#He gets a good business partner and a son-in-law

[coffee-and-casefiles]

I fully understand that the reason Bobby Glass insisted on Eddie being involved with the car theft in episode 3 (when it had nothing to do with him) was because he wanted Eddie to sink deeper into that world, and realize how much he fit in.

However it is deeply funny to me to imagine that Bobby just wanted to set up Eddie and Susie.

#The Gentlemen #Eddie Horniman #Susie Glass #I know it was all part of his bigger plan #But look jail gets boring #And Susie said she doesn't have much of a social life #He gets a good business partner and a son-in-law #What a visionary

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Parents don’t approve of Dead on main

Fentons are geniuses but not multitaskers. They’re used to giving their all to the most important thing on the list, forgetting even food and sleep, and then going back to something else.

So when they find out that Danny is Phantom, they panic and can’t think of anything else. Well, until they see the Gotham News on TV. What does it matter if their boy’s ghost or not? He's in bad company now and dating a crime lord! That's a real problem. No time to whine about their research about the nature of ghosts. Their boy is in danger! Change of priorities, urgent change of priorities!

~~~~~

So, when Danny moves in with Jason because of identity reveal, Batman prepares for various outcomes. To the flow of GIWs in Gotham, to the parents of the boy who may continue to hunt him and even to the likelihood that Maddie and Jack will accept their child without any questions. Bruce is a genius, but he forgets to include one important variable in the equation, namely his son. Despite the anti-hero’s current status, Red Hood is still remembered by the general public for his bloody methods of controlling Crime Alley. Which could definitely bother..anyone, to be honest. And it's understandable that video of Red Hood and Phantom beating Black Mask up on news did not make a pleasant first impression.

However, Bruce himself know a completely different side of his son and therefore could not tolerate the completely unfounded accusations from Maddie. Batman: How dare you! My boy is an angel. Your son is incredibly lucky to have such a thoughtful and caring partner. Jack: Yeah? I don't think so. How do we know he’s not just going to use Danno powers in his criminal plans? Maddie: We’re taking our boy home and it’s out of the question. Batman: Yeah? And how do we know you’re not just taking him for your experiments? Danny *whispers*: Um, Jay, we should go away, if you remember. Red Hood *whispers*: Yeah, yeah, I know. But just listen to it. Usually we can not get a word out of him. A temporary cure for emotional constipation is a true miracle. May your parents stay longer if, you know, they will not try to shoot you or smth else?

~~~~~

Maddie at home*aggressively filing a petition against anti-ecto laws*: I don’t care if the parental rights aren’t over the ghosts. How dare a bloody furry tell me I have no official right to take my son home and shove my own quotes in my face calling him a thing?!

Vlad who has long wanted to get rid of GIW *enters the house*: Bonjour, need a helping hand? Jack and Maddie *exchange glances without knowing if Danny’s secret should be revealed to their friend*. Vlad: Oh, for Ancients’s sake. *Snaps his fingers and goes Plasmius* Vlad: I’m also a stakeholder in it, okay? ~~~after two hours of talking~~~ Jack: Wait, V-man, if you know about Danny being Phantom, you know about his boyfriend too? Vlad: Red Hood? How could I not. I often visit Gotham for business deals. This is a favorite topic of newspapers and gossip. I don’t know who he is without a mask but I must admit the guy has a good aim, a lot better than you, Jack. Maddie: *pulls out the Ghost Peeler*

#dpxdc #dcxdc #dpxdc prompt #dpxdc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dead on main #dead on main ship

[lilac-5ky]

The Assistant (officeAU!Geto x Fem!Reader x officeAU!Gojo)

based on this request, tumblr hates me.

Plot: Senior Partner at the prestigious Gojo Group's legal department, Geto Suguru never expected to fall for his newly-hired personal assistant. But when his lifelong best friend and boss takes an interest in you, Suguru fins his own feelings rapidly escalating into an uncontrollable obsession.

Tags: Office!AU, Geto POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Secretary!Reader, Lawyer!Geto, CEO!Gojo, Office Sex, Oral Sex (m.receiving), Doggy Style, Degradation, Praise, Pining, Jealousy, Obsession, Sexual Coercion, Abuse of Authority, don't get your hopes up; this isn't a threesome, MDNI obviously.

A/N: Number one bestie, you still owe me Gojo smut. But here, 14k words to quench your thirst for Suguwu.

Masterlist | AO3 | Requests

“How about this one? She’s pretty hot, don’t you think, Suguru?” Satoru waves yet another paper in Suguru’s face, his excitement wearing off the moment he catches his best friend pinching his nose bridge between his fingers.

“Satoru, we are picking associate candidates, not swimming-suit contest winners.” Suguru chides in a calm tone, crossing out the woman’s name from his list with a red line that’s identical to the line above and the ones that rank above it too.

This is the 78th candidate whose CV is rejected by the two men, their task of finding Suguru the perfect assistant turning rather daunting after five emptied cups of instant coffee.

Suguru insisted he could’ve done it alone—similar to how he’d insisted he could’ve kept handling his own affairs by himself and argued against a congratulatory party in honor of his promotion. But certain wishes outweigh others, and in the legal department of Gojo Enterprises, Satoru’s word is as good as the law—one of the many perks that come with being the president’s only son.

“What’s wrong with swimming suit contests?” The white-haired man sulks, long limbs hanging gracelessly from over his chair’s backrest. He zooms in on the woman’s picture one final time before crumpling the paper into a ball that’s flung straight into the garbage bin by the door. "Hey, that was a three-pointer!"

Sigh.

Even though the two of them have been friends since Suguru can remember himself, sometimes it feels as if only one of them outgrew their fourth-grade selves. It’s nothing new for Satoru to confuse play time with work time, yet as the man who will come to inherit the entire Gojo empire, he should at least focus on how to better the company, not tear it apart.

“Nothing wrong with swimming suits or gravure models, but we should choose someone based on their skills. Remember what your father always says: a business is only as successful as—”

“‘Its team is,’ yeahyeahyeah , spare me the preach. My ears are tired of that old man’s nagging.” Satoru spins around in his chair, the rollers squeaking under his weight. “Just because someone’s pretty doesn’t mean they can’t be competent. Take me for example.” His thumb and forefinger shape an angle below his chin.

A quiet chuckle evades Suguru as he sorts the files before him and slides the next batch across Satoru’s side of the table. “Fine, if we don’t find someone who checks both criteria, then you can be my assistant.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Satoru rips another instant coffee packet open. “My hands are full already.” Throwing his head back, he empties the powder into his mouth and washes it around until the sugary substance dissolves.

“I can see that,” Suguru murmurs, masking his distaste by returning to work.

The stacks of paper soon decline, with Satoru needing a cursory look to dismiss the candidates and Suguru meticulously processing their accomplishments down to their high school extracurricular activities. Work at the firm is hard enough as is. He’s seen far too many young, ambitious interns crack under pressure and pop pills into their mouths like candy just so they can keep up.

Narrowing down his options, Suguru gets a decent idea of what he’s looking for: adaptability, flexibility, and drive. Those traits are common to all three finalists, with two of them having touched a variety of fields and the other having a background in volunteer work.

He’s all but decided on candidate number 99 when a paper plane crashes into the side of his head.

“Oops!” Satoru’s shoulders scrunch up coyly, though both he and his partner know it was very much intentional.

Suguru catches the plane, appreciating the craftsmanship behind the carefully folded wings, before he sets it on the table.

“Satoru.” His voice gains a slight edge after he spots candidate 42’s face decorating the underside of the aircraft, a comically large mustache drawn on top. “Was anyone else to your liking, or did the rest become fodder for your fleet?”

He watches his friend fish a paper crane out of his jacket, clearly pleased with himself, and he has every right to be, considering the paper is seamlessly trimmed without any scissors. Cute. Suguru smiles, withholding his praise lest it become another point of distraction.

Rolling his chair away, Satoru jumps up and slams the desk with enough force to break it. “Number 98!” He declares.

“98?” Suguru asks, and in seconds, Satoru is found hovering above his shoulder, one hand drumming against the leather chair and the other covering the (presumed) woman’s picture.

“Good grades, prestigious papers, and all that education shit you’re so fond of.” His forefinger trails between the lines. “University of Tokyo, Department of—blah blah , Essex something something, worked three years as a paralegal for the Kamos. Whole damn package, and the best thing?” He draws his palm away, slowly enough to build anticipation. “She’s drop-dead gorgeous.”

“Satoru, I told you—”

Whatever was supposed to complete that sentence withers at the tip of Suguru’s tongue, amber irises blown as they take in every detail of your face, animating your features as if you’re truly there with them, and for a moment, he tricks himself into thinking you are.

He sees your lips—those pretty lips he swears taste like honey without kissing them—drawing away from your teeth, the mellifluous sound of your laughter coating the rumble of prints being made somewhere in the background. He knows that a picture can’t possibly hold such power, and yet the subtle floral notes in your perfume reach him, prevailing so easily over the stench of ink and coffee and enchanting him into agreeing with his friend.

She is gorgeous. Perhaps the most gorgeous woman he’s laid eyes on.

You are.

“Come on, Suguru. This one’s super cute!” Satoru argues in your favor, his jaw piercing his friend’s shoulder. “Seriously, if you’re not hiring her, then I am. I can always lay off one of my—”

“Looks like you are off the hook, Satoru. This one will do.”

“And this is the kitchen. I recommend making the most of our espresso maker or heading to the cafeteria on the first floor—unless you don’t mind your coffee tasting like watered-down sugar.” Suguru nods toward the pyramid of instant coffee boxes stacked in the corner, conscious of the doe eyes that track his every gesture.

The picture barely did you any justice. You are so much prettier in person with your well-fitting two-piece suit and the pocket notebook you carry, penning down everything he says, down to the locations of kitchenware and the names of employees you meet along the way. He can’t tell whether you’re not confident enough in your ability to memorize things or simply overzealous. No matter the case, he finds your little habit endearing, but then again, the opinion of a man who endeared himself to you ahead of your acquaintance is not to be taken at face value.

“What’s the matter?” He cocks his head to the side, gaze drawn to the pen stilled in your grasp. “Too much info?”

“More like too many handles and blinking lights. One wrong button, and the whole building detonates.” You glance at him over the pages, your tone delineating a smile he cannot see.

He returns it, piecing the bang that typically never bothers him behind his ear. “Sato—I mean, Senior Partner Gojo received this as a gift from Zen’in Naobito when we moved to this building.”

“Is that so? I thought Zen’in Group was notoriously at odds with Gojo Group.”

“Oh, they are. But it’s common business tactics to trade one overpriced gift for another to see who breaks bank first.” Suguru hums, grabbing a clean mug from the rack and initiating the twelve-step process required to brew a single cup of coffee. “If I remember correctly, our side sent them a private sushi chef. His work hours were paid; the fish, not so much. Sugar?” He smirks, stirring the amount you call in your coffee.

“What happened after? Off the record.” You tap your notebook shut, and the smile he thought he heard is there, seen on your lips and felt in his heart, warmer than the beverage his hand offers.

“They kept him around for about a month before politely declining our generosity. I guess there’s a limit to how much bluefin tuna the rich can stomach.” His narrowed eyes crinkle fondly while he watches you blow the steam from your face and take your first sip. “Hope it’s to your liking.”

“The coffee or the story?”

“Both. But mostly the coffee.”

“It’s really good.” You nod appreciatively. “Thank you!”

“Don’t mention it.” Suguru disposes of the used coffee beans, failing to, however, rid himself of the soft smile perching on his lips. “It’ll take a while to get used to it, so feel free to come to me whenever you need more coffee. Or another story.”

“I could never disturb you for something like that.” You shake your head along with your hands. “What kind of assistant asks her boss to make her coffee?”

The word “boss” carries a negative connotation coming from your lips; the few inches that keep you apart rapidly expand into miles, and he hates that. It’s a gap he doesn’t want to see widened any further.

“How about you think of us as partners, then?” Suguru takes a leap while the distance’s short. “None of us gets paid to make coffee either way.”

You seem hesitant to agree, holding the weight of his stare until your determination crumbles. “Fine. But only till I get the hang of it. Then you’ll be greeted with a cup of freshly brewed espresso on your desk every morning.”

“That’s very thoughtful, but I’d rather be served tea instead. Red with one sugar?”

Overzealous , he decides as you hurriedly flip through the pages to scribble his order.

He wonders what your handwriting is like. Whether it’s scrawled and stumpy or eloquent and delicate, which isn’t the most fascinating thing to wonder about a person, but he can’t help himself from trying to pierce through the hardcover for a glimpse at your thoughts, unwittingly attracting your attention.

You share a look that flourishes over a second and withers within an eternity, its remains scattering into an airy chuckle as the machine cuts in with a sudden choo .

“I’m s-sorry!” You bow your head, bottom lip sticking out while you fail to suppress your amusement. “I didn’t expect it to sound like this. It’s just like—”

“Mhm, it does resemble the bullet train to Sendai a bit, doesn’t it?”

Suguru doesn’t necessarily think of himself as a funny man. But witnessing the little dance your fingers perform as you struggle to keep the cup steady, he might as well be the funniest man in the whole wide world.

“Shall we get going?” He prompts. “I still haven’t shown you to your office.”

“Please lead the way. Partner.” You add, unaware that the man who cruises you by almost trips over his feet. In his mind, at least.

Walking among the cubicles where various paralegals have their noses buried within tower-height stacks of memoranda, Suguru goes over your shared schedule and what is expected of you in the upcoming days, silently praying that you don’t question his insistence to wipe his sweaty palms against his slacks. He hasn’t been this stressed since he and Satoru were studying for the bar exam, and even then, it wasn’t him he was stressing about.

He recites, and you diligently take notes, up until the compact desks lessen and you find yourselves standing in front of an open space with its own reception. The senior partners’ offices—or, in other words, your boss’ and his boss’ offices.

“Hey, Shoko. Got anything for me?” Suguru asks the disinterested brunette seated at the front desk.

The woman’s eyes dart between the two of you. She acknowledges your presence with a curt bow, hardly bothering to put out her cigarette in the tray behind her. “Just this.” She pulls a yellow folder from one of the drawers and hands it to him, smoke wafting when she speaks. “It’s a letter of intent; Nanami brought it himself. Says it’s important.

“How much longer do I have to keep this up?” Shoko asks, a red imprint from where her wrist was previously propping her cheek against her elbow.

Suguru takes out the papers, skimming through the lines before stuffing them back inside and giving her a tiny smile.

“Thank you for your service, Shoko. You are fired.”

“Yay!” The woman excites in the same deadpan tone, grabbing her bag and almost knocking you down with how quick she is to flee the company premises.

“Is she—”

“Don’t worry about her.” Suguru’s attention returns to you. “She’s just a friend filling in for us.”

The way he uses the term friend is deliberate. Normally, he wouldn’t care what people make of his and Satoru’s relationship with the third member of their group, but he doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea.

Tucking the folder under his armpit, Suguru proceeds to lead you to your office, situated in the same open space although much closer to the wooden door that spells his full name and title in capital gold lettering—another of Satoru’s fanciful insistences.

Your desk is half as wide as the reception’s, yet twice as spacious as the cubicle ones. The company’s logo bounces across an idle computer screen, dust particles dancing amidst the glaring light of high noon. There is a telephone and some stationery that’s either sorted in a silver pencil holder or frames the hefty planner at the center, though it’s the sticky notes dangling from its pages that end up piquing your interest.

Suguru suffered through the teasing of a lifetime for spending his entire weekend summarizing case files just so your first days wouldn’t be hectic.

(“Good for you, Suguru.” Satoru snickered from his sumptuous recliner, a tennis ball bouncing from the wall back to his hand. “Getting your first crush at the age of 28. What’s next? Drawing your initials in little hearts for her to see how well your names fit together?”

“Shut up." Suguru clicked his pen against his head, stretching his feet below the workbench-turned kotatsu. "Some people happen to function better in organized environments.”

“Mhm , all I’m hearing is Suguru and Y/N sitting on a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” Satoru sang at an annoyingly gleeful pitch.)

“This,” you reel him back to the present. “You did this?”

Your eyes gleam like twin stars in their sockets. Clear, brilliant, and bright, but most importantly, boring into his.

Good for you, Suguru. Getting your first crush at the age of 28.

Suguru nearly waves his hand over his face to disperse his friend’s voice. It’s not a crush. He doesn’t think it is. Admitting to what is beautiful and reacting to it is a natural human response that has nothing to do with feelings of any kind. This is ephemeral.

“Y-yes.” A dry cough clears the hoarseness in his throat. “Thought it’d make your life easier if you knew where to focus instead of running around like a headless chicken.” He shifts through the pages in your hands. “Naturally, the indicators attached to closer dates are more urgent than the ones pushed further back, though they’re also sorted by color. Green means you can do it at your leisure, while bright pink means—”

“Danger, death, don’t skip?” You smile, and he nods eagerly. A bit too eagerly. Just like a schoolboy who was praised for giving the right answer, even though you were the one who answered correctly.

Maybe kissing on a tree wouldn’t be so bad.

“Thank you for doing this. And for hiring me.” You suddenly grow timid, bottom lip trapped in a shy smile as you extend your hand to him. “Working for this company is a great opportunity on its own, but working under—with ,” you correct yourself, “someone who values their juniors and goes the extra mile for them is like hitting the lottery.” A chuckle slips. “Apologies, the different colored sticky notes got to me.”

Soft. So damn soft. Your hand is so fucking soft, enveloping his own, that he curses himself for not coming up with the idea of a handshake when he first welcomed you at the lobby. It is a problem because he doesn’t want to let go, and when he does, he does so begrudgingly, his rougher finger pads dragging over your smooth skin and lingering above your polished fingernails with such delicacy as if they were freshly bloomed rosebuds.

“There are more in the drawer.” He nods toward the first drawer, a smirk coming as an afterthought. “Paper clips too.”

“Don’t tell me there’s a stapler in there too!” You gasp dramatically.

“Guess you’re gonna have to see for yourself.” His head droops to the side, and he smiles.

Your head droops to the side, and you smile back. You. Smile. Back.

The notion settles in his heart before registering in his brain, nestling where nothing can pry it off and inking itself as an indelible memory that’s bound to haunt him throughout the review of the Tengen shares redistribution, on which he better get started.

“Well, then. I’ll leave you to it.”

He manages about three steps away when your voice has him stopping in his tracks.

“Mr. Geto, you shouldn’t have!”

There are quite a few things he shouldn’t have done. For starters, waking up two hours ahead of his alarm, mixing the salt with the sugar in his morning tea (though something tells him that was the work of someone else), wearing his watch on the wrong wrist, and letting himself be smitten with his brand new assistant, whom he’s barely known for half a day. But you don’t know about any of those things. At least he hopes you don’t.

So, which one is it?

He turns around slowly, jaw almost dropping at the flower field spanning between your arms, roses redder than the blood boiling in his veins and peonies pinker than the tinge rising high on your cheeks—an arrangement bound with ivory wrapping paper.

“How do you like your welcoming gift?” The harbinger of disaster, conveniently known as his best friend, boss, and apparent competitor, makes his entrance.

“You are—”

“Gojo Satoru—local entrepreneur of the year, number one in Forbes’ 30 under 30, featured on the cover of Times magazine, most eligible bachelor in the world after his highness, the Archduke of Austria, and ringleader of this establishment—in the flesh!” He introduces himself like a certain character from Game of Thrones would, taking an excessively dramatic bow and rushing to your side with a wolfish smile that sharpens his otherwise gentle features.

“And you must be Y/N, right?” Without hesitation, Satoru hops into first name basis, cerulean eyes casting an indiscreet look over his sunglasses as he bends forward, hands kept on his knees. “My, you are even more beautiful in person! The picture did you no justice at all!”

And just like that, every single word that’d steadily been brewing in Suguru’s mind is taken away from him, Satoru praising you with the same ease and unparalleled confidence he bought the extravagant bouquet in your embrace, one that befits a lifelong lover more than a newly acquainted colleague.

“Mr. Gojo, I—I don’t know what to say.” Your eyes remain glued to the flowers, tense shoulders slightly squirming.

“Hmm, how about you start with dropping the honorifics? I hate having barriers between me and my employees.” He didn’t seem to hate barriers when he made Ijichi address him as Grand Emperor Gojo for a month straight as punishment. “We are all the same age here. Call me Gojo unless,” he smirks playfully, tilting his head to where you can no longer escape him, “you feel bold enough to call me Satoru.”

“Satoru.” The monotone intonation of his name carries a warning the white-haired man heeds, sparing you in favor of using his friend’s shoulder as an armrest.

“Suguru! Are you done with showing our”—our?—“lovely new assistant around?”

“What’s with the flowers?”

“The flowers?” Satoru chuckles boisterously. “What are you talking about? That’s how I welcome every new member of our team!”

“I don’t remember receiving any flowers when I signed my contract.” A mumble is met with a light elbow to his neck.

“You get paid enough to afford your own.” Satoru huffs, switching back to his amicable persona in the blink of an eye—your watchful eye that’s been studying them without daring to interfere. Another chuckle, accompanied by a poke to Suguru's cheek. “Tulips or dahlias? Name it, and I’ll turn your office into a greenhouse.”

“Please, don’t.”

“Are the two of you close?” Your voice forces the two men to break from each other, a furtive glance shared among them.

“Suuuuper close!” Satoru squeezes his friend’s shoulders into another unwanted embrace. “Been best friends since—third grade, was it? Hah, remember the time you called principal Yaga mom during morning assembly, and he started growing out his beard ‘cause he thought he wasn’t manly enough? Hilarious.”

Anger seethes in Suguru’s guts like a shaken can of soda about to combust, fizzling out before it can reach its boiling point. “Satoru.” He grits his teeth. “Weren’t you supposed to be at the shareholder meeting?”

“The shareholder—” He repeats, almost surprised, laughing awkwardly to himself. “Oh, turns out I wasn’t needed much. Left Ijichi in charge; he should be fine. Probably .”

A caricature of Ijichi suffering a mental breakdown while trying to placate those senile, cymbal-hitting monkeys plays in both their heads, barring yours.

“Ijichi is President Gojo’s personal assistant.” Suguru explains, pinching Satoru’s sleeve away from his body—except he doesn’t budge. “He’s been working under Satoru for the past four months as his secretary, reporting directly to his father since his only son wasn’t so good at budget handling and had his allowance cut. Isn’t that right, Satoru?”

“Let’s not talk about such tedious subjects in front of Y/N.” The man pulls away at once, running a hand through messy strands of white.

“I actually don’t mind—”

“Measuring up to all your quirks and abiding by your crazy filing system should bore her enough on its own.” He cuts you off, speaking behind his palm as if his words are meant solely for you. “Has Suguru shown you his little planner? Took him two all-nighters to put it together, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

He rests assured in his victory, not counting on you being the one who knocks him down a peg.

“Mhm, he already did, and I already thanked him. I’m a firm believer that a clear desk means a clear mind, and a clear mind means efficiency.” The flowers are at last unloaded upon your desk, their lengthy stems covering about two-thirds of the furniture. “Cluttering your workspace with a bunch of unnecessary items will only stagger your progress and make you fall behind. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Gojo?”

It’s rare to catch Satoru at a loss for words, yet there he stands, completely still and utterly speechless at your mercy, his expression akin to that of a wrongfully sprayed kitten.

The two of you turn to Suguru, seeking some sort of recognition that would settle the score. Any other person in his shoes would side with the authority in the room, but your referee decides to sit this one out.

He knows what Satoru is thinking. Substance is dull without style, and tri-colored dango tastes best in spring. He never had to choose one over the other, but giving you a piece of his mind would make him look indecisive—or worse, shallow—and he doesn’t want that. He wants to look good in front of you, or else he wouldn’t have worn his most expensive suit and bailed out of the most important meeting of the month.

He dug his own grave, and unexpectedly, the helping hand that pulls him out belongs to the one who first cast dirt upon his casket.

“Thank you for the flowers, Mr. Gojo. They might not have a place on my desk, but they’ll sure make a lovely centerpiece for my table at home. Peonies, right?” Your smile is effortlessly disarming. “I don’t know much about flowers, but I hear they symbolize good fortune.”

“They do?” Satoru asks, slapping the stupefied expression off his face. “I mean, yeah! Of course they do!” He bounces back, soft dimples obliterating a deep-carved frown. “I hope your time here brings you lots of good fortune. I know the place already seems more fortunate with you around.”

You chuckle warmly, locking eyes with an impressed Suguru. No one’s ever made Satoru both lose face and helped him save some over the span of a single five-minute conversation. No one but Suguru himself.

He made the right choice by hiring you.

“The rumors about the future head of the company were true. You really are everything they make you out to be.”

“Huh? What rumors? What do they say about me?” Satoru chases you to your desk, an imaginary tail wagging behind him as he watches you pick up your notebook and flip to a blank page.

“How do you drink your coffee?” A tap of your pen. “I know it’s not much, but...I’d like to repay your kindness.”

Oh no. Here we go again.

“I’m pretty easy. I drink my espresso with six sugar cubes, my cappuccino with nine pumps of caramel syrup, sweet condensed milk, whipped cream, and caramel drizzle on top—and, of course, the six sugar cubes. In the summer— oh crap, I almost forgot, I also like mocha, both white and regular, again same toppings—I usually go for iced lattes with—”

Two minutes into taking his order, and about twenty seconds after your pen stops moving, you glance at Suguru for help. The man simply shrugs, amusement hinted in his cat-like eyes.

There is a good reason why the kitchen’s loaded on instant coffee, and that’s because it’s the only thing that can quench Satoru’s sweet tooth on the spot. You’re going to have to figure that out on your own, just like every other unfortunate soul in this company did when they stupidly offered to treat him.

“That reminds me!” A finger snap concludes his monologue. “Suguru, you know what day it is?”

“Tuesday?”

“You mean one-plus-one Tuesday. Ah, you have no idea how much I've been looking forward to my weekly croquette sandwich; wouldn’t have gotten out of bed if it wasn't for it. Erm , and you ,” he says, again running his fingers through his hair as he bestows you with another laid-back smile. “The two highlights of my week.”

Suguru sighs, convincing himself it’s the prospect of leaving so much work behind that doesn’t excite him and not the sight of Satoru’s affections being subtly reciprocated.

“So, you coming?” Satoru asks.

“I’m gonna have to pass.”

“What?” He gapes, hand clutching his chest like a child who just found out they’re adopted. “Why?”

“Because we are meeting with Tengen’s representatives at the end of the week and they’ll withdraw their investment unless we have a clear model for their merger.” Suguru reminds him. “Besides, Satoru, you don’t need me to buy lunch when you can literally buy out the place with one of your cards.”

Fixing his glasses higher over his nose, Satoru opens his mouth to complain, deciding against it at the last minute. He shoots a haughty look in Suguru's general direction. “Well, if you’re really that busy, then—ah, guess it can’t be helped. Least you can do is be responsible and send a replacement. And who could that replacement be—hmm, if only there was an available candidate.”

He scopes the place with a palm horizontal to his eyes, stopping once he supposedly detects your presence. “What do you say, new girl? Perhaps this could be our chance to get to know each other. I bet there’s so much you’re dying to ask me.” He says with a stare far too playful to be deemed salacious.

Round glasses come off as Satoru leans against your desk and plays up his charms. You are drawn to the blue spirals in his eyes, mesmerized by their sublime beauty, and in a way, it’s nature’s will for the stars to seek the skies, but Suguru can’t stand for it. Not when such bitterness floods his palate, spreading into his bloodstream like poison that prompts his body to move against every volition that isn’t his own.

“Let’s go.” He rasps in a nearly menacing tone, claw-like fingers closing around Satoru’s shoulder. “Your treat.”

"She is scary!" Breadcrumbs fall from Satoru's mouth as he takes another bite out of his lunch, tonkatsu sauce overlining his cupid's bow. "Terrifying even."

"I thought you said she was hot." Suguru states wryly, still in the process of peeling the fifteen layers of wrapping paper that encompass his sandwich, when he pauses to offer Satoru a couple of napkins.

He mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like thank you, and wipes his lips clean, only to dirty them with another sloppy bite.

"She is," he agrees after gulping down, snowy eyelashes fluttering shut to a moan that has people from different tables turning heads to theirs. "Both scary and hot. Scarily hot. Mmm, so damn good~"

Another obscene sound vibrates in his throat, and this time, Suguru fails to hide his disgust, staring at his friend like a disappointed mother at a parent-teacher conference.

"What?" Satoru asks, the blue in his eyes expanding as he touches his cheek. "Is there something on my face?"

"Satoru." Suguru shakes his head, speaking in a quiet voice all the while pleading with him to stop acting grossly in public.

It's safe to say his request isn't received well, although it takes just one mention of your name for Satoru to let go of his grudge and perk up again.

"Did you see how mean she was to me?" The giddiness in his tone fails to match his words. "Ready to walk all over me with those heels. Bet she would have if you weren't there."

"And? Giving up already?" Suguru teases.

"Who said I am?" Satoru chugs his coke. "Just hafta try harder."

Any joy Suguru might have felt at his friend's misery ends up parching in his throat, squinted eyes casting an inexcusably hard glare on the sandwich he grips with malice.

"God, did ya see her smile? Bet her lips taste like heaven."

"And what does heaven taste like?"

"Probably as good as this," Satoru says, nodding to his half-finished meal, "but sweeter. Infinite times sweeter. I'll let you know once I find out for myself."

Every word that comes out of Satoru's mouth causes Suguru's fingers to clutch tighter and tighter until the croquettes explode out of his sandwich, splattering the table and his hand with bits of potato and sauce.

"Ah. Sorry, I wasn't—" Suguru drops the remains on his plate, cleaning his fingers one by one. He isn't even sure what he's apologizing for.

"Want me to get you another?" Satoru offers. "I could go for seconds."

"It's fine. Not hungry anymore."

Gardenia or tuberose?

The same question repeats in Suguru's brain, begging to distract him from the slew of paperwork he's been asked to sign, but not from the actual distraction that is bent over his desk, making him question not just his sanity but also his self-control.

Tuberose.

He doesn't think much of either is left when he breathes in the perfume dabbed around your shirt's open collar, alluring to the point where he catches himself chasing after your neck like a hound dog—heavy breath hitching in his chest.

Gardenia.

He doubts he has any left when his amber eyes peer into your cleavage, tracing the contour between your supple breasts down to the first popped button of your shirt—large palms aching to seize them.

Tuberose.

He realizes he is not half the decent man he was about a month ago when his cock twitches at the sight of your pencil skirt riding higher on your thighs, the black seams of your sheered stockings promising a fast track to your tight little cunt—and how he’d love to gain access to that.

Gardenia or tuberose; who cares?

Figuring out the notes in your perfume is about the last thing Suguru cares about when every inch of his body urges him to blow your back against the lavish mahogany, signing the rest of these documents in a mix of your spit and tears. But it's what helps keep those intrusive thoughts from spilling out.

"One more signature here." Ignorant about his dark impulses, you shuffle through the papers and point at another blank place of signature he needs to fill. "It's a referral agreement for Miss Mei's services. She said the terms were verbally agreed upon, but feel free to go over them again and suggest any adjustments."

"That won't be necessary." With a few quick flicks of his pen, Suguru jots down his name. "Thank you for your hard work."

He struggles to meet your eyes without first halting at your tits as you collect the documents and hug them (regrettably) close to your chest, pulling away from his desk to stand before him.

"Thank you for your hard work, Mr. Geto!" A sweet smile is plastered on your face, and he can't help but wonder whether you'd continue smiling at him if you ever caught a whiff of the filth festering in his brain.

He doesn't like what his feelings have matured into. He's not proud that every time your eyes cross, he muses over what they'd look like rolling to the back of your skull or how sometimes he'll lock his office door and beat his cock to the thought of your pretty nails digging in his thighs while he bullies his length into the heat of your throat.

He hates that those aren't even his own thoughts but were rather instilled in him by Satoru, who couldn't be more vocal and descriptive of his own fantasies if he wanted to. He's the same way about his advances, and it drives Suguru insane to see his friend making such quick headway because he remains Mr. Geto while he gets to be Satoru.

It's all because of that damn merger...

The first time Suguru heard you address Satoru by his first name came right after a business meal he was forced to sit out of. Someone had to deal with the last-minute amendment Tengen requested to their already-filed and approved work plan, while another entertained their prospective investors. Seeing as Satoru was the face of the company, he couldn't possibly miss such an important meeting, and so they divided responsibilities.

Suguru stayed back to deal with the crisis, but not without sending you on his behalf—all pretty and dolled-up in your navy halter dress and black pumps, shining like the evening star by Satoru's side, only to come back completely drained of light with the worst shoe bite known to man.

Ever the observant gentleman, Suguru ran to the nearest drugstore, returning to the office with his heart in his mouth and a bag full of supplies that dropped from his hands the moment he saw his best friend kneel before your feet, tying the shoelaces of a newly bought pair of sneakers.

Thank you, Satoru.

The same scene repeated itself many a time, his lesser romantic gestures outdone by a price tag he couldn't match and words he couldn't brace himself to say just yet.

A fluff of white hair orbited around your desk at a constant, like a bumblebee who'd discovered an inexhaustible source of nectar, and you grew close enough not to swat it—him—away. You'd answer his jokes with mirthful chuckles, and he'd answer your “Here's your stomach ache of a cappuccino, Satoru” with platinum-coated Mont Blanc pens and luxury Moleskine agendas. Plural.

Light touches, flirty smiles, and heart-eyes in both your voices, whose volume bypassed his closed door as an irritating buzz that had Suguru wondering whether there had been a change of offices.

The breaking point came two nights ago, when, in the spur of jealousy, he heaped you with enough work to keep your desk lamp burning all night long. He regretted it as soon as he got into his car, and then he stepped on the pedal, driving to that one Chinese place he and Satoru frequented while they were still students—driving again like a maniac to ensure the food reached you hot.

But great minds think alike.

By the time Suguru made it back into the office, a proper candle-lit dinner was held over the scattered papers on your desk that then doubled as coasters. A second chair was drawn near yours, two silhouettes huddled together. Shoulders nudging, chopsticks lifted—and he refused to stick around long enough to watch his best friend feed dumplings directly into your mouth, along with whatever was bound to follow.

Which pulls him back to the current reality of his foggy windows and the cold tea on his desk, with present-you staring at him, oblivious to his dilemma.

He knows he has no right to feel this way. You aren't his property, and contrary to what the media wants the world to believe, Satoru isn't some heartless womanizer who changes girls the same way people change socks. In fact, Suguru can't remember the last time he saw Satoru this invested in a person. You hitting it off is a good thing. He should be happy.

He should be.

He really should.

But he isn't.

He really isn't.

And he doubts he'll ever be, because in his whole life, he's never envied anything that Satoru has. Not his money, not his status, not his prestige—not anything. You're the first thing he's ever envied—the first he's ever wanted. Because you are his assistant, and within the wretched spiral of his desires, that should amount to something.

You should be his.

"So.” Suguru takes a sip of his tea, trying his hardest not to cringe at its unpleasant, lukewarm taste. "Any special plans for the holidays?"

You shake your head slowly and then with more confidence again.

"That's good." He blurts out, masking his relief with a low chuckle. "I mean—"

“I get it.” You chuckle back. “Not a big fan of the holidays, are you?”

“Not a hater either. Satoru,” he mentally curses himself for bringing him up now, “is the one who gets all excited about Christmas. Gives him the perfect opportunity to put on a show without being chastised by President Gojo. Hard to argue back when he brings up the morale of the team."

“Well, everyone seems to be excited for the party." You add. "Especially the interns; heard them gushing about it with Assistant Manager Haibara."

"I don't suppose Intern Fushiguro was with them, was he?" Suguru smirks as you confirm his suspicions. The boy might be Satoru's protegee, yet the two are like night and day when it comes to means of entertainment.

"It's Intern Kugisaki and Intern Itadori's first Christmas at our company, and the press always finds a way to glorify anything related to the Gojos." Suguru continues. "The annual Christmas party isn't an exception. Outsiders need a special invitation, and only a select few make the cut."

"We should consider ourselves lucky, then." You point out.

"Mhm," he hums. "Come think of it, it's your first Christmas with us too. Are you excited?" A teasing lilt colors his voice.

"Definitely am!" You humor him. "Especially after hearing about the ugly sweater contest."

"Fan of the sport or the prize?"

"Both. But five days at a deluxe resort in Okinawa do sound enticing."

"I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you." Suguru folds his arms over his chest and tilts back against his chair. A condescending look spreads over his features.

You mirror his stance, sticking your right heel out. "And why is that? Are you competing perhaps?"

He snorts as if the notion alone is plain ridiculous. "I'm not, but Nanami is."

"Nanami? Manager Nanami?" You blink in disbelief, trying and mostly failing to contain your laughter. Not like he can fault you. A man as practical and square-minded as Nanami sporting sweaters that feature 3D reindeer heads is a sight one must see in order to believe.

"He's oddly passionate about this." Suguru explains. "He's won every contest for the past four years, just to enjoy a little time off."

"I should give it my best then."

"I'll be cheering for you." He promises with a wink, picking up on the faint blush that dusts your cheeks. A small victory.

You bite your lip and cast a gaze to the floor before lifting your head in search of the clock on his wall. He sighs internally.

"So." You return to the beginning of your discussion.

"So." He repeats with a softer tone.

"I guess I'll be seeing you at the party?"

"Guess you will." He nods, gesturing toward the door. "You may go. I need to finish these first.

You nod back and hold onto the door knob, turning around one last time to bow at him. "There's an extra umbrella on my desk. Feel free to take it."

Before Suguru can even consider his answer, you turn into smoke, leaving him with a hopeful smile he scolds himself for. A thoughtful gesture can't possibly undo all the sorrow and anguish he experienced over the course of a mere month.

And yet he still finds himself skipping to your desk, grinning now at the little piece of paper that dangles from the umbrella's handle. It's not a spare, that's for sure.

As lightning cracks the gloomy skies above, Suguru faces toward the window, tracking the thunder's tail down to gray cement, where colorful umbrellas dance around like anemones. Yours twirls like the most beautiful flower of all, vivid petals drawing into themselves as you're ushered into a white SUV by a hand belonging to a man he knows all too well—driven away while Suguru stands there watching, feeling as if cold rain pours over him instead.

He sets down the umbrella and returns to his office.

After the fifth replay of "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas" blasts over the speakers, Suguru begins to reconsider the answer he gave you less than 24 hours ago.

He hates Christmas—the buzz, the fuss. The forced happiness and the self-inflicted festive glee. The repetitive songs and the continuous camera flash. The stuffy atmosphere and the nausea-inducing blinking lights. How every snack gets labeled with an ambiguous "Christmas flavor," as if a holiday can have a taste in the first place; he hates all that.

But most of all, he hates not being the one to stand beside you under that damn mistletoe—a spectator among spectators and an outcast even among them.

Champagne trembles in his hand as he watches the crowd gather around you and Satoru, smothering you with cheers that sound a beat above the music, excessive clapping synchronized for the sake of a four-letter word chanted like a prayer. Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!

You don't give in to their demands. Not immediately, at least. There is some awkward fumbling, a hand weaving through semi-combed strands of white, and the pointy end of a heel dragging incomplete circles. You shake your heads in unison, giggling, making a very weak effort to get yourselves out of this predicament, though the people know exactly what they want. Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!

It's quick and painless. Chaste, as Satoru leans forward and pecks your cheek, grinning a shit-eating grin from one ear to the other when he pulls away and waves off the jeers. Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Louder this time. His lips move soundlessly, wordless speech bubbles emerging in faux protest as if he isn't dying to kiss you, as if you aren't dying to be kissed by the most important man in the room, as if this poorly executed play isn't staged.

Suguru finds himself wishing you'd get it over with, yet he can't bring himself to turn away. Much like everyone else, his gaze is fixed on you, enchanted by you since day one, and imprisoned in a dismal spell that continues to wring his heart for all its worth, threatening to leave him shattered.

You take initiative this once. Stepping in front of Satoru, your fingers seek the hem of his cream-colored cashmere sweater. You pull him to you, reeling and reeling and reeling, and—

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Geto!" A pair of impressionable eyes widen before him, stretched arms springing from the man's body as he jumps before Suguru like a jack-in-the-box.

"Haibara." He acknowledges with a sigh, uncertain of whether he should be thanking him or scolding him for blocking his view.

By the time his junior pulls aside, the spectacle is already over. Everyone has returned to their previous positions, resuming their conversations away from you and Satoru, who are left gleaming like Christmas ornaments, tinged red from head to toe.

"Mm, these taste so good! Mr. Geto, you need to try one," Haibara says, lifting a platter of canapés from the buffet behind them.

Suguru forces himself to smile as he throws a salmon spread into his mouth. He swallows without understanding any flavor, washing the crumbs away with some more champagne, the buzz of alcohol promising to dull out his affliction.

"Are you enjoying the party?"

"Very much so!" Haibara answers full of excitement. "So many new faces have gathered since last year; I'm so glad to be a part of this. Nanami even let me help with his sweater design!"

"Is that so?" Suguru chuckles wryly, scanning through the guests for the blond.

He spots Nanami loitering by where your desk is normally stationed (the majority of furniture relocated for the sake of opening up the space), and while he cannot see the front of his burgundy sweater, he can easily make out the antler headband sitting on both his and Itadori's heads, the two men seeming to have joined forces.

The discussion between Haibara and Suguru soon turns stale, with the former gushing about the inner happenings of the sales department and the latter absently nodding in approval, his attention monopolized by the exchange between you and Satoru.

Even when the occasional guest butts in, you remain inseparably bound to each other through your clothes (both of you dressed to the nines despite your intent to partake in the contest), your gestures, and the hands that gain familiarity over time. His slips around your lower back as he whispers in your ear; yours throws a playful punch at his shoulder, while you giggle at whatever he just said.

Probably some crappy Christmas pick-up line, Suguru decides. Something like, Wanna pop by my apartment later? No need for any mistletoe when we're both under my sheets, followed by a Satoru! Not here; people are watching .

"Mr. Gojo and Ms. Y/N sure look friendly." Haibara's observation comes as the final nail in the coffin.

Suguru murmurs in a low tone. "Think she's interested in him?"

"Hard to find a person who isn't interested in Mr. Gojo." Haibara earnestly replies.

“Right…”

"But the same goes for you too, Mr. Geto." Haibara's voice prompts Suguru to face him. A soft smile plays on the younger man's lips, his cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink. "I've been looking up to you since I first started working here. All of us do, even Nanami."

"You do?" Suguru draws confidence from his junior's timidity, enough to bestow him with a lopsided smile. "Why is that?"

"Because you are a hard worker!" Haibara declares. "Mr. Gojo is brilliant, but he was born into it. For us to reach him, that's impossible. You, on the other hand—you built yourself from the ground up. You are not only meticulous and good at your job, but you are also immeasurably kind! Both before and after your promotion, you've cared for us juniors and made the company a hospitable place for everyone. You are the goal we aspire to reach; you are our role model."

Working with someone who values their juniors and goes the extra mile for them is like hitting the lottery.

A role model, huh...

Your words mix with Haibara's, swirling round and round at the languid pace of alcohol in his brain, inebriating enough for him to not reject them like he otherwise would. He knows what needs to be said. I'm the one who's grateful. I wouldn't have gotten this far if it weren't for such capable juniors. Satoru is the one you should be thanking instead.

Satoru, Satoru, Satoru .

It's all him; it's always him. Everyone and everything in this room is here because of him, yet for the second time, Suguru is thanked for his efforts. For the nights he spent reviewing reports, fixing typos, and making overseas phone calls. For buttering clients up and spending every waking minute of his life networking. For talking people through their breakdowns and promising them their work makes a difference; that they matter.

It's almost enough to make up for all the unconditional praise his best friend received since birth, though Suguru refuses to let that be his consolation prize. Not when the perfect winning prize lies right ahead of him and waltzes into his office. Alone .

A glassy sound is produced as Suguru drops off his champagne and smiles at his colleague from over his shoulder.

"Merry Christmas, Haibara."

The door creaks softly behind Suguru as he enters his cloakroom-turned office, the faint click of a lock muffled out by the fading party music, its people fading with until it’s just you and him, away from distractions and interruptions, but more importantly, away from Satoru.

You haven’t noticed him yet. Your back’s turned on him, the golden threads of your sweater twinkling in the dark while you rummage through the coat racks, feeling out every texture with your fingertips. Wool, nylon, leather, and finally, cotton. The dark-colored jacket is slung over your arm, with your other hand digging into each pocket for… something .

Something that falls to the wayside once you become aware of the man’s presence and let out a tiny shriek.

“Mr. Geto!” There you go with that damn honorific again. “What are you doing here?"

"Am I not allowed into my own office?" Suguru sneers as he paces farther inside, his palms clasped behind his back.

"Y-you just scared me, is all."

He settles against his desk to study your startled features. You look even more beautiful when there's no one to steal your shine—a modern-day princess Kaguya, beckoned by the moonlight to return to its cratered land, although he’s made up his mind. Unlike the emperor in the story, he won’t let you escape him.

"Wasn't my intention." Drowning out his adoration, he cocks his head to the side and nods at your jacket. “Leaving already?”

“No, uh.” You fidget awkwardly, shoving whatever it is that your fingers caught back in your pocket. “Satoru asked—”

“Satoru, huh?” His tongue clicks in distaste. "You do anything Satoru asks?"

“What?” You question your own hearing, though he knows you heard him just fine. He sees it trembling in your eyes—feels it fanning against his jaw as he pulls away from his desk and stands before you, looking down on you in more than one way.

"I said, you'd do anything as long as Satoru is the one asking?"

"I...I'm not sure I understand."

"You don't?" His tone is syrupy, yet not sweet—a smile too condescending to be compassionate. "Allow me to rephrase, then. If Satoru asked you to spread your legs for him, would you?"

"Mr. Geto, I think you had too much to drink.” You chuckle nervously, gesturing toward his shoulder while simultaneously avoiding his stare. “Should I call you a cab? I don’t think you’re in a condition to drive.”

“No.” Suguru snaps, swatting your hand away. “No, you don’t get to play good assistant now. I asked you a question. Answer.” 

He doesn't miss the hesitant bow of your head, which only confirms his suspicions. You want his best friend, and for once, he doesn't care that you do. It doesn't upset him. If anything, it offers him greater incentive to keep going without regard for your feelings or his own.

"Wasn't so hard, was it?" The last vestige of bitterness follows him to the coffee table, where he grabs a seat by one of the two chairs, wood screeching like nails across a blackboard. Mounting one leg atop the other, "Can't say I blame you. President Gojo is growing too old to be running things, and Satoru already handles the majority of his affairs. Won't be long until he assumes office, and when he does, whoever is on his side will benefit the most."

Your silence encourages Suguru to continue. "But as things currently stand, you aren't all that important to him, are you? And if you were to suddenly lose your position, his interest in you would probably diminish."

"What do you want?" Your voice is meek when you speak—a pitiful sound begging to tug at his heartstrings.

Except he has no pity left.

Suguru leans forward and spreads his thighs over the cushion. His elbows prop against them, with his intertwined fingers providing a seat for his clenched jaw—dark eyes ever drilling holes into your fragile skull.

“It’s not about what I want, but about what you want. You said that working at this company is a great opportunity, and you’re right. It really is. I’d hate for you to lose it over a simple matter of allegiance.”

“Allegiance?” You echo.

He nods. “Don’t you think an assistant should be loyal to the one who hired her? You get paid to do what I say, not whore yourself to Satoru. If I tell you to jump, you should jump, and if I tell you to drop on your knees and stick your tongue out, that’s exactly what you must do. Getting the picture now?”

“Is that…so?” A hum answers your question. “Very well.”

Amber irises harden below knitted eyebrows, their transparent warmth giving way to opaque desire as he watches you approach with steady strides, his cock stiffening in his pants from the sharp intonation of your heels alone. 

Something has shifted within you, though he can’t pinpoint exactly what. It’s like he sees you for the first time, confidence emanating from your very being as you drop off your jacket and gracefully sink on the floor before him, pleated skirt pooling around your bent knees—cherry lips licked together as your hands trail up his slacks and undo his belt, zipper next.

Is this really happening? Was it really that easy?

“Could you lift your hips, please?” You ask demurely, in the same considerate way you’d offer to refill his cup every morning. 

A moment passes before Suguru obliges, part of him failing to separate fantasy from reality. He’s dreamed about this so many times that if it weren't for the soft palms rubbing up and down against his thighs, he’d be pinching himself awake. But you are definitely real, and you’re definitely there, and despite his conscience screaming that this is all wrong, he doesn’t let a future regret hold him back.

Shimmying out of both underwear and pants, Suguru’s cock springs free, already hard and twitching in anticipation, its slight curve pointing at your agape mouth. Your warm breath sends tingles up his spine as you inch closer, your lips rounding and then puckering hard around the fat tip. It's almost enough for him to lose composure, kissing his teeth when he feels your tongue drag a teasing circle on the underside of his shaft, wet and hot and far more skilled than he's ever imagined.

You let go before any praise evades Suguru, studying his lustful expression with a complacent smile that ends up rubbing him the wrong way. How many smiles have you offered Satoru while looking up at him like that? How many times have you practiced your technique on him to hone it to perfection? How many laughs have the two of you shared at Suguru's expense, knowing he's hopelessly wrapped around your dainty little finger?

Quick to wipe the hubris from your face, he takes hold of his cock and delivers a derogatory smack across your cheek.

"Test my patience one more time, and you'll be crawling out of here." His voice retains its smoothness even as he rubs the leaky slit against your lips, smearing a thin coat of glossy precum before he pushes his way back inside. "Better give me a good reason why I should keep an ungrateful slut like you around."

Suguru takes his time to explore your mouth, mapping out the wet cavern in its entirety. Your teeth are tucked behind your lips, their gentle firmness complementing the expert strokes laid by your tongue. Your cheeks hollow to accommodate him, air sucked and drool wetting his throbbing cock, some of it trickling to your chin. It's an extremely tight fit that grows tighter with every inch he stuffs you with, hitting the back of your throat long before he's wholly sheathed.

"Fuck." His head tips back in pure bliss. “Fuck, you feel amazing.”

Doe eyes flick up, their lecherous innocence holding him captive. He thought he'd forsaken all affection held for you, yet his heart begs to differ, lurching at the sight of your bare knees bruising against the polished marble.

He's tempted to call it quits and pull you to his lap, praying that the sweet words piling in his brain seep into your ears like poetry and register as an apology. That, somehow, you forgive the selfish arms cradling you and excuse the greedy lips drinking from your mouth as if it were a chalice; that you allow a heathen like him to express his reverence with deep thrusts and profound pleasure that will make you worship him as much as he longs to worship you, names tangling in a breathless mantra.

He's about to do just that when suddenly he's reminded of how moments ago you were locking lips with his best friend in front of a live audience, and the resentment within him swells anew, expanding like a black hole set on devouring him. He shouldn't hope for more, because you won't be coming back for more. After tonight ends, you'll go running back to Satoru, and he'll be lucky if his attorney's license doesn’t get revoked. 

So much for being a role model.

Might as well enjoy himself while it lasts.

Brushing the sticky strands of hair away from your face, Suguru pulls them into a makeshift ponytail that he uses as leverage to drive himself in deeper, letting out a stuttered groan once he bottoms out. Tears well in your eyes as he holds you completely still, heavy lashes blinking rapidly to filter them out. 

"Lookin' so pretty with my cock in your mouth."  Suguru rasps in a candied tone, his thumb rubbing against the apple of your cheek with tenderness before he forces your head to bob back and forth on his length. "Wonder what Satoru would say if he saw you like this. Perhaps we should call him in, mm ? Have him see what good that little mouth is when it's all plugged and can't talk back. Maybe he'll want to take turns using it. Maybe you’ll walk outta here with a bonus. My capable—ngh—assistant promoted to office slut." 

There’s no way for you to respond. Even if he pulls back this instant, the wit he fell in love with will still be gone. Right now, you’re nothing more than a hole for him to take out his frustrations—no better than an average whore choking on dick.

The party music continues to blare strong in the background, your soft gagging barely enough to mute the rounds of applause that still reverberate in his gauged ears—so he fucks your face faster and harder, his hips slamming forward in tandem with the mean fingers gripping your skull, each thrust producing a sound more sinful than the one before.

He’s hellbent on erasing that kiss from his memory, keen on replacing his friend’s taste with that of his cum, and he’d be damned if he didn’t feel amazing in the process, the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your jaw purely addictive.

And when he catches you rubbing your thighs together, he almost busts on the spot.

“You—hah—you really don’t care who it is, do you? Whether it’s me or him,” Suguru stammers, his tone whinier than he’d hoped. “As long as there’s cock in your mouth, you’re satisfied, aren’t you? Be honest; you aren’t even doing it for the job. You just get off on being used.”

He’s slowed down enough for the pleasurable vibrations on his cock to be felt, your eyes screwed shut with a hand lost between layers of skirt, searching for some sort of relief—relief he decides you don’t deserve.

“Ah-ah-ah! Who said you could cum, hm ?” Suguru chastises you by yanking you off his cock, a string of saliva chasing after your jaw as you stumble backward. “Told you to give me a reason not to fire you, and you did what exactly?” He tilts his head curiously. “That’s what I thought. Absolutely nothing. Not even worth the trouble.” 

“W-wait!”

Before he has the chance to leave you high and dry on the floor, you scramble across your garments and tug at his pants in a pathetic attempt to get him to sit back down. He indulges. Not like he was serious about leaving anyway.

Your palm wraps around the base of his cock as you lean closer, licking a sloppy stripe from the base to his tip, and then all the way down again, sucking one of his balls into your mouth while simultaneously jerking him off. 

“Fuck, you’re nasty.” Suguru breathes out, grabbing at the arms of his chair—his hips bucking into your palm. “Such a nasty little slut. Must really want this cock, huh? Come on. Show me how much you want this.”

Your eyes shine as though he praised you, and this time, you hold nothing back. You moan like you’re the one who derives pleasure, humming and even mewling as you switch from one ball to the other, your nose nuzzling to his warmth.

You pump him without a break, furiously rotating your palm over his cock head and squeezing right below with a ring shaped by your thumb and forefinger. Only he knows how he manages to hold back, pleasure so dizzying that his head spins, rearranging the furniture in the room.

“Th-that’s enough.” He voices amidst a broken moan, gently prying your wrist away—your mouth unlatching soon after.

Everything falls back into order as Suguru provides you both a much-needed reprieve, which you spend soaking in each other’s expressions. Dark strands of hair have fallen from his bun, clear beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. The shadows cast by the blinds conceal his flushed complexion, whereas the contrasting light exposes yours. Your chest heaves with every labored breath you take, mascara smudged beneath your eyes, and lipstick transferred from your lips to his cock, painting the pink tip scarlet red.

You look utterly debauched, but it’s not enough for him to call it a day. He wants more of you on him and more of him on you—more evidence that tonight wasn’t a figment of his imagination, taking place in the men’s room in between insufferable business meetings. Rather than keeping things a secret, he wants the whole world to know what transpired behind the closed doors of his office, and that sparks an idea.

He needs to put more of him in you.

With a small smile playing on his lips, Suguru helps you up, steadying you against his arms until you're able to stand on your own. You thank him with a hoarse voice and wobble on your heels as you're made to follow him to his desk, assuming position without him needing to speak a single command. You bend over the hard surface like you did the previous day and all the days before that, except your skirt's now rolled well over your thighs, and nothing obscures his view of your panties.

“How eager,” Suguru murmurs as he caresses the curve of your bare ass down to your clothed cunt, parting with a sigh when his pointer traces over the drenched fabric and prods it into your slit. “So wet from sucking my dick? Sure you weren’t thinking of someone else?” 

“N-no.”  

“No?” A smirk rings in his tone. “You don’t sound too sure.” 

“Y-yes. I mean, n-no—oh fuck, r-right there!”

Your hips push back against Suguru’s hand, grinding against the long fingers that tug your panties to the side and slip into your wet hole.

He lazily works you open, each thrust concluding with his fingertips curling right into your sweet spot, coaxing soft whimpers to spill from your lips.

He pulls out once he feels you're sufficiently stretched, taking a second to admire the thin essence that dribbles down his digits before he uses it to lather up his cock, fighting back moans of his own whilst fisting himself to the lewd sight of his assistant offering herself to him.

Under different circumstances, he would've taken things slow. Under different circumstances, you’d be threading your fingers through his hair and sitting where you could comfortably watch him disappear between your thighs. You'd call out his name, and he'd lap at your juices until you're unable to hold yourself from cumming all over his face. Only then would he pepper your trembling thighs with kisses and tell you how well you did for him—what a good girl you are; his good girl.

“Doesn’t matter.” Suguru says for himself to hear, and it really doesn’t. Those ideal circumstances he dreams about are a thing of the past.

With a firm hand pressing on your back, he straightens you against the desk and runs his swollen cock head through your folds, voice laden with desire when he whispers, “Let’s see whose name you moan now, mm? ”

His thoughts hush as soon as his girth catches into the tight entrance of your cunt—a sigh gritted through his teeth as he finally sinks in.

He gives you a second to adjust, when in reality, it's him who needs the breather. All the longing and desire, the frustration and despair that'd been pooling in him for the past few weeks, culminate in this one perfect moment where your velvet walls hug his throbbing length, constricting around every inch he feeds inside you.

It's cathartic.

He remains breathing through his nose for a good while, too scared to open his mouth, lest he say something embarrassing enough to want to smack his head with the silver name plate on his desk right after. He's aware of how ridiculous it'd sound if he suddenly blurted out that he loves you, yet the warm feeling coursing through his veins can only be described as such. 

Luckily, his final choice of words ends up being far more sensible.

“S-so fucking tight—”

“For a whore?” You interrupt, your droopy head lifting from over your slumped shoulders to bestow him with yet another winsome smile. God, you’re pretty.

“Never called you a whore.” Suguru's lips crack into a smirk of their own, while his fingers knead the fat of your ass, spreading your cheeks for him to see the point where you connect. A pearly ring has formed at the base of his cock from your fluids combined, his balls snugly squished between your hips. God, this is so hot.  

His gaze shifts away. If he keeps looking, he just might cum without getting to even fuck you properly.

“You didn’t? My bad. Must have been someone else.” 

"Aren't you cheeky?" A quiet chuckle rumbles in his chest, escalating into a loud groan as his hips pull back and jerk forward in a thrust that knocks both the wind and smugness out of you, the recoil causing your body to jiggle against the desk. "That fucking audacity of yours is what got you in this place to begin with."

You try to say something that he doesn't care to hear, muting your words with a sharp thwack across your ass. You whimper in response, clenching so hard around him that he repeats the motion on the other cheek for good measure, your pathetic whines going straight to his cock. It's scary how much he enjoys this.

"Talking about other men," Suguru begins his recital of your crimes, his hips rutting in time with the smacks inflicted on your reddening flesh. "Accepting gifts and whatnot, letting yourself be paraded around like a fucking trophy"—the hardest slap yet—"guess that really makes you a whore."

Your body doesn’t know how to react, whether to moan from the pain or cry from the pleasure, with your upper half squirming and your lower half stilled against him, taking everything he gives you without complaint.

He pounds into you like an animal, wrapping strong arms around your waist to bring you closer, his cock barely withdrawing before being slapped back inside, fucking straight into your pulsing core.

“D-don’t worry.” Suguru sounds delirious when he talks, with more and more ebony locks cascading from his disheveled bun down his face and shoulders. “We’re gonna fix that, mm? Gonna be mine from now on. Mine to kiss." His weight is held against your body as he leans forward, large frame dwarfing you as he plants his lips on your nape. “Mine to touch,” his arms squeeze even harder, “and—ngh, all mine to fuck. My. Fucking. Assistant.” He growls, punctuating every word with another thrust.

Suguru feels himself nearing his release, his balls tightening the longer your pussy grips him, until a knock on the door causes the sweat on his body to go cold and forces him to sober up.

“Hello? Is anyone in there?” 

With quick reflexes, Suguru slaps a hand on your mouth, concentrating every bit of his willpower on figuring out the best course of action, all the while the knob rattles at Nanami's attempts to break into the room, complementary pangs echoing against the wood.

“I just need my coat; open up!” 

Whatever took over Suguru seems to have vanished into thin air, leaving him to fend for himself. It’s only then that the severity of the situation becomes apparent. Not only did he coerce his assistant to fuck him, but he did so at a company event where reporters from every major news agency have gathered for a chance to dig up dirt on the Gojos. If word gets out, they're all done for. Suguru, Satoru, the company—every person’s livelihood that depends on the Gojo name will go to waste.

He's hit rock bottom, drowning in self-deprecation, when your fingers curl around his hand and drag it away from your mouth, your thumb squeezing the inside of his palm in a motion that compels him to trust you.

"Manager Nanami?” Your voice sounds so worn out that it's barely recognizable, but it's good. It makes your next sentence more believable. "I'm so sorry for the holdup, but I wasn't feeling too well. Could you, um, give me five to ten more minutes? I promise to bring your coat out myself."

For what feels like an eternity, silence reigns both inside and outside the room, the two of you holding your breaths while the man on the other side of the door decides your fate.

“Fine.” Nanami finally speaks. “Please don’t take too long. I have a train to catch."

"Thank you so much!" You sigh in relief, your forehead pressing forward against the furniture.

A few moments pass before Suguru braces himself to talk, feeling too flustered to let relief wash over him just yet. "Why did you do that? Why would you—"

"Because I'm your assistant." Only half of your smile is visible from that angle, yet it somehow appears more genuine than the previous ones. "You said it yourself. An assistant should be loyal to the one who hired her. It's my duty to look after you."

Your words make Suguru come face-to-face with a realization that, for the longest time, he's conveniently ignored. You aren't equals. You never were. No matter how hard he's tried to bridge the gap between you, it's still there, paralleling the one between him and Satoru, except in both cases, the sore loser remains no one but himself.

"Now, let's hurry up." Your ass rubs impatiently against his pelvis, reminding him that his cock is still snuggled in your cunt. "We don't have much time."

Postponing soul-searching for as long as he can, Suguru picks himself up and slips a hand between your thighs, easily spotting the neglected nub that throbs above your abused pussy lips.

His thumb swipes over your clit, testing a combination of short circles and light flicks that have you seesawing back and forth between his hand and hips, soft moans of pleasure playing like music in his ears. He much prefers them to your sobs.

"F-feels so good, ahh."

"Such a good girl. Learned her lesson, hm?" He hums, lusciously massaging your insides with his cock, his pace far more forgiving.

He gets to relish everything this time. From the intimate way you hold onto his free hand while pushing back to meet his thrusts, to the stuttered Mr. Geto's that complement your pretty whimpers. He feels himself burning up, the heat from your core circuiting his own body and permeating the deepest parts of his soul. He's drunk on you, feeling more heady when inhaling your perfume than he did sipping champagne all night long.

"Mr. Geto, I'm gonna—" The rest of your sentence is cut off, sharp nails digging into his flesh while your shoulders tense up.

"Gonna cum, sweetheart?" Suguru asks, adrenaline rushing to his thick cock that insists on kissing your cervix while his fingers continuously assault the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. "Go ahead. My pretty assistant worked hard for it, didn't she? Proved how much she—f-fuck, she deserves her boss' dick. Cum on this dick, baby. Wanna feel you cum all over me."

"Please, Mr. Geto, pleasepleaseplease , right there, ahhh , please fuck me." Your begging has him losing his mind, the dam between his thoughts and his tongue breaking as he goes on to praise your very existence, no filter whatsoever.

"You were worth the wait. Wanted to do this since d-day one," Suguru pants out, shaking his head with a faint smile. "No, even longer than that. Been wanting you since I saw your picture, fuck—" He bites his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. "Feels like I've been waiting on you forever." 

His confession overlaps with your release, your walls spasming and contracting while the rest of your body goes limp. Suguru knows he won't last much longer, his pace growing sloppier by the minute as the aftershocks of your bliss reel him in, sculpted abs clenching in sync with his heavy balls until his hips come to a complete stutter, ropes upon ropes of his creamy seedy sputtering into your warm cunt.

A string of curses is unleashed as he groans your name, and he's still shuddering when he pulls out, staring wide-eyed at the mess he made. His cum flows out of your hole in a steady stream, trickling down your thighs as if taunting him to plug it back in. He doesn't think he's ever finished this hard in his life, and yet his cock insists on twitching even in the comfort of his palm.

Mesmerized by the sight of your spent pussy squirting out your shared fluids, Suguru makes no real effort to dress himself until his eyes spot the sparse drops that have dribbled from his weeping tip to the carpet below, and panic rings in his head like an alarm.

Frantically, he scans the dimly lit room for some paper—a cloth or a towel; anything that'd help him clean up—only to be struck with disappointment. He keeps none of these items around, and while he's mostly proactive about emergencies, he doubts plowing his assistant qualifies as one.

He's off to find the light switch (not without awkwardly tripping in his pants like a penguin first) when you sneak up behind him, your outfit put back together, with a tissue hanging from your open fingers.

"Whores always clean after themselves." You smile sweetly as Suguru accepts the offering.

The dark-haired man crouches to pick up his pants after wiping his cock clean. A smirk is plastered on his face as he tucks himself back into his underwear and crumples the used paper into a ball that gets tossed in the bin beside him.

"Gonna keep holding that against me?" He asks once he's gone back to looking somewhat presentable.

"Hmm, probably until Monday." Your chuckle placates his heart, only to make it thrum against his chest a second later. "Unless...you don't mind speeding up the process."

Your eyes pierce through him, shining brighter than the light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. He almost wishes the room were kept in darkness, for the sole reason that his surprise remains hidden, hope lumping in his throat.

"What are you suggesting?"

You clutch onto your jacket while pacing around the room, halting in front of the stacked bookshelves mounted on one of the four walls. Your head tilts slightly as you explore his collection of hardcovers and attempt to read the cursive characters on one of his certificates, your smile losing its vibrancy as you go back to facing him, your eyes focusing anywhere but his.

"Rather than neither of us doing anything special for the holidays," you finally speak, "how about we do nothing special for the holidays together?" You lick your lips together, cringing at the way your voice cracks over the last syllable. "Say, outside Meiji Memorial Museum around 6 p.m. tomorrow?"

Suguru catches himself holding his breath, nitpicking your words even when they leave no room for ambiguity. "Are you asking me out?"

Your head is held low as you nod. "I figured after what just happened, you might be interested."

The lump in his throat dissolves only to recur immediately after.

"What about Satoru?" He asks in a hushed tone, prepared for disappointment.

"Satoru is," a small smile creeps up, "he's the most amazing person I've ever met, and will probably meet in my entire life. But," you gnaw on your lips, briefly meeting his eyes, "I have a preference for dark-haired workaholics." He nearly disputes the color of his own hair, relying on the reflection in your eyes to confirm his identity.

"Is that how you see me?"

"That's how most people in the office see you. If you were to ask me, I'd add kind to the list. Generous. Warm. Sly," you giggle before whispering the next word, "sexy."

Heat rises to his cheeks as Suguru wordlessly gawks at you. To say he's taken aback is an understatement. Part of him feels so ecstatic that he could grow wings and fly off into the night sky, while another part wants him to fall at your feet and beg for forgiveness.

He's such an idiot. No, more than an idiot, he is an irredeemable bastard who deserves none of your sympathy after what he did, and yet you don't seem to blame him one bit. If anything, you gaze at him with more affection than you've ever shown to either him or Satoru, affection that obliterates any doubt.

It's him. For once, and for all, and against all odds, it's him who gets to stand under the mistletoe beside you.

"If you're gonna reject me, please do it now." You squint in the cutest way imaginable. "I don't want to ruin my make-up."

Suguru smiles, allowing himself to openly fawn over your concerned expression.

"I'm afraid it's too late for that. Might wanna," he says, vaguely gesturing at your face.

Your knuckles turn black after rubbing below your eyes. Horrified, you dig another tissue from your pocket, hurriedly scrubbing wherever you deem necessary. "Better now?"

"I'd still dash straight to the elevator if I were you." Suguru chuckles at the face you make, taking a step forward. He runs his tongue along his lips, his voice reduced to a purr when he speaks. "You're right. Don't think I can wait until Monday to see you again." The proximity between your heads begs to be nullified, and he's made up his mind. He can't afford to lose you. Not as an assistant, and certainly not as a woman. He's shameless like that.

Bringing his palm to your cheek, Suguru pulls you toward him, planting a soft peck on your lips that tastes like finally.

By the time he draws away, you're both smiling—breathless, despite the kiss lasting less than a second. His hand glides from your neck to the curve of your shoulder, caressing tenderly, while yours rises to his forehead, having mustered enough courage to tuck the the loose strands of hair behind his ear.

"I should probably go first." Your announcement prickles his heart like a thorn. Walking into this room, he'd braced himself for losing you, yet now he can't even stomach the idea of spending a minute without you. "Don't want Manager Nanami to lose his train."

Not being left with much of a choice on the matter, Suguru nods, sighing softly as he watches you grab Nanami's coat and loop it around your arm, heading for the door. Your goodbye is postponed as you turn around with a jewelry-sized box in hand, the same item you were caught fumbling with when he entered the room earlier.

"This is from Satoru." You explain. "I don't know why or what's inside, but he said I should be the one who gives it to you."

When Suguru accepts it, you smile again and bow your head. "Merry Christmas, Suguru."

On second thought, he's so happy he could die.

Suguru is tinged red from head to toe as he sends you off with the same wish, undoing the silver ribbon that holds the box together after the door closes behind you. It's too small to contain an explosive mechanism, that's for sure, but he doesn't hear much of any rattling as he shakes its contents. His confusion grows tenfold once he lifts the lid and is greeted by the folded piece of paper within.

Unfolding it, the note reads a single sentence whose meaning registers in waves that crash over him along with the memories of the past month, the truths and the lies debunked with every repetition of those seven pesky little words.

Now you know what heaven tastes like.

A/N: I know what y'all wondering, and yes. Nanami did win the competition. Oh, and Satoru totally didn't plot behind the scenes for Suguru to make the first move. totally.

Hope you enjoyed this, and I'd love to hear your thoughts, since this is my first time writing for Suguru.

Disclaimer: He did nothing wrong and he remains a pookie.

Somehow.

#geto suguru #geto x reader #gojo x reader #geto smut #jjk geto #getou suguru #getou suguru x reader #getou x reader #getou smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru

[theodorecanaryhood]

The ride or die

Jason Todd x Male reader

Jason has a boyfriend who is Bruce Wayne’s assistant.

Warnings: swearing, sex, violence and mentions of death

10 years flew by as you moved from place to place, spending some time in London, then Europe, then back to London. Moving to Gotham for work.

I guess you could say you were trying to find yourself, but it was not easy. Maybe you were running away, from yourself or something. But you felt ready to stay in one place.

Bruce Wayne took you in as his assistant around 7 years ago, then you worked your way up higher.

‘Good morning, would you mind passing this on to my dad please?’ The man asked, handing you a small file.

You smiled and nodded, taking it from the man. He stood tall, at least 6ft plus, big arms, big form, black curly hair, handsome features filled his face. His eyes pulled you in, they were bright but had a hint of darkness to them.

You’d always stood by that eyes are the gateway to the soul, and his told a story without speaking.

‘Sure, he’s just in a meeting but I’ll grab him when he’s free’ you replied, the man smiled as he seemed to take your form in.

‘I’m Jason, Jason Todd’ he introduced, holding his hand out to you.

‘Y/n y/l/n’ you responded by taking his hand, shaking it.

Jason stood leaning over the counter a little as he watched you, catching up with you a little.

‘Jason? I see you’ve met y/n’ Bruce appeared from his office.

Jason walked over to give his dad a quick hug and chatted, disappearing into Bruce’s office.

You spent the last bit of the morning catching up on some deals, organising meetings for Bruce. Occasionally hearing Bruce and Jason laughing I the office.

‘So, I will see you Friday for dinner’ Bruce said as he patted Jason in the back.

Both leaving the office, the two smiled as Jason headed toward the door, him winking at you before he left.

You blushed a little as you watched Jason walk away, hearing Bruce clearing his throat, you picked up the file and handed it to Bruce.

A black tie gala was all you needed right now, Bruce asked if you could come with him as part of a new promotion he’d offered you.

Bruce didn’t want you as his assistant anymore, he wanted you as a partner. A business partner, a man responsible for half of Bruce’s work.

‘Hello again’ Jason caught your attention, his black suit, black leather gloves, flower rested neatly on his jacket.

Jason looked very handsome in this form, he looked like a man who would steal hearts with a look.

‘Hi Jason’ you smiled back, the two of you stood beside each other as Bruce made his speech.

Bruce noticed the two of you talking a lot and getting drinks together, Bruce smiled to himself, he hadn’t seen Jason like this for a long time.

‘He’s gay, and single’ Bruce whispered to Jason quietly as the two stepped away to get a drink.

‘Why are you telling me?’ Jason asked as Bruce shrugged.

‘Just saying’ Bruce chuckled, Jason glanced over to you.

You sat at the bar and began talking to another man, older and well dressed. Jason was about to have a heart attack with how much he hated to see you talking to another guy all of a sudden.

Jason pulled you away from this older man and took a leap.

‘Can I take you out sometime?’ Jason asked, looking into your eyes.

‘Yeah’ you smiled, no hesitation in your response, Jason blushed a little as he leant down and kissed your cheek.

5 years had passed since this moment, 5 amazing years of you and Jason. Bruce refers to you as not only his business partner, but his son in law. Referring to you as this with pride.

It was a long drive through the roads as Jason sped in his Porsche, his sports car. Holding your hand, radio playing tunes as the two of you stared at the road ahead.

Jason’s skin was always the best feeling as you held onto his hand, it was another hour or so until you arrived at the hideout house.

You knew of the other lives, Bruce told you a few years back that he is Batman. Then you figured the others are Nightwing, Robin and so on.

Jason’s white muscle tee complimented his physique well, a physique you would never grow bored of.

The first time you saw Jason without his clothes was a blessing, he took his shirt off and you nearly fell with the sight in front of you. He took his underwear off and you almost screamed with the size. Jason’s manhood swung around as you saw, it would probably be the death of you.

Jason stared off into the distance as his head dropped to what he was doing, not even noticing that you were drifting into a deep sleep.

Jason gripped the steering by wheel as he glanced over at you, his boyfriend, fast asleep and dreaming.

Jason patted your knee as he allowed you to remain where you were, the sun falling down and turning the sky into a black night. The grey skies were filling the road, Jason figured he would need to take a break at some point, pulling over into a parking lot and filling the car with gas.

In these silent moments when Jason’s brain was his own, he remembered all the bits of his life that he tried to forget.

His death, his resurrection and all the things that followed. Jason distracted his brain by remembering all the memories with you.

After another round of driving, Jason parks neatly in the bay as he rushes out of the car. Opens the passenger door for you, holding his hand out and ‘princessing’ you out of the car, gives you a big kiss. Then Jason finishes it off by giving your ass a slap, the big one where he grips on impact.

The two of you get inside the base, a simple getaway for just the two of you. Escaping from Gotham for a night or two. Jason walking behind you so he can have the best view as you walk.

Jason wraps an arm around your waist as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, you managing to lock the door as you turn to face Jason.

‘Fuck, you’re so cute’ Jason growls as he kisses you, deepening the impact t as he lifts you off your feet.

You wrap your legs around Jason’s waist, holding onto his arms as Jason kisses you, him smiling into it.

The feeling of the wall against your back and being pinned against Jason’s giant form, makes your groin ache for release, Jason knows this and has power over you.

‘I’m gonna fuck you so hard’ Jason pants in between kisses, you dig your fingertips into Jason’s muscles as he presses further against you.

Jason pulls your top off over your head as you do the same to him, running your hands down Jason’s body.

Clothes scattered all over the place as Jason pins you against the wall once again, shoving his length inside you, you threw your head back, eyes rolled back and big grunt.

‘Fuck, baby’ Jason moaned as he began to pump inside you.

Remaining where you were as Jason pumped at an unbelievable pace, you were floating in the air as Jason hit all the right spots.

Jason rested his forehead against your collarbone as he released himself inside you, you gasped as you felt his seed rushing inside you. Kissing the top of Jason’s head as he smiled.

Jason rinsed you down as the two of you stood under the shower, grabbing your face as he kissed you again. The steam from the shower filled the room.

Jason could never go too long without kissing you, he had to be touching you in some way. Jason loved without saying it too much, showing it was always Jason’s thing.

Black tank top, grey sweats and leaning against his Porsche, Jason lit a cigarette as you approached from the house.

‘Ready to go back home baby?’ Jason smiled as he blew smoke out of his mouth, you nodded as you kissed him.

Jason held the passenger door open for you as you got in the car, him finishing his cigarette before driving the two of you back home.

Hand resting on your thigh, you nose deep in a book, Jason listening to the light music from the radio. Jason smiled a little as he sat next to you, his love.

#red hood #gotham #red hood fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd #jason todd x male reader #red hood x male reader

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Imagines: Merry Christmas, Goofball

————————————————————————-

Summary: Joe gets an extra gift at his family Christmas!

(Tiny part two to - Part 1)

Warnings: Fluff

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

————————————————————————-

December 27, 2023

(Joe’s pov)

The past two days had been boring, empty, quiet, and all the negative adjectives.

I made the drive down to Athens today for Christmas with my family.

We were having it two days after Christmas to accommodate my brother’s having to go to their in-laws.

It was just going to be the same as last year, watching the kids play, and adult couples sit at the table while drinking wine together.

I fit in with neither group. So I either sat on the couch to watch a football game, or I'd sneak off to my old bedroom and play video games.

Whatever the plan ended up being, I was going to try to get away from this scene.

After all the grandkids opened presents from my mom and dad, it was my time to drift away from the group.

I grabbed a trash bag and gathered all of the wrapping paper and empty gift bags.

When the trash bag was full, I snuck into the kitchen and laid It by the backdoor to be taken out.

Once I did a quick look around and knew no one was watching, I opened the basement door, but before I could reach a foot out for the first step, I felt a huge hand on my shoulder.

Immediately, my shoulders dropped. I'd been caught.

“Not this year.” - Jimmy

I turned around to see my dad and gave him a sheepish smile.

“Sorry…” - Joe

“Don't apologize, son. I know it’s awkward since y/n can’t be with you.” - Jimmy

“Yeah, it really is. I don't fit in with the kids obviously, but I don't want to be the only adult in there without a partner with them.” - Joe

“Your mom and I are sorry for making you feel left out, so we got you an extra gift.” - Jimmy

“Huh?” - Joe

“It's on the front porch.” - Jimmy

I gently pushed past my dad and walked through the sea of people, making a beeline for the front door.

Out of nowhere, everyone fell silent, like they were anticipating my reaction.

After giving everybody a confused glare, I opened the door.

My heart stopped when my eyes fell on my extra gift.

“Baby?!” - Joe lept forward and grabbed you

I held her as tight as possible and spun her around, still trying to understand how and why this was happening.

“Hi, Joey.” - you giggled

Her legs were wrapped around my waist as I held her up in my arms.

“What are you doing here?” - Joe

I sat her back down on the ground, my arms never leaving her waist.

“You think I'm not gonna visit my boyfriend when he's in Athens? You were like thirty minutes away instead of two hours, couldn't pass on seeing your smiling face.” - you

“Shit, I didn't even think of that. I was so busy moping around that I forgot I was actually in Athens, where you are.” - Joe

She playfully rolled her eyes before pressing a long kiss to my lips.

Suddenly, there was a voice coming from behind us.

“I see you found your gift. Hi y/n!” - Robin

I smiled at my mom before y/n hugged her, they pulled away, and y/n said something to her.

“Thank you for inviting me, Robin.” - you

“Oh of course sweetie! He’s been walking around depressed like Eeyore from Winnie-the-Pooh all day. I knew you were the only thing capable of making him smile.” - Robin

y/n laughed and I felt myself blushing, not just from embarrassment but also from that gorgeous laugh.

“He loves you so much.” - Robin whispered

I know my mom attempted to whisper, so only y/n could hear… but she failed miserably, and I heard anyway.

“I love him too… so much.” - you told Robin

“Good.” - Robin smile

A few seconds of silence went by before my mom spoke up again.

“Well, I won't bother you guys… feel free to sneak off to the basement like you do every year, Joe. Enjoy your time together!” - Robin smiled before walking away

When she walked away, y/n and I embraced once again before I took her hand and led her toward the basement.

“Am I gonna see the iconic Star Wars room, Joey?” - you

“How do you know about that?” - Joe grinned

“I watch your interviews.” - you shrug

“Stalker.” - Joe scoffed jokingly

“At least I didn't ask a nineteen-year-old out when I was twenty-six.” - you mumbled

I stopped so abruptly that she crashed into my back.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Think I shouldn't have?” - Joe

“What? No! I was just joking.” - your eyes went wide

“Don’t joke about that shit! It's not funny.” - Joe

Grimacing when I realized I raised my voice, I watched y/n’s body language change completely.

“Sorry…” - you looked down

“Wait… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have raised my voice. I didn't mean to, baby…” - Joe

“It’s okay. I won't joke about it again. I was playing around and didn't think you'd take it seriously, but I should've known.” - you

“Can we just drop it? I don't want to argue right now.” - Joe looked at you with sincere eyes

“I’d love that. Can we just chill downstairs and cuddle?” - you

“I thought you'd never ask.” - Joe grinned

——

After an hour of cuddling and watching a movie, y/n and I went back upstairs to find my family getting the gingerbread house kits out.

“Oh, hell no.” - you mumbled

“We can go back downstairs.” - Joe laughed

“Can we please? I have beef with gingerbread houses.” - you

I laughed realizing she copied my line about dry ingredients from a few days ago, and took her hand to go back down to my room.

“Uncle Joe!” - Joe’s nephew

Turning around to see my little nephew, I wondered what he wanted.

“Yup?” - Joe

“Look.” - Joe’s nephew

The five-year-old pointed to the doorframe above me and y/n, where a mistletoe hung.

I looked at y/n with a big smile, and we both shrugged at the same time before leaning in to kiss each other.

Because I wasn't a fan of PDA, we haven't ever kissed in front of someone. Other than y/n’s family watching through the windows when I dropped her off.

But right now, as everyone whistled and watched us kiss under the mistletoe, I'd never felt so happy.

We pulled away from each other after a solid minute, with huge grins on our faces from ear to ear.

“Merry Christmas, baby.” - Joe

“Merry Christmas, goofball.” - you laughed

————————————————————————-

Authors note: I felt like the fic needed a second part…. CHRISTMAS FICS ARE OFFICIALLY DONE.

This came from my own head! 🫶

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joey b #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic

[thebetawolfgirl]

Bonding Time part 5

Pairing: Timmy x Reader

Warnings: Smut.

Summary: The Best friend finds out.

Bonding Time pt5

A week later and they hadn’t heard anything from either of their parents again. After Greg walked in on them in bed together the step siblings thought they would hear from y/n’s mother, but they received only radio silence.

‘Well, to be fair how do you tell your new bride you walked in on your son and her daughter fucking like rabbits?’ Y/n asked over the phone hearing Timmy sniggering on the other end.

‘I mean it’s not something you blurt out at dinner while passing the carrots is it?’

Timmy hummed from his side, ‘True. But I thought we would hear something at least. You can’t tell me he walked back into that house all fake smiles and cheery ‘hellos’ after what he just came from? Now THAT’S unnatural.’

‘Yeah.’ She held up a dress in front of her standing in front of the mirror.

‘What are you doing? You’re distracted.’

‘I’m trying to find something to wear to this stupid party tonight.’

She heard him burst into laughter on the other side of the phone, ‘What is so funny?’

‘You got roped in to going to Chloe’s party tonight. Ha ha ha.’

‘Go fuck yourself Chalamet!’

She hung up the phone and tossed it on the bed when she heard her doorbell ring, she looked at the camera footage and saw it was Sarah and Emma and let them in.

She hung up the dress she had out and went to greet them.

‘Hey guys I’m in my room.’

The two girls came into her room kicking off their heels at the door and sitting on the bed, y/n grabbed her iPhone and put it in her dressing gown pocket, one so it wouldn’t break and two so they didn’t have a nosy in case Timmy messaged her.

‘So have you decided what to wear tonight?’ Emma asked flipping through a magazine she found on the bedside table.

‘No nothing yet, how about you?’

Both girls shook their head no.

‘Chloe is just losing her mind with this party, she really wants to impress her future in laws with this. Make them think she’s sophisticated and cultured.’ Sarah waved her hands in an exaggerated manner and y/n smiled and took out a dress from her wardrobe and held it up ‘Oooh that’s nice, is that Chanel?’ Y/n nodded and smiled.

‘Yeah I decided to treat myself.’

She didn’t tell her friends Timmy had bought it for her just because.

She knew her friends were wondering where she was getting all of this nice stuff and who was buying her it, but to be honest it was none of their business. Plus they wouldn’t get it either. They were also curious about the amount of time she and Timmy were spending together.

She removed her robe to try a dress on and heard gasps behind her, she looked behind her shoulder to see her friends staring at her body in shock. ‘What?’

‘Y/n your back!’ Emma stood up and slowly walked over to her. The fact she didn’t flinch from her convinced her friend she wasn’t being abused as she touched her back lightly.

‘I’ve been taking kick-boxing classes recently. It’s really fun.’

‘And the bite marks on your shoulders?! Are your sparring partners biting you?’ Sarah asked standing up with Emma to get a closer look.

‘They don’t hurt and there’s no internal damage so it’s no big deal.’

Y/n responded trying the dress on and looking in the mirror before shaking her head, ‘No good.’ Before removing and hanging it back up.

‘Y/n! We need to talk about this. Who is doing this?’

‘No one is doing this to me. Like I said I’m taking kick-boxing classes and it’s hardcore. Now let’s just get ready for this party.’

Y/n Heard her phone Ping in her pocket and grabbed it smiling at the message

“Apparently Stacey has been invited and insisted I go with her tonight.”

“This party just got a lot more fun.”

She locked the phone and put it back in her pocket seeing her friend’s faces.

‘What?’

‘Who was that?’ Emma asked casually.

‘My mom, why?’ Y/n lied.

Sarah shrugged ‘Just curious. You seemed to be spending a lot of time with Timothée lately.’

Y/n rolls her eyes walking over to the dresser ‘This shit again? He’s my step brother, our parents are married, so wether we like it or not, we need to try and get along with each other. Because according to my mother she’s in this for the long haul.’

‘We’re just concerned that’s all.’ Emma said calmly.

‘About what exactly?’ Y/n asks facing her friends.

‘Timothée said you tried to make a pass at him at Georgette’s 21st and he turned you down Sarah. So I’m getting along with him, and suddenly you’re so concerned about how much time I’m spending with him.’

Sarah’s eyes widened in shock ‘y/n that’s not the case at all. My god, we were stupid kids then, I’m completely over that.’

Y/n rolled her eyes, picking her things up off the floor and threw her gown back on as Emma piped in.

‘Y/n it’s just…. Whenever we’re all out together you and Timmy sit in a corner by yourselves whispering to each other and not getting involved in any conversations-

‘Oh I’m so sorry I don’t want to listen about the wedding that’s been happening for the past fucking six years. Jesus, I was bridesmaid at my mother’s wedding before I’ve even been asked to be Chloe’s.’

Sarah was about to speak again, when y/n’s phone pinged, she picked it up and looked at the screen. It was Timmy, apparently he was in the living room and he overheard most of what her friends had said to her about him.

‘I’ll be right back. Don’t go looking through my stuff you won’t find anything.’

She walked out of her bedroom closing the door behind her and went to meet Timmy in the living room.

She found him pacing in front of the sofa annoyed when he looked up and saw her approaching and walked over to her crushing his lips against hers in a heated kiss.

She kissed him back, before breaking away breathless.

‘Shhh. They’re in the bedroom still. We need to be quiet.’

He took a deep breath through his nose closing his eyes.

‘They have no right to talk to you like that y/n.’

‘I know. I know.’ She whispers stroking her thumb across his cheek, soothing him.

‘They’re the most nosiest people in my life. And I think Sarah is a bit jealous since you turned her down at Georgette’s 21st.’

‘Oh boohoo.’ He rolled his eyes feeling more calm and lay his head against her shoulder. ‘Are you going to the party tonight?’ She asked rubbing his back.

He nodded against her shoulder.

‘Stacey was invited, I’m very confused as to why though.’

Y/n smiles against his shoulder ‘Chloe’s way of showing off her kind side to her future in laws.’

Timmy chuckles against her and lifts his head to look at her.

‘I should go, but I will see you tonight.’

She nodded smiling when she heard her bedroom door open and her friends coming out to the living room.

They both parted and Timmy headed through to the kitchen, and y/n stood glaring at him with her arms folded across her chest.

‘Go and eat food at your own apartment.’

‘Why would I do that when I can raid your fridge?’ He smirks at her.

‘Seriously? You’re such a delinquent.’

Y/n’s friends came through and he rolled his eyes ‘Oh look, it’s Gretchen Weiner and Karen Smith.’

Y/n coughs to cover up her laugh as Sarah glared at him. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘Performing open heart surgery.’ He rolls his eyes eating a potato chip. ‘Mind your own business!’

‘Well this is y/n’s apartment-

‘Right, y/n’s apartment, I don’t remember seeing your names on the fucking lease.’ Timmy bit back glaring.

‘OKAY! We get it, you don’t like each other, move on.’ Y/n held up her hands becoming bored.

Timmy decided to say his goodbyes and told y/n he would see her at the party.

Later at the party, y/n was sitting with her friends when Timmy entered with Stacey and they both approached their table and sat down. Timmy remained standing offering to get in a round, ‘I’ll come up with you I need to go to the ladies room anyways.’

Y/n and Timmy walked to the bar together as Emma watched them from the table where she saw them chatting close together. It was dim lighting in the room, but she still saw how close they were standing to each other and how they were subtly touching each other.

She also noticed how when Timmy leaned in to talk in her ear she would lean forward and smile hanging onto every word then laugh.

When the music began everyone headed to the dance floor, Timmy stayed seated although Stacey asked him to come with her, he declined. Emma saw from the dance floor y/n return from the restroom and sit across from Timothée, she saw him lean in whispering something to her and she nodded.

Emma got Sarah’s attention and nodded subtly to the two at the table as Timothée played with her fingers on one hand as she pushed his hair back smiling.

Y/n noticed they were being watched and moved away from Timmy as he sighed following her lead.

‘Your friends need to get a life of their own, it’s pathetic how invested they are in yours. Especially Sarah.’

Y/n nodded running her fingers through her hair.

‘Tell me about it, you know when she saw my back today she actually came over and TOUCHED me. She didn’t even ask before she put her fingers on my body,’

Timmy clenched his jaw grinding his teeth.

‘She needs to learn some fucking boundaries that woman.’

Y/n shook her head and took his hand before standing ‘Dance with me.’

He followed her to the dance floor and took her hand in his as a slower song came on and swayed with her.

‘I think Sarah and Emma are onto us.’ Y/n whispered to him.

‘Who cares what those two think? Emma was caught getting taken from behind by her father’s nephew at her parents wedding anniversary so she has no right to judge us.’

‘And Sarah?’ She raised her eyebrow at him.

‘Sarah is a pathetic and nosy little wench who has nothing else better to do than to involve herself in things that’s nothing to do with her. If she did confront you about us she would be more devastated at the fact you didn’t tell HER rather than the fact that you’re fucking your step brother.’

Y/n chuckled against him as the song finished and they separated.

Timmy looked around and saw both women look away knowing they had been watching them and smirked.

‘We have an audience.’ Y/n looked in the direction Timmy nodded in and rolled her eyes.

‘They are unbelievable.’

Timmy pulled her into a corner and kissed her gently holding her face between his hands.

She kissed him back wrapping her arms around him before they broke apart breathing heavily.

After the party began to die down, Timmy offered to take y/n home and she immediately accepted even though Sarah had already offered to take her home.

Y/n went home with Timmy without hesitation. Both Emma and Sarah had been weirded out by both of their behaviour throughout the entire evening, even Chloe mentioned it at one point.

So Sarah decided to follow them home. Just to make sure he didn’t take advantage of her friend, because she didn’t trust Chalamet whatsoever.

Timmy and y/n were walking home talking about how decent the party turned out to be.

‘They could’ve had a better selection of beer, or any kind of beer for that matter.’ He complained as y/n chuckled finally entwining their fingers while they walked home.

‘I think she was going for sophisticated to impress the in laws so she had the finest wines and oldest ports and whiskey and scotch.’ He lifted their hands and kissed her knuckles nibbling each fingertip.

She watched him before he turned and kissed her gently before deepening it.

She kissed back and pushed him against the nearest building leaning into him as he wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her closer against him.

Sarah watched the entire thing in disgust as they broke their make out session and walked into y/n’s building together.

She walked home not believing what she had just witnessed with her own eyes and fathomed how they could do that? And why didn’t y/n tell her and what did their parents think?

Timmy shoved y/n against the wall with a thud shutting the door behind him and began kissing her neck sliding the hem of her short dress up he thighs and bit her shoulder.

Y/n gasped as he grabbed her thighs and lifting her up to wrap her legs around him and crushed his lips to hers in a rough kiss.

She ripped his shirt open letting the buttons scatter across the room as he pulled her dress off her body and carried her to the bedroom.

He dropped her onto the bed and removed his jeans and boxers in one go and crawled on top of her kissing his way up her body.

She breathed out his name as he nipped and kissed her chest as he slid into her making her gasp.

He entwined their fingers and pinned them above her head so she couldn’t flip them this time and took control as he began to move against her leaning down to capture her lips in a heated kiss.

He thrust harder and faster into her as she rocked against him panting into his neck, he freed her hands to wrap his arms under and around her waist and held her tighter against him as he slammed into her causing the full bed frame to hit the wall. She clung to his shoulders, as he rammed into her holding him against her, she grabbed his face and kissed him hungrily feeling his tongue slide in to her mouth and bit his lip causing him to slam particularly hard into her making her leap further up the pillows.

‘Timmy’ she gasped against his shoulder as he pulled her up to sit on his lap and let her ride him. She pulled him against her chest and bounced against him hard hearing him whimper and claw her back and even her waist this time as she rode him. They came together in a shaking sticky mess panting into each other’s mouths.

They fell back together landing at the bottom of the large bed tangled in the sheets damp with sweat and breathing hard.

They had no idea Sarah knew their secret now. All they knew at that moment was each other as they lay in each other’s arms kissing tiredly as Timmy drew circles on y/n’s damp skin where the sheet had tangled around her waist.

They fell asleep not knowing Sarah was in her own apartment telling Emma about what she had seen.

@sufferingstarlight

@gatoenlaciudad

@kteezy997

@lixzey

@tchalamss

#lil timmy tim #timothèe chalamet #timothée hal chalamet #timothée chalamet #timmy x reader #timothee chalamet smut #timothee icons #timothee chalamet #timmy fanfics

[elvisabutler]

Austin!Elvis x reader - Elvis convinces the reader’s mom to let her stay at Graceland for the whole summer. You can do whatever you want from there.

queen of graceland

summary: your parents don't like elvis one bit. you do like elvis quite a bit. somehow you get your parents to allow you to stay with your boyfriend all summer. the two of you have a plan to make your stay permanent. fandom: austin butler | elvis ( 2022 ) | elvis presley rating: m pairing: austin!elvis ( 50's ) x female reader word count: 5007 ( do i have an explanation? no, no i don't. but welcome to why my requests take a hot minute i guess? ) warnings: p in v sex ( unprotected ). oral ( f receiving ). breeding kink. mutual weirdly wholesome entrapment. everyone is of age. going against parents' wishes. controlling parents. pregnancy. gladys' death is mentioned at the very end. mentions of elvis's close relationship with his mother. author’s note: first off anon! thank you for this request and saints preserve me i am truly sorry it took so long to get to it and it turned into- well this. so i got this before i did kinktober and blah blah we all know life is hectic around the holidays but once i realized this clearly is happening with an of age reader and all that jazz i had to pick an elvis and while i believe it can be agreed that this prompt lends itself well to a sort of dark ( or innocent tbh ) 70s elvis thing- my brain settled on this interesting 50s elvis mutual entrapment breeding kink thing that was originally a little darker but still has those morally grey tinges. i hope you enjoy anon, i did actually really like this prompt from the moment i got it. special thanks to @blurredcolour for being my 50s elvis woman always and my partners in breeding mrs. presley crime, y'all know who you are. and if you all so desire you can imagine elvis in this. but i did try and stay closer to the movie than i have lately on some of my specifically austin elvis requests as of late.

Your mama hates Elvis, it's a fact you've known since the moment she laid eyes on him when you brought him home. First it was that he wasn't good enough for her daughter, too poor, too stupid and too destined to be in the poor parts of Memphis until he dies. Then it was that he was too vulgar and too free wheeling and he was just gonna hurt you, besides what would he see in the girl he left behind at home. All the things she whispers in your ears aren't true because you know as well as anyone the Elvis is practically obsessed with you to the point of madness. It flatters you and delights you enough to make you want to keep him until the end of both your lives. It makes you want to claim him and keep him as your own, to be at home while he travels the states or to accompany him, whatever he wants and whatever brings you the most pleasure in your life.

These wants are how you found yourself practically begging your mother for permission to spend the summer at Graceland after Elvis has already plead his case. You're nineteen and an adult but you still live under your mama and your daddy's roof so their rules are law. And their main rule is one date every two weeks with you and your boyfriend. The concept of you spending an entire set of months with him is not one they're willing to easily agree to but you promise that no funny business is going to go on and besides, his own mama would rather die than have him do anything untoward to you. Nevermind that she's been pressuring him to put a ring on your finger since she realized that you were fine with how close they were, found it endearing and hoped, God willing that your own son and you would have the same sort of relationship. Granted, you were aware that it was unhealthy and all but- Elvis wasn't ever going to unwind himself from his mama so you dealt with it, you could deal with it and charm her to where she needed to be charmed.

Elvis doesn't waste a minute as soon as he sees you walking up the steps of Graceland, carrying two bags full of clothes you planned on wearing while you were there. He takes them from you despite your valiant protests and sets them down by the door the moment he shuts the front door.

"Can't believe you got her to agree to it." Elvis grins, practically bouncing on his heels. He looks like a kid in a candy store, like you've given him the best present you could have for his birthday, his Christmas, his everything. "Getcha all to myself all summer."

You move closer to him moving your hands to his hips and pulling him in for a kiss that's supposed to be chaste but- you've missed him too much to try, instead allowing your tongue to meet his and your teeth to pull at his lip earning a low moan from him as you pull away. "If you do your job right, it'll be longer than the summer, Elvis. I'll be here every summer. Every winter." You move one of his hands to your stomach. "I'll be here every second you want me and them to be."

His eyes widen just a hair before he rubs at your stomach, picturing you full of him, your stomach swelling with a baby or two he's put there. Picturing you going home to your parents only to be sent back because his child or children are growing inside you. The only thing that keeps him from pulling you inside and fucking you against the nearest surface is the knowledge that his mother and Mary and Grandma Dodger are in the kitchen but he moves closer to you anyway, pulling you inside as he nips at your ear. "That you askin' for a baby, Satnin? Askin' for me to fill ya up before ya go back to your parents? Make them see ya belong wit' me?"

You feel your arousal pool in your undergarments as you clench around air, wishing he was having sex with you already. Wishing you could feel his cock filling you up in just the way you needed. A noise of pure desire- a mix of a coo and a whine- leaves your mouth as you push him against the wall by the door. "That's me beggin' for one, El." Your own accent thickens, brought on only by the desire coursing through you at proving that you belong by Elvis's side.

Elvis looks like he's about to say something, or like he's about to lift you up against the wall- everyone be damned before he hears his mother shouting his name and he growls against your neck, allowing himself to at the very least shove his knee in between your thighs. Gladys comes around the corner, grinning and looking pleased as punch to see you even as you take just a second to grind on her sons' thigh as you smile over his shoulder at her.

"Y/N!" She shouts, starting to walk to toward the pair of you, causing Elvis to move his thigh from between your legs and turn to face his mama. "Bewbie, you were supposed to tell me when she got here!"

Elvis has the decency to look chargined for a moment, burrowing his face into your shoulder like a little boy and mumbling. "Mama- she just got here and I missed her."

"And you think I haven't?" She frowns, lightly slapping his arm and pulling you away from him. If she notices anything about his lower half she doesn't say anything, instead focusing on pulling you in for a hug. "A whole summer with us, oh- I was thinkin' I was gonna have to talk to your mama myself to convince her." She pauses and looks at Elvis. "You'd have thought she thinks my bewbie's gonna ruin you."

Elvis looks over at you as his mother just squeezes you in her hug. His teeth are biting into his lower lip as he tries not to laugh, knowing fully well that had she not interrupted you that he would have been well on his way to ruining you by the front door. Your smile back at him is full of promise and can barely be called a smile, edging more to a smirk than anything else. The idea is for him to ruin you this summer, you are both entirely aware that your parents will never let you be with Elvis as long as they live unless something drastic changes. Unless they're forced to allow him to be with you and while you like to think there's a better option, from the way you and Elvis keep looking at each other you both have come to the same conclusion, there isn't. He's never going to be good enough in your parents' eyes for their baby even if he makes all the money in the world or if he settles down and stops making that rock and roll music. No, he's always going to be that boy they don't like, that boy who'll only ever bring ruin to their baby girl. Even if that's the furthest from what he is, from what he wants to be.

In a perfect world, he likes to think he'd have you after seeing you dressed up all in white, looking a vision from the bible, all virginal and ready for him to explore in ways no one ever had or ever would after him. You'd be underneath him, writhing and panting in the way you do when you both get a little hot and heavy in his Cadalliac but he'd have you bare and so open to him. So open to be able to receive his cum, so open and ready to give him children so that he could see you swollen with him. So that he could see a little blond boy or girl suckling at your chest with you all sweaty after having brought them into the world.

in a perfect world, he likes to think the two of you would have a gaggle of kids after you got married and that he'd take them on the road with him. Get himself a bus like BB where he can just have you and his kids as a little moving sanctuary or maybe just have them at home with you taking care of them. He knows you might wanna work outside the home but he also knows that can wait, he could provide for you both and for anyone else for now. In this world though, in the world you both live in he has to find a way to even have you for longer than a summer and drastic situations call for drastic measures. The pair of you are so busy looking at each other that neither one of you are really paying attention to Gladys when she pulls away and says something to the both of you only to shake her head at how little you're both paying attention.

"Ignoring me because you can't take your eyes off each other-" She sighs a little, clutching her chest at the image. "I'll leave you two be, Elvis go take her things up to her room, show her what we set up for her."

You raise an eyebrow as she leaves and within a minute you're up against Elvis, grabbing both of your bags for him to take from you. "My room." You pause and giggle softly. "You mean the room that's just going to have my clothes in it?"

Elvis has to shut his eyes for a moment as he shakes his head, exhaling softly. "Darlin'- if you're lucky your clothes are gonna be there. I plan on havin' ya everywhere in my damn house."

A gasp leaves your mouth as he takes the bags and starts to walk up the stairs. "Everywhere in the house, El- what about everyone else."

He's silent as you head up the stairs and doesn't bother to answer your question until you're both safely in your room. The bed is simple enough, large enough for you and Elvis to be on it together easily and the room is surprisingly simple in decoration. Gladys' influence, you figure. The bags hit the floor with a thump as suddenly you find yourself being walked back to the bed. The back of your knees hit the bed frame and you let out a huff of surprise before flopping on the bed. Elvis doesn't miss a beat as he crawls on top of you, his eyes heady with desire.

"Satnin, darlin' they ain't here all the time." He starts before kissing at your neck, his hands moving to undo the buttons of your blouse with surprising ease. "And if you want to leave here with my baby in you, we gotta make sure there's enough of me in there. Gotta make sure you're full of me. Gotta make sure it stays and catches, like they all say it does."

A shiver goes through you at his words, your hands moving to undo his belt and pants, some sort of primal need overcoming your desire to say anything else. He's right and you know this. You know that there's no guarantee you'd get pregnant on the first try, that practice makes perfect and it wouldn't hurt to have him fill you up with his- release as much as he can. Yet, hearing the words come out of Elvis's mouth, hearing how he's going to fill you up has your body on edge, has it craving what he's offering. You faintly hear a chuckle as you struggle with the button to his pants and feel his warm hands- always so large- over your own, assisting you before you triumphantly achieve your goal. Your hand slips into his underwear, finding its way to his cock easily, feeling his foreskin and how dry it is before you pull his cock out. Elvis grabs your hand and spits into it, knowing that sometimes you forget to spit, forget that while his precum helps, the beginning part, this part depends on a little extra liquid.

"Don't hold back, darlin'." He mutters, seeing your lower lip caught between your teeth. "Gonna make you mine, wanna hear how you love it. How you would have sounded if we could do this proper with a wedding an' everythin'."

If you're embarrassed at the whimper, it doesn't show, the arousal starting to seep out of you becoming unbearable as your chest heaves just a tad. Elvis watches your breasts still in your bra bounce that little bit as your chest heaves and tries to focus on anything but your hand wrapping around his cock as you move your hand up and down for a moment before starting to pull back his foreskin. He hisses the second your thumb brushes against his tip. His precum makes it glide easily but- it's too much, he wants to be in you, doesn't want to waste a single drop down your throat or your hand or anywhere. Somehow his hand makes it down to your skirt, pushing it down with an ease he'll explain away later as just dumb luck. He knows fully well it's come from the few times he's had someone on the tours but he loves you- has loved you from the moment you agreed to date him but he was lonely. Somehow your underwear comes with the skirt and you find yourself shivering at the cold air against your pussy. Elvis looks down, his fingers sliding between your folds, marveling at just how wet you are for him. A growl leaves him unbidden as he moves to shoo your hand away from his cock and lines himself up with your exposed pussy, allowing himself to put just the tip in, feeling you stretch around him. He knows he should wait, knows that you've stretched yourself as much as you can playing with yourself over the phone while he pumps his cock in empty hotel rooms, but it's nothing compared to his cock inside of you.

His eyes dart across your face, asking for permission to push in farther and you nod just barely, your eyes shutting as you feel the burn of his cock in you. It's a uncomfortable but you manage, breathing through your nose as he takes his time. You figure this has to be torture for him, after all you had felt how hard he was, saw how red the head of his cock looked but he's still being gentle. He's still putting your needs so far above his own. This is what your mama doesn't see- the man who treats you like a goddess when he's fucking you for the first time. You roll your hips up, earning a groan from him as he increases his speed, taking your actions to mean he can. Whimpers and small tiny moans escape your lips, providing a small symphony of noise around you both as Elvis's lips smack against yours and against your skin and as your skin meets over and over again as his hips rut against you. Your brain floats the more you feel him, the more you feel a coil deep inside of you tightening, feel yourself inching closer to the edge. Your hands move to his back, pulling him closer into you before you hear him curse, and feel his hips rut a few times in quick succession before feeling a warmth inside you. Your own orgasm follows soon after, the moan that escapes your lips being swallowed by Elvis's kiss so as to not arouse suspicion of what you've done up here. Elvis stays on top of you, keeping his cock inside you even as he catches his breath and his hips still pump ever so slowly into you. Your ears faintly register a faint squelching noise as he does and you find that you can't look Elvis in the eyes, the noise somehow reminding you that this is an inherently filthy act. A moment passes of still hearing the noise before your vagina inadvertently clenches around him, earning a low growl and a biting kiss from Elvis.

It was like you were trying to suck him into you, trying to make sure no part of his cum or him would be free of you. You don't intend for it to be that way and yet it's how it goes, allowing you to hold him close as you both continue to catch your breath. The amount of time that passes isn't something either one of you pay attention to before Elvis starts to pull out, earning a whine from both of you as he does.

"Got me in a vice grip, Satnin. Gotta let me go, mama was cooking with everyone- gotta make sure we keep up our strength." He murmurs, kissing your cheeks, your lips and down your neck to your chest. "Gonna have fun tonight- play with those breasts of yours. Show ya how our baby is gonna eat from ya."

A low keen escapes your lips as you push him off of you, knowing that the way he's talking is going to have you pulling him back on top of you, ruining any hope you have of getting to stay the rest of the summer. Gladys may want you here but she doesn't know what her son and you have planned, how right she is about him ruining you. How with any luck, you'll be leaving with a baby in your belly that will round out your form and have your parents forcing him to marry you. A simple entrapment scheme- but one you and Elvis are privy to while either set of parents aren't.

It takes a moment before you and Elvis are put together and you hear Gladys calling for both of you as you're both smoothing out each other's hair, making sure it's just mussed and not completely giving away how fucked out you are. That it's not giving away how you feel his cum leaking out of you enough that you want to push it back in but know that it can wait. This time it doesn't need to take. Besides, if it did- why you think you'd be leaving with an already there bump, and that won't quite do. Elvis kisses you one more time, gently before grabbing your hand. "Come on darlin', gonna show ya how it's gonna be when you're here forever."

True to his word, Elvis does manage to fuck you in just about every place in the house, except for the few rooms that are off limits. Sure, the Colonel comes and has to have meetings and Elvis has to leave one week to record some music but otherwise, he's by your side unable to keep his hands off of you. Unable to keep himself from being in you the moment he can, there's even a moment while you're out on the porch with you in his lap and your skirt billowing around the two of you as he fucks you while watching the sunset. Your period doesn't come the last month you're there, and Elvis finds that any time he touches your breasts you hiss, swatting his hands away. He doesn't dare put into words what he's thinking, what you're both thinking until the hot sticky August day you have to leave. You're waiting for your father to come pick you up, sitting in the living room and Elvis finds his hand moving to your stomach, rubbing it, trying to feel out a bump he's praying he'll get to see soon.

"Ya think it took this time, darlin'? Think they're growing in there?" He murmurs giving you a soft kiss as he does. "It's out last shot, don't think ya parents are gonna let ya come back if they aren't."

One of your hands moves to cup Elvis's cheek while you place the other on top of his hand that's on your stomach. "I'm not gonna think about it that way, don't wanna talk 'bout it and then something happens. Have a little faith, El. You know I want this as much as you."

He nods exhaling shakily. "I-I know, just don't wanna think of a world where I don't get to keep ya. Where they keep ya away for good this time, ya- ya know I gotta do one of those tours soon and I wanna be able to take ya to see some places, baby."

Your lips quirk into a smile. "And you will. Faith, baby. Faith." A honk interrupts whatever you're planning on saying next and Elvis pulls away slowly, his hand reaching out to pull you up from the couch as he kisses you goodbye. "Make 'em send you back as soon as ya know, lil one. Please."

The only answer you give him is a nod as you rush out the door, carrying your bags and cooing a loud hello to your daddy.

Elvis- Elvis doesn't see you for another two months. Not intentionally on your part, mind you, but more due to the fact that your mother sees the signs and hopes and prays she's wrong. Prays that her fears won't be confirmed, that after she let herself be charmed by you and that stupid young man that he's ruined you. You've always stayed the same size, always been able to not need your skirts or your shirts changed since your waist and your chest settled into what they are. Yet, here you are, slowly filling out, your breasts pushing at the buttons of your blouses and your stomach starting to bloat. She thinks it's just your period only to realize it's not when you don't come to her as you would normally like clockwork. You're eating everything she puts in front of you and she swears on more than one occasion she hears you retching in the bathroom in the early evening hours.

It all comes to a head one afternoon with you on the couch, your hands settling on your stomach, highlighting a bump that's starting to form, that's beginning to be more pronounced by the day- that has her seeing red in her mind's eye. Her question is brusque and to the point.

"When was your last period?" She pauses. "Don't lie to me, Y/N."

In another time and place, one where you aren't secure in the knowledge that you're carrying Elvis's baby, you'd look away when you answer, too mortified to admit that Elvis got you pregnant because you wanted him to. In this time and this place, you press a little harder into your stomach, trying to protect your baby from your mother, lest she do something awful. "Three months ago. Maybe almost four, I lost count, mama."

All hell breaks loose after that, with your mama screaming and telling your father and calls to Graceland where you can hear Gladys calling Elvis's name sounding more angry than you've ever heard her. Throughout it all- despite it all, you're in your room smiling, talking to your stomach telling the baby that's growing in there that they're gonna meet their daddy finally. A week after you find yourself being driven to graceland in a coat to keep yourself warm in the cool weather while also hiding what's underneath from the fans gathered outside the gates. Your daddy leaves as soon as he sets your luggage down next to you, muttering about how he always knew that boy would ruin you and now he's gonna be stuck with him as a son in law.

The door opens to reveal Elvis looking like he's going to curse someone out before he realizes it's you. No words are exchanged as you open up your coat carefully and grab Elvis's hand to press against your bump. You're wearing a tighter blouse than normal to highlight it, and Elvis starts to breathe a little heavier taking note of just how much you've started to change in the months since he's seen you. He pulls you inside, grabbing the bags with a speed you marvel at before he pulls your coat off and takes a proper look at you.

You breathe slowly and Elvis swears he sees one of the buttons on your blouse look as if it's going to pop off before you smile ever so sweetly at him. "Mama hasn't let me get new clothes and- I wanted you to see what you've done to me." You lean forward, your lips brushing against his ear. "How you've ruined your sweet girl. Would have waited a little longer but I wanted you to see me grow."

His only answer in reply is lifting you up with a surprising bit of strength onto the dining room table, laying you out on it with your legs dangling at the edge, his head moving under your skirt. You can barely hear what he's saying as he kisses up your thighs but what you catch has you shivering in delight. "Made you better. Gave you my baby. Made it so your mama had to let you go. Get to stay with me. Be my girl, be my queen of Graceland."

You try and push him away, your brain reminding you that there's people in the house and you can hear cooking happening in the kitchen but your attempts are forgotten at the first brush of his tongue against your slit and the brush of his nose against your clit. He licks at you like a starving man, his tongue fucking your pussy like a pale imitation of his cock as his fingers play with your clit, rubbing and touching and even pinching in the way he's learned you enjoy. You bite your lip, whimpering even as you do, trying to keep quiet so that no one realizes just what Elvis is doing to you even as you barrel quick enough to your orgasm that it shocks you with the sheer force and speed it comes at you.

Gladys voice rings out as your chest is heaving and Elvis finds his way out from under your skirt, his face glistening as the door to the kitchen swings open. His mama sees you on the table and looks to her son, her eyes narrowing just a hair before she shakes her head. "Bewbie, you're- we gotta get you two married before you do anything else." Her face flushes just a little. "Off the table, Y/N. Let me see you and my little grandbaby you got growing here."

Her hands move to your stomach, feeling around like she's looking for something before her lips curl into a sad little smile. There's a moment where she looks like she's going to lean in to tell you what she's thinking before she stops herself and just pulls you into a hug. "I'm- We're gonna take good care of you here. Gonna make sure you and this baby have all the strength you need. I told Bewbie to marry you but- didn't think you'd both be so silly to do this to make it happen. It's alright- what's done is done and now we have this to celebrate."

And so life goes until everything comes crashing down with the papers and the Steve Allen show and Russwood- it all culminates in you seven or eight months pregnant, wishing you could drink as heavily as Gladys is when you hear your husband is getting shipped off to Germany. You promise to take care of his mama and promise to call him the minute you go into labor so that he doesn't miss seeing his baby born while in training. Yet, you find that you fail the first one so miserably when you come across Gladys on the stairs, slumped over, forcing you to call Vernon to help you with her. Not even the movement of the baby within you is able to rouse Elvis from his tears until the Colonel says something to him. You're hidden away from the cameras at Elvis's request. People know he's married, know that you are due to give birth any day now but beyond what everyone's already seen, he doesn't want anyone to see you, not right this moment, not when everything feels so raw and he's got to protect his only girl left- his queen of Graceland.

It's the day before he goes back to finish training when you feel the pain- when you feel your back and stomach twist and you moan in the bed, clutching at your stomach like that will help. This would be so much easier if Gladys was there, she could coach you through this. Elvis forces his way into the room, too scared to be away from the only Satnin he has left, too scared he'll lose you too if he lets you out of his sight. When you push out your first and it still feels like there's another in there- you realize just what Gladys had held back this whole time, too superstitious to even whisper to you that she figured you were too big for just one baby.

You name them Elizabeth and Loretta and Elvis promises to find a way to have you all brought to Germany with him. It takes a year but when you finally do see him again- when you finally both see each other again? You make a vow to stick to each other like glue if only because you're both so tired of being separated when there's no reason to be, no matter what the Colonel would like to argue.

And if perhaps your number of children shows that level of togetherness? Well. You can't very well be a queen without plenty of heirs, now can you?

tag list: @eliseinmemphis, @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @aconflagrationofmyown and @butlersxbirdy, @lindszeppelin, @powerofelvis @floralcyanide seriously i never know who to tag in this and breeding kink is so iffy i apologize y'all and hey once again if you all want to be on my tag list ( in general, tbh ) just give me a heads up or a holler.

#austin butler elvis x you #austin butler elvis #austin butler elvis x reader #austin butler elvis x y/n #austin elvis x reader #austin elvis #austin elvis x y/n #austin elvis x you #elvis presley #elvis presley x reader #austin butler #austin butler elvis smut #austin elvis smut #austin butler elvis angst #austin elvis angst #elvis presley smut #elvis presley angst #ally writes #austin elvis fluff #austin butler elvis fluff #austin butler elvis fanfic #elvis presley fluff

[qettleqorn]

Aburame: Tattoo Shop AU | DLC This is basically an additional addon to @kankuroplease's own AU. So thank her for all the good content she brings!

The Family

Occupationally Speaking. Many within the Aburame Family have taken to working with the dead as morticians or as hitmen. Usually though they'll work in teams where one is the hitmen and the other the mortician.

Some within the family have even gone to use their knowledge of insects to help expedite the process of getting rid of the bodies. Though it does help that they collectively own quite a few crematories and some graveyards too.

Also. They run a few of the garbage disposal places. Basically they are where you go to when you need to get rid of something.

Since the family makes it's living off the dead. Many find it to be creepy. Since ya know- death.

They work with both the Uchiha and Hyuga, they are a neutral ground kind of family as no matter what happens. They ofc will always be there waiting to take the dead. By their own hands or gifted.

Sometimes if the pay is good enough they'll even help smuggle things- people to wherever they're needed to be.

There are different syndicates of the family. Approximately six, they try to confuse the law by doing this and if one needs to go down they can easily replace it with another branch head.

Amongst the clan these branches are known by. Bikōchū, Kidaichū, Kikaichū, Kochū, Rinkaichū, and Shōkaichū.

The Aburame numbers always seem to stay the same amongst the gang. It isn't really obvious how many people they may or may not have.

Public schooling for the kids. Most don't even know the Aburame are in charge since they have those syndicates and what not. Though some of the higher ups kids do go to private schools. But most of the time it's all public.

The Crew

Shibi Aburame

Another childhood friend of Mikoto's but she didn't need to kick his butt for them to become cool.

Use to be a hitter but after having Shino he decided he rather work with disposing of the bodies instead of making the hits himself. Keeps him closer to home and gives him a cover up.

Met his girl in school too. Makes the off handed joke to Fugaku that he didn't need his ass kicked to know he found the one he liked. He just needed a ear full.

His wife does know of the business, he tries to make sure she and their children stay out of it. But unluckily for him Shino has joined them after seeing his adoptive brother and his father tending to a work incident.

Shino Aburame

Is going to college to become an entomologist. But is also trying to partake in the family business because he hates to see father and brother suffer alone.

In addition the way the family uses insects to decompose of the bodies gives him the ability to study them much more closely. (Shibi breathes a sigh of relief that his son is just as weird about bugs as his mother is.)

Torune Aburame

As his father, Shikuro, is often locked up for one reason or another. Torune has taken to staying with Shino's family. Unofficially adopted by them basically.

His side job is being a tattoo tech for one of his cousins. But disposal is his primary source of income when he isn't sleeping on Shibi's couch- much like his father tries to do when he isn't locked away.

Shikuro Aburame

Is alive and well in this. But is locked up and keeps getting locked up. He's practically the family fall man after an incident with his adoptive brother having thrown him under the bus.

Muta Aburame

Far off distant cousin to Tatsuma and Torune. Muta is also Torune's hand in crime as the two often are partnered up.

When he isn't working with Torune, Muta is often tending to his silk worms. He often uses them for craft works.

Tatsuma Aburame

Personal guard to the current family head Takeo.

Chews a lot of bubble gum. Uses a cigar case to carry his gum packs.

Yōji Aburame

Best marksmen out of the main family.

Takeo Aburame | Oc

Has been in charge of the family since he was fifteen. Inherited the position from his Aunt.

Wishes to pass on the title to his son already but knows he would get bored if he didn't keep it. He's far too use to the excitement the job brings and as much as he enjoys making teapots in his spare time. He finds that life in charge more fulfilling.

#KPZ | Tattoo Shop AU #aburame #shibi aburame #shino aburame #torune aburame #muta aburame #Tatsuma Aburame #shikuro Aburame #Yōji Aburame #U.Takeo | Oc #aburame oc #I love this au #I love seeing it #anyways. this is oddly enough the most chill au so far gsgsg

[valentina-arrington]

"Sweet dreams, my darling."

It was Tuesday evening, the 13th of February, and Valentina was tucking her son Diego in for the night. Gently pulling up his comforter, she leaned in to place a gentle kiss on his forehead before getting up and heading for the door. There, she lingered a while longer, looking on to her son as he peacefully slept. It was the only sight that could soothe her heavy heart these days, but was grateful for it nonetheless.

Valentina had kept the door ajar before heading into the kitchen to deep clean the area despite it already being pristine. But she needed the distraction, desperately.

It wasn't a minute into sorting out her pantry when she heard a knock at the front door.

Valentina's head whipped around at once, her gaze following the sound; it had startled her. Although it was only past eight o'clock, she hadn't been expecting anyone. Momentarily abandoning her task, she slowly made her way into the living room to see who'd come uninvited.

"Dios mío..." Valentina sighed in great relief as soon as she saw her twin sister, Catalina, standing at her threshold. "You could've called first, you know?" she chuckled, though her heart was still racing.

"And miss that ghostly look on your face?" teased Catalina as she stepped into Valentina's humble abode with a hug. "Besides, I did," the older Arrington pointed out, setting her bag down and taking her shoes off. "You just never answered."

"Ah..." Valentina remembered she hadn't touched her phone for days. "I've been busy," was all she said, not quite meeting her sister's eyes. "Would you like a drink?"

Catalina nodded in response, uncharacteristically quiet. Watching her sister make her way into the kitchen, Catalina frowned. She was right to come, she thought to herself. Something was not right. Valentina may have always been the quiet one but even then, she had such light and warmth about her. But now, it was nowhere to be found.

"Need any help?"

"No, no, I'm good," assured Valentina, who looked seemingly lost inside her pantry, rummaging for something. "I know it's here somewhere..."

"Take your time," Catalina assured her as she took her phone out to text their brother, Oliver. She had locked her screen just in time for Valentina to walk back in carrying a bottle of tequila that looked like it had been buried there for a decade. Upon closer inspection, it didn't look like there's much left. "Is that the same bottle we had at graduation???"

"Yeah! Can you believe it?" Valentina laughed, opening her cupboard to reach not just for one, but two clean glasses.

"You drink now?" Catalina was surprised. Since her partner had passed, Valentina hadn't touched a single drink. Not for a night cap, not on girls' night out, not even for the holidays.

"I drink now," was all Valentina said, busying herself with pouring out the last of the tequila from the bottle. It was all she could do not to meet her sister's eyes, knowing Catalina would be able to see right through her the minute she does.

As they picked up a glass each, another knock was heard.

"What the—...?" Valentina wondered before she could even lift her glass to her lips. "Who could that be?" Frowning, she started for the door when Catalina stopped her with a wave of her hand.

"Don't worry, it's just Ollie," she casually replied, as if she had been expecting him this whole time.

"Oliver? Why?"

"So, someone can watch over Diego while we go out tonight," Catalina explained, already opening the door. "In case you've forgotten, it's our birthday," her twin sister reminded her with a chuckle.

The reminder served as an unexpected douse of cold water on her face. It was their birthday! How could it have slipped her mind?! Shit!

"What about Alice?"

"Alice is here," piped in their sister-in-law from behind her towering husband.

"She's coming with us, too," Catalina said matter-of-factly, before turning to Valentina. "So go on, get ready! That bottle of yours is not going to be enough for us, so we might as well go somewhere with more drinks, good music, and dance the night away!"

"But—...?"

Catalina excused them back into the kitchen for a little privacy. For a second, Valentina's heart was hammering. She really didn't want to have to explain her lack of enthusiasm tonight. But surprisingly, Catalina didn't say a word. She simply cradled her younger sister's face and looked her in the eye for one quiet moment before pulling her into an embrace Valentina didn't realise she needed. Burrowing her face against her sister's arms, Valentina cried for the first time in a decade. Whether her tears were borne from pain or relief, she wasn't quite sure, but she knew this much: she was beyond grateful that she didn't need to explain herself to Catalina. She just knew. And that was enough — at least for now — to give her room to breathe.

"Happy birthday, Cat," she murmured sincerely.

"Happy birthday, Valé. I love you."

* All conversations are in Spanish.

#[ valé arrington || narrative 02 ]

[nutmeg-mayonnaise]

(Gregory Wright AU)

I was supposed to pair this artwork with this ask, but it was posted by mistake when the art wasn't done yet.

After I finished AAI2, I had to draw Raymond Shields with Gregory. I was sad to realize how much he would age--he's about 66 here--but it was really fun to design him older and make a drawing in a similar style to the other photos he took in AAI2.

I also wrote a short story of these two meeting for the first time, and the circumstances around the photo below the cut. It's about 2500 words long. Hope you enjoy it! ˙ᵕ˙

“Good luck with your trial Mr. Edgeworth.”

My adoptive father sighed. “We’re not in the courtroom, Gregory. You needn’t be so formal.”

I chuckled. “I can’t help that you brought me up as a professional, Pop.”

“Indeed.” He turned to the door of the courtroom. “I’ll see you at your dad’s office.”

I waved at him and headed to a nearby vending machine to get a cup of coffee. As I watched the paper cup fill with my much needed source of caffeine, I heard someone greet me from behind.

“Hello, Mr. Wright!” I spun around and looked at him. He was an older man in a trench coat with gray, curly hair poking out from under his black fedora. He grinned at me as he walked by.

“H-hello.” Do I know you? I watched him do a double-take. He stopped and turned around. He leaned forward and adjusted his thin, rectangular glasses with his thumb and index finger.

“It might be my aging eyes, but you look shorter than I remember!”

“I guess the courtroom makes everyone look a little bigger, huh?” I thought maybe this man may’ve observed one of my trials.

He tilted his head at me with a stern expression, but he checked his watch. “Well, it was nice seeing you! Best of luck with work!”

“You, too.”

It then occurred to me that he may have confused me for my dad, who I got my last name from. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened.

I took my coffee from the vending machine and heard Pop make his opening statement from within the hall. I smiled. At home, he was usually soft spoken, but once he was at the prosecution desk—or annoyed with my dad—he was resonant.

As I turned to go on my way, I saw the strange, old man linger at the door to the courtroom Pop was in. He had his hands in his pockets and gazed wistfully at the door.

That was a few months before I knew who he was.

“You have a son?”

Pop sighed. “Yes…”

“And he’s a defense attorney?!”

“Yes…”

“What a twist of fate! Say, does he need a mentor? I could take on an apprentice.”

“I appreciate the offer, but you must realize how many people in law Gregory has grown up with.”

Ray Shields stopped to have a hearty chuckle. “No offense, Miles, but I think he ought to learn from an actual defense attorney and not from that family of prosecutors.”

This made Pop uncomfortable. Although Mr. Shields was my grandfather’s apprentice and he and Pop worked together briefly nearly thirty years ago, their relationship has always been somewhat estranged. 

Mr. Shields always had a chip on his shoulder when it came to prosecutors. I can’t say I blame him, considering one murdered my grandfather—Mr. Shield's mentor—and took my father in as his adoptive son on some sick power trip. However, Pop never really kept Mr. Shields up to speed with his own personal life.

“He’ll be fine.” Pop finally said after a few moments of silence. “My partner—his… father—is a defense attorney.” Mr. Shields had his own moment of silence.

“Hold on a second, Gregory Wright? As in Phoenix Wright? He’s your kid’s father—wait, he’s your partner, too?!” 

Pop is not overfond of detailing his personal life to anyone—especially to anyone in the law business. It took him a while to finally say, “That is correct.”

“...You really need to keep Uncle Ray in the loop a little more, Miles.”

After that exchange, Pop arranged a meeting with me and Mr. Shields at a cafe in town. “I want to see how your boy thinks as an attorney,” he told Pop. I didn’t mind meeting him. I was curious about my grandfather, and I was sure Mr. Shields was curious about me.

I arrived at the cafe and ordered a large chai tea—something I seldom had at home since Pop prefers English teas. I took a seat and waited for Mr. Shields to show up.

I was lost in my thoughts until I noticed an older man in a trench coat and a black fedora walk into the cafe. He looked around, like he was looking for somebody. He looked awfully suspicious, until something on his lapel caught my eye: a defense attorney badge.

Then it dawned on me: it was the man that confused me for my dad, and lingered around the door to the courtroom. Small world.

I saw Mr. Shield’s eyes light up when he saw me. His thin, gray mustache stretched as he smiled at me and walked my way. I sat up from my seat as I saw him extend a hand towards me.

“Mr. Gregory Wright!” He said as I grabbed his hand. He shook pretty firmly for an old guy.

“Raymond Shields!” He put his other hand over mine and continued to shake.

“It is an honor to meet Mr. Gregory Edgeworth’s grandson!” I smiled awkwardly at him, thinking it odd that he skipped over Pop to mention my grandfather, but I didn’t know about his resentment towards prosecutors at that time.

“Pleasure’s all mine.”

I stood in line with him as he ordered coffee and a scone. We had a bit of small talk over coffee and tea and how much he loved the cafe’s scones.

“You know, the original owner of the cafe was your grandfather’s last client.”

My eyes shot wide. “Was he?” 

“Seems like your old man doesn’t tell you much about your granddad, does he?” Mr. Shields raised an eyebrow at me.

He was right. All Pop really told me about him was that Dad named me after him, that he was a defense attorney, and that he was no longer with us. Most of what I knew about my grandfather was through my mom and Dad, and Pop wasn’t around when they told me about him. I guess it’s still a sore spot for him after all these years.

I’m really lucky I have three parents, but I would be devastated if anything happened to any of them. Pop only had my grandfather. I can’t even begin to imagine the pain Pop had to go through… so I forgive him for not wanting to reminisce with me. Thankfully, I could learn a little more about him from Mr. Shields.

“Let’s play a little game, Mr. Wright.”

“Call me ‘Gregory’.” Mr. Shields pressed his lips together. His eyes gazed down on the table. I grimaced. “O-or you can call me ‘Grey’. That’s what most of my family on my mom and dad’s side call me.” Mr. Shields smiled.

“And you can call me Uncle Ray, Grey.” He chuckled. “Grey and Uncle Ray. I like the sound of that.”

I chuckled nervously. “So about this game…”

“Right! For the game, I’ll ask you a question, and then you ask me a question. How’s that sound?” I nodded. He took a bite of his scone and gestured to me. “You go first.”

I tapped my fingers on the table, thinking. I’ve heard plenty about the DL-6, the case in which my grandfather was the victim of murder. I met him once when I was very young when my Aunt Pearls channeled him with my family so he could meet me, but I knew nothing about my grandfather as a person.

“What did you admire the most about my grandfather?”

Mr. Shields smiled and looked fondly out the café window. “His commitment to finding the truth. He wasn’t afraid to stand up to corruption, even if it made things harder for him in the end.” Hearing this made my heart feel full.

I smirked. “Feels like I’ve heard that mantra my whole life.” 

Mr. Shields smiled. “Probably from Mr. Wright, right?”

I shook my head. “My Pop—er, Mr. Edgeworth, too. Nothing is more important to both of them than uncovering the truth. They ingrained that into me even before I wanted to be a lawyer.”

Ray took another bite out of a scone and I watched his lips curl into a smile. “So… for my first question—I have to ask because I know your old man probably won’t tell me—how long have your dads been together?”

“Well, Pop started staying at my dad’s to help him take care of me when I was two.” I forced a smile. It’s not the first time anyone’s assumed the nature of their relationship, so I like to play dumb.

Mr. Shields looked at me with small eyes. “Is that when they started dating?”

“I think it's my turn for a question, Uncle Ray.”

I gave him a grin. “Alright, alright… I suppose you won’t tell me either.”

“Sorry,” I said with a smile. I didn't think it was any of his business. Besides, if Pop knew I detailed his home life with my dad to Mr. Shields, he would kill me—then my mom would kill him, and I don't think my dad would be able to defend her in court.

Mr. Shields gestured his hand upwards. “Anyway, what’s your next question?”

I put my fist to my cheek and looked up. “Seeming as you’re quite the seasoned attorney, looking back, what do you think Gregory Edgeworth could’ve done better?”

Mr. Shields smiled. “Asking the tough questions, eh, Grey?” He sighed and his posture sunk. It was as if didn’t want to dare criticize his late mentor. “I think… he could’ve shown his feelings more—both to his clients, and to those close to him.” I made an amused huff. I felt that way about Pop. “Your old man didn’t even know that your grandpa was worried about him.”

“Really? What was he worried about?”

“He was worried about his boy spending too much time with his nose in his law books and not enough time making friends and… being a kid.”

I frowned. I thought about my own childhood. I played. I had friends. I also did plenty of snooping through both my dad and Pop's law books—especially Dad's, and most of them were really my late Aunt Mia’s books. Sometimes when I was in Dad's office after school and I finished my homework early, and I didn’t feel like reading the comics and fiction books my mom left in the office, I'd skim through the law books until Pop came at the end of the day to take us home. When Dad was out of the office after school, I'd hop on the bus, go to Pop's office in the Prosecutor building and look at his books until we would get in the car and pick up my dad from wherever he was.

My earliest memories of Pop was of him teaching me things like how to read and write. I mostly played with Dad and my mom when she was around, but when either of them were busy or away for some reason, Pop would certainly try to play with me. He was happy when I was old enough to play strategy games like chess.

I couldn't help but wonder if things would be different if Pop was the only one who raised me. Would I have played less? Would Pop worry about me?

“I see,” I said, getting out of my head.

Mr. Shields smiled. “Anyway, I have another burning question for you.” I saw his eyes move down to my neck. “What’s that odd-looking stone you have instead of a good tie?”

I glanced down and smiled. “Oh, this is my magatama—well, it’s my late aunt’s. She was also a defense attorney.”

“Oh?”

“Does ‘Mia Fey’ of Fey & Co. Law Offices ring a bell?” I watched Mr. Shields squint his eyes, thinking thoughtfully. 

“Ah, yes! Now that you say it, I recall reading about her m… her unfortunate death in the papers. However, I don’t recall if I ever met her.” He smiled at me. “Thirty years is a long time ago.” He then gestured back at my magatama. “So tell me about this… mega-tama.”

I looked down and held it between my index finger and thumb. “It’s a charm that members of the Fey Clan use.”

“Those fortune-tellers?”

“Well, no. They’re spirit mediums—at least the women are.” I took a deep breath and glanced down. There weren’t a lot of men in the Fey Clan. As a matter of fact, I’m the only one I know of, and I am definitely not a spirit medium.

“Ah! So they’re a bunch of ladies who can talk to ghosts!”

I nodded slowly. “Sort of. Anyway, my mother is the head of the Fey Clan, and the master of the Kurain Spirit Channeling Technique. She gave me this when… I was small.” Mr. Shields sat back in his chair, eyebrows raised.

“Your mother’s their leader, huh?” He smirked. I nodded. “I must say, Daddy-Wright has… interesting taste in partners.” That one got a mild chuckle out of me. “And I imagine you wear that in honor of your mother’s family and the memory of your Aunt.”

I nodded. “Exactly.”

He crossed his arms and smiled. “That’s sweet.”

We exchanged more questions which moved beyond our relations and into our profession. We had a good chat about the legal system and how much it has changed in the nearly fifty years he Mr. Shields was an attorney. I was happy he had the stage for the most part so I could sip on my chai tea—which had long turned cold. After telling me stories about his career for about a couple hours, he looked at his watch.

“Well Grey, your Uncle Ray ought to get going.” I quickly glanced at my phone to check the time, and saw a missed call and a text from Pop.

“Likewise.”

He stood up out of his chair and extended his arm for another handshake. I stood up and we shook.

“It was great meeting you, Uncle Ray.”

He smiled, but I noticed his whole face light up, and he put his hands together. “Oh! One more thing. Could you come over here?”

I raised my eyebrow and walked to him. He pulled out an old—and I mean really old—camera, and turned it toward us. “U-Uncle Ray?”

“Say ‘Cheese!’” I saw a flash and I was amazed to see a photo come out of the camera's body a moment later. I’ve only heard of cameras like those, but I’ve never seen one in person. Mr. Shields took the photo and he had a big smile. “Oh good, it still works!” 

“The camera?”

“Yes, I need it for my, erm, investigation this afternoon.”

“Can’t you just use your phone?” Mr. Shields waved his hand. 

“What’s the fun in that? I like having them printed out so I can attach them to my wall in the office and see everything all at once.”

“You can also just… print photos out at any—”

“Gregory, I’m old. Leave me to do things as I always have.”

I smiled at him calling me by my full, first name. “Fair enough.”

“I’ll be seeing you, Mr. Gregory Wright, and don’t be afraid to give ol’ Uncle Ray a call or pay a visit to your grandpa’s Law Office.”

“I just might do that.”

#ace attorney #aai2 spoilers #gregory wright au #raymond shields #gregory wright #my art #meg text #my writing

[callsign-phoenix]

I wrote this as a part of my advent calendar fics, I hope you like it!

It is a Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x gn!reader imagine.

Thank you @marvelandotherfandomimagines for proofreading!

Day 20: meeting the family

Warnings: none

To be honest you had doubts about meeting your boyfriend’s family.

It wasn’t that you were scared that they were mean or anything.

But Jake was such a perfect specimen that you felt like every one of them had to be an overachiever, and there were at least six of them.

Jake’s mother seemed normal enough from what he had told you while his father was a politician, aspiring to climb higher and higher on that ladder of opportunity.

Jake had an older sister, Lisa Anne, who was expecting her first child with her husband while being one of the top partners at a law firm, Jake’s younger sister Anne graduated top of her class and studied medicine in some prestigious college.

The youngest Seresin, Thomas, was a gifted football player and aimed for a career in the field.

Every one of the Seresins had a list of accomplishments that far exceeded anyone you had ever met.

You had told Jake that you were nervous to meet them but Jake had only laughed it off, telling you that you had nothing to worry about.

You didn’t quite believe him, so when Jake asked if you wanted to meet his family for the first time around Christmas time you reluctantly agreed to it.

Jake drove the two of you to a small town near Beaumont, where the Seresins had been born and raised.

As expected the outside of the house looked as meticulous as you had imagined, the perfect American family house with the perfect Christmas decorations put up.

It wasn’t too much or too little, just the perfect amount, and you looked over the clothes you had chosen for the event to see if you had chosen well.

“You look great, baby, don’t worry,” Jake said softly as he moved to hold you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist as he rang the bell.

You held your breath as you waited for the door to open and let out the air you were holding when an older, small woman with a Christmas sweater stood in front of you.

“Oh darling, how we’ve missed you,” the woman said as she made her way to embrace her son, a wide smile on her face as her arms wrapped around his middle.

You smiled too as you watched their loving exchange, before the woman turned to look at you.

“Love, it’s so good to finally meet you! My name’s Cecily, but most people call me Celia,” she smiled as she moved in to give you a hug that was at least as welcoming as the one her son had gotten, shocking you with how welcoming she was.

“I’ve heard so much about you, dear, you’ll have to tell me more,” she smiled, taking your forearm gently but determinedly as she pulled you along into the house.

“Don’t be shy, we’ll all get along so well, I know it! Jake can take care of the bags, he knows where to go,” she went on, she looked excited as she accompanied you into the living room.

“Frank, darling, they’re here,” she shouted, and a tall, broad man appeared in the doorway.

You slowly realized that the Seresin family looked very similar, the two sons looked almost exactly like their father, and the daughters took after their mom.

Frank Seresin looked like a politician, he was wearing a pullover above a checked dress shirt and khakis.

“Good to meet you,” he said as he reached out his hand to shake yours instinctively, greeting you as if you were someone he’d undergo a business deal with instead of his son’s significant other.

Celia made sure you were well taken care of and Frank engaged you in a conversation about politics, the main field of his interest and expertise as you realized.

Jake hurried to join you to be by your side and after a while he stole you away to show you his room, even if it was just to get some peace and quiet without his parents in the same room.

“Your parents are amazing,” you said softly and Jake chuckled, holding you close on his childhood bed to relax a bit.

“They’re a handful though,” he chuckled, and you smiled as well.

You were about to say something else when you heard his mom yell from downstairs.

“Loves, I’d like you to help with this batch of Christmas cookies I’m making!”

While you were happy that his family was so accepting you slowly realized that you’d have to come up with a lot of energy over the course of the next few days.

tagging: @wildbornsiren @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @hederasgarden @letsfvckingdance @shadeds-library @a-reader-and-a-writer @yespolkadotkitty @whateverbagman @neptunes-curse @sweetheartlizzie07 @top-gun-rooster @iloveprettyboysblog @ateliefloresdaprimavera @imjess-themess @littlebadariell @angstyjellybean @marchingicenotes7 @midget713 @supernaturaldawning @gspenc @adorephina @gigisimsonmars @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @bespinnn @softromantist @malindacath @oliviah-25 @kwanimations @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @glowingtree @natasharomanoffisbaebby @luckyladycreator2 @blue-aconite @tipsykeen @airedale17 @iangiemae @dempy @princessofglitterland @teti-menchon0604 @butaneandthebeast @katesmadness @call-sign-hurricane @kajjaka @kkrenae @mavericksicybabe @kendra-rose @desert-fern @starkleila

(please tell me if you want to be added to the taglist, or use this link)

#jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #hangman top gun #top gun hangman

[myths-tournaments]

Awful Characters Round 2 Part 1 (1/8)

Propaganda under the cut!

WILLIAM AFTON

He sucks just… so bad. He’s an over the top villain who’s queercoded (the journals man. The journals).He apparently has a chamber that he locks people in and has them take a bunch of hallucinogenic gas. He can’t die. He’s been dead for decades. His son lived just the absolute worst life ever mainly because he looked like Will. He’s a wannabe mad scientist. His six year old undead robot daughter is more of a mad scientist than he is. His business partner hates his guts so much that said partner would rather burn to death than let him go free. He’s a furry. He doesn’t enjoy being a serial killer. He’s killed like twenty+ people in canon basically just for fun. He’s a theater kid. His fursuit has a time traveling ballpit at times. Every picture or drawing of him in the various threads of canon look like completely different people. He’s the worst

GREGORY HOUSE

He’s the medical malpractice doctor from the medical malpractice show. Man has never had a healthy relationship in his life and isn’t about to start now and by god he will break any law. Loyal but super weird about it, and makes everyone around him worse but also more interesting. He’s insufferable and I love him.

The show is regularly called the medical malpractice show. Everything he does is either questionable, illegal, dangerous, or all of the above. He’s said countless racist/sexist/homophobic things at any given opportunity, even to his friends. He has exactly one friend who is a thrice-divorced loser oncologist who only really stays with House because he's afraid of who would get hurt if he didn't. House will do anything to solve a puzzle or — God forbid — prove a point. He regularly puts people in danger to prove points of figure things out. His only morally redeeming quality is that he’s turned this obsession onto medical cases, and so usually the patients live. The show acknowledges multiple times that the only reason anyone tolerates his constant abuse is that he's a good doctor.

#awful characters tournament #tournament poll #awful characters round 2 #fnaf #william afton #purple guy #house md #gregory house

[msweebyness]

Theater Kid Families

These are the families for my theater kiddos! @artzychic27 @imsparky2002 Enjoy!

Missy:

Axel Rutherford

Raised Missy on his own since his wife died in childbirth

Swimming instructor

Missy's temper comes from him

They argue a lot, but love each other very much

Sees Ondine like another daughter

Jesse:

Imelda Ortega

Possibly the sweetest woman in the world

Except when you hurt her son, ask her ex-husband

Research botanist

Seeing a therapist to work through feelings from her marriage

Good friends with Fred Haprele, Jesse and Mylene ship them

Manolo Ortiz

Massive POS, physically and emotionally abusive

Reason Jesse is blind in one eye

Currently in prison, courtesy of the Tomassians

Involved in a bunch of shady business

Ayesha:

Megan Reynolds

Ray of sunshine gene comes from her

Certified life coach

Talks a bit louder than she needs to

Makes up cheers for household chores

Watches her daughter's cartoons in her free time

Kurt Reynolds

Yoga instructor

Super chill and positive

Serves as a grounding force for his wife and daughter

Likes to doodle with Ayesha

Dot:

Enid Waverly

Could be BFFs with Nathalie, tbh

Event coordinator for a big business

Bun life 24/7, not a hair out of place

Struggles with expressing emotions

Never without her tablet

Orenthal Waverly

Very no nonsense, but more chill than his wife

Prosecuting Attorney for a big law firm

Soft-spoken when not in the courtroom

Keeps fidgets on hand for his older daughter

Dolores Waverly

Much more scatterbrained than her little sister, Dot helps keep her on track

Seriously, would lose her head if it wasn't attached

Deals with some anxiety

Always has at least two books on hand

Petra:

Arlo Markov

Petra's Bio Dad, an old friend was their surrogate

Interior designer, owns a business

VERY energetic, how much coffee does he drink?!

Happy flaps when he's excited

Will smack a bitch for his kid

Dennis Windham

Dad #2, the bear of the group

Junior football coach

Very emotionally intelligent

Usually has his whistle

Preston Manheim

Dad #3, the voice of reason

Very prim, always uses proper grammar. High class boi

Loves him some argyle and tea

Soft-spoken, but people listen to him

Curator of an art gallery

Trent Knapp

Dad #4, the hippie dad

Plays the mandolin, writes songs for his partners

New Age Philosophy teacher

Speaks like a fortune cookie, tbh

Anais:

Olive Ackerman

Celebrated particle physicist

Expects nothing but absolute perfection from her child

Think of Nicole Watterson's parents and Ming Lee, combined

Refuses to believe she's doing anything wrong

Praise is very controlled and limited

Quentin Ackerman

Chemist, very respected in the field

Secretly feels they may be too hard on Anais

Too scared of his wife to say anything, tho

Tries his best to bond with Anais over their shared interests

Roxie:

Richard Richter

Manager of a music store

Gives guitar lessons on the weekends

Actually a pretty chill dude

Good friend of Anarka, they had a band as teens

Can think up lyrics on the spot

Rydel Richter

Contemporary piano teacher

Roxie gets their temper from her

Strong enough to throw a table if needed

HATES Roxie's ex with a burning passion

Mama Bear

Rover Richter

Curious about everything, always has to ask why

Wants to be a drummer, carries around sticks

Has trouble sitting still

Will kick Roxie's ex in the shins on sight

Anthony:

Sylvie Mathis

Diplomat from England

The epitome of a proper British lady

Very supportive of her son, he got her into punk rock

Adores Jesse like her own son

Can play a mean game of foosball

Bradley Mathis

Diplomat from England

A bit more laidback than his wife

MEGA Cockney accent

Knows everything about the Beatles

Makes the best tea ever

Eri:

Hiroshi Tanaka

Screenwriter for an Indie studio

HUGE nerd but also really cool

Has never missed a play by his daughter or wife

Trivia champ, could rival Max

Sasami Tanaka

Celebrated stage actress, has done 215 (and counting) productions throughout her life

Every bit as dramatic as her daughter

Loves to quote plays in everyday life

Dresses to impress, always

Ryuji Tanaka

Eri's twin, just as goth but more subdued

Cosmetology student, attends a different school

Talks with his sister every day

Snark besties with Anthony

Candace:

Laurent Fletcher

Antique dealer, owns several successful branches and establishments

Charmingly British and a bit awkward

Has ridiculously high patience

Loves Candace as much as his bio sons

Sandra Fletcher

Former top-selling musician, now owns her own restaurant

Might spoil her kids a bit

Cried with joy when Candace became head cheerleader

Attends every pep rally

Finnick Fletcher

Ten-year old mechanical genius, looks up to Max

Always needs to have something to do, has ADHD

Always trying to help his stepsister, doesn't always succeed

Very close with his brother

Ferdinand "Ferdie" Fletcher

Rarely ever speaks, and only to his family

Knows FSL and ASL

Artsy kid, always drawing on something

Actually really smart

Soo-Yeon:

Eun-Jeong Park

Professional restorator, has a meticulous eye for detail

Speaks when something needs to be said

INSANELY flexible for some reason

Helps his son practice on their hoop at home, he used to play in high school

Mi Cha Park

Every bit as clumsy as her son, seriously, babyproof that house

Stay-at-home mom who sells her handmade snowglobes on Etsy

Cheering the loudest for her son at his games

Can kick both her husband and son’s butts on the court

Margo:

Leif Jorgensen

Professional contractor

Very jovial and kind to everyone around him

Can have his head in the clouds sometimes

He TALL, but somehow not intimidating

Besties with his daughter

Dagny Jorgensen

Artisan woodcarver, owns a successful business

Loves doing DIY projects with her daughter

Slips into Norwegian when frustrated

Most down-to-earth of the family

Staci:

Bai Kwan

Staci gets her sass from him

Political commentator for TVi, cannot stand Alec. Hates Bourgeois too

It’s a game at the studio to try and get him to laugh

He only laughs or smiles around his family

Yumei Kwan

Owns a local cafe, the fave for quality Chinese food

Takes no one’s shit, but also super perky

A former cheer squad flyer who helps Staci work out

People wonder how they’re related sometimes

Parker:

Col. Levi Beauregard

Big, strong military man

Speaks in all the military jargon

Surprisingly warm with his kids

Does obstacle courses with Parker

Cissy Beauregard

Retired army nurse, now works at DuPont

Meticulously keeps medical records of all students

Rose sees her like an aunt of sorts

Still uses military jargon

Jack Beauregard

Going into the army after high school

Strained, but loving relationship with his younger sister

Very tall and buff

Always trying to impress his father

Taught Parker self-defense

Brecken:

Annie Sutcliffe

Adopts a crap ton of random animals

Owner of a local, accredited shelter

Soft-spoken. Except when animals or her kids are threatened

Queen of the flannels

Rachel Sutcliffe:

Southern Belle with a kickass edge

Pro kickboxing instructor, who slays in sundresses

Will deck you if you call her son stupid

Makes a mean sweet potato pie

Dana & Donna Sutcliffe:

Try to tell these two apart if you’re not their brother. Just try.

Starting at DuPont next year

Have both had crushes on Kim

Aspiring cook and artist

Do the synchronous talking thing

Evie:

Julio Balthazar

Independently successful mosaic artist

His in-laws warmed up to him over time

Proud of his talented kids and boss wife

Always has glass cuts on his hands, poor guy

Carolina Balthazar

Comes from an old Spanish family of wealth

Still the CFO of a Bigshot record company

May put a little too much pressure on her kids, but not maliciously

HATES the stuffy old heiress stereotype

Alma Balthazar

Talented classical musician

Feels like she’s always in Evie’s shadow

Can be a little snippy, but has a soft side

Weak for comedy films

Emilio Balthazar

Snarky and suave lil shit

Can impersonate anyone's voice

Huge prankster

Gets on Evie's nerves 24/7

Jorge Balthazar

The shyest kid you may ever meet

Speaks similarly to Juleka

Loves to put on little puppet shows

Fidgets with his hands a lot

Rosa Balthazar

Baby of the family, and she knows it

Loves to wear her princess dresses

Adores her oldest sister, wants to sing like Evie

May have a little puppy crush on Brecken

Aggie:

Rohan Findlay

Aggie's paternal uncle, gained custody when she was nine, because his brother is a drunk and his sister-in-law is negligent

Mechanic who co-owns a practice

Bought Aggie her first skateboard

Good friends with Aerinn O'Connor

Bit of a jokester

Mona:

Bindi Truffaut

A bit of a helicopter mom to Mona, kinda overprotective

Kindergarten teacher

Has a mild stutter

Will punt an ableist's ass

Darnell Truffaut

Guidance counselor at DuPont

The chill teacher dad, that you don't mind being there

Helps his wife give Mona some space

HATES Damocles with the fires of hell

Cares a LOT about the students

Eloise:

Roerva Matuidi

Teacher of psychology at an elite university

Tutors at a community center on the weekends

Academic mom, but a chill one

SO proud of her daughter's math prowess

Cannot stand Olive Ackerman

Chet Matuidi

Eloise's gaming buddy, has a streaming channel his sister guests on

Really good with lit, but struggles with math

Helps his sister with emotional expression

Has to be forced to sleep

Leave your thoughts in the comments and reblogs!

#miraculous ladybug #mlb ocs #theater kids #family

[whitelunaria]

Mischievous [Fushiguro Toji x Reader]

Your eyes opened and you saw a man who was wrapping his arms around your waist. You looked at him gently and stroked his hair.

"Toji... Wake up..." you say in a small voice.

The man who was ten years older than you opened his eyes and he looked at you with a pleading gaze. You couldn't help but chuckle.

"You said you wanted some quality time today before you go back to work tomorrow?" you say.

Toji just nodded and buried his face in your chest. You honestly never thought that you would be dating Toji.

The two of you have a huge age difference even though you are both adults. You met Toji one year ago, when you were only twenty-seven years old.

You first met him when you were planning to build your own house. Toji was an architect introduced by Gojo to help you.

At first, you were already fascinated with Toji. Come on, aren't older men more charming?

But you restrain yourself and think that Toji must already have a partner. Come on, with such a handsome face and mature age, how could he still be single?

Turns out your guess was wrong. It all comes to light when Toji starts talking about things other than the business of the two of you and you find out that he's single.

You became eager to approach him. Toji, who seems to have known your moves, immediately asked you to establish a relationship.

You accepted without further ado, and now the two of you are spending time in the house you designed together.

"Your mom and dad keep asking me when I'm going to propose to you," Toji says suddenly.

You chuckle and stare at the ring adorning your sweet finger. "When did you tell them that we were planning to get married?"

Toji scratches his head. "I'm a bit scared. What if they suddenly change their minds and don't want to accept me as a son-in-law?"

Your finger jabbed Toji's head. "Your overthinking is weird. How could they refuse you who is my boyfriend after seven years of being single?"

"Well, who knows. We never know when people's minds will change."

You smiled and kissed Toji briefly on the lips. You then quickly stepped into the kitchen and prepared the ingredients for cooking.

"What do you want today? I only have chicken," you asked.

Toji hugged your body from behind. "I'll eat whatever you make."

You smiled back and continued your cooking. Toji knows he can't do anything else, so he just washes every utensil you've finished using.

The two of you have finished breakfast and now you head to your room to get the items under your desk. The table is quite short and narrow, so you have to bend down to pick it up.

Your hands manage to grab the item, but somehow you can't get yourself out of there. Your face pales and you try to call out to your lover.

"TOJIII!!! HELP!!!" you shriek in panic.

The man suddenly ran to the source of the voice and he saw your upturned position. Toji frowned and tried to figure out what was going on.

"What's wrong with you?"

"I'm stuck here, I don't know why. Please let me out, Ji," you said.

You waited for Toji's reply, but you couldn't hear him. You were surprised when Toji suddenly smacked your ass.

"Damn it, do you know how tempting your position is? Helpless... and only I can help," Toji says.

You don't know why your pussy is instantly lubricated when you hear Toji's words. That man can control your body just by the words he says.

"Toji... I want to..." you whine.

Toji chuckled and immediately opened the pants you were wearing. He inserted two of his fingers into your pussy and you sighed.

After a few moments of foreplay, you can hear Toji opening his pants. He rubbed the head of his penis against you.

"Say what, baby?" asked Toji.

You swallowed your saliva. "Toji... I want to put Toji's dick in... It's so big..." you say.

He thrusts his hips and your eyes fly open. His gigantic penis is capable of crushing your body.

"AH! It's so good-hhh! Toji's dick is so big!"

Toji grinned and smacked your ass again. "What would your parents say if they found out their daughter turned out like this?"

"They won't say anything... They're expecting grandchildren anyway heheh.." you laugh.

"Tskckck, even so they must not know that the child they raised turned out like this, right?"

Every time Toji's dick touches your womb entrance, you get closer to your orgasm. Hell, Toji's thumb is playing with your clit and it's making the pleasure multiply.

"NGHH! Yours is so good babyhhhh.." sighs Toji.

You can't hear Toji's words anymore. Your brain was already full of the pleasure you were getting.

The veins on Toji's penis seem to scratch your pussy and it makes you feel even hotter. Not to mention the size of his penis that makes your pussy have to work harder.

" I WANT TO CUMM!!!" you squeal.

"Cum babyhh... I'm about to cum too, AH!" replies Toji.

You reach your orgasm and Toji immediately pulls out his penis. His sperm oozes out on your back and he exhales roughly.

He lifted the table and you got out of there. The two of you stare at each other for a few moments before Toji lifts your body onto the bed.

***

extended version available on patreon. https://msha.ke/whitelunaria

preview extended version :

Toji lifted your body and now you were sitting on his muscular thighs. You didn't even notice that your vaginal fluid was leaking out again.

"You really lust after my body huh? Tsk, I have to tell our kids that they exist because their mom lusts," Toji taunts.

You suddenly hit Toji's broad shoulders. "Don't say anything weird when we have kids!"

#fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #methimlastnight #toji smut #toji x reader #older man younger woman #reader

[lullabyes22-blog]

Your Zaundads hc was *chefs kiss* May we please have married Melco headcanons?

Thank you - glad you enjoyed them<3

Melco would be an entirely different dynamic. Also hilariously (and horribly) just as dysfunctional. Not that Silco is capable of functional relationships, but lmao....

This union broke hearts. In Piltover; in Zaun. For their own reasons, they're both sought after by much of their social circles. Best believe that when declarations were made, Piltover's eligible bachelor set and shady portions of Zaun's gold-digger club were left alternately drunk or devastated.

This union catalyzed scandal. Logically, it wouldn't work unless one of them resigned (ha! resigned...) from their official duties. Otherwise the conflict of interest would be catastrophic. Corruption within their own cities is fine - both are self-serving oligarchies, although Piltover deludes itself with democratic ideals whereas Zaun lets the plutocracy hang out for all to see. But fraternizing with a rival state is another matter entirely.

Either way, the diplomatic hurdles were many - and the gossip was plentiful.

Ambessa DID NOT APPROVE.

Mel, whatever their differences, is her sole surviving heir. That gutter rat - as she calls Silco forevermore - is the literal manifestation of Piltover's leftovers. He has no pedigree - he's working-class - he's new money. ("All the power in the world couldn't afford you a jot of sense, Mel?!")

(I imagine Ambessa will come around by degrees when she realizes her 'son-in-law' is just as ruthless a survivalist as she is. But it will be a long and assassin-filled journey...)

Jayce did not know sobriety for a month. Viktor had to be his long-suffering listening ear. (Jayce; "How, Vik? How could she let that cockroach near her? He has absolutely no morals." Viktor: "I suppose you have suffered amnesia on the morals of Noxian aristocracy...")

Sevika was not happy. She did not show it. She carried on like always. But those closest to her noticed a sense of... bitterness, almost. Pragmatically, this union is a huge gamble. Privately, she feels Silco - and Zaun - would've been better off with someone working to further his aim and the nation's interest, rather than a rival who could compromise it at any moment. She requested time off on Silco's honeymoon, and spent the week shut up in her flat.

Jinx did not speak to Silco for the remainder of the year. A stepmommy? A Piltie? Yeah - good luck getting her to go along with this, Silco. She spent much of her time sabotaging the wedding preparations, and the rest of the time stalking and trying to blow up Mel's security detail...

In fact between assassin!Jinx, Ambessa's hired cut-throats and Sevika glaring daggers at the back of Silco's head, Silco was at death's door every second.

He kind of enjoyed it.

Except Jinx being upset with him. He nearly considered calling the union off because it upset his Little One so much. Said Little One leaving a bouquet of bloody rat's heads in his bed didn't help matters...

Post-wedding, Silco and Mel were obliged to stay at separate residences for a time due to the furor in their family lives. This would end up becoming semi-permanent. Now they send an envoy in advance letting the other party know, "Sir/Madam, your spouse will be at your residence for a fortnight/a month/the rest of the summer."

As an aristocrat, Mel does not find this unusual in the slightest. Where she comes from, married couples often reside in separate estates to handle business. On Silco's part, he finds it convenient, as he enjoys a modicum of space, and dislikes having to constantly sync his busy schedule to someone else's.

They are each, however, deeply cutthroat and cautious, and keep an eye on their partner's private affairs. Mel has certain mutual connections who keep her apprised on the Eye's goings-on during galas; likewise, Silco has a cadre of spies who track his lovely lady-wife's every move.

Their marital temperature can best be described as veering between hot and cold.

When they're getting along, they are really getting along. Definitely that couple who entertain often, and are always about town at events.

They are a force to be reckoned with re: political machinations. Half their pillow-talk is figuring out how to outmaneuver an Ionian shipping magnate or get a decree passed in the Demacian Royal Cabinet, and the ways and means to get it done. She employs crafty wiles; he uses sly subterfuge. The results are invariably spectacular. Afterward, they toast with good Noxian spirits and a sharp glass of Zaunite whiskey to a job well-done.

In the same vein, during moments of marital conflict, it's cold war, baby. Emphasis on cold. All their underlings pray they won't get caught up in the chessgames.

She will stymie his attempts to finesse a trade deal; he will scare off her potential investors at a fund raiser. At breakfast, they will maintain the barest veil of civility while shredding each other via subtext.

Eventually, cold war comes to a boil and they end up behind a locked door, with their respective secretaries pretending not to hear the soundtrack of snarls and things getting thrown. And pretending to be both deaf and blind when the soundtrack devolves into tussling of a lustier stripe, and their bosses walk out later all disheveled and flushed but otherwise butter-wouldn't-melt.

She is triggered by his ruthlessness; he detests her adoration for excess. During conflicts, she'll accuse him, "You'd stab your own kin in the back if you could-" only to be silenced by an icy look. He'll snap, "All the world's coffers in your lap won't make your mother love you," then back off when she glowers at him.

Ironically, both personality traits stem from the same neurosis: not being accepted for who they were.

They dress to kill at galas. Every garment is strategically chosen and conveys a message. It also ends up inadvertently matching. The news cycle is abuzz for days afterward about What Medarda Wore or Who Designed the Eye's Waistcoat.

"What brain-dead rot," Silco says over breakfast as he consults the newspaper, while Mel smiles behind a cup of jasmine tea.

Mel executes a slow charm offensive to win over Silco's crew, and be on good terms with Sevika, whom she secretly respects. They're very different women, but Mel thinks Sevika embodies a lot of Noxian ideals of valor and strength.

It takes harder to win over Jinx, who is unlike anything Mel has ever encountered in her career, because the girl is a creature of both ruthless intellect and wild impulse.

Despite herself, however, Mel ends up protective of Jinx when she witnesses one of her meltdowns, and Silco isn't on hand to stabilize her. In time, Jinx grows tolerant of the prissy, perfumed interloper, and by the two year-mark, she and Mel are painting together. They don't understand each other's style at all, but the emotion...

Well. Any child traumatized by war knows how it feels.

Silco prefers his ladies getting along. But he'd rather they not be too close because Mel's merciful streak is maddening, and he'd prefer it not rub off on Jinx.

(It does. Oops?)

They have pet names for each other, sparingly used. He calls her Petal; she calls him Schatz. More common are wry secondhand titles of address. From Silco: Her Layabout Ladyship, The Primadonna, Die Gräfin von Gab. From Mel: The Kingfish, His Nibs, Lord of the Underworld.

Sometimes Ambessa shows up at their residence unannounced. Mostly, she and Silco are polite as if at knifepoint. Other times Silco takes her down to some den of vice and violence, where Ambessa relaxes and they discuss business. Mel's stress levels during these visits go through the roof. She's never sure what's worse - them threatening to kill each other, or them making arms deals to kill some poor bastard in both their way.

Later at dinner -

Ambessa: "So when can I expect grand-heirs?"

Mel: /face going thundercloud black, "Do shut up, Mother."

Silco watching the claws snap open and the fangs bare themselves with interest.

"You should drop by more often, General Medarda," he says in the blandest tones. "Your company does wonders for Mel's complexion."

What a pair of assholes.

#asks #arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #arcane mel #arcane jinx #arcane ambessa #silco #mel #mel medarda #ambessa medarda #jinx #jayce talis #arcane jayce #arcane sevika #sevika #melco #silco x mel #fanfic #forward (never forget)/xoxo #forward but never forget/xoxo #arcane headcanons #arcane headcanon

[icannotgetoverbirds]

blease read this quote from this book about a pair of lesbian cockatoos

under a cut because it's kinda long

Some birds bond only with other birds, some only with humans, and some with both. Sammy had shown interest in other birds at Earth Angel, and had even spent time in her enclosure with a few favorites, but she hadn't found a mate. I was beginning to think she would never bond with anyone but me. It made me sad.

I think finally being in a fulfilling marriage myself made me realize how much Sammy was missing. There are plenty of unhappy marriages in the world - as a psychologist I see more than most people do - and a bad marriage can tear two people down. A good marriage is different. It can make us stronger; the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Still, humans can survive happily with no permanent partner. It's in a parrot's nature to want a mate.

Then Sammy met Little Girl and everything changed.

Little Girl was a Moluccan cockatoo, and with her pink-tinged feathers and bright crest, she looked a lot like Sammy. Unlike Sammy, she still had most of her feathers. She had spent years in a garage, usually with the door down. In that unventilated space, most of Little Girl's days were dark and stifling. She didn't have people or birds to interact with.

Her owner came out to the garage occasionally to give Little Girl food or clean her cage, but most of the time she sat alone. She didn't even have a window to watch the outside world. She was truly in solitary confinement.

The neighbors heard Little Girl's cries, and they called the police. The police visited, but there was little they could do. There aren't laws protecting lonely parrots. The most they could do was cite the owner for the noise, and they didn't even do that.

The neighbors kept complaining, though, trying to get something done for the bird. Eventually, the owner called us. She was tired of dealing with the neighbors.

When we came to pick up Little Girl, the owner wasn't there to say goodbye. She said she was busy and left her son to open the garage for us. She'd said on the phone before we arranged the pickup: "If she wasn't so noisy I wouldn't have put her in there."

We took Little Girl out of the garage and drove her to our veterinarian. Once he cleared her for Serenity Park, it was time to find her a perch.

We decided to place Little Girl with Sammy. Sammy was never aggressive with Mango; she just wasn't crazy about him. Maybe a different bird would work. Sammy hadn't been interested in any males, so maybe it was time to test her with a female. I've observed several parrots through the years who, like some humans, prefer their own gender. Somehow, Matt and I both felt it was a good match.

We introduced the two birds slowly. First, we let them see each other for a while. Then, when they seemed comfortable, we put them on opposite ends of the enclosure. We let the birds take their time approaching one another. For Sammy and Little Girl, comfort seemed to come right away. Once we introduced them, they didn't have time for any of the other birds. The two groomed each other. They shared a perch. They seemed to talk together in a language that was their own. They were physically affectionate. Little Girl had suffered for a long time, but she was no longer alone.

Sammy was enthralled by Little Girl. She still got excited when I came to visit, and she still let me cuddle her, but she'd soon move back to Little Girl's side. Sammy had been the first bird I'd been close to and I missed our special interactions, but I was thrilled for both of them.

We had both found our mates. Everything was as it should be.

-- Lorin Lindner, Birds of a Feather, pages 204-206

@fishandchips321 us

anyways brb i gotta go cry about these lesbian birds

#byrd chirps #byrd's birds #I WOULD HIGHLY FUCKING RECOMMEND THIS BOOK #IT MENTIONS THE AUTHOR OF THE PARROTS OF TELEGRAPH HILL #WHICH IS ALSO A BOOK I WOULD HIGHLY RECOMMEND #AND THERE'S A TRANS WOMAN IN IT TOO AND SHE'S TALKED ABOUT SO RESPECTFULLY #it's about a veteran's recovery program that incorporates parrots into their therapy #IT'S SO FUCKING GOOD I'M ALREADY ALMOST DONE WITH IT AND I JUST STARTED READING IT LIKE AN HOUR OR SO AGO