#like the thing is that he's just fucking SHOWERED in opportunity all the time everywhere he goes

[katanablue]

This has been rotting in my brain (and notes) so I bring to you

Barbarian! Bayverse Raph

Barbarian!Raph who’s the biggest and most brutal of his brothers, proudly wears his title like a gold crown and wears a fur pelt from whatever latest animal he killed like it’s a prize.

Barbarian!Raph who makes weapons from teeth, bone, horns, really anything. He’s good with his fists but does need a spear or two to fight.

Barbarian!Raph who loves the thrill of a hunt and always volunteers to get rid of any sort of issue going around.

Barbarian!Raph who has no problem being violent. It’s in his nature and it’s all he’s ever known. Until he meets you.

Barbarian!Raph who first meets you covered in blood after fighting his latest victims in a village he had ambushed. He had been scouting around to make sure the coast was clear when he stumbled upon you hiding in an abandoned hut and pathetically holding a stick as poor weapon.

Barbarian!Raph who huffed through his nose and shoved aside broken furniture to get closer, scrutinizing at how small and fragile you look huddled up in the corner.

Barbarian!Raph who’s ready to just leave you there but something tugs at his heart and suddenly he finds himself hoisting you up by the back of your shirt and dragging you out the hut with him.

Barbarian! Raph who drags you along back to his brothers who are no doubt confused when their violent brother brings back someone alive. Raph simply says nothing and leaves you while he goes off back into the woods to get food.

Barbarian!Raph who brings back a boar and cooks it to perfection for you, sitting next to you by the fire while you munch quietly.

Barbarian!Raph who isn’t a man of many words but you’ve learned to read his mannerisms and habits, deciphering what a grunt means when it’s a certain pitch or when he has a specific look in his eye.

Barbarian!Raph who protects you so fiercely and would kill anyone for even looking at you the wrong way.

Barbarian!Raph who’s only known violence, bloodshed, and war. Thinking that it was all there was to life, happy and relieved that you are the one to prove him wrong.

Barbarian!Raph who comes home one day showered in blood, reminiscent of the first time you met and looks so unbelievably on edge that you worry he’s going to pop at any second. He needs to let out this tension and God does he want to unleash it on you but doesn’t want to scare you off.

Barbarian!Raph who has gotten so used to your gentle touches from cleaning his wounds and stitching him up, caring for him in such a delicate way, is completely and utterly taken aback when you tell him that he doesn’t have to gentle with you. Not in this moment.

Barbarian!Raph who sees red and completely and wholly ravishes you, fucking you hard and fast. It’s animalistic, raw carnal desire that’s been brewing inside him over the time he’s had you. He leaves marks all over your body, claiming his stake on you, leaving his scent everywhere he can because even though he knows they wouldn’t, he selfishly wants his brothers to know that you’re his.

Barbarian!Raph who’s not the best at aftercare but tries his best anyway. He rubs ointment that Donnie made all over you to soothe your aching and sore muscles, leaving apologetic kisses and churring quietly. He makes a silent vow to be more gentle next time, promising that he won’t be such a brute when he takes you.

Barbarian!Raph who clutches you tight to his chest as you lay on the fur bed, rubbing his hand up and down your back as you start to slumber off. He hooks his muscled leg over yours, afraid that you’ll slip away and this whole moment will be nothing but a dream.

Barbarian!Raph who thinks you’re asleep and takes the opportunity to whisper ‘I love you’ for the first time, not knowing that you were awake to hear it and tell him the same thing back the very next morning.

[the-punforgiven]

My brother pisses me the fuck off

[hypnoneghoul]

Have I used this joke already? Yes. Will I use it again? Absolutely.

KKEENNDDRICK!!! DROP ANOTHER DISTRACK (GHOUL ORGY) AND MY LIFE, IS YOURSSS /ref /pos

Oh please great father I BEG OF THEE

Not Alive For Anyone

WC: 3,1k

Relationship: Dewdrop/Mountain/Swiss/Phantom

Tags: Foursome - M/M/M/M, Transmasc Dew, Free Use (kinda), Cunnilingus, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, Objectification, Anal Sex, Vaginal Sex, Pressure Kink (is that a thing?), Edging, Degradation, Creampie, Aftercare

Notes: Combining with a commission from @jazz-bazz :3 Beta read and edited by the lovely @mac-and-thefox <3

Read under the cut or on AO3.

The rehearsal today was particularly hot.

The air conditioning went out and Copia ordered some people around so it would get fixed and they did, but it died again just as the band started playing the first song, to their collective annoyance. Papa was obviously frustrated, too, but decided to use this as an opportunity for them all to build up some heat resistance—as if they hadn't already played countless shows in horrid heat fully costumed.

This led to everyone being as snappy as they were horny, due to them sweating bullets and scenting the windowless room with it.

Dewdrop, though, had no issues whatsoever.

He does sweat, yes, but his fire nature makes the heat itself not much of a bother and still, the rehearsal was nothing compared to some shows they had played. So while everyone just wanted to get it over with and go shower and fuck, Dewdrop was having actual fun, as usual during a practice.

He doesn’t really understand why he got jumped by three of his packmates the moment he put his guitar away. He’s hardly ever going to say no to a casual orgy, though, so he didn’t protest being picked up and thrown over Mountain’s shoulder. There were fingers in his cunt and asshole before they even reached Swiss’ room. There he got thrown onto the bed and stripped with no regards to what he wanted or didn’t want.

He thinks he should be grateful that they decided to finger him open—just enough so he doesn't bleed when they spear him on two fat cocks. He’s on his hands and knees with his throat filled by Mountain’s cock as the earth ghoul licks into his cunt to loosen him up while Swiss is behind him, stretching his ass with near clinical precision; poking and prodding as if he’s nothing more than a doll to be inspected prior to using.

Oh, how Dewdrop loves being used.

“So cute,” Swiss hums, adding another finger to the two already nestled inside the fire ghoul’s warm hole. Obscene noise reaches his ears as the multi ghoul thrusts the digits in; Dewdrop has been leaking everywhere since Mountain has picked him up.

He has nearly forgotten about the fourth ghoul that’s in the room with them. Phantom is kneeling by Dewdrop’s head with a tight fist around his cock, slowly stroking himself to the sight of the fire ghoul choking on Mountain’s cock.

The earth ghoul wants to cum first before they really start so that he might have a chance of lasting for long enough. He never can on his first. Shooting down Dewdrop’s throat is a great way to start, indeed, and the fire ghoul’s enthusiasm when it comes to sucking dick is unmatched; Swiss knows he doesn’t have that much time to work him open because of that.

Sure enough, the multi ghoul pushes four fingers into him just when Mountain lets out a nearly guttural groan as Dewdrop makes him cum. Phantom keeps watching; he even dares to reach out, wipe a drop of cum that leaks out of the fire ghoul’s mouth with a finger and bring it down onto his own tongue.

Mountain stays on his back and once he gets the go-ahead, Swiss wastes no more time before grabbing the fire ghoul and sitting him on the other’s cock, hard again. Dewdrop doesn’t even have the time to register the fullness as he is being pushed down—back to Mountain’s chest—and then Swiss is moving Phantom to his liking, too. Suddenly he is sliding the young ghoul’s dick into Dewdrop’s cunt and bending the young quint over him so Swiss can prepare him for his own cock.

Phantom moans and drools onto the fire ghoul’s chest as it is his turn to get stretched out and treated like an object. His hips keep giving light twitches seeking friction instead of just sitting idly in the glorious place that is Dewdrop’s pussy, but Swiss allows no such thing. He holds him still with his free hand and threatens with his claws every time the quintessence ghoul tries to hump into Dewdrop.

“You’re gonna move how I want you to and that’s it, Phantom.” Swiss’ tone alone makes Phantom shudder and whine; it’s cold, the warmth and affection that’s usually dripping from every word Swiss utters is absolutely gone. The quintessence ghoul thinks he shouldn’t be as turned on by it as he is, but alas.

“Swiss–”

“No, shut up,” he snarls and Phantom moans in reply. Swiss chuckles cruelly at how much of a mess he is as he finishes stretching his ass. He smacks his cheek just hard enough to leave a mark before wiping his hand and shoving his cock into him in one swift thrust with no more preamble. Phantom whimpers at the sudden fullness and his own dick kicks where it’s still nestled in Dewdrop.

The fire ghoul himself is way past incoherent at this point, stuffed full and squeezed, and nobody has really moved properly yet. He doesn’t even pay much mind to how he thought it would be Swiss and Mountain fucking him; not that he doesn’t enjoy having sweet little Phantom in his pussy.

He really fucking does.

So if someone were to ask him how exactly he ended up in his current predicament, he would not really know how to answer. Don’t get him wrong, he is enjoying himself immensely, but at this point the others have him so brainless he genuinely can’t remember what led him to…all of this.

“How does his cock feel, huh?” Swiss asks, probably referring to Phantom. He can’t be sure considering Mountain is also buried inside him to the hilt, of course. Either way, they both feel divine. “Hm, kitten?”

“‘S good,” Dewdrop slurs, high on sensation already, and the multi ghoul grins as he thrusts roughly into Phantom where he’s glued to his back. That makes his own dick slam deep into Dewdrop’s cunt, filling him to the brim with the help of the big earth ghoul cock in his ass. “So good, fuck.”

Their position is rather complicated, but they are making it work.

Swiss grunts into Phantom’s ear with every thrust, sheathing himself inside him over and over again and making him do the same to the fire ghoul. The room is filled with filthy sounds of slick flesh against slick flesh and various noises of pleasure falling one by one from four mouths.

Dewdrop is the most lost one, of course.

He’s not really registering what’s happening anymore, he just knows he’s warm, full, and nicely squeezed; the waves of pleasure that are washing over him every second have him out somewhere by the orbit. His eyes are glassy with it and unshed—for now—tears and his pupils are blown so wide the embers of his irises are nearly gone.

Swiss regrets he’s too far to really look into these pretty eyes and see how empty Dewdrop’s brain is.

Mountain isn’t doing much at the bottom of their sweaty fuck-pile; he is holding both of Dewdrop’s wrists in the circle of one of his hands and toying with the fire ghoul’s clit with the other—not with the intention to help properly stimulate him, no. Mountain is doing it for himself, all but fidgeting with the little thing as Dewdrop’s wet hole squeezes his cock over and over again. The earth ghoul is simply content with being cockwarmed and occasionally clenched around if he flicks the fire ghoul’s cock in the right way or if Swiss makes Phantom hit that good spot inside him.

He nuzzles his nose against his shoulder and neck, licking over the scars that are left of Dewdrop’s gills and enjoying the smell he loves so much—of a bonfire that has just been put out with fresh water—being so strong right there. He thinks about what he would do if the gills were still there, how he’d lick inside and suck on the pretty fins surrounding them. Alas, he only worries the delicate skin of the crook of Dewdrop’s neck between his fangs and resists the urge to pierce it just yet; there will be time for that later. 

“Mounty–” Dewdrop moans; being beyond any words but their names. The earth ghoul in question presses a fang to a bumpy scar and chuffs in acknowledgement of whatever it might be that Dewdrop was trying to say. Not that it matters much, anyway.

Phantom is nothing more than a two-in-one dildo and a fleshlight as Swiss controls his every movement with a big, warm hand sprawled out over his chest—the other one dimpling the skin on his hip in a possessive grip. It’s Dewdrop that is completely immobilized and reduced to a whiny mess, even though the quintessence ghoul has no control over himself either. He loves it; he’s not even addressed as much as Dewdrop. Swiss is nothing but vicious and the only comfort Mountain has to offer—at least for the time being—is the fire ghoul’s to take.

They should have invited Rain, Swiss thinks. As far as he’s aware the water ghoul got snatched by the ghoulettes after the rehearsal, but Swiss can’t help but wonder how much more wrecked Dewdrop would get if Rain were with them. The power he has over the fire ghoul is something as impressive as it is scary.

They will definitely invite Rain next time.

Phantom’s moans are the loudest and the highest and Swiss absolutely cherishes them. He prides himself in being able to pull all those lovely sounds out of the young ghoul and he knows them so well by now he could categorize them precisely. That’s why he knows exactly when to shove his cock into him harder, when to do it faster, and when to pull out completely just to hear Phantom cry out for it, hating the sudden feeling of cold and empty.

But then Swiss slides back in and all is right in the world again.

Yes, all four of them are enjoying themselves immensely.

Dewdrop tries to arch his back against the onslaught of sensation but Phantom’s hands that are planted firmly on his chest and his—or rather Swiss’—rhythmic thrusts effectively keep him from it. The fire ghoul is literally stuck and he drops his mouth open in a wanton moan at the realization of just how helpless he is right now.

Phantom lets out a similar noise when Dewdrop squeezes around him and Swiss chuckles cruelly behind him. “Two little whores made for being used, how pathetic. Isn’t it, my love?”

Dewdrop’s entire body vibrates with the rumble that comes from Mountain’s chest. “I think it’s rather adorable. It’s like they were made just for us to use.”

He squeezes around the fire ghoul’s slim wrists for good measure; as if to show off just how perfect of a fit they are. Swiss chuckles and nods in agreement.

Dewdrop whines loudly and wiggles his fingers in an attempt to…they’re not sure, really, but the next sound that comes out of him is too close to a sob for Mountain’s liking. “P–please…”

The earth ghoul hums and both lets go of his wrists and pauses toying with his clit. He drags his big hands over Dewdrop’s small body, tweaking his nipples on his way, before he wraps them tightly around him. He squeezes the remaining breath out of him and drills his cock into his hole as the fire ghoul clenches around it at receiving even more of that grounding pressure he craves so much. He flops his half-limp hands back down and grips Phantom’s wrist with one and Mountain’s forearm with the other in a silent plea of keep me close.

Even though they were all happy to reduce him to nothing but a few holes for them to fuck for the time being, he is still their beloved Dewdrop.

“It’s alright, fire lily,” Mountain rumbles into his ear, “I’ve got you, make us feel good some more and it’ll be your turn, I promise.”

Seeing Mountain take on the task of assuring the fire ghoul’s comfort, Swiss smirks; intending to take his cruelty up a notch before they finish.

“Useless without us, both of you,” he spits out with another forceful thrust into Phantom. “Fucking each other and being fucked by us is the only thing you’re good for.”

The quintessence ghoul moans all whorish at his words; a slut for cruel degradation that he is. He pants hard with his head hung and his eyes glued to where Dewdrop’s cunt is being stretched open on his cock, leaking more and more slick with every thrust. It’s an addicting sight and feeling, truly, and Phantom feels a dangerous swoop low in his stomach.

“Swiss–Swiss, I’m…I’m close, ‘m gonna–” he whines as his body moves of its own accord to search for something that will bring him to his orgasm. Swiss, though, doesn’t let it get too far.

“No, you’re not,” he snarls, “not until I tell you.”

Phantom whimpers but there’s nothing he can do about it, really, and everyone involved knows he loves it.

“How’s it going down there, my love?” the multi ghoul asks Mountain. “As hot as up here?”

“Hotter,” he admits, making Swiss chuckle. “I’m close, too, darling.”

“Alright then.”

Swiss groans as he picks up his pace and slams into Phantom with enough force to make the entire bed rattle against the wall.

“You can cum,” he whispers into the quintessence ghoul’s ear and cums deep inside him, grunting. The feeling of the multi ghoul’s cock slotted right against his prostate and the warmth filling him makes Phantom grind into Dewdrop for the last time before he tips over the edge, too.

Dewdrop cries out as he takes his second load of the night. Mountain presses down on his stomach and lets out a growl as he feels Phantom’s softening cock and his own through Dewdrop’s flat tummy. The earth ghoul bucks up into him and finally allows himself to sink his teeth into his shoulder and then he’s gone, too, spilling into Dewdrop’s ass.

Phantom goes completely boneless once he goes down from his high, flopping down onto a very fucked out but still very desperate Dewdrop. He would cry and beg for them to make him cum if only he weren’t squeezed so hard there’s no breath left in his lungs. Swiss somehow holds himself up behind Phantom, pulling out as he breathes heavily and folding in on himself where he kneels.

He knows he’s the one who will regain his composure the fastest and that means he has to switch his semi-cruelty off and give Dewdrop his release; preferably before the poor ghoul drops and descends into real panic.

It’s easy for him to roll Phantom off of him, the bed is big enough so that he can pick Dewdrop up and lay him down next to the quintessence ghoul with Mountain still taking up the middle. The fire ghoul cries out in desperation as he gets manhandled and spread out on his back for Swiss to do whatever he wants to him. 

“S–Swiss, pl…please, I–I can’t, I need–please,” Dewdrop babbles, flopping his arms around as if he’s trying to claw his way to getting his release.

But he is completely at Swiss’ mercy; he couldn’t fight him even if he wanted to.

Maybe he does, a little bit—too brainless to realize how much gentler Swiss is now and that whatever he’s going to do is finally going to be for Dewdrop, not someone else.

The multi ghoul lays on his front in between his legs and cannot waste any more time—not only because of his affection for Dewdrop, but also the delicious display of the fire ghoul’s holes all puffy and leaking his packmates’ cum right in front of his face.

Dewdrop must be cleaned up, of course, so why wouldn’t Swiss do it with his tongue?

He descends and plunges the appendage deep into the fire ghoul’s cunt and he absolutely wails; loud enough to wake the dead, probably. Without ghouls bigger than him on and under him, Dewdrop writhes in oversensitivity. Swiss only holds his hips, keeping at least that part of him still enough so that he can enjoy his dessert.

Neither of them notices Mountain gathering Phantom up and off of the bed and taking him to the bathroom to clean him up. They’ll be done before they come back, surely, just in time for a post-coital cuddle pile.

It’s obscene how the multi ghoul eats Dewdrop out, alternating between sucking on his cock, licking Phantom’s cum out of his cunt and doing the same to Mountain’s in his ass. It’s all sloppy and Swiss is all but drowning, but he doesn't ever want to stop.

He will, though; causing the fire ghoul actual anguish is not the plan. Swiss lets go of his hips with one hand and brings it down between his legs. He pushes two of his fingers into Dewdrop’s asshole, his thumb into his pussy, and closes his mouth around his clit.

He sucks and the fire ghoul is gone.

His holes squeeze around Swiss’ fingers and his thighs around his head as slick gushes out of him and absolutely drenches the other’s face and neck. He pulls away immediately, knowing that after being edged for so long, Dewdrop would fall into overstimulation that much faster and that much more intense than usual.

Swiss rests his cheek on the inside of the fire ghoul’s thigh and breathes in the smell of sex hanging in the air; so beautifully concentrated just between Dewdrop’s legs. He’s gasping for breath, laying sprawled out like a wet noodle with no strength to move even an inch. Swiss rubs his warm hands over his skin, wherever he can reach, to ground him and help him come back down smoothly.

Swiss’ eyes close at some point, but he can’t bring himself to care; he’s comfortable snuggled between Dewdrop’s legs. The next thing he knows a blanket is being thrown over him—still there—and there’s another warm body cuddling up to him and the fire ghoul. Phantom shoves his face into Dewdrop’s tummy and wraps his tail around Swiss’ waist. Mountain joins them a moment later, laying down in the other direction and manhandling Dewdrop so that his head is pillowed on his stomach. 

Their position is rather complicated, but they’re making it work.

[credince--writes]

Background Check

NSFW.

Konig x Reader

141 becomes suspicious of König, Soap & Ghost are sent to find out why he rushes off so often. They find out why.

König wasn't stupid.

Anxious at times, yea.

Maybe a little fidgety, sure.

But he wasn't stupid.

He heard the whispers,

partially closed doors.

He knew they were suspicious of him.

Why else would he be soo keen to be taking off leave as much as possible?

Leave as soon as possible.

Get the fuck out of dodge.

His background.

Who he was.

Maybe they even suspected he was the rat.

He wasn't.

But he'd be damned if he let them get off scot-free.

They invaded his personal life.

Found his home.

Found his wife.

There was a reason he tried to keep his life as far away from work as possible. When the veil would be cast aside and he could bathe in the love of the woman he cared about.

He wasn't stupid.

Sometimes Soap was.

Is.

However, he'd like to phrase it in his mind.

Maybe he forgot how tall he was. That when he glanced over, figure looming over the other man, he was able to see the message sent out, tasking none other than Ghost and Soap to go out on a hush-hush recon to see who exactly this König man was.

What was he hiding?

He was hiding you.

...

It was always exciting for König to be coming home, even if it was only for a week.

But it was going to be a week that you'd have him all to yourself.

You'd gone grocery shopping, and you had a plan.

Not really a plan, it was more of a ritual.

He'd finally come back after however many days, and the two of you would hole up until you absolutely needed to go out and get something.

You lived in a pretty little cabin with big windows.

That was a must.

You loved to sit in your living room with the fireplace and stare out the huge windows that cascaded from floor to ceiling, staring out at the forest in front of you.

But the bathroom?

Oh it was heavenly.

König required much larger facilities, including a shower.

Not only that, but after you asked ever so nicely he got you a big tub as an anniversary present.

One big enough for the two of you.

You've lost count of how many times the two of you ended up relaxing in the tub together. The cold outside air encouraged each other into the arms of the other, tangled up into a mess of bodies. On other nights, the two of you would lay still, enjoying the relaxing heat and even seeing some wildlife prance across the dewy grass.

When he wasn't jabbering, he was a very quiet and observant man. You'd scolded him about it before, even with his large size he'd trained himself in stealth. His subconscious steps feather light giving him more and more opportunities to scare you out of your skin.

So any time he was in the room he'd step extra loud, or hum, or say something just to alert you of his presence before his arm would snake around your middle and pull you close.

Really, you appreciated it.

Maus, he'd call you. Gaining your attention as you'd turn your head over to give him a glance.

"Hm?" You'd ask, even if you recognized that tone in his voice, you wouldn't acknowledge it.

You'd make him work for it.

He knew you liked to play hard to get.

That was part of the fun, wasn't it?

Once he called you back into the living area, to climb onto the large couch and to climb under the blanket with him would he start lowering his head down, kissing everywhere on your upper body but your lips.

Whining in irritation- frustration maybe? Were they not the same thing? You had grabbed ahold of his hand, bringing one of his large fingers up to push against your plush lips as you flicked your tongue out, licking up the base of it and sucking it into your mouth.

Groaning, his head would fall back against the couch.

You'd never tell him how much you loved to look up at his face like this, it would embarrass him to no end- loving something he was so insecure over. From this angle you could see perfectly just the little twist in his nose- off to the side. No doubt broken in combat, but it just added that extra flair that made König who he was.

Yours.

Pulling his finger from your mouth, he'd trail it down your top, trying to slip it under the band of your sweatpants and into your core.

Stopping him, you guided his wrist up and over his head, leaning up and grabbing his other arm that was lazily draped onto the couch and pining his arms above his head.

You'd never really be able to hold him down, you both knew that. But there was something specifically grounding of feeling both of your small hands wrapped around his wrists, pushing him down into the soft cushion of the sofa.

Letting go of his hands, you shimmied backward and pulled your sweats down, leaving yourself only in your panties as you there a leg over his chest and ever so slightly rubbed your clothes heat against the rippling expanse of his torso.

His hands left their post, above his head on the couch to grab your thighs and pull you closer to him, mouth opening and exhaling harshly as his mouth cupped over the expanse of your clothed cunt.

"Did I say you could yet?" You scolded lightly, and he shook his head in response.

His hands let up, allowing you to slide backward off of his chin and back onto his chest, hands lacing in with his as you leaned forward.

"How bad do you want it?" You asked grin plastered on your features.

"So bad, Maus." He exhaled out, eyes dilated as he looked up at your face, tinted pink with arousal.

"That's not very convincing." You pouted.

"Then let me convince you." He groaned, hands unlacing from yours grabbing you by the ass and pushing you forward, a long finger hooking your panties to the side as he pulled you up to sit on his face.

He groaned when his tongue came into contact, licking and sucking- biting on the side of your thighs until you thought you were going to melt into the floor, turning into a puddle to be mopped up later.

His arm shot up, slipping under your shirt until his hand poked through the neckline where his hand opened and deliciously wrapped around your neck.

He didn't squeeze, he just allowed you to rest your body weight into it, and additional support to your body sitting straight up and onto his face. Whenever you'd lean forward trying to escape his grasp, his hand around your throat would apply just enough pressure to make the surroundings feel fuzzy.

Ebbing on that feeling of pleasure drunkening your mind.

It was intoxicating really, the long laps of his tongue eating as if he were a man starved, deprived of it all until he was borderline insane. Devouring as if he'd never eat again.

Rocking your hips back and forth, finding that perfect rhythm where your thighs would tense up, pushing into his ears and squeezing his head together as if you were trying to pop it.

It was wet,

sloppy,

foul sounding even.

You were glad you had no neighbors.

You can't imagine having to bare the walk of shame from bringing up groceries with the man tailing behind you to your flat, old woman down the hall peeking out the door to find the mountain of a man who was the cause of the filthy moans and curses late into the night.

Your body shook, stuttering in place and trying to push off your knees to relieve the pressure from his tongue on your clit. His fingers dug into your neck, pulling your body back down onto his mouth as he picked up the pace, throwing you right over the edge into overstimulation.

"Hah- Please- fuck... Too much!" You whined out, hand gripping his hair and tugging his head to the side.

His mouth detached from your pussy with a wet sucking sound, making that fluttering feeling inside you spur off into a frenzy.

He let out a snicker, lip curling up to show that deathly sharp canine he found too much joy in biting down onto the soft parts of your body.

"But Shatz, you taste so good." He said, letting go of your neck and pulling you down to lay on him.

"Hmmm." you replied, setting your head in the crook of his neck.

You glanced at him, and saw him staring out the window, deep into the dark forest.

"What's wrong?" You asked, looking at him for any hint of concern in his gaze.

"Ah. Not anything to worry of Shatz."

You'd take his word for it.

The two of you would lay there for some time, listening to the sounds of each other breathing while the background noise of a movie filled the room.

"Mm.. Let's take a bath..." You leaned forward, whispering into his ear before biting the edge of it ever so lightly. Just enough in the way you knew if drove him mad.

He laughed.

One of those downright evil,

scheming laughs.

The one that made your cunt tighten because you knew just how much you were in for it.

He stood, arms wrapping under your bottom and pulling you up with him as he made quick strides to the glass door that led out onto the back patio that had the large tub. Setting you down next to the tub and quickly starting to tug off any remaining clothing that you had clug to your body.

"Wait- slow down a little." You laughed out softly, reaching a hand up and cupping his jaw stilling his movements. "What's got you all riled up sweetheart?"

"I want you to be loud, Shatz." He leaned in, whispering into your ear.

"Yea? Why's what?" You smiled up at him, kissing the bottom of his chin.

"I want you to tell the world your mine with those sweet little noises you make."

You laughed lightly- nervously, but it died in your throat as you stared up at him.

There was a dark glint in his eyes, the one that barely lingers when he's first walking through the door.

It was feral.

It was pretty hot.

He turned, leaving you for a moment to be surrounded by the cold air of the night. No longer having the body heat he projected everywhere he went filling your space.

You'd protest, but the sound of the knob to the bath turning and the unmistakable sound of water pouring into the tub created white noise.

You turned to him, sucking on your teeth as you grabbed a bottle full of scented soap, pouring it into the cascading water and watching as bubbles started to form in the tub.

Reaching out to him, you grabbed at the hem of his pants, tugging on them. He snickered slightly grabbing the belt and undoing it, then pushing his pants and boxers to the floor.

He stepped into the bath, sitting on the back ledge where various candles and glass containers held salts, soups, lotions, and other various collections of your own you'd use.

His thighs flexed and he stared you down with a hungry, dark look. You could feel heat rising to your cheeks as you stepped into the bath, kneeling down as the water continued to fill around you. Leaning forward, you placed a hand on his thigh and continued to bring your face closer to his crotch. Grabbing hold of his cock, hand wrapping around the girth of it as you enjoyed its weight in your hand.

You loved the outdoor tub, you'd sit out here some nights, staring out into the forest. One night a doe had even pranced it way through the lawn while you sat and soaked.

It was bliss.

You flicked your tongue out, collecting the shiny clear bead of precum dribbled from the tip of his cock, licking it up and savoring the salty taste on your tongue.

"Stop teasing, Schatz." He said, hand placing on your shoulder.

It was a warning.

You looked up at him, giving your best innocent doe eyes as you took the head of his cock into your mouth, sucking and flicking your tongue around the head.

He grumbled something, tossing his head back as his muscles flexed. Hand on your shoulder creeping into your hair as you started to bob your head on his cock.

You could feel his cock brush the back of your throat, slightly adjusting your head to continue to take him further, down until you could feel the brush of his hair against your nose.

"So good to me." He praised, a finger brushing against your hollowed-out cheeks as you continued to take his length down your throat.

Eventually, pulling back and let out a gasp as a long string of thickened saliva bridged from your mouth to the head of his cock.

"Did I say stop?" He asked lightly.

"It's gonna overflow." You laughed, turning around and shutting off the faucet. The look on his face proved your point of him forgetting about the hot running water behind you- tub dangerously close to the edge.

He leaned forward, dipping his lower body into the water until he was sat up to his chest, nipples hovering over the steamy water.

Pushing forward, you climbed into his lap and pushed your chest to his, connecting mouths and sighing into each other, hands slowly exploring and enjoying as the hot water melted away the day's tensions.

He pulled your back onto his chest, snaking a hand around your tummy and dipping it down into your core, a large finger breaching your hole and pumping into you with his thumb teasing your clit while his second hand toyed with your tits.

Your back arched onto his chest, a moan escaping your lips as he continued his onslaught of toying and teasing for what felt like an eternity.

"Fuck me- Stop teasing me." You whined hand grabbing his wrist close to your cunt and giving it a squeeze.

"You want me to fuck you, Schatz?"

"Yes." You moaned.

"Fill my pretty wife full of cum?" He leaned forward, shifting your position as the water sloshed, throwing gallons over the edge.

"Please." You whined.

His hand left your tit and reached up to your jaw, hand easily covering the expanse of it and ring finger reaching up and pulling your mouth wide open. His finger pushed down on your tongue, causing your head to pull down as you felt him move behind you.

Your only retaliation?

Wiggling your hips.

He grunted, bringing a hand down and harshly slapping it on your ass leaving a large red handprint embellishing your skin. He lifted a knee, planting his foot beside you and he trusted upward, pushing his cock into your core.

With his finger forcing your mouth open, the mouth that would normally be reserved, held in by your lips to live in your throat came out breaking the white noise of sloshing water and his pants.

"Braves Mädchen." He praises, snapping his hips forward sending more water sloshing forward.

Keeping his hand in your mouth, a hand slithered down and brushed against your clit as his pace picked up, sending you up and above the clouds, looking down upon the scene as if you were an angel.

You moaned again, whatever words spilling from your mouth coming out messy and in no way understandable. You could feel your walls fluttering with the combined attention on your clit and the oh-so-filling stretch of his cock in your tight cunt.

You choke out a whine and he lifts your hips, pressing himself impossibly deeper into you and he continues his ruthless onslaught.

You could feel a flutter in your gut, the tight cord pulled it its limit.

"Going to cum, Shatz?" He sneered out, that ruthless, demeaning tone as he pressed exceptionally hard against your clit with his rough calloused finger.

You could only whine in response as the motions set in action came to a head all at once.

It was as if white stars danced into your vision, everything in your body seized, tightening while he continued to fuck into you, up until you could feel his hips stutter, that bruisingly strong grip on your hip that you knew would leave little fingerprint bruises in the morning.

His hand left your jaw, turning you around and pulling you close to his chest.

"Ich liebe dich." He mumbled into your hair.

"Ich liebe dich mehr." You replied to him, clinging to his chilled skin as the two of you sunk back down into the heavily depleted water.

He had helped you from the bath, grabbed you a towel, and carried you inside, setting you down on your bed while he walked out to collect his things and drain the tub.

He wouldn't normally clean up, no. But this time he wanted to make sure to emphasize what he wanted to say.

Pulling the band of his sweatpants as his bare feet came into contact with the cold wet wood of the back deck, looking out into the thicket of trees and brush he saw the glint of glass.

A scope.

He grinned, one of the sick, wicked grins no one would see with the veil covering his face on the battlefield. He wasn't scared, he knew exactly who was out there.

If they wanted to know why he rushed home so badly, he'd let them know.

"Hoffe es hat euch gefallen!" He called out.

[imdead770]

The Outsiders x Reader - Making a Gingerbread House With Them

Warnings - Swearing, the basics

Darry -

I think Darry is one of the few gang members who isn't a complete disaster. He'd probably put some effort into making the gingerbread house. Only problem is, he's strong. Too strong. So whenever he underestimates his strength, a whole wall gets split in two. Let's say the two of you are unboxing.

" so are we making a house or- "

...

" Seriously, Dar? That's the third time! "

Might actually end up looking decent. 9/10.

Sodapop -

Pure chaos. That's it. I feel like Sodapop is the type to eat all the frosting. He threw up after.

The gingerbread house itself is a complete mess. The frosting is smudged, there's just candy thrown on, it falls every 17 seconds. He's definitely one of the funnest to make it with, though.

" Hey, darlin! I made a gumdrop garden! "

It looked like shit, but we don't need to tell him that. In the end the gingerbread house is a mess. 10/10 experience, though.

☆ 100% put frosting on your lips and kissed it off.

Ponyboy -

He tries, he really does, but gingerbread houses have never been his thing. He is a Curtis, after all. It's not his fault he grew up with Soda. He breaks a few pieces, gets frosting everywhere, all that. It probably collapses at least 4 times. The decoration is really good, though.

" Hey, babe.. the roof's uh.. sliding.. "

" so fix it. "

" ..what if I said we're out of frosting? "

Looks pretty good in the end, what's standing up, at least. 9/10.

Johnny -

I think he surprisingly has a knack for this type of thing? I just feel like Johnny can make stuff. So yeah, it's one of the only houses that stand up. He probably gets frosting everywhere, though. In his hair, smudged on his face, even on you.

" Um.. baby? You got somethin right.. "

" How did you even- "

" I don't know, okay!? "

Turns out decent. You have to go take a shower to get the frosting out of your hair, though. 10/10, though, he's really sweet the whole time.

Dallas -

He probably wouldn't even do it. But with enough convincing, a bit of flirting, and an ass ton of luck, he'd do it. I feel like he's never really done this, it's just not his thing. So it's a complete mess. Frosting goes everyone, he probably gets mad somehow and breaks a roof piece.

" Dal! I needed that! "

" And I need a million dollars, but I ain't got that, do I? "

Turns out like shit, it's really fun though. 9/10.

☆ You know those movie scenes where someone gets a bit of frosting on the other, then it's a full fledged war? Yeah. That's basically what this is.

Two-Bit -

Jumps at the opportunity. He's been waiting. This man chugs the frosting. You thought Sodapop was bad? You haven't met Two. It's a mess, but it's the most fun you'll ever have making a gingerbread house.

" Babe! Heh, look. I made a penis on the gingerbread man. "

" Two.. what the heck? "

There'd definitely be a small food fight. Again, you'd have to take a shower. Turns out decent, it's not standing, but hey, there's a penis on a gingerbreadman. 10/10.

Steve -

Chaos. He'd eat everything. Nothing is safe. The frosting? Gone. The gum drops? Digested. The fucking roof? It's already in his stomach. It's sugar, it's what he lives for. You won't even have anything to build after 5 minutes. It's gone. Dissolved.

" Hey Steve where's the wal- Jesus Christ! "

" what? "

" that's like.. the fifth wall? "

" ...want some? "

Thats basically it. There's no house to judge. 7/10.

[male-fictioner]

I Want You Back

Pairing: Yandere ex-bf Zac Efron x male reader

Category: Yandere

Warnings: stalking, possessive behavior, spying, manipulation, that's it ig

Word Count: 1.1k +

A/n: I had this sitting in my drafts for the longest of times, I finally had to write it. I'm not very good at writing yandere content, as I never have written in before. But I hope you like it.

You had met Zac a long time ago through some mutual friend. At that time you didn't know how things would end up. You and Zac quickly became friends and very close and soon you realised that you might have found someone you love. 

When Zac asked you out you couldn't have been happier. You were over the moon and had a perfect date. This was 4 years ago and within a while, you had made it official with each other. 

The relationship had been great for all the while you two dated. You did not have any complaints and he treated you like a prince and showered you with all the love and gifts. This is why he was so surprised when you broke up with him almost six months ago. 

That decision came when you felt very restricted and tired in the relationship. Don't get me wrong Zac is amazing but you needed to just be alone for a while and he didn't understand that.

Over the last few months, you felt guilty about breaking up with Zac after how well he treated you and loved you. And also because it seemed like the universe wanted you to get back together too. 

Everywhere you would go, you would be forced to remember Zac. Like when you saw this cute teddy bear near the stairs of your apartment complex. It was exactly like the one Zac had won for you at the Arcade for one of your dates. The resemblance was uncanny and made you wonder if it was that very same one. At first you thought maybe it's the effect of breaking up a relationship that lasted 4 years but after a while rather than missing him less, you started missing him more.

Every now and then, you were made to revisit a sweet memory you shared with Zac. This made you reconsider your decision. Made you doubt yourself. Made you think whether breaking up with Zac was the right thing to do. Did you make a huge mistake? Will Zac take you back?

You still weren't sure if you wanted to get back with him. So you ended up deciding to find a quick and easy rebound. Maybe this would help you move on.

Finding a rebound was not difficult at all. Guys nowadays want a quick and NSA fuck mostly. So you hooked up with a good looking guy you found on Grindr. 

This guy was so nice and sex with him was also amazing. After Zac you really hadn't been much physically or emotionally available for anyone and this was a welcome change in your life.

After you guys hooked up, this man asked you if you wanted to go out sometime. You really liked him so you agreed for the date. 

You and him texted back and forth for a couple of days. After careful consideration for both your schedules, you decided on a date, which was a week later. 

Imagine your shock when you showed up to the venue that was discussed, after dressing up nice and sexy, the man did not show up. Not only that, he did not respond to any of your texts, or pick up your call. After waiting almost an hour, you concluded that you had been ghosted. 

Feeling sad due to you getting stood up, you started going back home dejected. And you were standing face to face with the last person you had expected to see. 

“Y/n, what are you doing here?” Zac asked, feigning surprise.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you quipped not wanting to admit you were almost on a date.

“Well I was just passing by. But you look really nice. Very handsome. So naturally I'm curious.” He raised his arms to show that he did not mean to grill me or something. 

“I had a date, but he stood me up.” You admitted rather sheepishly remembering how Zac never made you wait. 

“He must be a fool to miss out on a date with you. I would give anything for that opportunity.” He replied earnestly. 

Seeing him and listening to his words made you feel more guilty. “I missed you,” you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. All your thoughts and strength went away after realising how much you had missed your ex boyfriend after the break up.

“I miss you all the time,” he confessed. This made your heart melt a little. “Did you have dinner?” 

You just shook your head to indicate ‘no’. 

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” Zac asked, hopeful that you would say yes.

You just replied, “It's a date,” and dragged him along to the closest restaurant.

Over dinner, you discussed everything, including your reason for leaving him. Zac promised to make an effort to better understand your feelings and wants. You promised to let him know if it got too much so he can dial down a little. And with the help of clear and truthful communication, you both got back together.

Well truthful communication on your side at least. Because Zac had been keeping a secret from you that he was sure he would take it to his grave.

The secret was regarding how he got you. All those coincidences that led to this serendipitous moment, were no work of fate at all. They were all in the plot of the mastermind Zac Efron. 

You finding the teddy bear that looked exactly like the one you had from the arcade was because Zac kept it there. He had to go all around the town to find that exact teddy. He had memorised your schedule and positioned the teddy bear exactly in a place where you would spot him right away at the perfect time when you would be coming home from work. He also knew that you wouldn't be able to abandon such a cute teddy bear, you just would take it home with you. And what you could never know is that this seemingly harmless teddy bear was fitted with a camera and microphone by which Zac had been able to keep an eye on his darling and make sure he is safe. And if he needed to beat anyone up if you brought them home with you (which you didn't, making Zac believe that you still love him). 

The fact that he could jerk off to your naked body was just an added benefit. He could see all your actions and he did not believe it to be wrong because he was just taking care of you. 

Every time you would see something related to Zac, it was because he had planned it that way. And he was glad he did because he finally got to have you back.

Now that he had you, he planned to never let you go away from him. No matter how far he had to go.

Your feedback and comments are highly appreciated. Also my requests are open!!

[fluffyprettykitty]

Cassian Andor NSFW alphabet

Pairing: Cassian Andor x female reader (no other specifications!)

Word Count: 2300 words

Warnings: multiple sex positions, come feeding, praise, creampie, exhibitionism, sex toys, oral, fingering, nipple play, rimming, finger sucking. Let me know if I forgot anything major!

Author’s Note: I really wanted to do it so thank you for the encouragement ;)

dividers by @firefly-graphics ​//​ banners by @maysdigitalarts

Main Masterlist ・❥・Cassian Andor Masterlist

NSFW UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DNI.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Cassian is doting and caring after the act. He loves taking his time smothering you in kisses and running his fingers through your body. There’s something about that intimacy that fills his heart with joy and cannot stop slowly breathing close to your ear as he pulls you closer and closer. He also likes it when you run your fingers through his hair, loving that familiar intimate touch. Cassian also loves helping you shower after the act, caressing your body and lathering it slowly until he makes sure you are clean as you can be. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Cassian does love his face and his hair a lot. He likes also his scruffy beard and loves nuzzling against your neck or cheek or even when you caress him in tender moments. As for the women, Cassian does not have a preference per se, he is just a woman lover through and through and loves being able to caress and touch your body any way he likes discovering what is the most unique thing about you. Cassian also is obsessed with your lips, he loves kissing, he loves making out and he loves the sticky sounds that come with it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Cassian likes cumming everywhere basically. He loves shooting on your face, and loves it when he paints your breasts with it, and also loves it when he can double finish inside you and watch it all leak out. He also loves feeding you his cum with his long fingers. Is a mental image that stays with him for days and days. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

The dirtiest secret that Cassian keeps to himself is that he loves it to eat your ass and he also loves it when you do it for him. Is very rare and he loves knowing someone else can make him such a mess like this. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Cassian is very experienced. He could not be more experienced, his reputation is well and known along the lands and he has nothing but satisfied partners, his only problem is that he never stays long enough to stick around. But he takes his time, for your pleasure, delaying his as long as you are pleading and begging for no more. He loves knowing he has that effect on you. Also, there is no move, no kink, and no activity that Cassian hasn’t already done or isn’t game for. Cassian in a very well-experienced lover and he never minds taking the lead or taking a seat back depending on the situation.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Riding. He loves you on top of him, breasts bare, hands on his hair, pulling them as you are trying to fuck yourself on him. He of course prefers making no effort at all just watching you struggle. Once he has enough of your performance, he loves pinning you down and grabbing your wrists as he fucks you animalistically against any surface. Also, he loves it very much to fuck behind a door, standing up, with your leg around his back. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Cassian has humor, he knows how to laugh at the funny moment or recite a funny story to have you loosen up easier. He knows how easily one joke can turn into him sliding a finger inside, so he never misses an opportunity to do so. And he also loves hearing your laugh during the act, watching you so happy as he is staffing you fully.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He is as groomed as his life allows him to be. Obviously, there is hair everywhere on his body but his hygiene is the best it can be. He likes taking care of himself and cleaning himself, even if he skips the colognes because he is not living a fancy life out there.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Cassian is romantic during the act because it’s a rare moment where he gets to be as free and as loving as he can be. He kisses you between anything and praises you and repeats words of affirmation and love all the time, worshipping you and the world in every aspect. But he also keeps it rough at the same time. He manages to balance it out perfectly. Showing his affection to you is his favorite thing to do during the act. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Cassian prefers real sex instead of masturbation and is never hard enough for him to find someone but in the moments that he does, he does it slowly, preferably listening to an old voice message of yours or finding a picture of you. His head is full of thought as he brings both hands, one on his cock, one fonding his balls, grunting as he cums. Especially when he has you on the other line of the Comcast link.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Cassian has many kinks. He loves bondage, he loves grinding, he loves your breasts, he loves fucking your ass, he likes some pain, he likes watching you cry from too much pleasure, he loves spanking you, he loves it when you choke him or tie him up. He loves the sloppiest blow jobs and fingering you with his gloves on, shoving his cock between your breasts, and then facefucking you. He loves it in any way he can find and loves switching you but he also loves commanding you and watching you do exactly as he says. He also likes it when you blindfold him and all he can do is anticipate your next move, He also likes it when you are fully naked, riding his thigh while he is all dressed up. And creampies. Basically, he likes it all.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Beds and of course the cockpit. Always the favorite place for any pilot. But mostly he likes doing it in close proximity to being caught, in alleys and behind the bar and mostly behind closed doors and even right where you wouldn’t expect one to. One palm over your mouth and his cock deep between your ass cheeks and into your pussy fucking you fast.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Cassian is one of those people who is always horny, maybe is the way he lives, and the danger that comes with it but he is always thinking about it in some way. So is not hard for him to get turned on at all. But he does love it when you call his name, something so intimate and yet familiar about it.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

He doesn’t have many turn-offs, but he won’t ever do something you wouldn’t want him to do. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He both loves giving and receiving. He likes spending hours eating you out with your legs trying to push his head in and of course he loves watching you gag on his cock, trying to swallow him whole. He is quite an expert at it, pussy eating by now, and is one of the first things he does during the act, he never proceeds to fuck you without at least one orgasm before he gets his cock inside you. He uses both his fingers and his tongue, wanting to have you as wet as possible before he makes a move. One hand always goes up to your breasts squeezing them as the other one has fingers shoved inside you, the tip of his tongue flicking your clit. On the rare days he gets to eat you out for more than an hour, he cums like that shooting inside his pants. Some other times though he is even stroking his cock as you are drowning him with your thighs. Now when it comes to him, he is also cool with whatever you are comfortable with, if you don’t like it fast he will go slow. Even if he likes guiding you on his cock, he also wonders what you can do on your own so a lot of times he just relaxes and watches you do all the work. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Cassian can be anything he wants at the moment. Sometimes he likes it slow, sometimes depending on the day he had he likes it rough, and other times he likes barely moving all night as he is circling your nipples with the tip of his tongue. After a bad mission, he will take his frustration out on you, and on a good day, he will fuck you senseless out of happiness.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He likes quickies. He doesn’t mind at all, having some for a little bit until he can get more later or even on the days he won’t. He also doesn’t mind giving you some as a treat. He could do it several times a day if there is no premise for the night or a couple of times till he can. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Cassian is always game to experiment. He loves taking risks and trying new things. He loves knowing as much as possible as there is to know about the act and he loves trying new things and even new places. He also loves breaking in things and furniture like this.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Oh, Cassian can last. He can last well. He loves taking his time when he can to fuck you and pleasure and he almost always wants a minimum of two rounds if he sees you can keep it up he loves amping that to four. Those rare nights where he reaches seven times are his favorite though but it does take hours.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Well, depending on the narrative whether they exist or not in the universe, Cassian wouldn’t hesitate to use one. He knows the device could be beneficial to the overall experience and he does put your pleasure first and always. Now when it comes to sensory deprivations and tricks he is the first to suggest using them because it’s something he prefers. Whether on him or on you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Cassian loves teasing because he knows he will be fucking and commanding you later. He is going to start by whispering inappropriate things in your ear, making lewd comments, and very rarely touching you because he knows you’d find his voice more compelling for that and he also likes to smirk and wink or even lick his lips together. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Cassian can become loud if he wants to. Most of the time he might try to keep it quiet because the walls are never thin but when he can let loose, he makes sure anyone could hear him. He loves to speak during the act because he is overall a talker and between praises and degrading words, the biggest sound that hangs off his lips is your name. A constant repeat of it is like a prayer. He also has an extremely performative face during the act making you want to watch his expressions. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Cassian loves dancing. He loves to watch you move and swing for him and then give him a lap dance. He loves and craves it but he never ever asks for it. He loves the whole act of you grinding on him and him groping you as you go and likes it even more when all of this is happening during a public appearance. He is pretty exhibitionist like this. He loves the risk of being caught, knowing just three seconds ago he was just cumming inside you while now he is casually talking to someone else.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Cassian has a good physique. His body is overall lean and muscular with various scars covering from his harder days. The occasional tattoo symbolizes something important for him and of course, his favorite part is the marks frpm your teeth on his neck. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Cassian possesses a very high sex drive. He can keep at it for hours and he is always somehow up for it. He would never say no to a quickie, whatever body part it required, oral or physical sex. He likes it often so he almost never says no to it. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Sex is Cassian’s biggest stress reliever. It doesn’t take him long to fall asleep afterward, holding you close to his arms and rocking you slowly as he whispers sweet melodies against your ear. He loves the romance and the intimacy of the act because he doesn’t get enough love often so he makes sure to savor these rare moments as much as he can. When he falls asleep, he is usually naked with his cock still deep inside you and you sprawled on his naked chest, his hands keeping you warm. 

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[bropunzeling]

pov swap for linger - the breakfast scene after matthew stays over at leon's, where matthew says he has to leave for a game and leon tries to get him to stay until he doesn't?

[ty for this opportunity to procrastinate on a real fic. this isn't the whole scene but i hope you enjoy anyway.]

When Leon blinks awake to find Matthew still asleep next to him, he wonders if he’s still dreaming. It’s happened before. Looking over to find Matthew with his mouth open as he drools into one of Leon’s pillows, curls spilling everywhere, scent sticking to Leon’s sheets. Watching, waiting, until Matthew’s eyes crack open, and his mouth starts to curve into a smile.

That’s always the point when his alarm starts shrieking at him.

But when he dreams, his eyes are never rough from sleep, and his body is never aching like he’s been run over by an SUV. When he sits up slowly, trying not to disturb Matthew, Matthew rolls closer and makes a soft, cranky noise. There’s crease marks on his chest. The skin of his throat is red and blotchy, from right below his jaw down to the skin just above his collarbone.

Last night, Leon kissed that spot, breathed it in. Until Matthew’s scent permeated his entire body, lungs and ribs and heart. Until he knew, as surely as he knew anything, that he’d never forget it, that it would always be there, seared into his memory.

And Matthew had done the same.

Now he remembers it. Matthew, face tucked into Leon’s neck, chest shuddering as he inhaled and shook through another orgasm, holding onto Leon so tightly Leon’s almost certain there are marks. Matthew, opening his mouth as Leon kissed him, gasping over and over like he was just as desperate for it as Leon. And even before then: Matthew, saying that he thought about this, even last summer, even last spring. That he wanted Leon even then.

Carefully, Leon reaches over. Brushes his fingers along the long line of Matthew’s neck, down to the hollow of his throat. 

The skin is warm. Matthew’s throat moves under his touch as he breathes in, slow and deep. 

It was all real. Every part of it.

If Leon remembers right, Matthew will be sleeping for a while. It’s one of those things where he isn’t sure if it’s dynamics, or just that he’s a morning person and Matthew isn’t. In any case, he also knows that Matthew will be starving once he finally wakes up. Leon should probably get out of bed.

It takes a while, though. Hard to pull himself away from the heat of Matthew’s body, the spicy richness of his scent. His heartbeat, quietly thudding under Leon’s fingertips.

As he showers and gets dressed, as he heads into the kitchen and starts cracking eggs, Leon tries to figure out if he feels different. He has a vague idea that he should. He’d never asked Kim outright what scenting was like, but he hadn’t had to; she volunteered it over too many glasses of Rioja a few years back, when Leon’s knowledge of Matthew was contained to a single hotel room, a single night. It was weird she’d said, lips stained purple as she tilted her head back on her couch. It was like—everything was already there, you know? All the—she’d turned her fingers into claws, snapped her teeth. It just got a thousand times more intense.

If he’s honest, Leon’s pretty much felt like that ever since St. Louis. Since the moment Matthew threatened to find someone else if Leon didn’t fuck him right that second. He can still remember the way his vision had tunneled; how the skin of his back went hot, burning; how he was digging in his nails before he could stop himself, as if by dragging Matthew closer Leon could keep him all to himself. It wasn’t an impulse he was necessarily proud of, but it also hadn’t ever gone away. Had only ever gotten stronger. Every time he forced himself to stop, to wait, to make sure that this was what Matthew wanted, there was a part of him that wondered why he should. Not much of a baseline for comparison.

But he had been patient, and he had made sure, and last night he finally, finally got what he’d been waiting for.

Even thinking about that—having Matthew in his arms, watching Matthew tilt his head back, kissing Matthew’s throat and barely, barely resisting the urge to sink in his teeth—makes Leon’s spine go molten, his hands trembling hard enough that he gets eggshell in the bowl.

As he picks out the piece of shell, he can’t stop himself from snorting. Guess that answers that question.

By the time he starts whisking, he hears the noise of the shower running; by the time he’s putting the eggs on the stove, the shower’s off and he can smell Matthew’s scent. As the floorboards creak and the mix of cinnamon and dark, spicy sweetness thickens and eddies around Leon, he gives up on focusing on the food and turns around.

In the doorway, Matthew is standing there, watching him. He’s wearing Leon’s clothes—and there’s another spike of that hot, intoxicating want, because he’s walking around in Leon’s clothes, smelling like him—and there’s a drop of water from the shower running down his temple, and last night Matthew let Leon kiss him, and this morning Leon hopes he’ll get to do it again.

“Hey,” Leon says, setting down the spatula. “You sleep okay?” With every step towards Matthew, his desire grows stronger—instincts—but it’s more than that. He wants to make Matthew sit down at his kitchen island, pour him coffee, ask how his season is going. Listen to him, watch him, place a hand between his shoulder blades and rest his nose at the crown of Matthew’s head. They’ll have time before Matthew needs to leave, and Leon is greedy for every second of it.

Matthew’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

Leon frowns, steps slowing. He expected—he doesn’t know—but Matthew isn’t coming closer. Is standing there, just outside the threshold, unmoving. “Hey,” Leon says again. Even amidst everything else, instincts and need and want all tossed together, there’s something new churning in his gut. “You are okay, right?” Leon asks. Matthew’s expression is tight, almost uncertain. Fuck, what if he thinks Leon had changed his mind? Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten out of bed. Maybe he should’ve waited. Stayed there until Matthew woke up; proven that there was nothing that would take him away. “I didn’t—” Leon reaches out again, brushes Matthew’s neck, a gesture that’s already become thoughtless and easy. Second nature.

Under his fingertips, Matthew stiffens and stills. Leon’s stomach goes cold.

[bestiesenpai]

Somnophilia with big brother megumi…this has been cooking in the drafts for a while and I'm finally done

tw for incest

During the day, he’s too ashamed to admit how much he loves you. Cares for you. Craves you.

When the sun is out and there’s life bustling all around him, he tries as hard as he can to force the thoughts of you out of his head- thoughts of hugging you, kissing you, sticking his hand into your panties and making you cry as he shoves his fingers knuckle deep inside you.

No matter how hot under the collar he gets during the day, no matter how much you tease him with whines of ‘big brother’ without knowing how hard you’re making it for him to control himself, he doesn’t budge. Wouldn’t dare touch himself, the relief it would give him would be so wonderful but he couldn't risk indulging in something so dangerous while you were still awake.

At night, when there’s no one else awake and everything is quiet and only the moon knows his secrets, that’s when Megumi allows himself reprieve. That’s when he’ll curl up in bed or hug the wall of the shower and go to town. Fucking his fist and biting his lip so hard blood drips into his mouth, desperate imagination trying to make his hand into you.

And somehow, yet unsurprisingly, his control snaps one day. Seeing you in a short, breezy skirt trying to get something off the shelf, your panties fluttering into view - how could he possibly contain himself any longer? He walks on autopilot with only a single thought in mind, only one goal he has to achieve.

It’s all too easy to slip a drug into your drink in the evening, he offered to get you a glass of juice as he went to the kitchen and even had the time to crush it up so it would dissolve easily. As you faded out of consciousness, he looked out the window at the setting sun. Megumi was never so happy for it to be nighttime.

Carrying you into his bed, he simply watched you for a moment; just palmed himself and watched you breathe slowly. There were a million different things going on in his head, so much so that he was trembling as he began to take his shirt off. You looked so lovely, lying there on his bed with your head resting on a few pillows. Part of him wishes you were awake for this and the other part is glad you aren’t.

Gingerly laying over you and kissing your lips falls into groping you under your shirt which leads to pushing his hand into your panties. It all goes so fast that Megumi barely realizes he’s got you completely naked. It’s only when he stops to grab a condom that he takes a moment to breathe and drink you in.

Against his better judgement, he snaps a few photos on his phone. It’s not like anyone else will see them. Certainly not you. Forcing himself to slow down, he kisses you more gently, his fingers going lightly down your body instead of gripping so hard they might bruise.

Coming to the spot between your legs, his breath shudders as he swipes his fingers up your slit and finds you wet. Shifting so he's eye level with your cunt, Megumi spreads your lips with his fingers and groans at the sight. It'd be a missed opportunity not to shove his face into it.

And he doesn't miss a single moment, tongue swiping everywhere and wrapping his lips around your clit. The sudden action makes your legs jolt and a soft sigh fall from your lips, but you don't rouse from sleep.

"Y-you're amazing." Megumi gasps, speaking feverishly against your skin. Shoving his tongue inside you and rubbing his nose against your clit made his eyes roll back - this was heaven and he never wanted to leave. All the time he spent dreaming about this paled it comparison to the real thing.

Pushing his hands under your ass, he held your hips up and moaned at the new angle. He could see you better now, stare at your gently twisting face as he ravished you. Now Megumi wished you were awake, having no doubt that you would be screaming his name and gripping his hair between your fingers.

A soft groan from you was the only warning he had before you came, your thighs tightening around him briefly out of reflex. Drinking in your release, Megumi didn't stop, hungry for more. Dipping his head down slightly, he spread your ass apart and swiped his tongue along the puckered hole, fully rutting his hips against the bed as he became smothered in you.

Becoming absolutely lost between your legs, Megumi didn't notice the weak hand brushing his hair back, or the unfocused and glassy eyes staring down at him curiously. Making you cum for a second time, he glanced up at the sound you made; a long, melodic moan that made your head fall to the side.

"Shit." Catching your eyes, Megumi froze. He hadn't planned on you waking up, even if he did want it.

"B-big...brother..." Forcing the words out, you fixed your gaze to him. "Feels...feels good." A small smile flashed across your face and it eased Megumi's mind.

"You like this? Your big brother eating you out?" Biting his lip at your slow nod, Megumi gave your swollen clit a kiss. Forgoing words, he wrapped his lips around your clit again, content on listening to you moan instead.

"Fuck." The ache in his cock had grown too difficult to ignore any longer and Megumi teared away from you, right as your moans had pitched higher. You whimpered at the loss of sensation, but quieted down as Megumi rubbed your thighs.

"I know, I know." He soothed, grabbing the forgotten condom and putting it on. Pumping himself a few times to ease the ache, he situated atop you, grabbing his cock and lining it up.

"I love you." You whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck and staring at him.

"I love you too." Megumi replied, swiftly ducking down to kiss you as he eased his cock inside you. Groaning loudly into your mouth, he went slowly, wanting to savor the moment and not risk cumming too fast.

A shudder rippled down his back at bottoming out, his mind swam and Megumi nearly came. The sensation was enough to bring tears to his eyes. This was something he had craved for so long, dreamt and fantasized about so much it became an almost unhealthy sensation. Blinking rapidly, as Megumi made eye contact with you he knew you had ruined him for anyone else.

"God, I love you." Starting a slow pace, Megumi tried to be gentle with you. Tried to ease you into everything and not overwhelm you. But the more he moved, the less he began to care about all of that. Hearing the slap of skin, your slick mixed with his spit coating his skin, seeing your blissed out face as you took what he gave you - he had no hope of holding out.

"B-big brother!" Nails digging into his skin, your head pushed back into the pillows. "You...feel so good."

"Fuck!" He swore again, dropping his head down to the crook of your neck. Instinct took over as he forced your legs up and around him, hooking your knees into the crooks of his arms. Your feet slapped into him occasionally, but that was the last thing on Megumi's mind.

The squeal that came from you had Megumi sinking his teeth into your neck. He put all his strength into fucking you, feeling every inch of you and getting lost in it. Fucking you with reckless abandon, he knew he wasn't going to last long.

Your high pitched cries were music to his ears, half-baked words devolving into useless babble. Megumi seared this moment into his memory, having a fleeting thought of stopping and grabbing his phone to record so he could play it over and over again.

Letting go of one of your legs, his fingers snaked down to your clit, rubbing it furiously. Megumi delighted in how you writhed underneath him and how your cunt gripped him even tighter. Looking down between you, watching his cock disappear inside you, was his final straw.

Letting out an unabashed groan, Megumi spilled into the condom. He knew you had cum from how your body relaxed slightly but he didn't care. Pushing both of you into overstimulation, Megumi didn't stop until he was shooting a blank.

Gingerly letting your body go, he collapsed atop you. Sweat had your skin sticking together and his tongue darted out to lick at your neck, where the mark from his teeth was.

He withdrew from you slowly, quickly taking the condom off and tossing it away. As your overheated bodies calmed down, you shivered from the sudden cold.

"Here." Even though he was spent, Megumi rushed to grab a towel to clean you up. The effects of the drug were still in you, making it hard for you to do much else other than limply move your limbs.

Climbing back into bed once he was finished, Megumi threw the blanket over both of you, delighting in the way you cuddled closer to him. You peppered gentle kisses along his naked skin, sighing contently and letting yourself ease back into sleep.

"M'tired." You mumbled, earning a chuckle from Megumi. Rubbing a hand on your back, he kissed your forehead.

"Go to sleep then." But you were already falling asleep, not needing his words of encouragement. Hearing your slow and even breathing, Megumi settled into sleep as well, eager to see what the daytime will bring.

[starkstruck27]

Harringrove Week Day 5

Prompt(s): A Mix Tape (It's modern day though, so I made it a playlist), In the Front Seat of Neil Hargrove's Truck

Dialogue Challenge: "When I turned 18..."

Word Count: 10,001

Tw(s): none

Also, if you'd like to listen to the playlist I used to write this story, here's the link. There are more songs on there than are in the story, since it's my own personal playlist for Billy, but I hope you enjoy if you listen to it!

Wednesday, March 29th, 2023: 6:00 AM

Billy knew better than to keep his phone on when he was at home. He couldn’t even leave it on vibrate, lest he get a notification at the wrong time and his father remembered he had it. And even though Billy had bought it and continued to pay for it on his own, his father wasn’t above taking it away or even breaking it if it meant gaining more control over his son’s life. So he kept it on ‘Do Not Disturb’ at all times, and only turned on the vibrations once he’d left the house for the day. It wasn’t like anyone texted him all that much anyway, except for Max, when she needed a ride or something like that.

So when he woke up to his alarm clock at 6 o’clock sharp the morning of his birthday, he was more than a little surprised to find he had eight new messages, all from the same unknown number. He only had four numbers saved in his phone: Max, his dad, his step-mom, Susan, and his basketball coach. It was safer that way, in case his father decided to do a phone check, so that way he wouldn’t find anyone else and lord it over Billy. And even though he had most of his friend’s numbers memorized, this one he didn’t recognize. Still, he opened the messages out of curiosity, but it only left him even more puzzled.

Hi, Billy! Happy birthday! Hope it’s a good one!

That was all the first message said. It was time-stamped at exactly 12:00 that morning, and not even a minute passed before the next message was sent. It was a link to YouTube, nothing else, not even an explanation. The next five messages were the same, just YouTube links, nothing else. They had been sent every hour, on the hour, and the last one had just come in.

Billy sat and scanned over the links. This couldn’t be a spam number, because each link was different, and each one led to a different video. He didn’t know much about music, but he recognized some of the names of the artists. Rihanna, Gorillaz, and Lana Del Rey were all pretty popular with the kids at school, and Max had a thing for the first band that was sent, All Time Low. Still, this was weird. Who in the world would know that today was his birthday and would go out of their way to lose sleep just to send him a new song every hour?

He didn’t have a lot of time to think about it, though. It was already 6:10, and he wasn’t even dressed yet. He had to leave by 6:40 to avoid his father, so he put his phone in his backpack and went to his closet to get dressed, not bothering with a shower today. His hair looked fine from when he styled it yesterday, so after a few minor adjustments, he was about ready to leave. He snagged a piece of Max’s toast on the way out the door and grabbed his favorite blue thermos, and when Max finally joined him in the car, they were finally able to leave for school. 

While Billy had waited, he’d opened his phone back up and opened his messages, clicking the unknown number and then on the links. Each one, obviously, took him to YouTube, and he entered them into a playlist, simply titled 18. He hadn’t listened to any of the songs yet, but he started his car while he waited for Max so that it would be warm when she finally came out, and that gave his phone the opportunity to hook up to the bluetooth sound system. Max got into the car just as the first song began playing, the All Time Low one, called Weightless. 

“Since when do you like ATL?” Max asked, munching her toast and getting crumbs everywhere.

“I don’t, and watch where you’re eating for fucks sake!” Billy replied, muttering under his breath about how she was gonna have to vacuum his car after school.

“Then how come you’re playing them? It can’t be for little ol’ me, that’s for damn sure,” Max said, rolling her eyes and brushing more crumbs off of her lap.

“First of all, watch your fucking language. If your mother hears you talking like that, I’m gonna be the one in trouble, so quit it with the goddamn cursing. Second, someone sent it to me for some reason. They sent me a bunch of songs, so I’m gonna listen to them and try to figure out why,” Billy said, glancing at his phone. It was 6:45. Would there be another message when 7:00 hit?

“That’s weird. How many songs did they send?” Max asked, glancing at Billy’s phone screen, too, but she couldn’t see it very well.

“Seven, so far,” Billy said, the song changing to one he’d never heard of before. It was called Bukowski by some band called Modest Mouse.

“Mind if I see what they are?” Max asks, and Billy shrugged.

“Have at it,” he said, letting Max examine his phone. The seven songs on the playlist so far were listed in the same order they’d been sent, starting with Weightless and Bukowski, and followed by Umbrella by Rihanna, Video Games by Lana Del Rey, On Melancholy Hill by Gorillaz, Good Morning Sunshine by Aqua, and finally, Betrayed by the Game by a band called Dance Gavin Dance. 

“Huh. Seems like whoever sent them had trouble picking a genre, this is all over the place. So, who would have your number and would have a music taste this diverse?” Max thought out loud, then added, “It could’ve been-”

“It could’ve been anyone, Maxine, but that’s none of your business. When I want your theories, I’ll ask. Now shut your trap for the rest of the ride or I’m not giving you a ride to Wheeler’s house later,” Billy interrupted, not in the mood for Max to start up. Once she got herself started on trying to figure something out, she became relentless, and right now, he was too tired for that. Besides, he wasn’t sure he even wanted to know who it was sending him the music. What if it was some nutcase like that Carver kid on the basketball team, or that Muppet girl Tammy Thompson? Yeah, if it was someone like that, Billy really didn’t want to know. 

Thankfully, Max shut up after that and just listened as the songs played on their way to school. 

Wednesday, March 29th, 2023: 7:03 AM

Billy had pulled into the high school’s parking lot four minutes ago, and after letting Max out of the car, he waited anxiously until his clock changed to say 7:00. He’d listened to almost all of the playlist so far, and decided to finish it up in his car before the bell rang at 7:45 and he’d have to get to class. He was halfway through one of the songs when a notification came through on his phone, another link, a few seconds after the clock changed. He paused the song he was listening to and went to the message, finding another link and no words, just like the others. 

He added the song, called Far Too Near by AFI, to the playlist, and continued to sit in his car and listen until the latest song had finished, and hence, the playlist. It was only 7:17, but Billy went inside the school anyway, making sure to grab his earbuds from his center console before he did. He grabbed his thermos, too, and went straight to his favorite classroom, Mrs. Norcum’s. She was a young teacher, early thirties at the very most, and she and Billy got along like they’d been friends since childhood. She often let him eat lunch in her room, or spend study halls there, if he wanted a quiet place to read or work. She was one of those cool teachers that was up to date on all the latest trends, and she made her classroom a safe space for all her students. She was the kind of teacher that everyone always wanted, and were disappointed if they didn’t see her name on their schedule at the beginning of the year.

“Hi, Billy! Happy birthday!” Mrs. Norcum said as she saw him walk into her room, a smile bright on her face as she rummaged around in her Golden Girls lunch bag. She finally produced a cupcake with green frosting and sprinkles, gesturing for Billy to come closer so she could give it to him. Billy was one of her favorite students, and while she never showed favoritism when they were in class, she’d told Billy of it when they were having lunch a few months ago. 

“Thanks, Mrs. N. Is it cool if I make myself some tea?” Billy asked as he held up his thermos. Mrs. Norcum nodded and turned on her Keurig machine, then offered Billy the box of different flavors of tea. He chose the honey-infused black tea and dropped the bags into his thermos, then set it under the machine to brew.

“So, what’s new, birthday boy?” Mrs. Norcum asked as she put her selection of teas away. She opened the minifridge beneath her desk and pulled out the cream she kept in there, as well as a few sugar packets, and handed them to Billy as well as a spoon. 

“Not much. Max is getting on my fucking nerves again, but,” Billy shrugged again, watching as the machine spit hot water into his thermos.

“Since the bell hasn’t rung yet, I’m not gonna get on you about the cursing, but remember that not all your teachers are as cool as me, so you better watch it,” Mrs. Norcum said, giving Billy a wink as she watched him prepare his tea.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just kinda absent minded today. I started getting these weird texts this morning at 12 am and I’ve been getting more every hour, on the hour. It’s kinda freaky,” Billy said, putting the lid on his thermos and taking a sip of the scalding hot liquid. It tasted like heaven.

“What do you mean, ‘weird texts’? Like, weird in the way that you need to block the person or weird as in it felt like you woke up in an episode of Black Mirror?” Mrs. Norcum asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Weird as in someone sent me a message to say happy birthday and every hour after that they send me a link to a YouTube video so I can listen to a song. The songs are pretty good, the only thing that’s weird is that I don’t know who sent them. I made a playlist out of them,” Billy said, sitting in one of the bean bag chairs Mrs. Norcum kept in her room. Another thing about Mrs. Norcum was that she believed students learned best when they were comfortable, so she kept very few actual desks in her classroom. Mostly the students sat on couches and comfy chairs, and they could even sit on the floor if they wanted to. Billy almost always chose a bean bag.

“That reminds me of something I used to do,” Mrs. Norcum said, “Back in the 80s, when my parents were teenagers, people would make each other mixtapes, then when I was a teen in the 2000s, we made each other CDs, and now, kids send each other playlists. It’s kinda odd that this person isn’t sending the songs all at once, but it is intriguing. Let me know what becomes of it, especially if you find out who it is.”

“Will do, Mrs. N. See you later!” Billy said, leaving the classroom with his tea and heading for his homeroom.

Wednesday, March 29th, 2023: 8:14 AM

Billy was sitting alone in Mr. Murphy’s silent study hall, trying to get some work done for his history class, and listening to his playlist again from the beginning. Another song had come in at 8:00 on the dot, and he’d added it to the list as he listened to it. This time it was one he knew, mostly because of Max, called Tear in my Heart by Twenty One Pilots. He’d never admit it in his sister’s presence, but he liked it, and he was beginning to enjoy the mystery person’s eclectic music taste.

It was about halfway through the class period when Billy noticed Steve Harrington checking his phone almost religiously every couple of minutes or so. This wasn’t out of the ordinary for him, he almost always had his phone in his hand, always playing a game or checking his social media. But he usually put it down when he needed to, and as he and his friend were trying to work on a project, he shouldn’t have had it in his hand. 

“Steve, c’mon, you gotta help me. I know you’ve got a lot on your mind, but I need help,” his friend said. Billy thought her name was Robin.

“Yeah, I know,” Steve replied, glancing all over the room. Billy had stopped paying too much attention at this point, so he didn’t notice the other boy glancing back at him. “Just trying to figure something out.”

Billy had turned his attention back to his worksheet, his stomach twirling as he saw himself doodling a heart with an arrow through it over in the margins. He quickly turned his pencil over and erased it, feeling his face heating up as he did so. He knew he had a thing for brunettes with pretty eyes and bright smiles, but that didn’t mean he had come to terms with the stupid crush he had on the other boy. He’d realized it a while ago, but he’d pushed it down, knowing that it would go away after a while if he just ignored it. 

Only, it didn’t go away. In fact, every time he saw Steve laughing at something his friend said, sweating through his shirt as he ran around during basketball practice, or acting like a disgruntled mother when someone says something to one of the little gremlins he babysits, it only got worse. He was still doing his best to ignore it, but he couldn’t always ignore the way his heart fluttered when he saw Steve fluffing up his hair, or the way his breath got shorter when he saw him dancing his way through the halls with his headphones on. There was just something about Steve Harrington that made Billy weak in the knees, no matter how much he tried to make it stop.

Wednesday, March 29th, 2023: 9:43 AM

Another song had come in at 9:00, and Billy had been listening to it on repeat as long as he could. It was his favorite so far, called Achilles, Come Down by Gang of Youths. He’d spent more time researching the song, its lyrics, and the band that wrote it than he had paying attention to his algebra teacher, and he knew that it would come back to bite him in the ass later, but he couldn’t have cared less. He was more determined than ever to find out who was sending him these messages, because the song was so beautiful, and it made him feel so much, he just had to know who had shown it to him. Surely they couldn’t be one of the crazy assholes that went to school with him. It couldn’t be them. It had to be someone special.

As the bell rang at 9:55 to signal the end of class, Billy packed up his things and headed for the gym. He wasn’t particularly looking forward to it, since all they were doing today was walking the track, and even though it was almost 10:00, it was still fucking freezing outside, and Billy hadn’t packed a sweatshirt in his gym bag. 

As Billy got to the locker room, he saw that the spot by the door that was usually occupied by Coach Garven was instead taken by a short, stick figure like man with glasses that must’ve been at least four inches thick. Billy recognized him as one of the Hawkins’ substitute teachers, though he’d never been in a class where this guy was subbing. 

“Are you one of Coach G’s kids?” The sub asked as Billy walked over.

“Yeah,” Billy replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. He’d turned on the vibration feature on his phone ever since he’d started getting the messages, and now he was waiting anxiously for the next one.

“Alright, well, I’m Mr. Helfer. I know you guys aren’t supposed to have your phones on you in the gym, but since we’re just walking outside today, I don’t mind if you guys bring them. My only condition is that you have to check off your name on the attendance sheet by the coach’s office. We got a deal?” Mr. Helfer asked, and Billy nodded. Mr. Helfer nodded back and let Billy into the locker room, just as the bell rang. Not even a full second later, Billy felt his phone buzz with a text. He smiled.

Wednesday, March 29th, 2023: 12:31 PM

Billy had kept his earbuds in all through gym class, Spanish class, and now he was keeping them in through lunch. He typically ate in Mrs. Norcum’s room, but today she was busy, so he had to eat in the cafeteria with the rest of the student body. Three new songs had come in, including the one from gym class, and all were added to the playlist. It now contained 13 songs, but Billy still had no idea who was sending them. 

After the song at 10:00 came in, Billy thought it might’ve been that guy Eddie Munson. The 10:00 song was called Freaks by a band called Surf Curse, and while he and everyone else in Hawkins knew that Eddie listened primarily to metal, was it so far-fetched to think that he might be branching out a little bit? Especially since he’d gotten together with his girlfriend, Chrissy, because she was the complete opposite of him and was probably trying to expand his horizons when it came to music. 

But as soon as 11:00 rolled around and a link came through that led to Crocodile Rock by Elton John, Billy quickly scrapped that idea. Most people in Hawkins under the age of thirty had never even heard of Elton John, and some, like Eddie, openly hated his music with a passion. So, that was one suspect down. The problem was, Billy didn’t have a next one to look at. He was back at square one.

At 12:00, the song This Is The Best Day Ever by My Chemical Romance came through, and Billy started to observe the other outcasts around the school, thinking that it might be one of them that had somehow gotten his number and started sending him songs. He was especially suspicious of the goths, since they tended to favor music more than anybody else, but none of them had ever looked his way before, and none of them were looking now. So that was another flop.

Wednesday, March 29th, 2023: 3:30 PM

Roger Rabbit by Sleeping with Sirens, Cabron by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Gotten by Slash all came in at 1:00, 2:00, and 3:00 respectively. Now that the school day was over, Billy was a little sad, since he had to go to basketball practice and he’d have to stay until at least 5:00. Coach G had gotten back from his doctor’s appointment and he had a strict no phones rule, so he’d have to wait until he got back to the locker room to check it again, and Billy was not a patient person. Halfway through practice, though, when everyone was taking a short break to drink some water and stretch, Coach G pulled Billy aside.

“Hargrove! C’mere for a minute!” Coach G yelled, waving him over. Billy jogged over to him, still drinking from his water bottle as he stood in front of the older man.

“Yeah, Coach?” He asked, wiping some sweat from his brow. He couldn’t help but notice the clock behind the coach reading 4:01. 

“Listen kid, your pop has a pickup truck, right?” Coach G asked, looking up from his clipboard at the boy.

“Yes, sir,” Billy replied.

“Alright, good. Can you borrow it for a day? I have a shipment of new uniforms and equipment coming in two towns over in Goldville tomorrow, but I have another appointment and I can’t get out there. If I could get you out of class a little early, could you go and pick it up for me? Goldville is about an hour away, and the Sports Center you’d have to pick them up from is right at the entrance to the town. You think you could do that for me? I’ll pay you back for gas,” Coach G asked, clapping a hand on Billy’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I can do that. Just let me know what time to be down here,” Billy said, hoping he’d be able to leave early enough to miss Bio.

“Well, school ends at 3:00, so how about I get you out at 1:00, just after lunch? I think that’ll give you enough time to get there and back before all the teams leave for the night, and Coach Vargas should be here to help you bring the stuff inside before she goes home,” Coach G said, checking some papers on his clipboard.

“That works for me,” Billy said, shrugging, taking one final sip of water and crushing the plastic bottle in his fist.

“Good. Now, when you get there, go into the sports center and ask for Oscar. When you find him, tell him you came for the stuff that Howard Garven ordered, and give him this,” Coach G said, handing him a note scribbled on scrap paper with a phone number and his signature on it. “If he gives you any shit, tell him to give me a call at that number. I’m just getting some blood drawn, so I should be able to take the call, but it probably won’t be an issue. Oscar’s pretty laid back.”

“Yes, sir,” Billy said, taking the note. “I’m gonna go put this in my bag so I don’t lose it, is that alright?”

“Sure, kid, but hustle back. We’re not going to wait for you all day and we gotta get practice going again. And thanks again,” Coach G said, patting Billy on the shoulder again and blowing his whistle to get everyone else’s attention as he ran off for the locker room.

When Billy got into the locker room, he went straight for his locker, opening it as quickly as he could. Coach had told him to hustle, but he was determined to check his phone before he left again. There was no cell service in the locker room, and he didn’t have time to listen to a whole song anyway, but he was at least able to open his texts and see a new message, sent at exactly 4:00, pop up on the screen. He couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of practice.

Wednesday, March 29th, 2023: 7:13 PM

Billy was sitting on his bed, facing the door, his laptop in front of him as he worked on an essay for English. He didn’t have much homework tonight, thank goodness, and so he decided to just relax until Max finished helping Susan with the dishes. He needed to ask her a favor, but in the meantime, he decided to listen to the latest songs he’d been sent. He hadn’t gotten a chance to until now since his father had been home, and now he was anxious to hear them.

The song sent at 4:00 was called The Fall by half∙alive. Then, at 5:00, it was This Ain’t a Love Song by Bon Jovi. 6:00 brought the song Better by Guns ‘N’ Roses, which was actually one of Billy’s favorite songs of all time, though he doubted whoever was sending it knew that. Finally, at 7:00, The Red by Chevelle came through, and he’d just gotten through listening to it when he heard the sink turn off in the kitchen and the sound of Vans squeaking on the wooden floors of the hallway.

“Max!” He called from inside, just loud enough for her to hear. He didn’t want to alert his father or Susan, and he hoped he’d been quiet enough for that. Thankfully, he was, since the only thing he could hear after that was Max’s annoyed groan and the sound of his bedroom door opening.

“What do you need, fuckwad?” She asked, shutting the door behind her as she leaned on the frame.

“I need a favor, can you help me with something?” Billy replied, motioning for her to come closer.

“Depends. What is it?” Max asked, crossing her arms as she stood in front of him. That kid Henderson must be rubbing off on her, she never used to take this tone with him before. It made him want to smile a little, but he held it back.

“I need you to ask Neil if I can use his truck tomorrow. He won’t say no to you. Just say that you and one of your little friends did a big project that’s too big to take in any other cars, so you were hoping I could drive you and your friend tomorrow and we could put the thing in the truck bed. I need the truck for a basketball thing, but he’ll probably tell me no. He won’t say no to you,” Billy reiterated, hoping Max would just do it.

“What’s in it for me?” She asked, putting her hands on her hips now. Christ, she was getting too sassy for her own good.

“I’ll give you ten bucks,” Billy said.

“Make it twenty,” Max replied.

“Fifteen,” Billy sighed.

“It’s a deal,” Max grinned.

“You suck, shitbird,” Billy groaned.

“Yeah, and you swallow, assface. Now pay up and I’ll go ask,” Max said, holding out her hand with a smirk. Billy groaned again and gave her the money, then watched as she took a second to put on her best puppy-dog eyes and headed for the door.

“Oh, by the by,” she said, stopping and turning around just before leaving the room, “Did you ever figure out who was sending you those messages earlier?”

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. Either way, I’m not telling you,” Billy said, feeling his cheeks going a little warm.

“So that’s a no, then. Alright, whatever. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Max said, leaving. Billy couldn’t hear what was said in the living room, but a few minutes later, Max came in to get his keys so she could swap them with Neil’s. 

Wednesday, March 29th, 2023: 11:54 PM

Billy had been listening to his playlist for almost the past hour, trying to fall asleep. He didn’t think any more songs would be coming in since the day was over, and the next hour would be midnight, technically making it tomorrow, and thus, his birthday would be over. He had gotten Cherry Lips (Go Baby Go!) by Garbage at 8:00, followed by Sweater Weather by the Neighborhood at 9:00, Far Too Young To Die by Panic! At The Disco at 10:00, and Santa Monica by Everclear just about an hour ago at 11:00. There were still no actual text messages, but Billy found he didn’t really mind it. He loved his playlist and even though he’d like to know who sent it to him, he figured they must’ve remained anonymous for a reason, and he could respect that.

It wasn’t until 11:59 that Billy was once again surprised by his mystery text-buddy. One of the songs went quiet for a moment and his text sound played instead, making Billy crack his eyes open and sit up before squinting at his phone. He saw a message with actual words in it and clicked on the notification, sitting up for real and leaving his earbuds in, even though the music stopped playing on YouTube when he left the app. He rubbed his eyes a little and let them adjust to the bright phone screen, then looked at the two messages that had popped up almost immediately when the clock changed to the last minute of the day.

Hi, Billy. I hope you had a good birthday, and that you liked the songs. I just thought you might like them, and they made me think of you. Whatever. I just hope you liked them. Here’s one more. Happy Birthday!

“God, whoever this is texts like an old man,” Billy muttered to himself as he read the message, but he couldn’t help the coy, unavoidable smile that rose to his lips as he clicked on the final link. It opened YouTube again, and as Billy added the song to his playlist, he heard a piano intro begin. He read the title, Great Party by Frank Iero and the Future Violents, as the singer began to croon, then set his phone back where he had it and settled back into bed to listen and focus on the lyrics. 

By the end of the song, Billy was beginning to cry a little, but he blamed it on yawning too much. The song was pretty, and gritty, and heartfelt in a way he wasn’t expecting. He sat up again as soon as it was over and picked up his phone again, taking his earbuds out and opening his messages. He found the unknown number that’d been texting him all day and finally sent a message back, typing and retyping it over and over again to make sure he didn’t sound like an idiot. Somehow his cheeks still burned anyway.

Who is this? I’ve been trying to figure it out all day and I mean I like the songs but I kinda wanna know who’s sending them, y’know?

There was never a reply.

Thursday, March 30th, 2023: 6:10 AM

When Billy woke up and checked his phone again, he found three things that pissed him off beyond belief.

One, he’d woken up ten minutes late, and thus would have to skip either breakfast or a shower if he wanted to leave the house on time.

Two, he’d forgotten to put it back on the charger last night, so his battery was down to 23%.

Three, whoever had been texting him still hadn’t responded to his message from last night.

Thursday, March 30th, 2023: 12:45 PM

Billy had left lunch a little earlier than normal today. First of all, he’d decided to skip breakfast that morning, so he wolfed down his lunch as quickly as possible. Second, he had to go down to Mr. Kline’s room to drop off the note Coach G had given him to leave class early. Mr. Kline didn’t have a class during the junior/senior lunch period, and when Billy got to his room, he was almost always napping, so he knew he wouldn’t be disturbing anything important. Mr. Kline was still grumpy about being interrupted in his nap, but he took the note, gave Billy his homework, and sent him on his way. 

Billy then went towards the gym after stopping at Mr. Kline’s room, twirling his keys on his finger as he walked. He knew that Coach G had a class now, so he went into the locker room and sat on one of the benches, checking his phone again. He’d been able to charge it earlier and get it up to 100%, and now he was trying to play a game to kill some time before the coach came back. The reception in the locker room was still lousy, but he was still able to play for a little while until the gym class came back. 

“You ready to go, Hargrove?” Coach G asked as he checked his clipboard again. Billy would be surprised if he could put that thing down without having it surgically removed. 

“Yes, sir,” Billy said, patting his pocket where his keys were.

“Good. I’m getting ready to head out, myself. Now we’re just waiting on your partner,” Coach G said, shuffling some papers around.

“What?” Billy asked, confused.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you. I asked one of the guys from the team to go with you to help with some of the heavy lifting. You need to work on your team work, anyway, so I thought this would be a perfect opportunity. He should be here any minute,” Coach G said, putting his clipboard papers down. “If you want, you can go to your truck and I’ll send him out when he gets here.”

“Alright, I guess. See you later, coach,” Billy said, biting his lip as he walked out to his dad’s truck. He didn’t like most of the guys on the team, he could hardly tolerate some of them, so he was really not looking forward to spending upwards of three hours with one of them. But he didn’t have much of a choice at this point, so he bit his tongue and threw his backpack into the backseat of the truck and climbed into the driver’s seat, turning on the car. He plugged in the aux cord and opened his new favorite playlist, and he was just about to hit the shuffle button when the passenger door opened, and who should climb into the car beside him but Steve Harrington.

“Hey, Billy!” He said, all chipper as he put his bag on the floor between his legs. 

“Hey, Harrington,” Billy replied, a lot less enthusiastic, “You ready to go?”

“Whenever you are,” Steve said, buckling his seatbelt and smiling brightly. 

“Alright,” Billy said, abandoning the idea of putting on his playlist in front of Harrington and instead turning on the radio as he pulled out of his parking space.

“You can play whatever you want, I’m not picky,” Steve said when he saw Billy attempting to put the cord away. Billy stopped and thought for a second, but eventually took the cord out again, and once he got to the stop sign at the edge of the parking lot, he plugged it back in.

“Alright,” he repeated, pressing the shuffle button and praying that nothing too mortifying would start. It was Santa Monica, so he was safe. For now.

Thursday, March 30th, 2023: 1:36 PM

They hadn’t said much for the entire half an hour that they had been driving. In fact, the only sound in the car at this point was the music, which, despite the variation in the tracks, Steve didn’t comment on. Billy was sure he’d laugh when Umbrella came on, but Steve just smiled and listened to it, bobbing his head a little to the beat.

“I didn’t know you liked Rihanna,” he said after a minute, glancing over at Billy and keeping on his smile.

“I mean, who doesn’t like Rihanna?” Billy said, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks. “But yeah, I didn’t even make this playlist. Someone sent me the songs and I like them, so I put them together into one.”

“Hm. Well, whoever it was, they have good taste. I love Rihanna,” Steve said, turning back to look through the windshield as he began to hum along to the song. It was a nice sound, and Billy felt his stomach erupting with butterflies.

A few more songs played as the car traveled further down the highway. There were no more comments made by either boy as they drove closer and closer to Goldville. That is, until Achilles, Come Down came on and Steve’s entire face softened, a sweet little smile making it seem like he was a kid on Christmas.

“Oh, I love this song,” he sighed, “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Mine, too,” Billy replied, “And I had never heard it before until yesterday. But I love mythology, and I like the message of the song.”

“Yeah, same. The singer kinda sounds like Johnny Depp, though,” Steve said, laughing a little. 

“Now why would you say that? I’m never going to unhear it now,” Billy said, but he found he was smiling, too. 

“Hey, there are worse people to be serenaded by, right? I’d rather have Johnny Depp singing to me than, like, Orlando Bloom or Kiera Knightly,” Steve said, shrugging.

“Are you just naming the Pirates of the Caribbean actors?” Billy grinned, glancing over at Steve for the first time since they’d started driving. Seeing him so giggly and carefree made Billy’s heart skip a few beats.

“Shut up, they were the only people I could think of. But I meant it, I’d rather have Johnny Depp singing to me than anyone else. He’s handsome,” Steve said, pretending to fan himself like an overdramatic fangirl.

“Yeah, you’re not wrong,” Billy laughed, turning his face back to the road. He smiled a little when he saw a group of seven crows sitting on a power line, seeming to watch them as they passed. 

His smile quickly faded away during the second verse of the song, though, and was replaced by a look of something close to wonder as, after a few more moments of quiet, Steve began to sing along. 

He had a wonderful voice. It was smooth and silvery, as if he’d had honey coating his vocal cords, even though he wasn’t singing very loudly. Billy was completely enamored by it. And at the same time, he wished Steve would stop. He didn’t know if he’d be able to control his actions if Steve kept singing, and he didn’t necessarily want to find out what consequences that might bring. But Steve didn’t stop singing once the song had ended, nor after the next song, nor the next one. He sang along the rest of the way to the sports center, and only stopped when they got out of the truck. Billy had never been so relieved and so disappointed at the same time in his entire life.

Thursday, March 30th, 2023: 2:14 PM

The town of Goldville wasn’t a very big one. It wasn’t even as big as Hawkins. It had a tiny town square filled with shops, a large fountain in the center of a roundabout in the middle of the square, and at the North-most point, there was a church with a large clock tower overlooking the square. There were a few fast food restaurants on the road in, and a couple grocery and department stores scattered around the outskirts of the square, halfway between it and the houses making up Goldville’s suburbs. There wasn’t much else except for the schools and a few buildings that were most likely offices of some kind, and of course, the sports center.

It didn’t take them long to find it, though the GPS was due most of the credit. They traveled through the square, took two lefts, and soon they were pulling into the parking lot. It wasn’t a very big sports center, but in a town like Goldville, it didn’t need to be. They pulled into a parking spot near the front of the store and went inside, Billy twirling his keys on his finger again and Steve slipping his hands into his pockets.

“Oh, by the way, I was gonna ask,” Steve said as they walked inside and looked around for an employee, “I saw a games and comics store in the square as we got into town. Do you mind if we stop there before we leave? My friend has a birthday coming up and I wanted to see if they had anything I could get him for a present.”

“Yeah, the Henderson kid, right? Max was saying something about that,” Billy replied, tucking his keys away and shrugging. “I don’t mind. I was actually considering staying a little to look around the town, too. I like small towns like this.”

“Really? I thought you preferred big cities, what with the way you seem to hate Hawkins,” Steve said.

“I do like cities, I like the anonymity they give to a person. No one knows who you are or what you’re like, so they don’t pay you any attention, and I like that. And I like small towns because they just seem very quaint and friendly and like you belong there even if you’ve never been there before and you’ll never be there again. But Hawkins is different. It’s a big town, so the people there are nosy, and while everyone knows you, they know enough people not to care about you, unless they don’t like you, so you become a pariah. Big towns and small cities are the worst. I like big cities and small towns,” Billy explained, shrugging as they continued to wander around the sports center.

“ I never thought of it like that,” Steve said back, smiling shyly. Then he looked down one of the aisles of running shoes and stopped. He saw an employee at the end of the aisle, and nodded his head in his direction, signaling for Billy to follow him. Billy almost wanted to choke himself when he thought that he’d follow Steve to the ends of the Earth if only he asked.

Thursday, March 30th, 2023: 3:27 PM

It took an hour for the guys at the sports center to confirm, check, and help them load up the order Coach G had made into Billy’s truck, plus another ten minutes to secure the equipment with ropes. By the time Steve and Billy made it back to the square and found a parking spot, they were almost a half hour late in their schedule, but neither of them really cared. After all, Steve’s friend Robin was helping with lights and sound in the spring musical, so even if Coach Vargas was gone by the time they got back, Robin and the other theater kids would still be there to let them in. So rather than fret about time, they parked the truck and began to explore Goldville’s town square.

Their first stop was the comic and games store. It was called Throwback Games and Comics and had a picture of Marvel’s Squirrel Girl painted on the front window holding a bouquet of flowers for spring. Inside there were shelves of comics all along one of the walls, as well as figurines and other trinkets that were categorized by universe and publishing company. There were posters littering the walls, and life-size plastic statues of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in one of the corners. The other side of the store had tables set up with more figurines on them, as well as every type of trading card imaginable and about a million sets of those stupid dice Max collected. There were boxes of board games and guide books displayed on shelves all over, as well as a basket spinner full of stuffed Pokemon, Superheroes and other creatures. It was like being inside a nerd’s wet dream.

“The kids would absolutely lose their shit if I brought them here,” Steve said, looking around the store in wonder. “Maybe I can arrange a trip here for spring break.”

“You really care about those kids, don’t you?” Billy asked, fighting a dopey grin as Steve blushed.

“Yeah, I do. They’re all shitheads sometimes, but they can be sweet, y’know?” Steve chuckled as he took out his phone and opened his photos. “When I turned 18 was when I really got to know them, though. I didn’t really want a party, but Nancy insisted on throwing me one. I’d had a bit of a falling out with Tommy and Carol at that point, so she didn’t invite them, but that didn’t leave a whole lot of people she could invite, so she did the best she could. She invited Jonathan Byers, which meant Will was gonna come along, since he stuck to Jon like glue back then. Mike was obviously already there, and Dustin since we had just started to get close, and that didn’t leave a whole lot of other people to invite, so she told Mike to invite El and Lucas, too. Erica didn’t want to be left out, so she came with Lucas. It was the most awkward party I’ve ever been to in my life, but it wasn’t all bad. The kids started to take a liking to me, and when no one was around, they started coming to me for rides and stuff. It was a little annoying at first, I felt like I was nothing but a chauffeur to them, but little by little, things changed again. A few weeks after that party, El was having trouble at school, getting bullied because even though she’s smart, she wasn’t the best at reading or math because of where she lived before Hopper adopted her. But she was too scared to tell Hop what was going on, so she came to me instead. I helped her with the bullying thing, but I was also able to help her with some of the academic stuff, too, and her grades started improving. And when Will was getting ready to come out to Jonathan and his mom, he got scared of how they would react, so I went with him for moral support. I guess what I’m saying is that all my life, people told me that I would never amount to anything, that I was essentially worthless. But with the kids, I feel like I’m not only useful, but wanted. They want me around and that means a lot to me, since a lot of people don’t, so I try to be as nice and caring to them as possible, even if they make me want to tear my hair out sometimes. But this is a perfect example, look.”

Billy smiled at the photo Steve was showing him, a warm feeling bubbling up in his chest as he studied it. It was a Snapchat story that he’d saved to his phone, and it showed a selfie that El had taken of the group of kids and Steve in the Wheeler’s basement. The TV was showing a four player game of Mario Kart, and sitting on the floor was Steve, Dustin, Max and Lucas, all with colorful controllers in their hands. Max was cheering and pointing at the screen, Dustin had his hands thrown up in frustration, Steve was giggling and leaning forward to see better, and Lucas was shrugging with a sympathetic smile. Mike and Will were laughing together on the couch behind them, and El was smiling brightly between them and Erica, who was rolling her eyes. The caption read, ‘Game night with my friends! Erica thinks they’re all getting way too into it.’

“This was from a few weeks ago. Dustin had been talking so much smack about how he was going to win the little tournament bracket that we had set up, but Max had thrown a blue shell at him and knocked him down a peg. She didn’t win, either, Lucas did, but what really got me about this picture was that when I saw it later on El’s story, she said it was game night with her friends. I was the only one of the older teens that the kids hang out with that was officially invited, and even though Nancy was there because she lives there and Jonathan stayed for a little bit after dropping Will off, I was the only one that they said, ‘hey, we’re having a game night, you should come and hang out with us’. I don’t know, it’s kinda silly. Robin always makes fun of me for being friends with literal children, but I always just think about it like I’m the cool older brother that they like to hang out with, and it makes me feel pretty special considering that four out of seven of them actually have older siblings to pal around with.”

“Eh, I’d say only three out of seven. Max and I don’t really hang out much aside from being forced to,” Billy said, picking up a little figurine of a knight and smiling. “But I suppose you’re right. It is pretty special that they like hanging out with you as much as they do. And you’re good with them. Max is always raving about how cool you are and how much she loves hanging out with you. They’re all very lucky to have someone like you looking after them.”

“Max is lucky to have you too, you know. You give her rides and stuff and she told me about the time you made cookies for her school bake sale when Susan forgot to. Plus there was that time she said that one kid at school was picking on her for being a redhead and the next day he came to school with a black eye,” Steve said, putting his phone away and giving Billy a knowing look.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Harrington,” Billy replied, crossing his arms and looking away. Steve saw right through him, though, and he knew it.

“Sure you don’t,” he said, turning to look at some of the shelves, “But if I do bring the kids here over break, maybe you could start knowing what I’m talking about. I mean, my car only has five seats and there’s seven kids, plus me, so three of them are gonna need some other mode of transportation. Besides, we probably won’t be able to explore this whole town today in the time we have, so then we could walk around a little more and it might even be a little bit warmer out, too. There’s a lot of cute little shops here and I’d like to come back and look around them without having to worry about herding seven kids in the process.”

“I’ll think about it,” Billy said, knowing full well he’d be back here, surrounded by Steve and his gaggle of Hellions, in a few week’s time.

Thursday, March 30th, 2023: 4:36 PM

After going to Throwback, Billy and Steve began to get hungry, so they started looking for a place to eat. They figured that Coach Vargas would already be long gone by the time Steve had found a gift for Dustin, so they stopped worrying so much about time and decided to focus on satisfying their appetites instead.

Steve was the one to see the adorable, 1950’s style diner somewhere towards the West end of the square, and he suggested stopping there to grab a bite. Billy was up for anything at this point, so he followed Steve inside, waiting by the front for a hostess to seat them.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your order,” the waitress said. Her name tag said her name was Violet.

“Thanks,” the boys said at the same time, taking their menus from her and looking through them. They didn’t need long to decide, and when Violet came back, they both ordered simple burgers and fries with Cokes to drink.

“This place is so cute,” Steve said, smiling as he looked around the place from the small booth they were seated at. “I love places that are authentic like this. Like there are a lot of 50’s style diners, but very few of them actually get the looks right the way this one does.”

“What do you mean?” Billy asked, looking around the place along with Steve.

“Well, for one, a lot of authentic diners from the time period didn’t have a ton of pictures on the walls. They had some, but not a huge amount like most replica diners do. And another thing is the color scheme. A lot of diners would have only one or two central colors besides black and white, and they were most often red, blue and yellow, or blue and pink. This place only really uses blue and pink, with a few accent colors here and there, which is more true to the origins. Plus, they have an actual jukebox and no music playing without the jukebox being on, which is true to the time. The uniforms are another thing. All the guys are wearing short sleeve white shirts, white pants with black belts, and black bow ties, plus the little hats, and the girls are wearing 50’s style light pink dresses or poodle skirts. I just think it’s cool that they put that much thought into the place,” Steve explained, pointing out things as he mentioned them. 

“Huh, I never would’ve noticed, like, any of that. How did you pick it all out?” Billy asked, still looking around at everything. 

“I’m kind of a nerd when it comes to that stuff. You might laugh at me when I say this, but I absolutely love interior design. I was never given much choice on what my room looked like growing up, because my mother decided on all that for me, but I love seeing how it evolves through the time periods and stuff. It’s interesting,” Steve said, sipping on his Coke as Violet returned and set it in front of him.

“I won’t laugh at that,” Billy said, stirring the ice cubes in his own drink around with his straw. “Everyone has their thing, and if yours is interior design, then that’s honestly pretty cool. I don’t know anyone else who’d be able to tell me all the ways 50’s style diners are inaccurate portrayals of the real thing.”

“Thanks,” Steve said, and Billy was almost sure he could see a blush rising on his cheeks as Violet walked over with their food in hand. Billy couldn’t help but think about how pretty it was for the rest of the time they spent in the diner.

Thursday, March 30th, 2023: 6:06 PM

Billy stood at the gas pump, shivering as a cool wind blew through the gas station like a wind tunnel. The sun was starting to set and they were only halfway back to Hawkins, so by the time they’d get there, it would probably be pitch black out. Steve was inside the rest stop they were at, using the bathroom and going into the little convenience store area to get them some drinks for the way home. He had just come back outside as Billy finished pumping the gas, climbing back into the truck as Billy paid and already opened his drink, leaving Billy’s in the cup holder.

“Did you seriously go in there and buy yourself a bottle of Minute Maid orange juice?” Billy asked as he plugged the aux cord back into his phone and queued up the GPS.

“Maybe,” Steve replied, twisting the cap back on as Billy grinned at him.

“Only you, Steve Harrington. Only you,” he said, shaking his head as he smiled and pulled out of the rest stop onto the highway.

Thursday, March 30th, 2023: 7:17 PM

Thanks to a car accident on the highway, there had been an almost half hour delay in the two boys getting back to Hawkins, meaning they didn’t get in until almost 7:00. Thankfully, when they did get back, Robin and the rest of the theater kids were just wrapping up, so they were all willing to pitch in to bring all the stuff inside the school to where Coach G wanted it. After that, everyone went home, and Robin hitched a ride with another friend who lived much closer to her, even though Steve offered to give her a ride like he always did. She and her friend drove off, and soon enough, it was just Billy and Steve in the parking lot.

“I had fun with you today,” Steve said as he grabbed his backpack out of the truck, tossing it over his shoulder.

“Me too, Harrington. You’re actually a lot more interesting than you look,” Billy grinned, leaning against the side of the truck.

“If anyone else had said that, I’d take offense to it, but coming from you it’s probably the best compliment I’m gonna get, so I’ll take it,” Steve smiled, and Billy swore he could see him blushing in the dim headlights.

“So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then, right?” Billy asked, smiling back as he climbed back into the truck. Only, something seemed off. Steve wasn’t smiling now as much as he was biting his lips, almost like he was in the middle of making a tough decision.

“Yeah, of course,” he said, fiddling with his bag strap. “Only, there’s just one more thing I wanted to tell you. I wasn’t going to, I was too chickenshit, but Robin said that if I don’t tell you tonight, she’ll tell you tomorrow, so it was up to me.”

“What is it, Steve?” Billy asked, looking at him with concern in his eyes. “C’mon man, get back in the car. It’s cold out and you look like you’re about to dump a whole lotta words on me all at once, so you might as well sit down for it.”

Steve nodded and climbed back into the truck, but he still took a moment before speaking, as if he were searching for the words to say.

“It really isn’t going to take too long, it’s just something I have to tell you about…” he paused, taking in a deep breath, “About that playlist from earlier. Y’know, the one that mystery person sent you. Well, it wasn’t exactly a mystery person.”

Steve paused again, taking another breath before looking up at Billy, straight into his eyes.

“I was the one who sent it,” he said, “I wanted to, I don’t know, I guess just try and make your birthday a little bit better since Max told me that you don’t really like it and I also wanted to try and subtly tell you how much I like you without saying straight to your face. But I thought that if I told you who I was, you might not keep checking the messages and I didn’t want that. And I was gonna tell you earlier when you first put it on when we were driving, but I got nervous and-”

Billy cut him off then, he’d heard all he needed to hear. He reached forward and grabbed Steve by the front of his shirt and pulled him in, crashing their lips together as softly as he could. It wasn’t magic and fireworks and all that, but it was the most amazing kiss Billy had ever been a part of, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. And Steve was kissing him back just as fiercely, moving his hands to hold the sides of Billy’s face until it ended, leaving them both smiling like fools.

“I wish you would’ve told me from the start it was you,” Billy said, “I would’ve done that a lot sooner.”

“Well, had I known that, I wouldn’t’ve even made a playlist,” Steve replied.

“Don’t say that, I love my playlist. You did really good with it, showed me a lot of great songs I might not’ve listened to otherwise,” Billy said, a blush painting his cheeks as he tucked some of Steve’s hair behind his ear.

“I’ve got a lot more of them, you know,” Steve said, taking Billy’s hand and kissing his knuckles. “Maybe you can come over to my house tonight and I can show you some more.”

“I’d love that,” Billy said, beaming brightly.

“And I love you,” Steve replied, kissing it off his face. 

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Complementary: Two Halves

So I know you *just* wrote Complementary, but it was so good and I’m already thinking about more, like how do the other sides react/apologize to Remus? Especially Roman and Janus! - stealing babies

HELLO YOU *POINTS* YOU ARE SO COOL AND ALL YOUR WRITING MAKES ME WANNA BITE DOWN ON MY TEETH CAUSE IM SMILING SO MUCH YOU HAVE AN AMAZING WRITING STYLE AND FUCKING BRILLIANT SENSES CAUSE YOUR WORDS EVOKE EMOTION AND ITS SO SO COMFY AND IM INSPIRED BY YOU *inhale exhale* im sorry if that comes off too strong, your writing makes me Feel Good Things(TM), please keep doing your thing :D i also have a sander sides request *jazz hands* that is entirely optional, if you happen to stumble upon an opportunity to do more with roman and remus together bonding and playing with each other as reconciled adults cause they didn't get to do that often when they were kids (like shenanigans yk tattling on each other, tickle fights and rough housing all in good fun, and *whispers with faux conspiracy* brotherly affection) then that would be dope as fuck!!! BONUS points if all the other sides or even c!thomas watch and shake their heads fondly like "what sillies they are, can't take our boys anywhere" - anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: body dysphoria, not taking good care of yourself, borderline self-harm I guess?? meltdowns

Pairings: none

Word Count: 2911

    Some days he can't put on all the masks and disguises and armors. Some days he just needs to be messy.

He shoves food into his mouth just so if someone asks if he ate, he doesn't have to lie, shoveling bread and cut-up vegetables into himself over the sink, pausing to breathe until he's had enough to constitute dinner.

Off with his clothes. They itch and rasp against his skin like sandpaper because how dare he feel sensations, how dare he try to exist in the world without protection from it, and so off they come in the bathroom as he turns the shower on high. He gives himself time to run a brush roughly through his hair before he jumps in.

The water hisses and crackles and he's somehow still cold.

He shoves shampoo along his scalp with all the finesse and tenderness of a push broom. How dare his body express its own needs and require maintenance when all it does is betray him? He squeezes his eyes shut in punishment as the suds run down his wretched face.

Sharp nails scratch against his scalp and the zing of the suds against the hot water tears through the boiling haze in his brain.

So he does it again.

And again.

And again.

When all the shampoo is gone he keeps going, moving down his neck, his chest, his arms, his legs, his back, anywhere and everywhere he can reach as dead skin starts to peel off of him in waves and waves of little gray pill-shaped balls.

He doesn't stop until he has to pick them free from his nails.

He shoves a brush roughly under them to scrub away the bits that got stuck there and turns off the shower. He towels off brusquely and rakes his hair back from his face.

Scrub your face like you can rub it off if you try hard enough.

Scrape the toothbrush along your mouth as though it can clean your words too.

Drag a comb through your hair and shove it back so you don't have to look at it anymore.

Hurt and hurt and hurt and hurt and hurt.

No one is here and he can be as messy as he wants.

He slaps the wall to turn out the lights and drags sleeping clothes on and flops gracelessly onto the bed. The sheets are cold and rough against tender and scratched skin and he rolls around like a guilty pig in the mud, horrific in his tangibility. Manic energy that fizzles and strains like rope keeps him moving as he gets dizzy and sore and still he keeps moving.

Don't you see, part of him screams, don't you see how hard I have to work to keep this hidden? Don't you see how much effort I put into not being so horrible and disgusting?

Don't you understand how awful it is to be trapped in this wretched body? Do you honestly think I do all of this on purpose, that I would choose to be this thing?

His mouth opens and his jaw aches to bite.

But bite marks are obvious. Bite marks can be noticed. Bite marks can be pointed at and asked about and scratches can be anonymous.

So he doesn't bite.

But oh, god does he want to.

When he's finished, when the worst of the energy is gone and he's given up completely, he can pant against his sheets and crawl under the covers to bury his face in a pillow.

There is freedom in being a mess.

And none more so in realizing that no one could ever grow to care for such a wretched thing and perhaps that is the greatest freedom of all.

I am weak, my love, and I am wanting.

A line from a song he'd heard in passing that crawled through his brain like a livewire. Weak because he was too fragile and breakable to ask for what he wants, and wanting because he was shamefully weak and unable to pass through the world by himself.

In these shameful moments during weak and wanting times, he allows himself to dream.

Dream that someone would notice his hands were hurting and reach out to take one in theirs, pulling it into their lap and helping to coax sensation back into it.

Dream that someone would come to him and just hold him without first lecturing him on how foolish and arrogant he'd been.

Dream that someone, somewhere, somehow would be capable of loving a mess.

But he is too much ashamed and too much ruin to allow such dreams to become hopes. That's not his job.

He clutches pillows instead, cuddles into something that can't shy away under the covers of fabric and darkness. He tries in vain to fight off the voices that remind him how little anyone touches him; tensing, flinching, pushing him away, or cursory shoulder pats that feel like ash on his skin.

Too loud, too brash, too messy.

He really does try not to take it so personally but sometimes…sometimes his hands have other plans and he drops whatever it was that he'd been holding.

Which only makes a bigger mess.

He closes his eyes tighter and hugs the pillow.

Tonight is already shameful enough, he can let himself dream too.

A dream that maybe would come and just think to check on him. A dream that wouldn't lead with accusations and disappointment. A dream that would ask if he ate out of concern and not worried skepticism.

Yes. Yes, he can dream about this dream.

The dream would come in and softly ask if he's okay. If no answer came, they would come closer, close enough to sit on the edge of the bed. Maybe they would reach down and feel around a bit to find his head before lifting up the blankets.

The dream might see his face, upset and weak and messy, and let out a sympathetic noise. Maybe they would ask if there was anything they could do to help and mean it, not just use it to start another lecture.

Maybe…maybe the dream would want to touch him.

Maybe the dream would lie down too, carefully situating themselves under the covers and reaching out to cup his face. The dream's hands would be warm and gentle as they moved closer so the pillow was in between them. They might smile and tease softly about how they were a much better cuddler than the pillow.

He clutches the pillow a bit tighter out of reflex.

But the dream would coax it away. But lightly, as if they were taking a blanket from a frightened pup so it could be wrapped around them properly. The dream would settle it near the headboard and smile softly to say there, that's better, and—and—

A horrible strangled half-sound leaves his throat and his teeth sink into the pillow before he can stop it.

Oh, he is awful, truly, he can't bite the dream, he can't be such a mess—even the dream would be affronted and pull away from him at that—he can't—he can't—

But maybe…maybe it would be okay? If—if he just bit their clothes or something and not—not them?

They might say it's just clothing, it's nothing so bad. The dream might say that he can bite if he needs to but it might be better to chew on something soft.

…what would it be like to have someone who…who cared like that?

To have it be okay to be a mess and not have to stop it?

This dream is going to make him cry, isn't it? All over its metaphysical self.

That's okay too, the dream would say, you can cry. There's nothing wrong with crying, crying is alright.

They would take him gently into their arms and—and just hold him and that would be okay and—and—

Shh, shh, it's alright. Don't hurt yourself trying to stop it.

He bites again. Harder.

Breathe, I need you to breathe. You're hurting yourself, that's it, just hold onto me.

His grip tightens on the pillow until it groans in protest.

I'm right here. You're alright. It's alright, I'm not leaving. You have me, see? It's alright, it's alright.

It's not alright.

It is, Re, I promise it is.

Dreams can't promise.

No, maybe not, but I can.

You're a dream.

I'm not, Re.

Yes, you are.

Open your eyes, then, look at me.

That is cruel. To give him hope like that and then rip it away and make it seem like his fault.

Open them, Re, I promise.

He shakes his head. He won't do it. He can't.

…why does his pillow smell like that?

"Re?"

…no.

"Re, come on, I'm right here."

No.

"Shh, shh, Re, come on, I got you."

But—but—

"It's not a dream, Re, it's not. Just open your eyes, Re, look at me."

And because he is weak and he is wanting, he opens them.

"Re," Roman murmurs, looking far too tender and far too real, leaning down to brush the tip of his nose against his forehead, "oh, Remus, I'm so sorry."

Roman is here. Roman is here and Roman is holding him and Remus is crying, sobbing, shaking in his brother's arms.

"I'm right here," Roman keeps murmuring, "I'm right here, okay? I'm right here and I'm not letting go of you. I've got you."

"R-Ro—Roro—"

"Yes, it's me, it's Roro, I'm right here. I'm so sorry, Remus, I'm so sorry for everything, I've been so awful to you—"

"Ro-bro."

And because Roman is still his other half, even when they haven't been whole in years, he knows exactly what to do. He rolls over so he's squishing Remus into the bed with their chests pressed together so Remus can feel him breathe, grounding him against the cold sheets and he feels warm, warm, warm.

"Right here," Roman says again, "right here, Remus, I'm right here."

"Roman," Remus can't stop chanting, "Ro, Ro, Ro, Roro, Roman, Ro-bro, Roro—"

"It's okay. It's okay, Re, it's okay."

Remus collapses into a mess of crying and clawing and biting, attacking Roman's clothes with a borderline desperation, trying to shove himself into Roman's chest, drunk and high off the realization that Roman is here.

Roman lets him. Doesn't pull away, doesn't shy back, doesn't even flinch.

Just stays.

It's the greatest gift anyone could ever have given him.

"I'm sorry," Roman murmurs again when he finally sags into the bed, exhausted, "I'm sorry I left."

"You left," Remus parrots, still swimming in the pressure of Roman holding him like he's something precious, "you left me."

"I know. It was wrong and cruel and I wish I could take it back. I wish I'd never let them separate us. I wish—I wish I'd been there for you."

"You left…but you came back."

"You're my brother, Re," Roman mumbles and his voice feels thick, "you're my brother and I love you."

The words punch a hole clean through Remus's chest and he sobs again. "You left me. You left me and—and it's so cold, Roro."

Without letting Remus go, Roman reaches down and tugs the blankets over them. It grows hot and unbearable in no time and there's nowhere Remus would rather be. He turns his head, almost in disbelief, and presses his teeth lightly to Roman's shoulder again.

"Did…did I hurt you?"

"No."

"But I…I was so messy."

Roman's quiet for a moment, then his grip tightens even as he leans up and away, just so he can peer down at him. Roman's eyes are red and swollen too, he's been crying into Remus's shoulder too? "You're messy and you're still my brother. I don't care if you're messy. I don't care, you hear me? You're Remus and your mess is great because it's yours."

"But you—you hate my mess. You said it's everything you don't want to be."

"I am not you. I don't hate your mess. I love your mess because it's yours and I could never hate you." Something pained crosses Roman's face. "I…I tried. It didn't work. I still loved you even when I hated it."

"You did?"

"I did. And then—then I realized that I didn't give a fuck about what they thought of you because you were Remus and you were—messy. I like it when you're messy because that means you're being you."

Something thick and heavy rises to the back of his throat. "You…you like my mess?"

Roman's expression softens and he sniffles too. "Yeah, Re. I like your mess. I don't—I won't lie and say I get it all the time or that I want to be messy too, but I like your mess."

His teeth sink into the fabric over Roman's shoulder before he can stop it.

"Is that—is that good? Is that okay?"

He nods as best he can without letting go and he knows he doesn't imagine the way Roman sags on top of him.

"Good," he pants, "good, I…I really miss you, Re."

A pained whimper leaves Remus's throat and he clutches Roman tighter. Roman lets him, lets him pull him as close as he wants, gently murmuring into the curve of his neck. It's okay. I'm here. You got me. I love you.

Roman is hopes and dreams and Remus is weak and wanting. And so when Roman quietly offers to spend the night, just so Remus knows next morning that this can't have been a dream, Remus tells him that he'd better get comfortable because he's not allowed to leave until breakfast.

Maybe not even after that.

Things are better now.

He still has to put on all the stuff to go and interact with the others for long periods of time, but he can stand next to Roman and play with his stimtoys when things get too much. He can go out into the Imagination and not have to worry about hiding things because Roman is there too, spurring him on and making sure he knows that he can make whatever he wants because this is their domain, no one else's. He can curl up in the safety that Roman gives him and not have to worry about being ostracized for being a mess.

It's more than he ever dared hope for.

And Roman loves him for it.

He tackles Roman for the first time when Roman shows him the kraken lake he's been working on for Remus and Roman lights up at the idea that he can show Remus affection like that. He playfights with Remus in the Imagination and they both end up covered in grass stains and dirt more times than he can count. Roman tackles him into the lake once and they spend the day tearing up old kelp so that the babies have enough free space to swim. He curls up around Roman on the beach as they laze in the sun like overgrown housecats and Roman sings him stupid songs they came up with when they were younger.

And when he needs to be messy and have someone else just be there, Roman conjures a massive nest of blankets and soft things for them to roll around in so they don't hurt themselves. He wraps Remus up in blankets until he's a little Side burrito and they watch kid's shows that make them feel like they're still Creativity. He lays his head on Roman's shoulder and chews on his necklace that Roman gave him and it's okay that he's a mess.

He's Roman's mess and Roman's his brother again.

And that's all okay.

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[moremaybank]

having sex with klaus mikaelson (headcanons)

having sex with klaus mikaelson

warnings: sexual content below, 18+ readers only

klaus masterlist

i think it’s pretty safe to say that this man knows what he’s doing

he learns everything about your body

what spot on your neck drives you the craziest when he kisses it

which pace you prefer when he’s pounding into you

do you like it slow and sloppy?

or do you prefer it fast while he’s hitting your perfect spot with every thrust?

he’s constantly chasing your lips while he’s drilling into you

your tongues meeting in searing open-mouthed kisses

his hand is wrapped around your neck so he can make sure your eyes are always on him

“eyes on me, love. i want you to watch me while i make you come”

him leaving love bites all over your breasts, collarbone, and your neck

him loving to tease you

he really drags it out but when he finally lets you finish it’s amazing

you listening to his every command

him loving it when you’ve fallen to your knees so you can wrap your lips around him

and when you look up at him through your thick lashes from your kneeling position on the floor, your tongue playing with his tip?

he’s done for

him grabbing all your hair and wrapping it around his fist as leverage for when he fucks you from behind

whispering downright filthy words into your ear

but also sweet words of love and adoration

kisses up your spine while he’s putting all his power into his thrusts

klaus being mesmerized by your tits when they bounce in his face as you bounce on his cock

“use me to get yourself off”

every time you throw your head back in pleasure, klaus takes the opportunity to adorn your sensitive skin with bruising kisses

crying out his name uncontrollably because he’s hitting it so well

threading your fingers through his curls and urging his mouth closer as his tongue swirls around your clit

damn near losing your vision when he makes you come with only the tip of his tongue

“what a sweet and perfect little cunt”

klaus ravishing you anywhere and everywhere

against the wall

on his desk in the study

against the bookcase

in the shower

look, i said everywhere

sometimes he fucks you in front of the mirror so you can see how pretty you are while you’re coming around his cock

this is a big plus because he can see all of you from more than 1 angle

“you take my cock so well. my filthy little angel”

his grunts and groans being the sexiest things you’ve ever heard and they spur you on even more

him making you sit on his face despite your arguments

“sit on my face and ride my tongue, sweetheart”

“i’m too heavy, i’ll crush you”

“i said sit, not hover”

klaus having a breeding kink

being inside you raw, not to mention him imagining you as the mother of his children

the thought alone could make him bust

he makes full use of anything he can find

like the nutella he grabs from the kitchen

he lightly drags it along your skin, following the action with his tongue and lips

he also loves spraying whipped cream along the valley between your breasts to your belly button, licking it all up with that perfect mouth of his

him loving it when your cries are filling the room, and going directly into his ears

he ties you to the headboard sometimes so you are completely at his mercy

he also isn’t afraid to blindfold you and surprise you

you’re his perfect little slut and you never doubt that he’s going to have your needs completely fulfilled

~

a/n: smutty headcanons have just really been doing it for me lately

[astroboots]

TROUBLED WATER

Summary: Santiago learns to enjoy the simpler things in life like a nice long bath while being pampered by his favorite people

Pairing: Santiago x female reader (you) x Frankie

Warnings: handjob, polyamorous-relationship, explicit af M/M 😉smidge of angst. This is very tame for me.

Wordcount: 3,900 words

Homecoming Universe | Astroboot’s Masterlist

Santiago has never been particularly fond of baths. He blames it on a lifetime of being in the military followed by an equally unforgiving career in private-hire militia that has conditioned him to get by on brisk showers and icy water when required. That doesn’t mean that Santiago is an animal. He cares about his grooming habits. If Lady Luck is actually smiling on him and he lands a placement where he has the luxury of hot running water, his favourite indulgence is to take a long and scalding hot shower. The kind that burns away the muck and grime of cling film plastered against every inch of his skin. When he’s afforded those opportunities, he likes to take his time to scrub and clean away every inch of sweat and blood on him until his skin is raw and born anew.

A bath is not at all the same thing. It never provided him with the same searing satisfaction that felt like he had shed his old skin. He never understood the commotion about it. To him, that’s just stewing in the water of his own filth and a complete waste of time.

So you can’t really blame him for his skepticism as he is standing two feet away from the filled bathtub as the whole bathroom is suffocating under the fumes of thick steam and an obnoxious minty scent stinging his nostrils.

It’s comical. The bathtub in the main bathroom of the house is massive. A classic clawfoot tub that is large enough that it could easily house a killer whale. He never knew they made them that big. Can’t imagine where on earth you and Frankie had managed to get ahold of it. His working theory is that you must have purchased it from a fire sale at Seaworld.

You’re looking at him expectantly. A look that tells him you know what he’s thinking, because you’ve strategically placed yourself by the doorframe blocking the only exit.

“It’s nice,” you promise. You take a few steps towards the bathtub with the movements of a professional basketball defender, making sure that if he tried to escape he would have to go through you. Which he won’t of course.

When you reach the tub, you drop the glittery, blue-pink orb in your hand that is the size of a tennis ball into the bath. The moment it makes contact with the surface of the water, it wails with the sounds of a wounded creature, even hisses as if in pain. Then the clear aqua turns into a blue and pink sludge. The murky consistency reminds him of the toxic water he’d once had to wade through for a mission in Cambodia that left him with a bright blotchy rash everywhere it touched.

Yeah— he’s not doing this.

But you know him. You know him so fucking well. He doesn’t even manage to take one step, before you hook your fingers between his belly and the towel wrapped around his waist. You tug him towards you, voice sweet and candied in that way you do when you are going to have him wrapped around your finger within seconds.

“Give it five minutes.”

Santiago doesn’t budge, which should be a sign of protest that he’s not giving in. But the problem is that he’s not really making any move to leave either, and you both know that that’s as good as a surrender in his book. All that you need to do is give him a final shove before you have him stepping right over that steep cliff for you.

“Five minutes,” you repeat, with a small smile playing at the corner of your lips that is ridiculously infectious even when he knows it’s spelling his doom. “I’ll even throw in a handjob.”

“Deal.”

As cliché as Santiago finds candlelight to be, it undeniably creates a soft and romantic atmosphere that will put any person at ease. Never one to do things half-assed, you have gone great lengths of lining up over a dozen of sturdy pillar candles along the edge of the bathtub and turned your bathroom into a votive altar.

“You know, if you don’t like how Frankie did the house, we can just tell him. No need to try to set it on fire,” he jokes because he’s an asshole like that, and you snort with laughter. But it’s clear that you went out of your way to do this for him, and even an asshole like Santiago can’t help but be touched by that.

Santiago is lying on top of you, head resting on your collarbone, with the softness of your breasts pressed up against his back. Your plump legs are caging him in from behind, and with every breath he takes in, the scent of peppermint and cedarwood from Frankie's shampoo, your buttery showergel, and God knows what else that has come to smell like home to him fills his lungs. In the warmed water, pressed as close to you as he is, you are wrapped around him like skin and flesh to bone, and in every sense of the word, he is surrounded by you.

And all of this is... for lack of better words just— “this is nice,” he murmurs, contentment seeping into his skin and it takes him a few seconds to even realize he’s said it out loud.

You don’t answer him, and he can’t see it, but he swears he can feel the smile pressed against his temple. You’re so fucking pleased with yourself, it’s almost endearing and he can tell you’re fighting your absolute hardest to resist the urge to do a victory lap and sing out “I told you so.”

You just hum, as you press your lips along the line of his jaw. You run your fingers through the wet locks of his hair, teasing the stray curl lying wetly against his forehead back into place. Your ginger touch lingers in him and furls into something altogether warm and pleasant until it has him melting into you.

“Do you want me to wash your hair?” you ask with a soft whisper in his ear that makes the back of his neck pleasantly tingle.

His mouth parts, but he’s become so comfortable between your thighs he’s forgotten how his vocal cords used to work. It turns out that the brief moment of delay costs him, because before he has the chance to answer yes, he’s interrupted by the intrusive ringtone of your phone.

You wriggle yourself out from behind him with a resigned sigh, hoisting yourself up onto the edge of the bathtub as you climb out. For a moment, Santiago is transfixed by how your skin glistens from the sheen of wetness, so busy taking in soap suds decorating the dips of your collarbone and the slope of your breast that he doesn’t even register that you’re getting out of the bath to reach for your phone.

“I’m sorry,” you say with a scowl as you look down at the caller ID. “I have to take this. You should stay though, don’t let the water go to waste okay?”

You put one hand over his arm, to encourage him, and it’s only then that his one remaining brain cells start to put one and one together.

“No,” he groans in protest, “tell them to fuck off. Better yet, give me the phone and I’ll tell them.”

Leaning over the tub, you press your lips to his cheeks. “Don’t be a baby.”

Your lips continue upwards, nose nudging along his temple until his muscles wind down at the touch, and you guide him back onto his back alongside the bathtub.

“Stay,” you order, your eyes pinning his, and he finally does as he’s told, leaning back until he’s lying on his back against the porcelain surface.

It’s only then that you pull away from him, and he’s left to watch you leave, with the door left wide open behind you.

He doesn’t know how long he waits, but it feels like a Goddamned eternity. How long can a phone call last, anyhow? He swears to God, if it’s that hypochondriac physics teacher at your school panicking about a dead hamster again, he is going to flip his lid. The man needs to learn how to google the nearest pet shop and stop bothering you about every minor mishap in the world.

A bead of water trickles down his temple, tickling the side of the face, and Santiago wipes it away, irritated. He doesn’t even know if you are planning on coming back. All he knows is that as he sits there in the tub, he’s feeling increasingly stupid.

Sighing, Santiago tilts his head back against the edge of the tub and stares up at the blank ceiling in the hopes it might offer him some sort of a distraction. Instead all he feels is a certain stubborn itch that starts under his fingernails and crawls steadily outward beneath his pruned skin until it’s invaded every limb. It’s the all too familiar restlessness that rears its ugly head any time he slows down long enough for it to catch up.

He should get out of the bath. Do something productive. Not waste time and idle around. Make plans. Just do—literally anything.

With his gaze still fixed on the ceiling, he doesn’t consciously register the blur of movement by the doorframe. But his ingrained military reflexes kick in and have him darting up into a sitting position, eyes scanning for the source of the intrusion, before his brain even has a chance to catch up.

Frankie's standing there in front of him with an inscrutable expression etched on his face. He doesn’t say anything, just observes Santiago in calm silence.

Heat prickles his face, as Santi sees himself through Frankie’s eyes, a grown man in a bathtub covered in glitter and pink surrounded by scented candles. The only weapon he’s left with is to retaliate with a sardonic remark.

“Christ Frank, can’t a guy get some privacy? There are two more bathrooms in this house. Don’t you dare take a dump while I’m in here.”

Frankie doesn’t take the bait. Doesn’t strike back with a clever retort. Instead, he just moves closer to the tub, calm as ever, like he didn’t even hear Santi.

“She’s stuck on a call with the physics teacher, who’s panicking over something. Told me to come in here and wash your hair,” Frankie says matter of factly, tilting his jaw in Santi’s direction as if asking for permission to approach.

Santiago hesitates at that, eyebrows raised with the barbed wire of defence. But somehow Frankie doesn’t pay that prickliness any attention. When Santi doesn’t answer him, he reaches for the wooden stool in the corner of the bathroom and drags it over, scraping and screeching against the bathroom tiles, until he can sit next to the end of the tub where Santi’s head is resting.

“I’m going to wash your hair now.”

Frankie says it like he’s making an announcement, the way a doctor would walk his patient through every step so as not to startle them.

Then Frankie’s warm, calloused hands come to rest on his shoulder, and he presses down gently but firmly, urging Santiago to lie back down against the tub.

He can’t help but feel condescended to and resentful of the implication that he needs to be handled with kid gloves. Narrowing his eyes, Santiago considers arguing. It would feel good to tell Frankie to ‘fuck off’, but he doesn’t. He can tell from Frankie’s determined grip on his shoulders that there is no protest that is going to stop the man.

Because you have asked Frankie to do something for you, which means, come rain or sunshine or the end of the fucking world as we know it, Frankie will get it done. That’s just the kind of man he is.

So Santiago relents, lying back down and lets Frankie take over.

The shampoo bottle clicks behind him, startling him all over again before the cold ooze of shampoo spreads across his scalp. It’s unpleasant, and he’s about to grump about it when Frankie’s large fingers begin to card through his curls. Even submerged as he is in the warm water, Santiago finds himself shivering at the touch.

Thick fingers trace Santiago’s hairline, gently combing back his hair with painstaking thoroughness, probably in an effort to make sure that no shampoo gets into his eyes.

Instinctually, he can’t help but be on high alert for any signs that this is a joke on Frankie’s part. He would not be surprised to discover pink hair dye in the shampoo. Pulling a prank of some kind would be on par with their usual dynamic of gentle ribbing. Or at the very least he expects that Frankie will be rough, or clumsy despite his best efforts.

Squeezing his eyes shut as Frankie's fingers interlace into his curls, Santiago braces himself for the careless yanking that's sure to follow when they get tangled.

But that doesn't happen.

Santiago's not entirely sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't this. To have those large, strong hands tenderly care for him. Frankie takes his time to meticulously rub the shampoo into Santi's hair, lathering thoroughly.

The broadness of his thumbs carefully massages Santiago’s temples until the knot of tension there releases and he goes slack-jawed with it.

Shit, this is disturbing.

It doesn’t feel right to have Frankie do this for him. It has nothing to do with a lack of trust in the man. Because God knows, there’s only a handful of men that Santiago would let watch his six, and Frankie is on the top of that list.

Santiago trusts Frankie, trusts him enough to let the man do pretty much anything to him. Hell, he's let Frank wreck him—disassemble him to bits and pieces—and trusted him to put him all back together again.

This is different though.

Having the man gently lather him up with shampoo, attentively scratch and knead his scalp is… Fuck. Santiago can’t quite find a word that can capture the way it makes his skin draw tight. Everything inside him feels cramped. His anxiety is a tightly packed sardine can and every nerve and muscle in him wants to instinctively punch a hole through the tin and escape from the situation.

He knows it’s dumb, that it’s not a healthy instinct to give into.

Why is he always like this?

Maybe it’s because he’s not used to being cared for in this way. It’s something he’s still learning to accept now that he’s living with you and Frankie.

With you, it’s easier. Because for all the sharp banter between you and Santiago, it’s never been hard for him to let you in or to accept it when you treat him with softness and indulgence.

To have a man take care of him, to have Frankie spoil him and be gentle with him— it feels… not wrong per se, but it certainly doesn’t feel right. It’s not what Santiago was taught.

A lifetime of toxic hyper masculinity in the military does that. It doesn’t matter that Santiago has always tried to resist that mindset and refused to let it take root. Some things creep in regardless, crawl inside of you and fester with a decaying slow rot. He's internalized it, clearly, even if he didn't realize it at the time.

Warm water pours over the top of his head and down his shoulders. One of Frankie’s hand cups his hairline to ensure that soaped water and lathered shampoo doesn’t get into his eyes. It's done with a gentleness and care that Santiago never affords himself during his own matter-of-fact ablutions and is entirely unused to. It has his torso tensing and melting all at once until the muscles and nerves under his skin become a tangled mess of a thousand contradicting emotions that are fighting each other. None of them seems to know how to reconcile with the other.

Frankie’s hand trails drops from the back of Santiago’s neck and slides across his chest, then lower. His calloused palm runs down Santiago’s stomach and even as relaxed as he is, it has heat flaring underneath every inch of skin Frankie touches. Santiago’s stomach draws tight and the air in his lungs thins until those proficient fingers trails through his coarse curls. The anticipation of pleasure is sharp and instant.

His eyes spring open, roused from the drowsy state he was in, meeting Frankie’s calm gaze with curiosity. Frankie’s not even touching his cock, but it doesn’t matter, he’s been well conditioned to recognize when Frankie is starting something. His cock jumps with interest, already half-hard for the man by the time those competent fingers curl around the girth of him.

From behind, Frankie leans closer, that well-defined nose, hooking into the dip of his jaw as Frankie’s voice rasps against Santiago’s sensitive skin.

“You were promised a handjob right?” Frankie asks, and there is a hint of teasing in his voice that Santiago cannot for the life of him resist.

All coherence escapes him. All Santiago’s capable of is a nod. Then he relaxes into Frankie’s steady grip and lets the man wrap his large hand around Santiago’s much too eager cock. It’s a slow indulgent stroke. A loose and almost lazy grip that starts from the base of him and drags along his shaft until it reaches the fat tip. It sends a sharp-edged thrill skittering up his spine, and Santiago moans loudly and without shame.

Frankie stays there, thumb linger over the slit of the head as he spreads the precum that is dripping from the tip over the sensitive taut skin— fuck—fuck. Heated pleasures surges through Santiago until he becomes lightheaded with it. It’s so fucking good, he cant help but let his hips jerk up to chase after the sensation. He steadies his feet against the squeaky porcelain underneath. Shifting his weight for momentum and blindly thrusts upwards until he is rewarded with the squeeze of Frankie’s hand wrapped around him, and fuck that’s good— fuck that’s exactly what he needs right now. He can come like this. Even if Frankie stopped moving, Santiago’s so far gone it wouldn’t take much, he can take care of himself with a handful of thrusts.

But Frankie’s a step ahead of him. The man always is. His free hand squeezes Santiago’s shoulder with a steady pressure urging him to settle down.

“Slow down Santiago,” he warns, voice a low rasp. The coarse stubble of his beard scrapes against Santiago’s jaw, with a sweet gentle burn that brings him back to his senses. “This isn’t a race.”

Frankie really should appreciate the will power it takes for Santiago not to act petulant. Instead, he follows the man’s lead and, against his body’s screaming needs, stills.

Even though he’s submerged in water, the next stroke of Frankie’s hand along his length is just a little bit dry. Water’s not the best lubrication, but Santiago doesn’t mind. Sometimes he likes it with a touch of sharp pain. It helps keep his mind alert. Sometimes he wants it to hurt because it’s become a sensation that he’s far more accustomed to and feels far more deserving of than the unconditional pleasure that is being offered to him at this moment.

But Frankie clearly doesn’t like it. His hand stops, and even without being able to see him, Santiago knows him well enough to know that the man is frowning.

“Hold on a sec,” Frankie murmurs, then he withdraws his hand, away from Santiago.

It takes every inch of self restraint in Santiago not to whine at the loss of contact. He bites down on his bottom lip, hard enough for the edged pain to distract him, and turns his head in time to see Frankie pick up the gleaming brown bottle.

Frankie squirts a generous portion of body wash into his palm. Then he snakes his hand down between Santiago’s thighs again. This time, when Frankie grips his cock, it’s a smooth and soapy glide without friction or resistance. Frankie’s fingers stroke him upwards and it has Santiago curling his toes against the flat surface of the tub as blinding white pleasure streaks his vision—And God, this is so much better.

His hips stutter at the next downstroke, and it draws another wanton moan from his lips as Frankie continues in the same unhurried pace. Precum drips steadily over Frankie’s hand, mixing with the lather. Jesus fucking Christ, it’s so fucking good. Santiago’s never moving again. Just wants to spend the rest of his life here in this tub with Frankie’s hand on his dick.

Then Frankie inches forward, until he’s close enough that Santiago can feel the brush of his lips against his own. His head tips up, pressing his lips to Frankie’s. The kiss tastes of rubber and metal; smells like that weird artificial peppermint candy, with something underneath that is familiar and pleasant and distinctly Frankie. His hands grasp and claw at the sides of the tub to gain leverage, tilting his hips, and all he can concentrate on is the pleasure he finds in the controlled tightness of Frankie’s grip.

This time, Frankie doesn’t stop. Doesn’t tease. Doesn’t draw it out. He just gives Santiago exactly what he needs.

Water spills to the side, over the edge of the tub to splash against the tiles, but Santiago couldn’t care less about the mess he must be making or the way the soft cotton of Frankie’s t-shirt is drenched against his skin. The only thing he cares for in this second is that he wants more— whatever Frankie will give him, and as much as he can get of it. All he can think of is mindlessly pumping himself into Frankie’s fist until he finds his release at the end of it.

“Fuck—Frank, I’m—” His entire spine tingles with the pleasure, and fuckohfuck—he’s going to—

“It’s ok Santiago, just relax. Let me take care of you.“

And for once Santiago does. He gives in. Surrenders completely and lets Frankie take care of him. Doesn’t resist as each strong stroke of Frankie’s hand slick down on his cock and pushes him that much closer to the blinding peak. A blissful heat builds with a devastating intensity, making every muscle inside him lock up. His eyes slam shut as his orgasm cascades over him, overwhelming. It reaches inside of him, filling him from inside out until it splits his head wide open and pours out of him when he comes with a strained broken sob. White ropes of cum spill from his cock and stripe along his chest and stomach.

His mind slowly returns to him, piece by piece, even as Frankie’s hand is still slowly stroking along his cock, drawing out Santiago’s pleasure, as Frankie whispers sweet nothings into his ear. He thinks he makes out ‘so good,’ as Frankie speaks in that baritone rasp which sends shivers down the back of his neck. But Santiago is wrung out, legs a trembling useless mess, and he’s not even sure if Frankie’s speaking English or their mother tongue.

For once, his mind is blissfully blank and he’s completely in love with being pampered by Frankie in this way.

He should have known that you would be right. You always are.

Baths are amazing.

Author's note and Dedications: It's been a long ass time and this has been in my google folder since October last year so I decided to finally pull the trigger. Is this especially indulgent for me because I am not allowed to take baths on medical orders because apparently I won't heal properly?! Maybe so— maaaaaaybe so.

As always a lion's share of the work was done by my favorite 🤡 and 🍆 connoisseur @thirstworldproblemss who salvaged this piece from the trashfire with her impeccable beat-reading and also though she always denies it co-writing credits. Also love goes to @jazzelsaur who is ✨sensational✨ for listening to my endless whining.

Follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

[sukirichi]

reckless [01.]

With a lackadaisical playboy as your boss, being reckless wasn’t an option. But on the one time you let loose and made mistakes, your life is shattered, and now you’re playing house with your insufferable boss who is the father of your baby.

✘ cw. explicit smut, accidental pregnancy, playboy! gojo, slight angst

✘ note. dedicated to wifey @7tsumurai​ who also made the banner and always supports me and showers me with love aaaa i love you baby <3 also this fic is mostly romance and fluff so i hope you enjoy this as much as i did writing it! thank you to @chosonore​ for pr-ing UWU. and we get like...10-15 chapters of this?!

one  ✘  two  ✘  three

You shouldn’t be doing this.

The night was young; streaks of gold flashing with the shimmering jewellery collared on your neck, the romantic humming of the violins pairing perfectly with the champagne that fizzed in your hand. It was supposed to be another day at work where you accompanied your boss to one of his events, considering the Casanova refused to bring his girlfriends in fear they might get the wrong idea he liked them outside the bed. It should be just another day at work; you’ve accompanied him hundreds of times before. Today wasn’t any different.

And yet it was.

You blamed it on the alcohol. On the slow dancing. On the fact he hadn’t stopped complimenting you all night and you’d been so stressed, the amount of planning and sleepless nights sacrificed in exchange of preparing for this event made you grab for three more flutes, the touch of your undeniable attractive boss permanent on your waist.

Satoru was equally aggravated. You’d worked him long enough to recognize even the smallest of cues, and the fact you’d spend nearly every hour of the day working with him for weeks straight in the office let you know he needed to let off some steam.

And what better way to relieve both of your tensions if not to give in to the cloud of lust?

The sultry gazes, the clashing perfumes between rose and musk, and the alcohol – the fucking alcohol – that gave way to you succumbing to your desire just this once.

There were no more thoughts – or if there were, they were muddled – as you kissed him back just as passionately, forgetting the fact his stylist spent an hour gelling his hair back to perfection as your eager fingers traced over his scalp. How you ended up in the back of limousine was beyond you, and neither was it your biggest concern when Satoru insisted you kept your heels on; his large hands caressing all the way from the ankle pressed beside his waist up to your waist.

You felt his daft fingers move the lacy thong you wore especially for tonight (not because you expected something, but the boost in confidence felt necessary) before he slides inside almost too easily.

Both your gasps and moans are swallowed in the stuffy compartment, windows fogged saved for the handprint you’d left when he hit a sensitive spot. He was moaning in your neck, skin slippery and sweaty as you slid from one another, seemingly never staying from one place as your hands treaded through his hair down to rake your nails on his back; his touch angry on your hips before his thumb found home in your clit.

As much as you hated him, hated his reputation, you couldn’t deny he really earned his title for being an absolute god in sex. You were no virgin, but you’d never felt this good, never felt this alive as bruises began to form in your skin and his lips hungrily sought out yours.

“S-Sir...”

“Satoru,” he corrected through your lips, the kiss barely even one when you were too busy moaning left and right. Satoru hitched your leg up to fold it right beside your waist, allowing him to explore deeper territories that not even you could mark.

His stare on you is perverted; openly wanton as he lets his empyrean gaze snake down to where your bodies connected. It was embarrassing to be this spread wide open for him, though it didn’t matter much, not when you clutched onto his bicep for dear life and panted breathlessly. He was kissing you everywhere – smearing your lipstick all over your lips and his, a stain of red on his hard, white collar and love bites marked deep into your collarbones and under your breasts. You tightened around him once he changed his rhythm into a more sensual one; the quick pace replaced with him pulling out slowly – inch by delicious inch until you felt empty with each growing second – before slamming back inside with fervidity that he never quite possessed behind his desk.

He groaned at your walls clenching down on him, his hips stuttering in the process. “Call me Satoru.”

“Satoru,” you moaned out, and his next sounds were pained. Pained because you sounded too gorgeous, felt too good, and with you following his hips thrust by thrust, neither of you would last any longer. Not even as you shake your head, lips swollen as you remind him, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“We shouldn’t,” he agreed with a curled lip, sweat beading from the streaks of his white hair. “But I want you – god, you’re so beautiful tonight. Need to fuck you good—”

Gojo Satoru, one of the most eligible bachelors in the entire South East Asia and ranked as the second richest man in his early twenties, was a man of his word despite his reputation. Just as he was praised and fawned over for his beauty, charisma, and power, he was equally hated for breaking the hearts of women and treating his past ‘lovers’ like they were objects. The news were so confident of it; that he fooled them, played around with them, but behind the scenes, you knew Satoru wouldn’t do such a thing – from the first time he laid his eyes on someone, he made it extremely clear they were not to be attached. Everything with him was physical and sensual – anything beyond that would simply be out of character.

You weren’t surprised that he really did keep his word and fuck you good, because you couldn’t feel your legs the next morning and even though it had been hours, you still very much felt the shape of him carve through you.

The bastard wouldn’t stop laughing, of course, snickering under his breath every now and then each time he saw you grimace from doing simple things such as standing up and giving him the files he asked for. Perhaps it was because your dislike for him was apparent that Satoru quickly went back to fooling around, pretending you didn’t exist and only approaching you when need be. There were still moments you had to clean his mess up for him; taking his drunken phone calls at 3am because he got wasted in a bar, or doing the same for his current sex buddy who he didn’t want to stay in his home.

He was terrible, terribly awful that you despised this part of him.

You were only grateful enough that neither of you brought that night up ever again, for no matter how immensely hellish of an experience it had been, it was also something you’d really rather not be reminded of.

But now, there was no more running away from it. The truth stared at you blatantly in the form of two white lines that had appeared four times already from previous tests.

You were pregnant.

The world had never been that heavy on you. You had a rough upbringing, but it was a household filled with love and patience that it was innate in your nature to keep strong, be levelled, continue moving forward even during the times it felt like everyone and everything was going against you. You’d been through so much worse and you can do this, but you still couldn’t stop the tears that pushed from your eyes, your heart shattering the same time you dropped the stick.

“No, we won’t cry, it’s okay. I can handle this – I’m strong,” you repeated to yourself like a mantra, taking deep breaths to stabilize yourself. Clearly, this was unexpected, but you wanted to do your best, had to do your best. You didn’t have time to lose your composure, so you quickly fished your phone out your purse to dial the person you trusted the most.

“Rei...?”

Your best friend picked up on the second dial. “Sweetheart, where have you been?! I’ve been calling you for like hours now and you’re not picking up, I heard you called in sick for work and you never do that even when you’re about to pass out!” Some shuffling could be heard from the background before she spoke again, her tone a lot more gentle in response to your muted sniffles. “Is there something going on? Do you need me to drop by there right now? Tell me what you need; I’ll be there right away.”

“No, no, Rei, it’s fine, I just...”

“Sweetie,” she sighed, “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

You nodded even though she couldn’t see it. Rei had been there for you in everything, starting from when you newly arrived in the city; fresh-eyed and hopeful for new opportunities. She’d been there when you first complained your boss was a creepy flirt, all the way until you’d made peace with said boss and remained firm in your boundaries. But those boundaries had clearly been crossed – no, rather, you erased those boundaries. You were drunk enough to give in to the need to be touched, but sober enough to consent to everything that happened. You couldn’t place this all on him.

“I’m pregnant,” you said eventually, voice barely above a whisper as you added, “And Satoru’s the father.”

Rei stopped munching on her – you assume – bagel.

“Satoru? Gojo Satoru, your boss, bonafide casanova, the face on billboards and one of the most “eligible” bachelors in the country, billionaire Gojo Satoru?” she let out in one breath, the image of her flipping her hand out in the air in disbelief as clear as day. “Am I really hearing this right? I’m not going crazy, am I?”

You sighed.

“We were drunk. I slept with him.”

“Did that bastard force himself on you?”

“No, gosh, never,” you defended with widened eyes, sitting back down on the toilet with the lid now closed. You couldn’t look at the tests even if you dared yourself to, the plastic bag concealed in the garbage or else you’d feel sick all over again. “I-I wanted it too...we just got carried away and the night was just...I don’t know. I don’t know what came over me and why I did that, but there’s no point in fretting about it because I’m carrying his baby now.”

“Well,” she started unsurely, “What are you going to do?”

“I’m keeping it. There’s no way I would even consider abortion.”

“But what about him?”

The back of your head throbbed in pain. Just thinking about his stupidly handsome face made you want to throw up once more. “I don’t really want to tell him, but he has a right to know that he’s going to be a father.”

“Will he even take responsibility for it?”

You swallowed nervously, nibbling on your thumbnails before snatching your hand away. Composure was something you didn’t struggle with; you were the more reliable one in the duo of you and Satoru, but you had a bad habit of picking on your nails whenever you were anxious. Had it not been for Satoru flicking your nails away from your mouth each time you dazed out a little bit, you would’ve never gotten rid of the habit, but it all came crashing back down on you in an instant.

A heavy knot formed in your belly.

“Most likely not, I know how he’s like. He loves his single life so much that he’d never allow to be tied down like this. I wouldn’t even be surprised if he tells me he doesn’t want it.”

“What an asshole!”

“Yeah, he is, but I don’t need him in my life,” you reinstated, finally feeling more confident the longer you talked to Rei. She was your instant hype machine in more ways than one; her presence itself gave you the reassurance you could handle everything your way. With hope blooming in your chest, you picked yourself of the toilet and wiped away your tears. You could do this – you can handle this. Not just for you, but this baby growing in you as well.

“In our life. I’m more than capable of taking care of the baby myself,” you told her, gaze hard and determined as your sunken reflection stared back at you in the mirror. Sighing, you shook your head and pictured Satoru’s face, already picturing a thousand ways this could go wrong. Only one way to find out.

“I have to go now. He needs to hear about this and then I’ll resign. Probably move back home – anywhere that’s away from him.”

“Doesn’t the baby deserve to meet their dad?”

“Their dad doesn’t even want to be one,” you muttered bitterly and threw your sweater back on, refusing to kick yourself around any harder. Now wasn’t the time to be illogical; you were now a mother and had to be responsible now more than ever. But first, you needed some well-deserved rest after endless agonizing of missing your period, along with the baby drop that until now, had shook you to your core. “I’ll call you back, Rei. I’m very tired.”

“You let me know if you need anything, okay?” Humming in response, you ended the call and crawled back to bed.

It wasn’t that you felt lonely, but you didn’t feel particularly belonging anywhere. You were far from home in a city that felt like the future, and each day you come home, it was mostly just a place to rest before you went back to work the next day. It was a dull, empty routine that you’d gotten used to, but never had it sunk deep into you that you did felt completely hollow.

But not anymore.

You were with your baby now, and as much as it scared you shitless to be a mother with zero preparation and knowledge, you were confident things were going to be okay.

Wrapping an arm around your belly, you had the best sleep you’d had in years.

You’d just have to worry about tomorrow. Hopefully, and you quite prayed harder than you ever did before, Satoru would let you go and keep things less complicated than it already was.

“No,” Satoru shook his head, his words dropping like a heavy boulder in the middle of nowhere. You stood in front of him shock still, hands wrung solid beneath your belly. Satoru merely shook his head, brushing back his gelled hair with a dry laugh. “No, what are you even thinking? You’re not resigning.”

You pursed your lips. “I wasn’t really asking for permission, Sir.”

Truth be told, you expected this sort of reaction from him. It may be true that you and Satoru never got along in personal levels since he was too crass and you much stiff, but it couldn’t be denied you worked well together. You balanced each other’s flaws and brought out the best in one another. If someone had asked you years ago prior to you being employed by the heir if you could even tame the renowned free spirited man, you would’ve said probably not, but after sharing struggles and quite literally forcing one another to do better, you both reached highs neither expected to achieve.

It was an experience and a whole lot lessons learned working with him.

Unfortunately, all things must come to an end, and you had to leave even if Satoru negated to it.

“We’ve been working together for years. Do you know how many people I fired and have resigned all because they’re not equipped for the job?” he plopped down atop his desk, loosening his tie out of frustration. The simple gesture made you swallow and look away – it felt impossible to look at him any other way than a boss now that you had his baby inside you. Thankfully, Satoru was mouthy as usual that he pulled you back from your train of thoughts as he gestured between the both of you. “You and I are perfectly compatible – I can’t let you go like that. I’m sorry, but I need you. There’s no one else I can work with this functionally. No one else is as willing to tolerate my bullshit except you and...I need you to stay.”

You clenched your teeth at the desperation in his voice.

Satoru admitting he needed people was one thing. But him asking others to stay? It may have just been for your value as the only person who had put up with him in both his best and worst times that made him feel that way, but you had to keep your foot down on the ground.

You wouldn’t let him sway you like this.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and willed all your energy to spring forth. “Sir...I’m more than thankful for all the opportunities, it truly was a pleasure working with you but—”

“Is this because we slept together?” he cut you off, your shoulders tensing. Upon your silence, Satoru heaved himself away from the desk and took cautious step towards you, stopping a foot away when you stepped back defensively.

You almost wished you didn’t know him so well. His eyes shone with a flicker of hurt before he masked it just as quick as it had came – for Gojo Satoru was a master of many things, and a great actor was one of them. Cautious, you had to be cautious, and you clenched your fists behind your pencil skirt as you tore your gaze away from his pleading ones. “It is, isn’t it?” he affirmed with a clear of his throat, looking just as lost as you did. Satoru stuttered for a minute before he eventually composed himself, but even then, he didn’t sound half as sure as he wanted to be.

“Listen, whatever happened that night, we can forget about it if you want. We’re both adults and professionals – we can put this aside us and just go back to normal. You don’t have feelings for me, right? So then it shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Satoru...it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?” he demanded, aggravated. Satoru began to round his desk and pulling out little white envelopes, stacking them before you in a haste. “Do you want a pay raise? A new car so you could get to work easily? O-or perhaps a bigger house where you can work more comfortably, somewhere nearer to the office? All you have to do is tell me and I’ll give you what you want. There’s no need for you to resign, this company has given you everything and we’ve got so much offer just as you could still be great—”

“I’m pregnant.”

Satoru’s slender fingers halted around the pen hovering over a cheque slip. “What?”

“I said I’m pregnant,” you exhaled, biting down on your bottom lip to prevent yourself from quivering. A quick sweep from your face to gather sincerity trailed down to your belly, staring at you hard enough as if he had the ability to look through your soul. “And you’re the father.”

“Is that true? Is...is it really mine?”

“Yes sir,” you nodded, “I’m not telling you this because I expect that you’ll be responsible for it. No offense, sir, but I’d really rather raise the baby alone. Plus, I understand that you’ll never settle down or suddenly abandon your old ways just to—”

“Stop right there,” he raised a palm, “You mean to tell me you’re resigning because you thought I wouldn’t take responsibility for it? For you?”

The hurt in his voice and expressions were evident, lip curled in disgust; not for you, but rather of himself. Satoru was the type of man that couldn’t be withered down even with the harshest of rumours; you’d never seen him be affected before by tabloids and nasty ex-girlfriends who only slept with him for money or fame, only to talk smack about him afterwards. But now, he was crumbling before you, and you didn’t know quite what to say or feel over the vulnerability present in his cerulean eyes. It almost pained you know that you caused this – for the comforting, blue sky to be tainted with a thunderstorm that hinted of anger, of disappointment, of betrayal.

But could he blame you for not thinking the best of him?

“I’ve worked with you for years, sir, I know you.”

“Clearly not well enough,” he chuckled sarcastically, “Admittedly, I’m surprised, but not upset. The only thing that I’m upset about is that you actually believed it would be better to raise the baby – our baby – alone like I don’t even have a right to be in their life. Sure, it was an accident, but we made that. That’s our child and I’m going to take care of you and be a great father, even if you don’t think I’m capable of it.”

“Sir, I didn’t mean—”

“That’s the first time you said something stupid. That’s our baby. We’re a family now,” Satoru’s hesitance had vanished into thin air as he was on you the next instant, hands shaky before they landed on your shoulders. It was meant to be a comforting gesture; a reassuring one, yet you couldn’t help but flinch and falter under his gaze. As if getting the message, he quickly retracted his hands and shoved them deep inside his pockets with a sigh. “You don’t need to resign or worry about anything else. I promise I’ll give you both the life you deserve, just...just please don’t go. Now that I know we have a baby, there’s just no way I can let go of this and pretend I never heard of this at all.”

You swallowed, rubbing your sweaty palms on your skirt.

Out of all the different scenarios you stayed up late at night to turning your head in one by one, none of them included this. Undeniably, he was an asshole to most, but maybe he was right.

He hadn’t done anything wrong to you and he was still the father of your baby; he deserved a chance. Satoru had the right to be the father he was willing to be. You could already tell this might completely turn into one big mess, but his eyes were so hopeful, his smile so nervous yet expectant that you couldn’t help but say –

“Okay,” you relented.

His reaction was instantaneous. Satoru beamed and lounged at you, arms wide open for an embrace before realizing at the last second you could stab him with a pen and not regret it. One warning glare sent his way and he was retracing his arm behind his head, pretending to stretch with an off-tune whistle.

The sudden switch between pained and enthusiastic gave you whiplash, but you really shouldn’t be surprised. This was Gojo Satoru in the first place – he was as unpredictable as nothing was permanent and lasting to him.

It could be both a blessing and a curse.

For the sake of your baby, you genuinely hoped it was the former.

Not wanting him to get too ahead of himself since you still didn’t trust him enough, you raised a finger to poke him in the chest. Right now, you were no longer his secretary that openly despised him but added six sugar cubes in his coffee just as he liked anyway, but rather a woman who shared this mess with him, and as the mother of his child. You had to be strong. Being with Satoru felt like playing with fire, and you had far too much at stake – both of you did – but you weren’t privileged and fortunate like Satoru. One bad thing thrown his way could be brushed off, but for you? Everything you worked hard for could disappear just like that.

If you really chose now to play with fire, you had to be careful not to be the gasoline that ignited things to burn down into ashes.

“Satoru,” you stressed with your lips pressed into a thin line, “The only thing I expect from you is to be is a good father to our child. I know that it would be difficult for you to be a new person in a day and that your old habits won’t die right away, so please do what you can to be a good parent, and I’ll be with you every step of the way. I promise you don’t have to worry about me getting in the way of your life as well.”

His smile slowly vanished.

“Is that how low you really think of me?” he echoed rather sadly, “That I would still sleep around knowing I’ve got a family now?”

“We’re not a family, Sir. I have no intentions of marrying you nor would I ever want it. I’m just staying for the baby.”

“Fine. For the baby, let’s both do our best,” he crossed his arms on his chest, pumping out the hard muscles from how tight his shirt was. You were stuck between wanting to slap him or be closer to him; the hormones too much of a mess that you had to grip your thigh for restraint. “But tomorrow, you’re moving in with me. I’m going to take care of you from now on – I’ll get you whatever you need so whatever it is, just tell me. My credit card is yours to use as well.”

Move in with him? You wanted to laugh. That was the last thing you would want to happen.

“Sir, it’s fine, I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t, but I want to take care of you both,” he reiterated, growing slightly annoyed from your rigidness. You professed that you were being difficult right now, but it was much better than being easy around someone like him.

“We don’t have to be friends or lovers, alright? I know you don’t see me that way and I’m probably repulsive in your eyes – which is understandable since you always clean my mess up for me – but as a father, at least, let me do my job. There doesn’t have to be anything between us other than a mutual want to be good parents. Is that alright with you?”

You mulled the thought over in your head. So he was capable of being sensible sometimes, and after a few moments of silence, you narrowed your eyes at him.

Still suspicious and your guard was most definitely still up, but he was right. You both had a mutual want to be good parents and that was the most important thing right now. Everything else that complicated matters would be handled afterwards.

“I’m okay with that, but I would have to set down lots of boundaries if I’m living with you.”

“So you’ll really stay with me then?” You regretted nodding in response because Satoru was now fishing his phone out, a goofy smile on his face.

He took the news...surprisingly well, and you didn’t know what to make of it.

“Perfect! I’ll have your room prepared!” You tried to grab his arm to stop him from going overboard; knowing full well Satoru always had rushes in which he impulsively overdoes things. He might turn your room into some sort of grand suite that you wouldn’t really like, but he was far too excited and lost in his own thoughts that your words went from one ear and out the other. “Fuck,” he laughed to himself, “I’m going to be a dad.”

Whether it was relief or anxiety that bubbled through you, you had no idea.

It was definitely anxiety.

Satoru felt like a hyper child to be around, and as much as you were grateful that he was happy about this, you also wished he would calm down. You didn’t even have enough chance to settle in before he’s shoving you inside room by room, announcing that what was his was also yours and he would have a baby room set up next week.

You followed him around like a puppy as he marched into the kitchen, mumbling incoherently to himself about baby proofing furniture.

“Sir,” you called out, “Sir, listen to me. We need to talk about boundaries.”

Satoru blinked owlishly at your tired eyes, sheepishly smiling at you. It must’ve dawned on him that his speed tour of his penthouse felt a lot more overwhelming than welcoming, and he sat you down on the island stools before drumming his fingers impatiently on the cool marble. “Sorry, you were saying? I kind of got carried away.”

Carried away was far an understatement.

“I said, we need to talk about boundaries.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” he paused with a furrow in his brow. “Also can you just call me Satoru? We’re going to be parents anyway and it’s awkward if you keep uh, calling me Sir.”

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, not really in the mood to argue with him right now. You had to keep intact with him while you still had his full attention. Taking out a little notepad you prepared the night before, you slid it over Satoru who tilted his head to the side rather cutely to read it. “So here are my boundaries. One, I don’t want this pregnancy to be announced in the media unless I’m ready. I understand that we can’t keep this a secret forever but I need time to process this. Two, just because we’re living in the same roof together doesn’t mean that I get to go anywhere and everywhere with you. I’m going to work by myself—”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I said no,” he repeated more firmly this time. “You’re pregnant and I want to make sure you’re safe at all times. I’m driving you to work.”

“Didn’t you just hear what I said? I don’t want to be seen with you.”

“You’re my secretary. People see us together all the time.”

“But you never drove me to work! I live far from the office and I most definitely don’t drive an Audi.”

“Things change, that’s your life now,” Satoru shrugged nonchalantly, stealing the pen you twirled in your hands. The sudden contact sent jolts of electricity from your knuckles, one that had you recanting your hands back to yourself. Satoru didn’t seem to notice as he crosses out the second rule, “Sorry not sorry but I don’t want to let you go places like that. Fine by me if you don’t want me to drive you, but at least have one of the chauffeurs take you somewhere if you really don’t wanna be seen with me.”

“Fine,” you gritted your teeth. Compromise, compromise, meet in the middle – you repeated to yourself to keep your sanity. “Rule number three: I don’t want you changing your attitude around me. We may have a baby on the way, but you’re still my boss and I want to keep our relationship professional.”

“You’re saying I’m not allowed to fall in love with you?”

You flicked his forehead, effectively erasing the teasing grin he wore. “That’s not going to happen,” you interjected irritably, although your heart skip a beat. That was a massive red flag already; you could never be too comfortable with him. For Satoru, his little comments here and there may come naturally and probably meant nothing to him, but there was a chance you could receive it with different interpretations. Shaking your head at him, you ignored his grumblings on how ‘mean’ you were. “We’re never going to be a couple. We’re just raising a child together. I don’t want you acting weird or too comfortable with me.”

Satoru scratched the side of his head as he mulled about it, “Are we allowed to be friends, at least? I understand the professional part, but I can’t imagine the both of us getting along for nine months and more when we act like boss and employee even alone at home,” before you could say anything, Satoru raised his hands in surrender. “I promise I won’t do anything weird to you. No offense, but you’re not really my type, so same as you, I view you platonically.”

Right. The heart surely was stupid and confusing.

You didn’t want him getting any ideas that this could lead to something more, but at the same time, it hurt a little to know you weren’t his type.

Hiding that pang of hurt behind a tight lipped smile, you forced yourself to agree with him. “I view you professionally, Sir.”

“Satoru.”

“Whatever,” you grumbled. “Rule number four: don’t bring home any of your fuck buddies or flavour of the night. I really don’t care if you sleep around, but respect my privacy and my standing as the mother of your childIf you’re really desperate to get your dick wet, go fuck them somewhere else.”

“You’ve never been this vulgar with me.”

He wasn’t wrong about that. Despite countless of times that he tried being friendly with you to ease your stiffness in the office, you always shot him down.

You came to the city to work and provide for your family, not to be friends with your annoyingly hot boss who enjoyed his life way too much. Unlike him, you were more work than play, and eventually Satoru respected the fact you would never speak or treat him casually.

Until now.

“Try being in my shoes and see if you’d still have the patience of a saint,” you mumbled under your breath, sighing when Satoru’s smile got more awkward. “Listen, Satoru, I don’t mean to be difficult, okay? It’s just...this is a lot. This isn’t just us about anymore – we’re going to be parents and that’s a huge responsibility. It’s not only our lives changing here, a child will be relying on us in the future and I simply want to be a good mother, but I also don’t trust you very well to be comfortable enough to act like we’re suddenly friends.”

“I understand that.”

“Good.”

“Do you have rule number five?”

“No, not really, but I can add more as we go.”

“I have a rule number five,” he piped in, flipping the notepad his way as he scribbled something down. “And it’s that if you need help – and I mean with anything – you would let me help you. I’ve worked with you for a long time and I’m not dumb enough to not notice you like to do things by yourself. Like you said, things are different now, and especially with this pregnancy, you’re not alone in this. You need to let me take over the wheel sometimes. I can’t be just a passenger in the car – you and I are both in this together.”

“Just keep your hands to yourself.”

“That’s easy,” he chirped, and there was that uncomfortable knot in your chest again. However, it didn’t sink in too deep because Satoru was blatantly staring at your belly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “So do we have a name for them already?”

“Satoru, I’ve only been a few weeks pregnant, I don’t—”

Conflicting his previous statement that he’d keep his hands to himself, Satoru suddenly dropped to his knees. You watched with wide eyes, too flabbergasted to move as he places his ear on your belly.

“Hi there, little one,” he spoke in a soft tone, large hands caressing the tiny bump beginning to form. You couldn’t move; hell, you could barely breathe from how comforting his touch seemed in contrast to your mind ringing warning bells above. His voice quickly pulled you back to reality as he flattened his palm, white lashes fluttering against the cotton of your shirt. “I’m your daddy; I can’t wait to meet you. Daddy promises to take good care of you and make you the happiest kid ever, alright? You don’t have to worry about anything as long as I’m here.”

“D-don’t spoil them too much, Satoru.”

“I’ll try not to,” he chuckled. Satisfied with that small moment he had, he straightened up and trudged over the dining table that was far too big for a man who lived alone. In that moment, an image flashed in your mind – that someday that table would no longer look empty as you and your child shared meals with him. You could already imagine how heavenly the sun would shine on the glass windows behind it, the flowers gathered in the middle of the table blooming to life.

Out of nowhere, it struck you.

Could it be that this was why he loved this baby so much after only knowing about it for a few days? Could it be that Satoru really was alone?

“Okay, we should probably have a welcoming dinner! The chefs left me something tonight. I forgot what it’s called but I think you’ll like it. Grab some wine on the cellar for me?”

“Satoru, I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, right! My bad,” he clapped his hands together before pulling out ceramics and a cold pitcher, “Just water for mommy then,” Satoru said absentmindedly, completely oblivious to how your mind short-circuited a few feet away from him. He went about his way ignorant to it all and gently tugged you to sit with him, eagerly digging into the heated meals as you realized both of you hadn’t eaten.

For a guy who talked a lot, dinner with him was surprisingly quiet. Other than the occasional clinking of utensils against the plate, you enjoyed the silence with him.

You wouldn’t have believed it to be possible since Satoru made it his daily business to always fill in the gaps. Peace and comfort stretched before you the whole time, however, that for a moment, just a short moment, you found yourself letting your guard down. Even when you both caught each other’s in the middle of a bite, you found no tension or awkwardness in it. Perhaps it was the familiarity of being beside each other for years now that this should feel natural, or maybe it was because you both mutually agreed on wanting the best for your baby. Whatever it was, you didn’t want to overcomplicate it right now.

“You know, I’m really excited about this. I can’t believe I’m actually going to be a father,” he mused through a bite, swirling his red wine through his glass. Satoru gazed at his reflection almost dreamily, seemingly too deep in thought that he felt far from reach.

Or maybe you were the one who was detached, the one who kept pushing him away, because you could offer him nothing but a lame nod. “I’m glad to hear that...”

“What about you? You don’t look too happy.”

Your eyes widened at his worry. “No, I-I’m happy, of course. It’s just...it’s unplanned, and I’ve had my whole life planned out that I’m not really sure how this will all fall into place together.”

“Hey,” he laced his fingers with yours, squeezing warmth back into your skin that you hadn’t noticed turned cold from the nerves. Unlike his usual self with eyes brimming with glee, you could only see tenderness in him now, some sort of silent vow through a private smile shared only between the two of you in that moment in the solace of his home. Your home. “I promise I’ll be there for you and the baby every step of the way. I know that I haven’t had the best reputation and I have zero idea on parenting, but you’re not alone in this. You can trust me on this one, just like how we always trusted each other during work. Being a parent and running a business are both responsibilities right?”

“Yeah...”

“Well then you already know we work well together. We’re great partners!” he cheered, patting your shoulder way too bro-like. You resisted the urge to cringe. “We’ll be great parents, Y/N. I’m sure of that.”

Unsure of what else to do, you squeezed his hand back. He was right, you would be great parents as long as both of you never gave up. The thought of eating meals with him again with another addition to the table made you smile, and you hadn’t noticed you were spacing out, thumb running over his knuckles that were smooth for a man who never knew a day of hard labour. It wasn’t until you felt something prodding at you metaphorically, and you chuckled nervously as you saw Satoru smiling mysteriously at you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing,” he grinned, “I’ve just never seen you this close before; not so much that I paid attention anyway. But this is nice – having you here, I mean. It gets lonely here sometimes.”

“Don’t you bring your girlfriends around?”

“I never make them stay,” was all he said, and just like that, whatever thread that was beginning to form snapped. Satoru released his hold on you and gestured to your plate, carrying the dishes in his hand before leaving you alone on the table. Like always – a whiplash. “I’ll clean up, you can rest in your room now. I’ll take care of the dishes.”

“Do you even know how to do them?”

“Yeah, my mother forced me to wash dishes because she didn’t want me to rely on the house help too much,” he informed, the new information shocking you right to the core as he put on dishwashing gloves and started scrubbing. From this angle, he sure looked damn nice and domestic in just a white shirt, hair ruffled down to bangs.  “I’ll be right there with you,” Satoru announces casually, spinning on his heel with red cheeks once he realized what he said. “For just a goodnight, I mean! We’re not sharing rooms!”

“Yeah, no,” you coughed out, “We’re definitely not.”

It felt…surreal, to wake up in a room much grandiose than yours yet felt like home even for the first night. Satoru handled your moving in rather happily; you found him singing to himself this morning as he brewed his own coffee before realizing you were right behind him, sleepy as you lazily made waffles for the both of you. Everything flowed nicely and normally, like this had always been a normal thing that for a moment, you questioned once more what would happen next.

You were now getting ready for work, hands tugging at his tie because he was such a man-child who couldn’t even properly knot his own tie. His suit was custom tailored and he looked effortlessly gorgeous – beauty ripped straight from magazines he was constantly a front page of, but his tie was skewered and loose that it irritated you.

“You’re such a mess without me.”

Satoru bent down to wiggle his brows at you, thought you didn’t notice because he wouldn’t stay still for you to fix his tie fast enough. “Isn’t this sweet; you fixing my tie for me as we both get ready for work?” he teased, “We’re like a married couple already.”

“If you don’t shut up, I’m kicking you in the nuts.”

“Then how can I give you more babies?” picking up the newspaper on the coffee table beside you, you rolled it and started whacking him, a string of profanities colorfully painting his otherwise monochrome and sleek walls. Satoru’s laughter boomed all over the room even as he wiggled away from you, clutching his bicep that had been the victim of your abuse. “Ow, ow, I was joking! Jeez, woman, you are strong. Fight men a lot like this?”

“I work with you. My fighting instincts are always activated.”

His laugh really was annoying. But it did help ease your nerves – though you’d never tell him that – as you sat beside him in his car, the expensive leather seats no longer strange to you. It would’ve felt like any other day where you accompanied him somewhere, except the reason was different now, and it came crashing down on you of your current situation that things were undeniably different from now on.

You immediately stepped away from him the moment you got out of the car, clutching your clipboard to your tummy when Satoru bumped his shoulder with yours. “Come closer, it’s fine. No one will suspect a thing,” he points to the crowded building with people bumping and walking past each other, everyone too occupied in their own heads to even notice you.

It wasn’t much, but hearing his voice and reassurances relaxed you, even for just a little bit. Maybe your first day at work after the baby news wouldn’t be so bad, after all, but it seemed you had spoken too early.

Satoru heavily insisted that you worked inside his office from now on.

Your desk was located right outside his office, the phone line always within reach in case you needed to pass calls to him or if he needed you to come. Satoru preferred the privacy of his own space – or so he said; he actually just didn’t want you to witness him slacking around and experience your wrath – but now he was dragging you inside his office, pushing your shoulders down until you were ‘settled in.’

You didn’t even want to ask where he got a new desk from, or why it had to be right across from him. His desk remained elevated on a few levels, the welcoming lobby of the room filled with couches and stacks of coffee with a rich amount of sugar cubes.

Safe to say, most of the morning was spent (or rather, wasted) on you telling Satoru off. The man was too persistent, coming in on the office at random times of the hour with either snacks or heaps of biscuits on his arms. He always greeted you with a wide grin on his face, only to be kicked out of his own office because you had his hellish schedule and events to deal with. That was around three hours ago when you’d asked him to shut up and go bother someone else. You were halfway around finishing your workload for today when the door swung open, a tuft of white hair and mischievous eyes peeking through.

“Hey! Just checking in on mommy—”

“Satoru!”

“What? It’s just you and I,” he defended with a shrug, welcoming himself inside. Surprisingly, he was empty handed, though the pout on his lips told you it was against his will. “Seriously though, do you need anything? Do you want snacks? Tea? Do you need help going to the bathroom? You haven’t moved in your desk for an hour now.”

“Satoru, I’m pregnant, not disabled,” you ignored him for a while, resuming to working back on his schedule for the month. There were a bunch of e-mails you still had to respond to, which normally wouldn’t be such a daunting task if Satoru wasn’t shifting his weight from one foot to another, the sounds of his shoes hitting the tiles in an annoying click-clack rhythm getting to you. “Will you stop fidgeting! Your anxiety gives me anxiety, stop that!”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it, I just feel like there’s something I should be doing.”

“Shutting up and letting me work in peace would be great, thank you.”

“You really don’t need anything?” Sending him a warning glare, Satoru sucked in his cheeks and ran back to his desk where he hid behind the safety of his large monitor. “Nope, yeah, I got the message: leave you alone. Good luck with that then, I’ll need those archives to pull up for our meeting with the directors later at five.”

Muttering a sarcastic finally under your breath, you resumed working.

The routine was per usual – answer the calls professionally with a welcoming and sweet voice, a pen always in one hand to jot down notes in reminders, adjust his schedules, work out his plans, go to him whenever he needed to sign something before responding back to e-mails. You were focused as you always were, but someone wasn’t, and it was getting harder and harder to keep being placated.

It didn’t help that he made no effort to hide the fact he was slacking off, the tip-taps of him randomly pressing keys on the keyboard similar to a fork dragging down a plate.

“I can feel you burning holes at the back of my head,” you twittered, “What do you need?”

“Nothing at all. I’m just realizing how beautiful you are right now.”

You paused. Unable to deny your curiosity over how serious he sounded, you spun around in your swivel chair. Satoru had his chin on his hands as he stared right back at you, his face devoid of expression that you couldn’t pick up on a single clue. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

You rolled your eyes at him. Of course the bastard would be teasing you, his loud chuckles a painful reminder of that. It was best to ignore him, so you went back to reading e-mails and forced yourself to focus on the task at hand. “We’re at work. Please stop distracting me; I can’t focus when you’re staring at me like a creep.”

“Sorry, babe, I’ll try to be less distracting next time, though I can’t control my charisma, you know!”

You jotted your thumb to your desk outside, “I can walk back to my desk where you can’t see me. That’d be a great for both of us.”

“Stay right there, I was joking!”

“Do you promise to be quiet and actually do your job if I stay?”

“With you disciplining and ordering me around like that, why not?” Mouth open for another heated retort, Satoru stopped you before you could say anything, his aura more serious this time. He was always like this; fooling around and maturing the next second, only for the cycle to repeat and test your patience. “I’m just teasing you, Y/N, I’ll shut up now. You’re free to end work as soon as you’re tired though; the driver is waiting in the parking lot whenever you want to go home.”

“I’ll go home with you.” Home. It felt weird to say that, but also…natural.

“You’ll stay with me at work today?” He sounded genuinely surprised, and you responded with a one-shoulder shrug. That seemed to be enough for him, however, and it wasn’t long before Satoru found the oh so rare and fleeting motivation to work hard.

Once he was settled, sleeves rolled up to expose his veiny forearms and brows furrowed as he centered all his attention on the pile of paperwork before him, there was no stopping him.

Roles reversed and positions switched, you were now the one unable to take your eyes off him.

In this light, in this moment, Gojo Satoru had never looked more beautiful. He was much the same as you in the manner you never really noticed each other this way before; not romantically, but even just person to person. In your eyes, he was nothing but your irritating boss whose boisterous self always crowded over your peace, and in his eyes, you were nothing but his secretary who he knew always silently hoped would leave you alone.

But things were different now. You were different now.

Boundaries there may be, you couldn’t help that fluttering forming in your stomach. Contentment, happiness, relief, nervousness – all of them jumbled into one big mess. Out of them all, however, there was most definitely adoration, either out of respect for his unexpected kindness, or simply because it felt nice to feel for once.

Turning away from him until your back was the only thing he could see, you hid your smile as you secretly held your belly.

You’d never been reckless before, but what was to be a good story when there wasn’t a mistake or two made?

[riotcontrolmargera]

Hi! I love your writing! Would you write some hc’s about what it would be like to go on vacation with Bam? Fem reader. I was thinking like maybe where you would go, what kind of cute tourist type things you might do, etc. Could have some smut or just fluff, either one :) Thank you!

vacation with bam HCs

note: fluff and some light smut elements ♡

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when he presented you with the idea of going on vacation with him and him alone, you were ecstatic! you were fortunate enough to get to travel, given your boyfriends line of work but it was work related mostly so there wasn't much time for love and romance.

especially when you were surrounded by jackasses.

i imagine that packing with bam would be a nightmare, you'd be doing most of the work while he goofs off. oh! and no matter how hard you try to make sure that he doesn't forget anything, he will! he definitely will.

"babe, have you seen my socks?" "damnit bam!"

but he would definitely have the, 'don't worry, i'll just buy more' attitude when he knows damn well that's not the point.

he would also to be sure to not let you pay for a single thing, even if you insisted on paying for at least some of the trip. sure, you weren't as rich as he was but you definitely made more than enough to chip in. at least a little bit but nope! he wouldn't stand for that.

when you arrive at your destination, i think the first day will be relatively lazy to unwind from all the travelling. you'd unpack then spend the rest of the day either lounging around the hotel room together or going for a short walk around the area to see whats around.

you'd probably screw around a little too, if you both weren't too jet lagged.

the second day of your trip, bam would wake you up with all the little ideas of what he wants to do and where he wants to take you. i don't think he would be too psyched on popular landmarks because 'you can see them in books and it looks the same' but he would be happy to take you anyway.

but he would quickly change his mind when he sees the look on your face as you look up at them with an awe and sense of amazement in your eyes. that would make it all worth it in his eyes.

"isn't it amazing bam?" "it sure is" he would say looking at you instead of the landmark.

he'd take you out to dinner but make sure that the restaurant wasn't ridiculously corny and romantic... i believe that bam would have a rather unconventional view on what's romantic which i think we all know at this point. he's romantic in his own quirky little way... so, don't expect candle lit dinners often!

he is definitely the type to take photos and videos the entire trip... mostly of you and not the beautiful landscapes or landmarks. whether it's of you in front of a land mark, you in the hotel room, he'd take any opportunity for a photo or video.

but getting any of him would be a fucking nightmare.

any time that you would try and turn the camera around on him, he would pull a goofy face or pick his nose or something do something that's extremely unflattering. it would be the same in selfies.

"bam, can we please just get one nice photo for the family?" "okay, okay" and then will proceed to stick his finger in your nose while grinning. yeah... good luck getting a nice photo to send to your family back home.

i think you'd expect some calls from ape to make sure that you are both doing okay on your trip AND to make sure that her son hasn't driven you mad yet!

and i don't imagine that his shenanigans would go on vacation either... he would probably pull (little) pranks on you, run into things on purpose, you know usual bam shit.

if you went to the beach together and you were out laying in the sun, you would definitely catch him staring at you because he would think that you were the best damn thing to look at one the entire beach.

"what are you staring at?" "you look so fucking hot."

he would definitely complain about sand being everywhere but would rather quickly change his tune when you offer to take a shower with him back at the hotel.

and of course, since you're on vacation, i believe that you'd fool around twice as much (unless, that's not your thing, of course) — having all that time together with no ape, phil and the CKY boys in sight would definitely lead to much more screwin than normal (not that you don't already screw like rabbits).

[chemicalpink]

Pairing: Jungkook x Female reader

Words: 4.7k

Genre: smut, angst, fluff if you squint really hard, childhood friends to lovers AU

Warnings: unprotected sex, bathroom sex, infidelity, JK is a heartthrob that is bad at feelings, YN realises she’s been in love with JK all along.

A/N: this is me trying to write longer fics, I liked how this one came out yayyy. This goes out to the @thebtswritersclub​ monthly prompt _____ to lovers, in this case it’s childhood friends to lovers. I just- I really liked how it came out, I’m so excited to know what you guys think of it.

Summary: Falling in love is such a curious thing in life, Jungkook would know best, after pinning over you for years on end, only to have his best friend take away his opportunity, or does he?

The sun was shining brightly over the park as you made your way down the slide, hot skin scorching at the contact with the yellow plastic, although you couldn’t bring yourself to care as much as your mother would, meeting Sungho at the end of it, who was covering his eyes as best as his arms would allow him to do, summer was almost coming to an end and you two had decided to spend every single second of it together, much to both of your mothers’ dismay who had long decided to take turns to tire both of you out by the neighbourhood park, nothing too exciting, if it weren’t for your young imaginative minds combined, which turned you into the closest a six year old could get to being a menace.

As you smiled brightly at your friend, you couldn’t help but turn your head towards an almost inaudible whimper coming from the shaded side of the park, finding a kid around your age plopped down by the tree, desperately drying his eyes with the back of his hand, small sobs coming out of his lips as three other kids, which you knew to be a little older than you and quite disrespectful at that, kept laughing at the boy, so really, what else were you supposed to do if not come in to save the day. “Come on Y/N they’ll make fun of us too” Sungho said as he tried to tug you away, only to have you stand your ground firmly

“If they make fun of me, I won’t cry” you crossed your arms stubbornly over your chest

“Y/N let’s just go”

“You go, Sungho” Sungho was always the type of kid that your mother kept reminding you to be more like, always righteous, never picking fights like you were known to do, but you really couldn’t stand watching the mysterious kid crying by himself while no one else did anything in the slightest. So you stood between him and the three kids that were still making fun of him, head high, fists up by your sides in a superhero pose “You shouldn’t make fun of others”

“Why don’t we make fun of both of you then, Y/N?”

“At least I can put my shirt shirt when I’m dressing myself, Areum” the girl looked down for half a second before staring you down, full of rage before huffing and turning around in true mean girl fashion.

You turn back to find a pair of bambi eyes staring at you, sobs silenced, although his chest still showed him trying to fully catch his breath. You extend your hand for him to take it so that he could stand up “I’m Y/N what’s your name?”

“I’m Jungkook” you were quick to grab his arm and pull him to where Sungho had watched the whole scene with Areum, now staring at the way you dragged the slightly shorter boy towards him

“Well Jungkook, this is Sungho and I just decided that all of us three are going to be best friends forever” the small boy smiled at that, bunny teeth showing in the process, eyes sparkly with wonder and pure appreciation, contrasting the look on Sungho’s face.

“Y/N I think you need to have girl friends to have these sleepovers with, Jungkook and I are boys” Sungho says as soon as you pass him the mirror and he is left staring at his reflection with a ton of glitter eyeshadow on his face, you turn to look at Jungkook, who is currently sprawled out playing with his nintendo, a set of pigtails adoring his head along with the hottest pink lipstick you could find

“I don’t mind it” he stuffed his mouth with chips as he continued to play on his console, not sparing any of you a look, although you smiled at him fondly, grateful to have him play along whenever Sungho didn’t feel like it, which seemed to be more and more as all of you grew older.

“Well I’m going to take this off” he said as he ran into the bathroom to wash his face. Good luck trying to get rid of glitter.

You huffed out a sigh at how boring it was getting if Sungho didn’t like to play your games, along with Jungkook being stuck inside his own little world. “This is so boriiiing”

“It was your idea Y/N”

“Yeah but you guys are no fun”

Jungkook pauses his game to turn to look at you “We can watch a movie if you’d like”

If someone were to tell 6 year old you that twelve years later, the kid that used to make fun of you would turn into your best friend, you would have probably laughed in their face, although as years went by, Areum had finally gotten better in terms of personality, up to the point where she had a full on talk with you before you decided to give it a try, even more so as she now took it as her job to protect you in high school, seeing as she was a year older than you.

“Jungkook has changed” the brunette said while taking a seat next to you inside the cozy smoothie shop, crumpling up her receipt inside her bag distractedly as you just stared at her, not knowing what had prompted her to talk about your best friend, Jungkook wasn’t exactly what one would consider popular, especially amongst the higher grades, especially not given the bickering grudge he held against Areum after all those years.

“What do you mean?”

“Just- seems like before summer he was this scrawny little thing, deer eyes, soft smiles” you looked at her intently, Jungkook had gone on vacation with his family for weeks as soon as finals were over, leaving with the promise of hanging out for the few days before school started again, similar to how you were now hanging out with Areum, her having arrived back a few hours before Jungkook “Now- well”

There were a million thoughts running inside your mind, some seemingly more plausible than others, tow hich yopu found yourself asking “Areum, did you fuck Jungkook?”

“I mean- we were both staying at the same hotel Y/N” Areum sipped on heir smoothie as a way to act coy about it, wide eyes turned the other way at the prospect of having said out loud that her latest conquest was none other than little Jungkook, the guy she had always made fun of for one or another reason

“Oh god you slept with Jungkookie” and you really tried to picture her, accepted into college, beautiful Areum, long lean legs, model faced Areum, flirt queen that always seemed to go for older guys Areum, paired up with sweet Jungkookie, sure, your best friend was cute, handsome even, there was no denying it, he was just not- Areum level handsome, Areum liked going out to party, let men shower her in drinks while Jungkook absolutely loved staying home battling Sungho in the newest video game that was around “I-I have no words”

“Y/N- Y/N don’t judge until you’ve tapped it” your friend seemed to space out for a second, as if looking back at her time with Jungkook, dreamily. “The guy got buff”

And sure he did, not only did Jungkook was now full of muscle, he also apparently had renewed his wardrobe, bought a motorcycle and apparently had even grown a few centimeters taller, or at least that much was said by Sungho as you three met up for lunch the day before classes started again, trying to catch up as you did every year when the three of you didn’t get a chance to hang out much.

“So are we getting that newly released game Kook?” Sungho mentioned in what appeared to be the background, your eyes completely fixated on whomever the man sitting in front of you was, definitely not your best friend Jungkook.

“Nah dude, I sold all my consoles and games to buy my bike” your eyes widened at the confession, probably mirroring the uttermost shocked look that Sunho was also sporting. Jeon Jungkook selling his videogames was definitely a sign of the apocalypse. You were about to make a comment before you heard a very familiar voice behind you, making you turn your head towards it.

“Jungkookie, you wanted me to come over?” her eyes had that sparkle in them which you have come to recognise as her being infatuated by someone, even if she didn’t really talked about it openly, you turned towards Jungkook in disbelief

“Yeah, Areum, lose my number”

You consciously close your mouth at the exchange as Areum backed away from the table muttering an ‘oh..okay’ as Jungkook smiled daily at her, your eyes lock in surprise with Sungho’s, both of you silently agreeing that this Jungkook was certainly a new side neither of you could yet guess whether or not you would continue to be able to befriend, although the history between the three of you spoke volumes.

And just like that, enough to get whiplash from it, Jungkook’s lazy uninterested eyes were replaced by the squinty smile you had learned to adore over the years, bunny teeth showing as his laugh resonated in the restaurant “Oh god you guys should have seen your faces!”

Your eyes travelled along the expanse of the space you three were in, looking at Sungho for a clue to pick up about what was happening, coming up empty handed as he spoke first “Dude I almost had a heart attack, I thought you had sold your games!”

“Oh no that I did” Jungkook took a sip out of his drink calmly

You tried not to show how nothing made sense in your mind “And that thing with...Areum?”

He placed his cup down, looking at you with wide eyes humming softly “Yeah that was a thing too, she’s been texting me non stop after we hooked up. I’m just glad I’m back with you guys”

So Jungkook had changed, that much was true, just not as much as he let people believe. Sure enough, the guy was now pure muscle, rode a bike everywhere, and made it his lifeplan to conquer as many girls as his schedule allowed him too; he also made a few other friends outside of your friends' circle, enough for rumours to go around about him being involved in shady business, or him hooking up with somebody’s mum. Either way, if you were to turn a blind eye to his social persona, Jungkook was still your and Sungho’s little Jungkookie, bambi wide eyes that teared up whenever it was movie night and you picked some chick flick, bunny teeth and loud giggles as he played a prank on Sungho, even though you could tell his heart just wasn’t in it as it was before.

“I’m gonna ask Y/N out” Sungho has asked Jungkook to meet him outside of campus on the first weeks of college as all three of you decided to attend together, uninterested on whatever it was that he was about to tell him, but trying to keep up his fractured friendship with the man (and you) he had shown up, even so a little fashionably late to make his point clear.

“And you’re telling me this because..”

“I don’t want to make it awkward, Jeon” Jungkook scoffs before rolling his eyes at Sungho “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you little boy crush on her for years”

“What I think you haven’t noticed is that I don’t do feelings” Jungkook retorts as he approaches him “And although I find Y/N to be quite fuckable if you ask me, I appreciate her enough not to put her in a weird place like you’re about to do, asshole”

Once weeks rolled around, things kept on being as the were after that fateful summer where Jungkook completely reinvented himself, even as semesters came and went, Jungkook grew a bit more separate from both Sungho and yourself, although it became a little harder to discern whether it was because of Jungkook or due to the fact that Sungho and you had started dating during the first semester of college. Sungho had no real answer to give you when asked about it, saying that outside of the scheduled movie night you three kept on sharing, he barely even texted Jungkook on his own.

“I heard your girl is getting married” his friend said as he handed him an opened beer, taking his place back against his bike in the middle of the night after some race they had gone to near the outskirts of Seoul.

Jungkook took a swing out of the bottle, squinting at the questionable choice in alcohol “I don’t have a girl Jihoon”

“Oh? Then what’s Y/N?'' he felt the blood draining from his face, heart heavy, breath hitching inside his throat as soon as your name left his lips. Of fucking course Sungho would try to marry you before you graduated. That bastard.

It was quite funny really, Jungkook knew from the very start, back when all three of you had 6 years old and you had saved him from a set of mean kids in the park, that Sungho was never fond of him, or rather, of the relationship you had developed with him, sure, the two men had bonded over a few shared interests as they grew up, but the only thing that kept them together was you. Sometimes Jungkook guesses it could have been him instead of Sungho, asking you out, sharing nights together, even being about to get married. But those thoughts were only wishful thinking, he had long ago decided that you deserved so much more than what he could give you, what with his eternal fear and inability to give himself up to others. So he had let you go, never thinking about the possibility of Sungho taking a place he wasn't worthy of either.

"Good for her"

It wasn't long after learning that you were engaged, that the invitation arrived to his apartment, just a few days after graduation. It wasn't really a surprise anymore, even back when he first heard the news, it wasn't that surprising, he guessed it was the years of knowing both you and Sungho, learning your patterns, that he had somehow seen it coming. It didn't make it any less hard to wish you weren't about to walk down the aisle to a man that wasn't him though. But he kept repeating to himself to stop being selfish, he had lost his chance, not that he ever had one to begin with, but as long as you were happy, he would be too.

And you really did seem happy, so he was willing to just ignore the way that his chest seemed to constrict every time your eyes locked on his from across the room as the rehearsal dinner, you were sporting a gorgeous emerald dress, the same colour as when you two first met eighteen years back, his mind spinning with impossible scenarios as each minute that passed really just turned out to be a minute closer to watch you walk down the aisle to another man, one that was supposed to be his best friend at that.

“Bride’s or groom’s” A sweet female voice called him as he sipped on his fifth? sixth? champagne flute, finding a woman staring at him with what he has come to recognise as lust.

“Eh.. you could say both”

A glimpse of recognition could be seen in her eyes before she spoke again “You must be Jungkook then, the overseeked bachelor”

“In the flesh” He smirked at her as she took a hold of his hand, guiding him upstairs to where you and your soon to be husband had booked bridesmaids and groomsmen alike for the night. Not that the blonde had anything to do with how utterly horrible he was feeling about the whole wedding situation but perhaps fucking his frustrations out would help just a little.

Jeon Jungkook was never the one to stick around until morning, that much was true, and although he might be known for a varying of unspeakable things, nothing could have prepared him for what he had to witness at ungodly hours.

He picked up the rest of his clothing after half dressing himself, not even sparing a second glance at the woman that was laying on her bed peacefully, careful not to make more sounds than the inherently necessary, his curiosity is peaked as he hears faintly moaning and skin slapping skin coming from the room next door, seeing the door barely open, and against his better judgement he peeks inside only to feel his heart pounding against his chest, blood rushing inside his ears as he can’t seem to look away from the image presented to him. Sungho, your soon to be husband, the one that he used to consider his best friend for years on end, the oh so righteous Sungho, ever morally correct Sungho, bending your other so-called best friend and maid of honour, Areum, over the comforter as he fucked into her. A few hours before he got married to you. After everything that he had put him through, making him believe that it was in your best interest top let you go, that he should have handed you over to him, that he was the best option out of the two of you to build a life with.

Jungkook sees red and doesn’t quite remember anything other than Areum running out of the room as he punches Sungho in the face, receiving some punches back.

“You absolutely disgust me”

The bastard has the guts to laugh at him “You know, Jeon” he goes to inspect his face in the mirror “If you burst Y/N’s bubble, you’ll forever be remembered as the stupid little boy that was jealous enough on her wedding day to ruin her life”

Jungkook clenches his fists by his side before deciding to turn his heels and leave the room, vision still blurry in anger, breathing ragged, a small trickle of blood making its way down from his eyebrow as he almost automatically walked himself to the other side of the hostel where he knew you must have been resting, taking a few too many second to decide to knock on the door.

“Jungkook? What are you- oh god” sleep seems to leave you as soon as your eyes lock on his beat up face, him smiling at you in a futile attempt to have you not worry that much about his well being, but of course you were already searching for a first aid kit as he took a seat on your bed “Jungkookie, what happened?”

And perhaps he didn’t think it through that much, but he couldn’t let you walk yourself into a marriage blinded by the persona Sungho had always made you believe he was. “Y/N” he took your hands in his, stopping you from rubbing any more antiseptic into his cut “You’ll hear,a nd probably have already heard, too much shit about me”

His eyes beg you to stare at him intently, and although the whole scenario had you giggling out of nervousness, it soon died down “Kook, what are you talking about?”

“Y/N- Sungho is not the man he’s made us think he is” your eyes scan his face for any more clues on what he’s saying a syou feel a beeping sound closing in on your ears, overwhelmed by the situation “And he’ll probably say this is me just being a jealous asshole after being in love with you for more than half of my living years but-”

You stare at him in horror as your hands remove themselves from his hold as if he was burning, standing up from where you were seated next to him, feeling your whole world being crushed down a few hours before what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life “No” you take a step back as you hold your chest, feeling hot tears welling up in your eyes “Jungkook please don’t do this shit to me”

“Y/N just- don’t marry Sungho” somehow he had willed his voice to remain calm

Your head shook fervently at him, as if somehow the action would make him retreat his words “Sungho loves me, Jungkook”

His eyes were ice cold at your words “He loves you enough to fuck Areum a few hours before making you his wife”

He really didn’t mean the bite on his words as he said them, this had nothing to do with you and everything to do with that asshole you called finacé, so he could completely understand when through your tears, chest heavy with rage and head spinning you asked “Please leave”

And he did.

Everything seemed like a fever dream. The words that Jungkook had said, the implication that it had. And really, if it weren’t for the fact that Jungkook was gone from the whole ordeal, you could have sworn your life that it was nothing other than a nightmare, Areum was as bubbly as ever, helping you get ready. Sungho’s good morning text still found its way into your inbox. Jungkook had not only accused you fiancé of cheating, but had said he had always been in love with you, no further proof to his words, so you decided to go as planned, yet you found yourself hyper aware of every move Sungho made, especially when they involved Areum.

You stood in your pristine white dress in front of a couple dozens of guests as traditional words were spoken, your mind a thousand miles away as you kept on looking towards the door, hoping that maybe, just maybe, they would open up, Jungkook would show up and stop you from making what could potentially be the worst mistake of your life.

"If anyone objects to the marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace." your eyes trail to the soor, yearning to hear Jungkook’s voice amidst the otherwise silent chapel, but it never came.

“Hey, Y/N come dance with us,” one of your bridesmaids say as the night progresses after dinner, some loud beat taking over the venue at the reception, making everyone stand up to dance, including your now-husband as you find yourself sulking sitting on your designated table.

“I’m fine, you go” you try to flash her the biggest smile you can as she goes, leaving you once again with your thoughts. Thoughts that mainly involved Jungkook, figuring that after all these years, life had managed to finally separate you, heart yearning to have him close to you, the more you became aware of your current life path, the more you realised what a humongous mistake you had made. You had always thought that marrying Sungho would give you a sense of utter happiness, of fulfillment, whether what Jungkook said was true or not, as you watched your husband having the time of his life without you. If he were Jungkook, he would be seated right by your side.

Jeon Jungkook, as deviated as he appeared to be to everyone, as much as he slept around, he had demonstrated to be the most loyal human being by your side up until the last second of your friendship, unlike Sungho, he had always been interested in what you wanted to do, had always let your voice be heard, had helped you through rough times when Sungho was nowhere to be seen, perhaps you had chosen the wrong best friend to fall in love with a few years ago, the wrong man in your life to marry. It had been Jungkook all along. It could have been Jungkook all along.

Your eyes fixate on the way that Sungho whispers something on Areum’s ear and you feel your blood boil, more out of self-pity and annoyance at letting such a man manipulate you rather than jealousy as you stand up to make your way to the bathroom, in hopes of freshening up before coming up with a plan to fix this mistake.

You sigh as you hold yourself up by the sink, looking at yourself in the mirror, pondering just how deep you’ll have to dig to come out of the mess when you hear an all too familiar deep chuckle behind you “So you realised”

You turn your back to the mirror to face Jungkook “That Sungho was an asshole or that I’m in love with you?”

His eyes turn into those deeply surprised deer shape you remember from when he was younger for a split second before they’re filled with something else between lust and deep appreciation as he backs you up further against the sink, a tattooed hand coming up to your chin “Does that mean I get to kiss you with no regrets now?”

“Would you kiss a married woman, Jungkook?” you ask playfully, matching the brattiness in his tone

“Only the ones whose husbands are assholes” and so his lips capture yours in a sweet quick kiss that has you wrapping your arms around his neck, leaning in once again, escalating from a very much due kiss filled with words that are unable to be said, into a fiery pit in the low of your stomach at the prospect of kissing Jungkook while still being in your wedding dress, just a few hours married and kissing another man.

Jungkook’s hands have abandoned their place on your figure in favour of trying to undo the little buttons on the back of your dress, breaking the kiss to complain “God just how many buttons does this dress have?”

Soon enough your dress lays forgotten on the floor, matching lingerie covering your body as Jungkook has most of your body up against the mirror, panties aside in favour of having him fingering you, arms almost failing to keep you upright as he mouths at your skin, moans escaping your lips regularly as he pumps and curls his fingers inside you, lewd noises taking reverbating on the small bathroom’s walls, a faint trail of bass coming in from the party “God you’re so perfect Y/N” he grunted as you heard his zipper coming down before feeling the tip of his cock teasing your entrance, his hand coming up to grip your hair making you face the mirror, makeup completely wrecked, the sight almost unrecognisable to you, a slight burning but pleasurable sensation on your scalp “I bet that bastard Sungho wouldn’t be able to wreck you like this” without further notice entering you from behind, your walls clenching against him as you felt him slowly but firmly making his way in and out of you at a building rapidly pace, a moan slipping past your lips and Jungkook shushing you in exchange as he increases his speed and you bit your lip to forbid any noises from coming out, afraid of being heard even when you knew it would be almost impossible to do so over the loud party noises, this bathroom being so far away from it.

Jungkook had placed your right leg up the sink, hitting an even deeper spot that had you building your orgasm at an incredible speed, throwing your head back in pleasure, feeling him completely inside you as heat pooled in your lower belly.

“K-Kook I’m gonna-ah! I’m gonna cum” a few flicks on your clit with his expert fingers as he helped you keep yourself upright did the trick as Jungkook made sure to somehow thrust even deeper, a loud moan scaping you as he spilled his warm seed inside you, quickly adjusting back his boxers and trousers as one of his fingers collected some cum that was dripping down your thigh to push it back in, letting go of you to hold yourself up against the sink, pulling your panties back in place.

“Think that counts as a wedding gift?” he turns to leave the bathroom, leaving you heaving to haphazardly step inside your dress as you trail behind him, finding him resting against a wall, his bike roaring a few meters away as he smiles your way knowingly as he puts on his helmet, throwing another one your way "So.. all ready to leave that asshole of a husband now or should I wait another 15 years?"