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luvwestwood · 4 months

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"Working Overtime" - Toji Fushiguro

4,469 words.

warnings. nsfw (18+), toji is your boss, escort reader, thigh riding, p in v, spitting, toji rails you on a balcony, exhibitionism?, toji fucks you on a pile of money, mention of size difference, hair pulling, eye contact, oral sex (f receiving), creampie, praising, light aftercare

notes. corporate girlie by day, escorting by night. out of all people, who knew your own boss had to be tonights client? (ok but wealthy toji is such a refreshing experience from broke homeless smelly ass toji.)

art used is by @/yunonoai

Being able to say you work under Mr. Fushiguro meant that you were gifted of some kind. Just having the privilege to do so puts you on top of others in society.

Toji Fushiguro himself possessed a different category of wealth. Any high-rise building you walk into in the whole of New York, you could be 99.9% sure that he owns it.

Five star hotels, bars of any kind, and award-winning Michelin restaurants. Oh, you name it. This was his world and we were just living in it.

On the other hand, the Fushiguro company's pay was decent. Working conditions were way above standard. It was a luxury to work in his office, but knowing you, it just wasn't enough.

You needed more than that. Which is why you took up escorting, suggested by your best-friend one night while the two of you were intoxicated by liquor. She told you that you had the looks, the bod, and a personality anyone would die for. And lastly, you were captivating - you could have anything your way.

At first you took it as a joke. Thinking she was just being a lick ass. But surprisingly you had tried it out not long after the idea was proposed, and you ended up making almost double your annual net salary in just four months. This night job was a secret that only you and your best-friend knows about.

Of course, you worked on the weekends. Choosing to work Monday to Thursday would’ve been self sabotage.

You had more than enough money to buy whatever you want, send your mom on holiday, and you were always on top of rent. Your corporate job was just something to get through the day with rather than rotting at home.

During shifts, you and the other escorts would hang around in the night club changing rooms. Most of the girls were also strippers in the same club, but that wasn’t really your thing. So you just stayed with escorting. Your manager would just assign each of you clients, unless someone has personally booked you in.

Speaking of which, a voice came from the door frame. “Star, you have a client tonight. 9PM.” Star wasn’t your real name, it was just a fake one that you used while you escorted. It was safer, and most of the other girls did the same.

You look at Geto, your boss, in the reflection of the vanity mirror. Busy polishing up your eyeliner, you try your best not to poke yourself in the eye. “Name? And did he obey my no-home rule?”

As an escort, you did have some rules for your own service. You figured you’ve been doing this for quite a reasonable amount of time, so you made a personal rule where you’d refuse to go to a clients house. For safety reasons.

“Goes by the name.. uh… Eznin? And he did indeed. Seems like he booked in for the Ritz Carlton on 25 West. Think he’s a first time client too.” He reads the details off his tablet.

Of course, it just had to be one of Fushiguros hotels. You literally couldn’t escape that man.

The other girls in the room purred, “Aren’t you lucky.. Seems like he has money, don’t ya think?” Meimei takes a puff of her cigarette, looking at you in the mirror aswell for a response. “Maybe check for an expensive watch? I’d take it if I were you.”

“Not funny, Meimei.” She was known for stealing from her clients, you never knew how she got away with it. It even got so bad to the point that she sp¡ked a client, taking his wallet afterwards.

Getting up from the chair, you made your way behind the dressing divider, shimmying your robe off to slide on a dark blue lingerie set. Over it, you wore a simple black dress. I mean, you could never go wrong with a little black dress.

Throwing on some matching strappy heels, you stuffed your purse with some condoms and lube. And a plan B, of course.

“Your rides sorted,” Geto stood back from the door frame. “I’ll text you any further details.”

“Copy,” after spritzing on some perfume, you made your way out of the club.

An all-black SUV was waiting for you outside the entrance. Your favourite driver, Todo was standing beside the car door, smiling as you approached him.

“Hi, Todo.” You smiled as he held the door open.

“You look wonderful miss.” Todo smiles back before closing the door, walking around to the drivers side.

The car drives on, and as you were securing a secret mic in your purse, (for safety reasons but the client never knows) Todo speaks.

“Ah- Miss, not sure if I should disclose this information but your client tonight is.. very wealthy.” His leather covered hands clutch onto the wheel. “I’d be more demanding if I were you, make the most of it.”

Breaking out into a laugh, you stop fiddling with your bag, to look at him in the rear view mirror. “..Is that so?”

“Yeah… thought I might let you know.” He grins, bringing the car to a stop. Todo quickly scurries out of the vehicle before you could, opening the door for you.

“Thanks for the ride, Todo.” You slipped a $20 bill in his hand. “I’ll text you when I’m finished.”

He nods, getting back into the car as you made your way inside of the hotel.

Checking your phone for updates, Geto sent you a text with all the details around five minutes ago.

Eznin Caln 30 years old, Net worth- $307,473,297 Floor number 43, he’ll let you in.

You walked over to the elevators, luckily one was already open. Taking a look at the buttons panel, you looked for a 43. Noticing it was the last highest button, you raised an eyebrow before pressing it.

Clutching onto the straps of your purse, the doors closed. You could only look at yourself in the metal reflection, taking a few deep breaths. Of course, you made sure to send a text back to Geto to let him know you were at the hotel.

Although you were decently experienced in this job, you’d still get nervous each time you were about to meet your clients.

Setting down the fly aways in your hair, the elevator came to a halt.

*Ding!*

The metal doors opened before your eyes. Hesitant, you walked inside, the bottom of your heels tapping against the wooden floors.

“..Hello?” You peeked inside the other rooms in the penthouse, one being a mini office that seemed like someone was just there, the other being a bedroom with big windows and a balcony, overlooking the city.

A deep voice spoke behind you. “Can I help you?”

You gasp, clutching onto your chest as you turned around. “I’m so sorr- Mr. Fushiguro?!”

Your eyes widened, and his mouth wide open. He was only in a towel wrapped around his waist, his dark hair wet from a fresh shower. You couldn’t help but ogle the drops of water that decorated his muscular body.

“…Are you.. the escort?”

Unable to form words, you swallowed your spit before speaking. “I.. I am.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, looking down at the ground.

“Alright, make yourself comfortable.” He eyed you up and down, a mini towel in his hand to dry his hair. “Sorry you have to see me like this, excuse me while I put some clothes on.”

Is he not going to question anything?..

Your breath hitched, God, did he know I was eyeing him? “Okay..”

He turned around to go back to the bathroom, but looked over his shoulder as he was doing so. “Just call me Toji, we’re outside of work.”

You watched as Toji continued to walk away, “Well.. I’m basically working, aren’t I.” you muttered under your breath, making sure he doesn’t hear.

Looking around, you remembered that he owned this hotel. I should’ve known when I was going to the 43rd floor, he doesn’t let anyone in here.

You walked over to his bedroom, it was bigger than your own apartment. The sheets were neatly made, and a bottle of Malbec sat on a table near the window.

Placing your purse on small sofa, you removed your jacket, neatly folding it over the arm rest aswell.

You made your way to his closet, in search for a white robe. There was a robe on the hanger beside his freshly dry cleaned suits. You took it out, tracing your fingers over “The Ritz-Carlton” that was embroidered onto the front in cursive.

Sliding your dress off, you covered yourself in the robe, only the dark blue lingerie set underneath. Afterwards you tied a knot around your waist with the belt. Kicking off your heels, you placed them inside the closet, along with your dress that was neatly folded.

Although you were an escort, you made sure to clean up after yourself. You hated leaving a mess around, so you respected your clients by making sure to leave the place clean.

You could hear Toji walk into the bedroom. Closing the doors of the closet, you turned to him, and he was already busy getting the wine bottle open with a corkscrew.

Taking a seat on the armchair in front of him, causing you to be at crotch level with Toji. You watched as his arms flex each time he handled the bottle.

You noticed Toji was in a more relaxed outfit. He wore a dark grey cotton longsleeve that sculpted over his muscles like paint, with bottoms in a matching colour and fabric.

“Toji,” you called out his name.

The pouring of the wine stopped, his fingers gently pushing the glass towards you. “Hmm?”

Taking the glass by the stem, you twisted it between your fingers. “Do you regularly hire escorts?”

Toji walked over to the edge of the bed, sitting down. He sighed, looking at the city view in front of him. “No,” taking a sip, he continued. “This is my first time, actually.”

You did the same, but taking a tinier sip. You didn’t want to be tipsy while carrying out your service. It was too dangerous. “..Oh.”

Looking back at Toji, he was busy staring at the red liquid swirling around in the glass. “I dont even really know how they work.”

As you were about to take another sip, you paused. Your eyes looked at him over the rim of the glass, before placing it back down on the table.

“You can just do whatever you want with me, really.” You crossed your legs, exposing the bare skin on your thigh to him.

"I see," he nods, slightly leaning back onto the bed, using his hands for support.

"So, you made up your mind yet?" you got up from the arm chair, making your way to Toji who was on the bed. "What you wanna do?" You stood yourself between his legs, as he tried his best to hold himself back from pulling on the knot that was holding your entire robe together.

Toji's hands rested on your hips on top the robe, dangerously close to your ass. He made sure to bring you closer to him, almost pressing your chest to his face at this point. "I don't know," His free hand tugged on the knot of the belt, slowly unraveling it until the robe slid off your body. "Maybe you, if that's an option."

He could feel his cock strain against his pants as he took in the sight of you in nothing but lingerie, it felt like he was opening a present on his birthday. Blue was his favorite color.

You choked on your words at his response, he sure did have a way with his words. "I don't usually allow that, but maybe I'll let it slide tonight."

Toji caressed your wet lip with his thumb, gradually sliding it inside of your mouth as you sucked on it gently. He stops and moves you to the side by the waist, getting up from the bed.

Confused, you stay standing in front of the bed, watching Toji as he grabs something from the drawer. He eventually makes his way back onto the bed, but this time, leaning his head back against the head-board.

Toji takes out his wallet, pulling a $20 bill out and placing it on the nightstand beside him. "..Crawl over to me."

Your lashes flutter as you watched him place the bill on the night stand, you could only obey what he asked you to do. 'I'm just doing my job.. this doesn't mean anything. He will forget about this.' You constantly chanted this in your thoughts, completely disregarding the fact that he was your boss.

You crawled onto the bed, and slowly to him. Toji's eyes watched you closely making sure to tell you, "Stop," as you were just about to crawl onto his lap.

He takes out another $20 bill from his wallet, this time, two. Toji gently raised his knee, just enough for it to rub against your warm cunt that was covered by the lace panties. "Ride my leg, until I tell you to stop."

Aroused, which you are not meant to be, you couldn't help but sink yourself down onto his leg. Part of you wanted this, but you did at good job at not showing it.

You slowly started to move your hips back and forth on his lower thigh, placing both of your hands down in front of you for support. Toji's hardened cock begging to come out as he watched you closely.

If you were to lift up his top, you’d be able to see his leaking top peeking out of his waistband. The straps of your bra slowly fell down off your shoulders. Toji could almost groan at this lewd sight in front of him.

"Good girl," He did his best to hold himself back from holding onto your hips, "Keep going."

A spot on the fabric of his pants turned into a darker grey than before, your slick making its way through your panties. Nothing can be done.

Breathy moans started to crawl out of your throat, Toji noticing as you started to grind on his leg harder and slightly faster. "Stop."

You whimpered quietly as Toji retracted his leg from underneath you, observing the newly made wet spot on his pants. "Look at this mess you made all over me.."

Speechless, and breathless, you fell back onto your heels in front of Toji, he took another bill out, but this time $50.

"..I want that bra off." He slaps the bill onto the growing pile on the nightstand, followed by another 50. But he doesn't take his eyes off you. "And the panties. They're kinda annoying me now."

Doing exactly as he said, Toji's hand rested on his crotch, aching to palm himself through his pants. You slowly, but teasingly unclasped your bra, Toji clearing his throat by the time your tits were finally on display to him.

Followed by your soaked underwear, which at this point was no use. They managed to fly across the bedroom, hanging off a small statue that was on top of a console table.

He just wanted to wrap his mouth around each of them, or even motorboat your titties.

Toji propped himself up in a less relaxed position. "Lie down on your back, legs spread."

Your last sight was him before you fell back on to the bed, your head nearly hanging off the edge. Toji noticed your nipples hardened as soon as your skin made contact with the cold satin sheets. You felt the weight of the bed shift around, as Toji grabbed both of your legs by the thighs, positioning his head between them.

Squirming about, Toji peppered kisses on your inner thighs, his large hand wrapped around one of them. Wasting no time, he went straight to sucking and softly biting on your folds, using his tongue to lap at your bud until it was swollen. Moaning into your pussy, he softly massaged the flesh of your thigh, the vibrations from his grunts adding more to your stimulation.

Busy sucking away, wet noises from his tongue and the slick of your dripping pussy echoing throughout the bedroom. His hand reached behind him, then slowly went back over his shoulder. It was a $100 bill, tucked between his index and middle finger.

You were too busy hanging your head off the edge of the bed in pleasure, grabbing the sheets beside you and wrinkling them as Toji devoured you like he hasn't eaten for weeks.

The paper bill fell onto your stomach, tickling you slightly. You could feel Toji spit onto your pussy, the saliva trickling down almost into your hole before he slurped it back up, sticking his fingers in there instead. You felt them slide into you with ease, Toji swirling his warm tongue around on your clit.

"O-oh God.. To..ji." You managed to choke out a moan, your manicured hands clawing at his hair and eventually messing it up.

Letting go of your thigh, he used his now free hand to fondle with your breasts eagerly, twisting your nipples between his fingertips before giving them a slap.

One last lick on your clit, Toji removed his head between your legs, this time his whole body kneeling between them. You sneakily push up against him, his bulge through his pants grazing against your bare cunt.

Using your strength to lift your head from the edge of the bed, you watched as he took off his shirt, letting it fall onto the floor. Its neckline was soaked from eating you out earlier, but we don't talk about that.

Panting, his hands frantically rummage through his wallet. You noticed it was still bulky, as if the previous cash he pulled out didn't make any difference to the amount he had now.

Toji pulled out $1000 all in 20 bills, your eyes widening, wondering if he was serious.

"Please.. let me fuck you." Toji also sat back on his heels, $1000 in his hands as you were underneath him, fully naked. He just wanted to indulge himself in you, and if he could, he'd make this night last forever.

You slowly nodded, honestly begging to having his cock inside of you too. Before you knew it, your vision was filled with the $1000 raining down onto your body, and by your sides on the bed. He quickly pulled his bottoms down to his knees, before realising they were too annoying. He proceeds to fully kick them off.

Toji glances around the room for a condom, before you stopped him. "..Is it okay if we don't use one? ..I want to feel every inch of you."

You read his mind. "Anything you want, gorgeous."

His large hands shuffled through the pile of cash that was over your body, making sure that he could still see your tits and your beautiful face.

One hand grabbed onto your waist, and the other was used to align the tip of his cock with your hole. As soon as he slightly pushed the tip in, both of his hands were on your waist now.

Toji carefully slid in, making sure you take every inch of him. He closes his eyes in pleasure as he feels your plush walls clench around him, Tojis grip on your waist intensifying.

And, god was he big. In both cock, and Toji in general, he could destroy you if he decided to use full stength tonight.

"Y-you're too.. big," Toji not even halfway, you cry out, only wrinkling the sheets more to the point they weren't tucked into the frame hotel-style anymore.

You could feel both of his thumbs caress the soft skin of your sides as he cooed, "I know baby, I know," Toji let out a grunt as he tried to move in and out of you.

The difference of size between you and Toji made you throb, at this point he could just use his hands to fuck you on his cock back and forth like a doll in his grasp.

Toji starts to pant as he picked up the pace of his ruts, your tits bouncing, only adding to the pornographic sight in front of him.

Covering your face with your hands, you moan into them, the feeling of being full with Tojis cock was driving you mad. You could feel one hand let go of your waist, bringing it to your wrist to pull it away from covering your face.

The rustling of the cash beneath you and the sound of skin slapping echoed out into the living room from the bedroom. "Look at me when I fuck you," Toji says sternly, causing you to whimper in agitation as you did your best to keep your eyes on his.

"To..Toji.." You moan out, choking on your words as your hand grabbed onto his that was wrapped around on your waist.

"Come on doll, say my name." Turning feral, Toji pounds into you like a fleshlight. Voice shaking as you try to moan out his name, and by tomorrow you wouldn't be surprised if you lost your voice.

He comes to a halt, completely. Toji slides his cock out of you, a creamy white ring formed at the base. You whine before he hushes you. "Y'know what," He picks you up, cradling you in his arms.

You switch positions, instead you lock your legs around his waist, as the two of you made your way to the balcony door of the bedroom. Is he..

*click!*

Toji slid the glass door open, the two of you stepping out into the balcony. It wasn't cold, and you could see the still busy city carrying on with life underneath the hotel.

Suddenly, Toji peeled your legs off his waist, making you face the railing, and the city in front of you. You gasp as he roughly positioned your body, placing one leg up onto the rail, your two hands clutching onto the cold metal.

He slides into you again, but this time not allowing you to adjust. Toji immediately goes in with brutal force, your ass ripping against his pelvis as he drilled into you. On the balcony. For anyone to watch.

Toji spits again, his saliva falling onto your asshole and soon enough drips onto his cock that was continuously pounding in and out of you.

Your moans broke out into a giggle due to the ticklish feeling, Toji couldn’t help but smile at your reaction.

Both hands on your waist, Toji groans in pleasure and praises you non-stop for taking him like a good girl. His hand wrapped around your lower stomach as he felt you give in, your legs unable to support yourself. "You're doing so good for me," he whispers in to your ear, only to leave a trail of wet kisses down your back afterwards,

You moan continuously, for sure, everyone below could hear. Your hand made its way to Toji's nape, bringing him closer to you as he repeatedly fucked into your sweet spot.

"I’d do anything to be able to see a view like this one for the rest of my life," his left hand made its way down to your clit, lazily rubbing circles.

This just did it for you, lowly moaning, you let go of Tojis neck. Leaning forward, you rest your chin on the metal rail ontop of your same hands that were grabbing onto it. But a certain someone didn't let you do that.

Toji immediately grabbed you by your hair, pulling you back against his chest, taking your leg off the rail. You felt him interlock his hands around your inner elbow, suddenly fucking into you upwards as you grab onto his bicep for support.

"G-o-d Toji, please just f-u-ck your c-um into me." The enunciation of your words came out in bits, as Toji drilled up into you at a brutal pace.

He grinned against your necks skin, leaning further to plant kisses on your jaw."You want me to fill you with my cum, huh?"

You frantically nod, but that wasn't enough of an answer for a man like Toji.

"Oh baby, use your words." He purred into your ear, holding his orgasm to make sure you get it when you deserve it.

"I need it- I need it so ba-ad." You whimpered out, squeezing onto his bicep. "Please, Toji."

He whined, balls tightening as he heard you beg for him. You already drove him crazy, and that only drove him crazier. With one deep thrust, his movements come to a halt, allowing his warm, thick seed to fill you up completely.

Toji placed more kisses onto your back and your neck, making sure to never lose grip of you in case you go all jelly. Followed by him, slowly pulling his cock out of you, his load dripping out of your hole and onto the balcony flooring.

He stuck two of his fingers back into you, slowly fucking the load inside of you to make sure it stays inside. With his cum covered fingers, he slid the two of them past your lips and into your mouth. You sucked on them, humming as it covered your taste buds, and eventually swallowing.

Toji slapped your ass, and you yelped, giving him a glare. He chuckled before picking you back up bridal style, carrying you back inside the penthouse.

He gently and carefully placed you on the bed, quickly cleaning a bit of the mess you two made around the room.

"How about I go run us a nice bath, hmm?"

Fiddling with your thumbs, you watched as Toji neatly fold the pile of money together alongside the one on the night stand. Of course, it’s still yours. "That sounds good," You smiled as he walked over to give you a peck on the forehead.

The dripping of water from the bath tap rang throughout the room, Toji leaning back against you as the two of you were in the tub. You squeezed a sponge over his abs, the hot water dripping down his skin as he closed his eyes.

"..Toji," you called out his name, and he hums back in response.

You gently rubbed the sponge up and down his arm, "Would you say this counts as me working overtime for you?"

He smiles, opening his eyes to look up at you. "I'll add another $500 bonus and a shopping spree if you ride me in this tub."

You scoff, letting go of the sponge as you sulk against the marble of the tub. "I'm literally stuffed with your cum. I think you had enough, thank you very much."

Toji only laughs, "Aren't you forgetting you got an asshole and that throat of yours? We can easily squeeze in three more rounds."

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24. all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts. 🎀🩷

#toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji zenin #jujutsu toji #jjk fushiguro

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askagamedev · 9 months

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About Unity these past few days

A lot of people have asked me about Unity and their strange new per-install charges policy that they rolled out on September 12th, 2023. I wanted to give them at least 24 hours before I posted my take on it - let the dust settle a bit so I could get a chance to read the new policy properly and all that. First, however, I think we need to take a step back and get a wider perspective. Unity Software Inc. is in some serious financial trouble. Here are their operating numbers from 2019 to 2023.

The blue line here is how much money they take in and the red line is the amount of money they are spending each year. You may notice that they are spending significantly more money year over year than they earn. In fact, over the past 12 months alone (August 2022 to August 2023), Unity Software Inc. has lost almost $1 billion.

In 2022, Unity spent four times as much money as they did in 2019. If they had managed to keep costs at double their spending in 2019, they still would have earned $243 million in profit. Instead, they lost $882 million in 2022.

Where does all of this cost come from? In any software company like Unity, the vast vast majority of costs comes from employee salaries. And we can directly see it in Unity's number of employees:

Unity Software Inc. more than tripled its headcount from 2019 to 2022, and it did all of this hiring during the pandemic while competing with many many other developers all trying to hire from the same pool. I don't work for Unity, but I was in the market and I had lots of recruiters trying to recruit me during that time.

In short, Unity is suffering from the same miscalculation that Embracer Group did, that EA did, that Activision-Blizzard did, that Square-Enix did, and just about everybody else in the tech industry - they misjudged the good times at the beginning of the pandemic, overspent hiring people thinking the good times would last, and are now scrambling to figure out how to survive. The difference is that Unity was getting all of their operating money from Venture Capitalists (VCs) hoping that they would eventually become profitable, but VC money has all but dried up because it's become much more expensive to borrow money over the past two years.

As a result, the Unity executives are likely grasping at straws in hopes of saving a sinking ship. This wild and decidedly senseless pricing plan is their (seemingly-desperate) attempt to juice their revenues. It really makes very little sense from the developer perspective, which is what makes the whole thing reek of desperation. That isn't greed talking, it's survival. My guess is that Unity is currently desperately looking for a buyer to save them and doing whatever they can to buy themselves some more runway. They already announced layoffs back in May, but I suspect they'll probably have to announce some really big layoffs (e.g. 40-50%) soon. Unity Software Inc. is living on borrowed time and they know it.

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#the business of video games #unity 3d #business business business #where the money goes #financial things

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 8 months

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Hi, this is an odd question but I've got a friend who visits the same part of Wales (near Bridgend) a lot and she's noticed that the chip shops around there also tend to be merged with Chinese restaurants and I was wondering if that was a common thing in Wales or maybe just that specific area.

It's not common, per se, but it does happen. Sometimes it used to be a fish and chip shop but got sold to be a Chinese, but the new owner wisely realised they could double their clientele if they kept the fryers. It does work, though I've yet to find the kind of chips I want from a fish and chip shop on the menu in one of these places - they always seem to buy in bags of neat ready-cut chips that they then fry up and serve, and that is absolutely fine but a true fish and chip shop does the slicing and prep and so the chips are thick, fat and messy (insert your own jokes here).

You know what I mean? You get this:

When what I want is this:

Not really a problem for me, though, because if I go to a Chinese takeaway, I want the Chinese food.

And, in fact, especially not a problem for me, because Swansea has the 5th Best Chip Shop in Britain:

Hiks for the win.

Also for Chinese in Swansea there's Gigi Gao's Authentic Chinese Restaurant, over in the Marina - opened by a woman who migrated to Britain, went to a Chinese, and went 'Wtf that is not Chinese food' and so opened her own. I went there last year not long after Chinese New Year, and all the tiger decorations were still up. As we were paying our bill we were discussing how beautiful they were, and I mentioned that I think I was born under the tiger. It was Gigi herself serving us, and she whipped out her phone and double checked my birthday, and then ran off and came back with a lucky gold banknote that they'd given out for the new year; she gave it to me with the sentence "For you, Tiger Girl! It will bring you luck with money!"

And I was charmed to hell and back by this anyway (plus the food is fucking orgasmically good) but then three weeks later I was offered my now-job at almost twice the salary I was on and it got me away from the awful people I was working with so like. There's also that.

Sorry this has become extremely rambling, what were we saying?

#asks #wales!#closed for cleaning on mondays #food

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pinkslaystation · 4 months

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Ghost of A Connection

Ghost and Staff!Reader

In which you work at the nearest store at base, Ghost being your least favourite and unfortunately, most frequent, customer. Is there a connection there, or is it in his head? yALL - all these COD stories on tumblr got me hyped! So here I am tryna catch some clout ;) Be warned, this is possibly a very inaccurate version of military life, but then again, it's just a story. Word Count: 2.5k

Man, post-graduate life is hard.

Graduating top of your cohort of nearly 300 students in your masters degree within Psychology was impressive. Saving enough money from shadowing your senior Psychology professor and moving out to your apartment was impressive. Owing your own car was impressive.

What wasn't impressive though, was nearly hitting the 6 month mark of unemployment.

So here you are, stuck calling all your classmates for any open roles. You're so desperate at this point, you'd go for anything!

"Hey, Mahir! I know we didn't quite end of good terms...um-you know...when you asked for the mid-terms answers last year, and I- um...left you on delivered, and you had to retake the exams...but um, I hear you started working at the University as a Researcher and you're looking for a assistant? Well gee, don't forget how smart I a-"

Disconnected.

"Yooo, Josephine, it's me! From the Psychopathology group project! Yeah, I'm sorry I shouted at you for not doing your part on the project, and filing a complaint against you, haha...although, like, come on, it's your fault - you're 25, not a 5 year old bab-"

Blocked.

Wow. You were not liked.

So one evening, when you were on the phone to your childhood friend, Jordan Biggs, and had managed to slip out how desperately broke you were, he kindly offered a potential role at his workplace.

"Shop keeper? What, like a convenience store?" Remind me where you work again? Aren't you in the navy? What stores are you talking about?" You rambled, I mean a possible job - finally?!

On the line, Jordan chuckles, "Slow your roll, man. I've been been with the army for around 3 years now, I'm currently on a mission but we'll be home soon. Our base has a shop, that sells, you know, tactical gear-"

"GUNS?!" You interrupted.

Jordan laughs, then in shushed by, what you assume to be his teammate, "No, not any weapons. Just, tactical gear, MREs, bits and pieces of uniform. Sometimes you might be asked to clean the base, set up rooms for meetings. And ooh my favourite - work at the canteen. We serve the country, you serve us food." Jordan explains.

So you complied.

I mean, yeah, your degree isn't being utilised, but we're in a cost of living crisis, for Christ's sake.

And here you are, clad in a plain dark grey fleece, and straight black trousers, trying to look as professional as possible.

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

Your first day was silent. You found that you lived only 30 minutes away from the base, so you didn't struggle with the early shifts, working almost full days at the base, with a surprising decent salary.

You learnt you had replaced the previous worker, Katherine, a grumpy senior who quit, being fed up with the stench of these sweaty unkempt soldiers, and their rowdy behaviour after missions.

You also met your staff at the base, being the youngest one there gave you no surprise, with most your colleagues being double your age. You liked it. It was quiet, having met a few of the soldiers.

Your role was relatively simple. Consisting of various tasks such as ordering enough food to satisfy the recruits, more training equipment, when a recruit seemed to damage one. All in all, you were satisfied, especially when the first pay day rolled in.

You also noted that your colleagues, without fail, always seem to talk about a specific group of soldiers, such as Friday evening, when you all found yourself eating an early dinner.

"Soap is so sweet! He's always so generous when we talks to me, although I can't lie, I don't know what the fuck he says half the time." Your colleague rambles, shoving a spoon full of Friday's roast dinner into his mouth.

Another agreed, "Nothing beats the dilf of a man - Captain John Price. I may be chewing steak but that ain't the meat I want in my mouth, if you get what I mean-"

You choked, "Margaret, you're married with grand-kids, lord."

After a quiet but much needed conversation, you learnt about the most well-known team within the base, Task Force One-Four-One, lead by Captain John Price, forming of Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, and the one you were most curious about - Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

"But like, why Ghost? If he's close to this Soap dude, why not call yourself Shampoo or something?"

Your colleagues laughed at your naivety glancing at each other.

"My dear, I don't dare to call him anything other than Lieutenant. He's entered a 10 metre radius of mine, and I've already pissed myself." One stated.

"I've heard he threatened to attack Katherine, just because she overcharged him, long story short, she quit." Another replied.

It seemed you didn't understand how feared Ghost really was...

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

By the time you all had finished dinner, the staff split up, some going back to the canteen to prepare dinners for the soldiers finishing training, some going to clean up the barracks, and you found yourself going back to your designated shop.

Aah, this is peaceful. You mumbled, drinking your hot chocolate, whilst sorting out all the army boots on display.

As the clock strikes 10 p.m. though, the silence is broken and you hear a stampede of soldiers, once you assume had come back from a month long mission. The majority of them, from what you'd heard, sprinted to the canteen to rid themselves of their strictly MRE diet, and finally eat some home cooked food, whilst others ran off to their freshly cleaned barracks to get some well-deserved sleep.

Your little shop also seemed to be quite busy, a long queue waiting to buy water bottles, bandages, blankets, you name it. From nearby chatter from the tired soldiers, it seems most of the teams had arrived back from Afghanistan, a successful mission with no death and a few minor injuries.

An hour goes by and the queue dies down to around 6 people, with one at the till: Jordan.

"So a water bottle, that would be £1.50, payin- my God, Jordan?" You smiled, getting in front of the counter and pulling into a hug. He smelt like dusty and you joked that 1 bottle of water wouldn't suffice to rinse him of the smell.

"I haven't seen you in forever, it's been like 6 months? How's the job been treating you?" He enquiries, placing a kiss against your forehead. By now, the nearly empty shop turns to face the both of you, many assuming the situation to be a couple reuniting.

You and Jordan continue to catch up on everything - his mission, your job...Margaret's obsession with which positions she can take Captain Price in...

"Bro, she was going so in depth into the many ways she can contort her waist for, what she calls, the Price penis?!" You pull your most fake-disgusted face, as Jordan cackles loudly.

But his laugh falls short as a deep scruffy voice interrupts him-

"The only thing being wasted right now, is my time. Hurry the fuck up and pay for your shit. You act like we have all the time in the fucking world."

You jump slightly at the harsh words, although this is a military base, you should be used to this foul language.

"My guy, she said waist, not waste-" Jordan begins, before straightening his back and realising who he was talking to.

He turns around to face the man's voice, his back now turned to you, obstructing your view of the unknown soldier.

"Lie-Lieutenant. My apologies! Lemme grab this water and get out of your way," Jordan nervously chuckles, you can't see who he's talking to, but you can tell this was a man of higher authority, given how Jordan stutters. "Ooh, I see what you wanted to buy! Gloves, nice, socks, cool, Coc-Coco pops?!"

"My fucking God Biggs, the only thing big about you is your stupidity and your pussy attitude, grab your shit and go. Stop holding the fucking line, mate." The male's British accent is so prominent with every word enunciated, and you wish to never run into this stranger again.

"Sir!" Jordan turns to you, handing you a fiver and awkwardly side hugging you, "Have fun with this jerk wad." He whispers into your hair, before running out the shop, his water bottle still on the counter.

"Jordan your bottle-"

Holy shit.

After Jordan moves, your eyes feast before you, revealing a godly 225 lb man, standing at an impressive 1.89 metres, dressed in his dark and intimidating casual attire, his face hidden behind a skeleton mask, his piercing eyes squinted and penetrating into your shorter frame, his biceps bulging out of his sweatshirt, his shoulders broad, his trousers failing to hold his impressive bulg-

"Are you going to continue gawking at me like a fuckin' donkey or should I not pay for this shit?" He huffs out in disappointment.

Rude. Plain rude. Sexy...but rude.

Now you know why Jordan couldn't move a muscle when faced with this guy. Putting 2 to 2 together, you clocked. The way other soldiers left the shop as he entered. The way one look from him gets them to shut up so quickly. The skeleton mask-

This is Ghost.

"We- I- Um-" What the hell? Why can't you form a damn sentence?

"I- I- I don't give a damn. My shit, here." He mocks you, slamming his items on the counter. By now, the other customers have scurried off in fear. It's now you and Ghost in the shop.

You nod, humming a yes, eyebrows furrowing at his unkind words.

The next few moments are followed by near silence, the only sounds being the scanning of the items and your quickening breath. His foot begins tapping rapidly, as sign that you're taking to long.

It's uncomfortabl-

"The old hag before you's gone then."

Yes, Ghost, she is. And if you keep acting like this, I will be too. You grunt a response, unable to find the right words.

"£28.50" You say curtly, after a while. He hums in response, pulling his wallet to pay.

You watch him nervously, you did not expect to see one of the most respected soldiers in front of you so soon. Someone so handsome, someone so fucking sexy, but someone so fucking bitchy...

Oh. You said that last bit out loud.

Ghost pauses his actions, his head slowly craning upwards, his gaze drinking you in.

Your eyes meet his, quickly looking back at the counter, unable to meet his furrowed but amused glare.

"'m so bitchy, but you seem to love it, sweetheart. So red, like you're fucking in love with me or something." He scowls, slapping a £20 note on the counter.

"Maybe next time stopping droolin' over other men when you have your own cunt of a boyfriend." He mutters, before taking his shit and leaving. You don't fail to catch the smirk in his voice, as he exits your shop, loud footsteps booming behind him.

Oh my god.

You were at a loss of words. You were also at a loss of £8.50.

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

"Jordy, you don't fuckin' get it! Dickhead left the place, without paying the full fucking price, mind you." Frustration was evident in your voice.

"Bitchy and broke," Jordan snickers.

"And the audacity to call you my boyfriend? Bye." You huff in annoyance, whilst Jordan chokes on his spit. If anything, he was a like a brother to you!

A week has gone by since that first encounter and your conversations with Jordan at the shop, when he passes by, always seem to end up at the topic of Ghost. The way he glares at you as you walk past him in the corridors. The way he sees you struggling when you carry boxes upon boxes- oh he won't help you, by the way. When you ask, he simply scoffs, "You're getting paid and you don't even want to do your job?"

Since that day, you've met all of the Task Force members. Price was as Margaret mentioned, sexy. Soap, comical, Gaz, kind-hearted, Ghost...yeah, he's there.

"But you don't get it man, he's so big- like over 6 foot! And those eyes- man those eyes. So condescending...but so hot..." you continue.

"Damn Margaret wannabe, we get it." Jordan jokes, drinking his can coke - which he didn't pay for. You'll tell him later.

As you both converse, loud footsteps enter the store.

Ghost. Again.

Did I mention he's been in here every day since the first time?

8 a.m. sharp, the moment you clock in for your shift, and 10 p.m. on the dot. Fucker's so annoying, he'll stay around the shopfloor, lazily looking at the various protein bars, even after you state the shop is already 10 minutes past closing.

But you don't mind. His silently stares at you, as if trying to remember the exact location of every beauty spot on your face, the consequent reddening of your cheeks, the slight touches of his rough callous fingers brushing against your own. All this unspoken tension, leads to your every thought being consumed by Simon Riley.

And when he enters the shop, wow. Buys the most random unnecessary shit ever. You notice how he walks in and purchases his singular Coco Pops cereal bar, day after day. This man isn't sick of them?

I mean, come o-

"Your obsession with me is flattering." He states.

Oh, forgot to mention, he's still an asshole. But at least after rehearsing to yourself in the mirror, you can actually speak up for yourself.

"Guh- buh- we- u-" Fuck's sake.

But he actually laughs this time. A loud imploding chuckle exits his mouth, and you actually smile a little at this unfamiliar emotion.

You can't tell what his face is doing under the mask, but his voice suggests a small smile rests on his face, but it soon disappears before he coughs awkwardly.

"Your boyfriend's in the infirmary by the way." He looks away, emphasising boyfriend a little too roughly.

You stare in confusion. Boyfriend? He picks up on this.

"Biggs. Rolled his ankle or some shit. Dunno why he can't just man it up. I've had worse injuries." He mumbles, smiling under his mark slightly, assuming Jordan isn't in fact your boyfriend.

Your eyes widen, "Jordy? Wha-who-how?"

"He-" But before he can answer your question, you're running out the shop to the infirmary, stealing a snack from the shelf for Jordan.

You fail to notice that you'd left a dejected Ghost at the counter, who'd picked up 2 coco pops instead of 1 this time, his smile faltering, as he planned to give you the 2nd, as a token of apology for his impolite behaviour.

In the end, he realised he'd been holding onto a ghost of a connection, overshadowed by the presence of another man.

He winces, being left alone at the till, hoping to actually strike up a conversation with you, as he gathers his (unpaid) belongings and walks out the door, off to shout at any rando that dares get in his way.

yALL its 2.30 a.m. and i'm craving coco pops-

#ghost angst #simon riley #call of duty #task force 141 #simon riley angst #simon riley fluff #cod #john price #ghost

156 notes · View notes

c4ttheart · 5 months

Text

prev • mlist • next

taylor swift and travis kelce who ?

it’s been about two days since the party, and god, sae wishes he never went. because now, the internet is blowing up about how he would apparently be dating you, and he is sitting in front of his exasperated manager and publicist who are desperately trying to make him understand the situation.

"why the hell would i date her ?" he spits out, venom laced in his tone. wasn’t he supposed to be a bachelor or something ?

"again, sae, it wouldn’t be real. just for a few months or so, you know ?" his manager pleads, like he has done so many times before (in vain.) the auburn haired male is about to retort a negation again, but is rudely interrupted when his publicist speaks up.

"do you not understand ? your following count has gone up by like, three million ? do you even know how many people came to your game last night just in hopes to see a glimpse of (name) in the bleachers ? do you realise how much good this would do to your reputation ? she is three times more famous than you, for god’s sake ! people are actually getting involved into soccer !" he screams out, tussling his hair beneath his hands, almost ripping his roots out.

"they call me (name)’s boyfriend." he says, voice laced with such disdain it almost gives his manager a heart attack.

"okay, maybe they do, but does that really matter when your salary has doubled ?"

and that, is how he finds himself in front of you, eating lunch, situated on a table a little too close to the window for his liking. he isn’t new to paparazzi, no, but he definitely doesn’t want to expose himself to the world like he is doing right now.

the restaurant is nothing fancy. it’s four stars, but the food is mediocre. the ceiling is white and high, littered with golden edges and big artificial chandeliers. the walls are white as well, and the structure makes him think of the fancy paris appartements, old, but beautiful. you’re sitting in front of him, another dress similar to the one from the party, albeit a bit more casual placed atop your body. outside, the sky is a vibrant blue, showcasing the contrasting yellow of the bright sun. everything screams fake and dishonest. the weather is too nice to be true for the end of november, and your uneasy expression gives away both your discomfort.

"um, so, tell me about yourself." you squeak out, fork playing with the rest of your food on your plate, avoiding his glare like you’re a little kid who just did something they weren’t supposed to.

"dunno. i play soccer. i’m twenty one, and-"

"no, not that. the real you."

he stays silent, and watches as your eyes bore into his. his brows furrow, what do you mean ? did he learn his whole practice speech by heart just for you to be uninterested in it ?

you sigh, and speak up again, "for example, i find comfort in consistent sounds. like the tapping of my heel against the floor that i know has been bothering ever since we sat down."

yes, he definitely noticed, and he cared, but he wasn’t about to make some rude remark about it, not when so many people were watching him. his brows furrow again. "i like green."

you hum, and the ghost of a smile is present on your lips. that’s good, right ?

"your eyes are green." you say, matter of factly, and he deadpans because yes, he knows that too so why are you pointing it out ?

"i know." he replies with a small gruff, as he stares at you again. you laugh, hand covering your mouth like he remembers you doing two nights ago. he doesn’t really know what’s funny, but he lets you finish, because even if you’re making fun of him, he thinks you’re pretty when he can spot your big toothy smile and puffed out cheeks. he looks away, pretending to stare at the glittering buildings in the distance.

"i originally didn’t want to be a middle fielder." he adds, and you smile again. he’s opening up.

"i originally never even thought of being a singer." you somewhat reply to him, the smile never leaving your lips even though he can tell this one is more forced than the previous one he witnessed.

but he doesn’t comment on it, he just hums. he never really was much of a talker anyways.

"who’s amaya ?" he finds himself asking instead, and his fiddles with his fingers when he hears a camera shutter nearby. you notice this, and place a hand atop of his in a way of unspoken comfort. the act causes more clicks to be heard, but you both pretend you are blind to it.

then you answer, your voice low, barely above a whisper like you are about to divulge to him some incredible secret. "my manager. she’s more of a best friend though, she takes care of me when life doesn’t."

his eyes slightly widen at your response, confused and intrigued at the same time. you aren’t blind, you see it, the lost look he gives you but you just flash your teeth at him and straighten your posture. "i’m just saying, you need a pretty good lawyer if you ever want to work in the music industry. shall we get out of here ?"

he nods, and lets you guide him to the backdoor like you have leaded the conversation. fifty hours ago, your name was one sae had briefly heard on the radio, but now, you were supposedly his and a lot more to handle than he imagined.

taglist (open)

@rroxii @hellothere9597 @melon-garden @kurowvie

#blue lock x you #bllk x reader #bllk #bllk x you #blue lock #blue lock x reader #fake dating #blue lock sae itoshi #blue lock sae #sae itoshi #bllk itoshi sae #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae #sae x reader

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harmshake · 8 months

Text

Midnight Snack

Your late night guest, Daniel Garcia, has a sweet tooth...but not for food.

Daniel Garcia x Fem Reader (1st person, black fem) | 18+ ONLY, NSFW, smut | ~5k words

a/n: This story is based on a sexy lil dream I had about this cutie. 🤭

Happy reading! Read my other Danny fics and stuff here, if you'd like. ✨

Living in Manhattan was a luxury I never thought I would be able to afford. It's New York City and the penthouse apartment I rented would be almost impossible to afford with my salary alone. Since I lived by myself in a three-bedroom and two-bathroom loft, I learned to get resourceful and decided to sublet the spare space to whoever needed it.

I usually attracted tourists who visited NYC for a few days. I always made my home inviting with a welcome tour; complimentary snacks in a special cupboard and shelf in the refrigerator in my kitchen; and a candle with the scent of their choice for their temporary bedrooms. It was a good gig that paid the bills and then some—and it suddenly got even better when I noticed two familiar names book a night for this weekend.

As I sat in bed with a glass of wine and scrolled through my reservations to gather a list of groceries and goodies to buy beforehand, my usual routine on Sunday nights, I nearly coughed up my Chardonnay when I saw Chris Jericho and Daniel Garcia appear as two upcoming guests. I was a huge pro wrestling fan and adored All-Elite Wrestling—especially Daniel, my favorite member of The Jericho Appreciation Society.

When I watched him wrestle (or "sports entertain" as he would rather people call it), my eyes would be glued to him and his handsome babyface, his lean yet toned body, and his adorable, little hip dances he would taunt his opponents with. He was hilarious, sexy, and a treat to watch on television…and he would be staying a night in my penthouse, oh my god.

I knew exactly why Daniel and Chris were in Manhattan: The AEW House Rules tour passed through NYC this weekend. I already had my ticket. I was a bit shocked that they hadn’t booked some fabulous hotel in town where the venue was, but I figured since they seemed to be traveling alone together they were trying to save money where they could—and I did have pretty great rates. Either way, I was thrilled, no, losing my ever-loving mind that they decided to bunk here.

I spent each day until they checked in agonizing over every detail of my apartment as it had to be perfect for them. Cleaned until it was spotless. Stocked the kitchen with an assortment of sweet and savory goodies. Extra soft linens for the bedrooms. By the time Friday night arrived, I was confident Daniel and Chris would enjoy their stay—but my heart was still trying to escape my chest as I waited for them to emerge from my private elevator.

I couldn’t help it…Daniel Garcia was about to be here, in the flesh, and inside of my home. I tried and failed to not pace near the lobby as I checked my cell phone a dozen times. Chris gave me a heads up that they would be here late, like past midnight, and he apologized in advance for keeping me awake just to let them in, but I didn’t mind at all. It was only 12:12 am and I was wide awake and ready to greet them.

As the elevator's double doors slid open and two tall men carrying duffel bags strolled into my sight, I fought not to squeal in excitement. It was really them, like, actually Daniel Garcia and Chris Jericho ten feet away from me. They both looked slightly exhausted like they’d been riding in a car all day, but they both wore warm, friendly smiles as they spotted me. It made a stupidly big smile spread on my face, too.

I prayed I looked as decent as two hours' worth of teasing my afro into a puff ponytail atop my head; coordinating my burgundy, crop-top sweatsuit to match my furry slippers that showed off my cute, pastel-pink-painted toenails; and moisturizing every inch of my coconut-brown skin until I was soft and smelled like vanilla.

And when Daniel's deep brown eyes fell on mine before they dropped over my round, yet curvy body, I believed those two hours were well worth it...

It felt like he could see right through my clothes the way his gaze lingered before he looked into my eyes again and flashed the most beautiful smile. “Hey, thanks for waitin’ up. We promise we’re the nicest guests you’ll ever have,” Daniel said in an apologetic tone yet his deep voice was a bit teasing and flirty.

“Yeah, sorry again we got in so late,” Chris said, pulling his sunglasses to the top of his head as he came over to shake my hand. Both men towered over me and made me feel shorter than I already was, but I liked it…and I liked how Daniel looked down at me with a sexy, little smirk on his full, pink lips.

“No worries, guys. Welcome in.” My heart was pounding hard again but I refused to be a Fangirl™ who couldn’t handle meeting her fave. I took a discreet, deep breath to steady my nerves before I touched my hand to his when he extended it for a handshake…and dammit, he had the biggest, softest, and warmest hands. It made me twitch and I knew he felt it when his lips twitched into another smirk as he let me go.

“Lemme give you a lil tour before you crash. Y’all look tired,” I replied in almost one run-on sentence as I spoke a bit fast from my nerves, and Daniel’s hands, making me feel delightful yet jumpy. The lobby opened up to the kitchen, dining, and living room so the only spaces to guide them to were their bedrooms. As I led them through my penthouse and opened the door to the first bedroom, I said, “This is your room, Daniel.”

"Is that your room there?" he pointed to the door down the hall.

"No, that's Chris's. I'm in the master across the loft."

He nodded but there was something in his eyes that read like disappointment...

Not only could I read those eyes, I could feel them on my ass as I walked ahead of them to show them the rest of the place. It made my nerves want to act up again until he soothed them with his easygoing charm. The entire time he threw out little quips, making me giggle, and I teased him back, making him chuckle, too.

“What do we do if we need to get a hold of you for…emergencies?” he asked.

“For emergencies, call 911. For more toilet paper, you can just text me.”

“Hmm. I'll just knock on your door if you don’t mind...”

Afterward, both men retired to their bedrooms to shower and unwind. I wound up in the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and Daniel showed up, too...and of course, we brushed past each other when he grabbed a red bag of Doritos from the snack cabinet. My ass accidentally grazing his thigh made us both give each other a heated look, but we pulled away…

I thought I would be sleepy after waiting all day for Daniel and Chris to show up, yet I was wired as hell and couldn’t shut my eyes. I'd threw on my pink tank top and Soffe shorts and crawled into bed, but I was just too excited to have one of my favorite wrestlers (and my pathetic crush) in my home. I laid there for an hour wide awake as my mind tortured me with visions of Daniel lying in his bed across the loft…under the sheets…in his pajamas…or completely naked.

It truly was torture so I pulled out my laptop and watched some old Botchamania episodes on YouTube, my favorite thing to do when I couldn’t sleep. While I could have stayed in my bed to do that, I decided to lounge in the dark living room, sprawled out on my sectional sofa with AirPods in my ears and my laptop as the only light source on the coffee table. I was hyper-aware that Daniel was only a few feet away and I kind of hoped he would pop out so I could see him...but I tried to be normal and just watch my silly, little wrestling botch web series.

Yet when I heard a nearby door creak open and saw light spill out that flooded the living room, it took everything in me not to crane my neck and watch him. I could see the silhouette of his shadow stretch across the living room when he opened my refrigerator, probably in search of another midnight snack. But then his shadow grew bigger as he approached the couch...

“Whatchu still doin’ up? Watchin’ a movie?” Daniel quietly asked behind me. I felt his weight shift the backrest cushions as he leaned his elbows on them. I took out my earbuds and put on the coffee table before I glanced up at him and his eyes shifting from my laptop to mine, making warmth spread through my chest. He had such gorgeous, brown eyes that had an impish glint in them, even in the soft, blue lighting from my laptop screen.

“If you must know, I’m watching Botchamania,” I said, trying to hide the impish smile threatening to grow on my lips at the fact that he chose to talk to me instead of going to bed at this hour—especially when I noticed his hands were empty after rummaging through the kitchen…

“Oh, you a wrestlin' fan? Ah, shit. Hope you don't catch me on there lookin’ stupid,” Daniel said with a smirk.

“I don’t think you don't need much help with that,” I teased him with a smirk, too. It made him laugh before he rounded the couch and loomed over me by my feet. He looked so good in his black tank top that exposed his bulky arms and hugged all of his other muscles. He had it tucked into matching sweatpants and I strained to keep my eyes away from his crotch where his bulge peeked through...

“Well, damn. Lemme watch witchu.” He went to plop down but then let out a grunt at my feet on the cushion under his butt. “Ay, you hoggin’ up the whole couch. Ain't this supposed to be the ‘living room?’ Scoot over and let me live, please.”

I giggled before I replied, “You can live it up over there on the armchair,” and pointed at it on the other end of my coffee table. Daniel shook his head like that just wouldn’t do.

“Nah, I wanna sit right here…” He dared to grab me up by my ankles and take a seat, throwing my legs over his lap. His sudden touch made that warmth in my chest move lower on me, the heat between my legs rising to feel his heat on me. Yet I did my best to hide my surprise as I playfully glared at him.

“So you just makin’ yourself comfortable in my space?” I said and he shrugged as a cute grin tugged at his lips.

“While I’m here, this is my space, too,” Daniel joked. He’d been cautious to keep his hands off my legs, tucking them behind his head after he sat down. But then he slowly placed them over my bare calves, his soft palms on me making me shiver. “Besides…I ain’t got comfortable yet.”

“Oh?” I breathed as his touch carefully massaged up to my knee.

“Yeah…if we cuddled, I think we’d both be more comfortable.” His fingers brushed along my thigh and I bit back a moan as this felt unreal. Daniel being a guest in my home was one thing…but flirting with me with his hands on me was a whole other thing. Yet the look in his eyes as he waited for my response let me know he had more in mind than cuddling…and I was down for that.

“Okay, but this is a small couch. How are we gonna cuddle comfortably?” I challenged him, licking my lips.

“It's simple. You put this thigh here…” He rolled onto his knees on the cushion and softly gripped my right thigh to put around his left hip. I could feel my heartbeat in my chest and my pussy as he spread my legs…

“And this one here…” He rested my left thigh on his right hip. Then he leaned down to gently rest his weight on top of me. My breath hitched to feel him between my legs, to feel his warm breath graze my face as he hovered a few inches away…

“My hands go here…” Daniel said in a hushed tone as his hands slid beneath me to hold me in his arms. “And my lips go here…”

He pressed his pillow-soft lips to mine for a kiss that made that warmth swallow my entire body. I closed my eyes and melted into him instantly, letting his lips lead the slow kiss that made slight smacking sounds as it grew deeper quickly. My hands reached for him, fondling both sides of his face and savoring his flavor, half minty from his toothpaste and half his natural taste, my pussy responding to both as I felt it throb from his saliva on my taste buds when he teased his tongue into my mouth.

The quiet moan I’d been fighting back escaped me as Daniel’s lips fell to my neck. I heard him breathe a chuckle as he kissed my collarbone, as well as my cleavage that peeked through my tank top. “You smell really good. That vanilla?” he murmured against my skin and I nodded with a shy grin. Then one of his hands found their way to the hem of my top that he lightly tugged. “May I…?”

“Yes, you may,” I whispered and he tugged it until my bare, big breasts spilled out. He scooped them into his bigger hands and covered them in kisses, his lips suckling my nipple before he moved on to the other one. I struggled not to moan again as I was acutely aware that we were not alone in my penthouse like I always fantasized…but my heavy breaths threatened to dip into groans as Daniel kissed his way down my stomach.

And he kept going, scooting back on the couch to fit his head between my thighs that he kissed as he held them to his lips. He gazed up at me with that impish glint filling his eyes before his lips planted a kiss on my pussy behind my shorts. He felt me shiver again as he rubbed his cheek on my thigh. “Can I ask another question?” he asked.

“What's that?” I asked back, already willing to say yes...

“May I…get a taste?”

I nodded almost immediately and he moved just as quickly to pull my shorts to the side with his thumb. Feeling the cool air of my living room caress my humid heat compelled a desperate sigh from me…but that sigh rolled into a hushed moan when Daniel’s warm tongue gently caressed my soft pussy lips as he made them blossom like petals of a flower into his mouth. I slapped a hand over my mouth as I watched him cover me with long, slow flicks up to my clit and down to my little hole. Over...and over...and over. I already felt my body giving into hot tingles of pleasure as a long, raspy moan spilled out of me that was too much for my palm to catch, and I prayed Chris didn’t hear it.

“Oh, shit...that sounded sexy,” Daniel pulled back to tell me. “I need these off you so I can hear you moan like that again.”

He went to roll down my shorts and I nodded helplessly, craving more of his mouth. Once they landed on the floor, his mouth landed back on my pussy, lapping between my wet folds like he wanted them wetter. I couldn’t stop my fingers from wriggling into his hair to hold him right where I needed him: his warm, wet tongue dragging along my clit in sweet circles. I could feel my wetness starting to drip down my cheeks and onto the cushion, but I didn’t care…I was more concerned with that tingling, hot pressure building below his tongue on my clit that had me ready to scream.

“Unnhhh, I'm close…” I softly cried before I clapped one of my hands back to my mouth.

“Yeah? I wanna hear how you moan when you cum...” Daniel mumbled to my pussy as his eyes met mine. “Unh unh, now. Take your hand off your mouth. Lemme hear them sexy sounds you make.”

“But Chris might hear,” I complained.

“Fuck him,” he grumbled, and then I giggled.

“But he's trying to sle—”

Daniel shut me up by dropping his head back down and tracing my clit with those luscious circles until I moaned for him again. I felt his lips curl into a smile before they wrapped around my clit. “Whatchu was sayin’?” he asked and I couldn’t help but grin as I bit my lip.

“Nothing…” I gave in and let him lick more of those circles around my clit until my chest heaved up and down, that searing hot pressure swelling inside me as he devoured me. And when he worked his thick, middle fingers into me, pushing them up on my g-spot that needed that stroke, my thighs trembled around his head as I moaned, “Mmmunhh, right there…I'm cumming.”

Daniel didn’t let up until my heated orgasm finished seizing my body which convulsed on the couch and in his grasp. Damn, I hadn't cum that hard awhile...

...And he was prolonging my pleasure as he didn’t seem to be in a rush to remove his fingers, instead studying me as his pretty eyes caught mine. I was embarrassed by how my attempt to stifle my moans turned them into squeaks and squeals, but he just smiled that impish smile at me when he felt my pussy throb in his hand as he gingerly rubbed his thumb on my tender clit.

“Fuuuck,” I whined with another ripple of my afterglow that wouldn’t settle with his fingers still nudged up on my tender g-spot.

“I would pull out but your pussy is still grippin’ on my fingers...that nut was powerful, huh? Damn, I'm good,” Daniel goaded me as he licked me off his pink lips. He left teasing kisses on my thighs that felt as sensitive as my pussy and it tickled, making me giggle and moan at the same time.

“It was aight,” I teased him back and his cute face scrunched up as he feigned being hurt.

“Let me try again then…”

He took his time sliding his fingers out that he then slid into his mouth to clean them of my sticky nectar. The sight made me want to moan again but I held it together…but then he sat up on his knees again to reveal his bulge that was hard and long as it twitched behind his sweats. It made my pussy twitch just looking at it as he laced his fingers around it to squeeze it and show off how thick it was in his right hand.

“Can I try with this?” Daniel asked quietly and I nodded, anxious to see it in the flesh. It flopped out over the hem of his boxers and sweats when he slowly pulled them down to show me. Thick, heavy, and chocolate-brown…I wanted to taste it.

“Yes…” I replied just as quietly before I leaned up to skim my fingertips along it, lifting it to my lips. He let out a sexy, breathy grunt when I let my tongue sweep across his tip, back and forth, keeping my rhythm along his shaft as I sucked him into my mouth. I got an inch beyond halfway before I realized I wasn’t going to be able to fit anymore without gagging. I thought about pushing myself to swallow him, especially when I could taste that he was close as his flesh grew saltier with his precum flowing onto my tongue. I wanted him to finish down my throat...but when I looked up at him he was looking down at me with lust for something else swirling in his eyes…

“You don’t wanna cum in my mouth?” I held his dick in my hand to ask but I licked along his length as I waited for his answer, making him moan to me.

“While you grind on me...”

“Oh okay...then hold on a sec,” I said with my coy yet impish smile and Daniel shot me a smirk before I shot off the couch and to my bedroom to look for the box of condoms I stashed in my closet. When I came back to the living room, he was sitting on the couch with his legs spread wide, his sweatpants on the carpet next to my shorts. The sight of him half-naked with his hard dick in his hand as he slowly stroked it made heat shoot through my body…

I fell to my knees and rolled the condom on him as he held himself still for me. He looked into my eyes as I stood up again and he asked softly, “You ready to sit on this dick?"

Another heatwave trickled through my body as I nodded, biting my lip as I climbed onto his lap to straddle his waist. It had only been a few months since my last hookup, but this felt like my first time as my heart thudded again to feel his lips on mine…and his blunt tip as it pushed inside me as I sat down on him slowly.

“Mmmm, shit,” I mumbled into our kiss. Daniel felt big and even with his hands on my waist to help me ease him inside, I was getting woozy from how drunk and full he had me already. His dick nudged on my every sweet spot as he took his time nestling himself inside of me. I hid my face in the crook of his neck and shoulder to hopefully hide my moans as he started to grind into me, slow swivels that made me grab at his tank top with both hands and nip at his neck with my teeth as fuck, that felt good…

“This must be your spot…right here…isn’t it?” Daniel whispered to me as he buried himself in me, grinding his dick on my g-spot. He was right as my body was heating up like I was catching fire, my pussy feeling warm and vulnerable to his every thrust. I couldn’t respond with words as I merely let out a soft moan in his ear, trembling against him. “Yeah, I can feel it…look how I got you shakin’ on me. I'm too good,” he answered for me and made me grin.

“Shut…up,” I managed to whine but it was quickly cut off by another moan as he held himself on my sweet spot.

“Nah, I like talkin’ while I'm in it and I think you do, too. Listen to how you moan for me…” Daniel said softly as he gripped my ass in his hands now, kissing my neck as I kissed his while he broke me down into another whimpering, panting orgasm. “Music to my ears…fuck, mmmn. I feel you grippin’ me again...go ahead and nut on this dick...”

I was at a loss for words again as I felt my body leave my control with those succulent heatwaves that matched the rhythm of my pussy spasming around his dick. I adored the breathy sounds that Daniel made as he moaned with me, squeezing me in his hands. I didn’t know when I came to and regained control of the pace, but somewhere within seeking every last drop of the intense pleasure he made drip from me, I wound up holding onto his shoulders and bouncing on him until our hips were slick and squelching with my juices and our sweat. I knew the sounds of our sloppy sex probably echoed throughout the silent loft at this point, but I couldn't...stop...

Not when pouncing on his big dick like this made him hit deeper, made it hurt so good. I was determined to take all of him—even as it made me feel damn near lightheaded.

And not when the sultry look that seized his handsome face, his lips pouty and eyes squinted as he watched me fuck him, made me want to feel him cum…

“Goddamn…ride this dick. Mmmn, no pares...móntame. Just like that,” Daniel grunted with that sexy, breathy moan of his before he bit his lip. My pussy clenched around him to briefly hear his native tongue in my ear, making him moan and slap a hand to my ass before he grabbed at it again. That was loud yet the slight sting and the way he bottomed me out with each thrust made me nearly yelp louder. He covered my mouth with his as he grasped me in his big hands before he quietly gasped, “You're gonna make me cum…unnhh, shit.”

I couldn't help but sob and gasp, too, feeling him hold me still as he wedged himself into my stomach and came hard. It felt like my head was spinning to witness and feel something so beautiful from a man I never thought I’d meet, let alone have inside as his dick throbbed for me. It felt surreal but his hands, his mouth, and his body on mine felt so warm, so soft, and so hard at the same time as his muscles tensed while he crushed me in his arms, his lips crushed to mine.

I didn’t want it to end, but when I finally crawled off his lap and rolled the filled condom off of him, I could tell from his cute, droopy eyes he was satisfied and spent. A yawn flew out of me at the same time because so was I, but I didn’t want to go back to my room alone…

“Guess you're goin’ to bed now?” Daniel asked as he observed me as I went to throw the condom into the kitchen waste bin. I noticed the time on my microwave read 2:32 am. I came back with a couple of hand towels to clean up myself and handed one to him as he slowly stood to do the same.

“I think so...it's late and I am pretty sleepy now,” I replied with another yawn, covering my mouth and watching him wipe my juices from his groin as his face broke into a naughty grin. "What?" I asked as we pulled back on our pants.

“I wore that ass out, huh?” he said haughtily and I went to mock-punch him in the arm, but he snatched my fist into his and kissed my knuckles. “Come cuddle with me,” he added in a whisper and I felt myself shiver with a blush.

“That’s all we’re doing, right? Because I see how you like to 'cuddle' and I’m ready for bed,” I whispered back as he kissed my wrist and then my arm before he pulled me into his arms altogether. I blushed harder to feel his body surround me as I rested my head on his chest, feeling the soft pattering of his heartbeat on my cheek.

“Me, too. It’ll be innocent, promise,” Daniel assured me. And when we tiptoed to his room near Chris’s and fell into his bed, he made good on his promise. He snuggled up behind me as the big spoon, securing me to his broad chest again, our bodies so close, warm, and cozy under his comforter that I fell asleep before he could finish telling me good night.

He was a heavy sleeper as the next day I woke up before him and pried myself from beneath his hefty arm to sneak back into my bedroom across the loft. I would have loved to cuddle with him all morning, but I didn’t want Chris to realize I’d spent the night in Daniel’s room. I was a grown-ass woman but I rather he minded his business.

Yet as the three of us stood in the kitchen a couple of hours later, the men sipping on coffee I just brewed and munching on blueberry muffins from the glass cake stand on my island counter, Chris glared at Daniel from behind his steaming, beige mug.

“Were you watching fucking porn late last night in the living room?” he asked him and my eyes widened. Thankfully Chris’s eyes were steadfast with disgust on his travel partner. “I was too exhausted to get up and tell you to turn that shit off, but I was like, ‘What the fuck is going on?’"

Daniel shot me a smoldering look of his own that made me tremble in my black, silk robe, a hint of a smirk on his lips, but the entire thing was so fast Chris didn’t seem to notice. But then he looked my way for validation about Daniel and I struggled not to choke on my bite of muffin in my mouth.

“Uh, yeah. I, um, heard it, too, and it woke me up. Very rude," I murmured after I swallowed, playing along and glaring at Daniel, too. I could tell he had to stifle his laugh when his lips quivered and he took another sip of coffee.

“My bad. I guess I shoulda worn headphones, but I didn’t think this place had crazy reverb like that…” he apologized, throwing me a phony, dejected pout with sad puppy eyes that made me bite my lip to keep from giggling.

“Jesus, I can't take this guy anywhere. Sorry about that," Chris then apologized and I nodded devoutly. Neither Daniel nor I could make eye contact after that unless we wanted to burst out laughing.

It wasn’t until they were packed up and headed out shortly afterward that we finally caught each other’s gaze. We stood in the lobby together as he let his smoldering eyes bore into mine, making that familiar warmth hug me all over before he dared to take a step closer to me and put his arms around me.

“You better hope Chris takes a while in the bathroom,” I warned as he leaned down to plant a kiss on my lips. Yet the way his mouth moved on mine as he tasted my tongue and held me close had me suddenly not giving a damn if he did catch us…

“What's he gonna do? Stop me from comin’ to see you? He ain’t my dad.” Daniel sucked his teeth and I giggled.

“When are you comin' to see me?!” I asked in an incredulous breath, my hands on his chest. I was fully prepared to savor the experience for what it was since what we did last night still felt wild, like once-in-a-lifetime wild…

“Next time I’m home in Buffalo…if that’s cool with you,” he replied and gave me another quick kiss that made my heart pound between my legs before we heard footsteps coming up the hallway.

“It’s cool,” I purred, my eyelids a little low from his dreamy kiss and his strong hands slipping from around my waist.

We were still standing awkwardly close when Chris appeared, yet he swiped up his duffel bags from the wooden floor and thanked me for a lovely stay. I had to convince myself that it wasn’t all a dream as they piled into my elevator with their luggage and waved goodbye.

Yet as Daniel locked those devilish, deep brown eyes on me and mouthed, “I’ll call you,” as the double doors closed, I knew he was going to bring my delicious fantasies to life again. I couldn’t wait for another taste.

Thanks for reading! 💜

Hey, my first AEW fanfiction! And it had to be Daniel because that's my baby boy and I miss him on my screen. 🥹

Hope you enjoyed! 😈

Tag squad 🫶🏾

@harlem11680 @mzv11 @visionarymode @miyuhpapayuh @cyberdejos2 @thesamoanqueen @angelreigns444 @vebner37 @flawlessvictory2020 @dreamsinfocus @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @jeyusos-girl @nayys-world @msbigredmachine @purplehairgawdess @dayjlovesromance @mohawkmama @smuts-whore @po3ticb3auty @alyyaanna @murrylove @papireigns-05 @thewarlordsworld @vintage-pvssy @christinabae @itsautomaticfaegirl @bebesobrielo @urasunflower @iguessilikewrestlingnow @seeingstarks @555sage @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @theninthwonder @tabletheofhead @weirdosandhopelessromantics @venusesworld @ariieeesworld @sassginaswanmills @twocentuar

#daniel garcia #daniel garcia aew #daniel garcia fanfiction #daniel garcia imagine #daniel garcia smut #daniel garcia x reader #aew fanfiction #aew fic #aew smut #all elite wrestling #spilled ink #aew

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

Note

AITA for planning to move out of my fiancee's place?

This one might be long so... sorry. Tried to sum it up the best I can. Hi, it's the anon moving in with the vegans. So my fiancee (20) and I (21) moved in with a pair of vegans, one of which has since moved out so now we only live with Sam (26).

Sam is polyamorous, and I thought I was too (although I now think I might be just aroace), and since moving in my partner has discovered that, unlike they previously thought when I was interested in someone a couple years prior, that they are also polyamorous, and have started dating Sam. I was totally okay with this, because I'm very poly-positive and wanted my fiancee to have a chance to discover themself and experience new things.

However, since moving in, they spend 90% of nights sleeping with Sam in their bed, and the other 10% in mine. I've been feeling really lonely about that, and expressed that, and they've responded that they've just been having a really hard time lately with their mental health, and that it's not personal. I'm trying to be supportive and understanding and patient, but I feel very isolated in this house.

Everyone in the house has chronic pain, although my fiance and I have more flare-ups than Sam does. But while there's a lot of leniency when they don't do chores, I'm still supposed to get all of my work done AND theirs, without my pain levels taken into account. This has led to me losing hours of sleep due to being expected to finish chores after getting home at 1am from my shift.

There's also the money problem: I am currently working two jobs to pay rent, and Sam makes triple what I do in salary. My fiancee only works one shift a week by choice, to pay for therapy, and thus doesn't pay rent. We are splitting rent equitably, so I'm not paying nearly as much as Sam, but still if I had the chance to cut back on hours at work to actually take care of myself (emotionally, pain-wise, actually having time to do my physio, etc) I would take it in a heartbeat. But I'm not dating Sam so I feel like there are a lot of double standards here.

I like Sam. They GM for our TTRPG home game and I have a great time. I sincerely don't want to lose those good times. But my mental health is at an all time low and I feel like a third wheel to my fiancee. I've known them for 6 years, we've known Sam for almost 1. I've started a tally of how often my fiancee sleeps in my bed vs in Sam's, and in the past 18 days, they've slept in my bed once. (I started the tally because I convinced myself I was making things up). That all said. I like Sam. But now I'm starting to have feelings of resentment due to... all of this whole situation.

This has led to me reminding my fiancee daily how much I miss them and how lonely I am, talking about moving out (they confirmed they would still live with Sam if I moved out), and being more vocal about my mental health struggles. I've started talking to my friends about it, so quite a few of them are in on the situation, and most people are advising me that I need to communicate more or that we just shouldn't get married.

I love them a lot and do still want to get married, but I also want to break up just because it's hurting to stay in this situation.

That got a lot away from me sorry, I'm probably missing some details, but I really want to know, am I the AH here? Should I be more sympathetic to my fiancee? Am I being unfair to Sam?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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hrts4hanniehae · 5 months

Text

clutch || one

there are written parts :)

the good thing about being a game streamer was that when you were famous, your salary was kind of high. the bad thing was that the streaming platform wonwoo uses... started taking a huge cut of his earnings, leading him to this situation.

voice call

"okay to be honest, wonwoo, you were kind of stupid in the sense that you didn't buy your house but rented instead."- mingyu

"2 years ago, i was broke, mingyu. i just finished university and needed a place big enough for me and seollie. this place was very cheap for the amount of space." - wonwoo

"can't you buy this place outright? you have the money... right?" - mingyu

"my streaming platform started taking 30% of my earnings. and the building's owner changed, so there was a rent increase. it'll take me a long time to buy this apartment outright. by the time i can, i'll be in debt." - wonwoo

"so a roommate!" - mingyu

"why can't you be my roommate?" - wonwoo

"i already bought myself a place. plus your apartment is really far from my restaurant." - mingyu

"so how do you come by every morning to cook me food?" - wonwoo

"my restaurant is only open for dinner. i'm a celebrity chef, wonwoo. if it was open the whole day, i wouldn't get any rest. anyways, talk to the girl. she may be quite a good roommate for you." - mingyu

"sure..." - wonwoo

she fixed her hair and checked her face in her camera again. this was her 5th try at apartment hunting. when her ex-boyfriend decided to cheat on her and steal her studio apartment, she lost many things. apparently, no one liked rooming with an artist because they were "messy" and may dirty the apartment.

"i swear if this guy rejects me i have no options left... please oh my god PLEASE let me stay here... don't screw up the interview..."

"yn ln?"

mind you, she had never seen her potential roommate's face before and she definitely did not expect someone of MODEL STANDARDS to be calling her name.

"jeon wunwoo?"

"wonwoo. jeon wonwoo."

ah... i've already screwed up.

"oh i'm so sorry..."

"it's fine. come on up."

she's funny... who the hell monologues out loud?

"so these will be your rooms. they're connected by the closet." - wonwoo

"i get two rooms?" - yn

"don't you need space to do your art?" - wonwoo

"oh. oh yea. thank you." - yn

"oh yea. i also have a dog, seollie. she's my family dog. i hope your not allergic." - wonwoo

"i'm not. I love dogs!" - yn

"that's good. also, there's only one bathroom so please remember to knock before entering." - wonwoo

"ah okay. wait but i thought we were having an interview. you're showing me around as if you've already decided i'm moving in." - yn

"are you not?" - wonwoo

"oh i am?" - yn

"i prefer to deal with things quickly. this roommate idea was my friend's, not mine. so i would really rather the first "candidate" be the last." - wonwoo

"i have no complaints. when can i move in? i promise i'll be out of here by the end of next year." - yn

"we have a deal. you can move in starting tomorrow." - wonwoo

"any roommate rules or do we draft that out tomorrow?" - yn

"... tomorrow." - wonwoo

"great. thanks. I'll be back tomorrow with my stuff." - yn

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

a/n - i screw up the tweet dates A LOT so please just ignore them most of the time okay... I don't like the dates either but my app doesn't let me remove them also i'm assuming seollie is a sheepadoodle and a female and i'm so sorry if i'm wrong but there's too little info on wonwoo's family dog to be accurate.

synopsis: wonwoo is a popular streamer known for his incredible gaming skills and good looks. He turned heads. but he hates the attention. he just wants to play games and earn money. one day he receives a letter. his apartment’s rent has almost doubled. no warnings at all. his current paycheck from streaming can’t shoulder those bills. he has no choice but to rent out his spare room. to who? a fresh art university graduate who has… 1. a stable job ✅ 2. talent for art and sculpting ✅ 3. many friends ❌ 4. social anxiety ✅ 5. no filter ✅ when his iconic cat logo gets copystriked, she comes to the rescue with a new logo for him. when his apartment’s walls start peeling, she fixes it. whatever he used to struggle with… the empty space... was now filled by her. so what does he *last player standing* do when her ex *enemy spotted* tries to take her back? heh. *clutch* he clutches.

inspired by wonwoo's gam3bo1 streams, falling into your smile & gogo squid (has hints of valorant)

pairing: streamer!jeon wonwoo x fem!artist!reader (ft. jeongcheol, soonhoon, junhao, seoksoo, verkwan)

genre: fluff, comfort, slowburn, comfort, pining, bestfriend!minghao

warnings: stalker ex, toxic ex, mentions of abuse, guns (game), cursing, hate comments, panic attacks

started: 28.12.23 ended: ?

taglist: join from my masterlist

main masterlist

smau socials

previous I next

tags! @fairyofhour @megseungmin @sun-daddy-yoriichi @woozixo @euphoric-univers @christinewithluv @haowonbins @ocyeanicc @asyre @cynthiaaax13 @superhoshisvt @bangantokchy @chimmy-bts @angelarin @daisawa @writingbarnes @jeonghansshitester

@belladaises @wonwootakemyheart @wonwooz1 @luchiet @kookssecret @caratsland @peachescreamandcrumble @thepoopdokyeomtouched @isabellah29 @leah-rose03 @yandere-stories @coupshour

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stylesharrys · 1 year

Note

Can you do a blurb where reader has to go back to work after maternity pls I am also pregnant and would love to see some realistic pregnancy stuff x

Also this is a Tom request.

A/N: excited for all these pregnancy stuff that’s in my inbox, love a good tom blurb too!

// You’ve been putting off having the conversation for a little while now, not quite knowing how to approach it where part of you just doesn’t want to.

It’s been almost eleven months since you left work for maternity leave and there’s only a couple of weeks left before you’re expected back at your wonderful job to resume your executive role.

And you love your job, wholeheartedly. It’s an entire career you’ve invested years of your life into, something you’re incredibly proud to have accomplished so far for yourself.

But things have changed. You’re not just a marketing executive. You’re also a mother to a ten month old baby girl, and the idea of leaving her home so you can go back to work is tearing you apart.

You’ve grown so attached and accustomed to your lazy mornings together and hectic afternoons trying to get the house in order. You’re going to miss your early afternoon walks and snuggles on the sofa, and the spontaneous naps when the day seems to be dragging a little more than usual.

Staring down at her little face as she sways herself in her bouncer, your heart begins to clench. You don’t want to leave her, not to go into the office for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week again.

Of course, Tom’s tried to reassure you that you don’t have to go back to work until you’re ready, but your bank balance says otherwise along with the fat OVERDUE stamp on your water bill.

Tom has a very well paying job, four nights on, two off, travelling a lot but the money is good. Money was even better when you was still at work, you both had a very comfortable salary to live on.

But with the comfortable money comes the expensive things. Like Tom’s new car and your new house. It was easy when you were both working, but being on maternity meant Tom was only one able to provide financially.

You managed to get two months full pay at the start of your maternity, and then the rest was barely a quarter of your regular wage. It’s safe to say that financially, it’s been tough and Tom’s had to work extra shifts to pick up the financial slack that you can’t.

He’s overworked, that’s for sure. It only seems fair that you return as quickly as you can, when he’s provided for the last eight months with little rest or days off.

But the idea of leaving her… of allowing your mothers to take turns in caring for her while you’re off at work isn’t something you want to think about.

“Babe, it’s fine. We can make it work for another couple of months or so.”

You could cry. You love him, truly, but you just wish he’d be more honest with how much he’s struggling to keep up.

You shake your head, pulling your laptop back from him. “We can’t make it work for another couple of months. We’re barely making it work now.”

Tom doesn’t say anything, just purses his lips and folds his hands on top of the table. He doesn’t want you to feel forced to go back to work, but he could also do with a hand or a day off.

“I’ll put a request in for 30 hours a week, rather than my regular 40. At least then, my pay will be doubled and after she gets in the swing of me being back at work, I can up my hours again in a couple months time.”

Tom reaches for Paisley, bringing her to sit on his knee as she smashes her teething ring on the edge of the table.

“Do you want me to speak to Mum about set days with Pais, split them between your Mum so they both get time with her?” Tom suggests.

You let out a sigh, nodding. “Maybe invite them both round for dinner tomorrow to sort it out, it might be easier with your Mum's shift work.”

Tom nods, setting a kiss to the top of Paisley’s head.

“We’ll make it work, darling.”

You smile, reaching for both their hands. “We always do.”

#tom holland #tom holland blurb #tom holland imagine #imagine tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland oneshot #tom holland imagines #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #dad!tom

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minecraftbookshelf · 4 months

Text

Gone Fishing

Mr. InTheLittleWood I know you’re in your tags on here, walk away from this one.

(No, this isn't Marriage of State, that is still with my beta, this is something i started writing for Mermay and then semi-abandoned until these past couple of weeks.)

Mildly Dark Comedy Urban Fantasy Adventures featuring Sleep Deprived Martyn, Selkie!Scott, and Swan Maiden!Cleo and Pearl.

AO3

Rating: T on AO3

Wordcount: ~4k

Characters: Martyn InTheLittleWood, Scott Smajor, ZombieCleo, PearlescentMoon, bonus appearances by JoeHills (with accompanying breaking of the fourth wall) and Rendog.

Relationships: Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss + Martyn (its not quite Divorcee Quartet imo) Background Martyn?Ren and Referenced Past Flower Husbands

Warnings: Off-screen murder and on-screen blood spatter, kidnapping, selkie tropes and the adjacent concepts

This is directly inspired by that one tumblr post (I'll link it if i ever successfully find it again) that starts out "swan maidens would be hella built and down for violence, actually" and ends with "a swan maiden and a selkie team up and do violence"

3AM calls directly after the full moon are officially Martyn's nemesis. Nonetheless, he listens to the flustered emergency dispatcher stammer through a semi-explanation of the situation. (Murder. Kidnapped mythicals. The usual. He's not even on call this week; how and why is he the only Hunter in the area?) He hauls himself out of bed, knocks on Ren's door on the way out to let him know he is leaving and grabs his keys. He pauses, halfway out the front door and texts Ren because there is no way he'll remember given that he probably didn't even wake up when Martyn knocked, deep asleep and dead to the world in a way only exhausted werewolves can manage.

It's a bit of a drive; some fancy, palace-like mansion outside town on the far side. About as far away as it can get while still being in Martyn's district.

He gets two more calls on the way over, one from the same dispatcher, one from the police on the scene, practically begging him to hurry up with all the usual frantic desperation of humans who've never encountered magic before.

He stops for coffee.

It's a right mess by the time he does arrive; multiple police complete with flashing lights. The press (complete with their own version of flashing lights) a coroners van, at least five ambulances, and an arch-fey lurking by the tree-sized bush sculpted into a pegasus.

Oh no.

Joe Hills gives a jaunty wave that Martyn returns on autopilot.

There's only one reason Joe Hills ever leaves Tennessee.

One cup of coffee is not enough to deal with Cleo.

Much less what they usually drag with them.

Maybe-if Martyn is really, really lucky-Cleo was flying solo when they got mixed up in whatever the hell this is. (Even if they tend a bit more towards arson than murder.) Maybe its just them and not any of the rest of their crew.

He slips through the frazzled crowd of medical and law enforcement personnel, taking note of the battered and sickly looking people sitting in the backs of the ambulances, all of them visibly Not Exactly Human. He recognizes the vampire in the nearest one. Her missing persons case has been sitting on Jimmy's desk at Guild HQ for almost six months now with no new leads. She's sipping on a blood packet while a nervous paramedic hovers just out of her immediate reach.

Now he just has to find someone who knows what's going on-

"Hiyaa!"

Oh no.

Scott Smajor is sitting in the entryway of the stupidly fancy house, wrapped in a shock blanket, practically beaming at Martyn around the paramedic who is very clearly just trying to do their job and is not being paid enough for this.

Martyn can relate.

Scott's smile is wide and bright, his eyes are glassy and feverish, and he's visibly shaking. There is blood spattered on his clothes. And that is just what Martyn can see around the blanket.

He should revisit that offer from the Syndicate. He's pretty sure their annual salary is double what the Guild pays. More than enough to make up for not being a strictly legal operation. Half the stuff Ren brings into their apartment would get them both imprisoned in a pocket dimension somewhere for centuries anyway, might as well go all in.

With a resigned sigh he sucks it up, sticks his hands in his pockets, and strolls up to the front steps.

"Well if it isn't our favorite friendly neighborhood black widow," he says, dry as summer in purgatory. Already piecing together the picture to form something of a complete answer to the question of 'what happened.' "Fancy meeting you here."

Scott actually has the audacity to look offended. "Excuuse you. Most of my husbands are still alive."

Based off the amount of blood spatter on his clothes and the presence of the coroners van, Martyn is going to assume that the most recent one isn't.

'Clothes' is a bit of a generous term. Scott is wearing what most people would consider appropriate-if a bit risque- for clubbing, and what Martyn recognizes as what Scott wears when he's hunting. Most strongly indicated not by what he is wearing but by one very specific and important thing he isn't. This kind of scenario usually ends in at least a week of headaches and several different levels of bureaucratic hell for Martyn that he has to deal with all on his own because Jimmy and Scott are apparently fighting or something and Jimmy reuses to touch anything to do with this nonsense with a fifty foot pole. That could also just be Jimmy deciding to be smart for once and growing a backbone at a time extremely inconvenient for Martyn in particular.

Every day, Martyn regrets getting mixed up in mythical society. If he'd known it outstripped even the smallest of small towns on the 'everyone knows everyone' front he would have run so fast in the other direction. No matter what Grian had to offer. And now he's stuck here.

"Speaking of husbands," Scott purrs, craning to look around the paramedic, ostensibly at Martyn but he's really not as subtle as he thinks in the way he scans the driveway around Martyn's car. "Where is your partner?" He's hiding it well, but his jaw is tense and his eyes pinched. It's probably been hours since he was Separated.

"So what kind of trouble did you get yourself into this time?" Martyn ignores his question and brushes past it, offering an alternate distraction he is actually willing to play along with. He does not have the energy to deal with the drama surrounding his partner and said partner's ex(?)-husband, especially when Jimmy isn't here to give a hard time over it. It already gets brought up way too much every time Scott pops up yet again, dancing merrily back and forth across the line between victim and perpetrator in yet another one of their cases.

"Are you the Guild agent?" A loud voice demands from behind him.

Martyn whirls on his heel, far more ready to trust Scott at his back than some random police. (Not that he would ever admit it.) "I am!" he responds brightly, deliberately irritating in the way he knows best. "What happened here, Officer?"

The policeman, clearly someone important by the lack of wear and tear on his...everything, pulls himself pompously up to his full, rail-thin height and peers down at Martyn over his nose. "Aren't you lot supposed to keep your rabble in check?"

Oh, its going to be like that, is it?

Martyn fixes a blandly polite smile on his face and slips his voice into something a little bit more professional. "That still doesn't answer my question. What happened here?" Behind the officer he can see Joe Hills, still lingering amongst the topiary, eyes fixed on the officer's back. Suddenly it is a lot more reassuring, knowing there is an exit strategy for the people without the protection of a government employee ID. Even if that exit strategy is one of the most dangerously unpredictable beings Martyn is aware of. Which really is saying something.

"That," The officer (Hughes, his nameplate says) jabs a finger over Martyn's shoulder, presumably at Scott. "Has murdered an upstanding citizen and has the audacity to claim immunity!"

Martyn cocks his head to the side. "From where I'm standing, you're pointing the finger at a selkie missing his skin, so yeah, there is probably immunity involved."

"Well first of all," Cleo announces their presence as they emerge from the depths of the house, trailed by a very nervous looking police officer.

They stop in the doorway to drop a bundle on Scott's head, the dark mass makes contact with his bright blue hair and unfolds to drape over him. By the time Scott has discarded the shock blanket to wrap himself in his pelt instead, Cleo has stepped past him to stand shoulder to shoulder with Martyn. They're taller than Officer Hughes, which a very petty part of Martyn appreciates. The crisp white feathers of their own skin tickle his arms as they cross their arms. There is blood spatter on their feathers.

"He didn't kill the asshole," they continue without so much as looking at Martyn. "He physically couldn't. I did. And I'd do it again."

Cleo is hardly new to scenes like this, neither are they squeamish. The combined records of the entirety of their little squad speak to that. But something about this one clearly has them rattled and angry. At least Officer Hughes is here to take the brunt instead of them turning it on Martyn.

"Chapter four of the Magical Coexistence Treaties, Section B, Paragraph 13; 'Should the autonomy of any selkie, swan maiden, or similar being be violated, any and all members of their pod/flock can take whatever measures they deem necessary to right and/or avenge the wrong and secure the freedom of the violated party or, should the victim have perished, obtain were-guild from the one who harmed them.'" Cleo rattles off the sentences that Martyn knows by heart at this point, from the frequency he's encountered them in more or less this exact context with this exact cast.

They point at Scott. "Selkie." They point to themself. "Swan." They gesture back and forth between the both of them. "Pod, flock, whatever you want to call it. And given I just retrieved his skin from the asshole's locked personal office I think his autonomy was violated enough." Their voice is deeply sarcastic in the way that only Cleo can be. Martyn is half-surprised Officer Hughes isn't on the ground bleeding from it.

"And all that was before we found the dungeon in the basement." They turn to Martyn, brushing Hughes off with as much concern as if he were a fly. "He was a collector, apparently. And he'd been at it awhile."

Martyn looks around the assembled ambulances and their occupants with a new, more critical eye. A starved and weakened vampire, a silver-collared werewolf, two nervous and twitch sirens (wrapped in damp blankets as a paramedic with a lock-picking kit fiddles with the muzzles fitted around their faces. Martyn makes a mental note; someone with flexible skills set like that might work out at the Guild. And they can always use more medical personnel.) an emaciated naga. As he turns back two more paramedics emerge behind them, carefully wheeling out a criminally (literally) small tank containing brackish water and an insensate mer.

Oh this is going to be so much paperwork.

Martyn is very glad the guy is dead. At least that means he won't have to work on a prosecution on top of everything else.

"There's more inside," Scott says behind them. Martyn glances over his shoulder and is glad to see him looking a lot less feverish and pained than before with the return of his pelt. "I got a grand tour. He's got a dragon-hide hanging on the wall in the library and a whole hall of displayed...parts."

So much paperwork.

Jimmy had better enjoy that vacation. They'll still probably be sorting this all out when he gets back.

"He was going to put me in a concrete enclosure, Martyn, he showed me. It's so ugly. Almost as bad as the rest of his house."

Of course that is equally offensive to Scott's sensibilities as his entire free will being stolen. That tracks.

There is still an elephant in the room that Martyn hasn't sen hide nor feather of at all.

"Pearl?" He asks Cleo, almost dreading the answer.

"Left already."

Suspicious, but at least it means he only has to deal with Gaslight and Gatekeep here. Or whatever they call themselves.

This time.

Because this is not the first time The Terrible Honeypot Trio, as they are unofficially referred to at Guild headquarters, have used this exact legal loophole to go after a creep or two. The murder is outside the norm, admittedly. Usually they limit themselves to theft and arson. It's a very lucrative racket for them and they have it down to a science. Dress Scott (its usually Scott; Cleo is scary and Pearl has a stab first ask questions later policy) up, flaunt his selkie status, and dangle him in front of a bunch of rich guys and see who takes the bait.

And every angle of it is legal.

Multiple Guild members are of the opinion that, whatever their (financial) motivations they are also providing a valuable public service. Their trail of victims is also a trail of overall shitty and predatory people that the Guild can make sure get nailed for something else, whether mythical or mundane in nature.

Ultimately, given that all someone has to do to not end up as a target of 'The Three Gs' is, you know, not abduct someone, they've never had a very convincing entrapment case leveled against them. Though a few of their victims have tried.

This one likely won't be, given that his blood is currently smeared all over Scott's clothes and Cleo's face.

Hmmmmm.

Martyn squints thoughtfully at the spatter on Cleo. It's hard to tell, since they've clearly been doing things, he's not going to think too hard about what, and its been smeared quite a bit...but that doesn't look like murder spatter. That looks like adjacent to murder spatter.

Which means, given that Scott couldn't, Pearl was probably the one who actually killed the asshole.

Honestly, that tracks.

Cleo and Hughes are in some kind of stare down now, Martyn would wish the officer luck but honestly, he hopes Cleo eats him alive. He ignores the two of them and turns back to Scott, who's still sitting on the front step, leaning against the door-frame. He looks tired and is shivering a little, but winks at Martyn when he notices his attention. Getting his pelt back has cleared away most of the lingering discomfort or shakiness and as annoying as it is how unruffled he seems after having just witnessed a murder at what was very clearly close proximity, it is reassuring to have him back to his usual demeanor. Despite having made a career out of it, playing the victim really does not suit Scott at all.

"See something you like?"

Martyn snorts a laugh and nudges the discarded shock blanket with the toe of his boot. "You should probably take this back."

"Awww," Scott coos at him, head cocked to the side. "You do care!"

"It's like, 6° out and you're wearing fishnets," Martyn says, somewhat proud of his deadpan and also for resisting making a joke about how fishnets seem a bit on the nose. "It's making me cold just to look at you."

Scott rolls his eyes, but concedes enough to drag the shock blanket over his lap. "You realize I don't really get cold, right? It's like, a whole selkie thing."

"Yeah, when you're in seal form, which you're very clearly not, at the moment."

"It doesn't just go away," Scott grumbles, but tucks the blanket more securely under his knees anyway.

Martyn is going to blame his fussing on still being in post-full moon mode. He'd been throwing blankets and pillows and soup at Ren all afternoon and is going to have to pick right back up where he left off when he gets back home. Ren is notoriously terrible at self-care after a transformation.

"Right," Cleo is suddenly there, looming threateningly over Martyn's shoulder. "Martyn, can you tell this idiot that he's not going to be able to arrest us so we can get on with it all."

God, Martyn hates inter-departmental politics. He leans back to peer around Cleo's shoulder at Hughes. "They're in my custody, you can't have them."

He ignores Hughes' subsequent blustering to give Scott and Cleo his full attention. "Is there anything else either of you needs, or can we get out of here?"

The sun is just starting to peek over the horizon. Martyn has spent the past several days taking care of a worn-out and antsy werewolf he is supposed to be dead asleep right now. He will send a preliminary report into HQ (text his boss a two sentence summary) and then he is done. This can be someone else's problem until he's had a minimum of twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep. The murder part has already been done anyway, what's left sounds like it is much more in Research & Preservation's jurisdiction. And Medical. He'll be sure to add a whole extra sentence to that effect.

Scott and Cleo exchange a glance and shake their heads. "Didn't bring anything," Cleo says with a shrug. "I got what I came for."

Scott kicks at their ankle but also looks kind of touched. For a second and only a second, because those two don't do sappy emotions. He then kicks the shock blanket back off and begins hauling himself to his feet. Cleo gives him a hand up and he wobbles on his high-heeled boots but stays standing. Given how shaky he still looks, Martyn is counting that as a win.

He's starting to think Scott might have been separated from his skin for more than just a few hours this time. He's usually completely shaken off the effects by the time Martyn shows up. He's never seen this level of severity.

The two mythicals wander over, Scott still holding onto Cleo's arm, pacing carefully to try and hide the way he is leaning on them for support. Cleo, being Cleo, blatantly ignores the entire situation but still slows their usually brisk stride to accommodate.

"You'll have to give us a ride."

"What?" Visions of his bed vanish before Martyn's eyes at Cleo's declaration.

"You heard me," Cleo repeats, heading towards the edge of the crime scene, Scott only staggering a little bit as he keeps up. "Now where did you park, I'm ready to be rid of this place."

Martyn opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, "Excuse me?" He looks back at the topiary Joe Hills had been standing by. 'Had been' turns out to be the important part of that sentence. "What happened to-"

"He had to go pick his kid up from school, keep up, Martyn." Cleo yells over their shoulder without looking back. "He has a schedule to keep and you took too long. HE was just here to take down the wards."

"Wards?" Martyn rushes to catch up to them. "This is the first you've said about wards. What kind of wards?"

"The kind that keep people like us out," Cleo snaps back, not slowing down at all. "What kind do you think?"

They beeline directly for Martyn's car, pull open the passenger door, and push Scott into the seat. The entire time Martyn has known Cleo, they have never given up the front seat for anyone.

Martyn wonders just how close their luck came to running out this time.

Cleo closes the back seat door behind themself and then the two of them are looking at Martyn impatiently through the windows, as if he is the one acting weird.

There are not enough braincells in Sleep-Deprived Martyn's head to untangle all of this. He gets in the car.

He gives both Scott and Cleo a onceover while starting it. Now tthat they are out of sight of the masses, Scott is slumped against the door, face pale and eyes closed. Cleo is being very deliberately casual in a very Cleo way, and their face is pinched and the line that shows up on their forehead when they are stressed is definitely line-ing. The hand they have held up, pretending to pick dried blood out from under their nails, is shaking.

"Can we get chicken nuggies?" Pearl asks, her face very suddenly right in Martyn's.

Martyn does not yell or flail. Just for the record. And he certainly doesn't scream or jump.

Pearl just stares at him, eyes eerily blank behind her usual 'thrilled with violence' sparkle. She must have been laying down in his back seat. She's sitting in the middle now, next to Cleo, spattered with even more blood than the other two, in a way that bears out Martyn's theory on who actually killed the homeowner.

Her expression turns wheedling and she leans forward even more, propping her chin on the back of Scott's seat. "Nuggies?"

How is this Martyn's life.

"Fine," he sighs as he pulls out of the fancy big circle drive, leaving the oversized house and all its horrors behind them. "We can get chicken nuggies."

Ren wakes up, for a given definition of "wakes up" at...some point. Checking the clock would require opening his eyes and, between the sandy sensation and general lingering exhaustion, he doesn't really want to do that.

He can feel the sun through the curtains and his window face west. So afternoon sometime.

His stomach rumbles.

Perchance he should investigate the kitchen.

A moment of consideration and he decides it still isn't worth opening his eyes. He wraps his comforter over his head and around his shoulders as if it were a winter cape and stumbles towards the door. It takes a few moments of groping around but he manages to find the doorknob and free himself from his confines.

He can smell coffee.

Coffee and people and fast food and...blood?

Instantly set on edge, the clinging territorial instincts from the moon reaction to unexpected intruders in the home, Ren finally cracks one eye open.

Half of the sofa is taken up by a blurry white mass that, after a few blinks, solidifies into a swan sleeping on a pile of messy blankets, head tucked under one wing. A very familiar swan that is awakened enough by Ren's racket to raise their head and give him a displeased hiss, before going back to sleep, settling deeper into their impromptu nest.

His attention is pulled away from Cleo by a shuffling from the kitchen.

Pearl Moon waves at him from where she is sitting on the floor, leaning up against the partition between kitchen and sitting room, halfway through a tub of Ren's ice cream. Ren blinks back at her.

Major is sitting at the kitchen table across from Martyn, who has his face down on the surface of said table and is giving off the general smell he does anytime his emotions are best summarized as "I don't want to be here anymore."

Major looks back over his shoulder and beams at Ren, "Oh good, you're up! Come take a look at these!"

Ren shuffles closer until he can see what exactly it is the selkie has spread all over the table.

It's quite the variety, all placed carefully on Ren's good tea towels. Several trinkets of questionable origin, a cursed box of some kind that smells of fae magic, some mundane jewelry, and a small collection of potion vials. Major taps one of the un-enchanted necklaces proudly. "How would you price this lot?"

Martyn groans against the table top. "Could you at least not conduct your illegal sales in my kitchen when I'm here?"

Ren pats him on the shoulder and does his best to wake up enough to give the haul a more critical look. "Hard to say without a close examination but at least a couple thousand."

Behind him, Pearl makes a disparaging noise. "Only a couple thousand?" She says around a mouthful of ice cream. "Wow, that's cheap."

She shakes something that makes a jingling sound. "Now come look at mine!"

Martyn groans again and shoves his chair away from the table. "I'm going to go get food, if this is what you are doing now." He heads for the door.

Ren takes his chair as Pearl scrambles to her feet and joins them at the table, pulling things willy-nilly out of the pockets of her bright red jacket. He certainly wasn't planning on business on a day off when he hadn't even opened the shop, but Cleo and friends were always a good source of dubiously obtained items.

Martyn closes the front door behind him and Ren can hear him grumbling his way down the stairwell.

He can smell cheap chicken nuggets and his stomach rumbles. Hopefully Martyn brings some of those back with him.

#rain rambles #trafficblr #selkie au #life series gaslight gatekeep girlboss #inthelittlewood #smajor1995 #zombiecleo #pearlescentmoon #renchanting #rain writes fanfiction #long post is long #rendog

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officialromaniantranslatiuni · 3 months

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i was really proud of my salary (which has doubled in the past 5 years or so) and of the extra income i earn from my side jobs

then i saw that the armchair i want to buy is almost half of my salary and now i am depressed

#2100 lei un fotoliu? pot sa inteleg de ce tata prefera sa cumpere bucatile separat si sa le faca el #edit: 3350 lei varianta cu model #pai imi iau eu patura si o pun pe jos si gata

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victoriansecret · 11 months

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Vails

I haven't actually talked about it here a lot, partly because I try not to do heavy history stuff here - this blog is meant to be a hobby, after all - and it's something I'm frankly too passionate (obsessed) about, but my main area of historic interest and focus, especially when it comes to my own personal research, is the history of domestic service. It is not an exaggeration to say it is my life's work. Another reason I don't write about it often is I don't really know where to start. My breadth of knowledge on the subject is quite broad, so there's a lot I could say, but I think I'll try to write some small things about specific aspects of it. Vails were, in the 18th (and I believe also 19th) century, basically what we could today call tips, often paid to servants. And when you read things written by the 'master class' of people being served, while they're obviously biased and exaggerating, it does become clear that servants rather enforced them. There wasn't a guild system for servants like there were for trades, but there were informal clubs and groups, and this is one of the ways they seem to have acted together, almost as a form of unionization. There's a letter to a British newspaper where the write says that he estimates many servants are doubling, tripling, or even quadrupling their annual salaries through vails. I could write more but I'll just transcribe some of my favourite passages on this subject from the book Life in the Country House in Georgian Ireland by Patricia McCarthy: I will add too, while this is specifically talking about paid servants in Britain, you do see vails paid to enslaved people in America as well. Probably not as often, but Philip Vickers Fithian, who wrote a diary about his experiences in Virginia in the 1770s, writes about similar things of the enslaved people at the plantation he's staying at expecting their "Christmas boxes" of vails, although they weren't quite as beholden to the actual date of Boxing Day.

... The customary scene in the hall, as their guests waited for their carriages or horses to be brought to the door, embarrassed many. [Marshall, Domestic Servants] Hosts feigned ignorance of their guests' fumbling in their pockets to find shillings and half-crowns to distribute to the servants, who had lined themselves up expectantly. Whether the motive for allowing the practice was to salve the collective conscience of the employers at paying such low wages is not clear. [Bridget Hill, Servants: English Domestics in the 18thc.] It was not confined to great houses, but was also expected in more modest establishments, although the amounts given were less. It was also not only expected on departure from the house of a friend: vails were disbursed by 'house tourists' to whichever servant showed them around - in most cases an upper servant.

...

An army officer described how much his visit to the house of a friend would cost him: 'The moment your departure is known, all the domestics are on the qui vive; the house-maid hopes you have forgotten nothing in packing up, if so, she will take care of it till you come again; this piece of civility costs you three ten-pennies; the footman carries your portmanteau .. to the hall, three more; the butler wishes you a pleasant journey - his greate kindness in so doing of course extracts a crown-piece; the groom brings your horse, assuring you 'tis an ilegant baste, and has fed well' - three more ten-pennies go; the helper runs after you with the curb-chain, which he has 'till this moment carefull secreted - two more; making a total of seventeen, or, in English money, upwards of fourteen shillings. A heavy tax for visiting a friend!' [Benson Earle Hill, Recollections of an Artillery Officervol. 1]

...

Richard Griffith from Bennetsbridge, Co. Kilkenny, complained in c.1760 in a letter to hise wife that 'an heavy and unprofitable Tax still subsists upon the Hospitality of this Neighbourhood .. in short while this Perquisite continues, a Country Gentleman may be considered but as a generous Kind of Inn-holder, who keeps open House, at his own Expence, for the sole Emolument of his Servants .. this Extravagance is not confined, at present, solely to the Country .. ; for a Dinner in Dublin, and all the Towns in Ireland, is even in a Morning, with a Person who keeps his Port, you may levee him fifty Times, without being admitted by his Swiss Porter. So... I shall consider a great Man as a Monster, who may not be seen, 'till you have fee'd his Keppers.' [R. and E. Griffith, A Series of Genuine Letters Between Henry and Frances, vol. 4]

...

Swift gives similar suggestions in Directions to Servants: 'By these, and like Expedients, you may probably be a better Man by Half a Crown before he leaves the House.' He further urges those servants who expect vails 'always to stand Rank and File when a Stranger is taking his Leave; so that he must of Necessity pass between you; and he must have more Confidence or less Money than usual, if any of you let him escape, and according as he behaves himself, remember to treat him the next Time he comes.'

...

Card money was particularly lucrative for butlers and footmen - so much so that, in London at least, such menservants refused service in houses where gaming parties were not held. [Marshall, Domestic Servants - Two footmen at the court of Queen Anne, Fortnum and Mason, used this perquisite as capital to begin their grocery business in London. Country House Lighting 1660-1890, Temple Newsam Country House Series No. 4] But it was vails that finally undermined the authority of the employers, who virtually allowed servants to dictate whom should be received, and then pretended not to notice when the servants extracted money from the departing guests.

...

In the London Chronicle a correspondent wrote in 1762 that 'Masters in England seldom pay their servants but in lieu of wages suffer them prey upon their guests'. George Mathew of Thomastown, Co. Tipperary, a man famous for his hospitality, was one of the first employers to ban the 'inhospitable custom' of giving vails to servants, and to compensate them by increasing their wages. This was apparently as early as the 1730s. His servants were warned that, if they disobeyed, they would be discharged. He also informed his guests that he would 'consider it as the highest affront if any offer of that sort were made'. [Anthologia Hibernica, I - No date given for this account, by 'Grand George' Mathew, who died in 1737, was the man described, who was host to Jonathan Swift at Thomastown in the 1720s, a visit described by Thomas Sheridan in A Life of the Rev. Dr. Jonathan Swift] A crusade against the giving of vails began in 1760 in Scotland, where seventeen counties issued appeals to abolish them. Four years later the movement had spread to London, resulting in riots there by footmen, the servants who stood to lose the most. [Marshall, Domestic Servants] It was probably at about the same time that employers from a number of counties in Ireland agreed among themselves to abolish vails. [Griffith, Series of Letters..., IV, 'An Agreement entered into among the Gentlemen of several Counties in Ireland, not to give Vails to Servants'] Like George Mathew before them, they decided to increase staff wages in an effort to compensate them for loss of earnings. One of them was Lord Kildare: in March 1765 he issued a directive from Carton to members of his household, stating that 'In Consideration of Vails &c, which I will not permit for the future to be received in any of my Houses upon any Account whatsoever from Company lying there or otherwise I shall give in lieu thereof... five pounds per annum each to the housekeeper, Maitre D'Hotel, cook and confectioner; three pounds per annum each to the steward at Carton, the butler, valet de chambre and groom of the chambers, and two pounds to the Gentleman of Horse. ...

And I will conclude with this funny account, about the penalty for being known amongst the staff to be a spendthrift, from the same book: ...

An unfortunate guest in England in 1754 found his punishment [for not giving vails] truly humiliating. 'I am a marked man,' he wrote, 'if I ask for beer I am presented with a piece of bread. If I am bold enough to call for wine, after a delay which would take its relish away were it good, I receive a mixture of the whole sideboard in a greasy glass. If I hold up my plate nobody sees me; so that I am forced to eat mutton with fish sauce, and pickles with my apple pie.' [Quoted in Marshall, Domestic Servants]

feel free to tip here (and yes the irony of this is not lost on me, although it did not occur to me until about halfway through writing this)

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f1amboyant · 7 months

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I can't get the idea of Engineer Carlos AU out of my head. Can you tell me more about how hot and popular Carlos is? I imagine something like

there are actually many fan accounts created only for him lol there are those hit tiktok vids of him (like the one with 'hey my sexy lady Ferrari mechanic')

cameraman knows what he is doing and always delivers. Like during the race or red flag, cameraman likes to show Carlos

Carlos is effortlessly hot and he doesn't know how popular he is. He just smiles shyly when fans ask for a photo with him when he walks with Charles in the paddock. Charles is a bit possessive and silently glares at that poor fans lol i love jealous Charled

Also Carlos is gonna be the best strategist. Pls write some races that shows how genius Carlos is

And the angst like there is rumour about Red Bull offering Carlos doubled his current salary and Charles is afraid to ask Carlos about it

Yeah. Pls write something about this AU. I will take any crumbs. Hot engineer Carlos🔥

Hi there anon!

Thank you so much for asking about this AU (from this post). Engineer Carlos is so so dear to me. And we’ve been getting soooo muuuuuch content lately (the pics of him in the pit wall with headphones on just make me go feral 🔥).

You pretty much nailed it with all your ideas, that’s basically what I have in mind for this AU! But here are some of the ideas I have:

So, Carlos becomes Charles’ race engineer in 2021. The public doesn’t know about him, maybe some Spanish media talk about the son of Carlos Sainz Sr getting a more important role in the team, but in general Charles is the talk of the show (of course he is, he is the predestined.) So it’s almost a random thing when fans get the first pictures and videos of Carlos on the paddock with Charles and on the pit wall.

Fans start to notice. “Who is this hot man with Charles? New race engineer? Who is he? We need to know??”

It’s just really small glimpses at first but the fans get more and more curious each time.

Halfway through the season, there are multiple accounts dedicated to Carlos, scrounging the internet to know who he is and find as many pictures of him as possible. They compile every glimpses they get from the media on race weekend. They ask Ferrari admin to show more of the hot engineer “we love Charles but please we need to see more of this hot piece of cake, can we know who he is?”

The cameramen on the paddock slowly start to get the idea and we get more and more of Carlos. Plus, we hear their exchanges on the radio and omg are they… are they flirting on live television??? They work well together but is this banter?? Is this flirting?? Omg?? So yeah, fans go crazy for Carlos. Ferrari even capitalizes on it, using Carlos in the team challenges (there were several challenges in past years where the drivers paired with some guys from the team, so imagine the chaos it would be Charles and Carlos pairing against the other pair of driver and engineer). Fans go absolutely crazy for it. The fan accounts for Carlos are going insane.

Carlos is absolutely oblivious to all of this. Charles on the other hand sees all the fans thirsting over his race engineer and gets so so soooo jealous. Joris has to take away his phone so he can focus on the race weekend and so that Charles doesn’t comment on every picture of Carlos with something like ‘he’s my race engineer, back off!’ He gets more and more touchy with Carlos, always having an arm around his shoulders, clasping his hand and holding it far far longer than is necessary.

Carlos is oblivious to his own fame, but he’s still online. He has a secret account (shoutout to @tiramisufrappe for this particular idea) where he posts cute pictures of Charles, commenting on how cute and adorable he is, and just look at him he is the prettiest can you believe it. So yeah, Carlos is Charles' number one fangirl.

Of course, Carlos is also so so talented, especially with the race strategy. He goes against the team orders on multiple occasions, giving Charles a better strategy until at some point, they just let him do what he wants. I can imagine something like that:

“The team wants you to pit. Thoughts? Question?” “I… I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. I can’t pass these guys and we’re going to lose and…” Charles is starting to raise his voice and get frustrated. “Charles,” Carlos remains calm and so so composed and his voice is sooooo soothing. “Tell me how you feel in the car. Do you have the pace?” “Yes.” “Can you maintain this pace?” “Yes.” “Okay then. The team wants you to box, I say you stay out. What do you want?” “I don’t know. I trust you, Carlos.” “Then stay out, stay out.” panning to Carlos’ face on live television and the rest of the pit wall looking baffled and repressing their anger (they cannot show it now but you can feel that it’s not going to be good for Carlos when this is over). They win the race.

And oh my god, the Red Bull offer is such a good idea!! The added drama. The thing is, no matter the salary, Carlos would never leave Charles. It’s his driver, if he’s going, Charles has to go with him. So he’s not even considering it. But Charles doesn’t know that and he gets all scared and angry and finally he kisses Carlos. “Don’t leave me, please don’t leave me.” And that’s how they finally end up together!

Thank you so much for your question anon and I hope long answer is not too much 🫣 I have a lot of other WIPs to focus on first but I hope I can write engineer Carlos at some point because I love him so so much.

The question now: if Carlos is not a driver, then who is Charles’ teammate at Ferrari in 2021 and afterward?

Feel free to ask me more about this AU or other ideas. My ask box is open!

#ant answers anon asks #engineer carlos au

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tobegiggledat · 1 year

Text

Before They Disappeared

18+ CONTENT AHEAD MINORS DNI

✦pairing: Tomura Shigaraki × afab!reader (no pronouns used)

✦warnings: angst, dissociation, reader questions reality in some parts, reader has a vague backstory and a quirk, reader is briefly a sex worker, implied past sex abuse, implied past gaslighting, brief rape/noncon in the beginning(not by Shigaraki), memory loss, self-esteem issues, grief/loss, kissing, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex

✦word count: 13.6k

✦summary: Tomura Shigaraki gathers League members solely to provide them with an opportunity to embrace the quirks and talents they’ve been told to subdue for most of their lives. So, when he spots you, alone and abandoned, he thinks you're one of his greatest potential assets yet.

✦a/n: I’ve already posted part 1 a while ago, but this version includes both parts and smut. If you already read it you can skip to chapter 2 on my ao3 or skip to what’s past the red line further down on here.

Touch is your safety.

Strokes from idle hands keep you grounded, no matter how perverse their intentions are, and even as aged and callused knuckles wander lower, lower with excessive lust seeping through its veins, you welcome it—for it comes with the job after all…

Being mainly at a salary man's beck and call means you've gotten used to ogling eyes and unwanted touches that linger on your waist for far longer than they should. It's a frowned upon profession but it's familiar. Sex is all you know and it's all you'll ever know.

A rough thumb swipes along your bottom lip then tugs at it gently.

“Sorry, you were spacin’ out there n’ I can't have that”, the older client above you speaks between pants, the backs of your thighs are pressed snuggly against his pelvis as your spine is parallel to the tainted silk mattress beneath it.

To not be touched is to disappear.

“Yeah, sorry…”, your words are meekly spoken into his chest, your breath a small wind passing through the silver hairs along it.

A tacky cheetah print pattern lines the wooden walls of the room while the air smells heavy of cigarette smoke despite the dozens of no smoking signs one passes upon entering the establishment.

The man's reddening cheeks puff outward with exhaustion, and the view from below has him looking like an angry puffer fish. The rhythmic slaps of wet skin is oddly soothing, almost enough to drift off to.

“Gonna fill you up”, he reaches for one of your breasts and places what he's gathered tightly between his teeth. “Gonna fill yer tight hole with my seed.” His hips plunge deeper, cock angling the furthest it can reach.

“Ah, ‘s too rough. Stop it. S-stop”, you desperately paw and swat at his hands until he relents, but he only begins to thrust into you more hastily. “Get offa me already”, you shove but it’s much weaker than your earlier attempts.

You shove, and you scratch, and you shove some more, but you’re steadily losing control of your body—this body. This one without nerves or electric impulses, a body that responds to signals far different than the ones you provide.

Why won’t it move?

The corners of your vision are black, and then the walls, and then the man before you. His body becomes indistinguishable from the surfaces behind him, all consumed by what you think is a sudden lack of light, yet the room still remains as bright as it was originally.

How long have you been at this? Is he done yet, has he–has he already—

A distant memory of a familiar figure begins to mesh with man before you. And while they aren’t physically there, the figure’s presence still makes the air damp from their predatory huffs, the overwhelming scent of their breath remains fossilized within you and is unforgettable.

It’s not long before the older man is gone completely, and his existence is overshadowed by something more sinister.

The limbs of the body swiftly double in weight while it goes rigid the instant the figure's features become more than vague ridges etched within skin.

It has to move.

But it won’t move. Why won’t it move?

From within you're tumbling over at full velocity, organs collapsing and taking everything along its path with it—but from the outside no one else has the slightest clue you've begun the procedure for self-destruction.

You fight against its tears and the weight of its eyelids to keep aware. If you blink it’ll be like it never happened—as if nothing ever happened to you.

You can’t disappear. You can’t disappear.

He can’t disappear.

Finally, your lips—

“My quirk!”, you shout. “You're gonna—you’re gonna—“

The man quickly snaps away from you, his length briefly slapping against your thighs on the way out as he tucks it back in his draws before pulling a stack of cash out his pants pocket.

“Here, take yer pay”, he tosses the stack beside you. “You’re not gettin’ the full thing for this shit.”

When you fully come to, he's already left your wheezing and defeated form on the brothel mattress.

Dried tears have left salt stains just below your lashes, your lips ooze crimson droplets wherever your teeth have gnawed against them. You pass your tongue over the bruised areas to feel cool air brush against its dampness.

The swipes of his hands still remain alight in your nerves, but it's faint and doesn't suffice.

How can you tell whether you've disappeared already without outside acknowledgement?

It's too quiet. Maybe the world is empty outside of your room. It's too difficult to hear anything else besides the harsh blows from the A/C vent above you and creaking as the walls begin to settle.

Though, the figure is quick to appear again amidst the silence.

“Don’t touch me”, you say quietly, trembling as you divert your eyes from them. “Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me”, your head shakes on its own as more tears begin to streak your cheeks.

You close your eyes…just for a moment…then open them to a circle of concerned expressions.

“I-I, ‘m sorry. I—“, you say to your coworkers, now before you.

“The boss is super pissed right now, he was one our best clients”, the centermost one chides. “What did you do?”

You go on to describe your exchange with the pushy customer while leaving out the details of the visions that occurred afterwards.

And while you have no recollection of running down the halls while kicking around and thrashing yourself in the air, the others do, and they inform you of everything that happened prior to the moment you were fully aware.

Eventually, the establishment owner scolds you for disturbing the customers, with interspersed puffs of smoke passing from between her cherry lips, then dismisses you with a wave of her cigarette (she says her smoking inside is a one time thing caused by you stressing her out).

The early dismissal has you standing just outside the building, illuminated under streetlights and by cars that are still traveling during the late hour. Your shoulders rest against the cool bricks of some nearby alley—the place you work is located in an awkward area downtown—but the night is quiet.

Even the small breeze that passes through is hushed, while the view ahead of you is easy on your tear-fatigued eyes.

But it isn’t enough to release the weight of everything that transpired.

Your back slides along the wall until you're in a disheveled heap, you pull your knees into your chest and burrow your head into them, pondering the familiarity of the disgusted expression the older client made as he left, the validity of your memories, and…

And how much longer of it you can take—how much longer can you bear questioning everything you’ve gone through.

You feel a presence stalking over you.

You then peer through your elbows, lower face still covered by arms, to identify who they might be.

A stranger.

How long has he been there?

“No one came to save you”, the sky blue haired man begins with a tone syrupy and sweet. Scars align his eyes while his cracked lips are upturned into a polite grin. “That must’ve hurt, right?”

Tomura Shigaraki gathers League members solely to provide them with an opportunity to embrace the quirks and talents they’ve been told to subdue for most of their lives. He creates a stage for outcasts, or those regarded as too irredeemable to keep the status quo, and he brings their supposed darkness to light.

Many who haven’t seen them in action may question how he does so with a mere giggling school girl, an overly-confident magician, and his other questionably picked participants—but his past opponents understand quite well…

So when he spots you, alone and abandoned, he thinks you're one of his greatest potential assets yet.

He scouts you just as he was scouted, with a confident hand stretching outwardly toward your weeping, huddled form, and a comforting offer of family spewing from his lips.

“No one came to save you”, he begins. “That must’ve hurt, right?”

Your trickling eyes finally gleam up in adoration at the pale stranger you now deem your savior.

And they shine so…brilliantly, despite your circumstances—he’ll certainly make great use of someone like you.

He's sure of it.

“How do you know that—No–who are you?”, you question, back no longer hunched as you jerk uptight at the man’s words.

“I have an eye for those mistreated by this rotten society”, the man replies, confidently.

“You’re just like us, aren’t you?”

“I don't understand. Who’s us?”

“You’ll find out soon enough if you come with me.” He places a pale, inviting hand toward you.

You shift your gaze away. “I don’t know if I should—“

“Don’t you find it strange how not a single hero has arrived to save you? This society always stresses the importance of them, but they're never really there when people need saving.” He pauses before roughly scraping at the skin below his jaw.

“I was saved once but not by some hero”, he continues. “No, I was saved by my mentor and I’d like to do the same for you.” His head is at level with yours.

“Tomura Shigaraki.” He stretches that same hand forward, yet his eyes seem to glimmer with a bit more resolve. “I’d like to save you, if only you’d let me?”

Your gaze travels the outward slender digits, and then the clothed arm that’s connected to it, until you eventually reach the blood pools that form his irises—they’re surprisingly gentle, smiling even.

What does it mean to be saved anyways? You question it briefly and conclude it's worth a shot going along with him to find out.

There shouldn’t be much harm in doing so, right?

Your fingers slowly reach for his own, interlocking in a firm grip as he begins to pull you up, and you steadily rise to your feet with his guidance.

You stand before him, eyes fleetingly locked on his, yet he quickly turns to walk ahead, expecting you to follow.

“Where are we going, Shigaraki, sir?”, you trail behind him closely as if a lost duckling.

“Tomura’s fine. And we’re going to that truck just up ahead.” He points to an old red semi on the other side of a parking lot. “We’ll use it to take you back to the hideout.”

Upon reaching it, he walks near the back of the truck before beginning to fumble with the latch that secures its doors.

Your heart flutters in anticipation while waiting to meet the crew Tomura has spoken of, you make your best attempt to look presentable despite the informal circumstances; adjusting your outfit, your posture and other small things that you’d like to make neat even though they’re unnoticeable.

“There’s room for you back here”, he says, hands finally maneuvering the lever enough to open it.

And when it does, those inside immediately recoil at the sudden light before they even get the chance to take in your appearance.

The group sits across from each other on glued down couches instead of typical car seats.

You finally make eyes with the member furthest to the back.

“Ooo, who’s that, Tomura?”, the one with blonde, spider lily shaped buns asks, pointed teeth revealed and glistening from the way her lips curve.

“New recruit”, Tomura says, palms guiding you to one of the seats diagonal of her.

“Is that who we came here for?” She tilts her head with the question.

“Not exactly, this place was just an unexpected detour”, he turns to you and then the rest of the group. “I’m going up front now, so you’ll have to get acquainted without me. Is that alright?”

You nod.

“Good”, he closes the door but leaves it open just enough for some light to pour in.

When your eyes adjust to the dim overhead lights, you catch a glimpse of the bubbly girl from earlier whose smile remains just as beaming.

“I’m Toga! Himiko Toga, you?”, she asks perkily.

You introduce yourself, then look toward the rest of the group. “And what about the rest of you?”

“I’m Twice”, says the masked man beside you, and in front of Toga. “Nice to meet you. No it’s not!” Even through the gray and black covering, you still see his awkward smile as he waves his hand apologetically.

“Dabi”, the one with black strands and charred, stapled skin across from you reveals upon noticing your gaze. “We’re also missing Compress and Spinner who’re up front.” His tone is more nonchalant than the others.

The truck engine ultimately roars for take off. It's a surprisingly quiet ride with many of their faces already worn with exhaustion from the distance they’ve previously traveled.

Gusts of wind breach through the small crack in the doors as they tremble from each divot and bump on the pavement that’s driven across. Noises of the city soon fill your ears; faint beeps from the cars of impatient drivers and shouting amongst pedestrians.

“Tomura!” Toga suddenly yells, arms beating against the front wall. “How much longer do we have left? I’m bored here!” She quickly gives up on her outburst though, throwing her head back against the chair in defeat and sighing heavily.

“I’m sure we’ll get there soon”, Twice reassures her. “No, we won’t. I mean—“

“I’ve got an idea!” Toga abruptly perks up. “You should ask us questions, newbie!”

“Like what?” You ask hesitantly.

Her smile grows even wider. “Anything. To get to know us and stuff.”

“Uh…How about…what brought you guys here?”

“Really? That’s a pretty lame question y’know.” Her smile droops in disappointment, but it quickly returns. “Try something like; where’s the best place to g—“

“I joined The League because of Stain”, Dabi finally answers, looking up at your inquisitive expression through his flared lashes. “I want to carry out his will, that’s all.”

“Hey, you shouldn’t interrupt people.” Toga flashes Dabi an icy glare. “That’s rude.”

“Well, the newbie wants to know”, he brushes her off, attention still remaining on

you. “Is there a reason you ask, by the way?”

“No–No, it's just part of getting to know you...”

“And what about you?” He lurches closer, folded hands and arms on his spread knees.

“Why'd you join The League?”

Your palms tighten reflexively. “I don't have as noble of a reason as you do, I was scouted by Tomura after all.”

He's silent, with an unreadable stare and tightly pressed lips, yet for a moment you wonder what answer he expected—but then he scoffs.

“Look, no one joins a group of villains for the fuck of it. I’m sure you’ve joined because you’ve faced injustice firsthand, why else?”

Injustice…

“Yeah…I guess you're right.”

His words never seem to leave your mind, even as the truck comes to a halt, and you’re stepping inside a tattered ex-restaurant building that's supposedly a villain hideout.

“The old base got raided a while ago, so we’re staying here for now”, Tomura clarifies upon seeing your dismay.

“So I'm guessing you guys move around a lot?” You survey the worn tables, the abandoned but empty cash registers and the

unevenly tiled floors.

“Yeah, is that a problem?” He sits at one of the counters–turned makeshift bar, and beckons you over.

“No, I was just thinking about my old place… and how I left it all behind now.” You sit beside him as he pours clear liquid into two shot glasses.

“You'll adjust eventually.” One of the glasses is slid to you.

“Yeah, I think any place is better than where I started.”

Tomura takes a swig of the liquor, downing the glass in one go. The rest of the area is empty except for the air, thick with dust and leftover debris.

You hear the faint crunch of wood under footsteps in the other rooms, but more importantly, occasional eruptions of laughter—so carefree, something you'd never expect from a band of criminals.

It reminds you they’re human even though society doesn't portray them as such.

“Where'd you live?” Tomura asks.

“I lived back at that place you found me, as one of their workers. It was okay if you ignored the lack of privacy and the irritating guests, but I hardly had anyone I knew there. Like sure, I lived with the same coworkers for a while, but I wouldn't call them friends or anything.”

“What about family?”

“No, I left them a long time ago.”

“Well, you’ll always have The League”, Tomura reassures you.

“Yeah…” You stare distantly at your untouched glass, swirling its contents slightly while mesmerized by the ripples that form from your movements.

“Is something wrong?”

You stop. “I’m not sure why you brought me here, you don't even know my quirk”, you say softly, but your eyes are still trained on the cup. “I can't see myself being of use to someone like you.”

“That kinda stuff doesn't matter to me, if it did I'd be no different from the heroes.”

He taps his finger against the wood a few times before speaking.“There's always something you can do to contribute to our cause, no matter how small it is.”

You sit beside him quietly as helps himself to more drinks, and though you usually loathe such silences, this one feels welcoming; a silence that wants to be filled but only if you'll allow it to.

“I don't know much about my quirk”, you inevitably admit, taking a miniscule breath to get over the initial shock of the words so easily slipping from your lips. “When it first activated, I was being—No, I was getting attacked, I should say. I’ll also add that the person responsible then had done it to me multiple times prior, but when I told anyone else about it they never believed me.”

Your teeth finally meet the rim of your glass so that the alcohol can scorch your tongue and the depths of your throat.

“So when they attacked me again, I wanted them to disappear for good.” Your tongue swiftly swipes across your lips. “I closed my eyes for a moment and my skin quickly became hot to the touch—I almost thought I was on fire.” Another sip is granted to your lips.

“Next thing you know, it actually happened. I opened my eyes and they disappeared, what remained was my body glowing and violet as a result, but it was only for an instant. And it's not only that, it also seems like a huge side effect of my quirk is memory loss in general, I’ve lost old memories separate from the event and I’m certain that has to be the cause of it.” You can feel the heat of Tomura's stare, which has never seemed to have left you, as he continues to listen intently.

“Ever since they disappeared, I can’t tell if they ever harmed me in the first place. I mean, physically, the evidence was there, but not the person who caused it.”

“When you say they disappeared, was it as if they never existed in the first place?”,Tomura questions, pupils dilated with intrigue.

“No, everyone else’s memories of them remained. I'm not sure whether they teleported or if they're just gone for good. Shit, I’m not even sure if what happened was actually a manifestation of my quirk because I haven’t used it since then.”

“If it is a quirk it’s pretty strong. My guess is that it activates whenever you have an overwhelming desire for something to disappear.” He pauses as if lingering on a thought. “And because it’s so powerful it requires a huge energy input, in this case, the energy of your neurons or memory.”

“Wow. That’s a well thought out guess.” You chuckle a bit. “Are you always good with these kinds of things?”

“I think it'd be weird if I wasn't”, he smirks.

“Right, since you’re a leader and all”, you return his smile before it eventually falters.

“But still, Tomura…If what you’re saying is true, my quirk only exacerbated my confusion about it all. It’s one thing to already be doubted by other people but it’s another to have a quirk that just so happens to help confirm those doubts…What if I was making it all up? What if my family was right and those things were just my imagination?”

Another silence instills, but it's far different from earlier, it's heavy and difficult to move in; you go rigid at the thought of making him uncomfortable or burdening him.

“I'm sorry. I'm not sure why I'm telling you all this—”

“Trust your instincts.” His tone is stern yet earnest. “If you say it happened then it happened. Don’t second guess yourself just because others are too scared to face the truth.”

You give him your biggest grin yet. “I really needed to hear that. Thank you.”

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

The next morning the hideout rooms are bare, aside from decrepit mattresses that were previously slept on.

The lack of orders from Tomura has you worried about your place among the other members as you start to wonder why you are the only one who was left out from the mission today.

From what he's already briefed you on, the gang has to lay low due to their notoriety—how you've never managed to hear of Japan’s most wanted is a mystery, but your association with them hasn't been recognized by the public yet.

That's gotta mean something, right?

What you can't do on the battlefield, you’ll do at the base, it could use some work after all, and cleaning is in order regardless of how temporary the location is. You can also run errands for the rest of them as you still have spending money left over from your job.

Your schedule for the day has been decided.

The current hideout is composed of the main dining room (hangout, also where Kurogiri sleeps?), break room (Toga, Twice), bathroom, second dining room (Spinner, Shigaraki), and basement (You, Dabi, Compress).

As of now, you're tidying chairs and removing trash from tables, nothing

over the top, but it would be nice if there was at least one broom to work with or more than just two trash bags laying around.

Room to room, floor to floor. You make your rounds though the base until you eventually arrive at the last area, or the second dining room, but it’s locked.

You’ve already done your best to keep the place clean, it shouldn’t hurt to leave one room untouched. Satisfied with your progress, you return to the basement to take a nap before everyone else arrives.

The mattress is dilapidated beneath you yet it still cradles your body comfortably, you briefly look up at the dusty ceiling and the cobwebs that nest between its planks.

With each turn against the covers, a damp aroma follows suit as it fans and swirls any lingering mold in the air, and stirs up the caked debris on the floorboards.

It's been hours since you've finished cleaning yet there's no sign of The League's return.

It's far too desolate for your liking, as if the world were completely empty, and all its inhabitants planned an intergalactic road trip without you.

What if they left you behind?

Or maybe you're the one who disappeared somewhere far away—to not be touched is to disappear, how else can one validate their own existence?

No, you mustn't think too hard about it.

You shut your eyes hoping your thoughts would do the same.

There has to be some kind of sound you can listen to besides the rising of your own breaths and the increasing thumps of your heart beats.

Why hasn't anyone returned already?

Your body has unknowingly started its frantic steps toward the basement stairs, you nearly ascend on all fours before tripping over the clumsy movement of your own limbs. Your head throbs at the intensity of its collision with decaying wood, you roll over onto your back, huffing from the wasted breaths of your attempt to flee the building.

It's too quiet.

And soon you can't even hear the disgruntled pants of your own breathing. It’s too quiet, and you've forgotten to breathe.

Is someone there? You stand up once more, walking along the halls with your weight pressed against the wall.

Is anyone else here? The door to the second dining room is open?

Tomura?

Your vision is blurred yet you make out the disheveled blue strands before you, vermillion irises just as piercing and captivating.

You weakly reach out for him, but it seems he’s already reached out for you as his fingers make delicate contact with your upper arms.

“I'm sorry—”, you begin, cut short by a stream of tears cascading down your cheeks. You sink to your knees and Tomura is swift to drop beside you. “I just wanted to make myself useful, but I felt alone and—”

“Calm down, you're not alone”, the hand on your shoulder grips you tightly. “I'm here, everything's fine. You're gonna be alright.”

You sniffle, looking up at him with glistening features and puffy eyes.

“I’m gonna go get you something to drink”, he says as he quickly rises to leave.

“Wait, don't go!”, you tug at the hem of his sweatshirt. “Please?”

Tomura sits back beside you quietly; the comforting silence you would always expect with him.

He stares ahead at the wall for a moment then occupies himself with his jacket zipper, pinkies raised as he trails along the black fabric, scanning it closely as if he's never worn the thing before.

It doesn't take long for your thoughts and breathing to return to normal.

“I’ve only ever been acknowledged through touch”, you finally murmur. “It gets lonely sometimes.”

Tomura hums softly.

“Am I a burden to you?”

“No.”

“I’m glad.”

“Tomura”, you turn toward him. “Don't tell the others about this, okay?”

“I won't.”

“Thank you.” Your head gently falls on his shoulder. “For everything.”

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

Twice and Toga make a rather ceremonious return, while the remaining members trickle in afterward, going along with another one of their whims; this time a welcoming party for you.

Or so they say, but really Twice and Dabi just wanted an excuse to buy cheap booze and play party games all night.

The group forms a half-hearted circle for a round of Never Have I Ever; some camping out on raggedy benches while others remain tightly knit on the ground. But eventually, Toga leaves for bed early into the night while Compress leaves because such games are too childish for the likes of him.

You sit between Tomura and Twice, as you listen to Spinner drunkenly ramble about an insect he saw on the way back.

Condensation drips down your knuckles and into your palms while the cold bottle between your fingertips still fizzles way past the halfway mark.

“Ok, ok. Never have I ever—“, Dabi burps then giggles a little, staples aligned in an enthusiastic curve as the sound passes through his lips. It’s strange to witness him so bubbly and void of his usual demeanor.

“Get on with it already!” Twice finally snaps.

“I'm getting to it, alright”, Dabi takes another sip of canned beer then pauses. “Never have I ever…laughed so hard I wet myself.” The smirk on his face afterwards is smug and expecting of a reaction.

“Don't tell me…”, Spinner says, face crinkling with disgust.

“Seriously? Gross.” Tomura chimes.

“I'm kidding. I'm kidding.” Dabi’s head tips back to release another boisterous laugh. “I almost did.”

“Spinner, your turn”, Tomura nudges beside him.

Spinner rests his chin on one of his hands, tapping a pointer on his lips. “Never have I ever…played a romance visual novel game.”

“A what?” Twice says abruptly.

“Can’t you come up with a better one? No one even knows what that is”, Dabi scoffs.

If Spinner’s scales could convey a red hue, they would've. His eyes are drawn wide as if he regretted ever asking, he awkwardly scratches the back of his head before turning away.

“I do.” You raise your left hand with its pinky already placed down. “I've played a few of them back in highschool.”

“Really?” Dabi inquires, interest suddenly peaked.

You nod. “Yeah, it's usually story based and your choices determine which character route you get at the end.”

His gaze shifts to Tomura. “You too, Boss?”, he asks upon noticing Tomura's downed finger.

“Yeah, Spinner made me play.”

“Buncha’ nerds! I've got the next question!” Twice intervenes with a passionately waving hand. “Never have I ever been in love with someone way older than me.”

“I haven't”, Spinner says quietly.

“Older than you? Man, she's gotta be like fifty”, Dabi jokes.

“Nah, this was years ago.” Twice smiles weakly beneath his mask.

Dabi plucks deftly at his beer can tab and places it between his teeth. “What's the story?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“There's gotta be a story.” Dabi clumsily presses a finger to Twice’s chest. “You're the one who chose the question.” He taps between his words then pulls back.

“Nothin’ worth telling, just an old co-worker from 10 years ago…I haven't seen 'em since, but it was a wild ride. They cheated on me!”

“Oh, that sucks”, Spinner gives his best sympathetic glance amidst the awkwardness.

“Yeah…” Twice then releases a flat chuckle.

The group sits tensely for his next drunken confession, but it never comes.

“Never have I ever…”, Dabi breaks the silence. “...wanted to makeout with someone in this room.” His eyes shift to each and everyone’s shocked looks at the nerve of his question.

It stirs something hidden inside you. You’re surprised to find yourself watching Tomura from the corner of your eye, so as to not draw suspicion, and for some reason the sight of his 9 fingers still being raised makes your throat tighten.

It's not like you put your own finger down either. So why—

“Oh c’mon. Not a single one of you wants to put your finger down?” Dabi shakes his head.

“You didn't put one down either”, Spinner remarks.

“Yeah, perv!”,Twice intervenes as well.

“Well, me, I'm just tryna spice things up a little, but whatever.” Dabi shrugs. “Just know I see the way some of you look at each other.” He flashes another grin.

And that’s the most heated the questions get for the rest of the night.

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

Ever since Dabi’s prying, your eyes linger on the blue haired leader more often than they used to. Or maybe it was something you always did, but you never noticed—either way, those stolen glances at him whenever his attention was elsewhere become what you looked forward to.

He’s often tucked away in his room for most of the day, so the few moments he appears in the dining room, hair disheveled and hoodie hanging loosely on his shoulders, you brighten up.

You’ve unwillingly become a Tomura Shigaraki encyclopedia of some sort.

You know that when he first bites into things, he primarily uses his molars, parting his pale lips before skewing them to the side and sinking his teeth into it.

You also know that he’d make small abstract sketches into the table wood with his fingernails during meetings that go on for too long.

At first, his eyes never met yours as he was always immersed in whatever he was doing; whether it be writing or eating, but eventually your intense looks became enough to alert him.

He conveys a glint of pride as catches you, even smiling whenever you’d dart away and pretend fiddling with your hands was way more interesting than watching him.

Soon enough, it’s the only thing that ever occupies your mind, and before you sleep,

you wonder when things will ever be more than that.

And when he’d finally start to feel the same way about you.

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

“I have an assignment for you”, a familiar rasp tugs you out of your thoughts and into the present.

“What is it?” You turn toward Tomura as he stands on the basement steps.

“I need a lookout.”

“But why me?” Your eyes cast sideways.

“Wouldn’t Spinner be better suited for something like this?”

“Does it matter? I’m asking you.” He walks further down then stops. “Plus you don’t stand out much, so you’re perfect for it.”

“Oh…”

“Come.” He turns to leave as usual, expecting you to follow.

The ride toward the destination is brief, if you could even call it much of a destination at all. It’s a miniature sized building of worn, faded bricks, many of the walls have already deteriorated and most of the windows are nonexistent.

You sit with Tomura amongst a thicket of trees, meticulously scanning the area for its owners or any other lurking parties with the same idea. It’s still daytime out yet you both are easy to spot even in the shady area behind one of the bushes.

“How’d you find out about this place?” You question Tomura but your voice never rises above a whisper.

“Doesn’t matter. They’ve got something I want.” Tomura impatiently rises from his knees.

“You’re raiding another hideout by yourself?” A tinge of worry finally makes its way into your words.

“Yeah, that’s why I brought you here.” He hands you some kind of receiver; black and with three color-coded buttons. “Press this twice to speak.” He points to the small blue button. “Let me know if you see someone coming, and I’ll let you know if I received it.”

“Wait”, you say harshly but quietly. “Are you sure about this?” You look around once more. “What’re you gonna go if they actually come back?”

“Don’t worry about it, just stay put.” He gives you one last affirmative nod then leaves without another word, toward the strange building.

Around twenty uneventful minutes pass with no signs of anyone returning. Your body jolts with every slight rustle of the grass and sudden clicks from nearby insects, but nothing more.

The area is suspiciously clear…

Just as you loosen your guard, a group of bandits approach the building from the far right; two of their faces are concealed with hoodies, while the other wears tacky shades and a lower face mask.

You hastily hold down on the blue button of the walky-talky. “Tomura, there’s people here—like 3 of them. Can you hear me?”

You wait fifteen seconds before trying to communicate once more.

“Tomura?”

Another silent fifteen.

“Hello?”

Still no reply.

Your stomach drops.

You have to do something, anything. Anything would be better than simply watching things unfold—you’re tired of being a spectator of your own life, you can't continue to remain a spectator now that someone you care for is in danger.

It takes a swift steeling of your gut before you’re trailing behind the strangers, pocket knife in hand but no plan of action. The heat of the moment isn’t always bad, instinct can sometimes prevail if the necessary talents were always dormant within you—but they weren’t…

Brisk, but subtle movements; you reach for the member furthest behind, pulling them to your chest before pressing the dull blade you have against their throat.

“M-make a move and I’ll kill him.” You stall, and the man stills in your grasp, without a word—yet, the rest of the group is unmoved by your threat.

“Really? You’ll kill him?”, the one with a gray beanie begins. Below his pointed nose, a smile tugs slightly at the corner of his lips while he reveals his palms to you in faux surrender. “Do it then.”

Your grip on the man loosens a little. “What?” You catch a glimpse of something

shifting in your peripheral but it's too late.

“Gaah—fuck—”, you curse as your head rattles from its collision with a wooden pole, and the man hurriedly slips from your hold.

Another abrupt smack comes from behind; you fall to your knees then your stomach, hands pressed against the sides of your skull to minimize the throbbing.

“You should really check your surroundings more”, a deep voice from above you quips, and a few snickers follow soon after.

“Who sent you?”, the man with a beanie asks.

You try your best to look up at the men with a strained neck. “ ‘m not telling—”

A boot toe is swung into the side of your abdomen and you curl inward from the impact; the pain is sharp as it bleeds into your ribs and stomach.

“Just tell us who sent you, alright?” Your collar is pulled up by another one of the men. “You here for the money too?”

“I dunno what…what…” The weight of your jaws is like lead as your mouth suffocates from nonexistent cotton. You can't even speak let alone try to save Tomura at this rate.

This'll only hold them off for so long but what will they do once they’ve had enough—or once they finally notice Tomura trespassing.

You attempt to lift your upper body with quivering arms but it's pointless, another strike to your chest has you back on the ground, helpless and panting as more consecutive blows come from each member.

Your eyes tighten and sting with tears, but things can’t end this way. You have to try, but at this point, they should all just—

They should all just—

Disappear.

Your skin sears with heat, while something courses through your veins at the speed of light—and you don't know what—but it leaves you jolting with each and every circulation.

Once it stops, you’re instantly rigid as you open your eyes to empty surroundings, the only evidence of the men’s presence is the boot marks across your skin and the bloodied beanie abandoned in the corner.

They're gone. They're really gone.

But your head thumps even greater than before.

“What are you doing here”, a recognizable hoarseness comes from above.

“Tomura, you’re here”, you murmur weakly, struggling to push your body upwards. “I couldn’t reach you and I got worried, so I came here myself.”

“What happened?” He drops beside you to lend a hand, straightening your torso.

Your arm remains secured over his shoulders as he holds you upright. “There was a group of them here just now, but I lost control—“ A warm fluid trickles down your nose and across your lips, you swipe at it, pulling away to examine the blood that’s poured from you.

“Hey, are you sure you didn’t overdo it?” His cracking features are stern as he observes you more closely.

“No-no, I’m fine.” You study your stained hands more closely. “I’ve forgotten something important and I don’t even know what…” You pause. “Do you believe me? That they were here?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He notices a glimpse of dismay in your eyes then surveys the room for something. “That over there”, he points to the discarded beanie from earlier. “This from one of the bandits.”

“Yeah, why?”

Tomura doesn’t answer, instead releasing you gently then walking over to it before placing it into your palm.

“Keep it.” He wraps your fingers around it firmly. “It’s proof of what's happened. A reminder of everything that's disappeared in your past too.”

“A reminder…” You stare quietly at what he's placed in your hands, then at Tomura’s eyes, and then the hands that remain on his body.

“Tomura…Don’t ever disappear on me please.”

“Hmm?”

You gently shake your head. “Sorry, just a feeling.”

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

For the next few days, you're out of commission, but Tomura would often visit you for a few hours to check up on how you've recovered from the side effects of your quirk.

Even then, you felt useless throughout it all, insisting on aiding The League despite your feeble state, but once you make a full recovery, Tomura asks to get snacks with you, claiming it'll cheer you up.

The gray beanie rests snuggly on your head, restored to its former glory after some washing and a bit of Tomura's efforts.

“Like a date?”, you ask Tomura after he's brought up the sudden inquiry.

“I'm not that cheap”, he replies as walks beside you up the basement steps.

You smile. “It’s not like I'd mind it if you were.”

He takes you to a local convenience store to ring up two bags of potato sticks, ohagi, and two melon-lime sodas, then he leads you down more cracked sidewalks and to a park bench.

The view from it is mesmerizing, swirls of lilac and tangerine merge in the sky and reflect across the murky waters. This river has never looked as pretty before, but it’s only ever as pretty as the sky makes it.

“It's pretty isn't it?” You ask faintly.

“Yeah.” Tomura takes a small bite of ohagi before licking his lips. “How's your quirk?”

“Fine, nothing’s happened since then.” You mimic his action, still staring ahead at ripples in the water.

He hums.

The ohagi is sweet on your tongue, and sticks behind your teeth while the sip of melon-lime soda you take afterward makes your cheeks pucker.

It's chilly out but you can't seem to mind the heavy breeze even as it glazes over your eyes and sends chills across your skin.

“No matter what I make disappear I’ll always be dissatisfied with the result”, you start, voice low and solemn. “I don't know, I just wish I could make things appear instead sometimes…”

“I could relate in a way”, Tomura begins. “I destroy what upsets me because it's all I’ve ever known to get rid of this itch I feel inside.” Tomura looks at his palms longingly before clenching them into fists. “But destruction is often necessary for creating something new.” He turns toward you. “Sometimes things need to disappear in order for the things you want to appear.”

His gaze lingers on you, soft and curious, before you finally return it. “Is that how you plan to build the future?”, you eventually question.

“The future?” He scratches at the base of his throat. “I guess I never cared for a future before the League. Their will is my will now.”

“So there's still no future you want just for yourself?”

“I didn't say that”, he mumbles softly.

“Then what is it—”

“What about you?” His stare is a bit darker than before.

Your mouth slightly gapes then closes. “Oh, well I'll accept any future as long as you're in it…” you say meekly, staring down into your lap as you thread your fingers with your own nervously. “I'm more curious about you though—”

His fingers grip the sides of your jaw

to face you toward him. For a moment, he only stares at your parted lips before finally making contact, and his mouth encloses around yours in a hot, breathless kiss.

His mouth still tastes sweet, with his teeth sliding gently across your bottom lip and nibbling softly on your tongue. It has you gasping for partitions to breathe, yet you also want to be brought closer—smothered in more of his warmth and affection.

But then he abruptly pulls away.

“Let's head back.” His thumb swipes your cheek gently, and you nod against his palm.

Tomura’s words are meaningful to you, and you're glad to hear more of them throughout the walk back to the hideout, hand in hand and smiling.

As you find yourself wanting to do more to embrace your quirk, you realize that he’s already upheld the promise he made to you when you first met;

He’s become your savior.

And despite still carrying reminders of his past across his body, he’s seemingly free of it, and you find that admirable.

You’re still scared of the journey that’s needed for gaining better control of your ability, especially its lasting effects. But how those lost memories will change you over time, is a question for the future.

As of now, you lay beside him in his room, with only the two of you, after Spinner swapped out his mattress with yours begrudgingly, and you press yours and Tomura’s together to form a shared one.

The night with him led to more meaningless talks about the future and the things you want to buy once The League gets money, it was going well…

All things were well, until you woke up amidst the early morning to a violent thrashing in your skull and dried blood caked under your nose, along with the ruby puddle it formed on your pillowcase.

But worst of all, Tomura’s bed was empty.

The door was still locked from the inside, so he couldn’t have left.

Did he…disappear?

In your gut, you know the answer but your psyche still fights against it.

The thought of secretly wanting him to disappear is the utmost betrayal, it’s stomach churning, your skin instantly goes icy at the idea—this can’t be what you have wanted. Maybe you know far less about your quirk than you think you do.

Yes, it all ties back to when you lost control, it has to.

You shouldn’t have used it that day, then this wouldn’t have happened—you were just stupid, he definitely could’ve taken care of himself back then.

This theory of your quirk growing more unstable from the one use satisfies you for a moment, but eventually your anxiety ridden mind starts to construct hypotheticals as to why you would want to get rid of him in the first place.

Maybe all along you felt as though you didn't deserve someone like him around you.

A part of you wants to remove everything around you in a blinded rage; make everything and everyone disappear until you’ve completely forgotten who you are.

Yet, you’re perfectly still and void of the energy to do so as you look over at his side with clouded vision; warm tears start to streak your cheeks and mix with the blood that has already stained them.

You wrap yourself in the blankets that were once warm from his skin, you reach over to hold his family close, in place of him not being there to do it.

The world is empty without him in it, and your senseless cries because of that are muffled by his very pillowcase.

It hurts.

And more than the pain you feel from sorrow, your overwhelmed with hatred, a complete despisal of yourself which grows with each passing second you stare dejectedly as the empty spot before you.

It hurts, but to sit here and mourn without thinking of changing things would go against everything he stood for.

You briefly eye the beanie he’s restored for you, snuggling it securely on your head as you remember just that.

You’ll have to collect yourself, if only for a moment.

If you want to bring him back, you’ll have to embrace this wretched quirk even more in hopes of undoing what you’ve already done.

It’s decided.

Your chilled fingers quiver as they swipe at the smeared fluid that’s begun to glisten your features, fingertips now tainted the slightest vermilion, you clean them on the nearest cloth to better gather your composure.

The salty, metallic trail that begins to smother your lips is the least of your worries, the rest of the League will find out at some point, and you can’t deny that you want to run away before that happens.

Your limbs are collapsed into a clumsy heap at the center of the room, your jittering muscles attempt to lash against the restrain of your determined mind, but you keep them hostage, waiting patiently still until the other members rouse.

What will they do now that their leader is gone because of you?

It’s suspicious that some nobody that was introduced no more than a few days ago was able to shift their hierarchy in a matter of hours.

You’ll be crucified—No, you’ll explain everything as calmly as you can manage, and maybe through the trembling of your voice and the remnants of your tears, they’ll believe that you never had it in you to intentionally harm someone you love.

The peace before the storm doesn’t last for long as the door’s hinges tremble before their inevitable creaking as a scaly-green head peers through the crack like a humble intruder.

“Sorry to bother '', Spinner starts, making his meek entry despite the lack of your acknowledgement, pointed fingertips clenched in awkward fists at his sides while his pink eyes shift across the floorboards. “I meant to get it last night, but I didn’t want to—“ His gaze travels upward and across the tousled but stained sheets along your body, then to abnormal streaks along your cheekbones.

His mouth parts to reveal a sliver of tightened teeth before swiftly closing. “Where’s Shigaraki?” He asks quietly, yet the whites of his eyes are glazed and nearly prodding from behind his lids.

You ball your palms as you brace for impact. “It’s complicated—“

“Holy shit. Did you guys get into a fight?” He scans your figure fully once more as if to confirm his hunch, but you’re quick to deny it.

“No! No, never…”, You reassure him but he doesn’t seem eased in the slightest. Your throat bobs harshly before your next words. “It’s my quirk—I think I may have—I-I think I’ve made him disappear…”

The silence that instills is enough to hear your restless heartbeat thumping against your ears; hasty and loud, your veins choked with blood as the stream unbridledly whips along its walls with each thud.

Thumping and thumping and thumping, then ringing, then thumping—and oh, god—why won’t he say something already?

His glossy, pink irises are locked on yours unmoving, but that’s all. Not a word nor a gasp, but a look you’ve yet to place.

“You what?”Spinner inevitably breaks the silence with an unexpectedly soft tone—so calm you hardly notice as his hands trail slowly toward the branch of knives tightly secured to his back. “Don’t move—“ He shouts once the weapon is unsheathed and it nearly swipes against the tip of your chin.

Your balance swiftly shifts to the back of an elbow, curling away from the glistening blade before you. “W-What?”

“Don’t fucking move!” he repeats, his resolve is affirmed in that moment.

Rushed footsteps can be heard distantly as they trail down the hall to approach the source of the racket before ending at the doorway, just behind him.

With Dabi to his left, and Twice to his right, they peer through the crowded opening, heads tilting to and fro to make sense of the scene you’ve unwillingly made yourself the spotlight of.

It’s over.

Your skin flushes with ice at the villains you previously had no issue being among, as it’s different once you’re finally on the other end of the blade.

Eyes damp with tears, you silently shake your head as a final, small act to sustain your innocence.

“Yo-yo! What’s going on?” Twice is the first to speak, looking at you then Spinner then you again.

“Tell them what you did!” Spinner shakes the blade with each word and you recoil.

You gulp. “I may have used my quirk to make Tomura disappear—but it was an accident I swear!” Your attention is drawn between the two that have joined him in hopes that they'd be more understanding, yet confusion is still plastered on their faces.

“What do you mean by “disappear”?” Dabi steps forward with his scarred palms flexing as if he’s ready to strike.

“I don’t know. I don’t understand it yet, but I think I can bring him back, you just have to trust me”, you plead once more.

The group gives each other silent glances, then Spinner gives an indirect order with a small nod of his head, and the two step forward to close the distance around you.

“Now, don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” Dabi gives a menacing gleam with his words before lunging near you and securing your arms.

Spinner seems to have left the room while the other two are quick to gather your limbs and place you on a wooden chair you were unaware existed to the far left of the room.

He swiftly returns with tape and rope to finish binding you to the chair and floorboards.

“You two stay here and watch, I'll let the others know”, Spinner orders before hurriedly taking off.

However, Dabi follows suit despite his demands.

“Hey man, got a hot date or something? I mean, where do you think you’re going?” Twice gives an accusatory point in his direction.

“I’m not babysitting. I’ve got better things to do, so just make a clone or whatever.” Dabi turns the corner before he can refute.

Twice drags a hand across the lower half of his features in frustration before complying begrudgingly to produce a clay-like figure that transforms into a replica of Dabi.

He then updates the clone on your situation so that the two can stand guard, bickering and complaining for what feels like a half hour. Although, they never seem to address you.

You eventually feel something thick lodged at the base of your throat, shooting upward to spurt from between your teeth, while the taste of it is suffocating as it reeks of bile and sewage but has the consistency of slime. Your limbs flail beneath its holdings in response to the lack of air, attempting to claw the sludge away but to no avail.

When it’s abruptly removed from your body, you’re able to take in the sudden change of scenery; a windowless laboratory of rows of tall vials with foreign creatures submerged in some strange liquid within them.

It’s a cinematic rendition of an over the top villain hideout that surrounds you and leaves you gawking—but the most pressing matter of all is the bald, old man that accompanies you as he sits beside a computer screen and stares at you behind glaring lenses.

The screen flickers to life to portray an indiscernible image. “When I got the details of this new recruit, I expected trouble. But this…”, a deep voice emits behind the static of the picture. “Is outside of my expectations.”

“Yes, quite troublesome at first glance, but I can assure you that things aren’t as dire as they may seem”, the man with glasses adds, hands folded across his lap as he assesses the situation. “From what I’ve been told, it looks to be a teleportation quirk of some sort, but what I’m stuck on is the memory aspects of it…Nonetheless, evidence of Tomura Shigaraki’s existence still remains, otherwise a quirk capable of erasing one’s presence wouldn’t have existed until the next generation or so. Well, if you trust my theory of course.” The man’s eyes remain on your frightened form.

“Yes, I trust you’ll see this through to the end without me”, the other voice states calmly. “Counting on you, as always, Doctor…” The screen finally goes black, and you assume the man has left.

“Now, let’s get the full picture, shall we?” The “Doctor” continues once the two of you are alone.

“Who are you?” You ask a question of your own as you were never told of these two strange members by the others.

“Who I am isn’t important, you want to bring back Tomura don’t you?”

You nod.

Well, whoever they are, they seem to know Tomura personally, so you’ll have to trust them for now.

You give your best summary of what happened the morning you woke up to his disappearance and emphasize the similarities it had with the others that vanished as well; the bloodied nose and feverish skin with each use of your quirk.

“And I’m guessing you can’t use it on command, correct?” He questions upon hearing the details.

You nod once more.

“It’d be possible for me to forcibly activate it, but alas I have no way of knowing how it works.” The doctor turns his chair toward the array of keys behind him and begins fiddling with them. “But, I have a solution.” He presses a final red button, and that suffocating liquid from earlier returns to your sternum.

When you come to, your bindings are released, and the scenery has changed, just as you expected.

All sides of the room are covered in huge white tiles, with a devastating lack of furniture and a just as bland bathroom door to the very right of you.

Though, these details are easy to ignore, once you spot one of those horrid beasts from before, stalking at the furthest end of the room, twitching brain exposed and beak-like mouth smothered in drool.

Its protruding eyes are inquisitive as it approaches you in a prowling stance, navy palms bared and itching to get you in its grasp.

Your stomach swoops heavily at the sight, and your legs are soon to follow behind it.

“W-Wait—I said I’ll fix things! I just need time!”, you screech, toppling defeatly to the ground as the beast towers over you, the scorching musk of his breath contrasts the chill of your skin. “Don’t kill me! I’m sorry—please, I’ll do anything!” You continue to holler more empty cries into an unwavering void, clenching your eyes shut as if it’ll lessen the damage somehow.

And to your surprise, the sound of his panting is gone, the air feels stilled as if he’s absent.

Did it work?

You part your eyes slowly to find the room is empty, but your relief is short-lived.

“You’d have died had I not intervened, are you sure you want to live?” The doctor’s voice comes from a radio intercom in the top corner of the walls.

“Yeah, but things don’t always go the way I plan”, you reply softly.

The doctor is silent.

“So, what now?” you ask.

He clears his throat. “I’ll take a few blood samples and then you’ll need to be isolated until you get things under control.”

“Is the lab work really necessary—“ you start, but a boxy machine with a syringe at the tip pricks you before you can process it. “Ouch!” The machine teleports away as swiftly as it came.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to be asking questions”, he warns, you hear faint clicking of buttons in the background.

A miniature version of another one of those creatures appears, standing docilely along the wall furthest from you and staring your direction. “The one in the room now won’t do anything without my command, but it’s at your disposal. Use it to train as you see fit.”

“Is that it? Am I really supposed to do this alone?”

“Well, you’re the wielder of the quirk aren’t you?”

“I guess so.”

A sleeping bag and small flip-phone suddenly appear beside you. “All updates are to be given through this device, anything else is unnecessary, understood?”

“Yes”, you reply timidly at how fast things are going.

“Well, that’ll be all. I expect progress, but do know that time isn’t on your side”, the doctor adds.

“What happens if I don’t do it in time—“

You hear blaring static.

Great, you think to yourself.

You’ve had your whole life to train your ability but you ran away from every opportunity you had to hone it. Being cautious has done more harm than good, but it’s not like you ever had the environment to explore your quirk safely—until now…

Is it too late to start from the beginning? To take the time to unleash your full potential without your own mental restraints?

You’re unsure, but it’d be nice to at least have examples to go off of, after all, you’ve been left alone in a room to your own devices, and without any guidance from the rest of the members.

Do they actually care about their leader or do they trust in him enough to return despite the circumstances?

A heavy sigh escapes you.

Maybe you should try meditating.

You sit cross-legged in the center of the room, staring up at the lack of intricacies on the ceiling, attempting to clear your mind of anything other than bringing Tomura back.

You imagine the messy wisps that were splayed across his pale forehead the brief night you laid beside him. You think about wanting to create that moment once more, but somewhere you can have him all to yourself.

He’ll be back. He’ll be here any minute now.

Your eyelids shut gently as you wait for a surge of power to wash over you.

But that moment never comes…

Your throat bobs tightly with the building sting of your eyes, while your tongue goes dry from misery.

What are you doing wrong?

Your fingers swipe at the warm liquid that seeps from your nose, but it isn’t blood.

Why isn’t this working?

You crawl defeatedly toward the cheap sleeping bag you’ve been given, collapsing in it only to be pressed uncomfortably to the floor, adding fuel to your already festering disappointment.

Your palms reach up for the soft fabric band of the beanie around your head for comfort.

You go to sleep hoping that just like last time your quirk would manifest itself subconsciously through the night.

Yes, you can only hope…

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

The next morning begins with the clashing of bells, an ear-grating sound that comes from that flip-phone you were given—which you initially think is an alarm before spotting a blank contact on the answer/decline screen.

You click the uppermost green button.

“Hello?” A rasped voice on the other end of the line speaks.

“Hello? I thought this thing was only for updates”, you huff, frustrated now that your sleep has been disturbed.

“Well, I’ve got a pretty big one, I’m just not sure if you realized it yet.”

There’s a hint of a smile behind those words, one you’re quick to place as belonging to the very man you’ve been searching for.

You gasp. “I’m so glad to hear it’s you!”, you nearly shout into his ears. “Are you hurt? What happened? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, when I came to I was way outside of the hideout but I was able to get in touch with the League eventually”, Tomura explains.

“So, you’re safe. You don’t know how much I’ve missed your voice.”

“It’s only been a few days.”

“Yeah, but I thought I’d never be able to hear it again.” You hold the phone tighter against you. “I really want to see you…Is that ok?”

There’s a long pause before he speaks. “Of course, I’d be with you right now, but I can’t.”

“Oh, right…It’s still dangerous to be around me until I can get things under control—“

“No”, he says sharply. “I’m not scared, but I think it’s your quirk that’s stopping me.”

Your brows crinkle slightly. “How so?”

“There’s this invisible barrier around you that’s almost a kilometer thick, and I’m the only one who can’t get through, not even with Warp Gate.”

You tap a finger to your bottom lip. “Oh, I see. So, that must be the extent of my ability. Like a radius”, you chime, a bit relieved to get a better understanding of it.

“Right, now that you know more about it it should be easier to use. I can even help you.”

“Thank you, I’d appreciate that”, you say softly, heat flushing your cheeks despite something so trivial.

“That room you’re in right now, is it comfortable?” He asks with a hint of concern in his voice.

“Not really, but I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, but an actual mattress would be nice.”

“Got it. They’re not treating you badly, are they?”

His consideration puts you at ease. “No, I think they were quite lenient given that I almost got rid of their leader”, you say with a slight giggle.

He sighs jokingly. “Fair enough. But, I don’t want us to run out of minutes right now. I’ll be sure to call you later today.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“I know, but you’ve already been so strong. It’ll only be a bit longer.”

You hum in acknowledgment. “Bye. I lo—“ No, you’ll wait to tell him in person. “Bye, talk to you later.”

“Bye.” He says lastly before the line ends with a final click and you're back to the bleak reality ahead of you.

Shortly after your call, spare clothes and a tray of food appears; two crisp sandwiches, an orange, and a juice box, which you bring to your lap with hastiness.

You feel as though you’ve forgotten something important, but you decide to put it past you, chowing down the meal despite the stirring in your gut never relenting.

You have too much to do, so you’ll continue to put your worries aside for the time being.

The rest of your day is spent doing more half-hearted meditation, and attempting to make conversation with the only other living being in the room, though it never responds.

“What are you?” You question the pale creature, but it seems as if it glances through you, unaware of your presence at all.

Luckily, your boredom subsides when the flip phone rings to life, and you briskly snatch it up at the second chime.

“Hey, how’re things going?” The voice on the other end asks casually, but with curiosity.

“Hey, T—“ You pause with your nails sinking repetitively into your thighs as you wrack your mind for answers.

T? Who were you talking to again?

“What’s wrong?”

“Your name. I can’t remember it, it’s on the tip of my tongue. T-t-t—“

Your lungs fight to keep up with the speed of your breaths, a violent pounding beats within your skull, blood swishing through your veins like grains of sand have replaced your cells.

“Tomura”, the voice says firmly, but without malice.

Tomura.

“It’s ok, I’ll tell you as many times until you remember”, Tomura reassures you, quietly.

How could you have forgotten?

“Tomura. Tomura, I’m so sorry”, you nearly fumble over your words, yet this panicked gathering of your thoughts is one you’re overly acquainted with.

And the realization is quick to strike; This has already happened before.

“It’s fine.” Tomura attempts to change the subject. “Tell me about your progress today—”

“I think I’ve got it”, you blurt upon gathering how you’ve failed to recall your conversation with him from earlier. “Now that I talk to you, I realize what may have happened in the past with the first person I used my quirk on. Any new memories relating to after their disappearance were short-term and quickly forgotten.” You briefly consider how Tomura’s name previously slipped from your mind. “Except now, I feel as though my quirk has evolved; I can’t create any new long term memories of the person that disappears, and the memories I lose have become more direct to the person who disappeared.” How long has it been since you’ve told Tomura of your past? “I don’t even remember the moment I first used my quirk anymore, the person has disappeared from my mind, but the anxiety lingers. I still feel the initial dread I felt when they were around, I just don’t know who’s causing it.”

You hear distant scraping of nails against skin. “So what I thought was initially a quirk that used memories as an energy source was always a calculated manipulation of a disappeared person’s existence—down to the circumstances needed to activate it. What do you feel right now?”

“What do you mean?” You feel as though the question is sudden.

“Maybe you still feel that dread of wanting someone to disappear but the fear was misplaced onto me.”

Your expression shifts with fascination. “It makes sense, but I could never see myself getting rid of you even if the feeling is misplaced. The feeling had to have been fleeting.”

“I know, but you have to consider the possibility. What else is there to go off of?”

You nod a bit to yourself. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

The call inevitably concludes after more banter about how you’d recreate the circumstances necessary for activating your quirk, and with Tomura’s suggestions still fresh on your mind, your duties as a test subject continue.

So, the night before he disappeared…how did you feel…

The cellphone chime breaks the silence.

You quickly press the phone to your ear. “Tomura—“

“Hey, is this a good time?” The voice this time is different, more shaky and uncertain.

“Yeah, you’re good. And this is…?” You hesitantly ask.

“Spinner.” Spinner?

“Oh, then, what’s up?”

“Listen, I just wanted to apologize for how I treated you at first”, he slowly begins. “You seem really important to Shigaraki, and I didn’t realize it at the time. I feel like a total asshole.”

“No-no, I get it”, you say in an attempt to comfort him. “I definitely wouldn’t have trusted me either. I looked like a complete mess at the time.”

He gives a small sigh of relief.

“Is Shigaraki important to you too?” You ask meekly, while idly twirling the hem of your clothing. “I mean—forget it, I feel like it’s pretty obvious since he’s the leader and all.”

“No, that's not the case for everybody, some don’t view him in the same light as you and I, but I guess you could say there’s still a mutual level of respect among all the members.”

“Oh, I see…” You briefly wonder about Dabi’s relationship with Tomura.

“Yeah, so let me know if you need anything. I may not be of much help, but there may be something I can do for you that no one else can do already.”

You smile. “Thanks, I’ll remember that. It was nice meeting you—err, again.”

“Yeah, you too. See you around.”

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

With each memory that fades, does a part of you fade with it?

It’s complicated, you think.

Experiences become instinct, as the actions you perform are the same, just without the memory being tied to them anymore.

The next day, you awake expecting a call from someone you’ve yet to remember.

You love them. Yes, you love them but does that love matter if you can’t recall the reasons the love has blossomed in the first place.

Your hands scramble for the phone as soon as it rings, but it doesn’t lift the weight off your chest like it used to.

“Hey, it’s me again”, the rasped voice says closely to the built-in microphone.

“I’m sorry, I know I should know this already, but, who is this?” You ask reluctantly. Each second of silence that passes is aching, but underneath the heaviness of your chest, you feel a sense of safety, as if the question is welcomed to be asked regardless.

It’s instinctual.

“I’m Tomura Shigaraki. The one with the blue hair, and red eyes…” he says patiently, then pauses. “The one you like.”

“Tomura…” Your heart is filled as the name passes through your lips. “Tomura, I’m so sorry. I—“

“It’s fine, remember. I’ll tell you as many times so that you’ll never forget me.”

“Right, thank you.” You hold back a sob, swiping the gathered tears that haven’t made it down your cheeks.

“Y’know Kurogiri advised me to leave you alone”, he continues, and his tone is more solemn. “He says it’s for my own sake, that speaking with you like this will only lead to more heartbreak, but I just can’t…I can’t leave you alone, and even if you forget me, I’d still remind you everyday and pretend as if you never forgot.”

“Tomura. I-I won’t forget this time, I promise.” Your words are shaky as your sniffles become more frequent.

“It’s fine”, he reassures you some more. “I’ll call you tomorrow just like always, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

The click of the line cutting is enough to release the tears you’ve held back since the beginning of the call, starting with slow drips then evolving into heavy streams and branching salt trails.

You cough muffled cries into your pillowcase until your brain throbs tightly from the tension behind your eyes, and your throat is thick with snot and drool.

Your insides hollow with each breath you take without him beside you.

How can you bear it any longer?

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

It’s been days since you’ve lost recollection of the person you’ve been yearning to bring back. Your only sense of comfort comes from a silvery gray cap you hold to your chest tightly whenever your pillow can’t fulfill its role of a proper cuddling partner.

Every now and then you place it on your lap only to be entranced by the mesmerizing zigzag pattern of its stitches and thinning threads unraveling at its edges.

You think the stagnation of your training and the lack of stimuli has altered you enough to find such a frivolous object important to you.

Though…it doesn’t hurt to keep it around.

When you receive an envelope one morning, the husk of your memories is still set alight, with your delicate fingers brushing over the letters inside, and passion flowing through your veins at the familiarity of the handwriting of your lover.

The words read as such:

If you’re reading this letter, my calls weren’t enough to reach your heart, so I write to you instead.

You’ve forgotten me, but no matter what, I’ll never hold it against you, as we’re torn apart by things out of our control but I know it’ll work out in the end.

I’ve decided to exclude most details of my identity this time around.

Why? Because, I don’t think you’ll be needing it anymore, after all, I trust in the strength of your ability to overcome this short-lived obstacle.

I saw this potential in you from the beginning, and it won’t waver now that our fate is suddenly in your hands.

Though, I’m sorry if it seems as though you’re fighting alone. I wish to be by your side again, and I know you feel the same.

Forever yours,

Tomura.

Upon reading it, you feel different.

Tomura’s heartfelt message stirs a sense of longing within you, but more prominently, an unforeseen chill in your veins, your fear-stricken nerves are tangling about with blazing electricity coursing through them.

This dread is one you’ve long grown accustomed to, but is it right to feel it at this moment?

Speaking of, the night he disappeared, you felt the same way—you just hadn’t realized it yet.

Yes, you get it now…

You were so afraid of losing him that you beat the universe to it.

Now that he’s gone, the anxiety you feel now can’t be any more relieving than if he were to be present and capable of leaving you behind.

At least then he’d console you with more heartfelt words against your separation.

At least he’d be here.

Here.

Why can’t he be here?

An eye-watering pulse suddenly thumps against your brain, swift and sharp, you curl over and grip your knees as if it’ll distribute the pressure to the opposite end of your body and away from your head.

Beneath your skin is a glowing purple pool of fire, scorching the cells deep enough to your bones, while your nose drips crimson of the same heat.

Memories of Tomura surge through your synapses at the speed of light as you begin to vividly recall each minuscule detail of your shared moments; like the quirky way he eats his ohagi, and the jagged curl of his lips when he smiles.

When it all subsides, you’re left panting against the tile staring up into the featureless ceiling—but your lips can’t help turning upward with a pleasureful sigh passing through them.

You lurch to your bed once you’ve caught your breath, swiftly reaching for your phone and dialing at the bright green contact you were provided.

The buzzing before the call leaves you tossing and turning across your mattress in anticipation, but his answer never arrives.

Though, as you disappointedly ring his line once more, you’re interrupted by a tall swirl of dark violet parting before you to reveal pale blue wisps peeking through its opening and the lanky body that follows it outward.

Tomura.

You enthusiastically rise to your feet to meet his piercing eyes. “How did you know?” you question, brows raised and mouth parting with wonder.

He brings you tightly into his hold. “I don’t know, but it feels like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders”, he whispers into the crook of your neck, raising bumps on the delicate skin there while his hands stroke the sides of you tenderly, cupping your skin into his palms easily.

“It’s been a while”, you pull away to meet his gaze. “I haven’t forgotten how much I love you, and I never will”, you say sweetly with a small smile—one he mimics before going nose-to-nose to close the gap.

“Show me how much you’ve missed me.” His mouth brushes against yours teasingly at first, peppering kisses and small nibbles along the sides, then meshing completely to form a hot tunnel between you.

A faint taste of salt lingers on his tongue as it glides along the grooves of your teeth as if your mouth were molded for his entry all along.

The heat of his exhales becomes your main source of air, his presence gives you life.

You’re slotted on your mattress, beneath him as his body rocks into you with a dizzying but intoxicating strength, leaving you choked at the sudden change in position.

Even a slight fleck of his touch is overflowing, enough to last you a lifetime if he were to drop you this very moment and leave you begging.

But with his compassion, you’re overcome with greed—a simple press of skin has you waiting for more with bated breath.

“Touch me more, please”, you plead when you’ve grown tired of his toying, and the moment away from his lips feels like an eternity.

The curve of your spine follows each movement of his hands as he begins to strip you bare. His clothes follow suit, and your lips are drawn to his collarbone, placing fleeting pecks along the scarred flesh then suckling harsh enough to leave bruises.

His taste is addicting despite being faint enough to miss. The stimulating feel of his skin against your tongue will be imprinted in your mind for as long as you live.

He pulls away to leave a trail of kisses along the side of your cheek. “I need to feel you”, he moans breathily into the cusp of your ear, then sinks his teeth into the fleshy lobe, lathering your skin with warm spit which cools with each fan of breaths.

His deft fingers start to pry your sex, already slick from his earlier affections and pulsing with a desire to be filled. He swipes between your folds before circling the pad of his thumb around your twitching clit as it begins to pebble and harden from his calculated ministrations.

His eyes never leave yours as he takes in each of your expressions, watching with an intensity that sends arousal directly to your core and has you gasping and squirming beneath him.

“Wanna feel you inside of me”, you whine, desperate from being wound up by his hands.

He removes his fingers momentarily to slurp on your juices, obscenely taking them into his mouth then catching the stray dribbles with his tongue, all the while continuing to stare at you more intensely.

He then uses your combined fluids to further lubricate the glistening, pink tip of his cock, before he slowly prods the first ring of your opening.

The stretch when he bottoms out has you clamping around it instantly as the girth and shape rubs against your most sensitive spots, prickling the areas with mouth-watering precision and pumping the spasming vessels aflame.

His thrusts are slow and deep, ensuring each divot of your insides is given attention, and is repeatedly stroked until your pelvis subconsciously wreaths to match his movements.

As you bring his panting mouth back to your lips, you cup your hands to his cheeks before embedding them in the waves of his hair, and tugging slightly as his assault sends sharp tingles throughout your nerves.

Your kisses are slick of drool, with your blissful haze denying your mind of any remaining coherence. You thoughtlessly engulf his lips as if his breath were what you needed to live.

You part for air with a hint of reluctance. “I’m close”, you cry out to the best of your ability, unable to resist the growing tightness in your gut.

“Cum for me”, he coos into you while harshly returning a finger to your neglected nub.

“Cum around my cock, and I’ll give you the world”, he continues, and you’re sent hurtling toward the peak of your climax, thighs constricting around his hips and heels pressing firmly into his lower back.

Avid declarations of love pour from between your teeth as your eyes water from his unrelenting thrusts into your overstimulated sex.

He groans softly while your walls still convulse around his length, pulling ropes and ropes of cum from the throbbing head until it drips along the sides of your hole, down your folds.

He collapses beside you, sweat-damped cheeks pressing against your glistening forehead before he pulls his lips to yours in a final searing kiss.

“Be sure to remember this”, he murmurs lastly into you.

You’ll never let him disappear again.

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