#tags are like talking out loud for me: sometimes I say a thing I did not realize was true until I said it

[royalarchivist]

[A sad violin song plays over an image of a sad hamster]

Pac: This doesn't have anything to do with me – I wear a blue sweatshirt, you're crazy, this mouse doesn't even have a sweatshirt, this hamster! [Reading chat] Am I a depressed hamster?

[ Transcript continued ↓ ]*

–

Pac: Actually– that's fine! I embrace that idea – of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy? [He hits his desk, then starts counting off people on his fingers] Fit is gone, Richarlyson is gone, Ramon is gone, Bagi and Empanada who were always there when we were there are also gone, I haven't seen them! It's just me and Tubbo, and sometimes Philza shows up.

Pac: I lost Chume Labs, I lost the Favela, I lost Murder Mystery, I lost Ilha Chume Labs, it's crazy! Look at how much I've lost, and I've gained nothing! Of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy?! How am I supposed to be happy?!

Pac: [Reading chat] "You have us Pac," that's true, thank you. No, that's true, sorry.

* NOTE: Please note that this is an incomplete transcript, as I was primarily relying on Aypierre's translation mod at the time and if I am not confident of the translation, I do not include it. As always, please feel free to add on translations or message me corrections.

[tj-crochets]

*laying on the floor*

Hey so is it normal for quilt piecing to be very fun but also utterly exhausting

(^^^has chronic fatigue and chronic pain. Why is this a surprise)

oh absolutely! Ironing and cutting out fabric are both very high spoons tasks for me I have never been officially diagnosed with chronic fatigue but I do have POTS and severe iron deficiency and I think there's some overlap there? It helped me a lot to get a chair and change my ironing board so I could iron sitting down, and I have my fabric cutting surface for quilts set up so I can do at least some of it sitting down as well. Pinning the quilt sandwich (which I do by crawling all over the floor) always requires a break afterwards for me, and I need breaks when doing the quilting for anything larger than a baby quilt because hauling the blanket around to get it in the right position to sew gets tiring very quickly. The piecing itself isn't as tiring for me, but I can see how it easily could be depending on your quilting setup

[saintobio]

the perfect boyfriend, feat. l&ds xavier.

pairings. xavier, fem!reader genre. fluff, smut, established relationship, 18+ tags. petnames (bunny), jealousy, virginity loss, unprotected sex, cockwarming, slight dom/sub play, same timeline!xavier notes. he’s still my l&ds main until july 15th just kidding :’D i love xav sm he’s literally so bf material to me

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who had a hard time expressing his feelings the first time he met you. he used to be a man of a few words—or, as you liked to put it, a very nonchalant guy. it’s not that he’s disinterested. in fact, every small interaction he’d had with you lingered on his mind all night. you’re all he can think about until he finally had the courage to confess to you one day, after saving you from a bunch of wanderers, and thinking he’d almost lost you. again. he just couldn’t let that happen.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who always responds to your texts and calls right after you press send or hit the ring button. he values your time and doesn’t want you to feel ignored after that one particular incident… when he fell asleep the entire afternoon and his phone conveniently died, only to see a number of missed calls and text messages from you the moment he woke up. he felt really bad at how worried you got, so he made a promise to always keep himself available for you.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who enjoys hotpot, and has made it a habit to suggest dining at his favorite hotpot place after a successful mission. it’s not just the spicy broth that he loves about that place; it’s also your care in serving him and arranging ingredients in his bowl. you were such a dream girl to look at.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who gets very jealous whenever you’d talk about another male colleague of yours. he wouldn’t say it out loud, but the signs are there when he starts showing that cute, grumpy face. he becomes very competitive too, asking questions like, “so, did you enjoy your time with him?” or “do you usually talk to him a lot?” and you figured that the best way to cut him off during his fits of jealousy, is to squeeze his cheeks and give him a soft, tender kiss, swearing to him that you are his and his only.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who makes it a routine to take note of the way other couples interact. and he’s specifically observing the man more than the woman. he has a journal called, ‘how to make my girlfriend happy’ where he writes about what he would notice guys typically do to make their girlfriends smile and laugh. one time, while he was walking downtown, he passed by an arcade place that had a row of new claw machines. the guy managed to get his girlfriend a stuffed toy, and in seeing how much the girl liked it, xavier invites you the next day for a claw machine date, promising that he won’t stop until he gets you the bunny plushie you wanted.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who loves it when you call him ‘xavi’, both casually and… sensually. there’s something so sexy about hearing you say “xavi~” into his ear, especially when you’re leaning way too close to him that he can smell that sweet scent of yours.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier whose mind is as vast as the known universe. he enjoys talking about the cosmos, the galaxy, and the stars alike—sometimes, he’d even be poetic about it. and that’s why he got the nickname ‘galaxy kid’ from you. there are nights where you two would go to the rooftop, watching the stars while lying next to each other. for xavier, there’s nothing more peaceful than stargazing with the girl he adores.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who was extremely nervous on your first night, because you were his first the same way he was yours. he doesn’t want to seem inexperienced in the sex department, so he tried gathering learning resources prior to you spending the night over at his apartment. in his head, he had mental notes, a very explicit and detailed one, of the things he had to do to please you: 1) kiss you, stroke your hair, and lay you in bed 2) slowly undress you, continue kissing down your body, cup your breast, and trace your curves 3) spread your legs open, place his fingers on your clit, then play with your sensitive bud, gently insert a finger or two 4) deepen the kiss when you moan, guide your hand and make you stroke his length, while he pulls his fingers out and sucks his digits to taste you 5) make sure you’re all wet and aroused, place his swollen tip on your entrance carefully, bury his cock inch-by-inch and stop whenever it hurts you, then wait until you’ve adjusted before he starts rocking his hips back and forth. was it a success? of course! he had followed every step diligently.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who ended up asking for two more rounds after your first session. he thought he didn’t perform well the first time because he felt like you made him cum too fast. he just didn’t expect you to be that tight, like your pussy was swallowing his member, your velvet walls wrapping around his girth as if milking him of his cum. missionary was the perfect position to start, but for the second round, he insisted on letting you ride him so you’d find the rhythm you want. and boy, did he go crazy as he watched you move your hips so goddamn sensually. he couldn’t stop his hands from touching your body, kneading your tits, and squeezing your buttocks. “my beautiful girl,” he’d moan, half-lidded eyes staring straight into yours, “you’re so good at this, y/n.”

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who finally learned what fetish means after personally experiencing one of his own. it was waking up with his cock still buried deep inside your cunt, his arms protectively wrapped around your frame as you slept soundly. or were you already awake by then? he wasn’t sure, but he could feel your pussy clenching around his shaft and he couldn’t tell if you were doing it on purpose. but damn, isn’t that hot? he’d think to himself, with his member growing harder the more he thought about it. “my bunny’s so naughty.”

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who loves it when you pet his hair like a good boy. your hands are magical! he’d fall asleep in a blink of an eye when he’s laying on your lap and you’re running your fingers through his hair. during nighttime though, he’s an absolutely sucker for the more dominant version of you. the way you’d pull his hair, grab his chin, and even as far as playing with his aching member using the tip of your tongue. agh! you’re making him sin.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who has a knack for giving you small gifts and trinkets, like that pretty little ribbon he saw at a store. or that moon-shaped desk lamp. or that pearl bracelet with a bunny charm. his girlfriend isn’t just sexy, she’s also cute. so she needs to have cute things!

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who treats you like a princess and makes sure you’re always warm and comfortable around him. too cold? he’d be sure to bring his hoodie for you. too hot? he’d buy you the best ice cream in town. whatever you wanted, he would get it. and he never, ever lets go of your hand whenever you two are walking around. he just can’t let you wander too far off, afraid that he won’t be able to protect you if he can’t see you. he adores you so much, and his heart swells at the mere thought of you. because there’s nothing more precious to him than the first and only girl he’ll ever love in this world. you.

[lihhelsing]

"Can I get your coffee order?"

STWG daily prompt 6/2/24 (let's pretend it's not two days late): Coming Out Pairing: steddie | tags: coming out, coffee shop au, modern au, meet cute, fluff

Eddie was used to seeing the same guy in the coffee shop every day. It was impossible not to notice him because he was gorgeous and Eddie was a simple man who liked to admire beautiful things. 

So Steve would come in every day and always at the same time, ordering the same thing. Double Espresso with a shot of Vanilla. It suited him, Eddie thought, but he would always see him looking at the menu as if he was considering ordering something different, just to end up with the same thing every day. 

It was kind of cute. 

Sometimes he would sit alone for half an hour, face buried in his phone. Sometimes a loud brunette girl would join him but then they would never stay for long. Eddie didn’t like those days even if he thought she looked like a nice person. 

And then sometimes Steve would come in and order for two, then he would proceed to sit at a table and in a few minutes a girl would join him. Always a different girl, which told Eddie none of them were his girlfriends. 

One could even think this was some sort of job interview because it was pretty clear Steve wasn’t fully into the conversation. He was trying, sure, but after an hour the girl would inevitably excuse herself and leave. Steve would hang out for a few more minutes and then leave too, not looking back. 

And he’d do it all over again on a different day. 

Eddie couldn’t even feel guilty about paying attention. Steve always came in when the rush hour had passed and the coffee shop was mostly empty, and Eddie didn’t have much to do. And yeah, sure he was also a little obsessed with him so he was curious what was all that about. 

Surely Steve didn’t seem the kind of guy to have dating issues. 

The day Eddie noticed something was different was when Steve came in and ordered a Chai Latte. For anyone else, this might mean nothing, but Eddie knew better and he had watched Steve for long enough to know that if he finally changed his order after months, something was up. 

He didn’t want to look like a creep so he smiled like he always did and thanked the fat tip Steve left him, like he always did. And maybe Eddie flirted a little, but who could blame him? Steve was just too handsome for his own good and Eddie was just a man. 

Eddie gave him his drink and politely waited for a few minutes just to make sure Steve wasn’t expecting anyone, and then he finally moved in. 

“Hey, how’s your drink?” Eddie asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. Steve looked up at him through thick eyelashes and Eddie wanted to die a little. 

“Oh, it’s good. I never had one of these so I can’t really compare it to anything else, but I like how it tastes.”

Eddie hummed, “Well, tell you what, I make a mean Matchá if you ever feel like broadening your horizons.”

Steve chuckled and nodded, “I might take you up on that, actually.”

They stood in silence and Eddie was ready to accept his defeat when Steve spoke again. 

“I just… Started to realize I might want to try different things.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, “how so?”

“Well, I used to drink the same coffee every day and it was good, don’t get me wrong. But I kept looking and looking and it felt like I was... Missing something,” Steve frowned as he spoke, almost as if he was talking about coffee but thinking about something else. 

“It’s what they say, don’t knock it til you try it, am I right?”

Steve chuckled and Eddie was under the impression he was just being polite. 

“For sure. It’s just hard sometimes, to try new things. Even if you are… Curious.”

“I say just go for it. The worst that can happen is you spend a few bucks on something you will never want to drink again, but if that ever happens I got you. I’ll get you something different on the house,” Eddie said and then he winked because he was a sick little man. 

The blush that crept onto Steve’s cheek was beautiful, though, so he was only half-sorry. 

“Oh, what if… It’s not coffee that I want to try?” Steve said, not meeting Eddie’s eyes. 

Eddie smiled and motioned his hand to the drink menu, “Lucky for you we have an assortment of drinks like refreshers and matchá and even some teas-“

“I mean, what if this isn’t about drinks?” 

Now Eddie was completely lost. He looked back to meet Steve’s eyes and there was an intensity behind them that gave him chills. 

“What do you mean?”

“I, um…” Steve looked around as if making sure the place was empty and still lowered his voice a little. “What if I’m not as straight as I always thought I was?”

Eddie tried to contain his surprise and forced his expression to remain neutral, not wanting to spook him. 

“That’s ok, too. Lord knows I’m gay as it comes and it took me a few tries to figure it out,” Eddie chuckled, but Steve’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “I mean, you don’t have to be gay either! You can be bi or pan or-“

“Sorry, I made this awkward. I’m sorry. I’ve just been having these feelings and Robin says I can always talk to her but it feels that if I even ask it will be real and then if I turn out to be just confused then she will be disappointed because she always said I was her straight token friend but I know she would be happy if I wasn’t-“

“Hey, hey,” Eddie moved his hand and touched Steve’s shoulder lightly. He just hoped he wasn’t crossing a line. That definitely wasn’t the first time a customer said something incredibly personal out of the blue, but it was the first time someone was coming out to him like that. 

Steve looked up at him with huge brown eyes and Eddie felt his insides melting a little. Here it was, this cute guy having a sexuality crisis and just looking even cuter. 

“I don’t know you and obviously don’t know this friend of yours. Robin, is it? But if she loves you, and I’m assuming she does, she will love you no matter what. Even if you have to come out to her as… Straight?” Eddie said that and got a snort back from Steve. 

At least that was better than the desolation he had in his eyes before. 

“I guess you’re right,” Steve said, nodding his head. 

“And hey, you can definitely try things out and figure out you were straight all along, but from my experience, straight people don’t usually question their sexuality or even feel the curiosity to do so. They just are. So my best bet would be on you being one of us. Assuming your friend Robin is also not straight.”

“Oh, definitely not,” Steve said, laughing and he just looked so much better like that. 

“Well, ok Steve, then my job here is done! I’m sure Robin will have much better advice to give to you, but you can always count on me to try different coffees,” and there it was, the fucking wink again. Who did Eddie think he was? 

Steve blushed again and now Eddie could see they were pretty damn close. He slowly pulled his hand from Steve’s shoulder as to not make him uncomfortable, but it seemed that Eddie’s pep talk had done the trick because now Steve had this glint in his eyes. 

“Can I buy you coffee?” he asked, smiling slowly. 

“Uh, what?”

“You know, since I’m already trying things I thought it would be nice to try uh… A Matchá, you said? And a… Date?”

Holy fucking Jesus. Steve was fucking smooth. Eddie felt his cheeks getting warm and he looked around to conclude they were still alone at the coffee shop. There was not a single reason for him to turn this down even if Steve ended up figuring out he was straight. Yeah, fat chance. 

“Lead the way, big boy,” Eddie motioned for the counter and Steve smiled, nodding and following him right into their first date. 

[satoruhour]

POCKET P*SSY!

a/n: idk where this came from. tagging @nc-vb @papersirens @crysugu

wc: 2.8k

warnings: fem!reader, m! masturbation (two scenes), use of fleshlight, unspoken feelings, reader listening in on nanami, f! masturbation, brief clit stimulation & fingering, pet names, ambiguous ending, n*sfw under the cut

nanami kento was an organised, work-oriented man. he submits his sorcerer reports on time, he reports to work right at nine in the morning and clocks out at six o’ clock sharp, his office is prim and proper with all things where they should be and his (various) suits are always pressed and clean, smelling like sandalwood.

so why was the sight of you so compelling and striking that he swears he can hear his heartbeat through the freshly ironed blue button-up shirt? when you’d come to his office in the school to pass him his morning coffee — which wasn’t forced, you did find yourself heading to the café more and more — and the times when you’d engage in simple conversation with him about bread and gojo (negatively).

it was always a breeze to be around you, a fresh air from the intricacies of being a sorcerer. the violence, the bloodshed, the fatigue. but it’s so much of fresh air that sometimes he wonders why he chokes on his words and feels out of breath whenever he talks to you.

nanami has unwillingly checked his phone for the umpteenth time whilst doing his report, glancing over ever so often just to make sure you wouldn’t cancel on that friday drinking outing you proposed to go on with shoko. gojo was undeniably left out of the picture because of his tolerance and the two were the best drinkers in town, but he just wished he could work out the courage to ask you to be alone with you.

but nanami valued his sanity and heart. he wouldn’t know what he would do if he ever lost you to a curse even though you could hold your own, and the amount of sorcerers who are sent out just to die never deserved any of it. but if they didn’t do it, who will?

it’s question after question that’s mixed in with thoughts of you as he stays focused on the blinking cursor of the word document. appear. disappear. appear. disappear. nanami finds that he can’t think of anything else to say in this dumb report, staring blankly yet again at the annoying flickering cursor that reminds him that this was far from done. he glances down to the first drawer of his office table, the brass lock drawing him in. he thinks that he’s not ready.

just as he wants to type his next word with newfound determination, you’re barging through the door with a loud “nanami!”, a big grin plastered on your face with shoko under your arm, trying not to fall under your intoxicating happiness. god knows why you’re so happy, and if he didn’t know better he would think you were already drunk.

“she just got news that her holiday was approved,” shoko nods as she takes a drag from her cig, blowing the smoke into the office.

“please do not blow secondhand smoke into this room, shoko.” nanami’s monotonous voice cuts through the air like a knife and you would think it’s a reprimand, but both of you know the 7:3 sorcerer is just like that.

“why so boring . .” you tsk, a skip to your step when you round the table and peek at the work, and nanami has to ignore the bounce of your breasts under your outfit and the proximity in which you lowered yourself to. he tries to subtly take in your scent, not listening to your question under you wave a hand in front of him and nanami has to break away from his fantasy of you riding him while your tits bounced in his face. filthy.

“nanami? it’s already 6:02, i thought you violently rejected overtime?”

he clears his throat, catching the brief, sly glance of shoko before he turns to you, “y-yes. i do. just give me half n’ hour, ladies, and we can head over to the bar right after.” he didn’t even realise the clock had already striked 6.

shoko puffs out more smoke to nanami’s dismay, “what the hell do you need half n’ hour for?”

“just to clean up this report, promise.” he mutters, pushing up his reading glasses, “i’ll get it done as soon as possible.”

“oh? the great nanami kento doing overtime?” you giggle, reaching over to type a little cheeky “:)” into the word document before waving goodbye a little dazedly as you walk out behind shoko. the pace at which your heart raced matches the man inside at seeing him in his clear, dad glasses.

“you are down bad, girl.” 

“shush!” you swat at her arm and all she responds is with smoke in your face that she laughs and you just huff, heading off back to the morgue where she felt most at home.

nanami never did submit the report on time. he was given a reluctant extension. what was he doing? anything but the report, instead locking the door to his office and lying awkwardly on his office sofa, that was cleverly placed behind a partition wall. it took a bit of discipline — he typed a few words, deleted them, typed some more and realised they didn’t make sense and by now it’s 6:15. he takes one glance to the locked door and to the partition and down to his hard-on with that familiar feeling in his stomach. it’s been long since he’s jerked off, and sure, he has done it mindlessly just to calm the morning wood but it’s been long since he’s gotten aroused by someone.

the man palms himself through his pants, imagining it was your dainty hands instead, a soft groan leaving his lips at the feeling. his pants have never felt this tight, throbbing and just begging to be released as he slowly fishes it out. nanami was big, a pretty little curve to his cock with a tip that’s leaking pre-cum, and he strokes at it, a shaky breath leaving his mouth that it sounds pathetic. here he was, in his own office sofa fully clothed, with one leg digging into the floor and the other propped onto the armrest. 

“f-fuck . .” he swears lowly and starts setting a pace, conjuring up your face as you bob your head over his length while you play with yourself. “right there—”

nanami whines, unintelligible words muttered out as he pumped his cock. he spits into his palm and continues his ministrations with the most lewd noises that have never graced his office before. so many thoughts of you occupy his mind, you fucking yourself back onto him, how sweet your pussy would taste, the sort of sounds you’d make, how you’d feel around him — nanami cums with a quiet, strained groan, hips lifting off the sofa as he spurts his cum all over his suit, and he doesn’t care, too lost in the feeling as he squeezes his eyes shut. the idea of giving you a creampie sounds too good at the moment, how much cum he’d shoot into you, how he’ll watch it drip out—

“fuck my life.” he simply murmurs when he sees the translucent liquid settle in, and yet nanami doesn’t regret it one bit.

the next week is torment. it was particularly difficult, especially after the moodiness you possessed after getting one worded answers from nanami at the bar. he couldn’t even hold eye contact with you, how rude! he was also gone for quite a bit once, coming out of the bathroom all sweaty and out of breath and you wondered if he found a cursed spirit in the sketchy, dingy restroom of the club.

“relax. a thousand yen he’s just stressed out by . . external factors at the moment.”

“but he’s nanami! if anything, that man is internalising all that’s stressing him out,” you groaned into your hands, “also why are we betting on my love life?”

“it’s fun.” shoko defends herself with two hands when you point a finger at her; you go back to your sulking stage soon enough. she merely settles for a hand on your back. “but you’re not wrong. this is just, a little different.”

you only can sink further into your hands when you recall how nanami pulls uncomfortably at his tie, a distraught expression on his face when you asked if he wanted another round of drinks. the avoided eye contact, the conversation mainly existing between them, it was all you needed to know about his feelings of you. the coffees and hangouts meant nothing, and yet you were so clueless at how you’ve awoken something entirely new for nanami that he’s cumming thrice a day just at the thought of you.

another day, another report to fill in. he had dealt with a first-grade curse this time, the casualties, brutal and infrastructure was severely destroyed. it was going to be a hell of a word count, he notes, but what he doesn’t want happening, or rather, the unavoidable, happens. his mind drifts back to you again and everything that you stood for, of your blinding smile and kind gestures. you knew how he liked the right amount of sugar in his coffees and the right place to massage when his upper back was hurting. there was many times he was sure you both had crossed the line of co-workers and lovers, but it was never spoken or defined.

it was a grey area, he admits. tethering along the lines that he wasn’t even sure was there any more: a gaze held longer than usual, a brush of your hand on his, the not-so-secretive glance at your ass, the quick gaze from his eyes to his crotch when gojo makes a dirty joke. it was already between the lines, yet none of you wanted to act on it.

nanami groans into his hands, taking one more look to that locked drawer, thinking it would magically unlock itself and he wouldn’t have to go though the torture of submitting to his desires and unlocking it like a sex-crazed man in the victorian era after seeing a woman’s ankles. it was humbling. but his mind seems to have a different plan, descending into fantasies that he would rather take to the grave than let gojo pry out of him and he shoots up, fumbling for the key hidden under his documents.

within a second, nanami unlocks it and lets out a breath and takes out a box — a hilarious (at the time) but stupid, stupid thing (it was a fleshlight) he let gojo talk him into buying while they were both drunk. but the more he looks at it, the more he wishes to feel your walls around him and his bulge is not going down. he takes out the fleshlight eagerly, looking at it with wide eyes before he swallows and nanami feels like a teenager again.

his heart pounds when he removes his pants. his laptop, open with his undone report and him standing wide-stanced in front of his desk like a loser and his underwear pulled down just enough for his cock to spring up, you would think he was an alien from another planet. nanami does away with all rationale when he slaps his tip along the pocket pussy, thinking it was yours before his tip slips in and he gasps. the sorcerer stumbles forward and he has to rest a hand on his office chair.

“gojo, you fucking dick,” nanami hates that he’s enjoying it. “haah . . shit—” 

he pushes it down his shaft and the instant pleasure is prominent. soon, nanami is moving the fleshlight over his cock, walking with unplanned steps to the sofa. he falls into it easily, hands still pumping the device along his dick and he already wants to cum from the tightness.

“fuuck . . baby,” there are soft pants that leave his mouth, the device already filling up with all of his pre-cum. the slick noises that dominate the room is loud. nanami is too far gone in this, hips thrusting up into the fleshlight with all his might as he imagines it’s you straddling him instead. biting down on his fist does little, sure he was drawing blood from how hard he was sinking his teeth into the skin there. the way he slips inside feels so much better than his hand, and yet there was something missing — your sounds, the sight of your pussy. he needed to know he’s making you feel good. he cums with a cry of your name and mixed in profanities, pelvis basically rutting into the pussy as he shoots his load deep inside. 

and it doesn’t end there for nanami — like a deranged man, he’s grabbing his cushions and stuffing the pocket pussy in between it and the sofa, dragging his tip along the silicone clit. this shit was embarrassing, fucking something fake just so he can simulate the fantasy of being in you, but it felt fucking divine, so much so that the soft “nanami?” doesn’t even reach his ears. he reenters the pocket pussy, body hunched over the sofa as he presses down on the couch cushion and wishing it was your lower back.

the long, loud groan nanami lets out sends a straight chill to your core and you hear it before you see it. you think maybe your chances are ruined, he has someone else and the dancing around each other was done just for fun, but you think a little peek wouldn’t help. your self care sessions are getting a little boring anyway.

the gasp doesn’t reach his ears either when you glance around the partition and you get the sight of your life: nanami thrusting into the sofa while still fully clothed, eyes closed and expression pulled into pleasure. you’re torn between arousal, modesty and relief and despite all that you still listen out for how turned on he was, the gross, dirty sounds of him rutting into something and yet you don’t know what. but you decide to play it safe, flipping back around to rest your back against the walled partition, hand reaching up your skirt and into your panties.

“(y/n) . . baby, g’na cum—” 

your eyes widen, your jaw drops but your hand on your clit never stops, rubbing in time with his thrusts as your other hand is probably making marks on your face by how hard you were trying to stop your moans from coming out. you’re already so wet that your ministrations are all messy and smeared, drawing haphazard circles just for a taste of that high as you soak and soak your panties.

“baby, baby, baby . . o-oh—” you swear under your breath, because who knew nanami kento could sound so damn good? you’re continuing the assault on your pussy, going past your clit and into your entrance and you wish it was his cock instead, but instead he’s fucking a pocket pussy imagining it’s you. too bad you don’t know that. “gonna cum in y-you—”

there’s a little crack in his voice and you involuntarily let out a soft moan and the movements are halted all of a sudden. in your panic, your foot spreads and the bottom of your shoe grazes against the wooden floor and your presence is fully made known, now.

“hello?” man, what the fuck? now they’re really not going to answer. nanami sifts through the possibilities: it couldn’t be any of the men, they know not to interrupt nanami when he’s working. shoko would only for alcohol . . you? you dig a deeper grave by making an incoherent noise in your throat and that’s when nanami’s fear really settles in. he wasn’t hallucinating anything — there really was someone calling out to him the first time and the gasp and now the little moan? but nanami has anything but luck, not being able to catch the person because you’re booking it out of there immediately, not exactly quiet due to the clicks of your heels and you want to go back into that exact grave to die.

you can hear and feel your heart in your throat, back lined with sweat more than it would be when fighting a curse. whilst, there was only one thing on your mind that slowly induces you into a downward spiral; he called your name, your name, your god-given name, the people address you by, he called—

standing by the little zen garden of the tokyo school, you can feel your clit throb and the breath taken out of you as the vision replays again and again in your head and you think yourself stupid for running out of there. but before you can turn back, gojo’s approaching with a big, shit-eating grin on his face and waves to you (“yaga told me to come get you, you’re not busy, are you?”).

swallowing, all you can do is shake your head, but not before you spare a last glance to nanami’s door which is now closed shut. you hear a click.

[kooqitas]

— beer & brother's friend ... ★

#pairing: seungcheol X reader. #synopsis: your brother goes out to buy fast food, leaving you and seungcheol alone at home. #tags: pwp, vaginal sex, fingering, kitchen sex, spit, creampie. #notes: my first story with seventeen i hope you like it guys!!! #wc: 1,3k

is almost 8pm when you listen your brother laughs so loud, so you go to the kitchen, noticing the all beers bottle that was in the table.

"oh, really guys, did you even call me?"

the first thing that you noticed was how handsome seungcheol looked.

you brother, vernon, and seungcheol was friends a few years, since you and your brother living together, sometimes seungcheol go to the apartament and drink some beers ou watches some movies with vernon.

and yes, sure, cheol always being handsome, and you know that a few months ago he started the gym, you always see his posts on instagram, but damn, his so fucking hot personally.

"so, the princess came to join the commoners" seungcheol played with you.

"i want, but no one invited me..." you pretend a sad face.

"bla bla bla" vernon said. "it even feels like i need to call you for drink"

maybe now, seeing that who is in your home, you probably would dress better, like, the small shorts and thin shirt made you so... basic.

whatever, you take a beer and sit on table with the two guys.

sitting next to cheol, you smell his perfume, damn, he's unbearably hot! it's not like you didn't already know this, but in the last few months he was pushing the limits, having the guy so close to you was making you easily horny.

you drank A LOT a little, the alcohol making you burn every time seungcheol's knee touched yours. the three of you would talk about anything, your brother being visibly the only sober one there.

"i think that i wont see you since you started dating, how's going?" seungcheol questioned, taking a beer in his lips.

"she broke up, his boyfriend cheated her... with her friend" vernon laughed, your brother really gave you all emotional support, but now his just laughs a lot.

"shut up!"

"oh, is real?" cheol questioned. "i'm so sorry for that!"

"she don't care" your brother said again. "she cheated him back... with his brother."

"WITH WHOM? oh god!"

"guys... i'm still on this table..." you said.

"and i'm not!" vernon joked. "i'm taking the fries, give me a second"

so your brother go to cooktop, leaving you and seungcheol alone.

seungcheol had a look that you couldn't identify, but it gave you goosebumps, the truth is that you always had a crush on your brother's friend, but for obvious reasons you had never tried anything, it didn't even seem like something reciprocated.

but seungcheol was so fucking hot, you definitely wanted to kiss him.

"oh... his brother?" he asked, a kinda unbeliever.

"is not a big deal, ok? his fucked with my friend, i just... go deeper... isn't my fault, his brother fucked me too, like, i'm not haved sex alone..."

"yeah, sure, i understand..." his said.

"oh, really?"

he approached, whispering in you ear.

"sure, like, if i was his brother, i wanted to fuck with you too... actually, wouldn't even wait for him to cheat you for that."

cheol laughs, squeezing your thigh in a less than affectionate way, his eyes are dark.

fuck, he was hitting on you?

"guys, the fries burned..." vernon laughed.

"oh, i'm really hungry now..." you said, looking to cheol. 

yes, maybe the food that you want its other...

"i can go to the mc if you want!" cheol sayed to you and vernon.

"oh, definitely NO, you are drunk. i'll go, just let me change de clothes."

your brother went to the room, and seungcheol's dark gaze stayed on you, along with the unchaste caress on your thigh, which rose even further towards the hem of the tiny shorts you were wearing.

vernon came back, saying he would return in 20 minutes and asking you not to break anything in the house.

when your brother left, the amount of dirty thoughts that passed through your mind scared you, you knew you found seungcheol attractive, but wanting to take off your clothes and lie on the table asking him to fuck you wasn't the best thing to think about right now.

you got up, going to get another beer from the fridge, but you were scared by the large body that pressed you against it.

"c-cheol, wh-?"

"tell me that your pretty whore face was a request to me, please!"

"my-my?"

"i’ve been wanting to fuck you for so long... and when i found the courage to admit it, you started dating." he laughed with a laugh that bordered on despair.

what do you mean he wanted to fuck you?

“vernon could come home in any min-”

"i promise to be quick, i know you're wet, hm?" he said kissing your neck, pressing his hips into your waist, making you feel his cock. "i've been like this since i saw you enter that damn kitchen, i planned to wait for your brother to sleep so i could come to your room but..." he kissed your jaw, and you were already overcome by lust. "let me have you now!"

you didn't respond, not verbally, you just took his hand down your shorts, showing the damage your own thoughts had done to you.

he was agile in placing two fingers inside your wet hole, making you moan at the sensation.

"are you already open for me, kitty? if you're a good girl now, when your brother sleeps, i promise to come into your room and make you cum in my mouth... but now let me fuck you with my dick, hm? "

"f-"

you don’t even know how he was so fast, but in the next second you felt his cock inside you, spreading you open as he stuck his tongue in your mouth.

his tongue tasted like beer, and you moaned when it came into contact with yours at the same time as every inch of him entered you further.

"tight pussy, but accepting me so well..." he said before thrusting once, the shock of his balls hitting you.

“fuck” you moaned, closing your eyes, planting your nails on his arm. the mix of lust and burning.

"no, princess, look that... you're taking me so well..." he forces you to look down, increasing the speed of his thrust as he lifts your two legs, intertwining them with his thighs.

you are literally open to seungcheol, he pushes you against the fridge while he fucks you, seeming to take away all the time he wanted you, you feel his vision get blurred with so much information.

"i've wanted to fuck you for so long, you finally broke with your pathetic boyfriend."

he pushes you further against the fridge, lowering the strap of your shirt and exposing one of your nipples, seungcheol spits on one of them before starting to stimulate it with his fingers, using the spit to lub.

"you're always going to give me that cunt now, right? so delicious..."

he kisses you, and then begins to stimulate your clit, sloppy circles taking you to heaven and hell at the same time.

"i'll-"

"please smear my dick all over with your cream, love!"

the touch on your clit becoming firmer as he stuck his tongue back into your mouth, and you came..

the laugh he gave when he felt your cum was one of the most exciting things you had ever heard in your life.

"hold on a little, princess." he said kissing his neck and he didn't stop thrusting into you.

and then he came. filling you completely with his cum.

seungcheol continues thrusting for a few seconds, his cum making his dick slide even better.

"we n-need to stop, my brother..."

"oh right." he releases you. "can we talk about this later?" he questions when he sees you heading towards the bathroom, you nod.

and it takes less than two minutes for vernon to get into the house.

shit, you guys forgot to clean the floor.

⸝⸝⸝

🍰 support me on ko-fi

[blackypanther9]

Boys ask you out – Demon!Daughter!Reader x Father!Alastor

A/N: A version where you and Alastor are in Hell and Demons, because it was asked ! If anyone wants to be tagged, tell me and tell me if you only want to be tagged for the Daughter!Reader x Father!Alastor, Son!Reader x Father!Alastor, or both series ! ^^ (Picture belongs to rightful owner!)

TAGLIST: @meg-giry1

WARNING!: Blood & Gore, Demon!Alastor, threats, cursing, insults AND MORE ! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !!! THIS IS NOT ROMANTIC !!

Alastor and you were in a Café that suited your on and off tastes. Your Dad was very balanced with his diet, even if not many knew that, he ate venison a lot and sometimes other Demons too, but he also ate normal food.

You were the cause of that. You had certain swings in your appetite. Sometimes you wanted Venison, but other times you just wanted normal food and something sweet for dessert.

Your Father, curse (bless but it’s Hell so “Bless” would be an insult) his soul, loved you too much to not indulge you in that simple wish of yours. So here you were. In a small Café.

He had a cup of coffee and a plate of spaghetti Bolognese, while you had a cup of your favorite hot drink and your favorite dish. You were just happily eating and talking with each other in between bites, as a Demon approached your table.

“Hello there, Cutie~”, the Demon purred and was way too close to you, to your liking.

He must have been new to be so bold and approach you, in front of your Father, the Radio Demon. Your Deer ears started to lie back, showing you were a bit on edge.

“First off: I am not ‘Cutie’ and second off: Back off won’t ya ? Never heard of personal space before ?”, you huffed, irritated.

“Aww, c’mon, don’t be like that~”

The man started to touch your cheek and you could hear a static screech. You looked at your Father and he was...pissed. His smile was still present, yet sinister, and his eye twitched showing the raw urge to murder this pest.

The Demon gave you a smug look.

“C’mon, I am way better than this guy~”, he purred.

“I doubt that very much.”, you growled out slightly.

“How about I show you a good time, hmm ? A better one than this stick has to offer~? I promise it will be worth it, Baby~”, he tried to seduce you and started to let his hand travel down to your woman zone.

Almost instantly did you grab his wrist, with his wandering hand, and scratched it deeply. The man hissed and tore his hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me, perverted pig !”, you snarled.

“What the FUCK ?! YOU LITTLE BITCH !!”

The man snatched your left wrist and tried to tear you away.

“YOU WILL TAKE WHAT I GIVE YOU, BITCH ! WHEN I SAY ‘LET’S FUCK’, YOU SAY ‘YES’, YOU DUMB BIMBO !!”

Suddenly there was a clawed hand on your offender’s wrist, that owned the hand that held your left wrist. The static was loud and all the Demons in the Café started to cower away. The hand was black, the sleeve red and the claws red. Your Father’s hand.

“Who do you think you are, to treat my DAUGHTER like that, my good man ?”, Alastor asked dangerously calm.

You could see your Papa’s rage in his eyes. He was ready to eat that Sinner in one bite. Your offender’s grip tightened and you winced, looking at your Dad. He could SMELL it, the lowlife made you BLEED.

“What’s it to you, Loser ? She is nothing special, just because she is your daughter, just another common whore.”, the Sinner scoffed, not even looking at Alastor.

 Alastor’s eyes turned into Radio dials, as you started to get small tears in your eyes. You didn’t like being mistreated and called a slut. It was a memory trigger of a few things that happened to you in your living times, after your Papa was killed and long gone. Without his protection, you got into a very dark time, all because you trusted a family friend and they betrayed you both.

The Demon gave a chuckle of amusement.

“I bet you are fucking your own daughter too. How does she feel, hm ? I bet you would love to share her.”

That was it ! You let out a sound of retching and Alastor snapped. No one is allowed to make his fawn vomit her food back out ! No one is allowed to make his Baby CRY ! No one is allowed to VIOLATE his darling child !

Alastor fully transformed and ripped the Sinner’s arm off, that left its filthy touch on you. The Sinner screamed in agony. Instantly Alastor made a live Radio Broadcast.

“A reminder to all of you, to not touch the Radio Demon’s child ! Whoever violates these terms and I find out about it, will PAY. WITH. THEIR. LIFE. HAHAHAHAHAHA !!!”

The Demon was screaming in agony, crying and begging for mercy, promising he will never do it again. He sure won’t. Alastor will take care of that after all.

After a long torture session he killed the Demon, then he looked at you, his beloved daughter, and he rushed to your side.

“My Dear, are you alright ? Do you want to go home ? Here let me heal that for you, my Fawn.”, Alastor fussed over you.

He gently took your injured wrist and started to heal your injury, while you tried to calm down and get your retching under control. You didn’t want to throw up your food. Your anxiety got the best of you and now you have to battle your urge to vomit.

Alastor quickly caught up and started to pull you close to his chest, gently petting your head and ears, rubbing his other hand up and down your back.

“Calme-toi, ma chérie, je suis là. Je suis là...Shhh... (Calm down, my dear, I’m here. I’m here...Shhh...)”, Alastor said in a soothing, gently voice.

After a while, you calmed down, but lost your appetite. You looked at your Papa.

“Pa ?”

“Yes, Cher ?”

“Mwen vle ale lakay mwen. (I want to go home.)“

Alastor took a deep breath, outraged that this vile creature ruined his and his daughter’s good day.

“Oke, mwen Chè. (Alright, my dear)”, he replied gently.

He left some money on the table and then left with you in his arms for home. He held you to his chest, comforting you at home and watching over you.

Another day

Another time the two of you took a stroll through a small park, that Alastor loved to walk through. It had a few bushes of red roses too and you liked it there. Usually you walked through forests together, but a park was nice too, you didn’t mind it.

Then suddenly a Demon came up to you, ignoring your Father entirely.

“Hey there, hot stuff~ Wanna go out and hook up tonight~?”, the Demon asked.

He sounded young, maybe twenty years old. Your Father’s eye twitched in irritation, while you just stared at him, thinking he was a total idiot for asking you in front of your Dad.

“No thank you. I have to decline. I am not interested.”, you kindly rejected him.

“Oh, please reconsider. I promise I will make it worth your while~”, the Demon insisted.

“Didn’t you hear her ? She said ‘no’, so kindly leave, my good man, before I make you leave. P e r m a n e n t l y.“, Alastor threatened.

The Demon froze and looked over to the Radio Demon.

“H-hey man...I-I didn’t kn-know she was y-your sw-sweetheart.”, the Demon stuttered, all confidence gone.

You groaned loudly.

“Seriously ?! Why is everyone thinking all the time that we are Lovers ?! Gross !”, you yelled in disgust and looked at your Papa.

“I do not know, my Dear.”, Alastor replied.

He was breathing raggedly, trying to stay calm.

“Wait...then what are you ?”, the Demon asked you both confused.

You gave the Demon a deadpan look.

“He is my Father and I am his daughter.”

“O-oh...M-may I take y-your d-daughter out o-on a d-date, Mr. Radio D-Demon ?”

Alastor’s static came to a screeching halt.

“HA ! No.”, he deadpanned.

“P-please ? I-I will take good c-care of her !”, the Demon pleaded.

“HA ! Never going to happen.”, he replied annoyed.

You looked at your Father who was deeply annoyed, like Susan was around. You looked at the Demon and shrugged your shoulders.

“Sorry, Sir. But my Dad will NOT be swayed today.”, you said.

“A-and you ?”

Your Father snapped and gave the Demon his Radio dial pupils.

“If you value your life, you best get out of my sight NOW !”, Alastor said with his glitching voice.

The Demon quickly turned tail and ran for dear life. Alastor snapped out of his murderous state and smiled gently at you again.

“Shall we go home, my Dear ?”

“We shall, Papa.”

With that you both walked back home together, chatting and laughing.

If a Demon asks you out and Alastor is near you, he will intervene.

He doesn’t think that any of these loathsome Sinners are worthy enough to even talk to you. You were his Fawn and he will NEVER leave you alone again. He will NEVER let you go anywhere unprotected EVER again.

He always studies the Demons that approach you and he always saw the same thing. The desire to deflower you, to mark you, to kidnap you and hold you against him, the want to kill you just to get him to go after you, the want to hurt you, just to get under his skin.

Absolutely not. He will never let any of these vile nasty creatures touch you. NEVER.

He sees someone approach you, he will instantly appear on your side and make sure you will be okay...or even scare them off.

Wherever you go, he will send his shadow after you, to keep an eye out, in case you get in trouble, he can quickly teleport to you.

Rosie is the only one who is allowed to touch you and he trusts only her to not harm you.

When he is near his...unfortunate time of the year...(mating season), he will get overprotective and overly possessive of you. It is usually always a whole week before his rut. He will spend all the time with you he can get, before he gets into that season, then he will lock himself up in his own room.

No, his rut isn’t as terrible as anyone might think. He is immune to you and you are immune to him. He would NEVER touch you like that and neither would you. You just bring him food and drinks, and if he needs it, you cuddle with him. You are the ONLY ONE that is allowed to enter his room when he gets like that, because nothing will ever happen to you. He loves and values you too much as his daughter to let anything happen to you.

He will kill anyone that dares to be near you.

There was a time where Valentino touched you and tried to force you to make a deal with him, knowing you were the Radio Demons daughter. Let us just say...Alastor roughened him up so good, that Valentino almost died.

There was also a time where Vox tried to woo you, as that didn’t work he tried to force you to be with him, so he can have leverage over your Father.

....Let’s just say....Alastor nearly tore Vox to shreds that not even Lucifer himself would have been able to put that Flat screened Bastard back together, EVER again.

He still growls when you are near Odette, Clara, Carmilla and Zestial, but he is not attacking them. They were your friends. Still he sometimes gets in their way when they try to touch you, or initiate touch.

The four of them were calm about it and understanding. It got annoying from time to time that Alastor was so overprotective and possessive of you, but they understood why. After all you told them why he was acting the way he was. It made sense.

He couldn’t protect you in your human life. As soon as he died, you got hurt, used and abused, forced to do let things happen to you, that you didn’t want. You told him everything when you met him in Hell again and since then, he never left your side. There was always something from him near you, either one of his minions, one of the souls he owned, his shadows or he himself was near you.

You didn’t mind it much. You had nothing to hide from your Father after all. You loved spending time with him and if you needed him to give you some space, all you had to do was tell him and go to your room.

Best Dad in Hell, really.

I hope you like it and it is passable ! ^^'

(Words: 2 247)

Masterlist HERE !

[hawkinsbnbg]

Eddie asked Steve to help with his oral fixation, and Steve agreed.

tags: rimming, a dash of daddy kink & breeding kink

"You want me what?" Steve turned away from the TV to squint at his roommate.

"I have this thing call oral fixation," Eddie explained easily. "Which means I need to get my mouth busy all the time."

Steve hummed noncommittally and nodded in understanding. "I see, we can buy lollipops–"

Eddie cut him off with a chaste kiss that turned heated quickly.

"I think you're already sweet enough for me, angel." Eddie whispered once they parted with a transparent thread connecting their lips.

Blushing, he laughed weakly and pushed Eddie away. "Alright, I'm gonna help you, dude. Don't need to butter me up like that."

"I know you're my favorite for a reason, Stevie," Eddie grinned, all sunshine and rainbow again when he wasn't trying to shove his tongue down Steve's throat.

And Steve was too eager to help that it never crossed his mind friends didn't made out with each other and called it a day.

Since then, Eddie would just sidle up behind him every time he was in the middle of something, bend him over any surface that was available at the moment, tugged his shorts down, and eat him out.

Once Eddie was done, he would clean Steve up nicely, tucked him in, and walked away as if nothing had ever happened.

Leaving Steve staring in bewilderment and arousal.

They never talked about it. They just treated it as this special thing between them, their little secret.

It also helped that they lived together. More convenient for Eddie whenever his craving decided to act up.

Gradually, it became their routine, they could be watching TV on the couch and Eddie would flip him over, burying his face into Steve's ass before digging into it.

Steve never thought having someone rim him would be cozy.

But Eddie always managed to surprise him most days, and this was no exception either.

Sometimes, he'd get so comfortable that he just dozed off and then woke up feeling floaty with Eddie's fingers combing through his hair gently.

Or occasionally, he'd simply read a book while Eddie lapped at his hole for hours.

It felt almost domestic if he dared to say.

Things remained like that until one day, when Eddie kept licking at that bundle of nerves, Steve didn't even have time to react before he came.

His moan was loud and high-pitched, and Steve blushed terribly once he realized what just happened.

"Did I just...?" He glanced back at Eddie, wide eyed and disbelieved.

"You just did, baby boy," Eddie grinned at him like a shark, red tongue tracing the pearly canines that always painted reds and purples on Steve's cheeks and thighs.

Steve didn't know what to do. He had grown to enjoy the feeling of Eddie's tongue fucking him so much that he just had an orgasm due to it.

It should give him shame and

embarrassment, but all he felt was a burning need to fill the hollowness inside him.

He wanted to be full.

"Can I ask you something?" Steve licked his lips nervously.

"Yeah? What is it?" Eddie stroked his lower back soothingly, but those eyes were dark and heavy as they pinned him in place.

"Can you give me more?" Steve breathed slowly, the air was so charged that it was almost suffocating.

"More what?" Eddie raised a curious brow while petting his hole temptingly.

"More than your tongue," Steve bit out, muscles pulled taut and heart racing.

He couldn't help but arch his ass toward those calloused fingers, seeking and craving for more.

Without warning, Eddie slipped a finger inside him and proceeded to pull out and push in slowly.

"Like this?"

Steve gasped and tried to clench down on the thick and long digit.

Granted, he had fingered himself multiple times, but when Eddie did it, it just hit different.

Surreal, thrilling, and exciting were all he could sum up.

"Eddie," he moaned, breathless and needy.

"Yeah, baby?" Eddie added another slicked finger and if Steve wasn't too horny to care, he'd definitely remember that they didn't stash lube anywhere nearby.

"Fuck me," he rolled his eyes back as Eddie stroked that spot again. "Bet y– your cock would reach deeper, feel better."

"Jesus," Eddie let out an amused huff. "When did you become such a slut, hm?" He crooked his fingers, making Steve see the fucking Milky Way. "What did you do to my good boy who'd blush prettily every time I teased him?"

"Your good boy is asking you to fuck him," Steve whined and undulated his hips to chase after that toes-curling pleasure.

"Is that so?" Eddie chuckled and retreated his fingers.

Before Steve could complain, he felt something hot and thick slowly breached his loose hole.

By the time Eddie was seated fully inside him, he was drooling and cross eyed, being stuffed full and stretched to the seams.

"Still good?" Hot lips brushed against the shell of his ear.

"Y– Yeah," he slurred. "Sooo good."

Eddie was nothing he imagined. Somehow, Eddie was better than tongue and fingers could ever be.

"Gonna fuck you til you cry," Eddie murmured huskily, full of promise and hunger. "Gonna ruin you for good."

Steve couldn't say anything, mouth agape as the source of heat inside him started moving, dragging every little noise and breathy moan out of him.

He felt drunk, high, and stupid. If only he didn't chicken out every time he was about to confess to Eddie, then they could've had this sooner.

He'd have been railed to his heart's content, would've been allowed to taste Eddie's cock, would've had Eddie in his bed instead of having to jerk himself off roughly in his room after being eaten out by Eddie every time.

He had wasted so much time, missed so many chances.

"Love you," he mewled into his folded arms. "Love you so much, Eddie. Love your stupid cock, love your stupid tongue, love your stupid smiles."

Eddie cursed quietly and stopped moving. The lack of motions got Steve whine his complaint loudly.

"Did you mean it?" Eddie nipped the tip of his ear, voice so low and raspy that it almost sounded like a growl.

When Steve took too long to answer, Eddie snapped his hips and punched out a chocked-off moan out of him.

"Did you mean it, Steve?"

"I m– meant it," he nodded blindly.

Eddie pulled out and carefully flipped him on his back. "Say it again."

Now, they were face to face, Steve suddenly felt shy. He made grabby hands at Eddie, needing close contact to soothe his nerves.

Eddie's features softened visibly as he gathered Steve into his lap.

He cupped Steve's face gently and placed tender kisses on it.

Meanwhile, Steve couldn't stand the emptiness inside him any longer, so he grabbed Eddie's cock and impelled himself on it once more.

The new angle knocked his breath away, making him dizzy and delirious.

"I love you," he sighed softly, feeling more settled when he was full.

"Love you too, sweetheart," Eddie held him securely and kissed him fondly. "My pretty cock slut, aren't you?"

"Mhm," he wrapped his arms around broad shoulders and met those brown eyes, so sweet and loving. "All yours, daddy."

That was the last coherent thing he uttered.

Because as soon as he let the title slip, Eddie had railed him within an inch of his life until he forgot his own name.

At some point, he had convinced Eddie to take off the condom.

"Don't you want to knock me up, daddy?"

Apparently, Eddie was a huge perv and more than on board with Steve's baby fever.

Needless to say, they had had spent a long time in the shower later to help Steve wash out the cum.

But in Steve's opinion, it was worth all the trouble when Eddie got on his knees and ate him out until he cried and squirted messily on the tiled floor.

Afterward, once they both left the bathroom in fresh clothes and climbed into bed together, they had talked and kissed and giggled before drifting off in each other's arms.

Who would've thought helping out your friend would lead you to your happiness?

Definitely not Steve.

Not that he would complain when it led him to Eddie, though.

———

Anyway, I live for free use!Steve who's only available for Eddie.

Steve: *simply exists*

Eddie: Oh my god, all of this goodness just for me?

[supercutszns]

sweet on you | jason grace

wc + pairing: 1k, jason grace x f!reader

notes: short-ish jason blurb while i chalk up some of my beefier fics (& my 1k celebration thank u again)<3 this is my first time publishing for him so hopefully this isn't too ooc! i need to let myself write shorter stream of consciousness things,, all fluff, just jason taking your makeup off after a party <33 also its set at chb because i said so

Whenever Jason washes off your makeup, he acts like it's his sworn duty.

You’re a little hazy as he wets a cloth in the sink, repositioning himself between your legs that hang limply off the bathroom counter. You keep scanning his face for any trace of weariness or urgency. After a long day of camp duties, the last thing you think he’d want was to clean up his drunken girlfriend after a secret party. But he’s as kind and patient as ever, and you don’t know if it’s your heart or the alcohol talking, but you are deliriously in love with him right now. He’s a leader—a brave, powerful demigod—but he’s only that good because he’s gentle. That's what you see, anyway. Everyone loves him for a reason, but you're still sure you love him most.

You got drunk. You got anxious. But it’s more than worth it if Jason takes care of you after. Even under these fluorescent bathroom lights, he’s beautiful.

“Why thank you,” he says, a bemused smile on his face.

You blink. “Did I say that out loud?”

“Sure did.”

The scar on the corner of his lip lifts as he kisses your cheek. You hum pleasantly, and you feel the ghost of his laugh before he pulls away. “Close your eyes for me?”

You oblige. In seconds, you’re greeted with the warm press of a towel on your face. Jason keeps you in place with his hand cupping your chin. “Let me know if I poke your eyes, okay?”

“If you do I’ll just bite your finger.”

“Awesome.” He works on sweeping the cloth over your skin to drag off all that makeup. You wait patiently, happily, indulging in the occasional idle chatter and the steady brush of Jason’s thumb underneath your chin. Every pass of his fingers against your face lulls you further into your haze. He’s warm, methodical, sweet. He switches the cloth to a different side and drags up your cheekbones. Your brain is mush with alcohol and appreciation.

“‘M sorry I got carried away, Jace,” you mumble, head swaying involuntarily. “Didn’t need to come get me like this.”

His soft laugh swims in your ears, and he lowers himself a bit to see you better. “Trust me, I wasn’t doing much. The only notable thing this evening was crossing the hundred-page threshold in my book.”

“Is it good?” You slur, toying with his dog-tag necklace you’d gotten him for his birthday.

He tilts his head, “Eh. Alright. I still like taking care of you more, though.”

You must be beaming stupidly wide, because Jason shakes his head with a smile, and he wraps his arms around you to kiss your jaw. “Besides, you’re sweet on me when you’re drunk.”

The feel of his lips would have shut you up in any normal circumstance, but your idiotic thoughts only heighten. “Sweet on you?”

“Mmhm.”

“That’s a thing?”

“Yes! They … people say it.”

His cheeks flush red in that insanely adorable way, and he presses his face back into your neck. “They said it in my book,” he mumbles, and you laugh so hard he has to shush you.

He goes through the rest of your rather particular skincare routine as per your instructions. He’s seen you do it a thousand times, but you repeat the order anyways just to be sure—although it’s likely you’re jumbling up your words and taking too many pauses for any of it to come out coherent. He takes his time, focused intently on the planes and ridges of your skin. If you were any more sober you’d probably be self-conscious, but sometimes his thumb runs across your cheek with a tenderness that has nothing to do with your serums.

Once all’s said and done, your skin refreshed, you’re practically snoozing on the counter. “Sweetheart,” Jason hums, winding arms around you once more, “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Only if it’s with you,” you yawn, cheek smushing into his chest.

“Well, that’s a given.”

He’s smiling again as he runs his hands down to your thighs, so you can loop your legs around his hips. “Hold on, okay?”

You oblige, relishing in the curl of his biceps against your sides as he hoists you off the counter. Usually you’d be hesitant to let him carry you around with you clinging to him like this, but your capacity for embarrassment had vanished about two drinks ago. You hear him chuckling into your hair as the breeze tickles your face, although it's far less severe in his arms.

Camp’s practically deserted this time of night so Jason has no problem getting you into his cabin. He puts you down on his lonely bed in a sea of marble, lit with nothing but the warmth of his reading lamp. “Thank you, baby,” you murmur as he helps you out of your clothes and gives you a shirt of his own. The way he smells reminds you of morning mist as he ties your hair back.

Soon you’re in your favourite place in the world: drowned in blankets on a cool summer night in Jason’s bed. You’re nestled snug against his chest, letting the fog in your mind settle as he traces shapes on your back beneath your shirt. Transfixed by the ebb and flow of his breath, you can’t help but press your lips to his collarbone, lazy chapstick kisses spooling onto his skin.

“Y’re right,” you mumble, “I am sweet on you.”

Jason laughs quietly, setting down his book. He taps on your chin to draw you out of his chest, leading you to his mouth. You’re giggling and falling into him before you even kiss. He tastes like sweet mint as he cages you against him with his arms, nothing but gentle. “Love you,” you whisper with a plucky smile.

He kisses your forehead, “I love you.” He disposes of his glasses and turns off his lamp, sinking the both of you down onto the mattress. “Get some sleep, angel.”

You must be a lot better at following instructions than you thought, because you smother yourself in his warmth and you’re sure you’ve never slept better.

[mono-dot-jpeg]

bad decisions - i. sae, b. meguru & m. reo

summary; let's make some bad decisions.

genre/extra tags; rambling post?/scenarios???, fluff but not really, diet fluff, and diet angst, late night thoughts combined with day light thoughts, might be ooc

a/n; im gonna go out on a limb here and say you dont want yandere obsessive tendencies in the relationship (i dont write yandere bc i hate that trope and i dont understand the appeal). i only did three bc this was all i can think of, im so sorry- hope you enjoy this either way. thank you for requesting and for your patience.

i think we all saw this coming when i say, sae probably gotta have some odd habits and thoughts when it comes to being a relationship. he's precise and serious in his soccer, and that bleeds into his relationships. it has nothing to you, no, not when he's so used to seeing into every detail and every possibility. he keeps trying to predict what you will do, and then you surprise him when it's not what he expected. most of the time, this happens when you're just doing something without much thought. he gets kind of weird about it though, he just blue-screens and had to take a moment before asking what is wrong with you because you didn't do the thing he expected. you have to tell him that this is just how you are, and he refuses to be outsmarted by his partner when he's usually the one with the brain cell between you two.

he feels the need to check on you a lot because he doesn't express it outright. he observes you like he's in a game match. it's cute at first but then you realize, "oh god he's really paying attention a little too well..."

he hates if you ever even try to interact with rin. he is one jealous little shit. if he's in a good mood [which is hard to tell with him], you have like a higher chance of talking to rin. but most days, he's keeping you away from him.

bachira is unpredictable and he's crazy. he loves you a lot. and i mean a lot. he's extremely clingy towards things he cherishes and that probably stems from the lack of friends he had back then and he's just scared to lose you. but sometimes he really impedes on the day-to-day routine. he needs reassurance when you're gone. he texts you a lot. very standard clingy person.

he feels the need to be a guard dog. he's possessive but not in the way sae would be with his jealously. no, bachira is possessive but he's confident that he will keep you protected from others. but also he loves to wreak havoc so he likes being loud about being clingy and protective. it can get overwhelming.

i'm gonna be real, this one is short because bachira's traits could probably be pretty amplified in a relationship and honestly, i would go as far as to think that most of his traits would just be either better or worse in a relationship.

overbearing. that should be enough to explain it.

he's got a weird complex with him. at least that is what i think. he really stuck with nagi a lot, and i think he would do the same in a romantic relationship. he's gotten too used to coddling nagi and he does the same to you. he spoils you. and it's great at first, but it can be a lot at once. and honestly i think he feels the need to compensate for something. what is the thing he's compensating for? i don't know, but he gives me those "compensating for something with money" vibes.

i think it's safe to say that all the boys have a pride to uphold and reo is no different. he hates being inactive. he wants to help you all the time. and i mean all the time. he wants to be useful but he goes at it terribly. he wants to be relied on.

is it crazy to say that i think reo is the worst out of the three here? probably but whatever.

[dansformations]

"My brother's stench"

Tags: Possesion, gay to straight, fart/burpkink.

Rewrite by me.

⬆️ (The couple before the possesion)

"Bro, please wash my boyfriend's body. I'm begging you."

My brother had always been skinny. So when he saw my boyfriend's big, beefy body, he was jealous. He was so jealous that he decided to cast a spell on him and possess him.

So now I am forced to live with that idiot inside my boyfriend's body. He's acting all gross, doing things my boyfriend would never do; He's flexing my boyfriend's muscles With that damn cocky attitude and downing beers by the dozen. All he does is scratch his smelly balls and watch football all day. It's gross to see my boyfriend acting so... straight.

"Sure, bro... Eventualy." He scrawled his ass and smelled his hand. "This still smells like spring." I watch him with disgust while he says, "For real, take a whiff," trying to put his hand on my nose, i yell and fight his hand.

"Fuck you!" I was full of rage. But his only response was

"Look, some spring breeze." Then he lifts a leg and lets out a big, loud, smelly fart.

PPPPRRRRRRRRRRRFFFT

"What the fuck!" I said, covering my nose, "That's the grossest fart I have ever smelled."

"Thank you," he said while laughing with my boyfriend's cute laugh, but in a lower, dumber tone.

He takes pleasure in my disgust. I just know it. Sometimes I try to not show it; maybe that way he will stop doing it, but he just finds the way.

The other day, at breakfast, I said nothing when he talked while eating or when he farted in the middle of the meal just to laugh and keep eating. I thought that was enough for him to stop trying, but when he finished his gross breakfast - just cold pizza from the fridge and beer- he smiled, took me with my boyfriend's arms and pushed me up against the wall just to let out a deep burp

"OOOOOUUURRRP!" and then blew the fowl stench into my face.

When he watches sports on TV, he will lift his butt to one side, laugh, and yell "Protein fart!" With that damn dumb voice as he lets out a long, groaning, hot stench that makes my eyes water. He's turned my sweet boyfriend into a disgusting monster.

With each day that passes, I'm scared that I'm never going to get my real boyfriend back. I don't want to live with my big, smelly, oaf of a brother anymore.

Today I arrived at the apartment, and I saw a girl leaving the place. "Oh no, he didn't..." I open the door just to see my boyfriend's body getting dressed.

"DID YOU JUST FUCK A GIRL IN MY BOYFRIEND BO-" he interrupts me.

"I can't believe he used this to fuck," he says while slapping his buttcheeks. "Instead of this,"  he says, touching his bulge.

"I swear to God, if you don't give my boyfriend his body back, I'm going to kill your real body," I said to my brother.

"Do it. That way, I'm staying here forever," he says while looking at 'his' muscles in the mirror. "Wouldn' complain"

"AHHHHHHH," I just scream, not realizing there were even tears coming from my eyes. "Why don't you just leave me alone? If you are staying with my boyfriend's body, do it; I give up, but just not in front of me. Leave."

He looks at me a bit concerned for the first Time since he stole my boyfriends Body.

"Ok, let's make a deal," he says. "I will give your boyfriend's body back." My eyes get illuminated. Just for a second, then he says "But if you lend your body to my buddy Logan, he doesn't have a place to stay; when he does, he's moving to his body and to his apartment, and so I am; we are going to be roomies."

"No way I am letting your gross friend take over my body!" I told him, terrified.

"I thought you wanted your boyfriend back."

"I do! But-"

But he interrupts me.

"Thats the only deal I'm making, Lil Bro." 

...

"Bro-UAAARRRRP," says Logan in my body between burps "I can't get over how good your broski body is. There were bunches of girls looking at me today!, Well... maybe also cause I was farting in public, but you know how those protein farts are."

"I know, and can you believe they were wasting those bodies fucking each other?" My brother says, and Is so morbid to see my boyfriend body saying It.

"What a bunch of losers." Logan says, I say.

This has been a hell, just a week since my brother's friend, Logan, took over my body, and I have been able to see, hear, smell, hear, and feel everything Logan does, but not control anything. I'm like a parasite in my own body.

I feel my terrible stench but can't make my body go to take a shower, and it seems like Logan Is on the way for a third day without one. I can feel his gas on comand everytime they do their 'protein farts contest' and I cant do anything besides lifting a leg to liberate all that stench.

"But we are not losers, Bro," my brother says. "Why don't we call some girls to have a great night?"

Oh no. Oh no. I can feel all that Logan feels in my body. He cant be with a woman. I try to scream, to yell to say no. But when Logan opened our mouth, the only thing that came out was: "OUUAAAAAAAARRP," a loud, smelly burp. "Hell yeah, Bro."

"Also," Logan keeps talking as he and my brother pose together—in mine and my boyfriend's bodies—for a picture for a Tinder profile. "Shouldn't we start to look for our apartment?"

"Sure, bro... we will, eventualy," he says, looking straight into my body's eye, and I just know he's talking not to Logan but to me.

________________

Hope you enjoyed.

This Is a longer version, re imaginated by me of one of my favorite transformation caption ever:

[saikoucorps]

:ఌ¨ ♱ DATING NEITO MONOMA

☆ warnings : none!

☆ tags : gn!reader, fluff, monoma can pull

☆ summary : crush to dating hcs

CRUSH :

Before you guys would start dating he'd copy your quirk just to help you out. Sometimes, he doesn't even explain why he's helping you.

If you're in class 1-A, he never talks bad about you, infact he admires you openly.

The whole class can tell he favorites you..

He's automatically calmer around you, but it doesn't stop him from making snarky remarks at class 1-A

Literally will find a way to cling to you and say something like, "You should be proud you're standing next to me!"

If you're around, he'll automatically try to impress you.

Whether that's by not insulting class 1-A or just using his quirk in a cool way.

Would do crazy stunts and then say "That was too easy."

He would tease you for your interests..

But then secretly learn them later that night.

EASILY FLUSTERED.

If you complimented him he wouldn't know what to say, he'd try to play it off then quickly brag to everyone that YOU complimented him.

He's huge on giving compliments.

He will compliment you out loud and EVERYONE will know.

He can be pretty obvious about his crush on you..

But if anyone tried to mention it, he'd deny it and say you weren't "worth" dating him. (You totally are.)

He can be a huge flirt, but usually insults you to mask how obvious it is.

Makes everything a competition.

Especially between you and him

Borderline stalker. Not on purpose.. I think.

He's able to read people very easily, so if you were upset, he'd try to make that day easier for you.. it really isn't noticeable, though. At all.

He absolutely would not confess to you first. You'd have to.

And if you did, he'd say, "I knew you liked me, I'm amazing."

But he'd accept your confession without hesitation.

And when you two start dating, he makes it KNOWN you guys are.

No one is surprised.

DATING :

The compliments NEVER left.

Neither did the insults.

He has no filter ever, even when he's dating you.

If you're geuinley upset at something he said, he'd try to reassure you that he was only trying to help you improve.

He's still good at reading people. He always knows when you're upset.

Huge compliment fisher, especially for you.

Gives the best advice ever, it can be hard to tell if he's serious though..

HUGE SHOW OFF

The moment you leave the room, he brags about you. If you're in class 1-A, he'd constantly say they're undeserving of you.

Huge gossiper. He's definitely always ease dropping and comes to you with the juiciest details ever.

He always knows what the right thing to say is with you. He also knows when it's the right time to be cocky and tease you.

Always in your personal space..

He'll cling to you, and I mean that.

He'd try to fix your outfit, lay on your shoulder, poke you, use you as a arm rest, or anything stupid.

And he denies everything if you mention it.

Only takes criticism from you (and teaches).. so if you tell him he did something wrong he'd freak out.

But he'd fix it.

If it worked.. he'd think of you more highly (if that was even possible)

But you wouldn't get a huge thanks from him.

He still flirts with you, except he doesn't try to hide it anymore.

Despite all this, he still is a huge gentleman.

I'm talking holding the door for you, moving things out your way, etc.

He treats you like a literal god sometimes.

LOVES to tease you, and annoy you.

100% is the jealous type. He loves what you to have, and wants to keep it purely between you two. So when another guy comes into the picture, teasing or complimenting you, he can't help but feel jealous.

When he's jealous he'll cling onto you more, or become way more insufferable.

When you two are alone, he can act way better.

He's calmer with you, always.

So what he says to you in private is more meaningful.

He definitely becomes way more affectionate to...

His love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation.

He's canonically rich, so I see him spoiling you in gifts and overly fancy stuff.

He never doubts you ever. He only wants what's best for you and your future.

[xxsugarbonesxx]

Mi Valentín

Tags: full nelson, butt job, head (m receiving), fingering, hand job, groping, something about free use??? semi public sex porn WITH plot

no use of y/n afab!reader, reader has a fattie sorry but i don't make the rules 😮‍💨😔

TW!!! I am NOT a writer!! This is just something I do for funsies so don't expect much lol

She’s a beefy one so buckle up

Valentine's day is your absolute favorite holiday. A whole mushy gushy day dedicated to showing your significant other, or your friends or yourself to how much you love them and appreciate them. An excuse to dress up and go out, excessive chocolate consumption and give gifts. But, unfortunately, your beloved husband thought otherwise.  

He never liked Valentine's Day, and he had thousands of excuses too. “Why is one day out of the whole year meant to show your love when I do it all year long?” Miguel said, rolling his eyes as he chopped vegetables for dinner. It’s not like he didn’t spoil you on Valentine's day, he always took you out to a nice restaurant for dinner and got you some gifts. But he was missing the whole entire point!

“Drop it amor, I’m plenty romantic as is. Remember when I took you out to that hotel and we spent the night away from the kids?” Miguel asked, his go to excuse when you brought this topic up. He turned to face you, one hand on the counter and the other holding the knife. He had an apron on, with ‘Milfin’ Ain’t Easy’ printed on the chest. You decided it was best not to question, said apron and moved on.

“But Miggy, it’s my favorite holiday. Can’t you not be so cynical for one in your life and humor that your wife enjoys something?” You said, crossing your arms under your chest. He just snorted and continued with his cooking, you scrunch your face and turn your heel, deciding you're not gonna give him the satisfaction of your presence, you leave to go find something to keep yourself occupied or just pout while you wait for dinner.

“You know it’s a dumb holiday, mi vida. It’s like how birthdays were invented by greeting card companies to make more money.” Miguel teased as he sat down in bed next to you after dinner.

You frown and roll on your side with your back facing him to let him know how upset you are with him. He sighed and chuckled, he cuddled up against you so he was big spooning you. He ran his calloused palm over your bare leg. “Don’t be like that, mamás. You know I love you, but I just can’t get behind a holiday that’s supposed to be about showing love since I already do that everyday for you,” He pouted, kissing your cheek and patting your butt.

You sighed and sat up, “Okay, you know what. You’re right, you already do so much for me. I guess it’s a little selfish to ask for more. I just get jealous sometimes, of all my girlfriends who always talk about their partners and how romantic their Valentine’s Day is…” You admitted, it sounded silly when you say it out loud. It embarrassed you, you have an amazing husband who gave you two beautiful daughters and here you are, ungrateful all because of FOMO. 

“It’s alright, I know what you mean…but let’s not focus on that. I promised we’d never go to bed mad at each other. And we’ve had a long day, hmm? How about we get to sleep now? Since we’ve got a big week ahead of us,” Miguel asked, kissing your collarbone, he was such a smooth talker it drove you up the wall sometimes. But you nodded, kissing him back and curling up with him in bed. 

Little did you know he’s been scheming.

One week ‘til V-day.

You let go of the whole Valentine’s Day thing, you were embarrassed about getting so worked up about the situation. You got home late from work, Miguel was already gone to watch Gabriela’s soccer practice and he took the baby with him. You had the whole house to yourself, you sat on the edge of the bed. Sighing as you take off your earrings and heels, you notice something on your nightstand. 

You look to see a fuzzy little lion plushie with a fancy red ribbon tied around his neck. You smiled softly and picked it up, it was soft in your palms and smelt like strawberries. 

It was obvious that it was from Miguel, you set it down on the bed and finished getting out of your work clothes. After a nice shower, you put on some cozy clothes and flop onto the bed. The house was clean and there were no chores to do so you got to relax, you sat in bed watching a movie with your new bed buddy. You hugged it to your chest, breathing in the strawberry scented mane.

Miguel came home with the girls a bit after your movie ended, Gabriela skipped into the house with her baby hairs stuck to her forehead from sweat and the remnants of chocolate ice cream on her cheeks. You usher her into the bathroom for her bath before finding Miguel. You wrap your arms around his neck and stand on the tips of your toes to give him a quick kiss.

“What was that for?” He chuckled, his hand on the small of your back, the baby on his hip.

“Just a kiss, I saw that stuffy.” You smiled and shrugged, looking up at him through your lashes. “I love him, but you didn’t need to get me anything…”

“I know that, I just saw it when I was at the store and thought you’d like it sooo…” He said, his hand snaking up the small of your back to roll his fingers through your hair before pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Gracias guapo,” You coo, leaning into him for one more quick kiss before pulling away to give Gabriela her bath.

Five days ‘til V-day.

You and Gabriela sat at the kitchen table while Miguel was at work. With baby Esther on your lap, the three of you were hard at work making Miguel his Valentine’s Day present. Since he was always so low key for the holiday, you would do the same. Opting for something cuter and simple that also included the girls.

You already had a hand print of Miguel’s huge, paw-ish hand from an old craft Gabriela made when she was in kindey. You cut out a nice square of paper around the hand print, you carefully painted your own palm and fingers with a soft pink. You pressed your hand over his painted hand print.

Next was Gabriela, you painted her hand with a slightly darker pink color and pressed it over your hand print once it was dry. Then Esther when Gabriela’s handprint dried, you used a baby safe paint that was a darker pink color then Gabriela’s. You pressed the baby’s palm gently over her sisters. So it was papa Miguel’s big black hand print, your smaller light pink hand print, Gabriela’s little hand and then Esther’s teeny tiny hand.

It was perfect, a cute little card from all his girls for Valentines. You let Gabriela paint a couple pink hearts on it and sign it and it was perfect. You take it to write a lovey dovey message on the back and tuck it away in your nightstand once it was completely dry for the fourteenth.

Three days ‘til V-day. 

You looked awful, you tripped in the snow as you hiked your work parking lot to get to your car in front of your boss. When you finally got up out of the slush, you got your hair caught in a branch. Tangling it with leaves and sticks, finally you got home. 

You trudge up the driveway, it has been snowing and raining all day long. You hated the cold winter weather in Nueva York, you just had to wear heels today as you took big steps over the slush. You finally made it inside the warm apartment, taking a deep breath, your shoulders relaxed. The girls are in the living room watching Bluey with Miguel cooking in the kitchen. You kiss the girl's forehead hello and wobble deeper into the warm kitchen.

“Hey mamás, how—woof, what happened to you?” Miguel half laughed, pulling his oven mitts off his huge hands. Today he’s wearing a green apron with ‘Besame soy Irlandés’ printed on the chest. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” You mumbled, brushing the leaves out of your hair. Your whole front is soaked, there was some sort of ice or snow in your bra and your makeup smeared from crying in your car.

“Oye, poor mami.” He cooed, wrapping his big arms around your waist and hugging you to his chest. He held you tight, kissing the side of your face.

He helped you untangle your hair and get out of your soaked clothes. He drew a warm bath with bath salts and bubbles, he washed your hair for you once you were in the water. His big calloused hands rubbing your shoulders as he pecked your cheek. His chest pressed against your back, his hand snaked down into the water in front of you. He peppered the side of your face with gentle kisses as he gently rubbed your core with his pointer and middle fingers. His wedding ring was cool against your inner thighs, his other hand cupped your left breast. Massaging it softly, his thumb grazing over your perked nipples. 

His other hand cupped your sweet pussy, his fingers dipping in between your soft folds and pushing into your wet hole. “My poor girl, I’m sorry your day sucked.” He whispered into the shell of your ear, you bit down onto your bottom lip. Holding back whines as he gently begins to pump his fingers slowly, your hands find the edges of the bathtub to grip. Your head rolls back, your eyes shut as a little gasp escapes your soft lips. He smiled into the dip of your neck, still playing with your tits.

His surprisingly tender lips graze up over your neck for an open mouth kiss, catching your wines and huffs in his mouth. You feel his lips twitch into a little smirk, that smug bastard is always so proud of himself. He pulled away, you whined from the emptiness that filled your soft walls now that he took his fingers out, but you immediately perked up when you heard him take his belt off from the loops. 

Miguel stood up and over to the side of the tub, he slipped his semi hard cock from his boxers. He looked down at you as he pumped his huge hand over his girth, he held you face with his other hand, his thumb rubbing back and forth on your bottom lip. His way of silently telling you to ‘open’.

You obediently part your pretty lips, he slapped his red tip onto your tongue. He was now fully hard, his cock was perfect. His member is a little darker than his brown skinned body, at least eight to eight and a half inches long. Maybe even ten on a really good day. It was girthy too, with a fat vein on the side of it, it curved up slightly, his groin perfectly shaven besides the happy trail over the base of his length. His balls were heavy, you took him in your mouth. Since he was so big, you always struggled to take him completely. 

You manage to get a good four inches in and start to bob your head, you look up at him through your lashes. It hasn't even been in you long, but you were already cock drunk. He instinctively began to roll his hips into your jaw, the bathroom filled with lewd squelching, moans, and groans. You gag and your eyes roll back.

Just when things started to get good, the baby screeched downstairs in the living room. Miguel sighed and threw his head back dramatically, he pulled away and pulled his slacks back up

over his hips. You frown and pout, he chuckles and bends down to kiss your forehead. “Lo siento, mi corazón…” He muttered, pulling away to get back downstairs to make sure the girls didn’t kill each other. 

You groan a little and sink a little deeper into the warm water.

One day ‘til V-day.

You had actually forgotten all about Valentine’s Day. The girls and work had made you forget all about it. You were sitting at your desk at work, typing and scribbling down notes for later when one of your colleagues told you that there was something at the front desk for you. Curious, you go to check on whatever goodie or package was delivered to you. You never get these sorts of things, you couldn't help but be excited as all the possibilities ran through your head. What the receptionist handed you was better than anything you could have imagined.

The front desk person handed you ramo buchon. One hundred pink and white roses were arranged and wrapped, surrounded by matching pink and white baby’s breath blooms tied together by a ribbon. A little white teddy bear with a ribbon and tag sat in the center of the buchon, the tag signed by your secret admirer. It didn’t take long to figure out who said secret admirer was, since it was Miguel’s handwriting. 

You looked at the gorgeous flowers for the majority of your shift, making sure to send Miguel a little ‘I love you’ text to show your appreciation. Even though he played dumb when you got home, insisting that it wasn’t him and someone else must have sent it. He hugged you tight, muttering under his breath how he’s gonna teach that ‘son of a glitch’ a lesson for daring to make a move on his woman when he finds out who sent it to you. Though you could hear the smile in his voice. 

“When I find them, I’ll teach them a lesson they soon won’t forget for thinking he can just make a move on my woman and get away with it.” Miguel scoffed, kissing the crown of your head. “I’ll kill him dead,” He said when you chuckled.

“You hear me, mariposa? There are some things as a man I simply cannot stand for. And when another man thinks he can have what's mine. And you are mine.” He continued, his forehead pressed against yours as he spoke. “My woman, my baby mama, mine mine mine.”

He repeated that mantra throughout the night, you curled up against him in bed. Him kissing your forehead with his hands rubbing your sides. Going up and down the dips and valleys of your body. You couldn’t help but smile, your face pressed against his neck. “My sweet mujer,” He sighed dreamily. Peppering your pretty face with gentle kisses. 

“Did you like the buchon though?” He asked between smooches. You couldn’t help but giggle, squeezing your dear husband's hand gently and nodded. Your legs tangling with his, the blankets pulled up over to their shoulders. It was nice and cozy in their little blanket cocoon. Miguel needed a weighted blanket in the winters, that coupled with the fuzzy white tiger blanket on top of it made you both nice and warm. 

“Sí, sí. Ellos tienen buen gusto,” You reassure him with a smile and a peck on the cheek. He looked satisfied with that answer. 

Valentine’s Day. 

You woke up snuggled up in the warm bed with Miguel. His alarm went off weirdly early, you blinked, your eyes crusty in the morning, yawning and stretching your arms over your head. Miguel stirred as you sat up, his hands over your lap, you arch your back to stretch. His almond eyes slowly opened and glanced up at you. He smiled into your waist but didn’t move, his morning wood pressing into your plush thigh.

You look down at his hidden face then down into his lap. You smile to yourself and lay back down next to him, your hand snaking down underneath the covers. Already thinking up so many naughty thoughts, tracing down his tummy, following his happy trail, your fingertips teasing the waistband of his sweatpants. He grunted a little as you gently began to stroke his length. You squeezed gently, creating a delicious pressure. 

He finally ‘woke up’, grumbling into the crook of your neck. Rolling his hips back and forth into your hand. You chuckled, looking back over him. You press a little kiss to his nose, “good morning, quapo.” You purr into his ear. This was his favorite way of waking up, your hands on his body. Whether you stroked or sucked, his eyes rolled back and toes curled before waking. 

“Good morning, mariposa, you slept well?” He muttered into your neck, his hand over your chest. He kneaded your pretty tits in his big hands and sighed dreamily.

“I did,” You answer, you roll your palm over his angry red tip. Pearly beads of pre cum dribble out of the head onto your hand. You scoop it up in your fingers, pulling your hand away to taste it. His cum was sweet with a bit of salty, you loved the feeling of his warm seed on your tongue. And he loved seeing you enjoy it, he watched your lap up his pre, a smug look on his handsome face as you swallowed.

Just when you reached to finish the job, he sat up. His erect cock twitching right in front of your face, you were mesmerized. Jesus, you were just a simp. “Gabri could just walk i-” You started, he was already reaching to lock your bedroom door. He grabbed you by your waist and flipped you onto your stomach. He reaches into his nightstand drawer to grab something. You look over your shoulder as he ripped your pajama shorts and panties off your body, making you giggle.

He drizzled massage oil on your bare ass, his calloused palms ran over your buttcheeks. You buried your face into the pillows, giggling like a giddy schoolgirl to yourself. He pressed his nose into your hair, breathing in your shampoo, letting out a shuddering sigh, he sat back up on his knees behind you.

He dipped his ring and middle finger between your plush inner thighs, spreading the warm oil over your already wet pussy lips. You shiver but stay as still as possible for him, he bent over your pretty body. Pressing kisses onto your lower back. Muttering to himself as his fingers slip into your slits folds, your velvet walls clenching his long digits. You whine and cuss under your breath as he makes a scissoring motion with his fingers.

“Relax, mamás, can’t have you clenching my dick off.” He chuckled breathily in your ear, making you groan a little. You did your best not to clench on his fingers so hard, you rolled your shoulders and breathed deeply. Burying your face into the silky pillows, you whine as he begins to rock you by pumping his fingers into your weeping hole. Your breath shudders as his free hand down your back to asscheeks, squeezing gently and smacking to make you squeal.

“Oye,” You hiss, looking back at him over your shoulder, furrowing your eyebrows. He snickered like a kid and went back to pumping fingers. It didn’t take long till your orgasm, it never took Miguel too long to get you to cum. Your nectar pooled in his palm, he smirked proudly, licking

your cum off his hand. You whimper in shame, hiding your red face in the pillows. He chuckled cruelly before slapping his now fully erect member over your thick ass. You squeak as you watch his big hands grab the headboard above you and he begins to hump like a bitch in heat.

He sat on your calves on his knees, his thighs on either side of your hips. The massage oil acts as a lubricant for him to slide his fat cock between your buttcheeks easier. You whine into the pillows, your shoulders hunching and back arching. 

You let out a soft moan as his shaft dragged over your holes over and over again, making you shiver in pleasure. He let out a soft, satisfied sigh as he took you from behind. You just knew that the smug bastard had a satisfied look plastered all over his face as he humped, spanked and slapped your poor, poor, red ass. 

He grabbed and groped, before pulling off of you completely. Miguel took his shaft in his paw-ish hand, dragging his leaking tip to your weeping entrance. 

“Miggy…” You whine, it's been too long since you’ve had him all to yourself. Whether it be your respective jobs, family and taking care of two kids under ten. You miss the feeling of him stretching you out, you miss the burn. You missed him making it hard for you to walk the next day, and him eating you out like a starved man, repeating the phrase ‘I’m sorry,’ over and over again as an apology as he palmed his dick.

You missed the burn and the after care and him making you breakfast for you afterwards. His cock slipped inside, not even three inches at first just to get you ready. His fingers stretched you out best he could, but he was getting impatient, and he needed to feel his pretty girl. His hands drifted off the headboard to either side of your head on the bed. 

Sloooowly, he pushes deeper, you choke back all your noises. You look over at the nightstand on Miguel's side of the bed at the alarm clock, because you apparently married an old man. It was a little after five in the morning, he usually sets his alarm for six, that smug bastard set it early to squeeze a Valentines day quickie before work.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the plap plap plap of his hips hitting your ass and his tip kissing your cervix and the low creaks of your shared mattress. You slap your hand over your mouth, his big hands tighten around the sheets he was clenching. The massage oil and both of your sweat rolled off of eachother, pooling on the bed below you, but you’re too full to care. His length filled you up so good, that you couldn’t think to care about the fact you’re ruining your sheets.

“Yes…” You whine, your shaky hands clinging to the sheets as he pounds into you.

Miguel laid his body over yours as he slowly bucked into you, you almost preferred it when he was pounding into your poor, abused pussy since then he wasn’t torturing you with slow, agonizing strokes. His lips pressed into your ear, his eyes glazed over as he grunted and huffed into the shell of your ear, you loved how vocal he was. How he’d react to your body, how'd he moan and praise you. 

His arm slithered under your neck, pressing you into a headlock as he rutted against your soft walls. His nose buried into your hair, breathing in your cocoa butter shampoo. He tightened his grip on you until your cheek was pressed up against his bicep, his sweat, musk and the remnants of his cologne from yesterday made you slick. 

A knot formed in the pit of your belly, his pre mixed with the oils and your slick, coating the sheets with liquids. You really should have put a towel down…-

“So wet, you like that, don't you?" He growled, his voice deep and husky as he took you from behind. He couldn't resist, he couldn't fight it. He was under your control, he was yours to do with as you pleased. He always portrayed himself as the head of the household, el jefe, but it was a different story once the girls were in bed and the door was locked. He was still very much the dominant, though your pleasure was his priority. He wanted you to be pleased and happy with him above anything else.

“Mhm…feels, fuck, so good…” You mewl, your hips swaying side to side as he slowly rolled his hips into you, your warm walls clenching him. He pulled out until only his tip was in, before pounding back in. Your sweet nectar flowed from your core, you writhed and silently screamed into the pillows. Miguel kept rutting before quickly pulling out, his hot cum spilling down the small of your back.

He let out a satisfied sigh and flopped down on the bed next to you. The giant laid face down next to you, groaning. 

“Jesus, you’re not that old.” You choke out after a minute of basking in each other's sweaty afterglow. “You’re fine,” You grumble, nudging his calf with your foot.

“I’m just warming down, gimme a minute.” He gruffed, tilting his head to stick his tongue out at you and scrunching his nose. “Bleh,”

“Oh my god, you’re just like Gabriela.” You snicker, rolling on your back to stretch, and looking over his body. Miguel was on his stomach, one of his long legs off the bed as he pressed his face into his pillow. You can’t help but look at him with disgust.

“You have a ridiculously nice ass for a man.” You pout.

“Don’t be jelly,” he scoffed playfully.

“Did Gabriela teach you that word?”

“What, ‘jelly’?” He asked and you nod. “Oh please, I’m well educated in the field of slang. I know about what the kids are saying, ‘on fleek’, ‘yeet’, ‘lit’, you name it. You married a very educated man, lucky you~”

“I’ve never heard anyone say that in literal years…”

“Who?”

“Hmm?”

“Asked.” He said proudly, you let out a groan. This was just middle school all over again.

“Okay, okay, I’m done now, mariposa. I promise.” Miguel giggled, grunting a little before rolling onto his back next to you. He snakes a big hand over you and pulls you atop of him. 

“This is disgusting,” 

“I didn’t even-!” “The sheets, and us. I should get in the shower…” You grumbled, he wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you back down to him as you sat up. Your cheek smushed up to his firm pecs. 

“Two more minutes,” He promised, patting your sticky back.

You’ve been getting ready for what felt like hours, your makeup, shoes, hair, jewelry, clothes, accessories. Maybe you were spoiled…sat on the floor of your walk-in closet in nothing but your pretty lingerie, your arms crossed under your chest, you mull over your options for the perfect outfit for your and Miguel’s date tonight.

You check the time on your phone and sigh, deciding to take your chances with that one bodycon cami dress you got months ago. It was cute, I guess. You quickly finish getting ready, your finishing touch being a pretty little necklace with a pendant with the letter M engraved into it. 

The girls were shipped off to your parents house for the night, it was just you two. He cooed and crooned over you, showering you with gifts and peppering your pretty face with kisses. Making your face a little red from his stubble brushing over your cheeks, he booked a nice restaurant nearby for the two of you and came back home for Valentine's Day sex.

After years of marriage and having kids, of course things would often fall into a routine. But after all his gifts and gushing, maybe things won't be so uniform tonight.

The dinner was fine…your alfredo pasta was good so far, and the wine was nice. But Miguel was acting strange ever since you woke him up. He's been red in the face and nervous, which was weird since he was usually so confident and outspoken. 

He was complaining about the wine being expensive, you look up from your pasta to count his forehead creases. 

“It’s like I have to hunt a waiter down for a bottle of wine, wine that's nearly two-hundred dollars. Ridiculous…” He grumbled, you can’t help but roll your eyes as he obnoxiously waved at a waiter. 

“Miggy, please stop. You’re acting like my mother.” You mumble after he spoke to the waiter, you watch the poor twenty something year old disappear into the kitchen to get that bottle.

“Oh please, even I wouldn’t stoop that low.” Miguel scoffed, poking his food with the prongs of his fork like Gabriela did when she didn’t want to eat her dinner and she’d stall for sympathy. You tried making conversation, when that doesn’t really seem to work, something more devious appears in your smile as a sudden idea comes to mind. 

Of course, you’d know how to get him to relax. You prided yourself with that, so you set your little plan to action. You make sure no one in the restaurant was looking in your general direction, you pick up your salad fork, a type fork you may have used twice in your life, and drop it on the fancy dark wood floors of the restaurant. Which, in turn, makes the most loud and annoying ‘ting’ sound, Miguel gives you a look as you freeze. 

“Gosh, clumsy me~” You quickly reassess, making sure no one is looking, you duck to your knees to pick up the fork that somehow got almost completely under the table. It was one of those circular tables with a long red cloth draped on it to the floor. You sneak underneath without anyone suspecting a th-

“What are you doing?” Miguel calmly asks, though you can tell by his tone he’s the human equivalent to a donkey on the edge.

“I’m grabbing my fork,” You answer, though you have passed the fork, crawling on your hands and knees, you make a beeline to your manspreading husband. You rest your chin on the edge of the chair, pressing your soft lips for a fat kiss on his bulge. He jolts when you do, his hands flying to cover his crotch.

“A-amor!” Miguel yelped, his knees hitting the table. Making his wine glass fall, he quickly moved to pick it back up. Giving you just enough time to sloppily unbuckle his belt and pull his slacks down just enough to pull his semi-hard cock out, the table cloth covering his lap up. You smile to yourself before licking your palms to stroke him with both your hands. 

Once he was completely hard in your soft hands, you took his tip in your mouth. Kitten licking it as you stroked with one hand and kneaded his balls with the other. He was trying (and failing) to mask his whimpers and squeaks by sipping his wine. 

“So pretty~” You cooed, slapping his fat cock over your tongue. His pre dripped down his aching shaft from his slit, which you of course greedily lick up. Every noise Miguel made went straight to your sopping pussy, which you were grinding up and down his dress shoe. He grunted, how rude, you’re polishing his cock and shoes, and he dares to complain?

You take a solid four inches into your mouth, the tip hitting the back of your throat, making you gag. You wish you could look at his pretty face as he groans and grunts, you nod your head, attempting to fit more into your mouth. 

Relaxing your throat, you take a deep breath in through your nose and breath back out slowly before taking him all the way to his base. Your nose nestles into his trimmed pubic hair while your hands snake forward to dip back into his boxers to give his balls a squeeze. Your drool and his pre dripped from your soft lips and down his balls.

Miguel pressed his palm into his lips, his eyes squeezed shut. His free hand on the crown of your head, his fingers tangled with your hair as he guided you. His thighs shuddered, doing everything in his power to not moan loudly in a crowded restaurant on Valentines day. You try to bob your head but he keeps you down on his cock.

He huffed and his hips buckled to push deeper into you, you gag and tears roll down your cheeks. It only took a few more seconds as hot, white ropes shot down your throat and warmed your belly. You swallow quickly, your moans vibrate against him as you ride him through his orgasm. 

Only when you hear that whimper do you finally slide off of him. Your lips leave the tip with a lewd pop. You give his cock a sweet little kiss, you dry your tears and climb back into your seat, placing your fork back on the table where it belongs with a satisfied smile. He wasn’t glaring anymore, he looks much more relaxed now…

Just from the look alone tells you that you’re in for it when you get home. 

Before Miguel could say a thing, the waiter zips back over to the table to come check up on your dinner. He was about to leave when he paused.

“You’ve got some alfredo sauce on your lips, ma’am.” The waiter said, pointing to his own lips. You squeak out a quick ‘oh!’ and dab your lips with your napkin. Wiping off the ‘alfredo sauce’ as the waiter ran off to another table.

“Don’t,” You sighed, Miguel was smirking, resting his head on his palm. He was relaxed now, and was giggly from the alfredo sauce comment.

“I didn’t even say anything~ though you do look cute with alfredo sauce on your lip.” Miguel said sweetly, swirling his wine glass to watch the red liquid slosh in the cup before raising it to his lip to take a sip. His crimson eyes trained on you. Giving you a look that made your previously soaked panties soaking wet and sticking to your cunt.

“Though you are very much still in trouble.”

Your heel made you slip on the icy doorstep, Miguel’s hand on your waist hoisted you upright before you could fall into the snow. “Careful~” He tutted smugly, unlocking the door for you and you rushed inside the warm home. 

Both you and Miguel had been drinking, you from the embarrassing alfredo sauce incident and Miguel because he was trying to loosen up. You’re both tipsy and stumbling into the kitchen, you go to the sink to pour yourself a big glass of water to sober up. Just as you gulp down the last sip, Miguel comes up behind you, his big, calloused hands resting on your shoulders, squeezing gently.

His soft lips find your jaw, he massages your shoulders. The wine made him tipsy and went straight to his dick. Your back pressed against his chest and stomach, your hands on the cool surface of the kitchen counter. Signing softly and nearly letting a moan slip as his hands travel down from your shoulders to rub your clothed breast.

You grip the counter, your shoulders going slack and your back involuntary arching. His thumbs brushing over your hardening nipples, you feel his cock hardening from underneath his slacks as he slowly grinds on you. His lips still on your jaw, the tip of his tongue slipping from his lips to press against your soft skin.

Humping your plump ass and squeezing your plush tits was heaven to Miguel, the only thing missing was his cock buried deep into your gushing cunt. 

Tipsy, he decided that’s what he needed, he wrapped a beefy arm around your waist and hoisted you up over his shoulder. 

“Miguel!” You squealed, kicking your feet as you slowly began to sober up. He didn’t say anything, just grunting and his hand falling from the small of your back to your butt, pinching the fat to tell you to quiet down. He carried you with ease up the stairs, down the hallway to your shared bedroom. 

He wrapped his arms around your thighs and flopped you down on your back onto the blankets and pillows. You landed back with a squeak of the mattress, your legs dangling off the edge as he straddled your his. His lips crashed into yours, his cheeks painted in a pink hue, his big hands ran up and down your sides

You parted your lips, catching your whines and huffs in his mouth as he pressed your beefy body into you. Trapping you to the bed with his hands, he leaned over you, his kisses searing as he held your wrists up over your head to keep you underneath him. 

When he got tipsy, he wouldn’t be bothered by foreplay. He needed to get right to the good part, his kisses got hungrier and needier with every second that passed. His hands rubbed down your sides, sliding your dress off your body. His eyes wandered and quickly widening when he saw your lack of anything under your dress.

You went rogue on him, you ditched your lingerie in the restaurant bathroom, since your panties were soaked and uncomfortable, and because you too wanted to get to the main event as soon as possible~ He stripped and sat down on the edge of the bed with you on his lap in his favorite position, full nelson. Your legs bent up to fold you in half, your knees on either side of your head with his arms bending you back with his fingers locked with each other behind your neck. It was sort of uncomfortable, but the second he moved his hips, you forgot all about it.

He thrusted sloppily into you, you threw you back on his shoulder almost immediately as his tip practically kissed your womb the first thrust. He didn't stretch you out prior, the burn was enough to make you scream. His hips jutted up and down, your ass slapping down against his pelvis. Filling your bedroom with the sweat slaps of skin hitting skin and your lewd moans. 

Your eyes flick up and cross, he’s been at it for hours it feels like when he actually just started.

“Please, Miggy,” You mewled in his ear. He ignored you, peering over your shoulder to watch your pretty titties bounce from how he was rocking you. Miguel looked angry, like he usually did during sex. Grabbing your hair he roughly pulls making your back arch suddenly “Fucking ride it,” he commanded in a harsh tone. 

Feeling him throb in you, you're ready for more, slowly start raising your hips and bringing yourself down the best you could when you squished and bent into the position. You felt the knot in the pit of your tummy tightening as he speared into you, a ring of cream wrapped around the base of his angry, twitching cock.

All night long, the man fucked you like a fleshlight. Making you cry tears of pleasure and scream his name for all your neighbors to hear. Your knot snapped for what felt like the umpteenth time, your orgasm ripped through you in waves. 

That didn’t stop him though, he’s fucking you like he’s trying to mold your gummy walls to fit his, and only his cock. 

Painting your womb white with ribbons of hot cum for the sixth time, he finally let’s go. His hands slightly raised as if admitting defeat as his chest rose and fell. Sweat rolling down his body as you crawl onto the bed to try to cool down. He falls down on his stomach next to you on his side of the bed. 

You poor thing have been put through the wringer, you’ve came too many times to count, been came in too many times to count, cried, screamed and moaned. Your throat and poor, slutty, pussy been played with and fucked ruthlessly. Your eyes are half lidded when Miguel rolled onto his side to face you.

“Amor…?” Miguel whispered, his voice hoarse.

“Hmm?”

“I need to admit something…I sent you the ramo buchon, even though I told you that your secret admirer sent it to you.” He admitted sheepishly, like he was an embarrassed kid owning up to taking a cookie. It made you chuckle sleepily.

“Yeah…I had a hunch,” You smiled, taking his hand in yours and running your thumb over his knuckles. He seems genuinely surprised you knew it was him.

“How…-you know what, never mind, mariposa. Happy Valentine's Day to the loveliest girl in the whole multiverse.” He smiled sweetly, bringing your hand to his lips and kissed it softly. 

“Thank you, mi Valentín.” 

[dancingtotuyo]

epilogue. the ghosts that we knew

Woman | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: angst, hurt and comfort, cancer, TLOU II SPOILERS, death, grief, Major Character Death, afterlife?

Notes: So we come to the end of this beautiful journey. Thank you EVERYONE for all your lovely comments and words over these past several month. I hope you don't hate me too much.

Words: 3942

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

You walk the trail every night. Sometimes, Ellie joins you or Maria, but never Tommy. Sometimes you walk alone. You talk to Gabe still. You tell him about Carter. You tell him that you’re okay. But most often, you talk to Joel. It’s not that you loved him more, but it is different. Where Gabe drifted further away in death, you still feel Joel nearby like he’s watching over you. You wonder if Gabe saw Joel coming. Maybe he stepped back so you could have someone next to you.

You tell Joel about your day and how the kids are growing. You pull his smile, the feel of his hand in yours, out of the recesses of your mind, so close to the surface, it's almost tangible. You tell him that you miss him. It takes years, but eventually, you tell him that you’re okay. 

Ellie spends more time with you at the house. She walks with you to take Carter and Willa to school. She comes over for dinner most nights. Together, you tell your favorite Joel stories over dinner. Carter chimes in from time to time. Willa listens for every drop she can glean of the fading figure in her young mind. 

The kids are asleep when Ellie has her first panic attack. The clattering of pots falling to the floor does it. You hold her through it. Your hands aren’t able to fix this one. She sleeps next to you on Joel’s side of the bed that night. It still smells like him. 

It’s a month after Joel’s burial when Tommy comes fumbling in late to your weekly family dinners. He has a lead on the girl who did it. Tension seeps through your bones. You don’t have the same taste for revenge. The idea is bitter in your mouth. 

There’s a lot of shouting. Maria tells Tommy no. That part is clear, but you see the guilt seep through him. He knows he’s not responsible for Joel’s death, but he can’t let it go. It’s no surprise when Maria knocks on your door the next morning that Tommy is gone. Ellie and Dina ride out that morning. Jesse follows suit soon after. 

The familiar fog of grief creeps at the corners of your mind. You can’t let it overtake you this time. You have the kids. Tommy and Ellie’s absence makes it harder, but you push through. You want to do more than just survive. You can almost hear Joel cheering you on. 

You throw yourself into motherhood and training your apprentices. At night, you cry yourself to sleep. Maria and Elias spend more time at your house than theirs. You never say it out loud, but both of you start to wonder if your family unit which was once 8 has dwindled to 5. 

A weight lifts off your chest when Ellie bursts into the clinic. You pull her into a suffocating hug and then inspect her for injuries. There are many, but she’s going to be okay. Tommy’s leg is another story. It’s been too long since he sustained the injury. He’ll walk with a limp for the rest of his life. Dina’s shoulder injury is miraculously not infected, but it’s the subtle swell of her abdomen that makes you lose your breath. 

You’re able to find a strong heartbeat with the doppler. Dina and Ellie share a relieved look. You want to ask but restrain yourself. Ellie will tell you when you need to know. 

You don’t ask where Jesse is. 

Your family dinners resume. Your family table is back to 8 since Dina joined with the ever-growing promise of 9. You know Tommy is still searching for leads on Abby. You pray he never finds them. Things between him and Maria aren’t good. Ellie says she’s done seeking her out. 

Ellie spends a lot of her free time riding outside the wall. You don’t ask questions. Joel liked to wander too. Sometimes she shares about the things she saw, but oftentimes she just shares a knowing grin with Dina. There’s a twinge in your heart. You used to do the same with Joel. 

Autumn is in the air when you finally open Joel’s drawers. Maria hasn’t said anything about Joel’s clothes, but you know you need to go through them, distribute what’s wearable to people who need it. It still smells like him. Tears spring in your eyes. It’s been so long that you have started to forget it. Closing your eyes, you can feel him next to you, behind you, in front. He’s all around. His soft voice echoes deep within your brain almost like he’s whispering in your ear. The tears fall in steady streams. 

You save 2 shirts, one for Carter and one for Willa. Ellie has his watch, and you have the kids. The rest of his shirts and jeans go into the box. Then you clean out his sock drawer, checking each for holes, which most of them have. A small smirk crosses your face. You and Sarah used to do the laundry. His socks always had holes then too. Some things never change. You pull two socks apart, and something flashes in the light before hitting the floor with a soft ping. You toss the socks into the box, feeling around for the item. You find it just under the dresser. 

You hold the thin, gold band in your palm. It feels so delicate in your hands. Diamond chips encrust half of the band, shimmering in the light. Your eyes water again. It slips on with just enough resistance that it won’t slip off: a perfect fit. How long did he have this? Was he going to give it to you? 

Yes. It whispers in your bones. 

Not as a proposal, you know that, but a sign of his commitment. You slip it back off. Something doesn’t sit right about wearing it on your finger for the whole world to see. You want to keep this between you and Joel for a little while.

You open up the box on your dresser. It contains your wedding band, untouched since you placed it there years ago, a few pairs of earrings, and the gold chain your dad gave you the day you graduated nursing school. You slide the ring onto the chain. It rests underneath your shirt, near your heart.  

You give Maria the box to distribute. You don’t tell her about the ring. It stays tucked under your shirt.

The night of Joel’s birthday, you reach for the last of the coffee beans pushed in the back of the  cupboard. There’s something therapeutic about the movements- grinding the beans and boiling the water. 

When you open the cupboard, the owl mug sits at the forefront. You freeze. You don’t know how it got there. It’s stayed pushed to the back since his death, but it makes you hold your breath. You despised that thing so much, but now you reach for it, filing it with coffee.

“Make enough for two?” Ellie says.

You spin around to find her sitting at the kitchen table. You smile weakly. “I can make it stretch.”

You know her disdain for it but say nothing, filling a second mug for her. The two of you sit in silence, steaming cups of coffee in front of you until Ellie gives up trying to choke it down. She pours the remainder of her mug into yours. You chuff, smile tipping your lips. 

“I don’t know how that old man drank this shit.”

“Yeah, this isn’t great, but you know Joel.”

“Never saw him turn down a cup of coffee.”

“No, I don’t think he ever did.” You take another sip of coffee, eyes watering with unshed tears.

Ellie invites you to join her on a ride one day. You take her up on the offer. You ride side by side for most of the trek. It’s apparent she’s taking you somewhere. 

“Ever been out this way?”

“Joel used to pull me out of Jackson from time to time. We spent time in the wildflower fields. Bugged the hell out of the council.” You laugh. 

Ellie smiles. “And before?”

“I never got so far past this side of Jackson.”

“Something new to see,” Ellie says, excitedly then hesitates slightly. “Joel took me to a museum once for my birthday. They had a dinosaur and a space exhibit. He tracked down an old tape from one of the rocket launches. It was one of the best days of my life.” 

“I remember when he found the museum. He couldn’t stop talking about how excited he was to show you.” you smile at the memory. “He talked about that day a lot. It was one of his favorites.”

Ellie pulls her horse to a stop and you follow suit. “He was really good at that, making sure there were good days.”

“He was.”

“I’m not sure how many good days are left for me in Jackson.” 

Your heart skips a beat as you push down the panic rising in your chest. You can’t lose another person. “Oh?”

“Dina and I… we’ve been talking about what we want after the baby is born.” 

You try to focus on her words, not the ringing in your ears. “Is that why you brought me out here?”

“I wanted to show you.” Ellie grins, kicking her horse forward.

You furrow your brow following after her. Your questions are answered as you burst into a clearing. An old farmhouse comes into view. It appears to be in relatively good condition. A partial fence circles widely around the property. It’s new. 

You look over at Ellie who wears a look of pride and ownership over the small estate. “You did this?”

Ellie nods. “Dina and I are gonna move after the baby is born. I’ve been working to get the fence finished and the inside livable”

Tears prickle at the back of your eyes. There aren’t words for how you feel. You’re sad that Ellie won’t be across the street anymore, but you’re proud of her for carving out her own space in this world. She’s not far, you remind yourself. There’s something else about it tugging in your soul. Joel would love this place. 

“You and Carter and Willa can come visit us anytime,” Elie says as if she can read your thoughts. 

“Ellie, it’s amazing.” 

She looks relieved. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “Now show me inside.”

The sun is setting as the settlement walls fade into view. You two spent too long at The Farm, you know it, but you hadn’t seen Ellie’s eyes light up like that in a long time. She is bouncing off the walls. It’s good to be out from behind the city walls. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Of course.”

“It’s just... ” Ellie bristles. “You’ve been quiet since we left.” 

“Sorry, I’ve just been thinking.”

“Oh.” 

You let it settle over the two of you for a while. “Joel always talked about finding a farm nearby. Getting out of the walls.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I did a shitty job of training other people to do my job. I didn’t feel like I could leave.”

Ellie nods. 

“I asked him what kind of farm he wanted.” You smile at the memory. “He always said-”

“Sheep.” Ellie finishes. “Because they’re quiet and do what they’re told.” 

You laugh. “Exactly.” 

You’re back within the walls of Jackson as the sun dips behind the mountains. You walk down the streets side by side in silence. Ellie turns for her house. 

“Ellie, I’m proud of you.” She stops in her tracks and turns around. Lights from the house sparkle off her eyes. “I don’t know if that means a lot coming from me-”

You’re cut off when she collides into your chest, arms squeezing you tight. You squeeze back. “Thank you.” It’s soft on her voice. 

JJ is a few months old when Ellie and Dina move out to The Farm. You go out to visit them occasionally, sometimes with the kids and sometimes not. The first time you go alone, the wildflowers are in bloom. You take a 15-minute pitstop to collect yourself when you first spot them. You leave The Farm early to walk through the same wildflowers Joel used to take you to. 

The breeze plays in your loose hair. You slip off your boots and let your toes curl into the unkempt ground. You see Joel’s smile in the Prairie Fire, hear his laugh in the Columbine. 

Here, the familiar whisper behind your ear says. 

You still wear the ring on your chain. It feels warm under your shirt. Unclasping it, you let the gold band fall into your palm. You slip the ring on your finger for the first time since you found it, and it stays there.

You pick a bouquet of wildflowers. They sit on your kitchen table for a week, and it feels like Joel hand-delivered them. Willa stares at them with her head cocked to the side, chin resting on the table. The tilt of her head reminds you of Joel. She has his soft curls that gather right at the bottom of her neck. The wonderment in her eyes reminds you of Sarah. You can’t help but kiss her head, let your fingers trail through her hair. His rings sparkles on your finger under the sun streaming through the window. You wonder if she feels the same draw toward the flowers that her dad did. 

Willa smiles up at you. “Feels nice, mommy.” His Little Wildflower. She’s growing like a weed.

Carter struggles. He doesn’t talk. He spends most of his days in his bedroom. Joel always found a way to get him to talk, to smile. He may be the spitting image of his father- but it’s clear he got your temperament- your way of handling his feelings. 

You take him to The Farm, just the two of you. He helps in the barn, rolls around with the sheep, and walks the fence line with Ellie for hours. You hear him laugh while you hold JJ on the front porch. Even though they don’t share blood with him, you see bits of Joel in both their mannerisms. They learned how to interact with the world from him. 

Carter is excited when they get back. Ellie is going to teach him how to shoot next time you visit. You swallow back tears. Joel promised to teach him once he turned 10. Carter talks your ear off the whole way home. 

Tommy still looks for leads on Abby. You pray he never finds one. Things between him and Maria are tense. Elias spends a lot of time at your house. Your worst fears are realized when Maria bangs on your front door at 6 am one morning. Tommy’s found a lead. He’s going to talk to Ellie. 

You tear into Tommy in the middle of the street when he gets back that evening. “What the fuck are you thinking!?”

He brushes you off. “I’m not discussing this with you.”

“Like hell you are! How dare you bring Ellie back into this!” You’re a mama bear, fiercely protecting her cub. “You fucking asshole! Do you know how hard she’s worked to be okay?”

“She wants justice just as bad as I do!” You’re sure the whole town is watching from their windows, but you don’t care. 

“This isn’t justice! It’s revenge!” You can’t push back the tears that come. Your family table can’t grow smaller. You can’t lose Tommy too. “Where does it fucking end? With us all in the ground? He wouldn’t have wanted this!”

“How can you say that?” Tommy gets in your face. It’s a scare tactic you’ve seen him use before. You don’t flinch. “That bitch took him from us! She made us slide that knife into his heart. She deserves it- and worse!”

“You will not drag my children into this, Tommy!”

“Did you really love him? Or was it all just-”

Your hand collides with his cheek before he can finish. “How dare you!” You’re shaking with rage. Tommy holds his cheek in his hand. “Joel would’ve wanted you here with your wife and son! He would’ve wanted us to keep having family dinners, and holidays together! He would’ve wanted us to live! Not just survive! I’m trying to live, Tommy! Because going back into survival would kill me! And it’ll do the same to Ellie!”

“If she doesn’t go, I go.” Tommy walks away. 

You ride out to The Farm the next morning. Dina looks relieved when you climb the front porch stairs. Ellie is in her drawing room. She’s added more portraits since you were here last. They’re mostly Dina and JJ, but there’s one of Carter from his last visit, Willa from behind, Joel with his guitar on the porch, playing catch with Carter, dancing with Willa. All as clear as pictures. It hits you how much she observed, took in even when she looked in from a distance. The last one steals your breath for a minute. Two silhouettes dance on a front porch.

You have to swallow back the emotions before you speak. “I know Tommy was here yesterday.” 

And then she cries in your arms. You brush her hair away from her face as she does. You make out limited information. The panic attacks keep coming. She can’t make them stop. She thinks this will make them stop. Your hands, so used to healing, feel useless. 

With her head in your lap, she looks like that 14 year old girl you met years ago. “It’s not your fault, Ellie.”

She looks up at you through bloodshot eyes. “He would’ve never killed that doctor if it wasn’t for me.”

I would do it all again. It comes through so tangible. You repeat it to her. You tell her it’s not her fault. You tell her that Joel learned to live again because of her. You want the same thing for her. Don’t let vengeance overtake her. You want her to live life how it’s meant to be lived, not the violent cycle it’s turned into. Joel wants her to live. 

Ellie stays on the farm with Dina and their son. She comes to see you in Jackson more often. All three of them do. The two of you talk about the day Joel died and what she saw. She finds out what helps her get through the panic attacks. It’s not easy, but they start to come less frequently. 

Tommy goes after Abby. You feel like you lose another piece of Joel as his figure disappears into the tree line. You hold Maria as she cries. No one sees her cry but you. The roles are reversed, but you know how to give her support and comfort. You learned from the best. 

I’m still here, Darlin. You have all of me.

You hear nothing from or of Tommy for months. It turns into years. Maria blames herself. She told him to not come back. Elias is getting into trouble at school. You’re all shocked when Tommy returns two years later. He moves into Joel’s house across the street. He never found her. 

Maria and Tommy coexist. They both join family dinners. They co-parent Elias well, but they don’t reunite. 

Life isn’t always easy, but you make it through, all of you. Most importantly, you experience life. The ups and downs, the twists and the turns, and you do it together because you’re family. 

It’s the morning of Willa’s 16th birthday when you find it. A lump in your breast. Just 1 from what you can tell. You comb your mind for any other signs. None that you can recall. Maybe it’s benign. You push back the memories of your grandmother’s battle with breast cancer, but the tears still emerge. 

I’ve got you. You swear you can almost feel Joel’s arms around you. 

You don’t tell anyone. You spend more time outside the walls. You’ve trained up several people to provide medical care. Morgan can suture better than you. Sharon has steadier hands. Willa is already an expert herbalist, growing and cultivating medicinal herbs and plants. If something happens to you, Jackson will still have good medical care.

Joel seems closer than ever these days, like the veil between worlds is thinning. Sometimes you swear you see a flicker of him like a mirage in the wildflowers, or in the corner when the whole family is together. You were never sure what you thought about higher powers and the afterlife, but you’re sure there’s something there.  

You find another lump two years later. A third shows up soon after. You start to notice other changes in your body. You’re tiring easier.  

You’re more intentional about the time you spend with the kids. You make sure they know the stories they can’t remember. Carter teaches you how to shoot a bow. Willa teaches you about all the herbs in her greenhouse. You spend whole weeks at The Farm. It’s the end of summer when you know you have to start telling people. You tell Ellie while the two of you watch the sunset from the porch swing. She hugs you. There are tears, but there's peace to them. 

You faint while on a walk with Maria at the start of September. You tell her, and then you tell the kids. It’s one of the hardest things you have to do. Even at 21 year old, Carter goes to stone as Willa cries in your arms. 

You’re confined to your bed by Christmas. You sleep most of the day. Everyone comes for Christmas. Carter carries your shrinking frame to the couch. There’s laughter and jokes. You notice Maria’s hand in Tommy’s, but you don’t ask. 

Joel catches your eye from the corner. He looks younger. In his early 40s or so, you think. He smiles at you. He’s never been so clear. He’s waiting for you.

You stop eating after Christmas. Your thoughts start to feel disjointed, words scratch at your throat and you can’t push them out. Breathing takes all your energy. Willa has extracted opium from poppies. It helps. You hear their voices filter in. Willa, Carter, Ellie, Dina, Maria, JJ, and finally Tommy. They talk to you, but you can’t respond. They reminisce. It brings comfort to you as you feel their voices slipping away until you can’t hear them anymore. It’s dark and silent. 

When you open your eyes, you’re greeted by bright clear skies. The wind rustles through the wildflowers around you. A bird chirps in the distance. You stretch out your legs with the delectable sensation only available after a sun soaked nap. 

You close your eyes again, you can see Jackson. Willa and Carter are bickering about something. They walk your evening path. Willa is giving Carter a hard time about his latest romantic encounter. You can see The Farm. Dina and Ellie sit on the front porch. JJ is doing his chores. It all feels so close, but you feel separate. You can see it all happening, walk through it with just a thought, but you can’t interact with the world.

There’s a deep chuckle in your ear. You turn your head. Joel lays next to you, a smile on his face. His hair is less gray than last time you saw him. The creases around his eyes aren’t as deep. 

His hand touches yours. It’s warm. You’ve passed to the other side of the veil. Your heart leaps.

“Hey Sweetheart, I’ve been waiting for you.” 

Tag List: @pedrotonin@amyispxnk@joeldjarin@ilovepedro@justagalwhowrites

@missladym1981@jessthebaker@annieispunk@ashleyfilm@moel-jiller

@eloquentdreamer@lizzie-cakes@hiroikegawa

[fionarara]

+ cherry bomb .

+ GOJŌ SATORU x READER .

+ T W ⇾ 18+ only . smut . sugar daddy!gojo . dilf!gojo . f!reader . implied ddlg dynamics . adult age gap (the amount is your interpretation) . aquaphilia aka underwater sex . praise . a bit of a baby bimbo reader so um dacryphilia, no rly, like i’m talking actual tears, yeah . gojou has a dumb joke (or two) . mention of divorce (not yours) and of gojo’s child (also not yours) . slight size kink if you squint . i feel like both flaunted capitalism and vapid self-indulgence needs a tag here ?? we be explorin dark kink of all kinds on this here blog, right? (｡>ω<｡) . reader has a few nicknames . no beta . and lastly, probably goes without saying but daddy kink, i repeat, daddy kink . oyasumi ✌︎ .

+ A N ⇾ um, istg i totally did not mean to post this dilf!gojo on actual father’s day, h-whoa? but the universe just always has my back i swear, an amazing coincidence as i only realized right before posting, and somehow it feels *symbolic* ?? - this is for the sugar daddy collab by @sleepysnk, ty for letting me join last minute summer ♡ 

+ W C ⇾ circa 5,500

Zz Zz Zz.

Within your skirt a vibration kicks off. 

The ringing of a phone tucked into the waistband against your tummy chimes out its soft little tune where you withdraw it to peek at the screen. Flashing vibrantly across its surface reads ‘DD Gojo’, and the smile unveiling on your face shines as brightly as the reflected device in your palm.

From where you stand on the sidewalk in elegant heels, all dolled up for the occasion, the twilight of dusk is visible on the horizon. The vision of picturesque dark multi-colored hues harmonize nicely with the wafting scent of warm pastries and tea in the air nearby, out from the cafe of the luxury shopping center you’ve been waiting in front of: Gojo’s favorite meeting spot. Whereby inevitably, has become yours as well. 

A place you have both frequented together before, where he has showered you with many gifts, many times over, treasured in both of your memories. Cherished adventures built here upon wining and dining at the finest restaurants, playing dress up at the shops amongst extravagance, the cavalcade of glittering jewels and lavish garments–all the things you deserve as far as he’s concerned. He is of the belief that whatever you receive should be nothing but the best the world could ever offer, or at least his wallet, he figures. 

And since life has been really tough on him lately–divorce is a bitch, the entire ongoing legal process has been one drawn out migraine–you and your overall companionship are so highly prized, not only in his day-to-day, but because of the new glow you’ve supplied his life. Especially during the last several months of regularly seeing one another after the separation from his marriage. 

Unabashed in his absolute fondness for you, he has deemed you his little crème de la crème angel.

You pick up the jingling phone in your hand.

Gojo Satoru seems to be in an especially exuberant and silly mood when his voice forces a notable husky tone, answering your greeting with a fun-loving tease, a low murmur on the other end of the call.

“Ring-ding-dong—is baby ready for my dong, sweets?” He finds himself hilarious, goofy, a laugh ripping out of his throat with audacity, clearly and thoroughly enjoying his own terrible joke.

Wow. There’s that classic on-a-whim, lively, larger-than-life bluntness that comes along with Gojo’s Sagittarius energy you have come to know well: he’s innately playful and comedic, fun, loud, has got a charmingly sharp tongue with no filter—it can sometimes come back to bite him in the ass if he’s not careful—and all of that is blanketed by a sort of fiery sense of passion for the things he loves.

The fact remains that his way of being has always been able to find a kind of carefree humor within you, something so inexplicable. He brings out in you a sense of total ease or lightness you weren’t even sure you were capable of. A kind of untapped, unfettered joy no one has ever been able to touch in you before…

So you’re halfway snickering at him now, amused, but with full-blown sarcasm you reply, “Ha–ha, Satoru, you’re so classy…” then you’re truly giggling, “...just shuddup and get over here already.” You try to restrain the crack of a too-wide smile from spreading across your cheeks, but fail, gloriously.

So you give in to it. Deciding to oblige him, you press the mic of the phone closer to your lips with a hand cupped over your mouth, shielding your next spoken words while you avert your head downward in a play of secrecy. It’s almost a whisper when you respond. 

“But…yes, I think that…just maybe, I am ready for it. Got it?”

He’s unable to actually see the minxy raise of your brow shown on your face, but the gesture is not lost on him from the tone in your voice. He hears it loud and clear.

“Jeesus, baby, I’m comin’, I’m comin’...”, the subtle rise of anticipation within him giddy and excitable. "Listen, I’m almost there. My GPS says I’m two minutes away.”

Late afternoon air has you rubbing away chilly goosebumps alive on your skin, particularly your upper arms, to bring you warmth. “Ok, good. Please hurry, it’s getting nippy out.” 

“Oh?” Here it comes… “Mm, ya better have nipples out…see you soon.” The sound of a bold chuckle is distorted by the phone speaker before it’s cut off by a prompt click. He disconnected the call in that way.

Already, it is your second humored eye-roll of the evening from his cheeky Gojo-behavior and you haven’t even seen him yet.

Your chest is lighter because of it.

The shopping bags in your grasp shift from two hands into one, your free hand thumbing to find the golden credit card Gojo lent you in the pocket of your jacket. Assuring yourself that it’s still there is important. 

Over a month ago, he had broken the news of how meetups between the two of you would soon become more of a challenge, due to court and custody hearings surrounding the finalization of his divorce. You’d be spending a considerable amount of time apart, he’d said. It would be longer than usual, by a whole month, and offered to grant you some form of consolation in return. So the very next day, an express-shipped credit card appeared at your doorstep in the fine afternoon with a letter enclosed. In it, he expressed that you were to use it and shop to your little heart’s content. The only deal was that you would hand it back upon the arrival of this date.

The car that pulls up to double park along the curbside beside you is, without a doubt, the most expensive car you will have ever ridden. It’s new. Gojo had mentioned it last week, making the purchase to lift his spirits and also as celebration for the court case he’d won against his ex. They’d granted him equal joint custody of their child. Actually, his final stop prior to fetching you this evening had been dropping off his baby daughter.

The door swings open on its own, remotely controlled by electronics. In view and resting on the front seat is a tatty teddy bear belonging to his child that was forgotten.

“Oops, lemme move that for you.” Somehow the sight of this tiny plush toy in his large hand brings about the sweetest rush in you for him. The stuffed animal is laid to rest onto the back seat where you also note a hollow purple baby bottle leaking a dribble of spilt milk from its nipple and onto the cushion. 

Nineties grunge-rock plays soft on the radio when you climb in. The air is filled with a sweet and peppery, woodsy scent, one you recognize immediately–it’s him, his comforting cologne so greatly missed, only making you that much more aware of just how profound the ache has truly been for this moment to be by his side. 

Crawling towards him, you pelt your eager arms around his neck, a way that communicates it has felt like an eternity apart. Both of you have a greater sense of it now, from being in the other’s presence. You can hardly keep your exhilaration in check, not with the soft squeals you let loose on his shoulder. For a moment, together you melt, breathing into each other.

It hangs in the air of the moment as you embrace. 

The weight of the wait. 

He then cradles you deeper, pulling you into an assertive kiss so welcoming, so sloppy with intention, it’s as if he’s blissfully unconcerned with how messy it is because, finally, you’re here. Letting you know it’s been far too long for him when he’s matting your cheeks with numerous pecks and taking in the scent of your hair.

Withdrawing to observe you, his eyes alight with radiance at the full sight of you, your energy. “God, I almost forgot just how stunning you are. Look at you! Just…incredible.”

The praise washes over you and after exchanging a few more greeting words, of how you’ve longed to see each other, he shifts the car gear into drive. 

Buildings whip across the dark sunset and late dusk settles in. The spectacle of nightfall on this ride, of the city through the windshield, excites him enough to ignite a sudden curious stir in his pants. Maybe it’s the prospect of what night can bring with you along after so much distance that has his dick twitch at the thought alone.  

And with that, his hand is creeping over to your lap. It should be almost comical when you believe for the quickest moment that his approaching hand would be innocent. One only of affection, to caress you, a gentle expression only in missing you…

But consequently, their energy becomes different—turn into those fingers, the kind you know well that are wanting, possessive. And being able to even think another thought is lost on you before he is squeezing at the thickest part of your inner thigh then slipping under your skirt.

“Satoruuu…wait…” you swat his arm with a light tap, dissuading him from getting too distracted. It’s happened once or twice before he’s lost control of the wheel when attempting something as naughty as this, but it is half-hearted when you breathily urge, “…pay…pay attention to the road…” 

Not a moment later, out from the speakers the bass booms more loudly, the volume amplifying higher by the second where the music thumps heavy throughout your body. You locate the outlandish crystal-eyed culprit and his thumb pressing the ‘+ volume up’ button on the steering wheel.

Not only does he have the music blasted, but has the gall to flash a cutesy grin of mischief at you, a most sinful and impish face. That expression is followed up with a playful mocking yell, where the holler of his voice competes and cuts through the music. 

“HUH, baby?-! WHAT? I can't hear you!” he teases, then carries on anyway with the slide of his fingers between your pressed thighs. It’s difficult for you not to part them a smidge while the electric feel of his three fingers reaches for your clothed cunt. They press flat against your mound at the first touch, then begin to fondle lightly at the grooves of your pussy, tracing the outer shape of it with his fingertips. 

Having some restraint here had been your aim, but tonight you seem to be failing plenty at not completely succumbing to his whimsical charm–it's just been so long since you’ve been near him–you’d almost forgotten how magnetic his presence truly is. 

Attempting to keep your desire hidden, you try stifling the puff of air that escapes your throat, turning your head away towards the window, but it is futile. On full display to him now is how unable you are to withstand his spellbinding touch, and he’d spotted it. That little starved expression tells Gojo how badly you’re fiending, it has him lowering the radio, the amplitude of the loud song descending and funneling out of the small space, volume all the way down so he can very clearly hear what his defiance has wrought on you. 

Listening to your tiny constrained moans sends heat straight through his abdomen. You do not want to be condoning any of this while he’s driving, but unfortunately for your willpower, you act on instinct when you begin pawing desperately at the muscular forearm connected to strong fingers massaging over the wet spot of your panties.

“Yeahh…you like this, huh? Knew it.” 

But, in a moment too soon, he is cut off by an abrupt swerve of the car and you gasp.

“Shit–” he grips steadfast onto the wheel, gaining composure of the vehicle.

“...Alright, alright, you were right. Let’s save this.” Punctuating the final word with one reassuring pat down onto your pussy, it's honestly more like a gentle spank.

You’re pouting, but of course you nod, agree, and settle into the electrically warmed seat produced by the suave leather chair, feeling loosened up.

Safety first.

. + .

The door to Gojo’s opulent estate, only a fraction of what sits on a 22-acre property, welcomes you by the greeting of a polished and suited butler. Warm lighting casts down from the expansive ceiling and it’s the first time this evening you’re able to catch a true glimpse of Gojo’s eyes. They look a bit tired, a tad worn from his recent circumstances, but it is truly a wonder how he can make even a light touch of under-eye bags look sexy.

Walking past the foyer toward the candle-lit living room, you extend him your comfort. Wrapping your arm around the bulk of his bicep, the other palm reaches for the hard pec on his chest to rub soothing circles of understanding. 

Here you are at long last, approaching the grand sofa, both of you plopping yourselves atop the plush expanse and seamlessly locking on to one another. He relishes in the beautiful body flush against his. 

Encircling his waist with your arms, you find it rather cute in taking note that he is marginally plumper around his middle than before, having developed a more modest weight around his butt and love handles. Though abs of steel still ripple his shirt, the overworked dad you hold in your arms seems to have relaxed a little from the recent stress and you are filled with a sudden pride for him. 

A light-hearted joke flickers in your mind of his natural ability to take up space from his energy alone anyway–how you admire it, a part of you secretly wishing you could embody more of that in yourself–but mostly in how you appreciate this bigger physical development in him, because it now means there's a little more of him in the world.

“Shall we toast?” he suggests, so he whips you up a nice pink drink while he sips hard gin on the rocks, leaning back, thighs spread open like an empowered slut. 

Curiosity then strikes him when the haul of shopping bags sitting on the floor from your spree earlier this evening catches his eye. “Ooo, lemme me take a peek at what you got.” he sits up and nods, face gleaming. 

One by one each item is showcased and he is enthralled by every piece, because of course he is—it’s part of why he adores you, chose you, your keen eye and clear level of taste has always been impeccable, distinct and unique, highly attractive. 

Then his heart is increasing in size as you confirm, right here, right now, that those aren’t amongst your only positive qualities when you’re showing him you’d also picked up something for him and had been thoughtful enough to do so. An ornate watch is pulled out of a fresh bag by your delicate hands, that then with a snap is on his wrist, handsome as it glints and refracts in the candlelight of the room.

Your body reaches over the littered items on the elaborate rug, clasping the final shopping bag which houses the bikini you had bought for this reunion by his request. 

He whistles at it. “Superb. Model it for me, will you, babe?”

You do. Twirl, shimmy, joke with an exaggerated runway catwalk, giggle, then there’s something visible written on his face and you’re able to anticipate what his next move might be.

Gojo had developed a pension for bestowing you with a few cutesy nicknames in the time spent getting to know you. Amongst his favorites and most frequently used is that of ‘cherrybomb’. Must be a fan of The Runaways, you figured, but it truly came about when, almost exclusively, you began wearing rouge-shade lipsticks in his presence. Perhaps you could make yourself seem a little older, you’d hoped, give yourself a closer touch of sophistication in his world by presenting yourself in such a way. 

But mostly he’d donned you with the specific moniker because a smattering of the red tends to end up around the lower half of his dick after he's had his way with you, a faint painted crimson over his pelvis near where it meets the shaft. 

You’re halfway through striking a faked model pose when he lifts himself off the couch and approaches. With an index finger so sensual, he presses up into the cushion of your ruby lips, holding tight to your gaze, coaxing you with a query, “So, gonna help daddy feel better now, cherrybomb?"

Then, far into the depths of crystalline aqua you swim, deep into the mesmerizing eyes that lock onto yours and you say nothing; nothing except for an exhale of hot moist vapor releasing onto the firm finger that baits you. The slow lick you give it afterward, dragging your tongue up along the column of his digit, landing at the tip, answers any and all of his questions. He can already feel the swell of blood trickling in to fill up his cock.

The time has come for his hand to guide you through another hallway toward the recently completed construction of a large-scale naturesque onsen the size of a massive pool, installed in the outdoor area beyond the sliding doors. Intending to experience it tonight for the first time was on his agenda, professing his desire to christen the new space with you, right before he glides a magnificent lustered glass door to one side, letting you through.

You step into the open atmosphere: water bedazzled by moonlight, submerged light fixtures softly illuminating a mint-aqua azure-blue glow, steam rising thick as fog. A plethora of tall bamboo trees enclose the surrounding space, a waterfall cascades off a giant boulder just around the bend and beneath your feet and everywhere is an assortment of gorgeous stones varying in shapes, sizes and sorts.

Gojo leans into you from behind when you approach the onsen’s outer edge, planting kisses along your neck. A clean tug at the string of your bikini top by his hand has it flopping off your breasts, exposing them to the crisp night air, amongst the sprinkle of stars hanging in the heavens. Bikini bottoms hit your ankles next and he strips completely, down to his boxers, then to nothing at all. Already he’s rock hard, a cock so upright, it seems it could nearly touch his abs.

A large hand links to yours, leading you down into the inviting water.

"God, you’re tiny next to me." He tells you, loving how much his big build towers your frame, admiring your body from behind as you descend into the blue, bare feet hitting each lowered pebbled step.

Submerging into warmth, it cradles you as you dip in. Vapor floats off the lapping surface where your joined bodies bob together in water, all of your limbs wrapped around him. He wastes not another second longer, gripping you impossibly closer, making out with you, ardently; proving himself to be ever the great multitasker with one hand gripped on your asscheek and another kneading at your breast.

Now the sizzling of your skin isn’t from the heated water alone, for beneath the very surface you simmer for him, a robust flame of aching arousal so unbearable it has you trembling. Shaky and flustered by lust, from how strong hands grope every inch of your body, how his tongue intoxicates you as it rolls fluidly against yours, he senses it all—how overcome you are by need—making him groan with a fire in his belly, as do you, too. 

Desire has your spine arching. Legs still grasped to his waist, your ass pops backward as far as it will reach, creating easy access for him where he can trace fingertips along the crack of your ass as a guide, down to the ‘X’ which marks the spot of your slick hole.

Two thick fingers dip up, curl inside you, and plumes of oxygen off your light moans release between whimpers. Like your third eye opening, the instant clarity you receive in understanding how these fingers are able to create such powerful sorcery is made evident now, by his digits making literal magic in you as they fuck you filthy beneath the water. 

“Missed you like hell.” He murmurs, then you grip tighter, moaning, sucking a quick bruise on his neck. 

Yet all too soon, he notes the angle of his wrist is not ideal, nor the slight pushback from the water. All of it provides much resistance for him to thrust into you at the necessary speed that he knows would truly have you unraveling for him.

A light bulb flicks on in his head.

“Turn for me.” He commands, gentle and true.

In favor of getting you back to the onsen steps without letting you lose arousal, he whips your body around, directing your arms to wind behind his neck, your ankles to wrap around his. With your back meeting his chest, exposed nipples sting wet in the cold bite of the air, wading you through the water. His goal to keep that hot coil of desire burning within you also means his own cravings run high right now, to have you squirming on his fingers from this position, knowing where that button can be pressed upon. 

“Thaaat’s it, baby, keep it up for me…” He entices, approvingly, an eager hand reaching from around your hip to the front, massaging over your clit in winding motions of expertise. His game is won when your hips begin to stutter, rocking and chasing for more of his touch and he can sense the steady rhythm of your thighs tensing against his.

Soon, your feet hit the stony steps. Placed on a higher level than him, it gives him reason to bend you over as planned, to hike your ass up above the waterline where it collects just around your thighs. It’s there you are instructed to hold steadfast on the edge of the onsen.

“Good, baby. Just like that.”

He reckons it’s his turn to make you pliant and easy access for himself. From where he stands below, waist deep in water, his face is lined with the entirety of your raw nether-region, anxiously awaiting to eat you out from behind.

But first, the sight of you like this is truly something to behold.

Here is a quick moment of pause for Gojo, caught in admiring the beauty of pearlescent vapors casting heat off of every bit of your skin, dancing upward through the shine of moonbeams contrasted against the darkness.

“Mmm.” There’s a tone of carnal wonder—and just a touch of light playfulness—in his humbled voice. “Your pussy is steaming hot, baby. Literally.”

You whine from the unfavorable lack of contact as he purrs his sweet words. Air is blown over your bare steamy cunt by his lips, cooling it down, watching it clench, eyeing heat vapors disperse around it. Then he gingerly pries the petals of your pussy open, lingers in admiration for another moment longer before finally tugging your thighs backward to strike his face onto the wet folds. He impresses a deep open-mouthed kiss onto it, sucking your pussy slow and deep into his mouth, and you snap—out comes your ungodly cry in ecstasy. He makes it sloppy, purposefully a bit disheveled, all wicked slurps and licks of passion, and a huff from his nose hits your asshole in a stimulating sensation. 

The taste of the mineral water mixed with the sweet drip of your cunt thoroughly quenches his thirst for this christening.

Light daddy scruff from his lower face can be felt against you as another slow upward lick nearly grazes your anus. He wants to create a plateau of his tongue stretching across the whole of your pussy, so he’s scooping under to search for your clit and press there, toying with the nub for several long languid beats. 

That is until he makes a quicker decision to swap it in favor of shoving his fingers inside you and pump them with force from behind. When you thrust back to help his fingers reach deeper, he already misses his face being trapped and pressed to your cunt, so he moves back to slurping your clit too. 

Your head falls forward as you crescendo from tiny whimpers into staccato groans, then sensing him pause for the smallest of moments only to catch a breath where you can feel his rapid draw of air.

He is attuned to when your hips begin gyrating harder onto his sucks, it’s a signal you’re close to your finish. So he doubles down, grabbing hold of your sides in a bruising grip, fingertips digging deep into the flesh of your hips where he forces you tighter onto his face. All that’s left to give is a tiny sting of pain to send you reeling and crying out his name, so his large hand cracks down on an asscheek, several filthy slaps, with the swirl of his tongue still on you.

He alternates, working and circling open your tender hole to motioning down onto pulsating clit-sucks in such perfect rhythm, it’s like the epic beat of a hit song—and in an instant, it must be your favorite tune, because now you’re singing out along with it, belting out with a searing vibrant orgasm that courses through you.

Your elbows and knees wobble, near to collapse, but he’s caught you just in time with a slide of his arm underneath your tummy, holding you up with another hand by your outer thigh. 

And you feel entirely supported by him, in many more ways than one.

You’re weakened and topple sweetly into the water, flopping backward into his broad chest. He draws in your back from behind, whispering warmth in your ear. “Daddy’s turn.”

The way your cheeks beam in post-glow daze has him tender-hearted. “Aw, my little cherrybomb…” he brushes away clumped strands of hair plastered to your face, “...like how only I can make you feel?”

Being older than you means he’s more experienced. No one other than Gojo has even remotely had you cumming as hard, so you can't deny his accuracy. You’d never dream of denying it anyway.

“Without question, daddy,” a little raspy voice so sincere, your body twirling in the clear blue liquid to face him outright, telling him point blank, “you’re the only one that has the power to make me feel this good.” Nearly sung like a lullaby off your tongue, you stare up at him with the most earnest eyes.

The sweet innocence of your praise is so astounding it raises his eyelids to widen so greatly until the appearance of the moon’s reflection fully shines in his eyes ; a genuine response to your unwavering devotion. Then it’s gone in a flash, because his eyelids shut when he’s peppering a line of kisses over your forehead and his dick is forcibly throbbing against you.

“Mhm yeah, you feel that?” He sucks on your earlobe, it’s still between lips as his whisper vibrates on the sensitive skin. “Want you bad. Help your daddy out now."

It’s nearly impossible to contain yourself when the all consuming thought and need in this moment is his grown cock in your hand, to supply him with anything and everything that would satisfy him, service him with the utmost amount of pleasure possible it’s as though he would never again know of pain.

Plunging forward and splashing further into the water, you hurl yourself onto him, a hand wrapped around his cock, an arm thrown around his nape. You pull him into another session of sucking one another’s faces, feverish mouths echoing moans into each other while you fist him below the water.

Gradually, the motion pushes him further and further backward until his spine hits an eventual rocky wall, arms-length away from the flow of the waterfall.

Gojo hauls you up by your thighs to wrap over his hips, simply wanting you to feel how hard he is from the outside, skin against skin, tenderly outlining the full protruding length of himself over your folds. Teasing between velvety lips, he’s grinning at how much of your slick can be felt through the water as he rhythmically runs his hard cock to bump up against your clit. Pleasure erupts through you with uncontrollable shuddering, from the remembrance of how unbelievable it could be just to have Gojo rubbing over you, the rush of the hazy memory all comes flooding back to you now.

Your head cannot withstand its own weight any longer, dropping dead into his fragrant shoulder, the scent of his neck driving you to delirium, inducing an almost intolerable desire for him.

 “Enjoying yourself?” He chimes, but you are barely able to muffle out an agreement with your mouth muted against his skin. The best you can give is a tiny nod and it feels you’ve mildly blacked-out behind closed lids. “Tell me how much you need it.” He commands.

“I-I…” you start, but it dies in your throat, “...I...I–”

“Come on, baby,” he coos, a little smug, a bit more pride in his request, “I wanna hear it.”

You're at a loss, struggling to form coherent sentences, already helplessly weak from his cock and it's not even inside of you yet.

“...so...s-so bad, please…I–”

A wordless understanding soon emanates between you both, suspended in the air surrounding you. It’s a palpable exchange of etheric empathy. He understands–identifies, since you have never spent this much time apart before and seeping into the gravity of that is also beginning to make him feel dizzied. “That's it…that’s it…you can do it, sweets, you can tell me...” He rocks his taunting hips, hypnotizing your needy hole from the outside with the prodding head of his cock as you try once more to formulate a sensical sentence.

“D-don't think…I've ever…wanted anything–so badly–I-I–” 

The more you babble, the harder he throbs.

“Daddy, I just–!” You feel actual tears starting to well up in your eyes, “–missed you so much-!”

An unexpected pang in your chest induces a flood of tears from your lower lash line. It’s only obvious to you now that you’ve been harboring this specific avoided emotion for a while, possibly even weeks. Trying to keep “strong”, convincing yourself you’ve been fine, or shoving down anything that would surface from within you about making the distance a bigger deal than you thought it ought to be.

Feeling so foolish, naive, to be crying with a mix of anguished pleasure for him, you lightly choke on your resistance to all of it, but without any ability to stop it.

He slows, then halts to observe your face, detecting the moisture below your eyes. It catches him by surprise. Concerned for you, he speaks with care. 

“Aww, angelll…” 

A tear streams down your cheek where he stops it with his lips, kissing it away, and Gojo feels his cock swell harder.

Undeniably horny by your undeniable ache for him.

A hand swipes over your face, shushing you to calm. “Shh…that's alright, okay baby, shh, you did good–so good speaking up for me–letting me know how much you want me…” soothing tingles by gentle scratches of his hands along your back quell you, “...re-laaa-x…shh…that was good enough for me now.”

Your cheeks are burning, born out of the pit of stupidity you feel as it pools in your stomach. Yet still, you continue to tear up, subtle quivering comes in waves over your body and has him offering you more words of comfort.

“...Nnnm…I missed you too, hey, hey–” he cups your face, making sure you’re truly hearing him. “–I did too, I really did…I know, baby, I know…” since you’re already crying, he might as well give you a better reason to, in the only way he knows to make it better, “...missed you somethin fierce…here–lemme show you how much. Come’ere–”

Lining up with your drenched hole, he guides you down onto the smooth stretch of his thick cock and your breath constricts. It has your face contorting from the dizzying nature of it all, denting your nails into his broad back. Gojo’s glimmering eyes connect with yours, reflecting back a shared intensity. Your gazes mirror one another as two pairs of eyelids are drooping together in unison, carefully examining each other’s faces as you adjust to him and he finally bottoms out inside you. But he grants you mere moments before the overwhelming thirst for you is far too irresistible to bear any longer. 

He surrenders to the will of his body as if possessed, chasing more of the sweet suck of your cunt in every thrust and now you’re crying from something else entirely. Strong, effortless, determined pumps of his length drive into your core, the way he knows you’ll always end up begging for, although now, no longer does he want to ask that of you. 

In this instance, his sole purpose becomes your unspoken bliss, to anticipate your desires without you needing to word them, yearning to spare you any further trace of strain or exertion. He intends to allow you the full sensation of simply craving his strong presence, pistoning into you, to let you relinquish control, entrusting him to tend to every remaining detail of your pleasure.

“Does this make you happier, baby? Hm?” Still carrying you, he turns a 180, switching spots to push your back against the flat rocky surface and ram you up against the wall. “Does it? H-huh? Ngh. Does it make you ha-happy?” 

The splishing of the waterfall and his fierce rhythmic grunts are the only sounds filling your ears. You nearly match the waterfall as more tears spill and that’s when you’re sure he doesn’t require a verbal reply. The confirmation of your entire body responding to him renders sufficient, like how your fingers instinctively entwine with his hair, gentle tugs at snowy locks for extra support, you then give a few wobbled nods.

But now he needs a little more support and leverage, gearing up for that one ideal angle in you. 

Hanging low and tilted just overhead, rests a bamboo tree. Reaching that one sweet gummy spot inside of you will mean reaching one of his arms up to grab hold of it. Gojo steadily raises both of your connected bodies so both waists together are just a hair above the waterline. He is up on his toes, tight grip on the bamboo culm, when he pounds you to perfection, deep and generous, positively wrecking you ‘till you’re wailing from your finish in blinding satisfaction. 

And daddy fucks you raw into the night, again and again, through to the edge of dawn; then later on, when the birds begin to chirp and you are fully spent in his bed – so fucking cute when you’re fast asleep – Gojo realizes he won’t ever grow tired of the faint traces of cherry smeared across his pillows.

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[multifandomwhore-003]

Random Hazel Callahan headcanons that have been rotting my brain for the past couple of days:

Pairing: Hazel Callahan x female! reader

Summary: Not needed

Genre(s): a little angsty at first, after that's it's just pure fluff

Warnings: mentions of trauma and maladaptive daydreaming

A/N: I'M GONNA WRITE MORE FOR HER BECAUSE I NEED IT SO STAY TUNED, also I listened to False God by Taylor Swift the entire time I wrote this.

Taglist: @aemonds-holy-milk , join tag list here

• She has horrible listening skills, usually her house has been a pretty noisy and chaotic place, even before her parents divorced, so she's learned to mute the outside world.

• It tends to annoy pretty much everyone else outside the fight club, the only exception being PJ, she perhaps got annoyed more than anyone.

• When you first noticed you had to repeat yourself at least five times whenever she was around, you tried to come up with different ways for her to keep up, like texting her as you spoke so she could read it as much as she needed to.

• Later on you found out it wasn't just about losing track of a conversation, as you asked to borrow one of her headphones one time, you were shocked her ears weren't bleeding right then and there.

"Fucking hell, Hazel! Are you trying to break your ears or something?" your ears hurt for a second.

"It's not loud at all" She placed them on her neck.

"Baby, I can hear the music coming out of those things like a concert speaker,"

• You decided to invite her over to your house as often as possible, demanding a no-headphones rule.

"Why not?!" she complained.

"Because you're gonna be completely deaf at the age of 40!"

"And you'll be there to teach me sign language, right?" she hugged your waist.

"You're saying you prefer not hearing my voice for the rest of our lives?" you lifted a brow.

• The realazation dawned on her.

• To this day she hasn't worn headphones a single day in her life.

• Maladaptive daydreaming is also something she struggles with, not as much now as she used to in middle school and the first two years of high school, but it still happens sometimes.

• You found out when you decided to surprise her by coming to her house one day

• Mrs. Callahan said she couldn't get in contact with Hazel, for whatever reason.

• Most likely her phone turned off since it was out of battery.

• So she texted you she was gonna be missing all night, permitted you to stay the night, and told you to take care of Hazel.

• You found her in the kitchen yelling, it sounded as if she was yelling at someone.

"Are you ever gonna choose me over a booty call?! How is it that Jeff's dick is more important than me?! Your daughter! You fucking pushed me out and you still can't even ask me how my grades are doing and shit!"

• Your first thought was —Her mom's plans must've been canceled—

• As you approached the room as quietly as possible, you looked through the rim of the entrance, there was no one.

"Hazel," you spoke quietly through her screams.

A shiver went down her spine, he face turned white, she blinked a couple of times before turnind her head, "How much of that did you hear?" she avoided your eyes.

"I've never heard you like that," was all you could mutter as you approached her slowly and then embraced her in a hug, "I know you're not insane by the way," you whispered in her hair.

She began to cry.

• She didn't want to talk about it for the next few days

• When she did, she stumbled upon her words, talked too fast, and teared up every once in a sentence.

"Call me first," you cupped her face, "I'll never judge you for whatever you have to say,"

• She wanted to kiss you right then and there, but just rested her forehead on yours, an act of ultimate intimacy.

• I could get into the divorced parents' trauma for hours because same

• But for now I'll move on to the happy part

• Physical touch is the absolute most pure form of love she can give

• If she's not hugging your waist at all times, she's holding your hand, resting her head on your chest, shoulders, legs, etc. pretty much everywhere she can

• If you have long or medium hair she'll attempt to braid your hair, keyword attempt

• If you have short hair she'll buy little elastic ponytails to tie them around your head everywhere she can

• Her reasoning behind this is that her favorite plants are cactuses

• That's it, that's all the reasons she needs

• If you happen to be bald she'll rub your head while singing the chorus to Diamonds by Rihanna

• She plays ukelele

• She knows how to make a few origami figures and if she tries a new one, as crumbled and sweaty as it is she gives it to you

• You have a whole shelf in your room dedicated to every piece of folded paper she's ever done for you

• If you're more of a fem! girl, she'll try something of yours whenever she comes over and stare at her reflection for hours

"Good thing, god didn't make me straight, she knew I would be a menace,"

• You can only roll your eyes and laugh at her twirling and pretending to dance ballet in your dresses and skirts

• If she happens to go shopping without you, she'll try something you'll like and send you the photo after

"If it looks this good on me, imagine how AMAZING it'll look on you,"

• She once asked you to put makeup on her, she'll say she was just curious how she'd look

• She wasn't lying, but she also didn't mention she just wanted to recreate this picture:

• If you happen to be more of a masc! girl, you'll trade clothes as often as you can think

• More than once you have arrived at school with something she likes and just drags you to the bathroom to for you to make the exchange

• It's not her clothes and your clothes anymore, everything you own is hers and vice versa

• More often than not you're no longer sure what used to be only yours

• This goes for accessories and shoes as well, even if they don't fit her, she'll fill them up with toilet paper until they fit just fine

• You'll match AT LEAST once a week, as per her request of course

• She tries all kinds of chips (or crisps for my British luvs) she has tried every flavor and seasoning, but her favorites and the flaming hot ones, even if she ends up chugging your waterbottle after finishing the bag

• Although her parents are rich and taught her from a young age to be a precise wine taster, she's a tequila and vodka girl

• She hates gloomy and rainy days because they bring down her mood, but spending the day binge-watching cheesy movies and stuffing her stomach with all the snacks o her house makes it up

• She's ABSOLUTE SHIT at Karaoke, but my god does she have the spirit

• Her go-to song is Lies by Fleetwood Mac, but if she's drunk enough to gain confidence she'll request Easy On Me by Adele

•  If she insists for long enough and you decide to sing with her, she 100% will try to recreate the following musical numbers:

• Lay all you love on me -Mamma Mia

• Every duet there is in Teen Beach Movie, her favorite childhood movie

• The cellblock tango -Chicago and Ex-Wives -from Six, if the rest of the fight club joins as well

• Popular from Wicked, strangely enough, she's Glinda

• Seventeen -Heathers

• Candy Store -Heathers featuring Isabel as Heather Mc Namara, Josie as Martha Dunnstock, and PJ as Veronica (She was heavily forced to after Brittany suggested it)

• Smooth Criminal -The Glee cast cover

• If you're a good singer, or at least a decent one, at the end of the song she'll hype you up more than anyone in the crowd, even carry you (this also applies to my plus size! lovelies, DON'T YOU WORRY, she has muscles)

• If you're a bad singer, then you'll be shit together, the worse your voices sound, the better you'll enjoy it

• Onto the kissing and overall more stereotypical relationship stuff, aka the not-so-comfortable part of my asexual-spectrum girlies.

• As previously shown in the original material

• Kissing is slow and passionate, she likes to enjoy your lips as much as possible, taking in every movement, taste, and breath

• Hands on your jaw  and neck EVERY FUCKING TIME

• The first few times you offered her some chapstick or lipstick, or lipgloss, or lip oil, or anything, she would kiss you making you chuckle in surprise

• Now you don't even need to ask, she'll just be like

"Hey, your lips look beautiful," and peck you on the lips

• If you're alone it definitely turns into a whole makeout session

• She just claims it tastes too good not to do it

• Every once in a while she'll hug you from behind and aggressively kiss your cheek

• Good luck kisses before every test

• Her favorite kind of dates are picnic dates

• She takes pictures of the sky whenever she feels it matches your vibe

• She takes A LOT of pictures of you ANYTIME, ANYWHERE, she even went as far as to buy a film camera because they make everything more magical

• She reads A LOT

• She obviously knows too much about social injustices and everything regarding that realm, but she likes other things as well

• Avid fantasy reader, I DON'T MAKE THE RULES,

• Going back to this need for escapism, she was heavily raised by George R.R. Martin and Leigh Bardugo

• Definitely screamed, jumped, and overall looked like she was in a sugar rush when both Game of Thrones and Shadow and Bone came out

• She wasn't exactly allowed to watch Game of Thrones at the time it came out, so she watched when she was 16 instead

• Shadow and Bone, however, oh boy, it was whole event

• She cosplayed Sturmhond and made you cosplay as Zoya

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That's it for now children, if I come up with anything else I'll do a part two or even better write something more complete