls resting above his ear.

"It's our body," he repeated your words back to you. "Whoever's there is there. It's not a problem."

"Exactly," you remind him. "I know you want to meet Akeyla as much as Steven, Jake and I do. I know that."

"I do," he breathlessly repeated, and you realized it might be a long night, when he added, "I just don't want to scare her. What if she doesn't understand, you know, how we are?"

"Baby, come here," You pulled his head down to your chest, wrapping him up tightly, pressing soothing kisses along his hairline. He wasn't voicing any fears he hadn't already talked through a dozen times with you, his sponsor and his therapist, not to mention his alters.

"Sorry," he murmured against the smooth column of your neck. Shifting pleading eyes up to yours, he relaxed, as your soft smile soothed him. "I'm so nervous."

"I am too," you sympathized. "Believe me, Marc. I mean, we're meeting our daughter. I'm just as nervous as you are."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Marc tangled his fingers with yours as you shuffled down the hallway toward the room that would change your lives forever.

The woman in front of you, who had identified herself as Elsie, paused before opening the door. "Ready?"

You glanced at your husband.

Sometimes he was so adorably terrified you were certain he forgot it was actually his idea to adopt.

Granting you a nod, he swallowed thickly. "Ready."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

STEVEN

9:22 P.M.

"So tense, mon cœur," your husband breathed against your neck, trailing tempting kisses over your damp skin. Strong forearms flexed against your abdomen, pulling your back closer to the slick heat of his bare chest.

Thick thighs surrounded you as you rested in your garden tub together, soaking in a bubble bath. Your head dropped to his shoulder as he whispered sensual French words on your ear. Long fingers traced down the shape of your abdomen, naughtily slipping between your legs.

"Steven, this is supposed to be a relaxing bath. Oh shit - " You moaned as touched you right where you craved. His other hand gripped your jaw, turning your face to his for a wet, hungry kiss. You went boneless in his embrace, completely at his mercy.

You should have known sweet Steven would seduce you during your "relaxing bath."

Later that evening, he sat beside you on the sofa, each of you working on a puzzle book from the "couch basket", enjoying a quiet evening in your new home.

“Got those pictures you wanted, love,” he commented. “The garden ones. Found another book too.”

You smiled adoringly at him, so excited to see them framed and hanging in Akeyla’s room. You had asked him to track down pictures of gardens from all over the world. Since Marc was in charge of furniture, Steven helped you pick out some unique decor.

He acquired a couple of first edition classic Children’s books as well. But you reminded him they would have to be stored way up high, away from the grabby hands of a toddler.

So he curated a brilliant little collection of toddler friendly board books for the lower shelves, as well as children’s books for her to grow into.

Steven had finished his bachelor's degree and was now working on a Masters of Anthropology. Already fluent in French, he was also studying Egyptian Arabic in an unofficial capacity, and toying with the idea of studying archaeology or linguistics as well. He just loved to learn and could never get enough.

After all was said and done, he'd probably end up teaching, which was a perfect idea because, in front of the right crowd, he was absolutely enthralling when he was passionate about something.

He still worked at the university library and thanked you almost daily for making most of the money for this little family, while he studied, and he, Jake and Marc worked part-time jobs.

You reminded Steven that their three part time jobs kind of added up to one job - plus as a student, you would give him a pass.

"Besides, you're going to be a sexy professor in another year or two, so I really see no downside," you'd tease him.

“Can’t wait to read to her every night,” Steven mused, pulling your mind back to the present.

Setting your puzzle book down, you snuggled up close to his side, wrapping your arms around his. “She’s always going to remember us reading to her. You’re going to be such a good dad, Steven.”

His throat bobbed. “You really think so?”

“I do. I know it.”

Gripping your hand almost as tightly as Marc had earlier in the afternoon, his head rested against yours. "Can't wait to meet her. Tell me again how she looked."

You warmly chuckled, nuzzling into his sleeve. "You've seen her picture a hundred times."

"I know, but...tell me again. What does her voice sound like?"

So you told Steven all about meeting your daughter for the first time, that afternoon, with Marc.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

JAKE

4:07 A.M.

The jangling of keys in the deadbolt dragged you from a foggy half slumber you'd managed in Steven's chair by the front door.

Jake had finally made it home after another night driving people around, and serving as Khonshu's fist of vengeance.

When he spotted you there, looking so adorably uncomfortable, he pulled his cap off his head and tossed it onto the entry way table with his keys.

Kneeling down in front of you, he smiled warmly. "What are you doing up, mi vida?"

"Mmm," you mumbled, relief surging through you at the sight of him. Leaning forward in the chair, you wrapped your arms around his neck and squeezed him tight. "Missed you."

"Missed you too." He held you for an indulgent moment before gently placing you back into the chair and standing to remove his jacket and gloves. Before you could whine out a protest, he helped you up just long enough to sit in the chair and pull you back down onto his lap.

Tucking you against his body, he reached for his jacket and draped it over you like a blanket. Jake knew you well enough. If he told you to go to bed, you would bristle and defy him, but if he held you like this, you would fall asleep in sixty seconds flat. Win win.

Your body settled against his and your breathing slowed, but you blinked up at him pleadingly. “Where have you been?”

Frowning in confusion, he rubbed his hands up and down your back soothingly, underneath the jacket. “You know where, cariño.”

Looping your fingers around his tie, you coaxed his temping lips to yours for a lingering kiss. Jake shifted underneath you, sighing against your mouth as you held him there for an indulgent moment.

“I haven’t seen you all week. I miss you.”

“I see you almost every night,” he volleyed back.

“You know what I mean.” Realizing you were tired and there was an edge in your tone, you touched your forehead to his. “I know you guys don’t exactly have a schedule. I just wanted to tell you about Akeyla.”

His eyes flickered away as his jaw clenched. You and Marc met your daughter yesterday. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

For a while, Jake had to be asked or reminded to participate in regular, daily things. Sometimes, you would go a week, only seeing him in your room at night, so you would ask him to eat dinner with you or take you out somewhere.

You started late night dates with Jake, just to build memories with him, in his world. It was never really your scene before, but you'd been to bars, out dancing, to late movies and your favorite - midnight bowling.

In fact, you all adjusted your schedules to fit the boys' night owl tendencies. You moved to second shift and Steven didn't take any more morning classes. You all slept in as late as possible, ate brunch or lunch and then got started on your day.

So it was not unheard of for you to wait up for Jake, but sleeping in Steven's chair until 4 A.M. was a bit unusual.

"I was busy tonight," he cryptically remarked, which tended to indicate he was probably doing Khonshu's bidding. "I wasn't trying to stay away."

"I'm not mad," you sleepily assured him, laying your head down on his shoulder. "I can't wait for you to meet her. And with her coming home soon, everything could change.”

"Change how?"

"Well for starters, I doubt a toddler will let us sleep in as late as we do. She'll probably climb all over our heads at like 5:30."

Jake was uncharacteristically quiet and you were half asleep.

"I'm not mad," you drowsily repeated, curling into him, murmuring "missed you" as you drifted off.

He rocked you gently, his heart burning with how he'd possibly disappointed you. Now that you were finally asleep, he didn't dare wake you, so he laid his head on the back of the chair, hoping to join you in slumber.

Jake had seen the horrors of this world, and of worlds adjacent. Terrifying, supernatural threats had met the crunch of his fist, and his vengeance.

But the thought of caring for a little girl shook him to his core, and in a different way than it did Marc.

Marc was always worried about his alcoholism, his past, the fact that they were a system, but he wanted Akeyla so badly. The whole thing was his idea in the first place. Steven was ready to show this kid the world, both metaphorically and literally.

Jake loved you, and he would love his child. Beyond that, he had no idea what to do, or how to contribute. The urge to not take time away from Marc or Steven was so strong it almost felt like instinct.

You, Steven and Marc had lovingly and rather expertly crafted her a dream-worthy nursery, but where Marc's hands restored and your hands healed and Steven's hands inspired and instructed, Jake had brutal hands.

Unwilling to disturb you, he pondered how he could prove to you he was still in this with you.

Reaching into his the pocket of his jacket, which still covered the top half of your body, he pulled out his phone. Opening up a picture of Akeyla, he smiled, studying her cute, chubby cheeks, dark, round eyes and her tightly wound curls.

Tracing the shape of her face with his thumb, he wondered what he could possibly give his sweet angel, besides protection.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Sleep came for a short while, but as the sun rose, so did you. Jake was asleep but his phone was playing a long playlist of videos. Hoping to not disturb him, you carefully removed the phone from his hand.

The video showed a young girl getting her hair styled. In fact the whole playlist was of dads styling their daughter's textured hair, including what products to try, and cute and useful clips, combs and the right brushes to help.

Chewing on you lip for a moment, you tapped on the search bar and saw that he had typed in, 'how to care for textured hair'.

Just the notion of Jake pulling off his gloves and styling your little girl's hair made your heart explode with love.

"Are these for Akeyla?" You whispered mainly to yourself, shifting your weight from one of his thighs to the other.

Jake groaned as circulation returned to that leg, making it tingle as he awakened from a very short nap.

"Sorry," you softly laughed. "I should let you get up, shouldn't I?"

The corner of Jake's mouth curled, but he nodded.

You helped him climb out of the chair and the two of you washed up. Jake slid into Steven's pajama pants and the two of you went to bed.

Already drifting back to sleep, Jake presented his small offering to you. Something to let you know he was all in.

"I think I could learn how to fix Akeyla's hair," he drowsily murmured, eyes already closed. "Watched a bunch of videos about it."

He couldn't build things and he wasn't book smart and he wasn't you. He wasn't even supposed to have a family. But you loved him so hard that he couldn't resist you and now he was about to gain everything he never knew he wanted.

Maybe the brutality of his hands could be used to do this tender thing for his daughter.

"I love you so much," you whispered, brushing a stray curl out of his eyes.

"Te amo," he whispered.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

ONE WEEK LATER…

“What’s your favorite color, Akeyla?” Marc asked on your next visit to with your soon-to-be-daughter. He sat beside her, adorably hunched with her at a child-sized table, coloring and drawing.

“Do you like red?” He asked, holding up a few choices of crayon.

“Fav-wit color wed!” She agreed, reaching for a yellow.

“Ohhh, you like yellow.” He winked at you, thinking of the yellow bench at home. “I like it too.”

“Yeh-yow,” Akeyla repeated, scribbling determinedly. Swinging her legs back and forth she repeated, “Yeh-yow, yeh-yow.”

“That’s right. We have a big yellow bench at home that I painted. We can sit on it together, just you and me. Is that okay?”

Akeyla seemed to ignore him, reaching over his arm to scribble yellow on his coloring sheet. Once she had saturated the paper to her satisfaction, she laughed out, amused with herself. “Yeh-yow bench. Okay, Dad-eee.”

Her nose scrunched as she showed him a silly toddler grin. Your heart completely melted as you watched them together.

“This is a good drawing,” Marc complimented, pointing to his paper she drew on. “Can I have it?”

Reaching out with chubby fingers, Akeyla scrunched the paper in her tiny grip, presenting it to Marc. “Here go. You hab it.”

“I can keep it?” He nodded hopefully. “Can I have a hug?”

She threw her arms around his neck. Lifting her up from the table, Marc offered one arm out to you and invited you into to this little family embrace.

Akeyla touched her forehead to yours, already a signature move for the two of you. Then she scrunched her nose and showed off that silly grin again.

"Want me to take your picture?" You offered. Grabbing your phone, you snapped a few selfies of you and Marc with Akeyla.

As soon as you were finished, she reached for your phone. "I watch Bluey."

And so it began.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Ivy's 1st Ficiversary Celebration || Moon Knight Masterlist || Main Masterlist

updates blog - @ivystoryupdates

[enalovesharry]

Out of a dream

summary : you and THE harry styles had a one night stand.. the night was a blur so the morning you wake up you’re quite surprised.

warnings : mentions of sex, swearing, fluff?? pls let me know if there was anything else!!

*HEY GUYS!!! first of all I want to thank you for everything on my first ever writing post, i know it’s not the best thing you’ve ever read, it’s definitely not the best thing I’ve written but I didn’t expect that much love. I’m so sorry for just disappearing, life has been very busy but I will get back to things soon! p.s this is how y/n will be in most of my writings, not shy, very outgoing and sarcastic!!!*

Last night was very much a blur.

The only thing you remember was drinking at a random club in the Hollywood Hills, then stumbling into a SUV before everything else was just a blackout.

Waking up to the sun beaming onto your face, your eyes flutter open, hand coming up to block the bright light from your eyes. Although everything seems quite normal, you feel a heavy thing over your torso and a soft aroma of a Tom Ford cologne, pushing yourself up quickly you scan the room, confused on how you might of ended up here.

Well, you already know because the most logical reason would be that you wanted to get someone’s dick wet. You look down to see if the man you pleasured was good looking at-least and-

“Holy fuck.” Your eyes widen, your heart beating out of your chest as you freeze. Harry fucking Styles is sleeping right beside you, curls sticking up left and right, you realise his face was buried into your stomach because of the red mark on it.

You also realise you both were naked, quickly scrambling out of the bed- or wait, his bed. You grab your panties from the floor pulling them up, panic mode absolutely activated.

You hear him moving on the bed, sheets rustling as he sits up, glancing to him he’s stretching his arms above his head, turning his head to you and you notice the panic now evident on his face.

“Hey.. uhh, are you okay? Did I scare you or something, I promise I didn’t kidnap you.” He watches you as you put on your bra, grabbing your shirt and jeans to put on.

“I didn’t realise I literally just fucked Harry Styles, sorry.” Looking into the full-size mirror he has next to the bed you fix your hair up, not noticing how he’s got out of his bed and put his boxers back on, you also didn’t notice how he winced from what you said, he didn’t like when he was labeled as just a famous celebrity a random girl had fucked after having the best sex he’s ever had.

“Hey, chill out. Calm down I’m not gonna like bite you or anything. Unless..” he walks up behind you, looking at you through the mirror.

“Harry, this isn’t funny. 15 year old me would be absolute screaming right now that I actually finally fucked Harry Styles.” Your face blooms in redness at the confession, you see him raise his eyebrows in the mirror, smiling.

“‘S really cute y’know, your dream coming true. You don’t have to go right now.” His hands find their way to your hips, pulling you back into his chest as you keep your eyes on yourself in the mirror, clipping your earrings back into your ears.

You practically lose your breath as his hands caress your hips, all you want to do is pounce onto him and fuck him yet again. But you can’t, you always tended to have attachment issues and having them with Harry Styles was not the way to go.

You had to continue on with life and hide the fact that you hooked up with Harry in the back of your head.

“I have to go, Harry. I have a home and a life, maybe we can hook up some other time in like 3005 or something!” You muster up a smile for him, turning to look up at him, his eyes shine a beautiful emerald green, a dimple pokes out of his cheek, his lips a beautiful shade of pink.

Oh you wanted him so bad again, you knew Harry, from his music of course but you didn’t know or let’s say like him enough to be a fan, that’s for sure. He tugs on your hips again, your hands coming to his waist to brace yourself.

You did wonder if this is what the routine was with all his hookups, fuck them till he was satisfied? Part of you also didn’t think so as he was such a gentleman.

“Come on, darling. Jus’ a little bit longer? I promise, this is not what happens wit’ all the girls I have seen.” The pet name makes you all giddy, your hand coming up to comb through his chocolate curls.

“Are you just trying to make me feel bad for you so then I can follow your music and promote it and whatever?” You ask, eyebrow raising. You see he’s taken aback by that, his eyebrows creasing.

“No, no! Y/N im so sorry if it looks that way, oh my god. I promise that’s not- that’s definitely not what I’m trying to do.” You giggle at his panic, a little surprised that he remembered your name.

“I’m just kidding.” You smile as he pushes his bottom lip out in a soft pout, without thinking you push up onto your tippy toes, pressing your lips against his soft ones, he kisses you back almost instantly, innocently pecking your lips a few times before he slips his tongue into your mouth.

Harry then lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he moves back to the bed, mumbling something softly against your lips.

“Maybe you could give me your number or something if I prove to you that the night was really worth it.” He pulls away, a smirk on his lips, you laugh, biting your bottom lip softly.

“Yeah, yeah. Dream on Watermelon Sugar singer.”

You see a spark in his eyes and as he leans back in to kiss you again your vision goes black.

You feel heat on your body and your eyes snap open, the sun beaming on you, yet again. You look around the room, sitting up, you’re in your own room. You look beside you, a messy empty spot beside you.

Your head then whips to someone walking into the bedroom, it was your fiancée, a bright smile planted on his face seeing you’re finally awake.

“You were having a good dream so I didn’t want to wake you, sounded like you were having fun.” He wiggles his eyebrows, coming to move onto the bed, pulling you into his chest.

“Yeah, it was about the first time i met you.” You plant a kiss onto his bare chest, arms wrapping around his waist.

“Ohh, s’right when I was Watermelon Sugar boy.” He smiles, kissing the top of your head. “Lucky you finally gave into giving me your number and accepted me into your life, hey? Now m’getting married to my one night stand in two weeks.”

“You’re still a loser, Harry. And no I’m still not following your Spotify even when we’re married.” You mumble against him.

“Dang it.”

hehe lol this has no plot xx

dividers by @firefly-graphics 🤍

[thenickgirl]

TERRIBLE TWOS

dad!nick x male!reader

summary: in which you and your husband, Nick, try to handle your daughter, Aliyah’s, tired behavior.

genre: fluff ✩ pov: second person ✩ word count: 1.4k

warnings: none?

a/n: uhh i know i said i wasn’t writing another fic, but i’m a liar so, jokes on you actually. i came up with this in the shower and just couldn’t pass it up. it was meant to be a little blurb, but gang wanted more so. the ending is awkward sorry, i still don’t quite know what i’m doing. anyways, happy reading! ❤️‍🔥

Life as new parents isn’t always the easiest, but you two have handled things fairly well. The past two years with your daughter, Aliyah, have been amazing. Nick is able to work on his business remotely, so he mostly stayed home with her, while you went in to work everyday. He was an outstanding father, and Aliyah absolutely adored him, they were so close. She loved you just as much of course, and on the weekends she loved having you both home to cuddle and play with. She had grown used to your daily routine, however, today was going to be different, because Nick had meetings lined up that he had to be in the office for, so you took off in order to stay home with her. It wasn’t the first time you had been alone with your daughter obviously, but it had been a while. Still, you were eager to spend some one on one time with your sweet girl. You had heard horror stories of people complaining about their toddlers' behavior, but you always chalked it up to them either over exaggerating or just being bad parents. That was until today, when your own toddler decided she wanted to switch things up.

-

“BABE WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN??” you shout as your husband, Nick, walks in the door, his hands full of bags you assumed to be groceries. “I know, I’m sorry our last meeting ran way over, and I knew we needed some things for dinner so I decided to stop by the store on the way home.” He says as he walks into the kitchen, placing the bags onto the island. “We might not even make it to dinner!” you shout, and Nick looks over at you confused, his eyes narrowing. “Babe, what are you talking about?” he chuckles, as he puts the food away, clearly not understanding the severity of the situation. “Aliyah, your daughter, didn’t go down for her nap today.” you say to him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Why is she only my daughter when she doesn’t take a nap?” he responds, mimicking your gesture. “That’s because she acts just like you when she doesn’t. She’s extremely cranky. She wouldn’t stop crying. She’s been throwing fits every 15 minutes. SHE ACTUALLY THREW AT BLOCK AT ME!” you yell recounting the event. Nick bites back a laugh before the realization hits him, “Ohh no,” he whispers. “Exactly! I swear, this is the worst it’s ever been,” you sigh, placing your head in your hands.

“No!” Nick utters, pulling your hands away from your face. “Listen, we are not going to be defeated by a 2 year old, okay? This is our house, and we’re in charge.” he says hastily as you nod along to his rant. “Yeah, we’re the adults here!” you agree. “Say it!” he demands, “This is our house, and we’re in charge!” you shout. “RIGHT! So where is she?” he asks, walking out of the kitchen into the hallway. “She’s sitting in her playroom room, I turned on Gracie’s Corner. This is the longest that she’s been content all day. I don’t see how you do this, I almost started crying with her.” you say before following behind your husband, and he chuckles at your statement before turning to face you, “You’re doing great, it gets better, I promise,” he praises as he holds your face in his hands, kissing your forehead sweetly, and you smile up at him.

“Well, did you at least put the Gracie video on loop?” he asks, turning away to walk down the hall towards the playroom, with you not far behind. “Loop? What loop? What are you talking about?” you ask confusedly, and Nick stops in his tracks, causing you to run into him. He turns around sharply to face you, his eyes widening. “You didn’t loop it? Babe, you have to loop it because once it goes off she-“ “DADDYYYYYY!” you hear your daughter’s cries from down the hall, and sigh deeply. As you and your husband rush to her, you were stopped in your tracks by her meeting you halfway, her ocean blue eyes welling with tears.

You both kneel down to her level, and Nick wipes away her tears with his thumb, his demeanor softening the second he sees his little girl. “What’s wrong, bunny?” he asks softly. “Daddy, Gwacie went off, I wanna watch Gwacie! I wanna watch Gwacie! I wanna watch Gwacie!” she chants, stomping her tiny feet. You and Nick just sit there, watching your daughter absolutely lose it. “Liyah Jade, c’mon now. Gracie isn’t going anywhere, we can always restart it, you’re fine. Just calm down, honey,” he reassures her. “Okay, can I have a cookie pwease daddy?” she says pouting. “Sure, let's go get you a cookie,” “Nicolas!” you utter in disbelief. “Why don’t you go pick out the cookie you want okay? I’ll be there in a second,” he says to his baby girl as she skips away down the hall. He turns to look at you, shrugging. “Cookies before dinner, really?” “I know, but she was pouting, and c’mon she’s so cute!” he says defeated. “What happened to ‘this is our house and we’re in charge’?” you say, chuckling and he pauses. “Doesn’t really sound like something I would say,” he smirks as he walks into the kitchen with Aliyah, shaking your head at the way she had him wrapped around her little finger.

-

Once back in the playroom, after having cookies and watching Gracie together as a family for what felt like the hundredth time, you noticed that it was getting close to dinner time. You leave the two to continue watching more videos while you go and cook. You decide to prepare something quick and easy. After spending all afternoon with a grumpy toddler, you couldn’t be bothered to make anything more elaborate. As you were finishing whipping up dinner, you could hear Nick and Aliyah in the other room bickering, and you couldn’t help listening. His ability to straight up argue with a toddler never ceased to amuse you.

“But honey, when you make a mess you have to clean it up. Look, we can even make it fun. I can turn on some music and-”

“No, daddy! I can’t want to!”

You couldn’t see him, but you just knew your husband was rolling his eyes. Once dinner is ready, you call for them to come and eat. To your surprise dinner goes smoothly. Usually, Aliyah complains about eating her vegetables, saying ‘I can’t want that! It’s gwoss’, but tonight she ate them willingly. Maybe her missing a nap wasn't so bad after all, you thought to yourself. You glance over and see your daughter yawn for the third time, and you and Nick give each other a knowing look. The ‘no naps’ campaign she had been running was finally taking a toll on her.

-

After dinner, you started getting ready for bed. You gave Aliyah a bath, brushed her teeth, and got her ready for bed. Nick came in soon after to read her favorite story. She cuddled up next to him, her eyelids growing heavier by the second. You watched from the door frame as the story ended, and your toddler now sound asleep in your husband's arms. “Soo, have we defeated Bowser yet, or no?” you say teasingly. “Shh! Don’t call her that!” Nick says as he throws a plushie from her bed at you. You jump out of the way so that it misses you, “I’m kidding! She is cute though, especially when she’s sleeping,” you say looking down at her tiny frame, smiling. “Amen to that, a lot quieter too.” You both chuckle and Nick gets up out of her bed, careful not to wake the little sleeping beauty, before tucking her in, and you each kiss her goodnight.

You tip top quietly out of her room, closing the door gently, and you both let out a sigh of relief. You head towards your bedroom which is only a couple doors down, and start getting ready for bed yourselves, the two of you feeling pretty worn out. After showering and slipping on pajamas, you both plop down into your bed on your respective sides, settling under the covers. “Today went completely different from what I expected,” you confess as you cuddle into your husband's side. He laughs as he wraps his arm around you, rubbing your back softly. “I probably should’ve given you a heads up about that. She is a menace when she’s tired,” “Yep, sounds familiar,” you tease and he pinches your side. “Heyyy! I’m not that bad, and I will just go to sleep if I’m tired, not start a whole ass riot,” he says in defense and you both laugh. After a while, a comfortable silence grows between you and before long you both drift off to sleep.

🏷️: @muwapsturniolo @mattslolita @guccifrog @luverboychris @freshloveforthefit @matty-bear @mybelovednick @imsosillygoofylol @ghostking4m @certifiednatelover @meg-sturniolo @sturniolossss @moonk1ss3d @nickgetsmewetter

[m0thwinged]

Hey sorry I wasn't paying attention to your story I was trying to listen but I was busy thinking about the fact that Jack Kennedy DSAF died at 22 years old and he never even got to fully grow up. Also considering he spent a lot of that time he should have been learning how to be an adult raising Dee. Don’t get me started on how it feels to be trapped in the rotting corpse of your worst mistake. Imagine being reminded every day of how you couldn't save your sister by being faced with a monster covered in scars in the mirror. Does he even recognize his face anymore? Yeah anyway uhh what were you saying

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Show & Tell (M, cold)

Mark & Matt are back! In this, Matt has an awful cold and they have a busy night. That's pretty much it lol, there's a good amount of ~drama~ because who doesn't love drama? This takes place a couple months after 'Three', when Matt and Mark are dating but haven't told Greyson or Elijah and I'll be honest I've spent a lot of time on it and don't know if I even like it lmao. I hope you guys do, though!! It might suck, who knows!! Also, there's no sick character POV - it switches between Mark and Greyson's POV.

Ok, onward. Let me know how you guys feel about it lol.

CW: Male snz, cold, contagion mention, coughing, fever.

Show & Tell

“It’s not that I don’t want them to know. You know that.”

Mark gave his boyfriend a sidelong look; did he know that? He wasn’t so sure. “Matt,” he said, treading carefully, “it’s been three months. They’re going to figure it out sooner or later.”

Matt sighed, clearly trying to choose his words carefully. “I know,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just… I mean, Greyson can be… I don’t know… touchy, I guess, about like, relationship stuff. Especially since the whole… Collin thing. And also, he can just be an asshole about dating within the kitchen. You remember when he caught us kissing.”

“Yeah, but I mean that’s just what you guys do, right? Poke fun at each other? And the Collin thing… That was, like, a year ago, Matt. He’s a grown man.”

There was a pause, then, and Mark knew he’d gone too far. Greyson and Matt’s relationship was way more than boss and employee; Greyson had taken a chance on Matt when no one else would. He’d given him opportunities that Matt couldn’t have dreamed of as a kid, and Matt was always quick to point that out when Mark grumbled about Greyson’s anger, or when he called Matt in on his day off, or the way he made fun of Matt making doe-eyes at Mark. Greyson has been there for me since the moment I met him, he always said. You have to take the good with the bad.

More often than not, Mark found himself rolling his eyes at this statement, or muttering Whatever, babe, under his breath, but he also didn’t want to push his new beau away. If Greyson was a weird non-participatory third in their burgeoning relationship… so be it. He’d put up with it, for Matt.

“Hey, I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean that; I know, you’re right, he’s been through it.” Mark pulled Matt in for a hug, making the other man soften. “I’m just saying,” Mark said, pulling away, “that if he doesn’t already know, he’s going to have to find out eventually. Right?”

Matt shrugged, then begrudgingly nodded. “You’re right, you’re right, just… I don’t know, give me a week. Let me take him out and actually tell him so it’s not just, like, a big joke that he parades through the kitchen. Okay?”

Mark smiled. “Okay. Yes, that works. Thank you, baby.” He swept Matt’s bangs off his face, allowed a frown to settle over his own. “You feel really warm. By the way.”

Without missing a beat, Matt pulled away and ducked into the sleeve of his hoodie. “Hh-! Hh’ITSZH-ue!”

“Bless you.”

“I’m okay,” Matt said in response. “Like I said before, I think it’s just allergies.”

“...Fever-inducing allergies?”

“Honey,” Matt said, pulling a hand down his face, “please drop it. We have like two hundred on the books tonight, it’s not like I could call out or anything.”

“So you feel badly enough to call out?” Mark asked, crossing his arms. Matt sighed, loudly enough for Mark to hear the congestion in his chest rattle.

“No,” Matt said. “I don’t.”

“Mmm.”

“Can we go back to arguing about me telling Greyson and Elijah we’re dating? I’d prefer that over getting the third degree about what is, at most, a cold,” Matt said, rubbing his nose on his sleeve. Mark raised an eyebrow.

“So now it’s a cold. Moments ago, you said it was allergies. What’s it going to be by the time you get to work? Bubonic plague?”

“I was thinking something a little more modern. Maybe scarlet fever. Hh- hh’ISHHH-uhh!” Matt crumpled to the side once again, and Mark sighed.

“Hilarious,” he said, deadpan. “You should take some dayquil, or something.”

“I’m okay, honey, really,” Matt said, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you this evening, okay?”

Mark hesitated; what would a good boyfriend do here? He assumed a good boyfriend would scoop Matt into his arms and place him in bed. A good boyfriend would call in for Matt – hell, call in for both of them so he could take care of his boyfriend – and tell Greyson and Elijah to figure it out, restaurant-be-damned. He’d spoon-feed Matt soup and they’d watch Criminal Minds and talk about who on the show was the most objectively fuckable and they’d fall asleep early and in the morning, Matt would be good as new.

But a good boyfriend would also tell their bosses they were dating; a good boyfriend wouldn’t put the onus on Matt to tell Greyson before Mark told Elijah because Greyson was an objectively harder person to tell. A good boyfriend wouldn’t give Matt shit for being nervous because him telling Greyson was akin to Mark telling his own father he was gay and fuck, Matt didn’t even have a father to tell, you asshole, you inconsiderate piece of shit.

He wasn’t a good boyfriend, that much he knew. So instead of manning up in any way whatsoever, Mark nodded and kissed Matt on his hot forehead. “See you tonight,” he said, and continued to kick himself as Matt trudged out the front door.

***

“They’ll tell us when they’re ready.”

Greyson rolled his eyes so hard that they felt like they might pop out of his head. “Oh c’mon, Lij, that’s such a cop-out,” he said, snapping inventory papers onto a clipboard and clicking a pen open and shut many more times than was necessary. “It’s been, what? Like almost four months since the whole making-out-in-my-bathroom incident? And it’s not like they’re good at hiding it, I think Matt slaps Mark’s ass fifty times a day.”

“Is that really new, though? You slap Matt’s ass fifty times a day,” Elijah said, glancing up from his own, much-better-organized inventory clipboard. “I thought ass-slapping was just par for the course in this kitchen. You’ve created a culture of ass-slapping.”

“That’s within the kitchen boundary, Lij,” Greyson said, his index finger and thumb pressed together and punctuating each word of this statement. “Mark is outside the kitchen boundary. The rules are different.”

Elijah snorted out a laugh. “My mistake,” he said, flipping the first page on his clipboard and examining the second. “I figured that culture extended to the whole restaurant.”

“Damn right your mistake,” Greyson muttered. He glanced back down at his papers, then tossed the clipboard on the desk and snatched Elijah’s out of his hand to toss as well.

“Dude,” Elijah said, “I was using that.”

“Do you think Matt’s scared to tell me?” Greyson asked, ignoring Elijah’s annoyance. “It’s not like I’d care. I mean, the whole thing makes sense, they spend seventy hours a week here together. It’s not like it’s easy to find someone to date outside this place, and trust me, it’s not like he’s missing out on anything in the regular world. Shit, if you were down, I’d start dating you.”

“I’d rather eat a jean jacket than date you,” Elijah said, leaning on an elbow on the desk. “And that’s not even because you don’t have my preferred equipment, it’s because of who you are. Fundamentally. As a person.”

“I just don’t understand why he wouldn’t just tell me,” Greyson said, ignoring Elijah’s statement outright. “Matt’s my dude. He’s my muse. He’s like if I had a kid, but didn’t have to do the gross horrible raising him part. He knows he can tell me anything.”

Elijah sighed, a heavy and resigned sound, and took the bait. “Grey,” he said, “yes, he knows he can tell you anything, but he also knows he’s going to get so much shit from you when he does tell you. I’m sure he’s just trying to spare himself the three weeks of jokes about the two of them dating. Maybe, if you could be serious for five fuckin’ minutes, you could approach him and ask him, hey, are you and Mark dating?” Elijah shrugged, both hands held in front of him as though to say just an idea.

Greyson scoffed, annoyed. “You’re one to talk. It’s not like Mark has told you.”

“Yeah, but Mark and I are coworkers. We don’t have some weird father/son codependent relationship like you two. Plus, Mark is only a talker when he drinks and he hasn’t had more than a glass of wine in front of me since they got together, so he knows I know he’s avoiding the conversation.” Elijah gave Greyson a pointed look then. “I’m sure he’s waiting for Matt to tell you. Dad.”

The chef rolled his eyes again and pushed himself to a standing position. “Fine,” he said. “I’m going to talk to him about it today. And I’ll be serious.”

“Great,” Elijah said, picking his clipboard back up. “I’m happy for both of you.”

Greyson placed a hand on Elijah’s shoulder as he walked out of the office and towards the prep kitchen, a gesture to thank him for the pep talk, and Elijah nodded in understanding. It wasn’t the fact that Matt had a not-so-well-kept secret that Greyson found troubling; it was the fact that he felt like he wasn’t able to tell his boss that hurt Greyson’s feelings. The chef got set up in the prep kitchen, pulled out his chef’s knife, and began sharpening it on his steel. He really thought he’d put it in Matt’s head that he could tell him anything. Apparently he’d been wrong.

As if summoned, Matt picked that exact moment to blow through the back kitchen doors – he was wearing a sweatshirt, despite the fact that it was unseasonably warm, and his hood was up. Greyson drew his eyebrows together, confused.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Greyson called from his prep station. Matt swung around, obviously not expecting to see his boss the moment he walked in, and his face immediately crumpled.

“Hh- hhNGTSHZ-ue!” Matt attempted to stifle a sneeze into his elbow, which backfired immediately. “ITSZZHH-ue! Hh’ITZCHH-ue! HRRSHH-ue!”

Greyson blinked, surprised, as his sous gave into the paroxysm. “Wow,” he said when Matt finally stood upright, clearing his throat. “Bless.”

Matt nodded, swallowed, winced. “Yeah. Thangks,” he said, his voice low and congested. He walked towards the prep station – slunk may have been the more appropriate word – and hoisted his knife bag onto the counter. The next few moves seemed robotic, as though the sous chef were on autopilot; push hoodie off head. Roll up sleeves. Unzip bag. Make eye contact with boss. “What ndeeds to get prepped first?”

Up close, Matt looked like an even bigger pile of hot garbage than he sounded; he was pale – sallow, Greyson thought to himself, then vocab word of the day -, his eyes red-rimmed and laden with bags. His breathing seemed painful, labored, and uneven, and before Greyson could say anything, Matt turned back to his rolled-up sleeve to cough. “Dude,” Greyson said, taking a step back.

“Sorry, sorry,” Matt muttered, getting himself together. He walked to the sink and washed his hands, then turned back to Greyson. “Better?”

“That wasn’t what I meant by ‘dude’,” Greyson said, taking a step towards his sous and slapping a hand on his forehead. “That was ‘dude’ as in ‘dude, you look like fucking shit’.”

Matt wiggled out from under Greyson’s hand, annoyed. “I’mb fine, Chef,” he said. “Tell mbe what needs to get done.”

Greyson rubbed his face and gathered his hair on top of his head, buying time. Obviously, the conversation about him and Mark was off the table for the moment, but were they not allowed to talk about Matt’s very obvious illness, either? “Did you take anything?” Greyson asked, ignoring his sous’ question with one of his own.

“I was running late. Also, I don’t ndeed anythi- ITTTSZZHH-ue! HRSHHH-uh!” Matt folded himself in half to avoid sneezing in Greyson’s face, and collapsed into a coughing fit from the force of them. Greyson pressed his lips together.

“Where’d you pick this shit up?” Greyson asked, patting Matt’s back as the younger man tried to compose himself. “You haven’t been out on the prowl with me in months, so I take no blame.”

It was an attempt – a very obvious one – to get Matt to admit he was at least seeing someone, but either Matt wasn’t taking the bait or he didn’t hear him over his own misery. He cleared his throat and stood to his full height. “Can we please just start cooking? I ndeed a distraction.”

Greyson pressed his lips together; somehow, they’d had a whole conversation without really saying anything, a whole back-and-forth with not one question answered. “Okay,” Greyson said, stepping to the side to let Matt get situated at the prep table. “I’m going to grab some shit from the walk-in. You get set up.”

Matt nodded, obviously grateful, and started setting up his things while Greyson turned towards the walk-in.

Well, he thought to himself, sarcastically. That was productive.

***

“Alright, everyone, so we have 245 on the books toni -”

“HhuhhhITSZHHH-ue! Huh-! HhhRRSHH-oo!”

The servers’ heads popped up from their notes in unison and turned towards the closed kitchen doors, ten yards away. Mark cringed; Elijah raised his eyebrows towards Greyson, and the Executive Chef sighed and stood. “I’m gonna go check and make sure he didn’t burst a blood vessel,” he joked, prompting a collective giggle from the servers. Mark felt his heart sink deep into the pit of his stomach.

At his apartment this morning, Matt had clearly been coming down with something. Since he’d arrived at work, it was clear that whatever it was had settled in nicely; Mark had only been at work for two hours, but in those he’d heard Matt sneeze more than he had the entirety of their relationship.

“Jesus,” Mark had said when he first saw Matt, doubled over behind the prep table. “That really went from zero to a hundred. I just saw you, like, four hours ago.”

Matt had attempted to clear his throat before addressing his boyfriend: “Yeah, I guess,” he said, pushing the sleeves of his hoodie down to his wrists and shivering. Mark wanted desperately to tell him to go lay down in a booth or something – better yet, to tell him to go home and go to bed – but he knew he couldn’t do either.

“Can I get you some tea?” he asked instead, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep from feeling Matt’s face for fever. Matt shook his head.

“’M fine,” he managed, picking his knife back up and wiping his hands on the front of his apron. “’S just a stupid cold.”

That had been about as far as their conversation had gone; Mark had been whisked away by Elijah to help set the floor up, and Matt had been forced to put his head back down and continue prepping. Normally, Matt would’ve been in pre-shift with the rest of the team, but Greyson had explained when everyone sat down that he was attempting to gain his second wind in the office and wouldn’t be joining.

“Anyway,” Mark continued, addressing the servers while Greyson stood to check on Matt, “like I said: 245 on the books. We do have a few VIPs…”

The servers jotted down what they needed to, and Mark finished his speech on autopilot. Elijah said something about uniforms being cleaned and pressed, and Greyson came back to join them all after a minute or two spent in the kitchen. When pre-shift ended, Greyson stopped Mark from walking away with the rest of the front of house.

“Mark,” Greyson said as the servers went to eat family meal, “hold back a second.”

Mark could feel himself immediately break into a cold sweat; Greyson never wanted to talk to him after pre-shift. Had he fucked up somehow? He knew they were too busy – overbooked, really – but Elijah had approved it. Said they needed the extra covers, since they’d be closed for a week next month. Maybe Elijah hadn’t told Greyson he’d approved the overbooking? Maybe -

“Hey, I just – I wanted to talk to you about Matt,” Greyson said when the servers had all exited to the kitchen. Mark swallowed, his throat dry. Oh.

“What about him?” Mark asked, his heart beating in his temples. Greyson huffed out a little laugh.

“You guys are dating,” he said – not a question. A statement. Mark’s face flamed.

“Did he – have you guys talked?” he asked, feeling his throat close. Greyson shook his head, a smile blooming on his face.

“Nope,” he said, palming Mark’s shoulder. “But now we don’t need to. Elijah!” he called into the kitchen, and Mark felt himself fly into action. He stumbled in front of Greyson before the chef could walk through the kitchen doors.

“Chef,” he said, holding his arms out so Greyson couldn’t get by, “you can’t tell Matt that you know. Seriously, he’ll kill me, he – I mean, he wanted to tell you himself, he said he was going to, like, sit you down and tell you and -”

“Sit me down? He’s not breaking up with me to be with you, I’m so fuckin’ confused why you guys haven’t just told us, it’s not like it’s a big deal -”

“It’s a big deal to him,” Mark said, cutting Greyson off. “It’s a big deal to Matt. I think – fuck, I don’t know, Chef, I think it’s like… you’re his person he gets to tell. You know? And he’s not feeling well and we kind of argued about it this morning and… please,” Mark said, biting his cheek to keep from crying. “Please, Chef. Just… he’ll tell you. Just wait for him to tell you.”

Greyson closed his eyes and sighed. “Fine. Okay. I’ll wait till the end of the week,” he said, moving Mark’s arm to get into the kitchen. “But if he hasn’t said anything by then, I’m saying something.”

Mark just nodded, and let Greyson by. You fucking moron, he chided himself. You absolute asshole. You gave it away, Matt is going to be so fucking disappointed, you’re such a dick, you can’t even let him have this one fucking thing. You just have to fuck everything up somehow. What the fuck is wrong with you?

What the FUCK is wrong with you?

***

Greyson would have been hard-pressed to think of a more difficult service than this one was turning out to be.

It had started fine; the flow of the evening was laid out well, the first turn went off basically without a hitch. Matt was on middle, and had loaded up on every medicine the office pharmacy had to offer, so while he was a little… high, honestly, he was at least in good spirits and able to do his job.

“We doing okay back there, everyone?” Greyson asked, peeking past the board filled with tickets to acknowledge his cooks, and Matt.

“Yes, Chef,” they answered – all except Matt, who hooted as though Greyson was a singer asking his audience how everyone was feeling out there. Greyson bit his cheek to keep from laughing.

“Only two hundred covers to go!” Greyson shouted as the printer spat out yet another ticket. “Order in, two salmon, three pork.”

About sixty covers in, things began to turn; the servers began to slow down, sending their food in as fire-alls instead of coursed out. The bar became backed up, so Mark was taking bartop guest’s orders and ringing them all in at once, sending a huge wave of tickets in at once – annoying, sure, but something they could handle. But then, tickets stopped coming in altogether – first, for five minutes. Then seven. Then ten.

“Elijah!” Greyson called into the dining room, not caring if the guests heard. The GM ran in at the sound of his name. “The fuck is going on, dude? We have ZERO tickets on the board.”

Elijah winced. “Yeah,” he said, “everyone is camping. We have like thirty people waiting to sit.” Greyson blinked.

“You’re kidding.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not.”

“So you’re telling me, at least thirty people are going to sit down all at once. And order all at once.”

Elijah nodded, solemn. “I wish I wasn’t, but yes, Chef, that’s what I’m telling you.”

Of course, by the time the first set of guests got up and the second set sat down, they had a new problem: Matt.

It was seven o’clock; Matt had taken his last dose of medicine at four, and sitting around waiting on tickets to come rolling in again had stopped the flow of adrenaline. His misery seemed to have caught up with him completely just as the tickets started printing again.

“Order in,” Greyson called for the tenth time in three minutes, “a scallop, three filets, and a venison no dairy.”

“Heard, Che – HTSHH-uh!” Matt wrenched to the side to sneeze into the sleeve of his chef’s coat, an angry, grating sound that made the cooks wince. He coughed painfully into his shoulder, obviously trying to hold back. Greyson bit his cheek.

“Bless, Chef,” he called over the line, pulling yet another stream of tickets. “Christ… ok, guys, I’m going to read all these but let’s just focus on what I just called for now, these people… I mean, they’re going to have to wait.”

“Yes, Chef,” the cooks called – all except Matt. Instead of the goofy whoops from earlier in the evening, Matt responded by ducking beneath the line.

“HRRSHH! Huh-! Hh’ITZZHH-uh! NGTSHZZH-ue! Hh… hhhuh-ITZSHH-ue!” Matt covered his head with his arms, careful not to spray them, and sneezed into his lap until he sounded hoarse. Greyson could hear him attempt to sniffle, to no avail. He stood, shakily, and cleared his throat. “Heard, Chef,” he whispered, his voice hanging on by a thread.

Greyson pressed his lips together, feeling the temperature of his blood raising. God, this fucking kid – he should’ve stayed home, what good was it doing anyone having him here, sneezing himself hoarse, coughing til he was dizzy, probably infecting all the cooks and most likely over or under cooking all the fish. Greyson wanted to snap, Pull it together, but held back.

“Bless, Chef,” he called again, pointedly. Matt just nodded, dazed.

“Go ahead and call the ndext tickets, Chef,” Matt croaked. Greyson sighed, looked up, and yanked the tickets off the printer.

“Order in,” he said again, and again, and again.

***

The dining room was a fucking disaster.

Mark’s head felt like it was screwed on backwards; he could feel himself failing, and with every misstep he hated himself more. Can’t you put the tickets in right? Tracy asked you to help take the order for 32, have you gotten over there? This bar is filled with drinks, the hell are you doing?

If the dining room wasn’t bad enough, in the kitchen Greyson was clearly about to be sent straight over the edge.

“I need runners!” he called from expo, loud enough for everyone in the dining room to hear. Mark cringed, dropped what he was doing, and ran into the kitchen. The printer wouldn’t stop; the window was filled with plates, and the servers were tripping over themselves to get the food onto trays and out into the dining room.

“Mark! Take these, table 24,” Greyson said, pressing three scorching-hot plates into the floor manager’s hands. “And come right back, this fucking food is going to go bad in about three seconds. Order in!”

Mark took the food, dropped it, assessed the red marks on his hands and wrists and headed back to the kitchen. All of this would’ve been par for the course for a Saturday night, really, if not for -

“HTTSHH! HRRRSHH-uh! Hh’NGTTSZHH-ue!”

Matt.

The whole staff could tell he was fading fast. It was eight-thirty, and since about seven he hadn’t managed to go more than a couple minutes without collapsing into a fit of sneezes or coughs. His voice was completely gone at this point, and Mark could tell – even from ten feet away – that he had a pretty significant fever. All of this seemed to just further enrage Greyson.

“Chef,” Greyson called behind the line. “Get your third wind, I’m fucking dying up here I need this food out now! Order in, three salmon, two filets!”

“Yes, Chef,” Matt called, his voice so mangled Mark wasn’t sure how he’d even managed to get the words out. God, this was bad. This was so fucking bad.

***

There was no way they were going to get through all these tickets. There was just no fucking way.

It all felt like a nightmare at this point; Greyson was up to his elbows in tickets that just kept flowing. The food was dying in the windows, servers were grabbing shit that wasn’t theirs and fucking up what little flow they had going. Elijah was pouring free wine because ticket times were over forty minutes. And Matt was completely and totally stick-a-fork-in-him done.

At nine-fifteen, with twenty tickets on the board, Greyson looked up to ask his sous if table 55 was going to be up anytime soon; only to see Matt, caught in pre-sneeze torture with a knife in his right hand, moments away from splitting his left hand open.

“Matt!” Greyson screamed, and the sous chef snapped out of his daze and dropped the knife onto the cutting board. He gasped at the realization that he’d been millimeters away from maiming himself.

Enough is enough, Greyson thought to himself. “Mark!” he called into the dining room, not caring who could hear him. “Come and get your biohazard boyfriend and take him fucking home!”

The kitchen went completely silent. Matt blinked, clearly trying to unpack what he’d just heard, before wrenching to the side. “HHHITSZZHH-ue!”

Mark and Elijah burst into the kitchen then; tickets lined the board. Food lined the window. Matt was crouched down behind the line, and Greyson’s eyes were wild.

“Take him home,” Greyson said, making eye contact with Mark. “Or to urgent care. Or maybe straight to the cemetery. I don’t care where he goes, but he needs to get off my line.”

Mark nodded, and stepped behind the line to gather Matt, who slumped into his boyfriend’s arms. Greyson watched Mark hold Matt close, felt his chest contract when he heard his sous chef whisper, “Baby, I don’t feel good,” into his boyfriend’s chest.

“Go,” Greyson insisted. Mark helped Matt off the line, lead him into the office and pulled his hoodie over his chef’s coat, and walked him towards the back exit. Thank you, Mark mouthed to Greyson, who just nodded in response.

Once they were through the back doors, Elijah stepped forward. “Get back there and help them,” he said. “I’ll do expo. We’ll get through it.”

“We always do,” Greyson muttered, and pushed past his cooks to get to the middle of the line. “Alright: let’s land this fuckin’ bitch of a night in the harbor.”

***

The quiet calm of Matt’s apartment was in such direct opposition to the prior evening at work that Mark felt he might actually have whiplash.

The floor manager checked his phone for the tenth time since he’d woken up twenty minutes before. Elijah, via text, had filled him in about what happened after he and Matt left; it had been a shit show, but they’d gotten it done. There had been worse nights, Elijah said, though Mark couldn’t remember one. His boss let him know that he’d closed the restaurant for the day, to give everyone a well-deserved break. Thank God.

Greyson had texted both Mark and Matt apologizing for outing their relationship, and told Matt he could take as much time off as he needed – not that Matt had seen it yet. The sous chef had passed out the second his head hit the pillow the night previous, and he hadn’t stirred in over twelve hours.

Mark had responded to Greyson; it’s all good, Chef, though he wasn’t sure he really believed himself. He was glad that Greyson had told Mark to step up, to get Matt out and take care of him. But Matt… fuck, he was going to be upset when he woke up.

Speaking of which.

“Has anyone ever told you you text really loud?” Matt croaked quietly over Mark’s shoulder. Mark slammed his phone onto the bed and rolled over to face his boyfriend.

“No, I don’t think I’ve gotten that one before,” Mark said, caressing Matt’s face. Matt smiled, a little sadly. “How’re you feeling?”

“Mmm. Like hot fuckigg garbage,” Matt whispered, closing his eyes. “Tired. Shitty. Fuckigg embarrassed.”

Mark pressed his lips together; he wasn’t sure what to say. He settled on: “Can I make you some tea?”

Matt huffed out a little laugh that turned into a nasty-sounding cough. “In a mbinute,” he said, “I just wandt to lay with you for now.”

So they did. A silence fell over the two of them – Mark stroking Matt’s hot face, Matt with his eyes closed. After a few minutes, Matt opened his red, rheumy eyes. “So, he kndows.”

Mark felt his heart sink. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess he does.”

Silence surrounded them again. “I guess I should’ve kndown,” Matt said.

“I’m sorry,” Mark said. Matt smiled a little.

“You were right,” he teased. “You’re always right.”

“I’m rarely right,” Mark corrected. “But I think we made it pretty obvious.”

“Mmm,” Matt hummed again. A beat went by where neither of them said anything, until Matt’s body took over. “HHRSSHH-uhhh!” he sneezed, exhausted, into his hand and wiped it on the comforter. Mark couldn’t help but laugh.

“Bless you,” he said. Matt smiled, eyes closed.

“You’re gonna get so sigck,” he muttered, on the edge of sleep again already.

“Yeah,” Mark said, pressing a soft kiss onto his boyfriend’s lips. “That sounds accurate.”

Matt opened his eyes, slowly. “You kndow I love you. Right?”

A firework lodged itself into Mark’s aorta, blew his heart right to bits. “Really?” he asked, the wrong answer, but his first reaction all the same. Matt laughed in earnest.

“Really,” he said, closing his eyes again.

“I love you, Matt. God, I love you,” Mark said, kissing Matt’s lips again. “I’m sorry about last night. I love you. Thank you. I love you.”

Matt opened one eye this time, touched Mark’s face, and closed it again. “Thangk you,” he murmured. “’M gonna go back to sleep ndow. If that’s cool with you.”

“Go to sleep, baby,” Mark said, his heart so full he was sure it would burst. “I love you.”

And even though Matt was already snoring by the time he had said it again, he couldn’t seem to stop muttering it in time with his boyfriend’s snores. I love you. I love you. I love you.