#you think it’s so easy to criticize from your fucking couch

[hischiersjohnston]

the fact that people are still ragging on willy for the migraines and sitting out of the first two or three games, when it was already said he got ocular migraines (aka the man CANNOT SEE AND WAS LOSING VISION) like?? and then he proceeds to be the reason why the leafs even forced a game 7 ??

[doromoni]

Take my Advice | MV1

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Ships : Max Verstappen x F1 Driver! Reader

Genre : Fluff

A/N : As per y’all request. A Max fic *tadaaaa*

Summary : Being a female driver in Formula 1 is already an achievement and now you are the leading candidate for the Red Bull seat. But Max Verstappen has some advice.

Masterlist

A question for Y/N please” A reporter stood with a mic in hand, staring you down — the condescension in his eyes was palpable. You could feel your skin crawl as you waited for the man’s question.

Darry? Larry? what was his name again? He was a reporter notorious for asking rude and borderline unethical questions to drivers. How did he continue to have access to F1, you could not answer. You were his favorite target just because you were born with the XX chromosome or that you were too glamorous and girly to be driving at the pinnacle of motorsport — his words exactly.

“People are speculating that you would be moving to Red Bull in 2025 or even earlier, however, you just placed P10 in the last race. How confident are you that you’d be promoted to that seat given your lack of consistency in driving so far? Shouldn’t you think Daniel Ricciardo’s a better option? ”

Barry? Sally? whatever his name was finished talking, yet his sticky gaze never left you.

The smile on your face slowly hardened as you tried to keep your cool. You felt your veins pulsate with rage and your jaw clenched with force. Your hand gripping the microphone that you held till it felt like snapping in half.

Everyone was speechless, including the other drivers that were with you. The people who were seated beside you had their mouths agape. The driver lineup was composed of You, Oscar, Lewis, and Nando, with Alex and Max by your side. Everyone could feel the intense tension in the air. The absolute ignorance and stupidity of his statement hung in on the air…

You were dominating the midfield given the car that RB had given you. You garnered points for your team consistently — only fucking up when your team fucked up their strategies. You were outperforming your teammate by miles and you were pulling miracles out of nothing in that car and in that team.

“Well Danny is a very talented driver and I respect him immensely. I truly do wish the best for him and the team, but it’s not my job to compare stats between us, no?“ You answered with a smile and nothing but praises left your mouth.

Mama said kindness and peace are what make life go around. You lived by this every single day of your life, no matter how difficult it may seem — a smile goes a long way. You chose to make peace and give way to others when opportunities presented itself. Rather catch flies with honey than vinegar right?

You were since then dubbed as the sunshine of Formula 1 — a title that you didn’t want … because it was another thing that you stole from Danny, at least that's what others think. Even when your path to your F1 seat had never been easy, every step you took was criticized just because of you being a girl, but you persevered and faced everything head-on. Through the midst of it all, you, Y/N L/N, were the driver who held smiles, kindness and cheers.

Y/N L/N the driver to always take the blow for the team, the scapegoat, you were always the 1st one to be the sacrifice. But still, you held your head up high and carried on… because it was an honor to have a seat in the first place.

“Let me just get some things straight” Lewis had taken to himself to talk seeing that Gary? Donny? seemed not willing to back down with the intent to make you react.

“Y/N has been nothing but consistent. Look at the charts properly” Lewis argued, his face holding concealed anger as he stared down the reporter

“Thank you for that Lewis, but I did check — Y/N has placed P5, P8, and P10 for the last consecutive races” The entire couch of drivers could only shake their heads in disbelief at the utter nonsense that the man continued to spout

You were driving a car that was projected to be at the back of the grid, yet here you are gaining points regularly. No offense to your teammate but you were dragging Danny through the mud — heck fellow drivers could bet their entire fortune that given a better car, you would be battling Max and Lando for the championship.

“Check again. Check your eyes too mate, cause it seems like you’re going blind” Gaps and oohs filled the room as Max, much to your surprise, butted with all seriousness in his voice.

Max was an enigma to you, the way he switches from a fire-breathing beast on the track to a literal cat-cuddling, sim-racing nerd and overall wholesome person once he finishes a race compelled you to explore and dig into the mind of Max Emilian Verstappen.

Yet you couldn’t because he was untouchable. The golden boy of Red Bull, the champion, their number 1. They would kill you if you got your business entangled with the Dutch driver. Fuck with him and you could kiss your chances at a seat in Red Bull goodbye. Unfortunately for you, you just had to have a big fat crush on the very same driver.

You weren’t even sure when your admiration for Max’s tenacity and sheer talent on the track turned into you looking at the Dutch with hearty eyes and wondering how he would taste on your lips. Maybe he would taste like the Red Bull he always seemed to drink or was it him tasting entirely of something else….. Oh, you were doing it again! Yup, you were indeed doomed.

Everyone on your team said to keep your distance and you did! Not that it was hard because Max did the same. It was weird he was always friendly to Daniel and Checo and even the other RB and Red Bull staff, but Max had this certain “coolness” when interacting with you. He was never rude or anything like that… Max just seemed guarded. Fuck! why did it have to be Max?!

“Y/N, anything to add?” the present hit you quick and fast — and that present was every pair of eyes in the room zoning in on you and your next statement.

You had so much to say and yet you presented the pr smile you practiced way too much, the smile the mirror in your driver's room knew too well. And with that same practiced smile, you stared down the reporter and uttered “Nope, nothing else from me. Thanks”

You swore you could hear Max scoff silently. Your head snapped to the Red Bull driver beside you instantly. You didn’t know what to expect but it wasn’t Max directly looking back at you with those piercing blue eyes and an eyebrow cocked upwards.

It seemed that you forgot how to blink because you just stared right into his gaze, your heart accelerating by the second — you had the same feeling you had at every start of a race; the adrenaline pumping in your veins, but instead of pushing your foot on the gas… you wanted to push your lips to his. WOAH. You needed to get a grip on yourself! Where the hell did that even come from?

Neither the two of you were backing down, only breaking eye contact when another reporter asked a question to Max. But before Max had answered, you saw him lightly shake his head sheepishly as the words “so fucking cute” whispered out of his mouth.

***

You were so fucking gutted. It was another race that your team had screwed you over for your teammate once again.

You were leading and you had clean air in front of you and your teammate was 5 seconds behind, everything was in place and you were in P10 when you suddenly heard from the radio to let Daniel overtake you.

You loved Danny, but that was so unfair! You tried to argue over the radio yet your appeals are once again disregarded by the team. You followed team orders and thought that this was for the long run that this would show that you were a team player and that you would be an asset as Max’s teammate in the future.

Yet no matter how much you tried to cheer yourself up or make excuses for the team, the anger and betrayal never dissipated.

You were dragging your feet towards your motorhome when suddenly you were pulled into the dark alley between your motorhome and McLaren’s hiding the two of you between used race tyres.

A shout was ready to leave your mouth when the person’s hand stopped you from doing so.

“It’s me, Max! Don’t shout” Max whispered as his eyes darted to see if anyone was looking.

The space between the motorhome wasn’t that spacious, so Max had you pushed into the wall. You could feel the heat radiating between the two of you, the taste of sticky champagne on Max’s hands transferring onto your lips.

The initial shock and Max’s closeness made you breathless and your mind spinning. What the hell is happening? Max slowly peeled his hand away from your lips.

“What the hell Max? You scared the shit out of me!” You wheezed as you breathed deeply, trying to steady your shakiness.

“There’s a difference between being nice and being a pushover. You can’t just bow down to every command your team gives you” Max had suddenly sprung on you. Your brain was reeling trying to comprehend what was happening.

“Max. I- uh… what?” only incomprehensible words fell out of your mouth.

Max held your shoulders as he bent down, his face now leveling yours. Max's face held all seriousness as his eyes, his eyes still shone with fire behind them even with the darkness that enveloped the two of you.

“Take my advice L/N, fight back and do what you want.” As Max said those last words — he was gone.

The only indication that told you that everything that happened was real was the Winner’s champagne tasting so sweet and tangy on your lips … the same champagne Max’s hand left.

***

“I chose Y/N” Max announced to the host and crew who were on the set. Everybody was shocked at the Dutch’s choice.

Red Bull and RB are filming another media junket for the fans to enjoy and everything was running normally till Max chose you as his teammate. Everyone, including you, was expecting him to pick Daniel when the staff said to choose your teammate from the other racing team.

“Aww! Max you’ve betrayed our years of friendship” Danny acted hurt as he held onto his heart, earning chuckles from everyone— which effectively diffused the atmosphere.

You smiled and rolled your eyes at your teammate’s antics. You made your way to Max’s side, careful not to be too close or too far for fans to overanalyze.

The distance between you and Max was at least 2 feet when he took it upon himself to step nearer towards you and smile his charming smile at you when you looked up at him quizzically.

Your heart was thundering in your chest, but your curiosity won over your nerves. What is going on with Max this couple of races? He had been very attentive and approachable towards you all of a sudden. Opening doors for you delivering water bottles, and giving your favorite snacks during media shoots and lots more. Not that you were complaining!

You couldn’t help yourself but ask the driver what was going on. You surveyed the room and found that everyone was focused on Checo and Danny.

You lifted your hand and discretely tugged on Max's shirt to gain his attention. And it worked as he found himself looking down into your eyes with curiosity.

“What is it Y/N?” Max asked lowly trying not to get everyone else to look at the two of you.

“What’s up with you recently?” You whispered back.

Max’s brows slightly crunched together.

“What do you mean?” He asked confused

“ I mean, you’re being so nice and attentive to me.” As the words spilled put your mouth, you realized just how stupid the question was. It was just Max being a decent person, right??

Max only chuckled and bent down to your ears, his lips ghosting the shell of it, sending goosebumps all over your body

“I’m just taking my advice Y/N. I’m doing what I want to do… team rules be damned”

***

Knocks echoed through your hotel room as you heard Max call for you to open the door.

You opened the door to a disheveled Max.

“Max?” you called out to the driver who pushed himself into your room and sat on your bed.

Ever since that day of the Media junket, you and Max grew closer together. You got to know Max than what was on the surface and you two quickly grew a bond that was more than just friendship.

The tension was there yet neither the two of you were acting on it. From his lingering touches that drove you crazy and the flirting disguised as banter you exchange on the daily— frustrating as it may seem, you loved every second of it.

You joined Max in your bed, you sat beside him and took his hand in your own. Your entwined fingers looked so unusual yet right together, it made you smile.

You feel Max tug on your hand trying to catch your attention. You looked up at him with a questioning stare

“They’re switching Checo and Daniel next season… they dropped you out of the roster” Max spoke carefully.

The smile on your face dropped instantly, as his words ran through your mind. Your face is painted white from disbelief.

They choose Daniel over you?

“What?” You whispered, the hurt and confusion evident in your face.

“You deserve to know before they announce it to everyone… you don’t deserve to be humiliated”

You were speechless. Tears didn’t even come pouring down … you were just in shock. You thought that the Red Bull seat was your, done deal. You’re so far away in the points from your teammate. Your driving was close to flawless … so why?!

You couldn’t even say anything. You just felt Max pull you into his embrace.

“If what I’ve heard from Mercedes is true, take it. Screw loyalty, that team failed you in every way. You deserve so much better”

***

“Y/N, final lap. Verstappen is 2 seconds behind, push the car. I repeat push the car” You hear Vince, your race engineer over the radio.

“With pleasure” you felt yourself smile. The excitement mixed with adrenaline pumping in your veins as you floored your Mercedes, driving the car to its maximum

Everything was a blur, you were on autopilot as you made every turn perfectly. As the past events that led to this moment played in your mind.

How you took Max’s advice and moved to Mercedes. You remember the relief when you penned your signature down on that contract as Toto was smiling wide at you, shaking your hand firmly as he welcomed you to his family.

You remember the feeling of sharing your first-ever podium with Max and him being so proud of you and what you’ve done so far. You were still in that scap RB car and this podium was the final “fuck you” to them, before you announce you switching teams. The self-doubt in your heart is being washed away by the sweet champagne that Max sprayed all over you. You knew you made the right choice.

And you couldn’t forget how Max had been with you when you finally dropped the bomb on RB and Red Bull. He had been through with you with every step.

And here you are now, chasing your first win in Formula 1 with the team capable to give you a winning car. You see the chequered flag waving and you hear the crowd roar as you finally cross the line

“Y/N L/N YOU ARE A GRAND PRIX WINNER!” You hear Toto over the radio and your team is cheering in the background.

“YES! YES! THANK YOU EVERYONE! WE DID IT” You shouted back as you parked your car on Parc Ferme.

you stepped out of the car you ran to the waiting arms of your team as they cheered and congratulated you continuously. When you finally to Vince who smiled so wide as he patted your helmet; his smile grew even wider as he looked behind you.

“Remove your helmet and balaclava.” He said as he offered his hand saying to give it to him. You looked at him confused but did as he said.

“Turn around” He shouted with glee as you heard everyone starting to cheer louder.

You did turn around and there stood Max Verstappen with a bouquet at hand, a smile on his face as his arms were opened wide.

Your jaw dropped and your hand covered your mouth in shock. The entire world was watching yet neither of you cared as you ran into Max's arms. You buried your face in his chest as his arm enveloped you.

“Hi boyfriend” You greeted the Red Bull driver with a grin

“Does Toto know?” Max asked as he looked at your team principal and mechanics that were shocked at what they were seeing.

“Well thanks to you EVERYONE now knows. Your not really slick there buddy” You giggled at the Red Bull driver’s antics.

Max kissed the side of your head before mumbling into your hair “ Well gotta let everyone know you’re mine . Congratulations on the win, Schat! I told you you’ll win ~ I could feel it”

You feel yourself chuckle and shake your head. You gazed up at the Dutch driver.

“Shut up and kiss me you dork” You whispered to Max, a gleam in your eye that he sure noticed.

“Yes, Ma’am” Max’s lips finally met yours in a sweet and passionate kiss — you knew what Max tasted like and you wouldn’t mind having another taste. Everything was just perfect and you would not exchange it for anything in the world.

“I always wondered what you tasted like” You said when you pulled apart. Your hand ran through his hair, something you wanted to do for ages.

“Really? What do I taste like?” Max asked clearly amused. His hand on your lower back now guiding the two of you to be interviewed.

“Sweat” You joked, and he only rolled his eyes and kissed you once more.

***

“ A question for Y/N please” You internally groaned and rolled your eyes as you heard his voice once again. This man was an actual menace.

“Yes, Hillary?” You said into the mic, a sickeningly sweet smile on your lips as you stared him down.

“It’s Harry” He corrected you.

“Oops, sorry Larry! please continue” You hear your fellow drivers snicker and hide laughs beside you.

It was like full circle, the same set of drivers in the interview — sat in the same positions yet now you were driving for Mercedes, clad in black instead of RB’s white race suit.

“Do you think Max let you win during the last race? He does fancy you.” You hear yourself laugh and you aren’t afraid to let others see. You’re no longer holding back for the sake of your team.

“I don’t know, Barry. I don’t know if you watched the race, but if you did might have seen that I already led the race at turn 1 till the final lap. no? And I sure do hope that he fancies me, considering he is my boyfriend afterall” You replied and couldn’t help yourself as you shot him a wink.

“You’re very confident, now that you’re in Mercedes. Huh?” Ohhh he was seething, if this were a cartoon he would have smoke coming out of his ears.

“ Yeah, I’m getting comfortable in my seat, thanks for asking. I’m only getting started” You said with a shit-eating grin.

To your left, you hear Max utter the words “ That’s my girl” proudly.

A/N ++ : I don’t know what to feel about my writing here tbh~ My brain is fried 🙃

Anyone interested to be added to the taglist? Drop a comment or DM me!

Maintaglist : @myescapefromthislife @peterholland04 @charlottef1 @fangirl125reader @mel164 @gnarlycore @chloelovesln4 @vickykazuya @merchelsea @ln4author @qzmef @nxk1309 @styl1shl1v : open for tag request

[barleyo]

Strings Attached.

Uncle! Leon Kennedy X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: Read the warnings and tags. This is pretty fucked up, so before you read, please, read the warnings I have provided. Your comfort as a reader is of the upmost importance to me, but the most I can do to protect you as a viewer is to give ample warning. Thanks for reading!

Tags: incest, large age gap (reader: 18, Leon: late 30s/early 40s), p in v, mentions of alcoholism, non/dub-con, coerced/forced, pussyjob, handjob, Leon being a super-mega awful drunken creep (you have been warned, it's bad), cream pie/unprotected sex, shitty amazing writing

Word count: 1.6k

DARK CONTENT AHEAD

Losing your parents really fucked you up. 

Living with your Uncle Leon fucked you up ever further, though. You passed through dozens of your relatives, but Leon, for whatever reason, was the only one who would keep you once you turned eighteen. 

It didn't seem so bad at first. Sure, his house always smelled like cigs and booze, and if he wasn't at work, he was passed out on his shitty couch, but at least you had somewhere to stay while you tried to figure your life out. It was an easy enough arrangement: you kept his place clean, made his food, and kept your mouth shut and he let you stay with him. 

He wasn't awful, but he was so off. His hands lingered on you for too long. His comments were weird sometimes. His eyes scanned over your body too often and left you feeling exposed. 

Really, he wasn't that bad until he got truly shitfaced drunk, which, to be fair, was only a few nights out of the week. That's when he got mean. And frustrated. And horny. 

"Kid," he said from the couch, wiping the sweat from his brow, "g'head into the kitchen n' get another one of these." He held his empty beer can up, shaking the little liquid left at the bottom. 

You really didn't think he needed another, seeing the slowly building pile of cans by his feet and the redness of his face, but who were you to criticize him? You simply nodded and did as you were told. 

"Here, Uncle Leon." You bent down to hand the can to your slouching uncle. 

"Thank you, baby."

He took it and popped the tab, taking a drink. He tried not to gag at the taste. He didn't even like alcohol, it was just an easy, cheap way for him to feel less awful.

"Sit with me. Give an old man some company," he said, patting his lap instead of the available seat next to him. He was always doing uncomfortable stuff like that, and at this point you had gotten used to it. 

You sighed and sat on his legs, trying to focus on the television rather than the drunken murmurings of Leon. You felt a sharp tug on your hair and fell further into his body, leaning back on his chest. 

"Bein' distant for what? I don't bite." He swaddled you with one of his arms and split your legs apart with his knee, forcing you to straddle him. "Y'listen so well, you know that? Don't ever have to deal with backtalk fr'm you." 

You flinched a bit when his face leaned closer to yours, dark, greasy hair covering his eyes that were no doubt drowning in lust. 

"Uncle Leon, I think you should go to bed, it's getting late." You tried to push yourself out of his grasp, but his arm was anchored around you tightly.

"There you go worrying about me again. You love yer uncle, don't you? Takin' good care a' me." Leon nuzzled his face into you neck and inhaled your scent. You smelled so sweet and clean, so perfect. 

"H-hey, c'mon, I don't think–" 

Your mouth shut quickly when you felt his lips on your neck, and his tongue slowly making its way up to the shell of your ear. 

The pungent smell of the booze on his breath brought you back to reality while he whispered into your ear. "You're so nice to me. Just like a little wife f'me, but you don't nag me. You're not a bitch, you're such a sweet girl. Don't know what I'd do without you." 

You felt tears well in your eyes, knowing what was to come. 

It didn't happen very often, and when Leon sobered up, he was always super apologetic about it. On the rare occasion, when the world really came crashing on him and the alcohol took control, he'd use your body to comfort himself. He wasn't rough with you at least, you tried to reason with yourself about it. He wasn't a bad man, you told yourself this over and over again while it happened. He was just— just lonely, is all. 

Leon had long forgot about his beer and focused on your body instead, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it away. 

"Fuck, you look so grown up." He took your tits in his hands, groping them unabashedly. "Puberty hit you hard, girl. Makes me wish I got to you sooner." 

God, he made you so sick, how could he say things like this? They say that drunk words are sober thoughts, but you couldn't stomach the idea of this being what he really thought.

"Please don't," you pleaded, stifling a sob. 

"Shh." He placed his palm over your mouth. "I'll make you feel so good, just help me get it up, okay? Be a good girl. Don't wanna make me upset with you, do you?"

He removed his hand from your face and wrapped it around your wrist instead, holding it to your mouth instead. 

"Spit. More, come on, the more you do, better it feels."

You spit two fat globs into your hand and watched as he undid her belt, pulling his cock out of his slacks. He guided your hand over his length, taking your small hand in his as he jerked himself off with your palm.

"That's it," he said, feeling his chest start to rise and fall. "Those hands are so much soft than mine. Gonna make me cum so easy with 'em." 

Leon brought your hand up to his tip, fluidly twisting your wrist back and forth around it. He bucked his hips up and down, fucking into your hand like a well-lubed fleshlight. He pulled your hand off of his dick before he had the chance to cum, wanting to be inside of you. 

"Wanna feel you. Can I use your mouth or pussy? Wan' you to choose." He gave you the choice, but his hands still slipped your shorts and panties off, impatiently roaming your inner thighs with his hands. His eyes were narrow and sharp like a predator ready to strike, but his tone was so needy and sweet. 

"You can use my pussy," you said quietly, remembering how sore your jaw was after last time. This was the less painful, yet more morally incorrect option, you thought. 

A wave of uneasiness crashed over you when you felt his wet dick slide between your thighs, just barely slipping through your folds. 

"Mm, you won't regret it. Wanted you to choose that one anyways."

It hurt to be so disgusted by him— you loved him, and cared for him, of course. He was the only person who would give you a chance, but was this really the price you had to pay? What the fuck had your life come to?

The head of his cock prodded at your entrance, not yet pushing in.

"You ready?" His chapped lips were slightly parted, looking at you desperately, as if he were drunk on not only beer but on you as well.

How could one man be so sickeningly vile and sweet at the same time? What he was doing was wrong, it made you want to throw up, but the way he did it... you could almost imagine that it wasn't him you could— you could learn to enjoy it and mentally block who he was out of the equation, just to give yourself some semblance of sanity, of dignity. 

You nodded at his question, whining at the stretch of his cock entering you. It wasn't too long, but the girth is what left you aching every time. You felt that you would never get used to it. 

"Please, just hurry."

He didn't respond, he only leaned his head over your shoulder and humped into you pathetically. He didn't fuck often, and he came quick, which made it a bit more bearable. 

The only sounds that filled the room were the squelching of your pussy, his breathy moans, and the strained hums he forced out of you. With a lucky stroke, his cock actually managed to hit your g-spot, brushing into it hard enough to make you squirmy. 

"Feel good?" His voice was cracking and whiny, like a virginal teen beating off for the first time. He was just a hormonal and pathetic. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum. Gonna cum in you, spill my seed." 

Your eyes widened quickly and you again tried to peel his arms off of you. "No, no, no! No, you can't do that, let go of me. I'm not on the pill!" 

He shook his head, still not listening to you as he bullied himself deeper into you, strokes getting messy. 

"Fill you up so good. Make your tits get fatter n' tasty, baby. Cumming now," he whined, wrapping his arms around your  lower stomach, clenching your body against his. 

Your pussy betrayed you, spasming around his cock like it gave you life, widely receiving every drop of his cum. 

You bit your cheeks and let the small pricks of blood fill your mouth. If you weren't stuck with him before, you sure as hell were now. To make matters worse, Leon had drifted off into a drunken nap as soon as he finished, too tired to even pull his limp dick out of you. 

You slid off of his lap and sat on the floor, unsure of how to move on. You looked up at your uncle, shamefully admiring his sleeping face. You stood up, legs weak and wobbling, and threw a blanket over his body, then laid your head over his lap.

The man who did the most awful things to you was also the only one who could comfort you. You took what life gave you with a sigh and made you self comfortable on him, arms dangling over his legs. 

You saw the beer he left on the floor and picked it up, feeling it still half full. 

"Jesus," you mumbled to yourself before downing the rest of the can, grimacing at the bitter taste. 

[halsteadlover]

𝐇𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

*Gif and pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Will Halstead x Fem!Reader.

• Requested: yes by anon.

• Summary: danger is always behind the corner and you learn to never let your guard down when you find yourself in a situation between life and death. Will your husband be able to save you? Will he find you in time?

• Warnings: mention of domestic violence, stab wound, blood, cursing, Will is kind of a dumbass at the beginning (what can we say? Men…)

• Word count: 5642.

• A/N: I fucking hate how this turned out bye. I’m sorry for any mistake or grammar error.

That morning everything seemed normal.

You treated patients, cured some, discharged others and between one break and another you wasted no time going to your husband to give him a little kiss.

“What do you want eat tonight baby?” he asked. You and Will were in the doctors' break room during one of the aforementioned breaks, only the two of you in there. You were sitting on the small couch next to each other, his arm around your shoulders while you ate a bag of chips.

“Do you want to cook?”.

He looked at you for a moment and you chuckled at his expression. You both had to do a double shift that day so you knew neither of you would even want to go near the kitchen once you got back home.

“I’d like Mexican, what you think?”.

“Hell yeah! You know I never say no to Mexican food.”

He laughed at the enthusiasm you showed, meanwhile playing with strands of your hair. “Mexican it is then.”

You continued to devour the chips under your husband’s gaze who looked at you as if he had seen a mystical creature for the first time. “What? I’m hungry.” You babbled with your mouth half full.

“You don't even share with your beloved husband? So greedy.”

You glared at him before taking the last chip left in the bag and shoving it into your mouth, moaning heartily in his face. “No matter how much I love you, you know very well I don't share my food with anyone.”

He rolled his eyes, trying to hide a smile. “Wipe your mouth you pretty little bitch.”

But before you could reach for a tissue he came closer to you and licked the corner of your mouth, bursting out laughing when you pushed him away, wiping yourself with a tissue from the coffee table in front of you. “Ew Will you're disgusting!”

“Disgusting? You don't seem to complain when you take my dick in...-”

You covered his mouth with your hand before he could finish his sentence and let someone hear, feeling him smile as his eyes glistened at you. You should’ve predicted though that in true child style, he’d lick the palm of your hand.

“Will for fuck’s sake! Stop it!”.

“I can’t! God baby you're so easy to piss of,” he continued laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world. You looked at him sideways before wiping your hand on his white coat. “C’mon give me a kiss now, come on.”

He wrapped his arms around your hips, trying to pull you towards him to kiss you while you tried to push him away by pressing your hands on his chest.

“No! Go away!”.

You continued to fight like children until, however, that playful atmosphere was interrupted when the door opened and Maggie entered.

“Here you are! Stop acting like lovebirds and go back to work. We have two new patients, victims of a car crash.”

After quickly washing your hands you left the break room, following Will and Maggie. You and Will exchanged a look before splitting up to go to the two patients.

The patient you took into your care – whose name you found out was Amanda – was in a critical condition: fractures of the femur and humerus not to mention the small fractures in almost her entire body, a sprained arm that would’ve required a cast, an internal hemorrhage due to the rupture of the spleen.

As you and the nurses worked to stabilize Amanda as quickly as possible, you couldn't help but notice something that bothered you quite a bit.

On her lower back, around her arms, on her thighs there were bruises that were not compatible with the dynamics of the car crash and which based on their almost faded color seemed to date back to some time ago.

“Amanda, did you have another accident a few days ago?” You asked her, your voice low so the rest of the team wouldn't hear you. She looked at you with a heartbroken expression and her eyes filled with tears before shaking her head.

“I'm just very clumsy and distracted, I often fall or bump into furniture and doors.”

Her voice was shaking and your heart tightened, knowing it was a complete lie.

“Amanda… You're safe here okay? Say one word, anything and whoever did this won't hurt you again...”

“No, no, no, no,” she became agitated and her heart monitor began to beep from her rapid heartbeat. “Please don't say anything doctor… He… Please. He's a good husband, he's just a little tired and stressed lately.”

“Hey, hey, it's okay Amanda, it's okay. I'm just here to help you.” You shook her hand and she nodded weakly. “But whatever he told you, it isn’t…-”

“It’s fine just… Just cure me.” She tore her eyes away from yours, bringing them to the ceiling even if more tears continued to fall.

It was clear that Amanda was a victim of domestic violence, she was literally terrified of her husband. You felt helpless, your heart broke for her even if you couldn’t even imagine what she was going through.

You were treating that woman knowing she’d go home and her husband would start beating her again. What kind of doctor were you if you hadn't helped her?

But how could you help someone who didn't want to be helped?

You should’ve called the police, but what would you have said to them? It was your assumption even if all the bruises and healed bone fractures were evidence of physical abuse, but you knew how the police worked, they couldn't do anything if there was no complaint from the victim. And you knew if you called them, Amanda would deny everything and it’d affect her worse than it already did.

You sent Amanda to run some tests and left her room after throwing away your gloves and washing your hands. Your mind was only focused on her as you filled out her medical records so much you didn't even hear Will come closer to you until he put his hand around her waist to great you, leaving a kiss on you temple.

“Baby you okay? How is the wife?” He asked as he picked up her bastard husband's newly created medical record.

“She was in critical condition but I believe she’ll make full recovery. The husband?”.

“He was luckier, he only suffered a few bruises and small fractures. The guy must be madly in love with his wife, all he did was ask about her and say he wanted to see her.”

“I think Amanda is a victim of domestic violence, your guy isn't in love at all,” you voiced your concerns before placing your pen on the papers and looking at Will.

“You sure?”.

“She has bruises all over her body clearly from days ago and her X-Rays show old healed fractures. Not mentioning how she’s terrified of him.”

“Wow…” Will breathed out, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “There must be an explanation…”

“Babe did you hear a word I just said? We have to help that woman. He’ll kill sooner or later.”

“Don't you think you're a little bit exaggerating a little love?” Will put his hands on your shoulders “If she doesn't tell you anything there's nothing we can do…”

“Will, he beats the shit out of her and God knows what else does to her!” You whispered/shouted with frustration. “She doesn't say anything so we let that bastard beat her?”.

“I didn’t mean that! What I was trying to say is just… Don't jump to conclusions, there must be other reasons why she must’ve gotten those bruises…”

“Oh yeah of course. She must hit herself on the side so hard she left a shoe imprint on her skin for fun. This really makes sense.” You snapped the folder close and walked away, ignoring Will who tried to call you out.

You were pissed off.

It was always the same exact story, over and over again.

How the fuck were women supposed to trust the system and report abuses when those who were part of this system didn't even believe them?

You talked to Amanda, stood by her side during her MRI and the other tests, keeping her away from her husband as much as possible.

You didn't force her to say anything, you didn't insist to let her talk about what was happening in her household. It wouldn't do her any good, you wanted her to know she had a choice, you wanted to give her as much time as possible to think about what to do.

“Whatever happened I believe you Amanda, okay? You don't have to be afraid and I'll be here to help you if you want.”

That was all you said to her about the topic and she nodded slightly before bursting into a liberating and heartbreaking cry. You stayed with her the whole time, hugging her and reassuring her that everything would be okay, that she wasn’t alone.

Yet she said nothing to you, nothing about her husband, deeply terrified of the consequences there might be.

She eventually fell asleep and you let her rest, telling the nurses to always keep an eye on her and to let you know immediately if anything happened.

“Dr. Y/Ln, Mr. Connell's X-Rays just arrived, Dr. Halstead left for another patient.” A nurse had told you as soon as you passed by their station. Your heart skipped a beat, realizing you didn’t meet Amanda’s husband yet.

You wanted so much to let him rot in hell but you couldn't, you had duties to fulfill as a doctor even if he was the most disgusting piece of shit on earth.

You took the envelope with the X-Rays and thanked the nurse before she went back helping other patients. You went to the bastard's room, taking a deep breath before entering.

You tried to hide your indignation as soon as you saw him lying on the bed, maintaining a professional and impassive expression.

“Who are you? Where is Dr. Halstead?” He asked as soon as you entered his room.

“I'm Dr. Y/Ln, he's busy at the moment.”

“My wife… Do you know where she is? How is she?”. If you hadn't seen the condition of Amanda's body you would’ve even thought he was really worried.

Son of a bitch.

You swallowed the anger that threatened to release words you’d regret and that you knew Amanda would pay the price for. “She's fine. She’s doing some tests,” you deadpanned before taking the X-Ray out of the folder. “There are no serious fractures, just a small one here on the collarbone…”

“I want to know where my wife is. Why doesn't anyone tell me anything?” He blurted out, not even letting you finish your sentence.

“Sir, as I said, she’s doing some tests. She was in quite critical condition and we’re doing our best to treat her,” you replied in a flat tone although your heart was pounding. The way he was looking at you made your skin crawl and your heart ached for Amanda and the fact she had to live with this piece of shit every single day.

“What tests is she doing?”.

“I’m sorry but I cannot discuss clinical details of other patients with other people.”

He looked at you angrily. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m her husband! I have the right to know how my wife is doing!”.

“Mr Connell I’m just trying to do my job. I just came here to show you your X-Rays, like…” You continued talking, holding up them again to show them to him but cut yourself off when he pulled the covers away from his body and stood up abruptly, making you take a step back in fear.

“What’s going on doctor? Why don't you want to update me on my wife's health status?” He stated through gritted teeth, taking steps towards you and looking at you menacingly. You slowly took as many steps back, your breathing quickening as fear took over you.

“Mr Connell, just go back to bed…”

“What did that filthy whore say to you?” He spat and you were about to rush to the door and run away when he violently pushed you against it, making you fall to the ground.

“What. Did. She. Say.” He grabbed your hair in a fist and pulling you back to your feet.

You squirmed to try to escape his grasp, digging your nails into his skin. “She didn't tell me anything… I don't know what you're talking about…”

He punched you in the face in response, causing you to let out a loud cry of pain as you fell to the ground again.

“Fuck,” you muttered, holding a hand to your nose and realizing you were bleeding.

In that moment you had a glimpses of what Amanda had to go through every single day of her life and you could really understand why she was so terrified of that man.

“Oh you know exactly what I'm talking about you bitch.”

You tried to get up but he grabbed your hair in a fist again and pushed you with force towards the emergency cart in the room, so violently some objects fell from it and some drawers opened.

“You piece of shit…” you spat as you tried to get up but he walked over to you and kicked you back to the ground.

It all happened quickly.

So quickly that between his attacks you didn't even have time to process what was happening. He was overpowering you and every time you tried to hit him so you could escape, he hit you back.

He pushed you on the floor, picked you up and tossed you around the room as if you were a garbage bag.

You were lying on the ground, curled up in a fetal position as you held your stomach after a painful kick to the stomach.

Your mind went to Will, wanting nothing more than your husband in that moment.

Baby please help me.

You lay down on your back in an attempt to catch some breath but a scream echoed through the room.

Your whole body froze and in an instant everything around you stopped.

What happened?

Was that scream yours?

A searing pain went through your abdomen and a warm sensation enveloped your body.

You lifted your head slightly only to realize in horror you had a pair of scissors impaled in your abdomen.

He fucking stabbed me.

You had treated hundreds of thousands of patients with stab wounds, you had always tried to reassure them, telling them you knew it hurt but everything would be fine.

But the truth was that you had no idea what your patients were feeling, the paralyzing fear, the excruciating pain, the terror of not surviving.

You don't fully know things until you go through them and in that moment, as the blood poured out of your stomach and smeared your red uniform, making it two shades darker, your body paralyzed by shock, you really understood how it felt.

Your chest rose and fell quickly as you struggled to breathe properly. Tears began to fell from your eyes when you saw the man bending over you and at that precise moment you feared your time had come.

You feared you’d never see Will again, that he wouldn’t find out until you were dead.

You needed him, you wanted your husband.

Please Will I need you.

The man pulled the scissors out of your wound which started to bleed a lot more, staining the floor red.

He looked into your eyes and the coldness he showed almost shocked you. They were glassy, empty, devoid of emotions and any trace of remorse.

“When you see my beloved wife, tell her to start planning her funeral.”

Without looking back, he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him, leaving you dying and immersed in a pool of your own blood.

The wound burned stingingly as you brought your trembling hands to it to try to make pressure, but in vain.

How could so much blood come out of a not so big wound?

Sounds of throbbing pain continued to escape your lips, your breathing heavy, your heart beating wildly.

You tried to move and lift yourself up but every time you ended up lying back on the ground.

You were too weak.

What you managed to do was crawl on your elbows, leaving a trail of blood on the floor with every step you made.

You raised an arm to try to open the door. Your trembling fingers even managed to wrap around the handle but the blood on them made you slip and fall to the floor again.

Your breathing was starting to slow down, as was your heartbeat. That feeling of heat that invaded your body turned into cold, forming goosebumps all over your skin.

You were tired. So incredibly tired.

You just wanted to get some sleep and rest a bit.

So you closed your eyes, not knowing if you’d open them again.

Will looked everywhere for you but couldn't find you. He even looked for you in Amanda's room who, however, had told him she hadn't seen you for some time. He thought you were avoiding him but he couldn't think you had abandoned your patients just to avoid talking to him.

“Have you seen Y/n?” He had asked Maggie as soon as he saw her walk by.

“No, but I’ll tell her to look for you as soon as I see her.”

It felt like you had disappeared off the face of the earth, he knew you’d never have left without warning unless it was an emergency.

He tried to page you so many times, to call you on your cell phone but nothing, he received no answer. His mind tried not to immediately think something bad had happened, he couldn't even imagine it, but it was all he could think about at that moment since no one seemed to have seen you for a while.

He thought you might’ve gone to talk to Amanda's husband, knowing you would’ve tried to confront him. So he went towards Jack’s room but he stopped in his tracks before opening the door when his feet stepped on something wet.

He lowered his gaze and looking down he soon realized with horror it was blood.

He tried to open the door carefully, his heart beating wildly as he imagined all sorts of scenarios in front of him.

The door didn't open completely, as if there was some sort of resistance on the other side, so Will tried to squeeze through the small space.

But nothing could’ve prepared him for what his eyes saw, for what he never wanted to see.

His heart stopped beating for a few seconds when his eyes fell on the unconscious figure lying on the floor and immersed in a pool of her own blood. That figure he’d never, ever wanted to see in that condition, not even in his worst nightmares. YOU.

“Oh my god Y/n!” He loudly exclaimed, immediately kneeling next to you and pressing his hands on your wound from which blood was still flowing. You didn't react, your eyes were closed, your heartbeat slow.

“Baby, wake up… Please, please, please, open your eyes.”

How long were you there? Why hadn't anyone notice this?

“Somebody help me! Hurry up!”.

“Oh shit!” The nurse who rushed there screamed, putting her hands over her mouth as soon as she saw Will kneeling down, covered in your own blood.

“Where the fuck were you?!” Will exclaimed angrily, his mind completely clouded from the anger, the confusion, from the fear of coming too late.

“Oh God… I… I gave her the patient's X-Rays… There was an emergency and… And… I-I had to leave…” she stammered, shocked.

Will gave her a murderous look that would’ve killed her on the spot if he could. He knew it wasn't her fault, just the bastard who did this to you, but he couldn't help but blame someone in that moment.

He brought his eyes back to you, only then noticing the scratches and bruises that surrounded your face.

Oh baby what did they do to you?

“I'm here love, I'm here… It's okay. You’ll be fine. Just hang on for a bit.”

One of his hands let go of your wound to check your pulse, realizing it was barely noticeable. His heart tightened in a vice as he caressed her face, staining it with your own blood.

“Please wake up, please… Don't do this to me baby, you can't… You can't… I need you…” He kept repeating, his eyes starting to glaze over with tears after yelling for help again. Dr. Crockett, who was passing by at the time, intervened immediately as soon as he realized what was happening.

“What the hell happened?!” He asked urgently as he watched the horrific scene that seemed to come out from a horror movie. “We need to take her to the OR immediately, prepare four bags of 0 neg, she's lost too much blood!”

But Will didn't let you go, he continued to stay there putting pressure on your wound and keeping his gaze fixed on you.

“Will…” Crockett murmured placing a hand on his shoulder “She'll be make it okay? She’s in good hands but you have to let me do my job, you can’t be here.”

“Will!”.

Only then he seemed to realize Crockett was actually talking to him. He slightly nodded, reluctantly letting you go and watching as they carried you away.

He was in shock, struggling to believe what was happening was reality and not just a fucking nightmare.

He raised his now red and trembling hands and his eyes looked at them for a few moments, analyzing and carefully observing the blood he hardly struggled to believe was yours.

What the hell happened?

There was no doubt it was that bastard Jack Connell who did this to you and an anger he had never felt before ran through him.

He was furious.

Furious because he had allowed someone to hurt you, because he had failed to protect you, furious with himself because he didn’t believed you when you expressed your concern.

He was devastated.

Desperate.

It was all his fault.

He stayed there for he didn't know how long, looking at those hands that until recently were pressing on your wound, the same hands that until a few hours before were holding you and hugging you.

When he finally looked up around the room, he noticed what a dire, chaotic mess there was and it was clear there had been a fight before.

Only then he realized there was no trace of that bastard, that he had probably already escaped from the hospital and with the tumultuous coming and going of patients, nurses and doctors no one had even noticed him.

He took his cell phone out of his pocket, not caring he was getting blood on it, and with trembling fingers dialed Jay's number.

Jay almost had a heart attack when he heard about what happened and seeing his brother covered in blood was awful even if he knew it wasn't his. He was worried for you while trying to calm Will down. But he was still in a catalytic state so Jay stayed with him, helping him clean himself up.

Will explained to his brother it was probably Jack Connell who did it, he told him your concerns about him mentally and physically abusing his wife but that he didn't believe you.

“It's not your fault okay? I want you to understand this. It was his fault, it’s him who did this to her and I promise we’ll get him and make him pay for what he did to her, he’ll rot in prison. An attack on Y/n is an attack on all of us.” He tried to reassure Will. “She'll make it, she’s strong but she needs you now, she needs you to be by her side, I know you're scared now but you have to be strong for her, brother.”

Will was completely losing his mind while waiting for your surgery to be over, not sitting for even a minute as he paced back and forth in the waiting room, waiting at the same time some news from Jay.

When Crockett finally came out of the OR and announced the surgery had gone well and that he had managed to sew up the wound, Will couldn't help but hug him in the throes of joy and happiness.

As he walked to the ICU, he felt a weight pressing down on his shoulders, anxiety gnawing at his stomach to the point it made him feel nauseous.

His legs trembled as he approached your bed, his palms sweated, his eyes watered as he looked at you lying on that bed, unconscious.

He sat down on a chair next to you, taking one of your hands as his thumb caressed your skin. He pressed his lips on your knuckles, leaving a chaste and small kiss so light as if he was afraid of hurting you.

He sniffed when he realized a few tears had escaped his eyes, quickly wiping them away with his fingers. “I'm so sorry baby, this wasn't supposed to happen to you,” He whispered, looking at you while struggling to keep his emotions inside.

He felt terribly guilty.

It was his fault you were on that bed.

It was his fault you had to suffer.

His heart tightened as he thought about what you had to go through and he hated himself for not being able to prevent it, for not believing you.

He didn't want to think about how scared you had been, how terrified you were of dying, how many you had called for him but he didn’t come.

“I'm so sorry I didn't believe you, I'll never forgive myself,” he kept talking to you. “How can you be so beautiful even on a hospital bed? I really am a lucky bastard.”

He smiled faintly as he looked at you. “Please wake up baby, show me those beautiful eyes I fell so madly in love with… I’m begging you…”

He stood up and left a kiss on your forehead while stroking your hair at the same time before sitting back on the chair.

“I already miss you so much you know that? I'm sorry I don't tell you often how much I love you, I'm sorry I only realized now that I risked losing you how much you mean to me. Don't get me wrong I already know this, you’re one of the most important person in my life, God only knows I can't live without you... But I didn't realize how intensely and deeply you affect my life Y/n. You… Damn it…” He finished the sentence with a sigh as he tried to find the right words.

“I can't exist without you, I can't think properly, I can’t breathe, I... I’m nothing. You completed me, you always managed to fill the void I’ve always felt inside, you’ve always been that fundamental piece to complete the puzzle. Just… Please… Please don't leave me.”

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the beeps of the monitor connected to your heart. He left another kiss on the back of your hand, his eyes never leaving your sleeping face.

“I love you so much Y/n Halstead, you have no idea how much. I stop to think about our wedding day every now and then and you don't know how much money I’d pay to go back to that day and see you again in that beautiful white dress... God I would say yes to you a million more times and if we lived other lives I would say yes to you in those too because meeting you and marrying you was the best thing I've ever done in my entire life.”

“I'm so sorry…” He whispered, the words dying in his throat before he let out a silent cry, his forehead resting on the bed as he continued to silently pray.

“I heard you the first thousand times Dr Halstead…”

Will snapped his head to you, his eyes widening and almost having a heart attack when he saw you were finally awake and looking at him.

You had a small smile on your lips, trying not to chuckle as you looked at the shocked look on his face.

“Baby oh my fucking god!” He almost screamed before leaning over you and hugging you in the rush of joy and happiness. He held you tightly for an indefinite time, fearing for a moment it was a hallucination.

He let you go though when you let out a painful sigh. “Shit I'm sorry love.” He sat down again. “How are you? How are you feeling? You need something? Are you hurting? God I missed you so much.”

“The wound hurts a little but overall I'm fine...” You replied, your voice thick and hoarse. “What happened? Where is that son of a bitch? Is Amanda okay?”.

“He ran away after what… What he did to you and I called Jay, they'll catch him I promise. Amanda is okay, Jay questioned her and she told him everything, you were right about the abuse… I’m so sorry for not believing you.”

You nodded feebly, momentarily looking away from Will who kept his eyes on you with a broken look on his face, and you took a deep breath, more painful than you would’ve ever imagined.

Image after image of the attack replayed in your mind.

Of the screams no one seemed to hear.

Of the prayers to let you go.

Of his hands punching you and throwing you against the walls and objects in the room as if you were garbage.

Of his feet kicking you.

Of those scissors that had torn your skin and stabbed you.

“Oh baby.” You felt Will's thumb wipe away a tear that had slipped down your temple without you even realizing it. “C’mere.”He stood up and hugged you as best he could again, being careful this time not to hurt you. “It's okay, you're here with me now and you're safe. That piece of shit won't hurt you again I promise.”

It was as if that hug had triggered something inside you and you burst into tears, lifting your arms and encircling his chest while venting all the suppressed emotions.

“I was… I was so scared Will… T-that I wouldn't see you again…”

Will pressed his lips to your forehead, leaving a sweet and long kiss as he savored and thanked the angels for still giving the opportunity to do it.

“I know darling, I know, I can't even imagine what you went through…”

He stroked your hair, your skin marred by scratches and bruises. “It shouldn't have happened to you, I'm so sorry my love. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you...” he kissed you again. “But you're safe now okay? Now you're here with me, you're safe, and unless I’ll die I'll never let you out of my sight again.”

You giggled through your tears, hugging again the man you loved more than anything else.

“I love you so much more Will Halstead, it's not your fault okay? Please always remember that, it wasn't you who did it but that son of a bitch.”

He didn't answer but held you tighter, hiding his face in the crook of your neck while your fingers ran through his fluffy hair. Your heart broke when you realized he was crying.

“Hey, hey, it's okay. You really think I would leave you? Who would’ve made your life a living hell if I died?” You tried to ease the tension. “Oh baby I love you so much.”

“I thought I lost you… When I found you there…” His words came muffled but he stopped, not even being able to finish the sentence. He didn't want to think about those horrible moments anymore, about the fear he felt, even though he knew those images would never leave his mind.

A feeling of anguish took hold of you after hearing he was the one who found you. You couldn't imagine how horrible it was to find your wife, your partner, the person you care about most, almost dying.

“Shh it’s okay,” you whispered “Look at me.”

He slightly lifted his head and if your heart wasn't broken enough already, it was in that moment. You cupped your hands over his face, wiping away his tears with your thumbs. He leaned into your touch, looking at you as if you were one of the seven wonders of the world.

“I'm here, I'll get better. It’s. Not. Your. Fault. If anything you saved me baby, if you hadn't found me I would’ve probably bled to death so stop blaming yourself okay? Do it for me.“

He nodded and you smiled before pressing your lips to his in a sweet, gentle kiss.

“I’m so sorry love I don’t want to make this about me,” he said wiping again his tears and you both chuckled.

“Yeah yeah, sure, you egocentric bastard.” You rolled your eyes and burst out laughing at the same time even if you stopped immediately after, holding your stomach. “Fuck it hurts.”

“I know you’re so funny baby but take it easy.”

Despite everything, despite the pain, the anxiety and the terror of dying, the fear of never seeing that red hair again, of never hugging him, you were so grateful for still being there. You were grateful to life for giving you another opportunity, for allowing to live, to cry again, to love.

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[insult-2-injury]

Scream Queen - Part 1/2

Gojo Satoru/FemReader

When it comes to horror films, Gojo considers himself a connoisseur. He knows a good chase when he sees one, and he's had his sights set on you for a long time.

AO3 Link

NSFW, 6.3k wc, porn with plot, dirty talk, fingering, pussy eating, masturbation, mild predator/prey

Part 1

Gojo had picked the horror flick that night. Had insisted it was critically acclaimed. But it was just some campy thing where the heroine was running all too slow down a flickering hallway, her screams serving only to alert the pursuing monster of her exact location. The woman’s hair was as beautifully curled as when she’d arrived, her skirt hiked up to her upper thighs, tank top torn in a way that left little to the imagination. 

“‘Amazing cinematography’ my ass,” you mumbled. You lay sleepily on Gojo’s couch, head in his lap, his fingers carding through your hair.

“You don’t like?” 

“She’s tripped over six times.”

“Yeahhh she’s a little clumsy,” he agreed. “But try and think about it this way: every time she stumbles, her tits go bananas. I mean talk about breaking the fourth wall.”

The woman ran into a room, barricading the door with just a weak press of her shoulder, weeping hysterically. You pointed at the screen, livid. “I can literally see a cameraman standing in the corner! Critically acclaimed? Really?”

“Yeah. Critically acclaimed by my penis.” He frowned. “Did I not say that?”

“No, actually, you failed to mention that, deviant.”

The tug of sleep was beginning to draw your eyes closed, the warmth of his thigh and the drone of shitty TV lulling you into a dreamlike trance. It was a rare occasion that you didn’t like the movies Gojo picked out; in fact this was a first. He actually had a surprising eye for pretty things and a knack for picking out quality flicks you’d never even heard of. But this was… decidedly un-epic.

The sound of wood splintering through indicated the start of yet another chase sequence that you couldn't care less about witnessing.

“Couldn’t be me,” you mumbled, melting further into his lap with a deep sigh, eyes finally closing. “I’m fast as fuck.”

“Yeah?” His voice held more than a touch of amusement. “You’re alright.”

With a cursed technique that granted you a speed on par with the all famous Gojo Satoru, you’d fare more than alright in a horror film.

“You could never catch me.”

The fingers in your hair paused for a good minute before he responded.

“You think?” he said.

Your only response was a sleepy hum.

“Hm.” The fingers continued. “Alright.”

You were too tired to think much of it, honestly, or the fact that you had inadvertently issued a challenge to the most insufferably competitive man you’d ever met. 

As your breathing slowed, his touch switched almost absentmindedly to the shell of your exposed ear, sweeping softly along the curve of it. Back and forth. Goosebumps tracked down your arms and you shivered, pulling your legs so tight to your chest that they knocked into his. You opted to ignore the puff of amusement from above – not like you could help that his couch was so comfortable.

Not to mention his apartment was bafflingly huge compared to your 400 square foot rabbit cage – with one of those open plan living spaces boasting enough area to plant a giant sectional couch right smack in the middle of it. But for how filthy rich he was, the place wasn’t ostentatious at all. It was cozy. Blessedly quiet, too, in comparison, even with the constant murmur of background noise that you were convinced Gojo would drop dead without. 

His apartment had become somewhat of a home base in recent months for you to decompress after tough missions. It hadn’t been easy finding friends since your move to Tokyo. Not that Gojo had started out as anything close to one. You’d hated his guts at first, actually. Still did sometimes - your first meeting ending with you fuming and him grinning down at you like you were the funniest little creature. He had a habit of that, making people feel small, what with his 6 '3 string bean stature and a perma-smirk that did little to fight off the asshole allegations.

You weren’t sure if you could deign to call whatever this was a friendship, either, with the two of you pushing each other’s buttons like it was your sworn duty to do so. But the bickering was a strange sort of constant in your life, and jujutsu sorcerers didn’t get many of those. So you showed up here time and time again for what? Normalcy? Comfort? Something like that. You just took it for what it was, and Gojo was certainly never one to complain about company.

You dozed off to the thought of how surprisingly cushy his thigh was, even if he was built like a string bean.

A sharp pinch on your earlobe jolted you awake. In an instant, you’d snatched the offending wrist and pulled yourself up. “Ow! The hell was that about?!” 

“Whoopsie! Sorry ‘bout that.” Gojo shrunk back from you, his sheepish apology so comically phony he reminded you of a kitten caught testing its boundaries. “Got scared. Hand slipped.”

“You’re so full of shit.”

“Sheesh. Careful, no second chances with this one.” 

He was being extra annoying tonight, and you said as much. Grumpily, you released your hold of him and he made a real show of it: inspecting for bruises, rubbing at his wrist and shaking his hand out like he’d been in iron shackles. Worst of all, the movie seemed like it was only a little past the halfway point, which means he hadn’t let you sleep through much of it at all. 

“Well.” You clapped your hands together. “you’ve just got to fill me in on what I missed.”

He inhaled.

“Sarcasm.”

His bottom lip stuck out in a pout, his head falling against his shoulder as he regarded you.

“You’re so mean to me.”

With a dramatic huff, you turned and collapsed back into the couch beside him, rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the heels of your palms. With senses so finely attuned to Gojo’s impulsive tendencies by now, you blindly knocked his hand away with your forearm before he could reach out to aggressively ruffle your hair in retaliation.

Just as smug as he could be, you crossed your arms and smirked. You’d found he often liked to justify inciting violence by lecturing how a good sorcerer was always on their guard. Well, guess what.

“Who’s the strongest now, bitch? That’s twice now I’ve blocked your ass.”

You caught the tail end of his quiet, mournful suffering – “could’ve seriously been injured…” 

“You have a weak constitution.”

He pointed at himself, looking around the room as if to say ‘me?!’  You nodded solemnly.

“Uh oh, I smell jealousyyy,” he sang, fingers drumming a scattered beat on the leather behind your head.

“Yeah? What of?”

He raised his chin with a dazzling smile. “My dainty, effeminate wrists, of course!”

Despite your best attempt, you snorted a laugh. Damn if he didn’t look pleased as punch about it, too.

“Strongest,” you scoffed. “You can’t even stand up from the couch without groaning. Let’s get you home, grandpa…reduced to bone dust if someone tightened your watch band a little too hard–”

You let out an angry squeal when the fingers behind you finally seized the chance to reach up and tousle your hair– not in the cute little gesture of affection kind of way. More in the pure violence for violence sake kind of way. You threw your arms over your head, forehead tucking into your folded knees, shouting over his witchy cackle.

“Strongest guy at the bingo table more like! Stop. Stop!” You smacked at his accosting hand blindly but it was like swatting at a relentless swarm of bees. “THAT’S ENOUGH.”

With one final ruffle, he let you go. You threw him your fiercest scowl.

“I hate you.”

His fiendish laughter trailed into the low, drawn out sound of your name, hummed with a purring appreciation that had your stomach flipping oddly, twisting in knots. You froze. Dear lord, when had you gravitated so close to him? If you tipped your head back, you’d be lying on the crook of his elbow. 

Quickly, you averted your gaze and got to work on your hair, smoothing down the devastation he had wreaked upon it. But strangely, his touch never quite left you, knuckles stroking gently at the base of your neck in an unfamiliar act of intimacy. You waited for him to launch an attack again, but he didn’t. Just quietly kneaded his fingers into your spine. The whole thing left you feeling a little stranded by what seemed like an unnerving insinuation of closeness, gaining an invisible weight to it the longer it went uncontested by you.

You blinked and spouted the first lie you could conjure up.

“You make for a terrible pillow, by the way.”

He made a throaty noise of disappointment, studying you a moment longer before turning his attention back to the movie, touch abandoning your neck. “Come into my home…” 

“And I’ll walk right back out of it if you’re not careful.”

“Ooh, consider me scared!”

“You should be scared.”

“Don’t I know it.” His long form slouched impossibly further down into his seat, his fingers lacing over his chest before he barked out one startlingly loud laugh, as if he’d just remembered you’d said the funniest thing. “Careful,” he said, a self-satisfied grin beginning to creep across his lips. “You would hate careful.”

You frowned. “What–”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he waved you off. “You can do whatever you want.”

Your jaw clenched at the pet name. But still it took a moment for your brain to kick back into gear. It was just… the way he’d said it that gave you pause, like he knew something you didn’t.

“Shit movie,” was all you could think to say.

“Yep,” he said, popping the ‘p’, sitting there still with a far-too-pleased grin.

Hit with a sudden bout of nerves, you turned to the coffee table, which was littered with a variety of sweet snacks he’d fished out of his cupboard. Stomach already full and strongly protesting to anything more, you panic-swiped two kit kats and jammed them into your mouth, taking the opportunity to scooch yourself away from him.

For a guy whose cursed technique allowed him to control space, Gojo was awfully oblivious to the concept of it. He was a taker; give him room to spread and he would take it unapologetically. It was no different now, his long form stretching immediately into your space again. His knee chased yours almost mindlessly, leg knocking into yours, bouncing there with a fervor.

“Stop.”

He looked at you with a raised brow. “Heh?”

“You’re encroaching.” 

His gaze flicked down, noticing the personal space violation for the first time, blinking, making a small hum of decision. He leaned in close, murmuring into your ear. “Well here’s an idea, yeah?” He grabbed your knee with an outstretched palm. “Go on and walk right out of here, then.”

You could only pray the movie was loud enough that he didn’t hear your breath catch. God, his hands were huge, his long, spidery grip bleeding warmth across your lower thigh and knee.

The feel of Gojo’s breath swept across your cheek as he observed your reactions closely. And you couldn’t help but gulp as a different, more alarming heat burned its way slowly up your thigh like a lit wick.

A thumb brushed featherlight across your bare skin, the pads of his fingers beginning to crawl gently inward to tickle the sensitive skin at the inside of your knee. You quickly jerked your leg away.

“Here’s an idea,” you sputtered, fumbling to find anything clever to say and failing miserably, “stop… being the way that you are.”

“Uh. Alright.” Gojo scratched his head, pulling back to give you the space you thought you wanted. “Don’t know what you want me to do about that, really. Sheesh. What’s a guy to do? Not like I can stop being hot or a genius or whatever. You want me to just ‘say goodbye’ to my baby blues?” He cupped his palm over his mouth in hushed confidentiality. “My giant horse cock?”

You made a horrible retching sound.

He shrugged away your disgust. “Just sayin’, you’ve gotta see it to believe it.”

“Cut it out.”

It was like you’d told him there was strawberry cake on the ceiling the way his eyes lit up, rolled back in his skull, jaw dropping as he threw his head back in fake ecstasy. And you just knew what he was about to do.

Your fist pulled back to prepare what should’ve been a non-punch to his infinity. 

“Stop or I will punch all the way through you.”

In an outrageously high-pitched, shrill voice, Gojo moaned.

“Make me, daddy–!”

The words were cut short by a choked grunt as he allowed your fist to connect to the soft of his stomach. Hard. His head lolled backward, a long, appreciative groan slipping from between an open-mouthed grin. The slender column of his throat bobbed as the raunchy noise dissolved into giggles. And you might as well have been struck in the gut yourself with how violently you yanked yourself back from him.

Because Gojo Satoru was beautiful like this. In that stupid, unfair way that made you want to run your tongue up and down his neck just once to see if he was made of real flesh and blood. You shook the thought from your head.

“You’re so weird.”

“You think so?” he asked, voice just a touch raspy.

‘Yeah. I do.”

His eyes rolled coyly to the side to meet yours.

“Brat.”

“Pervert.”

Gojo lifted his head lazily, perfect tufts of snow white falling across his forehead, a dangerous grin stretching slow and wide across his face. “Babe, you have no idea.”

Your face heated, nerves shooting off like a flurry of butterfly wings in your chest. You wanted to hiss at him. What was he playing at anyway? He’d flirt with the likes of a potted fern, but still.

It wasn’t something you could afford to think too hard on. This was just who he was: an irredeemable flirt, someone who couldn’t help but poke around the edges of boundaries just to test the strength of the fenceline. A guy like him wasn’t interested in the long term, anyway, and probably wouldn’t last with someone who didn’t want to sit around and stroke his vanity all day. 

Besides, it was nobody’s business but your own whether you occasionally thought about how it might slap his thighs when he walked.

To your growing horror, you found yourself unable to tear your wide eyes away from his; gaping far too long to chalk it up to a mental hiccup. And he was eating it right up if his stupidly smug smirk was anything to go by. 

You fell back into your earlier TV watching position, but instead of settling your head in his lap like before, you curled yourself beside him, the crown of your head pressing against his outer thigh. Safer that way, better to avoid his gaze. Mortification burned bright and unbearable in your chest. 

“Stop staring. And stop calling me babe.”

“Why should I?”

“Because,” you said sharply.

“Because,” Gojo considered, nodding, seeming to roll the word out on his tongue. He laughed, insincere. “Because! You’re so right.”

You remained stubbornly silent. The pad of his thumb dropped to smooth over the deepening scrunch of your brows and you barely allowed it to stay. It was just a thing with Gojo; his hands always had to be fiddling with something, touching something. And you were usually the closest thing.

That was all.

“Ya know, you get all twitchy when you’re nervous,” his voice purred from above. “You nervous?”

Having little hope that he missed the small shudder that tracked your spine, you craned your neck to shoot him a warning look. But the sight that greeted you had you forgetting how to breathe.

Gojo was studying you with a shocking intensity, the glowing Six Eyes flicking between yours like he was carefully mapping you out. The ghost of a fascinated, greedy sort of grin curled at one corner of his mouth, seeming only to deepen at the sight of your unease. You dropped your head back into the couch, squeezing your eyes shut to will away the stone of want that had lodged itself firmly at the base of your throat. 

“Can I ask you a question?” 

“Never been able to stop you before,” you snipped.

Gojo hummed, undeterred. 

So sly that you hardly registered what he was doing until his shadow was looming over you, he repositioned himself, one leg sliding onto the couch so he could turn sideways to fully lean over your balled up form. With a quick move and a scooch forward, you found your head propped on his lap again.

A large palm cut off your furious protests, sliding to cup gently beneath your jaw, two fingers grazing over your clattering pulse. A calloused thumb slid across the seam of your downturned lips.

“Do you like feeling helpless?” he asked softly.

You stilled as a drop of startling heat slithered between your legs. His hand drifted down the column of your throat to follow the contraction of your nervous swallow, like he’d predicted it, like he was fine-tuning an instrument. Shit, you felt so small tucked into his lap like this.

You averted your eyes back to the movie.

“Serial killer question,” you said, wretchedly anxious with him peering down, every tiny response of yours seeming to be dissected and filed away for something sinister.

You pretended to be invested in whatever Oscar-worthy, nonsensical bullshit was happening on screen, the woman now captured in the monster's clutches. That is, until you were thrown headfirst into a crippling silence.

“Hey! I was watching that.”

The remote landed with a loud clatter on the coffee table. “Sorry, baby. Can’t have you holding out on me.”

And then suddenly, the real horror was right here in the dead quiet. The only light source was a soft overhead. With a burst of anger drawn up from a slowly drying well, you rolled onto your back, glowering up at him.

“Can I fucking help you?!”

“Mhmm.”

Your teeth clenched. “What are you even talking about, helpless?”

Gojo propped back on one hand and pretended to think about it. “Ah, you knowww. Scream queen style or whatever. When the cards are down and you’re all played out.” His eyes flicked down your form to where your hands twisted nervously into the bottom of your t-shirt. Then back up, voice dropping pensively. “So fast you’ve probably never felt it, though… being chased down like that, backed into a corner. Never been challenged the way you deserve, I bet. You like the thought of someone who can keep up with you?”

If the body was a chest of drawers, yours overturned all at once. Someone who could keep up with you… Challenge you. Like… him? Your jaw clenched. A desire you didn’t even know you had settled with a pulsing heat in your lower belly.

“So, what I’m hearing, and correct me if I’m wrong.” You stopped, centered yourself with a deep breath. “What I’m hearing is you asking whether I’d get off on being chased?!?

“Get off on it?” Gojo’s jaw dropped, acting as if the idea had only just occurred to him. “Wow. Uh. Dirty girl. Well. Sure I mean, yeah. If you want.”

Your nails scraped across the leather of the couch, trying to distract yourself from how ridiculously enticing the idea was. Because it shouldn’t be at all. Nope. Not to a well-adjusted person. What made it exponentially worse was that the longer you went without storming out of his apartment, the more Gojo looked at you like the cat about to eat the canary. And damn it all, you didn’t hate it.

No. You hated that you didn’t hate it.

“If I want?” you grit out. “First of all, there’s something wrong with you if you get your rocks off on the idea of hunting women. Elmer Fudd over here. Get a grip.”

He smirked. “Be nice, kitty cat.”

Using your elbows, you shoved yourself up, whirling around to sit on your heels so you could better set him on fire with your eyes. 

“Why should I?!” you spat his earlier words back in his face.

Gojo went still, his slightly widened eyes flitting across your red-faced indignation. His gaze dropped to your lips as he chewed on his own for the span of a few breaths. Finally, he clucked his tongue. Whistled softly.

“Well, shit,” Gojo said. “Would ya look at that.”

Without an ounce of shame, his hand slid down the front of his pants.

“Wha–”

 “Sorryyy,” he sung. “Mind of his own, it’s the darndest thing!”

You gawked at him in disbelief as he casually adjusted himself.

“Really, man?!”

“Oh relaaax. Ever seen one before? Wanna take a peek?”

You tried to clear the image of those long fingers wrapping his cock, bringing himself to completion for you with that same groan he’d demonstrated for you earlier.  The thought had you too hot in your skin. 

“I’ll kill you. They’ll never stop finding your body.”

“Oh, keep going, I’m almost there!” he groaned theatrically before he shot you a cheeky, lopsided grin. “Gotta give it to you, babe, you really know how to get a guy goin’. I’m half hard and we haven’t even started.” His head cocked just a degree further and suddenly the playful grin he sported gained a sharp, predatory edge, voice dropping in low warning. “Keep looking at me like that. All angry. Sweetens the deal at the end of this thing. Makes it allll worth the wait.”

You swallowed, throat like sandpaper. “Deal?”

“When I catch you.”

You should walk out. You should walk right back out, like you said you would.

Unfortunately, your silence spoke volumes. Frustrated on several different levels, your hands flew up to cover your eyes, fingers pressing into the lids until you saw spots. But nothing could distract from the hyper awareness of the ache between your thighs.

“What do you want?” you asked, voice sounding small.

A long-fingered hand encircled each of your wrists, prying your hands away from your face. He held them hostage, pinning them to your upper thighs so you couldn’t retreat as he leaned in. Your heart stopped when his cheek brushed past yours.

“What I want is the whole thing. Listen. I love it when you play dumb with me. Seriously I do,” Gojo murmured into your ear. “But I think we’ve been sitting on the same page here for quite some time now, yeah? All the fighting, dancin’ around the tension and whatnot. I mean it’s sexy as hell, don’t get me wrong, but we both know it’s just extra bullshit.”

Your entire being was up in flames, face so hot you wondered if he could feel the heat emanating off your cheeks, his own pressed so tightly to yours he could probably feel your jaw work out a response.

“Make your point.”

He laughed, dipped his head, the tip of his nose nuzzling down the slope of your neck. The tiny, experimental flutter of warmth against your skin made you twitch, but the sudden hot drag of his tongue had you violently shuddering, searching for purchase until suddenly you were the one holding onto him, fingers digging into his shoulders. You could practically hear his arrogant smile as he breathed you in long and slow, the following sigh one of genuine contentment.

Gojo leaned back to have a look at you, disgustingly pleased with himself.

“Sure thing. I’ll make my point,” he said. Your arms felt strangely bereft when he moved out of your space, falling limply at your sides. Casual as could be, Gojo settled back into the couch, one ankle perched over his thigh, fingers clasping together like the two of you were discussing weather patterns. “Here’s the thing. I wanna find you, chase you, and fuck you in that order. Think you’d like somethin’ like that? Being pinned down with my cock in you?”

His eyes dropped to the motion of the unsubtle squeeze of your thighs, a razor sharp smile spreading slow across his lips.

“Yeah,” he purred. “Always thought you might.”

“You don’t know shit.”

His eyes flicked back to yours.

“I know that pussy has to be nice and wet by now.” Another spasm of want rocketed between your legs. God, he was so arrogant. “No shame in it, sweetheart. Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll drop the whole thing.”

A palm settled on your knee, thumb stroking in a gesture of mock comfort. His voice was soft. “Orrr you could just admit you’re making a mess of your panties right now hearing me talk like this.”

It was like your strings were cut all at once, your chin tipping to your chest as you lost whatever self-preservation instinct you had left. “Shit,” you whispered.

A finger hooked into the bend of one of your knees, tugging invitingly. His hum was a soft, rolling lull.

“Come here and sit on me.”

You may have been cracking, folding beneath the weight of your desire, but nothing could have dulled the precision of the homicidal glare you leveled him with. 

“Think you have it in you to shut up for like six seconds?”

Gojo laughed. “Damn, my girl gets mean when she’s frustrated, huh?” At your lack of response, his smile dwindled and he seemed to truly consider you, taking in your stiff form. His gaze fell unabashedly between your legs again, tongue running along his teeth in deliberation. “You want me to eat you out a little? Loosen you up?”

Your jaw clenched as the mental image tore across your mind: hooded blue eyes looking up from between your legs, warm tongue put to work lapping at your cunt – he always did like to stay busy. Shit, why could you conjure up that image so well? 

Because Gojo had looked at you like that before, hadn’t he? Like he wanted to take you apart, piece you back together. You’d just been too blind to see it.

He continued, his other hand reaching out now so both were hooked behind your knees. “Yeah… Yeah. That’s what you need. About time, too, huh. Makes my dick so hard just thinking about it. C’mere.”

“I don’t–”

In a single movement, you were pulled off balance, falling flat on your back. He cut off your yelp of outrage, seized your ankles, spun and dragged you to the edge of the couch, your thighs now bracketing his. You squirmed, head spinning as you panted up at him with searching eyes. It wasn’t a comfortable position you’d been suddenly squeezed into, your head bent awkwardly against the back of the couch, trapped in a slouched position by the oppressive energy coming from the man standing between your spread legs.

Gojo loomed above. His fingers twitched at his sides, drawing your attention there and then directly over to the glaring evidence of his arousal pressing against the front of his pants. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Feels like I really don’t even have to check,” he breathed, hungry gaze trailing across your body like he couldn’t decide what to focus on. “Just know you’re soaking. It’s crazy.”

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he said again, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Last chance.

“I– you’re… F-fuck you.” His grin was deadly, eyes sparkling in dark victory. It was unsettling, how much you wanted to fall headfirst into that blue.

Gojo Satoru collapsed on his knees like he was about to start muttering prayers. He tugged you closer, the weight of his head falling against your inner thigh with a satisfied hum. Laying there so he could simply observe the slight quiver in your legs as he slowly drew his oversized palms up and down any bare skin available to him.

“Fuck. Look at you,” he murmured, breath sweeping across the damp crotch of your sleep shorts like he was talking right into your clothed pussy. 

At the sound of your tiny, pathetic squeak, his shoulders shuddered violently. He slid forward, fingers hooking into the hem of your shorts, teasing there. His eyes raised with a hooded intensity, holding yours for a few heated seconds. Terribly slow, he let his jaw drop, tongue unveiling itself, and leaned forward to press it firm and flat against the thin fabrics covering your entrance, letting the heat bleed from his mouth. A groan choked out of your throat, coming out more as a grating wheeze, the noise met with a gleaming, wicked satisfaction.

“So the…” you swallowed thickly, voice so ragged it was almost completely foreign. “The thing with eating pussy is you have to remove my-”

There was a sharp, reprimanding smack on your thigh. “Don’t start.”

You half expected him to rip your shorts right off; you wouldn’t have been opposed. But Gojo instead rolled the hem down little by little, so torturously slow your fingers ached with how hard they dug into the couch with anticipation. He nipped, sucked bruises into the skin as it was exposed, gently guiding you to lift your hips so he could pull your bottoms the rest of the way.

His eyes danced in wonder across the arousal that you could feel being squeezed from you just by his appraisal. “Shit,” he exhaled, his warm breath brushing gently across your soaking cunt. You gasped, legs automatically attempting to clamp together. To get away. When was the last time you’d been this vulnerable to anyone? 

“No, no. Nope. None of that,” he reprimanded, pushing your knees into your chest, spreading your legs more lewdly for his perusal. “Lemme see what I did to you.”

“I– I c-can’t.” You averted your gaze. It was all too much: the sight of Gojo Satoru kneeling between your legs, looking as if he’d let the world burn just to get a taste of you. He breathed across you again, his mouth so damn close that you wanted to start tearing at his hair.

“Shit,” he said again. “Pussy got hot hearing me talk about how hard I’m gonna fuck it later.”

You couldn’t help but let out a muffled cry when two fingers stroked down your slit, pressing against the entrance to your pussy, swirling there. He coated the tips of his fingers thoroughly in your wetness, raising them to the light just to slowly scissor them apart. Watch your own fluid stretch thin between them before going back for more, just lightly teasing. Your face felt impossibly hot, chest rising and falling in short gasps, chasing the stroke of his fingers, needing something to clench around, the slow spread of your slick too ridiculously loud in the quiet room.

“You always this wet for me, baby?”

“I d-didn’t think your head could get any bigger.”

Gojo hummed in amusement, giving no warning before he began to slowly ease two fingers inside you. A string of expletives punctuated the air as your cunt throbbed and clamped down in relief, accepting him greedily.

“Look at that,” he said, hooking the long digits inside you and pulling another whimpered curse from your lips. He took his time dragging them out, pushing them back in with an obscene squelch. “You’re a sweet girl letting me finger fuck you like this. Shit, look at your pussy suckin’ on my fingers. So fucking hot… my girl letting me do this to her.”

“You–You’re- I d-” You attempted to mouth off, snap back that you didn’t belong to him, but a targeted curl of his fingers cut you off at the pass. 

“I know,” he crooned. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

A thumb pressed into your clit and your back arched as bolts of pleasure shot up your spine, hips rolling with the pump of his fingers, chasing more. You needed more. You couldn’t even breathe you needed it so badly.

Gojo bit the inside of your thigh, moaning obscenely and latching harder when you yelped in pain and smacked him hard in the head. 

“Ow. What the– what the fuck,” you gasped, although you hadn’t really disliked it at all. He soothed the sting away with little licks.

“Sorry,” he said insincerely, voice in shreds now, strained with an odd concentration. “Wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve whacked off to the thought of this right here. But now look at you spreading your pretty legs for me. Still tryin’ to act like you’re not starved for my cock after all this time. Making me wait like that. Dripping your cum all over my couch. Makes me fucking crazy. Filthy girl. You’re my filthy girl, aren’t you? Ffuck,” he hissed. 

It took you too long in your blissed out state to realize his shoulders were rocking slightly, and not just from the push and pull of his fingers inside you. “And my sweet girl’s gonna let me hunt her down, isn’t she? Spit on her tits, slap her, fuck her from behind.”

You couldn’t see it, but there was no doubt now that Gojo was masturbating himself in tandem. Thrusting his hips, not fast enough to relieve himself, just to appease the torment. God, he was vulgar, he was disgusting. He was sexy. He was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

With a wet schlick, his fingers pulled out of you. And you could only assume from the way both his gaze and hand fell down to his lap that he was spreading your cum along his cock. Fingers wrapping himself, Gojo choked on something between a salacious moan and a manic laugh. His eyes slid up to yours dangerously.

A quick flash of pink was all you got before he was leaning forward and sliding his tongue through your drenched folds. Finally, you let loose the keening cry that had been stuck in your chest. Your spine felt close to snapping with how hard it pulled taut, your fingers leaping from their death grip into the couch cushion to embed deep in his soft hair, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.

A long, appreciative groan came from deep in his chest and he sighed, relaxed further into his task. One hand fisted around his cock, the other wrapped round one of your thighs to draw you closer, hand splaying across your lower belly to better hold you down. The rough pad of his thumb found your clit, dragging tight circles. 

With long strokes of his tongue, he lapped at the wetness collecting at your entrance. You wanted him to go higher, needed his mouth elsewhere, for that wet heat to replace the thumb steadily masturbating you. You dipped your hips to guide him there but he didn’t relent, tongue fucking into your cunt with the same aching slowness. It was like this wasn’t even for you.

“Gojo,” you said weakly. He just hummed, the vibration sending arcs of pleasure up your spine. God you were so close already. You just needed… “G-Gojo.”

Still he didn’t speed up, acted like he hadn’t even heard you. And it pissed you right off. He wanted the whole thing, didn’t he? He’d said that before. Gojo Satoru wanted you. Badly. He was good, but so were you. Gojo was a man who took. Had taken his entire life. He didn’t want someone who sat around and stroked his vanity. No. He wanted someone who took, too. He wanted you.

A rising anger loosened your tongue.

“Gojo, you f-fucking prick,” you spat. “Take your hand off your fucking cock and do this the right way.”

Deliberately, his tongue pulled from you, thumb still working you at an infuriatingly slow pace. A lazy, dangerous grin began to crawl across his lips, still wet with your juices.

“Careful,” he warned.

“I hate careful.”

Something dazed crossed his face then, like you’d struck him square across the face. He shuddered, his eyes darkening, glimmering suddenly with an almost terrifying devotion.

And then both his hands were on you.

Arms wrapped under your thighs, palms splaying to lock your hips down completely. A blessed heat enveloped your clit with a gentle suction, tongue fluttering where you had so desperately needed it.

“Ffffff” was all you could manage, your back arching, unable to even watch him like you wanted to as your body contorted with the pleasure shooting to a quick crescendo. 

“Shitshitshitshit,” you cried, fingers yanking at his hair, uncaring whether it hurt him, shoving his face impossibly further into your pussy. A vulgar, encouraging groan left him and with one final suck and a flicker of his tongue, you were sailing into oblivion. You clawed at him, a string of filthy curses stuck in your throat as you spasmed against him. It was long, debilitating, and drawn out by warm, slow slides of his tongue against you as he continued to lap up what you spilled, murmuring soft praises.

Your spine laid flat against the couch again as you collapsed with satisfaction, the pleasure still buzzing like a livewire across your skin. You twitched with sensitivity when his thumbs spread you apart, observing the final, tiny convulsions of your pussy.

“I– you’re amazing,” he groaned, like he was imagining himself deep inside you. “God, baby I… I wanna ruin you. My fucking cock is…” His forehead fell between your thighs for a second, like he was gathering himself. “I’m so fucking hard.”

Gojo leaned back on his heels as you sat up, assisting as you pulled your pants back up. He helped you up on shaky legs, until the two of you stood looking at each other, him unmoving, just eyeing you silently with a dark intensity. 

Gently, you pulled his face down to yours, placing a short, gentle kiss to his lips.

You pulled back. 

“I really do hope you’re as fast as they say you are.”

And you disappeared.

[arielstruggles]

Texas Sun

w.c: 2.3k

Pairing: Bestfriend's dad!Joel Miller X reader

warnings: smut (mdni), age gap, moral questioning, edging, just the tip, mentions of virginity, tit fucking, oral (f receiving)

a.n: Honestly i just wrote this to kind of zone myself our from real life because i am having some sort of problems in my head and haven't proof read it. I just finished writing to be fair. As always i am open to criticism because i know i need lots of improvements in my (non-existent) writing skills. If you read this so far ilysm.

Joel Miller was an attractive man, he was strong, he was confident yet leery. The way he carries himself not only caught your attention but also other women around the neighborhood. You know from Sarah that he does not date that often, but he had this one girlfriend named Tess, she was around his age, they were happy Sarah said back when you were a freshman So he probably does not have those fantasies that you have in mind with him. When the Texas sun burnt your bare shoulders and you were on your way to the Miller’s house your sundress feels like a heavy blanket on your skin these were your thoughts. So, being best friends with Sarah Miller had it perks, one being the possibility of seeing her charming dad. You met Sara in your last year at high school when you moved in Texas with your family. Now that you think about it you realize it has been six years. You were a high schooler back in the day, now you are fresh out of college, unemployed under her parents’ roof. In that hot Texas day, you hoped to find Sarah at home chances were low since she was still a student and she had this internship going on. Yet, you needed to leave the house immediately, you were in the middle of an argument with your mom during the dinner, she was screaming at you about how much of a disgrace you are, tears on your cheeks gets back to you in reality. After wiping your tears, you quicken your pace and head to Miller’s house.

With the sight of their front door, you are questioning your motives. What if she is not home? what if they don’t want me to come inside you think then you decide to knock the door since you are already there. What is the worst thing that can happen right? When Joel Miller opens the door, he greets you kindly “Hey there, lookin’ for Sarah?” you nod sheepishly, already entranced by his presence. You know him for a long time but you are never comfortable around him, mostly because you are scared of developing some sort of sick crush on him. With his black tshirt and grey sweatpants, he does look good. “She’s not home, working on that internship and said she’s gonna be late.” He explains it thoroughly. This is your cue to say good evening and leave but you are limp. You don’t want to go back home. Not yet at least. the thought of going back crushes your soul, it suffocates you. Before you even try to stop tears start flowing again. “Hey hey, sweetheart. Easy now.” he pulls you in his arms. You start sobbing, his warm skin against your face, his woody scent fills your nostrils. He pulls you inside and closes the door, you find yourself sitting on Miller’s couch. “M not gonna force you to speak but you can talk yknow.” He says, it is clear he is as clueless ad you are. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do any of this, really.” Your tone is apologetic. “Don’t be. We all need to get it out of our system.” He smiles warmly. He is genuine, he is kind it only adds to his other good qualities. You start talking about your problems and you cry once again, it is embarrassing how easily you cry in front of a man you think. When your gaze interlock for a brief moment your eyes wander on his lips briefly and you avert your gaze when he catches you. heat blossoms on your cheek as he smirks. He leans on your face ever so slightly, to test the waters. You don’t pull back but you don’t lean on either. It feels wrong on so many levels. He leans on closer and closer until you are inches apart. You can feels his warm breath tickling you. “Go ahead sweetheart.” He purrs. “Mr. Miller-“ you want to say something, you want to reject, he doesn’t force you, not at all. “Yes, darlin” you should say this is wrong, that he is old enough to be your dad but you feel like anticipation building up inside you. Desire consumes your body. You lean and kiss him. He meets your kiss with hunger. He kisses you so roughly that it does not feel like any of the kissed you have had experienced before. It is wet, it is sloppy. He grabs you by the waist and pulls you onto his lap. You broke the kiss panting “This is so wrong.” “Why is that?” “Sarah is my friend-“ “We can stop right now and forget it all happened.” He says, his voice is intoxicating. “Mr. Miller?” you can’t believe you are about to say this “I- uh um, I am uh… I have never done it before?” a smirk forms on his lips. He knows damn well what you are talking about. “You have never done what darling?” “that.” you mumble “I don’t understand.” He says while that smug subtle grin forms on his lips. “You mean sex?” you are not shy about it but his tone makes you want to hide your face behind your palms. Once again you are getting hotter. “Yes.” “It’s okay darling, we have all the time in the world.” what does it mean? Is this something that we are going to keep doing? But it does not feel right? you have so many questions in your head, it’s reflections can be read on your face. “What’s wrong?” he looks at you with furrowed brows. “Nothing, I just-“ you trail off mid-sentence. “S okay baby girl, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” However, you want no no, you are dying for it. You want to feel your bare skins touching each other, hands intertwined, tangled up in bed sheets, sweaty, breathing heavily.

You want all of it, the problem is, how you are supposed to look at Sarah’s face after that? Your thoughts interrupted by his hand that’s caressing your bare arms. His touch is so light but it is enough to awaken goosebumps on your skin. You meet your gaze with his, you are able to see the lust twinkling in his eyes. You have never seen him like this before. You question your morals. Are you seducing an older man? While a part of you feels like once you leave this house, a scarlet A letter will be sealed on your forehead and everyone will see how much of a disgrace you are yet a part of you is dying to commit this crime, to leave the path that your parents carved for you.

With a sudden hunger you climb on his lap and kiss him which he responds with a snort but complies your request. You continue kissing for the second time. It is passionate, it is sloppy. You can’t help but grind on his half-erected cock. It causes you both to moan. “Mr. Miller, I- I want to-“he interrupts you “Are you sure?” “Yes.” “As much as I want to go for it, I can’t baby girl. I don’t want to do anything you might regret.” But I want to.” You whine like a brat and palm his cock through his sweatpants. He growls in your ear, you could swear that it his by far the sexiest sound you have ever heard. “Just the tip.” He says, more to himself as if he is convincing himself to not to go far. “Okay.” He stands up with you in his arms and takes you to his bedroom and places you on top of his bed. It smells like him. A room that you have caught glimpses of it but never been inside. His bed has a rustic, reddish brown headboard, you realize an exercise bike on the corner of his room, dusty due to staying at the same place for a long period of time. You see the meds on the nightstand, his glasses, picture frames with him and Sarah laughing to the camera lens. Guilt is creeping up on you once again. It disappears when you feel his kiss on your neck though. His breath becomes hot against the side of your neck. You could feel his hands roaming around your body, toying with the hem of your dress. One of his hands slides up and down on your thigh while the other hand holds your waist tightly. He kisses the top of your shoulder and looks at you in the eyes. “Can I take this off?” you nod unable to speak. He takes off your dress, leaving you exposed in your bra and panties. His fingers grazing the top part of your bra, occasionally touching your skin. “You are so soft, so pretty.” He kisses your forehead. It gives you a sense of relief. It is like an unspoken agreement between you two. He peppers your skin with kisses, leaving the warm traces of his lips. Once he reaches down to your panties, he tilts his head up to look at you, to see you confirming him to go further. Once you nod, he kisses your heated cunt through the fabric. It is soaked due to your mind running wild with images of you. Traces his tongue between your folds. It feels amazing. Moans and whimpers leaving your lips with the sensation taking over your body. He is eating you out without even taking your underwear. When he rubs the tip of your nose to your clit, you groan. He knows what he is doing, slides your panties to the side and exposing your sleek, glistening pussy. It makes his mouth drool. He kisses, licks, worships it. This must be the princess treatment you think. His thumbs grazing your clit so softly, you want more… but he takes his time. drawing circles around it, going up and down occasionally parting your lips enjoying the view. But suddenly he covers your pussy with your soaked panties again. You furrow your brow with disappointment. You realize he unbuckles his belt. That’s it you think. He’s going to do it. He frees his cock and is his hard as a rock you see. You feel proud. It is a stupid thought, but you did this.

He leans on you again and kisses you passionately. “Such a good girl.” Your breath get heavier with the way he talks. “Or should I say bad?” “Are you my good little slut?”  you nod, you want to be his good little slut. He chuckles. He nestles his cock between your folds on your panties and starts teasing your aching cunt more. The friction causes you to throb uncontrollably. He moves his cock on your sleek panties up and down, slapping it on your clit. “Mr. Miller…” you pant “I want more.” “Just the tip darling.” He coo, he is on top of your body on his knees while you’re lying as a puddle of pleasure. He slides your panties to the side again and aligns his cock with your hole, slowly pushes the tip inside. You moan and your cunt starts throbbing more and more. he pushes a little bit more but stops when he is not even halfway. “Just the tip.” He coos again and you curse. “Tsk tsk tsk, not a good girl behavior.” He leans on you when he is inside of you and unhooks your bra. He takes one of your nipples between his teeth while supping your other tit. You feel on the verge of coming yet you need more. You close your eyes in deep pleasure, your hands go to his hair and grabbing it tightly. His tongue massages your nipple, you moan. “Such a good girl baby girl.” “mmmm daddy.” You moan loudly and come, the realization of what you have just said hits you. Embarrassment takes over your body, you want to run away and hide but since you can’t do it, not when you are a naked mess you decide to act like nothing happened. He suddenly stops. “What did you just say?” “Nothing.” “You sure?” “Yeah.” “Okay.” He says but you can swear you caught a smirk. He continues moving the tip of cock inside you and biting your tit.

Suddenly he takes if off of you. And you realize what he is doing, your eyes widen and you can’t help but lick your lips. He spits between your tits then palms your tits and places his cock between them. At first, he moves slowly but then he picks up his pace and he fucks your tits roughly. “You called me daddy, didn’t you? you’re just a needy little slut eh?” he growls in your ears. The scene playing before your eyes is so pornographic that you want to close your eyes. “Yes daddy.” You reply automatically. It is so embarrassing but you can’t help it. He is dripping with precum, he is close. Without a warning he comes on your tits. You’re covered with warm, white liquid. He kisses your forehead once again “I’m proud of you. You did such a good job.” Your stomach flips upside down. “Wait for me here.” He says and leaves you on the bed. After a short time he comes with a wet cloth and wipes your body gently and lays beside you. Your eyes catches the picture of Sarah and him again, he realizes it “Don’t have to feel bad. It’s our secret.” He winks and spoons you. “I feel so safe.” You murmur. “Good. You should.” He replies.

A couple of hours later the key sound coming from the front door is what makes you anxious. You and Joel look at each other, you are both dumbfounded. “Dad I’m home.” she chirps. Joel is unable to reply back. But when she knocks in his door he clears his throat. “Honey, I’m a little busy right now.” He says and Sarah leaves his door, heads to her room. You have never felt so relieved in your life. You wear your clothes hastily and though Joel opposes the idea, you jump from the window and leave your best friend’s house like you just came in her dad’s bed.

[the-blossica-fan]

Blossica and A Nightmare At Green Lake

An analysis made by THE Blossica fan

Why do I love Blossica? Why is it so important for A Nightmare At Green Lake? Would the story be the same without it?

In this long rant I call "Analysis", I will tell you my thoughts, the reasons and MY opinion on this ship and its importance to the entire event.

It can not be yours, and I'll gladly listen to your thoughts and reasons, but here's why it is so important and the story wouldn't be the same without it.

It has been edited, there might be some more changes if I see any inconsistencies.

Let's start by what most people call this ship, Childhood friends to lovers. I've seen a lot of people call it that, and while it's not wrong, it's also not right.

The better term Is "Childhood crush", as Blonney (Jennifer) is Jessica's childhood crush.

Must take into account that Blonney never knew of Jessica's existence, the OG Jessica was Blonney's imaginary friend, Changeling/Jessica just happened to hear it and thought it was Blonney giving her a name.

Why childhood crush? Well, it's pretty easy to know that Jessica's infatuation that persisted through the years is far more than just friendship. From things like reviving all the stories she told, retelling them and even exhausting them for everyone else.

It's also not a secret that she has probably been looking for someone to replace Blonney's space in her heart, which is why no one has ever seen as interesting in her eyes.

In Vertin's words "What happened to those people that accepted to stay with you? When you ran out of available games, they were no longer adored by you. I can stay longer than them, but with no exceptions. I'll become boring one day." These words are a hint to something.

No one can replace Blonney's place in Jessica's heart.

And, what about Blonney?

Blonney is definitely a lesbian, but this is no headcanon, in fact, I'd argue this is definitely canon. From design hints like those hair clips (this is Bluepoch, they pay heavy detail to their models, this is definitely not a coincidence), to even more hidden hints in her stories.

Since a child, Blonney has been writing in her diary stories, but you know what's interesting? Blonney describes the women as beautiful, like in the story about the dead bride.

A bride that looks for other happy brides? Mmm, doesn't it sound weird?

Blonney also describes Anne/Anna in extra detail, as if she had some sort of fixation with her. Let's remember that this description of characters is not only a script, but Blonney's own thoughts written on paper. When she criticizes herself, saying she'll pay for her doings one day, it feels crude and out of place because that is what she thinks about herself: That she'll pay for being a liar and mean (an arcanist and a lesbian)

The event itself also tells us enough for it to not be speculation, but absolutely straight up in your face.

Blonney's denial of her arcanist self (she punched Jason and yelled that she was not an arcanist, for those with internalized homophobia, this is a common reaction. Anger), the iconic couch scene and later on, her discussion with Jessica.

"How many times do I have to tell you how much I hate being called an arcanist", this is similar to a reaction I had before, denial and anger. In this case, and during the entire event, "arcanist" is used as an allegory.

For fuck's sake, Blonney was CUDDLING with Anne right BEFORE the iconic couch scene. Jessica/Anne is the one that made Blonney start to accept that side of herself, alongside with Tooth fairy's guidance; a professional lesbian.

"You seem to really like me. You would jump off a car to rescue me, you protect me, praise me. You would even be happy because I was happy." "Because I've never seen anyone as pretty as you are. You're special, you're different to the rest of us"

Oh God do you see that? This is flirting.

And while some might say Jessica doesn't know what romance and what liking romantically means, I'd argue otherwise.

Jessica does know what romance is

Let me tell you quickly. Jessica said in "The nightmare of green lake", she has met a couple of people who have different relationships with each other. She has even interacted with them, as in, she HAS talked to them. She has 6 people (excluding Michael, Jason and Freddy) in a cave, she knows some stuff.

When she says "I like you", she knows what she means. Her desperation to get Blonney to stay is not only because she doesn't want to be alone, but because she wants Blonney and ONLY Blonney to stay.

It's possible she's not sure she's in love, but she knows her feelings go far more deep than just a normal friendship. Plus, she has lived with Blonney's childhood stories, and those horror stories do have romance (The pathetic bride includes romance, Jessica is the one behind the pathetic bride, she knows). She's not oblivious nor stupid, she's just inexperienced. She knows she likes Blonney more than a common friend (based on how she treats others), and I think she would never like anyone that's not Blonney.

And what about their relationship?

People think they're master and pet, owner and pet, and I don't think they realize how deep that goes. Blonney is definitely in need of a person like Jessica, who fully supports her and her unique ideas. Jessica loves Blonney unconditionally, there's no reason to not think so. Their relationship is perfectly healthy, Jessica loves being adored and treated as a pet by Blonney, and Blonney is happy to see her happy.

That line of dialogue about a collar, despite how sexual it might be, is made out of innocence. They're not just master and pet, they're girlfriends and, don't we all have weird relationships with each other? They're happy, they're good for each other and are what the other needs.

So... What's their importance to the event? Are they really that important?

Yes.

The event wouldn't exist without that crush and romance. If Jessica didn't think romantically of Blonney, the event would be different, she wouldn't try hard enough to just keep Blonney and much less plan to get rid of everyone around Blonney so it's just the two of them.

If Blonney wasn't in denial of her homosexuality (and arcanum?), the event wouldn't be about accepting yourself as you are, it wouldn't be a story about coming out and the morals wouldn't be as impactful.

It would be a lackluster event.

Their relationship with each other is of heavy importance because it's that crush and denial that make up the entire story. The horror is just a side dish, the murderer and all of it, because this is not a horror story.

It's a love story

"I don't care whether my parents allow it or not!"

"I will quickly reveal this true look of mine, and everyone will look at me as if I've done something wrong"

Huh? Are we still talking about arcanists?

These lines are out of place for a 'friendship', or a discussion about staying or not. This is romantic, and especially in the homosexual way.

This true "look" of mine, doesn't it mean love? People do look at same-sex couples as if they've done something wrong, and while Jessica is talking about her changing abilities, we all knows this is about her crush on Blonney and how society would look at her wrongly.

Because, if she truly didn't know about her crush on Blonney which is the basic of all; everyone knows about crushes and romance, then how would she know people would look at her wrongly?

"I don't care whether my parents allow this or not"? Is a line said in ROMANCE. All romance stories with a 'secret romance' have this sort of line, whether straight or gay, this is a basic must-have in this sort of relationships.

She's not only talking about Jessica's changing abilities and arcanum, she's talking about her own blossoming love.

Especially when Jessica asks if Blonney liked her story, she's seeking approval and a hint Blonney will stay by her side, this is a confession. Which is why she gets so down when she gets a "yes, I like it very much". That's not a yes, it's a dismissal, a 'not so important' thing. This is a rejection of her feelings, even if on accident.

And, why does Vertin intervene? Why does she have the talk to Jessica about staying?

Because Vertin more than anyone knows what it's like to let go of a lover, she knows about not being able to confess in time and she knows that if she doesn't intervene, this will be like her and Schneider all over again. Regrets. She's being supportive, she's trying to do what she couldn't do. She's playing cupid.

A place where no one would judge Jessica for her looks, also known as the homosexual suitcase. We all know that no one in Reverse is straight, or at least, 99% aren't. We all know no one would bat an eye if a deer girl was kissing an 80's horror movie girl in the middle of the wilderness.

This is the perfect place for both, Blonney and Jessica, a place where they can be together while not being judged.

And what about Horropedia, Sonetto and Tooth Fairy? What part do they play in this Horror story?

Oh, they're very important as well. In fact, all of them are.

Horropedia, despite interrupting the girls RIGHT BEFORE KISSING, is the reason they're there. Without him, this would be a psychological horror story. And Blonney and him are the wlw and mlm hostility, they're so hating on each other but they do care. Sonetto has helped Blonney in silent ways, not only by helping her become more herself and supporting her fully, something she needed, but she's also an example of someone who's tied down. They've become good friends because they both used to be in similar situations mentally and emotionally.

But out of the two, Tooth Fairy is definitely the most important. She has gone through the same experiences as Blonney. Arcanist living in human society and a lesbian. She knows what Blonney is going through so she's helping, in her own way. She's the one who makes Blonney start to accept herself, to accept the fact that she is the only one Jessica wants and the one who understands her the most. Blonney softens because of both, Jessica and Tooth Fairy.

Tooth Fairy was the key to Blonney's acceptance, and it's because of her talk to Tooth Fairy that Blonney treats Anne better, that she's willing to share more of herself, that she's more physical. It's not a coincidence that after slowly accepting the fact she's an arcanist (lesbian) that she gets more flirty and physical with Anne/Jessica.

This entire event was a way to talk about coming out, and I've watched this event so many times I wrote this out of memory. It feels this way because it's INTENDED to be that way. It's real, it's crude. It's so direct because that's what it is.

A coming out story, a horror story

A love story

[angelisgonnastartchangingurls]

robbie on a monday

annie got coffee with her brother robbie at the cafe near her office. he was finishing school. just filed his paperwork for graduation. annie was beaming.

"how are you, though?" he asked her. "dad says you're being kinda weird."

annie laughed. "dad talks too much. i'm just a little bored in my relationship and i'm acting out."

"acting out how?"

"cheating on him," annie said.

"poor ryan," robbie said.

"no, not poor ryan," annie countered. "he's emotionally and physically absent."

"sorry," he said. "just too busy with work?"

"yeah but i'm busy with work too and i can still have sex."

"ok, chill out. honestly, is work hard for you?"

"are you saying my job's easy?"

"no," he said, earnestly. "you're like, very smart. school was always easy for you. i feel like work is the same."

"sometimes i feel that way," annie said. "but i don't know. i think i'm so desperate for excitement that i'm fucking up my patients."

"go skydiving or something, then," he said.

"not a bad idea, honestly," she said.

"no, you're too clumsy. you'd die."

she laughed. "maybe."

she went back to her office after and texted her father "don't tell robbie i am being weird."

"that was not my choice of words."

"ok, well, that was his impression."

"how are you, then?" he asked.

"i don't know. weird!"

she'd been sending nudes to jeff every day. he was only ever moderately enthusiastic and sometimes outright critical. "your tits don't look as big from that angle," he said to one. for some reason it made annie want to impale herself on his (only-average sized -- ryan was bigger) cock.

she told julia about it. not about jim, which was over as far as annie was concerned. she told her about jeff. julia was scandalized but enthusiastically so. "ryan has such cuck energy anyway," she said. "you deserve a mean himbo who will obliterate your pussy."

jeff obliged her on monday night, telling her to get naked for him as soon as she walked in the door, and proceeding to pound and degrade her for two hours. annie was so thriled.

he took pictures of her, too, which annie loved. she touched her clit while he fucked her, she played with his cum, she spread her ass for him.

when she got home, she found a bag by her door, full of her stuff from ryan's house. he'd written a note: "whore."

"oh fuck," annie said. and then her phone started blowing up.

she concluded after a few minutes of panicked texts from julia, hatespeech from her and ryan's mutual friends, and expressions of support and solidarity from other women in her life, that jeff had sent ryan the pictures, and ryan had posted them online.

she found them quickly. she was tagged in them, after all. he'd censored the photos on his instagram story, though not well. her tits were scribbled out but her bald pussy with jeff's cock in it was still visible.

julia, jim, and robbie all showed up at annie's apartment. she was less hysterical than they'd probably assumed she'd be, but she'd also taken two xanax immediately. julia and robbie sat together reporting the photos, which were also on twitter. annie went to the bathroom and threw up, and had to change her shirt. jim helped her with that, which was kind of ironic. in a couple of hours, the photos were down, the hate texts had stopped (julia had blocked all their numbers on annie's phone -- annie had briefly felt a pang of relief that her work email was not currently logged in on the phone, just in case she somehow came across emails from jim. when annie had her phone back she found them and deleted them) and the support was still rolling in. and they were all drunk and stoned.

annie went to bed -- robbie would crash in her bed with her and julia and jim would stay on the couches.

"sorry you had to see those pictures," she told robbie.

"it's fine," he said. "i mean you looked good anyway, who cares."

julia texted her. "don't come out, we're having sex on your couch."

"what if i want to watch?" annie replied.

"ok," julia replied. "come watch."

annie got out of bed.

robbie came out a few minutes later -- by then julia was naked and riding jim's cock. annie sat across from them, watching jim's shaft go in and out. robbie was on the other side of the couch. julia beckoned him closer -- she was facing him. he came over to the edge of the couch, which was low enough that julia could reach out and grab his dick over his shorts. then she pulled it out. annie tried not to stare at her brother's cock as julia stroked it and licked his tip as she bounced up and down. he was big, and so hard that it was standing straight up.

jim came first. annie watched his cum start to collect in rings around the base of his cock as he groaned and grunted. when he pulled out, julia climbed up higher on the couch to suck robbie off more enthusiastically. annie and jim both watched. he came in julia's mouth, and she threw her head back and swallowed it.

"wow," annie said. she was still dressed in the post-vomit pj's she'd been helped into by jim. julia walked over to annie and confidently pulled her shorts and panties down. "this will be so different without the neglected bush," julia said, opening annie's legs.

annie watched both men as their eyes flickered around. julia's ass. annie's visibly soaked panties laying open on the floor. julia's fingers and tongue on and in annie's cunt. annie's mouth as she gasped "fuck, fuck, fuck." annie had a loud, cathartic orgasm. she laid on the couch in a heap as robbie went back to bed. a few minutes later, she got to her feet and wobbled in after him. she slept next to him in her bed fully bottomless, having left her shorts and panties on the floor.

[effervescentdragon]

hi darling of my heart!

i’m prompting you with “not what i came here for” (i think? i don’t remember the exact sentence oops). no specific ship, whatever comes to your heart with this idea.

love youuuuu, te quiero MUUUUUUchisimo 🤍

i am. so sorry for this 🙈 you know where my mind is at (⚽️) and im so wired up that i cant sleep and i really need to and i just. oops ❤️ te quiero MUUUchisimo, perdoname porfavor, todos besitos solo para ti mi amor 💖

They've eaten everything they ordered (and Jamie knows he's going to have to work out twice as hard for the next week because of it), and they've drunk everything they planned to drink (and are now way past the sense of good taste and halfway through a whole bottle of wine), and Gary is eyeing the Dairy Milk that Jamie specifically bought for him (because he wouldn't be caught dead eating that shit) when he says "Let's watch oh-six quarter finals".

Gary tears his gaze away from the chocolate (and Jamie will get him to eat it because it's adorable how upset Gary gets about indulging in any sort of unscheduled pleasure) and frowns, "But we lost that one."

Jamie rolls his eyes. "We lost many, didn't we."

Gary shrugs, an unconscious gesture. Jamie sighs. "Eat the chocolate, Gary, I'll set up the game."

He keeps Gary in his peripherals, smiling to himself when he hears the crinkling of the wrapper. He'll fuck with Gary about it later; he can give him this one moment of enjoyment without calling him fat. Gary isn't fat, it's just his body type. It is a good laugh for the cameras, but there are no cameras here.

"This was a disaster, that fucking game," Gary mutters as Jamie sits next to him. There's a bit if chocolate in the corner of his lips. Jamie turns to the screen.

"Let's look at it like professionals," he says. "Like we should analyse it for the TV, yeah?"

Gary sighs and tops off their wine glasses, putting the empty bottle on the floor. He'll forhet about it and kick it the first time they miss, Jamie knows this. He doesn't mention it.

"Whatever, you masochistic bastard. Let's watch another one of m - our failures."

Jamie doesn't even have time to reply before the anthems are playing, and then they're off. He isn't sure why he's suggested this, not really, because they're awful. Wazza misses in the second minute and Gary kicks the bottle. Jamie's glad they're drinking white. Any stains on the carpet won't be noticable.

They argue about it, obviously. That's what they do.

Gary's too critical of himself - You were sick - So was Frankie, that's not an excuse -Yeah, and he was shit, he missed too many chances - and Jamie doesn't go for the easy shot at Becks' corner delivery.

Gary reaches for another Dairy Milk as Stevie and Frankie try to do something to support Wazza and fail. Becks gets subbed and Jamie elbows the Gary next to him as onscreen, the younger Gary accepts the captain armband.

"Suits you," he says cheekily and Gary giggles, washing down the chocolate with more wine. "You always were too serious."

Gary rolls his eyes, mutters a, "Fuck off, Carra, Terry had a yellow card already."

Jamie nods. "Yeah, and you were a better captain," he says, satisfied when he sees blush spread on Gary's face.

"Stevie could've taken it," he says, and Jamie shakes his head seriously.

"Wazza wouldn't have listened to him," he replies.

Gary snorts. "He didn't listen to me either," he says as Rooney gets a red card and is sent off after the clash with Carvalho.

"It was shit in the locker room, you know," Gary says, eyes firmly on the match. Jamie makes a little noise, urging him to continue. "I wasn't close enough to hear what Ronaldo said when he got to the referee, but Wazza wasn't - he wasn't happy. Neither was Rio," he adds. "They wouldn't tell me precisely what it was but it was shit for a while, after."

Jamie shuffles on the couch. His thigh is pressing against Gary's, that's how close they're sitting.

"Did you have to intervene?" he asks.

Gary chuckles. "Peacekeeping, yeah?" His face scrunches up, the lines around his eyes both prominent and fitting; laugh lines, every one if them. "Captain's duty."

"You won the Euro double next season," Jamie mutters, not sure of how much of his annoyance is real and how much is feigned, "how bad could it have been?"

Gary giggles. "It was tense for a while," he says, and Jamie scoffs. "It was! These lads, they were all really - patriotic, I guess?"

Jamie nods along. "I know what you mean," he says, watching Gary on the screen defend brilliantly and Crouch bottle it. He looks away from the screen just before Stevie overshoots it, to where present day Gary is frowning slightly and adorably at the screen, glancing towards Jamie every couple of seconds. He's licked his lips so much, the chocolste smudge is gone. "I never... it was never that important to me."

"Club over country, yeah?" When Gary smiles like that, like he gets it, like Jamie doesn't have to explain, Jamie feels like all's well with the world.

"Yeah," he says, and then he just... keeps looking at Gary.

He knows the game by heart by now. He's watched it so many time, analysed every shot, ecery corner, every chance. What he wants to hear now is what Gary thinks, and Gary doesn't disappoint. (Jamie isn't sure Gary could disappoint him, though that isn't something he's prepared or willing to acknowledge.) He is thoughtful and he is harsh and he doesn't hold back, and above all he is right. Jamie listens to what he's saying, pleasantly warm and happy and maybe a bit dizzy from the alcohol as Gary tears apart Portugal's game as much as theirs, and Jamie just - enjoys it. Enjoys this. Enjoys spending time with Gary.

"Here we go," Gary says as the penalties come around, and where did almost two hours go? Jamie doesn't know but he knows what's next, and he doesn't want to see it. Suddenly, all he wants is to be anywhere else and to watch anything else except this, because he doesn't want to hear Gary tear Jamie apart like he did himself.

He says nothing. He sees himself go out on the pitch and it's surreal in a way it has never been before when he watched this game. He watches carefully as his younger self stands by the manager and sees young Gary come up to him.

Do you want me to take it?

The words echo in his head. Gary's thigh is pressed into his.

"Is this when I said it?" Gary asks, something heavy in his voice.

Jamie can't find any voice to answer. He nods instead.

It only takes him one breath before three things happen. He sees himself missing the penalty; Gary's leg presses into his; Gary says, "You were in your head. You were thinking too much."

Jamie - doesn't think when he reaches for Gary's hand. He can be brave. He wasn't back then; Gary was the brave one. Gary asked, Do you want me to take it?, serious as anything even though everyone knew it would've pissed off the manager. Jamie can be brave like that, too. He can be brave about things other than football.

An exhale. An inhale. An exhale. A panic barely setting in, then; Gary's fingers entwining with his.

"This isn't what I came here for," he hears Gary mutter in the space where his breath is supposed to be, drowned out by the heavy beating of his heart. "But I like it, yeah."

Jamie's lost all words. On screen, he sees himself walking off, defeated. Ronaldo's up next. He's pretty sure Gary isn't watching the screen anymore. He doesn't like Ronaldo. He likes what he's done for Manchester United, Jamie knows that.

He's pretty sure Gary likes him about as much as he likes Gary.

(He both sounds and feels like a teenager. He'll blame the wine. Maybe. Depending how it all turns out.)

He squezes Gary's hand, and says, "Me too," and leans over to get Gary another Dairy Milk.

(Or... maybe to take the shot. He'll decide in the next second, like he did with the penalty. Except this time, he's pretty sure he can't lose.)

[imperatorrrrr]

I requested the Nolan Nico fic but I didn’t expect it to hurt that bad. You’re too good! Thank you!

I have another request please! Something in the vain of people around Jack aren’t always truthful with him, he’s absolved of any criticism and Nico considers himself an enabler too, and so Nico takes a tough love approach this time with their loss that’s so fresh, one person isn’t to blame but one person did make two careless mistakes. I love reading fics where Nico is Jack’s comfort zone but he’s also the captain and I think it would be interesting to read from that pov as well where he doesn’t skirt around being honest for once in their relationship and that inevitably makes them closer.

I'm glad you enjoyed my take of your NolanNico request, I hope this one is up to snuff as well! Took a little different approach, tried to experiment a bit here, so hopefully it works!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Luke really shouldn't be eavesdropping, but this is Nico and Jack's fault for not doing this at Nico's. If they didn't want him to overhear, they shouldn't have made it so easy for him to overhear.

Plus, this is far too juicy for Luke to be a good person and put his headphones in or blast some music or do the courteous thing and leave the apartment altogether.

When Luke made his swift exit to his room, Jack was looking blankly at one of their walls unthinkingly biting his fingernails while Nico was pacing, his face looking even more troubled than his regular resting face.

"We're a team, Jack."

Luke hears Jack hum.

"No, Jack. We are a team," oh, Luke can hear Nico ramping up to something, Luke gets comfortable, maybe he should have made some popcorn.

"There's nineteen of us out on the ice every game. You don't need to," Nico lets out a big breath, and Luke thinks he hears Nico take a seat, "You can't do this thing where you play like you're the only one that can win it for us."

"Nico, we don't---"

"No, we have to talk about this. I need to talk to you about this." Nico's getting a little louder now. Nico doesn't get loud. Nico speaks and everyone else gets quiet. And Luke can almost picture Jack snapping his mouth shut. Can almost picture Jack's eyes going a little wide, but then getting smaller, a little defiance in them, a little fight maybe.

Its getting testy.

"I know I fucked up, Nico," Jack is grinding this out, even the way he says Nico's name is almost spat out, "We don't have to do a debrief of how I singlehandedly cost us the game."

Luke can tell Jack's gotten up now. He's the one staring down at Nico now. He's the one trying to take control of this conversation, trying to end it.

Nico stays seated though, he doesn't rise to Jack's level, "Can you please listen to me? I need you to listen to me right now." And Luke knows the exact face Nico's making. Its determined, but kind. Its soft, but focused.

Luke hears some shuffling and thinks Jack's probably sat back down. He thinks they're probably facing each other on the couch now.

"You've put the league on notice, Jack. We've all put the league on notice. They weren't expecting us last season and they definitely weren't expecting you."

Luke lets out a soft "ooph" because that takes a lot for Nico to say. Nico's always made it a point to say how Jack's been great from the beginning, how they aren't underdogs.

"They know your game, they spend entire video sessions studying you, probably," Luke hears Nico let out a huff, maybe that was meant to be a laugh.

"You have to be smarter."

"I know." Luke could barely hear that, but Jack sounds resigned, deflated.

"Jack, I'm not asking you to be perfect, but you can't be careless. You see the game like none of us can---"

"Don't sell yourself short, Schao," Luke definitely hears a smile there. And Nico lets out another huff and probably rolls his eyes at Jack.

"The way you see the ice, these mistakes...you shouldn't be making these types of mistakes, okay? The only reason you're making them is because you've gotten it into your head that its all on you. It's not. You gotta stop."

Luke's leg is cramping in the position he's sitting in on the floor next to his door, and he takes that as the sign it is and gets up, grabs his laptop and his headphones.

Nico and Jack are going to be out there for awhile still. There's a lot to get out, a lot to go over.

This is their team, after all. Nico and Jack's team.

[kcthescreamqueen]

Could i request this weird idea i had ,randy meeks x vampire fem?

Title: Bright and Unique

Of course, you can request a Randy Meeks x Female Vampire hun! Your request wasn't specific, so I went in blind. I decided to do The Vampire Diaries Cross Over with Scream since otherwise, I'd be brain-dead. Just a fair warning, I haven't had caffeine, so my brain function sucks with Exams starting in a few hours. Let me know if you, for some reason, want a Part 2! Disclaimer this will be unedited.

Word Count: 1,708 TW: Mention of bullying, Fear, Gore, and Blood/Biting

Summer in Ohio isn't like the warm summer in California, but between the events from last year and the trauma left with Syd and Randy, I got stuck in cold Ohio. Fuck Billy Loomis and Stu Macher, Which means when I'm not in class, I'm in layers of blankets on the couch. I peeked at the clock on the table and saw Randy's get here soon. I can't believe he went to class today since it's beyond freezing, but this Vampire loathes the cold, so I'm biased. 

I could hear Rany's laughter in the hallway. The sound of his laughter effortlessly caused me to smile. What happened in Woodboro left him depressed, and so did the fact Syd still hasn't figured out he was in love with her. He moved on, or at least that's what he's said. I don't believe him personally. I put my feet on the floor, and it was cold, so I got off the couch with a groan. I went to my mini fridge, that's full of tasty blood. As I grabbed a blood bag, I heard the door open and shut, followed by Randy kicking his shoes off. I shivered at the thought of walking barefoot back over the floor. 

"Lia?" I smiled at his nickname for me. I've lived for 155 years, and I've personally never had a nickname outside of my brothers, the evil asswhole - Though I still miss them occasionally. 

"Give me a sec, Randy there's coffee!" I started draining the blood into a cup I got from McDonald's. Randy doesn't have issues with my feeding, but I don't want to assume he's still okay with it after last year.

I heard him scrambling around, and then I didn't hear his movements, which was odd since he was always making noises. Randy would be moving around or picking a movie, so this silence was scary. I finished transferring the blood, and I sealed the cup, only to be met with an arm wrapping around me for a hug. I jumped from surprise, since one minute it's silent and the next I'm getting physical contact.

"Easy, it's just me," I turned around to see Randy with a smile on his face. I rolled my eyes, shaking my head at his actions. 

"Jackass, that wasn't funny." He raised his arms in defense and took a step back. He looked at my cup, "What?" I looked down and noticed I hadn't put the lid on. "Sorry," I mumbled as I grabbed the lid for the cup.

He shook his head, "No need to be sorry, you have to eat." I gave a contented smile, and I shrugged. I'm just a messy eater, and I find it embarrassing.

I carefully thought about what I'd say next for a minute, "How was class?" Randy gave a confused look but shrugged it off. He started moving toward the living room. 

"It's the usual. You know, dealing with criticism from those who find me crazy." I shook my head and sighed as I started following him closely. 

I gave a small smile when I stepped in front of him, "Randy, I've seen crazy you aren't crazy. You are bright - and - and unique." He titled his head. 

"I'm bright and unique? Who are you, and where is the real Thalia Salvatore?" I rolled my eyes at the remark and shook my head.

I turned on my heels, took a sip of my blood, and sat on the couch, covering myself up with a mountain of blankets. Randy, being Randy, grabbed a cup of coffee before plopping on the couch next to me. I knew he'd curly up under the blankets with me sooner or later. I already started throwing some of them on him. 

"I'm here and explaining, I know crazy, I've lived with crazy. Anyway, I'm thinking - Pet Sematary?" He nodded, and I smiled as I turned on the TV so we could watch Pet Sematary.

"Why am I so bright and unique to you?" I looked at him as the movie menu pulled up. I wanted to explain my reasoning to him, but it seemed too risky, seeing as sooner or later. I'd have to leave. I can't stay in one place too long. 

I gave a small laugh, "You remind me of my brother," I lied easily, though it hurt slightly, which was something new. I could lie to people without blinking, but lying to Randy hurt my soul.

"You are many things, Thalia. But you're a terrible liar." I side-eyed Randy after he said that since I've always been very persuasive. I pressed play to the movie. 

I sat quietly, watching the movie, thinking about what he said. Am I seriously losing my touch? Or am I going soft? I side-eyed Randy, this boy I swear is the only person who can make me overthink my decisions, and here I am overthinking the fact I can't lie to him. He looked at me with a confused glance. I looked back towards the TV. I moved and got comfortable, and I closed my eyes. 

I started to open my eyes again, but the movie was over. I yawned and looked over to Randy, who was asleep too. I stretched, careful not to wake him up. I smelt blood, a lot of it, which wasn't settling. I heard something on the news about someone copying Billy and Stu. I was hungry since I didn't eat much today, blood-wise. So, the blood was enough to make me thirsty, and the smell of Randy, of his blood and the pulsing being in his neck. I looked in a mirror to see my eyes going dark and veins sprouting from under my eyes. I looked away and quickly fled the room, as far away from Randy to keep him safe.

Randy woke up quickly since I stumbled into a wall, "What?" he was tired, and it showed in his voice. I shut the door, then opened my fridge and ripped a blood bag open, not caring about a mess. I just needed to keep Randy alive and safe from Ghostfaces and me. 

I slid down as I drank the cold blood. Cold wasn't ideal, but it was enough to end my cravings. The door opened as I was feeding, and Randy came in and knelt close to me. He didn't look afraid like most did when they saw me. Who I am, a monster. Once the bag was empty, I rested my head against the wall and looked toward the bathroom where a mirror where I saw blood dripping from my mouth. The sight made my eyes start to water.

"Hey Lia, it's okay." He wiped the blood away from my mouth; I shook my head, disagreeing with him, "Lia, look at me." I kept my eyes on the bathroom mirror, looking at the monster I became.

"Go, Randy. It's not safe for you in here, not right now." He shook his head, showing he wasn't leaving. 

"I'm going to quote a wise person since I know that you're being insecure, and you have every right to be, but you don't have to worry about what I think you, know why?" I shook my head to answer no. "Because you shouldn't care what people think. You're bright and unique, Lia. No matter what you feel, Lia, you're beautiful and talented." I looked up towards Randy and tilted my head.

"You think I'm beautiful?" I tried to make myself feel better by analyzing what was said, and he scoffed at my question. I looked at him, not sure what he had to say. 

"Yes, I think you're beautiful. How could I not? Honestly, only an idiot wouldn't find you beautiful." I looked up at him, and he looked down at me.

I gave a small laugh in disbelief, "This is a funny but sick joke," I added my dramatic sense and wiped an invisible tear. 

"Just take the damn compliment Jackass." Randy sighed as he held out his wrist to me, and I looked at it for a minute, not sure what he wanted me to do since I didn't feed from the vein. My control wasn't the greatest. "Eat." I looked up in his eyes, hoping he was joking. 

"Randy, no -" Randy shushed me and kept his wrist towards me, "Randy, I don't - I can't," I warned, knowing I can't - I can't feed from him without hurting him.

"You can. I know you can, Lia. You can't live off blood bags forever; sooner or later, one day, you'll have to feed from the vein." He was right, but I didn't want this to be him. I don't think I could live with myself if I hurt him. 

"Syd would kill me if I hurt you - I wouldn't - I couldn't live with myself." The look in his eyes didn't change; he had this look as if he genuinely wanted this. "Randy, I can hurt you - With my lack of control." 

"Lia, you won't, I'd tell you if you did." I know he won't change his mind, so I took his wrist and carefully brought the warm, soft flesh to my lips. "It's okay, Lia." My eyes moved from his wrist to his eyes; it was a little scary that he had such an encouraging look in his eye about this. 

I watched him as I bit into his wrist. It always hurts. I knew that from experience, so his slight flinch wasn't shocking, but it didn't make me easy. The warm blood hitting the back of my throat was an admirable feeling I hadn't had in forever. But it was for the better, and I knew that. This way of drinking was ideal - but blood from this method was more - intimidating. Somewhere in the haze, without me noticing, Randy moved me closer, resting his chin on my head as I fed, listening to his heartbeat.

"It's okay, Lia, you're doing fantastic." He whispered as he ran his hand through my fingers through my hair. His heartbeat changed, and his heart seemed to beat faster than it should've, "You're bright and unique, Lia, and apparently, I am too."

Tag List: @mbav3rdseason

[curiousquirks]

Hello curious! Could I request a Giran A-Z? I really loved your thoughts on the other characters so far! 💕

~From a starving Giran lover

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

Post sex cigarettes are mandatory, even if he was smoking during. He’s the type of person to toss a wet rag to them so they can clean up, and he might even let them take a shower first (he thinks he’s a real gentleman doing that move). He’s not too keen on being overly affectionate at all, maybe some words of affirmation and praise but nothing physically (unless it’s patting them on the head). 

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

On himself: The easy answer is his dick, the most obvious one too. Otherwise, he’d offer his forearms. A really beautiful woman had complimented them when he rolled up his sleeves and he took pride in them ever since.

On his partner: Thighs, he loves them. Especially with thigh highs and stockings. Kagero is also a sucker for lips; the little thumb biting and pouts. He eats up the lip pop art paintings too.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

When he’s finished he’ll paint their body like he’s writing his signature. He’ll mark his cum anywhere: stomach, ass, chest, legs, face. It doesn’t matter, but he does have a preference for their face. 

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has an SD card filled with filmed porn (some he is in and some he’s not). It also has a shit ton of lost/banned porn and doujinshi collections. He has a great supplier. No he won’t ever share it.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Kagero is very experienced when it comes to pleasing a partner, definitely running with a body count in the double digits. He’s not afraid of commitment at all, it’s just easier in his line of work to do things casually. He’s a lot to handle when it comes to first impressions but if his potential partner gives him a chance, then he’ll be sure to give them a good time.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying.)

Any position where he can look at his partner (especially if they have decent tits). He prefers them bouncing on his lap, doing most of the work while giving him a great view. 

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He might give a good laugh every once in a while, he doesn’t mind it. His mood can swing whichever way his partner’s mood does. He’s pretty flexible like that. 

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

Thick gray happy trail that can easily be seen if he leans back too far when he stretches. He might give himself a little trim if he thinks it’s been awhile, but only if he anticipates sex later than day.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

If they’re classy (or if he is feeling nice) he might smooth things over with a nice dinner first. His expectations and opinion of them are going to dictate how much money he’s willing to spend, so for their sake they better hope he thinks highly of them. Everything is transactional afterall. As for in the moment, he’s not going to be lighting any candles but he does have a playlist specifically to fuck someone to. No, they're not allowed to criticize his tastes.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He’ll do it around five to eight times a week. He has accounts on porn sites, with specific favorites depending on his mood. He prefers videos over pictures, he’s a simple man after all.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Pouty Bratty Subs

Cosplay/Dress Up

Leashes

Anal Sex

Fisting

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Kagero is pretty open. As long as there is some privacy, he’s willing to do just about anywhere. Anywhere that has a chair, couch, bed, ect. The location is more likely going to fit the costume that his partner is wearing, you know to get the setting right. 

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

Any person that comes up to him acting boldly. If they’re blunt and honest about their intentions, he’ll quickly and eagerly indulge them. Kagero is easily put, just a simple man. A lot turns him on. A woman's breasts being visible, someone bending over in just the right way, pouting lips, placing a hand on his leg, whispering in his ear. It doesn’t take much for him to get hard.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Strap-ons/anal (receiving). He loves anal, but he’s not too keen on being the one on the receiving end.

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

He obviously has a preference in receiving and he’s quite a talker during it too. He has no problem giving, in exchange of the favor returned of course. Average skill, nothing too fancy but he’s not too bad. He prefers doing other things instead.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Fond of fast and sensual. His method of “taking his time” is alternating between the two, since he doesn’t like going slow. 

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

It’s a personal favorite, it allows him to get right back to business. Kagero can squeeze them right into his schedule and still have plenty of energy to do more later. Who doesn’t love a quick mind clearing orgasm on a smoke break?

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Open to trying some new things, if his partner puts up a decent argument and it’s not something he deems outlandish. As for risks? He’s willing to let there be some risks, like getting caught or even catching something. But something like knocking someone up? Oh no, they better be taking birth control because he likes fucking raw. 

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He averages around half an hour (if it’s not a quickie of course), sometimes longer depending on the circumstances. He can usually come twice, rather quickly back to back. 

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He owns a closet dedicated to various costume pieces, kink gear, and toys. He’ll pick up new pieces sometimes with new partners. Also a small trunk with various things like leashes, collars, vibrators, dildos, ect in it. He will exclusively have them used on his partner. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves when his partner is a brat, giving him an attitude and trying to test him. It’s adorable. He’ll have them begging soon enough. 

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s a grunter; that and some heavy dialogue is all you’d get out of him. He will encourage his partner to be loud though. He doesn’t want anyone to see him having sex but everyone is welcome to hear them. 

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Kagero is 100% done to use sex as a way to clear certain fees, get rid of some debt, or give a discount on a price he’s given. He loves money and prefers it but he’s willing to at least compensate them something in exchange.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Around five inches, and he’s very insistent on his partner knowing that he’s a grower. It’s pretty thick and girthy though with a prominent vein on the bottom.

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

Some would say near constant. He’s thinking of sex multiple times a day. It doesn’t take much for him to get going and he’s always ready for a ride. 

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depends on what he was doing. If it was a good proper session, he might actually pass out mid cigarette.

[thebrotherscurtis]

"Brother’s Day”

Links: A03. FF.net. Wattpad.

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns all characters.

Summary: Oneshot. Four reasons Darry thinks he is a lousy father to Pony.

I. You know fuck all about raising a teenage kid.

Small children tend to their toys better than you play parent, and sometimes the day-to-day questions torment you the most.

For the sixth morning in a row, Pony shovels a giant slice of cake on his plate. Should he really eat sweets for breakfast, lunch, and dinner?

"Maybe you oughta have some eggs or bacon. Look at you, you're skin and bone. People'll think I ain't feeding you. Fix yourself something else, anything else."

"You never gave a shit before." He shrugs and jabs his fork into a second piece; on purpose, too, because he usually only takes one. "Why now?"

"I mean, in addition to cake."

"If I wanted eggs and bacon, I'd've made eggs and bacon."

"Look, alls I'm saying is it wouldn't kill you to eat a little protein. My football coach would've force fed me liver if I ate the shit you do every day. Your track coach, what's-his-name, Mr. James? Jones? Jenkins?"

"Jacobs."

"Mr. Jacobs'd hate this, and you know it."

"Well"—he glances around the room and shrugs—"Mr. Jacobs ain't here, so I'm eating cake today, tomorrow, the next day, and the day after that, too."

And this is the part where you ask yourself if it's worth the fight. Pick your battles, as your old man used to say. Still, your inner critic scolds you. Maybe this is the fight that's worth it. Maybe a normal parent wouldn't give up so damn early. Maybe a real father would shove a pound of bacon in his face and keep him at the table until he ate it all.

"Cake it is then. But you're eating a real lunch."

"Uh-huh."

He won't. He'll devour the rest of the pan just to spite you.

II. You're lucky as shit he's your brother, and yet, you never appreciate it.

Curly's back in the reformatory, and your kid brother's idea of rebellion is reading all of Gone With the fucking Wind instead of cleaning his room.

"I swear on the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, I'll lock you in here till I can see the floor."

"Go ahead." He turns a page. "I'm at the best part. I ain't going nowhere."

You roll your eyes and slam the door on your way out.

Soda's on the couch, laughing his ass off. "Wait. You really thought you could pull him away from his favorite book?"

"Shut up. It's your room too. Could just as soon lock you in there too."

"But you won't."

"But you won't," you mock, sinking into the armchair.

He's right, you won't.

And deep down, you know you're lucky. Compared to Curly, Dallas, Steve, Two-Bit, Soda, you—God weren't you a delight at fourteen—he's pretty damn well-behaved for a teenager.

And somehow still too much for you to handle.

III. You get so mad at him you scare yourself.

Yell over talk. Threaten over teach. React over respond. Every time he checks into the Twilight Zone, you lose your shit. If he'd just pay attention … If he'd just keep his brain on planet Earth …

"I'm working a double," you tell your brothers, and brothers plural. "Won't be back till late, so y'all are on your own for dinner."

Soda salutes you. "Aye-aye, Superman."

Pony idly looks up from his book. "Huh?"

"You tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"You tell me," you repeat, fists clenched. "Word for word, tell me what I just fucking said."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll clean my room before you get home."

"That ain't what I said."

"Sorry." His nose is already back in that damn book. "Guess I didn't hear you."

Sorry this. Sorry that. I didn't hear you this. I wasn't thinking that.

Count to ten. Like Soda says, count. to. ten. One, two … don't say anything … three, four … don't do anything … five, six, Soda heard you and'll repeat it the second you're gone … seven … but when Soda says it, he'll listen … eight … goddamn kid never listens to you … nine—

You rip the book from his hands and hurl it on the floor. "I said I won't be home till late."

"Easy, man." Soda smacks your arm and steps in front of Pony. "It ain't a big deal."

Pony retrieves the book and stomps off to his room. He flips you the bird, and you return the gesture.

Soda's right. It ain't a big deal. Logically, you know that, but the side of the brain that knows can't get the other to calm the fuck down.

It ain't Pony's fault you're pulling a double shift. It ain't Pony's fault you haven't slept a full night since the accident. It ain't Pony's fault you're an asshole. "Pony," you call out to his closed door, "if you wanna smoke more than a pack today, go ahead."

If he hears you, it's a peace offering. If he doesn't, well, good.

IV: He considers your feelings, but you can't make sense of his.

"Happy Brother's Day, I guess." Pony shoves a hand-drawn card in front of you. "I know you ain't Dad, but still thought I should do something."

You open it and can't even register or digest the words. They span the entire card, and he probably put a thousand times more thought into them than you did his birthday gift.

"Thank you." You shoot up and wrap both arms around him tight. Thank you is all you can produce. He's the wordsmith of the family, not you.

"Jesus, don't crush me. You trying to kill me?"

"Nah, not today at least." You let go and gently pat his back. "Listen, you're an all right kid, Pony. I mean that. Ignore me when I tell you otherwise."

"Yeah, okay." Now he can't find his words. "I mean thanks." Face beet red, he moves to slink away just as fast as he'd slipped the card in front of you.

"Hey, wait." You sling an arm around his shoulder and pull him back. "Wanna go to Dairy Queen or a movie or something? I mean, for Father— Brother's Day. I got the day off."

"They aren't open on Sundays."

Shit. So much for that.

"But next time you time got the day off"— he leans into the embrace—"I'd like that."

He can read you like he reads his books, and you, you'll never find the right way you say you love him.

So instead, you'll suffer through one of his movies to show him you love him.

And you do love him.

Just as a brother.

You'll never be his father.

[insomanic-fanfication]

🌹🍃Tim Drake SFW Alphabet🍃🌹

Small note: Tim's age, like everyone in god damn DC, is all over the place. So in mind he's 20-21, youngest maybe 19.

Cw: mention of Self harm.

The alphabet is under the cut.

Affection: (How affectionate are they, How do they show it?)

Tim no doubtable has a lotta baggage and the social skills of a damp couch. So, his way of showing affection would be through acts of service. He may sit a little too close to you if he feels bold. But, besides that, he'll probably make you your favorite drink when he goes to make himself another cup of coffee. Later in the relationship, though, he will be very affectionate.

Best friend: (What are they like has a best friend? How would you become friends?)

With how unhinged Tim is sometimes, it's only appropriate for you two to become friends that way. You were new to the team and ran into each other in the kitchen at a god-awful hour. Crackhead energy at the highest levels has you both trying not to laugh hysterically at something that wasn't funny, so you wouldn't wake up the others. Under his breath, Tim said, 'Road work a head..' You, not missing a beat, said, 'Uh yea, I sure hope it does.'

On the other hand, if you are a civi', you probably found him either hurt or tired where he'll be lying outside your window. 'Ya know, I think my couch would be more comfortable than that slab of concrete.', 'Oh, you think so?'. Then it just went from there.

Cuddles: (Do they like to cuddle? How would they?)

Tim was neglected by his parents all his childhood, and while working under Batman, Tim was the parent more than Batman. So Tim is very touch-starved, like most of the Robins.

Does that mean he will ask for cuddles? Fuck no, he's burning the candle at both ends; he doesn't have time to step back. But, most of the time, if you pull him into a hug or carry him away to cuddle, though. Depending on his mood, he'll melt into you, the exhaustion finally hitting him. If he's in a different perspective, he'll glare at you getting frustrated.

Domestic: (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking at cleaning?)

Yes and No, So Tim never wanted to be Robin permanently. He initially became Robin because he saw how Batman was spiraling without one. So he would love to, at least, get an apartment for you both to share. Spending those "married" moments with you, I don't see him as the type to want kids, though.

Cooking is very 50/50 with Tim; he can make easy foods, like steak and potatoes. It's just a matter of, 'Does he have the energy to??'. He would need you to body double with him so he doesn't feel overwhelmed.

Ending: (If they had to break up? How would they?)

Honestly, Tim would try to suppress everything and try to keep it together. Because, in his mind, if he can't control himself, he fears that everything around him will fall apart.

But, at some point, he will just have a full-on breakdown. Curled into a ball, shaking and crying, probably Self-harm, if not heavily overthinking and unhealthy self-criticism.

Fiance: (How do they feel about commitment? How long until they pop the question?)

Tim wouldn't be the type to even think about marriage until he is sure you both are in the long run. Even then, he would also be terrified one of you may die tomorrow.

He likes to plan things out; he'll probably have a sit-down conversation about his feelings. Then ask if you want to be married and have that extra reassurance that the other isn't leaving anytime soon.

Gentle: (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Tim would be distant for the 1st month or so. Not because you make him uncomfortable or anything. It's just that it will take him some time to get used to being vulnerable around you after that milestone and the shit ton of anxiety of possibly making a mistake. He is gentle but more an act of service type. Always ask if you would like a drink when he fills his mug with his next cup of coffee. Leaning on you for support.

I know that even if he has his own room in the base, he'll want to sleep in your bed with you, just cuddle and feel that closeness. Won't go easy on you during training, though.

Hugs: (Do they like hugs? How often do they hug? What are their hugs like?)

He wouldn't initiate too many of your hugs, but he will never complain if you hug him from behind while he does his work.

When he does initiate them, they are pretty timid or awkward. But, once he's comfortable, what they lack in strength, they make up for in time. He likes longer hugs.

I love you: (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Tim would chicken out a lot for the 1st; I love you. Overthinking of when's the correct time, how soon is too soon.

How it ended up happening wasn't planned. He returned from a mission with his team and was settling back into his routine at the base. While you two were cuddling and watching a movie, Tim noticed you were looking at him. Turning to face you with a questioning look, you leaned in, stopping where your noses brushed each other. Letting him choose to fill the empty space or back up. He hesitantly leaned in, your eyes fluttering closed as your lips connected. Tim touched the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. You mirror the action but cupping his face. When you both slowly parted, resting your foreheads on each other. It took a bit for Tim to open his eyes again when he did. His eyes met yours, and he whispered the 3 words, 'I love you.' 'I love you too.'

Jealousy: (Do they get Jealous? What they do?)

Yes, he does get jealous. But I think he gets panicked away more, like if he notices you and Dick talking a little more than usual. He starts to overthink, that maybe he's not good enough for you. Though, he tends to keep his thoughts to himself. He definitely, would need a lot of reassurance early in the relationship. Especially when he was still struggling with feeling like a shitty partner for taking so long to fully open up to you.

Kissing: (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss? Where do they like to be kissed?)

While hyper-focused on a case or around his friends and family, he probably would only like small kisses or pecks on the cheek. Though, when you are alone, Tim enjoys longer kisses that leave you both panting much more.

Also, simultaneously finding out he likes when you take a more controlling approach with them. Besides the lips, he would like to kiss the back of your hands or knuckles. For him, his neck, it just makes him feel really close to you.

Little ones: (How are they around children?)

For the most part, he's okay with babysitting. However, he would get more frustrated the longer he watches one. He's used to managing Damian because Tim is one of the middle children of the bat family. He might get short-tempered quickly, though he may be fine babysitting Jon.

Contrary to popular belief, Tim would be much better with a baby than a young toddler. (9 months -5 yrs old). He canonically fought a 10-year-old that was talking shit.

Morning: ( How are Mornings spent with them?)

Unlike Dick, Tim is an Early bird and Night owl. Though he needs his morning caffeine, many people say he's only a coffee drinker, but I call it bullshit. This mother fucker has the same amount of stashed energy drinks all over Gotham that Bruce has weapons in the manor.

Tim is very quiet in the morning and could be more talkative. He'll likely be leaning into your side with your arm around his midsection, enjoying a morning cup of coffee. While Tim re-reads recent notes from last night to see if they make sense.

Nights: (How are Nights spent?)

In this case, Tim at night is very different from morning. He suffers from insomnia, which was much worse before you two started dating. Whether you are autistic too or only Tim, it doesn't matter. Tim will begin to mirror you to a point.

So he'll probably start going to bed when you do, which is if you also have insomnia?? That's gonna be fun for the others. Many nights will be when one of you can't sleep, so you both stay up talking while cuddling.

Open: (When would they start revealing things about themselves? All at once or over time)

Tim is like a stray cat when it comes to opening up to people; you can't force him to; you have to be patient and let him take his time. Because of this, you have to be ready to play that long game. Once he's opened up, you will have the sweetest partner ever. Though, that doesn't mean he'll always be fine and happy. Along with opening up, he'll start to tell you more about his mental health. His trauma, his suicidal thoughts. It's a double-edged sword; you must be ready for it.

Patience: (How easily angered are they?)

I don't see Tim losing his patience quickly unless you do something to intentionally grind his gears.

If he feels like you are pushing his buttons and boundaries too much.

Quizzes: (They remember everything or nothing?)

With how much Tim "Tsim," Drake hyperfocused on Batman and stalked him and Dick. Tim remembers everything about you instead of the reason being stalking. He's just highly anxious that he'll get something wrong. People pleaser... He wants to ensure he gets everything right; he also loves hearing you speak.

Remember: (What is their favorite memory in the relationship?)

Tim likes the little details, which is probably why he fell in love in the first place. You give him an ear while he tries to put some pieces together. You make/buy him lunch when he forgets to eat.

One of his favorites is your first date. Both of you were so nervous about it; it was at one of the malls in Gotham. By the end of the date, the nervousness was mainly gone. With both of you talking and laughing, but what he really loved about it. Was that you both could be in comfortable silence, without the need to fill it with useless noise.

Security: ( How protective are they? How would you protect each other?)

Tim is highly protective; when on missions together, he has to be able to at least see a spec of you. Especially after he thought Kon-el FUCKING DIED.

You watch each other's back on and off the field if he can't come on a mission with you. He will drag Kon's ass to make sure you don't die.

Try: ( How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, etc?)

He would give you gifts but won't drown you with them. He'll note things you've needed or wanted, then give you them on the closest holiday.

Dates, for Tim, would be a night in which you both are watching a movie. Or if you're both on patrol, you'll have little picnic dates. Dick has found you both eating takeout on the rooftops many times.

Ugly: (What are some bad habits of theirs?)

Do you like having your clothes? Well, not anymore! Tim will wear your clothes when his clothes need to be cleaned, and he doesn't have time for laundry. It doesn't matter if you are 3x bigger than him, your clothes will be stolen. Will give most back, but he'll keep a couple to sleep in.

He's an insomniac and a power napper, will, and has fallen asleep in the most uncomfortable place. But, if a pin drops, he's up and alerted.

Vanity: (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Since Tim is seen around Bruce often and is in the public eye, he keeps up his appearance. But, like, not extra. He keeps his hair clean and maintained, showering at least twice a week or whenever his brain deems he needs a shower. Depending on if his mental health wins one way or another.

He only trims his hair when it gets in the way or makes him feel static. It can NOT touch his lower nape; he cannot focus on anything else until it's gone.

Whole: (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes, when you're gone, he'll feel like there's an empty hole left behind. He would try to move on and probably spend months crying about your death. Like, I think he did with Conner's death. Grief and depression would hit him like a brick.

Xtra: (Random headcanon for them)

He has a secret mini fridge in the Wanye Manor for when Bruce decides to be an ass and cut his caffeine off.

The only person who knows where the fridge is is Alfred. Alfred and Tim have a truce. Batman and the others don't learn about the mini fridge; Tim doesn't tell the others where Alfred's liquor stash is.

Yuck: (What are somethings they don't like, in general or in a partner?)

Tim can't stand people that use him for bragging rights; he likes to feel he is an equal. Not a trophy you put on a shelf and forgot about.

Zzz: (What is a sleeping habit of theirs?)

When Tim falls asleep, he's a very light sleeper. Tim's eyes are opened to see what's going on if you sit up. He likes to sleep up angst you or hold your hand. Knowing you're still there with him is just a comfort thing.

At most, he'll sleep for 5 hours. Solid sleep? Doesn't exist for him; he'll go back somewhat into consciousness every now and then.

[babiebom]

The Woman Who Fell to Earth(prologue)

A/N: I am almost done with Doctor Who and I am trying to find ways to procrastinate finishing because I do not want it to end. I am obsessed with the Master which is the worst decision I have made seeing as he is not in every single episode. If you are reading this and enjoy it, feel free to give me constructive criticism on things I can improve on. I'm trying to write my own book and would like to write it as well as I can!

Tw: none? Maybe blood, and cursing?

Genre: multichapter fic

WC: 1.1k

Next Masterlist

Blinding light and burning cells takes over her entire being. The fire that shot through her veins made her want to cry out in pain, every single atom of her being burned with the fire of a billion dying stars. Dying and regenerating had never been easy, no matter how many times she had done it. She could feel the hair growing longer out of her head, she could feel her legs shifting growing longer and shorter before settling at the length they wanted. By the time she was done she was breathless, exhausted, and in dire need of a nap. 

The Tardis was aflame, thanks to her recent regeneration and she struggled to try and get it under control, losing her grip more than once as she tried to get the machine to land somewhere safe. The Tardis shook and groaned as it plummeted down towards whatever planet she had ended up on, ignoring her attempts in favor of saving itself. Things exploded and burst as the flames licked up the walls, destroying everything in its path. While this was normal with every new life, it was still painful to watch someone, something she cared about, be destroyed even if it would give way for something new. 

The woman is flung away from the console, her bones jolting inside her as the Tardis finally crashed onto what she hoped was solid ground. Taking in a deep breath, gasping for air, she flings open the doors to take a look at where she had landed. 

Green grass waved softly in the breeze, the stars twinkling so clearly, the woman almost thought she wasn't on Earth, but the smell of the lake and the dirt and the feel of oxygen in her lungs comforted her, as if she were in a place similar to home. The inside of the Tardis exploded behind her, making her lose her footing and launching her outwards. With a soft 'oof' the woman lands on the ground, face down into the grass. 

"What the fuck?" A small voice sounds from above her, it sounds dangerously close to being a kid.

"Hey, language!" She replies without thinking, still face down.

"Ma'am?" She looks up to see a young boy, light freckles across his face, dark hair fluffy atop his head.

"Ma'am? Oh…so I'm a woman again, cool." The woman rolls onto her back, then quickly jumps up to her feet, wobbling in place. 

"Are you okay?" The boy asks, eyeing the Tardis behind her. 

"Um, yes, well I think so, well, not really…do you happen to have somewhere I could take a nap?"

The boy tilts his head in confusion, so the woman gestures to the Tardis behind her as if everything should've been obvious. "My Tardis is kind of…indisposed right now."

"It's on fire." The boy replies, eyes darting up to the blue box then back down to her, looking quite unamused.

"Yeah, that's what I meant. Now about that place to nap."

The boy sneaks her into his room, which was very easy seeing as his room was in the basement. The woman looks at him as if it was normal for her to have someone sneak into their homes, as if the old police box she had fallen out of normally caught fire and appeared out of nowhere. 

"So," the woman begins while settling on the couch, "do you sneak strange people into your house often?" 

The boy quirked up an eyebrow and shook his head. The woman nodded in relief and looked at him quite seriously. "Good, you shouldn't bring just anyone into your home. You shouldn't trust everyone you meet."

"So I shouldn't trust you?" He asks, the woman shakes her head in response.

"Well, I'm not included in that I'm the Doctor! Of course you can trust me!" 

"The Doctor?"

"Yup, that's my name!"

The boy stares at the woman in confusion, they're both silent for a second before she begins to hyperventilate. "So…"

"Sebastian."

"Sebastian! Right! I'm going to pass out very soon! Thank you for giving me a place to rest. It's very kind of you."

The boy nods as the woman opens her mouth as if she's going to speak again only for her body to slump over forwards, crashing into the floor below her. With a gasp, Sebastian hurries forward checking with his eyes that the woman wasn't injured or dead. It only takes him a second to decide that he's going to get her back onto the couch, and it takes all of his strength and ten whole minutes to move the woman's body in a way that looks somewhat comfortable and to put a blanket over her so she doesn't get cold.

He watched her for a while, she was perfectly still, as if she had died except for her chest rising and falling with her breaths. He settled in his bed, not really believing he had witnessed this woman appear out of nowhere, and let his mind wander with explanations of who she could possibly be. She had said words he didn't understand completely, like referring to the police box as a Tardis. He wondered how she got it to move and how she got it to catch on fire. Maybe he could ask when they wake up in the morning. He's going to have to sneak her out of here anyways, though he doubts his mom or new step father would notice anyways. 

Waking up in the morning, Sebastian's eyes immediately find the small couch in the corner of his room. His heart and curiosity deflate upon seeing the couch empty, the blanket laying messily on the side of it. He fought the tears that threatened to leave his eyes, telling himself that being disappointed and feeling abandoned by a person he didn't even know was stupid, if his dad could leave him why wouldn't a random woman?

He got dressed in an almost frenzy, his clothes messy as he emerged from his room and into the kitchen just in time to be able to eat breakfast before he had to get on the bus to get to school. He ignores the disappointment in his chest as neither his mother nor his stepfather ask him if he's okay, both of them more preoccupied with his younger sister who was babbling and making baby noises as she received attention from her parents. 

He leaves the house alone, sad and wishing the woman and her Tardis would return and take her with him, or that she would at least answer his questions before disappearing again. 

He knows she has to be real, he knows that one day he will see her again.

[loosesodamarble]

Zora x Odette C6 please 🙏

I see your strategy here is to skip the fluff of unnecessary pleasantries to get straight to the fluff of shipping. 🤣 Valid tactic there. 👍

Summary: Zora and Odette may sass each other any chance they get, but that doesn't mean they don't know the meaning of romance. Genre: romance, fluff Word count: ~800

..........

It was days like these, where he dragged his feet when he returned home from an extended job, that made Zora regret becoming a Magic Knight. Sure, he enjoyed the pay and being praised as a hero. Even better, he could correct the many wrongs and corruptions of the Magic Knight system from the inside out. It was a good deal, all things considered.

That didn’t stop him from being tired though.

With a groan, Zora collapsed onto the couch in the living room of the apartment he called home.

“Who are you and what did you do with my boyfriend?” a teasing voice asked. Zora looked up and was greeted by the sight of his fellow Black Bull and girlfriend, Odette, standing over him.

“I am him. Or did you go blind while I was away?” Zora snidely remarked.

“I’m not blind. I just don’t see the sharp-toothed grin and confident stride that Zora Ideale tends to have,” answered Odette while crossing her arms and wearing a sassy smirk. Even when doing something simple, she looked so alive. “So?”

“I’m being worked like a dog, dustbunny,” Zora groaned. He reached out and Odette slipped her hand into his. “Lemme be fucking exhausted.”

“Hmm… Well, since you asked so nicely—” Odette was cut off by her own snickering. “Okay. You take it easy.” She crouched down and pecked Zora on the lips.

“Thanks a million, sweet cheeks.” Zora reached to kiss Odette back.

However, Odette reeled away and even stood upright. With a disgusted look on her face, she said, “Bleugh. Not after a nickname like that.”

“Hah? What’s so wrong with it?” Zora asked, pushing himself into a sitting position. “You’re sweet to me and you’ve got a cute butt; it works!”

“It makes you sound like a sleazeball!” criticized Odette as she flicked Zora’s forehead. “Can’t you, I dunno, say you love me like a normal boyfriend?”

“If you start expecting me to wax poetic like Finral, we’re over.”

Odette snorted, “Yeah, I’d totally break up with you if you started that.”

She and Zora snickered together. Then, Odette sat herself down on Zora’s lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. He caught her and hooked his arms around her waist. They looked each other in the eyes for a moment.

“But just… ‘I love you.’ Is that too much to ask?”

“Are all the kisses and compliments and adventures and books in the world not a clear enough sign for you?” Zora’s voice carried a teasing tone. His hands slowly moved up and down Odette’s side, handling her with care as always. “I think you might be denser than Yami or Asta.” One of Zora’s hands moved to rest on Odette’s back. The other caressed her leg. He drummed his fingers along her thigh.

“I know the saying is that ‘actions speak louder than words,’” Odette started while pressing herself closer to Zora. “But sometimes, a girl wants a small and quiet sign. You know?”

“Well now I do,” Zora sighed.

It wasn’t that Zora didn’t love Odette. He did. So much that it made him feel silly. Zora knew no other woman like Odette and felt something he never felt towards anyone else. But to say it out loud. Flirting and holding each other came easy to Zora. It was indirect. The spoken word was damning. And if Zora confessed something that left him as vulnerable as love, he feared that he might regret it.

Odette held one of Zora’s shoulders and carded her other hand through his hair. Zora leaned into her touch and rested his forehead on her shoulder.

Walls. They both had them. But Odette let her walls fall with him. So…

“I love you, Odette.” Zora's chest felt light as he said those words.

A beat.

“I love you, too, Zora.” There was a smile in her voice.

Zora felt his chin be lifted up before Odette’s plush lips pressed against his.

“I’ll go make us dinner.”

Zora flopped back down and listened to Odette as she worked her usual magic in the kitchen. However, instead of singing which usually accompanied her cooking, there was laughter instead. Not a sharp snicker as he was used to. But a gentle, maiden-like giggle.

Zora tilted his head over the arm of the couch to get a good look at Odette.

“What are you laughing about?”

“I’m just happy to hear that you love me.”

Odette turned and smiled at Zora. And that grin, over something as simple as three words, made her glow.

Zora moved his head to be upright once more. Not only for the sake of comfort, but also to hide the furious blush that came to his face. Well now he had to start saying it more often.