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thewritersaddictions · 3 days

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If The Walls Could Talk Chapter 1: We Are All Adults Here

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Pov: Reader

Summary: When your parents leave for their annual summer vacation, they ask your long-time neighbor to come by and check on you.

Warnings: Smut, Age Gap (20/50), a little bit of corrosion, sexual tension, Bj's, PinV, Unprotected sex, Smut with no plot, shower/tub smut.

A/n- @ Firefly-graphics for dividers.

WC- 3.2

If The Walls Could Talk Series // The Last Of Us Master List

With another semester of college under my belt, it’s time to come home for the summer. The group chat with my parents tells me that even years later, they still leave the house for a few weeks during the summer for a vacation. They’re going on a cruise this year and will be gone for nearly a month.

I’ve lived next to a man and his daughter for years—a sweet kid a little younger than me. Hours were spent playing with her when we were both young, and when I started high school, I began babysitting her, and nothing changed. I was always in his house, and the fact that we were constantly bumping into each other had my crush flying through the sky.

I had a crush that suddenly disappeared when I was up and moved away to college, but every summer, my crush came back with a vengeance—a spiteful vengeance. The older I got, the more I looked at Sarah’s dad in a new and different light.

Now I’m driving back home to an empty house and a house right next door with my much older crush. Let’s also add that Joel is also my dad’s best friend. He has been his best friend since Joel moved in with his baby daughter almost twenty years ago. The lights on the house are off, and my garage door opens with one button press.

The first day back from college was always just about laundry and eating a typical meal for the first time since I had been home for the brief spring break before exams. I can see that Joel is home; his truck is in the driveway, and the kitchen light is on. I text my parents while I wait for my food to reheat in the microwave.

Made it home, eating leftovers.

Aww I’m glad you are home sweetie. Don’t forget that if you need anything Joel is right across the street.

And his daughter is at camp this summer so he’ll be there anytime you need him.

You can’t just volunteer Joel like that.

I’ll make sure to remember that Mom.

I swipe out of the chat a little faster than normal. My attention drifts over to the lit-up kitchen window and I think about whatever Joel might be doing… since Sarah is away at summer camp. The beeping of the microwave pulls my attention away, and the room smells of leftovers. That night I watched a random movie marathon in a bed I’ve had since middle school, and fell asleep with a half eaten plate of food on my nightstand.

A week later theres a knock on the fence to my backyard. My eyes are closed behind my sunglasses. It’s only when the hot rays of sun fade and turn cold do I open my eyes and shift my eyes down the brim of my nose. It’s Joel. Standing there in all his glory. A hawaiian shirt covers his tan skin, and shorts give very little to the imagination.

I had a crush that suddenly disappeared when I was up and moved away to college, but every summer, my crush came back with a spiteful vengeance. The older I got, the more I looked at Sarah’s dad in a new and different light.

Now I’m driving home to an empty house and a house right next door with my much older crush. Let’s also add that Joel is also my dad’s best friend. He has been his best friend since Joel moved in with his baby daughter almost twenty years ago. The lights on the house are off, and my garage door opens with one button press.

I made it home, eating leftovers.

Aww, I’m glad you’re home, sweetie. Don’t forget that Joel is right across the street if you need anything.

His daughter is at camp this summer, so he’ll be there anytime you need him.

You can’t just volunteer Joel like that.

I’ll make sure to remember that, Mom.

I swipe out of the chat a little faster than normal. My attention drifts over to the lit-up kitchen window, and I think about whatever Joel might be doing… since Sarah is away at summer camp. The beeping of the microwave pulls my attention away, and the room smells of leftovers. That night, I watched a random movie marathon in a bed I’ve had since middle school and fell asleep with a half-eaten plate of food on my nightstand.

A week later, a knock was on the fence in my backyard. My eyes are closed behind my sunglasses. It’s only when the hot rays of the sun fade and turn cold that I open my eyes and shift my eyes down the brim of my nose. It’s Joel. Standing there in all his glory. A Hawaiian shirt covers his tan skin, and his shorts give little to the imagination.

“Your dad told me you were home.” He says plainly. I nod and keep my eyes on him. “You haven’t left the house in over a week, so I came to check on you,” Joel says as he shifts from in front to the side of me, sitting on another pool chair. “I haven’t needed to. You know mom always makes way too much food during the summer.” This is the second summer I’ve come back home, and my parents have been out on a cruise or flying to some destination they picked out the minute they got back the previous summer. “I know she’s always trying to pawn it off to the other neighbors,” Joel says, looking at you and then the water.

There’s a long pause between us; the tension grows, and before it can well into something, I cut Joel right off at the knees. “Well, I’m sure you’ve got other things to do today.” I say, then add, “instead of checking up on me.” There’s a shift in Joel’s face, but he quickly hides it behind a bright smile. “I do have some yard work I’ve gotta get done.” He says, getting up from the pool chair and pushing with the palms of his hands.

I watch him walk away. Open and close the fence gate. I stare for a long while. Wondering where the hell these random, hot flashes of feeling came from. The bottom of my stomach burns with a passion that I don’t even feel when I go out with guys from my college. I lick my lips, bring my sunglasses back up the ridge of my nose, and close my eyes. By the time I get back inside, the summer day’s heat has disappeared, and my skin is tanned.

Joel seems to know every time I’m outside. He knocks on the gate and lets himself in. This time I’m swimming in the pool. The heat has suffocated me in a way I’m not used to, “Do you go anywhere else?” Joel asks. I lift my head from the pool surface and look at him. This time, he’s wearing just a pair of shorts. Swim trunks, “It’s not like I have many places to go.” I say plainly before dropping my head onto the pool water’s surface. I feel the ripples of the water as Joel moves in.

He starts at the steps and makes his way over to me. Long swimming strides, and in a matter of seconds, he’s by my side. Once again, I was standing in the sunlight. I peep my eyes open again. “Do I have something on my face?” I ask him. His brown eyes bore holes into me in a way that made me feel like the only other person on earth but also uncomfortable. “I just hadn’t realized how much you’d grown up.” That is all Joel says before he too, lays on his back. I’m stuck wondering what that means. I had always seen Joel for precisely what he was.

“What does that mean?” I finally ask after a little silence. Joel seems to be forming his words, “It just means that are have become a beautiful woman in the passing years.” My courage starts to grow. “Does that mean you’ve been watching me?” I say, looking over at him. I can see him visibly swallow has if I’ve caught him in a tongue twister. “I… You…” He rolls his lips together, I move in the water. I want to see his face. “I’m what Joel?” My bathsuit hugs me tightly due to the water. “You’re just…” “I’m just what Joel?” I ask brushing my hand up from his belly to his chest. His skin lights up with goosebumps in the hot weather.

“I’m far to old for you.” He says as if he’s trying to stop himself from making a horrible choice. As if saying he’s older then me is going to stop the way my nails are dragging down the center of his body. Inching closer to the tie of his swim trunks.

The way my name falls from his lips, like he’s barely holding back his wants and needs. “Y/n, please I’m just as old as your father.” I roll my eyes. “Can you not bring him up when all I wanna do is make you feel good.” I mutter softly. Joel lets go of my hands and groans when I grab at his erection from the swim trunks. It’s just a wet piece of fabric between my hand and his cock.

“Fuck,” Joel mutters out in a low groan. But before the moment goes any further I move my hand and float towards the pool stairs. Joel is up and moving towards me before I even manager to get the towel around my body. “What in the hell was that?” He tries not to shout. “That’s called payback for the past fifteen years of my life, now if you don’t mind I’m gonna go take a bath,” I say before slipping into my flip-flops and walking into the cool air of the house. I leave the sliding glass door open.

An open invitation to follow me.

An open invitation to which he follows like a lost puppy dog following its owner. I don’t hear Joel get out of the water immediately as if he’s waiting for my father (his best friend) to come rounding the corner; all I know is that by the time I’ve settled into the hot water of the bathtub with bubbles on the rim of the tub. Joel is marching up the stairs and not even knocking on the bathroom door.

He just lets himself in. He is standing with a towel wrapped around his waist and water pooling around his feet. “You’re making a mess, ya know,” I say, not even bothering to look up at him. I had set up most of what I would use before my dip in the pool, my eyes gazing over the words in my romance novel.

“You’re a fuckin’ tease, you know that.” He says with a grunt. I say anything, flipping the page of my book over. The book goes from my hand to the sink, forcing me to look up at him. “You are a wrong choice waiting to happen,” Joel says with my chin in his hand. Holding me to look up at him, “But I’m not inclined to make the right choices right now.” He says before finally leaning down to press his lips into mine.

The kiss sweeps me off my feet metaphorically. His lips are rough and dry from the summer heat and sun, but the way he uses his mouth is heaven-sent. Passing over my lips with his tongue, his hand still holds my chin securely, giving Joel all the power he needs in this situation. His other drifts down your chest, and into the water. The bubbles surround his hand as his fingers graze over the tops of my breasts. Gentle has they grope and tease my nipple. The kiss is breathtaking, leaving me gasping for air when Joel finally does pull away.

When he pulls away there’s no giving away the rather large tent that has made it’s way through the soaked swim trunks and is now protruding through the pool towel. He follows my gaze, and looks down, “You want something?” He asks looking down at me, I nod. “Then undress me sweetheart.” The nickname makes my heart skip a beat, and my hands are reaching out for the towel, ripping it off and through it to the floor. His swim trunks go next and in one easy slip down his toned legs he’s free and completely naked in front of me. For being half my age older the man is built, muscles and tan lines that show the amount of work he’s put into his life already.

“You gonna keep staring at it with your mouth open? Or are you gonna use that pretty little mouth of yours up to some good use?” He says standing there in all his glory. I slip over the edge of the tub, half my body still sits in the water. My knees hitting the edge of the inner tub, nipples taught at the coolness of the surrounding air as I grab a hold of Joel cock. I had dreams about this, dreams of sucking him off, dreams of holding him in my hands, dreams of the way he’d taste, of the way he’d sound. Nothing is better then the real thing though. The weight of his cock on my hand is different then I’ve ever felt. A strong hand combs through my wet pool hair. “Come on darlin’ don’t keep me waiting.” He says gently.

I nod because there aren’t words to describe the feelings that are currently wrapping their way around my lungs. I lean forward and press my lips to the head of his cock. I look up at Joel through my lashes before sucking just the head of his cock into my mouth. A slight groan falls from his lips, and it eggs me on further. I take each inch of him with a slow pace, giving myself time to let him fill my throat. I’m not even must more librality because before i know it, th hand that was gently combing through my hair is pushing me further down his cock. My nose buried in his nicely trimed pubic hair. I gag around the tight feeling of his cock in the back of my throat, holding his thighs tightly in both my hands.

Joel hands holds my hair tightly. The once gentle hand is curled around my hair and using a force I’ve only ever seen him use when he’s lifting things from his truck. Using my throat in order to get exactly what he desires. His grunts and groans are the only things I hear, music to my ears. It’s the little tiny whimper of my name that has me knowing that Joel is close. His cock twitches in the back of my throat and my eyes water at the fullness he has me feeling.

—

The water sloshes in the tub, as Joel moves us both into the tub. His back pressed against the cold porcelain. The law tub large enough to hold the both us. He doesn’t have me facing him at first. My back pressed against his chest, with his already stiff cock pressed between my wet thighs. Wet due to water, and due to the fucking my throat as just recieved. Joel plams my breasts. Teasing the stiff nipples between his fore fingers and thumbs. Rolling then and pinching at the same, it has me rockingand sqeuzzing his cock between the plusness of my thighs.

His lips connect to the side of my neck pressing soft and rough kisses into the skin. Leaving some patches with hickies. “Such a pretty women sitting on my lap.” He mutters against my skin, I let my head fall back over his shoulder and his lips find my chin. “Letting me do whatever i want to her, in her parents house.” His reminder that we are in fact in my parents house has me wetter then I’d like him to know, but my thighs sadly betray me. “Oh she’s a kinky little one isn’t she?” He says, “Spread your legs sweetheart.” He commands and follow with ease, watching as water flows over the edge a little. Suds hitting the floor, with my legs wide open one hands drops my breast and falls down the center of my stoamch and then to the center of my pussy. “Oh she loves the idea of my fuckin’ her right here in this bathtub, she loves the idea of my fuckin’ her in her parents house, what they don’t know don’t hurt ‘em.” He says as he slips two fingers in. Moans bounce of the tiled walls of the bathroom, his one finger are larger then my two fingers put together, so I can only image the way he’ll push my walls open to make room for his cock. He drops his other hands decidind it’s better to play with my pussy then my breast. With one hand pumping in and out of my pussy the other one starts with slow circles around my clit.

“You’re so wet Y/n, hmm how long have you been thinkin’ about me fuckin’ you?” He asks, his breath steady in comparison to mine, I can barely keep up, i roll my lips together before opening my mouth but all that falls out is moans of satisfation. “Answer me darlin’ or I won’t let you cum.” His words get my attention, and for a second I have to think. “Since I was in highschool.” I manage to get out. “Hmm such a dirty fuckin’ slut thinking about her dads best friend fuckin’ her.” his words have me squeezing his fingers in my pussy. “It’s okay baby, I’ve been thinkin’ about doing this since two summers ago.” His confession sends me over the edge. Into a white hot ecstasy. Joels fingers slide out with ease, and his other rest gives my sensitive clit a rest. Kissing my shoudler and back gentle as I come down from my high.

When I regain a portion of my brain I don’t give him much time to ask me many questions. I grab his cock and postion myself. Letting the head of his cock notch at my entrance. “Oh fuck sweetheart” Joel groans out his grip on my hips grows tight. “Wait.” He says, but I don’t listen, I’m absolutely consumed by the feeling of his cock around my pussy. I feel full and content with his cock complelty in my pussy. “Damn it Y/n, I said wait.” He shouts, “What? You don’t wanna be deep inside me anymore?” I tease. I can hear Joel gridding his molars together. “No I just wanted to make ure that you were on birth control you brat.” oh I bite my lip and nod my head. “Words darlin’ words.” “Yes, so you can cum as deep as you want Joel.” Theres an undeinable smile on his face, as he sets an unforgiving pace.

Water pools around the clawfoot tub as Joel pushes me forward. My hands gripping the tub as the sound of skin slapping bounces off the walls around us. The blinds opne but the summer streets empty. “Joel anybody would see us!” I moan as he wraps a large around the back of my neck forcing my to look towards the window. “Oh darlin’ I’m kinda hoping gets to see the sort of show you put on. Your ass so high up in the air, tits boucing and making mess around my cock. I bet I can make you cum again just like this.” His pace somehow gets faster and harder.

“Yeah, I can feel you squeezin’ my cock.” Joel mutters, “Wait I wanna…” My words die in my thaort as his other hand comes down between my legs and plays with my clit. A few circles and a few pinches “Wiat Joel please…” “Hmm what do you want now princess?” He asks through his own grunts of passion. “I wanna cum with you, please Joel cum inside me with me??!” I beg him, “Alright… alright princess, you can cum with me but you better be ready when I am.” He says, “I will be I will be Joel just pelase make me cum daddy.” Something in Joel must break, or maybe it was already broken because the pace he sets now is body breaking. My knuckles are white, and my mouth is just hanging open. “Come on princess squeeze my cock like a good little girl, and then I’ll give it you. Pump you full with my seed.” His words push me over the edge and with that my second orgasm rolls over my shoudlers. Joel pumps a few more times deep inside before he slips out and falls gracefully to the tubs floor.

We sit in silence for a moment. Joels words are the first thing that hit the sex smelling air. “This by the way sweertheart. Is NOT a one time deal.” he says grabbing my hips and pulling back down into his hold. We sit until the water goes cold, and or skin is wrinkly. “I’ll clean up after we get you somethin’ to eat missy.” He says wrapping the towels around my tired frame. I only nod unwilling to disturbe the peace of the moment.

Completed on: 04/10/24

Posted on: 04/13/24

Joel Miller-

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lowkeyremi · 2 months

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"DADDY I THREW UP"

How they react when their little ones throw up ! (we all know gojo is gonna be overreacting) ft. gojo, geto, choso, toji, and nanami

content: TW: vomit, no curse!au fluff, established relationship (marriage), children, families. (divider by kim jiho) same kids from jjk men as dads

Gojo Satoru

Satoru's on daddy duty for the next week and a half while you're gone, and so far he's actually doing quite well. Currently, he's making dinner from a simple recipe in the recipe book you've been making throughout the last few years.

Two year old Kenji waddles into the kitchen and tugs on Satoru's sweatpants. His head whips around to look down at his little mini-me.

"Hey Kenji, what's up little guy?" He puts his attention back on the wok with noodles in it to make sure he doesn't burn dinner. As he's stirring the food around with chopsticks Kenji starts to form a sentence, "Um.. throw up."

Satoru freezes. "W-what?" He knows exactly what Kenji said but he's scared to turn around. Kenji whines a little bit, "Throw up. Kenji throw up." Usually Satoru would find his toddler's 3rd person speaking cute but right now he feels himself breaking out into a cold sweat.

"Oh... um.. It's okay? Where is it?" Kenji's little feet waddle away from the kitchen expecting his daddy to follow after him. Satoru turns the heat down to low so the food won't burn, and follows his little boy to the 'crime scene'.

Kenji sticks his thumb in his little mouth and points to the throw up on the carpet.

"O-oh god, I think I'm gonna-" He gags and runs into the bathroom. Nothing comes from his mouth so he shudders. He needs to calm down, it's just a little throw up from his own kin, he'll be alright. The faucet runs and he splashes some water on his face.

"I can do this. I can do this. I can-" He hears the telltale sign of someone throwing up. Kenji is definitely sick. The throw up is followed by loud crying. Satoru's dad instincts kick in and he runs back over to where his little boy is.

"Hey, hey, hey, little guy. It's gonna be okay. Let's get you a bath, then I'll call mommy, okay?" Kenji nods. It breaks Satoru's heart hearing those little sniffles that leave his baby boy.

Geto Suguru

"PAPAAAAA!!!! Hana threw up!!!" Suguru looks at you and you stare right back.

"Don't look at me, I cleaned Hana's vomit yesterday while you were working late." He fights the urge to roll his eyes at you, because you're being childish in his mind.

Suguru makes his way to the kitchen so he can get the carpet cleaning spray out of the cabinet. "Fucking hell." He mumbles without realizing his six year old daughter was near by.

She gasps dramatically before yelling, "OOOOOO PAPA SAID A BAD WORD!!!" He screws his eyes shut, agitation was slowly seeping in.

"I'll put a dollar in the jar, but please stop screaming, Kana. Your sister doesn't feel good and the screaming is hurting Papa's head." He has retrieved the spray and a damp rag to clean up the soiled spot on the carpet.

"Sorry Papa." Kana's voice is lowered drastically. Being a curious little thing she follows her father to go check up on her little twin sister.

"You alright, princess?" Suguru sits close to her little pink bed and poor little Hana shakes her head 'no'.

"I don't feel good, Papa." She whines quietly. Suguru can tell by the way her eyes water, the sweat beads grow on her forehead and the way she frowns deeply that she definitely is sick.

"Why don't you go brush your teeth for me, princess? Then Papa will get you some medicine." Suguru understands his daughter very well. He'd always get sick while eating curses, sometimes they were so bad he would vomit all over the place. LOLLL no curse au so he aint gotta suffer.

She nods hopping from her bed to go brush her teeth in the bathroom. Suguru gets to work cleaning up the carpet.

Kamo Choso

Ryuji's school had called you because your boy threw up in school, which he was very embarrassed about because elementary schoolers always know how to make a big deal out of something small. Many children were crowding your son where he threw up some gasped in horror others laughed. Luckily the teachers were able to get the students under control once more.

They sent him to the nurse and she dialed you, "I'm so sorry, baby. Mom's out of town, give the phone back to the nurse so I can give her dad's number, okay?" He utters a quiet response before handing the phone over.

You chat with the nurse for a little bit giving her the information she needed then you told your son goodbye and hung up.

The nurse is quick to dial Choso and he picks up after the fourth ring. "Good morning, Sir. I'm calling because your son Ryuji Kamo threw up and he isn't feeling too good. We called Mom but she said she won't be able to come pick him up. Do you think you could check him out or do you have another trusted family member who could pick him up?" She's got a pen and notepad ready to write down another number if Choso couldn't make it.

"Oh dear, yeah I'll be there in about twenty minutes. Is his stuff packed already or..." He trails phone pressed to his ear, he hadn't been doing anything too important since he'd already finished up his meeting.

"No Sir, we'll send him right up to pack up. He'll be waiting for you in the main office."

"Alright, thank you." Choso's starting to worry, does he need to take Ryuji to the doctor? Should he stop at the grocery store and get soup? Should he make soup? Do you have kids cold/flu medicine at home? Your husband can't remember the last time Ryuji had vomited and he's pretty sure you'd taken care of it anyway.

"Hey Siri, how do I take care of my sick son?" She responds with 'here's what I found' he quickly scans over an article and the main idea is comfort him, make him something light, make sure he's hydrated, and gets plenty of rest. He could do that. Choso's not the best at emotions but he'll do what he can for his boy.

Eventually the two make it home, and Choso is quick to act. "Change into your pjs and I'll get you some medicine. How do you feel?" He needs a basic idea of what he's dealing with.

"My stomach reallyyyyyyy hurts." He whines holding his abdomen area tightly.

"Like you need to go to the bathroom kind of hurt?" Choso thinks it might be a stomach bug because his so shakes his head 'no'.

"Nuh uh, feels like someone is stabbing me in the stomach." His brows knit and a frown covers his face. it hurts to see his son suffering.

"Alright, I've got you kiddo. I'll take care of you." He promises to his growing boy.

"Thanks dad."

Fushiguro Toji

"Dad come look! I threw up! It's so cool!" Four year old Yui says, which is odd, no normal little kid is happy after throwing up so Toji is suspicious.

"Tell your brother to clean it up." Yui crosses her little arms and pouts.

"I already told Megumi and Nami!! They told me to go tell you!!!" He doesn't want to clean it up. He already has his work cutting out for him changing his newborn's diapers, cleaning up vomit was not on his list of to dos.

He would have told her to go ask you to clean it up but it's sunday and you usually go out for brunch with your friends. So, unless he somehow coaxed his stubborn son, Megumi, he'd have to do it himself.

When he finally reaches the bathroom, he groans in annoyance at how she just barely missed the toilet had she run a little faster she would have made it. To make matters worse it looks like she tried to clean it up herself and just spread it all everywhere.

"Oh, Sprinkles threw up too! Cuz he ate some of mine."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" A deep unsettling groan rips from his throat. Yui finds the whole ordeal funny, she's giggling and cooing at her father.

Bonus: A few days later you're walking past Yui's room and you hear her yell, "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

You instantly stop, "Excuse you little girl, who did you hear say that?"

"Dad said it when he had to clean up my throw up!!" She smiles brightly at you. She's so innocent she doesn't fully understand the weight of what she's said.

"That's a bad word sweet girl. Don't say that anymore, got it?"

You're given a little nod to indicate she understands.

"TOJI WHERE ARE YOU?!" He's about to get an earful from you.

Nanami Kento:

"Hey guys, I came as soon as I could." You exhale deeply as you set your keys on the rack and slip off your shoes. Kento had picked up your son because the school called saying he'd thrown up.

Kento appears from the hallway with a finger on his lip telling you to "shh".

You lower your voice to a whisper, "Is Hiro alright?" Kento walks up to you and gives you a comforting hug which you really needed.

"Yeah he's resting right now. He threw up in the car. Twice. I was going to go clean it up right now. Emmie should be waking up from her nap soon, though." You're so grateful to have a husband you can rely on in a time of need.

When Hiro's school had called you, you were in the middle of a very important meeting so you couldn't leave. Nanami had left work early to go pick up your son.

His smile is so intoxicating. You pull him by his collar and make his lips meet yours. He immediately reciprocates by bringing his hands up to cup your cheeks and kiss you back.

"Thank you, baby." His eyes are so beautiful and if you didn't have to go make sure to be there for your baby girl you would have continued to stare at them.

"Of course my love. Parenting is a two person thing for a reason."

"I bet by next week we'll be sick too." You say chuckling dryly.

"Most likely, yeah." He says shaking his head. He begrudgingly walks out to his car to clean up the vomit in the backseat.

#jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen x reader #dad!au #jjk!dads #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #choso x reader #toji x reader #nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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octoberautumnbox · 2 months

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The Cute and Caring Noona from Apartment 424

CLC/Kep1er Choi Yujin & Male Reader

Categories/warnings: smut, older girl, undisclosed age gap (nothing creepy tho), soft dom Yujin, titsucking, nursing handjob, cowgirl, creampie, breeding, overstimulation a lil bit

Word count: 3.5k

a/n: discordant waltz chapter alr planned out dw i just wanted to switch things up a lil, this was a blast to write :D

“Hey, so good to see you! Come in!”

You take off your shoes and Yujin pulls you in for a hug. The aroma of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies fills your nostrils and sends your stomach growling.

“Hi, Noona. It's great to see you again.” You back away from the hug, but Yujin keeps you within arm's length with her dainty hands on your shoulders. You admire her simple yet adorable outfit, which only compliments her bright personality.

“Take a seat, cookies are still cooling down but dinner is ready!”

She plops you down at the dining table and sets your plate and silverware. While she buzzes from cupboard to table and back, you draw your eyes from one tiny dish to the next. Kimchi, lettuce leaves, cheese cubes, the works. At the center of the table is a small grill, with a pan sitting on top and evidently expensive cuts of beef like what they go crazy for in variety shows sizzling enticingly.

You keep from drooling at the last second at the feast before you, and you manage to choke out, “Wow, are we expecting more people, Noona? This looks delicious.”

“No, just the two of us,” Yujin says cheerfully as she places your chopsticks at the right side of your plate. “Too much?”

“Way too much! You really pamper me whenever I come by. Thanks, Yujin-noona.”

She chuckles cutely while covering her mouth with a finger. “You visit too rarely for a neighbor. Come by more often and I can tone down the food, okay?”

She takes her seat next to you and squeezes your hand. Skillfully and quickly, she picks up a piece of beef from the pan, a leaf of lettuce, just the right amount of kimchi, a leaf of perilla, and finally a cube of cheese. She presents you with the expertly made wrap and brings it to your mouth, saying “Ahhh.”

~~~

She sets the plate of cookies on the coffee table in front of you as you offer her the other half of the blanket. She joins you on the couch and shuffles right up to you, placing her head on your shoulder and bringing your arm around her.

The movie starts playing and the necessary studio intro clips crescendo onto the screen. “This is one of my favorites. You'll love it too.” She snuggles more comfortably into your side and sighs a breath of relaxation. Squeeze her shoulder, tell her wordlessly that you're excited to love this movie as well.

~~~

You come to, and groggily you look around. It's of little help, as the TV shut itself off sometime ago and the lights are all out. You feel a shifting weight beside you and your face suddenly fills with a scratchy texture and the sweetest scent you've probably ever smelled in your life, no doubt a faceful of your neighbor’s hair.

“Yujin-noona, wake up. We fell asleep and the movie's over.”

You try to shake her awake gently, and it works. Yujin sits up slowly and tries checking the time on her phone. After the initial short-lived blindness, she sets it down and rubs her eyes.

“It's late. Sleep over. No buts.” Knowing you had no choice, you submit and help her help you walk and stumble yourselves up the stairs and to her bedroom.

She plugs a star-shaped night light into a low wall socket and the pair of you fall into the bed. You cuddle into her side this time and she graciously wraps you in her arms. The smell of her hair and her bedsheets fill your nostrils again with a calming fragrance.

However, in an act of dastardly betrayal, your brain for whatever reason thinks your sweet beloved neighbor Yujin-noona is… something more. As you take in more and more of her scent, and gaze up from her side to see the way her eyes are shut lighty and her lips are slightly parted as light snores slip through, your heart beats a different rhythm as if just now realizing and admiring the beauty that is Choi Yujin.

“This can’t possibly be,” you think to yourself, “she’s my neighbor and very close friend. I shouldn’t be thinking about her like this.” You continue to fight down your subconscious feelings from bubbling up into your conscious mind, but the fullness of your tummy and the comfiness of the way you’re in bed with her prove it a challenge.

“Something wrong? What are you thinking about?” You’re taken aback by Yujin’s sudden words. “Are you okay? Tell Yujin-noona what you need.” She rubs her eyes again and meets your gaze. In possibly the worst stroke of luck you could ever have had in this life, as she negotiates her hand back under the covers, she comes into light contact with you in the middle of you pitching a tent in your pants.

“... Oh.” is all Yujin could get out before you turn beet-red and stutter your apologies.

“Shit, Noona, I’m so sorry! I- I should go- I’m sorry.” Your mind fills with shame at how you’ve ruined such a nice and pure friendship with your lovely neighbor. You try to stumble out from under the blanket, pushing Yujin away, but once again she places her dainty hand on your shoulder.

“Stop that right now. Come here.” Her command is mild but assertive. She lifts up the blanket to welcome you back, patting the space beside her in her bed. You sheepishly rejoin her under the fluffy covers, but before you settle, she makes another set of commands.

“This is my house, so for me to be a good host, you will tell me anything and everything you need. That includes this,” she whispers breathily, palming the growing bulge in your pants, “Most. Of. All.”

You can do nothing but whimper at her unrelenting touch. It doesn’t help that she’s already fiddling with the waistband of your underwear and wrestling it out of her way. What’s worse, your position in bed with her makes it impossible for you to look anywhere but to meet her eyes, or maybe…

“Use your words, baby boy, tell Noona exactly what you need.” An evil grin forms across her mouth, painting her features with a sinister shade of lust.

“Noona… Could you please…” The words barely struggle out of your mouth, and even then you’re not saying anything of value. Yujin only chuckles more, covering her mouth with one finger, before prodding you incrementally yet ever closer to the edge.

“I can’t read minds, baby boy. You’re going to have to do better than that.”

“Noona, your… your top, please. Take it off.” Wide-eyed, you watch as she grabs the piece of clothing by the hem and starts pulling up. Her belly button comes into your view as she goes on tantalizingly slowly revealing more of her creamy skin to your hungry eyes.

The top then clears past her ribs, and she slows down ever so slightly, keeping you on the edge. You choose to relieve some of the pressure in your crotch yourself by stroking your dick to the unbelievably lewd sight, but Yujin has other plans.

“No, bad boy. Only Noona gets to play with that tonight.” In saying so, she lets go of her top, covering everything she showed you so far, to swat your hands away from masturbating. A deep sense of regret fills you, knowing that only you could be blamed for delaying your pleasure. However, Yujin seems satisfied that you learned your lesson and resumes her striptease.

She reaches a critical point in her teasing, bunching up all of the fabric so far right under her boobs. Her nipples poke through the thin fabric, and you fight the urge to just dive into her tits and ravage them to your heart’s desire. She relishes in the burning gaze you’re subjecting her to, as if getting off to being ogled by her neighbor and best friend. She grows a few shades redder in the face to match yours, but ultimately she pulls her top up past her breasts, freeing them and letting them bounce. With the top now only covering her neck and shoulders, she opts to tease you more:

“Like what you see?” she asks sultrily while winking at you. She cups each of her tits with her hands, presenting them to you, and tweaking her nipples to get them hard for you. Yujin takes her lower lip between her teeth, obviously growing more and more aroused at the thought of letting you take her right then and there.

You try to find some spit in your mouth to swallow, but it’s dry as a desert and you’re left breathless instead. You swear that you could just die right there and be happy with the life you’ve lived so far, and with how your noona is treating you, you just might actually pass.

“Baby boy, I’ll say again: Tell Noona exactly what you need.” Her top finally leaves her body and she shows herself off to you. Her fingers snake through her hair and you’re blessed with an unobstructed view of the most luscious tits you’ve ever seen.

“I want…” You try forcing words out of your mouth again, but Yujin makes the job (and you) so extremely hard. “I want to suck your tits.”

“Not with that attitude, mister. I am your Noona and you will speak to me with respect.” She’s got you now, her deadly scold wringing your neck and cutting off what little airflow your lungs had. You’re left with no choice; submit to her will.

“Yujin-noona, please let me suck your tits, please…” Your tongue hangs out of your mouth, anticipating the imminent pleasure of her boobs on your face. It means the world to you when she places a hand behind your head and pulls you closer.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it, baby boy? Say ahhh…” You follow her command and she gently pushes her left breast into your mouth. Her skin tastes delicious, and her nipple is just the right stiffness to lick and nibble and worship.

She guides you to a more comfortable position, and you find yourself laying down while Yujin is on her side, still with her boob in your mouth, while she pulls your arm towards her right boob to fondle and grope as you please.

“Is my precious baby boy comfy?” she asks much too cutely for what she’s making you do to her. “Yesh noona, ahm conhfy…” you mutter out with your tongue still wrapped around her nipple.

“Good boy…” she moans breathily. While you’re taking your fill of her perfect body, she makes her desires known: she wants you too.

Yujin finds your cock again and strokes it through your pants. “Baby boy, do me a favor, would you?” Her request makes itself apparent with the way she’s reaching under your waistband, and you could do nothing but oblige and strip yourself as quickly as possible of both pants and underwear.

“My perfect baby boy…” Her tone is laced with venom as your musk reaches her nostrils. She places a fingertip on the slit of your cock and spreads your precum all over the head. “What I’d give to do to your cock what you’re doing to my tits right now…”

Her pace speeds up, and while you have half a mind to ask her to slow down, you know you have no right to ask her of that. Instead, you go for the next best thing.

“Yujin-noona,” you surrender, her breast falling out of your mouth and onto your cheek, “could you please let me fuck your pussy?”

She chuckles again, but more evilly this time. “Of course, my sweet baby boy, but you’re gonna have to follow my lead.”

“Anything for you, Noona.”

She places you properly down onto the bed, making sure you’re comfy, and plants a kiss on your cheek. She forces you to watch, with a hand on your cheek guiding your face, as she peels off her shorts to show you more of her skin: her smooth legs, creamy thighs, and plump ass you now have the pleasure to grope as much as she’s willing to let you. She climbs on top of and straddles you, the large wet spot on her pink-and-white striped panties nearly leaking her juices onto her thighs, before she takes your hard and throbbing cock into her hands again.

“Will you be my good baby boy, sweetheart?” She spits into her hand and rubs it all over your dick, causing you to groan in pleasure.

“Yes…” “Yes, what, hmm?”

“... Yes, noona, I’ll be your good baby boy…”

“Perfect, just what I wanted to hear.” She pulls her panties to the side and rubs the head of your cock against her soaked folds. The heat radiating from her sex spurs you on even more, the delayed gratification of slipping into her causing your breaths to heave. Yujin takes on sharp inhales and slow exhales as well each time she teases her clit with your head.

Deciding to finish teasing you, Yujin finally gives you what you’re craving. She sinks down slowly onto your cock, making sure to feel every single vein inside her. Her descent is slow and deliberate and you watch as more and more of your length slips past her pussy lips and into her tight cunt.

“Ffffuck, baby boy, you’re going to split me in half with a cock like this…”

It starts to overwhelm you: the warmth from her slick, the tightness of her cunt, the clenching of her walls against your cock as if desperate for a climax as early as this. You surely want your noona like this for much longer than just a few seconds more, but you’re in absolutely no control at all.

“Baby boy, tell me if you’re close, okay?” You nod furiously, and Yujin drops herself violently onto your crotch, pushing every last inch of your cock into her cunt. “Ah, fuck! Yes, baby boy, fuck me with this thick cock of yours!”

Grab her tiny waist, feel her smooth skin, pull her up ever so slightly. Then, pull her back down onto your dick, feeling her walls clench around you so needily again. The pair of you find a rhythm, and not long after, Yujin herself bounces up and down on your shaft like a pogo stick.

“Shit, baby boy, you feel so fucking good!” She somehow finds little adjustments that push you deeper and deeper into her cunt, and in turn you hit her good spots more and more. It gets progressively more difficult to keep from creampie-ing her right then and there, but you fight for more time to receive her love.

With every thrust into her core, Yujin falters ever so slightly. You notice between her lewd moans and grunts that she’s arching forward, slowly but surely bringing her closer and closer to you. Eventually she gives up trying to stay upright, and she falls forward only to catch herself with her elbows planting deep into the mattress on either side of your head.

“Tempting, no? Hah, hah, come on, my sweet, good baby boy, give ‘em a little suck.” Barely registering the lewd words coming out of her mouth, you take her right nipple in between your teeth. Tug respectfully, but tug hard. The sensation of your teeth on her sensitive nub drives her insane, bringing her to the heights of her pleasure, and somehow even higher still. She lets you know just how blissful she is with groans and pleas you can’t help but indulge.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re killing me! My god, yes, please, harder,” and many more nonsense filler words spill from her mouth while you fill her cunt again and again and again. The more she rides you, the more her sweet and tight cunt leaks her juices all over her bed, causing the wet spot to make itself known to you once it grew big enough under her. At the same time, you struggle harder and harder to get your own body under control, fighting back your orgasm for just a bit more time with her like this, just a bit more.

“N- Noona, it feels so good, you feel so fucking good on my cock, Yujin-noona…” You’re completely at her mercy, and her mercy is heaven. With every bounce she makes on your cock you grow harder and hornier for her, only to be welcomed into what might be the wettest, neediest, fullest pussy in the world. You can’t get enough of her: not your cock pistoning into her cunt and poking at the entrance to her womb, not your mouth sucking and biting desperately at the flesh of her perky tits, not your hands roaming all over her body and groping every part of her you can.

“Baby boy, you’re making Noona feel so fucking good too,” she confesses hazily, and only then you notice that her eyes are falling half–shut and her straining to keep riding you. Her thighs are jiggling with her trembling core, and you figure out that she’s been spraying her girlcum all over your crotch for who knows how long now.

Her pussy only serves your cock so much better now, wetter and slicker and definitely tighter with how her pussy refuses to let you go. The feeling of her hips convulsing against you almost nearly pushes you over the edge yourself, you’re trying so hard to hold off, but she’s so cute and caring, and she’s so fucking hot…

“Noona, I- I’m so fucking close, Noona!” But Yujin is long gone, lost in her continuous orgasm, doomed to keep leaking from her cunt and mouth and riding you without her better judgment to stop. Wherever Yujin is in the confines of her mind must be drowning in pleasure to keep fucking herself on you like this.

You’re gone too, as even though you know it wouldn’t be that hard to pull her tight body off you yourself, you’re completely in love with the idea of cumming just like this. Your cock buried deep inside your friendly neighbor Choi Yujin, who fed you, hung out with you, treated you like a real brother, only to take advantage of her dazed state of mind to paint her velvet walls white with your cum, filling her to the brim with your baby-making seed, subjecting her to the motherhood of your child…

“Baby boy, do it, shoot all of it inside, sweetheart. Fill Noona up. It’s okay.” On primal instinct, you let out a low growl and grip her ass roughly. Only now do you notice how much she was moaning loudly right into your ear, tinnitus ringing a high-pitched and dizzying tone that wouldn’t stop. Your arms and legs burn with how hard and fast you’re manhandling Yujin’s body, fucking her like a wild animal that knew nothing but sex. She hasn’t stopped orgasming, you feel her slick spread more over your crotch. Her elbows finally give out and she collapses onto you, fully vulnerable to you.

“I’m Noona’s good baby boy” is your last thought before your orgasm takes over your mind. Thrust deeper than ever into her core, shoot your seed straight into her womb. Her strained voice makes one final effort to scream her earth-shattering ecstasy as each spurt of your spunk shoves itself into her, eventually forcing her cunt to leak both her and your cum out in globs. You even lose yourself in the throes of pleasure and forget that you might be hurting her; all you need to know is that her body is yours to use and breed as you like. Keep pistoning into her all the while your cock sprays your love deep into her fertile body, one spurt, two, three, five, eight, eleven, before you lose count and just focus on feeling good with your cute and caring noona.

Once the world stops spinning and calms down, you find yourself dizzy and gasping for air through a dry-as-a-desert mouth. With fatigue plaguing every part of your body, you can’t even find the strength to get into a less uncomfortable position. Your eyes try to drift lazily across the ceiling, getting your bearings, but Yujin has one last command for you.

“My sweet baby boy, you did so well for Noona. Get your rest, baby.” She places her hand on your eyes, pushing them shut. She keeps her hand there, making sure you don’t open your eyes again while you feel her lips planting kisses on your face, trailing a line from your cheek to your neck. Finally, she licks and then nibbles your lower lip lightly, rewarding you for doing such a good job.

“B-but what about the mess? And you might get preg–” “Shush now, let Noona worry about that, okay? Sweet dreams, baby boy.”

You stand no chance against her; your fatigue takes over your body and the calmness of the air lulls you into a sense of serenity. As the final nail in the coffin, Yujin refuses to get off of you despite your best attempts at pulling out and pushing her off. Without even realizing it, you fall deep asleep amidst her comforting weight, tender kisses, and soft coos.

~~~

a/n: i went into this fic blind actually. only when I was about half done did I think to check if yujin was actually good at cooking at all but turns out shes not :/

#girl group smut #kpop smut #kep1er smut #clc cmut #choi yujin smut

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actuallysaiyan · 1 month

Text

Sleepless Night(Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader)

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, somnophilia, creampie finish, slight dub-con if you squint but there is consent, sex

word count: 1.2k

pairings: Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader

summary: Kento can't sleep and his cock is so hard...so he just decides to take matters into his own hands and fucks you through the night

a/n: This is inspired by the very lovely artwork that @kentosmoon has created that I cannot post here, but I took one look at it and was so inspired! Please, go check them out and go check out their twitter page too ;) You'll find the artwork in question.

taglist: @beneathstarryskies @an-ever-angry-bi @seireiteihellbutterfly

It’s late and Kento can’t sleep. He can’t sleep despite the fact that he knows he’ll have to wake up early. It’s been a long time since he was plagued with such an intense bout of insomnia. He should be sleeping. You’re right here next to him. Dressed in one of his old t-shirts and snoring lightly, this should comfort him more than anything.He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

His amber eyes seek his phone in the darkness. His long arm reaches over towards the bedside table. He sighs when the screen reads 3:05 am. It’s too late to even think about getting a good night’s sleep. You both had retired to the bedroom around 10 pm, and yet he tossed and turned for so long. He sets the phone down and then snuggles closer to you, hoping your warmth will bring him some relief.

Then another annoyance washes over him. Just smelling you and being this close to you causes his cock to twitch a few times. He closes his eyes, choosing to ignore the deep desire inside of him instead. Eventually, he feels himself dozing off. That is…until you lean back into him, pressing that plump ass of yours against his half-hard cock.

“Shit…” Kento hisses.

He knows it’s not your fault. You’re sleeping, after all. But this has just woken him up even more. It’s late and he’s supposed to be at work around 7 tomorrow. There’s just no way he’ll make it in. He thinks to himself that he’d rather deal with this issue and pleasure you both and call in sick. Kento begins to grind against your ass, his arm wrapping around you again to pull you in even closer to him.

“Hey…” he whispers softly in your ear.

You don’t wake up. He continues grinding against you, his cock growing hard as he continues. There’s a wet spot forming on the front of his silky pajamas from all the precum he’s spilling out. Kento grunts again when you move against him. Then he hears you moaning.

“Hey baby,” he whispers once more.

“Mmm…Ken?” you ask, your voice full of sleep.

He grunts once more as you move closer to him, your hips wiggling just a bit to get into a more comfortable position. You must be too deep in your sleepy state to even notice just how his hard cock is pressing up against your ass. He grinds against you a few more times, then he leans in to nip at your earlobe.

“Can I please…please…fuck you while you sleep? Please?”

Your eyes shoot open, but soon you’re hit with another bout of sleepiness. You want to be more awake, but you’re struggling. Just the thought of him fucking you while you sleep causes a heat to spread deep in your loins.

You feel his hand coming down between your thighs, and he pushes them open just a bit. His long fingers part your thighs, making you mewl so sleepily. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, nipping and sucking on your pulse points.

“Can I? Please, honey…don’t make me beg. I just can’t sleep and I…”

You look over your shoulder at him, “Yes, you can. Fuck me.”

He sighs contentedly and lifts your leg a little bit to give him even more room. You close your eyes once more, and you feel him shuffling behind you. Then you gasp softly when the head of his cock prods your entrance. Slowly, he slips into you. The stretch is immediate and your little cunt flutters to try and adjust around his thick size.

“That’s it,” he murmurs against your neck. “Taking me so well, sweetheart.”

He begins rocking his hips so sensually and so slowly. The head of his cock kisses your cervix every time he buries himself so deeply into you. Your eyes open for a moment, only catching the blurry vision of your phone showing you the time. It’s late, but you know your husband never asks you for this sort of request unless he needs it to sleep.

Kento continues to pump into you, his cock feeling so sensitive with every single thrust. It feels heavenly to be buried so deep in your cunt. You grip him in the best way possible, and you’re always so wet and so warm just for him. He could stay buried in your heat for the rest of eternity if it was up to him.

He continues to fuck you, making sure you’re comfortable within every position change. He manhandles you with great care and makes sure you’re so comfortable. Soon, he feels his balls drawing up and he’s grunting quietly as the pleasure builds faster and faster.

“Fuck!” He cries out, and your eyes open just a bit. You become aware of the “pap, pap, pap” sound of your skin slapping together.

Within seconds, Kento is emptying himself into you, grunting and growling. You can hear the words he says, but only just vaguely as you’re still so sleepy. Warmth fills your cunt as Kento empties his balls deep inside of you.

“That’s such a good girl,” he groans softly.

You whine softly, your eyes feeling so heavy. Soon, you’re drifting off to sleep again. Kento maneuvers you both so that you’re lying on your back. He spreads your thighs so carefully, getting an eyeful of the cum spilling out from your puffy folds. He’s tempted to lean in and clean it up with his tongue, but he won’t do that just yet.

Kento slides into you until his balls are plush against your ass. As he does this, he gets a look at your phone and notices he’s been fucking you for almost fourty minutes now. It feels much too good to stop. He wants to fuck you all morning now, well into the sunrise and passed that.

“Just—hnng, five more minutes.” He lies to you, but he knows you need to have some sort of idea how long this is going to take,

You nod your head sleepily, falling back into that half-asleep state you’ve been in this entire time. Something about doing something so taboo and naughty really turns him on. Kento leans in to kiss your lips, making you moan out just for him. Then he begins rutting against you, pushing in so deep.

Minutes pass as he continues to fuck himself so deeply into you. Every so often he tries to edge himself to prolong this, but it becomes even harder with every intense orgasm he feels. He gets you off a few times as well, rubbing your swollen clit that’s just begging to be stimulated.

It’s nearly 6am the next time he fills you up, and he’s staying so deep inside of you. He grunts that he’s cumming in your ear, and you blink awake. It’s so sticky between your legs and the sheets beneath you feel wet and full of cum and juices. You look into his beautiful eyes, all full of love, lust and a touch of exhaustion.

“No sense of stopping now,” you whisper as you two share a kiss. “Let’s keep going…”

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bumblequinn · 6 months

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hi @sourpatchsquids! thank you for your question.

as an artist with ADHD, i know this struggle very well. unfortunately offering advice on this kind of thing can be tricky, because what works for me may not work for you (and vice versa!). nonetheless, i can try; take whatever works for you, forget the rest, or reshape any part of it as you see fit. :)

but before i offer any actual tools, i have one caveat. i want you to take a moment to reflect and consider if you should be:

changing expectations

the timing of this question seems fated, because just the other day i had a therapy session wherein i expressed my grief and frustration over struggling to work lately due to my seasonal depression. it's not fair that i'm struggling just because it got a little darker outside! i just want the spark i had in the summer! i was so much more consistent!

my therapist's response: nothing about human beings is consistent. we get sick, we get tired, we get hungry and thirsty (and thirsty) and sad and lonely and restless and stressed and overwhelmed. this all gets amplified for folks who are atypical in some way or another.

when my therapist compared our seasonal cycles to those of plants and other animals, who wilt and slow down and hibernate, i protested aloud that i wanted to be a perennial instead. at this she said: even perennials change with the seasons. rose bushes have to be pruned, sometimes down to half their height! it was a dose of perspective i didn't particularly want, but really needed.

so when you're struggling to work through executive dysfunction, burnout, or brain fog, it can help to first check in with yourself about a few things. what do you have the capacity for right now? do you need any accommodation? and if so, what changes you might make to accommodate yourself?

with practice and self reflection, i've learned a handful of specific routines that help me when i'm struggling with creative work, which i'll detail next. note that while your question is specifically about music and i am specifically a musician, i believe that all of these suggestions can apply to most any form of digital creative work.

with that in mind:

#1: work slower

when i'm at the top of my game, i can get a LOT done in a day. but when i'm depressed, fatigued, or distracted, i just can't go full steam. sometimes i'll try to convince myself that i can if i just push harder, but what actually ends up happening is that i'm just fiddling with settings and going in circles rather than moving forward.

instead of that, when i want to work a lot but can't, i try to work slow. how slow? however slow i need to. take four hours to figure out the melody for a single verse. take all day to figure out that drum groove. yeah, i take a lot of breaks in between. who says i have to be my Absolute Most Productive Every Day Or Else? that's the puritan work ethic talking. kill it. be kind to yourself.

i'm reminded of advice i once read about some super successful and prolific author (gaiman? king? pratchett?) who said they wrote only four hundred words every weekday. that's already less than the word count of this post, and i'm only—[travels into the future to check my final word count]... 22.8% of the way through writing it!

now, i don't think i could function that way, because ADHD means some days i'm hyperfocused like crazy, and other days i just have no steam at all (more on that in #4-6). but it seems to me that if even someone highly respected in their profession can achieve what they have with only a little bit of work on a regular basis, maybe i don't have to punish myself for not pumping out a finished work every single week.

doing less work per day means you're much less likely to burn out, which does a lot for working more consistently. if that consistency still doesn't look like a five-day work week, that's okay! as long as it helps you work even a little more often when you want to, it's something worth doing.

however, if you're still feeling truly stuck, all hope isn't lost. you can still try:

#2: switch projects

sometimes the reason i'm moving slow is because of a bad brain day, but sometimes the reason is that i just cannot muster the motivation to do the specific task i'm trying to do right now. ADHD is fueled by novelty and interest, and if i'm not interested in what i'm doing, or it's feeling stale, that's a sign that i need to switch gears.

this is why first it's helpful for me to have more than one project going at a time. this might mean completely unrelated works, or it might just mean related tracks as with the music for a game like SLARPG or susan taxpayer.

the idea here is not to start a dozen different projects and bounce around them like i'm playing whac-a-mole—though i have done that. (i don't recommend it.) the idea here is to have a manageable number of different projects i can be working on so that if i get bored or stuck on something, i have fallback options.

what that number of projects is depends entirely on the week. maybe right now it's two, maybe another time it's three. i would probably be getting carried away if i tried more than that, but that's just my own limit. maybe yours is different. that's something for you to think about.

but it doesn't have to stop there.

#3: switch focus

maybe there is this one project that i just HAVE to work on, but the task i'm trying to do at this stage just isn't coming to me. okay, well, why don't i try working on a different task?

let's say i can't figure out what i want to do with the melody in one part of the song:

what if i try jumping ahead to a different part of the melody? ...no, i'm stumped on melodies today. okay, how about working on the drums instead? ...hmm no, i think i'm just completely tapped out on writing parts right now. alright, what if i organized my tracks, making sure they're all grouped and named in a way that i can work with easily? what if i did a rough volume balance for the mix?

and so on. if that's not enough to shake the off stuckness, i might consider: what can i do to make this project more interesting to me?

what happens if i try using an instrument or effect that i almost never reach for? what if i try sampling something obscure? what if i bang out the drums using my midi keyboard instead of drawing it in on the piano roll?

any approach that breaks me out of my usual habits is bound to get that feeling of novelty and fun back when i need it.

or maybe i can't do any of that right now, and so i take the time to answer a question from a fellow musician instead. i consider that part of my work, too, in a broader sense. check in with yourself and figure out what you can do right now. the rest will still be there later.

but okay, let's say you try switching gears, and switching again, and again, and nothing is moving. you try new approaches, but that wall of awful is insurmountable in this moment. it happens! the next thing you might try is:

#4: learn something new

when you aren't able to make progress on your projects, you can still make progress on your knowledge and craft. i often find this stokes a flame of inspiration in me where there wasn't one before. and even when it doesn't, it still gets my brain out of that feeling of stuckness and dread and into one of thought and action. learning also benefits in the long term because it adds to the well of knowledge from which you draw for all your future works.

for all the awfulness that exists on the internet, it remains an absolute treasure trove of teaching. there's an endless ocean of videos, blog posts, and articles from which you might learn something about your craft. (and if you sail the seven seas, plenty of book PDFs as well. 🦜🏴‍☠️)

it's true that the quality and depth of information out there can vary wildly, but in my experience most resources get at least some things right. and the more you research, practice, and figure out what works for you, the better you will learn to differentiate between the advice worth keeping, and the advice to forget. (that goes for all of what i'm saying here, too!)

that said, since our shared focus is music, a few resources i would highly recommend are:

music theory and composition music matters, 12tone, charles cornell, music with myles, 8-bit music theory, and this introduction by andrew huang

mixing and production dan worrall (especially this series for fabfilter), kush after hours, red means recording, andrew huang, alice yalcin efe, in the mix

general inspiration nahre sol, ben levin, david hilowitz, game score fanfare, posy, jerobeam fenderson, open reel ensemble, and ELECTRONICOS FANTASTICOS!

(if any readers have their own helpful resources for creating music or any other media, feel free to share in the replies & reblogs! 💓)

of course, on an especially bad day, it might be a challenge to seek out information, let alone retain it. that can feel pretty bad, but remember: be kind to yourself. the next thing you might consider trying is:

#5: consume art you love

not just music. books. shows. movies. games. illustration. animation. whatever moves and inspires you.

but do it intentionally. don't just pull up some random thing the algorithm suggested! check in with yourself about what you want (or are able) to engage with right now. choose accordingly. if you get a little way into it and realize it's not scratching that itch, hit the bricks. check in with yourself again. wash, rinse, repeat, until you find whatever it is that speaks to you right now.

and do it actively, if you can. don't just let it go in one eye and out the other! really pay attention to the work. what do you like about it? what are its themes and motifs? what makes it work so well? what are its flaws, and how much do they matter? what might you do differently? you can write notes as you do this if it helps, but even simply noticing and thinking goes a long way.

what you don't want to do is come at this with a lens of shame or envy. you're not here just to say to yourself, "ugh, if only i could do THAT." it's okay if it happens. use that thought as a springboard for curiosity: "well okay, how DID they do that? do i have the resources for it? if so, how could i apply that to my own work? if not, how can i adapt it, or what do i need to learn?" keep your mind open and approach the work with a sense of wonder.

as a creative person, it's very easy to think, "i should be making something right now, not watching a movie!" but that thought forgets something vital: your art is a response in a conversation. of course the "language" you use is your own, and maybe if you're lucky you'll invent a new word. but most of the words you use have been around long before you were born. you're just one voice in a dialogue that spans continents and generations, and that's okay. it's even the whole point.

none of us is an island. we are profoundly social animals. just as we can't live without eating, we can't make without learning. so half of making art is consuming it. consider this part of the process as well.

and finally,

#6: rest, and live your life

let's say you're in really dire straits. you've tried working slower. you tried changing focus, you tried changing projects. you want to take in new information or actively engage with your favorite art, but you're not in the headspace for it. what now?

take a nap. take a walk. take a shower. eat a nice meal, or an okay one. talk to a friend. maybe even do that chore you've been putting off (you know the one).

it's human to always crave making, but you're not a machine—and even if you were, machines need regular maintenance, too! you wouldn't drive a car that's completely out of gas, and you won't do yourself any favors treating your body that way either.

i know that when you take a break it feels as though you're not accomplishing anything, but you are: you're taking care of your animal self. and while you do that, your creative brain doesn't stop working! much like windows, it has countless background processes running at any given moment, with inscrutable names like "cbdhsvc_692da" or "Microsoft Edge Update Service." it's true, i checked.

when you're stuck on a project and you step away to rest, your brain is still chipping away at your ideas unconsciously. i like to tell people, "it's percolating." much like waiting for a pot of water to boil, that idea is still heating up, even when you take a step away. just be sure to check in on it once in a while. the time will pass, and it'll be boiling again before long. :)

before i go, i'll leave you with one last thing to keep in mind as you try all of these strategies:

be kind to yourself.

being human is just about one of the hardest things you can do. let alone being a human trying to survive capitalism while living with disabilities! the last thing you need on top of that is to overwork yourself, talk to yourself negatively, or treat yourself harshly. there are plenty of other people in the world who do that to you—don't be one of them.

i'm not saying that you shouldn't try to challenge yourself, to test your limits and go above and beyond your ambitions, if that's what you want to do. just remember that hard work and self compassion are not mutually exclusive. so be careful not to bully yourself. take pride in the progress you make, even when it seems small. encourage yourself like you would a friend who's going through a hard time. and when you challenge yourself, be your own cheerleader.

i hope you find this advice helpful! remember, this is just what helps me, so don't feel like you have to follow any of it exactly. maybe taking time to learn new information helps break you out of your rut more than working slowly, so you reach for that tool first. maybe having multiple projects going at once is too distracting for you, so you prefer to stick to one at a time. whatever your needs are, feel free to alter and adapt these ideas to fit you.

thank you for reading, and i wish you the best of luck in your creating.

with care, bee 🐦

#adhd #advice #asks #from #sourpatchsquids

2K notes · View notes

shotoh · 11 months

Text

❝ I THINK I… ♡ ❞

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ when they realize they’re in love with you

feat. oliver aiku, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, kunigami rensuke, mikage reo

cw + tw. fluff, some angst, fem!reader, aged-up!characters, pro-player!characters, friends to lovers + established relationships, pet names, (!!!)attempted assault (in kunigami’s scenario, but he’s obviously not the assailant), alcohol usage (in oliver’s), maximum self-indulgence

notes. jdjsjsn this is kind of all over the place but i just wanted to word dump some cute scenarios and headcanons

OLIVER AIKU

honestly, he’d get kind of scared. and not in an appalled way like, “psh, i’m oliver aiku! i can get any woman i want so why should i only care about this one person?!”

no, it’s because he’s fully aware of his disloyal and womanizing past that he’s afraid of this. he’s afraid he’ll end up hurting you—the one person he truly cares about—and he believes you don’t deserve that.

you deserve so much better than a douchebag like him.

he keeps that growing pit of adoration to himself and carries on with his life as always, but that can only do so much when he’s so clearly infatuated with you.

the most he lets himself do is tag along on your night out at clubs. however, he doesn’t drink a lick of alcohol. he needs to be sober to take care of you in case you get too wild out there to do so yourself. while he’s there though he talks to a few of the women flocking around, entertains them a bit, maybe as a feeble attempt to get you off his mind and forget about the jealousy rooted deep inside him when too many guys check you out and ask for a dance. but nowadays, he can never find it in himself to take any of these women home. that’s how deep his affections for you have run.

at one point during the night, you approach him with one too many drinks in your system, evident by your wobbly steps and the carefree grin plastered on your face.

“oli~! why don’ yer dance wit me?!” you slur, nearly toppling in front of him if not for oliver dashing forward to stop you from falling on your face.

“i think you’ve had one too many drinks, sweetheart,” he chides. after that he’s draping his large coat over your bare shoulders and leading you back to his car to get you home, while ignoring all the pouty women on his way out.

you object to leaving at first, droning about how the night is still young, but oliver is persistent in getting you home safe and sound. eventually, you doze off in the passenger seat while he’s driving. when he parks in front of your apartment complex, he carries you all the way up to your door, fishes out your keys from your clutch, and finally gets you into bed.

he lingers a little bit longer to make sure you’re all settled and if you need his help with anything, but once the buzz in your system has fizzled and your eyes are fully lidded, oliver assumes you’re out like a light. that is, until he’s sitting at your bedside and he hears the faintest murmur from your lips.

“love you… oliver…” is what comes out in a lovely daze and he almost wants to deny he heard it for both yours and his sake, but all he can do is muster a smile, ghosting a hand along your cheek, and say while you’re blissfully unaware,

“love you too, sweetheart.”

ITOSHI RIN

lowkey annoyed over this because instead of soccer plaguing his mind 24/7, his thoughts are now overrun by you! so he ignores the feeling, thinking it will magically go away or something. but newsflash to rin: it’s not as simple as it looks, and he ends up learning that lesson the hard way.

he spends the next week evading you—declining invites to hang out, sending half-hearted text messages, and ingraining himself in his soccer practices. unfortunately for him, his performance actually gets worse because now all those feelings he’s been bottling up inside his fragile heart are about to burst.

even shidou has been scoring more than him and rin just can’t live that down, especially when the former asks if the reason he’s been doing so poorly is because he and his “little girlfriend” broke up. which isn’t even the case since you’ve both never crossed that bridge.

poor boy goes home one day conflicted over all of this, slouched on the edge of his bed with his hands ruffled in his hair. soon he gets a text from you, which he shouldn’t be surprised by, given how he’s been treating you lately.

but then you’re asking him if he’s okay and rin is utterly taken aback because he’s been acting like such an asshole, yet you’re the one that’s still worried about his well-being.

right then and there rin has a long moment of contemplation, breathing a sigh into his hand which clasps over his mouth. he replies back with a quick apology text before telling you to meet him after his practice tomorrow. the moment he hits send, he tosses his phone on the bed, not willing to wait for that hovering gray bubble to appear on the message window.

when tomorrow arrives and practice is over, his steps are dragging along the pavement outside the training facility. he’s honestly doubting if you’ll even show up, but those qualms are immediately dashed when he sees your figure a few distances away. you’re standing there with apprehension written on your features, which morph into worry as soon as you cross eyes with him.

rin can’t even get a word in or form a coherent thought because the moment you run up to him, you’re blabbering about how he didn’t have to apologize because he was probably working so hard on soccer, chasing his dreams and the like. then, you bring up how maybe you should continue distancing yourself in order to help him focus, and god, that flicks a switch in rin’s head because that is far from what he wants.

all of a sudden, he’s silencing you as he pulls you into his chest. you find yourself buried in his jersey, confused but not drifting away, and even return the embrace when you sense him shake against you.

“fuck, no. i don’t want that all…” his voice sounds like he’s about to break as he mutters those words into your hair. his arms tighten around your shoulders as if you’ll leave him at any moment. you assure him you won’t as you nuzzle closer into his chest.

“then i’m not going anywhere, rin.”

NAGI SEISHIRO

the thought comes upon him when he’s alone in his apartment. it’s not immediate though.

the sunlight seeping through the curtains inevitably wakes him up one very late morning. and by very late, i mean this dozy boy definitely slept in that day, if he couldn’t already tell from his digital clock reading 11am.

even though nagi is always keen on getting plenty of shut-eye, he’s constantly kept on his toes when it comes to having a productive sleep schedule. partially due to soccer practices, but also because you sometimes visit him in the mornings. so normally, he’s woken by the ruckus you’re making while cooking him breakfast in the kitchen.

but this morning it’s… silent. which in hindsight, nagi should be happy about, right? he got to sleep in, after all, and he doesn’t have practice today. what more could he want?

once he shakes off the last remnants of sleep from his body, he finally musters the strength to get out of bed and maybe start his day with something to eat. which this morning is… leftovers. specifically the leftovers from the last time you made him food—a couple days ago.

regardless, he warms them up and sits down with a plate on the table. says his appreciations for the meal and digs in. when the first bite enters his mouth, it tastes the same as when he initially had it, but there’s an empty feeling in the bottom of his stomach he can’t quite pinpoint. he scarfs down a few more spoonfuls until he grows tired of eating, resting his head on the table.

his tummy is full, yet that emptiness persists—it’s been on the forefront of his mind for several days now and it’s starting to annoy him. he can’t determine why that is and what makes those days any different from before succumbing to that void in his heart.

after all, nothings changed.

just that… you went on an overseas trip. without him.

well, it’s not like he was ever going to be invited since you’re supposed to be vacationing with your girlfriends.

ah, wait. maybe he’s just lonely.

no, that can’t be it. he hung out with reo and some of the other blue lock boys the day after you left. even a slacker like him still makes time to see his friends. so what is he missing here?

the question lingers in nagi’s noggin as he drags his fork along the remaining food stuck on his plate. at some point, his phone’s ringing breaks him from his stupor, and he’s surprised to glance over and see your caller id on the screen.

he’s not sure what comes over him, but nagi swears he’s never hit the accept button so fast in his life. immediately, he brings the phone next to his ear, and is the first one on the line to utter “hello?”

“sei, you’re awake! i’m glad i got the time zones right!” you exclaim in your cheery tone that nagi has always been accustomed to hearing in the morning. “y’see i’ve stumbled on a gift shop the other day and found a few souvenirs i’d think you’d like!”

you ramble on and on about your adventures around the country you’re visiting and nagi finds himself absorbing your voice, hanging on every word, and even nodding next to the phone like you’re right here in front of him.

suddenly, his heart feels so full and everything clicks into place again. it’s like his day never actually started until you appeared with all your mirth and energy. even on opposite sides of the earth, you’re still the sun to his moon.

“angel,” he murmurs as you’re in the middle of talking, and you’re silent after acknowledging his call, waiting on his words.

“come home soon. i miss you.”

ISAGI YOICHI

this boy is a mess! he’s the kind of guy who as soon as those feelings start blooming in his chest, he gets super flustered around you all the time. and it’s obvious too.

before, he was super nonchalant with you. treated you like a friend, flirted without even knowing because he’s just that comfortable around you, but when any of his friends or family mention how the two seem closer than you realize, he just freezes and his mind goes blank. erupts in an embarrassing fit of sputtering and denial, face searing red down to the nape of his neck. it’s so cute.

however, he’s not fooling anybody! anyone can tell by the windblown expression on his face—starstruck eyes admiring you as a warm grin overtakes his features—that he’s absolutely smitten by you. he just needs to admit it already.

well, his next outing with you (in which he swears wasn’t actually a date, but c’mon isagi), finally gets him to come to terms with his emotions as he reminisces spending the whole day just laughing his heart out and being so full of that warmth and happiness you give him that makes him feel completely weightless. almost like he can do anything. afterward, when he gets home, he rushes upstairs and literally flails in his bed with the most insane blush on his cheeks. like wow, he’s in love with you.

isagi yoichi is in love with you.

but love to isagi is like a double-edged sword, especially to someone who just escaped that blue lock hellhole and now has to devote even more of his life to his soccer career.

with that carefree sensation comes a new box of trepidations that he’s afraid to open.

what if there comes a time when he would have to choose between you or soccer? he’s hoping that won’t ever be the case. he’d hate to struggle juggling the two and end up breaking your heart.

god, never in a million years does he want that.

the best he can do is take steps to introduce this side of his life to you. he does so in extravagant fashion, by inviting you to come watch him play during his championship game.

to say you were a little startled by his offer was an understatement, but you take him up on it, and promise you’ll be there, especially since isagi went out of his way to get you the best seats in the stadium.

on the day of his match, he’s more nervous about performing well in front of you rather than winning. winning is instinct for him so he has no doubts he’ll claim victory and take home the championship cup. he’s just eager to show you a new isagi you’ve never seen before, rather than the tongue-tied, flustered puppy isagi that’s been vying for your attention lately.

coming onto the field, his eyes are too busy swerving in the direction of where you’re seated than focus on his opponents. the moment he distinguishes your figure at the very front of the stands—draped in a jersey that reads his name—countless butterflies begin fluttering in his stomach. it’s a feeling that he can never truly convey into words.

all he does is let an elated grin spread wide on his lips, cheeks swathed in such a dainty shade of rose that has his teammates swatting the back of his head to remind him he has a very important game to win.

and oh does isagi win. during the match he scores four goals in quick succession, absolutely annihilating the other team to the point where it’s downright embarrassing for the opposing side. the commentators are completely baffled, questioning what has the player so stoked. little do they realize that each of those goals were all made in your name and isagi can’t wait to let you know that later with his championship cup in hand.

ITOSHI SAE

sae is pretty accepting of this revelation. nothing really fazes him after all, and he recognizes that it was only a matter of time before he came to terms with the idea that he might be head over heels for you.

in fact, he takes those feelings in stride.

as if sae wasn’t already a gentleman before this, his mannerisms around you only intensify. he’s constantly holding the door open for you, pulling out your chair, giving you his jacket whenever you’re cold, and so on. you never have to lift a finger when you’re with him. it’s to the point where he’s even sweeping stray hairs off your face and tucking them behind your ear before you’re given a chance to realize they were bothering you in the first place. not a day goes by where he doesn’t place you on a pedestal and worship you in the best ways he knows how.

he’s also gotten very touchy and a tiny bit possessive (okay maybe more than a tiny bit). sae isn’t the type to initiate pda regularly, but whenever he feels threatened in any way—which is very rare but not impossible—he always has a hand on you. whether it’s on your lower back as he ushers you closer to him, or intertwining your fingers together before sending a cold, piercing glare over his shoulder at the offending party, he always makes his intentions with you known even if you yourself are oblivious of them.

it’s not like he’s controlling or obsessive either. he simply wants to make you feel special. to be frank, he’s setting such a high standard that no other man can compare to him.

on more than one occasion, he’s had to travel overseas for international business, and the first time he left the country for an extended period without you, he grew incredibly homesick. not because he particularly misses the normalcy of his life back in japan, but because it always feels a little empty, and frankly, boring without you by his side. he’s grown to appreciate the moments he shares with you, from the time he wakes up beside you to when he falls asleep while you’re in his arms.

after that, whenever he has to fly out of the country, he insists you tag along with him, and goes out of his way to pay for all your expenses—plane ticket, lodgings, everything. most of the time, you try turning down his offer, stating you don’t want to be a hindrance while he’s working. yet sae counters by saying it’ll be more trouble for him if you weren’t there with him than not, and who are you to object when he’s staring at you with such unwavering ocean eyes, looking as if you’re the whole world to him.

KUNIGAMI RENSUKE

deep down, kunigami has always held you closely in his heart, regardless if he’s aware of the love he possesses behind it.

it’s natural for him to want to protect the people he cherishes, but with you, you activate something so visceral inside him. it scares him sometimes, how you can make his whole body rattle, blood pumping erratically to the point where all he can hear is the ringing in his ears and his heart thumping wildly out of his chest.

that’s especially the case when he receives a late night call from you while he’s settling himself at his apartment. he’s slightly surprised by the random call. you don’t normally reach out for him at this time since you’re either going to sleep or hanging out with friends in the dormant hours of the night.

accepting the call, he brings the phone to his ear.

“hello? y/n?”

“r-ren? u-um, can you please stay on the phone with me..?” you whisper in the receiver, tone quivering to a frightening degree. he hears the anxiety laced in your voice and suddenly sirens go off in his head.

“where are you?” he questions sternly as he instantly stands from his seat, reaching for his car keys.

“i just left a club and was going to walk to the station, but… s-someone’s–”

kunigami doesn’t need to hear anymore to understand the full picture that makes his bones quake for your safety as he dashes out the door.

“i’m coming to get you, so send me your location. until then, stay in an open area and don’t stop talking to me, okay?”

you affirm quietly before moving your phone from your ear to pin your location to him with trembling fingers. as you’re doing so, kunigami’s already started the ignition to his car, revving on the roads with little care of the law. he’s never driven this fast in his life, swearing he’s a defensive driver, but that means nothing to him when your safety is on the line right now.

if he grips his steering wheel any harder, it might just break off from his bare strength alone. a single glance at the map on his dash tells him he’s less than a minute away from your position. in the last stretch, he can finally spot your frightened silhouette under the dimly lit lamps.

as soon as you recognize the model of his vehicle, relief washes over your tense shoulders. you take it as your chance to escape your precarious situation, but the shady man a few meters away decides to attempt a last minute assault, dashing in your direction.

when the fiery-haired athlete sees this, his restraint all but snaps. he gets out of his car without even slamming his door shut and spontaneously reaches for you, pulling you behind his intimidating, brawny frame before punching the man square in the jaw. the assailant tumbles onto the hard ground, completely knocked out.

kunigami’s attention immediately turns to you, putting all his efforts into your well-being as he yanks you in his protective embrace. the adrenaline from both your bodies wears off and the striker can sense you bursting into tears against his chest.

“ren, i’m so sorry, i was out with friends and i thought it would okay for me to stay out later even though they wanted to leave, and-and–” your words collide with your jumbled thoughts, but the last thing kunigami wants is for you to apologize for this scumbag’s actions.

“shh, princess. it’s not your fault,” he whispers next to your ear, “fuck! if anything happened to you… i… i…” his voice breaks apart. his hold on you tightens just imagining if he was even a second late coming to your side. for now, he’s thankful to have you back safe and sound, tucking you closer to his heart.

MIKAGE REO

when reo considers that what he was feeling might no longer be a crush, but rather actual love for you, he’s a bit doubtful. mostly because he’s approached countless girls with romantic intentions in mind, however, to his disappointment, he’ll discover that they’re mainly interested in his status instead of him as a person. his good looks and charisma are just a plus for them. therefore he’s very hesitant to fully act on these emotions, afraid to have his heart broken again.

however, he slowly starts accepting the notion that he might be wrong about you. it shows in the way you’re always asking about his life outside of him being an heir to a billion-dollar corporation. he’s stunned by how your features can glow with such intrigue whenever he speaks about his time in blue lock, leading to his journey to becoming a star player in the land of professional football. most girls he entertained would fake interest in this before quickly changing the subject.

eventually, they’ll throw themselves on him to garner his favor and try gaining access to his parents’ wealth. however, you seek greater value in sharing the same experiences with him. you take him out to watch movies, hangout at the most unique cafes, and have the time of your lives at amusement parks.

reo’s used to his dates borderline demanding him to drive them out for extensive shopping sprees or book them dinners to the most high-end restaurants in the city. it becomes exhausting when all his partner sees in him is a personal wallet for them to call on whenever they’re eyeing the newest luxury trends displayed on shop windows.

so to have a person like you by his side, who doesn’t determine his value on such materialistic facets is… refreshing… but also just as frightening because he’s afraid of losing such a precious person like you.

though it may be counterintuitive, reo means to return your kindness by spoiling you, thinking you’re someone who genuinely deserves to be dolled up and treated like royalty.

the first time reo swipes his card on a hefty purchase for you, you’re a little bit overwhelmed, going on to say he didn’t have to do all this. but the man is difficult to argue around, what with his suave words and charismatic demeanor that makes it hard for you to say no to the jewels and dresses he wants to adorn on your body.

then as if he couldn’t have pampered you anymore, he also brings up the offer for you move into his penthouse so you don’t have to worry about rent while making ends meet. of course, you bring up the case that you don’t want to rely on him for money—that you simply enjoy being with him—but reo counters with similar reasoning.

“c’mon doll, just let me do this for you,” he insists. “you’ve done so much for me already, and i just want to make sure you know how special you are to me.”

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #aiku x reader #oliver aiku x reader #rin x reader #nagi x reader #isagi x reader #sae x reader #kunigami x reader #reo x reader #aiku fluff #rin fluff #nagi fluff #isagi fluff #sae fluff #kunigami fluff #reo fluff

6K notes · View notes

everythingne · 5 months

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christmas in monaco - cl16

You are Charles Leclerc’s best kept secret. Twin of his best friend, a racing prodigy, and his secret girlfriend of two years. The first six months had been secret, just to make sure you’d actually survive a relationship, but then Max said something to Charles that made the idea of ever telling him impossible. So you end up here, half in your brothers apartment half in your soon to be fiancés, trying to celebrate two Christmases in one day.

verstappen!reader x charles leclerc, secret dating/brothers best friend

warnings/notes: cursing, jos is there for a bit in the beginning, poorly translated dutch and french, danny is in red bull bc i said so

next chapter..

Warm. That was the best way you could explain the way the bed felt as hot breaths fanned across your chest from the head tucked against your neck. One arm draped across your waist, pulling you closer as you stir and reach up to turn off your phone's alarm. The second arm sleepily comes to wrap around your chest, dragging you back into the warmth of your two year secret.

"No," Charles sighs, eyes still closed as kisses are peppered along your neck and jaw, "Don't go..."

"I have to, Char." You murmur, rubbing sleep from your eyes as you sit up and look at your still very sleepy boyfriend who blinks wearily at you and the sun that halos you, "We don't need Max getting suspicious as to why I'm never home."

"I wish we could tell him." Charles sits up next to you, a hand coming up to fix some loose hairs that were sticking up at odd angles against your head. You didn't answer, just humming. A year and a half ago, during the summer break, you and Charles planned on telling Max. He and Charles got along like a house on fire, there was really no reason you wouldn't have been able to tell your brother about your little blooming relationship.

And then Max had said something to you and Charles, moments before you had planned to tell him, about how you were strictly forbidden from dating any Formula racers. For no specific reason. You had played it off like a joke that night, but once you'd returned to Charles apartment a few nights later you realized just how much your brothers words had affected the both of you.

So, you agreed that night it was (questionably) better to keep it secret.

But Charles and Max knew each other like the backs of their hands. They had been destined from the start to be together, even back in the days of them literally hating each other on the track. You had tagged along with your brother, never driving because of your fathers beliefs, before moving away to live with your mother around the age of fifteen. You and Charles had only reconnected when he debuted in F1, and instantly clicked, even before he and Max did.

Somehow through the busyness of your brothers seasons, he had been distracted long enough for him to not catch on. It was even better when you had moved in with him in Monaco and established a good, core friend group you used as your excuse most times. All of them knew if Max called and asked, to say you guys were together last night since you told them every time you went to go see Charles. It felt foolproof.

“You really have to go?” Charles whines, sitting up finally and stretching his shoulder out, “You can’t stay for breakfast or anything?”

Humming out a maybe as you check the time, you roll to your side and then curse, giving Charles a quick peck on the lips before shoving him off of you and down onto the bed. He crashes amongst the blankets and such tangled together from the way you both toss and turn, nearly whacking his head on the headboard as you scamper to your feet and the cool breeze through the window makes goosebumps run along your skin. Leaning down, you grab your jean shorts off the floor and a hoodie you think is one of Charles' old ones you'd been wearing around.

“Ow?!” his voice echoes behind you and you throw a sorry over your shoulder, scrambling to find your bag and other items in his apartment. Half of your life was here, so you were able to find a spare pair of your socks in his drawer.

Getting to his feet, Charles grabs his shirt from the floor and tugs it over his head as he asks, “What is happening?"

“My dad is visiting today and I forgot I had to leave early!" You curse, jumping to slip on one of your sneakers and bending to fix the parts of the shoe that fold under your heel, "Fuck fuck fuck—!”

"Jos?" He inquires, pausing mid movement to scrunch his face at you. As far as Charles was aware, you and Max had some sort of huge blow up fight with your father and now you both no longer spoke to him.

"No, Charlie, my secret second father." You deadpan, turning around as you toss your bag over one shoulder, "Yes, Jos! Who else?!"

"Sorry!" He apologizes and comes besides you to give you a kiss to your hairline as he wipes a bit of fallen makeup off your cheek, "I thought he wasn't visiting this year?"

You know he means to say, I thought you and Max emancipated from him.

"I thought the same." You huff as you step back from his grasp to find your car keys on the bedside table.

He knows you mean to say, Max can't say no to him. It's a problem.

Charles just hums in response, and when you throw your purse over his shoulder and capture his lips in a quick goodbye kiss before rushing out of his apartment, a small smile peeks across his lips. Soles squeaking in the dew covered grass, you make your way to your parked car. Searching the streets as you walk and dipping between two cars when a guy who slightly looks like he could be Max passes, and then you continue down the road.

Monaco was small. It was a little country, beautiful and bursting at the seams with life, but still so small. So, seeing Max, especially if you were out and about, was likely. Every precaution was taken, and luckily your best friend Jolie lived in the apartment building next to Charles', so you could just park your car there to not raise suspicions.

Getting in your car you slam the door, cursing when you see the missed calls and messages from Max.

And... Daniel?

"I'm back!" You shout, shutting the front door and taking off your shoes and setting them on the shoe rack as you walk in. There's a tense feeling in the apartment and you set your backpack on the ground as Jos smiles.

"Ah, Y/n, how are you?" He says and you cross the room to give your father a quick hug.

"Fine fine, I slept in on accident, otherwise I would've gone with Max to get you at the airport." You sit on the couch next to Max, who's jaw is locked tighter than you've seen it before. The two of you share a look of 'why is this guy here' before your father waves off your words.

"It's fine, how's the degree going?"

"Good good, I'm working on finishing up my degree in Sports Management right now. Charles has been trying to set me up with an internship for Ferrari since Red Bull filled their internships for the season already." You cross one leg over the other and your father nods. Luckily your able to hold civil conversation with him until he takes a rideshare back to the airport. You and Max groan, flopping down on the couches as soon as he's gone and you bury your head in your hands. A typical Verstappen household afternoon.

It's fucking hot in Abu Dhabi. Though not as bad as Qatar, you're still sweating through your thin sundress. Wandering into Red Bull's paddock you're greeted by your brother, and then quite literally--and not anyway discreetly, escorted to the drivers room by none other than Daniel Ricciardo who claims he has a sports management question for you.

You know it's not about sports management when he locks the door to the drivers room and turns to you with eyes wide, mouth open in some sort of half grin half shocked expression.

"Charles fucking Leclerc?!" He hisses when you make a vague motion for him to explain and a groan leaves your throat involuntarily. You had been so safe for two years and of course it's Daniel of all people who figures it out. The only other guy who your brother trusts with his life.

"Danny you can't say anything, also why were you even in Monaco?" You snap back, poking Daniel in his throat right above his Red Bull logo on the collar of the fireproofs, your nail digging into the skin there.

"I was stopping by for media stuff," He puts his hands up, stepping back from you, "and how about you answer my question about Charles?"

"I was just--there?" You try and Daniel crosses his arms and looks at you with the most incredulous look in his eyes, head cocked and everything as he laughs.

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Well, I--augh, okay," You groan, sitting on the back of the couch in the drivers room, "this isn't exactly easy to say. I'm kinda not trying to tell my brother about this?"

"Woah woah, Max doesn't know?" If Daniel could look more shocked at this point, he does.

"No and he can't know because he'd kill Charles." Your voice is small, frustratedly bringing heat to your cheeks. Other than your small group of friends from Monaco, and some from back home, you hadn't told anyone about this yet, "Do you promise you won't say anything?"

"I can pretend I saw nothing if that will make you feel better?" Daniel offers and you shake your head curling your hand around the edge of the dress you wear.

"Charles and I..." You huff, crossing your ankles, "have been dating for... two years now? I practically live at his apartment in Monaco when I'm not with Max and Kelly. And Max, apparently, doesn't want me dating any drivers so we... can't exactly... tell Max."

"Two and a half years? You've kept this a secret for two and half years and I'm the one who figured it out?" Daniel scoffs, "Honestly, Y/n, I'm impressed."

"Thanks? But I... I don't know what to do, Danny! We wanna tell Max so bad, but if I do I risk ruining everything!" You bury your head in your hands, groaning, "I can't lose Charles, but I can't lose Max either."

"Do you really think Max was serious about that rule?" Daniel asks, sitting next to you, "Because you're a fully grown adult, so like... how much control does he really have over who you date?"

"Well, I am viewed as an extension of my brother so therefore he gets a bit of a say. And if people find out the baby sister of Max Verstappen is dating Charles Leclerc?"

"Point taken." Daniel hums, "Media nightmare."

"Yep." You stand, pacing the room as you talk with your hands, something you'd picked up from Charles at some point, "there have been a thousand times I've wanted to say something! Thousands! Everytime the two of them are together, I can't ever imagine Max being upset about it. But then I get that little gnawing feeling in my gut. I just... can't do it. Because... if I do, and it ends in disaster, I don't know if I'll be able to handle it."

"And if it doesn't end in disaster?" Daniel inquires after you pause. You turn slowly to face him, watching as he tilts his head to further push his question. You've dreamed of it. Finally being able to tell Max everything about it, Charles had made it clear to you he was itching to tell his practical best friend too, and it would clear the main argument you and Charles had.

You laugh, "I'd be the happiest person alive."

y/nverstappen made a new post !

liked by maxverstappen, danielricciardo, lewishamilton, and 238k others...

y/nverstappen: mon nounours <3 j'adore les fêtes

maxverstappen: who?????

⤷ maxverstappen: also when the fuck did you learn french?

⤷ y/nverstappen: i have a tutor or two

user1: omg baby verstappen has a boy???

danielricciardo: 'i can't say anything' and yet u CAN post that. ITS NOT EVEN SNEAKY??

⤷ y/nverstappen: a moment of weakness i admit. ALSO YES THE FUCK IT IS DANIEL

⤷ user2: danny tell us what u know

charlesleclerc: babys first rolex?

⤷ y/nverstappen: im too afraid to wear it !! i dont want it to break or get lost or stolen 😵‍💫

lewishamilton: rolex + bracelet combo perfection

user3: i need to know who shes dating.

charlesleclerc made a new post!

liked by y/nverstappen, arthurleclerc, danielricciardo, and 289k more...

charlesleclerc: deux ans de toi, mon étoile. pour toujours.

maxverstapen: two years?? and I don't know her???

⤷ charlesleclerc: look i can keep a secret, surprisingly.

danielricciardo: good man

user1: CHARLES SOFT LAUNCH???

arthurleclerc: oh so you left out the part where you've been dating her FOR TWO YEARS??? CHARLES???

⤷ charlesleclerc: oops !

user4: 'two years of you, my star. forever' im going to SCREAM

liked by charlesleclerc

carlossainz: am i allowed to say who she is yet?

⤷ charlesleclerc: no and i still owe you for not locking the door

⤷ user2: HELP???

⤷ user3: poor carlos has been scarred for life.

⤷ carlossainz: honestly it was kinda funny

#f1 fanfic #formula one fic #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc imagine #max verstappen fanfic #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader

2K notes · View notes

seokjinsonlyone · 5 months

Text

this how i think bts would be if they was your husband

namjoon:

you’d have your own rooftop garden together; like he’d get someone to get it setup architecturally the way he has it envisioned in his head and to give like advice on the types of plants that are good for this set up but y’all would do all the seeding and watering and weed pulling yourselves

evening walks together around sunset through the park or around the river hand in hand where you just soak up nature and talk about any and everything

you both like the idea of having a pet but know that you're too busy to keep one regularly so you end up getting fish; he gets a cute little 20 gallon tank and like five fish but he actually does a lot of research on which fish live the best together, which food and treats they like best, the best plants and knick knacks to put inside, how to clean it, etc.; all in all takes the whole situation way more seriously than you'd thought he would; it was supposed to be sumn light for the summer time but you'd think he's filming an episode of tanked for all the time and effort he pours into it

sits side by side with you rubbing circles into your lower back whenever you need to rant about something

loves it when you get desperate for him so sometimes around the time you're ovulating he teases you; will walk around the house in nothing but his briefs with his glasses on talking in his deep voice; will invade your space like if you're in the kitchen making food or something he's gonna come up behind you and wrap that strong arm around your middle kissing up on you asking meaningless questions about what you're doing until you finally snap and drag him to the bedroom

consistently opens every door for you and pulls out your chair at restaurants even if it's five, ten years down the line

the type to never know where anything is; it's not even that you switch things up a lot it's just that he never forgot the muscle memory of where things were when he lived alone; so he's constantly calling out to you asking where something is; half the time what he looking for be in very obvious locations but his mind is just so all over the place that he overlooks it

uses you as his sounding board when he has a situation he needs handled; will just sit there and think out loud to you for minutes and hours; you don't even be saying that much really like occasionally he'll ask what you think but he appreciates having a listening ear more than anything and you're happy to be there for him even if his incessant rambling makes you wanna strangle yourself sometimes

would learn to help you take out your box braids; it makes you nervous when he first offers to help because he can be a bit rough sometimes but he's oddly gentle and diligent with the task; once he's gotten good with that you convince him to wash your hair too; and take down/wash day is less dreadful because of it

you two become a package deal; like it could be a boys night or a girl's night and you're always gonna try to bring the other with and most of the time y'alls friends don't mind like you're one of the boys and he's one of the girls so it's fine; even if he like invites some friends over the house and you stay in the room to give them some space at some point he's gonna go and check up on you; you'll just be laying in bed on your laptop or phone, watching tv or something and he's gonna lay beside you and ask what you doing make sure you're okay next thing you know 30 minutes gon go by and you'll have to remind him that he has guests over; then he's gonna convince you to come out with him and stay tucked up under his arm until his friends leave or pass out

seokjin:

draws you a bath when he knows you’ve had a long day; it’d be really nice too; he'd light your favorite candle and set it on the counter; add a fragrant moisturizing bath bomb and sprinkle in some flower petals; once you settle in he'll put down one of them over the tub trays and hand you a glass of wine and your laptop so you can watch whatever you want or stream music while you’re in the tub

loves referring to you as 'his wife'; like y'all will be with a group of your friends that knew you from the get go and they'll ask him where he got his jacket from and he'll be like "oh my wife bought it for me" and they'll be like "🥴 boi we knew her long before she was ever worried about you just say her name" aksksksk

every couple months y’all will go on cooking dates with his celebrity chef friends and their wives; which is basically them in the kitchen being loud cooking a meal he specifically chose for you and you and the wife not too far away watching them while being wined and dined

not particularly handy but he feels like as a man there’s just certain things he should be able to do; so if your sink is leaking or there’s a problem with your car battery or something he’s gonna hop on youtube and figure out how to solve it first; calls an actual repairman to deal with it if he can’t fix it without being moderately inconvenienced

insists on getting a pool installed even tho you tell him you would barely use it bc you hate having to redo your hair more than you like to swim; you actually do end up using it all the time bc he orders one of those giant canopy floats and y'all just lay up there and take naps or talk; the whole outdoor area is actually bomb tbh like there's an entire sheltered outdoor kitchen and grill patio area with fans on the ceiling for when it gets hot and a fully loaded bar; y'all honestly spend more time outside during the summer than inside and get scolded for not entertaining people more often

if you reeeaaalllyyy want him to go shopping with you he will but he’d rather just give you his card and you gather up some of your girls and y’all can go nuts together

tries to butter you up when he knows he's in trouble but it's never with anything good like he'll stop at the convenience store on the way home and pick up some things to try to sway you; he get home and you're waiting for him slightly ticked off and he's like "i know you're mad but look at what i got you and it's a cosmic brownie, sour gummy worms (his favorite candy mind you), some wet wipes, and an arizona tea

official driver of the relationship; lets you be the passenger princess of your dreams like whenever you need to get from point a to point b he’s getting you there all you gotta do is sit down and look pretty (and play decent music while he’s driving)

even if you’re not a certified Gamer Girl™️ when there’s like a new mario game or something along those lines that doesn’t require a ton of skill and know how to play you’ll no life it together; like will straight up play for like 16 hours a day until you beat it; you still force him to eat and shower however but you’re not allowed to touch the controller until he returns bc he’d be afraid you’ll lose all your lives

the type to get super close with your family; like you look over one day and see yo mama calling him and you listen to him and they're literally just catching up???; he goes out on bros days with your dad and brothers; all your cousins follow him on instagram and be sending him memes; and you just sit there tryna figure out how he singlehandedly replaced you in your family bc they be treating him better than they treat you

yoongi:

after hearing you talk about wanting a detached claw foot jacuzzi tub for the 1000th time he decides to just go ahead and get your dream house built from the ground up; gives his input in every step of the process since he has so many opinions on architecture, furniture, finishes, and overall aesthetics; sometimes there’s little disagreements when your design styles clash but in the end he makes sure that you definitely get everything you’ve ever wanted included

warms your car up for you in the morning during winter months; unimportant but i just know he would go out in a sweatshirt and some slides like barefoot toes out in 20° weather shuffling out to make sure your car is nice and cozy and the frost is off the windshield

every now and again you’ll just be chilling at home and then he’ll be like “yah go get dressed we’re going out” and then he’ll genuinely take you on one of the best dates ever; it may not be over the top every time but somehow it’s always exactly what you needed; acts nonchalant about it when you’re gushing over how great of a time you’re having; “ah it’s nothing” but he’s secretly super self satisfied bc he knows he’s killing it

sometimes he’ll be sprawled out on the couch watching basketball and you’ll be tryna tell him something but he’s so engrossed that he won’t hear a word you say so you gotta throw a pillow at him to get his attention

untangles your necklaces for you; sweeps the hair from the back of your neck and clasps it together once he's got it free

likes leaning on your shoulder when you’re in bed on the computer; not really nosy about what it is that you’re doing whether it’s work or whatever but just likes to listen to the sound of your typing as his own personal asmr; also loves it when you get your nails done like will happily pay for a new set every other week because of the tippity tapping that accompanies everything you do

sets up a joint bank account for you two like immediately bc he doesn't have anything to hide and what's his is yours; but also sets you up a separate savings account that he funnels money into biweekly bc he wants you to be okay always even if one day it has to be without him

if you're both up late and you're feeling peckish he'll whip up a quick late night snack for y'all to munch on

never really comments when your hormones throw your body system out of wack; like if you randomly had night sweats for a couple days and sweat through your clothes and blanket he'd just nudge you awake so you can dry off and turn the ac on

is extra physically affectionate whenever you start getting irritated even if he’s the source of your irritation; will grab your hand and pull you into him planting kisses on top of your head and rubbing up and down your back until you’re sufficiently pacified

hoseok:

all his numeric passcodes are related to you; like it’s either your birthday or your anniversary, the day y’all met, first date, etc.

sometimes he likes to sit on the toilet when you're in the shower and talk to you; will periodically poke his head in to check your progress depending on how long you're in there; ooos and aahs and waggles his eyebrows every time he does so

some people think you’re some kind of dictator bc his response to every proposal he receives is “let me check with my wife first”; you’re not tho he just likes running things by you bc he’s only ever okay if y’all are on the same page; sometimes you really are his scapegoat if he doesn’t wanna do something tho and you’re fine with being his excuse! you love spending time with your man!!

y’all draw lots over who has to kill the bugs in the house; he tries his best to overcome his fear for you he really does but sometimes he look at the bug and the bug look at him and his heart can’t take it; generally tho there’s less fear of y’all conquer it together

at least once a month he books a couples spa day appointment for you two; deep tissue massages, facials, manicures, pedicures, the works like you just get absolutely spoiled; his motto is that if you feel good and look good then you can be good and be good to each other; unrelated but he get a kick out of eating the cucumbers that are supposed to help soothe around your eyes

you get so used to the sound effects he makes all the time that when he’s not around you have to have some kind of background sounds whether it’s music or white noise just something to fill the air.

you both like plushies, funko pops, action figures and all that so there's a dedicated toy room in your home; all the toys that you actually care about are placed higher up and in cases to keep in good condition but things that you don't mind having some use are accessible; the whole room is carpeted and there are some fluffy rugs too; there's a 65 inch tv on one wall and a computer area for gaming as well; the whole room is illuminated via led lights; needless to say all the kids you know love when y'all babysit them; they stay in that one room the entire time except when they want a snack bc there's no eating in the toy room; jungkook also loves to randomly come and hangout in the toy room by himself

wouldn't tolerate any kind of disrespect toward you; say you went out to a restaurant and the server was being rude to you, he'd clock it so fast he'd be talking to a manager having your server swapped out and dessert on the house before you even realized what they said

y'all try new hobbies together; it's never anything you have experience or are good at which makes it even more fun as you're doing it; like you'll get one of those woobles crochet kits and spend like a month trying to figure it out in your free time and make whatever little creature you bought

never actually stops dating you; will still have an active folder with activities and restaurants he wants the both of you to go to; even if you both lack the time and energy to actually go out on a date he's lighting a candle and pulling out the fine china for you it doesn't matter that you're wearing loungewear and sitting on the floor in front of the tv; he wants you to feel special always

jimin:

intimacy between you two go crazy; you’re as close as close can be like if there were such a thing as soulmates you two would be it; you’re consistently trapped within your own bubble and even if you’re out and about it’s still almost as if no one else existed; like say y’all went out to a club music is thumping people are everywhere it’s a generally Loud environment if you softly called his name from beside him he would turn to you immediately; or someone could brush past him and it’d be whatever but if you ghosted your hand up his arm he would get goosebumps; you’re just insanely in tuned to each other

would love if you had a softer build bc he likes the way you feel like heaven when he lays on you; also he just likes squeezing at your squishy bits; he finds it equal parts amusing and satisfying; like he'll squeeze at your boob when you're half asleep in bed just to annoy you; you'll be turned on your side and his arm will be slung across your waist and he'll just inch his hand up until he reaches your boob and squeezes; giggles evilly every time you smack his hand away and won't stop until you're whining and kicking at him to leave you alone and let you sleep

sometimes you’ll build a giant fort in the living room when he’s getting overwhelmed by life complete with fairy lights strung up overhead and pillows and more blankets covering the floor to make it extra comfy; you spend all day together in there playing games and talking nonsense and eating snacks and end the night cuddled up his arm wrapped around your shoulders, your head tucked into his neck watching movies until you’re sure his head is free from all his worries

loves to be fed, literally; like when dinner time comes he will make one big plate and pull up with a fork and a knife and a waiting attitude; if you don't play along immediately he's gonna put his hands over yours and make you feed him bites until you take over; likes to feed you as well; just always sharing his food with you and expects you to do the same

he gets obsessive when you don't answer his calls; like if he knows you're not busy and he calls you and you don't answer it drives him up a wall and he will spam you with texts and at least a dozen more calls until you pick up; not even because he has anything urgent to tell you he just always craves your attention; bonus: ends every conversation by saying i love you like you could be on the phone for 15 seconds just confirming something really quickly and he's gonna make sure he's told you he loves you before you click end call

doesn’t say anything when he finds you crying just pulls you into him and lets you get it all out; once you start calming down a bit he’ll pull back slightly, gently cupping your face in his hands and swipe away all your tears; only when he’s sure the tears have come to a complete stop does he softly ask “what’s going on?”

still gets shy and flustered around you; it doesn’t stop him from being himself around you whatsoever but it’s very obvious when you have the upper hand in a situation

you can't just tell him you need an item from the store bc half the time he'll go and come back with the wrong thing; you gotta send him a picture of it and that don't even work all the time; most of his solo ventures to the store at your request end in him facetimeing you bc he swears up and down they don't have what you asked for but then you end up finding it for him and you not even there

knows you admire his art skills so he leaves little doodles on post it notes around the house; is really proud when you display the ones you find really cute in your phone case

the type to put his life in your hands; when y'all go out to eat he tells you to order for him bc "you know what i like"; will let you dress him/style his hair however bc "you know what looks good on me"; he just literally trusts and defers to your judgement as much as possible

taehyung:

the type to tighten all the jars when you’re upset with him so you’re forced to ask him for help and talk to him anyway

would try to set up a really romantic dinner for you complete with rose petals and candles and champagne on ice but he'd be so focused on creating the right ambience that he forgets to order the food and one thing bout tae is he ain't a chef and even if he was he wouldn't have enough time before you showed up so you'd end up having a pb&j and cup noodles

sometimes if he has a lot of energy but you’re asleep he’ll poke at you until you’re awake and then he’ll ask if you’re asleep and when you say yes he’ll keep messing with you until he’s able to drag you out to play with him

knows how to tie a tie but claims it looks better when you tie it so whenever he wears a suit he gets you to finish off his look; really he just likes to be manhandled by you and the grip you have around his neck does something for him

if you get him riled up in the morning he just lives there all day; partially aware of what's going on around him but undoubtedly distracted, thinking about you, wanting you; hands and eyes are glued to the phone at all times hoping you'll message him or something even if it is just you teasing him some more; he's putty in your hands and he knows it but when the day is over and y'all are both home you're his

you have to come to major compromises when it comes to decorations; like you let him have his accent wall that he puts his paintings of his basquiat-esque faces but the weird cyber bug and person shark statues and the butt chair have to go

you do majority of the cooking so he takes dish duty very seriously; will swat you away if you try to help most times; however there’s a special place in his heart for the times you ignore him and help anyway by drying the dishes and it’s you him and some music playing and you’re singing and dancing around the kitchen together

there's a legitimate argument about your use of a body pillow; he genuinely gets offended bc is he not enough for you? why can't you just cuddle him? why would you go and put the great wall of china in between you two? what's with the distance? was he too much for you? like the situation blows completely out of proportion for no reason skslklsks the argument ends when you force him to cuddle it and he instantly understands the hype behind it; that doesn't curb his jealousy towards the object however and you're only allowed to use it when he's not in bed with you

a whiny baby when he's sick; you'd think he had tuberculosis in the 12th century instead of a common cold the way he be acting; a piece of tissue stuck in his nose, piled under three blankets, shivering every five minutes on cue; you give him a good day of dealing with the dramatics after that you leave him in the room with a bottle of dayquil and a packet of vitamin c until he decides to get on with his life like a normal human being

loves planning weekend getaways for the two of you; like every other month you guys are out of town for like 3-4 days in the spirit of “rekindling”; he always rents a really nice and cozy cabin type joint and most of the trips are spent just enjoying each others company and the scenery, walking around the town latched onto his arm and eating good food; you come back from each outing refreshed and more in love than you already were

jungkook:

every sunday he checks your car to make sure it has a full tank and if it doesn’t he fills it up for you

you two have separate rooms bc you both like to have space to just exist as an individual from time to time (also it’s really nice to have a place to storm away to when you’re in a fight) but you end up cuddled up next to each other every night anyway

has a very strict laundry schedule and routine; gets annoyed if you don't do it how he likes when he's unable to

watches you while you’re getting ready; he’ll be sitting at the edge of the bed while you walk around from your closet to the dressers circling the room trying to find something to wear; you’ll be having a conversation with him the whole time and after you walk past him for the 4th time his clinginess gets the best of him and he catches you by the waist before you can fully bypass him; he pulls you in between his legs and just hugs you to him for a few moments while you run your hands through his hair

follows you around the house with his mic serenading you like three times a week

comes behind you when you’re cooking or washing dishes or something and just pats at your butt for a while and by a while i mean he won’t stop until you elbow him and threaten to cut his hands off; he just laughs and gets one more grope in before backing off

traces the contours of your face and murmurs all kinds of cute and lovely and cheesy stuff about you when you’re both in bed and he thinks you’re sleep

if you made him a good meal you’d hear about it constantly for the next week; like every other sentence is a “seriously, it was so good” and he won’t stop until you make it again; sometimes he’ll try making it himself to see if he could do better but it always tastes best coming from you

an absolute menace in the grocery store; will spend the first 15-20 minutes behaving as he grabs whatever he needs personally and once that's done he's acting a fool; doing that thing that kids do when they use the cart as a skateboard like push off on it and then hop on to ride out the wave; grabbing all kinds of junk that neither of you need; touching everything even when he has no intention of buying it; you have to grab his ear and threaten him with celibacy to get him to calm down

whenever you’re sitting next to each other could be on the couch out at dinner in bed etc he likes to play with your hand and fiddle with your ring; will often slide it off and try to fit the ring on his fingers; then he’ll put it back on and kiss your fingertips for safekeeping

a/n: i worked on this for months and months and now it’s finally here lemme know what u thought 😩🙏

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itsjustaninchident · 6 months

Text

To the moon and to Saturn 🪐

Lando Norris x Model!Reader

socmed au

summary: where they give the audience chaos because of their rumored "breakup"

warning/s: sexual innuendos (if you squint)

author's note: just a little something to get me out of writing slump 🥹 there's a part 2 to this fic if you wanna check it out🫶

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, lilymhe, and 203,839 others

yourusername busy week

view 2,394 comments...

user1 MOTHER IS MOTHERING

user2 PLEASE MARRY ME

user3 mother is living her best life and im here for it

user4 GET OUT OF THE WAY LANDO IM GONNA STEAL HER

user5 kinda sus no lando in the comments simping over how hot she is

user6 TRUE he usually comments and likes her post like a second after she posted it 😭

user7 there's got to be something

user8 no there's just something wrong in y'all's head...

user9 yeah leave them and their relationship alone

yourfriend back and better in black

liked by yourusername

user10 interesting...🥴

user11 what do they mean by this😭

user12 maybe because it's been awhile since yn got back in modeling after her supporting lando and going on a vacation with him?

user13 you guys are reading into this too much

lando.jpg

liked by maxfewtrell, pierregasly, and 897,475 others

lando.jpg parties and a tad bit hungover...

view 23,495 comments...

user1 YOU CAN'T JUST POST THE 2ND PHOTO AND GET AWAY WITH IT

user2 i believe he's thirst trapping his way out of the issue

user3 what issue?

user2 some are saying him and yn broke up

user3 lol people are too obsessed with their relationship im not surprised we won't get any posts from them anymore lol

user2 true

maxfewtrell nice music but please don't throw up on me next time

maxverstappen1 why was i not invited

landonorris you were busy with something else🙄🙄🙄

maxverstappen1 oh i see you're still on it...

user4 am i delusional if i think this is about yn ?????

user5 babes im gonna be delusional with u

user6 yeah no❤️

user4 what if they just fought?

user6 what if you all leave them alone lol

danielricciardo nice party, hoping for that one more important invite next time😜

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 237 others

user7 don't mean to ruin the vibes but where's my girl yn :((

yourusername

liked by charlottesine, isahernaez, yourfriend, and 890,938 others

yourusername welcome to new york

view 23,103 comments...

user1 THE GIRLS ARE BACK

user2 THEY'RE SO HOT

user3 WAIT SHE'S IN NEW YORK???

user4 CAN'T BELIEVE MOTHER AND I ARE BREATHING THE SAME AIR

user5 im sorry but it's been like a month of them not posting each other😭

user6 it's been a bad month for us😭

user7 my parents :'(

user8 them in one frame is too much to handle

user9 uhmmm why is she hanging out with the exes????👀

user10 maybe because they're still friends and her girlfriends' breakups has nothing to do with their friendship???

user11 ikr... is she like a member of the club now?

user12 i hope not lol

isahernaez missed you so much! And im so happy for you❤️

liked by yourusername and 1,790 others

user13 her liking it...

user14 she's happy for her meaning she's like in a better place now????😭

user15 don't do this to me

user16 geez they cant even say anything that you guys do not to relate to her relationship lmao

via twitter...

via instagram...

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, maxfewtrell, and 2,347,987 others

landonorris just married my best friend, the love of my life, and my better half. I love you until one can reach the sky.

tagged: yourusername

view 89,739 comments...

user1 WE WERE MOURNING THEIR "BREAK UP" ONLY TO BE WOKEN UP TO THIS POST😭

user2 this is my childhood bestfriends to lovers trope!

user3 no cause where's mine?!

user4 this is so much better than a black background and default font ig story announcement that they broke up😭

carlossainz55 i hope yn can make it through the night when she hears you snore

landonorris I don't snore!

carlossainz55 sure and birds cant fly

yourusername some birds can't

landonorris see???

yourusername but you do snore love

user5 IVE MISSED TIMES LIKE THIS😭

maxverstappen1 can't believe you got married before me

user6 you better watch your step mister, I'm literally right behind you.

landonorris 🫡 i would not dare

yourfriend oh yeah you'll never hear the end of it

yourusername stop threatening my husband😭

user7 "husband"😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 all of us are crying

lewishamilton congrats mate!

liked by landonorris, yourusername, and 72,309 others

yourusername

liked by carmenmmundt, lilymhe, and 1,295,670 others

yourusername Love you to the moon and to Saturn❤️

tagged: landonorris

view 50,405 comments...

user1 no because you don't know how happy i am for them😭

user2 i can finally sleep in peace at night with a smile on my face knowing my parents literally got married

user3 i have never once cried over celebrity couples getting married but this😭

user4 kinda valid knowing how much they went through just to be where they are now😭

user5 from them being childhood bestfriends to being enemies to being best friends again and now they're married?!😭

user6 im so happy for them 🥺

lilymhe congrats love! just tell me if lando hurts you I will literally snatch you from him

yourusername you're first on my contacts

landonorris hey! no fair

charlottesine gotta admit i shed a tear seeing you walk down the aisle🥺 so happy for you!

yourusername love you cha!

user7 yn is so blessed with her husband and her friends🥺

user8 and they're very blessed with her too🥺 she's like the gentlest most loving person ever

liked by landonorris and 29,654 others

landonorris very lucky to have her as my wife

user9 THEY JUST CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF CALLING EO HUSBAND/WIFE😭

user10 im gonna bathe with my toaster

user11 gonna lay down on the road

yourusername awww are you trying to ask for more lasagna?

landonorris did it work?

yourusername nope :P maybe kisses will do for now?

landonorris never mind the lasagna, brb gonna get it you owe me about a hundred ;)

user12 not them flirting under the comments!!😭 Get a room!😭

user13 oh they're abt to

#lando norris x oc #lando norris x reader #lando norris au #lando norris #f1 socmed au #f1 #fluff #f1 fic #f1 fluff #lando norris social media au

1K notes · View notes

literaila · 2 months

Text

keeping secrets

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you and satoru avoid each other

warnings: actual fighting, sad everyone, hurt/little comfort (sorry)

last part | next part

year four.

"did megumi give you a permission slip?" you ask satoru, leaning against the side of the couch, peeking at his phone. "it's for a field trip, but i haven't seen it. he says he set it on the counter."

satoru glances at you. then back, and shakes his head.

"he didn't give you anything to sign?"

"not recently."

you sigh. "i don't think he lost it."

satoru's lip quirks. "you think i'm hiding it?"

"i don't know. did you accidentally eat it?"

his eyes roll. "i have better taste than that."

"well, can you help me look for it?"

satoru sighs, head hanging back for a moment, then he throws his phone down, groaning as he stands up. after he stretches, he half-heartedly moves a pillow, pretending to look under it.

you snort.

but satoru doesn't look back at you, and moves to the table, to look at the stack of papers there.

and, admittedly, things have been a bit off.

you tried to ignore it at first--ignore the way satoru avoided your eyes, or kept himself five feet away from you at all times. you tried to pretend that it wasn't happening. that he wasn't giving you short responses, or only joking with you in dire moments (like when something you say goes over both of the kid's heads and they stare at you weirdly).

honestly, you hadn't even noticed anything was wrong until you'd realized that it'd been a week since he fell asleep with you. since he even bothered to come out of his room after putting the kids to bed. a week since he tried to squeeze you to death, or grossly kissed your cheek.

and... it shouldn't be weird.

no rule says that he has to spend a specific amount of time with you, or cuddle in your bed, or smile at you, or... do anything that your best friend probably shouldnt do.

but it's weird.

it's strange because your relationship with satoru has stayed relatively consistent, an upward slope for the past six years. you've grown closer, but never farther.

and, in the depths of your mind, usually when you're lying awake at night, you recognize that there's one single moment when it switched. that everything changed a specific morning, and you haven't been able to rewind it. to take it all back.

and you could just blame the alcohol for your confession, you probably should.

but then you'd also have to blame your sixteen-year-old self, the girl who'd been attracted to satoru in the first place. the eighteen-year-old who agreed to tie her life to his and take in the kids, or you now, still cursing yourself for falling in love with him.

it's not like satoru made you.

if intoxication is to blame, so is your heart, your soul, for starting all of this in the first place.

you'd decided to not blame anything at all, in the end. everything's fine.

"find anything?" you ask him, a bit cold in the room, feeling that same tension that's been there. those unspoken words, infinite amounts of distance.

you try to ignore it, really.

"just the receipt for tsumiki's violin."

"tsumiki's what?" you ask, blinking at him.

"i didn't tell you about that?"

"satoru, you can't just buy them things on a whim--"

he holds a hand up, stopping you. "she said it was for school," he says, giving you a quick grin. "plus, she's pretty good."

"there's no way she's good."

"you'll see," he says, "when we go to her recital."

"what?"

satoru shrugs, then he turns around, organizing the piles of papers into neat stacks. it almost makes you want to check him for a spider bite, a fever, remnants of poison. no way your satoru is doing that.

not that he's yours. he hasn't been yours in years, hasn't been your anything ever.

"oh, here," he says, eventually, handing you a paper which he already signed--of course--and shaking his head. "museums," he grumbles.

but he doesn't give you the chance to respond, turning to walk down the hall--towards his room--before you can even chide him for forgetting about it.

so, yeah. things are fine.

"where's gojo?" megumi asks, as the two of you walk through the door.

the house is empty without satoru there. colder, dimmer. and, of course, there's no one to irritate the boy right when he walks in.

you try not to wince at the question, or spiral into your own question of 'where's gojo?'

"uh," you lock the door, then unlock it. then lock it again. "he's on another job."

"again?"

you give megumi a bland smile, taking his backpack from him. "guess they think he needs more practice," you say, trying to tease.

it falls flat.

"did he get in trouble?"

"i don't know," you shrug. "probably."

honestly, it's not like you would know anyway. satoru doesn't tell you anything these days.

it's probably what bothers you the most, because if he's not saying anything, then neither can you. you can't ask him what he thinks about tsumiki's new friend, or if megumi should be eating more, or if you're just making everything up, probably going insane--

"when's he going to be back?"

"he said probably tomorrow. maybe the day after if it takes longer. i can't remember where they sent him..."

megumi looks mischievous. his eyes are bright. "so we can make those miso brownies? since he's gone?"

you laugh, ruffling his hair. "sure, when tsumiki gets home."

he nods, satisfied, and turns around. then he looks back at you, eyes trailing over your expression.

megumi looks at you quizzically, like he knows something you don't. "do you miss him?"

you roll your eyes. "do you miss him, megumi?"

he doesn't even think about it. "true," he says, then walks into the kitchen, grabbing something from the fridge.

maybe you miss him, you think, but only a little bit. it's not like he's been gone long.

just, you know, forever.

"hey," you lean against the desk in the office. satoru must be filling out a report, which should make you blink twice, but really it's him being out in the open that surprises you.

most days he goes to hide in his room. he locks his door and makes sure that you wouldn't dare to walk through. that you have no means to interrupt his solitude.

"oh, hey," satoru answers, not bothering to look up at you. his voice is low, familiar, and creates goosebumps on your skin.

seriously, why is it so cold in this house?

"i'm surprised those haven't gone missing yet," you gesture toward the papers, trying to be casual.

he snorts. "yaga said that if i lost them again, i was fired."

"he said that two years ago."

satoru nods, still scribbling. you want more than anything to just see his eyes for a moment, for him to look at you and grin like you're used to.

but you know he won't, so you tap your fingers against the desk. "do you have a second?"

"sure. what's up? megumi do something?"

"no, the kids are fine, i, um--" you pause. it feels ridiculous to have to ask him this, to not know the answer. it feels ridiculous to be nervous around satoru. you haven't felt anxious, or worried about asking him anything since you were sixteen and realized that it didn't matter. "shoko texted me about that work 'meeting' that's happening on friday. do you want to go to that? i just need to know so i can tell her..."

"meeting?"

your smile is teasing, not that he's looking. "i think she meant party."

"on friday?"

"yeah. she said that the booze is free, and i think nanami's going, so i thought..." you hint, not even sure what you mean.

i thought we could talk. i thought we could go together and maybe everything would go back to normal. i thought that we were friends, if anything, and that you cared about me--

satoru hums. "what about the kids?"

"tsumiki has a birthday party that night, and megumi likes the sitter from last time," you wince at your accidental mention of that night. "or he can come, i guess, but he'd probably hate it."

satoru snorts, nodding in agreement. you watch his hands freeze, then resume.

he's thinking the same things you are, you know. he's thinking about how stupid you are, how ridiculous it is to imagine him being in love with you, caring about who you are or how you feel.

you just know it.

"so..." you whisper, after a second. "do you want to go?"

you feel like you're standing on uneven ground. how can this be the only real conversation you've had with satoru this week?

how can you miss him this much when he's literally right there?

"i don't--" satoru makes a face, finally looking toward you. he sets down the pen. "i don't think so. but you can go and i can stay here with megumi," he suggests easily like he's not rejecting you. "we can have a guy's night."

"megumi hates guy's nights."

satoru has a cheeky grin on, but it's half-hearted. barely there.

like a glimpse of him in a peephole, a moment where he's not hiding completely from you.

he doesn't say anything, though. he doesn't even bother to come up with a better excuse.

it's clear as day that he just doesn't want to hang out with you, even in a crowd of people.

"that's okay," you hum, eventually, trying to keep your voice steady. "i don't really--"

"no, you should go. you haven't seen nanami in a while. you can have a night out," he says genuinely, but it sounds more like i need a break from you.

"yeah," you try to laugh. "i--um, okay. if you're sure."

he nods, looking away again. he hasn't touched you in weeks. your skin is almost molding, going completely stale. "i'm sure. we'll order dinner, so you don't have to worry about the brat complaining."

"okay."

"okay," satoru answers, but it doesn't mean anything.

and it's not okay.

the two of them walk through the door, and megumi looks... pleasant. he's got the makings of a smile on his face, a little jump in his step.

it's one of the only times you've seen him look like the ten-year-old he is, instead of someone who's concerned about economic collapse.

it makes you smile a bit, even if just the sight of satoru sends pangs down your chest.

"hey," you say, hand on his head as he lingers by you, eyes meeting yours in greeting. you look to satoru, who's pretending to wipe away a smudge on his glasses. "where were you guys?"

"we were--"

"gojo took me to that old hospital by my school," megumi says, "there were cursed spirits hanging outside. he let me and my divine dogs deal with them," he says this almost excitedly--as excited as megumi gets--and you can see it in his eyes. that little twinkle of pride.

your eyes widen, but you smile, trying to be genuine. it's difficult because you've been lying for weeks. "really?" you ask, trying not to look over at satoru accusingly. "how'd it go?"

"good," megumi, moves to the sink, washing his hands. "they're getting better at scenting them out. it didn't take long."

"that's great."

"megumi didn't need any of my help," satoru adds, giving you a short glance. "he's got good intuition."

megumi looks at satoru with a glare in his eyes, but you can tell that he appreciates the compliment.

you can tell that he's completely fine with this, that the two of them are going to act like it's normal, but you can't.

you try to ignore it when megumi looks between you and satoru, a slight furrow in his brows. he knows something wrong, you know. but you're not going to admit that.

you swallow. "do you have any homework you need to finish, megs?"

"uh..." he pauses. "i think so. reading?"

you smile, hand on his back as you lead him out of the room. "okay, how about you go work on that? i need to talk to satoru real quick."

he nods immediately, looking eager to leave--both the room and the tension.

as soon as he's gone, you turn to satoru, narrowed eyes as you observe him. he's already smiling because he knows that he's in trouble. because he knows that you're angry.

because, even if he hasn't actually spoken to you in weeks, satoru has always read you so well. he's always known what you're going to say before you say it.

but you can't care about it. it doesn't mean anything to him.

“you can’t do that,” you say, almost whispering. “not without asking me.”

“i knew you’d say no.”

you laugh, looking away from him. “exactly.”

“he’s fine,” satoru reassures. he shrugs, because why should he care about your concern? “he did good, and there’s not a scratch on him. i’m sorry for not telling you but—“

“no buts, satoru. you can’t take megumi out on missions like he’s a student. he’s not. and you definitely can’t do it without even telling me," there's a burning in your chest. your head is clouded over with anger.

just looking at him--at his ridiculous smile and stupid perfect face--makes you clench your fists.

how can he stand there and act like you're a team?

“it’s not a big deal. i was there the whole time—and he didn’t need me.”

“i don’t care!”

satoru rolls his eyes, his arms crossed. “i think you’re overreacting.”

“i’m not," you say, trying to get him to look at you--actually look--but he won't. it makes your chest hurt even more. "you’re not telling me things—fine, whatever, keep whatever secrets you want, gojo. don't bother talking to me. but you can’t keep secrets from me about the kids.”

“secrets? i’m not—“

you shake your head, hands in the air, trying to clear all of it away. you want the past month to go away, the past six years. “megumi’s just a kid. he’s ten. he can’t be going on missions, not until he’s ready.”

“i think i’ve already proved how ready he is.”

“well, maybe i'm not ready. he’s a kid.”

“yeah,” satoru says, obviously. he scoffs. “yeah, he’s a kid. but he’s also a jujutsu sorcerer. you can’t separate the two.”

his voice is all-knowing and his stance is firm. you know that you won't convince him otherwise--know that he's right, to some degree, but this isn't about megumi.

this isn't about cursed spirits or jujutsu.

“yes, you can," you say, clenching your jaw. "he doesn’t need to be seeing that shit right now. not until he decides he wants to. practice his technique with him all you want, but you can’t just take him to exorcise a curse with you.”

“like i said, he’s fine.”

“it’s not about that! it’s about you doing something reckless—again—and acting like there aren’t any consequences to your decisions. he’s my son,” you hiss, “he shouldn’t be going anywhere i don’t know about. you shouldn’t be making decisions about him behind my back.”

you shouldn't be pushing me away, you shouldn't be ruining this--

“so you want to lock him up here?" satoru asks, laughing at you. his teeth are sharp and he is still. "you want to take away his ability to defend himself?”

you scoff. “are you kidding? you think me saying i don’t want you to get him killed is equal to me—“

“he was fine. if anything—anything—had been there that megumi couldn’t handle, i would’ve taken care of it. i wasn't going to let anyone touch him. that’s why i was there! and he didn’t even need me," he's boasting, swearing to you--you can feel it as he rolls his eyes at you.

“you know what he needs, satoru? he needs you to treat him like he’s a little boy and not some experiment for you to play with.”

“i would never—“

you cut him off, “bringing him out into the open, where anyone could see him, could hurt him, and making him deal with your cursed spirit is not okay.”

“i didn’t make him deal with anything," satoru swears, chin up.

you snort. the two of you are standing in front of each other, arms crossed, head guarded. your muscles are tense like something is about to attack you. “oh, so he asked you to go?”

“well, no, but—“

“then you made him! you put him up against a monster and treated him like a student, like a 16-year-old, and not your son.”

the words feel nice to say. some version of the truth that's much better than whatever this version is. if satoru won't talk to you, you'll talk for him.

you'll make every assumption, every bad perception (because he's supposed to keep you from worrying, he's supposed to be there to calm you down, to save you from that spiraling). but if he's not going to try, neither will you.

satoru’s eyes grow hard. “what?”

“why can’t you just let him be a kid? why do you have to push him into these things—“

“we talked with megumi about who he is,” satoru grinds, “he knows about the privilege of his strength, and the fact that he has to work to use it—“

“a ten-year-old shouldn’t have to work for anything!”

he laughs at you. you can't see his eyes, but you watch his face as he tries to hide his expression, trying to keep his voice low. the kids are still in the house, so you shouldn't be yelling. but you can't bring it in yourself to really care.

“what do you think the point of him living here was? why do you think we took him in?”

you gape at him. “are you kidding?” you ask. “are you serious? we took him, and tsumiki, in because you’re responsible for killing their father! because they didn’t have anyone else, and that’s your fault.”

“you think i don’t know that?”

“well, i thought you did," you say, stepping away from him. some part of you wants to push him out, make him leave. the other part desperately wants him to stay--to say he's sorry. "but you just said that the only reason megumi is here is so you can teach him! when i agreed to this i thought you were facing the consequences of your actions, doing the right thing for those kids because you could. i thought you wanted to take care of them! to keep them away from our awful, messed up world.”

satoru is staring at you with his jaw clenched.

you continue, without consideration for the consequences of your words. “i didn’t think that you only wanted to keep megumi here so you could train him, like a dog.”

“that’s not what i said.”

you shake your head, a bitter smile on your face. “well it’s what you meant, and clearly you have no regard for his feelings or the way that curses might affect him—“

“don’t act like i did it just to mess with him," he interrupts, harshly. "it’s not a joke. i want him to be strong, i want him to be able to take care of himself—“

“and i want him to have a dad who isn’t so selfish!”

“what?”

“did you even think about it? what about the nightmares he’s going to have?" you wonder, rhetorically. "what about the fact that he’s different—that he’s already struggling to relate to other kids in school? what about him, satoru? why is it only about you?”

what about me? you don't say.

“i didn’t bring him for me—“

“you want a replacement. you want someone else to deal with everything, while you sit back and watch. i know what you’re trying to do—“

“really?" he points at you, the other hand clenched in the air. he's laughing again. "you can read my mind? you’ve already been let in on my plans—“

“don’t you wish that you’d had the opportunity to be just a kid?” you demand. “don’t you want that for megumi?”

he shrugs. “sure. but it’s never going to happen.”

“well, clearly, because you won’t let it.”

“he gets to be a kid every day. god forbid i take him to see one curse, to understand how to use his powers, to protect himself, and you treat me like i wanted to kill him.”

you laugh. your mind is a minefield, and everything he says ruins another part of it.

all you can think about is him, him as a teenager, him with you, telling satoru you love him and him having nothing left to say--

but you scoff again, shoving yourself further away from him. “do you know how many times i’ve wanted to go back to when i was ten and just got to live my life? do you know how often i think about how everything could’ve been different?”

“this isn’t about us."

“yes, it is. it is, satoru, because i didn’t get that chance and neither did you. and you just took away megumi’s chance.”

“i didn’t take anything away," he says, softly, like he's trying to convince himself.

clearly, you've struck a nerve.

“he’s never going to be able to look at the world normally, but he doesn’t need the burden of saving people before he’s even in middle school.”

“why is being strong so bad?” satoru asks you, demanding something more. why am i so bad? “why do you treat it like it’s a curse? like it’s going to hurt him?”

“look at you!” you respond. “look at suguru, and me, and shoko! look at any jujutsu sorcerer and ask them if being strong is worth it—is worth screwing your life over.”

satoru looks taken aback. he steps away from you.

“god, it’s like you think that we’re a different species," you tell him, never having felt like it's more true. "you’re human, satoru. you might be the strongest, but you’re still human, and you still have nightmares like all of the rest of us.”

he shakes his head at you.

“why do you want that for megumi? why push him into this right now?”

“i want him to be able to take care of himself. so that he doesn’t die like our colleagues, so that he doesn’t make the wrong choice like—“

he stops, his voice breaking before he can continue.

and maybe you know what this is really about, but if satoru doesn’t want to tell you how he feels, if he wants to pretend like it doesn’t matter—

fine. you will too.

“it wouldn’t make a difference. he’s already—his life is already messed up.”

satoru looks at you, his eyes ablaze. “don’t you think that if i was him, if i could’ve been stronger, if i could’ve saved all of those people—don’t you think i would do it in an instant? don’t you think i know that because i wasn’t strong enough, people died?”

this is the thing you've feared since you were eighteen, a brand new person responsible for two little lives. you've feared satoru's moral commitment since before you met him. since you saw him destroy a curse in an instant and realized he was different than everyone else.

“megumi isn’t you! he doesn’t need to be taught to take on the responsibility of everyone’s lives—“

“you can’t say that i’m selfish, that i don’t care, and then say that i care too much,” he says, shaking his head, unable to look at you.

he hasn't been able to look you in the eye in weeks.

“you’re both!" you say, almost yelling. "you’re everything. and you don’t think! you haven’t thought for a moment about what megumi might be feeling, who he might want to be—“

“and you have? what about what you want him to be?”

“i want him to be happy! i want him to grow up better than i ever did. i don’t want him chasing a bunch of cursed spirits around on the weekend like it’s a normal thing—“

“it is normal. for us, it’s normal. for him, it’s normal.”

you sigh, a weight on your chest, a burning in your throat. “well, maybe it shouldn’t be.”

you're not going to start crying now. not with satoru watching, not when he gets to know just how much you care.

satoru scoffs. “so you’d just have everyone defend themselves--"

"i don't know how you're arrogant enough to believe that you can save everyone--"

"--you’d just forget that we’re strong for a reason, that we--“

“but you’re never going to be strong enough, satoru. never.”

satoru stares at you. he doesn’t say a thing, doesn’t hesitate, and doesn’t bother to argue.

and after a moment he turns around. you reach your hand out to grab him--hold onto him and keep him here, because this isn't finished, and you're not done with him. you haven't even started.

but you run into a wall. you look down and your hand is dangling idly in front of his arm, stuck in the air.

you can't see satoru's eyes, but you can feel his heart--your heart--as it skips a beat in realization.

but then satoru shakes you off, pushes you infinitely farther away from infinity, and keeps going.

he walks out the door, slamming it shut.

you stand there for a moment, watching. you wait for the door to open again, for satoru to come back, for him to laugh--tell you that everything's fine, that it'll all be fine. that it's okay if you're angry, that he doesn't care.

but after a minute, he doesn't return.

and after another, you have to lean against the counter. your hand burns--but maybe that's just your imagination. you're pretty sure that infinity has no drawbacks, that there's no consequence for touching, for not touching satoru.

pretty sure.

but you still look over your skin, trying to see if he's left some mark. it would be nice to have some evidence of what he's done to you. you clench your fist, but the feeling doesn't go away.

and maybe it's not your hand. maybe it's your chest. maybe it's these weeks of feeling separated, feeling miles apart from him, feeling like it's all your fault that any of this has happened.

you... you can't even remember what you were arguing about.

you feel like a kid again, hiding yourself in your room just so your parents don't have to deal with you. you feel like that little girl who hid in the cupboards, trying to escape the monsters that no one else could see. you feel like that smaller, reckless version of yourself that left home at the first chance, who knew she wasn't allowed back.

are you allowed here? you wonder. is it going to happen again? are these monsters--real and fake--too much for your family to handle again?

you exhale, trying to catch your breath again. none of this feels right, normal, easy.

should you--should you call him? should you wait for him to come back?

is he going to come back?

the slam of the door is still echoing throughout the house when they creep down the hallway, making sure their footsteps are soft, but also loud enough for you to hear.

maybe you've only been standing there, waiting for satoru to turn around, for thirty seconds.

but it feels like an hour.

"mom?" a tiny voice asks, and both of them are turning around the corner, taking hesitant steps towards you.

you have to swallow. you need some water, an icepack maybe, to get rid of the burning feeling in your throat. the telltale signs that you're going to cry--that you've suffered blows to the core, and you can't backtrack now.

but you don't want to cry in front of them. you refuse to. if you didn't want to cry in front of satoru, you won't cry in front of the kids.

so you turn around, swallow again, and fill a glass of water.

you chug it down, wanting it to wash away that feeling, that ache.

you can't say anything just yet because then you'll actually fall apart.

megumi and tsumiki watch you, both of them silent as they wait for your direction. for some solution you should have.

you take a deep breath, then turn, almost faltering when you see the worried look on both of their faces, the concern in their eyes. neither of them should have to worry about this.

god, how could you forget that they were there? that they could hear everything?

how could you make another mistake?

"hey, guys," you say, clearing your throat. you want to be nonchalant, and casual, but you've never been either a day in your life.

"where did gojo go?"

"i, um," you take another sip of water, because that feeling crawls up your throat, makes itself known again. "i think he went on a walk."

"is he okay?" tsumiki asks.

"are you okay?" megumi follows.

"yeah, he's fine. he's good. i--he just needed some space, you know? um... a break."

"from us?"

your eyes widen. "no, no, no. of course not, never you guys. he's... just been busy this week. working a lot. and, i, well, he's good. we're good."

megumi leans on the counter next to you, looking at you very closely. "are you okay?" he repeats.

"i'm good, megs. it's..." you smile. "it's fine. um, did satoru get you anything to eat while you were out? i'm not sure what we've got, but i can make something if you--"

"when is he going to be back?"

you stop, sighing. you shouldn't have taught either of them how to read emotions, or how to eavesdrop. you shouldn't be speaking to anyone, or trusted with anything.

"i'm not sure, buddy. he'll be back when he's ready."

"is he going to stay out all night?" tsumiki asks, worried.

"no, i'm sure--" you stop again. "gojo will be back in time for bed, okay?"

they're both staring at you, waiting for you to say something profound, something to make it actually okay.

but you have nothing. is satoru going to come back? is he going to stay somewhere else? you know he'll exhaust himself just to avoid coming home--

this is why you shouldn't have moved in--

this is why you never should've agreed to this, allowed himself to burrow a hole in your heart, in your soul--

"hey," megumi takes a step towards you. and then, before you can blink the tears out of your eyes, reassure him that it's fine, his arms are around your waist.

he nuzzles his face into your side, squeezing tighter than you thought a little boy could.

theres only a second of this before tsumiki's on your other side, and squeezing just as hard.

your hands fall on both of their backs, and you take a breath that feels more like never breathing again. your lungs won't fill, and your chest is incomplete

but they stand there with you, and eventually, your heart begins to match theirs, and their little hands keep you together.

you can't cry, but you really want to.

satoru's entire body feels different.

he knows what it's lacking, the changes he's made in a short period of time--giving himself no time to acclimate, no pause where he slowly adapts to the differences.

he misses you.

it's been like this before--when suguru left and satoru couldn't bear to look at himself in the mirror, nonetheless you in the eyes--but it's never felt so severe.

because you're right there. you've been there every day, waking him up, making the kids breakfast, laughing when megumi bullies him, smiling at tsumiki's attempts at mediating.

you're there in the morning, in the afternoon, and every night. you're right there for him--and he can't say a word.

he doesn't want this, this thing to be real.

denial is his favorite emotion, and recently, he can't even muster the strength to go through with it.

and now, he feels even more hopeless, lacking, never ever enough.

but he walks through the door because he has nowhere else to go. he has no other home--besides the three of you.

it's dark outside when he comes back, and the door is unlocked, so he knows that you've been waiting. that you had to deal with the aftermath of shouted voices and scared children who he felt lurking behind a wall before he got the chance to think about any of it.

he needs to talk to you. satoru knows that, he really does. but he's not sure what to say.

he could apologize for tonight--could tell you that he won't make any more decisions, that he won't wreck this thing you've built--but it's not enough.

he should probably apologize for the last seven years. for letting himself grow attached to you, and then continue to hold you at arms length. he should probably apologize for being himself, for being less than he could be.

but those words feel too rotten to say aloud.

so, when he walks up to your door, waiting to feel your obvious presence--to see it, like he always does, the wall of cursed energy that you are--he feels like running away again.

you don't even need to know that he's home. satoru could go to bed, and he could probably pretend that nothing happened in the morning and you would follow along.

but he doesn't want to do that. not to you.

and he needs to see you, needs to say something before he figures it all out--should he leave, or stay? should he continue to push you away to protect you? should he tell you all of it?

it doesn't matter, he knows, because he probably won't be able to do any of it.

and for the first time in years, satoru makes sure to knock before he opens your door. just a small repetition of his knuckles, but he might as well be breaking down a tradition.

there's no answer, but he's not waiting, so he creaks the door open, looking for you immediately.

and he sees you, lying in bed.

and he sees your shoulders shaking slightly, with you curled up in the fetal position, and he can hear the sniffle before the door is all the way open.

there's no choice, he knows. he's not going to let you cry yourself to sleep without saying anything. he's not going to leave you alone.

you don't turn around, but satoru knows that you must know he's there. he walks across the floor, sitting at the edge of your bed, waiting for you to turn to him.

and yell, maybe. tell him to leave again. tell him that you don't want to look at him anymore.

but you don't move. your shaking is slightly stifled, and satoru can tell that you're trying to keep your breathing low, to keep him from noticing you cry.

it's foolish, really, because satoru hasn't missed a single detail about you since he was seventeen.

he doesn't say anything, but it's a natural reflex to tap your legs, to stand and slip off his shoes, gently pushing you off of the edge of the bed, towards the middle.

and then he's laying there, curling his limbs around yours, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you into him.

immediately, there's a release somewhere inside of him. that yearning--that ridiculous need is finally satiated.

satoru swallows. he needs to say something, he knows, but he's not sure what. should he apologize right now? should he tell you that he hates it when you cry--that he never feels more desperate to be more than in moments like this?

should he whisper that he loves you, just to get it off his chest?

but you cough, body shuttering as you relax into him, never pushing him away. and your voice is so small when you say, "you can't leave."

satoru feels the pieces of him crack into even more.

he tries to hold you tighter, but you move in his hold, turning so that you're facing him, and you nuzzle your face into his neck--trying to hide, but making sure that he's there.

your hands cling onto him, leaving marks.

he can feel your tears against his skin, your entire body on overdrive.

"you can't leave," you repeat, voice breaking. satoru feels it against the very outline of his soul.

"okay," he says, quickly. "i won't."

"i can't lose you too."

he pales, body going still. his heart might stop for a moment. "you won't. i'm not going anywhere." he sighs. "i'm sorry."

"i can't--" you're still crying, and you begin to shake again. "i can't do this without you. i won't."

"you don't have to."

"you can't leave, satoru," you say, leaning up to meet his eyes--yours glistening with years full of hurt, a lifetime of secrets and unsaid words. "please don't leave."

"i won't," he repeats, feeling a bit desperate. what can he say to prove to you that he's not like everyone else? that he would trap you within his atoms, if he could? that he would stay in this bed, holding you, even if it meant nothing, forever?

there's nothing, he knows. nothing but the truth. but that doesn't come out--it can't, now. it's not the right time.

so instead, satoru wipes the tears from your face, even though they're replaced immediately, your breath coming in short, short bursts. he wraps his arm around your back, pulling you back to him again.

"i'm sorry," you whisper against his skin, so quietly that he can barely hear it.

"i'm not going anywhere," he answers.

and, just for tonight, it's enough.

he'll fix the rest of it tomorrow.

next part | series masterlist

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netherfeildren · 7 months

Text

Pink : Part I : Humanist Seeking Person in Love

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Humanism: an outlook or system of thought attaching prime importance to human rather than divine or supernatural matters. Humanist beliefs stress the potential value and goodness of human beings, emphasize common human needs, and seek solely rational ways of solving human problems.

The story of a son who won’t love you, and his father, who will.

-OR-

the father-in-law AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No outbreak AU; Fix-it-fic but the thing that needs fixing is a person; Daddy issues; Daddy kink; Divorce; Welcome to the father-in-law suck and fuck extravaganza; Possessive behavior; Jealousy; Slow burn but like not really; DD/lg dynamics; Older man/Younger woman; Self esteem issues; Discussions of emotional and mental abuse; Unhealthy coping mechanisms

A/N: Check the tags on the masterlist, as well!

Word Count: 7.4K

Read on AO3

Ko-fi

1. Humanist Seeking Person in Love

The video you’d watched had said that the differences between a jamb nut and a coupling nut should have been obvious. A jamb nut, which was what you were currently looking for, was typically half as tall as a standard nut, or a coupling nut, and would be of a small, stouter shape compared to the other options. As you stare at the wall of overwhelming stock, the incomprehensible mess of steel, PVC, aluminum and plastic hardware you feel, a little bit, like you’d like to start screaming as loud as you possibly can, for as long as you possibly can. Just a rip roaring and rageful, top of your lungs, screech. Maybe it’d scare the leering men around you. Maybe they’d desist from the ogling of your ass in the tight confines of your ratty leggings, or the mildly pitying glances as your frustration and confusion becomes more and more obvious.

You try and take a deep breath, glancing down at your phone again and the screenshots you’d taken of the parts you need to fix your leaky kitchen sink. Zooming in, you hold the picture up next to the pipeware currently gripped in your sweaty hand and wonder again if what you’ve chosen is the right piece. You don’t understand why the hardware store, a local business, isn’t as neatly and efficiently organized as the larger chains, and why they make it so damn hard for someone without experience to come in and shop. You don’t want to buy the wrong thing and waste the money you already don’t have, you don’t want to have to make the trek back to this God awful fucking place. You hate the hardware store, you hate the way it smells, dusty and wooden, the cavernous hollow echo of it, the leering gazes of the men shopping, looking at you as if you’re some helpless child, something soft and easy to snap up and eat. You hate the memory of following your father around on many a Sunday morning after he’d forced you to come with him in some false attempt at bonding, at spending time together when really all it was, was another instance of you cowering behind him, trying to make yourself as silent and small as possible so as to avoid his anger and irritation.

You look back down at the piece of PVC in your clutch, at the picture of what you’re supposed to be buying again, back at the other option, a copper bolt you think might look right but can’t really tell the difference, and you feel the backs of your eyes pinch and go hot and achy. A sharp, throbbing pain starting up behind your left eye and spiraling out like a stain to cover your forehead. You want to go home. You want your kitchen sink to stop leaking. You want the past year to never have happened. For your marriage to not have so irrevocably unraveled that the husband you’d so desperately fought to keep had left you out in the cold, divorced, very nearly penniless in a new apartment that you couldn’t make feel like home no matter how many fall scented candles and throw pillows you stuffed into every nook and cranny. You want to not have to make decisions like these and take care of things like this. You want very, very badly for someone else to come and take care of you, help you, make the choices that seem very hard in the moment but that, in the grand scheme of things, aren’t really so difficult, but that still sometimes call for a second opinion, wiser, more experienced hands.

And in that next blink, in a soft, deep voice that should not be as easily recognizable in your mind as it is given the handful of times you’ve actually heard it, your name, being murmured from behind you. The lilt of a question, the gruff of shock coating the syllables as it pushes against your bare nape. Soft as a sledgehammer, like ice water down your naked back, your shoulders hitch up to your ears, going tense and frightened, a hot flush of shame spilling through you, the keenest desire to run away from that soft voice as fast as your stupidly October flip flopped feet’ll take you. You hiccup the half sound of his name, not turning around, lashes fluttering quickly to prevent the dry heat of your eyes from spilling over, nerveless fingers going listless around the plastic nut. You don’t want to turn around. This is a cursed place, this hardware store, and you should never have come, and you really do hate it here. Deep breath, deep breath. Be polite, be succinct. You don’t need to talk to him. You don’t need to think about the past. Fuck the sink, fuck the pipes. You’ll just move apartments. You let a long stream of air out of your mouth, and then turn on the ball of your foot to face him.

“Mr. Miller,” you breathe with a limp smile you know isn’t going to fool anyone.

He frowns, the line of his mouth wavering as he tries to contain his displeasure. “We really back to that?” You shake your head, looking away from him as the last shopper in the aisle you’re inhabiting walks away, leaving the two of you alone. The store suddenly seems to exist in a vacuum echo, all other patrons seeming to disappear, all sound going out. You even feel the imitation of a hollow pop in your ear drums. When you look back at him, he’s really scowling now. His strong brow pulled down over those too pretty, thickly lashed hazel eyes that you know so well on another man, a younger version of him.

It was the first thing you’d noticed about him, the first time Sam had introduced you to his father, they have the same eyes. The same but different. There was a coldness to Sam’s gaze that you hadn’t recognized until it was too late for you, but you recognized it now, with a painful sort of awareness, recognized the lack thereof in his father’s eyes, how different they were even in their similarity.

He raises his brows at you, a pressing gesture, “Joel.” His name feels like salt on an open sore in your mouth. “What are you doing here?” And he looks at you, just a little bit, like you’re an idiot, or maybe that’s only you, for his voice is gentle when he says, “Pickin’ up supplies with some of the boys on my crew. What’re you doin’ here, sweetheart? Sam with you?” Your heart beats like that of a small and hunted creature, pounding painfully against the confines of your ribs while a hot, humiliated flush washes through your entire body, heat suffusing your face so intensely there’s probably steam rising off the surface of your skin. You shake your head quickly, a barely there jerk. You’re suddenly trembling so hard your throat aches as if it’s been pierced by a lancet straight through. Another sharp jerk, and he steps forward a concerned look marring his face.

“You haven’t spoken to him.” It isn’t a question.

“He’s been feildin’ my calls for months. Assumed I’d done something– something else, last time to piss him off again. What’s wrong? Everything okay?” He pauses, head tilting, and you can’t look him in the face as you say it, gaze falling to your fingers twisted around the nut.

“We’re not together anymore. He– he left me. We got divorced six months ago.”

Shocked into silence he takes another step towards you, the toe of his heavy boot coming into your eye line. The ends are thick and rounded, and you wonder if there’s a casing of steel within, how much a kick in the ribs would hurt delivered by a boot like that, and the violent thought startles you, your eyes going wide, shooting up to his face as if worried he could read your thoughts. Ashamed that something like that in reference to him would even cross your mind, for looking at him, the gentleness in his gaze, the utter concern, a man like this would never hurt a creature softer than him, you know that.

It’s funny, or strange, or a phenomena not easily understandable or explainable unless you’d had a certain type of experience with a certain type of man, but there was a sort of sixth sense instilled in a person who’d dealt with cruel men that made it easy to recognize when one had the capacity to hurt you and when he didn’t. There were, of course, those who were good at masking it, but there was always something, a way they held themselves or moved around others, the cadence of their voices, clues that spoke of the sort of man he was. And from the first moment you’d met him, you’d thought Joel had something that spoke only of gentleness. Despite his size and seemingly rough aspect, there was something about his voice, and the way he carried himself, the way he moved around those who were smaller or weaker or less, less alive, less potent than him, that was always careful and always aware.

“What?” He moves as if he’s going to reach for you, and you flinch back, the curve of your spine bumping into the framing of the shelves behind you, face turning away quickly. He goes tense, forcing himself into stillness, the white of his teeth flashing in a grimace, but he puts his palms up in a staying gesture, it’s alright, easy, he murmurs, I won’t touch you, hands lowering to fist in the pockets of his jeans into tight balls of false restraint. As if he’s afraid of what they might do of their own volition otherwise. “What do you mean he left you? What happened? He–”

“I don’t want to discuss this with you. Call him again or– or I don’t know. It’s not my business anymore. He was never happy with me,” you stupidly add, finally braving a look back at his eyes again, a bitter laugh scratching up your throat, “You know this. Call your son, Joel.”

You move to leave, to get away from him, but he shifts, blocking your escape, sending your heart up into your throat. “Honey, wait–” but you’re spinning on your heel the other way, stumbling in your flip flops, and you think he says something about the wrong way, but you’re rushing, blindly trying to get away from him down the aisle as fast as you can. You’re going to cry, you can feel it, any second now. You weren’t expecting to see him, the reminder of everything that had happened, your marriage and its failure and the part Joel had played in it. A painful and jarring shock to your nervous system that you’d not been prepared to receive. You blindly scramble through the aisles of the hardware store, losing yourself to the gloom of the dimly lit back rows where plywood and carpeting are stocked, that detested dusty hollow smell intensifying. You take another blind turn, another, until the sounds of the store have gone faint and then a frightening pressurized silence. Bracing your palms against one of the eye level shelves you let your head fall between your shoulders, your bag sliding down your arm to hang and sway at the bend of your elbow. You watch the slow back and forth pendulous movement, eyes wide and blurred. If you don’t blink, you won’t cry, and you’re so fucking tired of crying over this.

“If you were tryn’a get away from me, exit was in the opposite direction,” comes his voice again. Your eyes flutter shut, a single tear drips from the line of your lashes onto the dusty concrete floor.

“Please, go away,” you croak.

“Tell me what happened.”

“What do you think happened? Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“He– he’s a fuckin’ idiot, sweetheart–”

Your stomach lurches, “Don’t call me that.”

But he doesn’t listen, continues on unheeded. “There’s gotta be something we can do. I’ll– I’ll talk to him. I’ll make him see that–” You let your head fall back the opposite way now, looking up at the high, cavernous ceiling of the store, another bitter laugh. It’s the only kind left to you now.

“I don’t want him back, Joel. Be serious.”

“He needs you–” And oh, that makes you angry.

“Fuck you.” You spin around to spit the words at him, rushing forward to shove at his rock solid chest. He doesn’t budge even half an inch. You shove again, again, a humiliating sob making its way up your chest. You blink then, you can’t help it, the tears fall unrestrained. It’s a specific type of humiliating, facing the estranged father of the man who you’d been married to, who’d been unable to love you, who’d abandoned you.

Sam and Joel had been unaware of each other’s existence for almost twenty eight years, but two years ago, Sam’s mother had finally told him about his father, his name, where he lived, how they’d gotten together when they were too young, and how she’d split, scared and vulnerable, without telling him a thing. The two of you’d gone looking for the man, and you’d both been varying degrees of shocked at what you’d found. Sam, faced with a man so unlike himself he’d immediately resented him more than he already had for the fact of his absence his entire life. You, as well, faced with a man so unlike your husband that it had made you resent your marriage even more. Immediately welcoming, loving, patient, gracious and generous and forgiving of the fact that a son had been kept from him for almost three decades. Despite the severity of his character, his serious reservedness, he’d done everything in his power to open himself to this long lost son. Not once had the news been met with cruel anger or outrage. Joel had accepted his son immediately and without question, listening to his mother’s reasoning, accepting the fact that a mistake had been made, forgiving, willing to move on and embrace Sam in all the ways he’d been denied for so long. Sam hadn’t been able to fathom it. He’d been mistrustful, hostile, angry, all the things he always was but compounded and heightened to a terrible degree he eventually started taking out on you.

And it was funny because the fraught, or lack thereof, relationships with your fathers had been the thing that had initially bonded the two of you. Too young and alone and without direction, you’d met him in your last year of college. The relationship had immediately developed without boundaries or reason, you’d been obsessed, a little desperate, unquestioning, and then married a few short months later. Two too young, too lost people, burdened with daddy issues. A terribly sad cliche. You’d never had a chance. You never should have been. And there’s a part of you now, looking up at this man, your ex-husband’s father, that wants to feel angry at him, that wants to spit in his face and say this is all your fault, everything that happened to me, everything that was done to me was in your name, and I blame you for all of it, but you know it’s without reason or countenance. And worst of all, anger, blame, resentment, it’s not anything near to the things you feel when you look at him. The memory of a small, dark restroom flashes in your mind’s eye, his eyes gleaming above your face, the thick slope of his shoulder, the patterned wallpaper behind him, sickening comfort.

You go still and frozen, fingers twisting in the front of his shirt, jerking with a painful shiver from the top of your head, down the length of your vertebrae, to the tips of your toes that cramp and spasm. Looking up at his face, you can feel a pulse throbbing in the muscle beneath your right eye, and the way he looks down at you, as if he’s never felt as sorry for any other creature in his entire life as he does for you in this moment, so embarrassing. You let your head fall forward again, landing with a soft thump against his chest, an uncontrollable tremble moving like fire through your frame. “Fuck you,” you say again, whispered, soft and weak and without any sort of force behind it. “How dare you say that to me,” another tear. “He’s always needed you. It was never me he wanted, never me he needed. It was always you.” You watch as one hand withdraws from its pocket cage, lifting to push a soft tendril of hair back behind your ear. And there’s fire left in the wake of the brush of his skin at the hollow there. Another shiver of a worse kind, one of desire, one of lust, moves through you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it – I’m sorry, honey.” Stupid southern charm and their stupid pet names. You clutch at his shirtfront more tightly, press your forehead harder into his sternum, and he brings his hand to your shoulder, tucking you into himself more securely. He’s huge and warm and smells faintly of salt and sweat and laundry detergent. Something clean and fresh and masculine. He smells alive. His other hand comes up to the back of your head, moving through your hair. Fucking, Sam, he murmurs above you, and you’re sure he’s shaking his head in that disappointed fatherly way. “Tell me what you were looking for. What had you lookin’ so confused and irritated in the plumbing aisle?” You’d laugh if you could, a non bitter sort, but you don’t have the ability anymore, and that makes you so angry. Angry and irrational.

“My sink’s leaking, and I can’t afford a plumber because your son divorced me and left me with no money and no house and nothing for myself, and I hate this stupid place. I hate the way it smells, and I hate that nothing’s labeled clearly, and I hate the way you men,” you shove at his chest a little bit again, “look at me like I’m some dumb little girl who doesn’t know left from right.” Even if that’s what you kind of feel like, a dumb little girl who doesn’t know left from right anymore. Slightly out of breath, you go limp and exhausted against him. His palm flattens at the center of your spine, supporting you, and it’s so fucking inappropriate. You should move away. You don’t know him well enough for this, he’s your ex-father-in-law, you shouldn't let him touch you, but should and should not and right and wrong and inappropriate or not has never really mattered to you where Joel Miller is concerned. “This is the worst place in the whole world,” you mumble, voice muffled from where your face is squished against the annoyingly hard and delicious muscles of his chest. You feel, keenly, like you’re being a little bit ridiculous, a little bit embarrassing, but his big hand is slowly moving up and down the length of your spine, soothing and comforting, and you can’t bring yourself to care. He’d been kind from the first second you’d met him, and then, at the worst moment, he’d been understanding, and you’d never really stood a chance against him either.

You’d never had a chance with the son, you’d never stood a chance against the father, there had never really been much choice or possibility for you as a whole where either of them were concerned.

I was such a little person. Tiny in my insignificance, naivety, hope. Desperate to be as good as I could be, and pathetic in my failure to make myself into what I thought the world wanted of me.

“You can’t afford–” He breathes out roughly through his nose, stopping himself from continuing. “Do y’know what it is you’re looking for? What part?” And you nod your head, still buried against him, unable or unwilling to pull away. “Let me help you,” and he says it so, so gently that it makes you want to stomp your foot and cry and throw a fit at the unfairness of it all.

“Don’t want your help,” you can’t help the muffled whine it comes out as. All you want is for someone to help you.

“Of course you don’t, sweetheart,” he soothes. “But let me anyway. S’the least I can do for talkin’ out of my ass.” You finally pull back, looking up at him, and he brings his thumb up to catch the wetness at the fine skin beneath your eye. “Please, don’t cry,” he whispers like it hurts him.

And even though he’s currently catching the salt of your eyes with his fingers, you lie obstinately, “I’m not,” whispered back just as quiet.

After he helps you find the correct piece for your sink, finally, which ends up being neither of the options you’d been previously weighing, a fact that almost sends you over the deep end again, and paying for it at his aggravating and overbearing insistence, he walks you to your car.

“Is he still in Austin?” He asks as he holds your door open for you, your shopping bag still clutched in his hand. One of the guys on his crew had come to find him while you were checking out, but he’d sent him away with a shake of his head, said he had something to take care of.

“I don’t know, but he sold our house.”

“Fuck– Where’re you living?” The sound of his spit curse has a wet flutter moving through you, shame following bitterly in its wake.

“I got an apartment in the East Side.”

“And he just left you to fend for yourself? Took your fucking house?” He’s getting angry, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him get angry. Something foreign like excitement jumps within you.

“Well, that’s the point of divorce, Joel. You separate and are left to your own devices.” You reach for the little plastic bag, but he jerks it out of your reach.

“He has a responsibility to you. He–”

“Again… the point of divorce.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, that boy,” he mutters, shaking his head. And that’s the thing of it, you think, that’s always been the crux of the issue. Sam was always a boy, has always been just a boy… there had never been any chance. “Let me come help you with the sink. Let me fix it for you.” Something to take care of, that’s what he’d said, that’s what he’d called you, what he sees you as.

You’re shaking your head before he can even finish getting the words out, full of regret, and a wish that it could have all been different from the very start. “You know that isn’t a good idea,” and he goes silent because he does, he does know, he’d known since the first time probably. It had been obvious in the way that a secret thing can only be between the two people involved in the unsaid. “I can do it myself. Don’t worry. I’ll find a way.”

“You still got the same number?” He asks.

“Please, don’t call me. Call Sam. He’s the one that needs you. He’s the one that–”

“And who’s taking care of you? Who’s gonna take care of you, sweetheart? You need someone too, we all do.”

A flash of that earlier anger again, and you reach forward to rip the bag out of his clutch now, angry because he’s right. Because he’d always seemed to have a grossly misplaced ability to read you exactly as you are. He’d read you for what you were from the first second he’d laid eyes on you, naive and hopeful and falsely in love with a son who’d never loved either of you in return. “Maybe,” you tell him, “But that can’t be you.” He looks away from you, gruff sound of irritation passing through his clenched teeth, and he drags a heavy palm down his bearded mouth. Fuck, again that provoking spit curse. The wallpaper in that dark restroom had been covered in little blue motifs, butter yellow details sparsed throughout. It had surprised you, the pretty and delicate design in the home of a, for all intents and purposes, bachelor. It spoke of intention and attention to detail, to his space, to care of his home. That dim moment was, strangely, sickly, the brightest memory of the entire two years of your marriage.

“You still got my number?” He presses anyways. Unheeded or uncaring of you trying to push him away, and there’s something about that, that’s pleasurable, his inability to let a thing go where you’re concerned, his unwillingness to allow you to hold him at arms length. Like he doesnt care to be kept away from you, and so he won’t. You nod your head once, face burning, molars grinding to keep yourself still and in place. You’d felt, for two years, trapped, running in place, and now left limp and exhausted and colorless, and you hope that he can’t read that exhaustion in you. For some reason, that would be more embarrassing than everything else, for him to see just how defeated you’d been left. He gives you one of those looks, those direct, piercing, aggravating looks that you’ve seen from him before, aggravating in a way that is inciting, like a relentless tongue against a slick swollen cunt, God. Your hands are shaking, and he bends his head down to your level to look at your directly, “You promise me that if you need anything, anything at all, doesn’t matter what it is – that you’ll call me. No matter the hour, no matter what it is. Promise me.” Another sharp jerk of your chin, if you talk you’ll scream or make a sound not wholly belonging to the body of a girl, woman, whatever you are. Another nod, the mute shape of an okay passing through your lips. And his face is so concerned, his hand almost lifted in the imitation of what you have to tell yourself, as a form of self preservation, is an ill intentioned caress or hug, but that you know he’d mean as nothing more than genuine comfort. You deflate in relief when he doesn’t touch you, right here, out in the open for the whole world to bear witness to. Things like that, after all, are only meant for dark, wallpapered bathrooms. He’d already taught you this.

The relationship had not been what either of them had expected, Sam and Joel, from the get go. There was a smallness to his son, a pettiness and a cruelty and a spoiled rotten vein through the core of him that was incongruous with who Joel was as a man, something that was glaringly obvious to all involved. And try as he might, in those early days, they could not overcome the disparity in their personalities. The attempts from Joel at closeness had been fraught with tension and unsaid resentments, and eventually Sam had given up, stopped answering his father’s calls, evading his attempts to connect. Your marriage had spiraled into dissolution shortly after that. As if the failure to find whatever it was he’d for so long hoped for in a relationship with his father had highlighted all of the things you yourself lacked, all the ways in which you were so specifically dissatisfying to him and always would be.

The marriage had not ended up being what either of you had hoped for, the honeymoon phase quashed and dead early on, no brightly lit halcyon. Reality had set in quickly when confronted with the disjointedness of your pairing, a bone out of place, your specific inability to please him in the ways he’d thought you would when he’d first met you. There was something about you that had always been a little bit lacking, something ascetic and cold natured about your personality at times. Since you were a child, trying to appease an unappeasable father, to emulate a singular mother. Always impossible, always falling just short of utter failure. Not so terrible that you were outwardly obvious in your mediocrity, but never everything you could be. Painfully, succinctly average. Sam had come to realize this quickly. Perhaps, unaware prior to tying himself to you because the only thing you’d ever been not average at, was being a little bit of a liar, of being placatingly complacent when the moment necessitated, manipulative in a way that you found protecting. But you see, that’s what happened when you had a cruel father who always needed appeasing, something Sam, in his abject fatherlessness, couldn't understand. Funny, you’d said that to him once, near the end, called him abjectly fatherless, his weakness a consequence of his lack of a paternal role model, and oh, how he’d hated that. Endings could bring out such cruelty in people, you’d found.

But the manipulation of a moment had become, in some ways, your only talent. The art of superficial gratification at a moment's notice as a way to keep the people around you falsely happy and calm. Like all small and frightened creatures, you’d learned your strengths well, but as all truths do, yours had eventually surfaced. The fact that you weren’t really so appeasing in the ways he desired, not so nice, not so perfect, not so subservient. That the persona was all just a way to keep him happy as a means of getting someone to love you, to stay because you didn’t know how else to be.

Your mother always said you could’ve been nicer to him. She was a kind, soft, patient thing. Quiet and easy and always, always, above everything else, understanding. It was the worst thing about her. A detriment, a weakness, and she resented you for your resentment, for seeing her as such, but you could never help it. Always asking you why you couldn’t just be a nice girl, a good girl.

You didn’t think you had not been nice, not been good. You had only been yourself.

Your father had always hated that about you, you being yourself. The man you’d chosen to marry didn’t seem to like it very much either. And she’d tried to instill her better qualities in you, your mother, so you weren’t all bad all the time. There could be a brightness and a lightness and a sweetness to you sometimes, it’s true. You weren’t always all bad. But there was – is still – also a bitterness and a resentment and an anger, a screaming that you could not quell no matter how hard you tried. And so you’d attepted to give him everything you could, your husband, everything you had at your disposal in all ways, to do and be all he could have ever asked of you during those two small years of marriage. Because truly, they had felt so very small, made you even smaller.

Everything except for sex. You’d never been able to give him that the way he’d wanted.

At first, it had been normal, sweet, soft missionary in the darkness, tepid insinuations of orgasms, always hushed, always exactly how he wanted it. But eventually, when the other parts of you began to fail, he got mean and callous and casually cruel. And as you pulled away physically, he called you frigid, a prude, boring, cold, bad in bed, didn't know how to make a man hard. And it had made you so agonizingly insecure, already a sensitive and anxious thing when it came to your physical form, he’d beaten you down, embarrassed you, belittled you.

With time, you’d realized the truth of it which had been nothing more than that you’d never really wanted him. He had never made you desperate, he had never made you wet. It was his character, his attitude, yes, but it was also him. He just wasn’t it for you, and it wasnt that you were a prude or frigid at all, only that you needed patience and understanding and care, gentleness. Things he possessed none of.

You just needed a little time to warm up and someone who wanted to give you that time.

The reality that your life had not been full of varied and foolish adventures, and that time had seemed to simply slip away like an echo in the brain from one moment to the next was duly painful. A handful of months of wan and false lust, two years of cold, bitter marriage, and now, six months of barren aloneness. Too many mistakes had been made, too many regrets, three big ones that could be held like stones scorched to burn by the sun in the palm of your hand so that even if you let them go eventually, their imprint would still be scarred into your flesh afterwards forever.

So, perhaps the divorce had been painful in the moment. Or not perhaps, there was nothing uncertain about it, you’d fought tooth and nail to make it work, to keep him with you. Prostrated and humiliated and debased yourself. But with time, it became obvious that it was a fantasy you decided you should finally cast aside, as all children do childish things at a certain age. And then, it had been the easiest thing in the world. After all, and let’s be honest now for a moment, the reckoning had come in the shape of his father. That is, at the end of it, the reason you’re really here.

Sat now, before the open cabinet below your kitchen sink, leaky pipe drip, drip, dripping monotonously in front of your glazed over eyes, you think of him. He’s a large man, intimidating and dark and stoic. Taller and broader than his son. Lush, mahogany curls streaked with silver that speak of age and experience like the smile lines around his eyes. Deeply grooved when he laughs that beautiful laugh of his. He looks exactly like the opposite of whatever his son is, like he’d have the ability to make the opposite of you, to pull out of you whatever the antithesis is of what his son was able to. It had been immediate, the nature of your thoughts towards him. The desire, the desire, the desire, you had wanted like you’d never wanted before — like an illness, like dying.

Your marriage had been circling the drain, and then you’d met him, and it should have been innocuous. He’d been kind and polite and welcoming, but also, aloof. Holding himself at a distance, something afraid that he carried within himself, like he didn't want to hope, like he was just a little bit scared of what it meant now to have a son, something to lose. You knew a little bit about that, the worst part of it all is never the cruelty, it’s the hopelessness. Everything had become so much worse after meeting him. An unbearable sort of awareness of something that your listless, frigid self recognized as man, man, man, something like hunger. Something slanted about the desire, wrong, sure, for he was your husband's father, and yet, you wanted him. You wanted to know what he smelled and tasted like, and what the weight of his cock on your tongue would feel like. If it was bigger than his sons, you were almost positive of that, if it would stretch the corners of your mouth to near splitting, the hinges of your jaw to aching.

You’d met your husband's father, and had realized, painfully, with uncompromising clarity, all that your husband could be, all that he was not, all that he would never be. There was no comparison between the boy and the man, and it made you hurt.

Your eyes flit back to the screen of your open laptop and the instructional video there, popping another fuzzy peach gummy onto the flat of your tongue, mouth full of sucking sugar. You’re going to fix this sink if it’s the last thing you do, and you’re not going to think about him again. But tomorrow, you’ll start not thinking about him tomorrow. The talent of a liar never really wanes.

The apartment is quiet, nothing but the cheerful crackling of your sweet pumpkin candle and the mocking splish splash of the drain pipe. You had, in recent weeks, come to think of your abandonment as something of an accomplishment. Perhaps, your loneliness is a good thing, you’ll tell yourself as a comfort, a sort of friend; you can’t be used against yourself again in this solitude, and oh, how you’d been used. That anemia in your character, the ascetic thread of your personality had been weaponized and wielded against you until you couldn’t tell up from down and left from right. You were certain there’d been cheating, even if you’d never had any proof to confirm it, merely grateful you’d never gotten sick as way of evidence. But you knew. And it could've been so much worse for you, of course, of course it could have. But he’d left your mind so off kilter, broken and confused and not yourself. Utterly damaged in a way that was humiliating and devastating when you thought of the way you’d been, such a little person. So often, not a woman, just a little girl.

And then his father. Joel. Seeing him today – you had never felt the way you should have felt towards him. Like your eyes were open, awake for the first time in your entire life. A man like that – he was changing. And you wanted, needed very much to be changed. Seeing him today, being presented with that reminder of what he was, how he made you feel, how he’d always made you feel. There’s something ghoulish about you concerning him – about this desire. That ascetic or anemic or under-grown, illformed thing about you, exterminated in the thrum of how alive he is. How unlike his son. You’d never known what it specifically was, never been able to categorize it, and then there had been that moment, brought so low, six feet beneath the ground sort of debased, and he’d been there and you had been – unburdened from the weight of his own son, by him, and you’re not even sure he knew the extent of it. The power he’d wielded over you in that moment in the dark. And you can’t say it out loud, what it is you’d want from him, you can’t even say out loud what it is about him that changes you as it does – not a woman, just a little girl – but you think that if you could just see him, then you’d know, or maybe you could be brave. You don’t know what it is, but you’d know it then, with him in front of you, you’d have the answer to this question that’s plagued you for so long – how to be yourself in a way that is good.

You’re pushing yourself to your feet, fueled by the thought, fingers gripped over the ledge of the counter to pull yourself up, sink forgotten, stumbling to your front door, shoving your feet into your shoes and fumbling for your keys. How to be yourself in a way that is good.

When you were seventeen, your father had been at his angriest. Angry in that way that all angry father’s are. Loud and brutish – an anger that is cowing, a sign of true weakness. Brute force in the shape of the man who gave you life. When you think of it now, even as a grown woman, you still feel that phantom limb of fear, and you know that it isn’t normal for a grown woman to be afraid of her father, and yet you are. And then to think that you’d gone from your parents home directly to the bed of the same sort of man, one even crueler, if possible. You’re forced to laugh your singular terrible, self deprecating laugh at the irony of it – even worse, if possible. For what’s worse than a person who constantly needs to be soothed into kindness and patience and calm?

Once, in that terrible seventeenth year, funny and strange and unknowingly perfect, you’d been gifted the Farmer’s Almanac by your elderly neighbor. She’d said that she’d read it since she was a girl, liked the peace in knowing that the year had been predicted by experts and put down on paper. It made life seem more secure, more in control in a small way. You’d needed that during that turbulent time, locked in your teenage bedroom, lulled to sleep by the sound of your father’s anger and the year’s long-range weather predictions before your blurry eyes. It was so comforting to be able to read the future in text, catastrophe or sunshine, at least it was there. You still read it to this day. And there’s no congruity to the thought now, as you crawl into your car, a ghoul in the night, banging your knee on the hastily opened car door, sprouting gooseflesh in the cold; this desire, desire, desire that is the worst thing you’ve ever felt in your whole life, and yet, you can’t bring yourself to stop because there is something about control in this moment also. Control like knowing what the future will be like on paper, control like a man who is entirely grown into himself, who knows who he is and who he is not and is not uncertain, who will not yell, who will not hurt you. He has this – your husband’s father – you know he does. There is something about control, there is something about knowing how a thing will be, there is something about being yourself in a way that is good.

You’d picked up the wrong wine on your way here. Rushing, trying to fix your makeup in the car, you’d gotten confused, chosen the one he didn’t want instead of the one he did. And it was nothing, or an accident, surely nothing to incite his ire, but he’s so fucking angry hovering in front of you. He looks at you, now sometimes, like he hates you, like you’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to him. He said you’d humiliated him in front of his father. That he was going to think he didn’t have good taste, couldn’t afford a decent bottle of wine. And you don’t know Joel very well, but he doesn’t seem like the type of man to care about such things. Calling you an idiot in that poisoned shrill tone he takes on when he’s delivering a set down, and you’re trying to tell him to please, please keep your voice down, Sam, your father is going to hear you. You’d heard someone say once that a truly powerful man never feels the need to raise his voice, it simply isn’t necessary for him, and you’re reminded, terribly, of your father, with the sight of your shrill and seething husband in front of you. And then a low toned that’s enough, son from the mouth of the kitchen, and it’s so much worse, entirely catastrophic in a way, and you’re rushing away so humiliated, face on fire, tear caught over the trough of your lower lid, trying the doors in the hallway for the nearest restroom. You hear the murmur of voices, one struggling to maintain composure, the other, cool and steady, then the slam of the front door, and finally, the silent din of his house settling around the two of you as you find a restroom to hide in. Your heart beats so fast it makes you nauseous, knees strangely aching, listening to the heavy steps of Joel’s boots, as if he’s trying to warn you with those measured, weighted thuds that he’s coming, coming, coming for you. Turning to face the far corner of the restroom, you press your palm over your mouth, face slippery and burning and so stupid, the soft swoosh of the opening door, a paused breath as he takes in your form huddled into the wallpaper, and then the muted snick of the door closing behind him, shutting the two of you away together.

Part II

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rafesslxt · 27 days

Text

neglected | mattheo riddle

summary: Theodore completly ignores you and doesnt take it serious that you miss him while he flirts with another girl at a party.. so his best friend has to help you filling up that hole inside your … chest.

warning: cheating? but is it if he does it first?, mattheo eating out the reader, fingering, nipple play, teasing, dirty talk, getting caught, he‘s a munch don‘t fight with me over this -

note: i do not support cheating, this is just for the story

— monday —

I don‘t know how many times I already begged but from time to time.. i felt more and more neglected.

"Theo, please just this one weekend! You had been busy with your friends and studying the last 3 weeks!" Yeah, 3 weeks since my boyfriend went on a date with me, had some quality time or touched me.

"Y/n I told you I don‘t have time. I already promised the boys I‘d come to the party. We‘ll see us there, I have to go study now, with Lydia." Before I could even say a word he left his dorm. I hear a chuckle coming from the other side of the room, making me turn my head in it’s direction.

"Told you you deserve better baby." Mattheo, Theodore‘s best friend said, sitting on his bed. They share a dorm and every now and then he would see Theo and me arguing.

I huff and leave the room, a aching feeling in my body.

— the next day —

"Theo please, I need you. You didn‘t touch me once the last few weeks." I whine into his ear, sitting next to him. He just groans, but not the way I want him to and gets up with his book in his hands. "Don‘t you see that you‘re distracting me?" Irritated he leaves the room, probably walking off to the library again.

Ugh.. i let myself fall back down onto the mattress and cross my arms over my face. Is it my fault? Did my body change somehow? Why the hell won‘t he touch me? But before I could continue my thoughts, I hear the door again, my head shooting up, hoping it is Theo who changed his mind but no, it‘s Mattheo. I groan frustrated and let my head fall back.

"Wow nice to see you too baby, but I think you‘re laying on the wrong bed." he says, teasing me.

"Sometimes I think like that too." I mumble into my arms and more to myself.

"What was that?" he asks. "Nothing."

— two days later —

Patiently I wait on Theo‘s bed, dressed all up.. or down, in his favorite lingerie set and a pair of black knee socks. When we got together half a year ago he told me he loved them on me, made my legs look even longer.

As the door opens my heart starts beating faster and I look up, shrieking and pulling the blanket over my body as I see who it is. "Damn mami is that for me?" Mattheo asks as he stand in front of Theo‘s bed with a smirk on his face, his mouth wide open.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I asked furious, not wanting him to see me like that. What If Theo comes in and would see us, what would he think?

"Last time I checked this is my room, sweetcheeks." "But you‘re supposed to have quidditch practice!" I whine and look for my clothes.

He chuckles and steps a bit closer as I stand up from the bed. "Could you turn around? I wanna get dressed." "No." "You are such a pain in the ass!" I roll my eyes at him and take my wand, mumbling "Colloportus“. and holding it towards the door so no one can come inside.

I let go of the blanket, thinking fuck it, and grab my skirt, pulling it over my legs and then my hips. "Did your cute little boyfriend leave you unsatisfied again?" he grins and takes a step closer. "You know.. I could help you with that." he says in a suggestive tone. "He’s your best friend Mattheo, stop this shit." "I can’t princess. Hurts me to see that pretty little body of yours, knowing how desperate it must be after all these weeks." he whispers the last part as he lets his fingers slowly brush over my arm, sending shivers down my spine. "See? It’s so hot for just a little attention." "No, it is cold, thats why." I say, swallowing down the clump in my throat as i nod towards the opened window.

Just as I wanted to reach down for my top, I see Mattheo getting down on his knees in front of me. He looks up and licks his lips. Damn.. something about a men on his knees for me made me feel slme type of way.

"Please let me touch your legs, please. Need to know how soft these pretty thighs feel." I could feel his warm breath against my skin, again, sending shivers down my… spine. wet pussy

"Mattheo get the fuck up I swear to god!" i hiss at him. Yes I closed the door with a spell but it wasn‘t really hard for everyone above first years to open it with a spell.

"Please, I swear If you let me just touch it I‘m gonna leave you alone for the rest of the week!" he pleads, looking at my face and then my legs. I sigh as I think about letting him. Damn was I really thinking about it? Am I really going to let my boyfriends best friend touch my thighs?

But I mean.. nothing’s wrong If I don‘t feel anything for it, right? Plus he would just leave me alone for a bit. "Fine." I press out.

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel his big warm hands on my thighs. "Shit.." he mumbles as he lets them wander up and down my legs. He slighty squeezes them, making me sigh in relief.

I feel his curls against my skin before I can look down and see him kissing my flesh, grabbing it with a bit more strengh now. I had to bite my bottom lip as he starts massaging them. Completly lost in thoughts, I realize too late what he was doing.

Suddenly he stands up and kisses my cheek "Thank you, doll.", before leaving the dorm and leaving me breathless in the middle of the room. As I slowly come back from the dizzy feeling inside my head I again, stretch over to get my top but gasp with shaky breathing as I see what Mattheo left on my skin.

A hickey. And a bite mark. I didn‘t even notice him biting my leg. Shit.

— Saturday —

To say i was pissed, while sitting on a chair in some corner of the common room, was a big understatement. Theodore and I arrived at the party he talked about a few days ago.. 2hours ago. I saw him drinking with his friends and playing truth or dare in a little group, always walking away from me as soon as I approached him. So I decided to stop chasing him.

"What are you doing here all alone sweetcheeks?" I look to my right and see Mattheo. Of course it was him. "Leave me alone." I say, rolling my eyes and looking back to my boyfriend, sitting beside this girl named Lydia. She was a year under us I think.

Mattheo followed my gaze and shakes his head. "Well , the deal was I would leave you alone till end of the week. The week is over." I don‘t even answer him, not in the mood to argue.

"Yeah thanks for the hickey and the mark between." i say sarcastically. "Yeah it‘s not like your boyfriend would see, right?"

I roll my eyes again and look back at Theodore, to see him standing up. What was he going to do? Suddenly I see him taking Lydia‘s hand, pulling her up with him and kissing her. In shock I opened my mouth, but instead of crying like i normally would, my face got red in anger.

I tried everything and here he stands sucking of the face of that stupid thot. In the middle of the common room? With the girl he "studys" all the time? I bet that’s not the first time they kiss. Mattheo seems to see it too and looks at me more serious now. "Hey.. are you okay? I mean he‘s not worth it If you - " but before he can continue I grab him at the collor of his shirt and drag him with me to his dorm.

— 30 minutes later —

"Oh fuck yes, Mattheo!" I moan into the air, pushing his head against me while his lips suck on my clit, his fingers pumping inside me. "Shit who would have known that you go this feral for my tounge huh?" he smiles and mumbles against my skin.

"Stop talking and continue!" I whine and push his head back. I hear him chuckle before he laps at my throbbing clit again. God If I would have known how good this feels I would have had ended things with Theo way sooner.

His free hand slides across my body up to my left boob where he started to tease my nipple. I gasp and push my hips up, arching my back. My body was so sensitive I wanted to cry out of pleasure everytime he touched me somewhere.

It didn‘t took me long before my body starts trembling and shaking, Mattheo licking everything up as I come on his tounge.

"I could get drunk on your pussy." he groans before kissing me, making me taste myself on his lips.

"I hope you‘re ready cause that pussy screams for me." he whispers against my lips before going down on me again.

A few minutes in I hear someone yell. "WHAT THE FUCK?"

My head shot up and I looked to the door where Theo stood, looking ag us with an angry face.

I saw Mattheo looking at him over his shoulder, smiling at him with glistening lips. "Hey men, hope you don‘t mind? We got the impression you were busy.. never mind – bro how could you not eat that pussy like.. all day?"

"I‘m gonna kill you, Riddle!"

shorter than usual but I liked it 🌼

thanks for reading and supporting 🫶🏻

xoxo sarah <3

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