#they’re both snarky assholes

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ how long does it take to fuck your brother's best friend? (four whole days)

synopsis. suguru comes home to visit from college at the same time you do—except he brings satoru along. this is going to be a long break

word count. 8.5k (i am tired of this tomfoolery)

contents. college! au, brother's best friend! satoru, fem! reader, minors do not interact, three-year age gap (you're both early twenties), slightly mean satoru (when you’re kids), slight enemies to lovers, jealous! satoru, mentions of reader having an ex-bf, male masturbation, satoru is taller + carries reader, cunnilingus, fingering, handjobs, unprotected sex, brief mentions of alcohol (satoru), creampie, pet names (baby + sweetheart), not proofread i could not be bothered i’m sorry

notes. this was not supposed to be this long bye i am embarrassingly down bad for the blue-eyed freak

everyone knows that where there is satoru, there is suguru—and likewise, where there is suguru, there is satoru.

they’re a bit of a packaged deal, really. satoru befriends your brother in what you think must be some twisted stroke of luck—there is no way suguru would lower his standards for some rich bastard who’s had life made for him since the day he was born. but apparently, he does, and you’re stuck with a white-haired nuisance in your house at least once a week. for years.

you’ve known satoru since he was a whiny, snot-faced, and spoiled little brat. back then, he used to call you toothless—you were six, it’s normal for children at the age of six to lose a few teeth. just because satoru is nine and has grown his teeth back doesn’t mean he escaped the toothless phase himself—but satoru is just a jerk like that, pushes your buttons, and calls out your insecurities to get a good laugh.

you don’t smile with your mouth open even once around him that summer, not until suguru assures you that regardless of how many teeth you have, you have a lovely smile.

when you’re twelve, puberty does its thing, and now you’re stuck with acne-prone skin—also a normal occurrence for people your age, but satoru makes sure to point out the giant pimple on your forehead every time he sees you. you make sure to let him know his haircut is as awful as his sense of style, and suguru tries his best not to choke himself with his charger as you both bicker.

satoru is gone that entire summer for a family cruise that you’re sure costs double your house—he comes back frighteningly taller than you remember him within the span of just a few weeks.

it’s been like that since you were kids. he comes over, finds a new thing to pick on through his smug grins and smooth chuckles, and you fume as you bite back with just as snarky rebuttals. he makes sure to never cross the line of going too far—it’s more for suguru’s sake, you’re fairly sure—but stays right on the dot of getting just under your skin.

he’s annoying. a jerk. a rich snob. a privileged dickhead. he’s rude and disrespectful, with no tact, let alone any semblance of respect. you don’t understand what could possibly make suguru want to hang around such a douchebag, but suguru cares about satoru—and satoru has always been there for your brother.

you don’t understand it, but you respect it. as long as he doesn’t wet your entire bathroom sink and mirror in the mornings after he stays over, you suppose you can coexist.

but you haven’t seen him in ages—not outside of suguru’s instagram stories and posts. it’s been a long few years since the two of them have left for college, and by the time you leave too, life has its funny way of working, and, well…you don’t bump into him anymore. it doesn’t occur to you that satoru is not the same guy you used to know until you come back home to visit after your second year of college.

“suguru,” you call, “i borrowed your hoodie. but you can have it back—”

you cut yourself off when you open the door to your brother’s room, and lo and behold, stands a very shirtless gojo satoru, the white-haired and blue-eyed asshole you’ve had to deal with since childhood. except he’s way taller than you remember him—just how much does this guy grow, exactly? his shoulders are broader and….and since when did he have abs? there’s a small tattoo just under his collarbone—when did he even get that? his hair is also longer, just enough to fall over his forehead and curtain those striking blue eyes of his.

he looks…well, handsome. very handsome, in fact. dangerously handsome that it catches you by surprise as you blink.

he’s still shirtless, holding his t-shirt in his hands as he grins.

“hey, toothless,” he greets, voice deeper than the last time you heard it—but it still sounds relatively the same. you think you’d always recognize satoru’s voice, whether you’d like to or not. and, of course, he just has to still use that ridiculous nickname after all these years. “long time no see.”

“i have all my teeth now—i have for a long time, y’know. and put a shirt on, you freak,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “where’s suguru?”

“what, you don’t enjoy the view?” he motions at his bare torso, like the shameless bastard he is, “most girls love this view—”

“and yet, you’re still single,” you cut him off, staring at him pointedly.

he grins impossibly wider, tugging his shirt over his body swiftly—you have to exercise all ounces of control not to gulp as you watch his biceps flex.

“keepin’ track of my love life?” he wiggles his brows, “i know older men can be appealing but have a little class. your poor brother would lose his shit if you went after his best friend—”

“satoru,” you sigh, pinching your nose, “do you age backward or something? how are you still this obnoxious after so long?”

“i practice in the mirror,” he winks, “it’s my charm.”

“that’s hardly charming,” you roll your eyes, “anyway, whenever suguru comes back, let him know i left his hoodie, yeah?”

“sure,” he chuckles.

and then you close the door as you leave—right before you stop, pause, and open it up again as you’re sticking your head back in when you make a shocking realization.

“wait, how long are you here for?” you ask, eyes wide.

he has the audacity to look smug as he taps his chin and pretends to think—“oh, y’know. just the rest of break. my old man took my mom on some trip, so i’m killing time here,” he shrugs.

great. lovely. wonderful. just what you needed.

you wish he’d drop dead—maybe suguru will finally be forced to go outside of his one-man circle and actually befriend some respectable people.

“you can’t just stay at your place?” you hiss, “it’s certainly big enough.”

“well, why be lonely in an empty home when we can have fun here?” he hums, “consider yourself lucky—you get to be housemates with me for a—”

“keep to yourself,” you warn, cutting him off again through narrowed eyes and a dangerous glare—satoru only looks more amused, raising his hands up in surrender.

with that, you turn again and almost shut the door when he calls for you—“hey, toothless,” he says lowly, making you pause before turning to him with a raised brow. he smiles—it’s so unlike that usual smirk of his…somehow this one is a bit gentler as he murmurs, “you look good. grew up well, y’know.”

you blink. you’re not ready for that…didn’t expect a compliment from gojo satoru himself—especially not after all this time of throwing mediocre insults your way.

you decide he must be messing with you, so you purse your lips as you click your teeth in irritation. “yeah, sure,” you say dryly.

you can hear his chuckles as you close the door again—this is going to be a long break.

—————

just as expected, the house is simply not big enough for you and satoru.

the first time you run into him happens to be first thing after waking up—you’re walking up to the door just as he twists the knob and opens it, walking out shirtless. again.

this time, however, he’s got beads of water rolling down his skin from his shower, right between his pecs, as a towel hangs around his shoulders. you can see his tattoo from up close now, a small infinity sign right under his collarbone that contrasts against his pale skin.

how tacky, you think—just as you’d expect, even his choice of tattoos is questionable.

his hair is wet—it’s sticking to his forehead instead of the multiple directions it usually scatters around in that messy way it always does. you’ve only felt satoru’s hair once—when you were fifteen, and you’d hit him in the back of the head as you walked past him at the breakfast table. he’d made a jab at your dark circles. tests were around the corner, and unlike satoru, your grades actually mattered. you didn’t expect his hair to be so soft, but it is, and you almost itch to twirl the strands around your fingers for a quick feel.

instead, you scowl and stomp off to your room as soon as your dishes are washed.

his hair is probably just as soft now—maybe even softer now that he actually probably cares to look after it. you’ve heard suguru grumble about using two-in-one shampoo too many times when he comes back from spending the night at satoru’s. for a second, your fingers twitch to reach up and brush through a few strands on his forehead—just to feel them because they look soft. nothing else.

the urge is quickly killed as soon as he opens his mouth, however.

“oh, hey there, roomie,” he grins, “you’re really doing all you can to catch me half naked, huh?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you grumble.

“i’m just sayin’,” he chuckles, “that’s twice now. if you ask nicely, i might walk around like this just for you.”

it’s way too early for this.

by early, it’s actually late noon. now that finals aren’t killing your free time, you stay up until ungodly hours to catch up with your social life—and it doesn’t help that you can hear satoru and suguru stay up playing video games the next room over, either. suguru is probably still sleeping.

that’s a bit of a shocker, in fact—usually, it’s satoru that has to be dragged out of your brother’s room to have breakfast (or brunch, really) before the kitchen is cleared up. why satoru is up first is beyond you.

maybe it’s just a cruel way for the universe to enjoy watching more of your veins pop.

“does that apply to asking you to leave? because then i suppose i can ask rather politely.”

he grins, eyes sparkling with amusement as he shoots you that smile with those pearly whites that irritate you to no end. you’re not sure why, but something about his smile looks so much different nowadays—something about it just seems so….mature.

that’s a word you didn’t think you’d ever use to describe satoru.

“mm, not quite,” he hums, “you’re still stuck with me.”

“whatever,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “move, i want to shower before suguru wakes up.”

“you have time,” he steps to the side, letting you enter the bathroom, “he’s probably not waking up anytime soon—woah.”

satoru’s shirt is on the floor—why, you may ask? because he’s an annoying idiot who doesn’t have to clean up after himself when people have always been around to do it for him. he never has to care to aim and toss his clothes into the hamper because the maids will pick up after him anyway. old habits die hard, you suppose—you’ve listened to suguru complain about satoru’s messiness not improving even after being his roommate for the last few years. it’s never been your problem, but you don’t appreciate it now that you’re slipping over the fabric on the tiled floor, falling backwards with a squeal.

but satoru’s quick—he catches you with those strong arms of his and wraps them tightly around you, keeping you securely in place as he steadies you against his chest.

his bare chest, in fact.

you can feel the slight dampness seeping into your shirt, and you can feel his hot breath on your neck as he exhales in relief once he makes sure you’re safe. you almost shiver—almost, but you manage to scrape together enough self-control to stay painfully still in his grasp.

“you okay?” he murmurs gently, voice a low whisper against your skin. there’s no bite to his words. no amusement or teasing or even smugness. it’s genuine, the way he checks on you.

this is…new. very, very new.

“yeah,” you breathe, letting out a sharp breath. and then—“maybe keep your clothes in the fucking hamper next time, though.”

“sorry,” the smile in his voice is almost audible—you can’t see it from where you are, but you can hear it in his voice. you roll your eyes, and satoru makes no move to loosen his arms around you. for some reason, you don’t move.

you’re not sure why, but you just don’t.

“you’re still just as messy, huh?” you roll your eyes—he laughs, and it’s a smooth, boyish chuckle that almost makes you wonder for a moment if this is why girls seem to love satoru so much despite his god-awful personality.

it’s a pretty beautiful sound—you hate that you have to admit that to yourself.

“yeah,” he admits, “it drives suguru nuts.”

“yeah, i can’t imagine why,” you snort. it’s like that for a moment—satoru’s muscled arms around you and hard chest pressed against your back. finally, you clear your throat. “you can let go now, you know.”

“right,” he mumbles, slowly pulling away—and when you turn to face him….is that disappointment? on his face? you don’t get a chance to be sure because then he’s bending down to pick up his shirt before he’s standing—he’s already wiped the expression from his features completely by then. “sorry about that, toothless. i’ll keep my shirts off the floor next time.”

“that would be so kind of you,” you smile sarcastically.

and then you shut the door in his face and exhale as you lean against the wall.

this is going to be a longer break than you thought.

—————

the next time you run into him, it’s late at night. everyone is asleep—even your brother and his headache of a best friend, if the silence tells you anything. you can’t sleep, though, so you make your way to the kitchen to hunt for snacks. you’re skimming through the pantry before your eyes land on a surprise—a box of strawberry pocky sits nice and enticingly, right there for you to open and devour.

you grin, reaching over when—

“those are mine,” satoru calls, stepping into the kitchen, “brought them over myself. you should ask before touching people’s things.”

“you literally ate my leftovers the other night,” you say incredulously.

“those were yours? i thought they were suguru’s.” he raises a brow in surprise, making you click your teeth in irritation.

“the principle of asking still applies,” you purse your lips. and then defiantly, you open the box and grab a pack right before his eyes.

he scowls—but you know he doesn’t actually mind because he waits for you to finish grabbing yours before taking the box and grabbing his own pack and a coke from the fridge. you both take a seat at the kitchen table, across from each other, as you open the packaging and silently eat your newfound snack.

it’s satoru who breaks the silence first.

“do you still throw away the ends of these?”

you huff indignantly, not meeting his eyes as you take a bite off the strawberry-covered end, stopping at just where the cookie portion is uncoated. “yes. i’m eating these for the coating—not the bland biscuit part.”

“what’re you, five?” he snickers, earning a glare from you. defiantly, you pop the end of the pocky stick into your mouth just to prove a point—and then the look of distaste makes him cackle louder. 

“shut up,” you hiss, “you talk too much.”

“the ladies love it when i do,” he bats his lashes—you stare at him blankly, unimpressed.

“yeah, as if.”

“hey, my ex-girlfriend totally did,” he defends.

ex-girlfriend? that’s a bit of a shocker—you didn’t know satoru dated anyone in the last few years, you haven’t seen or heard anything of it through suguru’s end. in all realness, you didn’t even think satoru was the boyfriend type…but then again, he’s not really the anything type. he just kind of exists to take up space and be the bane of your existence. 

“i hope the poor girl is recovering well after dating you,” you shake your head, feigning a concerned look on your face that makes him roll his eyes—they’re still disturbingly bright even in the dark kitchen, dimly lit by the slightest bit of moonlight pouring in through the small window.

“i dated her freshman and sophomore year,” he says casually. you also didn’t expect that—that it lasted that long. something about satoru doesn’t strike you as the long-term relationship kind of guy. something about him doesn’t seem like the relationship kind of guy at all. not because he’s the type to mess around casually, but because he seems the type to seem disinterested all around—he’s snobby like that. “she was…alright, i guess.”

yeah. very snobby.

“you are such a sick bastard,” you spit.

he snorts, taking a bite of his pocky as he shakes his head in amusement. you’re as feisty as ever—it’s always fun riling you up, even if unintentionally.

“hey, it’s not like she was bad. she was just…well, she wasn’t interested in me like that either,” he shrugs, “i think it was just the sex. it was good, can’t lie there.”

“you’re so gross,” you roll your eyes, “have some decorum.”

“what, you’re still sixteen?” he raises a brow, lips curling into a smirk as he reaches for another pocky, “can’t say the word s-e-x?”

“i don’t broadcast my sexual activities out in the open,” you shrug.

satoru chuckles, taking a bite that more or less finishes the entire stick in one go before he presses a finger to his lips, “shh. don’t say that too loud—suguru will come chase you from his room if he hears.”

“suguru,” you groan, “he’s such a pain to have around sometimes. y’know i dated this one guy last year. i think suguru might’ve paid him to dump me.”

“i know. he definitely thought about it,” satoru hums, “he used to go off about it all the time. he was right, though—that guy was a total prick.”

something about you is mildly shocked that satoru knows about your private life—sure, it’s not outrageous or even the slightest bit unlikely that suguru mentions you. satoru and suguru are best friends, and you happen to be suguru’s sister—of course, suguru is bound to mention you here and there. it’s just the fact that satoru even pays attention to anything to do with you that surprises you—although you suppose it would be a good way for him to find his next source to push your buttons.

“i’m not surprised you think he’s a prick,” you nod, “it takes one to know one, after all.”

“oh yeah?” he snorts, waving you off, “i do, in fact remember anniversaries, y’know.”

“okay,” you sigh, defeated—your ex-boyfriend is admittedly not at the top of the list of your brightest choices. not even up halfway on the list. in fact, he’s so low on the list of good choices you’ve made, that willingly choosing to interact with satoru feels like an exceptional decision in comparison. and that’s saying something. “he was pretty bad. but he was really hot. when a guy looks like that, his values are the least of my worries.”

it’s a joke—you’re sure he knows that. but satoru takes a long sip from his coke, silent for a moment. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so serious, especially so suddenly.

“he can’t be that hot,” he mutters.

“oh he was really hot. probably the hottest guy i’ve ever talked to—” satoru bites his pocky a bit aggressively at that, “and he was so tall. maybe taller than you—how tall are you again? anyway, he was pretty enough to overlook his shortcomings.”

“he’s probably not taller than me,” he grumbles, frowning. you snort—men and their fragile little egos, you think in amusement.

“he was,” you tease, “he was so tall, i’d let him do whatever he wanted.”

“that’s a terrible way to look at it,” he scrunches his brows, “you shouldn’t let some guy walk all over you because he’s tall and his face is a bit easy on the eyes—”

“i know you’re not talking—”

“i’m serious,” he cuts you off. something about him reminds you of suguru for a moment—like he cares who you’re with because he has a reason to. as if you mean something to him, as if knowing someone who doesn’t deserve you has you in their palms is upsetting.

but then you shake the thought out of your head—satoru doesn’t care. he’s never had a reason to, and you don’t exactly plan to give him one, either.

“okay, dad,” you roll your eyes, “i learned my lesson. i have standards now.”

“good,” he nods—and then, as if to keep himself in character, he adds, “because i don’t want to help suguru kill someone, and it’s over something lame like forgetting his little sister’s anniversary. i’d like to go to jail for something more badass.”

“you and badass don’t belong in the same sentence,” you raise a brow. “let’s be realistic.”

“oh yeah? that’s rich coming from—”

“guys, it is five in the morning,” suguru grumbles, throwing a water bottle at satoru’s head. you glance at the kitchen entrance, eyeing a half-asleep and very irritable suguru as he crosses his arms, “can’t you idiots fight over who’s more of a loser at reasonable hours? some of us like to sleep.”

“want one?” you offer your pack of pocky, holding it out to him.

suguru blinks, contemplating for a second before sighing and trudging over.

“yeah,” he mutters, flicking your forehead. “gimme that.”

you watch woefully as suguru takes the entirety of your pack, swiftly sitting next to satoru and leaving you empty-handed. satoru snickers obnoxiously at the deflated look on your face—and then he holds out his pack to you.

you look between him and the pack for a moment before giving him a genuine smile. it’s a rare sight—he drinks it in as you carefully take one and bicker over something with suguru.

you’re pretty when you smile, he thinks—pretty enough that if you had horrible values (which you don’t), he might feel inclined to understand your (awful) reasoning for a moment.

and then he blinks and shakes the thoughts out of his head—it’s going to be a long break.

—————

satoru meets you when you’re six. 

he’s nine at the time, and he feels on top of the world knowing he’s three whole years older than you—in hindsight, three years is not a very large gap, but to nine-year-old him, it feels like centuries. he’s remembered you as the fun little drama queen that’s too easy to poke fun at for years—that’s all you’ve always been: suguru’s younger sister who puffs her cheeks out and scowls way too often to be normal, the girl that’s way too easy to tease than should be standard. 

somehow, he wasn’t expecting for you to come back so grown…and so hot. suddenly, it really hits him that you’re not a kid—have not really been for a long time now. he’s always treated you like you’re way younger than he is, way too little to be in his presence and be worthy of it—but you’ve really become a fine young woman.

a magnetizing one, in fact.

it’s now his third night at your house—your parents are as lovely and welcoming as ever, and suguru is always a good time to be around. but somehow, satoru is not satisfied. not anywhere near sated by the few, minimal moments of contact with you. 

when did you get so pretty? although, as much as satoru has always liked to poke fun at you, you’ve never been ugly. not even a little—but you’ve grown into your features better, outgrown the awkward teenage era of your life, and now present yourself with a newfound confidence that just looks…so good. satoru doesn’t see his best friend's kid sister anymore—no, there’s something so alluring about you now.

the nail on the coffin that solidifies he’s officially screwed is when you mention your ex-boyfriend—why would your dating life make him this irrationally angry? why is the thought of someone being on the receiving end of your praise (and shameless heart-eyes) so aggravating for him? 

he doesn’t know—but what he does know is that the raging boner has been killing him all morning ever since he woke up from…well, less than proper dreams about you.

so now he’s here, forehead pressed against your shower wall as the hot water hits his back, swollen cock in his fist as he thumbs at the tip, teasing the slit just the way he likes. he thinks about you—how he’d show you what makes him feel good, how you’d probably learn fast and take care of him just the way he needs. 

your hand would look so much daintier compared to his—smaller, but he’s sure it would still feel infinitely better. 

he bites his lip, fighting back a moan as he strokes himself slowly, pre cum smeared along the length of his hard, aching cock—red and angry at the tip, leaking with more pre cum no matter how many times his thumb collects every drop. 

“f-fuck—” he breathes, and his voice lets out a shaky, breathy little call of your name—he’s screwed if anyone hears it. he’s sure you and suguru will both band together to kill him, but thankfully, the words are lost in the sound of the shower running. “fuck baby,” he says hoarsely, voice cracking ever so slightly as he whines. 

it’s soft and quiet, the noises he makes—careful and deliberately hushed to make sure no one hears the improper way he’s thinking of you right now. but fuck, your tits are so pretty when you walk out of your room in a t-shirt in the mornings—he can just tell you’re not wearing a bra. he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop trying to picture what they’d look like uncovered and bouncing.

“jus’ like that, baby,” he pants, whimpering softly as he squeezes around his tip, teasing himself with that slow, painful pace of his. 

satoru is sure that if it were you, that if the hand stroking his cock right now was yours, you would never let him cum so easily—you’d drag it out just like this, pump him slowly and twist your hand around him in a pace that’s painfully not enough before ever thinking about letting him come undone. 

it’s just the way that you are—never ready to back down from a challenge, unwilling to go down without a fight. but he loves it, he thinks—lives for the way you keep him on his toes and work for the satisfaction. 

“more,” he gasps, “n-need more—gimme more, sweetheart.”

he imagines it—the way you’d kiss his jaw, maybe even the corner of his mouth, as you hum. say please, toru, you’d probably say—and fuck, he’d kill to hear you say toru. 

“please,” he rasps, “please, baby. d-don’t tease.”

he can practically hear your light giggles, the sweet, okay, baby. no more teasing, that you might whisper. he’d also kill to hear you call him baby—he’s almost nauseous at the idea that some other guy must’ve heard the pet name from your lips before him. and then he lets himself pump his erection faster, squeezing tighter as his thighs quiver while he stands in the shower. 

fuck—you feel so good. you’re not even here, but he’s sure you do, and he’s desperate to envision it. it practically hurts—the way he’s so hard and swollen and ready to release. just for you, he wants to tell you, he’s going to cum all for you. 

“baby,” he whimpers, “‘m so, so close—fuck ‘m gonna cum. ‘s for you—gonna cum for you—ngh, sh-shit.”

and then there’s cum on the tile walls, on his hands, on his abs as they flex with every labored breath. satoru cums—hard. his eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted with a silent cry as he pants and strokes himself through his high. you’d kiss him, he likes to think, on his jaw and cheeks and maybe the tip of his nose as you sit on his lap and work him through his orgasm. you’d watch him closely, take in the way he comes undone for you, maybe even call him your pretty boy as he paints your hand white with his seed.

would you praise him? murmur softly into his ear and seal the gentle words with a kiss to his skin? would you stroke his hair from his face as you admire his blissful, fucked out little expression? maybe he’d ask you then—maybe he’d ask you to admit he’s way more handsome than that douchebag you dated as your hand holds his softening cock, sticky with his release.

god, what he wouldn’t do to see your hands coated with his cum—did you do this for your ex? did he look as hot as you claim he was when he came for you? the thought makes him sour—he grits his teeth and clenches his jaw at the idea, panting and catching his breath as he stares down at the mess he’s made.

he should feel bad—this is wrong. so, so wrong—suguru would kill him if he was aware satoru was lusting over his little sister. but it felt so fucking good—he’s never cum as hard as when he’s pictured cumming for you. 

it can’t be that wrong, if that’s the case—can it?

——

“suguru,” your voice is shrill, deadly—like you’re out for blood. “next time you jack off in the shower, maybe clean the fucking wall? are you joking?”

“wha—i definitely cleaned that,” suguru defends. 

oh, fuck, satoru thinks—he forgot to clean that. so he makes himself very scarce and stays within the confinements of suguru’s bedroom—his messy habits are starting to really catch up to him. if his defense, he really would clean that up…it’s just that he was a bit distracted. 

“so you admit you jack off in our shower? our shower?” you sound inconsolable, downright devastated, and borderline hysterical. having siblings seems like a lot of trouble, he thinks—but then again, sometimes satoru is jealous of your bond with suguru. it’d be nice to have someone in his family he can actually depend on. “keep that shit for your bedroom, you jackass!”

“well, how am i supposed to do that when satoru is there? you tell me.”

“i don’t know! figure it the fuck out—you guys probably jack off together anyway.”

“what?” suguru sounds appalled, “we do not—that’s outrageous.”

“whatever,” you say—you sound almost murderous as you warn, “next time you better clean up your fucking mess, you asshole.”

satoru can’t help but smile a little—your pointer finger is definitely held up as you scold suguru—you’re so cute when you’re mad, he thinks. he almost wants to step out and catch a glimpse, but he decides against it for now.

silently, satoru thanks his best friend for taking one for the team—even if it was unknowingly.

—————

it’s night four. 

satoru has surprisingly kept to himself—he even promptly looked away after meeting your eyes in the kitchen yesterday morning as you walked in for breakfast. that’s…new. a lot about satoru is new. 

he’s taller and more muscular now—at one point, suguru used to tower over his scrawny little form. now he’s seemed to grow into his body, seemed to learn how to style himself better, and actually do his hair a bit. it’s still messy now that he’s just lazing around in your home—but it’s oddly handsome. 

scarily handsome, in fact. 

you don’t enjoy the idea of thinking about the jerk of your childhood like that—but ever since you felt the hard press of his chest against your back, sometimes you wonder what it’s like to know satoru outside of just your older brother’s obnoxious friend. 

maybe, somewhere along the line, had you put your pride aside and actually tried to get to know him, maybe you both could at least be friendly. but then again, there’s never been any real animosity between you two—you can share a lighthearted talk from time to time, like that night in the kitchen. 

you decide not to dwell on it too much, decide that he’s not really worth your thoughts when he’s just a guy who’s always been a bit too spoiled to learn how to be humble. instead, you go down to the kitchen to grab another pack of strawberry pocky—satoru will just have to deal with it. if he doesn’t want his snacks eaten, he shouldn’t keep them in the pantry where anyone could stumble across them.

you walk into the kitchen until—oh. it’s satoru. again.

“oh, hey,” he grins cheekily, taking a sip of his coke—he needs to break the habit of having so much sugar this late at night…but then again, why would it matter to you? “stalkin’ me?”

“for an unwelcomed guest, you sure do talk a lot,” you roll your eyes, making his lips curl into a smug little smirk. 

“i don’t know—your parents seem to love having me over. what if i become their newest son?”

“i doubt my parents are looking to adopt you,” you raise a brow, slightly amused. 

he hums, sipping his coke before blinking at you through those long, perfect lashes of his. “well, there are other ways to blend into a family. marriage, for example, is a great way.”

“you and my brother might as well marry each other,” you snort, “no one else will do it.”

“who said anything about suguru?” he winks, chuckling when your face twists into an exaggerated look of horror—always as dramatic as ever, you are. he can’t help but find an endearing side to it now.

satoru stands, walks over to where you are and stands in front of you as you scoff, shaking your head as you huff out a disbelieving chuckle. 

“that’s pushing it,” you muse, “marrying you would be the last open option i’d have left—and even then i doubt i’d ever take it.”

“yeah?” he raises a brow, leaning in so close, you can practically feel his breath fan over you. he smells like expensive cologne and your shampoo—why is he using yours instead of suguru’s? before you can even ask him what he’s doing, he throws away the empty can of coke in the trash can behind you, eyes bright with amusement as your breath hitches.

it’s like he knows—the fucking asshole.

“yeah,” you breathe, “you don’t deserve me,” you try to say matter-of-factly. it comes off a bit more breathless than you intended—the air feels suffocating. maybe because satoru is so close, maybe because his breath is on your face, maybe because all you can smell and feel and hear is him. 

you can’t find it in yourself to pull away—why aren’t you pulling away? it’s just like that day he caught you, when his arms wrapped around you and all you felt like doing was lean into his chest. what about satoru and you has shifted so quickly to make you want to do that? what makes him so easy to fall into when all you’ve always known was to shove at him?

he hums, leaning in closer and closer until his forehead touches yours. “you know who didn’t deserve you?” he asks, “that shitty ex of yours.”

you look up at him with wide eyes, speechless as his hands find purchase of your hips, grabbing them and pulling you closer—and against better judgment, your hands lay themselves across his chest. it’s as firm as you remember it. 

“how would you know—”

“heard suguru rant about it all the time,” he murmurs, “how he forgot your dates. got you a shitty birthday present. didn’t show up to your anniversary. made you hang out with his friends and didn’t even meet half of yours. you’re tellin’ me he deserves you more than me?”

“he was hot—”

“yeah? and i’m not?”

he’s cocky—you hate that about him. always did. but he’s so close, so intoxicating, so irresistible, and fuck, he is hot—so incredibly hot, you’ve been losing sleep over it the last four nights no matter how hard you try to deny it. 

“satoru, what are you—”

“y’know, i’ve been helping suguru pick your birthday presents since you were twelve. i’d pick you the best gifts,” his nose is brushing against yours now, lips just millimeters away from his as he speaks—“and i never forget an important date. i’m very punctual too, believe it or not. i’d meet your little friends—show ‘em what a catch i am when you introduce me.”

“and what am i supposed to do with this information?” you ask defiantly.

it’s a last-ditch effort—you both know this. you know exactly what he wants you to do with this information. 

“i don’t know, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “what do you think?”

and then you’re kissing him—because fuck, satoru is right there, and how could you not? his chest is under your palms, his lips are right against yours, and you can feel his thumb rub circles into your hips. 

so you kiss him—loop your arms around his neck and tug him closer and press your lips to his. he groans, responds almost instantly as his mouth molds against yours, kissing you deeper as his hand moves to cup your cheek.

your lips are softer than he thought, and his hair is silky against your fingers. you tug at the strands, grab a handful, and feel them against your fingers like you’ve wanted to for so long. and when he nips at your bottom lip, who are you to deny him? your lips part, letting his tongue slide in and taste you with a breathy sigh that makes your knees wobble. 

“s-satoru,” you stutter, whispering between kisses, “suguru might come in like last time—”

“god,” he groans, head burying into your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the skin, “don’t fucking talk about your brother right now. please.”

“my room,” you say urgently—it’s all he needs to hear before his hands are on your ass, grabbing you as you wrap your legs around his hips. it’s urgent, the way his mouth is back on yours—he doesn’t pull away even once the entire walk to your room, not even when he lets your back fall onto the mattress as he hovers over you, pressing kisses along your collarbone. 

no bra, he notes happily, his hand sneaking under your shirt to toy with your pert nipples. 

“god, you’ve been driving me fuckin’ crazy,” he mumbles, tugging the hem of your shirt over your arms and tossing it over his shoulder. he stares, takes in the sight of the same tits he’s been fantasizing over for the last few days in awe. “you know that? been thinkin’ about these for days,” he says lowly, cupping your tit and massaging as he presses a kiss to your jaw. 

“you’re shameless,” you mutter, snorting before you cut yourself off with a gasp as he squeezes your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers and pulling a soft whine from you.

“shhh,” he chuckles, tilting his head toward the wall next to you, “don’t want suguru to hear, do you? that wouldn’t be nice, would it?”

“it’ll be worse for you than me,” you grin, tugging at the hem of his own shirt, indicating you want it off. he grins widely, wiggling his brows and making you purse your lips.

“wanna see me shirtless again, huh? third times the charm, as they say,” he winks. you would retort with something as witty, but then your eyes fall on that tattoo again—right under his collarbone, making your hand reach out to trace it with your thumb. 

“what compelled you to get this corny little tattoo of yours,” you grin, giggling as you trace over the small infinity sign. 

for the first time, you think you witness satoru shy, blushing as he rubs the back of his neck and chuckles awkwardly. “that…that was an accident. when i got drunk for the first time.”

“oh,” you snort, “you’re so weak, satoru—”

“do me a favor, sweetheart,” he hums, cutting you off, “as much as i love when you say my name, say toru for me, yeah? i wanna hear it.”

you roll your eyes, huffing as your hand finds the back of his head and pulls him into another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he grinds the throbbing erection in his sweats over your heated core. 

“toru,” you say breathlessly, “more.”

that’s all he needs to hear—satoru doesn’t waste a second before he’s crawling between your legs, sliding your cute little pajama pants down your legs before meeting your dripping pussy.

it’s wet—so wet, he almost wants to chuckle and tease you a bit. just for old-time's sake. but the ache that shoots down to his cock reminds him that he’s in no position to tease you when he’s not faring any better himself. so he spreads your legs, kisses lightly at your clit in a feather-like touch that has you whimpering and clutching the sheets in anticipation.

“how pretty,” he mumbles, “been hiding this pretty little thing all this time. what a perfect pussy.”

“satoru,” you gasp in embarrassment, hands reaching for his hair and tugging him closer to where you need him most—equal parts because you really need his mouth on your cunt and equal parts because you really need him to shut up. 

but he chuckles, takes his time to spread your folds open with his thumbs, and watches in wonder as you flutter around nothing, arousal dripping and leaving a mess. it’s perfect—you’re perfect, and he wants to take his time with you. 

“god, you’re soaked,” he groans, chuckling as he murmurs, “that’s fuckin’ cute.”

before you can even whine at the way his words are shameless, his mouth is back to kissing your clit, lips wrapping around it as he sucks and rolls his tongue along the sensitive bud. his fingers sink deep into you, pushing past your folds and slowly bullying into you until the tips of his fingers curl and brush against a spot that makes you squeal. 

you gasp a breathy, “fuck, toru—” before he hums around your clit, vibrations making you whimper as he thrusts his fingers back in to hit that spot again. it’s sensitive, the way he makes you feel—your nerves are on fire, and your head is light, and fuck, it feels so good you can’t help but sob brokenly and squeeze your thighs around his head. he moans against your cunt, pulling his fingers out before letting his tongue lick a stripe along your slit, tasting you with a sharp inhale. 

“f-feels good,” you whimper, biting your lip as your eyes crinkle at the corners from squeezing shut.

“yeah?” he hums, kissing your inner thigh, leaving a wet little sheen of his spit and your arousal on the skin, “that’s a good girl—just keep telling me how good i make you feel, kay?”

he could stay buried nose-deep into your pussy for as long as you let him—tongue alternating between fucking into you and rolling over your swollen clit, hearing the broken little gasps and whines of his name as you repeat toru over and over again like a prayer. his hand grips at your thigh, sinking his fingertips into the plush skin and rubbing soothingly with his thumb as you rut your hips and grind against his face. 

satoru has half a mind to watch it again—to lick and suck at your core again and again just so he could burn into his mind what you look like when you cum. it’s divine—like he’s halfway to stepping into heaven and has to pause just to admire the sight before him. 

your hips leave the mattress as your back arches, and your fingers tug relentlessly at his roots as your walls quiver, letting satoru taste every drop of your release as you press a palm to your hand and try to keep yourself from squealing at the pleasure.

suguru is right next door. you can’t wake him—can’t let him know this is what you and his best friend get up to in the late hours of the night. 

it’s not until satoru pulls away, catching his breath as he wipes the wet trail on his chin does he realize how hard he is—how badly he’s aching as his cock strains against his sweats. he hisses as he frees himself; ridding his sweats and boxers and wrapping a large hand around the tip of his erection and smearing the leaking pre cum along his length. 

you watch in awe, reaching over and replacing his hand with yours. satoru was right—your hand is infinitely smaller than his, and yet, it feels a great deal better. so much better, in fact, that his arms shake as he hovers over you, burying his head into your neck and groaning as you slowly stroke him, squeezing at the tip and rolling your thumb through the slit.

he didn’t even have to show you what he wanted, what makes him feel good, what makes his mind fog with pleasure and burn through every nerve. no, you figure it all out on your own, pulling strangled moans and hushed gasps from him that make your clit ache once more. 

“fuck, baby,” he pants, “can’t last long like this—c’mon, g-gotta feel you.” gently, he pries your hand from his thick, pulsing cock, laying it against your stomach as he peers down in fascination. “i’ll be right here,” he hums, drawing a line on your skin right where his tip ends, “see that? that’s where you’ll feel me, sweetheart.”

“then let me feel you,” you murmur, cupping his cheeks and brushing a thumb over the skin, “fuck me, toru—wan’ it so bad.”

so he does—drags his tip along your folds and collects the slick pooling at your entrance before pushing his tip past your folds, splitting you in half as he slowly buries himself to the hilt. his jaw is clenched, breath labored as he waits for you to adjust, lets you kiss his cheeks and nose as you murmur how handsome he is, how perfect he feels, how good is to you. 

“that asshole ever make you cum?” he asks lowly, “he ever eat your pussy like that? make you cum hard enough you had to cover your mouth so you’re not screaming his name?”

“no,” you breathe, quivering as his thumb rolls over your clit in slow circles, still painfully still as he stares down at you, “n-no, never. just you—only you—”

“good,” he grins, “that’s what i like to hear. and when i make you cum on my cock, make sure to tell me he’s never done that either, yeah?”

“you’re full of it,” you scoff, “always have been.”

“and you’re full of me,” he says cheekily, chuckling as you glare half-heartedly. “can i move, baby? please? need more, ‘s not enough. n-need more—”

“yeah,” you whimper, pulling him closer, chests brushing against each other as your lips meet in a sloppy kiss, “yeah—need more too, toru.”

satoru, in all his years of knowing you, has never seen the side of you that could be this gentle. the side that glides your hands over his back, feeling every flex and every pull of his muscles, gently caressing the skin like it’s holy, like it’s not worthy of marks—instead to be worshipped and revered with thoughtful touches. your lips sear into every part of him they can find—his lips, his forehead, his nose, his hair as his face digs into your neck. even your voice is a gentle whisper of his name, so soft and careful, it’s like saying it wrong could break him. 

your hips buck up in tandem with his, meeting his rhythm as he slams into you, his balls slapping against your skin as he buries his cock into you as deep as it’ll go with every harsh thrust. you can feel his tip kissing against that sweet spot in the back of your walls, your abused cunt sucking him in and hugging around him as he groans. 

the friction feels sickening, like he’ll pass out any second, like he’s floating between the precipice of pleasure and the edge of consciousness. 

you do that to him—he doesn’t know how or when or why, but you make him feel like he doesn’t have a grip on his own senses. he doesn’t mind it so much, he thinks—doesn’t hate the idea of letting himself fall into your palm and wrap around him. it feels nicer that way, like it’s where he belongs.

“fuck, ‘s so tight,” he rasps, whining into your neck as your hand cups the back of his head, holding him in place. his hips are rutting into you sloppily now, barely maintaining the rhythm from before as he nears his high—but that doesn't stop him from angling into you perfectly, slamming into your sensitive spot every time without fail. “c-cum—’m gonna cum. cum with me, sweetheart.”

“‘m so close, toru,” you sob—and then, just as his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing harsh, desperate little circles to get you over the edge, you cum again—harder than the last time, spasming around his cock and pulling him in as you squeeze around him. “t-toru,” you gasp brokenly, “fuck, ‘s good—so good.”

“baby,” he moans lowly, “fuck, you’re so perfect. prettiest thing ever—prettiest pussy ever. i, sh-shit—” your orgasm quickly has him falling into his own, hot, thick ropes of cum spilling into you with every twitch of his cock, sweet little noises pulled from his throat that he sings into your neck, fucking his load into you. 

it’s messy, the way cum spills out of you and coats his cock—but it’s perfect and feels so, so right. you can’t help but think how perfectly satoru fits against you as his body slumps on top of yours, panting and spent as he cages you in his arms.

your hand doesn’t leave his hair—now that you know how it feels, you don’t think you can stop threading your fingers through it, ever. 

“wow, toothless,” he chuckles after a bit, “you’re seriously obsessed with me, huh? i mean, how long have you been nursing this crush on me, hmm? thinking about your brother’s best friend, you naughty little thing—”

“satoru, would you shut that mouth for once,” you hiss, rolling your eyes—still, there’s an affectionate grin on your lips this time as he chuckles into your skin. 

“oh baby, i’m afraid this mouth never shuts, so you should get used—”

suddenly, you both freeze as you hear suguru’s voice through the door. “you two better not be fucking doing what i think you’re doing,” he seethes, making your jaw drop and satoru’s eyes widen.

fuck—that was never supposed to happen. suguru was never supposed to hear, let alone know.

“hey,” satoru starts, “if suguru kicks me out of our place, i can come be your new permanent housemate, right?”

do not comment about a part 2

but yeah he can come live with me any time and as long as he pays by sucking my tiddies i shall provide all food and utilities and everything

#teepods.writings #fics. #thirstee! #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut

[loving-family-poll]

Ultimate Incest Tournament - Semifinals

Propaganda under the cut:

Sam/Dean:

I'm sorry but they have it all. children of metaphorical incest just continuing the cycle in any way they can. they are brothers and mother + son and wives and each other's scorned lovers and life partners they've had multiple infidelity arcs they are sexually psychopathic together they have forsook life and morality and the earth itself for each other and just love each other so much . They are literally in a heaven of their own making together for eternity, incestuously. Come on!!! Blueprint!!!!! It's not gay if he's your brother!!!!!

dean did stuff to sam's dead body in ahbl. i just know it

Messed-up, isolated sibs with all the daddy and abandonment issues. Their lives are so claustrophobic with the brothers no more than five feet apart in the car, a motel room, or standing next to civilians (face it, they are frigging magnets). Can't leave out that they are always touching each other to check for wounds which is a huge PLUS for any shipper.

Sam and Dean ARE literally the blowjob brothers. They walk into a situation and everyone goes well well well if it isn't the blowjob brothers....... And they say. Yep. That's us. And then they fix the situation with their epic love story

THE classic, iconic, show shopping, never done before etc. etc. incest ship. It changed fandom and it changed the world

Dave/Rose:

Daverose blondetwin sweep because they were codependent without ever meeting from growing up seeing each other in their dreams

What does it mean to be an abused teenage boy growing up alone and seeing a girl in your dreams every night who is also your best friend. and when you finally meet her you go on a suicide mission together even though nobody was asking you to die with her. and then you are the only two human beings left in the recognizable universe on a cold meteor surrounded by aliens but you’re glad it’s with her. and when you finally touch the girl from your childhood dreams she looks exactly like you. because she’s your sister

I don't have words for how good these snarky assholes are together. DaveRose is brain chemistry changing. They both put up so many fronts, and engage in so much snarky wordplay, and are constantly trying to get under each other's facade. They play off each other so well, witty and sharp, I need them to be together always

We all die & we all die alone are the two cold truths of the universe but dave and rose broke both simultaneously by ascending to godhood together

Their twincest wins because it is just so confusingly tragic? profound? dave leaving rose behind in a doomed world, dave following her to the bomb. they are both so closed & cut off & curt its hard to imagine the depth of these things. but that is their love language: giving up their lives for each other over and over, in a confusing and fumbling and heartfelt love song. i can’t say i love you but i know we’ll die together anyway. because we’re made of the exact same stuff. i’ll find you again at the last moment. that’s love.

THEY DIED TOGETHER, YOUR HONOR

Confirmed canon by the author, (something happened) between them. Parallels of dying by each other's sides in EVERY timeline. They are THE womb-to-tomb. There is nothing platonic about winking at your brother while talking about crushes, that shit is incestuous. Seer/Knight archetype. They will die protecting each other.

do you realize love someone if you don’t follow them on a suicide mission into the gaping maw of a literal fucking sun after they knock you out and psychoanalyze you in your dreams? the blueprint of the “ethereal androgynous blonde boygirl twins” trope. witch/knight dynamics. they find each other to die together in every timeline no matter what (but they’re still emotionally constipated teenagers who bicker and make fun of each other in pesterchum). kids with grown-up powers. perfect little freaks of nature. what if we looked exactly like each other’s eyes

#tournament polls #tumblr polls #incest poll #wincest #samdean #spn #daverose #dersecest #homestuck #semifinals #tw incest

[shorthaltsjester]

thinking about the scene between vex and percy at the end of campaign one where after over a hundred episodes of the two of them as snarky assholes (affectionate but factual) helping to fight dragons and gods, they both buckle under the weight of just. missing their families in a way that’s fresh to both of them in different ways, where percy finally has the room to admit what’s been taken from him and what he let himself lose in his commitment to vengeance (the ability to actually Grieve) and where vex just watched her brother walk into death off towards their mother. and it’s been a horrible day, and percy confesses that he was going to be a clockmaker, once.

and then, three decades later, we see the two of them elevated to a less accessible status through the eyes of bell’s hells, where they’re to be the judges whether laudna gets to come back, where The De Rolos™ are leaders and percy is a hardass and vex is a lady, except there’s an intricate clock tower in this Whitestone’s cityscape, except ashton goes to punch a statue bust and several brown bears occupy his surrounding environment. and vex sees a face not unlike her own that was killed precisely for that fact and commits to helping her and percy sees a face too much like his own and gives them a hard time until he’s standing surrounded by the crushed glass of his home and offering genuine advice about how to move forward.

and to me what was so compelling about vex and percy both as individuals and as two people who fell in love with each other was that they both had walls for different reasons that functioned in very similar ways where they didn’t have to admit the things they knew/felt were missing in themselves. but by the end of their campaign those walls aren’t gone but they have, like, doors and windows now or something. and that’s present when we see them again from the more removed view of campaign 3, percy’s harshness softens for his daughter, vex helps bell’s hells but also ensured that should laudna bring delilah back then whitestone was protected and, god!!!! they’re perfect delicious characters genuinely and the way that matt makes the duality that defines those characters (and their relationship and whitestone itself) where they are stoic and cold and harsh but they’re also warm and kind and silly. that’s narrative that’s character creation and development that’s environmental storytelling that’s to be loved (and to love) is to be changed.

sorry but tonight’s 4sd has been fantastic and the group talking about the inherent shittiness of whitestone’s geographic and historic placement and the resonance of seeing vex and percy and percy’s advice to ashton has me thinking so many thought’s because. what if whitestone was already tending towards uninhabitability and what if it got worse when the briarwoods diminished even the warmth the sun tree could provide but. what if the last son of the ruling family returned and what if he fell in love and that was enough not to cancel out the harshness of whitestone but to amend it and add something to it. something something the mistress of the grey hunt protects whitestone from the harshness of the parchwood, something something percy’s speech to vex about why he gave her the one title she’d have to earn, something something vex was already doing the work of the mistress of the grey hunt simply by caring about and standing by percy — even before it was love — in the face of orthax and the briarwoods and death blast coffins and deals with devils.

#they’re the couple of all time #environmental storytelling will always ruin me and matt pointing out that there’s a clock tower in whitestone #So Immediately after bells hells arrived. that’s love actually. that’s the proof of love in the environment of whitestone #cr3 #cr1 #percy de rolo #vex’ahlia #percy + vex #critical role

[arlos-warm-drpepper]

I like the idea of Derek being a good guy, kind to the people around him, generally loved by all. Soft.

But maybe, maybe Derek is having a really shitty day when he meets Stiles. Maybe it’s the anniversary of Laura’s death, or his families death, or maybe he had a run in with Kate Argent early that morning and couldn’t get it out’ve his head.

And maybe Stiles isn’t the type to take someone’s shit. Maybe Stiles is sure he knows what kind of guy Derek is. Maybe he misjudges Derek off of the first impression, and maybe Derek is too flustered to apologize right off the bat.

Maybe when they meet for the first time, at a place where they’ll be forced to see each other in a pretty permanent arrangement, (perhaps they’re coworkers at work, or roommates in college, or something) Derek is a little bit of a grade A asshole due to his mood, and maybe Stiles remembers Jackson from highschool, and makes a promise to himself that that will not happen again, so he gives as good as he gets. Derek makes a snarky, rude comment and Stiles immediately makes one back, deciding that if he’s going to have to deal with this jerk, then he’s going to have to do it well. Maybe the next time they see each other, Derek is feeling better but isn’t sure how to start a conversation since he’s sure he’s already ruined any chance at being friendly with Stiles, so instead he just quietly tries to stay out’ve Stiles way, to make things easier and less awkward for the both of them. And maybe Stiles takes this as just more assholery, because of course the super hot guy he’s forced to be in proximity with thinks Stiles is so below him that he doesn’t even speak to him. What a dickhead. Maybe he gets so annoyed at Derek that he needs an outlet to complain to, so he starts up a conversation with one of his friends (who knows Derek as well) by going “you know Derek, right?” And before he can even start complaining they go “Derek? Obviously. Everyone knows Derek. You don’t usually meet people who are so attractive and kind and just forget about them.” And so Stiles stops, mouth agape, before clarifying “Derek Hale? Kind?” And then the other person, seemingly not sensing Stiles disbelief, start’s basically waxing poetry about how kind Derek is. They start bringing up all the good deeds Derek’s done, like how Derek donates to local charities, and volunteers at homeless shelters, and all of the other kind stuff Dereks apparently done. Maybe after awhile the shock wears off, and Stiles asks around a little more, and it seems everyone is apart of the Derek Hale fan club, and Stiles is annoyed. He doesn’t understand how everyone is so unbelievably in love with Derek when he’s such a jerk. He replays the conversation he had with Derek in his head, because maybe he missed something and Derek wasn’t actually being a jackass, but there is no other way to see it. Derek was a jerk, simple as that. He spends his days assuming that maybe everyone was just blindsided by Dereks dashing good looks to even realize what a jerk he was, up until he himself sees how good of a guy Derek is. He sees Derek buy a kid another ice cream after they dropped theirs, and then he sees Derek help an elderly woman cross the street and huffs about how fucking cliche that is. He notices the way that Derek always holds the door open for anybody he’s accompanied by, and even holds the elevator door open for Stiles himself. He still doesn’t say anything to Stiles though, and Stiles starts to wonder what he could’ve done to have the best guy in town hate him. He tries hard to come up with an explanation other than ‘I’m just an unlikable guy, I guess’ because that just seems a little too pathetic. When he draws a blank, he decides to just confront Derek himself. He walks right up to his desk (or maybe his room, if you went with the roommates option and not the coworker option) and just asks “What did I do to make you hate me?” In a tone that was meant to come out angry, but for some odd reason it comes out a little bit desperate. It makes Dereks eyes wide and he stutters out, “I- I don’t hate you.” But he doesn’t sound sure enough for Stiles, so Stiles continues on. “Really? Because it seems like you hate me. You can’t even look at me half the time, and you go to extreme efforts to ignore me. Which, fine, that would be totally fine if everyone wasn’t constantly talking about how kind you are to them. So what is it about me that makes you hate my guts? Do I talk too much? Am I too loud? Is it just my general existence or-“

“Stiles! I don’t, I didn’t..” Derek attempts, struggling to find the words. “I don’t hate you. I was just trying not to bother you.” He mumbles finally, the tips of his ears pink. It sounds silly when he says it out loud, and he realizes how badly Stiles could’ve misinterpreted the situation.

“..bother me?” Stiles said, confused and shocked.

Derek nods, hesitating to continue but pushing through anyways. “Yeah, when we met I was… I was going through something, and obviously I know that’s not an excuse to be an asshole, which is why I was trying to avoid you. I could tell you disliked me, which you have every right to with how I treated you, so I decided to just stay out of your way. Didn’t want to bother you.” Derek says, his face heating up at the admission.

A quiet “oh.” Is all Stiles can manage, and Derek just nods.

(Just so everyone knows you can steal this idea and write it better as long as you send it to me or @ me so I can read it)

#teen wolf #derek hale #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek/stiles #derek and stiles #stiles and derek #stiles/derek #stiles stilinksi #dylan o'brien #tyler hoechlin #derek hale deserves nice things #Stiles is a nice thing #derek x stiles #stiles x derek #stiles teen wolf #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf derek hale #teen wolf derek #derek teen wolf

[sandfordsmostwanted]

No I don’t care about the new Velma series, but all these Scooby Doo posts have highlighted a deficiency in every Scooby Doo prequel idea. Yes, I’ve seen some amazing ideas for BFF Daphne and Shaggy content...  ... but none for the untapped character goldmine of Freddie and Velma. 

Like just picture it. The series is set in a American private school, where Velma is a POC scholarship kid, always looking to prove herself. She’s bullied relentlessly, but keeps her head down, because she’s getting into the Ivy League, damn it, and there’s no way these assholes are stopping her. She’s a whizz at anything to do with science and math and history and geography, but arts are a bit of a weakness, and she needs one more English credit to max out her resume. Her teacher offers her the opportunity to tutor another student to get the credit. The catch is it’s Fred Jones, the Dean’s son, and no-one can possibly find out.  Velma’s initially pissed at having to spend so much time with this entitled brat. On the surface Fred Jones is everything you’d imagine him to be - a jock, a bro, loved by the ladies and part of the group that have always made Velma’s life hell. She dreads having to tutor him, until he turns up, and he’s genuinely appreciative and sweet. She doesn’t trust him; she’s been burned too many times before. But through the sessions they get to know each other better. They bond over their mutual love of engineering - Fred doesn’t have the technological vocabulary that Velma does, but he’s got an instinctive eye for when a mechanism would fail - and they both realise the other had more depths than they expected. Velma notices the bullies leave her alone now, and though she can’t thank Fred publicly, they share a few subtle smiles in the hallway.  And then the plot of the series happens - a girl gets kidnapped from their school, and Velma’s on the case. She cancels her tutoring with Fred to sneak into the school to investigate. They run into hypercapable badass Daphne Blake and her emotional support Shaggy. Velma’s had a crush on Daphne for as long as she can remember, but her nerves make her even more snarky than usual, and the two spend most of their time bickering. Velma, Daphne and Shaggy also run into Fred in the school while they’re investigating; he left some sports stuff behind and came to retrieve it. Plot plot plot, meddling kids, mystery solved. Velma thinks everything’s going back to normal, but it doesn’t. Shaggy saved her a seat at lunch, and fills her tray with stuff he thinks she’ll enjoy (”And hey, you can sneak some of this in your pockets for when you’re at the library later!”) Daphne picks her first for her team in gym class. Fred tells his shitty mates to get fucked, and sits next to Velma in every class. And best of all, they start solving local mysteries together.  As they become better friends, they learn more and more about each other. Fred tells Velma if she struggles with making eye contact with people to look at the bridge of their nose or over their shoulder, because that looks like you’re looking them in the eye without actually doing it. Velma tells Fred that “the writing swimming when you read” is called dyslexia, and types up their study notes in a easy to read font. Fred is the first friend Velma ever brings back to her tiny apartment than she shares with her parents, and he’s very appreciative of their home despite living in a straight up mansion himself. Velma learns that that mansion life isn’t all its cracked up to be. His parents work away a lot, and when they’re around, they’re shitty and waspy and make Fred feel small. Fred always texts Velma late at night telling her to stop studying and get some sleep, Velma always texts Fred to tell him to stop working out and get a snack. They’re fucking good for each other.   It’s never romantic between them - never even close. Fred takes Velma’s coming out better than her parents did (”Why would I be upset that you like girls? Liking girls is great! I do it all the time!”) Velma tries her hardest not to be jealous when Fred and Daphne start dating - she never told him about her crush, and he’s not a mind reader. Who cares if she notices there’s chemistry between her and Daphne? She’s probably misreading the social cues, like usual. Besides, school’s nearly over now, and she’ll be off to college in a matter of weeks. Leaving it all behind her, just as she planned.  Their final mystery is the biggest yet, and the only time the gang actually fear for their lives. The stress of the mystery, and the building resentment of Velma’s “I’m out of here” energy leads to a huge argument between Fred and Velma, and the gang splits four ways to try and solve this thing. Each of them face their own trial. Shaggy has to face his fear instead of running away. Daphne has to be herself without overcompensation with gadgets or gimmicks. She realises in this process that Velma is the one she’s always loved, and the two share a sincere kiss. Fred has to trust himself, and succeed by himself without the safety net of his family, his wealth or Velma. And Velma has to admit she needs her friends, and that she loves them deeply. The mystery is solved, and just like that, they’re all set to go their separate ways, this time for real.  It’s the last day of finals. Velma hasn’t heard from Fred for almost a week now; her texts go unanswered. She knows he’s taking breaking up with Daphne harder than he’s letting on, though he’s happy Velma and Daphne are happy. She finishes her final paper and hands it in, thoughts of college in her mind as she stands on the school steps where it all began.  A horn honks behind her. She turns. There’s a massive eyesore of a van parked outside. Velma didn’t even know you could get that many shades of neon green and blue, and the little orange flowers are wonky and she knows they’ve been painted by hand and with love. Daphne waves at her from the passenger’s seat, and Shaggy from the back. Fred is leaning against the Mystery Machine, twirling his keys in his hand. He’d traded the sleek, smart car his dad bought him and that he’s been driving all show for this new ride, and he asks if Velma feels like solving a mystery or two before heading off to college.  Thus begins the adventures of Mystery Incorporated.  (End credits song is “Life is a Highway” by Rascall Flatts because you know that’s white boy Freddie Jones’ favourite driving song) 

#scooby doo #velma #velma dinkley #fred jones #freddie jones #daphne blake #shaggy rogers #norville rogers #scooby doo prequel #scooby doo meta #velma and daphne #hbo velma

[hintsofhoney]

Movie Night

Pairing(s): Steve Harrington x Reader x Billy Hargrove

Summary: You and your best friend, Steve, have a movie night planned, but things don't go the way they're supposed to when Billy shows up.

Tags: 18+, smut, threesome, degradation kink, praise kink, Billy’s an asshole, Steve is protective, Eiffel Tower, p in v, oral, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: Don’t know where this came from, but I’m glad it did. I have a lot more in the works for Stranger Things, so keep an eye out! The ‘Are you getting fucked by stupid?’ line in this fic was directly stolen from Homelander; all credits to the writers of ‘The Boys’ for that one. Thank you to my biggest cheerleaders, @deangirl93​ and @treat-winchesterswith-kindness​, for beta-ing, I love you both to the moon and back! Hope you all enjoy the filth. 

You can also read me on Ao3! 

STRANGER THINGS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“I’ll fucking kill him.”

“Steve –”

“I swear to God, Y/N, I’ll murder him with my own two hands.”

Steve was pacing back and forth in your kitchen as you watched from a barstool at the counter. You didn’t particularly care that Billy had taken nude photos of you; you had the idea first, after all. But apparently he had a whole lot to say about them in the local gym’s locker room – which you also didn’t really mind – but Steve certainly did.

“The way he talked about you, like you’re just some… some thing to fuck. God, I should have laid one on him right –”

“Steve!” you yelled, pulling him out of his murder spiral. He stopped pacing and looked at you, his hands untangling from his hair – the famous Harrington hair – and returning to his pockets. 

“What?” he questioned blankly.

“Look, you’re my best friend in the whole world, alright? And I appreciate that you care so much about me, but Billy and I… he’s as much of a toy for me as I am for him.”

Steve’s face scrunched up in disgust. “Okay, gross.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “All I’m trying to say is it’s not a big deal, alright? It really doesn’t bother me, so don’t let it bother you.”

“Don’t let it bother me? Don’t let it – I’m not going to let anyone – not even your,” he motioned vaguely with his hands, trying to think of the right word, “boy toy, Billy fucking Hargrove, talk about you like that. And you shouldn’t either, it’s dehumanizing.”

You chuckled as you slid off the barstool and walked over to him. You placed your hands on his cheeks – they were still cold from the outside chill of the November air; he had walked to your place as soon as he had left the gym – and smiled; your forearm against his chest picking up on his rapid heartbeat. “Steve, whatever Billy has said about me cannot possibly be more dehumanizing than anything he’s already done to me.”

Anger flashed over his face before he realized you meant sexually, making him jump back in horror, his features scrunching up in repulsion. “Great Y/N, thanks for that. I’ll be sleeping again, never.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’ll be thinking about how badly you wish you were doin’ things to me instead of Billy,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him. You liked to think that you and Steve’s flirtatious teasing was the backbone of your friendship. It was how you two met – Steve made a comment about your ass one day after you got partnered up in science class, something like, ‘I’m glad we’re sitting next to each other now, but the view from behind isn’t too bad either’, accompanied with his classic Harrington smirk – and when you shot back with something snarky instead of dropping to your knees in the middle of the classroom like most girls would have because let’s face it – he’s Steve fucking Harrington – he decided you were different, so he stuck around. Three years later and that dynamic was still going strong, even after high school.

Steve coughed, seemingly caught off guard by your comment. “Yeah, you wish,” he bit back – his usual response when he didn’t have anything better to say. “Still good for tonight?” 

“Yes, of course. Speaking of, I’m gonna be late for work,” you sighed, checking your watch and grabbing your purse off the kitchen counter. You gave Steve a quick kiss on the cheek and patted it, adding a, “Please don’t go looking for ways to kill Billy Hargrove when I’m gone.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, alright, whatever. But I don’t like him, Y/N.”

You chuckled. “Neither do I, but man, is he a good –”

“NO! Get out! Go to work!” Steve exclaimed, ushering you towards the front door. “Go, get.” He practically shoved you out the door as you laughed, shaking your head as he slammed it shut behind you. 

“Such a prude, Harrington,” you said to no one but yourself as you made your way to your car.

Steve had to sort himself out. Not with his downstairs brain, no. He wished that would be enough. But he had to actually sit down and think about his feelings for you. Which he didn’t want to do, but God, when you said things like, ‘you’ll be thinking about how badly you wish you were doin’ things to me’, it kind of made it impossible not to. Because now he was sitting on your couch, his hands over his face as he thought about all the things he wanted to do to you. All the things that Billy fucking Hargrove was probably getting to do, and God – why were you with that prick anyway? Sure, it wasn’t exclusive – everyone knew that Billy Hargrove didn’t do exclusive or feelings or girlfriends. Steve groaned, letting himself fall onto his side, his head resting on the arm of the couch. Maybe he just needed to man up and make a move. The two of you have been flirting for three goddamn years.

“You’re fucking killing me, Y/N,” he mumbled. “Killin’ me.”

Work was fine, as it always was. Stocking grocery shelves at Melvald’s wasn’t anyone’s dream job, but it allowed you to move out of your parent’s house, so you weren’t complaining. Plus, Ms. Byers was always good company, and almost always willing to cover for you thanks to all the times that you watched the register when her and Bob would sneak to the back. 

“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice came from behind you, causing you to put down the package of diapers that you were shelving. You turned around slowly, knowing exactly who it was and suddenly feeling very self-conscious in your incredibly unflattering Melvald’s General uniform. 

“Billy,” you greeted with a smile. Your eyes wandered to the six pack in his hand. “Is, uh – do you need someone to check you out?” 

“‘m checkin’ you out right now.” Smooth. He always was. “Uniform’s cute on you.”

“Oh,” you blushed, waving him off. “Stop. It’s awful.”

He chuckled. “I can help you take it off sometime, I don’t mind.” Jesus, why was he like this? How was he so good at making you a puddle? “What d’ya say, baby? You free after you get off? Max is having her stupid fuckin’ friends over, so it’ll have to be your place, but –”

“Steve will be at my place,” you replied, quicker than you meant to. 

“Harrington?” Billy asked, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

You nodded.

“You two together or something?”

“No! God, no. He’s just my best friend. But, uh, we have a movie night planned tonight, so…” 

“I like movies,” he replied matter-of-factly, taking a step closer to you. Your back hit the shelves behind you and you flinched as Billy set down his beer on one of them, effectively caging you in between his arms. He leaned in, his lips against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. “Maybe I’ll even finger fuck you while your sittin’ right next to Harrington. I can be discreet. Wonder if you can be quiet…”

You gulped, willing away the arousal you could feel starting to grow between your legs. 

“Hell, Harrington’s even welcome to join in,” he continued. “He’s got such a hard-on for you, Y/N, it’s fuckin’ embarassing.” 

“W-what?” you asked. “N-no, he doesn’t.” Pull it the fuck together, Y/N. You were stuttering and you didn’t know why. You didn’t know why the implication that Steve had a crush on you excited you so much, or why the proposal of a threesome with your fuck buddy and your best friend made your brain glitch. 

Billy laughed. “Are you gettin’ fucked by stupid, Y/N?”

You glared at him, his question forcing you to get a hold of yourself so you could respond with, “I’m getting fucked by you, not really much of a difference.” 

You watched his jaw clench, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the shelf beside you. It was only for a moment – a wave of violence washing over him, gone as quickly as it had come. He got that way every time you talked back to him, but you knew he’d never hurt you. People said ‘Billy Hargrove doesn’t have a nice streak’, but he certainly had one where you were concerned. You’d push his buttons and it just made him rougher in bed, so really, it was a win for you. 

He chuckled and dropped his head briefly, shaking it as he processed what you had said. He leaned in one more time, so close that you were praying no one you knew would walk by, lest you be known as ‘the girl who let Billy Hargrove give her a hickey in the middle of the baby supplies aisle at Melvald’s while she was on the clock’, because that’s what it must’ve looked like. “You’ll be getting fucked by a lot more tonight,” he whispered, and you suppressed a whine, because that’s what he did to you. He made you want to drop to your knees in the middle of aisle six while you were at work and let him have his way with you. Fuck him. 

He pulled away slowly, grabbed his beer off the shelf, had the audacity to smirk, and then he fucking winked. “See you soon, princess.” 

You watched him walk away, his jeans doing more than just favors for his ass, effectively stunned into silence. You must’ve spaced out for a minute or two, because it was Ms. Byers’ voice that pulled you back to reality.

“Are you okay, honey?”

“W-what? Oh, um, yeah. Yeah, just spaced out for a second,” you replied, flustered as you reached for the box of diapers on the ground.

“Okay. I’ll be at the register if you need me.” 

“Got it, thanks Ms. Byers,” you smiled. You resumed stocking shelves, Billy’s words a broken record in your mind. Hell, Harrington’s even welcome to join in… He’s got such a hard-on for you. It’s not like you hadn’t thought about Steve in… that way before. He’s Steve – one look at him is a one-way ticket to dirty thoughts in anyone’s mind. But he was also your best friend, and there’s no coming back from crossing that line if things go to shit. You tried to will away the images of Billy and Steve taking you together that your brain was starting to conjure up. Billy’s cock down your throat as Steve pounded into you from behind, Billy’s mouth on your – 

“Ow, shit,” you gasped, as the box of diapers fell out of your hand and onto your foot, pulling you out of your fantasy. You picked it up and placed it in its rightful spot, taking a deep breath before continuing, muttering curses at Billy fucking Hargrove under your breath.

“Don’t hate me,” was the first thing you said as you walked through the door, Steve already comfortable on your couch with a bowl of popcorn in hand. You unwrapped your scarf from around your neck and hung it on the coat rack, before toeing off your shoes and sinking down into the cushions next to your best friend.

“Why wou’ I ha’e you?” he mumbled through a mouthful of popcorn before checking his watch. “You’re back early.”

You took a deep breath. Might as well rip off the Band-Aid. “Billy’s coming over tonight.” You winced as you waited for his response.

“You better be fuckin’ with me,” he replied, glaring at you.

“I wish I was.” 

Steve set the popcorn down on the coffee table and turned towards you, his arms folded over his chest. “Well, do you want me to leave?”

“What?” you asked, confused. “No, he’s just joining us for movie night.”

Steve snorted. “Billy fuckin’ Hargrove at movie night? Without any other intentions? Yeah, sure, alright.” 

“Oh, c’mon, Steve! I know you had to practically fist fight Robin to get first dibs on this movie, can’t you just put up with Billy for one night?”

“So I can watch you get fingered under a blanket while you’re sitting right next to me? ‘Oh, Billy! God, that feels so –’” he was interrupted by a pillow to the face.

“Shut up. Like you wouldn’t like to watch, Harrington.”

He stared at you for a second, chewing on his lip like he was debating if he should say the words he was thinking. “And what if I would?” 

The tension in the air became palpable in an instant. He was joking, this is just how the two of you talked – so why did it feel so different this time? You swallowed, a pit suddenly growing in your stomach, very different to the one Billy had left you with earlier. You chuckled softly, avoiding his eyes, because this conversation was suddenly feeling very much not like joking around. You debated on what to say for a moment or two, before finally settling on something you’d usually bite back with. “Then I guess I’d just have to put on a show for you, huh?” 

It came out sounding far more serious than you intended it to, but on the other hand, it’s not like you were entirely joking. Billy’s words played through your mind again. He’s got such a hard-on for you, Y/N, it’s fuckin’ embarassing. You thought about glancing down; Steve’s jeans left little to the imagination, you’d be able to tell. But would that be too obvious? 

“Guess you would.” God, he was still going. Maybe Billy had been right after all.

You flinched when you heard a knock on the door, thankful for something to break the tension, even if it was about to get a whole lot worse with Billy in the room. You got up, taking a deep breath before turning to look down at Steve. 

“Be nice,” you warned, an accusatory finger pointed at him.

“That depends on him,” he bit back with a grin. 

You rolled your eyes and made your way to the front door, opening it to a smirking Billy with the same six pack in hand that he had at the store. You didn’t even have time to greet him before he strolled in, forcing you to step aside as you held the door open.

“What’re we watchin’?” he asked, before noticing Steve on the couch. “Harrington,” he greeted with an unceremonious nod. 

“Hargrove.” 

“The Brain,” you answered Billy’s question in an attempt to retain some normalcy, the tension in the air from earlier a hundred times worse now.

Billy nodded. He didn’t care one way or the other what was playing on the TV – you knew that, he knew that, Steve knew that. Whatever it was, Billy was going to be occupied with… other activities.

Steve’s glare was unwavering as he watched Billy walk over to the coffee table, set down his beer, and sink into the couch. You followed, sitting down in between them, your small couch forcing your shoulders to touch theirs. 

“You gonna play the movie, or what, Harrington?” Billy asked after a few moments of silence, seemingly oblivious to the massive amount of tension in the room. Steve kept staring him down, his stone-cold expression unwavering. “You got a problem or somethin’!?” Billy questioned. 

Steve finally cracked a smile – not the good kind. “Yeah, I do, Hargrove.” 

“Steve –”

Billy stood up. “Do something about it, then.” 

Steve followed suit, coming face to face with him. He knew Billy was asking for a fight, and you only hoped that Steve wasn’t going to throw the first punch. “I’m not gonna hit you,” he finally said.

“Then we don’t have a problem,” Billy smirked, “Now, I’m real sorry if you’re jealous ‘cause your girl over here decided she wanted to be my little whore instead of yours but –”

You stood up as soon as you saw Steve’s hand ball up into a fist, putting yourself between them. “Steve,” you started calmly, “it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not fuckin’ okay, Y/N! Why do you let him talk about you like that!?”

Your breath hitched when you suddenly felt Billy’s hand snake around your waist, pulling your back to his chest. His lips were brushing against your ear as he answered Steve’s question. “‘Cause she likes it, Harrington.” And just like that, you were a puddle again. “Don’t you, baby?” 

You nodded in response to Billy, but your eyes were on Steve. He gulped as he watched Billy’s hand travel up your body, cupping your breast over your work shirt – the same one Billy said he’d help take off earlier that day. You weren’t sure why you were allowing him to touch you like this in front of Steve, but you didn’t want him to stop. And it’s not like Steve was looking away. No, Steve was biting his lower lip and watching every single move. 

“C’mon, Harrington,” Billy egged on, slipping his hand under your shirt now, revealing your bare stomach to your best friend.

Steve’s eyes met with yours in a way that was asking for permission. You didn’t know what was happening, or how the tension switched from uneasy to hot and heavy so fast, but you didn’t care. All you knew was that you had been thinking about this since Billy had put the thought in your head, and you wanted it. Wanted them.

“You really gonna make me put on a show?” you quipped, giving Steve the green light.

He huffed a nervous laugh, running his hand down his face in a last attempt to stop himself, because God, he wanted to make you feel good, too. But he also wanted you to be sure. 

You whimpered as Billy pinched your nipple, unsure of when his hand got there, but you weren’t complaining. You glanced down at the bulge in Steve’s pants, moaning softly as you felt Billy’s against your ass. You reached out your hand for Steve, and he took it hesitantly, allowing you to guide him to your hip. 

“Y/N…” he breathed, and fuck, you wanted him so bad. 

You nodded again. “Please, Steve.” 

And just like that, his resolve snapped. He stepped closer, his hands exploring all the places that Billy’s weren’t. Billy grabbed underneath your chin and turned your head, kissing you rough and hard and sloppy. Steve took the opportunity to attack your exposed neck, his hands working on undoing your pants as he sucked bruises onto your skin. Billy tweaked your nipple again, and you moaned into his mouth. 

“That’s a good girl, such a good fuckin’ slut,” he praised, as he let your face go and moved his hands down to work on the buttons on the front of your shirt. You let your head fall back onto his shoulder before you felt cold air hit your core, realizing that Steve already had your jeans down to your ankles, along with your underwear. He pulled them all the way off as Billy did the same with your shirt, leaving you in nothing but your bra for about five seconds before Billy took that off, too. His hands came back to your boobs, and you looked down at Steve who was placing your right leg over his shoulder as he kissed up your inner calf. His eyes met yours and he smirked, because neither him nor Billy had really done anything and you were already looking halfway to fucked out. 

“You okay?” he asked sweetly, as his lips found your inner thigh. 

You nodded, because it’s all you could bring yourself to do. You watched as he worked his way up your leg, stopping when he got to your core. You squealed as Billy roughly grabbed one of your ass cheeks, giving it a tight squeeze, reminding you that he was still there. You could feel his lips on the other side of your neck, and if you were covered in hickies tomorrow you would kill them both. 

“Christ, you have such a pretty fuckin’ cunt, Y/N,” Steve said, and he seemed to be in awe, the way he was looking at it. You threw your head back onto Billy’s shoulder, leaning on him for balance. 

“Then fucking do something about it,” you said through gritted teeth, getting overwhelmed by the pressure you were feeling in your core and frustrated that no one had done anything about it yet. You heard Billy chuckle in your ear – deep and low and dangerous. Like you were in trouble. 

“That’s not a very nice way to ask for what you want,” he chastised, pinching your nipple hard, causing you to yelp. 

You lifted your head and looked down at Steve, who didn’t seem to give a rat’s ass how or even if you asked; he was on a mission and he wanted to finish it. But he was looking back at you, expectant, almost, and so you did what felt right. “Please, Steve. I want you,” you begged, and he tilted his head, feigning confusion. So, he decided he liked playing Billy’s little games, after all.

“Want me to what?” he asked, eyebrows raised, his eyes still on yours as he got closer to your core. He was such a fucking tease, you could strangle him for it.

“Eat me out, Steve, please,” you begged, because to hell with your dignity. You lost that the minute you started sleeping with Billy, anyway. 

He smirked before happily obliging, his tongue exploring your folds, his hands gripping your thighs. You turned your head, your lips meeting with Billy’s again, and he smiled into the kiss as his hand traveled down your spine, your ass, and to your pussy, grunting in approval at the wetness between your legs. Steve’s tongue came to flick at your clit – expertly, might you add – causing you to attempt to move your hips away from his muscle. But Billy was as solid as a brick wall, and he used the opportunity to slip two fingers inside of you from behind. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, Billy’s fingers working in tandem with the movements of Steve’s tongue, the coil in your abdomen tightening. 

“Yeah, that feel good, baby?” Billy asked. “You gonna cum on Harrington’s tongue? On my fingers?” He lightly flicked his thumb over your nipple with his free hand, bringing you to the brink of a release.

You let out noise that was halfway between a moan and a scream as Steve wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking lightly. Billy’s fingers were alternating between scissoring you open and thrusting in and out, and before you knew it you were cumming all over them, and all over Steve’s tongue, as your orgasm washed over you. 

“Good girl,” Billy praised. “There’s a good little slut.” 

They continued their ministrations as you came down from your high, Steve gently taking your leg off his shoulder once he was sure you’d be able to stand. You barely had a moment to breathe before Billy was spinning you around, causing you to whimper from the loss of his fingers. He sat down on the couch, his back against the arm, one leg stretched out in front of him while the other remained on the floor, pulling you onto the cushions in front of him so you were on your knees, in between his legs. You already knew what to do and immediately started on his belt, feeling a dip in the couch behind you. It was Steve’s breath on your ear now as you unbuttoned Billy’s jeans, his hands kneading your breasts as you unzipped Billy’s pants. 

“I still don’t like the way he talks to you,” Steve whispered, “but I’ll give it to him. This is nothing if not slutty.” You couldn’t hold back the smile that came to your lips as you pulled Billy’s jeans down as far as they’d go – which was just far enough for his cock to spring free, considering the position he was sitting in. You reached for it, stroking him lightly, as Steve’s hand wrapped gently around your neck. “And I can’t say that I hate it,” he added. You purposefully ground against him, eliciting a groan from his lips, before you leaned forward and took Billy in your mouth. You always loved the way his cock felt on your tongue; heavy and soft, and just big enough to leave a nice ache in your jaw the next morning. Your pussy was fully pressed up against Steve’s clothed erection, his hands on your hips as he watched you take Billy all the way down your throat. 

“Fuck, Y/N. Look at me, baby,” Billy moaned, his hand tangling in your hair as he pushed you further down on his dick, holding you there. “God, you look so fuckin’ pretty with my cock in your mouth. You want Harrington to fuck you?” he asked. You nodded around him, best you could without gagging. “Yeah, you want him to fuck that pretty little cunt of yours while you suck my cock?” 

“Mhmm,” you mumbled, tears forming in your eyes because he hadn’t let you up to breathe yet.

“You heard her, Harrington,” Billy said, continuing to look at you. 

“Are you sure, Y/N?” Steve asked – ever the gentleman –  and Billy finally let you up so you could answer.

“Yes, fucking fuck me, Harrington,” you replied between catching your breath. Billy gave you a few seconds before pushing you back down on his cock again, and you could hear the zipper of Steve’s pants behind you, his cock running through your folds moments later. 

“Shit, you’re fuckin’ dripping, babe,” he commented, and you moaned at the praise as Billy began using your mouth as a fuck toy, bobbing your head up and down his dick. The next time he pushed you all the way down and held you there, Steve used the opportunity to enter you, his cock stretching you open in ways Billy’s fingers never could. You whined around Billy’s cock, the vibrations sending shivers up his spine as he let his head fall back, a long, drawn out, “fuuuuck”, from Steve filling the room as he bottomed out inside you. Billy started bobbing your head again, and as soon as Steve started thrusting at the same time, you were a goner. Tears ran down your cheeks, Steve’s cock hitting your sweet spot with every thrust, Billy’s moans only spurring you on. You felt like your soul had left your body, like you were floating in some plane of ecstasy, never wanting any of it to end. Billy reached down to give attention to your nipples, Steve kept smacking your ass, and you felt like jello. You wrapped your hand around Billy’s shaft, working in tandem with your mouth, coaxing him closer and closer to his release. Steve’s thrusts were getting erratic and sloppy, and you knew he was close. You were feeling a second orgasm coming on, and God, you wanted to cum around his cock so badly while Billy came in your mouth. 

“Oh, shit,” Billy gasped, his breaths short and quick. “Shit, shit, oh, fuck.” 

“Fuck, Y/N,” Steve started behind you, “Fuck, oh my – fuuuck.”

You felt Billy’s cock twitch, and then Steve’s, and then they were both filling you up from either end as a second wave of pleasure washed over you. You swallowed down everything Billy had to offer, your pussy clenching around Steve’s cock, your arms shaking as you tried to hold yourself up, eventually allowing yourself to collapse onto Billy’s stomach. Nothing but heavy breathing filled the room for a few minutes, before Steve gingerly pulled out of you and helped you off of Billy, allowing him to sit up as well. Steve handed you your discarded shirt, which you promptly put back on, followed by your underwear that was at your feet. And then the three of you just sat there, staring at the blank TV that was supposed to have been used tonight. 

“That was…” you began, not sure what to say, but also glad that the tension from earlier was nowhere to be found.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed.

Billy chuckled. “You two,” he began, zipping up his pants and buckling his belt, “are fuckin’ prudes.” He reached over, grabbing a bottle of beer from the six pack on the coffee table. “But can’t say I wouldn’t be up for it again.”

TAGLIST(S)

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#billy hargrove x reader #steve harrington x reader #billy hargrove smut #steve harrington smut #billy hargrove x reader x steve harrington #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things

[cheralith]

cw: gn!reader, no pronouns used, some verbal fighting (not extreme), i have a habit of making suguru be an asshole haha

thinking about bandmate!suguru who makes u irritated just by looking at him... the snarky rhythm guitarist who narrows his eyes at your presence when you join the club via shoko, your childhood friend. satoru is delighted to meet you, exclaiming that the many designs that adorned your bass told him all he needed to know about you. iori is thankful that there’s another girl in the band, comparing you to a spring’s breath of fresh air amidst the stench of two specific men.

but suguru feels as if there’s something wrong about you… something that doesn’t fit into the usual dynamic—and he doesn’t do a good job of hiding it. he’ll ask aloud via practice whether bass is that important to the band, or that satoru is a jack of all trades! why couldn’t he do it? the best he’ll do is feign nicety and say the most passive aggressive things (“yeah we could do that, but this is better, y’know?”). his insults are soft-spoken, but they’re just as icy and if not, more sharp tongued than if he was yelling. don’t make a mistake, because his ears are just as sharp as his eyes and he’ll cut the song short if you play a wrong note or if you play it too fast. he’ll spend more time lecturing you about the importance of perfection rather than actually correcting your mistake and he doesn’t notice that it irritates not only you, but satoru, shoko, and iori as well.

you were fine with it for the first few weeks, obviously not wanting to get on the rest of the band’s bad side, but it came to a point where you refused to be a doormat and started retaliating with equal fervor. suguru is taken aback the first time you spit his own fire in his face, but ever since then, it’s almost like a game of catch between you two every practice. satoru had to pick you up by the scruff like a kitten one time to stop you from pouncing on suguru after he called you a poser.

it’s become like breathing at this point—suguru says something to tick you off and in a flash of a second, you snap back. the other three have long tried to help you both, sighing and shaking their head every time suguru smirk grows wider as your insults grow exponentially. he’s fueling his own fire and god forbid they put it out.

it comes to a boiling point, eventually. he should’ve seen it coming—all of them should. perhaps it was the way satoru, shoko, and iori automatically looked up to see your reaction the moment suguru finished words that slowly burned into your flesh, making you all halt your practicing.

“i don’t even know why you joined. you’re not that good, anyways.”

suguru himself had to take a moment to process what he had said, awaiting your reaction from your frozen self with not even your fingertips moving.

the entirety of the garage goes still, and before shoko snaps at him to apologize, he scoffs at your silence and lightly pushes your shoulder to make you face him. “yo, did you hear what i said?”

you don’t respond, but instead, you start to pack up your bass and other arrays silently. the other three dread what’s about to happen in the next few seconds, and look to suguru to send him a message but he sighs and shakes his head, something regarding you being deaf slipping his tongue.

the clicks of the clasps on your case are the only things that echo through the garage. your grip on your amp tightens and despite battle of the bands coming up in less than three weeks, you turn your head to the rest of them, making sure to properly make eye contact with a familiar purple hue, you mutter,

“find another bassist. i quit.”

#id imagine their band be a mix of alt rock+indie rock+pop punk almost #geto has a dark red fender while reader has a dark blue epiphone 👍 #yes i plan i making a pt 2 #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #geto #geto suguru #getou suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto x reader #suguru x reader #geto x you #gojo satoru #gojo #ieiri shoko #shoko ieiri #utahime iori #utahime #gn!reader #gn!y/n

[bellewintersroe]

enemies to lovers headcanons with nix, winters, speirs and liebgott pls 🥺? (love ur writing btw)

thank you!!!!!! I love this request omfg hehehe and I’m so excited to write it, I hope this does your idea justice 🥰🥰

Easy Boys x Reader ~ Enemies to Lovers.

Ron Speirs:

I wrote something here but I accidentally deleted it and now I can’t remember but oh well. I think something along the lines of the fact he’s superrrr intimidating to you at first.

lets say you’re a pretty friendly person, you’d think he was super standoffish and maybe a bit arrogant? Idk it’s a weird take but let’s go with it.

anyway you don’t really talk, but when Ron starts to notice you more often (he always notices you the whole time) he can tell you don’t like him or something.

idk but one day when he’s just like oddly nice to you, like overly nice you suddenly feel bad and after months (or years) of avoiding the man you feel a pang of guilt.

he’d probs offer you some cigarettes or his coat or something whilst it’s raining in Germany.

the small gestures when Ron is finally relaxing towards the end of the war become more common and you decide you actually never hated him at all, you just completely misread him.

lets be honest you’re probs still intimidated asf by him, like the first time you two are walking alone just one on one it’s nerve wracking.

hes a lot more gentle? And soft spoken that you ever realised, like you’re just discussing something and you’re actually taken a back at how nice his voice is? That sounds odd, but then you look up to him and you kinda share a smile and that’s the exact moment when you can pin point the feelings between you both.

“you know I used to be scared of you.” You’d admit to him after a night of drinking in the eagles nest.

ron would just smile and legit just KISS YOU?!?

“uh did you mean to do that?”

“yeah…. Did you not… like it?”

you’re kissing again and suddenly the idea of somewhat disliking each other seems so stupid, Ron was there the whole time, yet only now did your relationship blossom into something so sweet and beautiful.

Joe Liebgott:

The most PERFECT example of enemies to lovers ever fr.

like you thing he’s smug and arrogant and he likes to tease you, like he says ur hot when your angry but then you snap back and he thinks ur a bitch and then the two of you avoid one another like the plague.

if you’re all sat in the same group you can guarantee he’ll throw some snarky comment your way and you’d hit one right back at him.

“Drop the attitude doll, just cos you’re hot.”

Backhanded compliments? Sometimes they’re kinda confusing but they’re reoccurring from entering Europe, it’s like Joe can’t actually be mean?

idk but you two will bicker and even when the feelings of hatred and despair begin to fizzle ever so slightly you still keep up to the image of disliking one another.

“I hate you.” But side eyes to watch the other persons response u know??

the thing is, you match each others personalities perfectly. Like you’re both feisty asf.

it’s one day that you’re a little downbeat and Joe decides he wants to make a snarky comment to you (to get your attention/ watch your reaction) that his heart legit drops out his asshole when he sees you cry.

like he actually make you cry. Fuck! It’s gone way too far and some of the boys are like; “oh way’da go, liebgott!”

He feels super, super bad, but just thinks you fully despise him now so he avoids apologising to you. In reality you’re more upset because something clicks that you don’t hate him, at all- so when he made a comment on a particularly rough day it bothers you in a different way than usual.

Has it clicked that the two of you like each other yet?? Idk idk.

anyway I can imagine one day Cobb makes some rude ass comment to you, and just as you’re about to open your mouth to spit something back at him, Liebgott interjects, feeling some form of anger like no other.

“Hey, watch your fuckin’ mouth, Cobb. Why don’t ya back the fuck off?”

it catches you both off guard like uhhhh- do you acknowledge that Liebgott just publicly defended you?? It shut Cobb up, so when Joe is satisfied and a little nervous with his work, he leaves.

idk I just feel like it would make you wanna chase after him and when you thank him he’s super relaxed and just… open?? Finally, there’s no facade that the two of you dislike each other, not remotely.

the conversations start up properly, like for some reason Joe would be nervous around you, he’d be so calm and speak so softly you’d tease him like is that the same person?!?

teasing each other like crazy becomes more of a playful/ flirtatious thing and neither of you can deny it.

“you know doll, maybe you never considered the fact you’ve actually been in love with me this whole time.”

“maybe I have.” “What??” “What?!”

let’s just say the feisty nature between the two of you is shifted into the bedroom… maybe all the tension of ‘hating’ one another paid off?

Lewis Nixon:

Honestly I’m struggling to think of scenarios for Lewis and Dick because they’re you’re superiors, like both of them are extremely respectful and professional men, I’m not quite sure how you’d end up becoming enemies?? For the sake of the fact it’s fiction, let’s just make something wild up.

so maybe bcs Lew is a big drinker and you’ve warned him time and time again to cut it out, you get so annoyed at him you just snap? Like you’re a little impatient with him, but he’s also not really giving you, the company nurse, but regard in return.

lewis would probs sign and roll his eyes and just walk away and it’s kinda awkward asf, and let’s say you’re shy, you just kinda avoid him like crazy.

so there’s more of a tension between the two of you, like you sigh every time you see him with an alcohol bottle, talking about his rich upbringing. Even tho Lew is extremely modest and doesn’t brag, maybe you just get the wrong end of the stick/ misunderstand? Idk people are complicated.

I feel like even tho it’s awkward you two would end up alone somehow? Like you’re stood waiting and you’re kinda forced to talk.

“Look I know you hate me and all-”

“I don't hate you, Captain Nixon.”

The interactions kinda pick up after he’s divorced, like you end up helping him with an injury he gained after a night of boozing. You don’t lecture him but you’re a lot more patient and understanding.

and uhhhh this does something to him. Like he’s confused, whys he feeling all these feelings towards a lady he’s barely interacted with?

oooo one day the tension between you guys would become too much and he’d kiss you and you’re both like wtfff- but it feels so good and so right so you just continue.

You two become masters of having a secret relationship and when the others find out it’s super unexpected and everybody’s a little baffled cos they figured the two of you hated one another??

It makes a good story to tell the grandkids, let me tell you that.

Dick Winters:

Ummmm this guy, yeah I’ve struggled to think of a scenario where he’d ever be anybody’s enemy (apart from the Germans obvs). But personally, he’s too respected, too calm and gentlemen like for you to be his enemy.

in this case maybe it’s more of a ‘we once had a thing but he stopped it and now I'm upset at him’.

like before you get serious, Dick has to stop the relationship because he knows it interferes with fraternising rules. Working together and being in a relationship would never ever ever work. The army forbids it.

it sucks and because he’s such a nice guy that sucks even more, like you can’t even look at him without wanting to cry, so you just completely blank him and try to push him away as far as humanely possible. Considering the circumstances you’re under, this isn’t very easy, nor is it very achievable.

dick always keeps an eye out for you, even though you don’t notice, he’s always asking others if you’re okay and if you’re taking care of yourself.

ofc there’s bigger things to worry about than your relationship ending, so the two of you would probably end up being completely professional with any interactions you have.

ouch it hurts both of you, but neither of you know it’s a mutual feeling? The longing for one another is so painful considering Dick thinks you hate his guts.

after the war is over and you leave the army, only then does Dick call you up one day and tells you everything.

like he wastes no time, trust me, and you’re in complete shock, because this man who became a total stranger to you is practically telling you he loves you?!??

ugh ofc you feel the same and the relationship back to lovers kinda begins to there.

But fr Dick Winters ending a relationship with you is legit your arc to become a villian- it’s no surprise you go a little crazy when he had to end things.

all you can say now is how glad you are things actually worked between you both, and be enthralled by the fact Dick practically waited for you the whole 3 years he knows you.

#band of brothers headcanons #band of brothers x reader #ron speirs x reader #joe liebgott x reader #lewis nixon x reader #dick winters x reader

[iwonderwh0]

Yeah, the desire to fit Hank and Connor into romantic or familial roles, regardless of which ones those are, often results in erasing canon traits of both of them being snarky cynical assholes with no actual authority over one-another. Hank is not an “adult” of the two, he doesn’t even have his own shit together to teach someone else how to, and Connor doesn’t exactly respect Hank as an authority, never did, but he does however put his customer service smile for pretence of being just another polite service android (totally without the capability of breaking a law or hurting a human), but even this is optional as he can be mean right from the beginning. He will make sure to find what you care about not only in order to make you like him, but also to ensure to find the exact words that will get to you in order to hurt if he finds that to be more efficient. He’ll make his insults as personal as he makes his compliments (which are, let’s be honest, mostly quite shallow in both cases), but for some reason this fandom takes first ones as genuine (even when they’re extremely obviously fake and only there as a manipulation) and the existence of others prefers to just ignore completely. Even though they are as genuine (as in potentially not at all) if not more.

Connor didn’t start liking Hank right away, frankly his honest description of him was “an unpleasant and dysfunctional” BUT also “intriguing”. He developed a sentimental attachment for Hank over time, but in no way he began to respect Hank on a level of authority, not more than Hank himself started to respect Connor, which in both cases is “as a person”.

Hank himself is highly opinionated cop who sees nothing wrong with taking some bribes here and there. In no way he’s holy. I doubt he craves power as much as he craves reinforcing his own definition of moral justice, which, in no way means that he’s always right and isn’t one of many corrupted cops in a corrupted system, it just means that he doesn’t have respect towards the law and rules he “should” follow and instead has his own (Do you think he’s always “fair” and never cuts some slack to those who don’t deserve it (*cough* a place with a history of food safety violations *cough*) or instead harshly punish those whose biggest crime was just being annoying and pissing him off when he’s not in the mood? We know the man is fucking reactive and real quick to throw hands. We often point out that Gavin suggested to “roughen up a little” but I don’t see no one talking about how unnecessary harsh Hank handles Rupert in case he and Connor happen to catch up with him. Do you think Rupert is the first one or Hank is only acting this way because Rupert is an android? I doubt it.)

#dbh #dbh connor #dbh hank #detroit become human #connorank

[saetoru]

Tee…

I’m now on my hands and knees BEGGING for bully Gojo who is (secretly) DISGUSTINGLY IN LOVE over the reader PLEASE ANY CRUMBS I WILL TAKE

(you don’t actually have to write this it was just a nice thought)

idkkkkk if it’s rly bully gojo—but he’s definitely a real cunt for sure.

i just think about an asshole! gojo a lot like he’s ur lab partners or something and he does that stereotypical jerk move where he’s like “seriously ?? her ??” when he’s first paired with you. and he’s just naturally an douche, yk ?? wears sunglasses indoors and makes jokes at the professors expense under his breath that gets him snickers and snorts from his frat guys in his class. has to be asked more than once to “please keep it down in the middle of class” by wtv prof he’s in class with.

and he ofc makes u do all the work bc he can’t be bothered—and on the rare occasion that he is bothered, he just does a poor job that’s the bare minimum and sloppy enough that ur like wtv i’ll just do it myself. and then ofc sometimes u don’t have a choice but to meet up to finish something after class every now and then—he wouldn’t care to, but he actually needs to know the stuff for the final report he has to write individually, so he begrudgingly meets up with you, and sometimes you notice his friends give you an amused look when he walks up with them. they snicker before they leave as he sits with you. sometimes they make a snide comment here and there like “have fun with ur super hot date” that makes him roll his eyes—he doesn’t do much to hide the look of distaste on his face.

but then—and he doesn’t even know when it happens—you start to slowly grow on him. because ur actually pretty snarky urself, sometimes making a dry comment here and there about the professor and his stupid bald headed self. sometimes a girl in the distance laughs too hard a group of guys that u roll ur eyes and mumble how “if i had a voice like that i’d never laugh in public” and it makes him snort a bit without meaning to. sometimes you stare daggers at the person who has their music so loud thru their headphones they can’t help but notice u and turn it down in embarrassment. ur actually not as much of a pushover as he thought—you just genuinely think he’s too incapable to help u out that you’ve just shrugged him off and started doing his part. it’s an easy weekly lab class anyway, you don’t need him—and then he realizes that u rly just don’t care for him. his little snickers at u with his friends and their snide comments roll off ur back bc well…he’s him—an asshole little frat boy and u didn’t expect anything better from him. so it makes him a little intrigued—maybe a little wounded in his pride, deep down, because no one has ever been indifferent to him before. they’re either madly in love, or they hate his guts, or they follow his lead. either works—he still gets the attention he craves.

but u just don’t rly care. and ur actually pretty cool, and kinda sorta funny in a way no one else is. he likes it…and fuck, now he’s starting to like you. he can tell bc when his friends ask how his little date with you went, he starts getting a bit huffy ab it bc they don’t need to talk about you. they don’t even know you…but also….its not a date. and that’s the worst part. sometimes it feels like a date. almost—sometimes you both decide to take a break in between and go get a coffee or a light snack. sometimes he’s even paid (to which you look mildly shocked before politely thanking him) and you both walk back to the library while u make light banter and it’s…well, fun. and nice. and your laugh is pretty. and your smile is kinda cute and he (though he hates to admit it) rly likes it when u laugh because of him.

and then things start to get messy—really, he didn’t mean for it to start this way. he really was meaning to ask you in a genuine manner to see u again once the semester was finished. because he’s actually started pulling his weight—he wants u to see him for someone who’s smart. satoru is actually rly rly smart and no one knows it because he doesn’t rly show it but he is. he wants u to see that side of him—somehow there’s some sick validation he rly needs from you knowing he’s not a dense frat guy who drinks and fucks until 3 am every night. so he starts doing his parts and actually communicates with u about sections. so starts ur texting routine—sometimes a little longer than u rly need to for just doing a lab together. sometimes it’s “did u hear ab that girl in our class getting dumped in front of the kfc ??” and sometimes it’s “god our prof rly needs to get some pussy” and other times it’s “look what the guy who sits behind us just posted on his story” and it leads to a few long convos that admittedly…are rly fun. ur so fun. he likes it. he rly does like u and he thinks maybe….maybe he’s grown on u too and you know what ?? satoru’s always a jerk but ur nice and who’s to say he can’t be nice too ?? just for one person. for u, he can be a nice guy—u carried lab all on ur own long enough that u deserve it anyway.

until he gets swayed in that way only a coward can. in that way you do when ur used to being “the man” around ur friends and ur too pressured to keep up that energy for appearances sake bc u don’t wanna be the laughing stock who softened up for “some nerdy chick who’s a nobody.” so he laughs when they laugh at the fact that ur probably “still a virgin who’s never touched a guy before” and then they’re patting gojo on the back and shoving at his shoulder as they laugh harder and suggest that “y’know what would be so funny man ?? if u took her virginity. you could probably do it.”

the thought is sickening because…satoru wouldn’t want to fuck you like that. god, you have him caring about when and how he fucks you—in fact, just thinking about you lewdly makes him feel guilty. disrespectful, even. you’re more than a fleshlight for his dick. since when did he become so respectful ?? but he doesn’t know how to say no, especially when everyone starts agreeing one after the other—and oh no, now they’re betting on how quickly he can do it….and oh, now it’s not just fucking. now it’s “how long until you think she’s head over heels for you? man, that would be a sight, huh ??”

and….well, satoru decides it couldn’t hurt, right ?? he does want to be romantically involved so that would include you being head over heels. hopefully. fingers crossed. and he doesn’t rly want to seem lame in front of the guys either, so he gets to keep both sides of the coin, so is it really that bad ?? maybe not the right idea but certainly the right execution. he’ll treat you well—that much he’s confident of. so he forces out a laugh and says “gimme a month or two, you’ll see.”

and a month or two they give him. and a month or two it takes—but not for you to be head over heels. it’s him who’s utterly and completely obsessed and fallen head first and whatever else they say to describe love because wow. this must be what it is. this must be that stupid fairytale shit they always talk about because fuck, no one has ever looked at him like that. like he’s some miracle to this earth and some wonder only you know of—like you hope it stays that way and that he’s yours and yours alone and no one else comes in to take him away. satoru really likes being yours, it kinda feels better than you being his. being yours means you hold him like that at night and wake him up to a kiss between his brows and sometimes, when he gets those migraines he’s prone to getting, you always seem to know. always seem to understand when to close the blinds and keep quiet and wrap him up in the covers as you rub your thumbs over his temples soothingly.

he almost forgets about that silly little bet he made two months ago when he’s around you. actually, he forgets everything when he’s around you. he’s only ever thinking about you, you, you. when he comes back to his frat house, on the other hand, they’re all gathered around waiting for the newest details. how you must’ve been so pathetically star struck by him. how you must be embarrassingly bad at kissing. how you must stutter over every other word around him. how you must be making a complete and utter fool of urself trying to impress him and be someone you’re not bc the real you would never pique his interest.

they’re wrong ofc. if anyone’s star struck, it’s satoru bc how the hell are u so…cool ?? and so funny and witty and carefree ?? and you’re good at kissing—have him chasing your lips with a whine every time. sometimes you even chuckle at him when he does and make him blush a bit. he’s the one who stutters over his words when he sees you in your little date night outfits. sometimes he watches you drink from your straw and his brain short circuits a little until you snap at him and ask him in confusion if he’s alright. but the real kicker ?? it’s that if anyone’s pretending, it’s satoru. you’re always just you—unapologetically so, that it’s endearing and beautiful and so unearthly he wonders how he got so lucky. but him ?? he’s always acting like some guy he’s not. some chivalrous guy who opens doors and pushes out seats and kisses the back of hands and waits at least a few dates before even considering fucking. some nice, sweet, genuine guy who’s deserving.

he’s not that—never was. if you knew the real him, you’d leave in a heartbeat. it’s a scary thought. a raw feeling he doesn’t like. makes him feel all self conscious and insecure and all that weird shit he never thought he’d feel.

he tries. so hard, he tries to make them forget about that silly little bet and just slowly drop it and maybe even forget ur dating so he can just stay living this peaceful little fantasy with you—but that’s stupid. that’s naive. it’s been 4 months and enough is enough—the guys need to see the look on ur face when u realize what a fool ur being and satoru is “being a lazy ass who’s too comfortable not having for work for pussy these days.” so then there’s a video going around. it’s everyone gathered around on the couch drunk and talking about you. and satoru. you both, in fact. how it’s been two months and u seem desperate for his attention with the shrill little voice you use to call him toru, baby! it’s so, so fucking embarrassing, they say. how you think he likes it. (he does. god he does so much, it hurts. he loves it, actually, when you call him that. makes him feel special in a way he never has.) but then, the worst, most disgustingly nauseous part of the whole thing is when satoru laughs along and plays into their awful words. just lets them talk about you like you’re some piece of meat. something for him to chew up and spit out after he has a taste or you. not even worth savoring and enjoying. he laughs along and agrees—you’re nothing special and he can’t wait until he’s free of you.

that part hurts. that part sucks the most—when he acts like he didn’t tremble under your touch every time you kissed him. like he didn’t beg you to stay just five more minutes! before walking out the door to go home. he acts one way in front of you and one way in front of them and what’s worse ?? you don’t know which one is real. couldn’t tell even if your life was on the line to decide. because there’s no way he’s that good at pretending to be desperately in love, no fucking way. but there’s also no way he can be in love if he’s talking about you like that. that’s not what love is—that’s not what love feels like. that’s not what it means to someone.

you don’t know which satoru is the real one, but you know that neither is worth your time. not if he can’t stick to it.

it’s terrible thing—the way you break up. it’s messy and teary and he’s begging, he’s actually begging. he never thought he’d do that. but he doesn’t even hesitate to plead for you to hear him out. baby, please let me explain. wait, please don’t walk away—please just listen! i can explain.

he can’t explain, though when you as him to. stands there with a bitten bottom lip and teary eyes that are pleading you to just stay with him. to overlook this and just … ignore it like it’s nothing. like what he did and said was just nothing and you can shrug it off like you’re nothing too. like your feelings are nothing and so is your worth and that’s why you should just ignore the way he absolutely destroyed your pride and reputation and dignity and worse….every ounce of your love.

such deep, raw, pure love—it’s almost enough to heal every dry crack and crevice of this earth and bring it back to life.

you look at him with teary eyes and something so broken, it makes him feel like dirt beneath your feet.

“it’s embarrassing, satoru,” you hiss that night through tears, “you’re in your twenties getting a degree and you’re still just a high school bully. life’s really gonna kick you in the ass some day.”

life’s already kicking him in the ass as soon as you walk out. the air is colder. the world is dimmer. food doesn’t taste as good and fuck—there is just so much loneliness when you have no one to be yourself with. when there’s no you.

but he supposes you’re right though—he is just a bully. it’s pathetic, really. and maybe it’s for the best. maybe you don’t deserve someone who’s only ever known how to feel good because someone else doesn’t.

#bye #this is so obnoxiously long for a silly little jumble of thoughts #maybe i’ll flesh it out and make it an actual fic tho #bully! gojo tag

[loving-family-poll]

Ultimate Incest Tournament - Round 2

Homestuck fanart by Timsel-kun on deviantart

Propaganda under the cut:

Beverly/Elliot:

Hot lesbians both played by Rachel Weisz! And they're canon in the book it's based on, and like HEAVILY implied to be for realsies in love and fucking in the show. Great lesbianism, great incest

There's literally a scene where elliot is listening intently to beverly having sex in the next room, and she like moans listening to it ok

Beverly's gf breaks up with her cuz she's weirded out by the twins relationship

Beverly likes to attend a support group for ppl with dead siblings and pretend her sister is dead like the psychosexual issues here.....

beverly and elliot were literally trying to have a child together. Elliot (a gynecologist) artificially impregnated Beverly MULTIPLE TIMES

Dave/Rose:

Daverose blondetwin sweep because they were codependent without ever meeting from growing up seeing each other in their dreams

What does it mean to be an abused teenage boy growing up alone and seeing a girl in your dreams every night who is also your best friend. and when you finally meet her you go on a suicide mission together even though nobody was asking you to die with her. and then you are the only two human beings left in the recognizable universe on a cold meteor surrounded by aliens but you’re glad it’s with her. and when you finally touch the girl from your childhood dreams she looks exactly like you. because she’s your sister

I don't have words for how good these snarky assholes are together. DaveRose is brain chemistry changing. They both put up so many fronts, and engage in so much snarky wordplay, and are constantly trying to get under each other's facade. They play off each other so well, witty and sharp, I need them to be together always

We all die & we all die alone are the two cold truths of the universe but dave and rose broke both simultaneously by ascending to godhood together

Their twincest wins because it is just so confusingly tragic? profound? dave leaving rose behind in a doomed world, dave following her to the bomb. they are both so closed & cut off & curt its hard to imagine the depth of these things. but that is their love language: giving up their lives for each other over and over, in a confusing and fumbling and heartfelt love song. i can’t say i love you but i know we’ll die together anyway. because we’re made of the exact same stuff. i’ll find you again at the last moment. that’s love.

THEY DIED TOGETHER, YOUR HONOR

Confirmed canon by the author, (something happened) between them. Parallels of dying by each other's sides in EVERY timeline. They are THE womb-to-tomb. There is nothing platonic about winking at your brother while talking about crushes, that shit is incestuous. Seer/Knight archetype. They will die protecting each other.

do you realize love someone if you don’t follow them on a suicide mission into the gaping maw of a literal fucking sun after they knock you out and psychoanalyze you in your dreams? the blueprint of the “ethereal androgynous blonde boygirl twins” trope. witch/knight dynamics. they find each other to die together in every timeline no matter what (but they’re still emotionally constipated teenagers who bicker and make fun of each other in pesterchum). kids with grown-up powers. perfect little freaks of nature. what if we looked exactly like each other’s eyes

#tournament polls #tumblr polls #incest poll #beverly/elliot #dead ringers #dave/rose #daverose #dersecest #homestuck #tw incest #round 2

[littlerosette]

I actually think that’s what makes Katniss and Peeta so good as a couple. They’re both flawed people so that makes the relationship interesting without seeming super sanitized and saccharine. But they’re also trying to be good and they do treat each other very well as a result.

They basically nail the “snarky, co-dependent, best friends who want to fuck dynamic”.

i think of their relationship as being very sweet and a touchstone for them both (definitely for katniss in the first half of mj) but also very messy and extremely codependent. if you read the books, you cannot get away from the fact that katniss is a teenage girl. she’s impulsive, and snappy, and kind of nasty (something i frequently think of is her making finnick cry when he tries talk to her after she finds out peeta was kidnapped). and peeta is definitely nicer than she is, but like i said, also not afraid to be an asshole and he has moments where he has a scary temper. i love when post-mj fics explore those parts of them tbh. i imagine that their relationship in the first few years after the war was both very intense and loving, but also messy and complicated.

but they absolutely are the best parts of each other. i don’t think that can be refuted.

#asks #everlark

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

The brotherless/what was taken au

Reader is an asshole. Snarky. Smartass. Rude for no reason. Just basically a prick. But there is something sincere abt them that Sun thinks is good. Moon likes the challenge, likes how stubborn and abrasive they are, but can tell that something has made them that way, the same way the virus made him into something different. Either way, both are curious about the reader, who seems equally as interested in them.

Takes place a few years (15? Maybe?) after Plex catches fire and closes permanently. Some unnamed company has dug out what was left behind and is messing around with the animatronics to see how damaged they are. Reader is hired for the Sun/Moon tasks. The company’s goal is to trace back what happened to the Plex, why it happened, and who was involved. When the project is done, the suitable animatronics (the ones cleared of the virus) will be given a chance to return to the world and carry on with whatever sort of life they wish, with close supervision for six months to a year to be sure they’re hospitable enough to live with the public.

Sun/Moon are kept in a square, bland as hell room with a big window on one side. This leads to an observation room where a staff member (reader) can talk to, interact with the animatronics without being close to them, and manage controls for the room. Sun/Moon are hooked up to a system by a series of chords that stretch from their back. These control them: turn them on and off, which parts of their body they can move, give short correctional shocks, basically can keep them easily under control and helpless. If they remove the chords, they power down immediately. There’s no way to get rid of the chords or ignore what they do.

Reader gives them simple tasks. “Pretend this teddy bear” a teddy bear is dropped into the room “is a distressed child. What do you do?” They ask them basic questions. “What were you built to do?” “What is 13 multiplied by 24?” “Why is the sky blue?” “Who created you?” Just testing their knowledge. What they know. About themselves, about the world. Sometimes they’re rude and play tricks on the animatronic for no reason. They don’t hurt them- just kind of push them around. Sun gets attached, with how Reader is, at heart, a jokester, and, when fixing any broken parts Sun/Moon are discovered to have, diligent and careful, making sure everything is as it should be, asking how they are feeling every step of the way.

Moon is still partially warped by the virus and rarely comes out. When he does, reader turns intense, borderline vicious, needles him and antagonizes him. They’ve got a fight to pick with him, it’s obvious, but neither Sun nor Moon can remember much from before the fire.

But reader went to the Plex as a child, often. And they remember everything.

-

Aka, reader is the older sibling of one of the kids Moon lured away, and even if it’s been years, that’s years they’ve spent seething and hurting, and they still want answers- and for Sun and Moon to regret what they did, and regret it properly

Also could be considered an unlikely enemies-to-tolerance-to-friends-to-confused-but-might-be-crushing relationship! Reader has always thought they knew what they’d do if they ever got the chance to make Moon pay for it all, but suddenly they’re here and he’s there and they’re both stupid and hurting and shells of themselves and neither is sure what they want anymore

#new au #brotherless au #what was taken au #fnaf au #fnaf sun/moon x reader #fnaf sun x y/n #fnaf moon x y/n #anger #bitter #unresolved grief #ideas #idk man I just wanna see a fic where the parent or friend or sibling of a lost child goes apeshit #bc like yeah ghosts r scary but. have u ever seen a mother who’s just lost her child #a father who’s kid was stolen away #the sibling of someone who will never be seen again #bc if u have then u know. u know that there’s nothing they wouldn’t do #and that I think is what true love and true fear is about #anyway #lies facedown in a puddle and doesn’t move for sixteen hours

[starryeyedjanai]

it takes two, not three (but i’m here anyway)

stomarol 5+1 | E | Read chapter 1 on ao3 thank you @thoroughlycollected for the beta!

Steve’s never thought about them in this context. It’s always been off the table, really. He wouldn't think about Carol because she’s Tommy’s. And he wouldn't think about Tommy because, well—he’s Tommy. or, 5 times Tommy and Carol hook up in front of Steve and 1 time he joins in

Steve doesn't think much of it when Tommy begs him to drive him and Carol to Skull Rock at first.

They're home for the summer and it’s been a few weeks since they got back. Steve's parents are surprisingly in Hawkins for the foreseeable future, so he’s been trying to get out of the house as much as possible.

They’ve hung out together, the three of them, plenty since they got back—at the community pool, around town, whatever they can do to pass the time during the hot summer days.

He doesn't remember summers being this boring, but now that they’re in college and have seen bigger and better things than the StarCourt Mall, coming back to little ol’ Hawkins is astoundingly boring.

He assumed that Tommy and Carol have been hanging out without him, at night, or the days that he doesn't see them, since they’re together or whatever, so it comes as a total surprise when he parks the car near Skull Rock and Tommy asks if Steve can take a walk through the woods so they can make out for a few minutes.

“You’re not fucking serious,” Steve says, but he sees the desperation on Tommy’s face, sees Carol’s pleading eyes. They’re fucking serious. Jesus Christ.

Tommy says, “Just five minutes, man. Carol’s parents are being such assholes and you know how my parents are. We haven't had a second alone since we got back. Just five minutes. Please?”

Steve looks back and forth between them before his gaze settles back on Tommy. “Five minutes? Is that how long you normally last?” he asks, his tone biting, a little mean.

Tommy rolls his eyes. “We’re not going to fuck in your car. We just haven't even been able to be alone in the same room in over two weeks because someone got a C in English.”

Carol glares at him and says, “I didn't know my parents would freak out like this! And English was hard.”

“You speak English,” Tommy says and opens his mouth to say something else, probably something just as snarky, but Carol cuts him off with a glare. Wow, they really must be pent up if they’re bickering like this.

Carol turns to Steve and says, “My parents are being total assholes. They won’t even let me see Tommy unless you’re with us. Please, just five minutes?”

Steve closes his eyes briefly and sighs. He silently curses himself—he can never say no to them.

“Your five minutes started a minute ago,” he says, opening his car door and getting out, slamming the door a little bit harder than necessary.

He walks away with his hands in his pockets, feeling a little bit like an idiot. He should have known. They only ever really come out here when they’re on a double date, when Steve and his date can make out in the front seat while Tommy and Carol make out in the back. It’s been a while since the last time they did that—and it’s in the middle of the fucking day right now—so Steve can't be blamed for forgetting that this is primarily a hook up spot.

He walks for a couple minutes, the muggy humid air making his hair stick to the back of his neck. He turns back around after another minute because they said five minutes and if they want any longer, they can get out and make out against a tree or something while he enjoys the air conditioning of his car.

When he gets back to the car, the windows are fogging up and Tommy and Carol aren’t vertical in the back. He rolls his eyes and taps on the window.

He says, “Time’s up,” before opening the backseat door. They pull away from each other’s mouths and look up at him.

Tommy has his hand shoved up Carol’s shirt and both of their lips are bitten red. He tries not to look at them as they sit up and Tommy adjusts himself in his pants.

Carol slides out of the backseat and closes the door, grinning up at Steve before taking her seat in the front seat again.

He gets in the driver’s seat and starts the car.

They hadn't had any other plans today, so he drives away from Skull Rock towards the mall, the silence in the car stifling and loud.

They don't talk on the way to the mall, so he turns the radio on and tries not to feel bad.

Look, he can sympathize with them, but he’s not going to feel like he’s cockblocking his friends because he won't let them have sex in his car.

He gets it. Truly, he gets it. Having all that freedom in college, staying out as late as they want, staying over when one of their roommates was gone for the weekend, and then having to come back here for the summer and live like they’re in high school all over again isn't easy. But still, using him and his car for a ticket to hook up in the middle of the day feels kind of slimy, even for them.

Part 2

#stomarol #stranger things #posting every day this week! #steve harrington #tommy hagan #carol perkins #janai.doc

[twsted-idiot]

I’m sorry if this is like weirdly specific, but can you maybe write something about the family but specifically Johnny in general adopting a child like if a kid wanted onto their property and I’m not talking young kid I’m talking maybe 11-13 but kind of a southern street rat and very street smart and quite sassy (“you can’t kill me, old man!”) and Johnny felt weird about killing a child and had a soft soft for them, and kind of admired them acting like a little asshole and hiding their fear so kind of like let them into the family and what that relationship would be like I’m sorry if this is super specific

Thank you!!!

since you didn’t specify (which is fine Idc lol) if u wanted headcanons or like. A Drabble I just did both :3 !! Ft a few other family members (no gender specified !! Use of they/them ((tagged as x reader but is NOT romantic. Please do not take it as such.))

At first it kinda pissed him off at first, he thought the sass n attitude was really annoying 💀

eventually he grew to find it funny though, especially considering he’s pretty much the same way (specifically towards Drayton)

Nancy’s the one that mostly watches over them besides Johnny, so they’re basically like another child to her (unfortunately, she does show her favoritism)

Drayton’s always getting on their ass about it, not that they care though. If anything it only encourages them further.

Nubbins also thinks it’s funny as hell

At first, Johnny found them to be annoying, despite how similar they were to him. However, their sass and attitude grew on him, and he couldn’t help but let out a snort of amusement when he heard the typical snarky remark with “old man!” At the end. When Drayton started to try to scold them, they only laughed, before running off.

“I don’t care what you say to him, but watch yerself, he’s old ‘nd senile, he might go off on you one day ‘nd I ain’t gonna be able to save yer ass every time” despite his words, Johnny’s eyes glimmered with amusement…and maybe a bit of pride, maybe.

———

i haven’t written for Johnny (nor any TCM character really) yet so I apologize if it’s super OOC <\3

#the texas chainsaw massacre #TCM game #TCM #Texas Chainsaw Massacre Game #Johnny Sawyer #Johnny Slaughter #johnny tcm #drayton sawyer #TCM x reader #Johnny Sawyer x reader #platonic x reader #Nancy Sawyer #nancy slaughter #Black Nancy #Vies reqs #Request

[deancasbigbang]

Title: The Things We Leave behind

Author: Briston

Artist: Merv (fruitmixtape)

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Dean/Cas

Length: 52000

Warnings: minor character death, discussion of historical child abuse, substance use disorder.

Tags: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Divorce Arc, Bad Parent John Winchester, Alcohol Abuse, Rehab, Discussion of Cheating, Alcoholic Dean Winchester, Recovering Alcoholic Dean Winchester

Posting Date: October 31, 2023

Summary: Cas has been getting progressively worried about Dean’s drinking for a while but mentioning it only causes tension in their marriage. The sudden death of Dean’s father brings everything to the breaking point. After a particularly bad fight, his husband seeks solace in whiskey and flirty women in the aftermath. When Cas finds out, he decides he’s had his fill, packs his bags, and leaves. Sam lives in California and has built a career as a well respected addictions counselor. When Cas calls to tell him that Dean is missing on a bender and their marriage is likely over, he drops everything to come to Kansas to find his brother. Dean clearly needs help. Sam convinces him to go with him to California and go through a rehab program. Dean only agrees because Cas refuses to have anything to do with him unless he stops drinking permanently. If he can't, their marriage is finished. Along the way, Sam and Dean discover that their father left them with more than just painful memories of a traumatic childhood. Their half-brother Adam might be exactly who they need to help pull all the fractured pieces together. Cas is giving Dean one last chance to turn things around. Nothing is easy, but maybe it’s still worth fighting for.

Excerpt: “You know the only difference that would have made was that you would be as miserable as he was.” Cas grabbed both of their toothbrushes and toothpaste from the ensuite bathroom, tossing Dean’s his way. “I could’ve tried harder to get him to quit, go to rehab or something.” The toiletries went in the bag with some deodorant, a flannel, and some denim. He shot Cas a dirty look when he heard him huff in exasperation. “How many times did you ask him to quit? Remember when Sam flew in for an intervention? He’s a professional addictions counselor and the only thing that happened was that Sam flew home with a black eye and a refusal to ever come back.” “That’s just because they’re too much alike and can’t stop themselves from fighting.” Dean was starting to raise his voice. Cas wasn’t having any of it. “No,” he knew he sounded snarky as shit but was so very tired of having the same argument about John Winchester’s parenting skills. “It’s because your father is a narcissistic asshole with undiagnosed mental health issues that he self-medicates with whiskey.” Dean walked around the bed to where Cas was and grabbed his arm. The grip wasn’t rough but it wasn’t gentle either. His green eyes were anguished and pleading.   “Don’t say that, he could be dying right now.” Somewhere deep down Cas knew he should be feeling guilty about just how little empathy he had for John right then. He’d feel more compassion for a complete stranger than he did for the man who had hurt Dean again and again, both as a child and as an adult. He felt a small flash of resentment at having to defend Dean from his own negative thinking. “It was always going to be this way with him, Dean. Every counselor you’ve ever had has told you the same thing for years. You are not responsible for fixing him. Don’t kill yourself trying to be accepted by someone who doesn’t even deserve you.”

DCBB 2023 Posting Schedule

#dcbb 2023 #fic preview #2023 promo #deancas #destiel