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#and then I will see where the chips fall
braisedhoney · 1 year
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you should put narrator in the sleeveless turtleneck as punishment if he loses. he cannot escape
lmaoooo, sorry anon, but anatomy is my mortal enemy so i'll only resort to it if i have to :'P might draw him in smth else, but the sleeveless turtleneck is specifically for if he hypothetically won.
(i'd be lying if i said i didn't consider that a few times myself tho... lol.)
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desertthorn · 5 months
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So I'm lying here feeling like death, thinking....
If I had to rank the "5th member" of The A Team:
1- Amy
2- The Van
3- Billy
4- The Vette
5- Amy again
6- A Random Single Episode Character
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30- FrankieStockwellTawnia
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orangerosebush · 2 years
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Do you think that Artemis and Butler ever explicitly told Angeline and Tim that they orchestrated Fowl Sr's rescue from the Mafiya, or did that just never like... come up
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*through desperately held back tears* die young by ke$ha is a dior and nimloth song im sorry i dont make the rules
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angeltannis · 1 year
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One of my RL friends recently met this nonbinary person who calls themselves Z for “zombie” and they play a zombie Yugioh deck, and apparently they really want to challenge my Skull Servants, but the thing is that my RL friend who is TERRIBLE at YGO actually had a close match with them, and my deck is coming straight off of dueling in the big leagues against Spright Runick Floow Swordsoul etc, and I feel like this person’s built their whole identity around zombies and idk if I can live with myself showing up and crushing them 😰
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apertvres · 10 months
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break right out of these guilty cages, running red lights ; with @yourvanity.
as she takes a seat, she notes two things. one, that the seat is arguably more comfortable than her own seat at the security station, and two, that yichan is sitting far too close for comfort. comfort might as well be his antithesis, given that it’s something she only feels in his absence. there’s something about his smile and his gaze that feels a little too sharp – the gleaming point of a knife capable of honing in on tender spots under plates of armor. not that she’d ever willingly admit that she views him as a threat; she doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction. (she doesn’t want to feel what she feels whenever he rewards her with a knowing, cheshire-cat smile.)
leaning back against her chair, she gestures towards the nearest table with a careless wave of her hand. “so what can i expect on an average poker night?” she asks, gaze flickering over heads bent over cards, chips stacked up on the wooden tabletop. it’s every bit the mise en scène she’d expected, and she almost wants to laugh at how predictable — no, how calculated every aspect of this setting is. as if this particular lobby of the midlight hotel is all but a giant monopoly board for yichan’s amusement and orchestration. she wonders exactly how he plans to play his hand with her this evening.
“i mean, i’m here to have a good time, not another night of duty,” she prompts, stretching her legs out in front of her, “i’m not going to have to break up any fist fights, right?” eyeing the stacks of chips, she bites back another question – she’s not naive enough to think the betting table is weighted with something so simple as money. the chips take on a sinister gleam, and she turns back to yichan with an expectant look.
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stardustedknuckles · 2 years
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I'm just ready for last night to resolve one way or another so I know how to flavor any fic ideas I might have for Fearne and Orym. If they're perma-dead that's going to be a very different timbre than if they end up okay - or if only one of them does.
(also I keep seeing this weird idea that Orym wouldn't want to come back and 1) huh? and 2) it's revivify you don't get a say, at least not in RAW. Matt offers a chance for failure, but revivify is basically cpr. It's got nothing to do with whether a soul is willing except for the story the dice tell. There are forums where people discuss the ability to torture someone and bring them back unwillingly. It's a whole thing. Also again re Orym - huh? Why are folks so weird about characters with dead spouses? They're not all lowkey suicidal and Orym's future holds just as much as Fearne's.)
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spynorth · 2 years
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Soho has ever been one of the agent’s least favorite places - it thrums with an energy and press of bodies that might have once been comforting, an offer of escape when the ever present feeling of being watched that skitters up his spine digs its claws in a bit deeper .. but now it is seen for nothing more than it is. Nothing more than a corner of Westminster that offers crowds the promise of an afternoon’s entertainment or a night spent drinking away one’s demons... laughter and the low hum of conversation beckon from various doorways, the atmosphere within doing its best to lure another potential customer into it’s depths .. but the illusion of safety holds no charm for a man who has long since stopped believing in such a thing. Collar pulled up tight against the overcast sky and threat of rain, Lucas scans the people around him, searching for familiar features with blue eyes that flicker from one face to another with quick dismissal. 
His target, when he finds him, appears relaxed enough - tight lines that have always decorated Jack’s expression seem to have grown deeper, and for a single moment the mi5 agent is hit with a memory of heat and dancing flame, the faint acrid scent of smoke seemingly carried on a gust of wind. There had been something else too.. something that now exists at the edge of his thoughts...one of the men that had been with him, the one that started the spark that grew into a raging inferno, had complained later of the smell of charred bodies. He had been fairly certain the man had been making it up, had more than likely had his fair share to drink to make such a job palpable ... but sometimes, woken in the middle of the night by one ghost or another, Lucas would catch a whiff of that sickly, sweet scent that Alan had described. He sometimes wonders if the other man had been haunted by it too, if that’s what led to a series of mistakes so idiotic they almost had to be purposeful - a self sought end at their master’s hands as some form of justice. In the end, he knows it doesn’t matter. Whatever his reasons, Alan is dead ... and Lucas is not ready for that trip underground just yet.
Expression morphs from impassive disinterest to casual surprise as he eats up the last few paces between them, folding himself into a chair across from the other man as if he is an old friend that requires no invite. Blue eyes study the younger man, weighing the marks that thirteen years have left on him - Jack had always considered himself destined for something greater, had fancied himself a bird easily carried by the wind from one adventure to the next .. and for a moment Lucas wonders if he still lives in such a fantasy, or if he’s grown to learn that every man hits the bars of his cage eventually.
“You’ve always had a flair for the dramatic. Should have known I wouldn’t find you retired and reading a book in some library somewhere. ” One brow arches, gaze flickering to take in their surroundings before returning to the younger man’s face once more. Weight shifts as he leans back into the chair, long legs crossing one over the other and brows squinting against the sun that peeks out from the cover of clouds just long enough to shine upon Jack Sparrow as if he’s the chosen one he believes himself to be. Maybe he is, a voice whispers. But even chosen ones can fall .. and it’s my job to ensure this one does as well. 
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The words when they come are a rumbling baritone, a slow and easy slide between them as if the two men are nothing but friends discussing the weather and the mi5 agent allows the barest hint of smile to tug at one corner of his mouth. “I had heard you managed to weasel your way out of one problem right into another ... assumed that if you survived that one maybe you’d take a break from trying to change the world for a while. But you’ve never been one for common sense.” A woman looks at him questioningly from the door to the cafe they’re nearest and he waves her away with a casual flick of one hand - he has no plans to stay for a drink or three. This visit is nothing more than a warning between old friends, a way to delve into the waters and see how much is broken from before and what it will cost Lucas to repair it in order to tumblr it into hell once more. 
“I was asked to look into something that’s caught mi5′s attention. Seems like somethings got a few of our higher ups worried. A dead end trail of nothing but whispers and the occasional bread crumb dropped from the grips of sloppy detectives in scotland yard. And unfortunately for you, Jack - those crumbs lead right to your door.” Silences stretches between them, a few beats of quiet that the agent allows in hopes that his unspoken message will sink in.. and when he next speaks, Lucas drowns the words with as much concern as they can carry. “You could have stayed gone, Jack. Kept low and lived that life of freedom you were always on about. Instead you’re all but coming back from the dead and if it’s discreet you’re after .. you’ve allied yourself with the wrong people.”
@trickstercaptain​ s.c
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scientia-rex · 29 days
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When I was in ninth grade I wanted to challenge what I saw as a very stupid dress code policy (not being allowed to wear spikes regardless of the size or sharpness of the spikes). My dad said to me, “What is your objective?”
He said it over and over. I contemplated that. I wanted to change an unfair dress code. What did I stand to gain? What did I stand to lose? If what I really wanted was to change the dress code, what would be my most effective potential approach? (He also gave me Discourses on the Fall of Rome by Titus Livius, Machiavelli’s magnum opus. Of course he’d already given me The Prince, Five Rings, and The Art of War.)
I ultimately printed out that phrase, coated it in Mod Podge, and clipped it to my bathroom mirror so I would look at it and think about it every day.
What is your objective?
Forget about how you feel. Ask yourself, what do you want to see happen? And then ask, how can you make it happen? Who needs to agree with you? Who has the power to implement this change? What are the points where you have leverage over them? If you use that leverage now, will you impair your ability to use it in the future? Getting what you want is about effectiveness. It is not about being an alpha or a sigma or whatever other bullshit the men’s right whiners are on about now. You won’t find any MRA talking points in Musashi, because they are not relevant.
I had no clear leverage on the dress code issue. My parents were not on the PTA; neither were any of my friend’s parents who liked me. The teachers did not care about this. Ultimately I just wore what I wanted, my patent leather collar from Hot Topic with large but flattened spikes, and I had guessed correctly—the teachers also did not care enough to discipline me.
I often see people on tumblr, mostly the very young, flail around in discourse. They don’t have an objective. They don’t know what they want to achieve, and they have never thought about strategizing and interpersonal effectiveness. No one can get everything they want by being an asshole. You must be able to work with other people, and that includes smiling when you hate them.
Read Machiavelli. Start with The Prince, but then move on to Discourses. Read Musashi’s Five Rings. Read The Art of War. They’re classics for a reason. They can’t cover all situations, but they can do more for how you think about strategizing than anything you’re getting in middle school and high school curricula.
Don’t vote third party unless you can tell me not only what your objective is but also why this action stands a meaningful chance of accomplishing it. Otherwise, back up and approach your strategy from a new angle. I don’t care how angry you are with Biden right now. He knows about it, and he is both trying to do something and not doing enough. I care about what will happen to millions of people if we have another Trump presidency. Look up Ross Perot, and learn from our past. Find your objective. If it is to stop the genocide in Palestine now, call your elected representatives now. They don’t care about emails; they care about phone calls, because they live in the past. I know this because I shadowed a lobbyist, because knowing how power works is critical to using it.
How do you think I have gotten two clinics to start including gender care in their planning?
Start small. Chip away. Keep working. Find your leverage; figure out how and when to effectively use it. Choose your battles, so that you can concentrate on the battle at hand instead of wasting your resources in many directions. Learn from the accumulated wisdom of people who spent their lives learning by doing, by making mistakes, by watching the mistakes of their enemies.
Don’t be a dickhead. Be smarter than I was at 14. Ask yourself: what is your objective?
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rosegardeninwinter · 4 months
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Here’s the thing for me: the prequel does not make Katniss “the chosen one” (and believe me, I had such undeserved hatred for this book when it came out for thinking it did make her this fated hero; I love it now, for all the reasons below). Snow himself may perceive her as “the chosen one” because he’s self-absorbed, and that is something the prequel shines light on: why Snow is so myopic about hurting Katniss specifically, instead of being effective in crushing the rebellion. He sees the narrative as revolving around him exclusively.
In reality, however, Katniss is still just a good and brave oppressed young woman who said “enough” — what is “fated” comes from the folkloric, interconnected nature of Appalachian culture, a culture rich with music, story, and supernatural goings on, a place that stands as the antithesis of elite society. Once Lucy Gray’s music and memory were in the wind and water, they weren’t going away, no matter who picked them up.
Also, I think we sometimes forget that these books have a lot of very subtly supernatural elements: off the top of my head, we have the birds stopping singing to listen to little Katniss, the fact that OF ALL PEOPLE the boy who loves her is reaped alongside her (I mean, that’s the plot, but still, and it kind of proves my point), all the eerily prescient connections to The Hanging Tree (“midnight”), Katniss inhabiting Finnick’s mind in his last moments, kissing Peeta to break the “spell” Snow has on him, Prim’s spirit seemingly trying to stop Katniss dying after the parachute bombs go off, not to mention the parade of “ghosts” Katniss sees in her rehab. That’s not all realism. No, the reaping wasn’t rigged. No, no one planned for Katniss to lead the rebellion because she maybe possibly was related to the Covey. It’s just one of those strange things that did happen here.
A ghost girl left some songs echoing in the coal-dusted streets, and one day a little girl sang one in a Kindergarten classroom, and a little boy heard her, and Snow’s days were numbered from that moment on. That, to me, is the most fated moment of the whole series: Katniss and Peeta, and the Valley Song: a real song, an American folk song, once sung by Lucy Gray. From that point on, the chips fall where they will.
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dcxdpdabbles · 2 months
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DCxDP Fanfic idea: Wrong Number
Bruce prides himself in keeping all of his networks secured. If he didn't make it himself, he had the funds and connections to get him the best working on his systems.
He had backup plans in case the systems were ever hacked, of course, but he had yet to encounter a cyber attack that wasn't beaten away by his firewalls or his team.
Babs and Tim were far more feral when booting out unwanted guests. The level of protection was also transferred to his other systems that weren't Batman-related, just to make sure the connection between Bruce and Batman was never made.
That's why he never really checks his personal phone's caller ID, not the one he gave out as Brucie Wayne, but the one Bruce used for his real life without any masks- civilian or vigilante. The only ones who had the number- and the access- were his children and Alfred.
Not even the Justice League- those who were aware of his identity- knew of this number.
Bruce is in the middle of typing up a report for the next Wayne Board meeting when his personal phone rings. He figures it's Dick giving him a call to update him on his drive home or maybe Jason, as his son was planning on going to college.
"Go for Papa Bruce," He says, knowing his kids hate his phone greeting and doing it deliberately to spite them.
There is a long pause where he can't help but smirk thinking his child is either rolling their eyes or cringing too hard to properly speak. Eventually, a voice cracks over the speaker.
"Hello. I'm selling cookies to raise money for my own star. Would like to buy a box from me?" says a boy, not one he has taken in. The voice is young maybe not even double digits yet. Bruce is alarmed.
"Who are you?! How did you get this number?" He demands, yanking his phone to his face and seeing, with a chill, a phone number out of state.
His system had been compromised. By a child. By accident.
"My name is Danny!" The boy chirps. "I sell cookies. Like the Girl Scouts, but I'm a boy, and I don't scout."
"That's rather fantastic, lad. What kind of cookies are you selling?" Bruce asks to keep the boy on the line while sending an email blast to the others. It's a string of numbers that are code for compromise so they all know to close any communication channel until it's safe to get back on.
"Chocolate chip. Mint Slim. Oatmeal and peanut butter. I made them myself!"
Right. Bruce hooks up his phone, tracing the call. The signal bounces off the call, swinging up to a salute and falling back down to earth. In seconds he has the boy's location. It pings in a small town right outside of Star City.
He sends Barry a private message. His friend is already on the way to the location. He'll get the boy in a few seconds.
"How much for a box of chocolate chips? Those are my favorite." Bruce tells the boy, voice whimsical as his Brucie persona demands.
In an unsure tone, the boy pauses, then whispers, "I don't know. No one ever let me get this far."
"How about twenty for a box of dozen? I'll buy five boxes for each of my kids that live at him," Bruce tells him, and the boy gasps.
"That could buy me one whole night in a hotel!"
Bruce's insides freeze. What did he mean-
"Hey! No! Let go!" Danny suddenly screams. Bruce's heart launches- he hates it when kids get hurt, especially those that sound like Danny- until Barry's voice comes over the speaker.
"I got him, Mr. Wayne. Thank you for alerting the Justice League Hotline." That's code for This is not a threat to you Batman and Bruce allows himself to relax just a little.
"Narc!" The boy shouts, outraged, before the call drops. Barry is likely taking over the situation, which means Bruce can leave it in his capable hands.
After reassuring his kids that he is fine and that they are all safe, he suits up and meets the Flash in the Watch Tower. There, he learns that Danny is only seven years old and has been living on the streets for a while.
The boy had been surviving by baking some cookies to sell on the side of the street- where did he bake them? The boy would not say- until he got the bright idea to try to sell through phone calls like he had seen on TV.
He punched in random numbers at the community center phone and gave his pitch about a star, thinking people would be more willing to buy from him if he had an excellent reason.
Barry had left him with CPS, but he looked devastated about that. It turned out that Danny was a meta and had likely been kicked out of his home once it was found out based on what he said of his parents.
Bruce felt he should assure Barry that Danny was fine and look into his placement to help settle his more sensitive teammate's nerves.
He was unhappy that Danny was not in a good placement; there were far too many reports from a concerned neighbor to make him think it was a safe place. Given the fact that placement had a lot of meta kids that "fell through the cracks," Bruce worried he had just stumbled across a trafficking ring.
He would sick Barry and Jason on them. Just to ensure they wouldn't see the light of day again.
Still, that did not fix his mistake with Danny, the little cookie seller.
Bruce hacked into the system to move Danny. He thought about where he would move the young child but ultimately had him in Wayne Manor.
Just until he could confirm that he would be safe. He certainly didn't think about the adorable little boy who called him with his heart in his hand and got sent to a terrible place for three weeks because of Bruce.
Danny arrived at Wayne Manor with a happy little bounce and a chipper outlook on life than Bruce was expecting. "If it isn't Mr. Narc!"
God, he going to adopt the boy, isn't he?
(Danny has been thrown into a different universe, aged down to a child. He survived by overshadowing people into letting him spend the night baking cookies.
He was thrown into a somewhat typical home, but the nosy neighbor down the street took far too much notice of his overshadowing, and now he was being moved again.
Maybe he can terrorize Mr. Narc now instead? )
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feederprincess · 2 months
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I want to manipulate you…
I want to enable you every day until you are begging me to stick a funnel in your mouth because you have gotten addicted
I want to leave everything you could ever dream of eating at an arms reach, buying and cooking new stuff every day
I want to feed you breakfast and jerk you off until you fall asleep, just to wake you up later to more food. I want you to get horny every time you smell the kitchen
I want to use your humiliation and degradation kink against you, making you go out in clothes that haven’t hid your underbelly in weeks, to then rub you between your legs in the first public bathroom I find and grab everything that is spilling over the pants you could barely close
I want to replace the clothes you can’t wear anymore with some that are way too big. If you want to humiliate yourself in public again with clothing that is too tight you better start eating
When you do manage to eat yourself out of your clothes, I will reward you with even more food. I want you to be stuck in a cycle of gluttony, I want to get you to the point where saying no is almost impossible. I want to chip away at your willpower every day
I want to get home to my pathetic little pig that is covered in crumbs, has visibly wet underwear from getting horny while eating and even so didn’t touch themselves because they were too busy gorging on food and fell into a food comma before being able to relief themselves
I want to jerk you off from behind, biting into your soft neck and stuffing pastries into your mouth whenever you open it to moan
I want to grab your fat and ask you how you managed to let go that much, all while knowing it was all me
I want to restrain you and taunt you with food until you are begging me, but the condition is that you have to eat until you are too full to sit up
I want to ‘encourage’ your attempts at exercising because I love seeing you fail all of them, I will reward your hard work with your favorite meals
I want to see you get to the point where you ask me to make you feel good while you eat because you need both hands to shove food in quicker, knowing full well you will be edged until you finish all of it
I really really want to have full control over you and mold you into my perfect little pet
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livinghostly · 19 days
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i will hold on to you for as long as you let me — megumi fushiguro x mom!reader, satoru gojo x reader
a/n: sorryyy the fushiguro-gojo family dynamic was rotting my brain and i needed this out of my system. LOTS of projection of my fear of growing up in this one soz. this was fully meant to be a drabble and it just kept going idk wc: 3.1k angst/fluff. mom!reader has a lot of bittersweet thoughts about megumi growing up and satoru is there to comfort <3 lots of parentheses and lots of repetition
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you put on a brave face all day. all week, even. despite the burn in your chest that engulfed your lungs and squeezed unrelentingly. despite the tears that burned the corners of your eyes delicately balancing on the your waterline, one blink away from breaking the surface density and opening the floodgates to pour down your cheeks. despite the non-stop ache of your stomach, churning what you ate every day but still holding the same emptiness as anxiety consumed you.
megumi didn’t pack much, he never held on to many things to begin with. (you always prayed for that to change, for his comfort your home. you prayed he would see it as his own, as well). he neatly folded his clothes into his suitcases and stacked his hangers on top. he purchased a new sheet set for his bed in the dormitory because the one he was used to was much bigger, much softer. 
he packed most of his books, carefully picking out the ones that tugged at the nostalgic parts of him, frayed along the edges after many years of re-reading, as well the ones that still had vibrant covers and stiff spines he hoped to finish. you noticed the leather journal he kept tied together– the ink-blotted pages bursting at the seams –sitting on the shelf before he tucked it into his box of personal belongings. it was his third one since living with you, all filled to every last page and used beyond ruin. the rest were hidden between his headboard and the wall. you pretended not to know, after stumbling upon them while changing his sheets.
closing the door to your home felt eerily empty. it looked the same as every day. the couch was cleaned and the floors swept. dishes rinsed and promptly put away. but with your lingering gaze your mind fixated on the dining table set for four, two adult pairs of shoes at the door, one pink backpack slumped on the hook of the closet door with an empty space below. your chest twisted at the lack of clutter, though it’d been like that for some time, with tsumiki and megumi growing older and cleaning up after themselves properly like you taught them. like you wanted. the pride you initially felt with those memories of parenting were becoming eclipsed with resentment and despair.
the ride to school was quick and familiar, megumi knew well what he was getting into after visiting there to train. satoru liked to call them little getaways from megumi’s civilian life, claiming he wasted too much time around non-sorcerers when he could be on missions with his ever-loving benefactor instead.
satoru, who was whining while he laid himself across the three seats in the back of your car. you’d banished him there for such a special occasion, and he threatened to transport himself to the school alone. an empty threat, at best. he didn’t want to miss this. 
megumi had sparred with the older students and found himself thrown around the field many times already. he knew his way to the infirmary by heart, he knew where gojo tucked away his most powerful curse-imbued weapons (that were supposed to be under the surveillance of higher ups), and knew what letter-number combination granted him the ginger chips nobody else seemed to like. 
you were glad he was comfortable. you were glad he would fall into routine easily after the repeated trips to jujutsu high and developing a rapport with his upperclassmen. you’d waited for the day that he’d truly be part of the jujutsu world and welcomed into a better suited environment for people like him. and you knew he would be great, he already possessed an incredible technique and wielded it like he’d been fine-tuning it since birth. far ahead from most kids his age, you were proud.
still, your gut was sinking, sinking, sinking into the floor with each passing second.
megumi picked his room in one of the far-away corners of the boys dormitory, leaving inumaki and panda heartbroken (panda said he would find a way to organize sleepover. megumi said he would drop out before that happened. inumaki cried– no, wailed at the rejection). yuuta fell into step with you, slipping one of the boxes out of your hands and insisting on helping instead. it was sweet, if it didn’t feel like he was ripping precious time away from you.
but you smiled, and granted his wish. megumi wasn’t complaining, he liked yuuta more than the others. it was a good chance for them to talk more. all of this, a chance, a new chapter, the rest of his life. the thoughts weighed on your shoulders with a disgusting strain traveling to your fingertips.
you were painfully aware you were in your own head, doing this all to yourself. he wasn’t going away, you would still be seeing him, more than you used to when he went to his other schools. he would always be here.
satoru found you in your classroom, while you were organizing the stationary with an unnaturally stiff composure. your arms were tense, he could see the muscles constantly flexing with each of your movements.
your jaw was clenching and unclenching again. you made a point not to look outside, where the second-years were training brashly after successfully moving their things back into their dorms. you made a point not to meet satoru’s dangerous stare as he shut the door to your classroom, as if it granted any privacy with the seven large windows running along the wall that showcased the hallway. 
“what are you doing all by yourself, beautiful?” his tone was soft and inviting, begging you to open up and let yourself fall against the cushion of his words. 
“um,” you exhaled, voice shaky. you scrunched your face to break apart the tension that had hardened your expression. “i figured i would get a few things ready for tomorrow.”
it took satoru’s long legs two-and-a-half strides to meet you at your desk, where you gently shut the drawer. there were a handful of dated photographs in there, signed with his name and the chicken scratch of two children. 
“it’s all ready, baby. we did that last week.”
(correction: you did it. he tagged along for the shopping trip).
“there’s just… a few things...” you mumbled, not finding the strength to finish your own sentence. 
satoru gently placed his hand on your shoulder, emitting inhuman warmth that spread across your skin. you leaned into him as he dragged his hand down your arm and intertwined your fingers with the care of handling fine china. his presence brought you solace, effortlessly bringing the walls down that you desperately wanted to wait until you got home to break.
he kissed the back of your hand and rubbed the skin. “you know you’re going to see him every day, right?”
it was embarrassing how well satoru knew you, knew your thought process like it was an extension of his own. he knew your doubts and insecurities, your fears and desires. he could predict the words before they came from your mouth, more in tune with the way you spoke than his mother tongue.
“mhm.”
“you know we’re going to be the ones chaperoning his missions, right?”
you closed your eyes and looked away. “i know.”
“do you remember when he said he’d like to go home some weekends, and have dinner?”
“he said that to be nice.”
“when has he ever been nice?”
you opened your eyes to glare at him, though he was right. megumi was not nice. he was polite. he was too self-aware for his own good, too perceptive of others and their emotions. in all the time that you’d known him, raised him, he made himself smaller for the convenience of others. he walked on his tiptoes for a year and a half so no one else would wake up because of him. he made his own breakfast and bit back his tears when he burned himself. he didn’t ask for things or food and didn’t offer his input unless asked directly. for some time, he was a ghost in his own home. 
it seemed as soon as the bits of his shell started to break off, he was being swept away from you by the jujutsu world, leaving you with looming fears that consumed your mind and disrupted your sleep for weeks.
satoru smiled, though it was weighed down with your sadness. “hey, he’s not going anywhere, you know that. just because you’re not driving him home everyday doesn’t mean he’s gone.”
it’s funny, it’s nearly the same speech he gave you when tsumiki started middle school. and when megumi followed those same steps.
tsumiki didn’t make it this far, though.
the thought makes your lip wobble again, and you bite it back pathetically.
“i know. i know that. it’s just that…” your voice cracked, and you shoved your head in your hands. your palms squeezed your eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the already-flowing tears. “he’s not my little boy anymore.”
satoru’s soothing hands pull you into a tight hug, and you don’t have it in you yet to move your hands from your face. his embrace makes you sob harder, louder as all your emotions from the last week begin to pour out at once. his chest rumbled with your cries, and he tucked you further under his arms as if to shield you from what was making you hurt so much. it was all you.
“baby…” he chuckled, without a hint mirth or mockery. he squeezed you with compassion and adoration. “you know that’s not true. he’s still pretty short, he’s got another growth spurt coming.”
a small laugh slipped through, but was quickly drowned out by your cries.
“he’ll be okay. he’s still here.”
he was so, so warm. he gently began to rock back and forth with you, the heels of your shoes gently clicking on the tile floor. a small hiccup erupted from you as you found the strength to wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his chest. the familiar thrum of his heartbeat welcomed you.
“i know, i’m sorry. i know he’s not leaving, or anything… i just… i thought i was ready.” you blubbered into his button-up. surely, there’d be two wet spots where your eyes were when you pulled away.
he swayed side to side with you, staring at the blackboard ahead of him. he nestled his chin on the top of your head, wondering if you could hear the cracks tearing through his heart. “it’s okay if you’re not ready. but you’re treating this like it's goodbye.”
“but what if we don’t get a goodbye?”
“okay, you really are overthinking this,” he pulled away from your embrace, your fingers still digging into the material of his shirt. he brushed away the hair covering your eyes, stuck to your skin by the wetness of your cheeks. streaks ran through your foundation and the corners of your eyes were smudged. “there you are. so pretty.”
it was silly how he believed he could make things better like that. it was silly that he was a little bit right.
“don’t think for a second i’ll let megumi be sent on a mission he can’t handle. he’s going to be fine.”
satoru’s love ran deep. for you, for megumi, for all his students. he fought curses everyday for you, rotted himself with his technique and stitched himself back up in a moment’s notice to fight for you. to come home to you. all of humanity be damned, those closest to him were the ones he fought for, and he would do everything in his power to preserve their lives.
he already towed the line with the higher-ups and their conservative rules and regulations, but he would tear them down if you asked. for megumi, he’d fight tooth and nail to see that he wasn’t being sent off on a mission ill-prepared. under his watch, things would be different for his students. 
you nodded meekly, wiping away your tears with one hand. “i hate when you’re right, toru. it’s really annoying.”
he smoothed down your hair and grinned. “i know, just let me have this one, though.”
his sweet murmurs filled your ears, along with the gentle shuffling of your clothes as you made yourself presentable again. you balled up your sleeves and patted the corners of your eyes gently, and he straightened out the hem of your shirt. it was wrinkled, a reminder of how harshly you clung to him.
you smiled at the water stains on his shirt now, and he claimed it was in need of dry cleaning anyway.
neither of you noticed the eyes of megumi and yuuta, both stuck in place at the very corner of the windows leading to the hallway. they had training staffs with them, megumi’s grip becoming tighter as he watched you wipe your eyes and knock your head into satoru’s chest lazily. your shoulders low, clearly drained from the amount you cried. 
yuuta was frozen, eyes flickering from you to megumi repeatedly. he found his courage in placing a hand on his shoulder, a feather-light grip. “hey, let’s go through the east wing. i’m pretty sure it’s faster that way.”
it wasn’t. but megumi nodded anyway, begrudgingly tearing his gaze from you and turning around with yuuta. 
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you stared down the red light of the intersection with a blank face, blank mind. letting it all out of your system had successfully flushed out your emotions, taking the rest of your energy along with it. the car was painfully quiet, but no part of you wanted to listen to anything.
satoru was whisked away by yaga, being delivered another mission he swore would take less than a day. ‘less than twelve hours’, he promised to be back for megumi’s first day. he would make it.
it was dark, and you milked all the time you could on school grounds. speaking with yaga and shoko, running through the still-developing information of missions to be sent on. cleaning the classrooms. the lockers. stocking the teachers lounge. dusting the armory. before you knew it the curfew ushered the students into their dorms.
a ringtone broke through your thoughts, making you jump. though the tune was soft, the sudden intrusion made it much more shrill. you fumbled with your phone in the passenger seat, seeing megumi’s contact on the screen.
“hello?”
“hey, mom?”
it took everything you had left not to gawk. he said it before, sparingly in desperation for comfort. his voice was quiet, a near-whisper despite the fact he was alone in his dorm. like he was nervous.
“yes, megumi?”
“um… are you home?”
you wondered if he forgot something. “no, i’m still driving. are you okay?”
“i’m fine, i just… can’t sleep, i guess…” he trailed off, hoping for you to fill in the gap.
“oh. okay. did you take–“
“do you think you could pick me up?” he interrupted. “and i just stay home tonight? you could drive me in the morning.”
you were quick to dissolve into a smile, pointed at the streetlamp on the sidewalk. sadness struck your eyes but you were too occupied by the warmth of his question to feel it.
“yeah. i can be back there in a few minutes, just let me turn around.”
“thanks.”
he didn’t hang up. neither did you. the silence lived on for a few seconds.
“mom?”
“yeah?”
“… gojo’s on a mission, right?”
you laughed, your hand sliding across the steering wheel as you reouted back to the school. “yeah, megs, he’ll be gone tonight.”
“he’s back tomorrow?”
“yeah, we can leave before he gets home.”
“thanks.”
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bonus:
satoru tiptoed through the entrance of your home, brushing his blindfold over his hair and peeling it off his head. he hung it up with his keys, lax arms nearly missing the hook on the closet door meant for him. it was beyond late, and he was tired, but he was home like he said he would be.
he bent down to tie his shoes, buffering momentarily as he caught a glance of well-worn sneakers at the front door. they were as clean as they could be, though scuffed rubber turning gray and the laces becoming frayed where they were tightened most.
satoru made a grunt in acknowledgement to no one but himself, as he tossed his shoes down. he glanced around the living space, cautiously bringing himself to each room with a curious itch to scratch. a third pair of shoes. both backpacks on the door. dishes for two placed on the drying rack. 
he was expertly quiet by nature, but found himself avoiding the squeaky floorboards on the stairs and all the way to the hallway. he was greeted with a blue sign, corners covered with dog stickers. the frilly handwriting of tsumiki warding off unwanted visitors with the phrase: “megumi’s room. keep out!!”
the door opened quietly, satoru pushing it open to the limit and stopping before it would let out an ungodly squeak. he insisted on never getting it fixed, knowing it bothered megumi.
megumi had his face shoved in his pillow, a desperate attempt to block out any light creeping through the crack of his bedroom door or the streetlamp just outside the window. he was always a light sleeper, always on edge, sleeping with his back to the wall so if something barged in the night he was ready. it was horrible he thought that way, you always said. 
his duvet covers were black and white plaid, per his request three years ago when he begged to be free of the puppy sheets. still, he seemed small, curled up in a ball. his face was released of the usual tension and his light breathing filled the room. for a moment, he was little again.
satoru smiled, taking a step back and closing the door gently.
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qilinism · 26 days
Text
aventurine collects your debt (another way)
[nsfw]. like they say go big or go home confidence is key here guys (i’d cry too tbh)
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you find him at the casino.
your casino, before the ipc had come and run it to the ground, along with every other business your family had owned in this world — crushed beneath the weight of taxes, tallying up to a century's worth of unpaid debt now imposed by this foreign corporation. 
he seems to be having fun though, you think dejectedly, as you scan the brightly lit room, where the blonde haired male now sits in the middle of it all, engrossed within a game of poker, chips piled high by his side. you can only watch as golden coins are exchanged between hands and cash is pocketed, knowing its profits will never reach you. 
everything belongs to the ipc now. they’ll soon drain this world dry and move on to things with greater promise, as you look hopelessly at the business card he had handed you earlier, embellished with the logo of the ipc and his name written in curling golden letters on the other side — aventurine. 
“aventurine.” the name rolls from your tongue quietly, trying to hide the slight tremor in your voice — you’re still unsure of this whole affair, as you approach him. 
the game pauses. 
aventurine lifts his head, glancing up at you. his lips pull up into a smile a moment later, his purple eyes gleaming. “ah miss y/n, we meet again.” 
he knows you — your type, barging in to negotiate as if another singular conversation would lift the debt on your families, to change the mind of the ipc. perhaps the spirit is there, but truly you have no grasp on any business, nothing more than a girl who had grown up among riches, who now had the world crashing down around her, seeking him out in desperation. 
you’re all clueless, and willing to do anything — this the first time in your life where you’ve struggled, despaired even, at the uncertainties of the future which had once been promised to you. 
“this game is over.” he tells the others crowded around, throwing a bag of gold onto the table. they scatter immediately, scooping up any loose coins before disappearing out the door. 
some spare you an almost pitying glance, as they pass you on the way to the door, leaving you alone with aventurine. 
he gets up from his seat at the table and walks over to a nearby couch, plopping himself down with a sigh. he pats the spot next to him, indicating for you to sit down. 
begrudgingly you sit, careful not to let your dress ride up. 
“i’ll have you know there is little i can do for your situation.” aventurine sighs, lounging back, his arm splayed across the back of the couch. 
you look pretty today, he thinks, swept up in a short dress that hugs your figure. there’s something about you that gives off regality, despite the slow collapse of it all he’s to witness — he’s surprised you’re keeping it together still. 
“i know but,” you swallow. “there is something right? can’t you pull some strings? this isn’t right— this must be a mistake, they should reinvestigate this. my family has always been honest and paid their taxes, it doesn’t make sense for all this to happen all of a sudden.” 
he huffs. “of course i can pull strings, but that comes at a price, one that many aren’t willing to pay.” 
“we can pay it.” you blurt, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “we still have some money left in savings—”
“uhuh” he places his finger on your lips as if to silence you, and you pause, a confused expression crossing your face. “not that price. it’s not something able to be bought. you can’t buy a lot of things these days i suppose; loyalty, respect, sincerity all that.” 
“don’t cry.” he adds, as he notices your face fall, almost as if it offers any consolation to your situation — to himself even. he knows he’s a terrible person, having committed countless sins to get to the position he sits in now.
“what do i do then?” you glance up at him, looking almost hopelessly lost. but he can see the faint flicker in your eyes, that’s still willing to blindly sacrifice. you really are clueless — so much, it’s almost endearing. perhaps he is to offer his guidance. 
“i really do like you y/n, you know.” aventurine offers you a look, a pitying one almost. but alas, you can never truly tell what intention brews behind those eyes. “it really would be a shame to see someone like you lose everything like this.” 
“you’re quite a pretty thing aren’t you?” he murmurs in your ear, hot breath tickling your neck as his cold hand slides across your exposed thighs, eliciting a quiet gasp from you. “and what can i say to a damsel in distress after all? i can’t let her leave unhappy.” 
“aventurine—” you don’t recall how you ended up sitting atop his lap, his mouth trailing across your bare neck as his free hand slides beneath your dress, toying with the band of your panties, before pulling it aside. 
“shh relax.” he silences your muffled cry with his own mouth, lips meeting your own as he slides a finger into you — then another, there’s tears watering your eyes again as your walls clench around him, soft whimpers escaping you as he pushes them further in. “you’re so tight, let me fix that.” 
truly he does think you’re pretty, from your first meeting where you had stood as an elegant figure of ethereal grace — he had not thought such a treasure existed in such far flung corners of the universe. and now, he sees you laid out before him, face flushed, in likeness to a fragile porcelain doll he handles carefully, lest you break amid the tears that stream down your face. 
his free hand pulls down the zipper of your dress, you shiver — revealing the full flush of your figure, his mouth trailing past your collarbone, down to your exposed breasts, his tongue flicking out as if to savour the feeling of your bare skin, a low moan of satisfaction escaping him. do you know you smell so heavenly? so divine? 
it’s inviting. he thinks maybe you look prettier when you cry, tipping your head back as he curls a finger against that sweet spot inside you, his name pushing past your lips. 
yet even such a sight is not enough for him — one who seeks the most grandiose spectacles after all. he’s not a selfless man, looking only to pleasure you. you had been the one that had come to him begging, owing him a debt that has yet to be repaid. and had he not taken that opportunity for himself? 
you just make it all the more tempting for him, as he pulls his fingers out from you, denying you. you seem to shudder at the loss, vacantly staring as he licks your arousal from his fingers. it’s sweet, he thinks. 
he unbuckles his belt, letting it slip to the floor with a clink, snapping you from your daze. there’s a brief moment of hesitation that seems to flash across your eyes at the sight of his hardened length. but you seem to get the hint, remembering who it is you serve — perhaps you aren’t entirely clueless after all. 
your eyes flutter shut as you swallow back a gulp, sinking down on his cock, your breaths shaky and haggard, burying your face in the crook of his neck, as if to stifle your cry, as a groan rumbles in his own chest. “fuck.. you feel so good.” 
“look at me baby.” he gasps, pulling you from his chest, fingers tangling themselves in your hair, violet irises dancing, as he rolls his hips against yours and you moan. he didn’t think you could make such a beautiful noise, lips crashing against yours as if poised to devour the essence of your angelic being completely. 
it’s truly some exalting paradox in your existence, yourself a diamond in the rough. he thinks himself enamoured by you in the height of his pleasures, drawn in by this innate vulnerability you exhibit toward him when you yourself are at your lowest, marked by the tears upon your lashes — and momentarily he questions, is it sinful to have taken such an advantage over you? 
but alas, he’s committed a great many sins. 
you’re dancing in the palm of his hands, tits bouncing up and down as he thrusts upwards into you, letting that sweet, sweet melody of your pleasure fill his ears, pushing any coherent thoughts from aventurine’s mind. 
your own mind is equally blank, you’re numb, shaking all over as you ride his cock, gasping as his fingers dig into your thighs, lifting you up and slamming you back down — a cry escaping you, your legs trembling, as the knot in your stomach seems to tighten with each movement of his. he’s grown rougher, faster. 
“a-aventurine!” 
“mm you’re beautiful.” he kisses along your neck, as you wrap your arms around him, nails digging into his back amid a muffled sob, as he continues, settling into a steady pace. 
at this point you’ve begun to lose count of the times he’s abused your cunt, your vision blurring as a sudden orgasm crashes through you, the knot in your stomach growing taut — then snapping, without so much of a warning, as his cock hits that sweet spot of yours, one that has you seeing stars. 
he fucks you through your release, your first, and then every other one that follows, in chase of his own, your walls growing tighter and more desperate — your cries becoming higher and higher in pitch, you’re practically keening with your head thrown back, eyes rolled back into your head. 
you can’t feel your legs anymore, aventurine being your sole support, bouncing you up and down. you feel his cock twitch inside you moments later, a breathless moan leaving you as his warm seed spills into you, the excess leaking down your legs in a stream of milky white. 
you slump against his frame with a tired sigh. you don’t know how long you sit there for, his cock still inside you. he doesn’t make any effort to move either, content to have you rest against him. 
“so.” he says a moment later, lazily caressing your bare thigh, arching an elegant eyebrow at you. “same time. next week?” 
back to business so quickly, you think. you manage to raise your head to look at him with a confused expression, eyes bleary and unfocused. 
“you seriously didn’t think repaying this debt was a one time thing did you?” a smile curls across his lips, purple eyes gleaming in the light. 
“i— of course not.”
"good."
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literaila · 5 months
Text
i’ll tell you in the morning
tasm!peter x reader
summary:
“you’re going to fall through the couch.”
“the couch would never betray me.”
warnings: overly considerate peter, scheming reader, fluff and stuff
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*
“you’re supposed to be in bed.”
his voice rolls, like a click on a cassette, and you know that peter is not really there.
because it’s all a little blurry. his voice, the door opening, the feeling when he kneels down next to you, his breath hot in your ear.
it’s all some remanent of a dream. a brief moment where you might wake up, but decide not to.
“i’m serious,” his voice ebbs and flows, waving in and out, like your consciousness. “you know i don’t like it when you wait up for me.”
you groan and roll even further into the couch. your face is smushed, and your hair is a mess, sweaty because you’re drowning under every blanket in the house. it smells like cotton, and peter’s deodorant, and potato chips that you probably dropped through the cushions.
you dig your nose in deeper, trying to get back to that dream.
peters probably not actually there, you think, because if he was he would’ve kissed you awake. his hand would be lazily running through your hair, and his body would be pressed against yours. you would be cuddling by now.
real peter is much nicer than dream peter, who shakes your shoulder, albeit massaging you right afterward. “c’mon, bug, we’re going to bed.”
“sleeping,” you mumble, pulling away from him.
dream peter continues to try and wake you up, while you wonder—amidst the dream, no doubt—when real peter will be home. you want to be drowning in his collarbone instead of your own sweat.
there’s a kiss next to your ear. “you’re going to fall through the couch.”
“the couch would never betray me.”
“we’ll see if you’re saying that in the morning, when your neck is bent the wrong way,” he whispers, and rests his head against yours. you feel it as he breathes out, relaxes. almost like he’s purring into your ear.
so you keen into him, a bit awkwardly, considering that it’s his forehead. “why’d you wake me up?”
“you can’t sleep here.”
“c’mere,” you murmur to him, your hand wrapping around the back of his neck, fingertips just brushing his hair. “cuddle with me.”
“being cute isn’t going to stop me from moving you.”
“peter,” you try and push him away, “go to bed.”
“why are you out here?” his nose trails down your hair, to your neck. “it’s almost four in the morning.”
you ponder this, and decide that you don’t really remember what you were doing before you fell asleep here, with your hand shoved in the crook of your neck. “the beds cold,” you slur, head falling back into the cushions as you doze.
“that’s because all of the blankets are out here. why didn’t you turn the heat up?”
he’s playing with some baby hair by your ear now, trying to lull you to sleep, probably, because he loves you.
“i was waiting for you,” you whisper this like a prayer, “and now you’re here.”
“you waited in the wrong spot. i would’ve come to bed with you. there’s no room for me here,” he smiles when you finally turn your head towards him. he’s got a smudge on his nose, and his eyes are sunken in—aged from exhaustion.
“i know.”
you’re both whispering. trying not to wake that drowsy, lovesick part of yourself right now.
“hmm?” he leans into you, nose brushing your cheek. almost like he’s breathing you in. “what, bug?”
“i wanted to fall asleep with you.”
then his eyes are wide open, and he leans back, brows furrowed in a tight line. “i told you i was going out.”
you muse at his confused face, and lean back towards him. “i know. i didn’t know when you’d be home.”
“you could’ve called.”
“i’m not going to interrupt your repertoire with a burglar at midnight. it’s rude.”
“not to me.”
you tsk, and lean away, back into the pillow comforting you while simultaneously scheming to ruin your morning.
“you need more sleep than i do,” peter adds, trying to keep you awake with his sheer willpower, his hands squirm under your shoulders. “we’ve talked about this.”
“no, you threatened to tell my mom—“
“that’s not what i said,” peter interrupts, groaning into the sofa.
“that i wasn’t getting enough sleep. and i said that you could make your own decisions, but that i wasn’t going to stop waiting up for you.”
“it makes me feel bad,” he ignores your gentle protesting. “i don’t want to keep you up.”
“peter, it’s not like you’re out dancing with strippers.”
he laughs, unexpectedly. and you grin back at him, with a sheer conviction undiluted by any hints of remaining sleep.
“you’re up helping people. i don’t mind waiting for you,” you emphasize this by leaning in to kiss his forehead, tasting sweat and not minding at all.
“you’re going to be tired tomorrow. when did you fall asleep?”
you acknowledge your win for what it is, and sit up on the couch, looking around your apartment like you can’t remember where you are. “probably an hour ago. i didn’t know when you’d be home, and i waited a while, but then i moved to the couch so you’d have to wake me up if i fell asleep.”
“so this was an elaborate scheme, huh?” peter laughs at you as his teeth graze your cheek. his chaste kiss makes you warm.
“i learned from the best.”
peter chuckles against you, and the two of you sit like that for a moment. calculating each others breathing like there’s something you might miss, however brief.
and then you smile at him, and he smiles back. “bed?” he asks you, softly, fingertip running against the skin of your jaw. you nod.
his arms wrap around you as he picks you up, your head rested comfortably on his shoulder, legs wrapped around his waist.
“i’m leaving you on the couch next time,” he threatens as he walks, “just so you know.”
“then we’ll both wake up with sore backs. not just you.”
peter snorts. “i didn’t say i would be there.”
“like you can sleep without me.”
he doesn’t say anything to that, but you feel him murmur in your hair suspiciously.
peter sets you down on the bed softly, pushing your legs so you’ll lay down, then covering you with the comforter. he tucks you in like any average middle aged dad.
when you grin he nods, very satisfied with himself.
“i’m just gonna change,” he says, taking a step back.
“hurry. i’m tired.”
“now, look who’s talking,” he shakes his head, but moves swiftly to the bathroom. you hear it as he runs the sink, as he bangs his foot on something and curses, and when he pads back into the bedroom, looking like a young child sneaking out of bed in his pajamas.
you laugh. “where did you get those?”
peter looks down to himself. to the many cartoon styled spider-man’s dancing across his cotton pajama set. “what? this old thing.”
“i don’t think i can be seen in public with you if you’re wearing that.”
“we are in the privacy of our bedroom,” he points out.
“i don’t think i can be in the same room with you if you’re wearing that.”
peter shakes his head, pouting like he’s disappointed, but he slips the shirt off, a concession he’s apparently willing to make.
though you don’t doubt that there are ulterior motives to this move.
“c’mon,” you whine to him, “i’m cold.”
“you’re so needy.”
you roll your eyes, but sink into him as he shuffles from beside you, laying his head near yours. “you’re not coddling me.”
“i’m so very sorry, my dear,” he whispers, and wraps his arms around you.
“shh,” you nuzzle your nose into his neck, and murmur against his hot skin. “i want to go back to the dream i was having.”
peter must be laughing at you, you can tell, even slightly asleep, because something jostles you.
“what was it about?”
you smile against him, listening to his heart like a hymn you’re devoted to. “i’ll tell you in the morning.”
he whispers something, brief, a whisper in the quiet of the room. but you feel the words as he settles into the bed, his calloused hands running over your skin.
and you fall asleep; hands clutching the others heart.
*
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seokka0o · 7 months
Text
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Riize as boyfriends (-In bed)
CONTAIN: Smut; High sex; possessiveness; unprotected sex;
Author: ALRIGHT, its finally done. I took a long time on this, but I think it's good.
Please, English it's not my first language so may have be some grammatical error♡ feedbacks always appreciated, hope enjoy.
Song recommendation: Everything by Kehlani
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大崎将太郎 - Shotaro
Cute type of boyfriend
most of the time extremely needy, Shotaro provide attention
lots of affection and kisses, lots of kisses
You've known each other since you were kids
childhood best friends, so it's a relationship that grows from a lot of affection
you have secrets, years of friendship which makes the whole relationship very comfortable
even in moments of conflict you end up dealing very well with each other the other
Quiet boyfriend
he likes dates to ride his bike, walk to a park with you for ice cream
shotaro loves cuddles on the couch while you guys watch tv
short dialogues are usually just to make sure you're both still comfortable doing it.
but most of the time you stay there exchanging affection until you fall asleep he's a low maintenance guy so you wouldn't have a lot of issues, just some good quality of time and that's it
a very unique feeling that he conveys is pure summer
shotaro is someone who shines and that you feel, he loves you with all his strength
he likes to show and tell everyone how much he likes you, how ideal you are
"I love you, y/n my baby"
you are soulmates, he knows it, as do you
because you are childhood sweethearts and friends, consequently he was your first in everything,
first kiss, first love
And he was also the one who took your virginity, just like you took his
You're discovering yourselfs together so everything kind of becomes intuitive
the way you touch each other and whether it happens to be good or not.
With time shotaro will become more adept at a more delicate, more romantic type of sex
where you spend hours touching each other kissing, just to enjoy each other
Oral is something he really likes
being between your legs, feeling your heat, chipping you and hearing you make the most beautiful moans so it's definitely his favorite part
Enjoys tasting you
playing with your nipples while he do this, feeling you pulling his hair during intercourse, knowing your desperation for his tongue.
I see a relationship without power play a lot, shotaro doesn't like to exert any dominance on you
which makes him the ultimate vanilla connoisseur,
the kind to whisper sweets and cuddle while slow-fucking you
lazy sex in the morning or late at night because for some reason you woke up needy
he is one of the quietest when it comes to sexual relations in general
Shotaro is homely, not very dynamic, with good stamina, but he rarely puts up with extremely intense relations
everything for him is planned to be as delicate and romantic as possible, this all the time
Because of shotaro spending much more time on foreplay, especially preaching
French kisses, sometimes marking your skin with a few love bites, Shotaro is always sighing between kisses, dictating some sweetness still awkwardly
hands inside your clothes, he just wants to feel your skin while in contact with your mouths, that way he feels more connected to you.
송은석 - Eunseok
Typical protective boyfriend, likes to always be present and helpful
most likely you met him at your place of work or studies, he as someone not very popular but easy to get attention
I'm sure he would be interested first, because whatever Eunseok wants, he makes it his goal in life
meeting in libraries, cafes to pass the time
he would also like to spend time with you watching a movie at the cinema or going out to eat something you like together
He's not very affectionate, but he's great at words of affirmation, he always makes it clear what he likes and how much he likes you,
always presenting you with sweets and other things he buys around thinking how much it might please you.
always matching clothes because he likes to maintain this couple aesthetic that uses everything the same
from clothes to very specific objects
despite not being so good at expressing it he expects it from you, truly speaking
the kind that if you don't tell him you love him every day, he might feel really upset
as for relationships in bed, he's not the inexperienced or impartial type far from it.
He is a dom, without a doubt
Eunseok likes it when you ride him, he likes that feeling of your weight on him, the way you strain
moan so pleasurably, your sweaty, tired body, he appreciates that
He likes to have his fingers firm on your skin and mark you as his
because Eunseok's type of sex is more possessive, not in words but in actions
music playing in the background while he fucks you because he likes this “setting the mood” thing, he feels more immersed in it,
also because he always loves to spend a lot of time on foreplay
kissing you, caressing you, even talking a little, just to get you two more caught up in it, hours on end
Despite this hard and fast fuck, even when you're not above him,
He's fucking you with all the strength of his being, with his lips close to your ears so he can whisper the worst possible nasties to you, l
"You are so tight, but you always welcome me so well"
Pulling your hair to tip your head back and then biting and branding your neck like a madman,
turning you completely purple
Same thing on your legs, usually when he goes to suck you he always leaves his trail before making you lose your mind on his tongue.
Multiple orgasms, he enjoys watching you lose yourself and through it all you feel his gentleness touch
like him in everyday life he is not the type to show himself too much,
but in bed he tends to be much more expressive, moaning painfully, saying how much he likes it when you do him well,
when you have him around your mouth.
정성찬 - Sungchan
He's intense, not fickle at all, sungchan is like a bolt of lightning that will crash into your life out of nowhere and make you completely obsessed.
the ideal boyfriend type,
very charismatic and conversational,
where he likes to be in social circles and extremely friendly with everything and everyone
he would also be the one to be interested first,
even if it doesn't seem like it, he certainly noticed you even before you noticed him,
because the tactic from the moment he sees you is to get your attention at any cost
you will meet in some social environment, parties, meetings between friends and from then on the relationship will evolve very quickly
everything about him is authentic, sungchan wants to take you out, find common ground and connect with you
always very dynamic,
with him the encounters are the most diverse;
amusement parks, open-air cinemas, camping together, going to the beach and anything that might involve some good adventure
All sung chan wants is to be able to kiss you at sunset and be hugged talking the most diverse nonsense to make you laugh somehow.
He enjoys quality time, which builds up and makes the two of you more intimate with each encounter.
This man has structures that take a lot of effort to hold because he is big, VERY BIG and he knows it, and he will use it against you.
SungChan is very playful regardless of the type of relationship he has,
being between four walls with him I would say is an adventure, in the most diverse positions, you between his legs is where Sungchan knows paradise.
deep throat, its his favorite thing,
being able to grab your hair all over your head and fuck your mouth desperately, deep down your throat to make you choke on his dick
“yeah, get it all, baby”
The thick and subtle tone of his voice is capable of making the skin crawl,
makes you, Sung Chan's most faithful servant and the way he always seems to enjoy it when you suck him.
once he's inside you, his mouth is around your nipple, licking, sucking, nibbling,
being the worst kind of tease you'll ever meet, alternating slow and fast fucks to be able to control your orgasm at all times.
he can be very skilled, even though he can't always focus on more than three things,
when sungchan isn't making your nipple a bottle, one of his hands will be between your legs playing with your clit, rubbing it as he slides inside you
sungchan also likes sex in unusual places,
like inside cars, bathrooms, tents, anywhere he can be inside your clothes, he will be.
박원빈 - Wonbin
You'll like him first, definitely. wonbin is more like that neighbor of yours that you rarely see around,
but whenever you want to meet him he'll be right outside your house at the skate park with his friends and well, taming his man takes more than being good at people watching.
Once he's on your feet, he's all yours,he lives for you, wherever you go, whatever you'd do
He likes these meetings in more closed places, although he always takes you to the skate park, he also enjoys taking you to shopping
buy instruments, books, clothes, wonbin appreciates this thing with a more homely vibe
He's usually more willing to have a movie session at home, the two of you, fast food and of course, lots of kissing.
Because he likes it,
he always wants to be kissing you, taking your attention away from things to put it on his lap so you can kiss for a long time.
Wonbin is not the type to say I love you all the time, but he is the jealous one.
Anyone and everyone who tries to be too close to you doesn't make you very comfortable,
Even more so if you're not the type to have many friends, anyone beyond your bond doesn't like you, which makes you really clingy
He's jealous, sure, so he goes to bed too, when irritated by your friendly attitude towards other people,
even though he's visibly annoyed.
then he will fuck you, break you in two, fuck you hard ,
mark your skin in every space, hit you, be the sadist he hides inside
"are you dumb? I'm done saying I don't like this little game , y/n. you're mine and end of story!"
wonbin can vary a lot so I can see it switch easily
even so he's a constant headache,
wonbin usually doesn't have much inhibition, any situation is a situation for you to be fucking
whether it's in the bedroom, living room, kitchen, bathroom, wonbin doesn't care
when he wants it and he's sure you want it too and he'll just take off all your clothes and fuck you with no pressure whatsoever
what makes him a natural provocateur,
hands on your ass, between your legs, this in public, he doesn't want to wait until you get home,
when home alone wonbin is occasionally touching you inappropriately, whenever in this condition showing to you how hard you make him with little.
“bin…but I'm busy”; “I promise not to take up so much of your time”
poor desperate boy he just wants you to deal with the consequences of being so hot
mutual masturbation it's just another tuesday,
this one where you're watching a movie in the living room and then wonbin has his hand between your legs,
touching your intimacy, inviting you to do the same with him, so finally having your fingers around him of his dick, doing magic
 This also happens in reverse,
WonBin feels like he could go crazy every time you let him watch you masturbate while he does the same with him,
the whole thing about not being able to touch you while you pleasure yourself is just the height of it.
sex with clothes, you on his lap desperately rubbing yourself while him receives all that stimulation,
keeping his eyes closed so he can focus on it as much as possible,
not being able to contain raising his own hips to try to fuck with your pussy covered, feeling all that difficulty of being inside you like a mega stimulus
those fingers work magic, great at playing instruments, great at sticking each one of them in you, wonbin knows how to hit the spot like a pro, like playing his own guitar he can make you squirt with such accuracy
홍승한 - Seunghan
At first glance he may seem very cold, the kind of shy person you normally have a hard time interacting with.
But he's the most affectionate kind of boyfriend you can have, the most dynamic too.
I would say that you both care at the same time, with him being the one to take the action
Within a setting such as college or with him being your friendly neighbor
Seunghan is kind, knows how to use words, knows when to be affectionate and careful with you
He likes to spend time hugging, kissing
not being the type to go out for extremely special occasions,
with him the tendency is for meetings to be more spontaneous,
which also leaves my thesis that he is also very adept at friends to lovers
Seunghan likes to have things in common with you, go hand in hand,
travel somewhere together and create memories
Photo walls of the two of you together, of each special moment, you can be sure that he is always calling or sending you a message to find out how you are, so he can miss you whenever you are not around.
and sometimes because he is not always there, he ends up becoming to needy
like that type of needy, he wants to touch you, he missed everything, especially your cute moans
Dom, no power play
seunghan likes to fuck you on top of his piano in the living room, that whole arty sex thing is what seems to captivate him
In general, he prefers it when you look for him,
when you are the one desperate for attention, so he can laugh in your face, say how needy you are and then give you what you want
sex under the covers because everything that sounds minimally forbidden excites him
which also leads him to fuck you a lot in semi-public places, sometimes in the presence of his friends without them noticing, seunghan likes this complicity
"shh..you don't want them to find out"
fuck you hand in hand, lips pressed together in a very heated kiss
because then he can make you lose complete control of the situation, kiss your earlobe and whisper in your ear.
When you're not in the mood for something deeper then that's fine, just sit back and relax, he'll suck you down,
put everything he knows into practice, make you come over and over again on his lips to show you how good he is at it.
dirty sex is totally his vibe too
dirtying you with his cum, face, body, his intimacy, whatever is within reach he will do, just to see you covered in his liquid
Cockwarming
Seunghan's intention with it is totally sexual, he wants to use it to tease you,
make you desperate to be fucked, but without permission to move,
even feeling his dick tilting inside you, showing how desperate he is too
이소희 - Sohee
This kid, there's something about him that gives off incredible energy, and he's easy to get attention
But despite all that, he's still the first to fall in love.
Really annoying, sohee likes to always be there and know what he's doing,
he also likes to fill you with the most diverse gifts,
all handmade, whether it's a wish, a song, a poem, a bracelet, anything that he feels that he will make you happy at least
Sohee is very friendly and even though you are in a relationship he always likes to keep it light,
always joking, wanting to make you laugh and he also loves it when you do the same because it shows that he has chosen the right person to like
Parties, dates, picnics, everything that involves activities outside the home he supports at all costs, because he doesn't like to feel bored
Matching hats of all kinds, especially with cat ears, because that way he can have as many photos as he wants of the two of you matching
Horror movies but just because he's scared, even more than you are and for sure the experience will be the funniest possible
When you are exchanging affection, he likes to be between your legs, lying on your chest,
to be able to receive affection on his hair, while he himself caresses your back under your clothes, all this in the purest silence,
because in the next situation he will be sleeping.
He's great at listening to your frustrations and helping you work them out,
if by chance you don't want that, then he can just listen and welcome all your problems with open arms, with you among them for a cuddle.
Quite especific type of sex
The biggest unknown within this group is certainly Sohee and the absurd change of behavior that he shows in his energy.
but for me he is the kinkest (?) person that exists within the group, this could also be linked to his need to be ridiculed, or even ridiculed you in bed,
so we can say he is a switch
he also loves to be put in that state of being treated like the dumbest human being in existence,
dumbfication is certainly his thing
his pretty face? Feel free to give a few slaps, the thick neck, put your fingers around it, you will see the most beautiful smile fall from his lips,
from pure satisfaction of the pleasure of feeling you thwarting around him while they commit these atrocities.
but don't think he won't either, not least because he's great at making fun of your face while you roll your eyes so desperately for stimulation
in moments where he is more peaceful sohee likes more relaxed sex,
usually when you are in a more romantic vibe, so he tends to be more funny, more prone to provide jokes in order to make you laugh during the fuck. a cute
he has a certain fixation on coming in your mouth after every fuck,
filling you with his liquid and watching you swallow,
sohee feels like he's the happiest man in the world in moments like that.
he's not really into extremely long foreplay
but he loves pillow talks, aftercare, it's those moments where you tend to connect with,
sohee is great at acts of service, even more so after explosive fucks like you tend to have
이찬영 - Anton
He's cute, the type that falls in love first, from a very young age he already liked you and has been building this into adulthood
Even though his methods are not the most accurate, they work for you.
You always go out for a bike ride together, sometimes each on your bike, sometimes you on the back of his
River baths, pool, waterfall, Anton always enjoys contact with nature, it's where he feels he's having fun, even more so if he's with you.
He's the perfect summer romance,
it's usually just the two of you, rarely with more people in the cycle,
not least because he can be a little territorial because of the little insecurity he has, so he avoids being too jealous, soon ceasing to be too much among friends when he's with you.
Anton likes to share ice cream, soda bottles with you while you sunbathe after all day biking and swimming
Kisses that taste like citrus candy, or lemon, because he likes to provide that kind of experience
Much because he appreciates skin-to-skin contact more than anything,
feeling you at all costs in hugs, caresses, kisses, his fingers will always be roaming your body in search of contact,
squeezing your skin and bringing you to close to him as much as possible.
HIGH SEX YES the idea of stoner!Anton lives in my mind for free
he likes to get in nature, take you swimming, go camping, take you to fuck in the woods and then you're high losing all sense of what you're doing
This boy is a softie, show him some tricks and he'll be all yours
even if it's tied to you sucking his dick, while the inhibited head is hyperfocal into the surreal feeling that is
Anton likes to fuck slow, at his pace, as he can have a hard time holding back at times.
he loves pulling your hair, just like he loves feeling you pulling his, hips in sync the whole time, wherever you are, he'll make that place your nest
anton is like a white canvas, because before you he was a virgin, so he likes to be taught, how he can please you, he is ready for that
the sound of nature in the background to decorate the scene along with their mixed moans
kiss him, hug him, tell him you love him, and then he'll tell you back sweetly,
with his pretty smile expended, sweaty bodies, that's all he asked for, be it night or day
now you have your secret place for it
sex in the pool, especially fucking you from behind,
while your body is leaning against the pool ledge,
only your breasts protected by his hands that play with your nipples as he fucks you so desperately,
water noise, lots of mess, but nothing more of you two together in that mixture of pleasure
he learns well, you make him the ideal fuck partner 
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