#the work is eh i could be doing better but all things considered it's not BAD

[spaghett-onaplate]

today I finished my first term back at school in two years!! yay!!

[reverieblondie]

The Dare

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X Spider-woman!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Some Plot, Stealing Stuff, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Degrading, Unprotected Penetrative Sex, Hair Pulling, Fingering, Reader is called Slut.

Summary: Hobie takes the dare game up a notch. Unexpected events ensue...

A/N: This is my first fanfiction ever so please be kind!  If I missed any warnings or my grammar and spelling sucks please just let me know. I thought this idea was funny so figured I would share! 

Word Count: 5,757 (still working on my editing skills so warning)

Hobie casually struts into view, wearing Peter's favorite pink robe. He has a smirk on his face. He obviously was successful in the dare.

You, Hobie, Gwen and Ben were passing time at HQ by having a friendly game of daring each other to do things, you all recently got done with a mission so it was perfect to kill time, Gwen had suggested truth or dare but Hobie said that dares only would make for a better game. It started innocently enough like reading the last text message you sent your crush, drinking a bottle of hot sauce but you can’t drink anything else for 10 minutes, and going to dance in the cafeteria to no music to see if anyone joins you, but it quickly diverted to more dangerous dares.  

“I can't believe you were able to get that” Ben laughs out as Hobie strikes poses while Gwen and you cheer him on 

“Oh this was nothing mate, I do believe that is your turn for a dare Miss Y/N” 

You look at Hobie with a smirk, if he was trying to scare you it wasn't going to work.  “I can handle whatever you throw at me Hobie, all these dares have been a cakewalk so far” 

Hobie smirks, “Why don't we get you something challenging then, hm?”

You shrug feeling confident “I'm not scared of any dare”

“Any dare?”

“Yep!”

“No backing out aye?”

“No backing out” you grin, feeling that he wouldn't be able to think of anything too crazy, but you forget this is Hobie, and he loves to push the limits.

Hobie thinks for a moment, his face contorted with thought, and then a wicked smirk flashes on his face, he looks at you and leans in knowing he had a perfect dare. 

“I dare you to steal a pair of Miguel's underwear” Gwen and Ben exchange shocked looks then look back at you, brows furrowed mouth agape you are equally as shocked by the request.

“What?!”

Hobie goes to repeat but is quickly cut off by you interrupting him “Eh…Please don't repeat it I heard you.” This causes Hobie to laugh

“So are you game?”

you think for a moment, that stealing Miguel’s underwear…this was definitely a challenge and a bit of a gamble on your life. But you would never hear the end of it from Hobie if you backed out now. Face riddled with concern you look up at Hobie, a fire in your eye blooms not wanting to be beaten. 

“I'm game!”

You and Hobie shake hands the dare is on, no backing out now. 

You first had to think about a game plan to get Miguel's underwear. It's not like you can just walk up and ask the guy, he was the big boss he could crush your head like a peanut. Plus it didn't help that you had a fat crush on him, and now you have to nab his underwear.

Taking a deep breath you headed to Miguel's room in HQ. You ducked around corners and made sure you were not being followed or looking too suspicious, though that wasn't easy to do considering you were sweating bullets. Miguel's room was known to be located at the top of HQ, being the leader and founder of the Spider Society means you get to have a penthouse suite at your job you guess. 

You had only ever been to the door of his room once, you had forgotten to give him your mission reports on time so you had to hand deliver them one night at Miguel's irritated request, you remember that night having to rush the paperwork over and banging on the door, for Miguel to reveal himself in sweatpants and an oversized shirt hair lose from a recent shower. Seeing him in such a casual state had worsened your crush.  Miguel just gave you the same furrowed expression he always seemed to have glued to his face, looking you up and down before he took your reports without uttering a word to you. 

After that night you couldn't help but fantasize about Miguel doing more casual mundane things, like grocery shopping or maybe telling jokes to you, the guy was in a consistent state of stress so thinking about him relaxed made you excited. People might think it would be weird but hey it's your fantasy, not theirs.

Finally making your way to the top you peek around a corner looking at his door. There is no one around from what you can tell, so you check your watch. Perfect it's still afternoon, Miguel, the workaholic he is, never leaves his office early so you still have plenty of time. Sneaking over to the door you try the handle, and to your surprise…it's unlocked? Huh? Miguel should lock his room. There are some real weirdos out there, the current weirdo being you. Then again what idiot would be dumb enough to sneak into Miguel's private space? Oh yeah thanks to the dare, you! 

Through the door you steadily walk in, the living room is huge, nicely lit, minimalist design, and very clean, a total opposite to Miguel's office which is dark with all kinds of clutter. A nice large sofa and a TV that hardly looks like it's ever been used decorate the space, attached to the vast living room, a kitchen with a sleek-looking island and very modern appliances, some you can't even recognize. As you go further and further in his suite, you tiptoe around looking at everything, if you didn't know this was Miguel's place you would have never thought that anyone lived here, so devoid of any kind of personality. Maybe he's just a minimalist? 

As you quietly walk through the impressive suite you hear a noise that stops you in your tracks. You look and see a door that is slightly cracked, you examine the door cautiously slowly making your approach. Another noise draws you in closer, a grunt?

 Thanks to your careful steps you manage to sneak to the door and peer inside without making a sound. Peering through the slit of the door you lean in to survey what caught your attention, your eyes widened at the sight and your breath instantly halts. 

There he is Miguel, your leader, your crush fully nude standing in his master bedroom, head thrown back eyes screwed shut, fangs fully extended, moaning in pleasure as he tightly fucks his cock with his hand. His hips are jutting forward slightly, his angry red tip leaking glistening precum that only aids in his feverish fucking. His muscles are tense and rippling, each moan makes his massive body shake. You are mesmerized by the sight, you're sure your jaw is on the floor. You are watching Miguel O’Hara fucking his hand chasing any kind of release.

 Continuing to watch his relentless pursuit, your excitement builds as you watch. Mouth dry and wanting to desperately attach yourself to his cock and lick and suck till your thirst is quenched from his release. Your thoughts run rampant, you shouldn’t be watching this, it's wrong, but you can’t take your eyes off him. His tanned skin glowing with the subtle sheen of sweat, his moans egging him on and equally you. 

The whole display has you tightening your thighs together, your arousal ls pooling in your panties. He starts to move with more sloppiness, slipping incoherent words in Spanish to the air and he gets close to his high. Then to your pleasure, sticky white ropes escape him and cover his large hand painting him white. He continues to pump for a few more moments, slightly shaking as he does. He then opens his eyes, grabs a towel resting on his bed and cleans himself, as he’s cleaning he gives a small sigh looking more relaxed during his come down and takes a deep inhale from his nose. Then he stops and his face contorts to confusion, taking another whiff of the air again he looks towards the slightly ajar door. 

You jump quickly backpedaling from the door, did he see you? Shit you need to hide, you quickly tiptoe to the next door finding yourself in what looks like a home office. You look around the room quickly scanning for a place to hide, a desk catches your attention, this will have to do. Quickly hiding below it you hear Miguel walking slowly into the room looking around. Heart beating rampant you place your hand over your mouth and steady your breathing, you can not get caught he will kick you out of society or worse kill you! 

Miguel scratches his head and gives a slight “huh” before leaving the room and going back to the bedroom. You wait a few moments before you poke your head out cautiously. Looks all clear, you quickly go to make your escape, but then you stop the dare…you got to get that underwear, it was just a stupid game but your pride was going to get the better of you and you didn’t want to be subjected to Hobies teasing of how you couldn’t hack it after all your big talk. You swallow down your fear and turn towards the bedroom door. 

You approach the door hesitantly and place your ear to it, you hear what sounds like a shower, Miguel must be doing some aftercare for himself. Taking all risks you gently open the door and peer inside your spider senses helping to guide you through feeling no immediate danger. Peering inside you see the room is empty. Walking in you look for a dresser but with no luck, the only thing you see is a large bed and nightstand, ever the minimalist huh Miguel? Your eyes go to the door on the side of the room where you hear the shower being used. 

This is stupid, this is stupid, this is stupid! You're going to get seen! Thinking to yourself as you slowly crack open the door to the master bathroom. Looking through the crack you see a silhouette of Miguel in the shower, the glass is steamed over from the intestine heat of the water he is cleaning himself with. It’s so hot that as you carefully crawl in you feel the heat and humidity in the air thick and making it hard to breathe. 

Miguel is something else to take such scouring showers. You look around, eyes darting all over the floor for any chance of dirty clothes and then to the fogged-up shower making sure he is still blissfully unaware of the invasion of privacy. Your eyes catch what looks to be another door that you are betting to be his closest, you quickly crawl over and sneak into the closet carefully shutting the door behind you. 

Looking around the closet you see a variety of different clothes ranging from tee shirts and jens to luxury suits and jackets. Your attention falls to a leather jacket that you can’t help but touch, imagining how wonderful he must look in this jacket, what you wouldn’t give…you quietly slap your hands to your cheeks trying to refocus. you're on a mission here! 

Surveying around your eyes lands on what seems to be a dresser. Quickly rushing over you open the first small drawer, socks in various neutral colors. Okay, drawer number two, you open and bingo! There they are Miguel’s assortment of underwear, boxers or briefs? He’s a brief man.

Eyeing the underwear you feel a tinge of embarrassment and guilt looking at his underwear, this is pretty perverse, you already watched him masterbait now taking his underwear? Well, it's only because of the dare that makes it less perverse right? You did get excited from watching him, do you have a problem? Too horny maybe? You shrug that’s something you will ponder another day, today you have a mission. Plunging your hand in the drawer you take the first pair your hand falls to, navy blue. This will have to work!

Still hearing the shower you are thankful he seems to be taking his time. Going to make your escape you head for the door, then just your luck, the shower turns off, fuck. Quickly backtracking to the closet you hide yourself leaving a crack so you peer out to watch. 

Miguel wipes the fogged-up glass of the shower revealing his damp hair cascading down his forehead, the water rolling down his chiseled physique, you feel your heat dripping down as you watch. Note to self find an excuse to pour water on Miguel so you can see him dripping wet again. You watch with intrigue as he swiftly wraps his towel around his narrow waist drawing attention to his deep v.

It takes everything in you to not drool and melt away into a puddle on his floor. Every movement of his routine made you desire him more and more, you were down bad. Miguel brushes his hair back with his hands and that has you almost losing all sense, why is everything he does so sexy? You need to get a grip. Studying him you wait for an opportunity to make your escape without getting caught, just have to be patient now. He's looking at himself in the mirror looking at his jaw and inspecting his face, he then widens his lips to reveal his teeth and fangs on full display.

The sight of his fangs has you holding your breath. That’s right if you get caught he would have no problem using those things on you, actually, that’s not a terrible idea…no! Too horny, get out of here! 

Miguel opens a drawer at the sink and pulls out some floss, he tentatively pulls a long string out and begins to floss around his teeth making sure to go carefully around his fangs. Why is this oddly adorable? Scary Spider man adorably flossing, and very cute. Miguel gets done flossing and licks his teeth, then something you never thought you would ever see. He smiles to himself in the mirror before quickly going back to his permanent neutral state. Too bad he doesn't smile more often; you often try to make him smile when you get to interact with him at work. Telling jokes, funny stories, smiling and waving as you pass him but nothing has ever seemed to work out for you. 

Miguel sighs and shakes his head going away from the mirror to his bedroom. Okay, enough daydreaming you need to get out of here quickly. You decide the best way to sneak out is to crawl on the wall, you start scaling the wall crawling on the ceiling. He left the door to the room open so you peek your head in, and it’s all clear. You crawl through and go to exit his bedroom as you are about to get down to open the door. It swings open causing you to quickly flatten yourself to the ceiling. Miguel walks in with a bottle of water in hand still in a towel from the shower. As he is right under you he stops and sniffs, shit shit! Why does he keep doing that? Do you smell? You took a shower this morning, you should not be smelling. 

As Miguel whips his head side to side you quickly and quietly slip out the bedroom before he has a chance to get wise and look up. 

You quickly get down from the ceiling and start making your pursuit to the door. You did it! You made it, you got the underwear! Oh, the look on Hobie’s face is going to be priceless!

Suddenly, as you are about to reach out to the knob and make your escape, feeling the high of success you are pulled back and swiftly turned around to be met with a crimson-eyed Miguel, and he looks pissed. It’s in this moment you wish to see Miguel who was smiling but you're not getting that side of him you're getting Miguel burning with rage. “I thought I fucking smelled you…” okay wow, ouch? Do you smell bad? Before you can say anything his hand grabs your face and squeezes your cheeks “What are you doing in my room?” 

You stare at him, lips puckered and eyes wide, this is how you die…

Miguel squeezes you harder “Answer me…” he growls, he’s so close to you, you can feel the vibration in his chest, his heat burning your skin his smell invading your senses, it’s intoxicating being this close, he's not wearing a shirt and only in those familiar sweatpants, you can’t help but notice your panties getting soaked. However you can’t get lost in the fantasy right now, you’ve been caught and you need to focus on not losing your life. 

“I’m sorry” you mutter out as best you can. Miguel continues to stare daggers into you, he wants more of an answer than that. 

“I didn’t think you would be here”

Miguel releases your face and now keeps his hands on your arms pinning you to the nearest wall. “Why would you even come in here?” He looks you up and down for a moment and that’s when he sees what’s in your hands, his eyes widening in surprise “Is that…” 

“Wait! Miguel, I can explain! This isn't what it looks like!” 

Miguel tilts his head at you, “Yeah? Because it looks like you're a nasty little perv” 

His derogation sends shivers down your spine and makes your sex even more wet.

Miguel studies you seeing your flushed features, can he sense that you're getting turned on? The answer is yes, “I should have known you were here, your sweet scent tainting the air.” 

Okay, what the hell? You furrow your eyebrows at him “Do I smell? You keep saying that I smell?” 

Miguel lifts an eyebrow at your face still stern but not so much angry “I can smell your arousal pooling in your panties” he grips you tighter “I may not have that little danger alarm like the rest of you but that doesn’t mean my other senses are not heightened. And right now I can smell just how excited you are, was this your plan? Watch me, take my underwear, and get caught? Or is getting caught just a pleasant surprise for you?” 

Miguel lends down whispering in the shell of your ear, his warm breath causing your skin to tingle “And don’t try to deny it” 

Your breath hitches for a moment “I didn't mean to watch it was an accident”

“What about you getting so turned on?” He stares intensely at you, you feel your face flush with embarrassment and clench your thighs together. You are turned on, desperately so. His voice is so sultry, even him bullying you is causing you excitement. Looking into his red eyes his face seems less of rage and more of fascination. 

“I-I couldn't help myself.” 

His hands slowly slide down your arms to your waist, and he buries his head in your neck, smelling you taking you in. The feeling of his breath fanning over your skin makes you think you will instantly melt. Your eyes flutter, closed breath becomes heavy and he rubs his nose slowing up your neck. Finally, he moves away from your neck and looks at your blown-out eyes and flushed cheeks, he smirks, oh you're in danger. 

Miguel suddenly turns you around pressing your chest and face to the wall, his hand grazes your ass before roughly spanking you, causing your hips to buckle forward releasing a high-pitched yelp. His weight leans on you and his knee drives up into your wet cunt, the slight friction makes your head jerk back and clit to tingle. Miguel chuckles and he brings his face into your hair smelling you before reaching and grabbing a handful of hair, pulling slightly. His lips slightly graze your ear as he speaks. 

“You're a bad little slut aren't you?” 

“N-no'm not” 

Another spank smacks across your ass “Oh, I think you are though. Sneaking in here watching me and taking my stuff, good girls don't do that.” He purrs 

He leans more into you and you can feel just how big and hard he is. Miguel's hands find the zipper to your suit slowly zipping it down “Tell me to keep going, tell me how much you want it” 

Pushing yourself from the wall you nod your head, your mind hazy from the desire to be touched more. Forgetting all about pride, forgetting all about the dare, your only thoughts are your desires.

Miguel tsks at you and stops unzipping your suit “Use your words Cariño or I will stop” 

“Yes, I want it! Please!” You whine slightly rubbing yourself on his knee desperate for any kind of friction. 

“What are you bebé?” Releasing the zipper of your suit that now reveals your bare back to him, He swiftly brings a hand to tug your hair, he's going to make you beg and plead, isn't he? Biting your lip you feel him shove his knee further into you, his other hand going to your hip to help guide you as you rub yourself practically riding his knee like a bitch in heat as he continues his torment.  

“Your needly slut! Please just take me Miguel!” 

With that Miguel releases his grip from your hair and hip peeling down your suit revealing your naked body to him, he eyes you for a moment drinking in every curve and dip of your soft skin slowly running his hands down your sides whispering incoherent filth in your ear before he quickly turns you around and scoops you in his arms carrying you to his bedroom. 

He practically kicks his door in tossing you on the bed, before you can get your bearings his hands are on your ankles dragging you closer. He stares intensely at you like a predator about to devour its prey. 

Miguel crawls on top of you, his breath fanning over your lips, he carefully takes his thumb and swipes it over your bottom lip. “Soft…” is all he mutters before he kisses you, softly first then quickly heating up to a sloppy ravenous hunger to taste you. His hands paw all over your body squeezing all over and grabbing handfuls of you desperately. When you break away for air he can't help but  

lick wet stripes on your neck then give you slight nips, his fangs slightly grazing you careful not to break your skin.

He trails down peppering kisses down your heated body, your bra is quickly tossed off of you causing your breast to bounce before him letting out a yelp to the suddenness of his action. Miguel stares for a moment watching your nipples peak, He just smirks and massages them before latching himself to your peaked nipple, first lapping with his tongue before biting with a tug. You moan and whimper at his teasing, playfully biting and licking one as he pinches and pulls the other. 

He travels lower, his eyes staying on your face watching each reaction, he's studying you, he wants to note what every kiss, bite, lick, and tug does to you. When he finally reaches your heated sex he examines your panties, soft blue with a very noticeable dark spot, he rubs his middle finger across your wet panties taking in how your body shakes at his touch and you push yourself into him more. The hard-on in his sweatpants is aching to be released, but he wants to punish you for your perverted behavior.  

“Look at what you have done to your pretty panties princesa, acting like a dirty slut has ruined them” his finger rubs on your clothed clit digging into your folds and ruining your underwear further. You can only moan and plead for him to continue, your cunt aching to be filled with anything, getting impossibly wetter as he continues his teasing. Rocking your hips faster on his finger desperate for friction on your clit, you really are needy. 

 He slaps his hand down on your clothed cunt causing you to jump and moan at the bullying. “No, rushing me princesa” he's making sure to go painfully slow, he wants you to beg for it. 

He slips your panties off slowly, watching your sweetness leak out of you, your needy pussy is clenching around nothing desperate to be filled. You are a rambling mess of pleading and whimpering as Miguel tortures you with his slow lingering touches. Miguel slowly dives his face into your cunt and nose pushing your clit making your body jerk and moan, he takes in your smell getting drunk on your sweet secretion. He lifts his head and leads his head on your thigh “Such a sweet-smelling slut, you know how long you have been teasing me?” 

He starts to run his finger through your slick folds “walking around me all aroused, making me have to smell you without getting to taste you”

He Plunges his finger into you, his large finger going knuckle deep and curling slowly in you, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit making your vision blur from how deep he is. As you wetten he slips in another finger filling you up, your breathing becoming desperate, back starts to arch, and hands flying to your hair. He continues his pursuit moving his fingers around your gummy walls searching for that sweet spot of yours. When it's finally found you're seeing stars and clenching tightly on his fingers, your hands flying down to hold his wrist as he continues to make you ride his hand. Miguel just watches as you approach your high “Do you know what all that teasing does to a man?”

He suddenly pulls away as you are reaching your peak. His fingers are glazed with your wetness. Smiling down at you he puts his wet fingers in his mouth and sucks them clean, eyes never leaving yours. He takes them out of with mouth with a pop “Makes a man hungry Hermosa” 

 You have tears pooling in your eyes being robbed of your orgasm, you start begging him to continue whimpering and flustered as he just watches you beg. 

“You're such a needy little slut huh?” 

 Nodding feverishly you agree to everything that leaves his mouth

“You know? I think I know how to correct your bad behavior”

Standing from the bed he removes his sweatpants, his hard cock flicking up to hit his stomach leaving precum in its wake. Staring intently at you he starts pumping his massive cock throbbing for friction. All you can do is watch him wide-eyed sure you saw it earlier but now it's going to be inside of you. His length and girth are so big you don't even know if it would fit in your tight pussy, but you are aquiver to try, whimpering at his display. 

“We got to fuck it out of you Hermosa, you want that? You want me to fill up and teach you a lesson?” 

You nod and spread your legs wider for him. Miguel slips out a moan, eyeing your spread open sex. All for him, begging for him, he almost can't help himself from immediately thrusting into you.  

“Words?” he says, still pumping himself, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, yes I am bad, teach me a lesson! Fuck me, ah please Miguel!” 

Miguel Grabs your face and laughs at you “No need to beg, such a desperate thing” he shakes his head. Teasing still makes your skin tingle and nipples to perk evermore. Truth be told he loves your begging, he's getting drunk off your eagerness for him. 

He watches as your cunt clenches around nothing begging to be filled. He lines up and slowly rubs his length between your folds gathering your slick before slowly inching in his tip. His cock feels like fire as he slowly stretches you open, heating your soft slick walls. Your hands gripping his shoulders as you try to keep from clenching allowing him to slip in.  

“Mm, that’s right, fit it in Hermosa” 

The initial pain quickly becomes pleasure as he splits you open, heating you slowly going inch by inch stretching you deliciously. Your eyes start to roll in the back of your head and you close your eyes, letting the pleasure take over you. Suddenly Miguel slams his full length into you, filling you instantly and bullying into your cervix, the head of his cock nudging your g spot. The sensation causes your eyes to shoot open, you digging your nails into his shoulders and the air in your lungs to escape you.  

“Keep your eyes open and on me” 

Following his demands you watch him, eyes glaze over as you get cock drunk on his relentless rutting. Miguels just laughs as he rolls his hips back and slams into you again and again forcing you to stretch open and take him in. Usually, he would warm someone up a bit more before he starts fucking them so forcefully, but you've been a little pervert so you need to be taught what happens when you're bad. All you can do is moan and shake as he bullies your tight cunt making it form to his shape.

“That's it, baby, take it”

He continues to rut into you pulling back to the tip before slamming back in, thoroughly fucking you dumb. Eyes crossed and mouth hanging open muttering incoherently. Miguel leans down and kisses you sloppily still fucking you at a brutal pace, taking your jaw and making your mouth open wider he spits in your mouth. 

“Swallow” he demains 

Quickly following his demands you swallow and open your mouth again to show him how obedient you can be to him, you really are like a dog.. 

“Good girl” He rewards you by snaking his hand to your clit and rubbing it in circular motions. 

You are quickly approaching your high toes curling, legs wrapping around Miguel's waist, and hands clawing into his back leaving scratch marks painting all the way down his back. Your walls start to clamp down on him.

“Ah, Mig ah Miguel I'm close, please!” 

 His massive cock abusing your sensitive spot has you seeing stars and pussy creaming all over him, leaving a white ring around his cock finally cumming around him. He continues chasing his release as he helps you ride out your orgasm. His cock continues to fill you pulsating as he reaches his orgasm. The sounds of your wet pussy and the slapping of skin fill the room. His rhythm becomes sloppy and pounding harder into you 

“You hear that? Ah, such a needy pussy. Where do you want it huh? When does my dirty slut want my cum? Her stomach? Ah, Face? Mm inside?” 

“Inside!” You beg, approaching your second high. 

“Oh? Do you want me to fill you up? Such a greedy slut aren't you?”

You begin to see white, his relentless pace making your head empty.

“I said, Aren't you!” he pounds harder, making everything shake and you scream in pleasure. 

“Yes! Im so fucking greedy!” you're practically sobbing at the pace he's set. You think you're going to break as he takes your legs and pushes your knees to your face, making him slip what you thought was impossibly deeper. Miguel angles himself that has you clamping down on him squirting out on his cock.  

With that Miguel stops moving, hips completely flushed with you, his body shakes as he releases his hot thick cum inside of you giving out a moan that vibrates through his wide chest. His hot load warms your insides, mixing in with your release causing you to shudder. Miguel looks down at you and smiles still staying in you, he leans his massive body over you and kisses you while pulling out. The emptiness makes you whine and he quickly goes to look at his handy work. 

He holds your ankles out so you have to be stretched before him, your abused clit red and sensitive, your hole filled with his sperm leaking out. Quickly taking his thumb to the escaping mess he pushes it back into your hole causing you to shake with overstimulation. 

“Mm, Such a pretty mess baby.” 

Miguel gets up and heads to his door, he turns to look at your tired body glowing with sweat. 

“I'm going to get you some water, when I get back you better prepare yourself, I'm not done punishing you.” 

You close your thighs together, his words sending a shiver of anticipation back through you as you bite your lip watching him leave.

 You will have to thank Hobie later for picking this dare. 

---

Miguel laughs, “So you came here to steal my underwear for a dare?” You look over at him with a smirk admiring his nude body in such a relaxed state and giving that smile you have been so desperately dreaming for. 

Eventually, you told him all about the dare game and how you ended up here. You're searching all over the floor for your underwear in the mess of bedding that found its way to the floor in a messy heap. 

 “Look I am not going to back down from a dare, now where are…”.

Miguel whistles and you look up at him as he's holding up your underwear; you reach to grab them from him but he pulls them back causing you to crash down on his bare chest. His other hand instantly curled around you to hold you to him. Once red eyes now dulling down to a brown as he just holds and smiles at you.

 “Take mine, do what you need to do and I will keep these” He balls up your underwear and holds them in a fist behind his head. 

You give him a suspicious look “Why do you want to hang on to them?” 

Miguel chuckles and looks back at you “To make sure you'll come back”

---

Later you find Hobie, Quin, and Ben sitting down chatting, you march up to the table and throw the navy blue underwear down on the table. They all look at you stunned at the item of clothing in front of them. Your hair was disheveled, lips red and swollen from being kissed, and cheeks still painted with a bit of blush. Hobie raises an eyebrow and looks you up and down noting your appearance, then he smirks. 

“And what took you so long?”

[lnfours]

i keep thinking of a second chance romance with lando, f.e. being young and having made stupid decisions when his career was just taking off, and then after a few years kind of wishing to get it all back🤔

i am: sobbing. i love second chance romances. also i got carried away… again…

lando brainrot? lando brainrot.

max fewtrell was the definition of a social butterfly. and if lando didn’t know that already, he sure did now. looking around at the crowd, he was almost sure his friend was more popular than him. he didn’t even know max knew this many people.

the music inside the house was loud, lando swore he could feel the bass in his heart. max had left him a while ago, the rest of the quadrant team off to god knows where. he stood in the kitchen, grabbing a drink and escaping from the crowd in the other room. he scanned the area as he tried his best to find someone to strike up a conversation with so he didn’t look like a total loser while his best friend made his rounds to different people.

that’s when he caught the first glimpse of you, making him do a double take as he looked back to where he thought he saw you. and sure enough, it was. you were here. in london. in the flesh. after all this time, you had come back.

his feet were moving before his brain could process what he was doing, mumbling soft ‘excuse me’s as he tried his hardest to reach you. luckily, ethan had found you and managed to keep you in a spot where he could join in on the conversation.

“that’s great, ethan!” you smiled, “congratulations!”

“thanks,” he smiled before lando caught his eye, “mate, look who’s here!”

you turned around to look at who ethan was talking to behind you, only to be met with those familiar green eyes and brown curls. you felt your heart squeeze in your chest, and all of a sudden you were brought back to when you were nineteen and madly in love.

scratch that, the only time you ever considered yourself to be in love.

you and lando weren’t necessarily on bad terms, the both of you had just drifted away. you had been through every thing together, attached to the hip since you were children. and the breakup was hard, sure, but with you moving to the states and his career taking off, neither of you had much time to think about it. you didn’t let yourself think about it.

“hey,” he said, coming to stand with the two of you now, “you’re… here?”

you smiled softly at the brit in front of you, “i wasn’t going to miss max’s engagement party.”

ethan had disappeared from the two of you, finding his way back to niran and aarav. it was just the two of you.

“yeah,” lando smiled softly, “uhm, how’s the states?”

“fine,” you shrugged, “no place like home, though.”

“you’re just back for the party?”

you hummed, taking a sip of your drink, “actually, they asked if i wanted to be a project leader for something they’re working on in the office over here, so i’m back in london for right now.”

he raised his eyebrows, “oh, that’s awesome, congratulations.”

you smiled, “thanks,” you couldn’t help it, your eyes taking him in. he looked good. so good. of course you still kept tabs on him, still watched the races when you had the chance to do so. but something about seeing him again after all this time, in the flesh and not on your tv screen, your heart was yearning, “saw your podium last week, mega drive.”

he shrugged, “it was alright, i guess.”

“don’t tell me you still do that.”

he laughed softly, “do what?”

“your thing!” you chuckled, “you do that thing where, no matter how good of a drive you have, you’re like ‘eh, could be better’.”

“well, it could be,” he said, “could’ve been me on the first place spot.”

“you’ll get there one day.”

he smiled softly at you before looking around the crowd. he spotted the door to that lead to the back deck that looked vacant, “did you want to step outside? get some air.”

you nodded and he offered you his hand. you took it gently, letting him lead you through the crowd of people before you reached the back door. he opened it, letting you step outside first. the cool summer breeze was a relief, the escaping from the loud music and an overwhelming amount of people.

“forgot why i loved this place so much,” you said, looking up at the night sky as he closed the door behind him, “you can see the stars here. can’t see much in new york.”

he hummed, stepping behind you, “might as well take in as much as the night sky you can get.”

“believe me, i am,” you chuckled softly, turning around to face him. the moonlight dimly lit his face as he stood in front of you, and you could finally see the start of a little bit of facial hair on his chin. you smiled teasingly, pointing at it, “i see you can finally grow facial hair,”

he rolled his eyes, “yeah and if i remember correctly, you said you were into guys with no facial hair.”

you twisted your lips in though, “still true.”

“damn,” he mumbled, bringing his hand up to his face, “guess i’ll have to go get a new razor tomorrow.”

you laughed, the two of you taking a seat on the steps of the porch. you looked back up at the sky, trying hard to ignore the way your heart was hammering in your chest. trying so hard that your brain couldn’t filter the next words out of your mouth.

“what ever happened with us?”

he looked over at you now, taking in your side profile before you looked over at him, “what do you mean?”

“do you ever think about us?” you asked, “like where we would be right now if we hadn’t gone and fucked it all.”

he licked his lips, “yeah, all the time.”

“me too.”

“this would probably be our engagement party,” he joked and you smiled, “can’t believe max beat us to it.”

“tell me about it,” you sighed, “i just had to give blake twenty bucks.”

he laughed softly, “no, but, seriously. i’m happy you’re here. i missed you.”

you swallowed, looking back into his eyes, “you missed me?”

“who wouldn’t?” he said, “even when we ended things and you moved and then i moved, i couldn’t help but feel like my life was missing something. like i was missing a piece to the puzzle, and… it was you.”

you were silent for a moment, processing everything that he had said before he cut your thinking process off, “i’m sorry, i didn’t-“

“lan,” you said, placing your hand on his, his rambling pausing as he mouth closed, “i feel the same. i was miserable in new york. i kept feeling like i had left something behind, like i abandoned it. and really, i had abandoned you.”

“you didn’t abandon me.”

“no, but it felt like it,” you said, “our whole lives it’s always been us against the world. and the last couple years it’s felt like its been the whole world against me. letting us go was one of the worst mistakes i ever made.”

“me too,” he said, reaching up and brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen into your face, “i’m still madly in love with you. i don’t think i ever stopped being in love with you.”

“me either.” your voice was softer now, realizing how close he was and taking in all the things you loved about him. his dimples, the way the freckles and moles decorated his face. he was still yours. he always had been.

he leaned forward, nose brushing against yours. you smiled softly, letting him cup your face into his hand. something he always did that would turn you to putty in his hands. even now.

“can i take you out for breakfast tomorrow?”

you nodded, biting down on your lower lip to suppress the grin on your face, which was ultimately failing, “i’d love that.”

he finally pressed his lips to yours, you melting into him. he pulled you as close as he could get you, deepening the kiss as he tilted his head to the side.

“hey, lando! shit, sorry-“

you two broke apart at the sound of max’s voice, who had already turned around and walked away from the two of you. lando laughed softly, letting your head dip down onto his chest.

“well, now we don’t have to worry about telling him.”

[occamstfs]

To The Ground Floor

Heyo- Saw this next picture and just had to use it so here’s a businessman to dumb sub twunk TF! 

If anyone wants to suggest a prompt for my 1K follower post here’s the link- https://forms.gle/NE66kaH4KJxkhgPk9

Probably be wrapping it up/posting a poll soon! -Occam

I don’t know what my company was thinking when they scheduled our conference in Tenerife. It would be one thing if it was a retreat or team vacation, but it is nearly impossible to get any real work done with all these tourists stomping around and getting in my way. I was set to make it early to our morning meeting, as I always do, before this twat forced his way in before I could get to the close door button. He surely noticed since he glared at me before returning to focus on the only thing that seems to matter to him, his vanity.

In retrospect I should have kept my mouth shut, but I couldn’t help but scoff as he started to take a picture of his reflection in the door. It was immature, but when dealing with this crowd of influencers or whatever these childish twits has put me off my usually stoic demeanor. He immediately responded with aggression, “You laughin’ mate? You lot all think you’re so much better than us eh?” He scowls once more at me and to his credit, I do think myself superior to him. Not afraid to say it either.

I open my mouth to shoot some clever insult at him but before I can the delinquent fully spits at me! Where does he get off! The elevator chimes as it stops at the sixth floor. I grab my handkerchief to wipe the spit off my dress shoes as I hear him run off, shouting “you’ll get yours ya git!” I look up to see the small of his back showing beneath his trailing coat and mesh top. I can’t help but stare as he runs, asshole he may be but, god, he is hot isn’t he?

I cough as I can’t believe I thought that! He’s absolute filth! Parading himself around dressed like that on a work day, my word! I don’t notice that there is no longer a handkerchief in my hand as I reach to wipe the spit off my shoes with my now empty hand. As I finally wrest my eyes from his pert body I notice that the villain pushed every button in the elevator. So help me god if I’m late to my meeting I will find him and- well, there’s not much I can do. I’m not exactly the peak specimen, unlike, uh him I suppose.

The doors click closed and begin to take me to the fifth floor. I consider hopping off to take the stairs but I’m sure he’ll be there waiting for me. I go to check my rolex when I notice I’m not wearing it? I would never go to a meeting without it though? My mind grows foggy as I thoughtlessly wipe the spit still on my hand on my suit. God it’s a little warm in this elevator isn’t it. I sniff the air and find that it still smells of that jerk. His cologne must’ve been something intense.

I continue to whiff the air before realizing that it is clearly not perfume but his natural body odor, blushing as I grow slightly jealous at his scent. I find my mind drifting as I think what a man he must be to smell so, mm. The only word I can think is, virile? Ugh, I need to get to work, this is going to set me back. The doors clink open to the fifth floor as the heat only continues to grow. Why am I wearing such a thick suit jacket anyway? It is so fucking hot on this island. I absolutely hate it here. I’ll just take it off for the rest of the elevator ride. Yeah, that couldn’t hurt right? My eyes glaze over as I think of his coat trailing off his head as he ran down the hallway and I bite my lip.

God that hot fucker. My jacket falls to the floor and before I can catch it it’s as if it was never there. I grunt as I think once more of my upcoming meeting. Surely they won’t judge right? My mind shuffles as I don’t even try to understand what has happened to my jacket. The fogginess in my head swiftly finds a form though as I see his smug smirk in my mind. Fuck I- I need to fuck him, or be fucked or? I grunt once more, my voice noticeably more dull. I try to fan my shirt open as the heat grows worse and I find myself growing hornier by the second. The elevator is already on the way to the fourth floor without my notice. I give up fanning my shirt and instead just open the buttons when I am suddenly met with something I cannot reconcile. When the fuck did I get, such, fuckable pecs? I press a finger into my own chest and start to drool as I see the depth of my muscle. I see my brown nipples grow and try to wipe the pooling drool from my mouth as I think how much my body looks like that uh, that twit? No that uh, that hot fucker?  I feel like I’m losing my mind. Or, losing myself? Uh..

The doors open and close on floor four as I struggle to think of absolutely anything but that, uh, stud. My own chest jutting out forces me to think of his own hearty pecs. The powerful curves of his body stretching his fishnet top, ugh. I see the biceps now on my own arms and struggle to not flex them thinking of that staring at himself in the elevator’s reflective wall and posing. I stare at the abs pushing out of my torso and think of his cinched waist peeking out from those sagging pants. God why didn’t I just try to fuck him then oohh.. Or no, Why didn’t I give myself to him..I moan as I loosen my belt, trying to allow my growing erection some air, instead giving my cock and ass more space to expand.

God his fuckable ass was impossible to miss even through those jeans. I bite my lip once more trying to stop myself from moaning as the doors open to the third floor. No one is there to see or hear me as my pants drop to the floor and disappear as if they were never there. As if I would wear pleated pants ever I think blushing. My cock begins to grow to fill my boxers. Or no hee hee- Surely I’m not wearing boxers right haha, giggling as I look down and see the clear imprint of my erection in my tight spandex. Mikey would never let me wear something so unattractive as boxers~

I feel an itch in my crotch as I think of Mikey once more, not hesitating to wonder how I could possibly know his name. Nor why he brings me such intense, feelings. It’s just, I’m so lucky to have him! Ah- I might lose control if I keep thinking about him, I need to keep it together for my uh, meeting? I shove my hand into my crotch to deal with whatever that itch is when I find it’s not my still growing cock, but a jungle of pubes that have begun to grow down there. I feel my fingers drag through them, now covered in sweat as the pubes begin to push themselves above my waistline. 

I giggle to myself as I see the thick black hair inch its way to create a perfect treasure trail up my stomach. I’ve gotta keep it looking good for Mikey after all! I play with the lengthening hair in my crotch, giggling to myself, as the elevator makes its landing on the second floor. I raise my sweaty hand to smell it as some prude stares in disbelief in the elevator lobby. I smile coily at him as he narrows his eyes in shock. He almost looks a little familiar but I’d certainly not waste any of my time on him haha!

He decides not to get on for some reason, not that I care as I look at my sharpening reflection. I play with my chest feeling the ebb and flow of my strength as I start to smell my own scent fill the elevator. I notice my feet are now bare on the dirty elevator’s floor. Ah, I hope Mikey won’t be upset if my feet are gross, smiling to myself as I think of him chewing me out. I feel a similar forest begin to grow in my pits as the elevator stops unceremoniously on the first floor before making its way to the ground floor.

I rub my hands all over on my now almost completely unclothed body as I feel my spandex shrink and tighten into a yellow speedo. My hands glide smoothly around the muscular curves, only ever getting caught on my tangled pubes as I giggle to myself. Wasn’t there something I had to do when I got to the ground floor? I raise my arm to bask in my scent as the elevator finally delivers me to my destination, and who could be standing there but Mikey!

“Mikey!” I shout at him! He looks so happy to see me, before responding, “well you’re looking great aren’t ya love.” He pushes and prods me as if he’s inspecting me as I proudly stand there giving him the doe eyes he demands. He smirks as he pulls me out of the elevator and plants his lips on mine. I can barely help but come right there as I feel my cock stretch at my speedo. I moan but keep it together, feeling his pursed lips grow into a smirk before he pulls away and laughs. 

I tilt my head at him before he speaks once more, “you remember what you’re supposed to be doing right now right, pet?” My face grows warm with blush, surely betraying my cluelessness as I struggle to remember. I had a meeting or? No, Haha As if! I, I could never work a stupid office job~ I try to look as coy as possible, inviting him to jog my memory. His eyes grow dark, not from aggression, but a hunger welling within him as he answers, “I need ya to get those posh wankers and bring them to me eh, doll? Need to them to submit yeh?”

My smile grows wide as my mind fills with excitement for this task. I’m gonna be so good and Mikey will be so proud of me! None of those boring businessmen will be able to resist me hehe! I begin to make my way out to the beach looking for any salarymen looking especially susceptible to my charms. I strut around, my body on display to everyone, monkeysuit suckers and other horny tourists alike. As if any of them have something more important going on hee hee! Soon they’ll all realize there is nothing more important than pleasuring Mikey!

[garbinge]

GOOD MOOD

Leroy Jethro Gibbs x F!Wife!Reader // Word Count: 1.3k Summary: Gibbs comes home in a good mood and you decide the best way to break some not so 'good mood' news to him. Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. liiiiight angst. liiiight fluff. Smoking Weed/Being High. Mentions of losing a job, violence, punching. No use of Y/N. Reader is a private investigator, married to Gibbs, and has a teenage child in this fic. A/N: Been rewatching NCIS from the beginning and I just simply forgot how much I love this show. Grew up watching some episodes when they'd be on tv running reruns but never watched from season to season before and I just jkshjkhf love it so much. So now I'm adding another fandom and character to the roster!

“You know I’m a federal agent, right?” Gibbs’s voice came from behind you along with the sliding of your back porch door. 

“Yea, but I’m not.” You smirked, holding the joint in your hand as you blew the smoke out that he was clearly smelling as he joined you in the backyard. 

“What’s with the new recreational activity?” He still had his work clothes on as he turned the patio chair around so it was next to yours. 

“Rough day at work.” You exhaled. 

“Being a private dick will do that.” He had a hint of humor in his voice as he said it. Teasing your occupation the way he would if it was anyone else.

“Investigator.” Correcting him with a smirk on your face, you continued talking. “And what can I say, there were no more special agent openings at NCIS.” 

“You’d fail the drug test anyways.” He was looking over at you, a smile wide on his face. 

“You’re in a good mood.” Your eyebrows raised, your face matching his humor. 

“Better than usual.” He shrugged and kicked his feet up on the bricks that surrounded the fire pit in front of you.

“Hm.” Turning your head back forward, you looked at the fire that was starting to die down. 

Gibbs’s face turned into a frown as he questioned you. “What’s that?” 

“What’s what?” You teased him, taking advantage of his good mood. 

“What’s with the hm?” He mimicked the noise you made. 

Letting out a laugh you dropped your head on your shoulder, “I’m debating if I want to ruin your good mood.” 

“Ah.” It was his turn now to look away and towards the fire pit. “How bad?”

“Eh.” You shrugged. 

“That’s like a 5, that’s not bad.” He was joking but his face was serious which is what made you laugh out loud slightly before deciding to spit out the news. 

“I lost my job.” 

Gibbs didn’t show any emotion on his face, just a slight nod as he acknowledged you. “Who’d you punch?” 

It never should have surprised you when Gibbs knew things without being told, but it always did. 

“Your knuckles.” He was getting up to feed the fire as he said it. 

Your eyes looked down and saw the red bruising finding it's home around your knuckles and closed your eyes as you rested your head against the back of the chair, joint still in your left hand. 

“My private dick of a boss.” 

Gibbs smirked slightly at that as he dropped a few more pieces of wood into the fire. “Enough was enough, huh?” 

“That and he called me a bitch.” That was a statement which earned you a look from him, he froze in his steps and stared up at you through his brows. “Don’t worry, I clearly took care of it.” You flashed your hand to him. 

He went back to feeding the fire as the silence fell over you two for a few minutes. Coming back to the patio chair, he sat down and placed his hands behind his head. 

“All things considered, that’s not too bad. Never understood why you worked for that asshole.” 

“I told you, NCIS wasn’t hiring.” While it was a joke, Gibbs took you seriously. 

He pointed to the joint. “I could get you in. Just have to wait a couple weeks.” 

“Nah, I’m goin’ back to my roots. Investigative journalism.” Your eyebrows raised. 

It was how you met Gibbs all those years ago, you were working on a big story, one that brought you to the NCIS headquarters during Gibbs’s first year on the job as special agent. The rest was history. 

“And now I have an in at the Naval Criminal Investigators offices if I find myself with a big Navy scoop.” 

“Pretty sure you had an in when you first stepped onto those offices.” He was smiling now, staring at you. 

“You’re still in a good mood.” You smiled back at him, both of you looking at each other as the orange tone of the fire reflected off his skin. 

“Told you, wasn’t that bad.” 

“Hold onto that feeling.” You scrunched your face up while his own face dropped. “Aren’t you going to ask me where I got the weed?” 

Gibbs's mind started running, trying to think of an answer that made sense. Putting that special agent brain to work as if it wasn’t overworked enough all day on duty. He was coming up blank, which automatically put him a few points lower on the good mood meter, stumping Gibbs wasn’t enjoyable, for anyone. 

“Where’d you get the weed?” He asked, knowing you wouldn’t tell him unless he did ask. You knew better than to interrupt Gibbs when he was working a case, interrogating someone, or even just as simple as working through a thought. 

“Your daughter.” After you said it, you took another hit from the joint, knowing you were gonna need it for his response. 

“What?!” He kicked his feet off the fire pit bricks, his arms were next to his body which was sitting up now, bent over his legs as he leaned forward all while turning to look back at you, shock–or anger, all over his face. 

“Got a call from the school today, she got caught smoking in the bathroom. The school apparently doesn’t discard of the herb on their own so they gave it back to me.” You let out a giggle at that, clearly the weed starting to work its wonders on you but also laughing at the strange policy. 

“Where is she?” Gibbs was still concerned. 

“In her room, where she’ll be for the next two weeks. I told her how her father is a federal agent and she can’t have this shit in the house.” 

Gibbs’s face twisted up in a smile at that comment. “So you, her mother, clearly are out here setting the example for her.” 

“I had to get rid of it somehow.” You lifted your hands in innocence. 

Gibbs let out a laugh. “You too high to help me with the boat?” 

“Never.” You were getting up, tossing the joint into the fire. “You gonna talk to her?” Now you were standing in front of your husband, his eyes were moving away from yours at the thought of needing to scold his teenage daughter. 

“Depends. What else you tell her?” 

“That I was still deciding if I was going to tell you or not.” 

It was the most you saw Gibbs smile in one night in a while. He was in a good mood. 

“That’s good, that’ll keep her guessing.” 

“Ain’t my first rodeo.” Your shoulders raised as you bragged, humbly. 

It was then that he placed his lips on your forehead, giving you a quick kiss as his hand moved to your hand that was littered with the memory of your awful day. His thumbs lightly caressing the bruises on your knuckles.

“You knock him out cold?” 

“I told you, it ain’t my first rodeo.”  That made Gibbs good mood turn to a great one, he never liked the guy you worked for, he didn’t like private investigators at all, but for you he tolerated them. But this not only meant he was done tolerating them but that he’d get to live with the mental image of you knocking the jerk out cold. 

“C’mon, I’m almost done with the hull, have a feeling this story is gonna get me through the finish line on that.” 

“Eh.” You scrunched your face up again. “I am high, so probably through the rest of the hull and the start of the bow. I get kind of chatty.” 

With a laugh, Gibbs tossed his arm over your shoulder and planted another kiss to your temple. Yea, he was still in a good mood.

Dividers by: realitycanbewhateveridesire ♡ 🕵️ NCIS Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 (let me know if you’d like to be added! I'm using my all writing taglist right now!)

[baxndaid]

human vox

x reader 📺⛽🎤

an ; request more vox pls i love him, most of this is just me yapping

The year was 1952 and you worked in the upcoming film and TV industry. While it was just a small job reading through scripts to find typos or getting coffee for the more important figures, it was a job nonetheless and you enjoyed it.

A new show had quickly skyrocketed in popularity since its debut, a game show where you would have to answer questions in order to win the, most likely branded, items. Something like a washing machine or a supply of toothpaste. If the producers felt generous that day however, the prizes would rise in value, the show once giving away a brand new sleek black Fiat 1900. While the simple yet new and exciting premise of the show might’ve drawn viewers in, the host of the show made them stay. He was charming and handsome, he always dressed the part with a dapper suit and his hair was always done perfectly. Whenever he spoke, it was like the whole stage brightened up a bit, at least, that’s what you thought. His stage name was Vox, you never really liked that name - too sharp and aggressive, you thought. His real name was Vince, and you liked it better, though you’d never tell him that. You hardly ever had any interactions with the man other than handing him the script that the sponsors wanted him to yap about. He was charming, and you liked him - unfortunately it was just a pipe dream. You didn’t bother chasing after him considering you were just a small time employee while he was the face of the whole show, thousands of American women had their eyes on him especially when they turned their black and white TVs on between 5-6PM.

Fortunately for you, the producers had caught a glimpse of you backstage and wanted to spice up the show a bit. It was getting boring, other than the host himself there was nobody else the audience could attach themselves to. So, naturally, the best idea would be to introduce a beautiful woman, who was smart and shy - the “role model” if you will. You fit the bill, and how could you say no? You would be beloved by every household for your wholesome nature, (and especially loved by all the men in unhappy marriages and liked looking at the young women on screen.) And if you won? you could keep the winnings.

And you would win, because the show was now rigged in your favor.

Simply put, they wanted to paint you as the underdog, the vulnerable lady who simply wanted a chance to make some money. So when you would answer every question, even the ridiculous ones, correctly, the audience would gasp in disbelief at your amazing hidden knowledge and then tune into the next episode to see more of you and Vox. The truth was, the only thing hidden was Vox sliding you the answers to each question onto your desk. It was genius, really, the producers seemed to love the idea and so did Vox. Anything for ratings. You were still a little apprehensive, but you couldn’t back down after already signing the contract.

After winning one episode and becoming around $10,000 richer, Vox strategically pulled you in for a hug and gave you a polite kiss on the cheek to congratulate you for your “victory” in front of the camera. He was an amazing actor, you thought as he said his goodbyes to the audience and the cameras stopped rolling. Maybe he should ditch this studio and try his luck in Hollywood.

Once the room was no longer focused on Vox, he turned to you, his smile less big and forced and a lot more casual, “That was your first taste of show business, how’d you find it? Pretty nifty eh?” He prodded you with his elbow gently.

“Yeah, it was um- different… to what I usually do.”

“Oh yeah, forgot you worked here prior.” He looked at you up and down as he pulled a cigarette and lighter out from his pocket, “Say, since you and I are going to be working with each other from now on, why don’t we blow this antsville and I’ll buy you a drink?”

As he waited for your answer he placed the cigarette in his mouth and lit it. You were surprised and albeit excited by his offer, but you decided not to go out drinking with a famous guy in the middle of the afternoon. Something something responsible adult.

"A drink? Oh, I don't know about that sir... It's rather late."

He scoffed and exhaled, a puff of smoke engulfed you as you coughed. "Don't be such a square." He looked at your face again whilst bringing the stick up to his lips once more, "And don't call me sir, makes me seem old. Call me Vince," He paused, "Or Vox, I don't really give a rats ass."

You nodded and took a small step away from him in a pathetic attempt to get away from the smoke. He smirked.

"I take it you don't smoke?"

You shook your head

"Look at you, I'm not surprised." He took another draw of his cigarette, "So, about that drink?"

You were going to be honest, you couldn't say no. He was so unbelievably pushy that it was practically impossible to turn him down without feeling like shit afterwards. He was THE Vox, America's beloved host! How dare you even think of saying no. So here you were, in his luxurious house, sat on his couch that probably cost more than your entire living room, and with a glass of expensive scotch in hand that he generously poured you.

He returned with his own glass and sat down next to you, laying his free arm behind your head. He took a sip, his gaze never leaving yours,

"You're a pretty thing, can't believe you haven't been casted already, or snatched up by some of the big dogs like Vogue." He said, a smile plastered on his face. "I think you and I will get along just fine."

_____

As he predicted, you and Vox did indeed get on well, normally chatting (gossiping) about who knows what in his dressing room after work. He had told you about his old job as a TV salesmen, and how he has this weird hatred for radios. Something about them being outdated and boring. You never understood. He learnt a lot about you too, your past relationships, your family, your favourite animals - you two grew close and he relished in the idea of getting even closer. The network had given you another job since you could only appear on Vox's show so many times. It was a higher paying job but not all that stressful since you now had someone to talk to about it.

The press had caught wind of your friendship and naturally began to speculate on it. You won his gameshow 3 times now, maybe you simply slept with him in order to get the answers? Maybe it was luck? Are you two truly just friends or are you dating? Or just putting on a show?

Vox loved it, he loved your flushed face whenever you'd read the title of a gossip paper involving you and your new friend, he loved touching you a little more intimately whenever you two were hanging out in public, and he especially enjoyed kissing your hand or cheek under the guise of being a gentleman in front of any fans that just so happened to meet them out and about. Luckily for you, these rumours went nowhere and remained as simple speculation. Did he want you? yes, he couldn't even deny it. You were funny and understanding, even when he wasn't in a good mood. You knew so much about him and he knew so much about you - the fact that you were gorgeous was just a plus. Additionally, you were fantastic for his public image; a darling little thing like you attached to his hip just fuelled his already massive ego since he loved showing you off. The only problem was - you were as dense as a brick. He often got a little frustrated since his flirtatious efforts were fruitless; you couldn't tell if he was being for real or just acting for publicities sake, so you opted on just ignoring his romantic (and sexual) remarks towards you.

And don't think for a second that you'll be getting a real soppy confession from him either. He would buy you expensive clothes and take you out to fancy dinners, he would hold your hand while you crossed the street together and he would cuss anybody out if they were pissing you off. His feelings for you would be confirmed by him sloppily kissing you on his desk one random afternoon after a few drinks and tears; maybe not the most romantic way to say "I love you" but it was close enough for him and close enough for you too.

[unfortunatebrainfarts]

After working with your friendly neighborhood intergalactic space cowboy for quite some time, you've managed to become pretty damn good at understanding the gist of what he means to say

Boothill x reader

A/n: OK SO, first fanfic in like 6 years and it's for an intergalactic space cowboy

Tbh I have no idea why I wrote this, my ipad apps are constantly monitored by the teacher and I really have nothing better to do than go on my notes app and pretend I'm writing notes

HAVE AN AMAZING DAY = I HOPE YOU GET FUCKED BY THE IPC AND ROLL IN YOUR OWN DEBT AND SUFFERING (or something like that)

BLESS YOUR HEART = FUCK YOU

PRAY FOR ME = FUCK ME

LOVELY = FUCK

YOU WONDERFUL PERSON = YOU BITCH

Well ain't you just a sweetheart? = Well you're just a little bitchboy aren'tcha?

God love him = He was fuckin' underdeveloped as a fetus wasn't he (Something along the lines of 'he's dumb as shit')

"Hm. Seems about right."

To others, your furrowed brows, tense posture, and concentrated gaze at just one singular page of your notebook may make it seem as if whatever was on that page was something life changing. And honestly, they might as well have been right since you were one step closer to understanding what the hell Boothill was spitting out more than half the time.

You recall the first time you were assigned a mission with him — "BLESS YOUR HEART YOU WONDERFUL PERSON," cue you snapping your head towards the gruff voice seeing the cowboy in all his glory easily decimating the dozens of grunts in his vicinity with a toothy grin no less, which you note are very, very sharp.

His long, flowy hair caught your attention. How was it so white and clean even with all the fights you know gets into? Does it ever get yanked? What shampoo does he use?

"Now I don' mind some ooglin', but wouldn't ya say we should keep our eyes on our enemies darlin'?"

His voice snaps you out of your trance and you come to to a shovel nearing your head. You instinctively cover your face with your hands anticipating the pain, the pain which never came since when you put them down, you see that Boohill had already left a bullet in his head.

"Spacin' out at a space cowboy? Ain't that rich."

.

Ignoring the fact that he saved you from having to get facial reconstruction surgery, the reason you almost got a face full of shovel in the first place was because of the ridiculous curse on his synesthesia beacon.

That's why you've been devoted to trying to decode the albeit hilarious, rather inconvenient in a battle things he says. You've tried asking Boothill to write them down, but his handwriting could have him assigned as a doctor in no time so you gave up on that idea quite quickly.

"Whatcha starin' at so intently darlin'?

Your train of thought was abruptly interrupted by the man of the hour mindlessly snatching your notebook right out of your hands. "Aren't you supposed to stop thieves, not act like one," you ask half heartedly. It was nothing less of what you'd expect from Boothill of all people — no, cyborgs??

"Heh, this ain't thievery 's sharin'! Er, what's that one sayin' again... share to care, care to share, sharin' to carin'? Eh whatever ya get what I mean don'tcha sugar?" He retorted, you roll your eyes mentally as he put his focus back onto the notebook. To be honest you were surprised he could even read considering his handwriting was that bad.

As Boothill read each and every one of your 'translations', his grin only grew wider and wider showing the spiky teeth you don't know how are natural but have grown accustomed to seeing. Just then, a burst of unhinged laughter randomly filled the entire lounge room you were sitting in. The weird glances and whispering were already starting but Boothill didn't care, he was Boothill.

Not wanting to be associated with the man at that very moment, you stand up to leave him comically rolling on the floor. However, you couldn't even do that because the moment you stood up, Boothill snatched your leg and dragged it so that you would fall back down. This time, onto the floor with him. "Well ain't you something sweetcheeks, ya got me alll figured out huh?"
.

.

It's been two months. Ever since Boothill realized that you had actually tried to figure out the true meaning behind his words — and actually got them relatively right — he's been using you to spew out insults overtime. Honestly it was like you had become a pokemon, you could just picture it in your head.

BOOTHILL BROUGHT OUT ____

____ USED SWEAR! IT WAS SUPER EFFECTIVE

Either way, it wasn't that bad since though you might be imagining things, it feels as if you've grown ever so slightly closer to the eccentric space cowboy.

You continue to observe boothill and add more and more onto your list of translations, but apparently you fail to notice that he no longer uses any casual pet names like 'darling' or 'sweetcheeks' anymore. At least, not for anyone but you.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Could i request yandere sebastian, claude, and ash with floyd from twst reader? They look the same in human and merform and has the same personality.

I'll do two 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Floyd Leech Reader | Yandere Black Butler

From another world and an eel-mer person, you’re never one for abiding by the rules. Fun is what you’re after and what you find fun includes man-handling the ones you’re pointed to. Which happens to work for you in the slums of London where plenty of people need squeezing. Luckily you’re twin, the talker, has the pills that allow you both to keep your human appearances….for now. The best thing to do is stay where the fun is considering they also happen to have the mysterious ingredients needed to keep you and your brother walking: 

Sebastian Michaelis

“Ayyy! So you’re the one they want me to squeeze? This is gonna be fun!”

While ultimately you’re no match for the demon butler

But you certainly give him a run for his money

Magic-powered eels aren’t exactly his typical foe

Nor do his opponents stop mid-fight to whine about being bored

“Ugh, I wanna go for a swim. This is boring!”

“I can make things more interesting for you if you like.”

“Eh?! Doubt it Sharky. You’re not fun to play with.”

Once he realizes that you’re becoming the only thing on his mind 

He can only wish to appease your ever-changing moods

Hoping that you’ll give him the time of day

Which unfortunately means stopping whatever work he’s doing to ‘play’ with you

When you nonchalantly let it slip or reveal your eel-mer form he’s already thinking of ways to lock you up in a tank

The only problem is your undetermined mood

And your twin….that’s oddly reminiscent of himself

Who seemingly has it out for him with that stupid smile always on his face

He hopes that’s just their typical expression and not a cocky grin

Otherwise, there are plenty of circuses that’ll want a mermaid or even better a mermaid corpse

“I hope we can get along in the near future. After all, it’d be for (Y/n)’s best interest.”

Ash Landers

“Stop! Chasing me!”

“Come on! Come on! Don’t be scared! I just want to squeeze ya!”

“You broke that man’s spine!”

Love and crippling fear is a thin line for Ash

With his warped view of humans, he sees you as a…work in progress

You’re not human, 

you intentionally bite others without knowing where they’ve been

And delight in hurting others 

Granted if he points you in the right direction you can be somewhat helpful

“Nah I don’t wanna squeeze ‘em anymore.”

“But you said you would!”

To him, you’re just so frustrating 

But he can do it

You're rehabilitation is going to make all the pain worth it

He’s going to have an even bigger problem when your twin gets in his way

“Blleeeegh!!!”

“They said they're not all that interested in helping you at the moment.”

“What!? But they just told me to-”

“They. Are. Not. Interested.” 

Oh he’s going to love cleansing this world of such a nosy twin

[piningforstan]

Talking in Your Sleep

Part One | Part Two

Summary: You start to suspect that there’s more to Stan than what he tells you, at least while he’s awake. Asleep is a different story

Pairings: Stanley Pines x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: None, just angst

A/N: Don’t ask me why I put characters I love so much through so much heartache. There might be something wrong with me

“You dated him, didn’t you?”

“Hm?” You pretended not to be paying attention, wiping down the bar. No matter how many times you cleaned it, it stayed perpetually grimy to the touch. You doing the rag over your shoulder. “Who?”

“Weird guy. Lives in the woods.”

“Pines,” the other guy at the bar supplied. The foam of the cheap beer left a rim around his mouth. The former nodded.

“Oh, yeah,” you said casually, though it was anything but. Dated as in committed every dip and plane of his body to memory, told him about your childhood, envisioned a life unfolding before you with this man you considered your best friend. Until his lies ripped it away.

The two men continued their conversation then as if they only needed you to confirm something they already knew.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t partially want the job at Skull Fracture because you knew it was a notorious house of gossip and rumors, a way to check on Stan without actually having to speak to him. You picked up bits and pieces of what he was up to, how he was, all without actually inserting yourself.

In a small town like Gravity Falls there wasn’t much to talk about, and Stan posed a compelling story every time. You supposed it was a good thing that they never tired of him, speculating about his life and his job and everything else. You were of minor interest, too, since everyone knew you had lived and worked with him. But you never revealed much. It disgusted you, this unwavering loyalty to Stan. What did you owe him?

It became well known, anyway, that you refused to offer much in terms of fodder for gossip. You were intriguing in a vague, less interesting sense, a lens through which they hoped to grasp a better understanding of Stan.

The roar of the bar usually muted those thoughts of him. Music blared at all times of the day, men smoked and fought and cursed, greasy-smelling food wafted from the kitchen, and you facilitated all of it with a plastered smile. You needed money after leaving Stan. Gravity Falls wasn’t exactly a hotbed of employment opportunities, and unless you wanted to be stuck in the lumber business you had no other option than barkeep.

Your name floated over the din of drunk bikers, your manager appearing out of the back. “There’s a call. For you.”

You wiped your hands on your thighs and followed him to the phone. “Hello?”

“Doll, you gotta help me out.”

Stan’s voice, deep and rasping, struck you like a slap. Your stomach dropped. It took you a few moments to eke out a response. “Stan?”

“They, uh, got me down at the station. Some bogus arrest.”

“What?” You shook your head. “Stan, you got arrested?”

“Just say you’ll come down, eh?”

“Why are you calling me? I’m at work.”

A pause on his end, the sound of a door being slammed shut. “I ain’t got no one else.”

You inhaled sharply and exhaled out your mouth, fingers digging into the phone. You could examine your decision making abilities later. “Fine. Fine, Stan. How much is bail?”

“S’not much.”

It s’was much, you came to find out, nearly all of your savings. But for some godawful reason, you still loved Stan, and you knew since his voice rang out on the line that you would do anything he asked. You loathed yourself for this, loathed him for putting you in this position.

Stan was grinning sheepishly and rubbing his wrists as he walked out of the station. Everything you had to say, all of the reprimands and lectures, vanished upon seeing him.

“You cut your hair,” you blurted stupidly.

Gone was the mullet, the unruly curls. You quickly admired the shape of his jaw leading into his neck, his slightly too big ears that endeared you to him even more. He looked younger this way.

Stan rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling. “Yeah. If bad haircuts were a crime, I would’ve been arrested a lot sooner.”

You opened your mouth to tell him that you had loved his mullet, but promptly closed it again. It hurt to look at him, properly, since that night in the basement; the ache you carried in your heart increased tenfold now, throbbing so painfully that you thought you might now understand how people could die from broken hearts. You tore your gaze from him. Suddenly the bushes outside the station held your rapt attention.

“Listen, uh, thanks. For bailing me out. How much do I owe ya?”

“Stan, you’ve forgotten I’ve balanced your books. You couldn’t pay me back even if you wanted.”

“That’s not true,” Stan protested, “the Shack’s been breakin’ even most days. She’s doin’ alright. Not the same without you, though.”

He rushed this last part, an afterthought that he wanted to retract but had already brought to life.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” you said. Perhaps if you pretended you didn’t hear him entirely, it wouldn’t take roost in your mind.

“I’ve been meanin’ to tell ya —”

“I have to get back to work, Stan,” you said, sharper than you meant to. You couldn’t think with the amount of hurt being in his company afforded you. “Do you need a ride?”

He nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. The drive back transpired in silence. Your headlights sliced through the darkened woods like two sabers, finally falling onto the Mystery Shack as you pulled into the gravel lot. You still considered it more home than your place now, a room you rented from one of the locals. You didn’t realize just how much you missed it.

Your grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Have a good night, Stan.”

“You should come in. Please. I won’t keep ya long.”

Your resolve, well, dissolved. Not that it was heavily fortified to begin with. You found yourself crossing the lot to the porch and in through the front door, the process a lot like slipping into a familiar piece of clothing. It smelled distinctly Stan-ish, you noticed, though not unkindly. He had kept the place neat since you left. The reminder of that afternoon, dragging your meager belongings out, glared in your memory. Stan watching out the window as you drove away.

“Jus’ one cup. I swear.” He placed a mug of coffee in front of you. Your mug. The one you forgot.

“Thanks,” you mumbled. You were grateful for the excuse to do something with your hands, even though the coffee tasted like mornings with your feet in his lap and his lips on your shoulder.

“I hear yer workin’ at the bar now.”

You smiled grimly. “Regrettably.”

“Ya know you always have a job here,” Stan said.

“What’re you doing?” You set down the mug on the table. The anger boiled in you, words escaping like trapped steam with no where else to go. “You can’t just act like nothing happened. Like this is normal.”

“I jus’ wanted to talk,” Stan told you. His throat bobbed uncertainly. “To apologize.”

You stayed quiet.

When he realized you wouldn’t be responding, he forged ahead. “I should’ve been honest with you. From the beginning. But ya don’t understand where I was when I met you — I finally reconnected with my brother after ten years and then I lost him. Again. Because I fucked up.”

His hands formed into fists. Stan took a breath, seemingly to steady himself. “I was lost. I was angry. It was easier to lie. And what was I s’ppose to do? Spill the whole truth? When I first met you, you were a stranger. I had no idea that you would stick around w’me as long as you did.”

“That’s…fair.” Stan looked relieved at this, though it wasn’t long lasting. “But why not tell me the truth when I asked?”

“I didn’t know how. Every time I tried, I…I couldn’t. Would you have had a different reaction, though? I knew you would leave.”

“At least I would’ve heard it from you straight, Stan. I had to find out while you were asleep that you were keeping these huge secrets from me.”

“I know. I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t want things to end the way they did.”

You bit down on your lip to keep the tears at bay. “Neither did I.”

“We could try it again, ya know.”

The way he looked at you was so earnest, so genuine, that you had to close your eyes to ward off the image of him as a skinned-knee child, the one who solved problems with his fists and resided just below the surface of this man now.

“Stan —”

“Please?”

You swallowed, your throat thick with emotion. “I don’t know if I can trust you again.”

“The truth is out now. You know everything.”

“But I will never be able to ignore the feeling that you’re hiding something from me,” you said. “So much is still unclear to me.”

“Ask me anythin’. I’ll tell ya.”

You couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes as you said, “Stop building the portal or whatever you’re doing. Focus on the people — here — in your life.”

Focus on me, you inwardly pleaded.

Stan’s jaw feathered. “I can’t stop working to get him back.”

The swift finality of his words washed over you, a decisive blow to the traitorous hope you still clung to. Coffee not even halfway drank, you stood and rounded the table. Stan’s cheeks were wet with tears as you put your hands to them, pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Goodnight, Stanley.”

The bar shined. It was never dirty for long, you ensured that when you bought it, ensured that you wiped away every mess. You could even see the door opening in the reflection of the bar, two small bodies stepping through. You looked up.

It wasn’t rare for new faces to visit. It was summer, the height of tourism season, and your bar was preferable to Skull Fracture. Gentle music drifted from the speakers. Bar wasn’t even the right word — you served small meals and drinks of all kinds, not just alcohol. You smiled at the two children as they approached. “Thirsty?”

“Yes!” The girl, buried in a sweater despite the heat, smiled brightly at you. Her braces winked in the low lighting.

“And,” the boy said, her brother, glancing at her purposefully, “we need to ask some questions.”

You nodded. “Ask away. Lemonade okay?”

The juxtaposition of the two, the girl, looking around eagerly, and the boy, doing his best to present himself as mature and composed, brought a smile to your face. He laid a notebook on the bar counter, brows furrowed.

“Where were you the night of June twenty-first?”

“Hm. At home, I suppose.”

“Can anyone confirm that?”

You peered at him. Amusement ignited inside you, a flicker of affection. You loved kids, always have. “I live alone, so, no.”

“Did you see anything…peculiar that night?”

“Not that I can recall.” You set down two glasses of lemonade in front of them. “Why?”

“There was a reported sighting of an unidentifiable object in the sky,” the boy said. “We were just gathering information about it.”

The girl wiggled her fingers, whispering conspiratorially, “Aaaaaliens.”

“We don’t know that,” the boy countered.

“I wouldn’t be surprised. Strange things always happen in this town,” you said.

“You see them too?”

You smiled softly at the two of them. “I do.”

“I’m Dipper. This is my sister, Mabel,” the boy introduced, jerking a thumb at her. “Would you mind telling me stories about what you’ve seen?”

You entertained their questions, recalling the unexplainable things you’d seen over the last thirty years. You refilled their drinks twice. They listened intently to your stories, interrupting only to clarify something specific.

There was something familiar in their shape of their mouths, the keen way that they interacted with their world. Had they been in town before? You knew some families returned to Gravity Falls every summer to enjoy the wilderness and disconnect.

“What did it look like?” Dipper asked, leaning forward in interest.

You had been telling them about the time you swear you saw glowing lights in the trees, floating blue spheres leading you away from the path. “Well, they —”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Dipper said. “I should be putting this in the journal.”

“Dipper,” Mabel warned him.

Dipper ignored her. “Would you mind following us home? I’d love to write everything down and-and draw a picture, if you don’t mind.”

His cheeks flushed at this.

You gazed around the empty bar, then shrugged. What point was there to owning your own business if you couldn’t close down when you wanted?

“Sure, give me one moment.”

The twins appealed to you. And you were curious to find out more about them. Not to mention, it had been a long time since someone wanted to talk to you. Really talk. You weren’t lonely, per se, but you sometimes missed the comfort of another person. As you closed the cash register and locked up, you couldn’t ignore the fact that you had wanted kids, long ago, but the years slipped away and now the dream was gone.

You liked these kids. Even though you’d only known them for an afternoon, you’d taken a shine to them — smart and witty, perceptive, the right amount of childish enthusiasm. You told them to put their bikes in the trunk of your car and followed their direction back home.

“You live…here?” Your stomach dropped as the Mystery Shack emerged from the dense forest, the S lying precariously on the roof.

“Kinda,” Mabel said, “we’re staying with our Grunkle Stan for the summer.”

Dipper, insisting that he got the front seat, turned to you. “Do you know him?”

“Kinda,” you muttered. “If it’s all the same to you, I might just stay in the car.”

The twins exchanged a look. A pointed, knowing look, like they suspected their uncle had done something to lose your favor. They weren’t wrong, exactly. Dipper and Mabel ran inside with the promise to return shortly. All you could do was stare at the Shack numbly, imagine the man within and the memories you held with him. You should’ve known that he would make an appearance, stomp out onto the porch after his niece and nephew to investigate.

Stan’s expression crumbled.

You couldn’t hear, but he uttered something to them. They gesticulated frantically back. Your heart had leapt into your throat by the time the three of them walked back to the car, Stan lingering a few steps behind.

“Grunkle Stan says we shouldn’t bother you,” Mabel said, pouting.

You finally forced your gaze to him. Stan had aged well, you reluctantly noticed, still unbearably handsome. The same broad shoulders. The features that you knew so well, lined with the years you spent apart.

“They aren’t bothering me,” you choked out.

“You shouldn’t fill their heads w’stories,” Stan replied, refusing to meet your eyes.

“They aren’t stories,” you and Dipper both protested at the same time. You shared a secretive smile with him.

“Jus’ tell the nice person sorry and let them get on with her day.”

Mabel tugged on his suit jacket. “They told us that you knew each other.”

“We-We did,” Stan said.

You supplied, “A long time ago.”

“Then come inside and catch up!” Mabel beamed at the idea. “You gave us lemonade so it’s only fair. I can make you Mabel-cakes!”

“If it’s fine with your uncle.”

Stan studied you closely. You could only imagine what he saw, your greying hair and swollen knuckles. “Uh, yeah…’course.”

You were both pleased and devastated to see how the inside of the Shack had changed. Judging by the “exhibits” and amount of items in the gift shop, business was prosperous. A redheaded girl at the register waved at you as you passed. Dipper disappeared upstairs to fetch his journal, and Mabel busied herself preparing the pancake mix, leaving you alone with Stan.

“It’s, uh, been awhile,” Stan said, effectively breaking the silence.

You feigned an interest in the water stains on the ceilings. “It has.”

The last time you were together had been almost— what, two years ago? You had knocked. Stan had answered. He touched you with expert precision, years of exploring one another resulting in experiences both familiar and new, somehow each brief encounter over the years never dulling your attraction. You weren’t proud, necessarily, of your weakness in the form of Stan Pines. You had almost overcome it until today; you should’ve known that the twins were Pines.

“How’s the bar?” Stan asked.

“Fine.”

“I’m sorry if they were botherin’ ya. Kids.”

“They weren’t,” you said, and you meant it. “They seem really great. They’re your niece and nephew?”

“Great niece and nephew. My brother’s grandkids.” When you arched a brow in confusion, Stan grimaced. “Other brother.”

“Oh.” You hugged your arms around yourself. Should you ask him how his search was? You wanted to care, but found it hard when it only brought back painful memories. Clearly it hadn’t been well, not if his brother was still absent.

You bit your lip. “Do they know?”

“No, they don’t.” Stan’s face shuttered closed.

Indignation swelled inside you, pressed against your rib cage. “You haven’t told them?”

“Everyone thinks that —” he lowered his voice, “—that Stanley Pines is dead. Including their parents and my brother.”

“I can’t believe you.”

“What I do with my life isn’t your problem,” Stan snapped. “You made that clear.”

“They’re good kids, Stan.”

“You don’t think I know that?”

“Don’t push them away, too,” you told him softly. “I-I need to go. Can you tell them I’m sorry? Say that I had to go back to work or something.”

Stan’s words chased you out the door: “Whose the liar now?”

Tags:

@gimmemorecherries @tellybearryyyy

[miiilowo]

You should make the list of ways you were correct anyways, just for fun ~

eh. sure. why not

Any time a post of mine about afton got a decent amount of notes (aside from fanart) there'd usually be comments on it complaining about how "those" fans [note: i am one of "those" fans] have no idea what his personality actually is, and that they water him down, woobify and mischaracterize him, all while listing things off that are just genuinely part of william's character. while yes, there are fans that DO do that, the stuff they talk about is almost never an actual example of this happening. this is likely due to people not viewing him as a person and just a bland cold serial killer with no personality whatsoever

obviously movie william is not 1:1 with game or book william, but they're gonna be similar in personality. so heres some stuff ive seen people complain was "mischaracterization" thats present in the movie:

hes emotional/sentimental and actually cares about things - william calls the owner of freddys sentimental when talking to mike about the pizzeria (and we all know the owner is william), he visibly regrets/is shocked by the fact he stabs vanessa, he gets really worked up when things dont go his way, very quick to anger, etcetera. one could argue that william is lying about being sentimental and just wants to give an excuse for why the place is still around, but there'd be no reason to do that, considering mike has no idea anyone even died there, let alone the fact HE killed the kids. we know williams sole motive for keeping the place around definitely isnt just sentimental reasons, but i doubt that what he said doesnt have at least an ounce of truth to it. he holds onto trophies from his kills as well if him keeping garretts toy plane is anything to go off of

he actually likes bunnies and has an affinity for them - he has a rabbits foot on his keyring and has a letter/paper holder that's rabbit shaped. the letter holder isnt actually in any shots, but it was present on set on his desk

his personality isnt one note and dull/cold, and hes superstitious & a little offputting/jittery - the rabbits foot on his keyring ties into this idea, because if he actually believes it to be a good luck charm, then it shows some "quirkiness" for lack of a better term that people adamantly refuse to admit is in his personality. this also shows how hes superstitious, which is an idea thats present in the books, and people also like to pretend he isnt. he pokes fun at mike in a somewhat lighthearted way multiple times, he has a has a FRAMED PARTICIPATION AWARD on his wall for christs sake. the kids hair colors match the animatronics they were stuffed into (minus bonnie). he matched them. he made them match he paired them up for fun. not only that, but he gets visibly nervous and antsy when he realizes who mike is, and clearly really wants him to take the job. gets kind of weird. gets a kinda strange. he likes when things match afterall (symmetry, my friend!)

he's theatrical and over the top in personality on purpose (this is also essentially an argument for the last point) - in the books he goes on and on about performance and how he viewed both dave miller & springtrap as characters he plays, and i seriously wouldn't doubt that it'd be the same here, considering how cartoonishly evil he is while wearing the springbonnie suit. the voice changer, the little flourishes he adds to his speech, the fact he wipes off the knife when there wasnt any blood on it in the first place. for what. for what reason other than for pizzazz and intimidation points. the "oh, this is going to be so much fun!" line, and especially his playful demeanor disappearing the second he takes off the mask

he cares about his kids/likes kids - his expression when he stabs vanessa and she falls to the ground says enough i think. obviously hes not a GOOD parent, but being a good parent and caring about your kids are two wildly different things. you can be abusive and still care. most abusers dont process that they are abusers but thats a conversation for another time. william prioritizes himself over anyone else, but he still looks shocked after he stabs his daughter, and i refuse to blame that on bad acting because its MATTHEW LILLARD. the training tape for mike also states that he enjoyed entertaining kids, and yes, while that could be a lie, do you seriously think the creator of what essentially is chuck e cheese would actually despise children. the fact he gives garretts toy plane to vanessa could be a point toward him in this department as well, though its also just as likely he collects them as trophies. i like to think its a mix of both

i included these points specifically because i also have a plethora of evidence for them from both the books and the games, and theyre the ones i most commonly see people stating are unrealistic for afton.

its not a lot of stuff, but its not like he has a lot of screentime. lets be real

i do ADORE how egotistical and shortsighted they made him in the movie, though everyone can generally agree on that being a staple trait of his

[lilac-5ky]

Oh then! Can I request a scenario where Toji eavesdrops on a convo between Reader and Gojo (or whoever) where Reader confesses to having a crush on Toji?

Thank you so much!

Confessions of a Confection Thief (Toji x Teacher!Fem!Reader)

Plot: On a warm summer day, you confess your love for the man once known as the Sorcerer Killer to the man who, twelve years ago, spared his life. What you don't count on is the man in question listening in, nor the consequences of a mere lunch invitation.

Tags: au in which Gojo heals Toji's ass with reverse jujutsu and makes him his bitch, reader is megumi's teacher, parent/teacher relationship, age gap (reader early 30s, toji early 40s), character development!toji, soft!toji, confession, unprotected sex, oral sex (m. receiving), facial, doggy style, petnames (teach', sweetheart, baby, doll), MDNI (obviously)

A/N: You can tell I got inspired since this took me 9k words to develop that feature not only the confession, but the date and the "happy ever after" ehe. Hopefully this was worth the wait!

“Damn machine!” You grunt as you kick at the vending machine’s side, lamenting over the 1,000 yen bill you were just robbed of.

“Let me give it a try.” The man beside you suggests and you clear the stage for him to work his magic. His right hand lifts from his pocket, open fingers coaxing an entire bundle of sodas out without even making contact. What a show-off.

He gathers the cans off the ground and hands you the one that is your favorite, making you wait while he places the rest on top of the vendor for a lucky student to find.

“Isn’t that considered damaging school property?” You raise a brow, yanking the ring close to the tab with a pop.

“Is it?” He chuckles, bringing his refreshment to his lips. “It was already damaged when we got here. Ijichi’s gonna get an earful later.”

“I don’t think that falls under Ijichi’s responsibilities, Satoru. Cut him some slack already.”

“No harm in harassing your cute underclassmen from time to time, Y/N.” He smiles. “You should try it too.”

Right, you mutter under your breath, already regretting your decision to spill your heart’s contents on someone with such little regard for others. Shoko would’ve been a better choice. Utahime, too. You could wait until the weekend, get on the first bullet train to Kyoto, and have a girls’ night out like you used to before life and work got in the way. They’d surely talk you out of the horrible mistake you’re about to commit. Maybe that’s why you chose Satoru. He’s the only one who’d give you the final push down the cliff, and you don’t mind the fall.

“So what is it that you wanted to talk about?” He brings you back to the parching reality of Jujutsu Tech’s grounds, with the sun glinting across every metallic surface and body of water in the perimeter. The heatwave has only begun, and thankfully, the outburst of curses has finally simmered down, or else you’ve no idea how you’d survive abandoned building-hopping with those three rascals.

You take a sip from your soda, the taste of honeydew melon cooling your throat like the sweetest form of redemption. You struggle not to gulp it all down in one go, eyeing the remainder of drinks that have vanished in the horizon—or rather, you have, your steps leading you toward a path of tori gates that itself leads to the school’s Inari shrine. This should be safe. No one comes around these places.

“I have a confession to make.”

Satoru stops in his tracks, awaiting a follow-up that doesn’t come. His sunglasses come off, and a knowing smile slowly creeps up his lips. “I know.”

“Y-You do?” You blink in surprise. What does he know? How does he know? Since when does he know? “Satoru—”

“You’re the one who ate the last Manzu.”

And he couldn’t be any more off the mark.

You sigh. “That’s not it.”

“It’s not? Huh.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his palm after chugging his strawberry-flavored soda. “Guess I’ll have to ask Ijichi about that too.”

“Please don’t torment him for useless things.” You cast your gaze to your feet, kicking a pebble as you speak. “What I want to confess is… my feelings.”

The cicadas come to a stop, leaving space for your words to take root. You are hesitant to move forward, cautiously treading on the shells of emotions you recently began to accept. Almost there, you encourage yourself as Satoru invades your personal space, cornering you against the red gate’s pillar.

“Finally decided to profess your love for me?”

You shove his smug face away and roll your eyes at the notion. “Dream on, Shit-toru.”

He takes a step back, acting as if you just delivered a fatal blow to his heart. You chuckle at his childish antics while shaking your head in disapproval. To think the future of the entire Jujutsu world rests on the shoulders of a conceited guy who makes everything about him.

“Then who’s the lucky guy?”

Your anxiety resumes before it has the chance to fully dissipate. You close your eyes and lean back against the pillar, the familiar name on your tongue feeling foreign. “It’s… Fushiguro.”

“Fushiguro?” You nod. You understand it’s a lot to take in and give him a moment to process it, yet the longer he takes to answer, the more tempted you are to say this was a joke and call things off. “Don’t you think there’s a bit of an age gap?”

“I mean… I suppose there is.” You sound defeated. If even Satoru saw this as an issue, then there’s no reason he wouldn’t. “You think it’s that bad?”

“Bad?” His lips twitch. “The heart wants what it wants, Y/N. Give it a few years, and the difference won’t matter.”

“You think I have a chance?”

“Oh, definitely! I saw Yuji move some of his American-star posters into his room last week, and he didn’t throw any away. Jennifer Lawrence ‘s your age, right?”

Your memory is put to the test as you go through various Jennifers. Is she the one from Friends or the one married to Ben Affleck?

“I think she’s older by a few years.”

“Older?” He snorts. “Well, if it makes you feel younger, then who am I to argue?”

You decide to let his comment slide for the sake of picking on the dissonance in his words. “But what does a Hollywood actress have to do with this? And Itadori—what are you talking about?”

“Y/N, you should get to know him a bit better before confessing, don’t you think?” Satoru says, as he finds your beloved pebble and tosses it in your direction. You catch it with your heel. “The kind of woman he likes; his best friend; the ages of top-paid actors. These things shape up a guy’s adolescence. They’re as crucial.”

By the time he finishes talking, all the puzzle pieces fall into place, and you have to mentally control every joint in your body to prevent it from lashing at him with fury second only to the Curse King’s. Even by Satoru’s dubious standards, this is plain outrageous.

“Are you outta your mind?” You yell, pushing your hair off your sweaty forehead with both palms. “How could you—why would you—what do you take me for?” You fail to put your thoughts in order until you suck in a deep breath. “I would never crush on any of my students, or any other minor, for that matter!” You declare.

Thin white eyebrows furrow in genuine confusion. “But you said—”

“Fushiguro! The man I’m in love with is Fushiguro Toji!”

And not a single soul is left on campus who hasn’t heard your confession, no matter how far and wide or close you think they are scattered.

Toji’s never set foot on these damned grounds without cursing to himself as if the paths his shoes traverse are paved with nothing but shit. Even after all these years, something about marching through the front door just doesn’t feel right. It’s not hatred, that’s for sure. He’s spent more than two-thirds of his life cultivating his loathing for sorcerers to the point where he can tell it apart by taste alone.

No, what’s tainting his palate right now and will continue doing so in the days to come is more akin to chagrin than resentment. It’s failure. A failure that’s branded onto the bare skin of his torso and that he can’t pawn off for as long as he stands, because if a fate worse than death exists, then that’s surviving on a snotty brat’s pity.

Wiping some of his sweat and plenty of his regrets against his pants, Toji remembers his reason for being here has nothing to do with Six-Eyes or his past shortcomings, as he’s here to share the news of his divorce papers finalization with the only person he’s keen on letting know: you.

A decade has passed since he last heard from his wife—his ex-wife who had no qualms about leaving everything behind (her daughter included) and ran back to her parents, never to be seen or heard from again until a hotshot big firm lawyer showed up at his doorstep with a bunch of papers and a platinum-coated Montblanc in hand.

And with that, another overdue chapter was closed, the rest of the pages flipping through the wind. By the end of summer, the goalkeeper in his relationship with his son will be heading off to college, and with Tsumiki gone, Megumi decided he’d grown old enough to slam the door on his face and choose that faux albino sorcerer over his own blood.

It was that very rebellion that roused Toji to reevaluate his lifestyle. He stopped counting the years after the candle with the number 4 became prominent in each birthday cake, but that didn’t stop time from moving forward. He was aging. And while one-night stands do a decent enough job to distract him from searching his scalp for graying hair, the nights he catches himself wishing his bed could stay warm the morning after add up.

None of the silly little girls he fools around with are capable of that, not the way you are. Since that first PT meeting he begrudgingly attended two months ago, a rusty cog in his heart began turning again.

You don’t match any of his previous criteria. You don’t come from a wealthy family and aren’t an airhead either. You live in the dorms because you can’t afford rent in the city, and you are smart enough to have graduated from a big university. You are one of them, but you’re also proof that not all beauty was lost with her.

Toji doesn’t want to screw this up. Just once, he wants to do things right. He waited until he was a free man in the eyes of the law, wore his good jeans on a day when wearing jeans should be considered a criminal offense, and kept enough cash to afford however many side dishes you ordered—assuming you accepted his lunch invitation in the first place.

The jittery, four-eyed guy he ran into on his way to your class pointed him in the direction of the school’s shrine. After a while of wandering around, Toji spots two sets of imprints in the soil, the smaller ones belonging to your heels and the larger ones undoubtedly being that brat’s. Luck isn’t on his side today. His stride overlaps with Gojo’s as he childishly covers the younger man’s tracks, leaving yours intact, and eventually, the sound of clamor confirms his lead.

He strays off the pebbled path and mingles with the shadows of the dense forest, scoffing as Gojo’s shit-eating grin becomes apparent. That beanpole’s standing way too close to you. Toji almost intervenes when you finally push him. A kick to the nuts would do him better, but that’s enough for a tiny smile to rise on his scar. That’s my girl.

There’s no reason to stay hidden anymore. After all, that brat is already aware of his presence. He takes a few steps forward, turning into a pillar of salt at your sudden outburst.

“The man I’m in love with is Fushiguro Toji!”

His hand nearly reaches inside his back pocket to double-check the name on his ID. Looks like some of his luck returned to him. Asking you out just got a whole lot easier.

“Fushiguro Toji?” Gojo twists a finger in his ear. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

Toji hisses, his fist itching to knock some teeth off his face. That ought to jog his memory, but he holds back, realizing that’s all part of Six-Eyes’ plan. To egg him on into a brawl he can’t win.

“He wiped the floor with your face only a few years back, Satoru.” You sound as irritated as he is. “How could you possibly forget?”

The man folds his arms over his chest, sparing a glare in Toji’s direction as he reclines against the tori gate. “Was it at the arcades? Man, no need to rub it in.”

Your lips part, but no sound comes out. You sigh, hogging the unoccupied pillar with no intention to play his game.

“What about Megumi’s old man won you over?” Gojo gives in. “His kart skills?”

“So you do remember, after all.” You murmur in a low voice. “I don’t know. He’s just… nice.”

“Nice?” Gojo asks with utter disgust painted on his face.

Nice?

You nod, fumbling with the hem of your navy-blue dress. “Hey, Satoru. You know what makes for a good parent?” You don’t let either of them consider their answers. “It’s effort. Not success, but effort. Mister Fushiguro hasn’t missed any of his son’s PT meetings, even when the two of them are clearly at odds.”

Toji feels too guilty to step in and correct you that his priority is to see you. Not that Megumi doesn’t matter, but what’s the point of hearing his son excels in everything he never could for the nth time in a month?

“And?”

You glance at the clear sky. “And you remember those forms Yaga gave us for the kids to fill out? Nobara said her dream was to buy out Daikanyama. You can guess what Yuji’s was. As for Megumi, he left his blank, and when I asked him later, he said that he doesn’t have time for dreams; that his goal is to repay his dad the money he lost from the Naobito deal, so he owes him nothing.”

The two men blink in surprise. “Didn’t think he knew about that.”

“You aren’t exactly a quiet speaker, Satoru.” You shrug. “Point is, he doesn’t know. Neither of them do. Megumi doesn’t know his father attends his PT meetings, and Mister Fushiguro doesn’t know about his son’s dream. Isn’t it funny? They both care about each other but are too awkward to admit it.”

“And you call me twisted.” Gojo yawns. “You wanna act like a bridge between them? Is that it?”

You shake your head. “I wouldn’t want to interfere. Megumi placed his trust in me as his teacher when he disclosed that, and Mister Fushiguro… We are nothing to each other.”

Yet, Toji mentally added.

“You might think it’s crazy, but I think Mister Fushiguro’s heart is full of raw emotion he can’t put in order on his own. He’s not taught how to, and I… I think I could help him out with that; be someone he can direct those feelings to. No, I—” You shake your head again, except this time you do so with a little smile of conviction tugging at your lips. “I want to be that person. I want to be his person.”

Gojo doesn’t say anything for a good while, and you end up nearly as flustered as Toji himself. “Of course there are plenty of other things I like about him! He is funny, charming, has his own house,” your voice drops in volume, “he is very attractive, and we have the same taste in seafood.”

“Sounds to me like you’ve got it all figured out.” Gojo let his hand drop after fixing his sunglasses over his nose bridge. “But you should know, Fushiguro, or rather Zen’in Toji, is a lot more than that. He’s killed more sorcerers in his prime than most curses combined. Not sayin’ that to be a buzz kill, but you should be careful around him, or else,” his tone drops a menacing octave as he peers over his shades, “I’ll have to terminate that relationship myself.

“You get it, right?” He switched back to his usual voice with a lighthearted chuckle. “Wouldn’t want to lose another precious friend.”

Silence reigns between you, and that’s Toji’s cue to walk up. He’s heard enough. The few fallen leaves rustle under his weight, caution thrown to the wind as tiny twigs crunch below his sandals. He’s close enough for you to tell someone’s coming, but not close enough to tell that someone is him.

“Got nothin’ better to do than gossip about others, Six-Eyes?” Toji paces in the middle of you two, his eyes flickering in your direction. He has to brace himself not to smile at how red your face has gotten, his resolve giving way to a suggestive smirk. “Teach’.”

“Mister Fushiguro.” Your smile is shaky, but there. Always there for him.

“Yo, it’s been a long time!” Gojo springs forward. “Came for a rematch?” His hand travels up his neck, rolling his shoulder blades one at a time. “Could use the exercise.”

“I’m done fighting kids.” Toji deadpans.

“Is that so?” Gojo scratches the back of his head. “Your hands must be full with all that jell-o they feed you at retirement house,” he chuckled at his own joke. “What then? Remembered to pay the med bills twelve years later?”

“Satoru!” You object.

“Only if you remembered to hand the Star Vessel cash back.”

“Mister Fushiguro!”

“Money belongs to Amanai,” Gojo raises his volume. “I don’t think she’d want you to have it.”

“Really? ‘Cause last time I checked, corpses don’t talk.” Toji grits his teeth and unwillingly finds himself at the end of your right palm, the other one prompting Gojo to maintain his distance.

Your eyes are round, but the look behind them firm. The same look you assume when you reprimand your students, he bets. His gaze is drawn to your fingers, small and slender as they graze his shirt. You’ve never been so close to him before. If it weren’t for the walking parasite to his left, he might’ve been enjoying the proximity.

Perhaps for the first time in his life, Toji is the one to back away first, clearing his throat with a soundless cough. His eyes remain on Gojo’s while he speaks. “I’m here to take her out.” He stops and considers adding “to lunch”, previous occupation and all, but deems that should be obvious enough.

“You got time?” His tone softens, still bearing hints of the annoyance he failed to submerge.

A single finger pad skims over his chest as you withdraw your hand, slower than you did the other. So cute. He promises to give you plenty of opportunities to touch him later.

“I have an afternoon class, but Satoru can cover for me.” You smile sweetly at Toji and click your heel down on Gojo’s foot. “Right, Satoru?”

He’s inclined to agree, his face lightening up behind his shades. “As long as you agree to grade my papers for the next three months.”

“I’m already stuck grading the papers from when you went to Hiroshima,” you mumble under your breath, your nose scrunching in an expression that’s new to Toji. “Fine.”

“Mister Fushiguro?” You turn to him.

Toji shoots Gojo a stunted glare before his large palm finds its place in the small of your back, prodding you to move forward.

On the way to the car you find yourself making small talk about the weather, and on the way to the restaurant, your getaway is Megumi’s recent success in domain creation. This isn’t the first time you’re alone with him, but with every mile you count away from school grounds, you shrink into an ever-growing bundle of nerves that threatens to unravel on his passenger seat.

You’re in the middle of your third recounting of the kids’ excursion in Saitama when a hand moves to your lap and muzzles your every thought.

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous, Teach’.” Toji says once you’re stopped at a red light.

He’s careful to keep his fingers over your dress, only his thumb looming over the bare skin of your knee. Your glance loses momentum as it travels from his knuckles to his wrist and then his elbow, reveling at the sight of muscles bulging underneath his rolled-up white shirt. You’re glad half of his attention remains on the steering wheel, because if you got to see the other side of his lopsided smile, then you might say something that’s unbecoming of an educator—and you almost do, after his hand drops to the gear stick.

“I don’t normally do these things, Mister Fushiguro.” You admit, preserving some of his leftover warmth with your own palm.

“Hmm? What things?”

“Going on dates with parents—it’s a first for me.”

“Oh? So that’s what this is?” He chuckles lowly, as if the notion were new to him. Other than the few visible wrinkles around his eyes, you wouldn’t guess this man was roughly ten years your senior. “You can relax. Got a long way before the main course, sweetheart.”

Embarrassment flares up in your cheeks at the pet name. You can’t remember the last time you were asked out, let alone called something of that volume. You don’t mind it. If anything, you like the ring.

“Ah, and do me a favor, won’t ya?” His head cocks to the side, tousled black strands falling forward. “Quit callin’ me that.”

“Calling you what?”

“Mister Fushiguro.” He grimaces. “It’s ex mister Fushiguro now.”

“What?” You exclaim with more excitement than you’re entitled to.

It doesn’t go unnoticed. “Check the compartment glove.”

You do as you’re told, discovering a bitten-off subway that’s wrapped around at least four layers of napkins. His sloppy eating habits mustn’t be what he’s so eager for you to see. You nudge it to the side and dig out a few crane toys that are too adorable to be his, and then finally, a stack of creased official documents that you have to separate from the massage parlor flyers stuck between the pages.

You quickly go over the lines, the most notable by far being the words “Divorce Agreement” written in all capitals on the front page. “Is this…?”

He nods. “Got ‘em this morning. Thought you’d take proof over my word.”

“That’s amazing, Mister Fushig—” You bite your tongue. “Looks like you got to keep all your assets, too.”

“All, except that name.”

You remember pondering why, even though Toji was born into the main family, both he and his son left the Zen’in surname behind. Others would kill for a chance to be written in their family registry—but then again, it was just like the Zen’ins to keep clan matters private.

“You can call me Toji until I take on a new surname.” He continues, his voice reflecting his lax smile. “Am open to suggestions.”

You return it, piecing a non-existent strand of hair behind your ear. “Already proposing that I should marry you?”

“Better strike while the iron’s hot,” quietly adding, “figured that should give ya enough time to sort my shit out.”

“What was that?”

He grins as he cups your hand with his own. “We’re here.”

Toji’s restaurant of choice turns out to be a cozy little family restaurant by the park in Nerima. He asks if you’ve been there before, but you shake your head. Having no car means you rarely get to go around Tokyo without Ijichi, the kids, or Utahime whenever she decides to pull a surprise visit. You’re a tourist in your own town.

At this time of the day—neither appropriate for lunch nor for dinner—the tables are mostly empty, and you’re free to choose your own seats. He points at the bar, and you point at the window. He pulls your chair and then plops down on his own, chin quick to balance atop his wrist while he stares off at the greenery on the horizon.

You thought sitting closer to the window would be cooler, but the heat is reflected through the glass. You should have listened to him.

A waiter drops off your menus with a tired smile, patting some of the perspiration off his forehead with a napkin. “Sure is hot today, isn’t it?”

You nod politely and start browsing the list of appetizers. All those nights you spent bent over your tiny desk lamp pile up against you as your stomach lets out a low grumble—overjoyed to be presented with something that doesn’t require a microwave.

“You drink?” Toji waves the wine menu in your face.

“If the occasion calls for it.” Your reply paves the way for his next question. “I’d say a glass of champagne is due to celebrate your freedom.”

He flings the menu at the next table. “Don’t have that here. Maybe next time,” he says, and you almost stand in ovation at the prospect of there being a next time.

“You don’t want anything?”

“Not a drinker.” He doesn’t care to elaborate. You go back to scanning the pages, and you must’ve taken long enough for him to grab onto your menu. “I can recommend you some.”

Your stomach gurgles again, and this time he hears it. His stare lowers over your body, and you shift in your seat, offering him the menu to distract him from your issue. His bottom lip curls in amusement.

“The stake’s good here since their stuff’s from Kobe-hmm,” Toji pauses as he zeroes in on an item that he taps with his index. “The barbecue ribs are the real deal.”

His green orbs spin like pinball in his eyes while he flips through the pages, pointing out what’s good and what sucks, as those are the two main phrases he uses to describe the specialties. This is the most you’ve heard him speak in a row, and admittedly, you miss out on most of what he says taking in his mannerisms.

His surprisingly well-trimmed nails drum on the table when they aren’t shifting to a different page, while his cheek prop up his fist. He makes a habit out of licking his slanted scar at every nasal consonant, and there’s a slight drawl whenever he stumbles upon a foreign word, his thin brows furrowing in uncertainty. However, his most distinctive quirk of all remains the unintentional frown his lips shape; a trait shared with your young protege.

Toji might be a little rough around the edges, but still carries some of that boyish charm.

“So?” He slaps the menu shut.

You suck on your teeth, unable to remember a single specialty. “I’ll have what you’re having. You sound like you come here often.”

He gestures for the waiter to come over. “The kids dragged me here all the time. There’s a park here,” he points outside the window, as if that’s self-explanatory. The image of a little Megumi and a little Tsumiki tugging at their father’s pants to play hide-and-seek makes your heart swell.

The waiter arrives approximately a minute later, and Toji places your orders. You’re apparently having the aforementioned ribs, along with a beef bowl, some chashu, and a few standard vegetable dishes that, for some reason, should not contain any red bell peppers. He chose plenty, but he chose smart. None of these break the bank.

“Why not bell peppers?” You ask once the waiter goes off to fetch your water. Toji scratches his jaw as if he’s got no idea what you’re talking about, until the realization hits him on the head.

“Fuck, Megumi’s the one who hates ‘em.” He curses and motions for the waiter again when you catch his hand in mid-air and bring it down onto the table.

“I’m not a big fan either.”

Your eyes lock with his and slowly dart to where your hands meet, watching as his fingers decisively slip between your own. He forces your wrist to prop against the wood, your knuckles hugging, while he tests out what it feels like to be holding hands. Ever since the only woman he let himself cherish passed away, he’s avoided the slightest illusion of romance, and if you could peer into his brain, you’d see him contemplating how your hands are small like hers—how they’re soft like hers.

They’re just hands; he dismisses the stupid notion that hands can be anything beyond what they appear to be, and yet yours feel special to him. He looks back at what you told that asswipe and wonders if those shards you claimed to see could ever amount to love or if you’d be cut like all the others he purposely hurt. He wonders if you are dumb enough to love him. He wonders if he’s smart enough to love you.

“Here’s the seasoned spinach and the chilled tofu—” The waiter cuts in, and the table clatters after you fail to retrieve your hand. The man makes room for the plates and the glasses, standing there with an awestruck smile until Toji harshly orders him to “Scram”.

Another man with a lousy temper.

Metallic chopsticks replace your hand as Toji transfers about half of the spinach to his plate. “Man, I’m starving.” He declares and wastes no time to dig in.

You follow his lead and quickly forget all about his rudeness as your eyes well up at the euphoric taste that floods your taste buds—your insides sincerely thanking him for each bite that makes it down your throat.

The conversation dies down while you share the appetizers unevenly, with him discreetly claiming the last bites under the guise of asking you whether you’re going to eat that. You don’t mind. After all, he is paying, and he’s ordered enough for your belly to gain that five-month pregnancy bump without your stolen share.

However, when the main dishes arrive, he does the unexpected and takes on your plate first, separating the meat from the bones without your asking. It’s a clumsy way to compensate, but you can’t help but think it’s more of a reflex than a tactic, considering all the times he must’ve had the kids slide their plates his way. You thank him by dropping an extra three chunks of meat on his plate, which he gladly accepts—no returns.

The waiter who didn’t dare approach your table after delivering the ribs comes back with the dessert menus and picks up the dishes. You don’t fuss over your choices for long—Toji decides on chocolate chiffon cake and you on coffee jelly. It is then that you realize your impromptu date is coming to an end, and you haven’t asked him one question about himself.

“So what is it that you actually do?”

No sorcerer who hasn’t heard the name “Sorcerer Killer” exists, yet only a select few know the urban legend behind it has retired—a decisive factor in his deal with Satoru.

“You mean when your little friend ain’t tasking me with his dirty business?” Toji shrugs. “Stocks, mostly.”

“Stocks?” That’s not at all what you expected.

“Takes about five minutes of your time, and if ya get lucky, you’re settled for life. Rest is knowing how to read people and the market.”

Judging by the sound his car engine emits, he must be still waiting for his big break.

“Would you say you’re good at reading others?”

“The market? It depends. The people?” Toji smiles confidently. “Yes.”

“What’s your reading on me then?” You take the bite.

“Hmm.” He rubs his chin while sizing you up. “I bet you were one of those four-eyed nerds at school.” His serious tone makes you snort out loud. “Eighty percent of your experience comes from dating shows, and the other twenty from group dates with your gals. Y’are too damn trusting and find good even in rotten apples, but don’t mind losing a shoe if someone gets on your nerves.”

“Oh, really?” You snicker into your palm and shake your head once he asks you if he’s wrong. “I’d say eighty percent right?”

“Heh, told ya I’m good.”

The waiter interrupts you as he drops your dessert in the middle of the table. He apologizes and points at a few tables away, where a little girl is devouring the last piece of chocolate cake available. Toji huffs in annoyance, attempting to bewitch the cake from the girl’s plate with his glare alone.

“We can share if you want.” You offer him a spoon, which he begrudgingly accepts.

A few spoonfuls and half a dessert later, he points the spoon at the family behind you and asks if you want one. “Kids,” he specifies. “You like ‘em?”

You tap your spoon against your lips. “Would you believe me if I said I see them as walking-talking grading papers? Don’t get me wrong, I love my job and lucked out with our first years, but this was supposed to be a co-teaching gig before Satoru offloaded even the second years on my back.”

“Want me to teach that brat a lesson?” Toji flashes a grin.

“I think his confectionery going missing before he gets to try any is enough punishment.” You smile mischievously. “I can save you some. Wagashi or castella?”

“I’m beginnin’ to like you more by the minute.” He blurts out and perhaps it’s a slip of the tongue because you catch him cocking his eyebrows upward right after.

“I like you too.” You earnestly say. “God, I sound like a teenager.”

“Nah, pretty sure you’re my dream woman.” You both scoff in unison. “Now that’s lame.”

“Yeah, it was.” You hide your blush by pretending to search for the waiter. “Shall we get the check?”

“Thanks for driving me hom—well, back.” You give a little bow, having yet to unbuckle your seat belt.

“Don’t sweat it.” Toji leans against the steering wheel. He looks even more handsome in the late-afternoon light, the shadows that contour his face bringing out his defined jawline and jade eyes. You aren’t prepared to part with the sight. Not when you were just getting accustomed to it, but every word that follows leads to a quicker parting.

“I had fun today.” He nods.

“Let’s do it again sometime.” He nods again.

“I’ll be going now.” He is reluctant to, but nods a third time.

You open the door and step out of the vehicle, your waving turning into a grip as you tug the car door back open. A perplexed look wanes into a full-blown smirk when you ask him if he’d like to come in for a bit.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Your desk chair looks comically small wobbling beneath Toji’s weight, a long arm draped over the backrest while he gawks at your crouching form, half your body—save for your backside—swallowed by the mini fridge. He hears a lot of rattling. The dorms are quiet after sundown, and with the expulsion of the third years, the sound of empty drawers being flipped inside out (just in case a minuscule bottle of Ramune has slipped between them) echoes throughout the east wing’s desolate floors.

You should’ve grabbed those soda cans when you still had the chance. You consider running outside, but in the unlikely event no one’s gotten to them first, you doubt they’re safe for consumption after boiling under the hot sun for hours on end.

“Damn, kid screwed this one up badly, huh?”

You glance over your shoulder at Toji, who’s going through the scattered papers on your desk, finding the one test Megumi flunked in his entire four-month career at Jujutsu Tech. You close the fridge and pad toward the desk, balancing against the edge to peer at the answer sheets in Toji’s hands.

“Everyone failed that test.” You trace a finger over the bright red 48 mark. “Megumi actually did better than most; rest scored below 20.”

“Of course he did.” Toji scoffs.

He leaves the papers on the desk and quirks a brow as he takes in your image. Your dress has lifted higher up your thighs now that you’re propped on the furniture, revealing a slit that his eyes discreetly follow to where his imagination needs to fill in the blanks. He’s not here to fuck you, he reminds himself. He’s here because you were kind enough to offer him a drink for giving you a lift, but your hands are notably empty.

“What happened to the drinks?” Toji forces himself to look you in the eye, supposing that your eyes existed on the same level as your tits—perfectly delineated under your dress’ square neckline. He hasn’t even kissed you, and he’s already picturing what your nipples would look like sucked between his lips.

He shouldn’t go there. He really isn’t here to fuck you.

“I… forgot to do my shopping this week,” you answer, oblivious to his lewd thoughts. “Sorry, I brought you up here for nothing.”

“It’s fine.” Toji glances at the wall clock. Time’s the greatest excuse. “I should go. It’s getting late.”

And he really thinks he’s made the right call, until your dangling foot pushes against his chest to prevent him from getting up—slowly traveling down his lap while his eyes travel up to your actual ones, picking on a glint he previously missed.

“It’s not right for me to let you leave empty-handed.” Your voice assumes a sultry intonation that contradicts your angelic smile. The spread of your legs widens to reveal a thin white strip that clashes with the dark blue of your dress. He feels a strain in his pants; his conviction is wearing thin. It’s more of a “maybe” now, if anything.

His hand slides from your ankle to your knee, rubbing rough circles that purposely stray away from your sensitive parts. “Whatcha offering, doll?” Toji rasps.

“How’s twenty percent of what you got wrong sound?” Your toes create friction as they curl against his crotch, swaying back and forth. He doesn’t answer. He expects you to go on. “I was a big-time nerd. Got in college with a fully covered scholarship and all.”

His breath hitches as he moves closer to your thighs. “Expected that much.”

“And I did go on a lot of group dates. The girls wanted to meet guys whose names didn’t start and end with Gojo Satoru.” Your heel presses firmly onto his length. He’s big. You can’t tell exactly how big, but you know it won’t take long to have his cock plugged in one of your holes.

“And you didn’t?” Toji asks, rolling the plush flesh in his fingers like play-dough.

“I valued my precious dating shows a lot more.” You feel the stretch of his lips as they lay on your inner thigh, peppering kisses until the lower half of his face disappears past the layers of your dress.

“Seems to me I read ya like an open book,” Toji inhales deeply, growling a low “Shiiit, Y/N” when his nose nudges your dripping cunt, his jade eyes flickering shut while you shiver. You’ve never heard him use your name before—all pretense of respect in the form of his little Teach’s drops the second you start to rut your pussy into his face.

Before his hands can slip into your underwear, you prod him back onto his chair and get off the desk. His glare fades as soon as he watches you kneel in front of him and rest both your elbows on both sides of his knees.

“Skipping dates doesn’t mean I missed out on the experience.” Your smile drips with honey while you palm him on the way to unzipping his jeans.

You tug them down, and his hips wiggle to accommodate you. It’s a lot tougher than you thought, with the tight fabric stubbornly adhering to every muscle of his bulky thighs until it recedes. His boxers come down with greater ease, and your hand finally wraps around his cock, feeling his girth out in your open fist.

“I told you at the restaurant, but I really like you.” You give his length a slow stroke that has him sucking his teeth. “I’ve liked you since the moment I saw you barge into my classroom. I like you so much I think I can love you.”

Toji bends forward and pinches your chin between his thumb and his forefinger, tilting your head until his lips find yours—soft when they fumble around and rough when they part for his tongue to sneak into your mouth. Your delicate fingers insist on pumping his cock as he cups your cheek, ending the kiss with a playful bite across your bottom lip.

“I know,” he grins. “Heard ya talkin’ to that brat earlier.”

You would be shying away if it weren’t for his cock throbbing in your grasp, his swollen tip flushed with the exact same shade of feverish red as your cheeks.

“Eavesdropping isn’t so nice, Toji.”

“I’m not so nice either, but you overlook that.” Toji throws his head back, holding onto his breath, while you drool all over his cock head—clear strings of saliva streaming down the veiny shaft. “Y’know what’d be nice, hah—having that nice little mouth of yours wrapped around me.” Your hand drops to his balls, pink lips eager to fulfill his wish, with your cheeks barely hollowing around the tight fit. “So fucking nice,” he hisses.

His filthy praises are muffled out by his groans, which grow both in volume and in pitch the more inches you manage in your throat, his raspiness fading into the breathiest of moans once your nose tingles his unkempt base. You let go with a plop, air returning to your lungs through heavy pants. Your fists take over instead, appearing beyond puny as they struggle to engulf his hefty girth. Toji’s by far the biggest you’ve had; another of his assets you’re elated to discover.

You steal a lick from the precum that’s glazing his tip and purse your lips together. It’s a bit strong in flavor, but you don’t mind. It’s his.

“I meant everything I said,” you beam. “I still think of you as nice.”

“You’re bound to milk some kindness out of me if ya keep goin’ sweetheart.” Toji jokes, taking hold of his cock. He starts jerking himself to the sight of you, and you may have all your clothes on, but the way you genuinely smile at him, lips glossy from spit, almost sends him over the edge. “You’re so pretty,” he mumbles. “Even thought you were pretty in that—ugh, what was it?”

“Tunic?” You ask, recounting your first meeting.

“Yeah, right. That ridiculous grandma’s tunic you flaunted.” Raven strands flap over his forehead. “Wanted to rip that right off your body and fuck you on the spot.”

His words send pleasurable tingles throughout your body, with the pool in your panties overflowing your thighs. “What stopped you?” Your lips attach to his balls, your wet tongue lapping around until it finds a spot that has him fisting his cock at a faster pace, the tip rhythmically smacking your forehead.

Toji fails to gather his thoughts; his mind is solely focused on chasing after his incoming release. You feel his balls tighten and back away, setting your palms flat against your lap—eyes marveling at how the man who kept you tossing and turning in an empty bed for months on end is about to spill his load all over your face. A man whom you, up until a few hours ago, dreaded would reject you.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he pants out. “Gonna make you even prettier. Gonna make you into my pretty girl—fuck, all mine.”

“All yours, Toji.” You repeat, lulling your tongue out. “Cum on my face, Toji. Please, gimme your cum.”

And it is that please that gets his cock to spurt his milky cum all over your lips and chin, with only a handful of his velvety ropes making it onto your tongue. He grunts, squeezing the final drops from the tip until it stops twitching. He wipes it clean against your lips and helps you to your feet, taking advantage of your imbalance to hold you by the waist.

“Is there something on my face?” You ask, seeing as Toji blatantly drills holes into your skull.

Heavy eyelashes flutter over his low-hooded eyes. A dark chuckle rings against your skin as his mouth presses against your jaw. “Aren’t ya cheeky?” He licks a portion of his cum off your chin and feeds it to your tongue, all nice and slow, in a heady kiss that brings your bodies closer to one another. Your cunt is still soaked, pulsing around nothing, and his cock is still rock-hard, throbbing against your stomach.

Holding turns into groping as Toji gives your ass a squeeze. “Better not fail Megumi from now on.”

Your teeth clash together as you break into a sudden cackle. “Someone might think you’re only doing this to secure his grades.”

“Among other reasons,” he states.

“Is this how you care for your son’s education?” You humor him. “By seducing his teacher?”

“Nah,” Toji pauses to tug at your dress’ strap. He’s going to have to unzip it if he wants to move things forward. “My kid’s plenty smart on his own. Besides, the teacher’s the one doin’ the seducing here.” He caresses your curves and smiles in triumph once he spots the zipper on the side. “Wouldn’t fuck ‘er if she’d let me go back to my car to jerk it like a responsible man would. Would’ve waited until the second date; buy her something good—you like flowers, right?”

You lift your arms for him to strip you. He leaves you to stand in your unmatched underwear, black lace on your tits, and white cotton around your hips. His tongue darts out, wetting his lower lip. “Is it too late to enroll?”

Your eyes perform a full circle. You almost shove his hands away from your bra when you realize it’s already off. He thumbs at your nipples with his palms cupped around your breasts, refusing to let an inch of your soft skin spill from his calloused, practiced fingers.

“I’m afraid you’re behind the rest of the class.” You go along with his game of role-play. “I’d have to give you private lessons.”

“Sign me up.”

Toji steps back to remove his shirt, undoing his buttons so quickly that you’re certain they’ll fly right off. He discards it on the floor, and you take stock of his physique, inevitably gaping at the jagged scars that span from below his left shoulder to the center of his torso. Your fingers carefully trail over them, as if the violence that caused them still lurks beneath.

So that’s what sustaining limitless leaves you with, you momentarily muse, before your sympathy dissolves into a quarter of a smile. You don’t want him to think you’re pitying him—because you aren’t. Both he and Satoru made their choices, and you refuse to be the judge of their decade-long feud.

His hands return to your waist, while yours meet behind his neck. You kiss again and again, the action of mouths stealing each other’s oxygen repeating until the edge of your desk digs into your lower back. His strong arms smother you like he’s never embraced another before; overwhelming you to the point where you’re moaning despite his cock not being in yet.

“Just so you know, this gonna be a regular thing.” Toji mutters, his green eyes confirming his sincerity in the way he pulls your thighs apart. He doesn’t think he’s never said that phrase before. It’s always the opposite.

He dips a hand into your panties, lathering his palm with your slick, and then strokes his dick. “Not ‘ere for the sex only.”

“You’re gonna stay over and buy me breakfast?” You entertain the idea.

“As long as convenience store Onigiri cuts it. A bit tight this month.” Toji leaves you some breathing space, kicking his pants off his ankles. “A’right. Turn around and arch that back for me.”

A wicked smirk rises on his scar as you face away from him. “I was hoping to fuck you on your little classroom desk, but this will do just fine. You can look back on it next time ya feel swamped with papers.”

“I won’t be able to get any work done!” You protest.

The aforementioned papers glue to your breasts when you prop yourself on your elbows. You glance over your shoulder, catching sight of Toji positioning himself between your legs. You feel him run his cock between your now-bare folds, your panties having dropped in a pool around your feet like tasteless anklets.

Toji kneads your ass with one hand, the other stroking himself along your clenching holes. “You can think of this as my confession.” He trails off as he drives his thick cock into your wet pussy, and he does it slowly enough for it not to hurt, but it’s him who ends up needing a good minute to adjust after he bottoms out.

He knows it’ll feel even better once he moves, but it already feels perfect as is. So warm; so tight; so good that he’s afraid he’ll lose composure and jackhammer into you until the desk legs break.

“Haven’t had such perfect pussy in ages.” Toji grunts, his nails digging sharp crescent moons into the fat of your ass.

He’s had his fair share of pretty girls with empty brains and tight cunts, but yours is something else. Yours, he wants it owned. He wants it to lull him to sleep every night, only to wake up the next morning to the mess you’ve made creaming around his cock all night long. He wants to make you into his personal cock warmer, and he nearly cringes at the thought, until he feels you pulse around him and realizes you probably want that too.

“Fuck me, T-Toji.” You stammer, pulling your body forward only to slam it back on his length.

That’s all he needs to get going. His hips mercilessly slap against your own while he drills his cock in and out with such vigor that he feels it kissing your cervix. The desk bangs hard against the wall, almost overpowering the sounds of your soft whimpers. He forces you to meet his tempo, using the leverage on your ass to cut down on the distance between his leaking head and your puffy cunt.

“‘member what I told ya when I first saw ya?” Toji slows down, his fingers reaching between your thighs to swipe at your clit while his hips switch to languid rolls.

“Y-You mean after you—fuck, put your shoes on my desk thinking it was Satoru’s?”

“Brings back memories, doesn’t it?” He huffs and brings your arm behind your back, pressing down on it. “Remember,” he mouths hot kisses down your nape and shoulder, his palm cupping your entire cunt while your walls flutter around him. “Remember how I said you’re too hot to be stuck ‘ere teaching brats manners?”

You fist at the table, desperately searching in your foggy mind for a memory you can’t seem to find or a place to grip, the only answer you can muster being, “You never said that.”

“I didn’t?” Toji flicks the sensitive nub upward. “Well, not every thought’s meant to be shared, mhm?”

He pops your dialogue bubble by nipping at your neck, his cock scratching an itch that has you writhing in pleasure.

“Shhh, baby.” He coos, the warm timbre in his voice soothing the shrill ringing in your head. “Promise I’ll be more vocal now on. Tell ya all about how good that sloppy pussy’s flooding me, or how gorgeous your cute face looks lighting up whenever ya see me.”

The flames in your stomach shoot up to your heart, beating so loud you swear it punctuates his every word.

“How many times was it?” He asks. “Eight PT meetings in two months? Or ten? Ya think I wouldn’t notice I was the only parent called?”

Your head droops forward. “Would’ve been eleven if you didn’t come today. Wanna see more of you, Toji. F-fuck, wanna see you all the time.”

“And you will,” he detaches from your neck and picks up his speed, keen on having you see starts with the way he thumbs your clit. “Gonna make you cum around my cock every day, sweetheart. Just call me and—ugh, I’ll come runnin’. No need for that PT crap.”

Your bitten lips do nothing to contain your unregulated cries as you tighten around him like a vice—the only coherent words among your long-drawn vowels being “I’m cumming, Toji!” that you scream at the top of your lungs.

Toji begrudgingly pulls out, letting you ride your high alone. If he stays in a second longer, he knows you’ll end up with a nine-month trouble that will escalate into a lifelong problem in the form of paychecks for him and test sheets for you.

He plops down on the chair to cool down for a moment, proudly admiring your stupefied expression, eyes blown out with sheer ecstasy, and lips gasping for air.

“Hey. Are you free tomorrow?”

Maybe you are worth the trouble.

The delightful buzzes in your head are replaced with a series of acute knocks against your door. You barely have time to locate your rug of a dress in the corner of the room and zip it up, hoping the fabric’s enough to keep the marks on your body out of your visitor’s field of view.

“Should’ve known,” you groan, wishing you'd shoved your head in the pillows and pretended you were missing—except, there's no hiding from him. You step outside and close the door with your back, folding your arms over your chest. “What brings you here, Satoru?”

“Mornin’ to you too, Y/N.” His mouth is full as he speaks, rice grains framing both sides of his lips. “How was your date?”

“It was…” you pause, focusing on the plastic convenience store bag he’s holding rather than his eyes, “good.”

“Good, huh?” He grimaces. He doesn’t have to tell you he was hoping it’d fail. “Anyway, came to drop these. Someone left them on your doorstep.”

You peer into the contents of the bag, full of onigiri in different flavors—two that are tuna mayo, two with shrimp tempura, two with salted salmon, and lastly, a spare pickled plum.

Your lips curl into a smile as you pick your favorite from the bunch. So that's your answer.

"Thanks, Satoru." He is surprised you didn't scold him, gladly taking his chance to leave before you speak again. "Wait."

"I was the one who stole your Manju."

[marlynnofmany]

The Mechanic’s Burden

I pushed my way into the engine room with a tray of food, wondering what was keeping Mimi from his meals this time. He was a dedicated sort, taking his job as spaceship mechanic seriously, and sometimes that meant long hours grumbling in the guts of the ship.

“Dinner!” I called. There was no sign of green tentacles among the viewscreens of the main room, and I didn’t feel like guessing which passageway he’d gone down.

“Thanks,” grated Mimi’s rough voice from somewhere to the right. “Up here.”

I followed the sound of someone rummaging through a toolbox to find Mimi perched on top of one pipe among many, in front of an open electrical panel. Wires were everywhere, most held aside with twist ties to bare the problem area. Mimi clutched tools in many tentacles. He was the very picture of an annoyed octopus digging through his toolbox for more. I wasn’t sure which pipes he’d climbed to get there, dragging the toolbox up to what was head height on me.

“Hi,” I said. “Where do you want it?” There wasn’t space for the tray on the curving pipes next to him.

“Eh, over there.” Mimi gestured with a mini-welder toward a mostly flat surface on a bit of engine housing at knee level. “I’ll get to it eventually.”

I set it down. “Hopefully you can take a break soon. This is pretty tasty: roast fursqueak from Zhee’s planet with some kind of Frillian shrimp sauce.”

“Hm,” Mimi said absently.

“The sauce is a good one, though it’s a flavor that kinda sticks with you.”

“Uh-huh.”

I dug in my pocket for a stick of gum, deciding that I’d rather not have that particular flavor follow me around for the rest of the night. Mimi was likely too distracted to care, but it was only polite to offer him one. “Want some gum for after you eat? It’s peppermint flavor.” (We’d already had the “this is food you don’t swallow” talk, so it was all down to taste. Not everybody onboard liked mint.)

“That’s the one that tastes cold, right? No thanks.” Mimi shoved the tools around a bit more, then heaved a deep sigh that made him seem to deflate.

I moved closer for a better look, trying not too breathe to much mint at him. “What’s the problem?” I could see a wire sticking out of the mess, with the covering stripped off the end and the fibers twisted flat.

“A stupid one,” Mimi said. He started putting tools back in the box. “It took me all day to track down where the disconnect was, and it turned out to be just one single loose wire. Can’t believe how much time I wasted checking everything else.”

I considered before speaking. “You know you can ask for help, right? Not everybody’s busy today. You don’t have to do it all by yourself.”

Mimi waved a tentacle instead of shaking his head-body. “It’d take longer to train someone else than to just do it myself.”

“You sure?” I pressed. “They wouldn’t have to know everything to be an extra set of hands. Or tentacles.”

“There’s a lot to know,” Mimi said. “Even this loose wire takes a delicate touch to weld back in place. You’ve got to put the welder on just the right setting, secure the wire but not get your flesh too close, and watch through a filter so you don’t hurt your eyes.”

“Yeah, sounds like welding to me,” I agreed. “Do you have a welding mask?” I didn’t see anything that looked like a face shield, or even sunglasses. Not that those would fit his cephalopod head anyway.

“A small filter is fine for this scale,” Mimi said, holding up a dark paddle-shaped thing. “The mini-welders don’t throw sparks.”

I realized that he had enough tentacles that he could hold a thing in front of his face and still be able to work. No need for goggles strapped to his head. Must be handy.

He was still talking, warming to the subject. “Now while I could train somebody else to weld effectively, I don’t want to risk she ship’s integrity on a rookie. I also don’t want to send anyone to Eggskin with burnt extremities because they tried to hold the wire in place without fastening gel.”

I peered over the edge of the toolbox. “Can you hold it with pliers?”

“This mess doesn’t leave much space for pliers,” Mimi said, pointing a tentacle tip at the nest of wires. At the depths of all those, I could see the spot where the stray wire was meant to go. I could probably get a hand in there. But yeah, pliers and the welder both wouldn’t make it easy to see what you were doing.

Mimi said, “Now I could disconnect a couple sections, but I’ve wasted enough time already. I’d rather just stick it, weld it, and be done. But of course I already used all the gel in this box.” He gave the toolbox an irritated rap with the welder.

“Want me to go get you some?” I asked. “Where is it?”

“Ah, that would take too long to explain. I’ll just go grab it myself.”

“Wait. What about—” I took out my gum, wrapped it around the covered part of the wire, then reached in with fingertips and stuck it against the other end. “—That? Did I get it placed right?”

Mimi was quiet for long enough that I started to worry that gum was bad for wire casing, or was somehow explosive around alien welding tech. I probably should have asked first.

But then he raised the welder without a word, and held the viewing filter in place. I looked away while the welder glowed and fizzed.

“Done.”

I turned back to find him putting the tools away.

“Did it work?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Hooray!” I grinned. “Want me to peel the gum back off, or is the area still hot?”

More negating tentacle waves. “No, definitely too hot. I’ll get it after I eat.”

“Okay. Can I at least take this down for you?” I lifted the toolbox.

Mimi sighed. “Sure. Thank you.” He climbed down the pipes, suction cups popping quietly. That would have definitely been hard to do with the toolbox.

“You know,” I said, putting it down near his food, “Even Eggskin isn’t the only person on board who knows basic first aid. If they got hurt, we wouldn’t be panicking because they’re our only medic. You’d probably be doing your job even better if you made sure at least a couple other crewmembers could do basic troubleshooting.”

Mimi settled into place beside the tray, looking like he was trying not to sigh again. “You make a good point,” he admitted. “But I get pebbleskin just thinking about Blip and Blop rushing to adjust a loose rod, and jamming something that would cause a cascading failure.”

“Well yeah, you’d want to be careful who you entrust with what task,” I said. “But they’d be great at moving heavy things, like those panel covers you had to take off before.”

Mur scooped up a mouthful of food. “They probably would. As long as they follow directions and don’t touch anything else.”

“I’m sure they can do that!” I smiled. “If you need any wires cut or packages opened, Zhee and Trrili will be happy to do precise violence with their pincher arms. I can reach things up high, and…”

“And Paint would make a good heat sink, snuggling against overheated components,” Mimi said. “That’s occurred to me before.”

I laughed. “She’d probably love that. Who needs a heat shawl or other coldblooded accessories when you can take a nap in the engine?”

“She’d do it, too.” Mimi scooped up more food. “But no letting your cat in here. I know that animal likes warm things as well, and it would make the overheating worse.”

“You are absolutely right. No cats in the engine room.” I nodded. “Just crewmates.”

Mimi waved a tentacle and mumbled something about writing up a list of training possibilities after he ate. I left him to it, wishing him a good meal, then leaving with my minty gum and a quiet smile of triumph.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[charliemwrites]

I humbly request Gaz being a soft dom with Researcher. 🥺

Oh hmmmmm yes let’s see……

The two of them are in the researcher’s bed because let’s be honest, it’s wayyyy better than a barrack. They’ve been on a Science binge all day - all week, really. This is the first that Gaz has been able to pull them away from their work bench in hours.

They’re mumbling about not being done yet, needing to put the finishing touches on a design - and Gaz is letting them ramble. He’s listening, of course. Or, well, listening for the stutters and pauses when his lips and tongue and teeth find a good spot on their neck. They are slowly but surely melting into him, all insistence on work fading off into happy hums.

“We can get back to it tomorrow, chickadee,” he murmurs when they’ve run out of steam. “I want to spend time with you tonight. Think you can make a little time for me?”

“Of course,” they breathe, nuzzling at his cheek to get proper kisses. “All the time you want.”

“All the time I want, eh?” He chuckles. “Sure you can spare that much?”

“Mhmm.”

“So sweet for me,” he smiles against their cheek. “You’ll be good and patient, won’t you?”

“Mhmm”

He rewards them with slow, lingering touches through their shirt and pants, lets them grind absently against him while he licks into their mouth. They deserve worship and a chance to turn their brilliant brain off. The best way to do that is make them wait, make the building ecstasy the only thing they have room for.

“Ky, I wanna…. I’m so close….” They gasp.

“I know, I know,” he soothes, playing with their nipples. “Can you be good and wait just a little longer? You’re doing so well, I know you can, baby.”

They whine, high pitched, but nod and grip at him tighter, clenching down and writhing, making him see stars.

“I’m gonna count you down, alright?”

The moan. They simultaneously love and hate countdowns and he knows it.

“5…. C’mon, darlin’ arch your back”

They shudder and squeeze their eyes closed.

“4, looks at me? Cmon, I wanna see your pretty dazed eyes.”

They flutter their eyes open but they can’t focus their vision, pupils blown out.

“3… so close, love, you’re holding on so well. That’s it, let me hold you here…”

They whimper his name between their teeth, trembling and desperate, flushed everywhere.

“2…. Can you ask nicely? You sound so lovely when you say-“

“Please, Ky, please, wanna cum for you!”

“That’s my love. Well done, so lovely.”

He holds them there just a moment longer, just to see them desperately holding back for him.

“1 - cum for me, baby. That’s it, ride it out.”

Their eyes roll back in their head as they squeeze down, milking his cock, screaming as they cum in overwhelming waves. Hes not far behind, burying deep within and cumming only a few rough thrusts later.

As they catch their breaths, he leaves absent kisses all over their face and shaking hands.

“Alright, darlin’? Didn’t make you wait too long?”

“It was perfect,” they sigh. High praise indeed considering the ‘statistical impossibility of perfection. “You’re perfect. Thank you, Ky.”

“No need to thank me, love. I should thank you for being so good. Im so proud of you.”

They hum and snuggle in. He’ll have to get them up before they doze off too much… but for now he could use a break too.

[fatuismooches]

Currently in my bed just fantasizing about having kids Dott.. Like, if it was through normal means or you somehow got Dottore to create a baby in his lab, I find it very amusing if the kid came out looking just like him.

This little baby with the same curly blue hair and red eyes as Dottore :(( He just stares at the child, unsure how to react. I bet during the first few months he’d be very unsure how to handle his child, sometimes not even wanting to hold them out of fear he may hurt them somehow.

Everyone is confused why Dottore made a child segment, everyone just kind of assuming his child was a segment. It’s not until they grow old enough to walk around and figure out how to slip out their father’s arms to explore the palace people start wondering what Dottore’s actual relationship with this child is.

Other Harbingers and even some lower ranking Fatuus see how Dottore grows agitated and almost anxious when the child leaves his line of sight, the doctor’s already short temper growing even shorter as he snaps at anyone until he can find the child.

Dottore eventually begrudgingly telling some of the more nosy Harbingers he has a child after they grow a bit too curious. Word travels fast and it’s not long until you have a few low ranking Fatuus and maybe even a Harbinger like Pantalone or Childe asking how you could possibly want to have a child with Dottore of all people.

I just.. hoghh i know the harbingers r like war criminals but i wanna be all lovey and domestic and have families with them 😞😞 [📺 Anon]

To convince Dottore to have and raise a kid with you is such a procedure that couldn't accurately be put into words. Here you have a man who doesn't have the slightest bit of father material in him. It took ages for him to love you, will he be able to love his child? When he struggles to make peace with himself and yet his kid is the spitting image of him? Surprisingly enough, he takes these things more seriously than one would ever think because he is self-aware and clearly remembers how his own parents treated him.

He's most poor at taking care of small children, especially when they're crying. And even when they're quiet and docile, Dottore still can't bring himself to do anything, his fingers flexing awkwardly. His hands just aren't suited for this gentleness. However, I think he gets more comfortable when the kid is older. He likes talking with them and expanding their mind. Making them toys and puzzles that are probably too advanced for their age. And seeing how the child is a mix of both him and you, your features are ever so endearing... even when the child inherits your mischievousness and goal to terrorize him. Over time the relationship gets better and the child and father get a lot closer, even though it started off pretty hazy at first. You're very proud of the progress.

(Okay but people thinking his kid is a segment... that is just too funny because the idea of someone having a kid with the Doctor never crosses their mind eh? And people being nosy and asking you questions 😭 poor reader, how can you explain you just wanted a family with the love of your life? Not a perfect one, but a happy one.)

He's definitely not the model father but he does have you to help him out, and teach him slowly but surely. He truly does love his child even if his affection isn't shown in a typical manner. Regardless, it must have worked out, considering the child loves their parents very much. A little menace in the making...

The war criminals will be unconventionally domestic with you I promise!!!

[euphoricimagination]

Growing up in a neighborhood in which you were the only girl meant many things, one of them being your passion for soccer; playing with your neighbors after school was a normal thing, so your passion for the sport was natural.

That's also how you met Ego Jimpaichi, a college student at the time who was just starting his pro player career. Being passionate about the sport himself, he decided to "train" your group of friends so you can become better players.

You're now 16 when you received a call from the man himself. He didn't give you many details about it, just asked if you could meet him and his assistant to talk about one of his projects, Blue Lock. You weren't sure at first, you haven't seen him in years after all, but curiosity won you over.

“Ah, you must be Yn-kun, welcome, welcome” a woman with short hair greet you as you enter “I'm Anri Tejero, I work with Ego-san”

“Hi, nice to meet you”

“Same here, please follow me, I'll take you to Ego-san” she began walking towards a room nearby with you right behind. She opens the door and let you in, closing it as soon as you enter

“Yn-chan, long time no see” Ego looks at you while fixing his glasses

“Yes, long time indeed Ego-san”

“Let me go straight to the point” he stands up, turning one of his many monitors towards you “I'm the creator of the Blue Lock Project, which aims to bloom the best striker the world could imagine. For that we'll be inviting prodigious Japanese football players, so they can follow a strict personally-designed training regimen. And I want you to join” he tells you with a determination that only he could have for such an ambitious project

“Eh? You want me to join? With a bunch of highschool boys?”

“Well, it'll be just for the first stages, I want to have someone that can push these diamonds in the rough and have an informant on my side”

“You…do realize I'm a girl, right? How am I supposed to join this?” you asked, confused

“You will need to cut your hair and wear some binders” he explains like it's normal “I understand it's a lot to ask, especially considering you will not be able to become the best striker in the world. However, you'll get paid to do this, a hefty amount of money, and of course, you'll get to play soccer with the best kids your age. It's up to you to accept these conditions” he stretches his hand so you could shake it as the money that you'll be getting appears behind him, lots of zeros on it.

And that was enough to consider the option. Sure, you'll have to pretend to be a boy and find ways to hide your body for shower time, but it couldn't be that bad, right? After all, you'll be receiving money for just playing soccer for a few weeks, maybe even days. How bad could it be?

"...Fine, I'll do it" you scoff, shaking his hand. A big smirk appears on his face, in excitement for the project to begin.

----

Part 2 - Masterlist

Would anyone want this? It has been on my mind since forever now ⊙⁠﹏⁠⊙

[reddesires]

As a human, living with apes can be challenging in many ways, we know that. Especially considering that not all of them have sympathy for humans. The reader also has to constantly struggle with these difficulties. She needs some consolation after a hard and bad day. The Ape mens are there for her. <3 I really like your writings btw <33

A/N: Thank you so much for the support, Love. I CRI every time you guys give me a compliment. it's the sweestest! ❤️

Caesar:

Since Caesar was reared by humans, he understands how important words of affirmation are to them.

He'll softly speak to you with comforting words while he holds you in his arms in your nest. Caesar holds unmeasurable empathy for you, he knows that you struggle with adjusting to this new way of living and the partial attitude they could have towards you so he'll assure you that your doing a good job and everything will be okay.

Caesar doesn't really indulge in unnecessary small talk but when he knows that you've had a hard day then he'll seem very talkative and it truly helps you with feeling a while lot better since it feels like your mostly ignored by the others in the colony, only a select few willing to speak to you.

Caesar assures you that they'll come around. Your kind nature truly rubs off on others. It worked on him, so it won't take long till it works on them, too.

"How are you so sure?" The pout on your lips pulling a chortle from him as he draws in your waist closer to him, nuzzling his face into your nape and you giggle at the ticklish feeling his fur has on your neck "I just do." It's best to trust him. He is the Ape King, after all.

Noa:

Noa makes you laugh. He will try his best to make you smile to forget the bad day you had.

He's aware of the impartial views some Clan members have of you, and he truly tries to take your mind away from dwelling onto it too much. He'll pull some antics from Anaya's book like playfully rough housing you, throwing you over his shoulder running aimlessly and tickling you till your sides hurt from the laughter racking your body.

He wants your focus to be on him, he knows that your mind will wander back to the events of your tough day so he'll occupy you with jokes or say something sassy about the others that pulls a mischievous laugh from you.

He keeps things light and fun for you, he's rather protective of your feelings, he sees you as delicate both physically and emotionally, it really does bother him that your having difficulty with your new life in the clan but he knows that you'll fit in soon enough, it'll be like you have always belonged there with them for now he'll just have to fill that gap with your laughter and smiles while the others adjust to your presence in the Clan.

"The Elders don't like me, do they?" You mutter, a dispirited tone dripping from your voice, he frowns looking at you as you picked at the grass dejected, he grabs your hand in his, kissing the top of your hand.

"Eh, they're Elder in the head, I like you." He chitters in response, grabbing and pulling you on top of him, ticking your sides. You laugh as you try to escape his grip.

What wasn't there to like about you is a constant thought for him. He liked everything about you.

Blue Eyes:

It's a tie between taking you out or cuddling you, or even both.

He'd rather take you out of the environment that's stressing you, so in order to take your mind off of your bad day he'll take you to the nearby river to hunt for the seashells that cohabited the banks and later on at dusk, he'll bring you to your favorite spot in the clearing not far from the colony.

It brings you peace to be there alone with Blue Eyes as you watch the sun set and the stars takes their centered stage above you. The difficulties that you face while in the colony don't reach you here it's like you and Blue Eyes are transported to a different realm here, a place that you could call your own with no worries of the outside world or the blaring differences between your humanness and his apeness, none of that matters here.

He cares for your well being and from what he's learned from his father, humans tend to be fragile emotionally when it comes to trying to fit in, he could see how rejection affects your mental well being, though he's sure this is only a temporary setback so he's gotta step in and make sure that your doing well both physically and mentally.

"I know you're worried. You don't have to be.." You gently speak, your voice a stark contrast to the silent atmosphere surrounding the both of you, your back leaning back into his solid chest. He plops his chin on your shoulder, his arms wrapped around your midsection comfortably.

"I always worry.." He murmurs, you lightly smile, turning your head as he takes the chance to press his forehead to yours "your mine to worry about"