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[facioleeknow]

The art of pleasure ch.6

Authority ° Lee Felix

When one girl in your class makes fun of you for being a virgin at a party, you are left distraught. It's only natural that you decide to whine about it to your best friend, Bang Chan; but he does more than lending a shoulder to cry on, he comes up with a solution. He and his 7 friends will help you and teach you all about the pleasure of the flesh. What could go wrong?

Genre: SMUT 18+ only, college AU WC:1.6k +

TW: experienced Felix, inexperienced reader, intercourse, cumshots, sub Felix, Felix cries, mention of safe word, first time domming, grinding

A/N, another chapter after less than a week?? I'm spoiling you guys ahah ;), I hope you like the chapter and I also have a super important announcement regarding the story so go to my blog and find out <3

Han scrambled up at the voices and rushed to pull his pants and underwear up before the door swung open violently.

“Hyung, we're naked, you can't just come in!” Hannie whined like a baby, he was the baby of the trio after all. Changbin tsked at him and Chan simply rolled his eyes, it wasn't the first time they were naked around each other and clearly wouldn't be the last. Meanwhile you laid on the table, front and cheek completely squished against it. The tiredness from the previous day had gotten to you, maybe having your first time and another fuck not even 12 hours apart hadn't been a good idea. Hyunjin had treated you so well that you were barely sore in the morning but Hannie had been very intense and you were sure you would feel it the day after. 

Cum started to sleep out of you and drip down your thighs but you were so tired, you just wanted to nap.

“Hey, baby, are you okay?” Chan's voice was soft, you had never heard such softness come from him even if he had always been nothing but wonderful to you. You hummed in response.

“Tired.” Chan giggled at your cute cheeks and droopy eyes.

“Let me clean you up, okay?” Another hum and then you heard shuffling behind you. A soft tissue came in contact with your soiled and puffy pussy and you immediately hissed at the touch and tried to scramble higher up the desk.

“Easy, baby, easy. I'm all done,” the tissue soon disappeared and was replaced by your soft panties and your shorts. Chan dragged a chair near you and then sat down, his legs spread enough to make room for you.

“Come here, baby, let's take a nap, yeah?”  

You didn't let him tell you twice because you all but jumped on him and attached yourself to his body like a koala. Napping with Chris was your favorite activity in the world. As soon as your head hit his shoulder, your eyes closed. The last things you heard were the two older boys chastising Han.

“I can't believe you didn't make her cum!”

“She said it was fine, hyung!”

When you woke up, you were in a different position, on the couch with a jacket draped over your middle. You felt warm and content. 3racha was still working in front of you, how long had you been asleep for? You patted yourself for your phone. 

“Chris?” Your voice was hoarse and tired. The three boys jumped in their seats at the sudden voice. Chan rolled close to you and studied your face as to find any sign of discomfort.

“Slept well baby?” His thumb gently drew circles on your warm cheek and you sighed and melted into the affection.

“Yes, very. Where is my phone?” Changbin, from behind Chan, handed you the device.

“Felix called and he texted, you should text him back,” Changbin had a naughty glint in his eyes, that could only mean one thing.

Felix was the only one of the boys that you were closer to, except for Chan. In all honesty, with all of his cuteness and kindness, the sunshine boy was very hard to dislike and you had no intention of trying.

Lixie:

Hey bubby, Binnie hyung told me you were sleeping, I wanted to know when you wanted to meet :D

You: 

Hey Lixie <3

Sorry I was pretty tired, I had a date with Hyunjin last night and one with Han this morning 

Lixie: 

Are you okay? Sore? :(

You:

A little but don't worry, sweet boy, nothing I can't handle

Did you have a time in mind already for the hangout? <3

Lixie: 

I was thinking next weekend, if it's not too early :D

You: 

It's perfect Lixie, I'll see you next weekend

Lixie:

Rest well, bubby <3

Getting ready for the date with Felix was easy. You felt comfortable around him since you were already friends and the only one of the boys you were friendly with, except for Chan. The fact that you knew what to expect from intercourse in general also helped you greatly, sex now wasn't this big mystery to you anymore, albeit you still had a lot to learn.

You knocked on Felix's door excitedly, this lesson was gonna be fun, you could feel it.

“Hey bubby,” Felix opened the door with one of the biggest and brightest smiles you had ever seen. He was so precious. The boy quickly pulled you into his room.

“So, on the list that Chan gave me it said ‘domming’. Do you want to talk more about that?” your voice was firm and determined, you were excited to try and uncover this new side of you and to feel new things physically.

“Oh, hyung told you already…” his voice was lower than usual. Your hand gently covered his small one and then squeezed, as to spur him on.

“Yeah, I like to not have control, I like to do what other people tell me to do,” his cheeks were dusted with pink and his eyes were round and sparkly, you wanted to eat him up.

“That's okay, I think I can do that, do you have a safe word?”

“Yeah, it's gold league,” he chuckled. Of course it was game related, typical Felix.

“Okay, do you want to play?” a wink from you sent the boy into a blushing and stuttering mess.

“Yes!”

“Put your games on then, bubby.” Felix looked at you confused, but still got up and sat down in front of his computer. Oh how you loved when a man did what you told him, you were starting to feel the thrill some women got from dominating. 

Right when Felix logged into League, you got up.

“Be a good boy, keep playing and let me have my fun, and maybe I'll let you cum at the end if I'm satisfied.” Felix looked at you with big round eyes, his bottom lip slightly jutted out and trembling. A small whimper escaped from his lips when you sat down on his lap, thick thighs on either way of his. 

“Don't hold back or I won't touch you at all.” Felix nodded frantically while still trying to play, he was trying to focus but his mind zeroed on how good your weight felt on his half hard cock. You placed small feather light kisses all over his neck and shoulders, he was wearing a tank top and you almost wanted to cheer at the choice; more skin more surface to play with. When your tongue came in contact with his pulse point on his neck, Felix whimpered and started trembling underneath you, his cock pushed against his short and you could feel it deliciously throb through your panties.

“Miss, please,” he looked and sounded like he was about to shatter but, like a good boy, he kept playing his game. Your hips started to grind harshly on top of his bulge, your clit caught on his zipper so deliciously that in a matter of moments your underwear was ruined by your slick.

“You like to call your girls ‘miss’, Felix?” A whimper and a nod, “what a naughty boy.” At your words a wet patch of precum started to form on Felix's shorts. He was probably close and so were you, both of you were extremely worked up. You needed him inside. 

With swift fingers you unbuttoned his shorts and pulled down his zipper. His cock stood proud in front of you, he wasn't as long as Hyunjin or as thick as Changbin and was even shorter than Han but you were sure he would feel good nonetheless.

“No underwear? Tsk, you're a bad boy.”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he sobbed, a fat tear rolled down his cheek but was swiftly caught by your gentle hand.

“Its okay baby, I like bad boys.” Without any other words, you pulled your panties to the side and sank down on him. Two equally pleased moans sounded in the room. Your hips started moving almost immediately, you were too impatient to wait.

“Baby why don't you stop playing your games now and start playing with my little clit? If you can make me cum before you, I'll give you a reward,” your voice sounded sickly sweet like you had never heard before, and Felix complied immediately. His short, small and warm fingers worked wonders on your swollen bud, he was skilled and liked pleasuring others. With how worked up you were and with how good Felix's cock felt rubbing your walls back and forth it didn't take too long for you to feel that familiar pressure start to build inside your guts.

“Oh, baby keep going, I'm so so close.” Felix's hand applied even more pressure to your poor sensitive clit and you came with a long keen. Your hips slowed down while you rode out your high and Felix whined at the change.

“Miss, miss, can I please cum now?” 

“Yes baby, whenever you want.” Your hips picked up the pace and increased it what to Felix seemed tenfold; you were so wet and warm and soft and smelled so good. Your voice was so nice and you took such a great care of him, he had to cum for you.

“Oh miss I'm coming, I'm coming.” You quickly pulled yourself up and off the chair. The front of your dress got shoved down impatiently by your clammy hands and you kneeled in front of your sweet boy.

“Why don't you cum all over me, baby boy?” A hand wrapped around his tiny dick and quickly began to jerk him off. Felix's hips lifted off the chair to follow the movement from your hand, his hands dug into the plush of the armrests. 

Soon white ropes of cum landed on your chest and face while Felix whimpered and thrashed in the chair. 

“Thank you miss,” the sunshine boy sent you a weak but bright smile and you cooed at the sight. 

“You're welcome, baby.”

“Can I pick my reward now?”

@kflixnet

[simplygojo]

The Devil He Made Me - Ch. 6

Authors Note: Finally got this chapter out...I hope y'all enjoy bc shit is about to get real as fuck. As always, please let me know your thoughts by commenting or sending me a message, I appreciate any and lal feedback.oh and don't forget, I LOVE Y'ALL <3

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f/reader

Series Summary : After being found by Gojo and his first year students in a sticky situation, y/n joins Jujutsu High under the close supervision of Gojo. As time passes, the two of you become close, with a strong unspoken bond forming as you work together. Although, there is something dark looming over the situation, and those at Jujutsu High are determined to get to the bottom of it, before it is too late.

Chapter Summary : After battling with multiple special grade curses, y/n spends some time in the hospital so Shoko can run some tests to get to the bottom of the burning question: what was that cursed energy? With all of these thoughts swirling around y/n's head, she decides to discuss the incident with Gojo.

Taglist: @mawhoreagaa; @peqch-pie; @blue-serendipity; @simplyyyuji; @starrnai; @sorcerersseestars; @n1vi; @angryglitterperfection; @krak-jj; @coweringbear; @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni; @cococola-cocaine

If you'd like to be added to the taglist, leave a comment to let me know :)

Word Count : 5.5k

Warnings : mention of injuries, swearing, some tensions, mention of d*eath...

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Chapter 6 Bonus Blurb

The familiar scent of antiseptic filled your nose as you slowly blinked your eyes open. The soft whirring and sporadic beeping of machines and the gentle hum of the infirmary's lights gradually came into focus. It took a moment for you to remember where you were—Jujutsu High, the infirmary. You tried to sit up, but a deep ache in your muscles pulled you back down, reminding you of the battle just days before.

You had been unconscious for just over a day, but the soreness that clung to your body was a fading echo of what it had been. Shoko had healed most of your injuries, and while your body still felt heavy, you were no longer in a significant amount of pain.

A subtle shifting caught your attention, and you turned your head to see Gojo sitting at your bedside.

His long legs were stretched out lazily in front of him, his chair tipped back on two legs in that effortlessly casual way only he could pull off. A playful smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he noticed you stirring.

He wore an off-white button-up shirt, simple and unassuming, and somehow looked better on him than it had any right to. The way it fit him—just snug enough at the shoulders, but loose enough to give him that carefree look to match his attitude.

And then there are those sunglasses, the ones that should be ridiculous indoors, yet on him, they work—like a signature mark of his unbothered confidence. Even with half of his face hidden behind those tinted lenses, you can still see his piercing blue eyes.

"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty," he greeted, his voice smooth and teasing, eyes glinting behind his sunglasses. "I was starting to think you'd be out for another day. But I guess you're a bit too stubborn for that, huh?"

You managed a weak laugh, the dryness in your throat making it raspy. Gojo tilted his head—as though studying your face.

"You know," he began, his grin widening, "even unconscious, you’re still causing me all kinds of trouble. What am I going to do with you?"

His teasing tone, paired with the playful glint in his eyes, pulled another laugh from you, this one a bit stronger, though your body still felt heavy. Gojo straightened, his chair landing back on all four legs with a soft thud, before he placed a familiar white pastry box on your lap.

"I brought you a cookie," he said, and as your eyes focused, you recognized the familiar logo from the last pastry box he had got you about a week ago.

“Hmmm, am I having deja vu?” You said teasingly, although your voice was weak.

Propping yourself up with a few pillows, you opened the box to reveal the single chocolate chip cookie—just like the one he'd given you before. "Thought you might want something sweet when you woke up."

His expression softened as he studied your face, his bright blue eyes watching you carefully.

You didn’t even try to stifle the grin that slowly crept onto your face. “You know, you’ve never even asked me if I like sweets.” You teased, a warm feeling growing in your chest.

Gojo rolled his eyes, “These sweets are too good not to like, y/n.” He argued in response, to which you gave him a stern look, and he sighed dramatically. “Fine. Do you like sweets?” He said reluctantly, and you smiled wider in response to his obvious annoyance.

“Yes, I do…they’re my favourite.” You said, picking up the cookie and taking a bite. “This is too good not to like…wow.” You said, covering your mouth, as it was still full with cookie.

Gojo laughed, “I am always right.” There was something different about the way he looked at you now—something gentler than before, more concerned.

You decided to finally ask the burning question, “Gojo, what… happened?”

His expression shifted, the playful mask slipping just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the worry underneath. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his tosseled white hair as he sighed.

"You don't remember?" His tone was light, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that made your stomach twist. “You and the students were fighting that special-grade curse, remember? You… well, things got a little out of hand.”

The memories started trickling back, one by one. The battlefield, the pressure of cursed energy crushing you from every side. You remembered fighting off duplicates of the curse—one after another—until something snapped. A rush of power unlike anything you'd ever felt before surged through you, dark and overwhelming. The blue energy you had trained so hard to control had been replaced by something else, something foreign and dark.

“Oh, yeah I remember now…Sorry, I’m a little dazed,” you whispered, the weight of the realization hitting you like a truck. “How were there that many special-grade curses there? I thought you said the mission was just one special grade?”

Gojo leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing over his chest as he watched you closely. The playful mask he usually wore was still there, but his eyes, ever sharp and knowing, held a depth that unsettled you. “That’s the thing,” he replied, his voice softer now. “It wasn’t just one special-grade curse, it was multiple—each one a fragment of something larger. They were working in sync.”

The pit in your stomach deepened. You could recall the feeling of being surrounded, the sheer number of cursed spirits far more than you had anticipated. It was no wonder you’d been overwhelmed. “Shoko said she found something strange when she was healing you.”

You frowned, shifting slightly in the bed. “Strange? Like what?”

He hesitated for a moment, his typical lighthearted attitude shifting to a more earnest demeanour. “There’s another cursed energy inside you. Different from the normal cursed energy you’ve been using.”

The weight of his words hit you hard, and you felt your heart start to race.

Another cursed energy? How was that possible? You looked at Gojo, searching for answers, but his expression gave little away. "What does that mean for me?" You asked, your voice wavering slightly.

Gojo leaned back again, his eyes narrowing in thought. “We don’t know yet. That’s why Shoko's keeping an eye on you, and I…” He trailed off, his gaze lingering on you before looking up at the ceiling. “I’m going to be here every step of the way, whether you like it or not."

Before you could respond, the infirmary door slid open, and Shoko entered with her usual calm, unbothered air. She glanced between you and Gojo before speaking.

“Oh, good. You’re awake,” she said with a small smile. “I was starting to wonder if you were going to sleep through the whole week.”

You managed a faint grin as she approached your bed. Shoko pulled out her clipboard, her eyes scanning the notes she had taken while healing you. After a moment, she looked up and met your gaze, her expression turning serious.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she said, her voice low. “When I was healing you, I noticed something unusual. Your cursed energy… it wasn’t just the blue-hued energy you usually produce.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Gojo had mentioned this already, but hearing it from Shoko felt different. More real.

“There’s another source of cursed energy inside you,” Shoko continued, her brow furrowing slightly. “I don’t know how or why, and I can’t see anything on the tests I’ve done, but it’s there, and it’s separate from your own cursed energy. It’s… dark.”

You stared at her, stunned. Another source of power? But how? Why now?

“What does that mean?” You asked quietly, the weight of her words pressing down on your chest.

Shoko shook her head, her expression unreadable. “I’m not sure. And we don’t know how it got there, but its foreign. We’ll have to run some more tests to figure it out. But for now, you need to be careful. That power—whatever it is—could be dangerous if you don’t learn to control it.”

Gojo gave you a reassuring smile, though there was something sharp behind his usual cocky expression. “Don’t worry Shoko. You’ll figure it out. Plus, y/n has me as her teacher, after all. You know better than anything that I am the strongest.”

His words should have comforted you, or at least made you laugh—but the uncertainty gnawed at the back of your mind.

What the hell is wrong with me?

—

You stayed in the infirmary for a few more days while Shoko ran some tests. It was all routine at first, just performing tests on your cursed energy levels, helping you heal some of those stubborn wounds with her reverse cursed technique.

As the days passed and you grew more comfortable around Shoko, your conversations took on a lighter tone. You had expected her to be more distant, but she had a subtle, dry sense of humor that made you laugh, even in your exhausted state.

On the second evening, as Shoko finished up another round of tests, she pulled a chair up beside your bed, setting her clipboard down. “You’re healing well,” she said, her usual neutral tone softened. “We’ll have you out of here soon, hopefully.”

You smiled faintly. “Thanks, Shoko. It’s been kind of nice getting to know you more.”

She raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Don’t get too used to it. I’m not that interesting.”

You chuckled. “Somehow, I doubt that. You’ve got to have some stories, being friends with Gojo and all.”

Shoko leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Oh, Gojo? Yeah, there are plenty of stories, most of which are probably better off unsaid.”

Your curiosity piqued. “Come on, I’m stuck in bed here! Give me something. How was he back then?”

She sighed in mock reluctance before a small smile spread across her face. “Alright, alright. There was one time… Well, this was back when Gojo and—” Shoko hesitated for a second, her expression darkening slightly, but she quickly recovered. “—when Gojo and his best friend were still students here. His name was Geto Suguru.”

“Geto?” you repeated, unfamiliar with the name. “I don’t think I’ve heard of him.”

Shoko’s eyes softened a little, and for a moment, there was a quiet sadness in them. “Yeah, you wouldn’t have. Suguru was… He and Gojo were like brothers. They used to be inseparable.”

You blinked, surprised. It was hard to imagine Gojo having a best friend—someone close enough to understand him on that level. “What happened to him?”

Shoko looked down for a moment, her voice becoming more sombre. “It’s… complicated. Let’s just say he took a different path. It’s not something Gojo talks about much, but they were close. Closer than anyone would think.”

There was a brief silence between the two of you, the weight of her words sinking in. You could feel the layers of history, the unspoken grief in Shoko’s tone, and it made you wonder just how much Gojo had buried beneath that playful exterior.

Shoko cleared her throat, shaking off the mood. “But, anyway. Gojo’s always been the same—cocky, infuriatingly powerful, and completely insufferable when he’s right. There was this one time he convinced Suguru and me to sneak into the teachers’ lounge at night because he wanted to prank Yaga. Nearly got us all expelled.”

You laughed softly, trying to picture a younger Gojo pulling off one of his infamous schemes. “I’m guessing it didn’t go as planned?”

“Not at all. Yaga caught us halfway through. Gojo had rigged this ridiculous trap to dump confetti on him when he opened the door, but instead, it went off on us. We were covered in glitter for days.” Shoko shook her head with an amused smile. “Suguru was so mad. I thought he was going to kill Gojo right then and there.”

You laughed at the image, imagining a flustered Gojo trying to explain himself with confetti raining down around him. It was hard to reconcile the carefree man you knew now with the version of him Shoko described—someone who had once had a deep bond with someone else, someone who had experienced loss.

“Do you think he misses him?” You asked quietly, the question escaping before you could stop yourself.

Shoko looked at you for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. “I think he does, in his own way. Gojo doesn’t like to talk about the things that hurt him. He hides behind that grin of his, but… yeah. I think he does.”

You nodded, feeling a pang of empathy for the man who had become such an enigmatic figure in your life. Maybe there was more to him than just the confident, teasing exterior. Maybe, beneath it all, Gojo carried his own burdens, just like the rest of them.

Shoko stood up, stretching her arms over her head. “Alright, that’s enough reminiscing for now. You rest up, and if you’re lucky, maybe I’ll tell you more embarrassing Gojo stories tomorrow.”

“Looking forward to it,” you said with a grin, feeling a bit lighter despite the heaviness of the conversation.

As Shoko left the room, you couldn’t help but think about the person Gojo used to be, and how much of that was still hidden beneath the surface.

—

Once you had recovered fully, you found yourself training harder than ever before, trying to tap into this newfound source of energy. Gojo, ever the confident mentor, pushed you to your limits, testing how far you could go before the black energy resurfaced.

At first, it was difficult—frustrating, even. The black energy was slippery, elusive, always just out of reach until it wasn’t. But with each passing day, you felt it more clearly, a flicker of something cold and sharp beneath your usual warmth of cursed energy.

Megumi, Yuji, and Nobara were a constant source of support for you, and they really didn’t need to be—but they wanted to help. Whether it was their own curiosity or the friendship you had developed over the past month, they stuck around.

Training with them made the days more bearable, and their playful banter helped ease the tension that weighed on your shoulders.

One afternoon, you found yourself sparring with Yuji while Nobara and Megumi sat on the sidelines, doing some homework for another class they had. Yuji, ever the ball of energy, was throwing everything he had into the match, but even he couldn’t help but crack jokes between strikes.

“C’mon, y/n, is that all you got?” he teased, dodging one of your kicks with ease.

You grinned despite the sweat dripping down your face. “Just wait. I’m holding back so I don’t embarrass you.”

“Like that’s possible, you were just unconscious for a day, y/n. Don’t get cocky!” Nobara sarcastically scoffed from the sidelines, earning a chuckle from Megumi, who was trying to hide his amusement.

The laughter and camaraderie between the four of you made the discovery of this dark energy less daunting, and the uncertainty less frightening. You felt supported—more than ever before. But even with all the training, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

‘How did I get here?’ You thought while grabbing some water during a short training break. It’s not like you could answer that question; you still have next to no memories of your life before this—before discovering jujutsu sorcery.

You had no clue what you were doing here, but you knew you had very little choice in being here, it was all you knew now. You just had to do your best.

The black energy inside you was growing stronger, more insistent. But you wanted answers now, living in a constant state of unknown was becoming unbearable.

—

In the days following, you recalled scenes from the battle with the special grade curses. One of the curse's words replayed in your mind like a broken record. Each time you tried to push it away, the memory clawed its way back, gnawing at the edges of your thoughts.

As you sat alone in your room, your hands idly tracing the bandages still wrapped around your torso, the curse’s voice echoed: "Do you feel it…It's almost time for you."

You couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that came with those words. What had it meant? Why had it focused on you, singling you out with such terrifying precision?

Before being found by Gojo, I had never been around curses…right?

—

Later that evening, as the sun melted into the horizon, bathing the school grounds in an orange glow, you crossed paths with Gojo again. His usual carefree grin was firmly in place, but by now, you knew better—that smile often masked something deeper.

He stood leaning against one of the chainlink fences just outside the outdoor training grounds; his blindfold was nowhere to be seen and was replaced by a pair of dark grey rectangle-shaped shades.

It was after teaching hours, so Gojo wore his casual clothes: just an oversized black long-sleeved shirt—though it seems he had cut the neckline, as it exposed more of his collarbone than a normal shirt would, paired with some grey sweatpants.

For whatever reason, whether it be your newfound appreciation for life after nearly dying, you got a warm feeling in your chest (and between your legs) when you saw him. ‘Does he always look this good?’ You thought to yourself as you waltzed up to him, interrupting his concentration on whatever video he was watching on his phone.

“Hey,” you called out, your voice softer than usual. The fading light caught in his messy white hair, making it shimmer, and he turned his head towards you with a raised brow, his curiosity piqued.

“Hey there, walking all by yourself?” He teased, provoking you to roll your eyes with an amused smile. “Thought it was a better idea than walking with you.” You said, biting back at his quip. He let out a laugh and slid his phone into the pocket of his sweats.

“You think you’re funny now? Good lordd…What’s on your mind, y/n?” He asked, sensing the weight of your thoughts.

Despite your humorous banter, his expression shifted—he could tell you were troubled.

You hesitated, biting the inside of your cheek as you tried to find the right words. “Well, I’ve been thinking…that one curse during the battle… it said something. You were there. It talked about it being ‘almost time for me.’” Your eyes searched his, which were barely covered by those sunglasses, needing to know if he had any answers. “What do you think that meant?”

For a moment, his smile faltered. Barely noticeable, but you caught it. He took a slow breath, his hands slipping into his pockets as he stepped closer, the space between you narrowing.

“I’ve been thinking about that too,” he admitted, his tone more serious than usual. “Curses don’t talk just to talk, especially not special grades. I hate to say it, but they’re smart—they know things.” His eyes softened as they locked onto yours, his concern noticeable.

The cryptic warning from the curse still hung heavy in the air, and despite Gojo’s presence, the unease gnawed at you—it had been gnawing at you since you regained consciousness. You wanted to lean into Gojo’s usual lightheartedness, let it wash away the fear creeping up on you, but tonight, it wasn’t enough to quiet the storm brewing inside.

“Why me?” You muttered, mostly to yourself. “Why was it focused on me?” Despite your attempts to stifle your fear, you couldn’t stop your voice from shaking when you spoke.

His grin faded, replaced by a more thoughtful expression as he sat down on a nearby bench. He leaned back slightly, hands still in his pockets, the playful mask he usually wore slipping just enough for you to see the worry beneath it. “Y/n,” he said softly, motioning for you to take a seat beside him, and you followed his motion.

“Curses sense things in people, sometimes for a reason, sometimes because they catch on to something we don’t even realize. But this… was definitely not random.”

A chill ran down your spine. “So what do you think it meant then…when it said it’s ‘almost time for me’?”

Gojo's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than usual, and his blue eyes, usually so carefree, held something deeper now as they looked into yours—an intensity that made your breath hitch. He leaned back on the bench, tilting his head toward the darkening sky, as if searching the sky for the right thing to say.

The orange glow of the setting sun illuminated the chiselled features of his face, and you couldn’t stop your thoughts, ‘God, he looks good.’ It was that moment, waiting for Gojo’s reply, when you realized how close the two of you really were, your legs practically touching as you sat beside each other.

“I wish I knew,” he said after a pause, his voice quieter than usual, almost…gentle. "But what I do know is that curses don't just say things for no reason. Especially not special grades like that. Something’s up."

You sat down beside him, feeling the space between you shrink, though neither of you touched. The warmth from his body seemed to seep into the small gap, but there was an undercurrent of tension, something unspoken yet real in the air between you. His presence was normally a comfort, but tonight, it felt different. Almost charged.

He turned his head slightly, and his eyes met yours again—but this time his gaze was steady, unwavering. “Whatever it saw in you,” he continued, his tone low and serious, “you really don’t need to worry about it—you shouldn’t worry about it at least.”

Your pulse quickened at the way he said it, so casual yet laced with empathy and care. But you were unsatisfied with his answer.

Did he actually just say that to me after I almost died?

“You’re really telling me not to worry!?” You said, feeling the emotions in you start to bubble up within you. “Not to worry? Really Satoru?! I have next to no memories of my life, I suddenly woke up in a forest, surrounded by creepy-ass-curses, and nowww you jujutsu-people want me to fight them!” Your voice raised subconsciously as your emotions continued to rise up in you.

“Not to mention I almost died last week, and while I was in the middle of ‘almost-dying,’ a special grade curse practically threatened me—me personally! And you are sitting here telling me not to fucking worry?!” By then end of this you were practically out of breathfrom the volume of your voice.

“And you know what-” Before you could continue, you were cut off. “I don’t like it when you say it like that.” He said barely above a whisper, his voice sounding almost…sad? You could feel his eyes wandered between yours, searching and darting back and forth. “What the hell are you talking about?” You snapped, still frustrated and heated from your rant.

“My name,” he said softly, his eyes not shifting from yous. “I don’t like it when you said my name in such an angry voice.” Immediately, your frustration was gone, and your expression resembled that of a dear in headlights.

“Satoru?” You said, your head tilting to the side a bit, reflecting the confusion you felt.

“Yes, when you’ve said it before, you said it so nicely, so softly, it sounded so good hearing my name come from you.”

His words hung in the air between you, soft yet cutting, and your heart stuttered at the unexpected vulnerability in them.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out, his confession leaving you at a loss for words. It was a side of Gojo you had never seen—one that wasn't hidden behind his usual cocky smirk or casual confidence.

The air around you seemed to shift, thickening with a tension you couldn't quite place. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as the weight of his gaze held yours, his eyes searching your face, as if trying to find something in you that you weren’t even sure you could give.

“I…” You faltered, your earlier anger dissipating into confusion, but something else lingered beneath the surface—something deeper. Your pulse quickened again, not from frustration but from the strange sensation creeping up your spine.

Gojo’s eyes softened, and though he hadn’t moved closer, the space between you felt significantly smaller. “I get it, y/n. I know all of this is… a lot for you, for anyone.” He said quietly, practically mumbling. “I know things are uncertain and terrifying, but you’re not in this alone.”

The sincerity in his voice cut through the storm of thoughts in your head, leaving you feeling exposed—raw.

You wanted to stay angry, wanted to hold on to that frustration because it was easier than the vulnerability you felt creeping in.

But with the way he was looking at you now—steady, unwavering, almost tender—you felt something inside you waver. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t break the eye contact the two of you held; it was like some external force was interfereing.

Gojo’s expression shifted, the usual teasing smile nowhere in sight. His hand reached out, hesitating for just a moment before gently resting just above your knee. His touch was warm, grounding, and that warm tingly feeling began to creep back in.

“I’m telling you not to worry because, I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said quietly, and the blatant seriousness in his voice sent a shiver through you.

There was something unstated in the way he said it, something more than just a promise of protection. It was intimate, a layer of meaning underneath his words that you weren’t sure you were ready to acknowledge.

You looked up at him, your breath catching as you realized how close he was now, his hand still resting gently on your thigh, his eyes locked on yours.

You could feel the heat radiating off him, his presence overwhelming in a way that wasn’t just comforting—it was something else entirely. Something that made your pulse race for a reason.

“Satoru…” you whispered, his name falling from your lips—softly this time, as it did naturally.

His expression stayed mostly unchanged, but you could’ve sworn his eyes widened, just a fraction, in response.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension between you thick and palpable. You could feel it—the unspoken pull—the way your heart ached.

The way his gaze dropped to your lips for the briefest second before flicking back up to your eyes, made a heat begin to pool between your legs.

The air around you was charged, and your mind drifted to how easy it would be to just close that distance, to let whatever this was finally spill over and consume you.

Gojo’s hand tightened ever so slightly on your lower thigh, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that sent a jolt of electricity through your body. His voice was low, almost a whisper when he spoke again, and oh boy you were not prepared for what words left his lips next. “Say my name like that again,” he murmured, “Please, y/n.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to disappear, the only thing that mattered was the space between you and him, and the feeling that, if you took just one step closer, everything would change.

"Satoru, I…" Your voice was breathless, almost as if saying his name had taken something from you, pulling you closer to a line neither of you dared to cross.

But just when it felt like you were teetering on that line, your nerves took over. “Thanks for your help,” you blurted, your legs shifting away form him, breaking the contact between his hand and your skin. The moment, electric and intimate, cooled almost instantly.

Gojo blinked a few times, his hand falling to his side, the intensity of the moment fading as you harshly forced the distance back between you. “I’ll try not to worry, like you said…” You continued awkwardly.

He exhaled softly, and that smartass smile returned to his pretty face once again. "Right… You never have to worry when you’re around me. I’m the best the jujutsu world has to offer." He teased, his voice returning to its usual casualness.

You stood up, looking down at him as you stood in front if him. “Well, I’m gonna get going, Shoko says I should still be resting when I can.” You said, gesturing to the directions of the dorms, and Gojo just nodded in response, leaning back against the bench again, his arms spread over the length of it, his eyes looking up at you—and you were standing so pretty in front of him.

“Goodnight, Satoru.” You said with knowing smile, your gaze lingering for a bit too long befor eturning around and walking back towards the school.

—

The room was thick with tension as the leaders of Jujutsu society sat around the large oak table, their expressions grim. The clan leaders, flanked by stern-faced assistants, wore the air of authority and tradition, while Principal Gakuganji sat at the head, his face as cold and unyielding as ever. The atmosphere was stifling, the weight of the conversation about to unfold already heavy in the air.

Yaga stood off to the side, arms crossed, his face betraying his frustration. Utahime sat beside him, her brow furrowed, glancing between the higher-ups with a mixture of disbelief and quiet anger.

"Principal Gakuganji," the leader of the Kamo clan spoke first, his voice even and measured. "It has come to our attention that there are certain… disturbing developments regarding y/n y/l/n."

The leader of the Zen’in clan, Naobito, gave a snort, his arms resting lazily across his chest. “Disturbing is an understatement.”

Gakuganji leaned forward slightly, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. "Explain."

The Kamo clan leader continued, casting a disapproving glance toward Yaga and Utahime. "It appears that a certain conversation between two first-year students at the Tokyo school—Itadori and Kugisaki—was overheard. They were discussing a special-grade curse y/n encountered during a recent mission." He paused, letting the implication settle before continuing. "The curse in question reportedly said something about it being 'almost time' for her."

Naobito’s eyes gleamed with a predatory smirk. “A fucking ticking time bomb. That’s what she is.”

Utahime tensed beside Yaga, fists clenching under the table. She opened her mouth to speak, but Yaga beat her to it. "This is ridiculous," Yaga snapped, his voice firm but controlled. "You're basing this entire accusation on what? Something a curse said during battle? That's not enough to—"

"It’s more than enough," Naobito interrupted, his voice sharp, dismissive. “Special grade curses don’t make empty threats. They know what they’re sensing. If a curse says something is 'almost time' for her, that means she’s a threat.”

“She’s already unleashed an unknown cursed energy,” the Kamo clan leader added. "A power even Gojo Satoru hasn’t been able to fully identify or control. Not that he is even trying. That in itself is dangerous enough. She’s unpredictable. Unstable."

Gakuganji’s fingers stilled, his gaze shifting toward Yaga. “And from what we’ve seen… she could be harboring a greater threat. We cannot allow an unknown force like this to develop under our noses. We must act before it becomes too late.”

“Act?” Utahime’s voice rose, incredulous. “You’re going to condemn her for something she hasn’t even done yet? For something none of you fully understand? This is insane!”

Gakuganji’s steely gaze flickered toward Utahime, his expression unreadable. "This is not a decision taken lightly. We understand the complexity of the situation. But the safety of the Jujutsu world cannot be compromised by unknowns."

“She’s an unknown that Gojo Satoru himself is monitoring!” Yaga countered, his voice rising. “Do you really think he would put the entire school at risk for someone he didn’t trust? He’s been training her personally.”

Naobito’s lip curled in a sneer. “And yet, even Gojo can’t seem to keep her under control. And he doesn’t seem to be doing anything about the threat either, that jack-ass…”

The third clan leader finally spoke up. His tone was measured, but there was no mistaking the finality in his words. “She is too much of a risk. An unknown factor in an already unstable world. We cannot afford to wait and see what this cursed energy inside her might become.”

Yaga took a step forward, hands slamming down on the table. "You're talking about a student! A human being! Not some weapon you can discard when it suits you."

“We’ve made our decision,” Gakuganji said, his voice flat.

“For the safety of all sorcerers and the entire country, y/n y/l/n is to be executed by the end of the week.”

[jmvore]

forbidden (1) ➻ jjk

‹ previous | next › ↳ SYNOPSIS › You never intended for any of this to happen! Thriving from the attention your step-daughter's boyfriend, you never meant for anything to go past the innocent flirting and soft-spoken comments. Jungkook, however, didn't think anything of it when he first met you but the more he got to know you, the more he knew he was falling. He knows this is wrong. You two shouldn't be sneaking around like this but once he finally gets a taste of what he truly desires, there was no turning back. › masterlist ‹

1 › SUGAR BUDDY » RATING › 18+ [M I N O R S D O N O T I N T E R A C T] » GENRE(S) › smut, angst » AU › infidelity, (sort of) college, daughter's bf » PAIRING(S) › jeon jungkook x f!reader » SIDE PAIRING(S) › jeon jungkook x min yoonji, reader x (no name)male!oc » TYPE › SERIES | 5 chapter(s) » WORD(S) › 6.6k+ » CH. SYNOPSIS › You fall into bed with Jungkook. A mistake you will ultimately regret. » SMUT WARNING(S) › sub!jungkook, domme!reader, noona!reader, college!jk (doesn't matter tbh), cheating [on both sides cause 🤷🏽], reader has nipple piercings cause 🤷🏽, dub-con, premature ejaculation, somnophilia, possessive behavior, pussy fingering, dirty talk, sexual coercion, orgasm denial, male masturbation, unprotected s*x, reader has a tattoo, & fingering [I believe that's everything]. » ORIGINAL POST DATE › 06/30/2019 » RE-POSTED DATE › 11/05/23 » A/N › Thank you @/saradika for the divider(s)! Pictures are from Pinterest!

It was a mistake for Jungkook to fall into this rabbit hole. 

The gentle smiles, the sincerity of your constant worrying, and the fact that you were someone he shouldn’t have found himself falling for.

Even your little ticks became engraved in his mind. It was a way for him to pinpoint how you were feeling in the moment. The way you’d pick at your arm when you were anxious to the way your giggles grew into fits of laughter the funnier you thought something was. 

Over time his infatuation grew deeper and stronger and with that came the depravity. The desperation to be near you became almost unbearable. 

To touch you.

To feel you.

He could go on and on but the truth is he has become obsessed with everything you did and the sad part?

You’re not even his. He’s ‘dating’ your step-daughter. He doesn't care about her. To him, she was disposable. The only really he's still here is because she's the only way to get to you. And you?

You have a… husband. A shitty one but you have one, nonetheless. He didn’t matter. The guy was a disposable piece of shit who did not deserve you.

Like his daughter.

Jungkook knew from the moment she introduced him to you that your husband does not deserve your kind soul. Your husband doesn’t deserve your love. 

To fuck you. 

Make love to you. 

He doesn’t fucking deserve you.

From the outside looking in, your husband doesn't seem to be treating you right and based on what he has heard from Yoonji. And if he’s being honest, Jungkook thinks he’s cheating too BUT that’s a discussion for another time. He notices the way you cringe away from that… filth . 

Did his touch feel tainted to you as well? Did it feel foreign? Or do you hate it as much as he hates him touching you?

Before meeting you, Jungkook had no idea what people meant when they said they were fated to meet someone. 

You weren’t the woman of his dreams or anything but there was the certain pull he had toward you. Your kindness, your unfiltered loving nature.

Jungkook doesn’t want you to give that love away.

You shouldn’t because that should belong to him. Right? 

If your husband knew the true reason why he was hanging around so much there would be so many issues. 

Good thing he doesn’t.

He tried to fight his ever growing feelings but it all came to a head the moment he stopped fighting his feelings. He saw you in a distinctive light because you were no longer just Yoonji’s stepmother. You were you. A woman he knew he would do anything and everything for. 

It’s another reason why he’s in your room kneeling by your marital bed without a care in the world. 

If anyone were to see him here in this moment, they would swear he had floating hearts swarming around his head as he gaze lovingly at your exhausted figure. 

Jungkook caresses the side of your face with the back of his hand and trails his fingers toward your dainty lips (which are currently in a pout). 

He goes soft in the way you subconsciously snuggle into his hand. 

He grins fondly.

He wants nothing more but to kiss you breathless. Show you how much better he is than that man. 

But alas…

All he can do is admire. 

Admire how beautiful you look dreaming away and currently unaware of how he’s eagerly admiring everything that is you in front of him. Your body, your face- nothing goes unnoticed.

It’s when he yanks the cover down, he groans. Almost a little too loud. 

Your body shudders from the sudden chill that runs through your body as you instinctively turn from laying on your side to your stomach. 

It’s then the clothes you're wearing catch his attention.

It’s not your usual sleepwear (he knows because he’s seen you walking around in clothes that are much tighter and scandalous )but Jungkook can appreciate it all the same. 

Ironically, you have a sleeping panda on your shirt with the words ‘ don’t bother me ’ stitched above it. A tiny crop top shirt you made into an off-the-shoulder shirt.  

The new position also gives him a very nice view of your ass. The gray booty shorts are riding up your ass because you move so much in your sleep. 

It also gives him a view of the pretty lotus flower on the back of your thigh that he’s come to love. The words ‘Always a lover, Never a fighter ’ are in cursive underneath it. 

He was amazed when you told him how and why you got it. The contrast of colors looks so pretty on your skin.

He runs his finger over it only to see your leg jerk in response. You’re so damn sensitive and loves it though, he knows he has to be careful. 

The last thing he wants is to wake you up. At least, not yet.

The more he watches you, the more his mouth waters. 

He wants to taste you but that would have to wait until your husband isn’t present. 

He probably wouldn’t be allowed in the house ever again if the two of you were caught and that’s something he doesn’t want to happen. 

Right now? 

Patience is a virtue.

Jungkook settles for your step-daughter for now. Despite the differences, he knows that if he holds out long enough, he will have his chance. He’ll make sure of it.

It doesn’t help that when he’s fucking her, he’s thinking of you. 

Your beautiful body. She doesn’t have breasts like yours. Your full lips. Your incredibly long, worshipable legs. Everything about you is to be worshiped like the Queen… the Goddess you are. 

He could go on and on about how he would take you apart piece by piece. He would make you feel and love him. He would make you want him. 

It will all happen in due time. 

For now, he’ll sit and wait for his chance to unravel everything. 

Just then Jungkook the moment the bed creaks under your husband's weight.

One opportunity occurs when your husband heads downstairs to get water.

He knows he should be in the guest room where you and Yoonji left him and he knows there’s no excuse for him to be in here but he couldn’t miss the chance to be next to you.

He gently moves you so you’re laid on your side and facing him. He climbs into your side of the bed, coming face to face as your breath tickles his neck. 

Looking at your face, you deserve so much better. You deserve him.

…And he’s prepared to give you all of him. He wants you to know that he’s right here and he’s not going anywhere. He would never do that to you. 

He shifts your leg over his hip and buries his face into your chest as his heart races at the thought of getting caught. Inhaling your natural scent mixed with the perfume you’re wearing, burning it into his memory.

As soon as he hears your husband is back, he shrinks into himself so he doesn’t get caught. Vibrating with the excitement of you being so close, he tries his best to hold still.

All he wants to do, however, is kiss you breathless. Caress your body like it deserves to be worshiped. 

Your body is so. fucking. warm. He can still lay with you like this all the time, watching you rest peacefully in his arms is a treat in itself. 

You look so stunning under the moonlight, he could have kissed you right then and there if every time he moved the bed didn’t squeak. 

He goes to kiss the top of your breast as the door creaks from your husband trying to quietly shut the door (albeit poorly).

Jungkook hopes he rolls over, falls back asleep and ignores the very visible lump next to his wife but instead, he feels a hand (that clearly isn’t yours or his) jerk you so your back is laid against your husband's chest. 

He even had the audacity to wrap his arm around your waist.

‘Fucking Dumb Ass…’ Jungkook grunts, hand twitching to peel his slimy hands off of you. Your hu- no, that filth doesn’t deserve to hold you. 

He doesn’t know if your husband has fallen asleep or not but he’s missing your warmth. 

Maybe if he knocks him out, it’ll get him to leave the two of you alone. 

(Just a thought). Jungkook shakes his head though the thought still lingers. 

Trust, if he could do it and get away with it, he would. 

He doesn’t want to rouse the man so he waits in hopes to hear his snoring soon.

Growing impatient the more he has to wait because this could be his only chance to get to touch you like he wants to. And… this ass hole is ruining it. 

It’s like he knows.

Maybe he does.

After waiting for damn near fifteen minutes, Jungkook takes another ten minutes to ensure dumb ass is asleep. 

He tears you away from your husband, wanting to push him completely off the bed but that would, more than likely, startle him awake. 

Instead, he replaces your husband’s arm with his own though he realizes he can’t move as much as he would like. As long as he can move his hand and arm, he’s fine. 

He starts to reach inside your shorts only to realize you're not wearing underwear. 

He entertains the thought of you knowing he was coming to bed with you and that you were readying yourself for him. 

Because you want him too… right?

He starts rubbing circles into your clit, hearing you gasp at the slight coldness of his touch. Your hips buck into his as if you know. Even so, he knows you don't realize it's him touching you. 

For all you know, your body thinks it’s your husband.

Oh, what he would give to be able to fuck you silly.

“Why couldn’t I have found you before you married him?” He ponders the ‘what if’, bypassing the fact that you were older than him. 

It didn’t matter though. He would still love you all the same. 

“I want you so bad I can taste it…” He picks up his pace, listening to you pant out moan after moan. 

You're clueless, unknowing of the boy who’s currently taking advantage of you. 

“So fucking hot…” He gently presses his lips to yours to test and see if you'll respond. 

His body shivers at how soft they were against him. 

He yanks the right side of your shirt down to expose your breast before gently taking your nipple into his mouth. 

You let out a faded whimper. Your mind thinks it’s your husband but in reality…

“So sweet, Noona.”

You blink awake, trying to figure out what's going on. It takes you a minute to realize it. 

As you try to wake up, your mind is in a state of disarray. 

You don’t realize who you’re looking at until you take in his wide eyes and boyish grin. Something is amiss.

You flinch but he’s quick to shush you with a kiss. The metal in his lip is cold against yours and for a second you fight with the idea of fighting him off of you. 

Remember he’s stronger than you are.

And the fact that you’re sure you would wake him up if you keep moving so much.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You grit through your teeth but he’s quick to place his hand over your mouth.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.” 

“Wha-”

“I promise I won’t. Please don’t be scared, Noona.” 

He’s hesitant to lean into you but when you stop fighting, he starts to nuzzle his nose against your jaw. 

“I just want to lay with you.”

He can sense the panic written all over your face and the fact that your husband is behind you, doesn’t help either.

“W-Why?” You ask, head tilting as you’re completely bewildered at this. 

You don’t remember him ever showing you interest and even if he did. He’s dating Yoonji and you’re fucking married.

“Jun-”

“It’s you.” You wither at his answer, unsure of what he means. 

“Why?” You speak so softly, you’re unsure if Jungkook heard you.

Jungkook, on the other hand, shakes his head and you know he’s not going to tell you what you want to know.

At least, not right now. (Even if he’s elated at the turn of events) because to have a taste of you would be the sweetest treat anyone can grant him.  

He leans closer to peck you on the lips again before smiling wider. 

“We can save that talk for another time though. You were close to cumming, no?”

“We shouldn’t.”

“Why? I wanna make you feel good. Please let me! I know he’s not taking care of you.” Your breath hitches the moment you feel his lips against your pulse point, a chill running straight through your spine. 

“Fuck-” You gasp, feeling his hand move over your stomach and down to the band of your shorts. He smiles at your resistance but he knows you won’t last much longer. “Jungkook… Wait.”

“Please don’t make me. I want you so fucking bad.”

“But what about-”

Jungkook moves away from you as if your words scorched the air around you. It’s only when you bring your hand to touch his cheek that you feel his jaw clench and unclench.

“He doesn’t matter. I can make you feel so much better.”

“Jungkook. You have to realize how ridiculous this is? You’re dating my daughter.”

“And?”

“What-”

As you glare into his eyes, you realize you should have seen this coming. 

The little touches when your husband wasn’t looking. 

How he’d hold you by your waist when you were alone (which was rare). 

The kiss your cheek (something you’re sure someone wouldn’t do unless they felt something for said person). 

The little remarks he made about how he would treat you if you were his. How he would love you, please you. 

You chose to ignore all of this, thinking it was an innocent crush. He wouldn’t dare do anything.

Oh, how wrong you were.

You weren’t going to lie, Jungkook was a handsome young man but that’s what he was. A young man. You felt wrong. As if you were taking advantage of him but that’s not the case. Right?

“He doesn’t touch you like this anymore. Does he?”

You clasp your lips together to contain the whine threatening to release, knowing you can’t move around too much if you don’t want to alert your husband to what's going on. 

Eyes closed, you take a deep breath. 

Not wanting to think about much of anything as he toys with you by playing with the hem of your shorts. 

He wants to dip his fingers inside. Your pussy was so warm as he felt you getting wetter the more he played with your clit. 

He can’t wait to fill you the way you deserve, your pretty walls stretching around his cock like it should. 

He hums, pulling your leg over his hip again. He’s loving this. 

Your eyes well up with unshed tears and your irritation running rampant because what the fuck? Why were you on the verge of crying? 

You don’t have to cheat but God, your body is screaming for you to let him take care of you like he wants to.

“You cry, Noona. I just wanna take care of you,” He mutters, placing his hand on your cheek to wipe the strays away. “I want to take care of you. I want you.” He bites his bottom lip before pulling you closer by your chin. “I know you want me too.”

“Jungkook…”

“Please?”

Fuck! Why did he look so damn fine begging for it?

You take a soft breath to calm your nerves as the weight of his words hit you. It makes you feel sick to your stomach. 

“Jungkook. We can’t. You know we can’t… What about Yoonji?”

“Yoonji…” Jungkook scoffs the moment you frown, heart slamming against your chest as you want to know what the hell is going through his brain. You want to know what he’s thinking and why he’s being so damn bold all of a sudden. 

When you search his face for a crack in his facade, you don’t find one. 

“What about her?”

“She’s your girlfriend. You should be with her. N-”

“I can’t even think about being with her when you exist.” 

He presses his lips to yours again as your brain is processing what's currently happening. 

More like short circuiting.

The sensation of melting in his arms makes you pliant as he moves his lips against yours. It's hard to pinpoint your feelings.

The sensation of melting in his arms makes you pliant as he moves his lips against yours. It's hard to pinpoint your feelings

Your only awareness is the sensation of his lips against yours. You know you shouldn't kiss him back.

You should technically shove him off the bed but...

They feel so good against your own. He feels good. That you can't even deny your body the love it deserves.

A small spark grows the more you indulge in this fantasy. 

While you know it's definitely not right, the fact that he’s expressed how much he wants you makes you feel something you shouldn’t.

“Jungkook…”

“Don’t fight it.”

He gazes into your eyes, enchanted with the way you hold back the whine within your throat. 

He wants to satisfy you but also obey your every word. 

He was willing to wait for the right time, wanting to make your first time with him special. 

A simple date or two. 

Getting you alone in his place or here in your home. 

Telling you everything you want to hear and more and getting you to dump your loser husband.

The more he saw you with him, the more he grew impatient. 

“You make this so hard for me,” He whispers against your lips, brushing away your tears before grasping your hand and bringing it down to his hardening cock. It’s straining against his sweats, begging to be let free. “In more ways than one.”

“J-”

“You do this to me, Noona. I can’t even fuck her without thinking about being buried in you. It's hard not to scream your name while I’m cumming in her.” 

He ruts against your hand but you haven’t moved away either and you don’t even know why. 

And why were you getting so turned on by this? 

You’re supposed to be the adult here. 

You’re supposed to be the one to push him away, tell him no. 

Tell him how wrong this is. How fucked up it would be if either Yoonji or your husband found out.

B U T…

The thought of being touched by him and touching him was slowly clouding your judgment. 

It’s not as if you didn’t find him attractive. The moment he walked through the front door you found yourself eyeing him but you didn’t think he saw you. 

And at the end of the day, he was Yoonji’s boyfriend and you weren’t about to break up someone else's relationship. 

Even if you wanted a good fuck. 

You don’t even remember the last time you came while fucking your husband. He was losing his touch and well, you’ve been craving scratch that itch and you knew Jungkook was willing to give your body what it needed.

When Jungkook's hand travels underneath your shirt, his fingers caress your underbust and your brain completely malfunctions.

Your husband and Yoonji are long gone as he takes your bottom lip between his teeth to nip at it. 

“I can make you feel so good, Noona. I’ll be your good boy.” He whispers his promises against your lips before pressing his lips against yours again. “I can make you cum so good.”

Maybe it was the fact that you haven’t felt wanted in a while, especially by your husband in a very long time that made you want to give it. 

Or maybe it was the fact that you had this man in your bed claiming you were the one for him and that he didn’t need anyone else. 

You don’t know what it was that had you giving into his advances, you only knew that your resolve was breaking. 

And the crazy part? 

You should feel… something? Right? 

Anger. Remorse. Guilt at the fact you would be blatantly cheating on your husband while you’re lying in bed with him but right now, you feel nothing. 

And you don’t know if you would ever feel anything about it. 

Once you’re actively thinking about it you realize that maybe you have fallen out of love. But were you even in love in the first place?

Your husband barely looks at you anymore. 

You’ve tried everything you could think of to get that spark back but nothing has worked. 

You came to the conclusion that he wasn’t physically attracted to you anymore but understanding that fact hurts more than you let on. 

“Please let me touch you more, Noona?” It comes off as a question, pleading with you to give in. And you do, nodding as he’s quick to grab your waist to pull you on top of him. He caresses your bare thighs, his eyes twinkling at the sight of you straddling his hips. 

He’s dreamed of this moment and to have it come true, his heart is about to burst from the excitement.

He reaches up to pull you in for another kiss but you stop him with a finger to his lips. 

He groans. 

A little too loud for your liking but you know you have to be cautious. 

You don’t want to wake the grinch.

Though you can’t believe you’re even doing this but you allow yourself to forget. Even if it’s just for a moment. 

You forget the fact that this is your step-daughter’s boyfriend and the fact that they’ve been together for almost a year. 

You forget that you have a husband and that he’s currently present in your bed until-

“Honey?” 

“Y-Yeah? Yes, baby…?” Choking out a response, you get Jungkook to get out of the bed as you watch him blindly reach for you. You’re quicker to reach behind you to grab his hand, hoping he doesn’t wake in his quest to find you. 

“Why’re you awake?”

“Bathroom.” You chuckle, not to give away how nervous you are but he doesn’t seem to notice. He hums, pulling you to turn you around to face him so he can nuzzle his face into your breast.

“Go to sleep.”

“You too.” You clear your throat, feeling the bed dip knowing Jungkook is crawling back into it after you told him not to. You can hear your husband soft snoring, knowing he’s settling into his new position. 

(You were always amazed at how he was able to fall straight asleep).

You peel your body away from him to replace it with a pillow and wait, hoping to God he doesn’t reach over to figure out what the hell the two of you are getting up to. 

With a sigh of relief, he doesn't. 

You can breathe once he stops moving, taking the moment to shoo Jungkook out of the room. Only he doesn’t move.

“You need to go back to the guest room.” You push him toward the door but he still doesn’t budge, holding on to you tighter to prove his point.

“I’m not leaving without you.”

You sigh in frustration, knowing he is telling the truth. Nothing will stop him from having you, he's so close.

“Jungkook.” 

He matches your energy and calling your name the same way but you’re unamused and irritated.

“Go!”

“No!”

You hadn't realized he switched spots, backing you into the bedroom door and squatting to pick you up. He wraps your legs around his waist and squishes you against the door with a loud thud.

You chastise him, harshly whispering for him to put you down but he doesn’t listen. 

Instead, he’s quick to open the do and carry you kicking and screaming out of the room. 

Not literally, of course. Although you realize that you've played right into his hands. 

You can feel the tension between the two of you as you bury your face into his neck. 

He knows you need some type of relief from the teasing he subjected you to earlier and he’s going to give it to you. His patience has run thin and so has yours.

Besides, you could do without your husband's mediocre performance.

“Jungkook…” You glance down but a heavy noise startles the both of you out of your reverie. He looks to see the light shining from Yoonji’s door. 

Of course, she would be awake. It’s like they’re doing everything in their power to make sure he doesn’t get his way. 

“Ju-” He cuts you off with a kiss, pushing you to hide in the bathroom as he tells you once he closes the door to make your way to the guest room. As you nod, you wonder if it really is worth the trouble but you are sopping wet and you need relief. 

Even if it's self-help.

Jungkook is growing impatient as he watches Yoonji from the door. He watches her move about in her room, making a mental note to give her something to help her sleep next time. He cracks the door enough for him to hear you walk by before getting to work to get her to go to bed.

You know you shouldn’t be listening but you can hear the desperation in her voice when she whines for him to stay. 

She even begs him to kiss her and for a second, you feel awful for what you’re literally about to do. 

You stop in your tracks, pausing at the guest bedroom as you contemplate going back to your bedroom and just masturbating. Sighing your resolve, you turn to head back only to run right into Jungkook.

“Are you okay?” It literally took him close to ten minutes to get her to stop complaining. What happened within that time frame? “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Um-”

“What?” Jungkook panics, frantically reaching for your wrist to grasp. “Stay. Please stay, Noona. C’mon”

He’s quick to pull you toward the guest room and shut the door, spin around to pick you up before laying you down on the bed. 

His hands caress everywhere he can as he worships your body. Particularly your thighs. He wouldn’t mind his head being crushed by them while he’s eating you out. 

And your legs… 

God, what he wouldn’t do to keep them wrapped tight along his waist. 

“You can’t leave. We were just getting started. Can I?”

Despite your protests, he’s already yanked your shorts down your legs and started climbing between them with a groan. 

He can’t wait to taste you but that will have to wait for another time.  

You on your back and spread out like a full-course meal, his brain turns to mush instantly. 

“Noona…” He mewls the instant he sinks into your warmth, nails digging into the bed as your walls tighten around his cock. God, why are you so damn tight? “So sweet. So perfect for me,” He whines. 

Moments after he bottoms out, you moan, biting against your knuckle to remain silent. The last thing you need is for them to figure out where you are, what you’re doing, and who you’re doing it with. 

Jungkook, however, holds onto you for dear life as he can feel you squeeze his cock, knowing if he moves…

He’s going to cum and he doesn’t want to do that. Not yet.

He wonders if you can feel the difference between him and your husband. Is he bigger? Thicker? Longer? He wants to know but he doesn’t want to seem insecure. (In which, he’s not. He just wants the validation).

“Fuck me...” 

Instantly, Jungkook begins to curse when you run your fingers through his hair as he meets your gaze. 

You can see the lust coursing through his eyes, knowing that this gaze was for you. 

He wanted you. And right here at this moment, he has you. 

“If I had known you’d feel this amazing I would have fucked you sooner. So fucking hot.”

“Yeah? You wanna move, baby boy? We don’t have much time.” Jungkook groans at the nickname as you glance toward the door worried one of them might waltz right in. 

You don’t feel like explaining why you’re tangled up with him and you definitely don't feel like getting yourself off. 

Call it selfish. 

You don’t care because right now you’re focused on the now and that’s cumming your brains out. 

“L-Let me savor this,” he complains but you know you don't have the time. 

As he grasps the sheets around your head to ground himself, you roll your hips back into his. He wasn’t ready for you to take charge though he can’t deny that he likes it. In the end, he subconsciously goes with the rhythm. 

“You can do that another time. C’mon.” You shove against his chest as Jungkook’s heart leaps against his chest at the thought of there being a next time. “Make me feel good, baby.”

“O-Okay.” 

Jungkook starts off slow, watching as his cock enters in and then out. His brain breaks into a frenzy as after a few minutes, his soft thrusts turn into harsh pounding. It’s almost unnatural with how his hips move.

“Slow down, baby…” 

Jungkook whines his distaste. However, from the way your nose is scrunched, he knows you’re not feeling as good as he knows he can make you feel. 

You look as if you were in more pain than pleasure.

And we can’t have that, now can we?

He reaches down to stroke your clit, seeing you squirm in his hold. The way you moan his name is one of the sexiest things he’s heard. 

Not even Yoonji can compare. 

He wonders if you’ll let him record them for later.

“D-Does it feel good, now?” He’s apologetic but nervous to ask because well, he doesn’t want to disappoint on his first time. 

“Angle your hips.”

He does as he’s told, holding onto your waist as he rocks harder. Going deeper than before. It makes you gasp, covering your mouth with your hands when he hits that spot that makes your toes curl. 

A soft mewl releases as he starts to fuck you good.

“You’re so big.” 

Jungkook’s hips stutter at the praise and only takes you seconds to realize the power your praises hold over him. 

You bite your lip as you hold his gaze, finger underneath his chin. 

For the life of him, he doesn’t know when the power dynamic changed but he’s so turned on, he doesn’t care. 

He fucking loves it. 

It’s so different from the sex that he has with Yoonji but it doesn’t change how he feels. If anything, it enhances it.

“Noona…” He tries to bury his face into your neck as you grip him by his hair to yank him back. “Fuck!”

“You like that?” You ask, pussy squeezing his cock as his eyes roll to the back of his head. “Hm?”

“Y-Yes!”

“Shhh.” You smirk at his desperation. “Quiet now. You don’t want to get caught, do you?”

“N-No. Oh, f-”

You stick your fingers in his mouth to feel him sucking on them, listening to him whimper in pleasure. 

As much as you want to continue, you know if you go too long your husband will get suspicious and there’s no doubt Yoonji will be looking for him once she wakes again. 

Plus if anyone were to walk by, they would think Jungkook was masturbating or something. They wouldn’t know that it was with you but wouldn’t that would be the surprise of the century.

“So good, baby. Fucking good…” He whines, pressing his lips to your neck as he continues to fuck you harder. 

“Yeah?”

“Y-Yes. I want you all the time, Noona.”

“Mmm, that sounds like a treat.” You moan, head falling back as you rock your hips up for him to go deeper. “That’s it, baby.” You chuckle, your walls giving him a soft squeeze. He whines at the feeling, begging you to let him cum as he grips the sheets next to your head. His eyes closed, panting in an almost feverishly feral way. “Tell me… How long have you been wanting me?”

“Since she first introduced me to you. Your husband doesn’t deserve you, Noona.”

Jungkook's hips grow sloppier as time goes on and with the way you’re pushing back, he knows he won’t be able to hold on much longer.

“I-I’m gonna cum,” He gasps, massaging your belly. He wants to knock you up so bad but… He knows he can’t, not until your stupid husband is out of the picture but just thinking about you walking around, pregnant with his child. Turns him on… 

so. 

fucking. 

Much.

“You’re so good for Noona, baby. You’re doing so well. Feels so good.” You grip Jungkook’s chin to stare him right in the eyes. “Cum for me, baby.”

It’s the lust filled fire that takes over your eyes, the way your pussy grips his cock and the way whisper some of the dirtiest shit he’s ever heard into his ear with that low, seductive voice of yours. 

To be honest, you don't even have to try. 

You don’t know what you do to him.

“Fuck!” Jungkook stops before he can, “No. No… Wait…” 

Jungkook’s firm in his answer, hooking his arms underneath your legs to bend them back further. He leans over your body, leaving you face to face as he grinds into you. 

You softly gasp, feeling him go deeper than he was before. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as Jungkook groans when your nails drag down his back. 

No doubt leaving red streaks in its wake. 

“Mark me, Noona.” Jungkook whines, “Let everyone know I’m yours.” 

He’s panting against your neck as he tries to hold on for much longer once you start to squeeze his dick harder. 

“I wanna make you cum first.”

“You think you deserve to make me cum?”  You’re even sassier than before and he fucking loves it. 

“I do. P-Please let me! I can show you, Noona.”

In a fit of giggles, you stroke your thumb against his lips and in return, he sucks it into his mouth. The sensation is incredibly hot and Jungkook can feel his cock throb at the feeling. 

“Ride me.” He says, blushing at the thought of watching in a very intimate state. “I-I can make you cum faster.” 

You push Jungkook onto his back, allowing him to pull you into his lap.

To him, the view is unimaginable. The way you breast hangs out of your top to the way your pussy sucks him right in as you lower yourself onto it. You toss your head back with a groan, hands stationed on his chest as his hands travel from your thighs to your ass.

“You’re so fucking perfect.”

“G-God you feels so fucking deep, baby.”

He holds his hand out to intertwine with yours and when you accept it, it makes him feel like he’s on cloud nine. Making love to you instead of a quick fuck that he just so happened to initiate.

“Use me.” 

You smirk, moving your hips with a newfound purpose. You want to give him what he wants. 

“Is that what you want?”

“Fucking yes! Please!” At this point, you’re sure the both of you can be heard but Jungkook seems to not care. It’s only when you hear a couple of timid knocks against the door that your eyes grow wide. 

You’re quick to place your hand over Jungkook’s mouth as he mirrors your expression. You can feel his heart drumming against his chest, whimpering when you try to get comfortable.

“Jungkook?” 

Of course, it’s Yoonji. You roll your eyes before leaning over to whisper in his ear.

“Answer her.”

“Yes?”

“Are you awake?”

“I-um…” Jungkook had planned to play as if he was asleep but you forced him to answer. “I was falling asleep, actually.”

“Can I come in?”

You snarl, “Did you lock the door?”

“I t-think so.” Jungkook can’t remember. “I don’t remember. I’m so sorry.”

Usually, you would find him being shy so fucking adorable but right now, you can feel your orgasm simmering in the pit of your stomach and all you want to do is cum but you also want to strangle him too. 

The doorknob rattle and both of you release the breath you were holding.

“Fuck me.” You mouth to him as he widens his eyes. 

You're glad he understands quickly. You can’t help but love how desperate he is as he rocks his hips into you. God, he's so desperate for you. 

“If you can stay quiet, I’ll let you cum.” You say in his ear and he’s quick to nod. He can feel you as you swivel your hips and lean in to whisper, “If you’re quiet enough she’ll go away.”

Jungkook holds you tight by the waist, his nails digging into your bare skin. Your pussy feels warm and wet. His cock fits perfectly inside and he doesn’t want to move. 

You snap your fingers next to his ear as he blinks, coming back to his reality. 

“Focus,” You grunt, going back to rolling your hips again. You set the pace for him to get the both of you off quicker. He even helps by licking his finger and playing with your clit.

You moan a little too loud but catch yourself before it gets louder.

You don’t know if your step daughter is still standing outside and waiting. All you know is your body feels like it’s on fire and you’re so close. 

So, so close.

And by the way Jungkook’s cock is twitching, he’s ready too. With the shuffling of feet indicating that she’s gone back to her room, you keep riding him as he bites down on the blanket on the bed to control his moans. 

Anything to take his mind off of what is going to come next.

“I’m about to cum… “ He warns and all it takes is more praise, a weak clench of your walls, and a hand full of breasts to get him to fall over the edge. 

“Did you-”

Jungkook groans, “I-I didn’t mean to! You feel so… I- fuck… I’m sorry.” His chest heaves, glancing at you like a puppy who's been kicked. Puppy eyes on a hundred, he goes to grab your hand to hold but you shake him off to get up. “Just let me-”

“It’s alright, Jungkook.”

“But…” He pouts, “Y-You haven’t cum.”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay.” You lean over to kiss the corner of his lips but he soon turns his head to capture yours. The kiss is softer than it should be for the situation you’ve found yourself in and when you pull away, he frowns. You chuckle at his attitude. “Get some rest. I need to get back before he wakes up.”

“Please Noona? Let me finish you off. I promise I can. I ju-”

“Maybe next time.” Those are the last words you say before you get dressed and try to sneak back to your room.

As Jungkook lies back against the pillows, his brain goes into overdrive. He wonders when the next time will be. 

“I’ll be ready next time.” Jungkook smiles as his thoughts swirl in a dream world. 

Next time can’t come fast enough.

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[celtigxr]

The Pink Dread (Master List) - - - - - ch. i : Return of the Crabs

Chapter Summary: Valeana Celtigar and her family return to King's Landing after receiving a personalized invitation from King Viserys. She is filled with dread; Val doesn't know how she is going to face Aemond Targaryen after all he had done to her...

Word Count: 3460 

PLEASE READ THE PROLOGUE BEFORE READING CHAPTER 1

Sneak Peak: “Blink, sister,” the tall presence of her brother approached from behind her. Clement bowed over her shoulder, “He isn’t going to appear out of nowhere if you blink.” She blinked, not because he told her to, but because she didn’t realize she wasn’t until he spoke. Valeana looked down at her white knuckles, “I don’t want to be here.”

Warnings: Insults, swearing.

T H E   R E D S

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"I said tighter," Floris seethed, her fingers curling around the wooden column as her maid pulled the laces of her bodice. 

"I am trying, my lady," the little maid said, her fringe stuck to her sweaty brow. The poor thing was trying to keep her footing as the ship rocked to and fro against the tides of Blackwater Bay. 

"You're clearly not trying enough," Floris spat as she threw her a look over her shoulder. "Perhaps I should get a sailor to do it, they seem to have a better grip when pulling on ropes."

Valaena let out a short, loud, laugh from the floor where she sat. 

"What are you laughing about?" Floris casted her eyes at her step sister briefly.

"Nothing, sister," Val bit her lip to contain her smile, eyes concentrating on her task at hand. She looked up at her other sister, who's skirt she was trying to mend. "Shyla, I'm going to need you to stop moving." 

"I can't!" Shyla squealed as she nearly lost her footing on the stool she was balancing on. Her hands were firmly planted on another wooden pillar, trying to keep her balance with the waves that rocked the ship. However, it resulted in her hips moving around and thus swishing around the skirt that Val was trying to mend. 

"Fuck!" Val cursed when her needle slipped and landed in the pad of her finger. Curling her lip into her teeth, she let out a frustrated growl and then sucked on her finger. "This is the last time I'm helping you. This wasn't a dress meant for you to travel in, Shyla." 

"But it is so pretty, I couldn't wait to wear it!"

"And now you've ruined it," Floris added in frustration. Her maid was starting to lace further up her back, pinching her shoulder blades as she did.

"Not on purpose!"

Val rolled her eyes, "Everyone and the Seven warned you not to run on deck." 

Shyla rarely listened. The dress lasted all of two hours before Shyla went running around the deck, which was still sleek from being waxed. She went sliding down the ship on her heel, and the intricate hemming of her brand new gown caught a splinter in the wood and tore the work Valeana had put into it the week prior

Val inhaled deeply and sighed steadily through her nose, deciding to make quick work of the damage, instead of trying to bring back the hem to its former glory. She had to dress herself, and they would be docking at King's Landing soon. A fact that she was dreading with each passing day since they received the royal invitation, personalized by the King himself. 

On any normal occasion, her father would have come with only Clement since it was considered treasonous to refuse a King’s invitation, but he would not have brought anyone else. He was still quite bitter about the event that transpired ten years ago, and so was Valeana. The Red Keep held nothing by rotten memories she had tried to disremember all this time. Alas, this "Royal Conclave" was a proposal that Bartimos Celtigar couldn't resist. Most if not all the high born lords of the Seven Kingdoms would be in attendance with the intention of marrying off their children and forging alliances.

All the Celtigar children, including his step daughter (at the ripe age of four and twenty) were not betrothed, and Bartimos was getting impatient with their ennui of their lack of prospects. Well, Floris seemed far more eager to change her father's name and bare the cloak of her future husband, but finding a suitable match for his wife's daughter was proving difficult. It wasn't the dowry that was the problem, it was her character that seemed to be too bitter on the pallet of any suitor they had conversed with thus far. As for his other daughters -- Shya was still young, she would have time yet, and as the youngest of the girls, she wasn't a high priority. It was Valeana he worried for the most -- There was no man alive that he deemed worthy of her hand. 

Though to be perfectly honest, it seemed Valeana was quite content with her father being so picky. She would be fine becoming a Septa if that is what the fates wished for her.

The door opened, nearly slamming against the wall when the ship bucked. Her step mother, Ursula, entered, looking a bit green in the face as she held a handkerchief to her lips.

"We are almost there," she said, swallowing thickly with her eyes closed. "I can see the spires... Gods, I hate sailing." 

And yet you married a Lord of the Sea, Val wanted to say, but bit her tongue as she finished her mending. 

"Why aren't you dressed yet?!" Her step mother slammed the door shut and gripped the wall. "We dock soon, child, and I will not have you enter the Red Keep looking like a common seamstress."

"I have been otherwise detained," Val stuck her needle in a pillow, then wiped her hands on her grey skirt. She turned to her step mother, back composed, feet planted as if she were part of the ship's skeleton itself. A true born Celtigar, if there ever was one. The Targaryens have their dragons, but the Celtigars and the Valeryons had their ships and the unpredictable chaos of the sea. "Mending the dress your daughter ruined."

Ursula's eyes moved over to Shyla, her frown deepening in disapproval, "You see? Your actions not only cost you a brand new dress, but it cost your sister's time!" 

As Shyla whined and her mother nagged, Valaena went over to where her dress lay waiting for her. The maid had finished with Floris, and immediately went to Valaena's side to aid her. The dress was vermillion, like the crabs that march across their banners. There were pearls strung from shoulder to the dip of the sweetheart neckline on both sides, and loose trumpet sleeves that flared out at the elbow and ended with a thick strip of ivory lace. The hem of the skirt held the same lace pattern, and the vermillion fabric tiered on top of an ivory skirt underneath. Shyla wore a similar coloured dress, though with a more modest cut to compliment her long neck, and her pearls were beaded into a silk choker, and dangled from her ears and hair. Floris was of a different red, deeper and accented with gold, and black silk ribbons laced up her back. They were the colours of House Grafton.

 The three dresses were of Valeana's making, which she had spent days crafting with the help of maids. Ursula insisted on making a statement upon arrival. 

Valeana held onto the column as the laces were tightened around her waist. She flinched and placed a hand on her ribs.

"Make it nice and tight," Floris examined her own body's profile in the floor length mirror, flattening her hand over her chest and stomach, and then squared her shoulders in pride of her slim figure. "We can still see your stomach, Valaena."

"I wish to breathe, sister," Val rolled her eyes, then looked down at her gown and found no such evidence of a stomach's rolls showing through the fabric. She made sure none would. 

It was evident that Valeana was still the thicker and curvier of the three sisters. Shyla and Floris both boasted their mothers impossible slim and tall figure, whereas Valeana would be cursed with her father's wider frame. She supposed it could be worse; she could have still weighed as much as she did as a child. Fat also blessed her with an ample chest, which Valeana would call a burden when given a chance. Her back would ache for hours after horseback because of it, but she couldn't deny it gave her figure a sense of balance. She still retained much weight in her hips, thighs, lower belly, and buttocks, but the size of her breasts equalized her pear shaped body. 

Whilst her maid tied her up, Valaena made quick work of her hair. They had little time to do anything intricate, so she pinned back the thick locks and fastened a matching red rounded hood headpiece to the crown of her head. It too was lined with pearls, which blended in with her platinum hair. At her lobes she hung tear drop pearl earrings, and a matching string of them to disappear into the bodice of her dress.

There was a knock on the door, “We are docking!” Bartimos’ voice boomed through the door. “Are we decent?” 

Valeana tightened the straps and harnesses of her prosthetic leg around her thigh before fastening her red stocking along her leg. She gave a nod to her step mother, who confirmed they were in fact, decent, giving him permission to enter. 

Bartimos donned garments of deep vermillion, a bronze chain with crab broaches fastened his cloak on his shoulders. His daughters have never seen their father so regal and proud. 

“Oh, look at my girls,” the lines around his eyes deepened as he smiled. “You will be the envy of all the ladies in court.” 

He said this to all of them, but his eyes were on Valeana, and Floris was acutely aware of that. She was always aware of where her step father’s eyes landed on when he gave compliments.

As the family gathered on deck, they crowded at the bannisters to watch the city as they neared port. Shyla bounced on her feet excitingly, Floris watched with quiet dignity, her nose in the air and a subtle smile on her face, and Valaena gripped the wood with blunt nails. King’s Landing had not changed; it looked just as she remembered. It smelled just like she remembered. 

“Blink, sister,” the tall presence of her brother approached from behind her. Clement bowed over her shoulder, “He isn’t going to appear out of nowhere if you blink.”

She blinked, not because he told her to, but because she didn’t realize she wasn’t until he spoke. Valeana looked down at her white knuckles, “I don’t want to be here.”

“I don’t want you to be here,” Clement concurred. “But it will only be three turns of the moon, mayhaps four, not ten years. Shorter if you find a husband as soon as possible.”

“I don’t want a husband either,” She sighed, closing her eyes. Her father’s pickiness over her suitors really only extended to the sons of the lords that reached the eastern shores of Westeros. Bartimos may find his perfect match with a lord or a lord’s son from a kingdom far from home. 

Clement’s lips thinned, not knowing how to sooth a woman doomed to a life she did not choose. He was sure she was tired of hearing the arguments of a woman’s duty to her house, and how she will one day find love for her husband, and if not, she will love the children she bore for him. All half-truths and poor words of encouragement that everyone young lady like her were given. Instead, all he could do was plant a kiss upon her head. 

“At least we know it won’t be a Targaryen,” he said, his voice light with an attempt at a jest. 

Valaena scoffed and elbowed him. 

When the anchor was dropped, and the ropes were draped over posts, Val realized when she looked around that there were no Velaryon flags attached to any of the ships docked. The invitation had mentioned that the Valyrian houses were to reach King’s Landing before other Lords arrived. She would have thought it odd, since Driftmark and Dragonstone were so much closer to King’s Landing, but the tensions between Princess Rhaenyra and her family were well known by now. 

“Do you think they’ll come?” Val fell into step with her father as they walked off the ship and made their way over to the wheelhouse that awaited them. “Princess Rhaenyra and the Velaryons,” she clarified. 

“When I was at Dragonstone a sinnight ago, she had not made a decision,” he confessed, waiting at the entrance of the carriage, allowing his wife, step daughter, and youngest daughter in first. He placed a fatherly hand on her shoulderblade as he ushered her inside, “If she does, I fear dragons will dance.”

As Bartimos clambered in after the women, his youngest, Arthor, gripped the door and turned to his elder brother, who was mounting a horse. The wheelhouse only carried six. 

“Then let us pray to the Old Gods and the New that she does,” Arthor smirked devilishly. “I grow weary in peace.”

Clement fought the urge to roll his eyes, instead busied himself with adjusting on his mount, “Peace is all you’ve known, dear brother. Be careful what you wish for, or you’ll find out how easily war can begin and how hard it is for it to end.” 

T H E  G R E E N S 

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“Your Grace, the Celtigar banners were spotted entering the Iron Gate,” Ser Arryk stated after he was permitted to enter the King’s chambers. 

Alicent watched with mild astonishment at the way her King husband lit up at the news. The Viserys before her was a man new; a stranger to his wife. She married a man with a broken heart and a failing body. She slept with a living corpse and bore his children. The man standing before her, no longer hunched over, no longer gaunt, no longer pallid like a spoiled egg, no longer weighed with his regrets and or tired from his burdens. 

He wasn’t polished, by any means. His hair did not grow back, but it had a healthier sheen. His hands may be missing a finger each, and he may have to walk with the aid of a cane, but if a stranger from lands unknown saw this man now, they would see an old King that had it all. 

His Queen couldn’t fully comprehend where his sense of hope and happiness stemmed from. She had never been close to death (nor wished to), but some say if you survive the odour of the Stranger’s breath, the scents of the world become more vibrant, and you lust for life like a boy of four and ten lusts for long silky legs and a pair of supple breasts.

“Excellent,” he spoke through his grin, extending his arms as his steward fitted him for the blood red jerkin. “What of my daughter, or my cousin?”

Arryk shared a look with Alicent before shifting his gaze back to his king and gave him a subtle shake of his head, “Not yet, Your Grace.”

Viserys’ eyes shut painfully, and a large sigh filled his lungs and sagged his shoulders. The brief moment of disappointment, of worry, shifted back to optimism, albeit a smaller dose of what it was half a minute ago. 

“That is fine,” he nodded as if the motion would convince himself, “They will come, I know it.”

Alicent stared at her husband in silence, her jaw clenching as she swallowed her words. In his optimism, he was far more stubborn and less willing to listen to her and her father’s skepticisms over this whole “Royal Conclave” he came up with. It wasn’t a terrible idea, in fact, Alicent quite liked the thought of bringing the Realm together; it would serve the Hightowers more than anyone else, should they make marriage alliances with powerful houses. However, it was Viserys’ belief, his hope, that it would end the tensions between the three Valyrian houses. They hadn’t seen Rhaenyra and her brood ever since the day Aemond lost his eye, and it was even longer before they last saw a single member of the Celtigar House. As far as she was aware, they had not left Claw Isle since they returned to their seat, save for Bartimos and his heir when they had business at Pentos, Dragonstone, Driftmark, or in Gulltown. 

“We shall meet Lord Bartimos and his family in the Throne Room,” Viserys continued, eyes focused on his visage in the floor length mirror as his steward brushed off stray threads and hair on his shoulders. “Ser Arryk, call upon Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond to be present as well. We must greet our guests as a family.”

Alicent straightened herself in her seat, “Do you think that is wise, husband? After– Afterall,” she quickly changed her words. “They must be exhausted from their journey.” 

“It would be rude if we do not. They are one of our guests of honour, Alicent,” Viserys shook his head. “They enter our gates with their entire brood in toe, and we shall greet and welcome them with our own.”

Ser Arryk bowed his head and left with the instruction, and all Alicent could do was sink back in her chair with her worries. She was not afraid of Ser Bartimos; blood of Old Valyria they may have, and fortunes plenty, but the Celtigars did not hold much influence outside their corner of the eastern shores. They lived in the shadow of the two other Valyrian houses that still named their children Valyrian names, and still followed the Valyrian traditions. Where the Targaryens and Velaryons still marry near to close relations, the Celtigars had strayed from that, preferring alliances with other houses to keep their coffers full, rather than their blood pure. In that regard, Alicent had much more respect for that house than any other, but at the end of the day, they weren’t regarded with as much intimidation as they ought to be given.

No, a rift between Targaryens and Celtigars wasn't what Alicent was worried about. 

She was worried about her children, particularly her two oldest sons, who had grown up to be arrogant, impulsive, lethal, entitled, and impertinent. Bartimos’ girls had already suffered enough at the hands of her sons, and Alicent's thoughts plagued with the possibility of it only continuing where it was left off. Had she had a choice, she would’ve had the Celtigars raise tent pavilions around the Tourney grounds like the rest of the houses, ensuring that they did not cross paths. Alas, as their guests of honour, they will hold apartments there in Maegor’s Holdfast, as they once had when they resided at the Red Keep. 

Alicent ran the pads of her fingers over her forehead, where she felt a headache bloom with her anxieties. She dare not even think of what will happen should Rhaenyra and Daemon decide to come back. 

“It was a regrettable accident,” Rhaenyra had said when her son sliced Aemond’s eye out of his head. 

“It was a regrettable accident,” Alicent had said when her son pushed Valeana down a flight of stairs. 

“And Valeana Celtigar was an innocent where our son is not,” Her husband had said in their bedchambers at Driftmark. “I will not cast a blind eye at your hypocrisy, Alicent. If you want retribution, you will have to give Bartimos Celtigar the same.”

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“Well done, my prince,” Ser Criston said, his brow sweaty, but brown eyes full of pride. “You’ll win tourneys in no time.” 

“I don’t give a shit about tourneys,” Aemond replied, hand still lifted, his sword still poised to the white cloak’s shoulder. His eyes never wavered from his mentor, not even when acknowledging Ser Arryk’s presence. “Ser Arryk. Have you come to join us, or to collect me?”

“Collect,” Ser Arryk replied, looming at the gates of the training yard. “His Grace, the King, Queen Alicent and the rest of your family are in the Throne Room to receive the Celtigars.” 

“I have no taste for crab,” Aemond sheathed his sword and went to collect a rag to wipe the sweat from his brow. 

“The King wishes for all members of the royal family to be present,” Arryk pressed, hands clasped patiently in front of him. 

“Hm,” Aemond stood up straighter, sharing a look with Cole before finally looking at the long haired knight. “Then should we not wait for Rhaenyra and my nephews? I heard their banners have not reached port, so we have plenty of time.”

Arryk casted a glance at Criston, silently pleading for him to speak reason onto his mentee. 

With his own rag, Criston wiped his brow, face and neck, “My prince, perhaps it is wise not to test the King’s patience.”

“He seems to have much of that for everyone outside his own kin,” Aemond’s words had a bite to them as he slapped the rag onto a wooden table. “Fine, but I will not be changing. The Throne room will reek of pigs anyway.” 

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[lacedinweb22]

drunk and crushing (Miguel O’Hara x reader) (part 1)

🕸️ Entangled series 🕸️ ch. 2 prev part

Warnings - alcohol, house party, sexual references 

Summary: After your physics midterm, a group of classmates invite you and your friend, Miguel, to “a small party” they’d be throwing late at night. You both get drunk, and Miguel is especially protective and flirty with you; your feelings and crushes on each other are revealed as the night goes on.

FYI: Some words will be bunched together but that’s just me representing slurred drunken words. ALSO this will be in parts so get ready to be fucking edged. Sorry >:D I hope you enjoy &lt;;3 

I imagine this playing in the background of this part's party scenes so I HIGHLY recommend listening to this with headphones on while reading:

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

We walked out of class together, side by side. “Sooo, I mean, I’ll only go if you go,” he said, nudging my shoulder, smirking with that annoyingly perfect, pearly smile. “Hmmm, ‘a small party,’ she said, I don’t know, I don’t believe that… I hate large gatherings and… I don’t know half of the people that’ll be there,” I muttered, my eyes following the passing squirrels then glancing back up at Miguel. 

What was the point of going when I knew I would just have to witness every girl and their mother trying to suck this man off in the bathroom??? He’d be busy all night, away from me, why bother? I prefer our mini study dat– sessions. Study sessions. 

“Yeah… I know, but you’ll be with me, so you can just… you know, stick with me,” he suggested, shrugging and smiling down at me, his gaze stuck on me as we walked. I smiled, looking at our feet walking together. Stick with him. “Okay, fine, yes, let’s do it. I’ll feel better… that way.” “Okay, I’ll pick you up at 9 then?” 

Pick me up? Jesus, why are you like this? Stop being so fucking nice to me; it makes it so much harder to get over you. 

It’s fine. He’s just being a good best friend. Friend. We. Are. Just. Friends. He’s just being nice. 

“Yes, sounds perfect… thank you, Mig, can’t wait,” I said, giving him a thumbs up as I walked away from him. “Hey, where are you going?” he called out. “I’m going to go meet up with a friend, I’ll see you later tonight, M” I yelled back. “Okay… Y/N,” he muttered, his eyebrows softly scrunched with confusion, lifting his hand up to say goodbye. 

* * *

I wore my favorite vintage black strapless dress, and long knee high socks stuffed into my black mary janes. My waves trickled down my shoulders and collar bones. I feel so pretty. I wonder if Miguel will think the same. 

He texted me that he’d be here in five. I sat on the short garden wall outside of my apartment complex, waiting for Miguel. He was always early. Always. 

Sure enough, he pulled up, smiling and saluting me. “Present, Captain Y/N,” he said, as I walked towards the car door. Before I knew it, he was out of the car, about to open the door for me. As he approached the car door, his eyes scanned me up and down. “You look… really nice. Super beautiful.” I felt my face warm up. “Thank you, Mig,” I replied, shyly. I got in, he closed the door, then went to his side. He got in and began to drive. 

“And you. I love that moto jacket on you… and you smell nice,” I replied, leaning towards him, my face near his chest, sniffing him. “Hey, I always smell good,” “Yeah, you do, you do, but you know, it’s a party, I get it. Love, drugs, weed, pussy. I get it,” I replied, hands up. He laughed and rolled his eyes, his deep laugh so rich, music to my ears. He smelled so good. His jacket must be fucking drenched in his smell. I wanted to touch him so badly, to feel his snug t-shirt, his warm muscles against my fingertips. I just knew–“Y/N,” he dragged out. “Yes, sorry, what was the question?” I responded quickly. “You smell good too, and you look pretty, I mean you always look pretty, I mean I just… is there someone from our class you’re looking forward to seeing?” God, you have no idea. “Ummmm, no, nope, no. There isn’t. Is there… someone you–” “No, no. Just the drugs and the weed,” he replied, nodding. I scoffed. Sure. 

We pulled up to the house party. There were a million cars and what seemed like a million people inside and outside crowding around the front yard. Colorful lights glowed through the windows as people danced and trashed their red solo cups everywhere.  

We found parking, then walked towards the chaos. As we approached, Miguel grabbed my hand. I looked down at it then back up at him. “Stick with me, okay?” he urged, squeezing my hand twice. I nodded. His large, muscular hand wrapped around mine. He was so warm; his calloused palms rubbed softly against mine as we walked in. 

We pushed through the crowd to get to the kitchen. The speakers blasted music and sent vibrations across the floor and throughout my body. I clung onto Miguel as we pushed through the crowd. He towered over everyone, as the longing eyes of girls and the envious eyes of guys followed him.

We found Lizzie, our friend from physics, pouring shots for a few other classmates I recognized. “Miguel and Y/N,” she hummed out, teasingly.  “You two are so cute! I’m so glad you could both make it!” she exclaimed, winking at me. “Us too,” Miguel replied, squeezing my hand and bumping my shoulder. “Do you guys want some of… this?” she said smirking, holding up a bottle of tequila. Miguel looked down at me for approval. I shrugged. “I’ll do one if you do one,” I told him, smiling. He grinned down at me then nodded to Lizzie.  She grabbed a shot glass then a larger glass, 3x the size of mine. “He’s much bigger than you,” she said, shrugging, as she poured them out then slid one in front of each of us. “Fuck, what have we gotten ourselves into?” I asked, picking up the small glass and looking up at Miguel. He raised his glass up to mine and tapped it, “I guess we’ll have to find out,” he said, smirking.

Our eyes met as we both brought the shot glasses to our lips, never breaking eye contact. We downed the shots. Miguel took it extremely, scarily well, as I gasped and hovered over the counter processing the burn. I felt the warmth spread down into my chest. “Mmm that was so yummy,” I moaned. Miguel patted my back and laughed, “Let me get you a soda or something, wait Y/N, have you eaten?” I kept my head down and breathed out, “I saw Dr. Peppers back there, please, God, and yeah… umm I had mac & cheese earlier.” He patted my back then walked away. 

“You need a drink?” I turned around to see a guy I knew from physics holding out a plastic cup to me. “Oh, no I’m good, thank you, Miguel should be bringing me something right about now,” I responded, peering behind him. Where is he? It was just righ– “I don’t see him,” he responded smugly, shrugging. I awkwardly laughed. He was cute, but he wasn’t… him. His eyes were glued to my lips. “Ha, ummm, yeah well, so… how do you feel about the midterm?” I asked, trying to ignore the tension. 

Lizzie brushed by me, handing me a new shot glass, raising her eyebrows. I didn’t feel the first one in the slightest, so I obliged. I downed the shot, breathed out, caught my breath, and looked back at Jack. 

“It was fine. Anyways, Y/N, I see you every lecture, and I’ve always wanted to, you know, talk to you, but you’ve– I mean shit, you got him following you around like a lost puppy–” “Hey, what? Where is this coming from? Miguel’s my friend, he’s my best friend, how is he like a lost puppy?” I argued, offended. “I mean everyone sees how he looks at you,” he replied, confused, like I was the one missing something. “Everyone? What do they see or… think? What do you mea–” “Do you not–? You’re not together? You haven’t…?” he asked, bewildered. “Nope, just friends,” I sighed, grabbing a can off of the counter and chugging. “But hey, thanks for the reminder,” I breathed out before chugging more of whatever this bitter shit was. I need to forget that Miguel doesn’t want me, that he could never think of me the way I think of him. 

Jack smiled, and leaned on the counter closer to me, his elbow getting closer and closer to my chest. I looked down at his elbow then up at him with furrowed eyebrows. “You’re close,” I asserted. “You look beautiful tonight, truly. You know what? We should go take a quick hit outside,” he smirked, holding up a joint. “Nah, I’m good, It’s niceandwarm in here and Miguel shouldbecomingtosaveme any minutenow,” I shook my head no, realizing how heavy my head felt. Fuck, this beer can feels a little heavy. “You’re so pretty,” he whispered, getting closer to my face. “We should go get brunch sometime,” he added. Brunch? “That’svery kind but I’m good. DamnIsaid Iwasgood like fifty times. I’m waiting forMiguelllll, my best friend, my buddy, so don’t worry about me! Go check out someone else who’s lonely, I’m not lonely.” “You look lonely,” he reasoned. “Hey, you fucki–” I stopped as I noticed his eyes grow fearful as his gaze looked up above my head. “What are youlookingat, weirdo?” I asked, sharply, reaching my fingertips to my hair. 

“Hey, Miguel,” Jack breathed out, grinning fearfully. I looked up to see Miguel behind me peering down at Jack. I watched as he kept his eyes on Jack while lowering a Dr. Pepper into my hand. “Here, Y/N,” “Thank you, Miguel,” I mimicked, looking up at him then back at Jack. 

“I’m here. You can leave her alone now,” Miguel hissed at Jack. I like this side of him. Darkened eyes, heavy voice, angst. Gives me chills. “We were just talking about a fucking midterm,” Jack muttered as he walked away. “Yeah okay, pinche gringo,” he called out to him. I turned around and looked up at him. His cheeks were flushed, and his hair slightly messier than when I saw him ten minutes ago. Where had he gone? Who was he with?

“Miguel,” I scolded, holding in my laugh. “What if he understandsSpanish, huh? They’re gonna kickyourass out,” I reasoned. “Nofighting here. This is a peacezone,” I said squeezing his forearm. He shrugged, “Ni modo.” I rolled my eyes then drank more from the can. “Hey, where’d you get that?” Miguel asked, grabbing it out of my hand, analyzing the label. He swiftly drank what was left of the beer then offered me the soda he brought. He lifted my other hand grasping the soda up to my lips, then bit the tab up, snapping the soda open inches away from my lips. “Drink this,” he muttered, through his teeth before spitting the soda tab onto the counter. “Haaaa I forgot about this!” I laughed out. “Yeah, yeah drink some,” he laughed, supporting my hand. 

I drank a good amount then pressed it to his lips. His soft pink lips wrapped around the can rim. His eyes stuck to mine as he sipped some. My cheeks burned.

He then grabbed my hand and led me to the upstairs living room. There were far less people and the music wasn’t as loud. A friend stopped Miguel by the mini bar, so I stood beside him as they talked. I subconsciously remained holding his hand, which he held firmly on his lap as he talked to his friend about school. Lizzie and a few of her friends came by again, handing Miguel and I shots. Miguel hesitated as he looked down at his glass, then looked back at me and my now empty shot glass. He stared at me with extreme concern, then continued talking to the guy who was bombarding him with questions about the midterm. 

He continued glancing at me, worriedly. “What are youlookingat?” I asked, pushing him with my body, “oops sorry I just meant to nudgeyou not push you, woah you’re so firm, I’ve never felt yourchestbefore geez you’re so strong, wait doyouthinkyou could lift me up? Try carrying me!” I blurted, laughing. A bit of pink creeped into his cheeks, as he smiled and put his hand on my fingers lingering on his chest. “Yeah, Y/N, you’ve had a little too much. No more, okay?” he urged, almost scolding me. “Damnnnn okay, MOMMMM!” I replied, rolling my eyes. He turned to his friend and excused himself, then stood up and turned to face me. He looked down at me, his eyes glaring, as I looked up at him, smiling fearfully. He wrapped his forearms around the back of my thighs, lifted me, and gently carried me over his shoulder, within one second. I was weightless to him. I laughed non stop, as he put me down slowly and rolled his eyes. “Wait couldyoulift me like, like wrappedaroundyou like you know…?” I asked, excited. Jesus, someone stop me.

He tilted his head, looking at me critically, then succumbed. He wrapped his hands on the back of my thighs then effortlessly lifted me up so we were chest to chest, heart to heart. His hands remained on the back of my thighs, my dress was now riding up, probably showing my underwear to the world. I was too drunk to care, and too focused on Miguel to care. 

My arms wrapped around his neck, as our faces were inches apart. We looked into each other’s eyes then down at each other’s lips. My heart is beating dangerously fast. Can he feel my heart racing? It felt like 10 minutes had passed us by, when in reality it had been mere seconds. He put me down slowly, as we held eye contact. I wasn’t laughing anymore. 

That sobered me up. I cleared my throat and tugged my dress down. His gaze was still glued onto me. His gaze felt different. Has he always looked at me like that? “Let’s go over there,” I suggested, as I pointed at a group of people playing beer pong on the balcony. I hated crowds, but I needed more sobering up; the alcohol was hitting me like a bus. He held my hand and followed me, as I led him through the crowd this time.

As we approached the balcony and made our way through the crowd, the music grew intensely loud. We now had to shout to hear each other. “‘SMALL PARTY’ MY ASS!” I shouted to Miguel. “I KNOW,” he laughed, “IT’S SO FUCKING LOUD. IT’S TOO MUCH” he shouted, over the music. “DO YOU WANNA LEAVE?” “NO, LET’S JUST GO TAKE A RESTROOM BREAK,” he yelled back, grabbing my hand and leading me to one of the bathrooms. 

to be continued…

next part (flashback) drunk and crushing pt.2

[justagalwhowrites]

New in Town - Ch. 9: Second New Year

Ringing in the New Year after you and Joel's first year together. The last chapter of New in Town, found in its entirety on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Best Friend's Dad!Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Smut :D. No use of Y/N. Age gap (reader is 35 Joel is 47, not a focus of the fic). Minors DNI, 18+ only

Length: 6.3k

AO3 | First Chapter | Previous Chapter

“Sarah, if you don’t stop fucking with that it’s never going to stay,” you said, glaring at her in the mirror as you drew on eyeliner. 

“It’s driving me insane,” she groaned, leaning so close to the hotel bathroom mirror that she was fogging it with her breath, adjusting the false eyelashes for what had to be the millionth time. 

“Yeah, because you keep fucking with them,” you said. “You have to give yourself time to adjust to them. Or just take them off because I’m not spending half the night fixing them for you, drawing the line in the sand now.” 

“You are absolutely no fun,” she said but she smiled all the same. “It’s New Year’s Eve, I want to look extra good. Plus Nick thinks the long lashes are hot and I am ready for hotel room sex.” 

“I didn’t hear that,” Maria called from the bedroom where she was putting on her dress. 

“Hotel room sex, hotel room sex, hotel room sex!” Sarah called back. 

You laughed, picking up your mascara. 

“I don’t think it works like Beetlejuice where you say it enough times it just shows up.”

Sarah laughed back. 

“Fuck I hope not,” she said. “Really don’t want to manifest hotel room sex in front of my aunt and my mom.” 

She said the last word with a drawn out teasing edge and you had to pull the mascara wand away from your face so you didn’t end up with makeup in your eye from laughing so hard. 

“Swear to God if you don’t stop calling me that I will marry your dad just to spite you,” you said once you calmed down again. 

“You’re basically already married anyway,” Sarah said. “For the record, I would be fine with it.” 

You paused for a second, putting more mascara on the wand and looking at her in the mirror. 

“Yeah?” You asked. 

“Yeah,” she smiled at you in her reflection. “But don’t expect Mother’s Day gifts from me if it ever happens.” 

You snorted, returning to your makeup. 

“Better get a bouquet, box of chocolates, the whole nine for holding your hair when you get drunk.” 

You couldn’t believe it was already New Year’s Eve again. The last year had gone by so fast it didn’t seem like it could have contained quite as much as it did. But you’d spent almost the entire time so blissfully happy that it made sense that the time felt so damn short. 

Things with Joel had been going so well before Sarah found out that it was hard to believe it could really get better, but it did. Not feeling like you were hiding from the most important person in both your lives was like losing a weight you didn’t even know you were carrying. Neither of you were dancing around talking about how you were spending your time now, not being careful about what pictures you sent her and not having to just pretend like a huge part of your life didn’t exist when talking with her. 

When she went back to Seattle after Thanksgiving, the three of you started having weekly FaceTime calls, you and Joel sometimes on your couch or at his kitchen table or even in a hotel room in New Orleans once when you decided to get away for your first trip together as a couple. 

That Christmas had been the best you’d ever had. Not that there was much competition but Joel and Sarah both had completely brought you into all their holiday traditions. The driving around to look at Christmas lights with a thermos of hot cocoa, the annual trip to Mi Tierra in San Antonio so you could properly appreciate the Christmas lights that apparently were up year round. When Sarah came back to town a few days before Christmas, she dragged you and Joel to the mall and made the three of you take a picture with Santa. You got some funny looks in line - three full blown adults with nary a kid in sight - but Sarah whispered something to woman getting ready to take the picture and she smiled and nodded, helping the three of you get arranged for the photo. You sat lightly on one of Santa’s knees, Sarah on the other, Joel leaning against the side of the large chair. Joel insisted on getting the actual printed photo and, when you picked it up, they also handed you a candy cane and a small Santa figurine. You frowned at it for a second.

“First Santa visits should be commemorated,” the woman behind the counter smiled. “Merry Christmas!” 

You looked at Sarah for a second, worried you might cry and she smiled. 

“You have a Christmas decoration now,” she said. “But if you really don’t want it at your place, we can add it to the Christmas village at Dad’s!” 

You just hugged her and she laughed, hugging you back. 

That Christmas, the figurine and the picture sat on the book shelf in your living room, right where you could see them from your couch. The perfect image of the kind of life you’d always wanted to have, one that was filled with people who loved you. 

This year, the figurine and picture were at Joel’s because you were, too. 

Your lease was up in the fall and, by that point, the two of you were having a hard time remembering the last time you’d slept apart. You were wondering how to broach the subject with Joel - did you just ask if you could move into his house? Was not quite a year of knowing each other too soon? Did you just find a new apartment and never mention it? - when he brought it up one night over dinner. 

“Your lease is comin’ up soon, right?” He asked and you froze for a second, a bite of enchilada on your fork half way to your mouth. 

“Yeah,” you said when you remembered how to move and respond again. “Six weeks I think? They want me to decide whether or not I’m staying within the next two…” 

“Have you thought about if you might want to move in with me?” He asked, his jaw tense but his eyes soft. “Only if… you know… you thought you were ready for that. Just figure I’m at yours or you’re at mine most nights anyway and…” 

“Joel,” you smiled, setting your fork down and leaning on the table with your arms crossed in front of you. “Are you asking me to move in with you?” 

“Only if you wanted,” he said quickly. “Not tryin’ to… I dunno… put pressure on you or something. Never tried to do this before so…” 

You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh. More at yourself than at Joel. Because of course he was thinking what you were thinking. Of course you were in the same place on this. Of course you were both nervous about bringing it up to each other. 

“I’d love to move in with you,” you said once you were sure you had yourself together. “As long as you’re offering because that’s what you really want and not because you think you should.” 

“Oh I want it,” he was smiling now and leaning toward you across the table. “Was considering just taking stuff from your place and moving it to mine, get you in the door before you even knew it was happening.” 

“That what happened to my sexy underwear?” You teased. 

“Nah,” he waved you off. “I stole those to jerk off with when you’re not there because you don’t live with me yet. Can have ‘em back when we unpack the moving truck.” 

You moved in a few weeks later. Joel cleared out most of his closet, his jeans and button downs taking up only a small corner of it to begin with, and built you shelving for your purses and shoes. He made space for your things throughout his home, for your favorite pots and pans in the kitchen, for your decorations in the living room. Setting aside the bits and pieces of his life to make sure it could hold yours, too. If he’d asked you to marry him in that moment, you’d have said yes in a heartbeat. 

“Oh shit,” you sighed, rifling through your makeup bag. “I think I left my fucking lipstick in my room…” 

You went to get your room key from your clutch but Sarah plopped a tube of lipstick in front of you first. 

“Use mine,” she said. “I’m almost ready and I don’t want to waste time with you up down three floors and all the way over to your room before we go to the party. I want cocktails, I want music and I want to flirt with my hot boyfriend while I wear a slutty dress.” 

“Maria is still getting dressed, I’ve got five minutes…” 

“No you don’t!” She called from the bedroom before coming to the bathroom door and turning around. “Zip me?” 

You laughed and obeyed, Maria adjusting the dress a bit before turning back around. 

“Hey sexy mama!” You whooped at her. “That looks like it was made for you.” 

“Right?” She flung her long braids over her shoulder before admiring herself in the full length mirror on the bathroom door. “My pregnancy boobs have shown up but the bump is still in hiding. It’s the perfect dress moment, had to take advantage of it.” 

“Hear that little one?” Sarah said, looking toward Maria’s lower stomach. “You’re making your mom look hot!” 

“Hotter,” you corrected. “They’re making their mom look hotter.” 

You settled for Sarah’s lipstick and the three of you headed for the elevator to go meet up with the guys. 

Your first New Year’s Eve with Joel had been far more low key. Sarah was in town and Joel invited Tommy and Maria over to watch the ball drop. You’d ordered pizza and gotten drunk and played charades with your boyfriend’s family and, at midnight, kissed Joel so deeply that you could taste the champagne on his tongue. 

This year, you had plenty to celebrate. It was Maria and Tommy’s last one before they became parents - you highly doubted they’d be up until midnight next year. Sarah had gotten promoted and you’d gotten her a job at the Austin branch in August. She had moved back to town just a few months before you moved in with Joel and the three of you had found a comfortable - if unusual - dynamic as a family. And it felt like you had finally found everything you’d ever truly wanted. 

Instead of staying home this New Year’s Eve, you all decided to go to a party at one of the nice hotels in Houston. You’d all gotten hotel rooms so no one had to drive and the boys had all gone on ahead to the rooftop bar to hold a table while the three of you got ready to go. 

“Crap, one sec,” Sarah said, frowning at her phone as the three of you went for the elevator. “Left something in the room, wait for me, OK? I don’t want to try to find them on my own!” 

You and Maria watched her run back to her room - where the three of you had been getting ready - and you frowned as she tottered on her high heels. 

“Is she acting weird?” You asked as Maria leaned against the wall. 

“Sarah?” Maria laughed. “She’s always weird.” 

She came back a few minutes later, tugging her dress down as she went and a little breathless when she got there. 

“OK,” she smiled and took a deep breath. “Now we’re good!” 

You were almost giddy as you rode the elevator up to the party, feeling the thud of music through the elevator doors before they opened. 

It was hard to say why you were just so excited. It wasn’t like you’d never been to a party before - you and Sarah had rung in the New Year at a party a lot like this one that your office had handled the advertising for in Seattle one year - but it felt like something new. Like you were stepping into the first year of your life where everything had finally fallen into place. 

“Hey!” Tommy yelled, standing and waving his arm over his head as he saw the three of you leave the elevator. You could barely hear him over the thud of the bass. “Over here!” 

“How many beers do you think he’s had?” Maria asked conspiratorially and you laughed. 

“Probably the same number mine has,” you replied, smiling at Joel as he craned his neck to get a better look at you. 

“Holy hell woman,” he said, getting out of the round booth as you got to the table. He pressed a kiss to your cheek and dropped his voice low. “Not sure I’m gonna take that dress off you later, might need to leave it on.” 

You smiled as he gave you a squeeze and you sat down, Joel sliding in beside you, one hand of his going below the table to the inside of your thigh. 

One thing that hadn’t changed in the last year was just how insatiable the two of you were for each other. You kept waiting for it to calm down a bit, to stop looking at him and immediately start thinking of how to get him alone and naked as quickly as possible. But Joel was still the single sexiest man you’d ever seen and was still far and away the best in bed. You couldn’t help but want to fuck him all day every day. You were just thankful he seemed to feel the same way about you. 

One of your favorite things about living with Joel was your after work routine. When you managed to make it so you left the office around the same time Joel left his job site, you’d join him in the shower, your hair in a knot on top of your head to keep from getting too soaked, Joel still a little sweaty and dirty from a hard day’s work. Sometimes, you just enjoyed each other. You loved the quiet intimacy of it, of being in such a private space together in just your skin, helping him wash the day from his body before he pulled you against him under the water. Other times, Joel pressed you against the cool tile and fucked into you, hard and fast and eager, making your back arch as your leg wrapped around him, the heat of his mouth and the steam filling you when you kissed him. 

The new routines had just given you more reasons and opportunities to fuck, it seemed, instead of sex getting lost in the monotony of daily life. Sometimes it was in the middle of late night TV when you were both getting tired on the couch. Sometimes it was when you were putting away laundry. Sometimes it was when you were making dinner. 

It was just that, sometimes, it required… additional boundaries. 

Sarah had a key to Joel’s place, of course, but she quickly learned that she needed to announce herself before just coming in the door when she wasn’t expected, her walking in the house without warning when he was deep inside of you while you were draped over the kitchen counter was a little too close for comfort for all three of you. 

“I have literally never wanted to know less about your sex life,” she shuddered a few hours later when you were sitting in Joel’s back yard, fully clothed with a beer in your hand. 

You laughed. 

“Never wanted you to know less about it so that works just fine for me.” 

You, Joel and Sarah all had dinner together at least once a week, another routine you’d come to love, and you got Sarah all to yourself most days over lunch, happy for the chance to laugh with your best friend.

You weren’t sure life could get much better. 

“Oh sweet!” Sarah said as the waitress came by the table, tray of drinks in hand, passing a cosmopolitan to Sarah. “Who knew this was just what I wanted?” 

“Happy to take credit for that,” Nick smiled, kissing her cheek and you smiled at him. He was a relatively new addition to Sarah’s life but he seemed promising. You’d never seen her quite so giddy over a guy before and you were trying not to mention it so you wouldn’t jinx it. 

When she finally owned up to being hung up on the man, though, you were going to start teasing her as relentlessly as she’d been teasing you. You were getting double wedding jokes lined up and ready, waiting for the perfect moment to hit her with it. 

But it was a holiday. You’d take it easy on her for a little while longer. Assuming she stopped calling you Mom. 

Joel had been paying attention too, it seemed, and the server handed you a mojito. Appropriate, since you’d just been lamenting the fact that you didn’t have fresh mint at home just two nights before. 

“How often are you really gonna muddle mint for a drink?” Joel asked, barely contained smile on his face. 

“At least once in a while!” You laughed. “Come on, we could do a whole herb garden in the yard…” 

“You are not gonna keep a garden alive.” 

“Yes I will!” You protested. He raised his eyebrows at you, incredulous. “If I have the motivation of cocktails I will.” 

“Fine,” he sighed but still smiled, kissing your forehead. “In spring I’ll build you a garden and you can kill as many herbs as you want, Beautiful.”

“Is this supposed to bribe me into you not making me a garden?” You teased, taking a sip of the drink. 

“Baby, I will make you whatever makes you smile,” he kissed your exposed shoulder. “But if I’m saving the lives of some poor, innocent plants by ordering you a cocktail…” 

You laughed and kissed him, the scratch of his facial hair on your skin comforting and familiar. 

The party really picked up not long after you got there and you, Sarah and Maria went to dance while the guys hung back to talk for a bit. 

“You don’t think they’re being too hard on him do you?” Sarah asked, watching the table. 

“Oh I’m sure they’re being super nice,” you said. “Joel and Tommy have never been protective of you, not once.” 

“Oh God,” she groaned but she smiled. 

“Wouldn’t worry too much,” you laughed. “It looks like he’s weathering it well.” 

“Hold on,” Maria smiled and shook her head. “We can get him some help…” 

She started waving to Tommy, who clapped Nick on the shoulder and got out of the booth to join his wife on the dance floor. You looked at Joel, eyebrows raised, until he met your gaze and you saw him sigh and smile before heading your way. 

You put your arms around his neck and kissed him, pressing tightly to him and feeling every line of him through your clothes. His hands went to your waist, pulling you closer. 

“You tryin’ to distract me?” He asked when you pulled away. 

“Trying to get you to play nice,” you teased. 

“Always play nice,” he said as you turned around in his hold, your ass going back against his hardening length. He lowered his lips to your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “Except when you ask me not to.” 

You resisted the urge to drag him back to your hotel room right that second. Instead, you pressed yourself harder against him, moving your body in time to the pulsing, thrumming rhythm. His hands slid to your hips and you couldn’t help but think of how they felt on your bare skin. 

But you managed to keep it together for a few songs, dancing until you were breathless and you really couldn’t take it anymore. You draped yourself around Joel again, pressing your lips to his ear. 

“Order me a water and another mojito,” you said, your hand sliding into his pocket, brushing his half hard cock through his jeans, as you grabbed your phone. “And check your texts.” 

You didn’t give him a chance to respond, just meeting his wide eyes for a moment before slipping into the crowd. You went around to the pool area of the rooftop, far quieter than the bar and the dance floor, the lounge chairs all stacked up next to a storage space that looked like it would provide the perfect cover from the dance floor. You took a selfie with just a glimpse of the thudding party in the background and texted it to him. 

“Come find me.” 

It didn’t take him long, coming around the corner while glancing back over his shoulder, looking nervous. You grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him into you, your back against the storage room. 

“You are up to no good,” he said, pressing you back against the wall, his mouth covering yours, his body warm against the cool night air. “Tryin’ to get us kicked out of the damn hotel?” 

His hand went to your breast, anyway.

“We can keep our clothes on,” you panted against him. “Be very well behaved. Like that time in the bathroom.” 

“Fuck, Beautiful,” he groaned, putting his thigh between your legs, your skirt covering part of his jeans. He rocked his hips against you, his hands going to your waist, the outline of his hard cock against your stomach. “Wanna make me come in my pants like a fucking teenager?” 

“Don’t think we’re making it to midnight any other way,” you were needy, aching as you ground your pussy down on the straining muscle of his leg. 

“Still gonna let me fuck you later?” He kissed down your neck, rutting harder against you, your hands on his shoulders, grip tightening. 

“You think I’m starting a new year without you inside me as soon as possible you’re insane.” 

He laughed a little and nipped at your collarbone before pulling you tighter against his leg, making you moan. You started working yourself harder and faster against him, pulling him tighter to you, your wetness soaking your panties. 

“You’re close, aren’t you, Baby?” He asked, voice dark. Your motions stuttered but you nodded frantically against him. “Gonna come all over my fucking leg aren’t you? Come from just riding my fucking thigh?” 

You were close enough that you’d lost the ability to speak. You just nodded again and he kissed you, hard and messy and deep and you pressed yourself firmly against his leg as you fell apart, the tight coil inside yourself snapping as your clit throbbed against him. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He gasped as he pressed his cock hard against you and you felt him throbbing there, spilling into his jeans before slumping against you. His nose brushed yours for a moment and you smiled, kissing him lightly. 

“You’re going to kill me,” he laughed a little breathlessly. “More than a year into this and you still want me to fuck you so bad you’re dragging me away from a party?” 

“That’s nothing,” you teased. “Wait until we’re really old and we’re finding ways to sneak around the nursing home.” 

He laughed and kissed you again. 

“Love you so fuckin’ much.” 

It was easier to focus on the party after that. Tommy gave Joel a look when you made it back to the table and Joel told him to mind his own business and you laughed and drank your mojito. 

By the time midnight rolled around, you’d been pleasantly tipsy for more than an hour, draping yourself over Joel at every opportunity when you weren’t dancing with Sarah and Maria. As the countdown started, the six of you crowded onto the dance floor with everyone else, champagne in hand, Joel’s arm around you as he held you to his side. 

“Three, two, one!” 

Joel turned you to him and kissed you before you’d even had a chance to yell happy New Year and you sank into him, almost forgetting about the drink in your hand until some of it dribbled down your wrist, making you laugh against his lips. 

“Couldn’t let a second of the year go by before I kissed you for the first time,” he said, his lips still close to yours. The knot of heat and wanting that had eased after your antics earlier was back with full force. 

“Good,” you said quietly, drinking in the hungry look in his eyes. 

“It’s supposed to be a toast, you insatiable weirdos,” Sarah laughed and you laughed back, separating from Joel far enough to raise your glasses and toast with your new found family. 

It wasn’t long before all of you made your way to the elevators, piling into one with a handful of strangers, you happy for the excuse to stay pressed tightly against Joel. 

“Good luck!” Tommy said, a teasing edge to his voice when the doors dinged open on your floor. 

You frowned at him, confused, as the doors closed and you laughed a little as Joel led you back to the room. 

“Why do you need luck? Is Tommy under the impression that you have to work to get sex out of me?” You teased. “Because it’s sweet that you’d protect my honor that way but we both know that’s a damn lie.” 

“Tommy’s just a dumbass,” Joel replied. “Ignore him, that’s what I do.” 

You laughed, the tail end of your buzz waning. 

“Thinking we should take full advantage of that jacuzzi tub,” you said as Joel unlocked the hotel room door. “And use it to research the investment of a hot tub in the back yard…” 

“You’re insatiable,” he teased, opening the door for you. 

You laughed and were so busy looking at him - his thick, dark hair that was flecked with gray; his plush lips; his soft eyes - that it took you a second to realize there were roses and petals all over the room, a bottle of wine chilled in a bucket on the small table. 

“Joel?” You looked back at him and he just shrugged, smiling. 

You went further into the room and realized that it wasn’t just flowers and wine. There were framed pictures of you and Joel from the last year of your lives together. One of the two of you on Bourbon Street, another from when you decided to actually take those wine tasting classes you’d talked about, one from your second Longhorn’s game. There were at least a dozen, each one making it look so, so obvious that you made each other happy. That you gave each other the lives you wanted. 

You picked up the picture by the bedside, the first selfie you’d ever taken together. You were hiking and you’d held your arm out far enough to try to capture some of the view behind you. You were smiling hugely at the camera, hair grimy with sweat, Joel’s arm around your shoulders. But he wasn’t looking at the camera. Instead, he was looking at you. Looking at you like you were the only thing worth looking at. Looking at you like you made him happier than just about anything else on Earth. 

“What…” You trailed off, looking up from the picture to see Joel, on one knee with a box in his hands at the foot of the bed. 

You gasped and jumped, your hands covering your mouth on instinct, eyes wide. Your feet moved before you really realized what was happening and it seemed sudden that you were right in front of him.

“Joel,” you breathed, trembling hands slowly leaving your face. 

“For a very long time,” he said, his voice assured. “It felt like I’d gotten the only good thing I was going to get out of life. I had Sarah and seemed wrong to ask for more than that so I wasn’t lookin’ for it. Wasn’t lookin’ for you. But then I found you - or you found me, anyway - and I realized just how good life could be as long as I got to live it next to you. 

“You are the single best person I’ve ever met. You’re so smart and funny and creative and kind and the most fun I’ve ever had and I can’t imagine anything better than getting to live the rest of my life with you. Will you make me the happiest man on Earth and marry me?” 

***

Joel wasn’t sure his heart had ever beat this fast. Maybe when Sarah was first born and there were the torturous few seconds of silence before she started crying, not sure how anything about pregnancy or babies worked. Definitely never since. 

But the silence between you seemed to drag on for an eternity even though he knew it could have only been a second or two. That didn’t stop his heart from racing. 

“Yes,” you nodded, your voice thick, tears in your eyes. “Yes, yes, yes, yes yes!” 

You damn near tackled him and he laughed, catching you and holding onto you as he lowered the two of you to the ground on a bed of rose petals. 

Joel, Tommy and Nick had been in here getting everything set up while Sarah and Maria kept you busy in Sarah’s room. There was a brief moment of panic when Sarah texted that the three of you were headed to the party and Joel had to ask her to buy at least two minutes because they were walking to the elevator themselves. 

“I’m so happy for you, man,” Tommy said, clapping Joel on the shoulder as they headed up to the party. “You deserve this, you really fuckin’ do.” 

“She ain’t said yes yet,” Joel said, feeling the nerves all sudden and hot under his skin. “Don’t jinx it.” 

“She’ll say yes,” Tommy said, sounding so confident. “Don’t ask me WHY but that woman adores you. She’s gonna love it.” 

He hoped you did. He hoped you loved the idea at all, that you loved the proposal, that you loved the ring. Sarah had helped pick that part out so he was more confident of that, finding a piece that was elegant without looking dated, something that he hoped you’d like wearing for the rest of your life. 

Because that’s what he wanted. He wanted you, wanted to make you happy, for the rest of your life. 

He slid the ring onto your finger, the diamond catching the light as he did. 

“Are you serious?” You asked, looking from the ring to him. 

“Serious about spending the rest of my life with you?” He asked. “Can’t think of anything better.” 

You threw your arms around his neck and kissed him, hard and needy. He leaned into it for a moment before he pulled back from you. 

“Should move to the bed,” he breathed. “Gotta treat my fiancee right.” 

You just nodded quickly and Joel got up before helping you to your feet. 

He tugged your dress up and over your head - as much as he wanted to fuck you in the sexy little thing you’d been tempting him with all night, the need to feel your skin was too great - and eased you down onto the bed. 

You moved to the middle of it and Joel got undressed, his eyes watching you hungrily, the glint of his ring on your finger making him somehow even harder. You removed your bra and cast it aside before you slipped your panties down your legs and tossed them to the side, leaving you exposed and bare. You were everything it seemed like he’d ever wanted and you were his, the proof of it right there on your hand. He fisted his cock, pumping himself once, twice, as he climbed between your legs. 

He wanted to make this last. He wanted to go down on you and swallow your pleasure until you were screaming with it. He wanted to kiss every inch of your skin. He wanted to tease you with his fingers until you were begging for his cock. But he wasn’t sure he could, not that moment. He had a feeling you wouldn’t be leaving the bed for a few days after this.

“Joel,” you panted, watching him, pupils blown and back arched. He smiled. For some reason, you wanted him like he wanted you. 

“Yes, Mrs. Miller?” He breathed, settling between your open legs, the apex of your thighs hot against his skin. You moaned and rocked your hips up against him, your needy little clit pressing into his skin. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, closing your eyes, fingers gripping his bicep tightly. “Love the sound of that…” 

“You have no idea, Beautiful,” he said, kissing you, grinding his cock against your dripping slit. You moaned, the movement of your hips stuttering for a moment before you adjusted the angle so the tip of him was catching on your entrance with ever pass, just enough for the most sensitive part of him to be enveloped in your tight, wet heat. 

“Need you,” you were almost gasping with it, desperate and wanting. “Please, please, need to feel you, I need…” 

“Always going to give you what you need, Baby,” he said, his cock dipping further into you this time before he pulled back and pushed himself against your clit again. “Always gonna take care of you, always.” 

He pushed into you then, firm but not to fast, your breath catching on your throat as he did. Joel kissed you, trying not to think about how damn good you felt, how it seemed like he belonged right there, deep inside you. 

“Fuck,” your nails dug into him but he held on. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good how do you feel this fucking good?” 

He could only moan in response, fucking into you, feeling you open up to him, your walls gripping him tight. He stayed still inside you for a moment, savoring it, the feeling of you around him while he was over you, the way you held onto him. 

But he couldn’t last that way for long. You - his fiancee. His fiancee, no one else’s, you belonged to no one but him - felt too damn good for him to last too long inside of you and he had to move, he had to. 

So he did, starting a little slower but still firm, pressing his hips into you so your hot little clit was against his skin. 

He could feel you starting to tighten around him, like your body was trying to pull him deeper somehow, your lips messy and desperate when they found his, trialing little kisses over his body when they don’t. 

“That’s it, Beautiful,” he panted into you. “Come for me, can feel how close you are, just let go for me, let me feel you. Need to feel you…” 

You gasped his name and pressed your whole body tight against him as you came around him, your pussy fluttering around him, working his cock, all warm and soft trying to pull him as deep as you could take him. He fucked you through it, hardly able to hold off his own orgasm, the aftershocks of yours still rippling through your tight channel when he emptied himself into you until he didn’t even have the strength to hold himself up anymore, collapsing on you, his head over your shoulder so he could smell your skin and your hair. Fuck, he loved that smell. Fuck, he loved you. 

After a minute, he adjusted the two of you so you were draped over his chest, your arms all soft and pliant, close enough that he could feel your heartbeat on his skin, feel your soft, little breaths on him. You held up your left hand, turning the ring back and forth in the light. 

“You’re sure about this?” You asked, glancing up at him as you fidgeted with the ring. 

“More sure than I’ve ever been about anything,” he said. “Would make you Mrs. Miller tomorrow if you’d let me.” 

You laughed a little at that, putting your hand down on his chest and taking a deep breath. 

“Doesn’t seem fair,” you said softly. 

“What doesn’t?” 

“You’ve given me so much,” you said. “You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted - everything. Feels like I’m not holding up my end.” 

“You kiddin’ me?” He scoffed. “You’re so perfect I have to remind myself that you’re real sometimes, that I’m not just imagining you. You make me the luckiest man on Earth every damn day by just breathing in the same room as me. If anything’s not fair, it’s that I got too greedy asking you to marry me. Should know to quit when I’m this far ahead.” 

You laughed and pressed your lips into his chest, looking at the ring again, twisting it this way and that with your thumb. 

“Make you a deal,” you said, adjusting your head so you were looking at him. 

“What’s your proposal?” He asked, teasing. 

“You take care of me,” you said. “Make sure I’m not getting too overwhelmed or overdoing it at work or just getting too in my own head. I’ll take care of you, make sure you take time for yourself, make sure you relax, make sure you know how great you are. Deal?” 

He smiled a little. 

“Deal, Mrs. Miller.” 

You smiled bigger. 

“Excellent, Mr. Miller.” 

He kissed your forehead. 

“Don’t have to change your last name, you know,” he said, giving you a squeeze. “I can always just call you that for my own damn enjoyment without making it official.” 

You laughed a little. 

“No, I want to change it,” you said. “Sarah was right all along. I think I’m going to make a great Miller.” 

A/N: Ahhh! I hope you all loved reading the story of Joel and Sarah's best friend as much as I loved sharing it! These two are so fun and so sweet, I'm so glad I got to give them the happy ending they deserved.

Thank you so so much for being here, for following along with this little story that started as a one shot based on a request that came in after I wrote another one shot as a request. I so appreciate that you're here, that you've spent your time with this fic and these characters and all of your support. This corner of the internet means everything to me and it's because you're a part of it <3 Love you!

Taglist: @fanficismydrug

[wambos-storytime-corner]

7 Deadly Diapers, Ch. 3: Gluttony pt. 2 (TW: addiction, weight shaming, and body shaming)

“Uhhhh How should I know?” Whitney cocked her eyebrow and in confusion, a chuff of humored air escaped her lips.

“Oh gee, I don’t know. Maybe because my gym bag was right where I left it this morning and now YOU’VE filled it with this! Was starving me not enough?” Ethan steamed.

“Look I really don’t know where all that stuff came from but why don’t you just—?”

“Grab some other clothes? Yeah yeah, I saw what you did to the wardrobe too! My clothes are all gone and all that’s left is shit like this!” Rifling in the bag for a moment he snakes out a pale blue, form fitting, snap-crotch baby onesie but sized up for an adult. Whitney covered her mouth to stifle any giggles. After a stutter she clears her throat.

“Okay Ethan, what’s going on? Where’d you even get that thing?”

“In our closet! Where YOU put it!— no. No! Fuck this. Fuck you. I’m not entertaining any of this anymore. Now if you aren’t gonna tell me where my shit is, I need something to wear to the gym.” He holds out his hand, “give me your sweater. C’mon.”

Whitney realized that this situation was quite confusing for the both of them, but the tone in Ethan’s voice threatened an argument she didn’t have any energy for after their last one five minutes ago. With a sigh, she works the sweater up and off of herself. Ethan watched with a tapping foot and a huff until he saw what laid beneath her bulky, unflattering top layer.

His eyes followed up to her belly button now nestled in a gently slimmer figure, then to her waist which smoothly swayed inward with healthy folds, and finally he was struck by sheer awe as he was introduced to her new, swollen, double D-cup boobs held up by a bra that practically buckled under their weight.

“W-whoa.. uh.. I..” he gulped and stuttered. The entirety of his demeanor shifted suddenly. His lips smacked hungrily as drool pooled in his mouth and started escaping his open jaws.

“Uh, Ethan?.. Hello! Earth to Ethan?!” Whitney snapped impatiently causing her husband to slurp up the string of slobber dangling off his lip and clear his throat. But she noticed where his line of sight was. “What are you looking at you perv..? Ugh do you want the sweater or not?”

Something stirred in his stomach however as he looked at the sweater and his wife’s ample bosom. He was met with a decision for where the conversation and their dynamic would go next. And he didn’t like what his brain craved more out of the two options. His stomach, however, was all too willing to give him away. It snarled hungrily.

GARGLLLLLGLLR!!

“Ahem. Uh.. pardon me.. erm.. about dinner. I’m.. sorry.” He scratched his head in shame.

“You’re what?”

“I’m sorry! Okay? Uh… I should be more.. thankful! And ready to drink— NO! EAT Whatever you prepare for me..” he approaches her. A crazed, desperate and almost addict-like look in his eyes, even going so far as to move her sweater-holding hand out of the way. She put her foot up haphazardly and unintentionally against his crotch to stop him.

“Whoa there, tiger! What’s your angle?” She said, bewildered by his unusual change of heart. But amidst her confusion, a pang of discomfort struck her in both nipples. She winced and grasped her breasts. Pulling her hands away she noticed a white substance left behind from their tips. She was lactating. But the revelations didn’t stop there. She couldn’t help but spot that her husband’s eyes were locked onto the puddle of rich milk in her palm like a junkie, ready to relapse.

Curious, she lifted her palm towards his face and after a terse moment of silent internal conflict… Ethan began to lap up the milk like a newborn kitten. Whitney’s thoughts began to wander somewhere a bit more devious watching her critical, body-shaming husband desire her breast milk so eagerly. Until finally she had her plan come together. A wry smile wrapped over her face.

“Oh yeah~? You want these puppies that bad? Gosh… You sure don’t look the part though…” she sultrily nods towards the gym-turned-diaper bag, letting her diabolical plot begin to unfold, “You know what I want you to put on. Chop chop, mister! The gym can wait…”

[arecaceae175]

For Want Of Rest: Ch. 4

FAN JOY JULY!

Fic Summary: Five times Sky falls asleep somewhere that isn’t a bed plus one time they all do. Or, Sky struggles to manage his disabilities, then the chain has a conversation about accessibility and accommodations.

Fan Joy July! Each chapter is inspired a few amazing art pieces of Sleepy Sky <3. There are plenty more chapters and art inspirations to come :D

Chapter Summary: Sky struggles to stay awake as the chain travels. 1.3k, angst and hurt/comfort. Also Legend decided to use she/her pronouns in this one, apparently. Good for her

Art pieces:

Sky snoozing by @narsh-poptarts Sky and Wars napping by @sraksha

My favorite thing about narsh-poptarts's art is how much the pose mimics the one in the game. Even later in life, blorbo is still the same eepy blorbo. I also think the pose is cool and it looks hard to draw!

Sraksha's art is always amazing. It's such a distinct, soft style that is perfect for two blorbos napping. I love how Warriors is smiling in the second panel. He is very proud of himself for helping his brother be comfy <3

Chapter warnings: could be read as dissociation, but is intended to be blorbo being soooo fucking tired. Also Sky continues to be an unreliable narrator with low self esteem and internalized ableism (directed towards himself, not others)

“You good, Sky?”

Sky held back a sigh and forced a small smile instead. Ever since they found him passed out beneath the tree, one of the other heroes was never far from Sky. He was glad he was used to living in close quarters on Skyloft and used to Groose’s anxious clinginess; some of the others surely would’ve snapped by now. Every time he felt frustration bubbling at his family’s overbearing concern, he had to remind himself that he was thankful they cared so much.

Legend was watching him with thinly veiled concern. Against his will, Sky’s eyes darted to the braces on Legend’s knees and the compression gloves on her hands. Sky felt the burn of shame. He could ignore the ache in his joints and the fatigue dragging him down. He didn’t want to be the one to slow down the group. 

“I can keep going,” Sky said. 

“Not what I asked.”

Sky felt the tips of his ears go pink. “I’m okay. Are you? Do you need a break?”

“If I need a break, I’ll ask for one,” Legend said pointedly, narrowing her eyes at Sky. 

Sky shrugged and turned away. A break would be nice, but he didn’t need one. The pain wasn’t unbearable yet, and he was still moving. As long as he wasn’t assigned to a watch shift tonight, and they made it to a place to stop early in the day tomorrow, it would be fine. He could handle it.

Legend’s stare weighed on Sky’s shoulder for another moment, before Sky heard her huff and stomp away. Disappointment twinged in Sky’s chest, but he couldn’t quite figure out why. His gaze went back to his feet and he tried to let himself zone out, just barely watching for hazards he could trip on. It was easier than focusing on the pain in his hips or knees or back or feet or head or the one weird, sharp twinge in his ankle— that was new, what was that about?

It must have worked, because next thing he knew, Four’s stopped feet appeared in his view. Sky barely scrambled to a stop before he ran into Four, and he still had to put a hand on Four’s shoulder to steady himself. He muttered an apology as he took a step back. Four smiled and waved it away. 

Sky glanced around. They were still in the woods— which did not make Sky want to cry, not at all. The path ahead was split into three forks. Wild, Time, and Twilight were crowded around a broken signpost trying to make sense of the directions. 

Pain slammed into him with full force. His legs were shaking minutely. Sky felt himself sway, and he desperately looked around for the nearest tree to discreetly lean against. Things always felt worse just standing. If they were going to be here for more than a few more seconds, Sky really needed to find a spot to rest. 

“Hey,” Legend said quietly. 

Sky looked at her in surprise. She inclined her head towards Sky’s left and raised her eyebrows. Sky followed her gaze and saw a tree stump partially hidden from Sky’s view. Sky felt himself sag with relief and immediately went for the stump. He collapsed on top of it with less grace than he would like to admit. Against his will, his eyes slid shut immediately. He crossed his arms and clenched his fists into the fabric of his sleeves as he breathed through the wave of pain in his hips and back with the new pressure. 

The voices of the others faded into background noise as Sky began slipping into a light doze. Sky could still hear the words, but he didn’t put much effort into processing them. Someone would get him when they needed to move again. 

A voice rose louder than the others. “Um, guys?” 

Sky startled, ever so slightly. Sky knew he should probably open his eyes to see what the problem was, but he couldn’t muster the energy. There was a span of silence.

“Is this a safe place to make camp?” 

“Fresh monster tracks.”

Another pause. The voices faded into a buzz. 

“Sky.”

Sky jolted, then winced as his back twinged. He rubbed his dry eyes. “Hm?”

Hyrule smiled apologetically and held out a hand. “We’re moving on.” 

“Oh. Okay.” Sky stifled a yawn as he took Hyrule’s offered hand and let the traveler pull him to his feet. “Thanks.”

Hyrule’s smile widened. “‘Course.”

As they started to walk again, Sky tried to focus on anything besides his body. He looked around the path and noticed a hero was missing.

“Where’s Twilight?” Sky asked. 

“Scouting ahead,” Hyrule said. His ears twitched, and wasn’t looking at Sky. If Sky had any energy, he would’ve pressed. His thoughts were too heavy for that, so Sky just hummed a reply. 

An amount of time passed. Sky didn’t know how much. Staying upright and putting one foot in front of the other was taking all his concentration. An amount of time passed, and then Twilight was jogging down the path towards them. 

“There’s a cave close. A few monsters outside, but it don’t look too deep. We can clear it,” Twilight said. 

Sky frowned. His accent was thicker than usual. That usually meant he was tired, hurt, or stressed. 

“It’s a tight fit, though,” Twilight continued. 

“We’ll split up,” Time said. “Legend?”

Legend shook his head. “I’d rather keep moving.”

“I can stay,” Warriors said.

“Um.” Sky cleared his throat. His ears pinned themselves to his head as Sky grabbed his sailcloth to fiddle with it. “I don’t think I would be the most helpful right now.”

Warriors, with clear movements in Sky’s line of sight, patted Sky’s shoulder. “We’ll stay back.”

“I’ll stay, too. I’ve got a bit of a headache,” Four said, tapping his temple lightly with one finger. 

“Come on, then. It’s close,” Twilight said. 

“Stay safe,” Warriors called as the group left. 

Sky’s eyes burned, both with forming tears and the dryness of exhaustion. He hated feeling like he let the others down. He hated being too slow. 

Sky stepped far enough to be off the path and collapsed in a heap against a rock. He curled his sailcloth around himself and let his eyes slide shut, then let his head fall against the rock. His entire body throbbed. 

“Do you need anything for the headache?” Warriors asked. 

“No, it’s not bad. More pressure than pain, really. I’ll stand watch if you want to…” Four trailed off.

Sky’s neck protested the angle with sharp pains. He huffed a watery breath of frustration and dragged an arm up to rest between his head and the rock. 

Leaves crunched as footsteps approached. 

“Sky?” Warriors asked softly. His voice was closer than Sky expected. He dragged his eyes open and saw Warriors kneeling beside him. 

“Hm?”

“Do you want to lean on me? It’ll be more comfortable than the rock.”

Sky briefly considered protesting, but exhaustion and pain won over. He nodded wordlessly and pushed himself off the rock just a bit. Warriors smiled and settled against the rock just behind Sky with his head pillowed on his hands.

“Touch is okay?” Sky had to check.

Warriors smiled and nodded. “I wouldn’t have offered otherwise. Here.”

Warriors gently guided Sky to lean back against his side. With the way he had his arms up, Sky’s head fit securely on his shoulder. Sky scooted until his back was fully supported and extended his sharply aching knee. He wanted to thank Warriors, but he couldn’t find the energy to open his mouth. 

Sky’s eyes slid shut as the aching in his body settled. He’d be sure to thank Warriors tomorrow.

Endnotes: By the way, in case any of the implied stuff wasn’t clear: when Legend left Sky, she went up to Time and Wild and said “Birdbrain needs a break. Don’t make it obvious.” And then when Sky’s on the stump, they’re trying to figure out if they can stop and rest because Sky is clearly having a horrible time. Wolfie is sent to scout for the nearest place to rest, even though they won’t make it to wherever they were going. And they split up on purpose so Sky doesn’t have to fight. There is plenty of room at the cave. Sky doesn’t know any of that though. Blorbos :)

[hardly-an-escape]

Square: B2 - FREE SPACE

Title: "would you go along with someone like me?" (ch. 2)

Rating: T

Ship: Dream/Hob

Warnings: No archive warnings apply

Additional Tags: college AU, non-traditional college students, don’t worry they’re actual grownups, poet Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, history student Hob Gadling, referenced character death, rating will go up in later chapters, more tags to be added

Summary: Hob is a freshman history major and a first generation college student, while Morpheus is completing a graduate degree poetry. When they're crammed into a small room together due to a shortage of on-campus housing, it seems like an odd couple situation at best and a recipe for disaster at worst. But as the months go by, mutual respect turns into real friendship. And then... something happens that Hob never expected.

Link to AO3.

another @dreamlingbingo fill! I know it's been over a year since I posted the first chapter of this fic. I know. I'm sorry. I will try to make sure it takes less than a year to post chapter three.

October blew in, blustery and bright. The campus glowed with autumnal light. In the long, cool afternoons it would bounce between windows and gild granite columns. It even illuminated the study carrels in the fourth floor stacks of the undergraduate library, turning dim and dusty rooms into little pockets of brightness and learning and hope.

There were rainy days, too, but even they seemed apt and atmospheric; it wasn’t cold or dark enough yet for the grey days to be truly dismal, so the inclement weather was still more a novelty than anything else. A good excuse to spend the extra dollar on a hot mocha and wear one’s favorite cozy sweater.

Hob was either hugely elated or fantastically depressed, depending on – well, it could be anything. The weather, the grade on his latest paper, the relative freshness or staleness of the bagels in the history department, the phase of the bloody moon. On some level he knew it was just emotional whiplash from throwing himself into the deep end of academia after so many years spent in unacademic pursuits, but on his harder days he was beginning to think the hormonal soup of his young undergraduate classmates was rubbing off on him somehow.

On one such day, Hob returned to their tiny dorm room, dropped his bag on the floor, and faceplanted on his narrow bed with a heartfelt groan.

Morpheus was in his usual spot – perched on his desk chair and curled into a position that should not have been possible for his thirty-something spine and hips – and did not look up from his notebooks at Hob’s flop.

Hob groaned again.

“I imagine you want me to ask you what’s wrong,” Morpheus said, still not looking up.

“I am a fool,” Hob said dismally. “A fool and a buffoon. A nincompoop, even.” He pushed himself up into a sitting position. “Sometimes I wonder what I’m even doing here, mate, I really do. I mean who am I kidding? I’m almost thirty two years old and I’m sitting in these fresher history lectures and fucking Stephanie is running rings around me. Have I told you about Stephanie? She’s nineteen. Nineteen, Morpheus. We have, like, three classes together, and she’s kicking my arse, she has her entire career planned out, all the way to a Ph-bloody-D, and I can’t remember whether ‘Ottoman’ has one T or two.”

“Two.”

“I know that, you insufferable git, I’m trying to have an existential crisis here.”

“Ah. And is that happening concurrently with your one-sided competition with a child? Or does one precede the other?”

Hob raised his head enough to stick his tongue out at Morpheus. Something he’d learned about his roommate over the past few weeks – something their dorm neighbors and many (if not most) of Morpheus’s classmates didn’t quite seem to understand – was that Morpheus could actually be screamingly funny at times. The problem was that his humor was so bone dry, his delivery so absolutely deadpan, that it was difficult to tell the difference between the times he was being funny by accident, the times he was being funny on purpose, and the times he was actually being deadly serious and would be incredibly offended if people misinterpreted his words as some kind of joke.

Hob had already been on the receiving end of his irritation more than once, usually through pure misunderstanding. He knew he had a puppylike tendency to assume that everyone was his best friend until proven otherwise; Morpheus clearly had a tendency to assume exactly the opposite. The very first time Hob, barely a week into their shared existence, had asked if the other man wanted to get lunch together some time and help each other study, Morpheus had bristled so severely that he looked like a porcupine and claimed that he had no interest in either food or company.

He’d never apologized, per se. But later than night, the sandwich Hob had smuggled back from the dining hall in his jacket pocket and left in their dorm-sized fridge, labeled with Morpheus’s name on a sticky note, had mysteriously disappeared.

Much worse had been the time Hob, in one of his occasional fits of organization and cleanliness, had dared to tidy Morpheus’s desk.

He’d been on a roll – had done his laundry (and put it away!), and changed his sheets, and swept, and tidied up the shoes and jackets in the tiny shared alcove that passed for their hall closet, and then he’d turned his attention to the built-in desk that spanned one full wall of their little room. Hob’s half was always a bit messy, with some piles of notes and one or two books left haphazardly open to key pages he was certain to return to at the right moment. But Morpheus’s side looked like a bomb had gone off. He always had at least four or five notebooks on the go, plus what might be described as a small mountain of poetry anthologies, chapbooks, and photocopied coursepacks. The corner where the desk met the wall contained a veritable snowdrift of various ephemera: scraps of paper, receipts, dried flowers, bottle caps inexplicably labeled with dates and locations, labels carefully peeled off of beer bottles, a scant handful of beads and other shiny bits and pieces, and a single earring that looked like some bright young thing had lost it on her way to the club.

And Hob wasn’t stupid. He knew Morpheus could be a little prickly about his space and his things. Protective might be a better word. He supposed it was a side effect of growing up with a bunch of siblings; though he was an only child himself, Eleanor had had an older sister, and had told many tales of epic battles over favorite shirts and library books and other such treasures. So hadn’t thrown anything away. He’d moved it all aside and dusted and wiped, and then shuffled the papers into a neat stack, set the books against the windowsill in a semblance of order, and collected the ephemera in a little plastic basket that had been in the share box in the common room. He thought, when he was done, that it had still looked pleasantly cluttered – just less like a tornado had gone through their little room.

He hadn’t been expecting praise. He already knew better than that. But he also hadn’t been expecting Morpheus to project a wall of furious silence for the several days.

It got so bad that he’d spent half an hour hunting through the “ethnic” aisle of the grocery store to see if he could find any English sweets with which to mollify his roommate. The closest he’d gotten was a Ritter Sport with whole hazelnuts and a packet of Canadian potato chips, both of which sat, unacknowledged and uneaten, on Morpheus’s side of the desk for nearly a full day before being shoved unceremoniously back over to Hob’s side while he was in a lecture.

Hob started to consider emailing Teleute (who had given him her business card before she’d flown back to London) on the fourth day, just to ask exactly what level of unforgivable sin he’d committed, and whether any penance could possibly absolve him of it.

He was, luckily, saved from the indignity of asking his roommate’s sister how to circumvent his little temper tantrum, and by none other than Morpheus himself.

He got home after a lecture one day to find Morpheus perched nervously on the edge of his bed, a bottle of Bass beer clutched nervously between his knees.

Hob shucked off his shoes and tossed his bag on his own bed before flopping down, legs akimbo. The room was so small that if he and Morpheus both stretched their legs out, their ankles would probably touch in the space between their narrow beds.

“Hello, Hob,” Morpheus said formally.

“Morpheus,” Hob said. “Talking to me again, then, are you?”

Morpheus, to his credit, flushed slightly. “I would. That is. I have… I would like to apologize.”

Hob made an expansive sort of go ahead gesture and leaned back, waiting.

“I was talking last night with my sister – not Tel, whom you met, but my youngest sister. I was…” He ducked his head. “To be frank, I was complaining about you. About how you had tidied my desk and how much it upset me. She pointed out, quite rightfully, that it sounded like you were trying to help; trying to do something kind. She also pointed out that there have been several occasions when she herself has made an awkward or unwelcome choice in an effort to do the right thing. I… cannot argue with her logic.”

“I really was just trying to help,” Hob said. “If I promise never to touch your side of the desk again, will you stop ignoring me?”

Morpheus flushed again. “Yes. And I would extract no such promise from you. It was. Thoughtful.” That seemed to be a hair too much genuine emotion for the man, who stood abruptly and shoved the bottle of beer at Hob. “I have brought you this. A peace offering.”

“Thanks, mate. I –” Hob began, but Morpheus was already throwing on his peacoat and out the door in a whirl of black. “Okay. What a fucking weirdo.”

The beer was good, though. A taste of home. Hob picked the label off and left it on Morpheus’s side of the desk.

read on AO3 >>>

[aquaticwolfkuri]

You HATE Me, But I

Hate YOU More!: ch.3

(I deleted the original character.3 cause I hated it, hopefully I don't hate this one and rewrite it lol )

During lunch, Zim watched the new girl closely, and while he was doing that, Dib was watching Zim just as closely, trying to figure out what he might be planning. 

Just then, Zim springs from his table and shoves one of his classmates passing by, causing them to spill their drink all over Plotty’s shirt.

She didn’t scream and she wasn’t even smoking, much to Zim’s displeasure. Had she already discovered the secret to paste? Or perhaps she had some sort of new Irken disguise that protected her from water??

Well, before Zim could think much longer about it, the student he had shoved earlier was actually a jock and they didn’t appreciate being shoved. Zim was promptly beaten before being thrown into the trashcan.

“Plotty, are you alright???” Dib and a few other students go to check on the new girl, but Dib blushes when he realizes that Plotty’s black lacy bra has become visible through her wet white shirt.

“Dib, D-Don’t look!” The girl blushes, shoving past him as she covers up her chest, quickly escaping to the woman’s bathroom with a few of the other girls with her.

Dib spins around and stumbles, tripping over the now fallen over trashcan and toppling over on top of the green boy. Zim freezes, feeling Dib’s hot breath ghosting over his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. He quickly begins to panic as his chest tightens and his face burns up. So what does he do? He screams, shoving Dib off of him before kicking him.

“W-What the fuck Zi-” Zim kicks him again.

“Y-You won’t kill me that easily, DIB!” Zim shouts before running out of the cafeteria.

“H-Huh…???” Dib holds his side and winces from the pain, not really sure what the green boy was talking about. He hadn’t done anything to the alien, in fact, Zim was the one who attacked him!

Gaz, who had been watching from afar, raised a brow when she noticed the clear blush that had been dusted over the alien’s green complexion.

She puts her game-slave aside and walks with Dib to the nurse's office where he got the bruises Zim gave him, treated.

 

Outside the Skool, Zim hides behind a tree near the track field, breathing heavily.

“W-What was that….that FEELING!? W-What kind of human trickery was that!? Z-Zim’s chest nearly exploded…!” Zim pulls out a scanning device from his pack to check for any physical or internal damage, but his vitals are perfectly fine, so then what was wrong with him??? 

Touching the back of his neck, Zim blushes and nearly quivers, remembering the feeling.

“W-What in Irk’s name is this….??? What has the Dib-Human done to me!?” Zim rushes back to the base, forgetting about the rest of Skool for the day in order to run a few tests on himself.

After Skool, Dib and Gaz would walk home, but this time, Plotty wouldn’t be joining them, So Dib could finally read his favorite pass-time mysterious mysteries magazine on the way home. Gaz watches him for a moment before looking back at her game but she speaks up.

“You know… If you plan on dating that girl, you should really think about telling her the truth.”

“Gaz, if I told Plotty that all those things the other students said about me were true, she'd just think I’m crazy and stop talking to me!” Dib responds, clearly annoyed. 

“I mean, Despite all the bizarre things in this world, why am I the only one singled out for it? Since I was a child, I’ve always been the crazy big-headed kid, but things are finally starting to feel different now, and a girl ACTUALLY likes him!”

“...But she doesn’t know the REAL you…” Gaz says.

“It doesn’t matter. I mean, isn’t that what people do in High Skool?? They lie about who they are until adulthood?” Dib says, but Gaz seems dissatisfied with this answer… but she doesn’t say anything, instead, she changes the subject.

“Zim wasn’t around for the rest of class…”

“Huh? Yeah, I don’t know. He just started hitting me and ran off. I think he was just being weird or something…” Dib says that, but Zim was clearly serious when he hit him.

"Yeah, he was definitely acting weird..." Gaz says, recalling the blush on Zim's face. "Definitely weird..."

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

WIP Word Game

Rules: you will be given a word. share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

@kikidoesfanfic gave me the word DEMOBAT, and I managed to fill it all from ch 5 of The King's Gift, wohoooo ✨️

D

“Don't fucking touch him,” Eddie snaps. Steve is unable to turn his head, trapped by the stranger's hand and those cold eyes, but from the corner of his vision, he can see how Eddie struggles to move, held back by the same invisible force. “He has nothing to do with this.”

E

Eddie, who has been trapped in this place for so much longer than him, who wakes up every morning with the certainty that his horrid fate has crept a little closer while he was asleep.

M

“Magic.”

Dustin stops in the middle of his babbled monologue, arm still raised in a frantic gesture, and turns to look at El. She is staring at the spot where Vecna stood, eyes unblinking and distant, as if she’s trying to pierce the fabric of reality with her gaze.

O

“Oh, um …” Steve says dumbly. “Chrissy said she’d-”

B

But Eddie is already cackling again, bouncing up and down on the mattress like a child with a new toy. “Oh, I think it’s a great word. And so fitting, too. I’ll be sure to add it to my-”

A

“Alright,” Steve says over the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears. “Sleep well.”

T

The last thing Steve sees of him is that unsettlingly soft smile. Then, the door closes and he’s alone in his darkening room. He spends a long time lying awake, staring up at the embroidered canopy, and wondering what the hell he has gotten himself into.

Tagging @lunaraindrop @pukner @runninriot @sidekick-hero and @stervrucht. If you'd like to play, your word is KUDOS.

[hbyrde36]

Life is a Game (and True Love is a Trophy)

Chapter 2

Ch 1 ao3 link

*Eddie - 1986*

Dustin burst in the door without knocking. A habit Eddie had been trying to break him out of for years. One of these days he’d do it at the wrong time and see something he’ll wish he hadn’t. Maybe then he’d learn his lesson.

“So, don’t freak out but…”

“Ugh” Eddie groaned, pushing his face further into his pillow. “It’s never good when you start a sentence like that. At least let me get some coffee first.”

“Fine.” Dustin relented, stomping back out into the kitchen of the Munson trailer.

Ten minutes later and with coffee in hand, Eddie motioned for Dustin to continue with whatever nonsense he’d woken him up for this morning.

“I told the guys about Steve, about you knowing him.”

“Dustin!” Eddie shouted, incredulously.

“What? It’s not like it’s some big secret or something!”

“You didn’t know!”

“No, I didn't. But I should have realized, and I shouldn’t have said what I did the other night about him. That wasn’t cool. That’s why I told them, because I felt bad, and because I was thinking that maybe we could do a little investigation of our own?”

The kid meant well and it was sweet that he wanted to do something to make Eddie feel better, but what did he think he and a bunch of teenagers would be able to do about it?

Eddie shook his head. “I already told you man, his parents are loaded. I’m sure they left no stone unturned. What could we possibly do that they haven't already tried?”

Dustin’s face spread into a cocky grin. “For starters, Mike talked to Nancy. Did you know she dated Steve for a little while right around the time Will got lost in the woods?”

He had known that actually. In fact he vividly remembered catching the two of them in the boy’s bathroom that one time. He’d never thought about it in reference to Steve’s disappearance before though. The couple had broken up a few months before it happened.

“Yea, okay. So, they dated. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I'm not sure if it does, but the police never even talked to her. Mike said she was willing to talk to us about him, if you want.”

Eddie couldn’t believe he was actually considering this, but it was hard to deny how intrigued he was to learn more about Steve. Even if it didn’t lead to any answers about what had happened to him.

“You know what? Fuck it. Let's do it.” Eddie declared, slamming his now empty cup down on the table for emphasis.

“Language! I am a child!.” Dustin gasped, in a dramatic impersonation of his mother.

“Shut it, nerd.”

“You literally play D&D with children! Who’s the nerd now?!”

-

Eddie had never really had a full conversation with Nancy. They said hi in passing, and whenever he came to the house to play with the boys of course, but that was the extent of it. Now he was supposed to sit here in the Wheeler’s basement, like it was any other day, and talk to her about her ex boyfriend. Awkward.

Or, maybe not. 

According to Dustin, Nancy knew all about their game, including how she, Steve, and many others were used as characters in it. She understood their curiosity. She herself had always thought that there was something suspicious about the whole thing. That maybe there was more going on in Hawkins than a single missing boy.

“Do you remember the day in the cafeteria, when Steve got into that screaming match with Tommy and Carol?”

Eddie shook his head. “No, but I heard it was brutal.” He’d skipped out early that day to meet up with Rick for more product. The whole school was buzzing about it the next day, he could have kicked himself for missing the show.

“It was. I was shocked. I had never seen him act like that. I know he and I hadn’t been together that long, so I could be wrong, but It seemed so out of character. I mean, everything he said was true, and those two probably deserved it, but the three of them had been best friends for years. He never stood up to them before, so why now? It felt like it came out of nowhere.” 

She paused, taking a breath and gathering her thoughts before continuing.

“I remember him looking at me, just before he stormed off when it was all over. He didn’t look mad, it was more like.. I don’t know, scared, maybe?”

Well, that was a little ominous. Eddie and the younger boys shared a look as Nancy got up from her seat on the couch and started pacing.

“He called me later that night and asked me to come over so we could talk. When I got there, he stepped out onto the porch instead of letting me come inside. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but looking back, it was a little odd. We sat on the steps and he said that he was sorry, but he couldn’t see me anymore. I asked him if there was someone else, but he said no. He just wanted to be single for a while and concentrate on other things. It was fine. I don’t think either of us were too upset about it. We hugged and said our goodbyes, and that was the last time I spoke to him.”

She stopped pacing, standing directly in front of Eddie as she finished her story.

“I still saw him around, of course, and heard about how he quit the school teams. Which seemed weird, because, what was this more important thing he was focusing on? Clearly it wasn’t sports. Then he started skipping school, so it wasn’t about his grades either. I started to wonder if maybe he had gotten into drugs or something.” 

Or, he could have just been lying to let you down easy, Eddie thought, but that wasn’t very kind. Instead he said, “If he was, he wasn't getting them from me.” 

Dustin gasped. “Wait, dude, are you really a drug dealer?”

Fuck. “Um. No?”

“You are! You’re totally a drug dealer!” Dustin said, bouncing in his seat and pointing a finger in Eddie’s face.

Eddie groaned. “Please stop yelling ‘drug dealer’ before Mike's parents hear you and kick me out!”

“Does that mean you smoke pot?” Lucas asked.

 “Can we smoke pot?” Mike added quickly, grinning.

“Absolutely not!” Eddie and Nancy shouted, simultaneously.

He turned to her, hands raised. “For the record, I don’t sell anymore. Not since my supplier went to jail.”

Dustin’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh shit, is Reefer Rick a real person?”

Nancy gave Eddie a hard look.

“What?! We all used people from our life in the game!” He said defensively. “Look, guys, I think we’re getting off track here.”

“Is there anything else weird you remember about Steve from before he disappeared?” Will asked Nancy, speaking for the first time. Eddie threw him a grateful smile.

“Not that I can think of.”

“What about his parents?” Lucas asked.

“I never met them, but he always said his dad was an asshole. The way he talked sometimes, it sounded like they weren’t around a lot.”

The image of it flashed in Eddie’s mind for a moment. Steve, all by himself in that big empty house of his. Haunting its hallways in the middle of the night. He shook his head roughly to clear it. 

Maybe it was silly to think of it that way. What teenage boy wouldn’t love having the house to himself? No one hassling you or telling you what to do. He couldn’t explain why, but somehow he didn’t think Steve liked being alone.

Eddie was startled when Nancy placed a hand on his arm. She looked at him, face pinched with concern. He realized suddenly that they were alone. He’d been so lost in thought that he didn’t realize the boys had left. She saw him looking around and explained.

“I sent the boys upstairs for lunch. It looked like you needed a minute.”

“Yea, sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately.” He got up to collect his things, and headed towards the basement steps.

“It’s the time of year. I get it, I've been thinking about him a lot too.” She said, following him.

Eddie shook his head. It wasn’t the same, she was allowed to think about Steve. To miss him. What right did Eddie have? “That’s different. You dated the guy. We weren’t even friends.”

“You’re allowed to miss him, Eddie.”

“No, I'm not.”

“He thought you were brave, y’know.”

“What?” He stopped walking, but couldn’t bring himself to turn around to face her. 

“He told me once, the first time I sat with him for lunch. You had jumped up on your table, ranting and raving about whatever had bothered you that day.” She sounded amused at the memory. “Tommy and the others sneered and complained, but not Steve. He smiled as he watched you. He said, ‘sometimes I wish I could be brave like that. Just stop caring about what everyone else thinks and be free’.”

He finally looked back at her over his shoulder. She smiled at him kindly, it seemed genuine so he returned the gesture.

“Thanks, Wheeler.”

-

Eddie didn’t stay to join the boys for lunch, though he did make plans to meet up with them the next day. He needed some time alone to process what they’d learned so far. He did his best thinking in the van, so he drove around town aimlessly, blasting Metallica and trying to sort through it all. 

Eventually he made his way to Loch Nora, slowing when he reached Steve’s street. He’d never been inside the Harrington house, but he knew where it was. There was no car in the driveway, so he rolled to a stop in front of it. A ‘For Sale’ sign was stuck in the grass a few feet to the right of the mailbox.

He hadn’t realized Steve’s parents were selling the place. Good, Eddie thought. It would make his next task that much easier. He’d come up with a plan, of sorts, as he cruised around Hawkins. The first step? A good old fashioned breaking and entering.   

-

*Steve - 1983/1984*

Two days after finding Eleven out in the woods, Steve cut ties with all his friends. He made a big scene out of calling Tommy and Carol assholes in the middle of the cafeteria, to really drive the point home. He turned himself into a social pariah overnight, anything to keep people from wanting to get close to him.  

He let Nancy go. It was easy enough. He found that he wasn’t even all that upset about it, he knew she wouldn't be too sad either. He’d seen how she looked at Jonathan that day at school, when the news broke that Will was missing. They would get together before too long, he was sure of it.

He quit the swim team, basketball, and only continued going to school because dropping out would be too suspicious. He started skipping days a lot. 

-

Eleven, who he’d taken to calling El for short, needed her own space. He would have loved to decorate the guest room for her, would have let her paint the walls and everything. Unfortunately, his parents still came home on occasion, and it would be too hard to hide. Instead, they worked together to fix up a space for her in the attic. Even when they were home, his parents never went up there. 

He didn’t know anything about little girls, but neither did El, so they figured things out together. He set her up with a T.V. to keep her company when he was gone during the day. He gave her a bunch of catalogs to look through, and told her to take a marker and circle anything she liked. Clothes, bedding, curtains, toys, he bought it all. Perks of the Harrington name, and a credit card with a high spending limit.

By the time her attic room was done, she finally felt secure enough to sleep in her own bed. She felt safe in the knowledge that her new brother wouldn’t abandon her as she slept, or lock her inside. Sometimes though, he would wake up to find she’d come into his room in the middle of the night. Almost always when it rained.

They quickly became a little family, he and El. Steve didn’t have any siblings, hadn’t thought he even liked kids, and certainly never knew how much he wanted a little sister until she came along. He taught her what he knew about the world, and in return he learned the importance of patience and kindness.  Together, they discovered unconditional love. 

For a few wonderful months, life was good. There was a little hiccup in January of ‘84, when eleven accidentally knocked a vase off the counter in the kitchen. It was fine. She caught it with her mind before it hit the floor, then levitated it back upright on the counter. It was the first time she’d used her powers in front of Steve. Powers he had been completely unaware of.

He’d hyperventilated for a while, but once he recovered he explained to her that, ‘No sweetie, I didn’t know you could do that, but it’s fine. I promise. No, I'm not afraid of you. It’s just another part of you, and I love who you are.’

It was another turning point for them, a catalyst that compelled her to explain more about where she came from. What sort of things they did to her at the lab, and she finally told him all about Papa and the other children. 

Steve had never pushed her on any of it, happy to just keep her safe, and wait until she was ready to talk. Once she did? Well, he was fucking livid. It was all he could do not to go to the newspapers, or Chief Hopper, and blow the whole thing wide open. Hell, he would have found the place himself and burnt it to the ground if he didn’t know for a fact that there were other kids living inside. 

In the end, he did nothing. Too afraid that if he was caught, or worse, there would be no one who knew about El, or where she was. There would be no one to take care of her.

-

It was all his fault. He should have known better. It was his job to take care of her, and he had failed in that task spectacularly. It was spring break 1984, Easter Sunday. He’d just wanted to take her out to breakfast, something he could remember doing with his own parents for the holiday when he was young. Back when they at least pretended to give a shit about him. 

They were as safe about it as they could have been. He picked a small restaurant two towns over, where no one would recognize them. She looked so happy when she smiled at him over her massive stack of waffles.

He didn’t see it for what it was, when the two nondescript white work vans pulled into the parking lot of the diner. Movies had him envisioning a legion of fancy black town cars pulling up on him one day, a swarm of dark suits surrounding him, demanding to know where the girl was. He should have known that Papa would be a bit more subtle.

The bell above the main entrance door dinged as a new customer entered. El looked up reflexively at the sound and her eyes went wide. It was the only warning Steve had before a tall man with white hair and an impeccably tailored gray suit slid into the booth next to him.

“Hello, Eleven. You’re looking well.”

Steve watched as she curled in on herself. Turning back into the little girl he found in the woods right before his eyes. 

“Papa.” She gasped, bottom lip trembling.

The man turned to look at Steve. “I’m Dr. Brenner. Now, don’t go getting any big ideas, young man. I have people on every door to this place. You’ll never make it to that pretty car of yours in time, and I can assure you that if you try, they will not hesitate to... deal with the situation.”

Steve froze, not remotely prepared for this scenario. He didn’t know what to do and was scared of making a misstep. He wasn’t afraid for himself, he didn’t care what happened to him, but he was terrified for El, and the possibility of losing his sister forever. 

“Here’s what's going to happen.” Brenner continued. “Eleven is going to leave this place with me, right now. You, Mr. Harrington, yes I know all about you, are going to go back to your life and forget that any of this ever happened. If you so much as think about telling anyone what you’ve seen, we will know, and we will come for you.”

“I’m not going to just let you take her.” Steve protested, heart pounding.

“You don’t have a say in the matter.”

“If you take her then you’ll have to take me too!” Steve raised his voice a little too loudly, drawing the attention of the other diners. 

“That’s not an option.” Brenner hissed. “I have no need for someone like you”

Steve lowered his voice to a whisper, knowing that angering the man further wasn’t going to help. “I’m not leaving her. I’ll die first. You’ll have to kill me right here and now in front of all these people. Do you really want to make that big of a scene?”

Steve could tell the man was considering it. “Please.“ He begged. “I'm sure you can find some use for me. I’ll do anything.”

Brenner sighed. “Very well. You will both follow me outside. Leave your car keys on the table, Steven, you won’t be needing them.”

The man slid out of the booth, threw more cash than necessary on the table, and walked out the door.

Steve scrambled out of his seat at the same time El did, and they collided in a desperate embrace. She was shaking, crying. Steve ran his fingers through her short curls. 

“I'm sorry El, I'm so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

She looked up at him, blinking through tears. “It’s not your fault, they would have found me eventually, one way or another.”

“I’ll get us out of this somehow, I promise.”

She took a small step away from him and shook her head. “No, Steve. You have to let him take me. Only me. You have a life, parents, a family.”

He shook his head, taking her small hand in his. “You are my family El. I’m not leaving you. We’re in this together. You and me, always.”

Chapter 3

@penny00dreadful @buckleybarnes @steddie-there @yeahhhh-suga @goinsteddie @brbsoulnomming @the-s-is-silent @paintsplatteredandimperfect @estrellami-1 @herebedragons404 @epiclazershark @iaminmultiplefandoms @adaed5 @mentallyundone @hardboiledleggs @hotshot9 @manda-panda-monium

[tae-rambles]

OP ch 1120 SPOILERS

My reaction as i read:

hi Denjiro where did you come from? was he just on a walk or did he come to meet w Yamato on purpose? also he's the new daimyo of Kibi? did we know that already or is it a new info i cant remember

also i like how Yamato is like "no need for all this, its ok"

a flashback?

oh... never even crossed my mind to ask why was Clover arrested and let go so many times... thats clever

"answer to good and evil"? what does that mean

oh my god another D family! (how do you even pronounce that surname) i wonder which other characters we know of were/are hiding the initial...

i wonder what changed Vegapunk's mind to continue Ohara's research and risking his life if he couldnt understand why Clover did it those 22 years ago

hi Zeff, Patty :D

oh Robin... this is making me sad

damn Atlas...

wtf was that "snap" coming from Lilith

oh Atlas please dont tell me youre about to do what i think

good job Atlas but can ppl pls stop sacrificing themselves for at least five minutes my heart cant take it

but what about Stussy? she can skywalk so she might be fine?

the Marines are just so out of their depth lol

Luffy can hear Emet! :D Luffy's so confused lol

lmao Emet's immediately annoyed w him i cant

oh Emet, he's so sweet! i love himm!! "i've known Emet for only a couple of chapters but if anything happens to him i'm gonna kill Oda and then myself"

aaaah he's talking to you Luffy! but i like how Oda keeps emphasizing that Luffy is his own person, not Nika, not Joyboy, but Luffy

"but there are those who cannot be stopped" under the imposing worm Peter going in for an attack - love this visual storytelling

uh oh... Emet's rusty

and still fended the worm off! you rock Emet! :D

Saturn doing a jumping spider impression

dont fucking talk to the precious Kuma and Bonney you damn spider!

Atlas! D: my poor heart! this is just Pedro all over again

fuck off, York

dont you dare Emet dont you fucking dare! no more sacrificing yourself! no more blowing yourself up! i said no! D:< (also Peter bit off his arm :( )

oh, right, the general population didn't know Roger was a D

Great chapter as always :D, even though it was painful, can't wait for the next one...

i really hope Emet won't sacrifice himself here but it seems that's where it's headed... dammit!

EDIT: i've thought about this some more and was Joyboy really someone who would instruct his people to sacrifice themselves for him and his cause? that doesn't sound right. so maybe Emet has something else up his sleeve?

also, Emet is the second person to lose their arm to a snake-like monster while protecting Luffy. both Emet and Shanks were also waiting for the awakening of the Nika fruit to make their move it seems. i wonder if there are any other parallels between them...

[osunism]

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If [♡] [⭑] [♤] – One night, Satoru meets a woman who sears a place on his memory and in his dreams. Who was she? [☯] [📿] 🧿👹

Crystalline [⭑]– The night Itadori Yuji takes in Sukuna’s Finger, Satoru sees Sukuna’s cursed energy erupt in Roppongi. [🔏] [☯] [📿] 🧿👹

We Might Even Be Fallin' In Love [♡] [⭑] [♤] – The miracle of existence bridges the infinity between them. [☯] [📿] 🧿👹

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S O N D E R

noun [🔮] 1. the feeling one has on realizing that every other individual one sees has a life as full and real as one’s own, in which they are the central character and others, including oneself, have secondary or insignificant roles: In a state of sonder, each of us is at once a hero, a supporting cast member, and an extra in overlapping stories.

The Unforgiving Roads That Lead to You [♡] [♤] – Roxanne Abaza, the only foreign-born special grade sorcerer in existence, is called to assist with the wrangling and exorcism of Ryōmen Sukuna. What ensues is more than she bargained for. [☥]

Halfsleeper [♡] [⭑] [♤] – A young widowed sorceress seeks protection under the aegis of the Honored One, but he has a better idea for keeping her out of the clutches of her dangerous clan. [∞] 🧿🧜🏾‍♀️

Unsanctioned [♡] [⭑] [♤] – Bodyguard/Yakuza AU. Toji Fushiguro, who is in disgrace after having an affair with his boss’ now ex-wife, is now tasked with protecting her as the mercurial grounds of Tokyo’s Underworld begin to shift into uncertainty, putting the entire syndicate and anyone associated with them in peril. [∞] ⛓️👸🏾

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Beast of No Nation [♡] [⭑] [♤] – One night, the King of Curses took an over-curious fugitive of heaven to task. Over the course that night, and the many that followed, she found herself continuously drawn to the jujutsu world. [☯] [📿] ⛩️⚔️ || 🧿👹

Daughter of Disgrace [♡] [⭑] [♤] – In the aftermath of Satoru Gojo’s sealing, Sundari must choose rebellion in order to free him. Lucky for them both, rebellion has always been her preferred modus operandi. [∞] [📿] ⛩️⚔️ || 🧿👹

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Highball [♡] [⭑] [♤] - The price of peace has a cost. The scales must balance eventually. [Yakuza/Found Family AU]

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[justagalwhowrites]

New in Town - Ch. 3: First Family Dinner

Sarah comes to visit and has questions for Joel. A continuation of New in Town chapters 1-2 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Best Friend's Dad!Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Smut :D Yeah, they're horny, OK? Just expect a lot of smut in this fic. No use of Y/N. Age gap (reader is 35 Joel is 47, not a focus of the fic). Minors DNI, 18+ only

Length: 5.1k

AO3 | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Joel actually felt pretty damn smart when he got to his house. He stopped at the trash bin that sat outside the garage and dropped his now empty coffee cup into it, just in case Sarah asked why he’d gone to the place with the name stamped on the side of the cup. 

He didn’t have a good fucking reason to be at a coffee shop by your apartment besides being at your apartment. And he knew he wasn’t ready to tell his daughter about the fact that you two were… whatever the fuck you were. 

What were you doing with him? What did you want with him? Why was it so hard to know and why was he so fucking afraid to ask? 

Didn’t matter now. The morning Sarah showed up to surprise him with a visit was not the morning to be having this discussion. 

“Baby Girl?” Joel called as he closed the door behind him, dropping his keys on the table in his entry way. 

“Dad!” Sarah flew around the corner and launched herself at him, just like she’d done when she was a kid. He caught her, the air knocked out of him, laughing as he caught his breath. “I missed you, old man!” 

“Missed you too, Baby Girl,” he said, setting her down and stretching out his back. “But you’re gonna have to cut me a break, think my back is gettin’ too old to be catchin’ you like that.” 

“How am I supposed to properly shower you in affection if I can’t just throw my whole body at you?” She smirked. “But fine, I guess if it’s for the sake of your health…” 

He rolled his eyes and tugged her against his side, kissing her temple. 

“Just gotta have you move back closer to home,” he gave her a squeeze. “Wouldn’t need to tackle me if I just saw you more.” 

“Yeah, I’m working on that,” she smiled. “Trying to get promoted from junior copywriter to intermediate so I can come to the Austin office sooner rather than later…” 

“That’s amazing Baby Girl!” Joel gave her another squeeze before leading her to the living room and settling on the couch. “I’m sure you’re close, they know how good you are.”

“Speaking of my grand plan,” she said. “I see you’ve been hanging out with my work wife.” 

Joel coughed to try to hide his surprise. 

“What?” He asked after a moment. 

“Well I know you didn’t do the Seattle Zombie 5K last Halloween,” she nodded at his shirt. Joel felt his stomach drop. “But I know we did.” 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

“Not doing a walk of shame are you?” She asked, her eyebrows raised. 

“You ever known me to be the walk of shame type?” He asked, scrambling for a reason that he’d have your shirt. “I just fixed her garbage disposal for her a few weeks ago, got soaked. She was nice enough to give me a clean shirt so I wasn’t drippin’ wet on the drive home. Didn’t realize it’d made it into my dresser is all. I’ll have to wash it again, give it back…” 

“But you are hanging out with her then?” She asked. “I mean, you said give it back like you were going to see her again so…”

“We went out once since I helped with the sink and shit,” he said, telling himself that it wasn’t a lie, not really. You’d only successfully made it out of the house together once. Sarah scrunched her nose. “What, Baby Girl?” 

“Nothing,” she sighed. “I was just hoping you guys would be friends is all. You’re both kind of alone down here, you know? I worry. I don’t want you doing nothing but sitting in the house doing… whatever weird old man stuff you do.” 

“I don’t do weird old man stuff…” 

“And leave her alone too long and the next thing you know she’s on the dating apps and she ends up going out with some total idiots,” she said, ignoring Joel’s protest entirely. “Really, Dad, her taste in men is shit and I’m not here to keep her busy, I was kind of counting on you here.” 

Joel frowned. 

“Not on you to protect her,” he said. Though, from what little he knew, Sarah was right. Your taste in men was shit. “And I’m sure she’s got better things to do than hang out with someone who does ‘old man things…’” 

That was something that Joel had been thinking about a lot over the past two weeks. Yes, you seemed to be about as insatiable for him as he was for you and he didn’t have any damn clue as to why. But he could think of plenty of reasons why you shouldn’t be. How long was it going to be before you realized that he didn’t offer you much? He couldn’t take you to fancy restaurants every week or on nice trips. He wasn’t interested in another child and you were still young enough that you might want to be a mother. His body was often sore and worn after decades of damn near breaking himself to make a living. How much longer would you be wanting to pull him into restaurant bathrooms and make yourself come on his leg because you just couldn’t bear to wait anymore? How much longer could he text you to bitch about work while on a break at a job site and have you respond with a gif from Sharknado because you knew it would make him laugh? How much longer could he look at the selfies you sent him and think to himself “that’s my girl,” even though you weren’t even his girl now let alone in the future?

He was already in too deep with you, way too damn deep. Someone was going to have to pry you out of him, you’d already settled inside his skin and he liked it that way. Liked thinking of you first thing in the morning and just before he fell asleep, liked that you were the first thing on his mind when he got lunch at a food truck and he stumbled on something really good, liked that you showed up with his favorite beer and some obscure snack food when you came over to his place because you said you saw it and thought of him.

“Her taste in men isn’t dangerously bad,” Sarah waved him off. “Just… she tends to go for guys who definitely don’t deserve her, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Joel sighed. “I know.” 

Fuck, did he know.

“Anyway,” she said with a dramatic eye roll that reminded him of when she was a teenager. He smiled a little. “I’m in town until Wednesday! I know you’ll have to work…” 

“I can take a few days off,” he said quickly. “Get Uncle Tommy to make sure shit doesn’t go sideways…” 

“Awesome!” She perked up at that. “Because I think there are at least two Curtis and Vipers I haven’t gotten around to seeing yet and I’m going to require a handcrafted Dad burger - preferably grilled - while I’m in town. My apartment doesn’t let me have a grill on my balcony, it’s so dumb.” 

“Probably a fire code thing, Baby Girl,” he smiled. “But I think we can swing some movies and a cookout while you’re here. Tommy’d love to see ya, Maria too.” 

“Can we start by jumping in the pool?” She asked. “Because I haven’t gotten to swim in months.” 

“Might be a bit cold…” 

“Please,” she scoffed. “This is mid-summer weather in Seattle, plenty warm enough for a swim.” 

Joel smiled. 

“Whatever you want, Baby Girl.” 

The water was definitely colder than Joel would normally jump into but, for Sarah, he’d do just about anything. 

He was still getting used to drinking with his daughter, the two of them floating around the water with beers most of the day. Joel got out for a bit to make sandwiches - he put potato chips on Sarah’s just like he had when she was a kid - and he just listened to what she’d been up to, hanging on her every word. 

Joel had always felt incredibly lucky to have Sarah as his daughter. There were the obvious reasons, of course. She was kind and thoughtful, she was smart as a whip and loved to do well in school to the point that he almost never had to tell her to do her homework, she actually liked spending time with him. But she never had a problem being open with him about damn near anything. 

It wasn’t always the most pleasant experience - hearing about boy problems when he couldn’t actually intervene was harder than Joel had expected it to be - but he was grateful for it. He never had to wonder what his daughter was up to, she just told him. 

Part of it, he was sure, was because he’d asked her to grow up too fast. He hadn’t meant to, of course, but it seemed to come with the territory of single parenthood. There was no one there to back him up when he had to work late, no one there to take over the child rearing when he was sick or just so exhausted from work that he slept through his damn alarm. Sarah fell into the role of second parent, sometimes raising herself as much as Joel had. 

He was just happy she didn’t resent him for it. She seemed to recognize how hard he’d tried to give her everything, do everything he possibly could to make her happy and give her a good life. Even if it hadn’t always worked, he’d always tried. The fact that she’d made it to college on scholarship, that she’d finished towards the top of her class, that she’d gotten a good paying job doing something she liked to do, the fact that she was happy and doing something with her mind instead of breaking her body down like Joel was every damn day of his life was the proudest he’d ever been of anything. 

Could he really risk his relationship with her for you? Yes, you made him happy. So fucking happy. You were the first thing in years that he felt like he really, truly wanted. And it had hit him hard, so fucking hard. It was like he’d saved up all his longing just for you, like it had been waiting for something powerful enough to show up and unleash it all and it had knocked him off his damn feet. 

But you were Sarah’s best friend. 

“So one thing that’s seriously lacking in the Pacific Northwest is good TexMex,” Sarah said, lounging on a pool float, her face tilted toward the sun, eyes closed. “Think we can go out for dinner tonight? I need enchiladas and tamales and I need them sooner rather than later.” 

“Only if you don’t get mad that I ask for the real spicy salsa,” Joel said. 

“How did I end up so cursed that my two favorite people love to melt their tongues off as a hobby?” Sarah sighed. “But fine, order the miserable stuff. I’ll just get the regular salsa like a normal person.” 

Joel scoffed. 

“The normal ship has sailed with you, Baby Girl. Me and Tommy around you so much? Never stood a chance.” 

Just an hour later, he and Sarah were headed into her favorite Austin restaurant. Joel added it to his mental list of places to take you. It was Sarah’s favorite for a reason, after all. 

“Table for two,” Joel held up two fingers to the hostess but Sarah cut him off. 

“It’s three, actually,” she smiled, not looking at him. 

“Three?” He frowned. She ignored him and just held up three fingers to the hostess. It took him until they were at the table to really put it together. “Sarah…” 

“I’m here to see you but I really want to see her, too,” she said as she slid into the booth. “And I do think you guys will really get along if you actually give it a shot. Please, Dad? Give her a chance?” 

A chance wasn’t the only thing he’d given you. 

“Baby Girl, I’m sure she’d rather do something besides…” 

“Besides what?” Your voice appeared over his shoulder, Joel turning toward the sound so fast it made his head spin. You smiled a little sheepishly. 

“Hi.” 

***

Well Joel clearly hadn’t been expecting you. 

That boded just so well. 

“Hey Bestie!” Sarah squealed and got out of the booth to throw her arms around your neck. You laughed and hugged her back. “Ugh, I miss you! The office sucks without you there. So does the rest of Seattle, honestly.” 

You laughed. 

“I miss you too,” you gave her a squeeze before the two of you separated. “I keep trying to convince the VP at this branch that I absolutely unequivocally need a junior copywriter on my team. He hasn’t bought it yet but I think if I just keep asking him I’ll wear him down and he’ll cave to my annoying tendencies and just give me whatever I want.”

“Oh so you’re playing hardball,” Sarah teased as she got back in the booth and you slid in beside her. 

“Clearly yes,” you nodded sagely. “I read ‘The Art of War’ and just bothering people until they give up is the best battle tactic in the world…” 

You turned to look at Joel who was watching you intently. 

You hadn’t expected Joel to show up tonight anymore than he’d expected you. Sarah was playing you both like a goddamn fiddle. You’d worn a strappy, silky slip dress with a denim jacket over it thinking you were going out with your best friend, not going to be stuck trying to keep from staring at your who-the-fuck-knows-what sitting across from you. 

Who also happened to be your best friend’s dad. 

You tried not to think about that part. 

“Figured I’d force you two to get to know each other better over margaritas,” Sarah said brightly. “I can’t let you both just sit and stare at a wall all by yourselves until I can move back to town…” 

“I don’t stare at walls!” You protested. Sarah ignored you. 

“So you can at least keep each other company,” she finished. 

“Good to see you again, Joel,” you said, trying as hard as you could to not picture him naked across the table. 

Which was really fucking hard. 

His dark button down was rolled up to his elbows and fit his damn broad shoulders so perfectly all you could think about was the way he looked as he fucked into you, the way his muscles rippled through his chest and you had to fight to not bite down on them. His hair was tamed without being sculpted or overly styled and you wanted to run your fingers through it and sink your grip into his scalp as he ate you. 

“You too,” he said. 

You’d never had this visceral of a reaction to a man you’d fucked before, never, not even when you were a stupid teenager. Of course, you’d never tried to hide your relationship before, either. 

But you had the feeling that wouldn’t matter with Joel. You’d feel this intensity toward him whether Sarah was beside you or not, whether you could be open about your affection for him or not. 

And now you were going to have to sit across from him when he looked that damn good all through dinner. 

The second the server came to the table you ordered a margarita. You had a feeling you were going to need the tequila. 

It took conscious effort to pay attention to what Sarah was saying as she tried to bring up things she thought you and Joel had in common. Almost like she was trying to launch an ad campaign for each of you. 

It felt like forever but you were sure you’d only been seated a few minutes when you gave up on not touching Joel. You carefully slid your foot out of your pump and started sliding it up his inner leg, starting near his ankle. Joel jumped a little in his chair at the contact, his eyes darting to you. You just raised your eyebrows at him as you took a drink from your margarita and slid your foot up his leg to his knee. He shifted in his seat, his eyes steadily on Sarah but you could tell he had to focus on her now, actively work to give her attention. You smirked a bit at that. 

You kept the pattern up as the three of you waited for your food, Joel’s eyes always going a little wide when your toes made it to his inner thigh. 

“Ugh, I’m starving,” Sarah groaned as a tray of sizzling fajitas passed your table. “Here, scootch out, I’m going to the bathroom. That’ll make the food come.” 

“It always does,” you agreed, quickly shoving your foot back into your shoe and getting out of the booth. 

You both watched as Sarah made her way across the restaurant, turning to Joel the second you knew she was out of earshot. 

“Did you say anything?” You were whispering anyway. 

“No,” he replied. “We hadn’t talked about it, didn’t seem like the time… Did you say somethin’?” 

“Not a word,” you said. 

“I really need you to cool it over there, Beautiful,” Joel said. Any other time, you’d think he was teasing you but his eyes looked open and earnest now. “We can’t just go into a bathroom right now and it’s already a fucking miracle I haven’t tried to rip that goddamn dress off you, Jesus Christ, you can’t just show up places lookin’ that damn good…” “You’re one to talk!” You replied, incredulous, as you looked down at his exposed, tan, muscled forearms and back up at his face. “Fucking hell, Joel!” 

He smirked a little. 

“That’s all it takes with you, huh?” He teased, leaning across the table toward you. “Just a little bit of skin and you’re outta control?”

“Oh fuck off,” you rolled your eyes but grinned a little all the same. “I know you know what the rolled up sleeves thing does to women.” 

“I promise I do not,” he said, watching over your shoulder now. “But you’ll have to enlighten me later…” 

Sarah came back to the table and her face fell. 

“Shit, that usually works,” she sighed. “Alright, scoot in, we can just trade spots.” 

You obeyed and slid over, purposely leaning over the table as you did, giving Joel full view of your bra below your dress as you did. He was all but glaring at you as you sat back in the booth. 

Consciously, you knew you shouldn’t be pushing him like this. For starters, this was not how you wanted Sarah to find out. Assuming she was ever going to find out. 

But you shouldn’t be trying to frustrate Joel. Not like this, not so early on in your… whatever the fuck this was. 

You had a tendency to do this, to bend things until they broke the second something was looking like it could get serious, the second that it looked like it’d be worth the time and the effort. You were starting to think it was something your subconscious did on purpose. If you sabotaged the relationship early, there wasn’t the same kind of risk. Push the guy too far and he’d break things off with you and you could return to the relative emotional safety of dating apps and bars. Only ever go out with someone for a few weeks and it wouldn’t hurt that bad if they left. 

And they would leave. They always left. You might be worth the time for a bit but you weren’t worth the trouble for anything real, that much had been made clear to you in the years you’d spent dating around. It had gotten you hurt when you were young and stupid, back when you were Sarah’s age. Now, you fucking knew better. 

You knew better than to get anywhere close to what you were starting to feel with Joel. 

And here you were, doing it anyway, with your best friend’s dad. 

So of course your first reaction was to push him. Push, push, push. It’s what you did. 

You stirred your melting margarita. 

You’d never been more relieved to have food brought to your table. 

“Thanks so much for coming out tonight!” Sarah hugged you goodbye in the parking lot, the awkward, hesitant conversation at the table through dinner still tense over you. 

“It was so great to see you!” You hugged her back and kissed her cheek. “Seriously, I’m wearing the bosses down, start packing now because I miss you too much.” 

She laughed. 

“I’ll be on the first plane out once I get a job offer,” she said. “Either way, I’ll be back for the holidays, we have to hang out then. Just us girls at least once, promise.” 

You smiled a little, hoping Sarah would still want to talk to you at the holidays. 

“Sounds perfect.” 

Joel gave you a tight smile and a nod. 

“Talk to you soon?” He said, his voice too open and honest to fit the shared awkwardness of your position feet apart in the parking lot. 

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Text me?” 

“Sure,” he smiled back. 

You poured yourself a glass of wine the second you were in the door, only pausing to take your shoes off as you made your way to the kitchen. You settled in on the couch without bothering to change, carrying the bottle of wine with you, and you put on some shitty Netflix reality show you could zone out and barely pay attention to. 

You were four episodes deep when your phone lit up. 

“Fuck that was hard,” Joel texted. 

You smiled a little. 

“Was that hard or were you hard?” You texted back. 

“Both,” he replied almost immediately. Your smile grew and you downed the last of the wine. 

You hadn’t had enough to drink to be drunk but you’d had enough that it made you feel… bold. Like you wanted to try something new. 

You took off your jacket and slid the straps of your dress down so your cleavage was spilling over the top of it, your breasts barely contained by it. You took a selfie, a needy look on your face, and sent him the picture. 

“Need help with that?” You asked. 

“Jesus Christ,” he texted back almost immediately. “Good thing Sarah just went to call some boy she started seeing back in Washington, can’t just send a guy shit like that and expect him to sit still.” 

You bit your lip for a second, getting an idea. You headed for your room and shimmied out of the dress before you put on the sexiest bra you owned and switched to the matching panties. You posed in the full length mirror in the corner of your room, one leg out, a hand on your hip. 

“What about shit like this?” You asked as you sent the picture along. 

“Really fucking mean for you to send that when you know I can’t come take it off you,” he texted back. 

You flopped down on your stomach on your bed, reminded of how you felt texting guys when you were younger and you had to make sure you didn’t go over your texting limit for the month. 

“You can always fight back you know,” you said. “I can’t come rip your clothes off either.” 

“You trying to get me to sext with you?” He asked. 

“Maybe.” 

It took a few minutes before he sent you a picture. He was in his room, stripped down to his boxer briefs. He fisted his cock through the fabric of them, the veins on his hand prominent. 

“Something like this?” He asked. 

You groaned, your hand sliding to your clit before you even thought about it. You rolled onto your back and took a picture of your hand slipping into your panties before sending it on. 

“Just like that,” you replied. 

“Fuck.” 

The one word was all he sent for a minute before he followed it up with a picture of his cock in his hand. You moaned at the sight of him, a pearl of pre-come leaking from his swollen head. You wanted to swallow it up, lick up and down his thick shaft, take all of him in your mouth until you were choking on him and he spilled down your throat. 

“Tried to make this last but you’re too fucking much for me,” he texted. “Couldn’t wait.” 

You took off your bra and tossed it to the floor before taking a handful of your breast in your hand, holding the phone high over your head, high enough that it could capture your needy expression and the way you were touching yourself. 

“Neither could I.” 

Usually, when you fucked yourself, you used toys. You had a few that you’d become partial to over the years of cycling through men and relationships, the fake dicks in your life lasting a whole hell of a lot longer than the real ones. 

Tonight, you didn’t need one. Didn’t think you could pull yourself away from touching your own body long enough to pull one out, not with Joel’s face and body and cock on the brain. You slid your hand down your chest, your stomach, back to your pussy. You rubbed your clit in little circles with your index finger as you stretched your middle finger down, down, down toward your dripping hole. 

When his next message came through, you dropped your phone in your rush to open it and you scrambled to pick it up with one hand, your other one too occupied to want to do anything else. 

This time, it was a video. His large hand was working his thick length, his cock still looking big even in his grasp that dwarfed your own. He worked his cock slowly, his thumb sweeping over the head and collecting the pre-come before he slid it firmly down with quiet moan. 

“Fuck, I need you,” his voice was soft, a whisper. “Need to feel that perfect fuckin’ pussy…” 

You were about to rewatch the video, your mouth watering, when he texted again. 

“Can I call you?” 

You didn’t respond. Instead, you just called him, putting the phone to speaker and setting it on your chest between your breasts. 

He answered on the first ring. 

“Hey beautiful,” he said, voice low and dark and needy. “Fuck, I gotta be quiet…” 

“I know,” you said, whispering back even though you didn’t have a reason to. “Don’t care, as long as I can hear you.” 

“Tell me what you’re doin’ to yourself,” he was almost panting. “What you’re thinkin’ about…” 

“I’m rubbing my clit,” you moaned. “Got one finger inside of myself, thinking about you eating me out last night…” 

“Fuck you tasted so good,” his voice became a little more strained. “Wanna taste you right now.” 

You moaned and fucked yourself a little harder, a little faster, your eyes closed in pleasure. 

“Add another finger,” he said. “Want you to work up to this cock, want you thinking about me deep in you when you come.” 

“Fuck Joel,” you were panting now, too, as you added another finger. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking now,” he whispered. 

“You pushing into me,” you groaned it. “Opening me up for you…” 

“Fuck, Beautiful, you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.” 

You heard the pace of his hand increase on the other end of the phone and you worked your pussy a little harder and faster, too, whimpering as you did. 

“Can you fit a third finger?” He panted. 

“Yes,” you managed, getting desperate, your body starting to feel tight, all the heat of you drawing deep into yourself. 

“Add it,” he groaned. “Fuck yourself deep, hard. Fuck yourself like I fucked you last night, how I’d fuck you right now if I were there.” 

You obeyed, thrusting your fingers in as deep as you could reach, whimpering at the stretch that you knew had nothing on his thick cock. 

“You were so fucking deep,” your legs were restless, the tightness extending so far down that you knew your orgasm was going to make your whole body quake. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn big, Joel…” 

“And you take me so fucking well,” he panted. “Take me like you were made to take this cock, fuck!” 

“I was made to take you,” you whimpered, desperate and aching. “Made to make you come, need you to fucking come, please Joel, please come for me…” 

“Fuck, fuck, I’m coming!” It was a choking, strangled whisper and you heard him muffle his moaning in a pillow, the sound of his pleasure sending you over the edge. 

It was the hardest you’d ever come from your own hand, harder than you’d ever come with a vibrator, almost as hard as you came with Joel deep inside you the night before. Your body throbbed with it, so much that it felt like your fingers might break as they stuffed your overwrought pussy full. You all but sobbed as you kept working your clit, even as it was too much, fucking yourself through your own orgasm the way you knew Joel would if he were buried inside you instead of in his own fist. Once it was over, you slowly, gently, pulled your hand away from your dripping slit. 

“Fucking hell, Beautiful,” he said after a minute, still trying to catch his breath. You smiled and laughed a little. “Christ, I hope Sarah didn’t hear that.” 

“You stayed a lot quieter than me,” you were whispering again. It was fun to whisper into the phone with him, like you were going behind your parents’ backs with it. 

“Still,” he said before he sighed. “I gotta go clean up, you made me make a hell of a mess.” 

“You’re one to talk,” you smirked a little, looking at the slick gathered on your fingers. 

“Can I text you tomorrow while you’re at work?” He asked quietly. “Something tells me I’m gonna miss you like crazy.” 

“Course,” you smiled, settling down into your mattress. “Text me whenever you want, I always want to hear from you.” 

Maybe it was the post-orgasm haze but you didn’t care that it sounded desperate. 

“Good,” he said. “Because hearin’ from you always makes my damn day.” 

You smiled at that. 

“Miss you, Beautiful.” 

You smiled bigger. 

“Miss you, too.” 

Next Chapter

A/N: Awww doubt is creeping in and they're still fucking each other's brains out from afar.

We love to see it!

Thank you so much for following along with this story! These two are so fun to write and I hope you're enjoying their journey. Love you all!

[theamityelf]

the survivors watching despair disease makoto in the simulation fuck everything up. His entire behavior reminded me that byakuya played with the crime scene in ch 2 of thh. Please can we have the real world reaction to despair disease makoto of the survivors (+maybe komaru...in my heart she's home by the time the neo world takes place.)

That's amazing. You've painted a picture for me where all of the other survivors, and also Komaru, are in the pod room watching the screens, and I like that a lot.

Makoto wakes up early, the morning he first comes down with despair disease, and he walks straight out the door, visibly clammy and in his pajamas.

"Something's wrong," Komaru says.

"W-What is it?" Toko asks, immediately covering her eyes. "Did someone die?"

"No, it's Makoto. He just...woke up and left his cabin. He didn't spend forever in the bathroom, he didn't even put shoes on, and he hates walking outside barefoot ever since the thumbtack incident. Hey, what's he doing?"

"It looks like he's ringing Nanami's doorbell," Kyoko observes. "A lot."

"Maybe he had one of those memory-dreams and he knows why he's in there, now?" Aoi suggests.

"That's...not the impression I get from his expression. He almost looks like he's doing it for no reason."

Indeed, he's walked away from the door by the time she opens it to see what's going on. When she eventually returns to bed, he goes and rings the doorbell again.

"Why's he ding-dong-ditching Chiaki?" Hiro wonders.

"Um..." Alter Ego looks nervous. "It looks like something's...wrong with him."

"Well, yeah. That's what we just-"

"Quiet, Hiro," Kyoko interrupts tersely. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well," Alter Ego continues, "Junko's virus seems like it's messing with his personality somehow. It's not just him; there are two others. It seems like it all comes down to that mysterious variable I told you about yesterday. That boolean, named 'dd', set to false for everyone. Well, an hour ago it was set to true for Makoto and two others. I've been going through all references to 'dd' in the code-"

"I thought you said it wasn't referenced anywhere," Byakuya protests.

"It wasn't. In the past two hours, she added conditionals that check for whether dd is set to true at any given time, and if it is-"

"He's throwing lawn chairs into the pool," Komaru observes.

"He looks sick," Aoi says. "Like he's going to pass out."

And after another minute of increasingly short-winded problem-causing, Makoto indeed collapses next to the hotel pool, basically just laying there in direct sunlight and feeling terrible.

The first few people on their way to breakfast ask him what he's up to, and he just says that he doesn't feel like getting up yet. Eventually, someone carries him into the hotel because he is drenched in sweat and so breathless he can barely talk.

When Monokuma explains the despair disease to everyone, those outside the simulation are all furious.

"Despair disease?" Kyoko protests. "Even for her, that-"

"That's not fair!" Komaru exclaims.

Inside the simulation, everyone is figuring out who has the disease.

"...and, Makoto," Hajime says. "You must have it, too."

Makoto, with his face resting on the breakfast table, says, "Have what?"

"D-Do you f-feel sick?" Mikan asks, tilting her head (and lowkey excited at the prospect that her friend needs her).

"I don't know, do I?" Makoto says.

"He's definitely not acting like himself," Hajime says.

"To be fair, that could just be a symptom of laying out in the sun for so long," Nagito points out.

"That's a good point," Makoto says. "You should all listen to Nagito more."

"Oh, he is sick," Nagito says, with a slightly disturbed look.

Outside the simulation:

"Can it be undone?" Byakuya demands.

"Once the variable is set to true, it can't be reverted until a murder happens," Alter Ego says helplessly.

"Can you keep it from being set to true for anyone else, in the future?" Kyoko asks.

"I can stop her from manually setting them to true, but the disease is coded to be contagious. I can't change that without giving up the bandwidth I'm using to maintain the rule system."

"Meaning, until another murder happens, despair disease is going to keep existing and spreading." Kyoko rubs her forehead in frustration, watching the onscreen Makoto flail around to make it harder for the others to carry him to the hospital.