#remembered i have this account so um

[stinky-rainboo]

my stalker is still stalking

[deus-ex-mona]

such is the tale of a ✨chronically online hypocrite✨

[drawfee-quot3s]

i'm gettin the scary sillies

- jacob

[elytrafemme]

all my friends have taken to associating me with the miette meme directly not only because i am miette coded but because i refer to myself in the third person as miette in situations that aren't even relevant to the meme. like that's just me bro

[fanfic-writer-and-rambler]

Jason Todd walks to Bruce Wayne scrolling through photos on his phone.

Jason: You want baby pictures of Damian?

Bruce spits out his coffee in shock.

Jason: You have to pay me.

Bruce (frantic): You better not be lying to me because if you have baby pictures of him I will pay you whatever price you ask.

Jason: Um okay I have about 10 I can give you now so $10,000 for each one.

Bruce: Stay there, gotta get my phone and I'll transfer the funds to your bank account.

Bruce runs out of the room leaving Jason Todd with Alfred watching impressed.

Alfred: Jason, how did you get baby pictures?

Jason: Remember, I knew about his existence before Bruce ever did. I visited the kid for the first 9 years before Bruce found out about him. Talia paid me to take photos of him for memories.

Alfred: That's very wholesome of you.

Jason (confused): I said Talia paid me.

Alfred: Money or not, you did a good deed. Now Master Bruce can have a few photos and trust me, he's been begging Talia for baby pictures for years. Be proud of yourself.

Jason smiles.

Jason: I appreciate you saying that.

Alfred: I mean every word of it. You're welcome.

[noxtivagus]

i'm gna play so much ffxiv when this week ends .

[caitlinbueckers]

fuck it.

caitlin clark x reader type beat

deadass this is just a mindless blurb but i CANNOT get shy yet cocky caitlin clark meeting a rivaling fan in an elevator outttt of my mind soooo enjoy (thanks @sellawrites for being my beta fr)

SLIGHT NSFW , DIALOGUE HEAVY , BULLSHIT RAMBLINGS

18+ regardless

it would come to you as a surprise. a shock, really.

it would feel almost too crazy to be true.

you don’t think you’re losing your mind or anything, which could be a super viable option if it wasn’t for the fact that you had just left the court, game fresh in mind, still wearing an oversized UCONN t-shirt, typing quickly at your phone to express your distaste with the win that IOWA just pulled over your favorite team.

the elevator doors open and close standardly— you hadn’t realized until you’d booked the hotel just how fucking busy it is, not taking into account that it was one of the nicer hotels in the city, elite only in the sense that it took a lot of fucking flight points to even book here, exclusivity aside.

it doesn’t register to you until you’re finished with an almost exaggeratedly dramatic description of the game to your friend, corner of your lips raising slightly only in jest of your words, that you manage to glance upwards, eyes flickering quickly from the back of the hooded figure, back down to your phone. well, that is, until your eyes flicker upwards again, remaining there with a studying gaze as you try to place just where the fuck you’ve seen that hoodie before, embarrassingly candid in your incessant stare—

until the figure turns, and your suspicion is confirmed, and it kinda fucking feels like karma, or maybe some sick joke from the universe that of course the hooded figure just somehow happens to be the very player that disrespected your team the most— caitlin clark.

you’re sort of gobsmacked, so it’s silent for a beat before caitlin, almost apologetically, rushes to speak.

“sorry, i just— i saw you looking, so—“

“no, no— that’s my bad, like- i just didn’t, um, realize that i like, recognize your hoodie…?” it sounds as painful as it is to say, and somehow caitlin, despite the looks of aggression, fierceness and fervor that she displays on the court, somehow melts into this weird, sort of embarrassed looking smile that makes something foreign tingle within you. it’s endearment, surely, but interest nonetheless.

“no, that’s okay— i wasn’t, like, complaining, or anything.” it’s only then that caitlin’s eyes flicker down to your tee, and suddenly, it feels a little fucking ironic. “did you make it to the game tonight?”

self consciously, your arms cross over your chest, attempting to cover the logo, but you find an awkward, sort of quiet chuckle bubble out of you, “i did,” and, because despite the fact her team sort of fucked over your favorite team, it doesn’t take away the respect you have for her because she is tough, so you even go on to say, “you played really fucking well, by the way.”

then, it’s your turn to be surprised again, because america’s hardest basketball player is fucking blushing in front of you, ducking her head like she isn’t six feet, practically demanding to be seen, and it makes you grin despite it, admiring that even now, in her claim to fame, she’s humble.

“dude, that’s- that means a lot to me, really. it was… super fucking close, but—“ she stops herself, right as the elevator dings for your floor, right as she remembers she’s talking to a person, not a conference room, and clears her throat a little. “it was… hard.” she says, and it feels so achingly honest that it makes you pause for a second, biting the inside of your cheek. “looked hard.” you remark, watching as the smile on her face returns, timid, but there nonetheless.

then, the elevator gives another warning ding, and you feel like a fucking idiot because the doors are open and you won’t just go, and leave it at that. because, when else do people just get chances to meet people like this?

the time on your phone reads 1:24 AM.

not like you had anything else to do, anyway.

“sorry, am i like— in the way…?” caitlin is almost overly apologetic as she stands aside, and you’re quick to shake your head, mostly because yeah, she sort of was in the way, but also, because you didn’t really wanna get off yet.

“no! you’re fine, um, i was just gonna suggest maybe we could, like, i dunno— grab a drink or something, y’know?”

jesus, you felt like an idiot as soon as the words are out, and you wince, eliciting a chuckle from both you and her.

you rush to explain, “sorry, that’s like— super fucking weird, i just like, fly out tomorrow morning so i just— wanted to offer, i guess?”

but for some reason, it’s mingled with the sound of caitlin’s quick reassurance, eyes wide almost as if to make sure she’s being understood, as she says, “no, no— that’s not weird, i don’t… have anything else to do, anyway.”

the answer, though only slightly backhanded, makes your lips twitch into a real smile, and you snort, shrugging a bit. “is it gonna ruin your reputation to drink at a hotel bar?”

she’s ruthless. a fighter. a winner.

she smiles again, and it’s soft, before she shakes her head, “what reputation?”

-

you both end up too fucking drunk— the bartender only a little starstruck as you both pretend under some unspoken agreement that caitlin’s name was totally debbie and she’d never heard of women’s basketball in her life. it’s stupid, and ridiculous, and somehow you want to think it’s too good to be true that one person can be so insanely talented, and somehow not be a piece of shit— caitlin seems to prove you wrong at every point.

“dude, fuckin’— god, kate’s gonna be pissed.” the words leave caitlin’s lips in a breath of laughter, the elevator shutting behind you as your hand presses to the wall for register, shoulder bumping against her arm due to the height discrepancy that isn’t totally still making something within you stir in awe.

kate martin. you’re aware of her team enough to identify who that must be, and for only half a second do you remember that this isn’t some chick you’d met at a hotel, this was caitlin fucking clark, and it fills you with a sense of astonishment, and then, weirdly, a surge of pride.

not for any posterity reasons, but because this absolute beast was fucking giggling and smiling and feverbright from the alcohol and you’re staring for way longer than you need to because, holy shit, why didn’t you realize how fucking pretty she was earlier?

“fuck it—“ you proclaimed, loopy and still a little too unsteady on your feet as you stumble, before her hand, long and firm, calloused and warm, flies out to grasp your shoulder, “my rooms like, fuckin’ empty, dude,”

she seems surprised, almost as much as you are that you’d even offered. “is that like—? are you like, sure?” and as if to make sure she has your attention, she pulls you to her, and your eyes flutter upwards, lips parted without a sound escaping because she’s looking down at you, her hair falling from its weakly tied ponytail, and she doesn’t realize that she’s holding you tight, but you can’t pull away because you don’t want to.

your response is immediate. “duh.”

she grins. your stomach flips, for the second time that night.

and really, truly, after that it should’ve been a lot more innocent. caitlin stumbles in and collapses on your bed, looking not even the slightest tired, but with a look on her face that makes you snicker out, “what?”

it escapes her in a breath of laughter, eyes lolling from the ceiling to you, standing almost idly beside the bed as your fingers caress the bedsheets, warm only from the presence of her body a few inches away.

“wish i could do this all the time.”

it makes you frown, but your lips are still upturned, giving her a look of amusement. “get drunk?”

her own hands are twiddling with each other, before she reaches up, caresses your arm with the subtlety of an elephant, tracing over the red lines she’d left on your bicep from the elevator. it makes you fucking shiver. “no, like— meet new people and stuff. just, talking to you is like— awesome, y’know…”

you don’t know, because you’re not a college athlete, but you nod anyway, leaning over her only slightly because the last vodka cranberry is settling nicely within you, and caitlin’s starting to grin, eyes hazy and cheeks pink, as you respond, soft and just for her, “consider this a prize then? winners trophy?”

she doesn’t answer, she just laughs and then she kisses you, uncoordinated and sloppy, nothing like how she is on the court, calculated and unwavering. like this, she’s loose, strong, but wobbly as she pulls you down over her, and it’s like a fucking sixth sense that you scramble atop of her, swinging a leg over her hips like you’ve done it a million times.

though, it’s more recognizable that she’s quick, her hands racing up your oversized shirt, thumbs hard as they press against your stomach, your ribcage, the lining of your bra.

she scoffs, soft and husky against your mouth, “take this shit off.” and it’s only then, that you remember cognizantly the UCONN shirt you’re wearing, and for some fucking reason, this sudden show of confidence, the liquor somehow fueling her, makes you blush.

“fuck off— “ you’re panting, but the shirt is tugged over your head regardless, a smirk on your face, “two point wonder.”

caitlin all but fucking growls, but she’s grinning, wolfish and proud, as she thumbs over your nipples, hard and pert through the lace as she presses her hips up against you, “two fuckin’— i’ll show you two fucking points.”

and she does.

maybe her post victory adrenaline had been surging, or maybe it was just all the beers she’d housed, but you’re surprised at her energy— which was stupid considering you were looking at a girl known for her endurance, her unlimited stamina.

but holy hell, she’d just rocked the fieldhouse for all it was worth— seemed like you were next on her agenda.

it’d be hard to recount all the details. you guys were drunk, and she was like a driving, pushing force— hands snuck down the front of your shorts, fingers impossibly dexterous as they curled into you, inducing every embarrassing and pitiful sound to rip from your throat, to breathe it into hers.

you probably wouldn’t remember her voice either, husky and low, gravelly with overuse, as she asks you, “hm? how’d i do tonight? tell me.” and in a sense, it’s fucking filthy. in another, it’s almost sort of sweet. the way she says it in your neck, the way she kisses you when you trip up to say, “good— so fucking good.” because neither of you are really talking about the game, and you both know it.

you pretend like you won’t remember the way she’s gone in the morning before you wake up, nothing but a warm reminder of her body on the haphazardly arranged bed, fixtures of the night surrounding you, like your littered clothes trailing off the bed, or your body under the sheets, like the pillow she’d used as leverage when she pressed open mouth kisses against the inside of your thigh, the way she’d taken you apart with her tongue and that’s all.

you do, however, remember the number she scrawls on a napkin, with an almost laughable signature that looks worlds away from her usual, coveted autograph.

instead of her looping cursive, a simple ‘cait’ sits scratched beside it, like she isn’t the award winning, competitively, aggressively ambitious beast that you used to know her as.

for now, it’s just caitlin.

[fox-guardian]

hey guys did you know that um. did you know. first of all did you know i'm losing my mind, secondly, do y'all remember in tma how when someone reads a written statement, they don't really Stop unless they're interrupted? and they read the whole thing easy cheesy, no issues with reading whatever words are there? like. jon literally could read french for a whole statement and was Fine. granted, that's Jon, but like nobody else struggled with pronunciations and whatnot (that i can recall)

presumably, this is an eye thing. either as employees of the institute, or because everyone there is just also eye-aligned in some degree (melanie had the ghost hunting show, the eye is fond of martin, etc)

and then there's tim in season 3 ep 86

[Sigh] Statement of… uh, Benjamin Hatendi… Hateendi? Regarding a… [papers rustling] a blanket. Dead friend. Monster. Regarding his unavoidable and gruesome end. How he tried to hide. He couldn’t. Statement is from… 1983, March 2nd. And I guess… [long sigh] I guess I’m doing this one. Tim Stoker. Archival assistant… Archival prisoner at the Magnus Institute.

correct me if im wrong but i don't recall anyone struggling with pronunciations before this bit. but that's not even the biggest thing here, that's just a lil Taste, a lil Flavor.

note the phrasing there. "Regarding his unavoidable and gruesome end." why would he say this when the written text on the statement says this:

Uh, right. Benjamin Hatendi’s account of… [rustling pages] oh for… a, a strange encounter. Er, statement date, March 2nd, 1983. Melanie King recording. Apparently.

"a strange encounter". that's it. nothing about an unavoidable death, just a "strange encounter". Tim Why Did You Say That.

why would our dear timothy bimothy, who is being pushed to the brink, who is becoming rapidly more depressed and losing hope, say this?

this isn't the only time he's said some weirdly grim shit tho (ep 104)

There was never really any hope for me, though, was there? This was how it was always going to go.

and then there's this bit from elias apparently having Looked into tim (also 104)

TIM All right, hit me with your X-ray eyes then, boss. What do you see? ELIAS Disruption. An unpredictable, angry man with nothing left but the desire to feel in some way revenged. TIM [Sarcastic] Ooh, terrifying! Surely only magic could have let you see so deep inside my very soul.

"nothing left" but the desire to feel revenged. and tim doesn't dispute this, because it's true.

when he first joined the institute he did so in order to look for answers about danny, but then he stopped seriously looking. and now that the circus is back, this is all the drive he has left. not looking for answers, just wanting revenge. closure. an end, if you will.

this is Literally It For Him. a couple lines later he suggests elias kill him, he's At The Breaking Point.

he is so tired, he's lost all hope, and he's saying all this grim shit about "unavoidable death" and "this is how it was always going to go" like hmmmm sounds familiar doesn't it. DOESN'T IT (<- is going insane)

(ep 11) [....] despite the rapid response of the paramedics and how much of his medical history I had immediately to hand, there was nothing I could do to save him. (ep 11) I have no responsibility to try and prevent whatever fate is coming for you. Based on my previous experience, such a thing is likely impossible anyway,[....] (ep 121) There. That was it. That was our fate; where we would always be.

hmmmm sounds a bit like oliver huh? everyone's favorite ex-accountant avatar of the end?? right??

but then there's this last bit i have from ep 86.

why did he stop reading the statement

Statement. “My parents never let me have a nightlight. I was always afraid, but they were ju–” Ugh, this is stupid.

why did he do that. again, correct me if im wrong but when else has someone just Stopped Reading like that without someone or something else interrupting them? why could tim just stop himself?

my theory is this: at this point, tim is completely gone from being aligned with the eye. he no longer seeks to know what happened to danny, he just wants closure. he doesn't wanna do any statement work, and he keeps mentioning these tidbits about hopelessness and the inevitability of terrible events, specifically death.

the eye isn't compelling him to read the statements like it does the others, because it doesn't have as strong a hold anymore. the grip is slipping from him. and by the time the unknowing rolls around, maybe it's lost him for good. maybe he finally fell into a different power he never meant to serve, and yet, he does.

and maybe. just maybe. because i'm so not in denial. but MAYBE. he did die in the unknowing. but maybe he got better.

basically end!tim truthers rise up, this is how end!tim kayaking with his bf oliver banks can still win, etc etc I'm Going Feral <3

[peppermintquartz]

Canon divergence in that Buck does call Tommy the next time he's free, asking to go up in a chopper (instead of the harebrained scheme of going to the BBPU game)

+-

"And that's my favorite view," says Tommy, angling the helicopter to face the Pacific. It's late in the morning so sunlight glitters on the water like diamonds scattered on blue silk.

Buck shields his eyes with his hands. "It's beautiful!" he exclaims, almost giddy with delight at the panorama.

"It is. And at night, I like to look the other way, at the city spread out before me." Tommy's aviator sunglasses hide his eyes but his big smile is on full display.

Buck can't help the shiver in his belly every time he looks at Tommy. It's clear the air is his element. Already Buck knows that Tommy is very competent - they wouldn't have pulled off the rescue otherwise - but here, without anything to distract them, Buck sees how the chopper is an extension of Tommy himself. A deft touch, a slight adjustment, and the vehicle moves smoothly for Tommy to point out different landmarks from the sky.

By the time they land, Buck's spirits are still soaring. He's spent forty minutes flying with Tommy, who not only talked about the mechanics of flying, but also answered almost all of Buck's questions without ever sounding bored. In fact, he seems happy that Buck has done some research before he came for the ride.

"Okay, now I really need to buy you that beer, and also a meal." Buck wants to bounce on his heels. He feels lighter than air, like he's just a balloon full of happy emotions.

Tommy grins, shrugging as he tucks his aviators into a pocket. "I'm free for the rest of the day," he says. Ducking his head, he adds, "Didn't feel too good leaving you alone the other day to go watch the fight, but I didn't think we'd take two hours to tour Harbor Station either."

Buck's cheeks flush. He remembers being irrationally angry when Eddie and Tommy flew off, and he did go home to pummel his pillow a little before sulking. But he's done the mature thing, which is ask Tommy for a flight demo, instead of something insane like figure out what other activities he would be doing or events he would attend and try to show up there like a toy surprise.

"Well, that was because I wanted to find out so much, and it's really your fault, because you answered everything in detail." Buck falls in step with the older man as they head to Tommy's car. "You have to be accountable for your mistakes."

Tommy laughs. Buck feels tingly and proud that he's made that happen. Daringly, he nudges Tommy's elbow with his.

"So, what would you like for lunch?" Buck asks. "My treat, as thanks for the flight."

"Sure," says Tommy with an easy smile. As they approach the car, Tommy halts.

Buck stops as well, a little concerned. "Everything okay?"

Tilting his head, Tommy studies Buck, and then his expression grows a little more nervous and serious. "I... I don't wanna presume anything, and I want you to know that, regardless of anything I'm about to say, I wanna be your friend."

Buck blinks at the older man. "Okay, um. What's this about?"

"Evan, before we go to lunch, I kinda wanna know what's going on here? I mean..." Tommy licks his lips, and Buck's gaze snaps to Tommy's mouth. "You're adorable and you're funny and, well. You're a gorgeous guy. I'm not... I'm not really sure why you wanna spend time with me. And I don't wanna get my hopes up if this is just me reading the signs wrongly."

"Uh, signs?"

Tommy's face falls. He glances away, wiping his hand over his mouth, and licks his lips again. "Shit. I've read you wrong."

Buck reaches out to touch Tommy's wrist. "Tommy, I'm not sure what you're saying."

Tommy looks back at Buck, blue eyes taking in the younger man's expression, and sighs. He flips his hand over to hold the tips of Buck's fingers.

"Hell. Might as well lay my cards out," he mutters, mostly to himself, and then looks - really looks - at Buck. "Evan, I'm gay. And these couple times we've met up, I really, really like how we click. I like your energy, and how earnest and open you are. And it doesn't hurt that you are one of the most attractive men I've ever met, and I really like spending time with you, and I'm hoping... I'm hoping I can ask you out for a date and maybe we can... find out if we could. If we could be more than friends."

There's an anxious cast to his features. Buck can see Tommy's jaw clench and the nervous swallow, and a part of Buck's mind is screaming static. Another part of him is frantically stammering, "I'm just an ally!!" But thankfully that part of him has no control of his mouth, because he instead steps closer to Tommy and-

Oh. Oh.

So that's how it feels to kiss a guy.

He pulls back slightly, but is stopped by the touch of fingers under his chin, and Tommy draws him back for a second kiss, his head angled, and-

Wow. Wow, okay. They're near the airfield in the parking lot and the breeze is cool and the sun is shining nice and warm and they are kissing, Buck is kissing Tommy and this feels right.

When they finally separate, possibly two centuries later, Buck blinks at Tommy. His face feels hot and his skin is tingling. With a small, happy grin, he says, "I would say yes to the date, if that helps."

Tommy chuckles. He licks his lips again and Buck forces himself to look away from those lips. "Okay. I'd like to ask you out on a date on Saturday night, if you're free."

"I... I'm free." Buck's grin grows brighter. He tilts his head. "Lunch, now?"

[theminecraftbee]

being in true sexyman nostalgia mode today (on account of. IT'S BEEN ONE YEAR BABY.) i think one of the most fascinating things about it is that we will never manage to do that again. like, not in a "we couldn't organize it better" way; there were better ways to do the spreadsheet, we would just turn off comments on posts and anon asks from day one so that we wouldn't then get people accusing us of censorship while we tried and failed to control the tide of things that ended up in the comments and inbox, we'd definitely have a WAY higher non-hermit contingent, both thanks to qsmp and thanks to the sexyman blog and medusa now having MUCH wider reach to other corners of the fandom and the original spread not all rooting at me, etc.

but the reason we couldn't do it again is that i don't know if we could ever replicate the exact circumstances that lead to it blowing up quite to the extent it blew up.

it was while tumblr polls and doing tumblr poll brackets on tumblr itself was still new-ish, and people were still excited about them. the idea of a mcytblr bracket was basically brand new; i won't claim we did it FIRST (because i have no idea if we did and doubt we did), but certainly we did it big first. so there's that; we can never again invent in real time "shit people are sending us threats about fraud lets legalize fraud because its funny, we can't stop it, and that neutralizes that drama as a thing anyone will take seriously", and then in turn accidentally invent a fandom culture of. um. wide-spread voter fraud.

(i don't know if we should apologize for, uh, causing the specific way mcytblr voter frauds. i still think it was better than the alternative at least, especially after seeing how so many other polls crashed and burned after us. there were MANY things we could have done better but i have seen SO MANY ways we could have done things worse since then so i think we came out looking pretty okay.)

but also: february 2023 was a very different time in mcytblr. we were in a hermitcraft dead period, where most of the hermits were either on vacation or playing tcg (which was fun, but didn't end up generating that much fandom activity by that time in february). the former dsmp crew was very much doing Nothing (and in that awkward space when the entire fandom knew dsmp 2 was never happening, but also people were still claiming it would happen, so it was just... busy waiting). qsmp didn't exist yet. there was no ongoing life series and wouldn't be for some time. i think even the dominioners and lifestealers were in a fairly dead zone. there was very little new for people to be excited about, mcyt content-wise.

enter: our poll. our poll which cleo then thinks its funny to call out on twitter. our poll, which was not only new mcyt content for the fandom to interact with (thanks to the fact we KEPT GETTING CC INTERACTIONS???), but participatory.

for about two weeks, we were the mcyt event de jour.

and like. the thing is. now we're in february 2024. mcyt is BOOMING. a new hermitcraft season JUST STARTED. we came off of vault hunters before that. meanwhile, qsmp just restarted and is, if i'm understanding correctly, booming. they just added a new guy! the two current juggernauts of the fandom are in FULL SWING. i honestly think we'd be somewhat overtaken by the fact things are actually happening in fandom. there's stuff to do that ISN'T go insane about a poll.

and it's not new, and we've seen it all before now, and frankly, it's hard to cause a mass hysteria event TWICE. lightning in a bottle, as they say.

i think part of the reason we all just REMEMBER mcytblr sexyman so much is that we could never, ever recreate it, so it remains crystalized in a single moment in time, impossible to replicate, forever memorable.

anyway: HAPPY ONE YEAR TO THE JOE HILLS SWEEP BABY,

[loveinhawkins]

There’s a table in the school library that’s nestled in the corner, right by a radiator; Steve has claimed it ever since his double block of ‘private study periods’ began.

Not that he’s planning on doing any studying: it’s the last day of school before the winter break, and while his face has healed up from the whole Billy Hargrove Incident, he still finds himself feeling wiped at random—like his body’s having a delayed adrenaline crash ever since he pulled Dustin out of that freaky vine-infested tunnel.

So really, this spot should be ideal for a couple hours of not having to think.

And it would be perfect, if his eyes weren’t instinctively drawn to movement at the front desk.

Because for the past god-knows-how-long, Eddie Munson has been in a back-and-forth with the librarian.

It had started when he ambled up to the desk with a healthy pile of books in his hands, placed them down neatly, all ready to be stamped. Flashed a charming smile.

Steve was too far away to hear the words, but he got the gist that whatever the librarian had said amounted to no, absolutely not, because Eddie scooped the books back up, dumped them on a table a little distance away from Steve’s, then hemmed and hawed before returning to the desk with a more modest pile than before.

He was sent away again with presumably the same refusal, and so the pattern repeated until this very minute: he’s returning with just one book in his hands, his smile less charming now, more desperate.

But… no luck.

Eddie slouches back to the table in defeat. Just stands there, staring down at the books.

And goddamn it, Steve thinks, now he’s invested.

“Hey. Munson,” he says in an undertone. “What’s up?”

He doesn’t miss the weird kind of double take Eddie gives him, but at least Steve knows it’s not because of his face being a mess this time—seriously, drawing looks from students when all he wanted was to get in line for crappy cafeteria pizza had not been fun.

“Nothing,” Eddie says with a shrug, and he flashes another wide smile that makes Steve think bullshit. “Apparently I racked up a mountain of late fees. Who knew?” He sighs, glancing at his wristwatch. “Guess I’ve got enough time to just read the—oh. Um. Hey?”

“These books?” Steve confirms, having already stood up to look at them.

Eddie blinks a few times. “Yeah, these—uh, Harrington, what the fuck do you think you’re—?”

Steve heads over to the front desk with the books. It’s not all that difficult of a decision to make; he remembers Tommy H had his own library late fees in freshman year, but got nothing more than a simpering, “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again, sweetie,” just because his mom knew someone on the school board.

“For checking out, please,” Steve says, not bothering with a smile as he hands over his library card.

The only resistance he gets is a raised eyebrow from the librarian before all the books are stamped.

“What the fuck,” Eddie says, voice flat; he doesn’t take the books when Steve tries to give them to him, so Steve just shrugs and goes back to his seat, sets the books pointedly on the edge of the table.

“Look, man, it’s up to you, but I’m not gonna take them. They’ll just be sitting here.”

Eddie huffs. He goes over to the books, his hand twitching towards them before drawing back, like he’s at war with himself.

“You—you didn’t have to do that,” he gets out as if it physically pains him to do so.

Prickly, Steve thinks.

“It’s no big deal,” he says. “My account’s gathering dust, so someone might as well get the good of it.”

At hearing that, Eddie looks a little less defensive. He chews on his lips for a few seconds, then says, his tone serious, “Harrington, I’ll—I’ll forget. Like, with the holidays… like, I guarantee you, even if I write a million fucking reminders, I’m gonna take these books and forget to bring ‘em back for months.”

“Oh, no,” Steve says dryly, “lemme go alert the press, I just heard a blatant confession to a crime. Dude, just take them, what do I care if your homework takes you months to—”

“It’s not even for school,” Eddie interrupts through gritted teeth, “it’s dumb, it’s just—”

“Jesus Christ. Lemme call the press again, sounds like you’re reading a book for fun.”

Eddie stares at him. Steve raises an eyebrow in challenge—he could do this all day; just the other week, he’d beaten Mike in a brutal staring contest that felt like it went on for hours.

Eddie breaks first. “Fine,” he says with another huff, but he’s less agitated when handling the books—lingers thoughtfully on their titles, puts a couple in his backpack. The rest he opens at seemingly random parts, but it looks like he knows what he’s searching for.

And then it seems as if he’s just going to pick up the remaining books and walk away—Steve expects him to, honestly—but he ends up staying where he is, gives Steve a look of consideration, almost like he’s a book worth reading, too.

“You stole my table, you know?” Eddie says.

“Uh, no,” Steve says automatically, then adds with more confidence, “I was definitely here first.”

Eddie snorts. “Nope. My senior year, uh,” he shrugs self-deprecatingly, “the first time around. That was my spot. Was pretty possessive over it too, think I signed the table, like, underneath.”

Steve’s eyebrows rise in interest; he runs a finger along the underside of the table and soon feels it: an E.M scratched into the wood.

“Huh,” he says. “Guess you’re right.”

A pause.

And then Steve surprises himself.

“There’s, um, room here, if you want? I’m not gonna use the whole table.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. There’s a long enough silence in which Steve considers just telling him to forget about it, but then—

Eddie sits down opposite him.

It’s not as awkward as Steve was expecting: Eddie seems focused enough on his books, on bringing out a battered looking journal with sheets of paper that look like they’re hanging on by a thread. He roots around his backpack some more, retrieves a ballpoint pen with a quiet, triumphant, “Aha!”

He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care that Steve isn’t even making an attempt to look busy; his own side of the table is bare.

“Didn’t know you were left-handed,” Steve says after a moment.

Eddie looks up from his note-taking. He smirks, waggles his eyebrows briefly. “Fitting, huh? Spooky.”

“Oh, I’m terrified.”

And Eddie actually laughs—hushed, but it still counts as one.

He soon returns to being absorbed in whatever it is he’s writing, which means Steve has less of a distraction when the familiar wave of tiredness washes over him.

He tries to sit up as well as he can, conscious of the fact that he’s not alone, but the radiator is the perfect temperature, and the steady scratch of Eddie’s pen has a soporific effect. He’s distantly aware of the fact that his head is nodding down with dwindling energy to try and stop it—hears Eddie’s voice, as if from very far away, rising in question.

Steve sniffs sharply, jerks his head back up and blinks hard. “What?”

“Oh, sorry,” Eddie says quickly, and he sounds genuine. “Didn’t know you were sleeping.”

“I wasn’t,” Steve says.

“Uh, okay,” Eddie says. His lips twitch. “That was an awfully long blink then, Harrington.”

“Shut up,” Steve retorts mildly. He stretches slightly, hides a yawn behind his hand. “Did you actually want something or—”

“Nah, wasn’t important.”

Steve frowns, unconvinced. The side of Eddie’s left hand is covered in ink, and Steve can see where his pen has started to die on him as his writing gets more faded across the page.

Steve puts a hand in his pocket, brings out another ballpoint and throws it at Eddie.

The pen bounces along the table, and Eddie manages to catch it one-handed.

“Good catch,” Steve says.

“Thanks,” Eddie says. He sounds almost uncertain.

Silence falls. It only takes another minute or two of hearing Eddie writing away for Steve’s determination to stay awake to waver again. He slumps forward with a mumbled, “M’just gonna…” and lays his head down.

Eddie stops writing.

“Hey, man, are you… okay? Like, if you feel… if you wanna go home I could take you to the nurse? Or—”

“I’m fine,” Steve says into his folded arms. “S’just… the aftermath of… stuff. No big deal.”

“Oh?” Eddie says tentatively.

Steve lifts his head up a bit, squints dubiously. “C’mon, Munson. You must’ve heard the rumour mill.”

Billy Hargrove had spread it all over the school, how he had ‘taught King Steve a lesson.’ In all honesty, Steve hadn’t cared all that much about how he himself came across in whatever story Billy created, was just relieved that at least Max and Lucas’s names had been kept out of it.

“I don’t put much stock in rumours,” Eddie says carefully. “Folks can say… all kindsa things.”

Steve nods faintly. Fair point.

“Okay, but you can take a little bit of stock in this one. Like, a smidge.”

Steve demonstrates with his thumb and forefinger.

It’s only when Eddie doesn’t smile in response that Steve realises he’d been hoping to make him laugh again. Maybe.

“Huh. Well. For what it’s worth… I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Steve says tiredly.

“Harrington. I’m not stupid, y’know? That was more than a… a stupid fight after school or something. Like, I can remember what your face looked like.”

“Gee, thanks.” Steve sets his head back down, closing his eyes.

“I didn’t—I just meant whatever it was, it… it went too far. Way too fucking far.”

Steve yawns again, doesn’t bother hiding it. “Yeah. Something like that.”

He’s resigning himself to the thought of waking up with a stiff neck before Eddie sighs and says, “If you’re gonna sleep, Harrington, don’t be an amateur about it.”

Steve looks up in time to see Eddie reaching underneath the table with one leg, hooking his ankle round the empty chair next to Steve and shoving it closer to him.

“Three or four’s probably the best amount for stretching out on,” Eddie says. “Uh, speaking from experience.”

Steve smiles. “Noted.”

He manoeuvres himself until he’s lying much more comfortably across the seats, using his backpack and coat as a pillow.

Frustratingly but predictably, despite his fatigue, sleep doesn’t come easily, so Steve looks underneath the table and asks, “What’re you writing about, Munson?”

He can see Eddie’s boots, how one foot is tapping away, as if in time to a song no-one else can hear.

“Um, I was just… getting inspiration for… it’s kinda like. Like a story, but—”

“Don’t hurt yourself, dude,” Steve says, “I know what a campaign is.”

The foot tapping stops.

“Aren’t you just full of surprises?” Eddie says.

He sounds a bit far away again, though Steve knows that’s just in his head; he can feel his eyelids drooping.

“You’ve got…” He sighs, voice trailing off as he finishes, “No idea…”

Eddie launches into a speech; Steve can follow it well enough for a little while, Eddie rambling about the kind of decisions he thinks his players will make in the game, but eventually the words become a blur, and he drifts off just like that, into an unexpectedly peaceful sleep.

He wakes with the lightest of touches to his shoulder, a soft, “Steve?” that nevertheless makes him jolt to full alertness in a blink, reaching for a bat he doesn’t currently have.

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie yelps, almost falling back against the table. “What the hell kinda military training d’you have, Harrington?”

“Just have good reflexes,” Steve says, hopes it sounds casual enough as he breathes through his suddenly racing heart.

“Yeah, that’s one way to fucking put it. Anyway, uh. Sorry, didn’t mean to, like, startle you, but you slept right through the bell, man.”

Steve sits up; the library is empty apart from them, the librarian shooting them a not so subtle glare. And he realises that while everyone else was rushing out of school, eager for the holidays to start, Eddie must’ve stayed. Waited for him.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, quickly puts on his coat.

“God, sorry, you didn’t have to—if I’ve made you late, I’m—”

“Nah, don’t sweat it.” Eddie puts his backpack strap across one shoulder. “I wasn’t in a hurry. Um, are you… like, good to drive? I can give you a ride, if—”

“I’m okay,” Steve says, struck by the consideration behind the offer. He means what he says though; he feels pleasantly refreshed. He smiles self-effacingly. “Think I need one class where I can just sleep, and then I’ll get through the day.”

Eddie gives a playful scoff. “That’s already a thing, Harrington, it’s called first period.”

They walk out of the library together, and Steve finds that it’s kind of… nice, honestly. He keeps waiting for some awkwardness to creep in again, but it never does.

“Big holiday plans?” Eddie asks, smalltalk that should be stilted, but it just sounds like he’s sincerely interested in the answer.

Steve shrugs. “Not really. Oh, I’ve got—you know the Snow Ball thing tomorrow, at the middle school? There’s this kid I know, I’m gonna give him a ride there, but—”

Steve breaks off with a fond shake of the head, knowing that there’s this kid I know doesn’t really give it justice, doesn’t say the full truth: that Dustin Henderson has somehow wormed his way into Steve’s goddamn heart forever.

“His mom’s invited me over for dinner tonight,” he continues. “Think he wants, like, a dress-rehearsal of his outfit or something, which is probably the closest he’ll ever come to admitting he’s nervous. I kinda feel for him, honestly. God, do you remember being thirteen? Everything seemed to matter so much, and most of it was just… stupid shit.”

They’ve reached the parking lot, and Eddie gives Steve a sideways look with a bemused smile.

“Woah, Harrington, we’re still in school, remember? Don’t think we’re meant to sound so world-weary yet.”

Steve chuckles. “Yeah.” He gestures at Eddie’s get-up. “Bet you’ve never once cared about the stupid shit, though.”

What people think.

Eddie’s smile turns more knowing. “Shockingly, Harrington,” he says, “I didn’t come out the womb like this.”

They both hesitate; they’re at Steve’s car now, Eddie’s van parked in a space that’s further away. There’s no reason, really, for the conversation to continue any longer.

But Eddie still lingers.

“Uh, enjoy your dinner, I guess. If the… dress-rehearsal goes shit, just tell the kid it’s good luck for the real night.”

Steve laughs. “He’s in the Drama Club, so that might work, actually. Thanks, Munson.” He opens the car door as Eddie nods, starts to head off to his van. Seized by a sudden impulse, Steve calls, “Happy holidays!”

“Yeah, you too.” Eddie turns, tapping at his temple exaggeratedly. “Won’t forget about the books, I promise.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “You better not,” he says, tongue-in-cheek.

He starts the car and heads for Dustin’s house, honks the horn when he drives past Eddie’s van, catches Eddie waving.

Steve thinks he quite likes the idea (regardless of whether it’ll put his library account in jeopardy), of the books finding a permanent home at Eddie’s place. Briefly imagines Eddie writing with an ink-stained hand, curled up safely in a world of his own—where the only monsters are the ones that live in between the pages.

[bakugoushotwife]

Just Being Neighborly

a/n: y'all gone need the holy water for this one... it was a lovely writing challenge from the one the only @getosbigballsack so if you something with similar themes don't freak out lol. this was super fun and i definitely got carried away LMFAOOO

cw: shew let's see um, threesomes, mfm but the men are involved briefly, oral (m+f receiving), unprotected sex, p in v, anal, dirty talk, pet names, slight dacryphilia, size kink maybe? doggy and reverse cowgirl. unedited as usual, i probably missed something im sorry

wc: please im so embarrassed it's 9k

They still remembered the day that you moved in. It was a sunny Tuesday in the middle of the summer, the gentle breeze flowing into their townhouse while they sat shoulder to shoulder on the couch playing Fifa. The sounds of car doors shutting and the roll of suitcase wheels on the concrete sidewalk got Satoru’s attention. He pauses the game, and Suguru groans. The lanky young man trips over himself to lean over his best friend and roommate on the couch, peering out of the window. 

“Stop being so nosy and I was beating you.” The other man sighed, moving his long dark hair to his other shoulder so his companion didn’t lay on it. 

Gojo huffs in defense of himself, keeping his bespectacled eyes trained outside. Finally he sees you. You walk back to the sleek Cadillac in the shortest yellow polka dotted sundress in existence, cute white pumps elongating your bare legs even more so. He was drooling and he hadn’t even seen your face. “There’s a babe moving in!” He rejoices, maybe a bit too loud through the open frame.

 Suguru leans over to pull his mouthy friend out of the window, but you too, piqued his interest. The dress was tight, hugging every curve and accentuating your large bust and wide hips. You don’t notice them watching, too busy pulling boxes out of the trunk and setting them on the sidewalk for you to carry in. Satoru wonders what you do for a living. These were expensive townhouses, the two college students only lived there on the account of him being a trust fund baby. 

The more built of the two shoved the other male off his lap, but the lanky man saved himself from falling to the floor. “We should go help her, she shouldn’t carry all that herself.” Suguru suggests like the sweetheart he is. Satoru hums mischievously at the idea. 

“What a great idea, I’m sure the babe will be relieved to have two strong young men living so close!” He grins, elbowing his partner-in-crime. 

“Y/N, are you done yet?” A foreign voice thunders, the sound of dress shoes clack back out to the car, grabbing their attention. Soon a man in a suit comes into view, folding his arms at you. 

You sigh softly and paint your smile on. “Almost, dear. This one’s a bit heavy.” 

“Well you packed it all in there, so whose fault is that?” Your husband chuckles, though he’s not kidding. Satoru Gojo’s nose scrunches up.

“Blegh, he’s an asshole.” He sneered. 

This time, Suguru Geto had to concede to his best friend, the way the man spoke to you was awful, and he was making you carry everything? Disgusting, “Agreed.” 

Satoru gently slapped the other’s chest. “Then let’s go help the babe.” He said excitedly, to which his friend chuckled and shook his head at his eagerness, though he can’t wait to introduce himself to you. The two get up from the couch and slip into their shoes, beginning their descent down the lavish stone steps. He feels a pang of guilt, you’re clearly in a relationship of some sort, but the feeling soon subsides when he remembers his treatment of you. Men like that don’t deserve women like you. 

As if his closest friend could read his mind, he elbows him in the ribs. He’s got a cunning smile on his face, and Geto knows that he doesn’t care about your relationship either. If there was one thing you could count on Satoru for, it was unabashed boldness. 

“I’m thinking we swoop in right, save this pretty damsel in distress.” He wiggles his eyebrows, pulling his glasses down his nose to give his friend a knowing look. He quickly pushes them back up, though Suguru knows that won’t be the last time his companion will pull that stunt. “Or at least offer our strong shoulders to cry on while we carry all her things.” 

Suguru sighed. “Be normal, please, for once.” He pleaded, dark eyes narrowing at the smirk decorating his face. 

Satoru rolled his eyes behind his glasses. Sometimes Suguru was so annoying, and absolutely zero fun. If he had to seduce you himself so be it, but he wouldn’t let Geto sweep in later if he didn’t help. “I am normal, you’re the weak one.” He giggled, sticking his tongue out and scooting down the rest of the steps, smiling brightly once the sun warmed his skin. They stood on the same sidewalk as you, shyly observing you unpack the car. You seem frustrated with one box in the trunk, perhaps the same one you mentioned to your…heathen earlier. 

Gojo smirks, sharing a glance with the ever-stoic Suguru once more. Hands in pockets of his black basketball shorts, he wears that brazen grin all the way to the Cadillac. Suguru walks slowly after him, eyes trained on the ground ahead of him. He would have to be the gentleman to make up for Satoru’s lack of shame. 

The lanky man clears his throat, the summer sun behind him enshrining him in an ethereal glow. You turn to the stranger, taken aback by his almost unnerving beauty. He hooks his glasses on his tight black tee, grinning teeth shining as white as his shaggy white locks.His gaze is the clearest blue you’ve ever seen, you can see the clouds from above you reflecting in his matching sky colored eyes. You arch your brow, unsure what to make of his approach. Just as he’s about to speak, a second man appears. He’s not quite as tall, but his shoulders are broader and features warmer. He smiles softly, black eyes carefully analyzing you. He folded his arms over his chest, abs clearly defined beneath the opaque wife beater. He jutted his chin out to your boxes, but it’s the first visitor that speaks. 

“We noticed you could use some help, miss.” He smiles, icy stare shamelessly raking over your figure. Your cheeks warm under his gaze–no, surely it’s just this summer heat. You’re happily married, moving into these lovely townhomes because of your newlywed husband’s success as a District Attorney. Maybe he wasn’t the most attentive husband–or even the nicest, but he was paying your way and you didn’t have to lift a finger. He did right by you, so you tell yourself. But you must admit, the two young men were right. There was no way you could get that damn box out of the trunk, much less carry it all upstairs to your new dwelling. 

“Oh, well, yes actually. Thank you…?” You say, arching a perfect brow at them. Gojo nearly let out a dreamy sigh, your face was just as perfect as the rest of you. Your brows were immaculately manicured, lashes full and framing enchanting doe eyes that looked at them so expectantly. You were so tempting it was hard for even Suguru to be respectful, sweat beading at your chest so deliciously he had to readjust the gray sweats hanging low on his hips. Satoru hummed, amused by the scene. 

“I’m Satoru, this is Suguru. We live here!” He shared as if it were a treat just for you. 

Suguru stifled a groan. “It’s always nice to welcome new neighbors. May we ask your name?” He asks, leaning forward slightly. You leaned against the bumper of your car, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. They were handsome and not much younger than you if you had to guess. They were certainly capable of helping you carry these last few boxes. There was no harm in introducing yourself. So why did you feel so guilty?

“Oh, I’m Y/N Robertson, it’s lovely to meet you. I’ve been struggling with this box for a while!” You chuckle nervously, patting the offending weight and stepping out of the way for one of them to grab. The white-haired man nodded, showing no signs of regret, repeating your name aloud.

“Y/N Robertson. Was that jerk your husband?” He asks, the permanent glimmer of amusement twinkling in his eye. 

You gasp softly and Suguru’s eyes widen. “I apologize about him, he has issues. I think he was born without a filter.” Suguru apologized, glaring at his counterpart. 

Jerk? Is that too far off the mark? It had been such a stressful move, you did mostly everything yourself, your husband working fourteen hour days and refusing to lift a finger when he was around. You were mostly embarrassed that these two had noticed his treatment, not wanting their pity. “He’s…he’s just been busy with work. But yes, he is my husband.” 

Satoru clicked his tongue, walking forward to effortlessly lift the burden you had been struggling with for the past twenty minutes. “That’s a shame, Y/N. A princess like you doesn’t need to be carrying something like this. But don’t worry, we got ya.” He winks. 

You avert your gaze to the other man, almost seeking solace in his peaceful presence. He’s wearing a faintly smug expression as he lifts the stack of boxes on the sidewalk. Suguru only nods his agreement. “Which one’s yours?” 

You think about it, pulling out your phone to look at the paperwork.. “I’m sorry, I forgot, I’m pulling it up…” You mutter, taking your lip between your teeth. The men share a look. You were adorable. 

“Take your time, we’re fine.” Suguru insisted, giving you another warm smile. It soothes your nerves only slightly and stokes the fire elsewhere. 

Gojo nods. “Yeah, we’re super strong. Don’t worry.” He says, admiring your manicured nails tapping away at the screen of your device.

 You allow yourself to giggle at this, you could tell they utilized the location’s gym facility a lot. Satoru’s black shirt hugged him tightly, swells of his biceps bulging against the hems. He grins at the gift of your laughter, smirking at his friend. Suguru chuckled through his nose, shaking his head at how easily his roommate flustered you. You hiss in celebration.

“Yes! I found it, sorry. It looks like I’m in…408!” You say without realizing. Your innocent eyes blink up at the tall pillars that were your new neighbors and current assistants. Satoru looked like a kid in a candy shop, and Suguru smirked in silent celebration. 

“Right across the way from us. How divine.” Satoru chuckled, turning to make his way up the stairs with the weighty box. “It looks like you’ll be seeing a lot of us!” 

Suguru hummed. “I’m sure we’ll make great friends.” He said, slowly striding after the energetic man. You just padded behind them, watching Suguru’s back muscles glean with sweat, long hair swaying slightly as he trods along the steps. You felt ashamed, eyeing them this way, but it was hard to miss the way Satoru’s shirt rode up to reveal his own toned abdomen and white patch of hair leading to the shorts sliding down his slender hips. You bit your lip and averted your gaze, telling yourself it was just because of the growing wedge in your marriage. You just needed to escape their lingering gazes and deviant smugness. 

Later that evening, the men sat on the same couch that they discovered you on, deciding to play the long game. Your husband was a tool, you were practically in heat just from their eyes on you. It was clear he wasn’t giving you any of the things you really needed.

That was a year ago now, the two college boys are more than in your favor by now. You brought them a tupperware of muffins the very next day, and it kind of became your trademark. You took good care of them, bringing them dinner some nights and supposed “leftover” baked goods. They wondered if your husband even noticed that you started cooking for four. They found any and every excuse to visit you during your husband’s long workdays, often spending the entire afternoon with you. 

When they weren’t with you, they were thinking of you, talking to each other about what they would do when they could share you. They could hear everything through the thin walls, every fight you had, every tear you shed, every orgasm–though they could tell they were faked. It was painful, biding their time until they could make their move, just hoping that the moment presented itself soon. 

Luckily, they didn’t have to wait much longer. It was another regular day, the two were working on some household chores when a door–your door–slamming caught their attention, followed by crying and two voices screaming at each other. 

Satoru dropped the plate he was washing with wide eyes, scrambling for the peep hole. They’ve heard the arguments, but none of them had spilled into the hallway, or had been filled with such emotion on your end. This time it was your husband who cowered in front of you as you screamed and threw his things out of the home. 

“Cheating bastard! You cried, face reddened from all the stress, no doubt. Suguru turns the washing machine on and makes for the door too, fighting with Satoru to see. 

“Honey please–it was a one time—” 

“Oh don’t bother. She sent me everything! This is on the fucking news, you absolute ass!” You huff, shoving a suitcase into the hall. At that, Satoru scrambled to the couch, flipping on the television and pilfering through the channels until the news displayed the reason for such an argument. Even he was shocked, a cheating scandal for the ages. Suguru’s heart dropped as the reporter spoke:

“District Attorney Joel Robertson caught in a blazing hot scandal this evening. The other woman tells all! His secretary leaks the sex tapes–claiming this affair has been going on for years.”

“How could he cheat on her??” Satoru is puzzled, yet grateful. Your dumbass husband has finally given you a reason to leave. It was only a matter of guessing when you would bang on their door. 

Suguru sighs, he never wanted you to be hurt. He knows that Satoru isn’t necessarily thinking about it that way, though he can’t deny the twinge of excitement in the back of his mind. Your dollhouse of a marriage would be over, and he had the perfect idea for revenge. 

“Sex tapes, huh?” Suguru muttered, muscular body pressed into the door to watch your husband pick up all his things strewn about the hallway. He didn’t even look guilty, seemingly fine with your pained tears. You slammed the door in his face. 

“I never want to see you again! You’ll get papers soon!” You yelled from behind your door. Your husband rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah? Well good luck paying for a place like this with no job, you insufferable piece of work.Or finding anyone better than me.” ” He chuckled, the suitcase rolling down the marble hallway and your tears being heard loud and clear after Satoru clicks the TV off. 

“Sex tapes.” Satoru confirmed with the shake of his head. He realized how this had to be affecting you, pressing his face against Suguru’s to try and peek out of the peep hole for any movement within. “How horrible. The secretary’s an ugly anyway, they belong together.” He snorted.

Suguru side-eyed him. Satoru said every thought that crossed his mind, his friend was convinced, however it was hard to disagree with some of his wild statements. This was one of them. You were way out of your husband’s league. He treated you like garbage and then had the nerve to cheat after not even being able to please you? Disgusting. Vile. 

“Should we…?” Suguru poses aloud, not able to stand the sound of your cries much longer. 

Just as Satoru nods eagerly, your door flies open again. This time, you march right across the hallway, raising your pretty fist to knock on their door. Suguru’s lips part in surprise, but you hesitate to actually connect with the firm barrier between you and them. It was almost like the point of no return, the building tension that started the day you moved in would all come to a head if you crossed the threshold. 

You bit your lip, looking back at your entrance. Maybe you should just go back, you were just emotional and seeking out the only comfort you could think of, right?

Satoru flings the door open, not giving you the chance. You’re face to face with the two, realizing they probably saw everything. Your cheeks heat up, your raised hand slowly lowering to your side. You must look a mess, hair disheveled from the countless times you raked your hands through it, eyes red and puffy from crying, tear stains on your cheeks. You make a strangled sob noise, looking at them so sadly it pulls their heartstrings. 

Suguru steps forward, reaching for you. “We heard, we’re so sorry..” He says, and you can see his sympathy for you written in the warmth on his face. You put your hand in his, the feeling of human contact with someone who actually cared was almost enough to make you cry again. 

Satoru huffs, leaning against the doorframe. You’re almost caged between them, feeling their body heat radiating off. His face is embossed with displeasure, eyes darkened in the same way the sky does before a storm. “He’s a piece of shit. Doesn’t deserve someone like you anyway, sweetness.” He says with a look of disgust, shaking his head. 

Suguru covers your hand with his other one, dark eyes bouncing between yours, like he’s trying to figure out what you were thinking. Truthfully, you were embarrassed more than anything. It was one thing to be in a loveless marriage, it was another for that fact to be known across town thanks to your husband’s low morals and high notoriety. You would be a laughing stock. 

“I’m just…embarrassed! I’ll be known around town as his poor wife. I hate that, I don’t want their pity or laughter…just so embarrassing.” You mutter, looking toward the ground. The sentiment makes Satoru pout. Oh how he just wanted to comfort you, for Suguru to lead you into the apartment where you would stay with them forever. 

Suguru frowns. He could tell your tears weren’t for your broken heart, but your devastation. Your reputation on the line, betrayed by a man who had never treasured you. He glances at Satoru, who’s just staring at you with such longing the dark-haired man can’t take it. “We can help you embarrass him, if you’d like.” 

His eyes widen. The words fell from his lips before he could think the better of it, but now you’re looking at him with those pouty doe eyes in confusion, and Satoru has to save the day, picking up your other hand. 

“Yeah, he’s right. We’ve been listening to you fake orgasms for a year now. Dude has some nerve makin’ tapes like he knows what he’s doing. We could really show him.” Satoru chuckles, leaning down from the door frame. You can smell his cologne, something minty with almost a hint of chocolate. He does know what he’s doing, invading your senses like this. His warm body and gorgeous eyes that have been undressing you since the day that you moved in paired with his scent and touch was overwhelming in the best way. Especially with the firm but comforting grip that Suguru kept. His hands were calloused from hard work, cradling the softness of your hand like a newborn. He leans closer too, waiting for some sort of response from you. His dark hair fell in layers around his face, accentuating his strong jaw and cheekbones, pale pink lips smiling softly. He smells of bourbon and cinnamon and some sort of expensive shampoo, the two of them so different and beautiful in their own ways–and both wanting you. 

“What did you..have in mind?” You squeak, your neighbors and acquaintances grin at each other. You didn’t even question their eavesdropping, knowing that they’ve been craving you since that summer sunny day. 

Satoru hums in pretend thought. This was only for show, they had determined what they wanted to do moments ago when they shared that glance. “Make a sex tape of your own, with men that can actually make you cum.” He let a laugh out through his nose. 

Your eyes widen, you open your mouth to speak but find that you don’t know what to say. Have you had a few wet dreams about a moment like this? Maybe, but that didn’t take the surprise out of their reciprocal desire. You looked to Suguru to search for any hint of his friend teasing you, but the man only squeezed your hand and smiled smugly. He could sense your doubt, and it was precious. 

“He’s not joking. We’d love to help you get revenge, dear.” He doubled down, the air around you growing heavy and charged with an energy that made your stomach drop, butterflies replacing your insides. Satoru steps out of your way, and Suguru angles his body the same way. You can pass right between them and enter their townhouse. You nibble your bottom lip, a nervous habit they had picked up on. “No worries, though, if you don’t. We’re here for you irregardless.” Suguru adds on the end, not wanting you to think you must. They wanted you to want to. 

And Satoru sure hopes you do, his gray sweatpants growing tighter at the thought of having you today, and under such circumstances! They hadn’t considered making films with you when discussing their fantasies, but he was definitely down with the idea. He smiles and nods, taking his lip between his teeth to mirror your nerves, but his was anticipation.

Suguru is highly perceptive, he’s hoping you say yes if only for his best friend’s sake. You wrack your brain, you should say no. There’s no way that this can end well, but your desire has piqued. They were right, your husband was horrible at sex, and you’ve been wondering what Satoru’s slender hands would feel like on your body, thinking about Suguru’s sweet smile pressed into your skin instead. Your stomach tingles at the thought, and you know what you want. You want to give in to your desire, you want to be with the men that had actually taken care of you for close to a year, and you wanted your soon to be ex-husband to see how good they could make you feel. 

You take a deep breath and squeeze through their bodies to enter their home. It was clean, like always. They tried to be better about that when you started eating dinner with them. You set your phone down on the table, taking a seat on their couch to blink at them expectantly. 

They shared another look, but this one was one of surprise. There you were, in their house waiting for them to fuck you. They had dreamed of this, and now it was happening. Gojo wastes no time, smirking and coming back inside, pulling Suguru in with him and shutting the door. You don’t miss the sound of the lock clicking, though it made you giggle at his eagerness. He takes his shirt off to avoid having to do it later, and you bite down on your lip again. Though this time it’s because he’s incredibly sculpted, as lean as he is. 

His skin is pale and scarred, you wonder from what, but it only added to his beauty. Every muscle was defined, down to his v-line. You can’t help but notice the ache in his pants, and you nearly sigh dreamily. It’s almost embarrassing how your core throbs, and this was just one of the two. Suguru picks Satoru’s shirt up off the floor, setting it on the coffee table instead. He takes a seat on the couch next to you, and you fight the urge to request his shirt be removed as well. You smile shyly at him, and he chuckles, reaching his hand out to hold your chin. “We’re gonna take good care of you, baby.” He insists, thumbing at your bottom lip. 

Your eyes stare up at him expectantly, taking in the lustful gaze he finally reveals. His dark eyes become half-lidded and focused on your pout. “Can I kiss you sweet girl?” He asks, sharp brow arched. 

You nod eagerly, feeling the cushion on your other side dip with the weight of the other male. He must have set up the camera, surely he wouldn’t allow Suguru to beat him to the punch. Much to your surprise, he only sets his hand on your hip, leaning forward for a better view of his best friend’s mouth covering yours. Geto’s lips are rough like his hands, in a good way. His tongue is warm as it laps over yours, his large hand still holding your jaw. You can feel Satoru’s hands knead at your thighs, but he’s not protesting. He doesn’t even protest when Suguru’s other large hand slips under your ass to pull you up into his lap. He just scoots closer to keep you sandwiched between hard bodies. 

“Yeah this is hot.” Satoru groans, palming himself over his pants when Suguru gently hikes your skirt up so he can access more skin, his thick fingers digging into your doughy flesh. You could feel his lips curl into a smile at his friend’s encouragement, kissing you harder. Your senses were overwhelmed, though you expected and wanted that. He tasted so good, letting your tongue dominate his just for the enjoyment. He nearly chuckles at your eagerness, it seems their desire wasn’t one sided. Your hands tug at his shirt, so he lets you catch your breath so he can yank it off.  “Ah, you gotta match us, angel.” Satoru grins, nimble fingers playing with the hem of your tank top. 

You blush, knowing you have no bra beneath. It was still too hot to wear layers, though your body felt like it was at the highest temperature it had been in a while. You’re so pretty, Suguru thinks, watching you peel your tank top off, bare chest to them. Your tits were perfect, nipples hardening before their very eyes. Satoru groaned, reaching to cup one of your breasts. Suguru’s lips latch onto your neck, his hands still kneading at your thighs. You can feel your cunt dampen as Satoru dives forward, sucking your pebbled bud in between his teeth. You gasp softly at the sensation, Suguru’s eyes open, watching his roommate fondle your tits and feeling you writhe in his lap only made his hardness nestle into your side, making you gasp again. Both of them were going to be huge, and you didn’t know how you would be able to handle it. 

Suguru snaps you out of your thoughts, rotating you in his lap just a little. Your back was flush against his chest, the skin almost burning where you connected. His muscles made you feel like you were sitting against a wall. If not for his warmth and the bulge settled in between your asscheeks, you may have thought you were. Satoru hums, pleased with having more access to you, his tongue swirling your sensitive bud. His fingers pinch the other, the slight pain sending shockwaves through your body, causing you to arch into his mouth. 

Geto chuckles, his hands still stroking gentle paths from your thighs to your hips, where nothing but your skirt stopped him. He arched his brow, jerking the fabric to sit around your waist. “No panties either, sweet girl?”

Satoru pulled away from your chest at this, a thin string of saliva stringing from his plump pink lips to your breast. “Oh dollface, I’m beginning to think you got ready for us.” He chuckles, the sound bright and bubbly as he scoots back on the couch to gaze at your newly revealed pussy. Your head spins from the way they look at you, like you’re a precious jewel. You feel drunk on the mix of their touches, where one was sweet and warm the other was rougher and icy. Suguru continues to press sporadic kisses to your neck and shoulders, trying to find your sweet spots. You whine so darling when he finds them, he can’t help but smirk to his best friend as your eyes flutter shut from the simple pleasure of him kissing your neck and the white-haired boy’s grip on your knees to spread your legs. He groans at the sight of your slick cunt, nodding to Geto. 

“She’s soakin’ Sugu. Hope you don’t mind but I gotta taste.” He hummed, his svelte fingers spread your lips apart and you shiver from the cold air being blown on your center. Satoru giggles, you were so cute like this, wiggling on Suguru’s lap and craving more of them by the second. 

Suguru nodded his permission, obsidian eyes locked on his friend’s sapphire ones. He thought the boy’s excitement was adorable, and yearned to watch the enjoyment of both of you. The lanky boy cooed his happiness and leaned forward to lick a fat stripe down your center, moaning at the taste. Your head fell back on Geto’s shoulder, hand flying to tangle up in white tresses. He giggles again, relishing the way your body responds to him. He does it again, humming at the intense lust in Suguru’s eyes and your sweet gasp. 

“Stop playing.” Suguru warned, biting marks into your skin to give you some pressure and pleasure since his counterpart wanted to toy with you. 

Gojo pouted, but you nodded your head in agreement. “No fun.” He huffed, but dipped his head down to your core for the count this time. You didn’t want him to tease? Fine. He won’t. But just remember that you asked for it. His tongue plunges in your weeping hole, his fingers assisting him in drawing circles around your clit. You moan softly, body jolting at the sudden intensity. Your hips rolled, fucking yourself on the muscle. 

Suguru hums at the sight, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you from moving too much. It was clear your ex didn’t know how to treat you sexually, either. You feel his warm breath in your ear, Satoru’s fingers replacing his tongue, pushing his long fingers straight to your spongy spot. Your vision spots from that alone, not to mention his lips suckling your nerves. Suguru watches every move, impossibly turned on by the two of you together. 

“You’re so beautiful with his mouth on you like that, sweetheart. Do you like it?” He coos, collecting all your hair and brushing it over your shoulder so he could see all of your perfect face. You nod quickly, and Suguru chuckles, a deep rumble that you can feel in his chest against your back. He realizes that you’ve lost the ability to speak just from Satoru. It’s sweet, but he knows you’re in for one hell of a time. 

“You sure you can handle both of us, dear? I don’t want to overwhelm you.” He asks, eyes focused on the animalistic way Satoru devours you. His mouth was a mess of your arousal, tongue swiping his lips to keep your taste. 

You were already overwhelmed, but it was the best feeling of your life. You didn’t know how you would please both of them, but you knew you could. So you nod. 

“Use your words for me then, sweetheart. We’ll do the color system, m’kay? Green is all good, yellow for slow, red for stop, can you do that for us?” He says, running his fingers through your hair. Your eyes meet Satoru’s, who also seems to be waiting for a reply. You nod again. 

“Yes, ‘m fine, green all good.” You mutter, grinding your pussy against Satoru’s nose even though he was buried in your cunt. He sucks on your clit again, but it makes your stomach jump and your hips rock faster so they know you’re close to your first real orgasm in who knows how long. 

Geto hums his approval, tightening his hold on your waist. “You gonna make her cum for us, Sato?” He inquires, every touch flaming hot. Gojo nods, teeth scraping your bud and it’s all you need to topple over the edge. Suguru’s hands go back to your hips, your fingers tugging on the other boy who still lapped at your nectar. He hums his enjoyment, sitting back on his knees and winking at you. 

“You can pull my hair all night long, angel.” He says, watching your hole clench around nothing. How cute. He flickers his gaze to the man holding you upright, arousal nearly dripping off his tongue. “I think she needs a little break, you wanna taste?” He asks, which confuses you for a moment. How could he give you a break if they were going to swap?

Geto hums. “Of course I do. Come here.” He says, smirking at your bewildered gaze on them. Satoru grins and leans over you, planting his lips on the man who asked. You gasp softly, the sight more arousing than you’d like to admit. It wasn’t necessarily surprising, as they seemed pretty attracted to each other, you just felt ashamed for getting off on it. But you can’t help it, the way they hummed their satisfaction against each other’s mouths was melodic, Satoru opening his mouth for Suguru to utilize how he wants. The latter holds his jaw in similar fashion to the way he held yours earlier, controlling the space between them. He pulls back a little, mostly just to view your arousal covering Satoru’s bratty face and to look over at your awestruck features. He smirks at this, his tongue darting out as he brings Satoru’s face back to his, though they don’t kiss. Satoru whimpers as Suguru licks the sides of his mouth, cleaning all your natural honey off his best friend’s face. 

You gasp softly, not able to stop yourself, “That’s fuckin’ hot.” Satoru chuckles, his hand closing around Suguru’s wrist so he could turn his head in his grip. 

“I agree baby girl. He just had to taste you on my tongue.” He grinned, though that was the exact truth. The flavor of the two of you combined was driving him crazy. His dick throbbed painfully, and he didn’t know how much of this he could take. He releases Satoru in favor of fisting his hair. 

“Let me get her other hole ready.” He demands, and only Satoru knows what he means. The white-haired boy grins devilishly, sitting back on the other end of the couch. He wiggles out of his pants and tosses them over his shoulder, cock slapping his eight-pack. 

He looks at you with that same bare-naked stare he gave you the day you met, his smirk unfaltering. “Lean over and suck my cock, baby. He wants to see it and he's gotta get your ass ready.” He giggles softly, his large hand wrapping around his own length to keep it from aching. Your eyes flicker to the cock in question, aggravated red tip oozing pre-ejaculate down his prettily veined shaft, curving upwards to abuse every spongy spot. He was much bigger than your ex, you knew it would take some time to adjust. Nonetheless, you eagerly slip off of Suguru’s lap, getting on all fours. Suguru takes the opportunity to free his cock from his pants, sitting on his knees so he had a bird’s eye view of you crawling toward Satoru.

Gojo nearly vibrates with excitement, moving his hand away from his length so you could take over. He suddenly pouts when your pretty eyes look up at him, he’s realized he still hasn’t kissed you yet. “Oh no sugar, Can’t have you suck me off if I haven’t even been a gentleman.” 

He hums, sitting up so he could meet your lips. He was greedy with his kiss, lips hungrily moving over yours. You respond in kind, hand resting on the back of his neck where your fingers just brushed over the soft fuzz of his undercut. He moans softly, clearly enjoying the way you play with him. He pulls back with a loud smacking sound, resting his back against the arm of the couch once more, hands folded behind his head. Suguru rolls his eyes at Satoru’s showmanship, but he watches anyway.

“Much better, go ahead, hot stuff.” He coos, looking rather satisfied with himself. Your face is why, so drunk on his kiss that you sit back on your knees and hover over his tip, squealing in surprise as Suguru holds your waist. You can feel his length rubbing against your thighs, positioned under your cunt. His tip collides with your clit so perfectly when you rock back on him, your hips doing so automatically. You moan softly at the feeling, and Suguru hums as your arousal continues to drip around him. 

“I’m gonna fuck you while you give him head, sweetness, ‘s that good with you?” He asks, praying you say yes. He didn’t want to throw too much at you at once, but his dick was beginning to hurt. He sighs happily when you nod. You bite your lip, knowing you were about to feel unimaginably full. You turn your head to peek at his size, finding him not as long but nearly twice as girthy as the dick you hold in your hands. And you already needed two hands for Satoru. You sigh, Satoru’s slender fingers grabbing your chin to pull your focus back to him. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout him angel, I got you soaked enough to take him.” He brags, squeezing your cheeks between his grip. He giggles at your smooshed face and hums, bringing your chin back down to his tip. You batted your eyelashes at him, watching his face carefully as you stick your tongue out and take him into your mouth. He groans at the relief of your warm insides, ego stroked when you gag just halfway down his length. He can feel himself in the back of your tight throat, eyes fluttering shut when you start to bob your head along him. Suguru smirks, enjoying the sight. He can see the muscles twitch in Satoru’s stomach and he can feel your pussy lips move on his dick leading him to believe you’re clenching around nothing. 

He can fix that. He palms your round ass, relishing the way you push yourself back into him while easing more and more of Satoru’s dick down your throat. It’s gorgeous, Gojo’s soft moans and the choking gags of you trying to take all of him. Your throat squeezes him perfectly, his hand coming down on the back of your neck to keep you there. He forces his eyes open, wanting to remember the way you look with his cock stuffed deep, tears rolling down your face. All three of you have forgotten about the camera, just performing for each other. Satoru can tell when Suguru plunges in by the way your eyes widen and you temporarily stop moving. Though you don’t have much a choice once Suguru starts rolling his hips against your asscheeks. The burn as he stretches you out is delicious, making you moan around Satoru. He moans in return, the vibration of your voice going straight to his balls. He can’t help but slightly buck into your warm mouth, Suguru’s slow thrusts giving you time to adjust. 

You clench around him and that sensation alone is so good he almost moans. Satoru wasn’t lying, he made sure you were absolutely drenched to make accommodating his friend’s size as easy as possible. Your walls were still so choking and spongy, he can feel a tingling sensation shoot down his spine. He watches you get used to him, your hips slightly wiggle back for him, and you resume bobbing along Satoru. It was hard to breathe with such a task at hand, you took deep breaths through your nose, but you still felt dizzy as Suguru picked up his pace. 

Satoru watched the pleasure wash over Geto’s face, the man’s eyes closing and mouth dropping open. It was so hot, especially with the way you squeezed around him. It was too much, he knew he wouldn’t last long like this. Your pretty face at his cock, burying your nose in his snow colored pubes paired with Geto’s soft grunts as he plows into you and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass was sending him hurtling towards the finish line and he didn’t want this to end yet. He didn’t want to shoot his load in your mouth—not this time anyway. 

Suguru settles into a regular pace, trying not to falter when you squeeze down on him like this. His thrusts are powerful, pushing you into Gojo’s trimmed bush with every rock of his hips. The men are rewarded with the sweet sound of your gags, to which they both cherish. He tries to be gentle as he gathers some spit on his fingers, tentatively sliding the spit around your tight ring while he keeps you drunk on dick. You mewl softly as his thick index slips in, both holes squeezing on him so fucking good he groans. Suddenly, there’s a rubber band ready to snap in your gut, making you gasp around the girth keeping you from speaking, as if you could do much of that anyway.

The man responsible hums, giving your ass a gentle smack. “Gonna cum for us again baby?” You nod along Satoru, and he beams with satisfaction. “Go ahead, get my dick nice and wet for me.” His words are so lewd that you can’t help but obey, gagging on Satoru as you try to cry out. The slender boy can’t handle it, biting down on his lip to avoid  the inevitable. 

“Sugu, not gonna make it like this..” Satoru says in a whiny tone, watching your ass ripple into Geto’s hips and your face contort in added bliss. Suguru peeked at his friend’s pouty face and chuckling at the blown pupils and flushed cheeks of the bratty male. 

“That’s fine bubs, we’ll change it up. I’m sure that throat needs a break.”  Suguru hummed, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his face. He didn’t want anything obscuring his view of your perfect mounds. He lightly spanked the flesh, relishing your little squeal. He treasures his last few pumps of you, knowing he would give his whiny counterpart your sopping hole. Satoru releases your hair, smiling brightly at the sight of your ruined face. 

“Now those are some tears I can get behind, princess.” He coos, thumbing them off your pretty face. He brings your mouth back to his, not willing to give you any time to breathe. You’re gasping against his lips, but your hold on his shoulders begs him to come closer. Suguru continues prodding your hole, spitting on the second entrance of yours he’d be taking. He slips a second finger in, and you don’t complain. You sigh into Satoru’s mouth and tug at his hair, lips smacking against each other's messily. Geto loves watching this, his other hand stroking his aching erection. 

Satoru watches his friend, trying to sync his timing to his. He was only trying to keep you occupied so the other man could work your asshole, knowing it would be a big stretch, Satoru was content to make out with you until he comes untouched, but he knows Suguru won’t allow that to happen. He nods, now able to scissor his fingers in your hole. His strong hands grip your hips, pulling you from the white-haired man which earned a whine from you. 

“You’ll get Satoru back, beloved, don’t worry.” Suguru rasps, pulling you back into his lap, facing away from him as you did earlier, the only difference being your knees folded under you as if you were still in doggy. You felt a little guilty with his comment, not wanting to prefer one over the other. So you lay your head back on his shoulder, using two fingers on his jaw to turn his face close enough for you to push your lips on his. Satoru loves the sight, the two sexiest people he knows making out right in front of him! The only thing that could possibly make this better is what they’re planning on next. Gojo walks forward on his knees, once more caging you in. It’s his mouth you feel soothing the marks his friend left earlier, breaking new patches of skin to bruise of his own. 

Suguru’s hand cups your cheek, his kisses deliciously slow and sensual. He didn’t want his hard work to go to waste though, so he lifts you slightly, lining his cock up with your asshole. He breaks the sweet kiss, “You think you can take both of us, baby?” 

“Oh she can do it, poor girl needs it.” Satoru hums, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. “Isn’t that right?” 

You nod. If you thought you were incapable of speaking earlier, then maybe you’ve never had good sex in your entire life. “Green, go for it..wan’ have both.” You whine, making Satoru light up. 

“You heard the lovely lady.” Satoru purrs, hands on your waist as a means to push you onto Suguru’s cock if he doesn't do it fast enough for his liking. Suguru just chuckles through his nose and shakes his head. 

“So impatient. Very well.” He hums, using his leverage on your hips to slide his tip past the squeezing ring of muscle. He grips your hips harder than he means to, undoubtedly leaving semi-permanent marks. It was impossible not to, he was trying to slowly inch his way in, but your ass was sucking him in so good he had to slowly shove the rest in. You let out a loud wanton moan, bordering scream. Satoru moaned from the sight and sound alone, his only touch being his hands on your waist. He was going to claim your cunt, no doubt, but he had to let you get accustomed to Suguru’s rod in your ass. 

He just lets you sit on it for a moment, partially for his own benefit. He had to get himself under control or he would bust immediately, and ruin everything for Satoru. And he would never hear the end of his mouth if he did. You feel so full, the pressure of him stretching everything open makes you see stars. You yearn for movement, for some relief on your throbbing clit, so you whine, watching Satoru’s face morph into surprise as you try to bounce on Suguru already. 

The man moans, the first one he’s let loose all evening. It’s deep and once again thunders against your back. You were better than the fantasies he had conjured in his head, and he was determined to give you the time of your life. So he aids you in your bounces, his rough hands supporting your weight and dragging you up and down his shaft at his own pace. It was still too good, the warmth and tightness choking down on him perfectly.

“Fuck her, Satoru.” Geto breathily demands, the gravelly tone of his voice sending a chill to both you and the man he ordered inside you. Satoru didn’t hesitate, his knees situated between Suguru’s. He lined up with your entrance, tugging you forward just a bit which must have deepened the long-haired man’s connection as you started moaning so lewdly Satoru wondered if he’d paint your walls just by pushing inside. He couldn’t watch your poor pussy clamp around nothing any longer though, bottoming out in you and holding your cheeks in one large hand. He enjoyed how your sounds changed, sounding warped due to your smooshed face. He smiled, your cunt tightening around him, meaning it got even tighter for Geto. 

“You heard the man, ‘m gonna fuck you angel. Let us know you’re okay.” He cooed, and even though his words were sweet he almost sounded like he was teasing you. 

You nod, eyes closed tight and nose scrunched at the sensation of two huge cocks stuffing you full. You thought your intestines must be forced to move to accommodate them, heavy breathing and soft grunts in your ears. “Good, so good.” 

Satoru nodded, kissing your forcibly puckered lips sweetly as he began to move inside you too. His eyes roll back for a moment, everything about this was perfect. Your silky walls pulsating around him, the feeling of Suguru’s cock rubbing against his only separated by a thin wall of tissue, the look on his lovers faces. He groans, tossing his head back as he fucks into you harder. He dreamed of a day like this, and now he could only pray this wasn’t a one time thing. He was already addicted to this, and by the looks of it so was Suguru. He hadn’t ever seen the man so relaxed, though he enjoyed it immensely. As if he could feel his stare, Geto opens his eyes to make contact with the man staring. He winked, a slight smirk. Your hips continued to buck, getting fucked no matter how you moved. Forward onto Satoru’s curved length abusing your pleasure spot or backwards onto Suguru’s impaling girth splitting you open. You feel that familiar sensation of fire building in your gut, your pants and moans getting closer together. The men look at each other, nodding breathlessly. They were close, like they had been since the moment they saw you undress. The feeling of your choking walls on both ends made it impossible to hold out any longer, though your body spasms tell them they won’t have to. Your grip on Satoru’s hair tightens, a wailing moan signifying your release as if the rush of cum surrounding Gojo wasn’t obvious enough. 

“Oh fuck, you’re gonna get both loads love, you want that?” Suguru grunts in your ear. 

You nod vigorously, head so empty you could only collapse against his chest, making him support the full weight of you. He didn’t mind at all, grinning ear to ear. He was hanging on by a thread, but it was his job to make sure everyone was happy. 

“You first Sato.” He groaned, clearly struggling. 

“With me.” The man pouted, the deal so sweet that Suguru couldn’t refuse. 

He nods, “With you.” He gulps, waiting for the tell-tale crinkle of Satoru’s nose to tell him when to release the burning coil in his gut. Satoru could tell that he was waiting for him, his thrusts to your cunt menacingly rough. It only takes a few more before his nose crinkles and mouth drops open, cock twitching inside you fucked out cunt. 

Suguru gasps softly, his hot load spurting off like an erupting volcano, quickly filling you up and forcing the rest to ooze out around him despite how well he plugged your hole. Satoru’s seed spills out into you like a dam had been holding him back, both sensations so warm and messy and delicious that you moan softly at just the feeling, head spinning as it falls back onto Geto’s shoulder with heavy breaths. 

Gojo slumps forward slightly, kissing your jaw with the most tenderness he had displayed all night. “I knew you could do it, hot stuff. That was fucking amazing.” He hums, fishing for an article of clothing to put under you. He finds Suguru’s shirt, and raises up enough to slide it under you with Geto’s help. They couldn’t have you staining the couch, now. Gojo slides out of you, leaving you on Suguru’s comfortable lap. The black haired man smiles at you sleepily, pushing some of your hair out of the way. 

“Yeah, it was, we hope you had a good time?” He hums as Satoru goes to stop  the recorder. 

You giggle and nod. “Yeah, yeah I did. I guess it’s time to get cleaned up and back to my place, for as long as I still have it.” You chuckle dryly, your entire body was a pile of mush, and you couldn’t move if you tried. You just didn’t want to overstay your welcome or make your problems their responsibility, despite their eagerness to take care of you. 

Satoru comes back with three bottles of water and a sheepish look on his face, an oddity for him. “I may or may not have forgotten to press record.” He says with a slight grimace, handing out the waters as an apology. Your amusement is clear, and you wonder if he did it on purpose.

Suguru laughs, and he can’t figure out if it’s at you or Satoru. “Hm, what a predicament. You’re not going anywhere.” He squeezes your hips and lifts you off his length, setting you back in his lap regularly. “We’ll get you cleaned up, and then you don’t have to worry a hair on your pretty little head about your place. You can stay here.” He said matter of factly, his arm hangs possessively around your waist. 

Gojo hums. “We could use a sweet lady like you. We’ll make up for that year of faked orgasms.” He winks and takes a swig of water. They make a convincing argument, and with the way Satoru wipes the pearls of cum off your legs and the way Suguru carries you in his arms to start a shower, you have no doubt that they will take care of you.

[yellowcabdriver]

desperate

pairing: yuuji itadori x f!reader

genre: fluff

a/n: i quit my old soul-crushing job and i’m desperately trying to finish off all wips before i start my new job svdndjsj please enjoy 🙏🏻 live laugh lovesick yuuji 🫡💕 very shamelessly got inspired by this post

nobara said yuuji shouldn’t call you.

“you don’t want her to think that you’re desperate, right?”

yeah, maybe.

but here’s a thing that a considerate friend that is nobara didn’t take into account.

yuuji is crazy about you and he is indeed very desperate for you and your attention. he is filled with joy and excitement whenever he hears your voice – it’s almost pavlovian, very embarrassing. or at least could be, if yuuji cared enough. his pride is a small price to pay to have a wonder that is you in his life.

but yuuji has to admit, maybe nobara is right. at the end of the day you two are not dating (yet, as yuuji very much hopes). you two are not even very close friends (yet, again, as yuuji hopes).

yuuji’s finger lingers over a call button under your name embezzled with a variety of heart emojis.

“at least text her before calling, you know, it’s kind of a new etiquette these days, not to call someone unannounced,” yuuji remembers nobara’s chastising. it makes yuuji hesitate. of course, he doesn’t want to seem like an ignorant bumpkin who isn’t aware of social cues. what if you’re busy? which you probably are because you are so smart and cool. and you are definitely a great texter (even if you weren’t, yuuji wouldn’t know any better because he is that much in love).

with a sigh, yuuji slides over to messages and starts typing rather pathetically “hiiii how are you???” while fighting the urge to add like a gazillion emojis to express himself better. nobara is really getting into his head, yuuji sighs. this is hard considering he is not exactly an overthinker (that would require having more than one thought and his only singular thought right now is you). a text is better than nothing, sure, but yuuji really really really needs to hear your voice. so he rushes back to his contacts and gathers every ounce of willpower to press on your name.

after almost painful eleven seconds you pick up. yuuji’s breathing hitches a little when he hears your sleepy “hello?”

he wants to throw himself from a window.

he forgot it’s almost 3 am.

“hi, um, hey. sorry, you’re asleep.”

what an absolute mess.

“well, not anymore,” you softly laugh. yuuji, though embarrassed, is so happy to hear your laughter.

“sorry.”

“it’s okay, yuuji. did something happen?”

well, kinda. obviously, yuuji’s not going to tell you that he’s just so down bad for you that he called you up in the middle of the night for no reason.

“no, nothing, i- i’m sorry, it’s nothing urgent, i better call you tomorrow.”

“are you sure? i mean, it’s…” he hears you scramble. “three in the morning. it has got to be an emergency.”

it is, just not a conventional one. yuuji violently shakes his head and then remembers that you can’t see him (why is he such a fool when it comes to you?)

“no, no, i’m sorry, i screwed up. i forgot that not everyone stays up late like me. go to sleep. sorry.”

“stop apologising, it’s all fine. okay, i’ll believe that there’s no emergency. but you better call me tomorrow to confirm that you’re okay.”

yuuji’s cheeks are burning.

“yeah, of course. sorry again.”

you laughed.

“good night, yuuji.”

“good night.”

yuuji’s fingers shake when he types the first message.

“sorry, i actually didn’t mean to call you.”

delivered.

yuuji’s eyes are not leaving the screen beaming brightly into his face.

read.

his palms are suddenly cold.

dot, dot, dot.

“it’s okay,” followed by a smiley emoji and a thumbs up. such a you thing to send. for a minute he contemplates going to sleep and maybe die from embarrassment in his sleep but something takes him over. before he can register it, his fingers start typing.

“fuck it”

delivered, read.

“i did mean to call”

delivered, read.

“i wanted to talk to you”

delivered, read.

“to hear your voice and your laugh”

delivered, read.

yuuji can physically feel the blood rushing away from his limbs when he sees three dancing dots.

“i want to hear your voice, too.”

yuuji’s head is spinning as he fights the urge to jump around the room while smiling at his phone like a madman. megumi and nobara for sure would be disgusted at this sight. he is so ecstatic that he almost misses the next message.

“ft?”

his long calloused fingers dance across the screen to quickly type “i’ll call you”.

he rushes to facetime.

you pick up almost instantly.

yuuji looks at your face, traces of sleep still present in your expression but he can see – and it makes his heart flutter – that you are genuinely happy to see him, too.

you both spent a few intimate moments staring at each other’s badly lit faces, glowing under the dim lights of your screens in the dark, until yuuji finally finds the courage to break the silence.

“so… did you sleep well?”

you quietly laugh and yuuji falls in love even harder though he thought it wasn’t possible. he can’t wait to tell the gang that being desperate pays off, and oh so well.

and what does nobara know anyway.

[luveline]

I used to send you lots of requests before, but haven't sent you requests for a long time for exams, really missed it babe:) Can I ask for a Steve x reader kbd where our favourite Bethie catches reader at night staying up to do work, but we know how silent she is, so probably she doesn't tell reader about it? I just really wanna see one where reader overworks herself which not even Steve knows, but Beth finds out, really wanna see how her point of view changes on her mother. Hope this makes sense. Love you lots, Jade, and your pretty little kbd universe:)

love you !!!!!!! kbd — beth and dad!steve catch you working late at night, mom!reader. 1.4k

The day Steve takes the baby gates down is the best day of Bethie’s life. They’ve been up and down and up again, but now Dove is old enough to manage the stairs by herself without danger (just about) and Wren won’t be able to crawl for months, they’re back in the basement. 

Bethie can go downstairs whenever she wants. She doesn’t have to wait for Avery’s help on the funny top latch. 

She can tell already that Steve is sleeping, your bedroom door open, her father curled on his side with his hand stretched out across the empty side where you’d usually be snoring. The baby bassinet by Steve’s side has its own soft snoring, baby Wren fast asleep too. 

Beth has to find you, then. The bathroom door is closed (though she’s now allowed in there at night on account of needing to pee and her promise not to touch the washing machine again). Avery’s door is ajar, but when Bethie peeks inside, you’re not there either. Dove is half hanging off her toddler bed and you’re not there scooping her up, so where are you? 

Beth’s getting spooked, until she hears the sound of paper being shuffled downstairs. 

She holds the rungs of the stair bannister and sneaks carefully. Through the hallway and into the kitchen, she finds you at the dinner table with a frown on your lips so similar to her own. She loves looking like her mommy, even if the rest of her sisters look more like Steve. 

You’re working, she thinks. She’s not sure. It looks like you are. On rare occasions you’ve needed to finish things after dinner and her dad corrals them into the living room for TV, Beth has seen you crowded at the table with a pen and a weary expression. It can’t be much fun, work.

She isn’t sure how long she watches you. A weird feeling gathers in her chest, and she thinks about speaking up. You look upset at times. You bite your bottom lip like Avery does when she’s sad. 

It’s one of the first times Bethie's really looked at you and worried you weren’t happy.  

She doesn’t know why she goes back upstairs. She’s a bit scared, perhaps, to see you that way, without Steve by your side. 

He’s still sleeping, arm still looking for you in the dark. Bethie climbs up into bed with him and pushes her way under his arm, to which she is immediately pulled into his chest, squished and too warm. 

“Avery?” he mumbles. Then, a moment later. “No, that’s my Beth.” He peels one eye open, a smile taking slow form on his lips. “What’s wrong, babe?” 

“Mommy’s downstairs.” 

He peers past her head. “Oh. What for?”

“Don’t know. She looks sad.” 

“You think so?” He blinks. Bethie thinks her dad is the most love they can put into one person besides you, and she doesn’t usually look at him and see handsome or tired or anything, she just sees dad. Right now, though, he looks befuzzled. “Should we go see?” 

“Um. Well…” 

He kisses her forehead. “You tired, baby? You can sleep here if you want. Let me just go see if mommy’s okay. Go to sleep, okay? I’ll be back in a minute.” He kisses her cheek. “It’s okay, baby. Just sleep. It’s so late.” 

Steve tucks her in. She doesn’t look very tired, but she closes her eyes obligingly. 

Steve doesn’t know what you’re doing out of bed. He hadn’t felt you go. The only times he can remember you getting up in the middle of the night would be with pregnancy cravings, and you definitely aren’t pregnant, Wren’s still too small to support her own head. Plus, Steve’s sure he would’ve guessed. He knows you pretty well by now. 

You hear him coming down the stairs but you aren’t quick enough putting your things away to hide that you’re working. “What are you doing?” he asks, his voice rough. “It’s one in the morning.” 

“I couldn’t sleep,” you lie, “figured I’d get this done.” 

Steve leans on the doorway and crosses his arms over his chest. “Really?” 

“Yeah, really.” 

You’re still lying. 

“I think Beth is upset,” he suggests.

“What for?” 

“She’s been down here. You didn’t hear her?” 

You flatten your pile of papers unhappily. “No, do I ever? She’s my mouse.” 

Steve abandons his interrogative pose to hug you. It hadn’t been working, anyways. He put his arm behind your neck and rests his cheek against your temple, the other arm across your chest, your elbow clutched in his hand. “Do you do this a lot?” he asks quietly. 

“Not much.” 

“Let me take you to bed,” he says. 

“Yeah, I just have to finish this.” 

“Wasn’t a question. Bed, now.” He rubs your arm. “Please.” 

Steve’s looked out for you since he met you, of course, but you’re the first person who taught him what it was like to be intrinsically taken care of, and he’s tried to pay that back for the last eight years. It’s hard to explain the incredible value of love, because it’s without transaction, completely paradoxical. He can’t pay it back. There’s nothing to be paid. But he can help you up the stairs, and he can worry for your sake about work and why you’re doing it in the middle of the night. 

“You need to sleep, babe, I mean it,” he says quietly, not wanting to disturb the other sleeping girls as you crest the last stairs onto the landing.

“I know. I’ll sleep. I’m sleeping.” 

He pinches your sides from behind.

“I love you,” he says, stopping you before you can get to the bedroom door. “Please don’t stay up late. We’ll make you more time if you need it in the daytime. I’ll make it for you.” 

You accept his promise and his kiss with a gluey smile. “Okay, H. No more staying up. I got it.” You drop your forehead to his shoulder quickly. “Thanks.” 

“Yeah. Well, go ahead, there’s a Beth in need of scrunching on your side of the bed.” And he needs to pass out. 

Steve crashes into his own side of the bed, and he gives Beth a good kiss, and then suddenly he’s sleeping before you’ve fully settled. 

You slide down onto your back. Bethie breathes too softly to be sleeping, her head off of the pillows and the legs of her pyjama pants ridden up her calves where she’s kicked her legs out of the blankets. 

“Bethie?” you whisper. 

“Mommy.” 

“Hey, sweet girl.” You peek at her. She’s peeking at you. “Daddy said you came downstairs. I wish you would’ve said hello.” 

“You…” She eyes your sleeve. “Busy.” 

“I’m never too busy for you if you need me. Are you okay? You don’t usually stay up this late.” 

“You don’t, too.” 

You slip your hand under her shoulders and lift her up onto the pillows. Careful, you pull the blanket from under her legs, smooth out her pants, and pull the blankets back over the both of you, enclosing you in a warm bubble. “Wanna cuddle with mommy?” you whisper. 

“Will dad be lonely?” 

“No, sweetheart. Are you lonely, sometimes, sleeping by yourself?” 

“Sometimes.” 

You might regret this, but Bethie’s your world. You hate thinking about her having such a horrible feeling and not telling you.

“If you’re ever lonely,” you begin gently, tracing the little remnants of your husband where they glow in the colour of her irises and her shy smile, “that’s what me and daddy are here for. If you’re lonely at bed time, you can come and cuddle with me. It doesn’t have to be all night long, just until the feeling goes away.” 

“Are you lonely when you’re in the kitchen?” she asks. 

Her whispers are sweet for how much effort she puts into them. Avery can’t whisper, not really, and Dove wouldn’t even try, but Bethie talks so quietly you strain to hear her under Steve’s harsher breathing. 

“I’m never lonely when I have you and your sisters and your daddy in the house. Just knowing you’re upstairs makes me feel better.” You kiss the tip of her nose with a whispered ‘mwah’. “But I’m best when you’re right here.”

“I don’t want you to be lonely.” She grins at you, eyes fluttering, “I love you, mom.” 

“I love you, too,” you whisper back.  

She curls onto her side to lay her arm over you. You bring her in for your cuddle, your knuckles brushing Steve’s arm. “Should we go to sleep now?” she asks. 

“Good idea, lovely girl.”

[1989tvcore]

tied by music. - charles leclerc. chapter one.

summary; in which a songwriter gets in contact with the il predestinato to help her in creating her most personal album.

face claim; taylor swift

pairing(s); charles leclerc x fem! singer! reader, zayn malik x ex! fem! singer! reader. smau.

warning(s); toxic/unfaithful relationship, reader in a very bad mental state during break-up but she’s eventually healed, zayn is the douchebag i sincerely apologise. </3 (most of these are shown in the following parts)

author note; can we please um… ignore the fact that um… this is literally the script for my um… fame dr… ANYWAYS HERE’S COMPOSER CHARLES TO COMFORT YOU! 🤍 this series will have many parts or maybe just two, we’ll see how it plays out.

masterlist | chapter 2

english isn’t my first language, credits to rightful owners.

popbase

liked by y/nayncrumbs, ynphobic and 45,771 others

popbase Song-writer & Musician Y/N Y/LN & former One-Direction & Musician member Zayn Malik have officially broken up after 6 years of being together, TMZ reports.

tagged: youryusername, zayn

view all comments

user6 oh that y/nayn stan account must be crying now that the rumors are confirmed …

y/nayncrumbs user6 i literally just turned suicidal.

ynphobic y/nayncrumbs u know damn well this was long due …

user47 user6 can you blame them?

user58 THANK GOD, that man was insufferable when it came to their relationship

user13 user58 silent like

user0 user58 do y’all ever shut up

user58 user0 just wait until y/n releases a new album x

user99 NO PLS SAY SIKE RN

user33 user99 YES PLS DO I CAN’T HANDLE THIS I’M IN CLASS

user13 user99 girl she’s free???

user1989 wait a sec … remember when we got y/n6 rumors a few months ago?? DID HE CHEAT?? ZAYN IT’S ON SIGHT.

user17 user1989 they might’ve just not announced it when they actually broke up 🤡

user1989 user17 they were spotted together multiple times during y/n6 rumors and he was literally ignoring her while talking to models???

user16 why is nobody mentioning how charles leclerc has literally been helping y/n to make y/n6???

user55 user16 same question right here.

user4 user16 how do you know it’s for y/n6?

user16 user4 y/n has mentioned multiple times that she admires charle’s music and would love to work with him on a project of hers or his

user77 user16 Y/N IS A F1 GIRLIE??

user16 user77 since she was a child 🤧

yourusername just posted a story!

seen by charles_leclerc, oliviarodrigo and 1,403,758 others

user1989 GIRL WE KNOW THAT’S CHARLES’ KEYBOARD

user13 this album will break us all so bad.

user16 hi pls attend the next grand prix tyvm

charles_leclerc you must be in jail for not sending me the first picture.

yourusername charles_leclerc surprise? 😁

charles_leclerc yourusername yeah yeah whatever now send me the picture so i can make it my wallpaper 😌

charles_leclerc just posted a story!

seen by yourusername, f1, landonorris and 997,410 others.

user1989 SHUT UP IT’S LITERALLY THE SAME KEYBOARD

f1wagsource soft launch, no?

user65 CHARLES HERVE PERCEVAL LECLERC IS THIS WHAT I THINK IT IS.

yourusername no bc i’m literally announcing our baby tomorrow

charles_leclerc yourusername I know 🫶🏻

yourusername charles_leclerc i’m so nervous

charles_leclerc yourusername there’s no reason to be nervous sweetheart. whatever happens I’m here.

yourusername charles_leclerc stop being such a good boyfriend you know i’m not used to men like you 😔

charles_leclerc yourusername I really don’t plan on stopping anytime soon cherié.

yourusername charles_leclerc please do not! i love you 💞💓💕💗💝💘💖

charles_leclerc yourusername i love you too babe, now go rest you’ve got many promotions starting tomorrow.

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, arianagrande and 13,400,239 others

yourusername Surprise surprise! The first single of my new album “Metanoia” (coming out April 23), “we can’t be friends (wait for your love)” comes out tomorrow evening!

Thank you my whole team for making this album possible. I’m so grateful for all the wonderful and talented artists who took part in the creation of “Metanoia”, truly couldn’t be more lucky to have people like you by my side. Whether that is as colleagues or friends. In addition, there was one special someone who took HUGE part in writing, composing and producing this album with me, someone who I have very close to my heart. @charles_leclerc, the man, the monegasque himself. Thank you for agreeing to helping me bring into real life my deepest emotions and thoughts, you stood by me during very hard times in my life, I will always be thankful for that. Studio sessions with you are my only good memories of the hell I’ve been through last year.

And to the fans, thank you for supporting me always. I hope you’re excited for this project as much as I am. See you tomorrow for the premiere of the “we can’t be friends (wait for you love)” music video!

view all comments

arianagrande congrats!! can’t wait to listen♡

liked by author

yourusername arianagrande my girl 🤍

iamrebeccad can’t wait for tomorrow 🥰

liked by author

yourusername iamrebeccad love you so much. 🥹💗

francisca.cgomes album of the year already

liked by author

yourusername francisca.cgomes tearing up, thank you so much kika. 🥹🤍

lilymhe so in love with you! 💗

liked by author

yourusername lilymhe my #1 gf 🥹💞

alex_albon lilymhe excuse me?

rachelzegler I THINK I’M CRYING??

liked by author

niallhoran Congrats sis!

yourusername niallhoran Thank you Niall! 🫶🏻

user29 niallhoran oh zayn fucked up big time

user32 niallhoran THEIR FRIENDSHIP IS EVERYTHING

ynayncrumbs niallhoran oh it’s really over.

user1989 DID I ACTUALLY JUST MANIFEST Y/N6????

user13 user1989 OH MY FUCK YOU DID

user45 user1989 I think you graduated from tom holland manifestation university!

user16 WHERE’S THE TRACKLIST??

user88 user16 she’ll probably reveal it later

user99 EVERYONE SHUT UP NEW Y/N MV TOMORROW!!?!?

user30 user99 I’ve got a feeling it’ll have a love interest

user99 user30 SAME

charles_leclerc So proud of you! ❤️

liked by author

yourusername charles_leclerc Thank you Charlie! 🥹

ynphobic charles_leclerc I think I’m not breathing anymore.

user49 charles_leclerc I’M CRYING TEARS OF HAPPINESS.

landonorris having early access to this album: it’s good ig…

yourusername landonorris did you think the same when you were crying to the whole tracklist?

landonorris yourusername YOU DID NOT.

alex_albon landonorris get ended nowins 🤣‼️

landonorris alex_albon FUCK YOU

user11 I’M LITERALLY CRYING BC WDYM CHARLES ALMOST GOT A PARAGRAPH DEDICATED TO HIM??

yourusername user11 he deserves it more than anything. 🤍

©️ 1989tvcore 2024 , all rights reserved.

taglist; @formulaonebuff @ironspdy @sleepybrokenmelle @dreamergirlatpaddock @taygrls

[seeingivy]

core memories

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friends (older brother) fic

previous part linked here

--

sukuna feels like he’s peeled off a layer of skin after that night. it all culminated into this thing for him - that raw tenderness associated with a deeply painful childhood memory, the warmth of a date in your hometown, and the fact that you crawled into the bath with him, just to hold him close. 

that you let down your own wall just because you were so eager to crawl into his. 

it’s why he feels like he’s irrevocably given some part of himself to you. at least that’s what he thinks anyways. 

and it only works – it only feels like something he desperately won’t be able to ever get back – and more importantly, wants you to keep, because the same thing happens to you (or at least he hopes it does) two weeks down the line. 

it starts out simple. 

you accidentally bleed onto his sheets during the night. 

sukuna wakes up to your side of the bed empty, and more alarmingly, the red splotch on his pristine white sheets, when he’s reminded of the memory. he can barely register it because your presence demands his attention immediately after and his throat feels like chalk.  

“hey, sukuna. can i ask for a weird favor?” you ask, peeking your head out of the doorway. 

sukuna pinches his lips together. 

“sure, angel. what’s up?” 

“can you run to the store and grab me some pads please? i didn’t realize it was already friday and that my period was going to start.” 

sukuna stands up, closing the distance before you, before he leans down to press a warm kiss to your forehead. 

“sure. what size is your pussy?” sukuna asks. 

you roll your eyes. 

“you’re hilarious. you should quit your job and start stand-up comedy.” 

“can’t exactly keep up with your expensive needs if i do that, now can i?” sukuna states, giving you a cheeky smile as you shut the door straight onto his face. 

“pads are ten dollars, sukuna.”

“i’m talking about how you linked my credit card to your doordash account and thought i wouldn’t notice.” sukuna deadpans. 

you give him a peachy smile, as you reach forward to poke his cheek. 

“have i ever told you that you’re the best boyfriend ever?” 

“nope.” 

“keep dreaming about it! i don’t plan to.” you state, giving him a wink as he all but glares at you. 

when you shut the door, sukuna’s quick to collect the sheets and throw them in the wash before his brisk walk out to the store. and he tries to figure it out – to find how exactly to make you feel the way he did that night. 

the memory’s replaying in his mind, with overwhelming detail, when he walks over there, and it sinks deeper into his chest the more detail he remembers.

of the day your dad left, when you came running over to him with blood running down your legs. 

--

you’re only reminded of the memory when sukuna comes back, with the box of pads with a heart-shaped chocolate placed on top. eerily enough, he’s nowhere to be found when you leave the shower, your skin still warm from the water as you look around. 

you unwrap the little pink foil as you pace around the flat for him, feet cold on the concrete, until you find him in the bedroom, pulling the sheets over the mattress. 

or at least attempting to. 

“want some help?” you ask. 

“i don’t need your chocolate covered hands on the clean sheets.” sukuna states, eyeing you.

“come lick it off my fingers if it’s bothering you so much.” you complain, setting the little foil on the nightstand. 

"don't tempt me."

you reach for the closest corner, pinning it down and tucking it under the mattress, as sukuna sends you a grateful smile, before throwing the other half of the blanket over to you. 

“i washed these yesterday, sukuna.” you mention. 

“yeah. um-” 

you look up at him, hands nearly trembling and the loud smacking of his phone falling out of his pocket as you walk over to his side, securing it from the floor.

it’s almost frightening – watching someone so collected fumble with their words. you figure this is how sukuna would feel if you were ever able to keep it together. 

“you okay, butter fingers?” you ask. 

“yeah. yeah, i’m fine. thanks, pretty girl.” he states. 

you hand him the phone, eyeing his shoddy work. 

“you barely even tucked the sheets in properly.” you complain, pushing him to the side, before reaching back for the blanket and smoothing it perfectly against the sheets. 

and before he can get away, you quickly reach for his wrists and pull him back. and you’re quick to nestle into his arms, digging your cheek into his shoulder as the smell of his cologne nearly obliterates your nostrils. 

“what’s wrong, baby?” you ask. 

there it is again. sukuna wants to strangle you. 

“stop fucking doing that.” he murmurs. 

“doing what?”

“y/n.” he warns. 

you pull back, bring your palms to his cheeks before squishing his face together. you can tell that he’s annoyed – and you’re entirely amused by it – as he tries to muster a sentence together through his squished lips. 

“am i supposed to read your mind, you big baby?” you coo. 

“i don’t like it when you say that.” sukuna states. 

you pause. 

“oh. i’m sorry. i just figured you were a big…pet names guy. you barely even call me by my name. but don’t worry, i-” 

“no.” 

“oh?” you ask, giving him your best smirk. 

you’re not sure how well it works when you do it. the teasing, bantering type thing when you’re trying to get him to loosen up. it had worked well enough in your favor the past few times – and you figured you’re almost…goofy charm was part of why sukuna liked you in the first place – so you’d try to use it when you could. 

“i don’t like it when you call me a big fucking baby. i'm not a fan of patronizing nicknames.” sukuna states. 

you smile. 

“but? it feels like there’s more to that statement.” 

sukuna rolls his eyes. 

“but. i like it when you call me that otherwise.” 

you tilt your head to the side. 

“okay, baby. but seriously, what’s wrong with you? you really only act like this when somethings up.” you state. 

it gets harder to hide things from you as time goes on. but that’s part of the risk anyways – of becoming so close you’re nearly intertwined. sukuna sighs, before giving you a firm squeeze at your sides. 

“i changed the sheets again because you leaked on them.” sukuna states. 

you nearly cringe, clenching your jaw. 

“ew, sukuna. oh my god. i’m so sorry, you should have told me so i could have-” 

“that’s nothing to apologize for.” he clarifies. 

“no, really. now you’re all grossed out by me so much that you’re being weird.” 

sukuna finds it irritating. you nearly find the good in everything, except for yourself. 

“i’m not grossed out by it.” he states. 

“i mean…” 

“it just reminded me. of the last time we…had something like this happen.” sukuna states. 

“the last time? we haven’t even-” 

but that’s when you remember. and the embarrassment that never really registered the first time establishes in full effect. so much so, that you have to change the topic just as fast, duck out the first chance you can get. 

--

sukuna can barely focus the entire workday. all he can think about is that memory in petrifying detail, now coupled with the fact that for the first time, he’s upset you so bad that you basically ran away from him. 

like fully went to class without even taking your backpack. because that’s how badly you didn’t want to talk to him. 

“what’s wrong with you?” 

sukuna looks up from his monitor to find shoko peering over at him from his desk, shifting a lollipop around in her mouth. 

“nothing.” 

“you look like you have a stick up your ass.” she states. 

“it takes one to know one. how’s your little situationship going?” 

shoko rolls her eyes. 

“perfectly fine. how’s your girlfriend?” 

“would it kill you to mind your own fucking business sometimes?” 

shoko smiles, before gesturing for suguru and satoru from the desks over. nanami’s too civilized for these type of things – which is why he’s the only person that’s not on sukuna’s hit list. 

sukuna can nearly feel his nostrils flaring the second satoru starts talking, the overwhelming urge to gouge his eyes out extremely powerful for nine in the morning. 

“trouble in paradise?” satoru asks, a sing-song voice in his tone. 

“something that’s familiar to you, i’m sure.” sukuna murmurs. 

“hey! you don’t have to be a dick.” satoru whines. 

sukuna rolls his eyes, nearly breaking the keys on his keyboard. 

“what happened? she realized she’s too good for you or something?” shoko states. 

“did she get weirded out because she basically used to be like your little sister?” satoru asks. 

“she was never like my little sister. and she’s only two years younger than me.” sukuna clarifies. 

“oh, we know all about that. you’ve always been our little happy camper when it comes to her.” satoru chides, earning him a fit of laughter from the group. 

the closet thing in sukuna’s vicinity is a stapler. luckily for him, satoru doesn’t see it coming at all and it hits him square in the face. that earns him laughter from the group, though it’s cheapened by the whining noises that come out of satoru's mouth afterwards. 

but it’s not fault, because in sukuna’s expert opinion, he was asking for it. 

sukuna’s lucky enough that he’s been able to keep the group of them away from you for a considerable amount of time. because they’ve been holding onto one of his deepest secrets – and if they were given the opportunity – they would take every chance to mortify him and spell it out for you in detail.

when sukuna came back from europe, he figured that any rebellious streak that he had was basically out of his system. though he always had a tendency to be a little bit bold and overconfident, he’d mellowed out. at least by his europe standards anyways. 

and when he met the group of them, they took him out to a bar and asked him a simple question. though it seems rather inappropriate in hindsight, it’s literally due to the copious amounts of alcohol that they all seem to drink – and nurse him into drinking too. 

it’s not his fault he misunderstood the question. 

who is the first person you ever slept with? 

sukuna realized later that the question was who was the first person that he ever had sex with. not the first person that he ever slept next to, that he cuddled with during the night. unfortunately for him, he answered the latter instead of the former – and in his tipsiness – told the group of them all about you before he had even dated you. 

that he was counting his lucky stars when yuuji was so sick to go on the trip and that sammy hates bugs, which meant that he got to be there alone with you and the other campers. the other families – their kids were far too old, meaning that the two of you were nearly stuck together. 

you taught him how to make smores, he taught you how to catch fish – though you were never really able to do it, so he opted to do it for you. and that your camping bag seemed to be misplaced on the last night, so you shyly climbed into his tent and asked if you could stay. 

“sukuna. hey, are you awake?” 

“jesus fucking christ.” 

sukuna watches as your eyes widen and you cower away with an apologetic look on your face, as you put your hands up. 

“sorry! i didn’t realize you were sleeping.” 

“my eyes were closed.” 

“okay, well. i kind of knew you were sleeping. but i need to ask for a favor.” 

“what’s wrong?” 

“i can’t find my camping bag. and my tent is so dinky that it doesn’t have the padding on the bottom, so it’s just the cold, muddy floor.” you murmur.

sukuna fights the urge to smile fully. whatever was responsible for ruining your sleeping bag was getting his full praise the next morning. 

“okay. scoot in.” 

“huh?” 

“well, i’m not going to let you sleep on the fucking floor without a blanket. and i’m not giving up my own either, because i don't like you that much, so just come here.” 

you wince. 

“really? is that not weird?” 

“i’ve known you since you were a fucking toddler, basically. i’ve watched you cry more times than i can count, seen you burp more than yuuji, and i’m convinced you farted in front of me one time.” 

the agitation in your face is almost funny.

“are you stupid, sukuna? i don’t fart.” 

“that’s biologically impossible.” 

“no, it’s not. you probably heard yuuji and thought it was me.” you state. 

“for the record, you most definitely did. just don’t fart on me in the night and we’ll be fine.” sukuna states. 

you roll your eyes as you discard your little camping pants, unaware of the way sukuna’s heart has just constricted in his chest.

maybe he would have taken the floor if he knew you were planning on sleeping in butterfly printed shorts. 

“well, now i’m going to wait and aim my fart right at you when it happens.” you respond, as you tuck yourself into the bag, pressed right up against him in the cold. 

"I thought you didn't fart."

"i'll adapt just to attack you with it."

his arm finds it’s way around you, the space so constricted that you almost had to intertwine to be any semblance of comfort. and it’s in the dim light of the little lantern that you find yourself face to face with sukuna, for what feels like the first time ever. 

his nose is nearly brushing against yours, the minty smell from his toothpaste nearly overwhelming. 

“sukuna?” 

“yeah?” he whispers. 

“thank you.” 

sukuna hopes that your head resting against his pounding chest doesn’t keep you up all night. 

“earth to fucking sukuna.” satoru states, shaking his hand in front of his eyes. 

he has a death wish. suguru must know that all too well, because he’s shooing shoko and satoru’s nosiness away, before he pulls up into the chair next to him. 

“alright. what happened?” suguru asks. 

“i just…brought up something from when we were kids by accident. about the day her dad left. and-and she was so shocked that she basically fucking ran out the door, to class, without taking her backpack because i upset her that badly.” sukuna grates. 

suguru’s mouth pinches into a line, before he leans his chin against the backs of his hands. 

“didn’t you say that she was really hard to read?” he asks. 

“sometimes.” 

“think you just caught her off guard. especially if she wasn’t thinking about it before. i think you should just send her a text to tell her to spend the night and that you can either talk about it or never bring it up again. you should let her make the call.” suguru states. 

“you don’t think i should….fucking leave her alone or something? she probably hates me for all i know.” 

“i don’t think you’re giving her enough credit. you’re her boyfriend. maybe she wants to talk about it now. especially if you were there – and now she’s reminded of it.” 

sukuna ponders the thought as suguru gives him an enthusiastic thumbs up, before he starts yanking on shoko and satoru’s ears in the periphery. 

he decides to jump. 

dear diamond of the season,  i’m sorry about this morning. i just brought it up on a whim and we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. but also if you feel the need to let it out, my time is always yours anyways.  (please come home tonight or i will never recover emotionally)  (i am kidding. you’re free to take time to yourself if you need it. but also i’ve become too used to sleeping with you next to me and i will shave my head if you don’t come back.)  (am also curious how you are faring in class without a pencil, a notebook, or a laptop. you push the limits everyday, baby.) groveling on my hands and knees,  sukuna 

the response is fast. 

dear gentle reader, so much to unpack in one email. WHEN DID YOU WATCH BRIDGERTON?  (if you watched it for the period piece porn and not the romance, immediate breakup)  caught me a little bit off guard, but not in the bad way. kinda got stuck in my head about it all so…would be kind of nice to talk about it i guess? idk. i’ll see how i feel.  (and yes, i’m coming home, silly. i can’t stay away from my alpha wolf (insert barking sounds) for so long :D)  (shave your head and i will never fucking recover. i won’t talk to you till it grows back.) (i took notes on a napkin. not one of my finest moments, but i think it’s a testament to the versatility of women.)  just pooped in library bathroom,  y/n 

--

you come home to find sukuna at the stove and immediately press yourself flush to his skin. looping your arms around his torso, pressing your cheek to his bare skin – one of the few moments you can appreciate that he never really wears a shirt – as you sigh. 

“hi stinky.” you coo.

“absolutely not.” 

“boo. it’s romantic!” you whine. 

sukuna turns around, before cupping his fingers around your chin and tilting your face up. there’s a tired smile on your face – barely any makeup and your glasses instead of your contacts – that has him reeling. 

“how was your day, stinky?” he asks.

“the first day’s always the worst. feel like i have no energy.” you respond, leaning your head against his chest. 

“luckily for you, we’re having breakfast for dinner. and i have pain killers if it gets bad.” 

you smile.

“i’m starting to think you only know one fact about me and it’s that i like french toast.” 

“har har har. you’re hilarious, y/n!” he deadpans, flicking your forehead. 

he shoos you away, gesturing for you to go change, as he starts plating the food. and when you come back, the two of you cuddle under the blanket on the couch, with your plates warm in your hands. 

you look at the screen and promptly skip the scene. 

“hey.”

“why can’t we watch season two of bridgerton?” you ask. 

“because we’re watching it from the start together.” 

“there’s just so much…porn. and enemies to lovers is better than fake dating.”

“sweetheart. you’re like missing half of the plot when you skip those scenes.” 

“we’ve watched it before! i’m going to kill you.” 

sukuna rolls his eyes, before reaching for the remote and switching to the second season. and well into the third episode – dirty plates stacked on top of each other on the ottoman – sukuna’s fingers running through your hair beckon you to talk. 

“sukuna.” 

“hm, baby?” 

“do you ever think about how knowing each other before has like….impacted our relationship?” you ask. 

he looks down at you, concentration from the screen broken. 

“sometimes. what are you thinking about?” 

sukuna reaches forward, pushing your glasses back to the bridge of your nose. 

“when you date other people, you kind of have to explain everything to them. shitty dads, complicated sisters…i feel like we skipped that part. but it’s also more complicated, because you have your own opinions on everything that happened because you were there too.” you murmur. 

“works in our favor too. i could never be as close to someone as i am to you. they’d never understand the depth of anything i told them, not like you would because you were actually there.” 

you nod. 

“that’s true. there’s nothing like understanding that my dad has hurt me than being the one who had to pick me up after that…” 

sukuna leans his head against the top of yours, your eyes lazily fixed on the screen, but not focusing. 

“can you tell me what you remember from that day?” you ask. 

sukuna hums in response. he’s not sure where that block in his throat came from and the wavering in his voice almost embarrasses him. 

“we could always hear them fighting. from the kitchen especially, since our windows were always open. and it was particularly loud that day.” sukuna starts. 

you can feel his hold on you tighten, the hand skirting underneath your shirt hard on your skin. 

“my mom and i knew something was wrong when we heard sammy. and then you. you…your voice was so small compared to his that…that it fucking scared me. it reminded me of yuuji…when he fights with our dad. my first thought was to go over there and fight him myself for you.” sukuna states. 

“you just wanted an excuse to fight with adults. especially at that age.” 

sukuna knows the joke is a deflection. your heart is barely in the statement. 

“and then i heard sammy crying and my heart dropped. i’ve…i’ve seen you cry plenty. but sammy’s so put together, tries so hard to be, that when she let it go, i was shocked. my mom kept telling me not to listen, that it was rude, but i was basically sticking my head out the window at that point.” 

you pinch your eyes for what comes next. 

“the doorbell rang and you were there. you…you were crying so hard and there was blood running down your legs. i almost called the police because i thought you were hurt.” 

“to be honest, i thought i was too. i’d never really gotten my period before, and i knew what they were, but i…i was so shocked when he was gone that i barely processed it.” you murmur. 

sukuna squeezes your arm. 

“i didn’t know that was your first period.” 

you tilt your head up, looking at his brown eyes. 

“yeah. your mom was the one who taught me….all the pads and tampons stuff. chocolate for cramps and all that. she actually did pretty well – considering the fact that she had to check on sammy and my mom after that too but still make me comfortable.” 

“i’m glad. it seemed so confusing to me at the time – when she sent yuuji and i to the store to grab the pads for you. i feel like she just didn’t want us there to...to not have two more people to worry about. and we really didn’t want to leave you. we basically ran to the store, through the aisles, before we got there and realized there’s like a hundred fucking brands of pads with different like…options and shit.” 

“feels like a good time to mention that you have a very good y/n-radar. you got the right ones this morning.” 

he smiles, his eyes focused on the table as he mindlessly runs his fingers through your hair. 

“you’re forgetting the good parts.” you state. 

“and what’s that?” 

you smile. 

“i know for a fact that your mom used to give you pocket money. and that you and yuuji saved it all to buy candy and chocolate. and you always used to keep it saved, for when you really wanted it, whereas yuuji ate it right away.” 

sukuna scoffs. 

“and then he had the fucking audacity to complain. like maybe if you didn’t eat it all at once, it would have lasted longer, dipshit.” 

you lightly shove him. 

“you’re such a meanie. we were like babies.” 

“shut up. keep going.” 

“you shared your chocolate with me. it was a hershey’s with almonds in it. and when i curled my nose at that, you gave me a whole spiel about the very refined world of chocolate with nuts in it. about how the smooth silkiness of the chocolate was the perfect juxtaposition to the crunchiness of the nut.” 

sukuna smiles. 

“that sounds inappropriate, baby.” 

“get your head out of the gutter. it was sweet. that you shared with me. made me smile. i’ve always felt like i’ve always got some lingering feelings for you but if i had to pinpoint it, that was probably when i started falling in love with you. and granted, that was so….juvenile at that point. i was like a teenager but…it does feel the same as it did then compared to now. falling in love with you.” 

sukuna’s quiet. you look over to find him staring at you, his breaths so slow that it catches you off guard. and before you can even asks what’s wrong, he’s looped his hands under your thighs, pulling you straight onto him to straddle his lap. 

you place your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, cheeks burning at the way he’s looking up at you. 

“what did you just say to me?” he asks, voice quiet. 

“what?��� 

“repeat. what you said.” 

that’s when you realize it. 

“oh, fuck. sukuna. i don’t want to rus-” 

“repeat it.” 

you swallow hard. 

“i…i’m falling in love with you?” 

“that sounds like a question.” 

“sukuna.” you whine. 

“say it right.” he demands. 

you bite into the softness of your cheek, taking a deep breath, before you dig your fingers into the indents of his shoulders. 

“sukuna. i’m falling in love with you.” you murmur. 

sukuna’s eyes soften, his gaze so honey sweet and warm, that you can’t help but bring your hands to his cheeks. you lean closer, your faces only a few feet away from each other, as you smile back. 

“what is it?” you whisper.

“you’re falling in love with me.” he responds. like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“that’s right.” you confirm. 

sukuna smiles, before closing the space between you, the kiss so longing that it makes the core in the pit of your stomach burn, your chest flutter. he breaks the kiss, smiling and murmuring against your mouth as you lean against his forehead. 

“thanks for finally catching up, slow-poke.” 

--

next part linked here

an: this fic is purely vibes but we die like men. sukuna when he gets arrested on the day his grandfather but y/n when she accidentally has her first period in front of sukuna when her dad left. yup.

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