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whocaresstillthelouvre · 1 month

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Golden Walkway

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader (Reader is a teacher in Jackson, has long hair.) Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: It’s your birthday, Joel takes you out to the Tipsy Bison, kisses (and does more to) you in the rain, and takes you home to give you a gift (it's sex, the gift is sex). Also, the thought of Joel spitting whiskey in someone's mouth happened and I had to write it out. 🤷🏼‍♀️ Warnings: smut, drinking, consent first, degradation second, followed by so much praise, hair pulling, spitting, Joel calls you a slut, fingering against a brick wall, F receiving oral, I watched that doggy style Narcos gif (for research) a lot, unprotected p in v, apocalypse birth control (pulling out), Joel’s canon age, Reader’s in her 30’s. Words: 4,300 A/N: Hi! Welcome to my first published fic. I'm currently working on a grander scale fic with these two, I hope to have the first chapter out within the next couple of weeks. I just really wanted to get this out there! Thanks for reading and a big thank you to @ohheypedrito for all of her help and also to our phones for not overheating when I send 40 texts at once with ideas for fics. Hope you enjoy, can't even blame the feralness of this on the full moon.

Edit: I posted the Masterlist for Elks, my work these two are included in.

***

“Was turning 21 as fun as they’d show in movies back then?” You’re cuddled in next to Joel on his couch sketching in your notebook while Joel reads a book about Native Americans that you found him. You always do this, a random question or thought to break the comfortable silence.

“Not for me, bought a 12 pack of Bud Light and split it on my porch with Tommy. Sarah was only a toddler then and I had work in the morning. Didn’t have the money or the time to go to a bar. ‘Course I don’t think a lotta people did anything the way they’d show in the movies.”

“I always wanted to have my 21st birthday at a bar, ya’ know? Wait until the clock strikes midnight and order a weird named shot.”

“Well, I reckon we could do that at the Bison tomorrow night. Might not be your 21st but I’ll get you whatever you want to drink, and the best part is you can drink before midnight.” Joel pulls you in closer and kisses your forehead, “What do you say, let me take you out for your birthday sweetheart.”

“Yes, please,” you sigh into his shoulder, “sounds amazing.”

“Wear that little blue dress I know you have hanging in your closet.”

The drinks flowing through you making you downright giddy, alcohol making you bolder, your body and your inhibitions becoming looser, your hands becoming addicted to touching Joel, first his leg, then his thigh, now his lower stomach, right at his waistband. You haven’t been this tipsy in a long time, your face feeling flushed and red more from your desire than any drink you’ve had tonight.

“You better knock that off before I take you outside in the rain and fuck you against the building, darling,” Joel huffs into your ear. His fiery warning massaging your neck causing your heart rate cooled by your inebriation to pick up.

“Sooo, keep going?” You slur back.

“If that’s what you really want,” Joel puts a forceful squeeze on your upper thigh, a layer of your dress laying between his skin and your skin. If you weren’t both sitting at the bar, and maybe in one of the more darker corners of the saloon you’d surely hike your skirt up and let him learn just how bad you want him.

It feels so good to let go with him, to giggle openly at his jokes, stare at his profile as he talks with a friend or two who stop by to say hello, or place your hand on his broad back just because you want to touch his soft blue denim shirt.

You watch as his tongue darts out and licks the leftover whiskey off his top lip, Joel’s movements becoming a little slower thanks to the amber liquid he’s been drinking all night. Some droplets glisten on his mustache, you fight every urge inside yourself to not lean over and lick them up.

“It’s what I want,” you respond as you move your hand back and forth across his waistband.

“Jesus Christ, I’m about ready to throw you over my shoulder and run home,” Joel says as he takes your hand into his and pulls it away.

“Not so fast. You told me you’d fuck me in the rain, that’s what I want for my birthday,” you whisper into his ear with a breathy giggle.

“Can’t fuck you out here in public. Small town ‘n all, but I’ll make you feel good,” Joel takes a last swig of his drink, puts the glass down and knocks his fist on the bar to let the bartender know you two are leaving. He leans forward and drawls into your ear, “Now finish your drink if you want me to show you just how happy of a birthday I can give you.”

You nod and gulp your drink down. You’re so wet, you don’t know if you’ve ever been this turned on before. Joel grabs your arm with the perfect amount of pressure, you’ve never been so happy to get outside into the pouring rain.

——

It’s absolutely storming outside, your footsteps sloshing in the puddles on the ground. The rain pelting your’s and Joel’s bodies as you walk through late night Jackson. It feels like you’re the only two people in the whole town as you make your way farther away from the bar. The bulbs of the string lights reflecting off the water gathering on the sidewalks making your path towards Joel’s house golden. You don’t rush, the two of you not scared away by the downpour, the drops cooling your burning skin. Joel turns down the street before his, pulling you behind one of the storage buildings, it’s darker back here, practically pitch black thanks to the rain clouds blocking the moon and the nearest light source being three buildings down. You’re pushed up against the brick, Joel’s hand gently cradling your head to block it from hitting the wall, he’s such a gentleman.

“Happy birthday baby, I need you to tell me you want this, ‘n you’re okay with this, I have plans for you and I need you to tell me you want it.” Joel instructs you, all you can see is his eyes and the faint lines of his facial hair, the rest of him camouflaged by the darkness surrounding the two of you.

“I want it, more than anything. Please,” your voice straining as you beg.

“Tell me you want me to have my way with you,” Joel speaks into your slack mouth as he rubs his arched nose against yours.

“I want you to have your way with me,” you moan against his wet shirt, “so bad.”

“Good girl, now, m’not gonna fuck you here, because I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop and I need to have you in my bed tonight.” Joel starts to move his hand down your body lifting the hem of your dress. “But, you are going to cum for me right here.” Joel captures your mouth with his. His hand starts to trace the outline of your panties, you mew out a cry as his fingers slip through and begin to pet you right where you ache the most. His hands are so big, his fingers so long and thick, always putting the right amount of pressure, moving the way you need him to move. Joel Miller is a capable man, everyone knows that, but nobody, except for you, knows just how capable he is.

Joel sticks a finger in you, though his finger is thick and feels so good, you need more to fill you.

“Another,” you instruct in between fevered kisses. Your pussy clenches as Joel pushes another finger in you. “Yessss,” you moan out against his lips.

“That’s my good girl, gotta get you stretched out f’me.” Joel begins to kiss his way down your chin and neck stopping at your chest, your hard nipples jutting through your wet dress. Joel takes one into his mouth, sucking the fabric and your tit deeper into his mouth. The sloppy wet sounds of Joel’s suctions making you want him more.

“Another finger,” you shudder out. “Three? You really want it tonight, don’t you?” Joel mumbles against your chest as he sticks a third finger in. It burns, it burns in the best way. You’re ready for him, it’s what you’ve been waiting for all night. You bite down on your lip as your legs begin to shake, Joel can tell you’re right on the edge and twists his fingers inside of you as he finger fucks you harder.

Your orgasm bursts forward your whole body going stiff as you try not to wail out into the night.

“That’s iiiiiit baby,” Joel pulls his fingers out of you and softly pets your pussy from hole to clit.

He removes his hand from between your legs bringing it up between the two of you resting his finger tips against your lips, you open your mouth and begin to lick. His tongue meeting yours as you both clean his thick digits covered in you. He takes his hand away leaving just your mouths to taste each other. His kiss turns tender, your kiss turns desperate.

Joel pulls away resting his forehead against yours. “My beautiful birthday girl. Let’s get you home, my gift’s not done.”

——

Your body practically chills with the promise of what is left to come. Joel grabs your hand and you take it depending on him to lead you to his home. Every step you take you feel your wet core heavy with lust, you’re soaked from the rain and from Joel, if you could drown like this, you would go down with the sinking ship. His house comes into view, your body tingling in anticipation at the site as the both of you speed your footsteps up in perfect agreement.

He throws open the gate, you’re following so close you almost trip on his heels making your way up the walkway and steps. He fumbles for his keys and unlocks the doors, you take the opportunity to run your hands all over his back and sides, rubbing the wet cloth of his shirt as it molds to his body. The door swings open and you both shuffle into his living room gasps escaping your mouths, both out of breath from your dash home and your mutual want for each other. You step out of your wet shoes and shake your hair out.

“Take your dress off, right now.” Joel huffs out as he tosses his keys on the console table and begins to kick his boots off.

You strip yourself of your baby blue frock as fast as you can. You’ve never had a reason to wear such a revealing piece of clothing. You don’t know why you held onto it, let alone grabbing it from the communal clothing rack, never thinking anything, or anyone, would be worthy enough for you to dress up for. Joel’s worthy, so worthy.

“Feel like I’m a little underdressed here…” your words grab Joel’s attention as he moves his hands up to his chest to begin to unbutton his denim shirt. He gets one button taken care of before he rips it open. Shame, it’s your favorite shirt, you'll have to fix it for him later. You watch as a button rolls underneath a table, before you can note where it lands, your attention turns back to Joel to find him stepping out of his jeans and underwear leaving him completely naked.

What a sight, what a fucking sight. There’s only a lamp on in the room, Joel’s body being cast in amber color and shadow, one side of him on full display glowing in the light, the other more difficult to discern. He moves forward stalking you. “Now I’m the underdressed one here. Take them off for me,” he says as he moves to pick up a bottle of whiskey from his shelf.

You follow his instructions shucking your underwear down your legs and leaving them pooled at your feet.

“Good girl,” Joel says as he begins to walk towards you unscrewing the lid off the bottle. He stands in front of you and takes a drink. “Open your mouth,” he orders as he grabs your hair and tips your head back. He takes another pull from the bottle, this time he raises his mouth over your mouth and begins to dribble drips of whiskey down from his mouth into yours. A moan raises from your throat, causing Joel to tighten his hold on your hair and arch your head back even more. He spits the rest of the whiskey straight into your mouth, you happily swallow his spit and liquor down. He unwinds his hands from your hair, takes another drink and kisses you, the whiskey and his tongue spilling into your mouth. Joel pulls back and takes his last swig before resting the bottle on the table. “Get upstairs.”

You don’t think you’ve ever run so fast in your life, tripping over your feet as you rush your way up, Joel’s naked form hunting you like prey up each step.

The sight of Joel’s bed brings a new wave of goosebumps to your skin.

“Bend over on the bed darlin,” Joel turns on a lamp in the corner and pulls it closer. “Need to lick and fuck you with my tongue.”

You move over to Joel’s side of the bed and bend forward, your ass sitting high in the air and your face in the sheets, you inhale the smell of Joel on his sheets. You swing your hips in giddy anticipation of what’s about to happen.

You feel his body lean over yours, his erection laying over your lumbar. “Okay baby, once again, need you to tell me you’re good with me having my way with your body,” he tempts into your ear.

“Fuck, y—yes, fuck, of course I am good. So good.”

“That’s my girl,” Joel’s heavy body lifting off of yours as he kneels between your legs. You feel his hot breaths on you where you’re aching for him the most, you widen your stance egging him on to touch you. “Look at you,” Joel licks your thigh, “so fuckin’ wet you’ve spilled out into your thighs.”

You scream a pleasured yell as Joel’s teeth bite down into the flesh of your thigh and sucks your skin into his mouth. The pain is perfect. He loosens his bite, kissing and licking the spot, the sensation making your body quiver.

“Okay baby?”

“Y-y-yessss,” you answer.

“Whaddo you need sweetheart?”

“Lick me,” you beg out, “please.”

“‘Course. Where do you want me to lick you?” Joel questions as he nuzzles his head against your ass cheek, giving it a small bite.

“My pussy. Pleeeaaase,” you’d say you sound pathetic but you couldn’t care less, your lust overshadowing any type of pride.

“Mm, you sound so needy baby, you sound like you really need my tongue on you, huh?” His teasing drawl drives you crazy, your body won’t stop moving, absolutely radiating tensity from your want.

“Please,” you implore, sobbing out.

“Alright baby,” his hands grab your cheeks and spreads them, widening his view of you. “Prettiest thing I ever seen, love your pussy.”

This act feels so depraved, everything on display for him, legs and cheeks spread wide, your pussy exhibited for him like it’s an art piece.

You literally scream into the bed, biting down on Joel’s comforter as his tongue finally meets your core. This, thiiiiiiis is what you’ve been wanting all night. Joel moans against you, not being able to hold himself back as he tastes you, his fevered licks exploring your cunt, his large tongue mapping every inch of you. He’s absolutely conquering you, the noises of his lips and tongue smacking against your wetness soundtracking his journey.

He can feel you getting close your hips beginning to cant as your orgasm begins to crest. You knew it wouldn’t take long, between the alcohol buzz and Joel’s tongue lapping up your wetness and cum from earlier, you knew you’d be a goner.

“Mmf, cum for me,” Joel speaks against you, his mouth full of you, too busy to pull away to clearly speak. You don’t think he can get any closer to you, his tongue working your orgasm up in intensity with each swirl and dash against your clit. You feel it, it’s here. Your legs instantly collapse, thankful that the rest of your body is resting on the bed. Your eyes tightly squeeze shut and then begin to rapidly blink as your orgasm shatters through you. Joel flattens his tongue against your clit as it pulses. You’re too turned on to make a noise, Joel stepping in for you and groaning as your juices seep out of you.

“Did so good baby,” Joel says leaving one last kiss on your clit before standing up behind you. You want to flip over to look at him, you haven’t seen his face since you laid down on the bed. You have no energy, you’re just a shell of a woman, the only sensations you can feel is the pool of wetness in between your legs and your light inebriation.

Your attention gets pulled to the sound of Joel spitting in his hand, followed by a hiss coming out of his mouth. When you realize exactly what he’s doing, you summon the strength needed to turn over. You flip over, your back thudding on the mattress your legs still spread wide, feet resting on the floor. And there…. there…. THERE he is, standing in the middle of his room, one large hand wrapped around his hard cock softly stroking as he watches you with hooded eyes. You know you just came, but the sight makes your pussy clench with desire.

Joel jerks himself off as his eyes roam your exhausted form. “Been thinking ‘bout this all day. You all laid out in front of me heaving for air after cummin’ all over my tongue,” slow strokes matching his lazing words. “Just about canceled our night out when you opened your door in that little blue dress, looked like you were wearing the sky, baby.”

You bite your lip as all of your senses are so overtly overwhelmed by lust. The sight of Joel’s handsome face watching you, the hazel flecks in his eyes twinkling in the golden light of the lamp. The smell of the rain on your skin mixed with the heady scent of your arousal and Joel’s sheets. The taste of Joel’s whiskey tongue still in your mouth. The sound of Joel’s fist pumping along his hard cock. The feel of the aftershocks of your orgasm still quaking your body. It’s so fucking much, you need Joel inside you. The thought of feeling him stretch you causes a whimper.

“Yeah baby? Havin’ a hard time over there?” Joel stops stroking his hard length, his hand pauses on his shaft. “You want me to fuck you now?”

“Pleeeease,” you keen out.

“Alright sweetheart.” Joel confidently strides over to you, dick still in hand. He stops right at the edge of your feet. “Turn back around ’n get on all fours in the middle of the bed f’me.”

You follow his instructions eager to please. The sooner you get this done, the sooner you can feel Joel enter you.

“Good girl,” he praises as the mattress dips lower with his weight behind you.

Your heart is pounding so loud, your whole body thrumming, you gulp down a breath of air trying to calm your need. You feel Joel’s cock brush against your ass cheek, he’s so close to fucking you.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna fuck you real good and hard now. Happy birthday baby.”

And just like that, Joel buries his cock inside of you, you’re absolutely stretched around him. Your clit already worked over by Joel’s tongue, now your hole deliciously stinging while it flutters around his cock. He begins thrusting, tender and slow full strokes. Entering and exiting, swirling the head of his cock right at the entrance before plunging back in because he knows you love the feeling. Joel’s groans and your cries join in song as he begins to pound faster, the sound of your bodies slapping together match the rhythm.

“Feel so fucking good, always so perfect for me. S’a good girl, always take it so good,” Joel grits out.

He grabs your hair and wraps it around his fist as he pounds into you. “No one knows how fucking slutty you get for me behind these walls. They think you’re one of those innocent little teachers.” Joel pulls your hair harder causing a scream of ecstasy from you. “You love this, don’t you?”

You do. It’s so rough, so different from how gentle he always is with you. It feels like a luxury to be treated this way by him.

“Y-y-y-yes, God I love it,” you whimper.

“That’s right. That’s what I like to hear. So pretty so smart. So much smarter than me, now I’m makin’ you stupid with my cock, right baby?”

Everybody knows Joel Miller as the strong, silent type, a man of few words, somebody who doesn’t do chit chat. But with you in his bed naked and wailing as he slams into you, Joel Miller won’t shut up.

“Doin’ so good for me. So pretty, so perfect f’me. So wet for me.”

“You made me so wet earlier, I was afraid I was going to leave a mark on the barstool.” Your words coming out as tortured weeps, so lost in your ecstasy you struggle with every word spoken.

“Fuuuuuck.” That got him good. He pounds you even harder, the bed frame shaking violently against his wall, your body and cunt acting as if it’s the only barrier between Joel knocking a hole in the plaster. “Had I fuckin’ known I would have made you stick your face on that chair and made you lick yourself up as I fuck you against it.”

That’s it, that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. Joel’s deep timbered accent grunting those deviant words as he grabs you and begins to roll his hips into your cunt. Your body is strung so tight and rigid in all places besides your hips and core, pumping and rolling along with Joel’s as he fucks you. You’re close again, your panting breaths letting Joel know.

“Baby, if you gotta cum, cum,” his grip on your hips pressure into you.

“Going … going.. going to,” the only words you can say as your third orgasm radiates out of your body, your pussy is the epicenter, tingles firing through your veins, your hands fisting the blankets at your detonation. Slack jawed and fucked senseless you rally the strength to not disintegrate and fall into Joel’s bed. Your world has been shattered by Joel, but your body survives for him, your legs and arms shaking under gravity and your weight as they deal with the fallout.

“C’mere baby, lemme help you.” Of course he can tell you’re struggling. He reaches his hands around, clutching your stomach and pulling you up against him. Your back up against his chest, his hand seeking out your breast, the other wrapping around your torso and clutching you to him. He holds you as he fucks into you, his nose brushing against your ear as he puffs and grunts against your neck. “Fucking. Love. You. So. Much.” Each word matching a thrust into you. Your hands find his and grip them, you’ve never felt more loved and protected. Joel Miller has got you.

You feel the familiar shudder in Joel’s movements as he edges close to his climax. His labored breaths getting louder and more fevered against your neck. You’re absolutely wrecked, but the angle of Joel’s cock inside of you mixed with the feeling of the shudder in his movements as he edges himself brings forth another orgasm. Words are gone, just sounds, whatever your throat can muster up and out of your mouth.

“That’s it, that’s it, that’s it,” Joel repeats. His hands squeezing yours so tightly, his chest heaving against your back, his strong thighs straddling yours, his nose pressing into your ear. You feel his body tense as he pulls out. His release coating your pussy as his whole body surrounds you. Hot breaths huffing against the side of your face in between featherlight kisses. “Love you,” a whisper in your ear so delicate and sweet as he lets go of your hands. Your body falling forward without his support, your arms catching you before crashing down on the bed. Joel gets up with a groan as you lay yourself down on your stomach, taking the opportunity to stretch your legs out before rolling over on your side to watch Joel. He stands arms akimbo in the middle of the room. He’d look like a Greek statue if his shoulders weren’t rising and falling rapidly as he catches his breath. He’s gorgeous and he looks just as wrecked as you feel.

“Probably shouldn’t have gotten up as quick as I did,” he chuckles. “Damn well feel like I’m standing in the middle of a earthquake.” You love the casual banter he puts forth seconds after being deep inside you, his cum still covering your core. This is love.

You smile at him, your cheek resting on your hand as a makeshift pillow. You’re exhausted… the whole night and your four orgasms catching up with you. Eyes feeling heavy, matching your limbs you begin to drift off.

A wet sensation in between your legs jerks you awake. “Sorry baby, just want to clean you up,” a whisper just as light as Joel’s tender attention as he washes you lulls you back to sleep.

——

“Baby,” Joel’s low voice gently wakes you up along with a soft kiss to your forehead.

You groan as you stretch your sore muscles under the sheet, opening your eyes to find Joel gazing down lovingly at you. He’s backlit by the filtered morning sunlight shining in through his bedroom windows. What a way to wake up. “Happy birthday sweetheart, I’d let you sleep all day but I need to give you my present.” His face is so bright and cheerful, a boost in your confidence provided by just how happy he looks when he’s with you.

“Thought you gave me your present already last night,” you yawn.

“Sweet girl, that was a present for both of us. Now come on, get up.” You grab his offered hand and reluctantly get out of bed. Joel wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug, his hands splayed across your back as you nuzzle your face in his warm chest. “Happy birthday.”

A/N: THANK YOU for reading my first ever fic. My inbox is always open. :)

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller/reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #elks #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #pedro pascal

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thexsilentxwordsmith · 8 months

Text

Simon "Ghost" Riley x FWB!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon "Ghost" Riley, Reader

Summary: Nothing good ever comes from a text after dark... or does it? Guess it depends on who it is and what they need. If it's a certain Lieutenant, then it's bound to be something worth your while.

Word Count: 3.2 k

Warnings:

Part 2:

BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.

You up?

Need you. Now.

Can’t wait.

The repetitious vibrations from your phone pull your attention away from the open book resting against your thighs and over to where it lay on your mattress next to you. Grabbing it, you press the button on the side that turns on the screen and check the clock in the upper right hand corner. It’s later than you thought, but being the night owl you are meant that you were still up messing about even if you shouldn’t be.

He knew it.

Rolling over to your side as you read and reread the short messages, discarding your book to the other side of the bed, the sudden racing pulse through your veins makes your stomach cartwheel. It didn’t take much these days to get your body aching for a certain Lieutenant, not when he’s texting you shit like that at this hour.

As quickly as your fingers can type you text Ghost back, an instantaneous need swelling inside at the thought of being with him again.

And what if I am?

You need something?

Not even a minute passes before your phone buzzes to life again and quickly you read the bubble that pops up on screen.

Are you going to get that sweet arse over here or not, luv?

A flutter in your chest makes your breath hitch as you jump up from your bed and throw on whatever articles of clothing that are within reach; time is of the essence. Doesn’t matter what the hell it is when you know Ghost will be tearing them off you the moment you get to him anyway. Things usually get hot and heavy pretty fast when you two are together, so the only real rule that you stood by was less is best as that meant you could get to the deed that much quicker.

Both of you knew why you’d be there, no sense in beating around the bush when he could immediately be diving into one.

With slow, careful movements and silent steps, you leave your quarters and set out across the base towards your superiors room. Once you’re outside you keep to the shadows, trying to minimize any unwanted attention to the fact you are out far too late and that your destination just happens to be where the officers are housed; getting stopped now will not be ideal. The closer you get the more warm your cheeks become as sensitive nerve endings spark to life across your limbs and a familiar heat gathers between your thighs.

He’s already waiting for you when you arrive. Your knuckles barely touch the surface of the door before you hear the lock click and the door swings open to reveal a shirtless, brown-eyed Adonis staring straight back at you. It’s clear from his ruffled, unkempt locks and wrinkled sweatpants that he had not been successful in trying to get to sleep before his desire grew into a beast too difficult to handle alone.

"Fancy meeting you here," you pick at him as he reaches for your arm and pulls you into the confines of his dimly lit room, the door quickly closing behind you both with a quiet latch. “What’s that, like the third time this week alone?”

As he turns back to you Ghost’s sight locks to your body, slowly taking you all in as he eyes you up and down, hunger glistening through his gaze. "Is that complaining I hear?" he smirks. "I’m not apologizin’, luv. Do you know what you fucking do to me?"

"I have an idea," you breathe as that imposing figure of prime masculinity moves in closer, "but you know I’ve always been a bit of a visual learner, so why don't you show me again?"

A smile that could make Satan blush flashes across his lips and with a growl that sets you shivering with anticipation, Ghost closes the short distance between you and leans in, pulling you against his warm, tight chest as he meets your mouth greedily with his.

“mmm … mmh… !” he groans into you.

A series of frantic, heated kisses overwhelm your lips as if he is trying to devour every bit of that soft, full pout as he can; how can someone’s kiss feel like heaven? Your rapidly palpating heart makes your head buzz as he pours his desire into you and you respond in kind by meeting his intensity with your own.

Breaking away for only a moment, his hands now grasping at your shirt take hold and pull the scant article up over your head and off to remove any barrier between the both of you. He tosses it out of the way and moves back against you, nearly crushing you in between him and the door as he can’t stand being separated.

Warm breath is at the side of your head. "Need to feel you," he groans near your ear before taking the lobe in his teeth and giving it a bite. Your ears pick up the sound of his breath hitching as he comes apart at the sensation of your breasts plastered to his chest, hands surveying the rest of the skin available to him.

“Goddamn, I feel like I’m on fuckin’ fire. Don’t know what spell you fucking have me under sweetheart, but it’s becomin’ a problem.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” you say against his swollen lips, “to become your problem.”

“Fucking hell,” he groans before his mouth latches back on to your own.

You already are.

Fiery kisses assault your mouth in desperate fashion as if he hadn’t seen you in weeks. That insatiable appetite is something of a marvel as you both had been messing around for a couple of months and yet his texts seem to come at a more frequent rate now than when you started. Nothing is more euphoric than to be desired to the point of obsession, especially when it came to someone like the Lieutenant; there’s something primal in the way a big man possesses you.

Without warning his hands clasp securely around your waist as he picks you up so that you can wrap your thighs around his hips, your back slamming harshly against the door for leverage. The sound of your body bouncing off the surface echoes through the quiet room as that sculpted body of his presses firmly into you so the prominence of his arousal can be felt as he grinds it up into the crotch of your pants.

His face is still joined to yours and the sensation of his tongue pressing against your mouth brings you back to reality, impatiently knocking for entry, and you part your lips so that he can slip the thick muscle inside. He shoves it within the confines of that wet cavern so that it can do its exploring while it dances alongside your own tongue; he sure does enjoy keeping all your holes nice and stuffed full.

It’s not enough, though; he needs more.

You both are on the move now and you have to lock your arms around his shoulders to hang on as he makes the short distance to the bed not a few feet from where you are and sets you down. He kneels before you on the floor, pulls you to the edge, and in one swift motion his hands are on your pants before they are suddenly off you and next to him.

Even in the dim light of the small room, you can see how his eyes shimmer with lust and want, a predators gaze just before they go in for the kill. This man would be the death of you, but what a glorious death it would be.

“Lay back for me,” he demands and you follow.

A powerful grip is placed on each one of your inner thighs to spread them wide as Ghost moves them to sit on his shoulders where they will rest as he works. Leaning in towards your cunt he goes in face first with no hesitation like a starved man read to eat his first meal in days.

With shaky hands you cling to the sheets for dear life as the he nestles the tip of his tongue between your petals, gathering your sweet juices along his taste buds as he drags it across the length, teasing circles around your aching clit before thrusting up against it. There he begins to stroke with languid movements along that organ of pleasure, go in with all he has amidst the sound of your mewls at the pleasurable sensation.

Goddamn you taste good.

That face with its beautifully chiseled features is buried so deep in you Ghost can hardly breathe, but he has never felt more alive. The way you feel, the way you taste, the way your hips writhe against his movements all work together to fuel the passion for your cunt. On his knees between your legs is his favorite place to be, listening to the symphony you make, even with the threat that you’d lock your legs around his head; god, he hoped you would.

Your eyes clamp themselves shut as your head falls back while another back-arching vibration of pleasure hits your clit and you bite your bottom lip hard, trying to remember how to breathe when your brain had lost all its functions. Ghost’s intense pace never slows even as you writhe violently across his face, your sweet nectar coating itself across his cheeks. Oh no, it only fuels him more; he’d drown against you and still say thank you.

Ghost’s hands move up further on your hips suddenly, pulling you against his face until he is latched so securely that you can not buck him off. There is not anywhere for you to go at this point and the only thing you can do is ready yourself as that warmth in your stomach grows stronger and stronger, your toes curling with each thrust of his tongue.

Releasing your grip on the sheets, you bring your hand down and ruffle your fingers through his hair and he moans into you. “Sh-shit,” you stutter breathless. The pace is steady, sucking and stroking, but it’s intense as the minutes pass without any sign of him letting up. You know there will be no mercy found for you here; Ghost will stop when his job is done and not a second before.

Tiny beads of sweat speckle your body as you burn under his touch and he smirks against you, feeling how hard he is working you as the perspiration hits his fingertips. The pressure was overwhelming and your hips rock with him trying to get you there.

There is nothing more beautiful than the mess he is always making out of you lately and if he has his way he will keep you on your back almost constantly.

Pressure building, warmth gathering, the precipice within reach with each stroke. Relentless he feasts with fervor until your eyelids flutter shut.

Right there. It’s right fucking there. Just a few more licks of his tongue, a few more precise hits and that is going to be all.

It’s coming, the plunge. Ghost’s fingernails are piercing the skin of your hips as a few more deliberate strokes of his tongue on your clit cause your butt to lift up of the bed as your orgasm rips through you.

Your thighs clamp around his ears, blocking him in against you and yet he doesn’t stop. The entirety of your ecstasy you ride out with him licking and sucking until you sink into the mattress, breathing through the pleasure. After a moment you look down to see the demon emerge from you with a smirk strung across his mouth that sparkles with your slick.

Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, he sighs and stands to his feet, fingers capturing the drawstrings to his pants and with a pull the tie untangles itself so that the slack fabric can hang low on his hips.

“What?” you play, knowing what he wants and even though you are still catching your breath, you are more than ready to give in to him.

“You know damn well what. Night’s still young, luv,” he says as he slips the waistband down even lower, “and now it’s my turn.”

He isn't finished with you yet, not even close.

His desire is beyond reason now, even more than before, and it fills his gaze as he stares back at you. No movement yet as Simon allows that bit of tension to linger in the air before he pounces.

Fuck anymore foreplay, this can’t hold off any longer.

Those legs of yours you have kept open, inviting him back, but this time with his cock instead of his tongue. He moves back in, dropping his pants off his legs and stepping out of them. A quick order he barks to move back further onto the bed has you scooting and he is following you, crawling across the surface with the power and grace of a lion before he goes in for the kill.

“You ready for me, princess?” he growls.

You stare back at him, big doe-eyed gaze watching him as he prepares to claim you again. “Give it to me,” you say and that is all the confirmation needed.

Sliding between your thighss as he parts them as easily as a knife through warm butter, he pushes one back where your knee is near your chest while the other is straight beneath him; he wants to get as deep as he fucking can. There is no hesitation as with a strong thrust he is fully inside of you down to the very base of his cock, his balls bouncing off your ass.

“Ahh…” you cry out as you stretch to capacity to accommodate all of him, your fingernails dig into the muscles along his shoulders as your body adjusts to his mighty girth.

Ghost bottoms out and needs a second to collect himself; he’s had you countless times at this point, but every single time the sensation your body gives him is enough to make the man see God.

“Goddamn sweetheart, the way you feel around my fucking cock,” he groans, “just want to keep it in you at all times. If I had my way, you’d stay on your back all day every day.”

Obsession is not quite the word, but you already have the man wrapped around your little finger. The things he'd do to have you at this point border on the diabolical.

There is no holding back once he starts thrusting in and out, desperate to find his rhythm, not with how wet and tight you are; it is paradise. Soon enough that pace is set and you are joining him in grinding your hips against his pelvis. Ghost rests his forehead against yours, rough, strong fingers finding your hands so that they can lace themselves in between the paces of your own as he holds them above your head. The building pressure causes him to start panting.

“O-OHH, FUCK…!!” he exclaims as you tighten yourself on his cock, putting those kegel practices to good use just to see him falter.

It is not expected and throws him off a moment; he’s the one that is suppose to be showing that pussy who’s boss, but you’ve taken the reins with that one move. Someone is bound to hear him and yet he can’t be bothered to quiet himself. If you want to make sure this stays a secret, you shouldn’t pull moves that can bring him to his proverbial knees.

Time after time he feels the need to remind you in breathless moans how you are his, but if Ghost is honest you have him fucking whipped; not that he is going to let you know that. Still, if you pay close enough attention you will be able to tell the signs, like the way he is utterly falling apart now. Fuck, he needs to come so bad now he can taste it.

Desperately he grinds harder and harder into you as if he cannot get deep enough, like he cannot fill you full enough. He needs to take over your entire being, possess every single last centimeter of you, steal away all your sanity until there is nothing left of you but him.

Releasing your hands, he moves back to sit taller on his knees so that he can put the most leverage behind his thrusts. He helps you to reposition so that both of your thighs are now secure high on his hips; you are going to need to hang on for this. Abdominals are straining along his torso, contracting down with each movement until they are coated in a thin, glistening layer of perspiration.

“Com’ on, pretty girl, you goin’ to give me another?” he grunts. The knot in your brows and the way your mouth hangs slack must say it all. He’s going to make you come again.

You nod furiously, focusing on that warm gathering in the pit of your stomach. “That’s it, sweetheart, com’ on. I deserve to feel you this time. Com' on my cock, slather it nice and proper.”

Hips rolling as if his life depends on it, he reaches down between your bodies to play with your clit. It’s working, your back is arching, and release is gaining on you. “Yes, y-yes,” you choke out.

The pressure is overwhelming and your hips buck, the pain of over-stimulation turning to pleasure as your body readies itself to shoot that hot electricity through your limbs. Ghost presses the pad of his finger harshly up against your clit and with his thrusts working inside you, that is finally enough to make you spill.

Your second orgasm rockets through you, causing you to clamp down on him with fluttering walls. The sensation is enough to cause that deep ache to finally find its remedy and his pulls out of you quickso that he can coat your torso with his cum. You quickly reach down and grab his cock, stroking out all his has to give until he is shuddering and please with you to stop.

He has to sit back on his heels and just breathe a moment before he can move to grab something to clean you off, but soon he’s able to go off and grab you a towel, handing it to you as he falls on the bed beside you while you finish wiping off the last of his cream.

“So, I guess that means we’re done here right?” you playfully tease him as you throw the towel aside and lay back down.

Strong arms enfold you and pull him to his chest as he smirks, the euphoria of his orgasm still coursing through his veins.

He catches your mouth with his to shut you up. “You should know fucking better than that, luv,” he says, nipping at your lips. “Price may own you when the sun is up, but that still a ways off. You and that sweet cunt of yours are mine until then.”

Hell, he cannot seem to ever get enough of you no matter how many times you frequent his bed. Those strong fingers draw lazy circles across your back, making you tingle as you come back down from your high

You chuckle sleepily, the consequences of you staying up so late mixing with the act you just performed. “I’ll be so tired, not gonna be able to run drills properly.”

“More complainin’?” he retorts. “I must not have finished the fucking job yet. You’ve been doin’ just fine with keeping up with your duties so far. Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’ll make sure your proper exhausted just as I always do.”

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chronicallycouchbound · 8 months

Text

Read the full post here

•

[ID: pink and pink outlined text on a dark background reads: “intelligence doesn’t equal morality. Caring for others can happen at any IQ level.” The side text reads “@ chronicallycouchbound” In the upper right hand corner is a simple diamond star shape graphic. End ID.]

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kooksbunnnn · 6 months

Text

SO HIM- MIN YOONGI

pic ctto

masterlist

Pairing: idol!yoongi × female reader

Warnings: none. It's fluff. Slightly suggestive in the beginning. You miss him. Making out.

Words: 1.2k words

_______________________________

At this point, you couldn't even smell him in your bed anymore. Him being cooped up in his studio has its own pros and cons. Pros being the new mind blowing songs he would produce for his fans which, ofcourse, includes you too, whereas the cons, you not being able to see him for days considering both of your busy schedules and him generally sleeping in the genius lab.

Motivation and inspiration can make a person workoholic, and Min Yoongi is an example of that. It's one of those nights where he would be overworking himself, and you know you would have to sleep without cuddling him or kissing him good night for the 4th time this week.

You missed your boyfriend so much.

You can't even remember when was the last time you felt him, like actually felt him, over you, behind you, beside you, beneath you, inside you.

Oh, you wanna feel him inside you so bad, the reminder of that stretch makes your stomach swirl.

You step into your room mindlessly, scrolling through your phone when a notification pops on your upper screen.

Catto: you up?

Seeing his text, you stop in the way to your bedroom. He rarely texts from work, and it makes your eyebrows furrow with concern when he pops up in your notification bar at 11:47 pm.

You: yes baby. All okay?

You wait for him to reply, which comes almost in 3 seconds. The three dots quickly turning into a message, saying,

Catto: i wanna see you doll, haven't seen you in ages, AND bumping in hallways doesn't count, baby. I miss you, sm :(

You: i miss you toooo baby:(((

Catto: :((((((((

You read his message and feel your bottom lip jut out due to his cuteness. You sigh sadly when you look at your empty bed covered with cold sheets along with his shirt lying on his side along with the pillow he uses.

Let's call it emotional support.

You want to visit him so bad, but the comeback is close, and you dont want to disturb him. Your mom always used to tell you, a relationship works only if you understand the difference between important things and priorities, responsibilities and duties, you both would need to understand what the other needs to prioritize at the moment.

So when you met Yoongi, you understood why your mom always said that. You know right now what priority and responsibilities are, so it doesn't make you insecure about the fact that you are also one of the most important things in his life. So, no matter how much you both miss each other, you can't just expect him to keep his job, his passion, the need of the moment, aside for a moment together.

Just like he doesn't expect you to keep your job and passion aside, he knows how important it is for you and vice versa.

You spend the next ten to fifteen minutes getting comfortable on your side of the bed. Picking up the book you left with a bookmark on the night table. But before you could pick it up, your phone rings.

You see Yoongi's picture smiling at you, but then your eyes focus on the time on the top left corner of your phone. It's 20 minutes past midnight. Concerned, you answer the call.

"Baby, everything okay?" You ask as soon as you pick up.

"Come downstairs, I brought chicken."

"What- why are you not coming upstairs?" You ask already halfway out of the bed, you hear him ruffling the polybags grumbling something about sauce so you run towards the kitchen to pick up his favorite hot sauce from the counter.

"I can't, babe. I have to return to the studio. Jungkookie's waiting. Moreover, if I come upstairs, I will end up sleeping the night and then regret it the next morning. You know? " He tells you, and you understand his worry, you have seen him regret a tiny 2 hour nap at his studio, resulting in a grumpy and irritated look on his face the whole day.

He also indirectly signals to you that he can't stay for long, so you rush down faster.

Its not like you dont want him to relax but you know he will just end up blaming himself up for it the next day fully convinced it was his mistake to relax when he needed to work no matter how much you try to calm him down.

Yes. Speaking from experience.

"Coming, bubs." You hang up and step into the elevator after checking the door, hands filled with a hot sauce bottle and two water bottles. You smile when the elevator finally reaches the ground floor. The excitement feels like the time you two were dating, sneaking around, hiding from people, and the staff as well.

It's funny how Bang pd was the one to find out about you both before all the boys did. That day, you realized that Jin DOES NOT LIKE being left out on important stuff.

When you spot his car, you sprint towards it with a big smile. The windows are slightly tinted(security purposes), making you unable to see the smile that comes on his face after he spots you. You quickly open the door impatiently, and your smile widens more. He is wearing that white shirt of his, which makes you wanna worship the man, unbuttoned up to the second button, hair fluffed up due to running of his fingers multiple times.

You sigh happily when he pulls you in his arms as soon as you get into the car, not even caring about the car door still being slightly ajar.

"I missed you." His voice coming out muffled due to your hair.

"I missed you too, baby." You chuckle as you lean back, breaking the hug to close the door properly. Turning back you see that he has his head resting upon the seat while he looks at you with the prettiest smile you've ever seen.

Fuck, you love this man.

Leaning in again, he cups your cheek and kisses you, slow and soft, slowly sneaking his tongue into it. His hand places itself on your neck, and the other one reaches for your waist. Pulling you on top of him.

You get comfortable on his lap, kissing him as if he was water, and you just woke up thirsty at 3 in the night. Oh, you definitely were thirsty for him.

You felt so happy in the kiss you never wanted it to end. Fisting the white shirt in one hand as you let the other explore his fluffy and long hair. Some minutes later, he tries to pull back, but you dont let him, whining a 'no' with furrowed yet concentrated eyebrows, making him chuckles in the middle of your kiss.

"Baby the chicken?" He tells you with a laugh, shoulders bouncing with that pretty laugh of his. You watch his gummy smile with a silly little smile on your face as well.

You missed this so much. He raises his eyebrow once again when you flick the strand of hair sitting prettily over his forehead, tracing his nose bridge almost like in a trance.

"Well?" He asks again, and you then realize you zoned out. It's been 3 days since you had talked to him properly, and it would be an understatement to just say you missed him.

Smiling, you lean in for a quick peck once again, making him hum, in that deep voice of his. It reaches within you and somehow gives you so much comfort that you feel overwhelmed.

Not to sound overdramatic, but he makes you feel still, mentally, unlike the frantic thoughts that were always running around in your head when you were away from him.

He is just so perfect. So gorgeous, so calming, so 'him'.

You nod with a wide smile, booping his pretty nose,

"Okay baby, lets eat."

____________________________________

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crowfanity · 1 year

Photo

Some more text post memes!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

(ID under cut)

[ID: A series of ten text post memes with Ace Attorney character sprites

The first image is a twitter post with Miles Edgeworth looking smug. The tweet reads “proud to announce that i am making a Bad decision but I’m not telling y’all what it is so u can’t stop me”.

The second image is of a tumblr post. An anon with Athena Cykes’ angry sprite next to it asks “Have you ever met someone who you just weren’t able to bully?” Underneath it is Simon Blackquill’s sprite with a smirk next to the response “no. I’m a very unpleasant person”.

The third picture is of a joke article title that says “If You Want To Achieve Enlightenment, You’re Gonna Have To Go Through Me”. In the corner is a picture of Nahyuta Sahdmadhi with his hand up in meditation.

The fourth photo is a tumblr screenshot. It says “my flatmate has just rocked in with the two lesbianest lesbians I’ve ever seen and introduced them as “my sister and my sister’s... roommate”. Underneath it has Kay Faraday grinning on the left, and on the right is Ema Skye’s confident sprite from Investigations next to pictures of Lana Skye with a neutral expression and Mia Fey smiling with her arms crossed.

The fifth image is a twitter conversation. The first tweet has a picture of teenage Maya Fey looking solemn with her head tilted down a bit. The text reads “The realization that the switch is 5 years old and they’re probably gonna reveal their next console in a couple of years just hit me like a fucking truck”. Underneath that is a response saying “I used to go into hospitals and switched the babies around. You can’t do stuff like that anymore, too many cameras.” To the right of that comment is a picture of Zak Gramarye in his magician outfit with his hands on his hips and laughing.

The sixth picture is of a single twitter post. In the bottom right corner is a picture of Nahyuta Sahdmadhi smiling with his eyes closed. The tweet says “Back in Uni, a girl mocked my presentation one time so I searched for her group and asked the topic they were presenting on. I spent 4 days researching on it and asked her so many questions like it was common knowledge that she cried. Stay blessed precious one.”

The seventh picture is of a short Facebook conversation. The first names are censored but the two commenters have the same last name. The first post says “I’d kill my own brother to be in bed right now I don’t even care” with a smiling emoji at the end. To the lower right of the comment is a picture of Aura Blackquill smiling with her chin in her hand as she leans on an upset Clonco. To the left of the second comment is a sprite of Simon Blackquill glaring. The reply says “I’d like to see you try you silly cunt I’ll put you in the fucking ground”.

The eighth photo is of a Grindr conversation. The first message is on the right with a yellow text box and just says “hey” next to a sprite of trilogy Phoenix Wright smiling awkwardly and rubbing the back of his head. The next two messages are on the left and have blue text boxes next to a sprite of Larry Butz playfully rubbing the back of his head with his eyes closed and tongue sticking out. The messages from him read “Hey” “Just so you know I’m not gay or anything”. The next message is next to a sprite of Phoenix looking confused/annoyed and sweating. It says “this is grindr my guy”. The response is next to an image of Larry looking angry with his eyes closed, teeth clenched, and hands balled into fists. The message says “I guess people who are lactose intolerant can’t walk down the fucking dairy aisle? I’m just looking”.

The ninth image is of a single tweet. In the upper right is Athena Cykes’ thinking sprite as she touches her earring. In the bottom right is a sprite of Simon Blackquill looking up and away from the camera and frowning. The tweet reads “My uncle, the countriest guy I know, just said “I fuckin hate seeing chipmunks cause it means there ain’t no big cool birds around””.

The last photo is of a single tweet in a chat format. In the upper right is a picture of Wocky Kitaki with his arms crossed and smirking awkwardly while looking away, looking smug yet nervous. Underneath him is Apollo Justice’s disheartened sprite, slouching forward a bit and looking annoyed/exhausted. The tweet says “me: [whispering to my lawyer]” “my lawyer: I’m not asking that” “me: [whispering some more]” “my lawyer: your honor would he still be guilty if he was a worm”.

/End of ID]

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dairyfreenugget · 4 days

Text

(Alt text under read more)

Some designs for an AU :]

ID start: A rough sketch page of the Pale King from Hollow Knight. Both doodles are shoulder-up; the first one is very simple, with him simply looking to the side. The second doodle has him squinting his eyes, with a new crack going down his face; this one is labelled "his happy face". In the bottom right corner is a close up of his mandibles. His head is a shape of a rounded rectangle with mandibles that split into four parts forming a mouth with four sharp teeth, his crown forms a sort of v shape on his forehead leading up to the spikes surrounding his head. End ID.

ID start: A rough sketch of The Hollow Knight from Hollow Knight. It's a side profile, except the bottom of their mask is completely shattered, forming jagged, shape edges that resemble teeth. In the bottom right corner is a close up of their mouth, two long, slender mandibles open up to reveal a ton on long tongues/tendrils that drip void, labelled "new mouth!" In the upper right corner is another close up of Pale King's mandibles, split down the middle and open, resembling an ant's or grasshopper's mandibles. End ID.

ID start: A doodle of the Pale King holding a young Pure Vessel on his lap; he's gently holding their hands while licking their head. End ID.

#hollow knight #pale king #the hollow knight #spooky arts

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cuubism · 11 months

Note

I’m BEGGING for more “retired!Dream opens up a weird magic fey bookshop” au. Its so intriguing!

you are in luck. i wrote more

"So," Hob says, leaning in the doorway of Dream's study-of-sorts, "much as I love the recommendations, do you mind if I browse?"

He's taken, recently, to meeting Dream on the upper floor of the shop, bringing coffee and watching Dream label and sort his new books in incomprehensible categories. He usually gets some interesting book facts out of it, too, or strange little stories -- "this book washed up on the Sardinian shore some years ago", "this was signed by a long-dead author, I've been curious to see how long it will take for a collector to find it," "an old man bestowed this upon me on the eve of his death, it's the only copy in existence" and so on -- not to mention the pleasure of Dream's company. He is so odd, and so engaging.

Dream looks up at him now with a tiny smile that crinkles the corner of his eyes. "Of course. Find whatever you wish."

Hob has been wondering if Dream's serendipitous knack with books will extend to browsing, to random finds. Only one way to know.

He leaves Dream to his labeling and goes to wander the shop.

This time, he does get swallowed in Oneiromancy, where he finds Sleeping Worlds, a book about dream travel. Then he wanders deeper into the shop, passes categories like, "Cat Training," CLOCKS, "Mathematics: Easy -> Impossible", and, "♾". Of course he goes into Infinity, and picks up The Birth of Numbers, a book whose text starts in the center of the page and spirals outwards, font growing larger as the book goes on, and in another section called "Romance: DIFFICULT LEVEL" -- whatever the hell difficult means -- he picks up a tiny book that's just one line, one syllable on each page.

want

you

see.

God, Dream's shop is weird.

Dream finds him there some time later, deep in Sleeping Worlds. "I see you've had a productive day."

"Yeah, sorry, lost track of time."

Dream keeps looking at him with a little smirk.

Worry darts through Hob's stomach. "Wait, what time is it?"

"Midnight," says Dream, with satisfaction. "I've absorbed you."

Yeah, no kidding. Hob scrambles to his feet. "Jesus, Dream, sorry. I'll get out of your hair."

"No matter. This is what The Library is for."

Hob goes to hand him the books, and he waves a hand. "Keep them, I will get them back eventually."

Ominous. Great.

"Gonna break into my house and retrieve them?" Hob asks. He probably wouldn't even mind, to be honest.

"Nothing so alarming." He gestures Hob forward, and Hob follows, lets Dream walk him out.

It is, indeed, pitch dark outside on their shared street. Hob's supposed to open the cafe at 6. Whoops.

"Thanks for the books, Dream," he says. "And for. Ten hours of distraction, apparently."

Dream leans in the narrow doorway of his shop. "Of course. Come browse... anytime."

And he melts back into the shadows as Hob steps down onto the street.

Hob wonders if he's an idiot for wanting to ask Dream out. Dream is clearly some kind of other thing, and hanging around him did kind of get Hob cursed. But the way he bites his lip when he's making notes in books is so cute. His unerring ability to make perfect book selections is both strange and endearing -- even the books Hob had picked up on his own had been exactly what he hadn't known he was looking for. Hob's heart picks up every time he steps into the cafe.

But if he's to ask out Dream, his own personal weird bookshop creature, he has to do it right.

And he knows how.

The next time Dream comes in for coffee, Hob sits down across from him and hands him a book. Dream looks at it in surprise, and Hob has the sudden thought that as the all-powerful selector of tomes, he probably isn't gifted books himself.

The book is called, Broken Hands. Hob had pulled it off his own shelf. Dream doesn't ask him what it is, instead he flips open the cover and reads, as Hob had hoped he would.

The first page of Broken Hands has the following paragraph:

Kissing her hand, he came to know himself. Kissing her mouth, he came to know them both. When they went onward, for now only in his mind, he kissed more of her, and more, and more, and then, he knew her. He wanted to know her.

Dream reads it, and looks back up at him. Offers a tiny smile. Yes, Hob knew he would get it.

"You have something you would like to ask me, Hob Gadling?" he says softly.

"You have something you want to answer?"

Dream takes a long sip of his coffee, but looks at Hob over the rim of the mug, a smile in his eyes. Then he swipes away the milk foam from his upper lip with his tongue and says, "I'd say that you are very foolish, to still wish to associate with someone who did, in a sense, get you cursed. But that I find myself grateful for this foolishness. People do often come back to the library, once they find it-- but they don't often come back for me."

It makes Hob sad to imagine--Dream the perennial custodian of The Library, shepherd of its patrons, gifting small touches of coincidence and magic, but always in the background, a bridge and not a destination. Meanwhile, Hob likes the strange books, but it's Dream he keeps wanting to hover around, to lure back into his own space.

He dares to take Dream's hand and squeezes. "...So?"

"I'd say that I'd like to get coffee with you, if you know a place."

Cheeky thing. "Yeah, there's a Starbucks a couple blocks down," Hob says, gesturing, and Dream chuckles. Hob's still holding his hand, and brings it to his lips for a light kiss, and gets to watch as Dream's cheeks tint pink. His heart lifts in his chest. So easy and light.

"You're gorgeous," he says, and that blush deepens. "I'd suffer even Starbucks for you."

"You would suffer much, then," says Dream.

"We'll get our Starbucks and wander around WHSmith and have a fabulous date," Hob says, and Dream's face goes through the most exquisite journey of horror.

"You demand too much," he says, faint. "You enjoy my suffering."

"Little bit, yeah." Hob's certainly enjoying the reaction.

Then Dream looks at him in challenge. "Very well," he declares. "You've set the date. Now you must follow through."

Hob can't even spare a thought to the distasteful activities he's now gotten himself into--he has a date with Dream. "So that's a yes?"

Dream smiles again, a tiny, pleased thing. "It is a yes, Hob Gadling."

They do go to Starbucks. Hob is treated to the glorious sight of Dream sipping a pink drink out of a long straw, which is so worth dealing with the coffee. Then he indeed drags Dream to WHSmith, where Dream stands in the middle of the brightly-lit store, spins in a circle staring at carefully lined book displays with wide eyes, says, "Hell would be more merciful," and bolts away. Hob follows him, laughing.

Outside, he finds Dream leaning in the shade of a tree, looking vaguely shell-shocked. Hob really shouldn't keep laughing at him, but he can't help it. "Were you traumatized permanently by the big chain store?"

"Yes," says Dream, but, despite the perilous adventure, smiles. "You are a cruel man, Hob Gadling."

"Nah. Just harnessed the fluorescent lighting to chase you back into the safety of my arms."

"Oh?" Dream pushes off the tree and steps closer, until he's standing just before Hob, close enough to touch. "Was that the goal?"

Hob takes the leap that's offered and touches Dream's cheek with a light hand. "Did it work?"

This close, in the midday light, Dream's eyes are almost grey. The shade of the tree dapples his skin. It's still odd to see him out of the contained space of his bookshop, of Hob's cafe, but it does make this feel more real. A part of the world beyond the spun-sugar story of their orbiting binary stars.

Dream rests a feather light hand on Hob's chest. Studies Hob from under his eyelashes. And instead of answering, he leans up and, with that same light touch, presses his lips to Hob's.

Hob revels in the mere touch of him for a moment, but doesn't let it stand at light for long. He takes Dream's face between his hands and deepens the kiss, sweeping his tongue into Dream's mouth, swallowing Dream's hum of pleasure. If only he could put into the kiss what he had felt when Dream had handed him Nightingales. A sudden finding of something long lost that was always meant to be rooted in his heart.

When they part, he makes good on a promise and does pull Dream into his arms. It feels like a great indulgence. It also feels right.

"Make me a solemn promise, Hob Gadling," Dream says against Hob's cheek, arms wrapped around his back.

"Anything."

"Never take me here ever again."

Hob laughs into his hair, squeezing him tight. "What could one possibly want from here when The Library exists?"

This seems to greatly gratify Dream, who preens in Hob's arms. Hob kisses the shell of his ear, then his cheek, then they part again, and he takes Dream's hand. "I'm glad you expanded your horizons with me for a day."

"And now I will shrink them again," says Dream. "Except for one." To which he runs his thumb along Hob's lower lip, a touch Hob sways forward to follow almost drunkenly as Dream smirks. "Come."

He starts leading Hob back in the direction of their quiet street, and far far away from any fluorescent lighting, and Hob follows, touching his lips fondly. And lets himself be cautiously, tentatively hopeful that this will continue spiraling up into something real, because he wants it so bad. Curses and all.

#hob brilliantly asking dream out by giving him a book that basically said 'i wish to know you carnally' but hey it worked!!#and i'm sure he will know dream carnally soon #3 likes and next time they get to explore each others bodies #bookstore cryptid dream #my writing #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling fic #thank u louise for the extra special british accuracy in this one XD it is essential that my silly drabble stories channel the TRUE #and ACCURATE experience of the united kingdom. i'll die otherwise

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spider-man-199999 · 7 months

Text

No need to hide it pt 2

pairing: college!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader; Post nwh; not too canon

word count: 6,4 K

warnings: underage drinking for USA citizens; mentions of sex

summary: Peter thought no one remembered him after the spell, however you did, but not for the reasons he was afraid you would. Now that you two are something like an item, you find out about his secret.

a/n: very cheesy, fluffy things going on here.

Part1!

“Hi, stranger.” You said as you entered the lab, looking at a very concentrated Peter in a lab coat and glasses, looking at something on the table.

Out of all the places you expected him to be at 10 pm on a Wednesday night, the lab was the last one. You made your way to him, wrapping your arms around his waist to hug him from behind, your head peeking over his shoulder to look at what he was doing. He had an open notebook with chemical compounds scribbles chaotically all over the pages. It wasn’t something unusual really, to have Peter stay after class so he could do extra work in the lab. He seemed to like it. It started a few weeks ago, after you passed your first exams. He told you he needed some extra time to work on a project of his and managed to persuade the professor into letting him use the lab after classes were done. You had no idea how he did that, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, it was better than having to worry whether he was flirting with other girls at parties or not.

“Hi, dove.” he replied once you hugged him, still looking at the notebook and flipping the pages.

“Did you just call me a pigeon?”

He shrugged, taking a few tubes and some chemicals from the rack. He gave the notebook one more look before he started mixing things in the tubes.

“What are you making?” you asked, letting go of him and reading into the notebook with more concentration this time.

The formulas he had written there were something you had never seen before, whatever this was, it was supposed to be something like a superglue that could dissolve completely after a certain period of time. You furrowed your brows, not sure you were getting the compounds and processes right. Chemistry was definitely not your strongest subject so you weren’t too confident in what you understood.

“Just experimenting.” He replied, mixing the white goo in a tube.

“Why would you need a temporary super-glue?” you asked him, making him stop his mixing.

“You could read that?”

“Well your handwriting sure didn’t make it easy but yeah, I can. Why?”

“Just asking.” He continued mixing until the goo was thick enough for his liking. He poured it into a container and shoved it in his backpack.

“You’re being weird.” You told him, sitting on top of the table as you watched his movements.

He looked at you, taking the glasses off and getting closer. He stood in front of you, his hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer, placing a peck on your lips.

“Right, sorry. I was too concentrated to register that the most beautiful girl was in the room.” He said.

“I was waiting for you at the party.” You mumbled against his chest.

It was true, with most of the finals being over and spring break right around the corner, the whole campus was partying. Every frat house was going at it. You definitely partied more than he did, and neither of you minded that as long as you came home to him. Most of the time you would actually text him to pick you up, which he did happily. But tonight he promised to be there for the whole night, which was a pretty rare occasion.

“I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?” He asked, letting go of you.

You shrugged, looking at his worried eyes. You smiled at him, your hand resting against his upper arm, squeezing his biceps through the fabric of the lab coat and his flannel.

“Taking me to one of your boxing workouts is one of the things on my bucket list.” You teased him.

“Okay, how does next friday sound?” he asked, kissing your cheek.

“Wait really? I was prepared to have to blackmail you and whine for 15 minutes before you said yes. I had a whole scenario.”

“Anything for you, you know that.” Peter said, taking his lab coat and hanging it back on the rack.

The boxing was actually a white lie he told you weeks ago. He took a pretty rough beating one night, it was his first ever encounter with Kraven the Hunter as Spider-man and things didn’t go exactly to plan. He came back with a black eye, sprained wrist, and multiple bruises and cuts pretty much everywhere on his body. As the panic rushed in his brain when he saw your shocked and worried face, he had to think of something fast. That’s when it just happened, the words just left his lips like it was the most natural, most logical explanation to his state. Anything felt like a better idea than telling you about his secret identity. He hated lying, especially to someone who he grew so attached to, who he even dared to say he started loving. It was for a good cause, or at least that’s what he liked telling himself late at night when he stared out of the window, not being able to sleep because the spider mask, casually thrown on the back of his office chair, was staring back at him.

—-

He walked you back to your dorm, making sure you got home safe and you weren’t locked out like every other day. The second you were out of sight, he was googling “boxing gyms near me” and researching them as he walked home. It was a vicious circle of lying and covering up his tracks in front of you and his roommates. He didn’t want either of you knowing about his secret. It was something he had vowed to himself - to not mix the two lives together ever again. The boxing lie was convenient enough for him to keep it up, if you were to call him when he was on patrol he would just say he’s training. If he ever came back with bruises, he could blame it on a bad sparring session. It was working out perfectly. And now he just had to make it real. He already knew how to fight, obviously, and he had the needed reflexes to take on anyone on an average spar, he just needed to find a gym, go there for a week straight and get to know as many people as he could, and make it seem like he was a regular there in front of you. Sounded simple enough.

“How do I always end up in the most ridiculous schemes?” he muttered to himself as he unlocked the front door of his shared apartment, walking in, eyes still fixated on the glowing screen. No one was in the apartment, the guys were probably still at the party that Peter had managed to conveniently avoid tonight. He was too busy for them anyway, he only went because he didn’t want you to be there on your own.

Now that he was alone in the whole superhero business, he had to figure out a way to enhance the web fluid and somehow manage to make as much of it to last him a month, preferably. He liked the formula he had originally come up with, it was simple and easy to make, but he felt like it could be improved. Him and Tony had talked about upgrading it for a long time before but never managed to get to it. He had to figure it out on his own, along with his personal life and his studying. It was starting to get a bit overwhelming. At least he wasn’t alone socially, he had a wonderful girl that shared his feelings, roommates that were like his brothers and enough acquaintances to have someone to talk to in all his classes.

Peter threw himself on the bed, screenshotting a gym he liked enough to try out tomorrow and fell asleep, still in his clothes.

—-

It was Tuesday night the next week. Peter had been training hard in the gym, socializing, staying late in the lab. It was so hard to get a hold of him in the past few days that you felt like he was purposely avoiding you. He still hadn’t told you what he was doing so late in the lab, no matter how much you asked. You just wanted to hang around with him, watching him work. You enjoyed looking at him like that, concentrated, his brows furrowed in confusion, pacing around nervously while he was thinking, fingers going through his hair. It was entertaining but up to a point, though. And boredom had pushed you into trying experiments of your own. Since you didn’t really know what to do in particular, you opened the textbooks for your shared chemistry class and just started ahead with the material. Upside to this was that Peter was always there to help you just so you wouldn’t kill yourself by mismeasuring. Downside was that Peter was there to see you fail.

You trying to do your own work made him really happy. He always believed more in your skills than you ever did yourself and he knew that putting in extra hours would give you a massive boost in confidence. But micromanaging you along with trying to develop a new web fluid formula was stressing him out. He loved spending time with you and helping you, but constantly worrying about you accidentally burning your skin off with chemicals and him not being able to do anything about it was freaking him out.

“Babe?” He said, his weight rested on his arms he stared at you across the table. “Come over for a second, please.”

“Since when do you call me “babe”?” You asked, taking off the glasses, looking at him. Was he bulkier than before? You could see the outline of his arms through his lab coat.

“Since now. Why are you always displeased with the pet names I call you?”

“Because you pick the funniest pet names out there, first it was pigeon, now it’s a baby.” you giggled, going around the table to get to him. He placed an arm around your waist, pulling you to his chest.

“Okay, I’ll call you my little spider then.”

“Spider? It got even worse!”

He laughed, resting his chin on top of your head.

“Hmmmm, what do you want me to call you then?”

“I don’t know…” you said, thinking about it for a second. Your heart started pounding in your chest. You knew exactly what you wanted him to call you - his girlfriend, but you weren’t sure you had enough courage to say it. It had been months since you started “dating” but he never officially called you his.

“Actually “babe” is fine, kind of generic but I don’t hate it.”

“Glad that’s out of the way then. Would you mind grabbing us something to drink? I’m kind of thirsty.” He asked, reaching for his back pocket and giving you his wallet.

“You’re going to send me alone at night to get you a drink?” you asked, fake shocked to tease him.

“I’m literally sending you to the vending machine outside of the door.”

“Fair enough. What do you want?”

“Surprise me.”

You nodded, heading out to the vending machine outside to get something to drink. It bought Peter just enough time to jog over to your side of the table and switch out the acid you were about to use in your work with the one you were actually supposed to use. He wasn’t sure this was the right way to go about this situation, he knew how upset you got whenever he corrected your mistakes. He also didn’t want the liquid to overflow too rapidly for you to comprehend and burn you, which was exactly what was going to happen. Once he made sure things were in order, he went back to his own notebook, flipping through the pages for the millionth time. You walked back with two iced teas, one with lemon for you and one with peaches for him. You placed the bottles next to him so he could open the two of them.

“Thank you.” He kissed your cheek, taking a sip from the iced tea. He wasn’t that thirsty really, but he had to go along with it.

“How’s the research going?” you asked, sitting on the table with a small jump.

“Could be better honestly.” he replied, closing the notebook and turning to you.

You smiled at him, your hand resting on his shoulder and squeezing it softly to encourage him. He placed his opposite hand on top of yours, holding it gently as he looked at you.

“How are you so pretty, seriously?” he asked out of the blue, making you blush with the words.

“I’ve already told you, braces, accutane and nicely shaped eyebrows.”

He walked up to stand in front of you, taking his gloves off. You smiled at him, your own hands wrapping around his neck. Peter kissed you, his hands resting on your hips, pulling you closer. One hand dug into his hair, the other was gently stroking the back of his neck. His lips danced with yours, making you forget about everything else around the two of you.

“We should go home, it’s late.” He said after the kiss.

“But I haven’t finished!” You whined, your hands resting on his shoulders while he looked at you.

Peter seemed tired, like he hadn’t gotten much sleep lately. His shoulders felt tense under your touch, his eyes had this tired gaze that lazily traced the features on your face, trying to read your expression. His hair was really messy now, which made you reach out to fix it for him.

“Okay. Finish up and we can go rest.”

You nodded, jumping off the table and making your way to your corner of the table. Things went surprisingly smooth with your experiment, which seemed somewhat suspicious at first but you chose to ignore it. You were too happy and proud of yourself to really question it.

—-

You had never been to a boxing gym before. A regular one? Sure, hundreds of times, but never a one specifically designed for boxing. Everything seemed so amusing and interesting, your attention was constantly shifting from the boxing bag, to the ring, to someone doing the ropes. Your head and eyes were moving so fast you could hurt your neck. And then your eyes fell on Peter. It made you freeze on the spot, staring at him. You just had to stare. He had just walked out of the dressing room, wearing shorts and a plain black t-shirt. His hands were wrapped. He ran a hand through his hair nervously, making his way over. You gulped as you made eye contact, the blood rushing into your cheeks. You just couldn’t take your eyes off of him. It felt like that one scene from movies in which the girl is standing on top of the stairs with a gorgeous dress on and the male lead finally realizes how in love with her he is. Except Peter was the pretty girl this time. Someone walked past you, you didn’t even notice until the person gave Peter a fist bump. The two of them shared a laugh, the other guy looking at you and nodding his head.

“I think the chick just fell in love with you.” He laughed, making Peter laugh as well.

You snapped out of your trance, like drooling over Peter wasn’t embarrassing enough already, you had to be called out on it. Your head shot down in shame, looking at your trainers. A dumb smile was spread across Peter’s face while he looked at you fidget nervously under their gaze. He patted the other guy’s shoulder, sending him off as he finally made it over to you, pulling you in a hug.

“How do you like it here?” he asked you as you took the opportunity to hide your flustered face in his neck.

“I’ve been here for 10 minutes and people are just now starting to make fun of me. By my standards it’s good.” you told him, a soft sigh escaping your lips. Peter laughed with your comment, patting the top of your head.

“I didn’t hate what he said.” He admitted.

“Of course you wouldn’t.” You rolled your eyes. He wasn’t the one who got caught staring, he wasn’t the one humiliated by someone random.

“Come on, I brought some extra wrist wraps for you.”

“Wait. I’m training too?”

“Well, obviously, why else did you come? To stare?”

“Actually…”

He laughed again, taking your hand and leading you to the nearest bench. He pulled the wrist wraps from his shorts’ pocket, carefully wrapping your hands in them. You observed every motion, the way the fabric was sliding along his fingers, how his hands moved. Like he had done this a million times before. Or at least it seemed that way. He hadn’t. But patching himself up after a bad fight had given him enough experience to make it seem like he was a pro. After he was done he got up, offering you his hand. You took it, letting him lead the way to a corner where the two of you could train in peace. He greeted a few people here and there, still holding your hand.

“I’m going to show you some basic moves.” He started, standing in front of you at a safe distance. “This is your guard. Your hands need to be like this at all times. It’s for protection.”

You nodded, trying to copy what he was showing you. It wasn’t too hard to do, but watching him was making it hard to fully concentrate.

You spent a good portion of time going over the basic punches, he even gave you a pair of gloves and made you spar with him. The workout had absolutely drained your energy, 30 minutes in and you couldn’t breathe, your legs felt like they couldn’t carry you anymore. Most of your fitness was usually morning jogs a few times a week, if you weren’t too busy with studying or sleeping over at Peter’s. You weren’t completely out of shape, but “fit” was definitely not a word you would confidently describe yourself as. You sat down on a bench, Peter helping you take your gloves off.

“I thought the whole point of this was to watch you train, not torture me.” You said as you were unwrapping your hands. Peter was drinking from his water bottle, sat next to you. He bumped his shoulder into yours, smiling.

“Don’t you do enough Parker-watching in the lab already?”

It made you blush and turn your head away. Truthfully, you had been “Parker-watching” since you started high school and it still wasn’t enough. You started to wonder when exactly you had transformed into this clingy little girl, drooling over him.

“Yo, Pete! Ready for a rematch? I can’t believe the way you kicked my ass last time, I’m taking you down today, tough guy.” Someone from across the room was shouting.

Peter got up, placing one hand with a glove on your shoulder. You looked up at him, he hadn’t even sweat yet, perfect. Your head turned to look at the other guy, slightly taller than Peter, light hair and brown eyes. He was lean, wearing a black snapback, no top, black shorts. You thought he looked like the perfect visualization of a frat guy - tall, sporty and handsome, probably arrogant too.

“You wanted to see me work out, right?”

You nodded, looking back at Peter.

“Then you have to cheer for me extra hard.”

“That’s a little bit cringe but sure, whatever gets you going…”

The guy came up to the two of you, brofisting Peter and then offering you a hand.

“Harry, nice to meet you.”

“Y\N.”

—

You were on your toes the whole time they fought. You stood by the ring, holding your breath whenever a punch was thrown in Peter’s direction. He was undeniably hot with the tight fitting clothes, his curls falling on his face. Being short has its advantages, he was way faster than the guy, he even avoided some punches you were absolutely certain would land, knock him out even. But your boy was like lightning on that ring, he was like a professional. Harry was sweating, running after him, very obviously trying his hardest to hit him, but he just couldn’t. It was impressive, to say the least.

“Come on bro, I’m still warming up.” Peter teased him 15 minutes into the spar.

“Parker, how are you even doing this?”

Peter laughed, his guard still up, he was jumping in front of him like the characters in mortal kombat did. Harry tried punching him again, Peter dodged and went for the ribs. He hit. Harry was on the floor, gasping for air.

“Oh, god, are you alright?” Peter panicked, he got on his knees next to his friend, taking his gloves off to help him. You climbed onto the ring as well, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder who was laying on the floor, his arms across his chest. You looked at Peter and he looked back, terrified. “This happens all the time, right?” you asked, as Harry curled up in a ball. “He’s okay, right?”

“Fucking show off.” Harry laughed, but the laugh hurt him even more and soon he was in agony again.

—

“I can’t believe this happened.” You said, sitting next to Peter on the stairs in front of the ER.

You had bought an ice cream sandwich and broke it in half, giving him the half that was your favorite, his as well, but you thought he needed it more tonight.

“He’s fine, nothing is wrong with him.” You told Peter, who was blankly staring at his feet, holding the ice cream in his hand and not eating it. “They gave him an x-ray, nothing is broken, he just never took a beating before.”

“I wasn’t even going hard on him..” He mumbled.

You were eating the sandwich, not worried about Harry at all.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Harry is completely fine, he’ll be out in a minute.” You told him, kissing his cheek. “I don’t know what is going on in that pretty head of yours, but whatever it is, I assure you it's wrong.”

He nodded at your words, finally eating from his ice cream. He didn’t know how you managed to do this, but whenever he felt like this, whenever it got really bad in his head, you managed to pull him right out. Maybe it was how cheerful you were around him, and how you made him feel like you could figure it out together. You would get anxious and worried in most situations too, but somehow you made him feel like as long as the two of you were together, you could figure it out. It always brought him back to the night you called him drunk and crying because you got locked out of your dorm room. You were a whole anxious mess, begging him to save you and once he was there you just calmed down. Like you knew he was really there to save you. Peter felt like the world’s most important hero that night, even more than the times he was Spider-man.

You rested your head on his shoulder, finishing up your piece of the ice cream sandwich. You let him sit like that in silence, which was odd to you because your memories of Peter from high school were in many ways completely opposite to him now. You couldn’t help but remember with nostalgia how open and emotionally vulnerable he was. He would openly tell and show his friends he loved them, and his ex-girlfriend too. You missed that dork, the one that would go in straight for a hug the first day he meets you, but he grew into the awkward handshake dude. Something about him now was very closed off, like there was this wall between the two of you that you didn’t dare jump over. He was still funny and charming, very communicative too, but he rarely talked about how things made him feel. He rarely even shared what was actually going on with him, why he would get so little sleep or what that damn project he’s working on is about. It was putting a lot of distance between the two of you, which you were noticing now after the initial euphoria of dating your high school crush was over. You were trying to build a foundation on top of a sinkhole with him .

The two of you were so lost in the silence, in the train of your own thoughts, that you didn’t even hear Harry standing behind the two of you.

“Are you communicating telepathically?” he asked, making the two of you turn. Peter had the sandwich in his mouth while he stood up, hugging his friend. You stood there by them awkwardly.

“I’m so sorry.” Peter told Harry after he let go.

“I’m not going to ask for a spar with you, ever again. You’re way too good at this, you should teach me!”

Peter scratched the back of his neck, laughing nervously.

“No, I’m not that good, I’m just short.”

“Man, you have to be professionally trained, or a monster at the gym. I've been training since I was 12, I’ve seen hundreds of opponents. No one of them have hit me this hard. And I got my jaw broken on the ring. Twice!”

At that point Harry had started walking on the sidewalk and the two of you subconsciously followed him because of the conversation.

“And you’ve been doing it for a week? I’m not buying that, you’re lying!”

“A week?” you asked, looking at Peter confused. “He’s been doing it for months.”

“Months? This guy showed up at the gym for the first time on Saturday, it hasn’t even been a full week.”

You and Harry stopped, looking at Peter for answers. His lies caught up to him and he panicked, he panicked a lot this time. It was easier when it was just you to lie to, because there was no one who could catch him red handed. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, looking at him with squinted eyes. He felt like a deer caught in headlights under your gaze. You had never questioned anything he said before and he was afraid you were about to start.

“He means that… It’s the first time I’ve been to his gym.” he said finally “I used to go to a different one but the guys there… were bullies to me. Remember?”

He was a ball of nerves, placing his hands in his pockets to try and hide it. Peter’s body got stiff and he was trying his best not to lose his composure but he just started blurring out a made up story to save himself.

“You’ve never told me about anyone bullying at the gym.”

“You can’t have forgotten about that one time I came back with a black eye and all… They were just really… bad? I thought that if I got stronger and tougher they would stop but they di-” you interrupted him with a hug, squeezing him tightly.

You knew he was uncomfortable with all of this, and it was hard for him to talk about his feelings and what he was going through. You had to reassure him this was not an attack but a safe conversation. It explained his weird behavior to an extent. He was bullied in high school too and you hoped those days were over for him. Being bullied as an adult is something completely different than the childish jokes in school, that’s why you thought part of the reason he was so closed off now.

“It’s okay, Pete.” You mumbled. “You don’t have to talk about it, I believe you.”

He finally breathed out, hugging you back.

“It’s okay, I’m tough. I almost broke Harry today.”

“Too soon, Parker.”

—

It was a normal Monday evening for you, late hours in the lab, the soft sizzling of something on the stove, the heavy chemical smell in the air. Your palms felt sweaty inside the rubbed gloves and the goggles you were using were recently regulated by someone with a smaller head, which resulted in an uncomfortable squeezing of your head, which was about to give you a headache soon. The only thing that was missing in this scene was Peter. In the last few days he had been coming very late to the lab dates. You didn’t think much of it really, he had told you about wanting to spend more time with his new friend - Harry. He felt incredibly guilty about the whole almost-breaking his ribs situation recently and as a compensation, Peter offered to train him. It left you with even more time on your hands, which resulted in a lot of boredom. You were so ahead on class work that there was no point in continuing, you were not trying to graduate early. The second best thing you could think of was helping Peter with his very secret project, and hiding that from him, of course.

You spent enough hours watching him, observing the chemicals he was using, the way he was combining them and the nervous scribbling in his notebook. You read that notebook a dozen times, filled with chemical compounds, processes, results that were circled in red or scratched out. Most of the research didn’t seem like it was going smoothly for him, he had written things like “failed” all over the pages. And even with chemistry not being the strongest of your subjects, you knew that things were going wrong for him mostly because he had tunnel vision. He had written the key ingredients he was using down and most of his work was based around them - in different proportions, different ways of mixing. But none of them were giving the results he was seeking. After a good amount of time brainstorming you decided this whole thing needed a different approach. The issue was, you thought, in the key ingredients themselves. That’s how you secretly ended up developing your own version of the web fluid formula. You had been trying to use things which you had read would give similar, and preferably better, results in the experiment. For two weeks now you had been using the free time away from Peter to do just that - help him in his work. And it was going well, so well that you actually considered yourself ready by the beginning of the third week. You made sure to write everything down, following his example, so you wouldn’t forget something important.

You took the jar that had white goo in it, softly bubbling up over the fire and mixed it up with a metal stick. The white goo had risen like dough and it was sticking to the metal as you were stirring it around. You pulled the metal stick up, the white substance all over it, stretching after it. In this exact moment the door opened and Peter barged in, almost out of breath. You head turned, looking at his messy hair, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he was trying to calm his breathing before greeting you.

“Hello, beautiful, sorry I’m late.” He told you, throwing his bag on a chair and putting a lab coat on.

“Hi.” You smiled at him, placing the jar down on the table.

He seemed distracted and in a rush, like usual. You walked over to him as he was putting some gloves on so you could fix the collar on his lab coat that got flipped over. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead while you did that.

“What have you been up to in here?”

“Actually, your work.”

“My work?” His brows furrowed in confusion, making you bite your lip before you took his hand and led him to the table.

“Well, you’ve been silently working on this whole project for so long now, it’s been months. The one you are very sparse with the details with. But I took the time to read over you notes, plus I've seen your experiments like a million times…” you said, grabbing the jar again and lifting it up for him to see. The metal stick was still inside, you pulled it up and the white substance inside followed it, sticking to it but still moving like melted cheese. “I tried a different approach.”

He took the jar from your hands and inspected himself, playing around with it, touching it with his fingers even.

“How even-”

“The technology I used is slightly different to yours. And the ingredients too. From what I could understand, you were trying to replicate the functionality and durability of an actual spider web… designed to suit human weight of course. With that being said, the results shouldn’t be absolutely permanent as well, like this thing, it should dissolve after some time, right?”

He nodded, listening to you with a lot of attention.

“So… I developed this formula, the whole mixture is activated by heat, of course, but once activated it can be stored in these particular qualities, in containers for example. But it does lose these qualities over time, especially when it’s hit by direct sunlight.”

“How much time does it last?”

“Depends on the conditions but… Two to four hours from what I’ve tried.”

He was staring blankly at you, still holding the jar in the palm of his hand. He didn’t really know what to say or do, all kinds of thoughts were running around in his head. He was amazed, absolutely stunned by the way you managed to do this. Peter was also incredibly proud, he could say that much. But the fear of being exposed as Spider-man was bubbling up in his chest, his heart was beating fast, his palms were starting to sweat.

You were looking at him, waiting for him to say something, anything at this point. You were starting to get anxious. Did you fuck up? Did you cross a line you were not supposed to? Was he upset with you? He never asked for your help but you did it anyway. Did you ruin the whole thing for him? The only thing you could hear at this point was the ringing in your ears.

“You’re a genius!” He exclaimed finally, a smile spreading across his lips as he looked at the worried expression on your face. Your features softened up, a sigh of relief escaped your lips after he spoke.

“Can I look over your notes?”

“Yeah, definitely!”

You turned around and grabbed the notebook you had been using to write down your research. He skimmed over it, flipping through the neatly written pages.

“You’re actually brilliant!” he told you after he was done reading it, placing the notebook on the table. “I need to run a couple of tests to check for a few other things but your formula looks so much better than mine.”

“Yeah, sure, take it. I made it for you anyway.”

“Look at you, making your own web fluid formula and you were scared to even do the lab experiments during class a few months ago.”

“My own what? Web fluid?”

It had just slipped out of him. His eyes widened, all the blood left his face. He looked as if he had just seen a ghost. And in reality he had seen a ghost - the ghost of his past, coming back to haunt him again. There was no coming back from this, he was caught red handed and it was his own fault. Not that he wanted it to happen, but he was tired, overwhelmed and overworked.

It didn’t take a degree in math to put 2 and 2 together and a lot of things were starting to make sense for you now. All the time he was spending in the lab developing a “web fluid”, the random disappearing from time to time, his past Stark internship, the link between Spider-man and the Avengers. It was all adding up.

“You’re working for Spider-man!” You finally said, like you had come to the most logical conclusion there was.

“I’m what?” He asked almost immediately. His head was a mess, trying to come up with the best possible lie to cover himself up.

“It all makes sense! He knows you from the Stark internship you did back in high school, and he asked you to develop a new formula, right?”

Peter was finding it hard to believe his ears or his luck. Of all the things he could have come up with on his own, none of them could beat the thing you just did. He was sure you would have figured it out by now, after this fatal error he made. And somehow your brain was so overcomplicating the situation so much that you couldn’t come up with the right answers. You had such blind faith in him that even for a split second you didn’t question any excuse he had given you before. He was blinking silently, looking at you. In his mind he was debating whether he should finally tell you the truth and break the most sacred oath he had taken in front of himself. Or if he should continue expanding the web of lies he had created until he himself gets caught up in it.

“Absolutely, you got me here.”

Shallow and disgusting, he thought to himself, a bitter taste on his tongue as the words echoed in the room. He chose a lie, a dirty lie to the only person who cared for him so deeply, the person who trusted him so blindly. Would you accept him and continue loving him if you knew the truth? And the issue for him at this point wasn’t about the truth anymore, it was about the way he was treating you. His heart shattered when you smiled and hugged him.

“I knew it! You’re so smart that the actual Avengers need you! You have so many great things ahead of you!”

Your soft giggle felt like a direct stab to the heart. His shaky hands wrapped around your waist while you hugged him. He held you close, closer than ever before because there was an uneasy, heavy feeling in his stomach that if he let go now, he would never touch you again.

taglist:

(apologies if I missed anyone)

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jiminjamms · 6 months

Text

sex therapy :: 22. little dark age

chapter tags/warnings: megumi is very mean but he's very uwu in the end. dad! toji. angsty! megumi. family drama. mentions of death. classism. strong language.

word count: 4.2k

notes: despite my long hours at work and the word count, I finished this update at a speed that impressed myself! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

The next morning, you woke up alone in Toji’s bed.

Sunlight filtered into the room through the lace curtains, the brash beams softened into a gentle glow, a cinnamon and honeysuckle candle flickering in the corner.

While you could be disappointed that Toji’s warm presence was not beside you, this was your chance to stretch out on the mattress and rub at your eyes, feeling the crisp sheets against your skin.

With your mind growing more alert, memories from last night made their way back into your mind: how Toji touched you, kissed you, fucked you, made you feel so sexy. Only he could make you feel like he was the luckiest man alive. That you were the only girl in the world.

Like an idiot, you curled into a smiling and giggling ball, kicking your feet in a flustered bout.

Even with six months of marriage under your belt, it was actually…weird, to remember sex as something enjoyable and fun, rather than an obligatory action.

Sure, Toji might view last night as normal given his abundant sexual endeavors in the past. But this was totally a different thing for you. Naoya had never bothered with ‘unnecessary acts’ like aftercare, after all.

Hell, he could not even care to look at you most nights.

Several weeks back, you would have been racked with guilt.

However, you have recently discovered a renewed sense of self-worth, a belief in your own agency and right to pursue happiness outside your tattered marriage. This was the realization that, if Naoya Zenin could feel like he could do whatever he wanted, you could too.

You could do better.

Toji had said so himself.

Not to mention, with Toji, you were heard.

You were understood.

With him, you were special.

Keeping these thoughts in mind, you practically hopped toward the bathroom and washed up, then skipped down to the lower level to search for him. Looking for him didn’t take long when the kitchen bustled the sounds of cupboards being opened then closed, the clatter of metal forks against porcelain plates.

You rushed in that direction, unconsciously smiling at how thoughtful Toji was to be preparing breakfast. He must be anticipating you to be awake soon (and how surprised he would be to see that you had risen from your slumber already!).

So you can imagine how disappointed you were when you turned into the kitchen doorway, ready to implode from giddiness, and Toji was not the person you saw.

Rather, you found Toji’s son.

Megumi did not even notice you at first.

He leaned over the kitchen island, his upper body shifted onto the one forearm that rested casually on the counter’s surface, his free hand swiping at his phone. His gaze was locked onto the device which was why he had not sensed your presence, instead occupied with reading his friends’ texts and chuckling to himself as he scrolled through the messages.

Megumi looked like a completely different person now that he wasn’t clearly pissed off.

The contrast was like night and day.

His morning appearance was remarkably neat. With the abundant lighting, his tall and fair features became clear, with sparkling dark eyes that glimmered like the evening sky. He had taken off his rings and been wrapped snugly in a baggy brown pajama set.

For once, he looked…soft and sweet, and when he laughed heartily at his screen, everything in his smile was a reminder that this young man was nothing but a kid in the end.

Briefly, you did not want to believe that this was the same anguished teenager you had encountered last night. All over, you searched for one singular flaw. A loose strand. A crack in his lips. A budding, rosy pimple. But, with Megumi, there was nothing.

How could this possibly be the same person who accused you of being a demon, who lashed at his father for thinking with his dick rather than his head? As you wondered how your plain presence could turn such an innocent boy into someone filled with contempt, your heart filled with chagrin.

“Yuuji, this bumbling idiot,” he snickered quietly at a video from his friends. As he pressed replay, he brutally stabbed an apple slice with his fork and popped that bit into his mouth. “If your older brother hasn’t already, Nobara is definitely going to whoop your ass.”

Still chuckling, he shifted his weight, leaning from one arm to another, and that…was when he spotted you.

Quickly, his grin fell flat.

“Oh,” you heard him mumble.

Even a half-brained goldfish could tell Megumi was horribly disappointed to see you here. He straightened up a bit, chalking up the invisible and seemingly impenetrable wall that you recognized from last night.

Megumi didn’t want to smile. He didn’t want to be your friend. For all he cared, you only stopped by for a few hours in his life, and he had no obligation or expectations to ever see you again.

So, with that, the atmosphere became thick and awkward.

Horribly awkward.

“H-Hey,” you uttered, unsure of what else to say as the gloomy teenager turned around toward the refrigerator and effectively ignored your presence.

He did a terrific job in avoiding your gaze as he reached for an orange juice carton and a new glass, pouring himself a drink in silence once he returned to the kitchen island. Since you were older, you shouldn't feel humiliated by how you were being treated like a fly on the wall by an eighteen-year-old.

Yet, you were.

Megumi made you feel irrelevant and insignificant, as though all idiosyncrasies that made you feel helpless in your marriage came to haunt you through him.

He could hardly bother to glance in your direction even as he downed his drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he did. Then, once his glass sat empty, he treated himself to another cup.

All in silence.

When Megumi finally decided that, fine, he could not simply pretend you didn’t exist forever, he turned to face you and asked, “Why are you still here?”

The question caught you unprepared, leaving you frozen like a deer caught in the headlights.

Although Megumi didn’t roll his eyes on the spot (which probably demanded great self-control from himself), he leveled a piercing stare that bore right into yours. For a moment, his looks resembled his father’s greatly, but the intensity in his indigo eyes was nearly palpable, like a spear that grazed along your throat.

Instantly, your mouth dried at the scrutiny, his look disapproving and judgeful.

Perhaps you should head to the water cooler, hoping to rehydrate yourself and avoid his direct line of sight in the process. He left you unsettled with how he examined you with narrowed eyes, likely sending death wishes your way.

“I’m here because—”

You paused.

Here because your father and I fucked last night in the bathroom two doors down from you.

No. In times like these, honesty was not the best policy. Knowing this, you felt more exposed than ever in Megumi’s presence and tugged at your shirt collar to cover the dark marks on your neck, but the teenager had already seen them all.

“Unbelievable,” he scoffed, his eyelid twitching with irritation.

Megumi slammed his glass down in exasperation (which, to your amazement, did not shatter despite the force), and he stormed into the next room over.

His signs were clear that he would rather not spend another minute talking to you, but you persistently trailed behind him. There was still a lot to understand about him. At the very least, you would like to sort things out.

On the other hand, he wanted to avoid all that, escaping into the library. Even with your goal for conversation, you had to slow down in awe to admire the newly discovered space. A grand brick fireplace occupied the wall opposite the entrance, a magnificent woodblock painting hanging above the mantel as plush beanbag chairs encircled the hearth. Shelves crafted from dark cherry wood lined the rest of the vicinity's perimeter, showcasing not only an impressive literary collection but also antique figurines and framed family photos.

“Leave me alone,” Megumi deadpanned amidst your amazement. "My dad's busy on a call in his home office upstairs, but that doesn't mean you should be following me now."

He could never let up on you, could he?

“Well, no one ever said I was following you.”

“Yes, you totally are. Why else are you tailing me here?”

You shrugged. “Because this is a nice apartment, and I’m just exploring.”

“Well, I’m sure you live in a very nice place too, given who your husband is.”

A small part of you was still amazed at how publicized your life was given your ties to the Zenin Corporation’s CEO, but you had been growing accustomed to the attention in recent weeks.

“I like the aesthetics here, though. Drawing inspiration for my own place.”

“Whatever,” he grumbled in finality but did not miss how you stopped at one particular framed photo. Immediately, he rushed to your side, the proximity introducing you to his grapefruit fragrance that was accompanied by ambery cedar notes. Forcefully, he swung his sleeve in front of your face and hampered your view. “Nuh-uh! Don’t be nosy.”

“I’m not being nosy!” you protested. “That was your baby picture—”

“Yes, exactly. So, you are nosy,” said a Megumi trying to hide his embarrassment. “You’re a dreadfully nosy, horribly pushy, and appallingly insistent old snooper.”

“Old snooper?!”

Sure, you weren’t a high schooler anymore, but that didn’t mean you were old.

“Control yourself,” Megumi went on, ignoring how offended you have become. “You’re victimizing us all.”

While Megumi’s original mission was to slink away and enjoy his personal space, he now decided that he had to monitor your every movement instead, worried about what other awfully cute childhood photos you might come across if left alone. Knowing there was no use in arguing with a stubborn teenager, you took your gaze away from the photos and spotted a large maroon pennant plastered above the doorway.

“Oh, Harvard?” you asked,

“Yes, my dad completed his college degree there. Double major in economics in psychology,” he stated matter-of-factly, not that you were surprised. “That, and I’ll be starting school there this fall.”

“Oh, congratulations!" you praised (and questioned why Harvard would accept a cynic like him) before using this chance to make some meaningful conversation. "My husband also went to school in the United States as well. He could give advice about starting university in a foreign country. He went to—”

“Yes, Yale.”

Wow. Just how many hours did Megumi Fushiguro spend on Naoya Zenin's Wikipedia page? Obsessed much.

Creepy, even.

“Well, look who’s the snooper now,” you teased the boy, jokingly pointing out how he seemed to know more about you than you knew about him.

But perhaps, that was a terrible idea.

Megumi stopped, falling quiet as he turned back slowly to face you. His lips were pressed, as though he internally debated what charged and hateful thing to say next.

How dare you involve yourself in his matters? How dare you use his words against him? Arrogance was never a classy trait. So, how dare you challenge Megumi, an incoming freshman at one of the best universities in the world, while you were a sidepiece in Japan’s aristocracy.

You braced yourself, expecting a barrage of insults, until he asked, “Are you feeling better since yesterday night?”

Caught off guard, you froze, not sure if you heard him right.

Meanwhile, Megumi did not meet your gaze. He almost appeared ashamed to do so, regarding the nearby bookshelf instead, his long fingers running over the wooden engravings.

The room, once filled with apprehension, now held a rare glimmer—a shred of kindness that left you realizing how complex the teenager was.

To respect his space, you stayed put from where you stood, the library growing quiet while waiting for your answer.

“I am better, thank you for asking.”

While Megumi tilted his chin forward in thought, he still did not glance your way. He stayed silent for a long while, sucking on his teeth.

“Sorry,” the boy spoke up again. With his head hung low, he took in a deep breath through his nostrils before admitting, “I know I'm a complete asshole sometimes.”

This, naturally, was the last thing expected from the younger Fushiguro. Observing him from your position, you noticed how his features softened as he thumbed through the shelved pages of one book.

Was this real?

Five minutes ago, this was Angsty Megumi. The don’t-bother-me Megumi. The hated-your-fucking-guts Megumi.

Yet suddenly, he began apologizing. While Toji presumably had some influence in bringing about this change, Megumi appeared to mean what he said given his idle fidgeting.

The easier—and frankly, more childish—comeback was to make a scene and accuse him back. After all, Megumi’s slander and actions had torn a hundred gashes at your fragile heart, but you knew better than to hold grudges at your age. “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

Another silence, this break twice as long as the last. He continued to drill his stare into something far less interesting, but only because he seemed hesitant to speak more. His lips parted and then closed as he visibly fought with himself regarding his next words.

“This doesn’t mean I trust you, though.”

Oh. Just when you thought you advanced two steps ahead, you had merely been circling around square one. Right, you should have expected that because this was only the first time you two were holding some semblance of a civil dialogue. But, despite all this internal rationalization, that didn’t make your disappointment any less.

“That…is fair,” you replied, trying to mask the rejection in your tone though the defeatedness still bled through.

“Look,” Megumi started quietly.

He sighed and ran a hand down his dark hair. When he finally turned to you again, gone was the outright scorn that once dwelled in his eyes, replaced by a countenance far more sad. His lips pursed into a strained line, his forehead marked with concern, and brows furrowed ever so slightly.

“I don’t know what your intentions are. Just…please don’t hurt my dad.”

Your chest tightened.

Megumi could judge you for all he wanted, but you felt unfairly blamed. He had said something similar last night. What could you—a young and inexperienced housewife to the Zenin family, yourself with no real power—possibly do to hurt Toji?

“I don’t know what you mean.”

The boy stared at his feet, rocking on his heels. “Dad’s been through a lot. All to protect me. But, as an unfortunate result, he had made several awful decisions in the past to the point I feel like I am the one watching out for him instead. Ever since my mother passed away, he had been a mess.”

Ever since his mother passed away.

While you were aware that Toji had an ongoing affair with ‘Tsumiki’s mom,’ you had not stopped before to think about Toji’s other past wife who must be Megumi’s mom, much less wrap your head around the possibility that the latter no longer existed in this world.

Not that you were to blame.

Toji, who preferred to keep many private matters to himself, didn’t mention his first wife in conversations before, her premature death being a likely reason.

This might be rude, but you had to ask, “What happened to your mother?”

Megumi had expected the question, putting on a front to seem tough and act as though the past didn’t bother him. Yet, pain flashed visibly across his face.

“Involved in an accident many years ago. She was an event coordinator and traveled to Canada to visit a vendor when she crossed an intersection, and then…”

He paused.

Even though you had an inkling about what he was to do next, adrenaline coursed through as Megumi raised his outstretched fingers and collided them to create the letter T.

“Boom. Gone.”

Your heart sank.

How come no one had ever mentioned this to you before?

While you could understand why Toji did not want to discuss this traumatic event, the other therapists never brought up their leader's tragic history either. Therefore, the realization wrecked you—to think about how a young woman’s life could vanish from an unpredictable freak accident, leaving behind a husband who could never tell his wife that he loved her one last time and a son who could never feel his mother’s tender affection again.

“That’s horrendous,” was the most appropriate reaction you could conjure to sum up your thousand thoughts. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…”

Your voice trailed off.

Despite the time to process, you still didn’t know the proper verbiage. Only now were you scratching the surface regarding who Toji and Megumi Fushiguro truly were, and you could only wonder what else there was to know about them.

“Don’t say sorry to me.” Noticing your loss for words, Megumi had interjected. “I don’t remember much about my mom since I was seven when she passed, so not that I really care anyway.”

A lie. The teenager tried to seem unbothered, but his voice wavered. Even Megumi himself must have noticed how he began choking up a little, turning away to distract his sadness.

“My dad, though…” Megumi continued, but he didn’t need to finish his sentence for you to understand the rest. “He truly loved my mom.” After propping his elbow against a nearby shelf, he rested his head on his palm and sighed. “He had given up everything just to be with her.”

Both warmth and sadness shone through like he was retelling a bittersweet story of star-crossed lovers—two people deeply in love yet destined to be apart.

“I see.”

“Dad has not been the same since,” the boy continued to explain. “He slept around a bunch and got charmed by some pretty lady. Blinded, my dad got married to her and life had been a living hell afterward—treated me like a bag of shit, spent all my dad’s money on her shopping sprees every weekend, and even neglected her own daughter—my stepsister—which forced my dad to raise her instead.” In the end, Megumi huffed loudly in exasperation and seethed in anger, his hands balled into fists that turned his knuckles white. “A fucking bitch.”

He’s talking about Tsumiki’s mom, you realized.

“They’ve gotten divorced, no?” you inquired, referring to Toji and his second wife.

“Thank all the Shinto gods, they did! About several months ago, yes. Would have taken their marriage certificate into my own hands if they hadn’t by now!” Megumi exclaimed, extending his hands out to rip an imaginary piece of paper for illustrative purposes. “That…That whore did my father really dirty during the years they were together. No, the craziest shit is that she continues to bother my dad all the fucking time.” Scoffing, he threw his arms into the air. “She’s got a new shiny boy toy, so why is she still trying to bother the ex-husband that she placed the divorce papers in front of?”

His eyes slid to observe you, as though he attempted to read through your thoughts or elicit some reaction. Therefore, when you did not, Megumi simply continued.

“I am this close,” he leaned forward, bringing his thumb and index closer just about together, “ this close to placing a restraining order on that lunatic. For my sake, for my stepsister Tsumiki’s sake, and for my father’s sake.” Then, he dropped his hands down in one long sigh. “Therefore, I hope you can understand why I have trust issues.”

With this newfound information, you finally understood why Megumi had been so hostile to you during your first few encounters with him. He had a good reason to be. With all these years gone by, he hadn’t seen anything good come out of his father’s escapades ever since his mother’s passing, and Megumi was desperate and determined to protect what he had left.

Like you, Megumi knew that Toji deserved none of this.

Toji did not deserve to agonize alone after his first wife’s untimely death, he did not deserve to be taken advantage of by his second wife who sought opportunity in his heart’s emptiness, and he did not deserve the suffering of having no one by his side to comfort him during these times.

Seriously, how could you possibly be complaining about bad sex to a man whose lowest lows tortured him far beyond your comprehension? Juxtaposing your therapist’s tragedy—from loss to grief to betrayal—against yours made your problems seem minuscule compared to the vast amount in his. Even though Toji suffered through many colossal heartaches, he still lived, smiled, and gave each day his all, living through the halcyon days of sunshine.

Meanwhile, Megumi stared at the ring that was already on your finger. “Are you going to marry my dad?"

Spit nearly catapulted past your mouth.

“What?” you blurted, dumbfounded.

“I don’t want another stepmother,” Megumi clarified, assuming that the answer to his question would be yes. “I just want a mother.” He crossed his arms and hugged himself, the loneliness evident in his orotund voice. “I…want to know what having a mom feels like again.”

You could feel and see, for the first time since you two met, the vulnerability that resided within Megumi. A side that would only come out whenever he thought about his childhood, which must have been filled with love, joy, and beautiful memories.

Seeing this made your heart tear with sympathy.

Because, in him, you saw a reflection of yourself.

“Back when I was in high school, my mother passed away after a long battle with kidney cancer,” you divulged, recognizing and validating his sorrow. "The immediate years after were extremely difficult for me because I had known my mother for so long in my life, and I sought a presence that could replace hers. My father, like yours, recognized my struggles and took it upon himself to fill my mother's shoes. Still, my mother cannot ever be replaced, and I similarly do not think I can completely substitute your mother either. But there is one thing for you to know: that my very last goal would be to hurt you and those you care about, Megumi.”

Words, you knew, did have the capabilities to mend the rift alone, so you took slow steps toward him. In the closed distance, the desolation in his eyes became more vivid, the ever-present struggle between his confused emotions and the barriers he fortified to protect himself and those he loved.

Without saying more, you tugged at his arm and pulled him into an embrace.

Beneath your hands, you could feel his shock.

He resisted at first, a subtle rigidity in his frame.

Gradually, however, those tense muscles in his body softened as he sunk in the warmth you provided him. His shoulders seemed to lower along with his guard, and he leaned into the hug. Not every issue may have been resolved, but at that moment, you found a common ground with Megumi that replaced the once-charged disagreements with a consolation transcending words.

“I only know a small part of your story, but I want to be here for you,” you whispered, voice a soothing murmur.

Megumi did not respond immediately, but his grip on your shirt tightened as if acknowledging the shared vulnerability. There was warmth from his body that assuaged your broken and throbbing heart, and with great sincerity, you hoped that he could at least get the same comfort from you. Like a little child, he rested his head by your neck and let out a deep breath.

“Thank you for talking to me.”

With a sad smile, you patted his back. “Of course.”

Even the room seemed to exhale in relief, releasing the lingering tension that had gripped the vicinity.

The peace and serenity were only interrupted when a holler thundered from the upper floor.

“Boy!” Toji, who must be done with his call now, boomed. “I told you to clean the bathroom, already! Mopping and scrubbing today!”

Megumi groaned at the command and peeled away from your touch. “I’m going to do that soon!” he shouted into the void, hoping that his voice somehow made its way back to his father.

“That’s what you said an hour ago!”

“Okay, yeah, he’s right,” Megumi conceded, huffing. He stepped back, a faint blush dusting across his pale cheeks.

“I’ll be back,” he muttered shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just some chores to do. Sorry.”

Toji must be lucky to have such a good son like him.

“No worries.”

With Megumi rushing out to obey his father’s commands, you found the library now all yours. You were smiling ear to ear, your entire body much lighter now that you had resolved many misunderstandings with Megumi. As you waited for his return, you scanned the room in search of something to help you pass the time, your gaze fell upon the Harvard pennant again, this time also noticing the framed document that hung beneath the banner.

“What is this?” you mumbled to yourself.

Yes, as Megumi had pointed out about you earlier, you were incredibly ‘nosy.’ In your defense, this was your chance to learn more about the Fushiguros, a family whose past you just began to uncover through the conversations earlier.

Besides, what harm could be done from just some innocent curiosity?

You approached the piece slowly, unable to comprehend the English print quickly when your first language was Japanese. Yet, with just enough foreign language reading skills, you figured that this document was in fact a Harvard University diploma. Impressed, you admired the gold embossed letters, the university's iconic emblem, and the dark ink that conferred the degree to…

Toji…Zenin.

What?

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: We have officially hit the turning point in this fic! The reason I enjoyed writing this chapter so much was how many topics and emotions were explored. While our hot therapists didn't take the spotlight, we got a chance to explore our very elusive Megumi.

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