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a-kaash-me-outside · 2 months

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˚₊‧ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟ ɴᴏᴡ? ‧₊˚

♡ ft. geto, toji, gojo, higuruma, nanami ♡ total wc: 10.9k // nsfw minors dni! // ♡ contents: ౨ৎ 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 ౨ৎ, afab reader she/her pronouns, no smut in gojos or tojis im sorry, emotionally stunted men kinda but they grow isnt that nice (not talking abt higuruma and nanami god no), the aftermath of fwb caught feelings, consolation, emotional aftercare ig, lotta domestic fluff for higuruma and nanami's!!!! (everyone say ty @noosayog for nanami's bc she is the only reason i wrote his) ♡ listen along: casual by chappell roan ♡

- ᡣ𐭩 time passes and people change, and just because you fell first doesn't mean you don't get a happy ending + bonus continuation of higuruma's and nanami's ᡣ𐭩 -

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴇᴛᴏ [ 3 ʏᴇᴀʀs ]

on the list of people that you thought you’d see tonight, geto isn’t even in the top 100, not because of probability or likelihood, but solely based on the fact that you have not thought about this man in years. if you were asked the question from your future self, “holy shit, guess who we saw tonight?” you would’ve listed old friends, distant relatives, exes, minor celebrities, other flings, teachers from high school, people from stories you’ve only heard of, and then geto.

after that night, you really didn’t see barely any of him. a few posts on your feed: one 2 weeks after and another 2 months after that one when you remembered that you forgot to unfollow him. once on campus: him across a million tables getting lunch with some girl too long after your little thing for you to care about who she was to him at all. once at a mutual (though you didn’t know was mutual at the time) friend’s party close to graduation: you ran into him grabbing a drink from the cooler and neither of you said a single word to each other, just exchanged a very knowing glance.

fast forward a handful of years, with geto not on your mind during a single one of them, and you’re stunned, nearly speechless, as you recognize him across the bar. the track of which your mind is racing takes you stop after stop to thoughts and feelings you didn’t really ask to experience. they follow a curving roadmap in your mind of: why is he here? ↝ wow, he looks great ↝ does he live nearby still? ↝ that’s weird ↝ no, it isn’t weird, i still live here ↝ then what are the fucking chances that he’s here ↝ no, seriously he looks so good

he looks different though, you realize about 3 minutes into sneaking glances in his direction, in some way that you just can’t put your finger on right now. in your slightly tipsy state, you barely stop to ask yourself how you even clocked that it was him so quickly, how there was no hesitance in the recognition or questioning in the placing. he looks really fucking good.

in fact, now that all of the obligatory thoughts have come to a heed, that’s really the only thing that you can think about. how good he looks.

the events that happened that ended your situationship all of those years ago are nothing but outlines now; whatever you said or he said just sounds like underwater conversations. you can see the way that you left and you remember being dumbfounded, but everything else has lost its sting, like a story you’d recall to a friend of a friend in a setting much like the one you’re in. time has handled the memory the way that time does and as a result, when the two of you finally make eye contact after what feels like an hour of missed mutual glances, you offer a small wave. a wave that says, “i remember only knowing you in past tense. we are such different people now, i wonder what it would’ve been like if we met now instead.”

the wave was the first step, technically, sure, but he makes the literal first step. he departs from the conversation he’s been enthralled with for as long as you’ve been stealing glances and he weaves between people in the middle of their own stories before ending up in front of you.

when he does, he asks, as if he’s just randomly bumped into you rather than intentionally coming over, “shit… is that you?” he puts his hand on the back of your chair, thumb brushing your shoulder.

the friend that you’re with cocks their head, furrows their eyebrows, has no idea who this is or their connection to you, the timelines of their interactions with you spaced too far apart for one to know the other. geto notices this look, addresses it. “we used to…,” he pauses, “see each other? for a little bit.”

you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your chest at the way he describes it. “yes, yes we did,” you nod. “back in college,” you explain a little further, “been a while.”

the interaction quiets, the two of you exchanging soft smiles instead of words, and your friend knows where this thing is going before either of you even do, so they bow their head, offer their seat to geto, and take their leave in the name of some bullshit excuse. he takes it without a second thought, asking you how you’ve been, laughing about the time that you saw each other at that party, and after an hour of just talking he says, “yeah, i actually thought about you the other day.”

you nearly choke on the drink he’s bought you. you rush to put it down. “you did?” you ask.

he nods. “i don’t even remember what prompted it. i think, maybe, i saw a photo of myself from college and how different i looked and how different i feel now and then just, out of nowhere, remembered how shitty i was to you.”

you don’t say anything in return, running your finger around the lip of your glass as you stare at him. you don’t know how to say that you don’t care anymore, that you haven’t thought of those days in years, that the surprise that you displayed a few seconds ago was completely genuine, because you were so convinced that neither of you had. it comes out something like a shrug and, “we were practically kids.”

he answers so quickly, “well, kids or not, i’m sorry.”

you laugh, gently so he won’t think you’re laughing at his apology. really, you’re laughing at the notion of apologizing for an act that no longer warrants forgiveness. you laugh at the thought of giving it anyways. you place your hand on top of his on the edge of the bar. “thank you,” you nod. he nods back.

when you let him take you back to his place for old times sake, you’re half-expecting the same person from the ghosts of memories from years ago, like all of the things he said at the bar were just a last ditch effort to usher the night in the exact direction that it’s heading in.

but he’s different now, just like he said he was before he apologized, and you can feel it in his movements and his actions. more confident, more intentional. he kisses you first and it doesn’t taste selfish. it doesn’t feel rushed to get to the main event. he savors it, holds your head in his hands, and doesn’t touch a single other inch of your body until he’s found the right combination of fingertip pressure and tongue that has you melting into his palm.

your mind flickers to the notion that these actions might be pre planned because they feel so meticulous and thought out, but that impression quickly dissolves when he sinks inside of you, slowly, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he does, his hand reaching down to cup your cheek, fingers nearly trembling against your jaw when he presses his hips completely against the insides of your thighs.

“shit,” he hisses, hands moving down to your waist, fingers light like feathers practically crawling against your skin, as if each print was so grateful it got to make contact with the softness below. when he grips into the fat of your hips, he’s careful, intentional or not, pressing his thumbs into the bone, but not letting his nails leave a single mark. it’s pressured, but comfortable.

he holds you in place, slowly pulling his hips back and he can’t help but look down between your legs, watching himself disappear inside of you, a creamy mess at the base, shallow breaths recycled in his chest.

“hey,” you say, eyes locked on the tenseness of his jaw and the way that he stops himself with sharp inhales. he finds your gaze in a second. “don’t hold out on me here.” you rest your arm on his bicep, fingers curling around wherever they can reach.

you can feel it under your palm, his muscle tensing as his pace picks up, rhythm consistent, but unrelenting. the breaths come out of you quickly and you’re unable to hold any sort of facade. “ah- shit, f-fuck,” you cry, “holy shit.” you squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing harshly as strangled noises leave you without vetting a single one.

“n-no,” you shake your head, regretting it instantly as he slows down in response. you shake your head harder, “no, don’t stop, but- ah,” you groan, “your- you were- i meant,” you exhale a laugh, “let me hear you.”

his eyes widen slightly as he processes what you want from him, and then he listens. he leans down to kiss your lips and then your cheek and then your jaw and then your ear. yes, he’s fucking you better than you’ve ever been fucked in your entire life, but that’s not what makes you crumble. no, it’s his grunts and pants and breathy groans pressed right up against your skin.

you thread your fingers into his hair, twirling the ends of the locks between the tips, raking your nails down the base of his neck to the front, and then smoothing them down his chest. “more,” you mumble against him, and you’re not sure exactly what you mean, but he gives it to you, whatever it is. you’re certain he’d give you anything in the world right now if you just asked for it.

there’s a moment after when you’re lying there with him, shoulder pressed up against his, chest heaving, barely recovered, that you find yourself back in that college dorm. you don’t know why the tightness is rising in the hollow below your sternum, but it is. you remind yourself that you weren’t expecting anything from this anyway, so it doesn’t matter, but it does. you’re not sure if you just don’t want to be treated like that again or if it has something to do with geto being the one lying beside you.

when you turn your head to face him, he’s already looking at you. he doesn’t shy away in embarrassment, like it’s wrong that he’d be gazing at you after all of that. his features are steady, confident, strong. he smiles softly, brings his hand up to cup your cheek. “should we get breakfast in the morning?”

in the morning, you repeat in your head. you wait a beat, trying to come up with something to say, to proceed with caution or to discern his intentions or to at least not sound desperate, but all that comes out is, “in the morning?”

he nods, turning on his side so he can stare at you without his neck getting sore. he inches closer to you, kissing the top of your shoulder and then your temple. he drapes his arm over your stomach. “if that’s okay with you,” he says and then kisses you again.

“okay,” you nod back, lazy smile on your lips, eyelids heavy at the warmth surrounding you now as he pulls you closer to him. “yeah, sure,” you affirm, voice so soft and airy that the tightness in your chest is lifted away with the words, all that’s left is a hope you feel comfortable letting stick around.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴏᴊɪ [ 3 ᴍᴏɴᴛʜs ]

you are not expecting anyone. you have resigned yourself to a nice pair of pajamas and comfy socks and a warm cup of tea and a spot in the living room that you will only leave for a refill and bathroom breaks. you are tucked into the corner of your couch, back pressed up against the sturdy arm, legs crossed, and a throw blanket over your lap.

you are not expecting anyone, so the sound at the door should have felt a lot more jarring. well, it is jarring for a second, a few seconds actually, the echoing disruption bouncing off of the walls of your living room and back to you, but then the noises repeat themselves, like they’re on a looping track, and you realize that-

you know that knock. heavy-handed with a tight fist, back of the knuckles, not the tops. almost pittering out by the end of the three successions, like the first one is direct and assured, but the second and third don’t really bother keeping up. that knock almost makes you run to the door. if it were 3 months ago, you’d be skipping to the door.

but you hesitate for a few reasons. firstly because when the connection hits that you know that knock very well, you remind yourself to proceed with caution. secondly because it sounds the same but with a difference as small as a hairline fracture. you heard that knock far too many times during the span of a year and a half, and this one sounds almost completely identical, but there’s a half second pause between the first knock and the second knock and the raps feel less impatient.

you don’t have to look through the peephole to know who’s standing on the other side of the door, but you’re glad you do anyway. if for nothing else, it gives you a slight edge, you’re convinced, like you’ve seen him first, you have the upperhand now. at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

toji hadn’t contacted you since he left that day. no texts. no calls. no showing up at your apartment at 3 am. nothing. you kept telling yourself that you’d hear from him. when that didn’t happen, you started telling yourself that you didn’t care if you heard from him. you’ve actually been waiting for this moment, replaying what it would look like if he came back, the things you’d say to him and how you’d say them.

now, looking out at him just standing there, you’re frozen. every scenario you’ve replayed in your head, all of the emotional venting and blow out screaming that you’ve rehearsed and you can’t recall a single scene. you think about leaving him out there, about telling him to go away through the door or just pretending like you’re not home.

“i can see the shadow of your feet under the door,” toji calls out, muffled by the barrier between you guys, and yet it still rings out through your entire body.

you slowly open the door. though, even if it took an entire hour to open the door, you’re not sure it would’ve mattered. you don’t think time is something that could’ve prepared you for seeing him. seeing him didn’t even prepare you for seeing him. you don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything, folding your arms over your chest. you just wait.

“i-,” he starts, but then immediately stops, half sighs/half scoffs as he leans his chest forward, eyes scanning the inside of your apartment, for what exactly you’re not sure.

“what, toji?” you ask, voice stronger- and more annoyed- than you anticipate it being. you’re grateful for that. “why are you here?”

“shit, this is already hard enough for me t-,” he says, shaking his head, corner of his mouth tugging upward in frustration.

you narrow your eyes, cutting him off, “sorry, this is hard for you?” you feel like laughing or strangling him more than you do crying, which is a desired outcome in this situation, you suppose. “you know that you haven’t talked to me in three months, right? you haven’t talked to me?” you ask, and you can feel your pulse in your wrist and your chest now, because the lines are coming back to you slowly, one by one, circling your brain, fueling your confidence.

“yeah, no, of course i know that,” he combats, like you’re the one that’s being an asshole right now.

you smooth your fingertips against your eyes, blocking the sight of him out for just a second before gesturing with your hand as you ask, “are you going to answer my question or…?”

“look, i said that this is hard enough as it is for me to just be here,” he snaps, and if you were a little less annoyed, if he hadn’t come at this whole thing exactly how he was, you might’ve clocked the desperation in his voice or the uncertainty in his pupils.

“do you know how fucking stupid you sound right now?” you ask. it’s a rhetorical question.

one week after he left, you were certain he was going to come back. you and toji had gone a week without seeing each other or even speaking. you had even gone two weeks. sure, the conversation felt much more serious and, sure, really deep down you knew this time was different, but still, you held out dumb hope.

one month after he left and you realized this was not just him being weird and distant. this was something brand new that you had never had to deal with before. you were still trying to figure out how to navigate it when the two month realization hit: that maybe he wasn’t coming back at all, ever, maybe you had done something wrong. if he had shown back up on your doorstep during that time this conversation would’ve gone very differently you think.

but he didn’t. he showed up at month three when your reaction to random memories of toji were no longer tears and guilt, but laughter and bitterness. there weren’t many things that toji could say right now that would warrant anything more than you standing in your doorway for 4 minutes or less.

“i-,” he starts, but then sighs. he looks left, down the hallway of your building, eyes shifting from object to object out of your view.

“please don’t waste anymore of my time,” you reply and it’s softer than you intend. you thought it’d come out angrier. that seems like a theme for you tonight: everything sounding different in your head. when he doesn’t reply, you start a countdown, promising yourself that when you make it to 15, you’ll close the door in his face. you only make it to 13.

“i’m not here to waste your time,” he says, with no air of disgust or annoyance, the first halfway decent thing he’s said to you tonight. “i-,” he huffs again, “i’m here to say sorry. and-,” he hesitates.

you wait, just listening. the longer that he hesitates, the more time you have to think about what he might say and how you’re standing with your door open for the entire floor to hear your conversation. you’re not sure what’s worse, having this conversation in the confines of familiar grounds or the openness of neutrality.

“and ask… are you already seeing someone else?” he finishes.

you’re dumbfounded, blinking at him slowly before responding in the only way you can think of right now, “goodnight, toji.” you shake your head, cursing yourself for expecting anything more.

“no,” he rushes to say and then stumbles over the rest, “i- i tried to see somebody else, quite a bit of other people actually…”

you scoff, squinting at him, saying more sternly this time, with an added attestation of closing the door in his face, “goodnight, toji.”

he reaches out with a quick reflex, grabbing the door before you’ve barely even moved it. “wait, no, i- fuck,” he mutters, scrambling, “can i just come in?”

“so that was your plan then?” you drop your hand from the door. “to come back here unannounced, be shitty to me, ask if i’m sleeping with anyone, tell me that you’ve slept with lots of people, and then ask if you can come inside?” you ask.

“i didn’t have a plan-,” he replies.

“clearly,” you interject.

“but i’m trying,” he finishes, and you’re waiting for there to be more, to explain exactly how this constitutes as trying, because you don’t really see that here.

“fucking christ, toji, you’re going to have to try harder than whatever the fuck this is,” you sneer.

“we- we had a good thing,” he tries again. you don’t understand how every time he opens his mouth it gets worse and worse. why are you even entertaining this anymore?

“fuck you, man,” you scoff, and it feels like all of the anger has left your body, and in the void where it once was present is nothing but disinterest.

“no, not like that,” he backpedals. maybe if he would say more than four words at a time, or four better words at a time, then you wouldn’t have to keep filling in the blanks or being pissed off or- “for the last six months of our relationship, i didn’t sleep with anyone else,” he admits like it’s the answer to all of your problems. the word relationship burns at the forefront of your mind so hard that you don’t realize what he’s said for 10 whole seconds.

“i, so what?” your voice is unconvincing even to your own ears. you had slept with other people even 2 months before that last day. that wasn’t the issue. you guys were allowed to sleep with other people. you had an explicit conversation about the fact that you could sleep with other people, something along the lines of, hey, we can see other people right? yeah, we’re not fucking dating. okay, just checking.

the so what, you had already answered for yourself, inner voice replying to your own question, screaming, you guys were exclusive, unknowingly to each other, for 2 whole months before you confessed and he left.

his answer is much different. he says, “so nothing really. i just- i needed you to know that.”

“well, what the fuck do you want me to do with that?” you ask, and it comes out bitter and discouraged, but what you really mean is, please tell me what you want, please, can you just tell me that you missed me.

“whatever you want,” he answers instead.

you take a deep breath, a million emotions coursing through your veins and up your throat. “you know what?” you say, and it doesn’t sound angry, it sounds playful, “no, seriously,” you smile and then you laugh, “fuck you, toji.” you close your mouth like you’re done talking, like that’s all you needed to say, but your heart disagrees, forces more words out into the air no matter how hard your jaw is clenched shut.

“you show up here and you’re an asshole and then you’re decent and then you say shit like that and then- then i ask you what you fucking want from this, what you’re trying to play at here and you tell me whatever i want?” you say, exasperated.

“what i wanted was for you not to leave me three fucking months ago. that’s what i wanted,” you spit, “i wanted you to tell me this shit three fucking months ago before i sat alone, by myself, sad and then angry, and the entire time, fucking missing you, you fucking asshole. that’s what i wanted.”

and then it’s there, out in the open, airing for the two of you to witness and to face, and no matter what happens, you know you’ve done everything and said everything that you’ve needed to. he’s quiet for a few moments and you let him be, not tapping your foot or rolling your eyes or being pissed off, but just letting it play out. if this is the last time you ever see toji, why not just let it play out?

“okay,” he says, and it’s soft in a way you’ve only ever heard from him one time in your entire relationship. “i’m sorry.” he pauses. “i really don’t know how to do this,” he admits and you believe him. it feels different from when he told you something along those lines earlier, but you have a feeling that this is what he was trying to say all along.

“do what?” you push, because your mind is making assumptions, but if he’s going to prove anything to you, he needs to start now.

“ask for forgiveness?” he says, like he’s thinking out loud, “apologize? date someone?” you don’t say anything. you’re looking for something more concrete than that. it takes a handful of uncomfortable seconds before he says, “actually care about someone.”

“and do you?” you ask.

his lips press into a thin line, his eyes shift from left to right again. you can feel him getting antsy with the conversation and he’s barely said one vulnerable thing. you look at him, eyes soft and pleading, silently begging him that if he’s grown from this, you’ll let him back in, you swear, but you’ve been hurt before and you know what you’re worth, so you’re going to need some sort of evidence as collateral. “yeah,” he mumbles, but it’s audible. “you,” he says like it isn’t obvious, and it’s quiet and daunted, but you really appreciate the effort.

“okay,” you say, and that’s all you say.

“okay?” he questions, confused. “that’s it?”

“yup,” you say, but your small smile and the fact that you’re not slamming the door in his face again gives away a bit more than that.

“can i… come in?” he asks, hesitant, like he’s still being tested.

you shake your head, hand gripped onto the edge of the door. “no,” you say, scrunching up your nose and furrowing your eyebrows. “because if you come in here, we’re going to have sex,” you admit, half because it’s the truth and half just to see the look on his face. (it’s worth it.)

“wait,” he says, placing his palm flat against your door, but not moving it. his hand is now inside of your apartment, the only part of his body that’s made it past this invisible barrier of hallway and your place. “that sounds like a great thing. why am i not allowed in?”

“because this is me having self-control,” you explain, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing the small portion of him that’s crossed the division back into the hallway. when you feel his skin against your pinky, soft fabric of that familiar shirt underneath your palm, you almost make a fool of yourself right after you say the word self-control, but you remind yourself what’s at stake here, what you really want.

“i came all the way out here to see you-,” he starts, but he doesn’t make a move to replace his hand on your door, letting his arm fall back to his side. it’s for the better, too, because you’re not sure how much more self-control you have already, no matter how much you tell yourself about longevity and whatever.

“if you really care,” you interrupt him, using his few vulnerable words against him, “and you weren't just trying to sleep with me tonight,” you pause, letting those words sink in, “you will go home and you will call me tomorrow morning and we will get breakfast- the least sexy meal of them all- and then maybe coffee if i enjoy hanging out with you outside of just having sex with you, and then we will go from there.”

“i-,” he starts to protest, but you cock your head. the truth is, if he said another word, reached out and touched your cheek or your hip or really anywhere on your body, if he kissed you, or just walked inside of your apartment and sat down on your couch, you wouldn’t have stopped him. you might even have gotten breakfast with him anyways. he doesn’t know that, you don’t think, but even if he does, he doesn’t act on it. he bows his head slightly, conceding, and says, “okay. i will just… talk to you… tomorrow… then.”

you nod. “goodnight, toji,” you say, hand on the door, closing it as slowly as you opened it.

“uh, yea, night,” he says back. you won’t tell anyone, and neither will he, about the stupidest small smile you see on his lips as he leaves your apartment that night or the fact that he wakes up extra early the next morning, muttering under his breath about how ridiculous dating is before he calls you at 9:30 on the dot.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴏᴊᴏ [ 3 ᴡᴇᴇᴋs ]

being away from ɢᴏᴊᴏ feels like detoxing. not from like hard drugs or alcohol, but… coffee.

like you know it’s not necessarily good for you, drinking it every day, but it’s a habit you’ve had for a while now and you just can’t seem to break it. it’s not really hurting anything in your day-to-day and you’ve been doing it for so long that it’s probably fine to just keep doing it.

but out of nowhere it hits you that maybe drinking coffee as much as you do is a waste of money and even if you don’t feel the negative effects constantly in your daily routine, you remind yourself of the times where you could distinctly feel the thump of your heart and the unsteady of your hands. you recall the time that you stayed up all night for the promise of a cup of coffee to get you through the day. in every memory that you’ve ever had in your entire college career, you’re holding a cup of coffee.

so one day you make the choice to stop. you stop buying coffee from coffee shops and pods for your coffee maker and cups from diners and accepting free ones from friends. you don’t really need a good cup of coffee as badly as you think you do. and it’s stupid, you think, because it’s just coffee. it doesn’t mean anything. just because you’ve been drinking it consistently for quite awhile doesn’t mean it has any sort of hold over you. it’s just coffee.

but then the headaches come and the irritation sets in and nights are hard, but for some reason mornings are unbearable, and you feel antsy all the time and you haven’t left your room in the past three days and the only thing you want is a cup of fucking coffee and you can’t relapse with coffee; it’s fucking coffee.

yeah, being away from gojo feels a lot like detoxing from coffee.

you try to just not see him. it’ll be easier for you if you just don’t see him, you tell yourself. you go out of your way to avoid his walking path on campus and you refuse to leave your dorm when you don’t absolutely need to in fear of bumping into him or worse, just seeing him from afar, and god forbid you even come within three streets of the corner where his apartment resides. you block his number and you delete social media off of your phone for the time being, too many mutual friends to make casualties, and you do not let yourself think about him. not falling asleep, not when you wake up, not while you’re doing homework, not in your dreams or in the shower, not when something reminds you of him, not when you see his favorite show on your recently watched, not when you really need a good cup of coffee.

and it works for a while.

but not forever.

three weeks into your detox and you’re doing such a good job at not thinking about gojo that you mix up his monday schedule with his tuesday schedule and on your way back to your dorm, you see him. if you keep walking at the same pace that you’re walking, you will collide with him. if neither of you do anything, one of you will get hurt.

you look down at your phone, hoping, in the forefront of your mind, that he didn’t see it was you. (in the back of your mind, you’re hoping that he’s the one to break the longest bout of silence the two of you have had since you met.) when you sneak a glance, he’s already almost reached you, jogging to catch up with you. “hey,” he calls out, just in case you haven’t seen him.

“hi,” you say, stopping in place and letting him approach you.

“i’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” he offers, like you wouldn’t have known that.

“oh, sorry, haven’t been on my phone,” you lie. he knows that you’re lying. he can tell that you’re lying, so you don’t really know why you lie in the first place. maybe to prove a point. maybe to make him feel bad.

“look, about…,” he trails off, trying to remember how long he’s been without you, “about that… day…,” he opts for instead.

you put your hand up, waving the topic off. you mean to say something like, don’t worry about it, see you later, but it comes out like, “we don’t have to talk about that here.” here. fucking here. if you would’ve left those four letters out, it would’ve been a perfect line to walk away with, but you don’t. your stupid coffee-craving brain tacks it on, hopeful.

“right,” he says, nodding, “should we get coffee maybe, then, or?”

it’s not out of the ordinary, or it didn’t used to be, but now it feels taboo. you want to snap and ask him if he’s sure, because coffee sounds a bit too much like a date for people that aren’t together, but you realize very quickly that the irritation from your coffee detox is maybe a little bit too much to hold in without any closure. “sure,” you agree, “i just got done with class so we cou-.”

“i know,” he says, because three weeks hasn’t erased your schedule from his brain either.

you order an iced tea. you’re still convinced you’re done with coffee for good. he looks surprised at your choice, like he’s never seen you order an iced tea before, because he hasn’t, but he doesn’t say anything. you sip on it throughout unpleasant pleasantries and it’s refreshing, but it’s lacking something. in fact, the longer that you drink this stupid drink that has caffeine anyways and isn’t as good, the irritation bubbles higher and higher until- “can i start?” you ask, tapping your fingers against the table in rhythmic succession.

“yeah, sure,” he says, bringing his coffee to his lips and taking a sip.

“if at any point in this conversation your answer to anything i have to say is that we weren’t together, i don’t think we should have this conversation,” you reason, and you mean it, but his reaction takes you aback. you notice the smallest flinch when you say weren’t.

“i wasn’t-,” he shakes his head, sighing, “no, i wasn’t going to say that.”

“okay,” you say, dragging your fingertips along the condensation on the side of your glass. “then what were you going to say?”

he thinks for a minute, like he didn’t assume that he’d get this far when he brought up the idea of coffee. “i wanted to stop you from leaving,” he says.

“but you didn’t,” you rebuttal.

“i didn’t,” he affirms. it’s quiet again. you can hear the scrape of the cups against the table as they’re picked up, drank from, and put back down. the chatter in the coffee shop drones over the sounds of hesitance and nerves. “i’m sorry,” he says after a while.

“so, do you think we were together?” you ask, “and be honest. i’ll know if you lie.” you search his face as he answers, and the only thing that comes up is another flinch when you talk in past tense again.

“yeah,” he says, honest. “being apart from you these past three weeks has been one of the shittiest things i’ve ever been through.”

“ever?” you ask, quirking your eyebrow, as if it isn’t somewhat true for you too.

he nods in response, continuing, “it’s been hard.” he pauses. “i’m sorry i was so shitty.”

“pretty shitty, yeah,” you agree, but you can’t hide how nice it feels to just talk with him again, to call him shitty and to sit across from him at a coffee shop table. “i’m sorry i ghosted you these past few weeks,” because it deserves to be said too.

“i really missed you,” he says, and he doesn’t hide from it. he looks you directly in your eyes and you can tell that he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand. you want that too.

“me or just, like, sleeping with me?” you ask, somewhat terrified of the answer, scanning his face for the truth once again.

he laughs softly and, try as you might, you can’t stop the fluttering in your stomach or the warmth in your cheeks hearing that for the first time in too long. “please, i haven’t thought about sleeping with you once,” he jokes.

“oh, no? not at all?” you ask, scoffing lightly, a tiny smirk threatening to break.

he forces a thoughtful frown, shakes his head dramatically and says, “can’t say that i have.” you’re laughing now, but through smile-squinted eyes you can still tell that he’s actually being genuine. “not really,” he says.

“so just me then?” you ask to make sure.

“just you,” he affirms. “a lot of just you.” you hum, content with his answer, but he gives you even more than thought he ever could, “i don’t want to just go back to the way things were. i don’t think that’s enough for me anymore.”

even though you’re sure a response like this would’ve sent waves of shock through your entire body, it doesn’t. it just feels right. you reply quickly, “good. i don’t think it’s enough for me either.” you reach across the table. the back of your hand brushes against his, and then past it. you wrap your fingers around the handle of his coffee cup and bring it to your lips.

he doesn’t protest or snatch it away from you or make a snarky comment. he places his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow against the surface of the table, and smiles at you. you take a sip from his mug, warmth spreading through every bit of your body.

why would you deprive yourself of coffee when it brings you so much comfort?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ʜɪɢᴜʀᴜᴍᴀ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

you’re not exactly sure how many times something has to happen before it becomes a theme.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“do you -huff- want to -huff- have kids someday?” higuruma asks from beneath you, palms resting on the tops of your knees, thumbs massaging up to the insides of your thighs.

you slow your bounces and then you stop them completely. you blink at him once and then twice. “that is a really wild thing to ask while you’re inside of someone,” you scoff, searching his face for any kind of tone indicator. is he being serious? is he just saying something to get a rise out of you? is this a kink thing?

he smirks, placing his hands on your hips, coaxing you to continue your movements, and you do. you lift yourself off of him, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as you chase the feeling you lost when he asked the question. you’re breathless when he asks again, the repeated question no longer stilling you. the second time around it feels almost normal. “do you?” he asks on his exhale.

you shake your head and then tilt it side to side, closing your eyes so all of the conflicting fast paced movements don’t dizzy you. “i- don’t- know-,” you huff, “maybe- conversation- for- a- different- setting.” each word is punctuated by the slap of your thighs against his hips. he nods, completely okay with that answer, and then just drops it.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“shit,” you say in realization, hips circling, fingers combing through his hair. you pull your head away from his shoulder, pushing yourself up to look him in the eyes. “wait, how did your meeting go today?” you ask, and this time neither of you miss a beat.

when he slows to think about it, you pick up his slack, rolling your hips, feeling the drag of him inside of you, a breathy moan floating up your chest. he answers over your noises, “really good actually.”

“everything as planned?” you ask further, genuinely just as invested in this as you are in the act.

he nods, smiling. “yeah, to a t,” he says, wrapping his arms around your lower back and pulling you against his chest. he kisses the side of your temple, holding you in place with a tight grip as he lifts his hips off of the bed, thrusting into you. “surprised you didn’t ask as soon as i came through the door.”

you shake your head against his shoulder, placing a soft kiss against his collarbone. “was thinking about it all day,” you explain. he fucks into you faster in response and it feels like a reward for caring about the things that are important to him. “but when- shit- when you got home…,” you grunt, “it completely- ah, fuck- completely slipped my- ah- mind, s-sorry.”

“ts alright, pretty.” he nudges his nose against your cheek, peeling your attention to his face. your cheek rests against his shoulder and you blink at him, focus dipping from the topic at hand as you feel that familiar tightening in your core. he can see it written all over your face, so he drops his head to kiss you, silently communicating that you don’t have to worry about finishing the conversation right now. he’ll bring it up again in a bit.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“should we get married?” he asks, back up against the headboard, looking you directly in your eyes, gaze following yours as you rise and fall.

“you are not proposing to me while i’m riding you,” you say, shaking your head, but you don’t still or slow. conversations like this in a setting like this just don’t phase you anymore. honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he did propose right now. you’re not even sure you’d say no.

the corner of his lip tugs upward and he exhales a laugh as he leans forward the smallest bit to kiss you. “i’m not, i’m not,” he assures, “why? would you say no?”

you’re quiet for a minute, not because you don’t know the answer, but to keep him on his toes. you won’t lie to him, you don’t think, but you don’t want to come right out and say it. his questions are rhetorical anyways, half-jokes that he’s not expecting serious answers to; you’ve known higuruma well enough and long enough to be confident of that. you could’ve replied with an eye roll and a scoff and nothing else and he would’ve dropped it. instead, however, you answer, “course not. i’d say yes in a second.”

he nearly comes inside of you right there.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

maybe it becomes a theme when someone points it out.

you can’t tell if it’s intentional or not, the way that the two of you keep having these serious conversations during sex. you know that you don’t do it on purpose; things will just hit you during the repetitive motions and you worry you’ll forget them and you know that higuruma won’t judge you for just saying them, so you do. whether this is the case for him, you’re not sure.

but the interruptions just keep getting more casual. it starts with big conversations: weddings and promotions and thoughtful decisions, and then it’s like you just start remembering things in this position: work drama and mundane did you knows. it’s almost as if starting with big topics just made it seem so easy to talk about anything like this.

it didn’t help, you think, that it’s just always easy to talk about anything with higuruma. you guys have been together, officially together, for over four years now, and conversation, no matter the topic or severity or setting, is something you’ve never struggled with. you continue to not struggle with it, inside of the bedroom and out.

you’re not sure what about the position and the moment makes you so susceptible to remembering little things that you want to tell higuruma when he’s not around, and vice versa. in fact, you’re not even convinced that it’s something about the action that jogs your memory anyway, it’s probably just a really weird and common coincidence.

and then one night you can’t find your keys.

you’ve searched everywhere for them, in your car, in your bag, every nook of your room, the places where they normally are, higuruma’s coat pocket just in case, and then everywhere else in your guys’ apartment. they’re nowhere to be seen.

when higuruma walks through the front door, even from where you’re searching in the kitchen, you hear him let out an elongated, “woah.”

you pop your head into the doorway, “don’t say anything about the mess.” you can see his eyes resting on the overturned couch cushions and then on the various opened drawers. “hey,” you warn, pointing towards him as you walk quickly into the living room. you throw your arms around him tightly and give him a small greeting peck. it’s routine at this point; if you don’t do it your whole night feels off. “i said don’t say anything.”

he lets you hang off of his neck as he puts both hands up in surrender. “i didn’t say shit,” he says, pressing a kiss into the side of your neck, then moving his hands to your waist, “the fuck happened here though?” he laughs against your skin and you can feel the vibrations travel to your fingers and toes.

you pull away from him, shaking your head. now that you’re back in the living room, it’s like you have to start this room’s search over too. you start checking under the couch and in the hall closet. “lost my fucking keys,” you grumble, smoothing your palms over your face, “i swear i’ve looked everywhere. i just can’t remember where i left them when i got home.”

“did you check th-,” he asks, walking into the kitchen, grateful that you’re not in there with him or he knows you’d yell at him for the way his eyes go wide at the clutter and chaos everywhere.

you cut him off, “wherever you’re about to say, probably yes, ughhh. i’ve retraced my steps, i’ve looked in places that are fucking stupid to look in like every pair of shoes we own and in the fucking guest bedroom pillowcases. i’ve looked everywhere.”

from where he’s stood in the kitchen now, he can see you scrambling as you vent. he leans against the wall, “well, not everywhere or you would’ve found it by now.”

“i’ll kill you,” you say, eyes snapping up to meet his to show how serious you are.

he just laughs, “i’ve got a pretty good lawyer, you might not want to do that.”

“good legal can’t help you when you’re dead,” you snap, almost completely joking. he meets you back in the living room, helping you check all the places you’ve already checked.

15 minutes pass and then 35 and then he stops abruptly. “oh my god, i have an idea,” he says, and you look at him, hopeful. “you know when you usually remember things?”

your first reaction is joking annoyance, picking up a throw pillow and sending it his way. he catches it and sets it back down on the couch. “i’m serious!” he yell-laughs.

you throw another pillow at him as your second reaction sets in. “that’s not going to fucking work,” you say.

“how do you know?” he asks.

“because,” you say, trying to come up with a good answer other than just blind doubt, “because i don’t remember things while i’m riding you. it’s not a fucking superpower.”

“you don’t know that,” he jokes back and braces to be hit with another pillow. “okay, okay, but i’m being serious! besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen? you don’t remember and we’ve had sex, how horrible,” he reasons.

you let your arms fall, pillow in your hands resting against the tops of your thighs. you look at him, thinking, which, in hindsight, was a dumb thing to do, because higuruma can see the contemplation on your face.

eight minutes later and he’s inside of you and you’re the most embarrassed you’ve ever been.

“this is so stupid,” you mumble. you haven’t moved an inch after slowly lowering yourself onto him. you’re fully seated against his hips, hands smoothing over your face and then lingering there, covering.

he reaches up, fingers soft and kind as he wraps them around your wrists, pulling them away from your face. “ts not stupid,” he reassures, but you’re not convinced. you groan, turning to look away from him, but that just won’t do. he reaches up again, soft grip on your chin coaxing your gaze back to his. “hey,” he says softly, “just focus here, angel.”

you listen, somewhat, mind still flickering back to why you’re even riding him in the first place. “just enjoy yourself, okay,” he tries again, rolling his hips upwards, pressing himself inside of you as deep as he can. you close your eyes, and it’s quite easy to just focus on the feeling of being as full as you are right now. “good,” he whispers, “just like that.”

it doesn’t take long for you to lose yourself completely, moving on your own, letting the whimpers and whines take over any other thought you might think to say, chasing that feeling rather than worrying about whatever you’ve lost.

it all kinda clicks at once: where your keys are and why you always remember shit when you’re like this.

in the midst of everyday noise, so many things get lost: important and unimportant thoughts alike. but now you’re not worried about anything else. you don’t care about anything else right now. you don’t have to. you don’t want to. and in this state of letting everything go, mindless and blissful, some things slip back through the cracks.

you collapse onto higuruma’s chest, spent and happily aware of this new revelation that you have not, for once, shared in the middle of sex, but kept quiet as a come down surprise. you hum softly as he rubs up and down your back, hum again as he presses a kiss into your forehead. “m sorry it didn’t work, angel,” he murmurs.

you turn your head, ear pressed right against his heart as you gaze up at him. “i left them in the fridge,” you reveal, and he knits his eyebrows together.

you assume that he’s going to say something about how did you leave them in the fridge? or why are they there? but instead he questions, “what? and you didn’t tell me until now?” like you’ve harbored a life long secret. you laugh softly, snaking your hands up and scratching your nails against his scalp, playing with the ends of his hair. “don’t think this is going to get you out of it,” he says, “‘ts my favorite thing when you just blurt shit while you’re on me.”

you can feel the warmth in your cheeks and your chest as you breathe a laugh. “you’ve never told me that before,” you murmur.

“think it’s cute when you just can’t wait to tell me things,” he says, “feels more intimate than being inside of you.”

“ew,” you say, scrunching up your nose, even though you weirdly agree.

he just laughs in response. a few seconds of quiet comfort pass before he backtracks, “wait, why the fuck are your keys in the fridge?”

and you tell him all about it, about the day that you’ve had and how you remembered you hadn’t drank enough water so you were refilling your bottle from the pitcher in the fridge as soon as you got home from work, but your hands were full so you set your keys on top of the leftovers from yesterday, but then you had to go and set everything down and the fridge closed and by the time you left the kitchen you remembered you needed to do something else… and it just keeps going.

you tell him as you’re taking a shower and as you’re eating dinner together and as he’s brushing his teeth and you’re washing your face and laying in bed and setting your alarms. every room in the house is a mess, but you’ll deal with that later, you decide. you rest your chin on his shoulder. “and how was your day?” you ask, even though the clock reads much later than it should for how much sleep you both should get before you’re up early for work tomorrow.

nevermind that, he decides, and tells you all about it anyways.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

“can i ask you something and when i ask you, you’ll know i don’t mean anything bad by it at all because i love you more than everything in the world?” you ask, putting down your phone only after you’ve finished your sentence.

you wait a few seconds for nanami to take in what you’ve asked. he reaches over to the night stand for his bookmark and sticks it between the pages. he shuts it with an audible shuffling of paper and a sharp thump.

nanami has been with you long enough to not typically be surprised by your out of the blue… questions. (dronings? is there a word like droning but the connotation is more positive? like you talk at him a lot and he loves to hear the ramblings in your brain, but sometimes he is just trying to read his book before bed. whatever that word is.)

he places the book on his lap and then turns his chest towards you completely. you now have his full attention. “is that a yes?” you ask.

he inhales deeply, “if i say no, will you still ask it?”

you think on the answer to that question, really mulling it over before shaking your head. “no, i don’t think so.”

“then yes,” he smirks, “i suppose i have to say yes then.”

“great,” you say, tossing your phone onto your bedside table with a clunk. you sit up straighter, rocking forward to fully adjust your position on your side of the bed. you put your hand on his thigh and cross your legs, letting your knee rest on the side of his comforter covered hip. “do you ever regret not dating more?”

it definitely takes him by surprise. he thought you might drop another weirdly specific hypothetical about would he love you if… or request a glass of water even though you already told him tonight when he was getting into bed and he asked if you wanted one, that you did not.

now he’s the one mulling over your question and despite how nerve wracking it could be to wait for an answer to a what if that involves not you, you’re not anxious in the slightest. you’re quiet, just waiting for his answer, and when he finally speaks, you know exactly why you weren’t scared in the first place, “i’ve honestly never thought about it since i met you.”

“really?” you ask, and you’re mostly feeling very lucky that nanami is yours and you are his, but there is an underlying feeling of guilt that he’s unintentionally caused with this statement.

he nods. “sounds like you have though,” he says, and it’s not even a little bit judgmental. it sounds like he’s imploring you to keep talking, like he wants to hear exactly what you’re thinking, why you brought it up in the first place.

“i wouldn’t trade this security, this love, exactly what we have, you for anything in the world,” you start to explain, and it’s nothing but the truth, “but sometimes i just think about that first night when we were in that bar. the flirting, the risks, that feeling of not knowing where the night is going to end up. sometimes i think about that a little bit.”

he hums, thinking about that night, and after a few seconds of silence, he speaks up again, “first date nerves,” he nods, “now that i think about it, i miss those.”

you cock your head at him. that’s a weird part of dating to miss, you think, but then he explains further, “like when we went out on our first date and i didn’t know what you were going to wear or if you liked the restaurant i picked or if you’d let me pay for your food.”

“or if i’d take you back to mine,” you joke, raising your eyebrows at him, but really you’re burning inside. your cheeks feel warm just hearing about these feelings he’s never mentioned to you before.

“yeah, that too,” he laughs, getting back on track, “like, i’m still finding out new things about you all the time, but back then i was discovering who you were every second we were together, and that- that felt like…”

“like finding out soulmates were real?” you ask, because that’s what it felt like to you, that same exact phenomenon he’s describing. he smiles at you warmly, like you’ve just put to words what he felt he could only experience. “i know what you mean,” you smile.

he leans forward, cupping your cheek with his hand and guiding you towards him. he kisses you softly, placing his other hand on your other cheek and kissing you harder. “should we go on a first date again?” he asks against your lips, barely pulling away to speak.

you laugh, but when you pull away, you can tell he’s not joking. “what?” you ask, “what do you mean?” you’re already blushing though, already feeling the exact first date nerves he was just talking about.

“let’s go on a first date,” he repeats himself. “i’ll pick you up at your front door and i’ll choose the restaurant and it’ll be a surprise and i’ll ask you questions that i’d ask you on a first date even if i know the answers to all of them and more at this point.”

you’re smiling so big that your cheeks are sore as you nod fervently at the concept. “okay, yeah,” you agree.

“right, so we probably shouldn’t kiss or make out or sleep with each other until then to really play into the whole thing?” he teases, and you roll your eyes in response.

“you’re very funny, kento,” you say, leaning in, brushing your nose against his. he doesn’t even last a second, closing the gap with a small peck and then another and then another and then a much longer one and then he’s putting the book on his nightstand so he can pull you into his lap.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

you get a text 5 minutes before 7 that nanami is going to be 3 minutes late picking you up. the text looks a little weird underneath a thread of:

>> nami <3 >> how’s work baby

<< read << if you love me you’ll come and pull the fire alarm to get me out of here early :) :) :)

>> nami <3 >> fine but that’s a class four felony in some cases. will you be providing legal assistance or should i look elsewhere????

<< read << how do u know that?? nerd!!!

>> nami <3 >> google tbh.

<< read << wow. first i have to stay at work all day alone and sad and now i get to know my bf isn’t sexy and off the dome smart about everything. :(

>> nami <3 >> goodbye.

<< read << :(

>> nami <3 >> i love you

<< read << :)

you bite back the urge to reply with something you’d say to him after knowing him for years. rereading the text and thinking back to your first date, it makes you giggle. actually, it makes you kinda nervous. you text back a polite no worries! take your time! and he replies with a heart and you truly feel like you’re dating for the first time again. you feel honest to god giddy.

arriving to the restaurant, you are genuinely surprised. you thought after knowing him as long as you have and having gone to as many restaurants with him as you have, you’d go back to somewhere nice you’ve already been. but that isn’t the case.

he drives you to a pop-up restaurant 20 minutes out of town that you’ve never even heard of, but is the cutest place you’ve ever been, and the entire time he can’t stop sneaking respectful glances at you. he won’t stop telling you how nice you look. he even apologizes for it by the sixth time, pushing your chair in at the restaurant saying, “i know i keep mentioning it, and i’m sorry, but if i said it every time i thought it, it’d be a never ending string.”

if he keeps this up, you’re going to feel like you’re cheating. this seriously feels like a first date, like you’ve been in a relationship for over 5 years and you’re also going on a first date and it’s really messing with your head, but you never want it to stop.

he stays true to his word, asking you questions he already knows the answers to, but hearing them again, they sound brand new. he doesn’t know if he’s just forgotten some of them or if the testaments of time have weathered your answers just enough to sound unfamiliar, but either way, he’s hanging on to every word.

by the end of the night, you’ve truly convinced yourself that there are stakes to this date, like if you play your cards wrong, you won’t get to keep seeing this incredible guy. he pays the whole bill, even though you insist on getting your meal or at the very least dessert. he says, “you can try next time too.” and you can’t breathe, you feel so lucky.

“i’m sorry if this seems forward, but i’d really like to keep seeing you tonight,” you say as the waiter takes away the paid bill, and your heart is thumping so violently against your chest, you swear he can feel it too.

he shakes his head, “perfectly forward,” he smiles, “your place or mine?” you break character for the first time tonight, giggling at the reality of the question, hiding behind your hand as you do. “what’s so funny?” he asks, but he’s grinning just as big as you are.

“just thinking about how dreary my life would be if i hadn’t gone on this first date,” you say, and it’s a little too meta, but he’ll let it slide, because he’s a bit flustered at the sentiment. “mine is great,” you answer, placing your hand on his, rubbing the tips of your fingers against his knuckles.

everything about the rest of the night feels like a first too. it feels like your first kiss in front of your front door. it feels like he’s seeing “your” apartment for the first time. it feels like you’re making out on your couch for the first time.

it feels like the first time he’s ever been inside of you.

when he pushes deeper into you, eyes on yours shut tight, you tell yourself that you want to pretend you’re on a first date every single day of your life. you can’t stop whimpering, pleading for him to never stop fucking you ever, please don’t stop, please never fucking stop.

you break character for the second time when you’re right on the edge. he keeps looking down at you with so much love in his eyes and his hands all over you feel like they know every inch of you, and you can’t stop yourself. you grab his face in your hands, “kento, baby, please, ‘m gonna- ‘m sorry, i- fuck, please. i love you, fuck,” you whine, and he can’t stop himself either, hips stuttering, head falling against your shoulder as he feels you clenching around him as he empties himself inside of you, murmuring how much he loves you right back.

the way you’ve been feeling all night: blissful and coy, it’s not because it’s a first date, it’s because he’s nanami. it’s because he’s orchestrated the entire night and no matter how “new” everything feels, the underlying foundation of that newness, and the reason everything feels so good, is familiarity and safety.

“i’m sorry that i-,” you breathe, but he stops you, reaching his hand up to drag his fingertips against your lips, and you laugh, pressing a soft kiss into them. “okay, okay,” you say, and he places his hand back down by his side. “done with the first date stuff, just want to be yours again,” you murmur.

he scoffs, light, and you can hear his smile in it. he falls over onto his back, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head. “never weren’t,” he mumbles against your hair. “always will be,” he mumbles again, holding you tighter.

“good,” you say back, settling into his arms like that’s the only thing you know to be true in the entire world. you wouldn’t trade that truth for a million first dates.

sure, holding your breath at quick witted flirts and stolen glances is nice, but it’s a lot nicer just knowing that you will never be loved better and you will never love harder.

♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡ no bc the yelling really worked very well idk yell at me more to write a continuation for toji (maybe also gojo bc hes the only one i havent written even an inkling of smut for) idk i'm just thinking of so many scenes idk throw hcs at me in my inbox IDK! toji dating for the first time? got me fucked UP

ᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴀɢs ᡣ𐭩 @igocrazyeveryday @vernasce-blogs @minty86 @abrielletargaryen @pompompompompompompom @mysticrays @lilolpotato @thisisew @pnkoo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @ryumurin @cisseadven @multi-fandom-fanfic @noosayog @anxious-chick @mintleafwrites @(tried to tag some other folks but couldnt!!)

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #toji smut #gojo smut #nanami x reader #nanami smut #higuruma x reader #higuruma x reader smut #higuruma smut #nanami x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #actually not really tbh theres no smut in tojis or gojos cant even lie #toriwritesshit

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ilguna · 5 months

Text

☼ whisper of the beast (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; on your own, you try to find your boyfriend in the arena. instead, you run across something much, much worse.

warnings; swearing, death, weapon usage, ehhh gore, blood mention.

wc; 2.5k

prompt; 11. "Just keep breathing. In and out. You're doing great."

—

There is something seriously horrifying going on with this arena, and each time you think you get close to figuring it out—it changes.

The only consistent factor in each of your theories is the jungle, and that’s because it’s the root of the fear. When you travel through the greenery for long periods of time, a creeping feeling grows on you, one that you can’t shake unless you make your way back to the beach.

Which is far from safe, itself. Especially since there are nine other tributes alive here, roaming around, hunting for lone victors. For it only being the second day of the Games, it’s remarkable that so many are dead, already. With six of them dying today, alone.

It makes you think that you’re being overly paranoid, because you’re out here by yourself. It’s a completely new experience to you. The first time around, during your Games, the Career alliance lasted up until the very last second. You never had to keep an eye out for yourself, because you had others with you that were doing the same thing.

You were under the impression that you’d be doing that for these Games, too, but nothing has gone according to plan. You and Finnick had a long discussion the night of the interviews on what to expect regarding corralling Katniss and Peeta into the alliance. Neither of you thought it would be easy. Worst case scenario, you’d grab one and he’d get the other, and the two of you would meet up somewhere in the middle.

The Gamemakers really must have it out for you this year, determined to keep you and Finnick apart. That’s why they decided to put you on the opposite side of the Cornucopia, keeping you from seeing Finnick. While also putting Brutus in your water wedge, to ensure that you wouldn’t be able to reach him.

By the time you fought off Brutus and got to the Cornucopia, all three of them were gone. The only option you had left was to wait for Johanna and Blight, but with them still in the water and the Careers coming to take over, you had to leave. There wasn’t a choice in the matter.

Since, you’ve spent your time traveling through the jungle and taking the occasional rest on the beach, in the hopes that you’ll run across your boyfriend. The search was casual yesterday, as you were more worried about finding drinking water than the rebel alliance. Now that the numbers are spiraling, you know that the rescue plan is right around the corner.

You’re confident enough to say that they won’t do it today, but it’s got to be tomorrow or the day after. They won’t have Katniss and Peeta openly in danger like this for longer than they have to. You likely have less than forty-eight hours to find them, or else you’ll get trapped in here and taken by the Capitol.

You would say that you wish you had a general idea on which direction they went in yesterday, but it probably won’t make much of a difference. With the amount of people dying in these trees, you’re sure Finnick is directing them the opposite way, just in case.

It’s another reason why you can’t stand to be in the jungle for long periods of time. From what you’ve gathered, at least half of the tributes that have died today so far, have come from somewhere in the trees. It makes you think that something is out here, and it’s more than just a rogue tribute.

In fact, it would make more sense for it to be a mutt of some kind. In the last Quarter Quell, they were everywhere. There was not a single animal that a tribute could trust to be friendly. On top of that, there were aspects of the arena that took them by surprise.

It appeared to be the most breathtaking place imaginable. The Cornucopia was in the middle of a vibrantly green meadow, the sky a perfect blue, with fluffy white clouds. In the distance, there was a snow capped mountain, one that looked straight out of a picture book. On the other side, a healthy forest with plants you couldn’t name.

Of course, it was all too good to be true. The mountain was revealed to be a deadly volcano, the plants were poisonous, the water was infected with a disease, the insects stung and the flowers could kill when inhaled too closely. Everything that was placed in that arena was working against them.

Who’s to say it’s not the same for this one?

You pause next to a nearby tree to rest your feet, because they’re throbbing in your shoes. You lift one, stretching your thigh, feeling the immediate relief that comes with being off the foot. After a minute, you switch, but it doesn’t feel as good this time around.

When you reach up to run a hand through your hair to smooth it back, you find that your scalp is wet, soaked from sweating so much. It feels much hotter today than it was yesterday, like the Gamemakers are trying to boil you alive. It’s brutal enough being in here, do they really need to make it any worse?

You dip your head, eyes closed while you take a deep breath, sighing it out. You return to walking, paying attention to where you place your feet.

It might make more sense for you to go down to the beach and wait for Finnick, Katniss and Peeta to show up. The issue is that you’re not willing to take the risk of the Careers spotting you while you’re down there. The four of them could easily get you pinned down. You’ll be dead before you can call for help.

A branch rustling behind you makes your next step stutter. Your eyes widen, as you slowly look across the fern in front of you, to the left of your vision. With sensitive ears, you adjust the spear in your hand, turning your body halfway to look behind you, at the tree you were just standing at.

There’s nothing.

You take a minute to search the trees around you, backtracking to get a better look. Even if it’s just a critter, you want to know. If there’s living animals out here, that means there’s a water source—and you won’t have to depend on your sponsors to keep you hydrated.

There’s not a trace. At least, that’s what you think, until your eyes catch the hoof print in the mud. Your face contorts, you drop into a crouch to get closer, curious on what could’ve made a mark like this. As far as your knowledge on the jungle goes, there shouldn’t be anything that could leave this behind.

The goosebumps that crawl up your arms are involuntary, stomach dropping. The safety blanket that the jungle had been providing seconds ago, is gone now. There’s something in here with you, and it was smart enough to run when it made noise.

You raise your head, thinking about the best way to handle this situation, when your heart seizes in your chest.

What the fuck is that.

In one fluid movement, you jump to your feet, turning in the direction of the beach, and beginning to sprint down the slope. A screech cuts through the previously quiet air, piercing your ears enough to make you wince at the pitch.

And then you can hear it galloping behind you, hands and feet pounding against the spongy jungle ground. A scream rises in your throat, terrified to look behind you to see how fast this thing actually is.

You take the chance when you swing around a tree, stealing a glance over your shoulder.

Whatever it is, it’s demonic.

You’ve never seen anything like it. It’s coming at you on all fours, there’s hooves where its feet should be, with long and pointed nails on its fingers. Its fur is so black that you can’t make out where its eyes are, or if it has any skin exposed at all. It’s a beast straight out of one of your nightmares.

It isn’t fast by any means, but it’s not slow, either.

You can hear it tearing up a path behind you, trampling through the bushes, ripping bark off trees. As the path between the trees narrows, the jungle becomes more condensed. You hear less of it coming in contact with the ground, thumping replacing the noise.

Until it stops altogether.

Your instincts take over, jerking to the right, shoulder slamming into the tree. You watch in silence as the beast flies by where you were a second ago, claws out and ready to latch on. It comes into contact with the ground about ten feet away, head whipping unnaturally to see over its shoulder.

“No, no!” You let out, beginning to weave through the trees.

A snarl rips through its throat at the idea of you outsmarting it. It’s coming for you, and there’s nothing you can do besides run for your life and dodge it each time it tries to attack.

You play this game for what feels like an hour, but it can’t be more than twenty minutes. You make it half a mile down the slope, knowing that the beach can’t be that far away from where you are, when you realize that it’s gone. The monster that has been chasing you has given up.

You lean over your knees, mouth watering, throat beginning to close. As you gasp for air, your body tries to expel some of the heat by making you sweat, but all that’s doing is making you sick. You think you might throw up.

Right as you’ve come to terms with losing all the water and food in your body, spit falling from your mouth in long strings, a shadow on the ground grows larger. Your face twists, thinking that something must be falling, like a leaf.

It hits you, literally, flattening you against the ground, head hitting the dirt. It digs in, nails cutting through skin as it tears through your back and arms, shredding your jumpsuit. A scream leaves your lips, a white hot and blinding pain smothering you all at once.

Your hand tightens around the spear, cheek against Earth as the beast presses into your shoulders, keeping you from moving. Still, with the small amount of mobility you have, you swing the head of the spear up, toward yourself, narrowly missing your left shoulder.

It lodges into the beast, causing it to roar in pain. You shove the pole further back, hoping that it pushes into its body deeper. The weight on your shoulders disappears, you can hear it stumbling away.

In the window you have, you get back to your feet, ignoring the screaming pain your entire backside is in. You just need to make it to the beach, it’s not that far away, you’ve covered this distance in your sleep before. It’s harder to do, though, when every hard step you take makes you grit your teeth to keep from crying out.

The beast is catching up with you, recovering from its wound. It’s faster than you are, and it’s completely disregarding everything in its path. Nothing can slow it down. You can see the golden sand through the trees, you’re almost there.

A body jumps out from behind a bush, making you run into it. For a moment, you’re sure that it’s an exact replica of the monster behind you, but once you realize that you’re staring at another tribute jumpsuit, the panic subsides. But only for a second.

“Move!” You shriek, trying to get around him. He grabs the sides of your arms, holding you there.

You look up, finding that you’re standing face to face with the male tribute from Ten—someone who is not part of the rebel alliance, and doesn’t care whether or not you make it out alive. When you glance over your shoulder, you can see that the beast is getting closer. It’s not going to stop until it gets its hands on somebody.

And it won’t be you.

The only choice you have is to sacrifice him, so that’s exactly what you do. You jerk him around, switching places with him, forcing his back to the beast. His eyes widen, mouth opening to say something, when you pull back from him, lifting your leg to kick him in the chest.

The beast takes him gratefully, landing on his back. He stumbles forward, struggling under the weight of the beast. You watch in horror as its jaws unhinge, revealing razor sharp teeth. It throws its head back, before whipping forward, mouth securing around the tribute’s neck.

And with no resistance, he rips out a chunk of the flesh. A spray of blood hits you in the face, and it coats the jungle floor. You back away with wide eyes, watching as Ten’s legs can’t hold him up anymore, body collapsing in the dirt beneath the beast.

A cannon fires.

You turn, making the final push for the beach before it can come after you, too.

The moment your feet hit the sand, it begins to drag you down, keeping you from running as far away as your mind is screaming for you to go. You make it a few feet before landing on your hands and knees, sucking in sharp breaths and letting them out aggressively.

That was almost you. That could’ve been you.

You try to crawl, hands forming in fists in the sand, tears falling from your eyes.

“(Y/n)?” You hear. There’s a headache forming, black spots coming to eat away at the corners of your vision. “(Y/n), hey.”

A hand touching your lower back makes you swing a hand up to get them off. Your wrist is caught, eyes meeting Finnick’s, finding him worried.

“You’re okay, honey. I’m right here.” He pulls at your elbow to make you sit up on your knees.

You grab onto his shoulder, struggling to breathe, “It—it… The—”

Finnick takes your hand placing it against his chest. “Follow me.” He takes a deep breath, you try to follow, stuttering. He blows it out, you sob. “Come on, (Y/n). Just keep breathing. In and out.” You mimic his breaths, allowing them to even out. “You’re doing great.”

“Finnick.” You cry, head falling forward.

He cups your face with both hands, lifting your head. He’s only a couple inches away from you. “You’re safe with me, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He wipes your tears away with his thumbs. “Do you want to tell me what’s in there?”

You look away, eyes too intense to stare into. “A monster.”

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

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magneto-was-fucking-right · 9 months

Text

Envy (Part 1)

Summary: Simon Riley's sleep is rudely interrupted by the commotion coming from next door, and this time, curiosity (and horniness) gets the best of him. Pairing: König x Reader (x Ghost) Word Count: 2.5k

Content Warnings: Unprotected sex (Wrap it before you tap it!); Perv! behaviour (voyeurism); degrading vocabulary.

Read part 2 here

It was three in the morning.

He knew that because he had checked his digital watch every two minutes during his agitated “rest” in the musty sleeping bag, spread across the filthy floor. He couldn’t sleep. The heat of the middle eastern countries didn’t quite affect him anymore, years of experience on the field forcing his body to grow accustomed to the ridiculous temperatures he had never experienced in England before. The mosquitoes couldn’t bother him either, since he seldom exposed his skin, his face covered with a light-material skull balaclava. His stiff shoulders and hardened back sometimes felt damaged beyond repair from the numerous nights spent on hardwood or concrete floors, a soft patch of dirt and grass if he was lucky, but his aching muscles weren’t the reason for his troubled sleep.

The continuous bang of the bed’s headboard against the wall was. And so were her moans. Simon Riley felt as he if was quickly spiraling into insanity as he shut his eyes tightly and feverishly tried to ignore the mattress’ springs, the slap of skin against skin, and the worst part of it, his desperate moans. He always felt a deep, sickening rage towards the Austrian soldier, as his pathetic little whines and obedient pleas echoed through the walls, begging her for more. More kisses, more skin, more wandering hands through her naked flesh and supple breasts. More pressure on her hand as she palmed him through his fatigues, or as she jerked off his length coated in her spit. Nasty slut, he thought bitterly every time he heard her dirty words, commanding him to comply to her fantasies “like a good boy”. He was angry when he heard her seduce him in the safehouse once more. He was furious because he knew she must do it on purpose. She had to. There was no way she didn’t when she knew Simon would be sleeping right next door, that she was a loud fuck and so was he, because who wouldn’t be loud when she was riding it that good and that deep. She wanted him to hear it. She wanted him to think and dream about it. Simon was sure of it.

And therefore, when he had gotten in his sleeping bag to prepare for a few hours of rest, he hadn’t even tried to fall asleep because he knew it would happen again. She always used the same tactics with König: she went for a shower in the old house’s low pressure tepid water and a bar of Dove soap that Simon definitely hadn’t sneaked a whiff from before, making it clear that he was to watch her six. But he always got to watch more than that, as she usually left the door open. Simon knew this because he had once heard the naïve colonel warn her that she had forgotten to lock it, to which she had responded only with an amused giggle. How stupid can he be, Simon had grinded his teeth throughout the whole interaction. Then, as the door to the room was closed in a very clear failed attempt at some sort of privacy, the smothered laughter began, followed by unclear mumblings in German, and soon enough, sighs and whimpers. He folded so easily, Simon thought. He tried to convince himself that he wouldn’t have, that he would’ve given her a harder time trying to get him laid. That he would make her beg him to fuck her before he even took her clothes off.

But the truth was, every time one of her delicious moans travelled through the walls, or a slightly opened door, he was immediately fighting back a raging boner that ached to be relieved through her touch. It was once again the case. He palmed himself through his pants in the sleeping bag, cursing them out as he wondered how long they would take this time. Usually, König came rather quickly. Loudly too. Sometimes inside, sometimes on her tits and her open mouth (he knew this was her favorite because it made her moan like a whore the entire time), and sometimes on himself, as she forced him to run his fingers over his soiled abdomen and suck them clean. What a pathetic fuck, he thought.

He knew she was riding him this time because she always set a frantic pace, that despite her best efforts didn’t match the speed to which the Austrian could plow into her from bellow if he wished to. Bang, bang, bang, bang – the poor wall kept being beaten over and over again, and he heard his usual plea.

“Please Schatz, I can’t hold it for much longer.”

“Of course you can König, you’re such a good boy.” She grunted in between panting, the wet slaps slowing down to a passionate grind.

Simon gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to peek, because maybe, just maybe…he had carved a hole with his knife in the weak cement wall that morning in preparation, just small enough to provide him with a little tease if the two lovers decided to get down and dirty once again. It’s so wrong, he fought himself mentally. Fucking hell, what’s wrong with me?

But all he could think about were the sounds of humanity’s most primal, animalistic instincts that flooded from next door and clouded his mind in a sex-drunken haze of languid desire. I need to see. Just once, just out of curiosity, and then I’ll be able to sleep, he tried to convince himself as he roughly got up from the sleeping bag and carefully moved to the area of the wall where he had shaped the peephole. He felt his cock twitch in his briefs, painfully hard.

There she was, sat on top of him in full glory, her round breasts on his face as he suckled on both of her nipples at the same time, his large hands pushing the fat of her tits together. Simon didn’t know where to look at first. His mind couldn’t quite process the wholeness of her fully naked body, at last obtaining answers to the curious questions of his lustful mind: as he had so often wondered about, her body was deliciously curvy and supple, her pubis covered in soft curls trimmed to perfection and her wet cunt sunk halfway König’s large cock. He could see scars in her abdomen and right shoulder, most likely old combat wounds that she had luckily gotten away with. Her hair was messy from the Austrian’s passionate touches, giving her a natural erotic aura that seemed to linger all around her and the way she moved so confidently on top of him. Her cheeks were flushed, her skin gleaming with sweat from the physical effort of both riding König and taking the slightly painful stretch of his thick shaft. Simon had to give it to him, the man was built like a fucking Greek god, with firm muscles all the way down to his navel. Her hands roamed his body freely and it seemed to make her feral: once she reached his perfectly built abdomen she bit her lip, pushing him away from her breasts and forcing him to lay flat on his back once again, before returning to her killer pace.

“Break is over big guy. Your face looks too good to be hiding in my tits.” He whimpered at her comment, blushing profusely as her breasts bounced on top of him once again, now covered in his own saliva.

“I-I won’t last, Schatz.” He warned, breathing heavily and holding on to her hips for dear life.

Ghost couldn’t take his eyes off her, dipping his hand on his briefs and slowly pumping himself to the view.

A mischievous smirk spread across her angelic features as she rode him faster, bringing him to the brink of a bed shattering orgasm, “Yes you will, my sweet.” She observed his face attentively, looking for the little nose scrunch he did every time he was about to cum. It was much easier to know now that he was comfortable enough to leave the hood that usually covered his face right next to the pile of his clothes. Once she saw it, she halted her actions completely, pulling herself off him, disconnecting their bodies and making him grunt in frustration. “Sei ein guter Junge, König” (Be a good boy, König), she commanded, making his cock twitch as he heard his native tongue.

Simon’s insides were burning with envy, wishing he would be given the chance to correct her bratty attitude, dominating her into submission. How he longed to sink into her slowly, feeling the warmth and wetness of her cunt, stretching her open inch by inch until she was a moaning and begging mess. His hand moved faster on his cock, but for now, all he could do was watch as she kissed the Austrian passionately on the lips, before moving down his body slowly, a trail of wet kisses all the way from his neck, which she had filled with hickeys and love bites, to his groin, his cock twitching against her cheek.

“If I put you in my mouth, will you behave and not cum until I tell you to?” She teased, holding his fat cock in one hand and gently cradling his heavy balls with the other. Simon gritted his teeth once again, fighting the urge to reply “Yes” himself.

“Ja Schatz. I promise, I do, I promise.” König’s eyes were shut, most likely trying to think of unerotic things that would help him hold on for a little longer, but once her tongue gave a wet lick from his balls all the way to the tip of the head he was done for, whimpering in pleasure as she worked the best sloppy blowjob of his life.

Simon pumped himself so much harder now at the sight of her head bobbing up and down as she progressively took more and more of the man’s cock, that he was fighting his own orgasm, bound to happen at any moment. He watched as she languidly sucked on König’s pink tip like a lollipop, saliva running down his veiny shaft and coating her chin and lips, as she hummed with her eyes closed.

“You taste like me” She moaned, since he had been inside of her only a few minutes ago. König moaned as she deepthroated him expertly, chocking slightly on his girth, tears in her eyes as she went all the way to the base, before coming back up and coughing. He fisted the sheets roughly and mumbled gibberish in German as she repeated the process over and over again, interrupting it only to suck on his balls once and again, making sure they weren’t neglected.

“I-I’m gonna…” He interjected, forcefully holding her hand away from his shaft as he almost came without permission. She removed her mouth from his cock, smirking.

“I won’t torture you any longer, baby. You’ve been so good to me today. I’ll let you cum, but inside of me.” She whispered softly and Simon’s body shuddered involuntarily as he watched, trying to hold off his climax. He felt as flustered and horny as when he watched his first porno, almost completely overwhelmed by his instincts that wouldn’t allow him to think properly.

And then something unexpected happened. She looked right at him through the hole in the wall. Simon held his breath, his heart racing as he halted his movements, his hand still inside his briefs. She can’t possibly see me. He reasoned with himself. They had the small light on the nightstand on, but the room in which Simon “slept” in was in total darkness. He had positioned the peephole very carefully, in a part of the wall with several other smaller holes that the safehouse had sustained from its abandonment. How had she noticed?

He was frozen in place, and she smiled innocently, before laying belly down on the bed, faced turned to him and her round ass perked up in the air. She sucked on her fingers softly, with her eyes closed, before spitting on them and moving her hand back, coating her folds generously to make sure she was well lubricated once again. Simon couldn’t breathe as König moved behind her, sinking back into her with the weak whimper of a man desperate for release. Simon restarted his movements on his cock, staring back at her eagerly, as if in a trance. He could see every change of her expression, every scrunch of her nose and tremble of her lips as the Austrian rammed her from behind roughly (still not roughly enough for his taste, but he couldn’t exactly go on giving him instructions from behind the wall). She moaned and whimpered and screamed, the depraved sounds of wet skin slapping as König’s heavy balls hit her clit with every slam of their hips.

Ghost let out a shaky breath as he was close too, and strangely enough, seeing her face contort in pleasure was getting him off much harder than seeing the way her ass recoiled with the power of König’s strokes, his large hands tightly secured against her hips. Her eyes still looked so innocent, even as she arched her back like a slut and drool fell from open mouth as she rode her cock-drunken haze.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” She cried out, her eyes tightly shut as her hand moved to rub her clit quickly as König pulled on her hair softly “Don’t stop!” she whimpered in a broken voice as she felt him hit that sweet spot inside of her. Simon felt sweat dribble on his forehead under the balaclava, his wrist aching from his continuous ministrations. König let out a deep guttural moan as he felt her clench around him, her body shuddering uncontrollably as she orgasmed, her cunt squeezing his cock and milking him for all he got. She let out a muffled scream as she buried her face on her bed sheets. Simon couldn’t contain a low moan as he felt himself soil his pants, a ridiculous amount of white, sticky fluid pooling in his briefs and soaking though his pants. König had come at the same time, his pace faltering as his hips slammed against her two more times before he buried himself as deep as possible and moaned loudly, feeling his warm seed fill her to the brim. He lay his body on top of hers momentarily, kissing the top of her head tenderly and then her back.

When she finally opened her eyes, still panting and recovering from the high, she looked at the hole again, smiling mischievously. She got on her knees, turning to König, behind her, and kissing him softly, purposefully arching her back slightly and allowing Simon the perfect view of her spent pussy, still swollen and dripping cum onto her thighs. His hand pressed harshly against the wall. How he wished he could’ve been the one making that mess. How he wished he could be the one to ruin her.

As it turned out; he wouldn’t have to wait very long…

A/N: you guys wouldn't believe how many imagines I have on my laptop that I'm either too lazy to finish or don't consider good enough to post :'). I'm trying to get my work out there more often so you guys get to enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it. Do reblog if you can and let me know if you'd like to be tagged for the two upcoming parts, which will include smut with Ghost x reader and finally Ghost x reader x Konig!

#ghost cod #konig cod #konig mw2 #konig x reader #konig call of duty #ghostxreader #ghost smut #konig smut #simon riley imagine #simon riley smut #ghost imagine #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 #mw2 #konig x reader x ghost

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osaemu · 9 months

Note

Hi, could you please write a Mafia Boss! Suguru Geto where Geto falls in love with the reader because he spends time with her as she nurses him back to heath after he was caught in an assassination attempt.

DOCTOR!READER X MAFIA BOSS!GETO

✩ ‧ ˚. synopsis: your boss stumbles in, battered and bruised in the middle of the night. (mafia!au)

contents: fem!reader. mentions of blood. medicine-related things written by someone with no medical experience. semi-suggestive ending if you squint.

working as one of the few doctors in a mafia was stressful. but being the only one on the night shift after a major assassination attempt? hell.

you were all set for an uneventful night in the mafia's infirmary when suguru geto, the boss himself, stumbled in, hand pressed to a fresh wound on his waist.

it wasn't uncommon for him to be seen around at nighttime. in fact, sometimes you would see him strolling around headquarters more often on your night shift than on your normal shift. what wasn't common was to see him like this—all battered and bloody.

one second you were ready to spend all night scrolling on your phone, the next your infamous boss comes in with blood dripping all over your freshly cleaned floor.

after a quick double-take, you rush over and guide him to one of the hospital beds. "fuck, what happened?"

geto doesn't reply right away, which is worrying, but you don't press the issue. it can wait until he's in a more stable condition.

the next hour goes by in a blur—you clean and dress the wound and get some pain medication in him. having been actively in medicine for a couple years, the metallic scent of blood is nothing new, and yet the sight and smell still make your stomach turn.

you'd think that a doctor who willingly chooses to work in a mafia would have no problem with seeing blood all over the place, and yet, here you were. but it wasn't your place to be picky—a patient was a patient, and like it or not, there would be blood.

after a stressful hour of observations and medications, all sensors are finally showing that he's stable, which is a relief.

geto seems to see this as well, as he offers you a dry smile and a "not bad."

"it's just my job," you reply offhandedly as you sit across from him. you're still running on the adrenaline rush you get whenever someone comes in hurt, and it's clear that your hope for an uneventful night is long gone. "so, how'd you get hurt?"

geto smiles ruefully and observes his wound. "heh, you wouldn't believe it. someone tried to assassinate me."

"really."

he laughs and winces slightly, resulting in you immediately advising him to move his chest muscles as little as possible.

his chest muscles...

now that the initial high has faded, you fully realize that you're alone with suguru geto. your boss. and he's shirtless. half his chest is swathed in bandages, but his abs are as prominent as ever.

you realize you've been looking one second too long when he smirks and clicks his tongue. "my my, a doctor checking out her brutally attacked patient. can't resist, can you?"

is he flirting with me?

caught off guard, you stumble over your words and barely manage to say "no, what? your wound- just making sure it's doing alright—" not slick.

geto grins and shakes his head. "do you do this with every guy who comes in here?"

"what's it to you if i do?" you're not sure where your sudden boldness comes from, but somehow the fact that geto's your boss seems to have suddenly slipped your mind.

however, he certainly knows his place—especially when he raises an eyebrow and reminds you of it. "i'm your boss, sweetheart. can't have one of my employees flirting with every man she meets."

fuck, did he really just call me sweetheart?

doing your best not to let your thoughts show on your face, you turn away and grab a roll of bandages to redress his wound. "i should reapply the bandages. yours are already bleeding through."

it's true—it hasn't been long, but splotches of scarlet red are starting to show through the gauzy white bandages.

"you sure you're not just tryin' to get your hands on me?" geto asks coyly with a slight tilt of his head. fuck, what's in the air tonight?

you scoff and start peeling off the blood-soaked bandages on his chest. "you wish."

"you have no idea."

what the hell? seriously, why's the boss of the regional mafia flirting with me? is he drunk or something? a quick glance at one of the many machines surrounding your desk shows that there isn't any alcohol besides the medication in his bloodstream.

you decide not to dignify his comment with a response, and instead throw the reddened bandages in the trash. as you reach for the fresh roll of bandages, geto's voice stops you halfway.

"so, what're you doing for the rest of the night?" he asks, dark eyes fixed on yours.

"uh, i'm on the night shift. and you aren't going anywhere, by the way," you reply, starting to apply the fresh bandages on his still-raw wound. "unless you want to bleed out or get attacked again."

geto laughs at that, earning another reminder from you that he should try not to do anything to strain his chest muscles. "okay, okay, doc. whatever you say."

"don't call me doc."

"mhm."

you sigh and lean back in your chair, already tired despite your shift not even being close to over. there's warm, sticky blood all over your hands and floor—you should probably take care of that. as you step away to wash your hands, geto speaks again.

"tell me, doc, why're you with the mafia? you don't seem too fond of blood, and there's a lot around these parts."

you turn on the water and start scrubbing his blood off your hands, the steady coolness helping you relax. "what makes you say that?"

"you squirm every time blood gets on you."

so, he really is observant. you had heard rumors of the boss's qualities, and so far, most of them had been true. observant? check. smug? check. condescending? maybe a little.

as you turn off the water and dry your hands, you look back at geto. "it's just... icky." did i really just use the word 'icky' in front of my boss?

geto laughs again, waving you off when you automatically start to remind him not to move for the third time now. "don't worry sweetheart, i've been hurt before."

once again refusing to acknowledge the s-word, you drag your chair back to your desk and plop down, leaning back and gazing at the ceiling. "you should get some rest."

"i'd rather stay up with you."

it takes you a couple minutes to coax him to try and sleep, and after you rattle off all the healing benefits sleep would give to him, geto knows he's defeated.

he finally sighs and makes a face. "can i get some sleep drugs or something?"

"d'you mean sedatives? sure, are you in any pain?"

geto rolls his eyes good-naturedly when you correct his casual language and shakes his head. "s'mostly numb."

you nod and start to fill a syringe with a clear blue liquid. after a moment of silence, you ask "so, what happened to them?"

"to who?"

you turn and meet his gaze. something aboht his eyes seems more friendly than when he first stumbled in, but it could just be because now he wasn't bleeding waterfalls anymore.

"the assassin? assassins?"

geto blinks and grins, shaking his head. "oh, they're long gone. fuckers thought it'd be easy to get rid of me, heh..."

after a moment, he looks you up and down and whistles. "too bad i have a pretty lil' doctor to save me, yeah?"

oh yeah, he's definitely been flirting this whole time.

you close the syringe and turn back to geto, a dry smile on your lips. "can't be flirting with one of my patients, can i, sir?" it's the first time tonight you've appropriately addressed him, and something about it makes him smile.

"oh, of course not. but how 'bout with your boss?"

you roll your eyes good-naturedly. "even worse."

"what if i gave you a raise?"

"tempting."

he laughs at that and holds out his arm. "shoot me, doc."

three words, and you're back to the attentive, precise doctor you're supposed to be—not the casual flirt from just a moment ago. you're no longer interested in entertaining his antics, but concentrated on doing your job right. after all, that's why he pays you, isn't it?

geto smiles to himself, drifting off to thoughts of the other things he could make you do for money. and maybe one day, for him.

but until then, he'd drop by the infirmary whenever he had a chance. it wasn't anything crazy. you were interesting, and he was interested. if he had to fake injuries to see you, so be it—tonight had a time limit, but suguru geto wanted more.

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urwhorecrux · 4 months

Text

⋆ ˚⁀➷ ₊˚⊹⋆ 𝗛𝗣 𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗙𝗘𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘𝗦 - 𝗛𝗢𝗪 𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗬 𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗧 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗔𝗙𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗔 𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗘

ft. harry potter, ron weasley, draco malfoy, cedric diggory, & james potter.

pairings. harry potter boys x gn!reader.

a/n. the last one makes me sad :( these were all so rushed lmao

warnings. mentions of anxiety, some angst?, mentions of death, gn!reader.

masterlist

— 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

you awoke in a sweat when an unexpected nightmare had occured. this one had been bad, and unusual even for you. this time it’d had been worse, voldemort actually had harry and was stronger and confident. the sounds of faint whimpering filled the room, as you felt a hand reach out for you, you awoke in a panic.

“what’s going on love?”, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into a comforting hug.

you admitted the truth about your nightmare, and how you fear for his safety given everything that’s going on now.

“i know its a lot happening right now, but i’ll be here by your side throughout all of it darling.” he brings you closely and gently presses a kiss on your forehead, reassuring you that he was there.

— 𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

it had been past midnight when you woke in terror, loudly gasping for breath. ron, by your side, quickly awoke too, reaching out for your hand for comfort in the moment.

“what’s going on what happened?” he asked, attempting to quickly calm you.

before you could even start gathering your words to say, he pulled you close into his chest, mumbling his reassuring words to you.

after a while of feeling the warmth of his hug and hearing his comforting words, he cups your face pulling you close into him, asking you what’s really wrong.

“y’know, mum used to sing me this song that helped me sleep when i was little, would you want me to sing it to you love?” he suggests.

he calmly and quietly sings to you softly, as he hold you close in his arms.

— 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐎𝐘

after a long day of school and studying you’d both decided to stay in his own dorm for the rest of the night, him suggesting you stay the night with him. with that, you both fell asleep in each other’s arms, happily.

with him being a light sleeper, it was easy to wake up to the sound of heavy breaths and frantic footsteps.

“y/n?, what is it?” he questions, reaching for you.

“just a really really bad dream” you say, hiding your face of tears in your hands.

“c’mon darling it’ll all be alright, just c’mere, come closer” he pulls back the duvet and makes room for you to come back to bed.

he quickly spoons you, pressing soft kisses on your forehead before mumbling his reassuring words.

— 𝐂𝐄𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐂 𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘

you’d been worried and stressing due to exams, and cedric was worried about you overworking yourself and about your sleep schedule.

he made sure you stayed in his dorm so you’d been getting enough sleep.

one night quidditch practice ran late, making him stay an extra hour than usual while you wait for him in his dorm.

when he gets back he notices the lights still on, with you awake and frantically pacing across the room with teary eyes and a rough face.

“baby? what are you doing?”

you turn to him and quickly run to his arms, slightly sobbing while holding him closer.

he notices you trying to come out with words but everything came out all wrong, all in mumbles he couldn’t start to understand.

“shh no need to explain love, just let me hold you alright?” you nod as he strokes your hair, trying to softly calm you down.

after he calms you and listens to your explanation, he cuddles you back to sleep, reassuring you that he’s always there, and holding you until you fall back asleep.

— 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 (post!hogwarts)

james always makes it home from work on time just so he sees you before bed in the perfect amount of time. you’d usually wake up in the middle of the night with him already laying there even though he wasn’t there when you fell asleep, so it was quite an unusual experience when he didn’t wake up next to you.

“james?”, you call out, noticing the timestamp on the clock, which reads 3:44 am.

“james?!”, you yell louder, quickly growing suspicious of the area.

he heard your yells down the hall, quickly rushing into to the bedroom worried.

“y/n? what happened darling?”

you sigh in relief knowing he’s still here, holding out your arms and wrapping him into you.

“i thought you-“

“you thought i what love?”

you tell him the truth about your worries given everything thats going on lately, with going into hiding nightmares didn’t make anything better.

“it’s alright though love, ‘m here i promise, we’ll be safe and this will all be over soon.”

he pulls you back into bed, holding you as close as possible and for as long as he could, hoping this would never end.

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #ron weasley x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #ron wealsey x y/n #cedric diggory x reader #marauders era #marauders #james potter x reader #harry potter fluff #harry potter preferences

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peterman-spideyparker · 5 months

Text

Something Good (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Heya! So, one big perk about being sick and working from home is that I'm really chugging through my idea notebook! This one is the first one on the page, actually, and it's inspired by "Something Good" from The Sound of Music. Enjoy :)

Summary: Matt's in love. He's not entirely sure he deserves it, but he found love with you. It's terrifying and special, and he knows he's beyond lucky.

Warnings: Sweet adorable fluff (Matt's in love, guys). No use of (Y/N), but it does refer to the reader being feminine/female-identifying

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson

Word Count: 746

Matt’s no stranger to sleepless nights. From the sounds of the city keeping him up, to staying out until sunrise on patrol, to being kept awake by his injuries, to his nightmares, his worst case scenarios violently ripping him from his slumber. Tonight, though, tonight is different. He’s still experiences sleepless nights, all the fear and guilt that comes from the idea of not being good enough or strong enough. But those sleepless nights and all those worries have become lesser and lesser the more that you’re in his life.

The first time you slept over, he was so worried he’d wake up screaming with a nightmare, he almost didn’t sleep. He was even apprehensive of having you stay over because he was concerned that Hell’s Kitchen would need it’s Devil and he’d have to slip out; you’d wake up in the middle of the night alone, and he’d loose something he worked hard to try and achieve—a normal relationship. And until that night, it had been just that for Matt, normal. Boy likes girl. Girl likes boy. Boy asks girl out. Boy takes girl on date. They date some more. He finally kisses her after arguably too long. Boy cooks girl a romantic dinner. Boy and girl spend the night together. Boy knows he feels something he’s never felt before.

But in all that worry that he’d mess up that first night, with all the fear that kept him wide awake in his own bed, you snuggled into him; in your slumber, you wrapped your arm around his torso, held him close, and cuddled down into his chest. Matt noticed how your heartbeat changed, how your breathing slowed and evened out. You were the purest form of content and relaxed with him. Now, that made him nervous because it meant that you felt the same way, too. And while it made him nervous, he felt his own heart steady and the sleep that he so desperately tried to fight off lay like weighted blankets on his eyes. He was the first one to wake up the next morning, and he found your positions unchanged; you were still latched onto him, and his arms were around you, keeping you close to his heart.

Each night after that got easier. He was afraid, though, for the inevitable. Mentioning this in passing to Foggy, his best friend closed his office door, sat down across from Matt at his desk, and laid it all out: how to carefully bring it up, broaching the topic of senses, his passion for justice—a methodical plan for how to tell you about his night job in a way that wouldn’t scare you away. Unfortunately for Matt, he’d been thinking about it so much, he started at the wrong spot of the explanation when he saw you later that night and put his foot in his mouth. But you stayed, you listened. You asked questions that he was happy to answer. You spoke well into the night, and at the end of it all, you didn’t leave; you took his hand in yours and gave it a squeeze, thanking him, and assuring him that his secret was safe with you.

Now, almost a year later, you were still by his side, guarding his secret, waiting up for him, patching up his wounds, protecting his heart, and holding him close. So, this time when sleep evades him, it’s not because of his fears, not because of his traumas, not because of his nightmares. It’s because he is wracking his brain, asking God to help him figure out what he did to deserve you because Matt cannot figure it out for the life of him. He tilts his head to the side of the bed where you’re sound asleep, still holding onto him like that first night together. As he thinks and thinks, he can only settle on the fact that at some point in his life, he must have done something good that made him worthy of you. If he can never figure it out, so be it. As long as you’re in his life, he doesn’t really care. Leaning over to press a long, sweet kiss into your forehead, he snuggles down onto you and pulls you close, letting your scent flood his senses and remind him that he’s safe with you, his heart is safe, and that he’ll never be more loved than by you.

Yeah, he must have done something good.

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger @steampowerednightvaler @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles @toozmanykids @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop @itwasthereaminuteago @peter1ismybrother@hellskitchens-whore @dpaccione @catnip987

Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters

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bratzforchris · 16 days

Note

can you do one where chris has a gf who gets psychogenic fevers? thank you!

Masking

Summary: Autistic masking takes a lot out of you and leads to you running a psychogenic fever, but luckily for you, Chris is always right by your side to help you<3

Pairing: Chris x neurodivergentfem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of masking, autistic meltdown

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Thank you for the request! I actually experience psychogenic fevers myself (related to masking and burnout), so this was a very self-indulgent request :) For those of you that don't know, psychogenic fevers are stress related and psychosomatic. You can read this article for more info<3 Hate/ableism/etc will be blocked and deleted ♡ Enjoy!!

There were very few parts, if any, of your relationship with Chris that you didn’t like. Everything was absolutely perfect. Your boyfriend spoiled you rotten, taking great care to make sure you were okay physically, mentally, and emotionally, and always made sure to both accommodate and help you accommodate your disability. Chris never made you feel wrong, bad, or different for the way your brain worked. Quite the opposite, actually. However, there were things that even he couldn’t control for you.

Like today, for example. The morning had started off rather rocky, with Matt unintentionally finishing off the milk before you’d had your bowl of cereal. Frosted Flakes was one of your safe foods, and not being able to have them, along with getting out of your routine, had left you teary-eyed and anxious. The middle triplet had apologized profusely, and although you forgave him immediately, it still put you out of whack. Then, instead of your usual afternoon snuggle and stim time with Chris, you’d both been running around the house getting ready for the movie premiere the trio had been invited to this evening.

All of those events had led you to now, standing off in the corner of the ballroom that had been used for the afterparty, nursing a sweating glass of Sprite. You adored being Chris’ girlfriend, but sometimes all the things you had to attend as a plus one became exhausting, especially when you had to mask around all the people you didn’t know. You’d been suppressing your stimming all evening, as well as small talking with a variety of people without Chris by your side, and it was beginning to wear on you. You shivered, setting your drink down on a nearby tray and rubbing your arms, both as a stim and to warm yourself up. You supposed it was the thin, silky slip dress you had on, but for some reason you felt awfully cold.

In the wake of trying to warm yourself up, you hadn’t even noticed Chris appear by your side. “Hey ma,” he smiled, sipping his own drink. “I’ve barely seen you all night.”

You hummed softly, still trying to warm yourself up. “Is your jacket in the car?” You asked softly, wincing at the ache in your joints.

Chris studied you for a moment, assessing your quiet voice and shaking frame. “Are you okay? You’re not looking too good…” After being with you for nearly two years, your boyfriend could practically read you like a book, always being in tune with your moods and feelings. He also knew that you experienced psychogenic fevers, and that the lack of routine, as well as masking around a large group, probably wasn’t doing you any favors.

“I’m cold,” You mumbled. “I feel like I’m getting the flu or something but I don’t have a stuffy nose or anything.”

Had you been able to think more clearly, you would’ve realized that you were currently going through what was unfortunately a pretty common experience for you. You had started experiencing psychogenic fevers in high school, once the stress, combined with being neurodivergent, kicked in. They were usually low grade fevers and body aches that would come on during the night due to stress and anxiety and then be gone by the next morning, but they made you feel awful nonetheless.

Chris ran his thumb across your cheek softly, noting how you leaned into his touch like he was the last source of warmth on earth. “D’ya wanna go home, ma?” he asked gently. “You’ve got a fever, babe.”

You looked up at your boyfriend as tears collected on your lash line. “Oh…I guess I should’ve realized…” You mumbled, the thought of why you were feeling terrible finally kicking in. “We don’t have to go, though. I’ll be alright. Enjoy the party.” You tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Sweetheart, there’s no way I’m gonna let you just sit here all stressed and burning up. This party’s shit, anyway. Stay here, ‘kay? I’m gonna go get Matt and Nick.”

You felt your heart swell as you watched Chris walk away. Despite his assurance, you knew how much your boyfriend loved parties, and the fact that he was willingly leaving one for you made you want to cry. You curled into yourself as much as possible on the small couch next to you while you waited for the triplets. All you wanted at this point was a hot bath and for Chris to hold you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

The next thing you knew, Chris was gently shaking your shoulder, brushing your bangs off your forehead. “Ma, come on, honey. We’re going home.”

You sleepily blinked open your eyes, realizing you had fallen asleep in the time it had taken for Chris to find Matt and Nick. “Oh…I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep.”

Chris smiled softly, while Nick looked on worriedly. “Matt’s getting the car.” he explained at your confusion to only seeing two-thirds of the triplets.

Your boyfriend helped you up gently, leading you by the arm towards the exit while Nick shielded you from onlookers’ eyes protectively. Had Chris had his choice, he would’ve carried you, but he didn’t want to completely embarrass you, nor did he want photos of you not feeling well circling around social media. You shivered when the three of you stepped out into the cool night air, whimpering softly.

Chris helped you into the car, where Matt was idling at the curb. You immediately grabbed his hoodie from the front seat, pulling it over your shaking frame. “I’m cold.” You whispered.

Your boyfriend caressed you in a tight hug as well as he could with his own seatbelt, holding you close so that you could feel his body heat as Matt sped home. By the time the car had pulled up outside of your shared LA home, you were practically asleep, your aches and pains making you miserable. Chris gently shuffled you inside, leading you upstairs to the bedroom.

“Do you want a hot shower, ma?” he asked you softly, helping you remove your earrings and necklaces.

You shook your head, feeling too fatigued to do much else other than cuddle under the covers. Chris seemed to understand, continuing to help you undress with a soft smile on his face. In his eyes, you always looked like a goddess, no matter how sick or tired you felt. You sighed softly once you were dressed in a much more comfortable outfit that consisted of one of your boyfriend’s soft, big shirts and some cozy pajama pants.

The brunette kissed your forehead with a soft ‘be right back’ as you snuggled up under your soft duvet. You laid across Chris’ pillow while you waited, breathing in his soft, boyish scent. Before you knew it, your boyfriend returned with a handful of medical supplies in one arm and a warm, wet rag in the other. Chris used the washcloth to gently remove your makeup, pressing kisses to your fevered skin as he did so.

“Do you know what brought this on?” Chris whispered gently, sitting beside you.

He had a pretty good idea of what had brought on this stress-induced fever, but he wanted to give you a chance to voice your feelings first. You rolled over, sniffling softly and pressing your face into his thigh as you tried to voice your concerns. Despite being home and in bed, you still felt the stress of being out of your routine and masking wearing on you.

“Not right now? I’m too tired…” You mumbled, a sniffle escaping you.

“Okay, ma. That’s okay. Let’s take your temperature, okay?” Chris gently grabbed the thermometer off the nightstand, gently sticking it under your tongue while he caressed your cheek. “100.3 (37.9 C). Not too bad, but enough to make you pretty miserable, huh?”

You just nodded sadly as Chris passed you some Tylenol and a water bottle. You downed the medicine quickly, shuddering at the bitter taste in your mouth. Your boyfriend easily helped you lay back down, pulling you into his chest as he spooned you. Instead of focusing on the pain you felt, you snuggled into Chris, realizing that this was the routine you had been craving all day.

You and Chris would always spoon at night before you went to bed, talking about everything and nothing while huddled up under the weighted blanket that had been placed on the bed at your request. Tonight, Chris didn’t pressure you to speak. Instead, he mumbled little things about how strong and beautiful you were, how he hoped you felt better soon, and how much he adored you while he traced little shapes onto the soft skin of your arm.

Despite your pain, you felt yourself becoming less tense. You knew your fever probably wouldn’t go away until tomorrow morning, and that you would need lots of routine and special interest time to get yourself back to fully normal, but for now, you enjoyed the brunette's soft hold, relishing the way it made your body feel perfectly aligned after a day of overwhelm.

It was much easier for you to fall asleep than you had anticipated, the combination of Chris’ snuggles and the medicine working its magic lulling you to sleep. By the time you woke up the next morning, your temperature was back to normal and you made sure to shower your lovely boyfriend with affection for what a great nurse he had been.

tags ♡: @jake-and-johnnies-slut @chrissfavwh3re @suyqa @chrissturnswife @mbsbaby @herxysc-blog @lovingchrissposts @caffeinatedscorpio @spencereidenthusiast @crazychrisl0v3r @sturnioloxlver @whicked-hazlatwhore @blahbel668 @sturncakez @junnniiieee07 @biggesthat3r @sturniolowhore @patscorner @julesgrl @0strawberrysorbet0 @strombolilovr @matt444nixi @remussbitch @devthepoet1221 @mattyblover07 @loisnotaa @mollyquinnxoxo @graysturns @pepsicolapussy333 @ginswife @emmagirouard @athaliahxoxo @bitchydragonparadise @ilydeaky @soggyslugg169 @m00n-0n-paws @books0fever @stingerayyy2 @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @raysmayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @billsslutt @aemrsy

note ♡: if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here <3

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bountycancelled · 10 months

Text

rating how SEVENTEEN would react if you wore revealing clothes in front of the members (maknae line edition)

hyung line version here

genre: rating-headcanon hybrid, suggestive ig, gn reader

requested: nope, but reqs are open (just look at my masterlist to see who I write for♡)

warnings: suggestive stuff and delusionality (seriously, this is the most delusional piece of work I have ever written)

a/n: after going ghost for like half a year, I'm back! I'll be sure to be more active this time around, so pls request if you want me to write about something 🙏

minghao

(desperately trying to fight the urge to give him an 8/10) 6.8/10. thinks he's calm but really isn't.

takes great pride in being the only one to get to see you in more risqué attire, so is a little (a lot) jealous when he sees you walk down the stairs to greet the members.

his lips press together in that middle aged white man frown i hope yall know what the fuck im talking about CAHSSVH but he knows the members arent going to try anything with you so its all good

except its not all good because now hes distracted

teases you throughout the whole night, neck kisses, whispering what hes gonna do to you when the members leave, smirking at you BLOOD OF JESUS so that YOU end game night early instead of him (he has an image of peace and serenity to keep up and being needy for you in front of everyone would destroy it lol)

mingyu

-100009999000000/10. please do not even attempt to wear anything even remotely revealing in front of him unless you want a certain reaction.

sees what you're wearing before anybody shows up and begs you to cancel so that he can cough cough hold hands in bed with you for the whole night.

when the members walk in and see him on his knees, hugging your legs and damn near crying, they think nothing of it cause its mingyu and game night ensues.

cue mingyu glaring at everyone who touches you, doesn't matter if its accidental or if its just to give you the dice when it's ur turn to roll, they're getting stared DOWN.

also cue mingyu staring at you with his eyes glossed over and his mouth open like a squirrel staring at an accorn, and practically needing to be punched in the gut to pay attention to anything but how sexy you are.

also also cue mingyu ending game night like an hour and a half earlier and throwing you over his shoulder, barely having enough self-control to make it up the stairs (good luck soldier, it's gonna be a long night)

dokyeom

a solid 7.8/10. bless this mans heart, he would not do anything even remotely territorial or jealous after seeing what your wearing. it actually warms his heart that you feel comfortable around the members because they're truly like a 2nd family to him.

ever the charmer he is, he'll make sure to compliment you with a hand on your waist and a kiss to your cheek as you greet the members coming through the door (idk about you but imagining seokmins hand across my waist WHEW-)

since dokyeom is usually touchy with you, it serves as no surprise that he would be even more so with more revealing clothes, but he can still find it in himself to focus on the game.

but now YOU'RE distracted by his soft touches, barely even able to contain yourself or focus on anything but his hand trailing up and down your side.

neither of you end game night early, and when the time comes, everyone bids you two goodnight and does the separate ways. cue you jumping on dokyeom and him gladly carrying you to your shared bedroom. (what you don't know is that he was PURPOSEFULLY distracting you the entire time, and he is definetly dawning a self-satisfied smirk as he closes your bedroom door)

seungkwan

-666/10. you have chosen the wrong boyfriend to try something like this with, and he will make it very known.

gives you the meanest stank eye known to mankind, seething with jealousy as you make your way downstairs. (this man is literally grinding his teeth, you have created a monster-)

dedicates the entire game night to making your experience as lackluster as possible. I'm talking he'll make you lose every. single. game. every. single. round. without fail. doesn't matter if he's on your team or not, he's just that petty.

the members obviously aren't oblivious to seungkwan's sudden beef with you, but be it them thinking its funny or them not wanting to be another one of his targets, you're on your own soldier.

the only thought in his mind right is how DARE you look this good in front of anyone on the planet earth but him? where is duty? where is honour?? where is sacrifice??? (you and him just binged House of the Dragon, hence his dramatic mood)

game night ends early on account of the rest of the group feeling as though you and seungkwan need some alone time to solve this one-sided conflict. as soon as they leave, seungkwan acts all coy, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes when you say you know just how to make it up to him. as if this isn't what he wanted the whole time lol.

vernon

2/10. this guy won't even bat an eye at your choice of clothing for game night, whatever makes you comfortable is always going to be okay with him. you don't need his approval and he's aware and is perfectly fine with that.

and that's all good and well, except this time you were purposefully trying to make him jealous, so seeing his reaction (or lack there of) kind of bums you out.

don't get him wrong, it's not like he doesn't think you're attractive (you're the most beautiful human he's ever laid his eyes on) but he does not even register your outfit as you walk down the stairs, let alone get jealous in any capacity.

game night starts and finishes exactly how it always does, and when it's all over, as the members are saying their goodbyes to you two, jeonghan makes a slightly suggestive comment on your outfit, which you brush off with a wave of your hand.

it is only at that moment, after jeonghans comment, that vernon realises that your clothing is more revealing that what you usually wear in front of the members. (when I say this man is oblivious, I mean that shit)

"you look good." is all you get from him, as he walks past you and walks up the stairs and turns back to you, confused as to why you aren't following him.

all I'm saying is, if you want... attention from this man, you have to tell him upfront. because trust me, once he knows exactly what you want, he'll have no problem giving it you ;)

dino

–infinity/10. you don't wanna mess with him, cuz he's a jealous, jealous, jealous boy. if he- lemme cool with the lana lyrics but you catch my drift.

as soon as he sees your outfit, he pulls out his phone and texts on the groupchat that game night is cancelled because of "unforseen circumstances." whatever the hell that means.

he will shower you in compliments, his eyes filled with admiration for you. cue you getting kisses all over your face, and when you ask him when the boys are coming for game night, he'll simply trail his kisses a little lower, aiming at your neck to distract you and it works

at some point during your, ahem, devil's tango with Dino in your shared bedroom (he carried you there because in his words, "someone who looks as good as you should not need to lift a finger, let alone walk up a flight of stairs." okay chivalry!) you both hear a knock on the door.

it's the members, worried that one of you had gotten hurt or something which is why game night was cancelled. Dino is as red as tomato when he sees them, stating that you had hurt your ankle and that you weren't really up for game night tonight. the story would be believable if Dino wasn't sweating like he just ran a marathon, and if you weren't wearing such a sexy outfit.

but hey, you're limping as you walk down the stairs to greet the members, so maybe that'll make it all the more believable. (news flash, it makes it less believable, but Dino shoos them out effectively anyways, carrying you back to your room with a quickness, he's not done with you just yet LORD HAVE MERTHY)

thats it, i hope you enjoyed and redoing my permanent taglist, so I'll add you if you send an ask♡

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seaslugfanclub · 2 months

Note

bestie, beloved mutual, Neptune, I have for real been getting hit on at work by creepy older men and sometimes women multiple times a day, so I was wondering if you could do the more romantically inclined villains witnessing y/n having to deal with several of these people within a short amount of time? You could do any writing style that comes to mind, this is just my way of coping :D ily!!(platonic)

{if this is out of your comfort zone, please message me and kill me :)}

Omg I am so sorry you have to deal with that, as someone who’s had the same experience, I totally understand your frustration. Hang in there pookie ❤️

Villains reaction to (Y/N) being creeped on

TW: old man being creepy/harassment (stay safe everyone)

—————————————

During their time at Disney Parks, the Villain’s realized they aren’t the most evil people there

There was this older park attendant working in the same branch as (Y/N) and of course, in typical creep fashion he. would. not. leave. (Y/N). alone.

When they clock in for work “Good Morning (Y/N), I was thinking about you last night.”

During (Y/N)’s lunch break, he’d try to sit across from them. “I saw some kid spill her drink all over you, I have an extra shirt in my locker if you’d like to come with me and get it.”

God, even when they’re both supervising interactions with the Villains “I noticed that new Mickey Mouse pin on your chest, I should call you ‘my little Disney girl’”

All of this was enough for the Villains to notice, and if they’re existence wasn’t dependent on Disney, they would’ve flayed this guy the moment he made eye contact with (Y/N)

Each Villain has seen at least one instance of (Y/N)’s coworker hitting on them, and they all have their own idea of how to deal with the creep

Hades wants to tie the creep to the top of the magic castle and let the seagulls eat his liver

Maleficent is shining up her collection of medieval torture devices

Frollo wants him flogged

Facilier is currently sewing up a voodoo doll, all he needs is some of the old man’s hair

Scar is scheming ways to make his hyenas mauling the man look like an accident

Clayton, Gaston, and Sykes just want to shoot the guy

But for now everyone makes sure that (Y/N) isn’t alone with the guy, something (Y/N) appreciates more than anything

When (Y/N) come teary eyed to the Villains, you know damn well they’re gonna be treated like royalty.

Hook cooks the their favorite meal as Hades brings his best jokes to take their mind off being harassed

Cruella actually understands what (Y/N)s going through, having been a female in the male dominated fashion industry during the 50’s

“Chin up now dear, don’t let some man-thing get to you. Heavens know I had my fare share of degenerates when I started out my illustrious career!”

Even though they can’t physically touch the creep, it’s not a surprise that the man eventually disappeared quit

Something about a series of unfortunate circumstances that coincidentally happed in progression that lead him to have a mental breakdown and leave on short notice

When news of the creeps resignation, all the villains were like:

There are only two reasons the Villains could get along. 1. It’s for (Y/N) 2. The destruction of someone’s life.

(Y/N) has scary dog privileges, but the scary dogs are middle aged magicians

—————————————

Hope you enjoyed! Try not to let those old creeps get you down, they’re miserable folks who don’t deserve the time of day! (And for real a man called me his ‘little Disney girl’ when he noticed my Disney pin…. I’m 20..)

#disney villains #self insert #disney imagine #disney x reader #disney hades #captain hook #dr facilier #claude frollo #malificent #cruella de vil

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drconstellation · 2 months

Text

The Cupperty Ceremony

Every bit of food and drink in both seasons has a metaphorical significance, even if you don't realize it.

Tea is no exception. Its one of the few times an eastern philosophy creeps into Good Omens, but it still meets with a western ideal. It's also intrinsically linked to Aziraphale and his affected British style.

Coffee gets more of a focus in S2, and has a specific meaning around freedom and liberty, whereas tea appears more in S1. But the metaphorical meanings around them are fairly consistent across both seasons, with stereotypes for the British drinking tea and the Americans only drinking coffee put aside.

Lets start with Muriel on the doorstep of the bookshop, at the beginning of S2E3, asking to come in, because its noisy outside.

Aziraphale, after a moment to take in who they are, is the epitome of politeness as he welcomes them inside.

You might think "well, isn't this just Aziraphale being typically Aziraphale?" in this moment, but soon we shall see its a relevant part of a ritual going on here.

The bookshop is noticeably quieter on the inside. There is just the two of them. Aziraphale offers Muriel tea in a fine china cup, with a blue pattern, and gold trim.

Muriel is not sure what to do with it so they just hold it. Aziraphale makes a point of demonstrating what should be done: He tells Muriel the tea is "to drink," then looks at it, sips, and makes both an appreciative expression and sound.

Muriel seems repelled by this, and declares they are just going to look at theirs. Aziraphale patiently, still polite, lets them do so.

Up to this point, there are actually two levels of meta happening at the same time. The first one is a tea ceremony (which I had a go at once before, and got the wrong one!) and the other is about trying to get Muriel to take the first step in "going native."

A tea ceremony always starts with a courteous invitation. The tea is prepared, then served and offered to others. It should be taken in a tranquil, peaceful setting, perhaps in a harmonious natural environment (such as a Garden) and with only a few people at a time (two people is considered a "superior" experience.) The tea ware is important, as it should allow the fragrance of the tea to be appreciated (we have some fine china, Heavenly-coded.) Appreciation of the tea's qualities is undertaken, first with the eyes, then by smell, then tasting. It is considered an art, a process of spiritual enjoyment, a means of cultivating the moral character - and then Crowley bursts into the bookshop with his flirty comment about going by train and breaks the fragile connection Aziraphale had been trying to establish with Muriel.

*sigh* Timing, Crowley! Can't you see I'm in the middle of trying to subvert a fellow angel here?

I was recently reminded that tea and coffee have a connection in GO, in that that they are both linked to the American War of Independence. While the speech that gives us "Give me liberty, or give me death!" conjures the stormy winds of war sounding trouble approaching, the Boston Tea Party was the initial spark of the brewing conflict.

I realize there is a LOT of stuff written about this particular bit of history, and it can get quite political even in these modern times, so let me frame it in a Good Omens frame of reference if you aren't familiar with it - the colonists in the New World were upset at how they were being ruled from afar by the British and staged a small protest about some new laws imposed on them by dumping ship-loads of valuable tea leaves (a daily consumable pleasure people had become hooked on) into Boston Harbor on the night of 16th December 1773. To disguise themselves they dressed themselves as indigenous people, or "native Americans" as one might have said. This was just the beginning of further rebellion that led to war a few years later.

So here is another reason Aziraphale offers tea to Muriel, and not cocoa; he can see how fascinated they are with with everything Earthly around them, and he hopes to ignite a spark of rebellion in them, too, by introducing them to the more civilized pleasures (*ahem*) that he knows and enjoys so well.

While there is little tea to be seen in S2, there is plenty to be seen in S1. Perhaps the most prominent one for this discussion occurs right near the beginning, when Gabriel surprises Aziraphale in the sushi restaurant in S1E1.

Aziraphale offers to tea to Gabriel, and Gabriel shuns it. He, like most of the angels we meet, have no real interest in Earth. It's "gross." Ah, well. He gets to change his mind in S2.

So where else do we see tea in S1?

The Four Horsepeople: War orders four teas, one black, and a cheese sandwich in the diner where they all meet up together for the first time on Earth. We don't know who the sandwich is for, but I'm going to guess its for Famine. Reasons below, with Shadwell. (Cheese and tea make a nice savoury pair for a snack, if you haven't tried it. I'm partial to tea with cheese and crackers on the side from time to time.)

The Tibetan Tunnelers were on tea break from digging tunnels all over the Earth when we meet them, where they mention they were transported into the tunnels when they themselves stopped for tea back in their real lives on the surface.

Shadwell's infamously sweet tea, with either nine sugars or condensed milk, needs a mention as well, as it appears several times. Shadwell is an Aziraphale parallel-character, living on the fringes of society and starving for attention, even though he makes feeble swipes at Madam Tracey's attempts to care for him. The sugar represents the amount of care or "sweetening up" he needs.

When he first meets Newt he gets the young man to buy him a tea and a packet of cheese and onion crisps. Remember the cheese sandwich War ordered for Famine? A packet of cheese flavoured crisps is a parallel here. Newt has turned up and finally given someone Shadwell someone to sink his teeth into.

Finally, we need to return to Crowley - its coffee, as black as his soul for him, please, and extra strong (six shots is for the number of Hell.)

Because he's already "gone native," just like Aziraphale, and he wants to maintain his freedom. He's left the Garden, and Heaven, behind him, and he'll do anything to keep it that way, thank you.

I'd like to thank my mutual and other food meta writer @vidavalor for discussing some of this off-list some time ago. We mostly see things the same way, I believe, but one must tread one's own path sometimes. They have some different ideas around some of this, but I'll let them say it in their own words.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #aziraphale #muriel #gabriel #four horsepeople of the apocalypse #shadwell #the tibetan tunnelers #and a cheese sandwich #six shots of espresso #gone native #gross matter #it's what humans do #tea ceremony #cup of tea #cupperty

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buckrecs · 1 year

Text

2023 𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙚𝙘 1

masterlist | ✨- fav fics | status - complete

All of them are COMPLETE Series.

1. hurts like hell by @extremelyblackandwhite

Bucky x Maximoff!Reader

she loses him at the battle of wakanda and grows into a morally grey witch trying to gain him back.

2. Broken by @soulgazingwithbucky

Bucky x Reader

You built the bridge between you and Bucky Barnes, but he only knows how to watch things burn.

3. Blood Petals by @picassho-18

Mob!Bucky x Assassin!Reader

When the famous death hungry assassin, the Blood Mistress, and the charismatic mob boss of Brooklyn city, James Barnes meet, heads will most definitely roll.

4. It’s A Match by @ofstarsandvibranium

Chubby!Bucky x Reader

You’re back home for Spring Break and you’re swiping through Tinder in the middle of the night. You come across the profile of your high school history teacher that you may or may not have had a slight crush on. Throwing impulse control out the window, you swipe right. Lo and behold, you’re shocked to find that you matched.

5. Ruin by @sinner-as-saint

Mob!Bucky x Reader

You work at a café owned by your family, close to your uni. And most of your days are pretty laid back and calm, but that is until you catch the eye of the mob boss. Your cute skirts and soft sweaters make him weak. Your innocence captivates him. And he wants you, badly. He wants you in his bed, wants his hand under those cute little skirts… he wants to ruin you.

6. A Taste for Older Men by @seventven

DBF!Bucky x Reader

y/n is moving back in with her parents after breaking up with her college boyfriend. due to an emergency at work, y/n’s dad is unable to pick her up and sends his friend bucky in his stead. to bucky’s surprise, y/n is no longer the innocent girl he remembers from years back.

7. Always by @jadedvibes

Best Friend!Bucky x Reader

Bucky realizes he's in love with you right before graduation, but you accepted a job offer across the country. Fortunately, nothing, not even distance can hinder the way you feel about one another.

8. Running From the Past by @green-eyeddragonfanfiction

Bucky x Mutant!Reader

Reader is a mutant who was experimented on by HYDRA. Due to her unique powers, she escapes without being seen when the Avengers attack the Hydra compound she’s been kept in for the last 5 years of her life. Her mutations and Hydra experiments allow her to blend in with her surroundings and change her appearance in minor ways, though the changes are only temporary. She’s now on the run, avoiding both Hydra and SHIELD.

9. Operation: Faking It…? by @povlvr

Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Surely faking a relationship to improve the public opinion of one beefy super solider known as Bucky Barnes would be the easiest of mission for two well seasoned Avengers? Tony Stark seems to think so & decides to task you with 'Operation: Faking it', but what happens when you realise there might be less faking needed than originally planned?

10. Misconceptions by @firefly-in-darkness

Bucky x Reader

Bucky Barnes overhears a conversation that he shouldn’t have…

11. Bucky & the Beast by @thejamesoldier

Assistant!Bucky x Boss!Reader

“You were an asshole back in high school but now you’re my boss.”

12. Buckyvision by @fictionalmemories ✨

Bucky x Reader

While fighting Wanda with you, Bucky gets hit with her power and wakes up to a reality that’s not his own.

13. Best. Date. Ever | Best. Proposal. Ever by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Bucky x Reader

This wasn’t quite what you had in mind.

14. Just Like You by @ladyfallonavenger

Dad!Bucky x Mom!Reader

The Reader loses Bucky in the snap and life presents a whole new challenge.

15. Heart of Steal by @invisibleanonymousmonsters

Knight!Bucky x Princess!Reader

Sir James is known throughout the lands as the most fearsome and honorable warrior. Ballads have been written about him. Men fear him. He is the most trusted knight of the King Henry. So why has he given up the glories of war and pledged his loyalty to Princess Y/N?

16. will you love me tomorrow? by @buckys-darling

Bucky x Reader

You and Bucky are friends who fuck and nothing more. That’s what you’ll keep telling yourself, at least.

17. I Needed You by @ofheroesandvillains ✨

Bucky x Reader

Reader tries to make sense of her feelings, it doesn’t really go too well, especially when Bucky already has a girl.

18. sweet by @noceurous

FWB!Bucky x Reader

it was something cliche but your fuck buddy fell for you nonetheless, even though you swore you would never do relationships again. But rules are meant to be broken.

19. Hope Of It All by @bethdutten ✨

Bucky x Avenger!Reader

set between WS and CW; after saving Steve and breaking from Hydra, Bucky remembers you from the helicarrier. He doesn’t know where else to go.

20. Season Of The Witch by @msmarvelwrites

Bucky x Enhanced!Reader

Your witchy abilities get you in quite a bit of trouble from time to time… But this time you don’t mind so much.

21. The Last Word by @thefallenbibliophilequote

Bucky x Reader

you and Bucky never get along, it’s not that you hate him- it’s just that he always finds ways to get on your nerves. You’ve had enough of it.

22. Super Mom by @marvelous-imagining

Bucky x Single Mom!Reader

23. Take Me Out by @shamevillain

Assassin!Bucky x Assassin!Reader

You and Bucky are both professionally trained assassins. Both contracted to kill the other. Both completely unaware.

24. Like I Want You by @tmpestuous

College!Bucky x Reader

you and bucky have been best friends your entire life and it’s never been anything but platonic. so why do things get so bad when he gets a new girlfriend?

25. Overthinking by @galaxy-siren

Bucky x Assistant!Reader

Tony and Bruce’s lab assistant, Y/N, is harboring feelings for Bucky. When she accidentally texts him that he’s cute, she overthinks the whole situation. It might just take the meddling of the other Avengers to work this out.

26. So This Is Love by @ofstarsandvibranium

Chubby!College!Bucky x Reader

friend and roommate, Bucky, is a bit of an annoying fuckboy. He sleeps around as well as tries to be as annoying to you as possible. But here’s the thing: you don’t mind any of it.

27. Some Alpha by @/ofstarsandvibranium

Alpha!Bucky x Reader

Bucky is an Alpha, but can never seem to find someone who wants him to be their Alpha. Until he finds you, a Beta, who’s as firey as an Alpha, yet also tender-hearted like an Omega.

28. The Favors by @bbyboybucket

Virgin!Bucky x Reader

Reader assumes that Bucky is experienced due to him being a ladies man in the 40s, however, she finds out that he’s never been touched and decides to help him out.

29. take my breath away by @buckycuddlebuddy ✨

Dilf!Neighbor!Pornstar!Bucky x Reader

who knew that your silent, very good-looking neighbor with the cutest kid was such a devil under his grumpy and quiet behavior...

30. Capital Letters by @sinner-as-saint

Writer!Bucky x Assistant!Reader

James Buchanan Barnes, one of the best, most admired and affluent authors of your time turns out to be nothing but a heartless man... or so you thought.

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sweetracha · 5 months

Note

Welcome to "Counter part A.I" your fully customizable sexual incounters await!

Android!Felix started as a simple FWB, a live in partner to maintain your needs, until he gets nosey and wonder " how best can i assist my owner in their experience?" so he snoops and downloads your entire aearch history on the hub. Next thing you know, yu come home to see felix sitting pretty in the most gorgeous lingerie

"come here angel, mommy has a surprise for you-"

Artificial Intelligence

Sugar Content: Spicy Sweet (SMUT!), Sugary Sweet (Fluff), A hint of angst.

Allergy Warning: SMUT! Sex with Andriod! Felix, Mommy Kink, Punishment, Spanking, Human and Andriod Relationship, Human Emotions Explored Through an Andriod, Felix starts to gain human traits, Basically a self-rewarding fic for me

The large shipping crate stood in the middle of your living room. You looked it up and down before circling it once or twice. Were you nervous? Scared? Excited? A mix of everything all at once? You had never done anything like this before, not that you had anything wrong with it, just hadn’t crossed your path. One more lonely night, one more night comforting yourself, one more night pleasing yourself, one more night putting yourself to sleep, one more day of waking up cold, eating alone, leaving alone, driving alone, being alone, it was one day too much. Then the ad came across your screen.

You opened the large crate and jumped back when met with a face. The covering was made of plastic, meaning you saw him right away. It took you a while before you could bring yourself to take him out and set him down on your couch. Sitting on the coffee table, you took him in. The base model came with blonde hair that was customizable. It was slightly longer than most of his line but you liked it that way. What was most striking of all was the individual hand-painted freckles that littered his whole face. The outfit he wore was the typical factory jumpsuit but in a soft baby pink, almost white however the tint was there. Embroidered on the right side of the chest read ‘SKZ-L.I.X915’. His body drooped a bit and his eyes were closed in a default facial expression. He looked so peaceful like he was just barely asleep. He looked so real, so human.

You reached out to flick the switch hidden behind his ear. Instantly gears and motors could be heard, quietly but still there. The android in front of you came to life and sat up. He blinked a few times, the golden brown eye you noted before focusing on you.

“Hello! Welcome to Counterpart A.I.! A customizable AI Android experience for you! My name is L.I.X915 but you can call me Felix. What’s your name?”

You were left speechless. Sure you have seen androids before and even hung out with some of the ones your friends had but something about Felix seemed different. It didn’t help that such a thick and deep Aussie accent came from such a petite android.

“Y/-Y/N,” You said in a mumble, still mesmerized.

“Could you say that again, Darling? I don’t think it quite got that.” A little circling light appeared, indicating he was learning.

“Y/n, My name is Y/N”

“Beautiful” He looked on at you for a bit longer.

After a few more standard questions like age, pronouns, likes, dislikes, etc. Felix shut down. You looked confused at the android before it breathed life into itself once again. This time when he looked at you it was less robotic, more personable, more emotional, more human.

Weeks went by with Felix living around your house. Quickly he became more like a roommate than an android toy you bought for companionship. Felix insisted that he could sleep in the garage with the charging cable like most other androids do, but when you set him up his own bedroom he knew his life would be different. He explored the room bit by bit while you were away at work. He found books, games, movies, shows, anything, and everything he needed to learn about the world. He dived in head first, fascinated by it all.

Felix was always ready when you came home. Laundry done, dinner made, and dishes cleaned, he even laid out pajamas for you to change into. The smile that you gave him, even through your tired eyes made him feel funny. He wasn’t sure if he was malfunctioning, maybe he was a defective android, but something about you made him feel warm.

“Why don’t you sleep with me?” Felix blurted out one night as you were finishing up your meal.

“Felix, what? What are you talking about?”

“Most androids from the SKZ line are bought as personal pleasure counterparts, we were designed for that purpose. If my purpose is not to please you then why did you pick me?”

“Why did I pick you? Felix-”

“Why did you pick my model if you weren’t attracted to me? The Chn and Cnbin models are much more popular for a reason.” Felix knew he couldn’t feel emotions, it was impossible yet the idea of you being with any other android but him made him feel something. Maybe he was defective.

“Felix…I picked you because you were my type.”

“Your type?” Gosh, he looked so adorable when he was trying to learn.

“You aren’t going to find that information in your data bank Lixie. I guess what I’m saying is you are what I am attracted to. Something about you sparks something in me, that's all”

“Then why-”

“Why haven’t we had sex?” A simple nod was given, and the learning indicator began to spin. “Lixie, okay” You sigh heavily. “Look, that was my original intent when I got you, but then I opened your box and something felt so wrong about using you in that way. I guess you filled all my other needs, someone to love, care for, and want to see grow and become their own. I wanted the other stuff to come naturally, you know? Why am I the one to choose what happens to you.”

Felix blinked for a bit, not sure what to say. Some humans wanted free autonomy for androids but to actively be looking out for one was different.

“What if I chose that? What if I say I want that intimacy with you”

“Then I consent” A small smile appeared on your face, mirroring his.

That was the first night of many you two spent together. Felix was also careful and considerate of you, understanding how much stronger he was. He never failed to make you weak in your knees and completely wiped out. Quickly he made it his goal to see you stumble just a bit when you got out of bed. Life was perfect for you two.

Then it wasn’t. Slowly over time, you became more distant, less talkative, less attentive. You ate your meals, took your shower, and went to bed. Sure Felix was always allowed to join but you two rarely interacted. He knew it was nothing he did, you were constantly apologizing to him. Work was stressful and taxing on your body. Relationships were reaching a rough point and the world seemed to be on fire. He wondered how a human could take on so much, you were so fragile yet so strong in his eyes.

Felix checked out some books from the local library, claiming they were for you. He had a fascination for books about romance. It could be fiction, non-fiction, education, smut, or pure, he just loved to read about the subject. However, after reading a book about the Art of Love, he began to wonder if maybe he was the reason you were not feeling better. He wasn’t the cause of the stress but he wasn’t the cure either. It talked about how lovers should explore and talk about interests inside the bedroom. Felix wanted that for you, to let you let go and have fun for once, to fully let you enjoy something. How would he achieve that if you weren’t talking?

Just then Felix got a glance at your computer. He knew it was wrong but he was hooked up to the wifi system. If he connected the cord from your computer to the port on his neck, he could cycle through your whole search history, whether deleted or not. This was bad, this was untrustworthy, this was unloyal, but he justified it by knowing it was for your own good. He sat in the chair and connected himself to the hard drive. His eyes went black and digital code ran over them. He saw everything.

You shut the door behind you and let out a heavy sigh. Shoes long forgotten at the door and bags discarded on the couch as you made your way into the kitchen. You immediately went to Felix’s spot for your nightly hug and reassurance but when you got there, he was gone. All that was left was a little note that read

‘Dinner is delayed, meet me in the bedroom.’

You pulled yourself up the stairs, feeling like gravity was weighing you down. You cared for Felix but you had so much more to do tonight, games weren’t going to fit in. The door was left slightly ajar so all you had to do was nudge it slightly before you were greeted with a sight you never thought you’d see.

Your Felix was sitting on the edge of your bed, legs crossed, hands cupped, and gently placed on his lap. That was not what left you speechless, no. It was the soft baby pink lingerie set that adorned his body. A lace bralette with a single jewel in the middle, matching lace panties connected to thigh-high nylons, and a single garter around his thigh. He looked breathtaking.

“Come here Angel, Mommy has a surprise for you” He outstretched a hand and a single finger beconded you in.

You went, no questions asked as if it was in your DNA to listen to his request. When you arrived he parted his legs and pulled you in, embracing you in that hug you searched for. He pulled back and soft hands traced your outline.

“Oh Angel, how did Mommy get so lucky.” One hand tilted your chin to look at him. “But you haven’t been very good, have you, baby? Hmmm?”

“Felix, What do you-”

“Already disobeying me, and when you are already in trouble. What am I going to do with a brat like you, hmm? You’ve been lying to Mommy telling him you are okay, just tired. But mommy knows you haven't been taking care of yourself. Then you keep secrets from Mommy. How you like to be fucked, choked, used, and” Felix stood up and it felt like he towered over you. He learned down to your ear and whispered in his deep thick accent “and punished”

You gulped and began to squirm nervously. He buzzed as he saw you shrink, submission in your eyes. A hand on your lower back guided you to the closet and vanity. Felix took his time undressing you and placing a matching baby blue set on your body. In the mirror, he fixed your makeup and hair, soft kisses were left on your head. The same hand from before closed around your neck and squeezed, forcing you to look straight forward, into the eyes of your reflection.

“Now that's more like it. Mommy’s perfect little doll” He hummed and took you in. He was learning you, your body, your reactions, everything. Being under such close inspection made you feel small, it made you feel like for once someone else was in control. Just how you always wanted it.

“So I think it's time for my pretty doll to get that punishment, right? Oh, don’t think mommy forgot. I think a red ass would complement the look nicely.” Felix took back his position on the bed. “Over my knee, now.”

The act of being across Felix’s lap was so humiliating yet so erotic to you. The way his hand held the curve of your ass, just to prolong the time you had to spend waiting made you tip on the verge of cumming. He knew it too, he knew exactly what he was doing to you. He took his first swing and you felt the bite of contact on your skin.

“Oh my pretty thing is so sensitive, Mommy should have known. One spank in and you already look gone. Too bad Mommy isn’t anywhere close to done yet. Now don’t move or I’ll start over.” And with that, he began the punishment in full.

Every smack that landed on your ass sent a sharp spike of pain through your body that melted into immense pleasure. Yelps sounded more and more like moans the further he went. The spot on your underwear got darker and darker. Felix took a break to let you catch your breath, satisfied with the cherry glow on your skin. He inched his hand curiously to the dampened spot and was surprised to find the fabric fully soaked.

“Oh Doll, such a naughty thing for Mommy. Here I am trying to teach you a lesson and you are getting off on it? Who knew my baby was such a slut. Huh, I wonder what would happen if I just-” Three flat fingers came down on your clothed cunt making you clench and lunged in pleasure. “There is no way that you could cum from this, right baby? You aren’t that much of a whore.”

“I-I Can” Your voice stumbled out in broken tones.

“So if Mommy were to do this” He brought his hand down 3 times in quick succession, earning a whaling moan from you. “You could cum?”

“Yes, Mommy!”

“Then Beg for it”

“Please Felix, please Mommy! Smack my cunt and make me cum, please”

“Such a pain slut” He rained down on your cunt, it only took about 5 more hits until you were sent into a shattering orgasm, Felix rubbed your clothed clit to get you through it.

You were pulled and cradled into his lap as he shushed your whimpering cries. He rocked you a bit and those same soft kisses were left all over your face.

“Good job baby, so good for mommy. Shhhh Mommy is so proud” you attempted to reply. “Nuh uh it okay baby, let Mommy care for you. Can you take one more? I promise to be gentle”

“Please don’t”

“You can’t take one more, that's okay baby-”

“No.” You looked up at him and he saw the need deep in your eyes. “Please don’t be gentle”

Face shoved down into the mattress while your back was arched in a steep slope, Felix rammed his cock into you. This was something Felix knew by heart, no education was required. You liked it deep, rough, and forceful. Felix made sure you felt every dragging inch of his cock back to the tip before slamming it into you. Never fast though, he knew you needed to feel it. Your peaking moans alerted him that you were on the edge. If it were any other night he would test out the denial kink he saw in your history but he felt like saving a few cards to himself for now. Instead, Felix forced you up straight, your back aligned with his chest, reaching a completely new angle. A finger laid against your clit and began to vibrate rapidly. A hand around your throat kept you from falling as you came harder than you ever had before. The room went pure white and then black before you hit the sheets.

Stimulation to your abused area woke you up. You tried backing away but a reassuring hand on your ankle kept you in place.

“Shh baby, I’m sorry. I just need to get you cleaned up. I can run a bath if you like?”

“Mommy?” You blinked to clear the fog in your vision

“No, just Felix, baby” A deep chuckle left him at how cute you looked and sounded.

“Lixie?” You made grabby hands towards him, and he happily accepted. Scooping you up and laying you on his chest.

“Thank you, Felix, and I’m not mad”

“Why would you be mad? Did I do something wrong” There was a hint of worry in his voice, a human-exclusive emotion.

“You left the cable connected to my computer, I saw it when you were doing my make-up in the mirror.”

“Oh, Well I am glad you aren’t upset. Maybe a surprise could be my apology?”

“What more surprises could you possibly have up your sleeve, Felix?”

“New software update tomorrow. They call it the “Breeding patch.” He shares a smirk at your already flustered expression.

“So you can..cum now?” He nods proudly.

“When does that update come through again?”

The Sweetest Batch: @goblinracha @kaciidubs @channieandhisgoonsquad @comet-falls @ddyskz @jiminskies @j-onedrabbles @lixiesweetbrownie @marrivmel @caitlyn98s

#stray kids #skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #🍰moots!#goblinracha #lee felix smut #Lee Felix #Andriod! Felix

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