#i meant to just say: here's a cool moment

[featherandferns]

guilty as sin? (fic - part 1/2)

jj maybank x fem!routledge!reader | largely inspired by the bible

content warning: sexual content; mentions of parental abuse (physical abuse) | any questions for trigger warnings, feel free to inbox anonymously

word count: 14k.

blurb: when you, John B's half sister, return to Kildare after over two years of living in Colorado, your adolescent crush that you harboured for his best friend comes screaming back. Because you and JJ can't be together in real life, what's the harm in a fantasy?

“And this is your room.”

The syrup-coloured wood is the first thing your eyes meet when John B pushes open the bedroom door. There’s the vague lingering smell of teenage boy which he’s tried to air out, the window open ajar, and the clutter of his belongings has been moved to make space for your own. As you drop your duffel bag and step into the room, you take in the walls. There’s posters and prints stuck above his bed, dotted around on slats of wood separating windows: someone surfing; a rockstar smashing his guitar. An old skateboard deck is nailed into the wall alongside a license plate. The sheets are bright blue, the bed freshly made, and a clean towel is folded up at the foot. It’s well-lit with plenty of daylight flowing through the many windows. Homely and inviting.

“Is it, uh, alright?”

You turn to find John B leaning against the doorframe, hands in his short pockets. Smiling, you nod.

“It’s perfect,” you tell him. “I’m honestly chill with crashing on the couch, though.”

It’s pretty obvious this was his room: you feel guilty kicking him out.

He shakes his head and gestures with his thumb over his shoulder. “I moved into my dad’s room anyway. This has been the spare for a while.”

“Well, thanks,” you smile.

He nods, mirroring your content. “I’ll let you settle in and stuff. I moved all my crap out the closet so you can put your stuff in there, and the top bedside drawer is empty.”

“That’s perfect,” you say. You lift your bag with a grunt and dump it on the bed.

“I gotta go to work but call if you need anything. Shouldn’t be back too late.”

Unzipping your bag, you look to him. “Where’d you work?”

“Got this gig helping out at Ward Cameron’s. Don’t know if you remember him?”

“Course I do,” you snort. “The kingpin of Kildare, and your dad’s treasure hunting buddy.”

There’s a tense silence as your words catch up with you. You press your eyes shut, embarrassed.

“Shit, sorry. That didn’t come out how I meant it to.”

“It’s cool,” John B says, graciously gliding past it. “Anyway, he pays pretty good so can’t complain. Mostly just handy-man odd jobs.”

“Very noble work,” you joke.

With a quiet laugh, John B nods and backs out the door. He lingers another moment, contemplating saying something else. “Look, uh, I know it isn’t ideal circumstances, you coming back to Kildare and stuff, but I’m glad you’re here. Really. It’s nice having you back, sis.”

Your mood sobers, smile turning solemn.

“Thanks,” you quietly reply.

He nods once more and pats the doorframe in farewell. “Right, I’ll let you get unpacked. See you later.”

“See ya.”

When John B leaves – the front door shuddering against the house as it slams shut – you’re overcome with quiet. In Colorado, where you lived with your mom in the city, there was little nature. You forgot how peaceful Kildare is. Through the crack in the window, birdsong and cricket chimes accompany the sound of your unpacking. You turf out your clothes and take to putting them in the closet. Shoes and bags and bikinis. A jacket and a few sweatshirts. It was easy enough to plan for your outfits considering you’re only staying the summer. You remember the weather in Kildare well enough from when you used to live here.

Once you’ve unpacked your clothes, you find your paints. A box of watercolours which have seen much use and love, the hinges rusted and the inside of the palette smeared with dried mixed paint. Turning to the bedside table, you pull open the bottom drawer on accident. You come face to face with corny porno magazines, a box of tissues, two wrapped condoms and a half empty bottle of painkillers.

“Gross,” you mutter, slamming it shut. Yep, this was definitely a dude’s bedroom.

The top drawer is empty, like John B promised. You fill it with your paints and sketchbooks and pencils.

As the day ploughs on, the room becomes increasingly saturated with your personality. Postcards from Colorado, of the towns and cities you visited, photographs from school of your friends and classmates: you scatter them along them wall, amongst John B’s. Some of your favourite paintings, alongside artists which inspire you, join the mix. On the desk you add a few of your own books to the haphazard stack of abandoned homework and school reports.

At the bottom of your duffle bag is your penny board. You look around the room, searching for empty space to slot it without adding to already cluttered surroundings, and opt to slot it under the bed. Ducking down, you come face to face with a collection of empty beer cans. Clearly the spring cleaning only went so far. It’s noisy as you drag them out, but you’re certain you hear someone shouting. Pausing, sitting back on your haunches, you turn to peer out the open bedroom door. It’s silent for a moment, and then you hear footsteps.

“Yo! JB, you home?”

It’s a guy shouting. His voice sounds vaguely familiar. When he comes into the corridor, he glances into Big John’s bedroom (now claimed by your older half-brother) first. Blonde messy hair and well-worn combat boots instantly name him. JJ.  He turns to the spare bedroom and stops short the moment his eyes land on you, sat amongst a pile of trash.

“You’re not John B,” he says.

“What gave me away?” you reply with a lift of your brows.

There’s a long awkward moment where he stares at you. You can practically hear the cogs turning as he takes you in. When you lift your arm up to scratch the back of your neck, realisation dawns upon him. You imagine your scar on the outside of your elbow gave you away.

“Holy crap! Little Routledge?” he gapes.

You laugh. “Haven’t been called that in a minute.”

JJ steps into the room and you get to your feet. He tackles you into a hug. It’s too short, too sudden, and then he’s stepping away from you again, leaving you dizzy on your feet.

“The fuck? You’re, like, grown now,” he says.

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “well, I am sixteen.”

“The fuck!” he repeats. He then takes in where you’re standing, and the state of the room, and frowns. “Wait, what are you doing here? I thought you were in Colorado with your mom?”

“I was,” you say. You kick one of the cans out the way and fold your arms over your chest, shrugging. “I came back for the summer.”

“Oh, that’s sick!”

You laugh. It’s a nice reaction to have from someone who you haven’t seen for over two years.

“John B gave you his old room then?”

He walks into it as if it’s his own. You watch as he studies the new additions to the wall that you’ve added. Lingers on one of your paintings.

"Yeah, he’s moved into his dad’s, apparently.”

“Yeah, he moved in there a while ago,” JJ tells you. “I’ve been sleeping in here most of the time.”

Your mind flashes back to the bedside drawer stocked with teenage boy necessities. Ah, makes sense. You remember how JJ was when you were a dorky thirteen-year-old. At the ripe age of fourteen, he had girls fawning after him. He was shameless in his reputation. The conversations you overheard between himself and John B as he’d brag about his escapades are seared into your memory, as you felt your wasted preteen heart splinter with every tale. It’s no surprise now that he’s probably just as unruly. Especially considering how he looks. There isn’t much time to ogle though because he’s looking away from the décor, meeting your gaze again.

“That explains all the empty beer cans, then,” you say.

He cringes. “Yeah, uh, sorry ‘bout that.”

You shrug. “It’s cool. I need to toss ‘em out but I don’t know where the trash bags are…”

“Oh, right,” he says, breezing past you. His cologne lingers in the air when he leaves. There’s the smallest moment for you to catch your breath as JJ bangs around in the kitchen, and then he reappears with a roll of black bags. Tosses them to you and you catch. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

You begin to shove the cans into the bag and JJ starts to help. His black button-up gapes open as he leans over and it takes everything not to glance down his shirt like some pervert.

“How come you didn’t want to stay in Colorado for the summer, then?”

“Change of scenery,” you vaguely reply. It isn’t a complete lie, but it isn’t the whole truth either.

“Well, you chose the best summer to come back. Our mission this year is to have the best summer of all time.”

“Pretty lofty goal to set,” you chuckle.

JJ glances up at you, flashing you a grin. “Nah, we got it in the bag.”

You find yourself smiling back, held captive under his stare. When he takes the now full trash bag off you, tying it off, you snap out of it.

“So, where’s your brother at then?” he asks, heading out the room. You follow.

“At work. Said he does jobs for Cameron now.”

“Oh, yeah. Cameron sorta took him under his wing after his dad…went missing,” JJ replies.

You have a feeling that the way people talk about John B’s father is rather doctored.

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” you tell him, referring to Big John.

As you step on the porch, the sunlight warms your face. The floorboards creak as you make your way down them, to the garbage can outside.

“It was insane,” JJ says to you. He tosses the trash away. “I mean, we all knew Big John was a bit too into the whole royal-merchant thing but…we never thought it’d go that far, you know?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Scary.”

JJ looks at you a moment longer. Then, he laughs to himself and shakes his head. “Can’t believe you’re sixteen now.”

“Can’t believe you’re seventeen.”

“What? I look good or something?”

He does a small spin on the spot, arms held out by his sides. You roll your eyes, acting as if you’re unaffected. It’s hard to swallow the reflex reaction of yes.

“Or something,” you say.

JJ takes it in stride. “Well, you look pretty cute yourself considering you’ve been in the mountains for the last three years.”

“I don’t live in the mountains,” you snort. The word ‘cute’ rattles around your head like a pinball.

“You’re taller now too. Practically come up to my shoulders. I remember when me and John B could pick you up by your ankle like a marlin.”

“Yeah, I remember that too,” you not-so-fondly recall.

JJ grins and steps over to you. Despite both of your growth spurts, you still have to look up at him, and him down at you. His eyes are just as dreamy as you remember them. When you first left for Colorado, you hardly had time to pack. In the midst of chaos, taking a picture of your brother’s best friend didn’t seem all that important. Cut to you spending endless nights trying to remember his eyes, the exact colour and the exact shape. Trying to remember the dimples that popped out when he smiled. The pure joy in his laugh. The way your heart felt like it might explode whenever he looked at you, even if it were for a second.

But when JJ pats your head, your chest deflates.

“Well, see you around, little Routledge,” he says, stepping away. “Tell your brother I was looking for him.”

Because even after all these years, you’re still just John B’s little sister in JJ’s eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

You stare into your can of cider. In the night, the only light being that from the bonfire John B started up in the backyard, you can’t make out the colour of it. Just the swirling of liquid. You’d spent the last three days working on a watercolour of the marsh side to John B’s house, but you couldn’t capture the movement of the water quite right.

“Wait, I’m confused,” Pope frowns.

“What’s there to be confused about, Pope?” JJ sighs, seemingly exhausted from the questions. There had been an influx of them the minute John B brought you out of the Chateau. “His mom shagged her dad and boom, here she is.”

“Charming mental images there, JJ, thanks,” John B cringes.

You laugh into your drink.

“No, I get that. But…You used to live here, right?” Pope asks you.

You nod.

“But then you moved to Colorado?”

“Yeah?”

“But now you’re back here?”

“Apparently,” you say.

Pope’s frown deepens: apparently that cleared nothing up for him. You’ve never known someone so analytical. “This is complicated,” he observes.

“No shit,” Kiara quips.

It was complicated. Families usually are. Your mom had split from John B’s dad when he was three years old. She ran off to Raleigh, in North Carolina, and met a guy pretty quick. That’s when you came into the picture, born almost a year behind John B. Their relationship was rocky, to say the least, and at some point your mom decided that it may be best for you to get to know your half-brother whilst her and your dad “figured things out”. What was meant to be a short stay at Big John’s house became a four-year affair. Then, at thirteen, your mom decided to flee the state, away from your dad, and she was taking you with her. It all came out of the blue. You weren’t exactly thrilled to go to Colorado. You liked Kildare, and North Carolina, and John B and his friends. Kiara was always nice to you. She never talked down to you, despite you being seen as John B’s little sister. You bonded over turtles and Bob Marley. JJ was different. He’d prank you with John B and tease you about your dolls, but he’d also patch you up if you fell and calm you down after a nightmare. Your crush on him evolved naturally over time. What started as childhood infatuation with the supposed delinquent of Kildare became real. You liked JJ. He was funny and rambunctious, but he had a kindness and tenderness that he kept hidden below. He was often at the house as his own family situation was far from perfect, so having him around became as familiar as John B’s presence. When you left, JJ gave you a hug that you wished would last a lifetime.

But you drifted away in Colorado. You didn’t have anybody’s phone number, save for Big John’s (which your mom refused to let you use), and you were too young to remember addresses to write to them. Social media was never something you latched onto and eventually it all faded away into a strange, dreamlike memory. Being back here is almost proof that you didn’t imagine the whole thing.

“We’re half siblings,” you say, whittling down your family history into a simple statement. “That’s all you really need to know.”

“Damn straight,” JJ whoops, downing the last of his drink. He crunches the can in his fist and heads to the cooler for another.

“You’re staying for the whole summer then?” Kiara asks.

You nod. “I’m tryna get a job at this restaurant in town to keep me busy.”

“Screw that. Just come smoke and surf with us all day, that’ll keep you occupied,” JJ grins.

He’s comfortable in himself, relaxing in a lawn chair, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. His t-shirt represents one of Kildare’s small-town establishments and his shorts are stained with dust and dirt from riding his bike.

“She’s the good one out of us lot,” John B announces, gesturing to you. “Out of all the Routledge offspring, she’s gonna go places. You’re not gonna taint that, JJ.”

“And by ‘all the Routledge offspring’ you mean yourself and her?” Pope checks.

John B nods fervently. “I’m telling you! She’s madly talented.”

“You’re drunk; it’s giving you beer goggles,” you dismiss, finishing your drink.

“You were always the creative one,” JJ remarks. Everyone looks over to him. “Me and John B would be out on the water and she’d be drawing it.”

“Maybe you can show us some of your stuff,” Kiara says.

You laugh and shake your head. “Maybe not.”

The alcohol wizzes up your body as you get to your feet and you take it as a good time to call it quits.

“I think I’m gonna head in.”

“What?”

“No!”

“Come on!”

You laugh, shaking off the group’s disputes. “I’m tired!”

“Lightweight,” JJ teases. You flip him off as you pass, ditching your empty can in the garbage as you go.

“Night guys!” you holler as you head back into the house.

“Night!”

The bedroom John B offered you is starting to feel less like a guest house. You shrug off your cardigan – it stinks of smoke from the fire – and close the door. Through the window, you can hear the group chattering.

Pope seems nice. He hadn’t been around when you lived in Kildare, but you recognised his name. Heyward was a legend on the Cut; you could see his dad in his eyes. Kiara was just as you remembered her, if not more consumed by her environmental activism than before. JJ was the most staggering change of all. He’d grown into his looks, matured around the face. Any puppy fat that you remembered from childhood had vanished. Lithe and lively, he was an American heartthrob, through and through.

As you do your skincare, you glance out the window. You can make out JJ, sat with his back to you. His arms are flailing around as he tells a story. You can’t make out the details through the window but the looks on everyone’s faces tells you it’s pretty damn entertaining. He was always the joker, humour hiding whatever was happening underneath like he was arming himself with a grin. The unexplained bruises on his face and the painful batterings on his body were never explained whenever he’d stay at Big John’s, when you were younger.

The moment he shifts in his seat, you dart away from the window, scared to get caught, and finish getting ready for bed.

A bad dream rouses you awake. It was about Colorado. The warped memories keep you from falling back asleep, no matter how hard you try. Sighing, you stare at the ceiling. The room is bathed in moonlight, cosy in the wooden interior, and you contemplate sitting outside for a bit. The same cardigan from earlier gets pulled on over your vest top and you slip into some crocs.

You head for the front door, creeping past John B’s room, and step onto the porch. There’s a warm, humid air in the night. The crickets and owls harmonise with the faint buzz of mosquitos who surround the porch light. That’s when you realise that it’s already on, and you’re not alone. JJ’s on the porch, laid out on the sofa. He’s smoking a joint. The smell of weed merges into that of the dying embers from the abandoned, extinguished bonfire. You rap gently on the wall as you approach, hoping not to startle him.

“Hey,” he says, looking up at the sound.

“Hey.”

“Can’t sleep?”

“No,” you say. “I thought everyone went home.”

“They did. I’m crashing here tonight. My dad’s…”

He falters, glances up at you, and shakes his head.

“Don’t need to bore you with it.”

“You’re not boring,” you hear yourself tell him.

Smiling, JJ offers the joint to you. You take it, sitting down in the red armchair at the foot of the sofa. The weed consumes your senses when you take a drag, hitting the back of your throat and dulling your thoughts.

“Haven’t smoked in ages,” you say.

“Big smoking community out in Colorado?” JJ asks.

You laugh. “Not where I live, no.”

He takes the joint back when you lean over to him. Tilts his head back as he takes another hit. He’s in the same clothes as earlier, hasn’t even taken off his boots; his hair is tousled like he tried to sleep but couldn’t. You’re caught in the act of staring at him. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even make a joke. Instead, he holds your gaze. It’s almost like a silent challenge: who’ll break first?

“Can I say something kinda inappropriate?” he asks.

“I feel like you have to, now.”

JJ grins at that, amused. “You’re way cuter than I remember you.”

“Oh? You mean sweaty thirteen-year-old, chalk-highlight-pink-hair wasn’t cute?” you joke.

Shaking his head, he adds, “No. Well, yeah, but not in the way you are now.”

Your stomach tightens and heart constricts, and you wish you had the joint to have something to distract yourself with. You hope you sound calm and collected when you say, “thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Oh, you’re too kind,” JJ jokes. He takes another long, deep drag. “Is it nice? Being back in Kildare?”

You glance off to the marsh. You forgot to check the time when you got up but judging from the endless navy blue of the sky, it’s still late.

“Sure.”

“Sure?”

You look back to him. “It’s better than Colorado.”

“So, you’re not missing home then?”

The blunt is passed back to you. Taking a drag, you ponder his question. “I don’t think I know where home is right now. I don’t think it’s Colorado, but I don’t know if it’s here either. Maybe I don’t have one.”

JJ doesn’t say anything and you remember yourself. Laughing self-deprecatingly, you shake your head.

“Sorry, think this joint’s going to my head. That was dramatic.”

“No, no, I get ya,” JJ assures. “I know what you mean.”

“You don’t like Kildare?” you ask him.

His expression darkens like a shadow has cast over him. “It depends.”

“Hm,” you say. Nothing more is said on the matter. You get the sense that JJ was vague on purpose.

Pulling your legs into your seat, you glance around at the clutter on the porch. A surfboard is lent against the nett lining of the porch; a rusting duck ornament balances on one of the beams. What looks to be a broken radio sits beside a half-full bottle of rum on a small table by the couch.

“I think it’s good for John B, having you back.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” JJ smiles. “He sorta spun out when his dad disappeared. You’re kinda the only family he has left.”

“You’re his family too. Been around longer than I have,” you tell him.

JJ’s smile softens. He glances away from you, fiddling with the paper of the joint, almost as if he’s flustered. “Thanks.”

“So,” you say, “you got some poor girl on this island falling after you?”

“Rude of you to assume there’s only one,” JJ grins wickedly.

You roll your eyes.

“What about you? Some West Coast jock waiting for you back in the home state?”

The sarcastic ‘har har’ that he gets has JJ frowning, bemused.

“Definitely no guy, and definitely no jock.”

“Now that I find hard to believe,” JJ says.

Before you can ask what he means by that, or spiral out by thinking too much about it, JJ’s getting to his feet. He puts the blunt out on the window ledge, ditching the empty butt in a filthy dish. Stretching his arms over his head, sighing, you watch as his t-shirt rides up. The tensing of his abdominal muscles is like torture. God, to run your hands up his chest, over his shoulders, tangle them in the salt-soaked strands of his hair…

“Right, night Little Routledge,” JJ says.

You blink away from his chest and meet his gaze. There’s a strange expression on his face, one you don’t recognise, and you want to scrutinise it and find out what it means. But it’s gone in a flash, as is he as he heads back into the house. You watch through the window as his silhouette drops onto the pull-out sofa.

It takes a minute to regain your composure.

You can’t think of JJ like that. He certainly doesn’t think of you like that, and that childhood crush has long been put to bed. Shaking it awake is the last thing you need right now. Besides, he’s John B’s best friend. Your brother’s best friend. The same brother who’s taken you back into his house, offered you a room, free of charge, without complaint or question. And it seems like John B needs as many people around him as possible right now. But it’s hard to maintain that line of thought, when as you lie back down in your bed, desperate to get some sleep, you can vividly picture the slit of JJ’s chest that you were privy to just moments ago when you close your eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

You follow Tom through the restaurant. He’s the supervisor, eighteen and a fresh high school graduate. It’s hard to keep up with him as he points things out: waiter’s station; kitchen; storeroom…You’d forgotten how overwhelming job orientations can be.

“And this,” he pushes a door open, “is the staff room.”

You glance in and take in the messy pile of shoes, the overflowing trash can, and the three coat pegs overwhelmed with bags and hoodies.

“Love what you’ve done with the space.”

Tom laughs. He closes the door and leans against the doorframe. Broad shouldered, he stands taller than you by a couple inches.

“So, what made you want to work here?”

“I’m really interested in not being broke,” you reply, making him laugh.

“You new to the island? Feel like I haven’t seen you around?”

“This island that small?”

“Or you’re just that unforgettable,” he smoothly returns.

Your face fires up. Laughing nervously, you shift your stance. “I just moved in with my half-brother for the summer. Need something to keep me busy for a few months.”

“Ah, sweet. Anyone I’d know?”

“Dunno,” you say. He starts back into the main restaurant building. They haven’t opened yet. It’s void of life. “John B Routledge?”

“Oh shit, yeah. JB,” he says, flashing you a grin.

He’s charming in a disarming way. The kind of face that a modelling agency would swipe up because of his easy marketability.

When the two of you approach the bar, there’s a girl stood polishing wine glasses. She looks to be about your age, maybe a couple of years older. Her smile is sweet and welcoming like warm hot chocolate on a winter’s night.

“Hey, Lizzy. This is the new starter,” Tom introduces.

“I’m guessing I got the job then?” you ask him. He nods. With that, you offer a hand to Lizzy.

“Nice to meet ya,” she says, shaking it. “Could do with more girls around here.”

“Happy to help,” you reply.

“So, you think you can cover a shift tomorrow night? I figured cause you’ve waitressed before it shouldn’t take too long for you to learn the ropes here,” Tom says.

You nod. “Sure. Sounds good.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow then,” he says.

You bid farewell to himself and Lizzy, seeing yourself out the front door. The restaurant is in the heart of the cut, surrounded by other small businesses and hipster start-ups. You begin the journey home, plugging in your headphones and submerging yourself in Reggae music. Children play in the local park and preteens chatter as they speed past you on their bikes. There’s a warm breeze that brushes past you; it smells of sea water and fried fish. You’re passing the harbour. Eyes land on Heyward’s store, the logo just as you remember it from all those years ago. It’s surreal being back.

When your phone buzzes, you pause your sightseeing to check it. It might be John B asking after the interview. Your throat closes up when you see your mom’s contact pop up. A text. ‘Call me back.’

Just like that, you’re dragged out of Kildare and are back in Colorado.

It’s impossible to ignore the text, but you do your best either way. You don’t even remember half the journey to the Chateau as you walk through the door. JJ is home. He’s sat at the messy dining table, eating a bowl of cereal and scrolling through his phone. Tugging out your earbuds, you give a small wave hello.

“How’d the interview go? That was today, right?”

“Smashed it. Got the job,” you say.

“Oh, sweet. Congrats.”

“Thanks.”

You ditch your bag by the door along with your phone. Taking the seat opposite him, you sit cross-legged on the wooden chair. The sketchbook you’d abandoned earlier lays dormant. Opening it up, you flick to your latest piece of the marsh. It’s coming together rather well. You’d decided to add the H.M.S Pogue, sat harboured on the grass. JJ peers over his bowl to the painting.

“Holy shit. That’s sick,” he says through his mouthful of Captain Crunch.

“Thanks,” you smile. “I’m pretty happy with how it’s come out, considering how old these paints are.”

JJ watches as you crack open the aforementioned watercolours. The smell of artificial paint teases the air. Dampening a thin brush in the mason jar of water, you dip into the blue.

“They bad quality or something?”

“A little. They best ones are Winsor and Newton, but I can’t justify spending over twenty bucks on paints.”

“Why not? You’ve clearly got a gift,” JJ says.

You hate how casual he is when he says things like that to you. Like it doesn’t knock the breath out of you like a sucker punch to the chest.

“S’just practice,” you mumble.

You can feel his gaze as you paint. Resting your chin in your hand, you work at the water under the jetty, trying to perfect the shading. You want to feel as though you can walk into the painting; like you could drown in the crystal clean waves.

Painting had become an escape when you were in Colorado. Whatever you could remember of Kildare, you’d paint. When that well ran dry, you began to paint places you wished you could go. Anywhere but the dilapidating family home you’d found yourself in. Secret gardens made of twisting ivy and crumbling, ornate statues hidden amongst orchids and rose bushes. Cosmic planes with make-believe ice cream stations snuck onto Mars and Venus; whales which bathed in the stars and caught a tan in moonbeams. Underwater societies full of sea kelp and multicoloured coral reefs, with octopi hiding amongst crabs and shellfish.

You glance up to find JJ transfixed on the painting. There’s a crease between his brows as if he’s the one concentrating. It makes you laugh, quiet and under breath, and he looks up. Holds your stare.

“That’s amazing, that you can just do that,” JJ says, remarking to your work.

You swallow the sickly rush that his words give you. His tongue dampens his lower lip, tantalisingly slow. You feel it hit somewhere deep inside of you. Something in the air shifts.

Then, so quiet neither of you can be sure he really said it, he utters, “you’re amazing.”

“Yo!”

The door swings open with your brother’s arrival. Your head spins over your shoulder to the front door. John B stands holding a bag of takeout burgers in the air beside his head.

“Y’all hungry?”

“Hell yeah,” JJ says.

When you look to him, it feels as if you could have imagined the whole interaction had just moments ago. JJ’s sat in his seat as he was before, unfazed.

He abandons his cereal and follows John B into the kitchen like a starving dog, begging for food. You place your paintbrush back into the water and join them. John B unpacks the burgers and fries onto half-clean plates. You watch JJ toss a fry into the air and catch it, whooping in celebration. A plate is handed back to you, over John B’s shoulder.

“Beef burger with cheese, no pickles.”

“Thank you,” you sing-song, taking the plate off him.

JJ turns around and looks at you with faux disgust. “No pickles?”

You shake your head, heading back to the table. JJ and John B join you with their own quick dinners, and the three of you eat. You tell John B about the summer job you secured, and he tells you and JJ about Sarah Cameron and her new boy-toy Topper. JJ says he’s “biceps without a brain” when you ask which one Topper is.

“That can’t be his real name,” you snort.

“Oh, it is,” John B replies.

“His name is almost as dumb as he is,” JJ sniggers.

There’s the sound of chewing and swallowing.

“Two official weeks into summer,” John B randomly announces.

You quirk a brow. “Two weeks since I came back to Kildare.”

JJ holds his cup of soda up in a toast. John B wipes his mouth and raises his own, as do you. The three of you clink cups, smiling at the stupidity. As you bring your cup to your lips to drink, you find your eyes meeting JJ’s across the table. He holds your gaze as he sips, swallows and licks his lips of the sugar. You feel it hit somewhere deep, deep inside of you. JJ looks back to John B and starts recounting his tales of the day fishing, leaving you stumped.

What the hell was that?

~*~*~*~*~*~*

As your days in Kildare stretch on, your imagination becomes your most loved and loathed place all at once.

The Pogues had taken you under their wing without a second thought. It felt as if it wasn’t just because you were John B’s younger sister. Kiara would spend hours talking to you about music and star signs. Pope would discuss books and artists that he’d read about, falling into a huge debate about whether Andy Warhol is as legendary as everyone makes him out to be (the answer is, of course, yes). You and John B connected as brother and sister, filling that hole of ‘family’ that had been taken from both of you within the past year. Movie nights sharing popcorn and critiquing corny horror films, and mornings spent tending to the yard and fishing at the jetty: you felt yourself coming back bit by bit, in the company of the brunette.

But spending time with the Pogues came with spending more time with JJ. That little childhood crush that you’d claimed had succumb a long, undisturbed slumber…Oh, she had been awoken. Him staying over more and more on the pull-out when him and his dad ‘got into a thing’ meant the throw pillows smelt like his cologne and soap. He’d offer you his sweatshirt when sat around the bonfire on evenings drinking, and the warm distinct smell of him would consume you, drown you in the pheromones, affecting you like some pathetic animal in heat. Days spent surfing and sunbathing at the break gave you space to shamelessly ogle his bare chest, splattered in sea water, scorched and tanned with sunlight. The ripple of his lats when wearing his useless muscle tees as he waxed his board in the surf shack. His jawline strong and steely when annoyed or focused, with faint blonde stubble a week after shaving. But you swear he knew how it affected you. Swear he knew it drove you crazy whenever he’d fleetingly touch your back, brushing past you in the kitchen to grab a drink, or adjust your grip when helping him fix up his bike. When sharing a blunt on the porch (as you often did when sleep couldn’t come), he’d take his time passing it to you, fingers brushing. Innocent, incidental touches that felt calculated and planned. The way his eyes would gaze into yours, like he could read your thoughts and decipher your wants. A vague, barely-there smirk to his lips, constantly tortured by his tongue and teeth…

God, your whole body feels as if it has been on fire for the past week.

You blame your overactive thoughts of JJ on your boredom. Working at the restaurant hadn’t been sufficient distraction from the mess that is your life right now. Even now, as you stand before the till, typing through an order for the kitchen and bar, you feel your mind wandering. To thoughts of the Chateau, and to a certain blonde-haired guy sprawled on the pull-out sofa, shirtless, back on proud display…

“You gonna be much longer?”

“No, I shouldn’t be,” you say to Tom.

You hope your embarrassment doesn’t read on your face. It’s not as if he could hear your thoughts, so you’re not sure why you feel caught in the act. You finish selecting the sides for table 16 and press ‘store table’. Stepping to the side to grab some side plates, Tom takes over the till.

He’s nice. Makes you laugh a lot at work, as you slander rude tables and gush over those that tip an extra twenty.

After depositing the side plates at the table, you head to the bar to run the drinks you put through. Lizzy is mixing the cocktail you ordered. She pours rum into a shaker and then passionfruit puree.

“Can I ask you something?” you say to her.

She glances over. The two of you had gotten closer at work. You were hoping to hang out with her one time down at the beach, or maybe grab lunch after a morning shift. She runs a hand over her buzzcut hair style and nods.

“Do you think there’s such a thing as bad thoughts?”

“Bit deep to be asking that at eight o’clock at night, don’t you think?” she smirks.

You roll your eyes. As she goes on making the cocktail, you elaborate. “I have this dumbass crush on this guy which I know I shouldn’t have…I just feel bad for thinking about him so much.”

“Well, that’s dumb,” she snorts.

There’s the loud rattle of ice against stainless steel as Lizzy shakes the cocktail. Then, as she strains it into a martini glass, she looks up at you once more.    

“Who’s this guy? Do I know him?”

“Maybe.”

Her eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. “Is it Tom?”

And, no, it isn’t Tom, but maybe saying it is means she won’t keep digging. You’d rather keep your embarrassing years-long infatuation with your brother’s best friend close to the chest. So, you do your best to look meek as you nod.

“Holy shit! Well, if it makes you feel better, he’s totally into you,” Lizzy tells you.

“He is?”

“Hell yeah. Guy practically ogles you across the room,” she says.

You glance over to Tom. He’s stood before a table, talking away, scribbling down their order on a notepad. At the feeling of being watched, he looks up and meets your gaze. You flash him a small smile and he mirrors it quickly before returning his focus to the task at hand.

“So, do you?”

“Think there’s such a thing as bad thoughts?” Lizzy checks. You nod. She ponders the question whilst garnishing the cocktail. “No. No, I think only actions talk. I mean, I think bad things all the time about customers who are dicks. I could put glass in their drinks: that’d show them sort of thing. But I don’t actually put glass in their drinks, so I’m off the hook. Nobody’s the wiser.”

It’s a somewhat extreme example but it gets the point across. You take the tray and nod.

“I mean, maybe fantasising about it might be cathartic. Get it out your system, you know?” Her sly wink speaks volumes as to what these ‘fantasies’ are about. You roll your eyes.

“Thank you for your advice, Lizz. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Anytime sunshine.”

With that, you walk over table 16 and deliver their drinks. The rest of the shift passes by rather quickly. You end up making a bet with Tom that you can sell more pints of larger than him and come up victorious, leaving work with an extra ten dollars in your pockets.

The streets are painted sunset purple, orange and pink. You spot John B’s campervan, known as The Twinkie, in the parking lot; he’d promised to pick you up after work tonight. But as you walk up to the passenger side, you realise it’s JJ behind the wheel. You’re not sure if the feeling of your organs shrinking is a good thing or a bad thing.

“Where’s John B?” you ask, climbing in beside him.

“Nice way to say, ‘hi JJ, it’s so good to see you!’”

“Okay, hi JJ,” you say, rolling your eyes. He starts the engine. “Now, where’s my brother?”

“He had to go do something for Cameron.”

“At ten at night?”

“Dude, I just work here, a’right? I do as he says so he lets me stay on his sofa,” JJ says. You laugh.

The radio kicks on and ‘Downtown Lights’ starts to play. You look out the window as he drives, watching the houses fade into overgrow and trees.

“Hey, you hungry?”

“Starved.”

“We can swing by a Wendy’s on the way home, if you wanna,” JJ says.

You smile as you look over to him, nodding. With that, he takes the next left and the two of you make your way in comfortable silence to the drive through. At the worker’s request, JJ recounts his order: two hamburgers, both with cheese, one without pickles. Oh and a large Pepsi.

As he pulls forward to pay, you say, “you remembered I don’t like pickles?”

He glances over to you like you’re stupid for even asking. “Course.”

Food secured, Pepsi in the cupholder for you both to share, you start the journey to the Chateau.

“Feed me a fry?”

You laugh and oblige. It’s the least you can do, considering he bought you takeout, after all. You turf one out the brown paper bag and hold up to his lips. His breath fans against your fingers as he takes it. Chews and swallows. You managed to tear your eyes away. That man could yawn and you’d be mesmerised, you swear. It’s pathetic.

“Thanks.”

“Course.”

The ride back is over way too soon. You take what’s left of your food and your bag, opening the door. “You staying over tonight?”

JJ contemplates a moment before shaking his head. He studies his hands as they run up and over the steering wheel when he says, “no. No, I gotta go home sometime.”

“Right,” you quietly say. The last fight him and his dad got in was ugly. He came over, shaking with anger, a purple bruise forming under his eye. It scared the shit out of you to let him go back there alone. “Well, thanks for the food.”

JJ looks up from the steering wheel and takes you in. His lips move, like he wants to say something, but he seems to abandon the thought. You take it as your cue to leave.

“See you soon.”

“Yeah. See you soon, Little Routledge.”

You hate that nickname. The resentment is thick to swallow as you say goodnight, stepping out the van.

John B isn’t home when you walk into the Chateau. The lights are off, dirty dishes piled up in the sink. The sofa bed is unmade from the last time JJ slept on it. You contemplate crashing on it for the night, just so you can feel as if you’re near to him, but you know that’s insane. If John B were to find you there, he’d only be concerned that something was wrong with your own room, either way. So you trundle back to your bedroom and strip out of your uniform. Makeup rinsed off and teeth brushed, you crawl into bed and drift off easily.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

His lips are hot and wet on your skin, kissing down your stomach. Your breathing’s laboured like you’re fighting an adrenaline rush. He seems to notice, laughing darkly against your tummy.

“So wound up already and I’ve barely touched you,” JJ croons in his southern drawl.

Your eyes slip shut, fighting back a whimper as his fingers dip teasingly into the waistband of your panties. A moan finally lets slip at the sensation of his lips pressing against your crotch, over the cotton.

“You want it?”

“Please,” you whisper.

“Yeah? You want my mouth?”

“Yes, JJ, please.”

It’s embarrassing to beg but you don’t have much left in your mind other than thoughts of him to even care.

Fingers knotting into his hair, you try and coax him lower still. And he obliges. Drags your panties down your legs like time is a luxury. You wonder if he likes teasing you; if it brings him pleasure like the feeling of his hands on your body does for you. He leans back on his haunches and runs his palms up and down your thighs, staring at you exposed pussy. His shark tooth necklace sits against his toned chest and you’re jealous of how close it gets to be to him.

“Fuck,” JJ groans as you open your legs.

He leans back down and nuzzles your inner thigh, pressing a sharp kiss with his teeth, sucking in the skin and relishing your pleasured yelp. It feels as if he’s marking you as he leaves the hickey: mine.

“Been dreaming ‘bout this.”

Before you can let out another pathetic plea, JJ situates himself between your legs and goes down on you. Eats you out like a man who’s been lost at sea, like a man starved. Sighs at the taste of you on his tongue, kissing at your thighs as if to catch his breath, dragging you closer and closer to the edge. The damp of his tongue laps at your clit and your legs lock around him in a vice. He’s indefatigable, insatiable and…it’s too much.

“I can’t,” you whine hopelessly. Your fingers grasp at the sheets, eyes clenched shut.

“Come on,” JJ preens. “Wanna see you come.”

He leans close to your ear, taking your lobe between his teeth, and slips a finger into your seeping hole. Your orgasm comes like waves crashing over splintered rocks; breathing jagged and vision blurring behind eyelids. Somewhere in the euphoric haze you cry out his name. Flashes of colour blending into a mercurial high as he works you through your ecstasy, unrelenting.

You gasp awake.

Had you been sleeping?

Your forehead is damp with sweat, throat parched and chest heaving. Anyone would have thought you’d have just sprinted three miles. When you sit up in bed, you register the pulsing between your legs and the telltale stickiness of your thighs.

Shit. Good thing there’s no such thing as bad thoughts.

Wiping at your face, your skin feels red hot. You venture to the bathroom and drink water from the faucet. Making eye contact with yourself is too hard right now, considering you just had the most incredible wet dream about your brother’s best friend. Now that the high is passing, you’re overcome with shame and guilt. You’re delusional. Maybe you should submit yourself to be sectioned. Would be a good way to kill some of these summer weeks…

Heading back to bed feels like returning to the scene of a crime. Instead, you head out onto the porch, dressed in nothing but a t-shirt and panties. John B’s a deep sleeper, you’ve come to learn. You’ve never heard him get up in the night, in all your moments of insomnia. There’s no risk of crossing paths with him out here.

Stepping out onto the paint-peeled floorboards, you notice he forgot to turn off the porch light when he came home. Great, I guess I know where my wage is going. But as you head to your favourite red armchair, ready to gaze out at the marsh and watch the waterside plants dance in the breeze, you freeze.

JJ’s on the sofa. And he’s awake. You can tell just from where you’re stood.

Before you can flee back to your room, the floorboard creaks. JJ jolts up and looks around, eyes landing on you. You swallow. The moment you lay eyes on him, part of your dream comes screaming back to you. The way your voice cracked as you cried out his name, tumbling over the edge. You quickly shun away the thoughts, slamming them closed in a box, before your body can lose itself to the fantasy once more. Please God tell me that I didn’t actually scream his name.

“Hi,” you dumbly say.

“Hey.”

“I thought you were staying at your place tonight,” you say.

JJ shrugs. “Change of plans, I guess.”

“Oh.”

He looks back ahead at the armchair, back to you, and you can’t help but pull a face akin to holy shit what the fuck do I do? When he holds up a joint, you decide to stay. Panties are just the same as a bikini anyway, and he’s seen you in those. You make sure to wear your cutest ones when he’s surfing with you. The ones that are tight in all the right places and hug your figure in a way that you wished he would. Oh my God, shut up. You wordlessly take the joint as you quickly step past him, planting yourself in the armchair. You pull your legs up and sit atop of them, taking a long drag to try and calm your racing mind and heart. Inspecting the floor seems a good thing to do, suddenly. The divots in the wood from worms and the strips of paint. Looking up, you find JJ’s eyes trained on your legs. His gaze diverts when you lean forward, offering him the blunt again. As he lifts himself to take it, you see him wince, and now in the light of the porch, fully taking him in you, you can make out the bloody cut beside his eye.

“Jesus Christ, JayJ.”

“It’s fine,” he reflexively says. He takes another hit. “Just need some self-medication.”

“Bullshit. You need to clean that thing ‘fore it gets infected.”

“Be my guest,” JJ scoffs.

With that, you get to your feet and head back into the house. The first aid kit is under the bathroom sink. It’s probably the least dusty thing in the whole room. Returning to him, you forget all about the reason that you got up in the first place and shove it to the back of your mind. This was more important than worrying about some dumb dream. Shoving his legs off the couch, you force him to make space for you. You place the first aid kit on your lap and open it. JJ keeps smoking. The smell of weed clouds your senses. Picking out a disinfectant wipe, you turn to him.

“This’ll sting,” you say, opening the packet.

“That’s what she said.”

You frown. “What kind of kinky ass sex are you having?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he grins.

For a moment dread drops down your body, chilling your spine. Did he hear you? No, no he couldn’t have. You probably didn’t make a noise. He’s just being his usual, salacious self.

You take his jawline in hold gently between your fingers. The bone is hard beneath the soft of his skin; fine stubble scratches your fingertips. Leaning up, you try not to get distracted in his eyes as you dab at the cut. You apologise as he hisses. It doesn’t look as intimidating when clean of blood, which is more than a relief. You dip back into the first aid kit and offer up two band aids. One is plain nude and the other Hello Kitty.

“Take your pick.”

He rolls his eyes with a small smile and grabs the Hello Kitty one, holding it out to you. You shift onto your knees, bending over him to plant it over his cut. You notice a bruise forming on his cheek bone on the other side, and a cut lip. You should have insisted he stayed over when he dropped you off. He looks up, as if he can hear your thoughts, and meets your gaze. You can’t seem to find it in yourself to move away.

“It’s not your fault,” he quietly says.

You swallow. It’s scary how easy he can read you. Makes you worry what other thoughts he can tell from your face. “Wished you just stayed here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Hate the thought of you going back to that house.”

“That’s sweet,” he smiles. “But if I didn’t go, I wouldn’t have you here taking care of me.”

“Oh, was it all part of your masterplan?” you joke, finding your smile again. His seems to grow at the sight.

“Something like that.”

When his lips press to yours, you’re taken aback. It feels like fire, searing hot, and you flinch like you’ve been burnt. You gape at him, wide eyed, and it seems to register what he’s just done. You both move to put as much space between you as possible, as if trying to keep the blaze from spreading.

“Shit, I—”

“I should go back to bed,” you hurry out.

JJ nods. “Yeah, yeah. Course.”

In your scramble to get back to your feet and back in your room, the first aid kit falls to the floor, the contents spilling out. You cuss and drop to your knees, rushing to retrieve all the clutter. JJ joins you, passing you gloves and bandages. You find some nerve to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he says. The sincerity in his voice…It’s painful.

“It’s okay. I don’t…It isn’t…”

You sigh. Your speech is just as messed as your mind. Closing your eyes, gathering your words, you take a deep breath. Looking back to JJ, you shake your head.

“We can’t.”

“I know,” he replies, almost sadly. Nods once more. “Yeah, I know. I’m just…high. And tired.”

“Right. Course.”

And whilst his excuses should sting, they don’t, because you don’t believe them. JJ smokes enough weed to not be affected all that much by half a joint. But you don’t argue. Instead, you close the box and go to head inside. You stop in the doorway.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say.

You spare him one last glance. He’s on the floor, head hung and back to you, and you consider staying. But you don’t. You go straight to bed, acting as if a fresh start tomorrow will reset the entire thing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

In the morning, JJ’s gone. John B doesn’t seem to have even realised he’d stayed over. You find your older brother in the kitchen, washing up the dirty dishes. Swiping up a towel, you come to help.

“Hey. Sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” you lie. “You?”

“Like a rock,” he grins. “You still up for that keggar tonight, at the boneyard?”

“Oh shit, that’s tonight?”

“Yeah. All the others are going,” John B says.

“Yeah, I’ll go. I think I’m catching a ride with Lizzy from work.”

“Alright. Just stay safe.”

“I will,” you drawl. He smiles at you before turning back to the washing up. “Hey, John B?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For letting me stay here.”

“Yeah, course,” he says. He pauses his handy work, turning his attention to you. “You’ve always got a bed to crash on here, even if child services are up my ass.”

“I appreciate it. I really needed to get out of Colorado.”

The seven missed calls from your mom slip into your mind. Her texts go unanswered, but she knows you read them. You don’t want her to think you’re in danger. Talking to her is just too much right now.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I needed you back too,” he says. “Things have been kinda messy since my dad…disappeared. I don’t know what I’d do if I was on my own.”

“You’re never gonna be on your own, though,” you smile. “The Pogues would do anything for you. It’s actually kinda scary.”

John B laughs at that. “Yeah, yeah, they’re, uh, not the smartest.”

“Apart from Pope,” you point out. He nods, smiling as he looks back to the soapy water.

“Yeah, apart from Pope.”

“JJ cares about you a lot,” you feel the need to add. His voice last night, apology ready, after your kiss, echoes in your mind.

“I know. I feel like you two are the best things in my life right now,” John B admits. The guilt multiples by tenfold with that. You fix your face when he looks to you. “So, thanks.”

“No worries, big bro,” you reply, nudging his shoulder with yours.

He laughs. “Thanks, little sis.”

With that, you both continue cleaning the pots. The shame from last night gets shoved down into the deepest, darkest pit of your stomach, and you try to go about your day without sparing another thought to JJ.

On the way to the keggar, Lizzy grills you about your ‘crush’ on Tom. “He’s gonna be there tonight, I think.”

“Oh, really?” you say. You know you don’t sound enthused. It’s too much effort to pretend.

“Everything good?” she frowns, glancing away from the road.

You nod and plaster on a smile. “Yeah, yeah. Just tired, I think.”

“Couple drinks in you and you’ll be wide awake, I promise,” she assures.

Nodding, you shift in your seat and look out the window. Your skirt rides up in the processes. It’s a little short but it’s so ridiculously hot tonight, you can’t seem to care. A crotchet style crop-top dresses down the outfit. You don’t want to seem like you’re trying too hard for a beachside keggar. As you pull up closer to the boneyard, cars line the roads. Lizzy finds a spot and parks. You grab the crate of Budlight and her the box of White Claw, and you hop out the car towards the beach. Her stories about work and school have brightened your mood.

She’s tall and remarkably cool in a way that you never will be. She has stick and poke tattoos on her knees and elbows, and nine piercings on one ear. Her nose ring and snake bite piercings are far from intimidating on her cherub like features. The buzzcut has been dyed neon blue, standing bright against her dark skin. As you pass groups of teens, she shouts hello to those she recognises and shares the odd bro-hug.

You add your drinks to the pile of booze before grabbing a can, cracking it open. A quick scan of the scene tells you that the Pogues are still pre-drinking at the Chateau. You’d managed to dodge JJ so far.

“This is a pretty decent turn out,” Lizzy tells you, swigging from her can.

“Know a lot of people here?”

“Sure,” she says. She points to a gaggle of polo-shirt wearing pretty boys who look like they could snap you with one finger. “Those are the gym rat kooks. That tall blonde Topper is with the princess of Figure Eight, Sarah Cameron.”

JJ was right: biceps without a brain. You watch as he shotguns a drink and cracks the can on his forehead. Sarah Cameron, blonde hair straight flowing down her back, does not look impressed.

“And her brother Rafe. That guy’s all kinds of whacked out,” Lizzy mutters. You follow her finger to spot a tall, short haired guy. He looks unapproachable, even from far away.

“Yo Lizzy!”

You both turn to find a crowd of girls and guys. One of them is waving at Lizzy and she waves back.

“Come on, I know these guys. They’re cool,” she tells you, taking your hand and guiding you over.

You’re introduced to everyone and soon enough are roped into beer pong and shots. It’s fun though. Everyone’s having a laugh, cheering each other on. You hear about some good spots to grab food and learn Michael, Lizzy’s closest friend, can drink you under the table. A few hours in and there’s a comfortable buzz to your bones. You haven’t thought about the Pogues, or JJ, or the fleeting kiss all night. As you laugh along to one of Michael’s soccer stories, someone taps you on the shoulder. You turn around to come face to face with Tom.

“Hey,” you smile, squiffy.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“Yeah, I came with Lizzy.”

“Hey, Tom,” she smiles before sending you a more than suggestive look. Oh, shit. The lie. “Hey, why don’t you go get my girl a top up?”

Before you can contest, she’s taking your half full can out of your hand and coaxing you away with an assuring smile. Tom takes it in stride and walks with you to the coolers. He grabs two cans of beer, passing one to you, and you cheers him.

“How you finding Kildare?”

“Good.”

“Yeah? You been hanging with John B’s crowd, right?”

“Most of the time, yeah,” you smile, nodding. He makes a face before taking a drink. You frown. “What?”

“Nah, nothing. They’re just kinda…well, I mean, some people think they’re bad news.”

“Some people, huh?” you say cautiously.

“Just reputations and all that. Like that JJ guy. He’s got slippery fingers, if you know what I mean,” Tom says, wiggling his own in demonstration.

Suddenly this conversation is very unappealing. You glance off to Lizzy and the others. “I should probably get back to them. Thanks for the drink, though.”

“No, hey, no,” Tom says. He grabs you by the wrist. “Come on, I was being a dick. I’ve had one too many. Let’s just hang, alright? I really wanna get to know you.”

You look between him and Lizzy and sigh. Taking a swig, you shrug. “Alright.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tick you off.”

“I like the Pogues. They’re a good group,” you feel the need to defend.

“No, yeah, they are!” Tom agrees. You can smell the stench of liquor on his breath. “I just don’t want you to get corrupted by them.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just, you’re new here—”

“And so I’m clueless on how to judge people?” you finish sardonically.

Tom rolls his eyes and it makes your anger tick. “Come on, you don’t gotta be a bitch about this.”

“What did you just call me? You know what? Forget it,” you scoff, snatching your arm away from his hold. “Have fun drinking on your own.”

But you don’t get very far before he’s grabbing at you again. “Calm down, would you? Just gimme—”

“Let go!” you demand.

His grip only tightens. The strong front you’re putting on begins to crumble under the panic of this guy is way bigger than me.

“Just quit bitching and we can talk,” he says harshly.

“I don’t want to talk. Now please let go of me,” you firmly return.

He doesn’t let go. Keeps chattering away, insisting that you have to hear him out.

“Let go, Tom!”

“Everything good here?”

Your wide eyes look away from Tom and land on JJ, and your whole body relaxes. He’s looking at you and the panic must read clear on your face because his demeanour changes in a split second. Jaw tight, he turns to Tom.

“I think you should let go, man.”

“You think I’m gonna listen to you?” Tom scoffs.

JJ takes another step towards him. He towers over Tom by enough to be intimidating. “Think you should listen to her.”

“Oh, I get it,” Tom snarls. He lets go of you and you can feel your skin breathing. You rub at the pink marks, easing the sting. Tom gets into JJ’s face, undeterred from a fight. “You wanna keep John B’s sloppy sister for yourself, huh?”

JJ’s fist flies at Tom’s face, making an ugly, visceral sound as it lands on his left cheek. You gasp. Nearly knocked off balance, Tom stumbles on the sand. The commotion has drawn in somewhat of a crowd. Before you can intervene, Tom’s throwing hands. He aims an upper cut to JJ’s jaw but he’s quick to dodge, landing his own punch instead by Tom’s eyebrow. That one seems to deter him. He trips backwards. The chanting of the crowds egging it on makes you feel sick. You’d just finished patching JJ up last night, and you’ve seen his anger before. It takes control quickly and blinds him to reason. The last thing he needs is to wind up in a cell. So, before he can land another hit, you’re stepping forward and grabbing at his arm, stopping him.

“Come on, let’s just go,” you say pleadingly.

His chest is heaving with anger, breathing short and jaw heavy set and tense. He hesitates, looking between yourself and Tom. He’s still cradling his last hit, trying to regain his composure. Sighing, JJ lets you lead him away. Tom’s heckling is laced with slurs directed at you, and you have to keep a steady grip on JJ to keep him from going back.

“He’s not worth it, JayJ,” you mutter.

“You’re so wrong,” JJ darkly returns, but he doesn’t go back.

Away from the beach, back on the road, you let go. He paces for a moment, trying to calm himself. Tugs off his cap and rakes his fingers through his hair, breathing deep and slow. You don’t speak: just let him go through the motions. Babying him through this isn’t going to help anyone.

Whilst violence isn’t the answer to anything, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t grateful for JJ’s help.

Letting him cool off, you take a seat on one of the fallen tree trunks.

“Hey.”

Looking up, JJ walks over. He’s mostly back to himself.

“You okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No. Just freaked me out a bit. He’s not usually like that. He’s just drunk.”

“Like that’s an excuse,” JJ scoffs. He takes the spot next to you, sitting worryingly close.

The culmination of last night and tonight makes your head spin. The effects of the alcohol vanished the moment Tom took a hold of you. Now you just want to forget the whole thing.

“Wanna get out of here?” JJ asks.

You turn your head to face him and smile smally, nodding.

“Come on. I brought my bike.”

His red bike is parked beside the Twinkie. He climbs on first and offers a hand to help you onto the back. Your arms slot around his middle, circling around his taught chest, pressing yourself against him. Face resting on the middle of his back, you try not to inhale the smell of him. It might be too much for tonight. His calloused hands on yours have you shifting your hold, ensuring your tight against him like a backpack.

“Good?”

“Good,” you quietly reply.

He kicks off the stand and starts up the engine. You pull away from the keggar and up the road, zipping down the isolated streets. There’s nobody around at this time. Not a soul in sight. It feels so right, wrapped up against him like this, safe in his presence. Tom was wrong: JJ wasn’t bad news. Sure, he was a klepto, but he was the same guy who learnt how to sew to fix your favourite pair of shorts when you were little. The same guy who stepped up when some dirtbag was harassing you. The same guy who remembered you don’t like pickles on your burgers. Who looked at your paintings as if they were Picasso.

Somewhere along the ride, one of JJ’s hands comes to rest on your own. You don’t ask why and don’t pull away. Just let the reassuring weight of his hand on yours stay there and ground you to him like an anchor. Here, flying through the night, you can pretend like all the other shit doesn’t matter. It’s just you and him.

He starts onto a dirt track, slowing down, and a house emerges. Pastel yellow painted exterior hidden behind porch netting. There’s clutter of engines and fishing gear amongst surfing supplies. He pulls to a stop and kicks on the stand, turning off the engine. It’s quiet now, without its rumble. “Your dad home?” you can’t help but ask, staring at the front door.

JJ shakes his head. “No. He’s out on Friday nights. Kinda the only routine he has.”

You don’t ask where and he doesn’t expand. You step off the bike and watch as he clambers off too. Fixing your skirt, you wait for him to talk. He doesn’t. “I should probably head back,” you say. You’re not entirely sure why you came to his place instead. You’d assumed when you got on the bike that he’d take you back the Chateau.

“I mean, we can share a joint first if you want. Help you calm down and stuff, after that shitshow,” JJ half-chuckles.

There’s something heavy in the humid air. It’s hard to describe, hard to place, but you can feel it like static electricity. You find yourself nodding. He nods too and starts up to the house, hands in his black short pockets. You watch his feet sink into the grass and guide your eyes up his figure. His shoulders are tense, dressed under a thin t-shirt. He ditches his cap on the kitchen counter when you walk through the door. Through the house, past the neglection, and to his bedroom. He flicks on the light and clears his throat as he goes to his desk drawer.

You stand, leaning against his door until it clicks closed, and look around his room. There’s a world map pinned to the wall but no markings on it asides from one: Kildare, North Carolina. Print outs of palm trees and pressed, framed butterflies and leaves seem less innocent when placed between posters of models on the beach. The floor is a mess of dirty clothes and empty beer cans. Several dead vapes litter near the overflowing bin, and cigarette and joint buds scatter the windowsill and beside table. But the smell of JJ hangs strong in the air; it makes you smile to yourself.

“Alright,” JJ sighs. The desk drawer slams closed and he turns around, holding up a fresh joint and lighter. His initials are scratched into the metal: JJ. He sits on the bed and places the blunt between his lips, flicking at his lighter. You watch him take a drag and take it off him when he offers it over.

No words are shared as you pass the bud for several minutes. You both glance around the room, at the floor, at the ceiling, anywhere but each other.

“How’s your face?”

“Huh?” he asks, finally meeting your eyes.

You nod to his cheek. “Your cut from the other night?”

“Oh, right,” he mumbles. He lifts a finger and strokes it absentmindedly. “It’s alright.”

“Good.”

JJ hands you the joint again, you take a drag, you pass it back to him. That same feeling from earlier, when you first climbed off the bike, has only amplified.

“So…”

You brave clearing the distance between you. You take the spot next to him on the bed.

“We gonna talk about it.”

“What’s there to talk about?” JJ deflects, studying the floor.

“Well, you kissed me,” you eventually reply, taking the joint back. “So, there’s that.”

“I already told you,” he sighs. “I was tired and doped up.”

When you say nothing, he looks up at you. "What? You think I'm lying?"

You take a drag. Shrugging, you honestly reply, “yeah, a little.”

He holds your gaze as if challenging you to back down. You don’t. Beating around the bush won’t help anything here, and its obvious you can’t go back to acting like it didn’t happen. You can’t move past it until you know why he did.

“S’just weird,” JJ mutters, looking away. “What happened last night, with me and you. S’just weird.”

“Yeah, it was weird for me too,” you agree. Swallowing, you take another hit. “But not bad weird, right?”

JJ’s head lifts once more. His eyes flash across your face like he’s searching for some kind of trap. He sucks his teeth in contemplation. “No. Not bad weird.”

Your heart stutters, breathing shaky and unsure. You feel your eyes dart down to his strawberry pink lips, and his to yours. But then he’s shaking his head. “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know…” you breathe. You’re transfixed on his lips. Can’t move away, can’t bring yourself too. The blunt in your fingers is burning away, ash dropping to the floor, but you don’t care. All of it, everything but JJ, is white noise.

The moment you flit your eyes up to his, something shifts in him. His jaw ticks as he clenches it. Your brows pull in thought but there’s no time for you to ask.

“Fuck it.”

His lips are on yours within a breadth. He consumes your senses like a drug, dulling down anything else until all your thoughts are on him. He grabs for the blunt in your fingers, haphazardly putting it on the bedside table, and then his hands are sliding up along your sides, up your back, into your hair. One finds purchase on your cheek, and you rest your jaw in his hold like a bird settled in its favourite branch. The way he holds you like you’re something holy is different to how sinful his kiss is. It’s pure passion: raw, animalistic heat from weeks of build-up. And, God, it feels so right. The way his tongue brushes against yours, warm in your mouth, heavy in your head. The nip of his teeth on your lips and the fanning of his breath when he has to break for air. You’ve never been kissed like this before, not by anyone. It’s dizzying.

Until it isn’t, and he’s pulling away. His forehead rests against your own. You’re both panting. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” he says.

You slide a hand up his neck, tracing his jawline with your fingers. He practically melts under your touch, eyes slipping shut. “I know,” you whisper distractedly. Your thumb traces his lower lip. It’s swollen from your kisses.

He blinks his eyes open. “I’m serious. He can’t know.”

“He won’t,” you say, going to reconnect your lips.

But JJ stops you. “No, he can’t. He’d…God, he just can’t.”

You want to cry, seeing the moral dilemma weigh on JJ, feeling you share the burden. But the thought of walking away from this, of not feeling every inch of him, of never hearing him fall apart, makes you want to sob.

“Maybe just one time,” you murmur. Your finger traces down his chin, along the centre of his neck. “And we can just get it out of our system.”

“Yeah,” JJ mumbles. “Yeah, one time.”

“Yeah?”

You meet his gaze. His pupils are dilated, heavy with lust, and you feel your body ignite. “Touch me, please.”

With that simple mark of consent, JJ’s unchained. He doesn’t hold back when your lips reconnect. Somehow it becomes deeper, rougher, better. It’s such a strange oxymoron, the way he touches you and kisses you. You pull away to remove your crop top, and he takes the moment to strip off his shirt. The two of you are shameless as you take in the other. Reaching out a hand, you run your fingers up his chest in the way that you’ve imagined so many times before. It’s funny how in your head, you’ve already done it. His eyes dip down, watching your hands explore. You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his left pectoral, then his right. Sighing, his chest drops up and down with uneven breathes.

“So pretty,” you say through your kisses.

His fingers tether into your hair. There’s a slight tug that sends ripples of pleasure through your body in ways that it shouldn’t as he pulls you away, guiding your lips back to him. As he crawls atop of you, you inch up the bed, skirt riding up. You settle on our back. JJ’s greedy in his touch. Strokes your skin, explores your body, like it’s his own. And in a way it is because you’d give him anything if he asked. When his fingers slip behind your back, searching for the clasp of your bra, you lift yourself onto your elbows. He holds your gaze as he unfastens it, guiding it off your shoulders, helping it off your arms.

“Fuck,” he sighs.

A smile teases at your lips. It takes a certain type of guy to make you blush at the sound of his curses. Your head rocks back, eyes sinking closed, as his lips latch around your nipple. A hand palms at the skin, teasing your breast, exploring your reactions. You sigh out your pleasure, bringing a hand up to mess with his hair. It’s better than you imagined. Tops every fantasy, every wet dream, every sinful thought. And it’s only just begun.

“So fucking sexy,” JJ groans, kissing up your body until he finds your lips.

You don’t want him away from you. He looms over you, encasing you in the safe, consuming feeling of his presence, trapping you in the smell of his cologne and soap that you’ve tried so desperately to avoid. Through the kisses and love bites marked into necks and collarbones, you feel one of his hands ghost the outline of your figure. Traces down so slowly like you might not even notice. Down, down, to your panties. It’s there that he sweeps over your cotton covered mound. You sigh against his lips in anticipation.

“I know you’ve been thinking ‘bout this,” JJ says.

His voice is just as you pictured it: deep and crooning, his Southern accent at forefront. You want to bottle it like brandy and drink it until you black out. His lips work down your neck as he lightly circles your clit over your panties and you can’t stop your moan.

“I heard you, the other night.” Your eyes shoot open. JJ meets your gaze. He’s dying, the desperation clear as day on his face. His eyes themselves could send him straight to hell. There’s the shadow of a smirk.

“Were you thinking of me, whilst you were getting off?”

You go to push him away. The last thing you need is for him to tease you about it and make fun. But he doesn’t let you. Instead, he kisses just below your ear.

“Cause I think about you. Every night since you’ve been back. Can’t jack off to anything else,” he confesses into the crux of your ear. Your only reply is a small, surprised gasp. Your body’s ablaze with his words.

His fingers finally dip below your panties, sliding between your soaking folds. He groans at the sensation and you feel your legs give way. He works at you for a while, toying with you like it’s a side hobby. You’re only half aware of the sounds you make. One of your hands has situated itself on his upper back, nails scratching at the skin. JJ can’t seem to keep his mouth shut. It’s one blasphemy after another, and it drives you deeper and deeper into the abyss. He seems to become impatient. He removes fingers to push your underwear down. You kick them off at the ankles with a small giggle.

The moment his finger sinks into you, you swear you’ve seen heaven. JJ worships you, taking his time to inch you closer and closer to the edge. Another finger, then another. The stretch is heaven. Your back arches off the bed, mouth agape, brain dumb with pleasure. He won’t be quiet. He whispers praises into your ear. Narrates his own fantasies he’s harboured about you. Know you’ve been teasing me with those tiny bikinis. I wish I fucked you on the porch the other night. The moment his thumb swipes over your clit, you know you’re close. And then he’s bending his fingers just slightly, hitting that spot. You abandon all religion: this is the only type of prayer you need.

JJ has the audacity to laugh as you climax. You grasp uselessly at his body, the bedsheets, anything. You use a shaky hand to push his fingers away, overstimulated, and he finally relents. Starts kissing at your neck like a Goddamn vampire.

“That good, huh?”

You can’t really formulate words. You just drag his face to yours, kissing him senseless. When you inevitably part for breath, JJ leans back. He pinches your chin between two fingers, gnawing at his lower lip, and parts your lips for him. Your body pulses at the submissiveness he’s placed you under. Then his used fingers are slipped into your mouth. You close your lips around them, holding his gaze as you suck them clean. The salty distinct taste is unfamiliar but not necessarily unpleasant. He gives a small laugh, like he’s in disbelief.

“Fuck. Why did we wait so long to do this?”

You pull his hand free, taking grip on his shoulders. Pushing him against his bedroom wall, you move to straddle him. His hands fall onto your hips. Somewhere in your heady make-out, you rock yourself back on him. JJ groans; his head knocks back against the wall. He’s rock hard. It must be torture. You shuffle off him to make room to pull his shorts off. They join the mess of clothes on the floor. The tip leaks precum, straining painfully. You go to jack him off but JJ stops you.

“I won’t last,” he admits, half-embarrassed.

You nod, biting back your smile. “You got protection?”

“Top drawer,” he says, nodding to the bedside table.

You lean over and dig about before finding a condom. You come back, tear it open, and gently slide it over him. He lets out a shuddering breath at your touch, eyes clenched shut in concentration. It makes you feel slightly guilty for letting him indulge you for so long, but this will pay it back.

Straddling him once more, you steady yourself with one hand on either shoulder. His find home on your hips once more, and he helps you line up. Then you slowly sink down onto him. The stretch stings despite the earlier efforts. Head hanging forward, mouth falling open in silent moans, eyes clenching shut, you take him in. JJ’s mumbling praises, eyes transfixed on where you connect, spurring you on. Taking me so good. Jus’little more. You rock against him, using whatever energy you have to ride him. He helps guide you, head resting against the wall. You love that he isn’t quiet. Love that you’re on top and can see every ripple of pleasure course through him, reflect on his face. But when his eyes slip shut, you take a hand and guide his face to yours. Pressing your forehead against him, you lean forward and steady yourself with a hand on his chest. The new angle is euphoric. You moan and whine against his lips, eyes staring into his own. It’s the most hideously lewd symphony as the two of you chase your highs. There’s only one thought in your mind. And when JJ comes unannounced, shuddering as he finishes, never looking away from your eyes, only one thought is in your mind.

If it can only happen this once, it has to be perfect...

to be continued (part 2 will be released later this week)

#jj #jj maybank x reader #jj x reader #obx #outer banks #obx fics #outer banks fic #obx fic #obx preference #outer banks preference #jj preference #jj maybank preference #routledge!reader #jj x routledge!reader #brothersbestfriend!jj #brothersbestfriend!jj x reader #jj x fem!reader #jj maybank x fem!reader #fem!reader

[sorrowsofsilence]

Desolate Love • N.S

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader (oneshot)

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: Angst, angst, angst.

Prompt: His October eyes sang secret confessions as he poured his soul into the melodies of desolate love; but you weren't meant to be sung for, even if you loved each other first.

Authors note: I have never written anything like this publically before, but I'm feeling a little sad and angsty lol. I hope you enjoy the words that came from my heart. (ps. I know many on the taglist are here for smut, and this isn’t smut, but I'm just re-using tags since I'm not sure who enjoys what! Pls let me know if you don't want to be tagged in all things!!)

Tags: @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking @gretaswhore28 @veronicaphoenix @lma1986 @calleyx13 @somewhere-diamond @talialovesmiw @auratheopossumwitch @blackveilomens @skulliecadaver-blog @silentglassbreak @darkmxgician

No one talks about the grief of a loss that was never yours to mourn.

He got a tattoo; a constant reminder of the pain.

A reminder of what once was.

A reminder of what would never be.

You wrote unspoken words in your diary, quarrels that would never be said aloud.

Words that confessed years of feelings, years of silenced affections.

As your fingers grazed over the pages of yearning within the leathered journal, your heart reminisced the ache for unattainable amour.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you let out a quiet sob, unsure why you were even crying for someone who was never yours.

He consumed your mind; the way he smiled at you the day you met; his contagious laughter that danced through the walls in grandeur.

“Is this Henderson’s gym class?”

The voice behind startled you, and you turned, meeting a pair of ochre eyes. The stutter that left your lips caused your face to warm in embarrassment, as the messy brunette locks that fell across the boy’s features left you captivated.

“Yeah, I think so?” Your brows furrowed as you second-guessed yourself, even though you double-checked the classroom timetable a thousand times.

His lips spread into a dancing grin, his slight buck teeth chewing playfully on his bottom lip in shyness.

“Cool,” He stuck out his hand, long fingers wrapping around yours, “Noah.”

“Y/N,” You returned the smile, your ears heating as his October gaze never left yours.

You pulled away, briefly glancing down at his shirt, immediately excited.

“You like blink-182?”

Noah looked down at his shirt, pointing at it, “Oh yea, I fucking love them.”

He glanced up at you, fixated, “Do you?”

You nodded excitedly, “They’re probably my favourite band at the moment, other than the 1975, and Oasis, and-” you began to ramble, but stopped, afraid to embarrass yourself anymore than you felt you had.

Something flickered within his eyes at that moment; something you never noticed.

“Wonderwall?” He asked.

A song that became yours.

The burned CD he gave you collected dust in the corner of your room, aged and scratched from years of use. The disk player sat untouched, left as a painful reminder from when the tunes that played were melodies of hope; melodies of elation.

These feelings of grief consumed you, engulfing you into an overwhelming feeling of remorse.

The waves of heartbreak came and left, nostalgia shielding your anguish when memories flooded in.

No one ever filled you with such devotion and desire as he did; and throughout the naivety, you could have sworn it to be love.

It was the way Noah would shout your name from across the room when he saw you, or the way he would cover your eyes, asking you to guess who.

Every time you would laugh, placing your hands on top of his, saying you weren’t sure.

But you knew every time.

His long fingers would twirl your hair when he sat behind you in class, tugging the strands playfully before running his nails over your scalp.

“I just like your hair,” He’d say.

And whenever he picked up his guitar in the band room, he would strum the chords to your song, as if inviting you to listen to his lyrical confessions.

His texts consisted of using silly nicknames, and an overload of emojis to express his feelings. It was over the top, almost as if he was afraid he never came across as genuine enough without them.

Late night conversations went on for hours, laughing at the random stories and memories exchanged through flirtatious banter. You wanted to tell him everything about you, and learn everything about him.

You wanted to know his favourite colour, and what cologne he wore. His goals and dreams intrigued you, his fears and dislikes alluring.

You began to like the things he did, just to have something to talk about. You watched the shows he recommended and googled the things you didn’t know. Anything for him.

Noah would tell you how proud he was of you if you shared an accomplishment, or how pretty you looked when you wore your hair down.

He told you he loved your sneakers, and the way your oversized sweaters engulfed your body.

“You could wear mine,” He said, “You look good in my clothes.”

He would grab your hands, drawing silly pictures in Sharpie. It always left you frustrated when the image of an scribbled smiley face barely faded with each scrub.

But really, you would stare at it in admiration, blushing at the thought of his fingers brushing against yours.

“You like him, don’t you?” Your best friends pried, causing you to flush in embarrassment.

“He doesn’t like me like that,” You sighed, shaking your head, “We’re just friends.”

Just friends don’t play with each others hair like that.

Just friends don’t call each other pretty.

Just friends don’t text each other all night long.

“Is it easier to just pretend?”

Time went on, and your heart fluttered at every smile Noah shared with you, and at every word you exchanged.

The daily good morning and goodnight texts left you melting, succumbing your heart to his as he claimed it for his own.

Deep down, you knew he liked you more than just a friend. The way he treated you was special; there was no way that was how friends treat friends.

N: “Hey, your crush 100% likes you back.”

You: “Uhh hey? How would you know?”

N: “Well, I know who you like.”

You: “I guarantee you don’t.”

N: “Hmm, but I do? And I know he likes you back.”

You: “Sure Noah, haha. Go to bed.”

N: “I’m just saying. He likes you. Goodnight Y/N <3”

With a spiralling mind, your heart hammered.

Did he know how you felt about him? Did he just confess his feelings?

Hope.

It wasn’t until he pulled you into the storage closet a week later, that sorrow knocking down any previous signs of faith.

Torn.

“Y/N, I just wanted to talk… but I know you have feelings for me.”

His eyes bore into your own, sorrowful and sullen.

“Look,” he began, grabbing your hands in his, eyes glancing at your entwined fingers, “I- I just promised myself to someone else. My girl- ex-girlfriend, is coming here, and the reason we broke up was because I transferred.”

He began to ramble, unable to look into your eyes as he confessed his worries. Your heart began to shatter as you forced a small smile. Pulling your hands from his you placed them on his shoulders, causing him to pause.

“Noah,” You said softly, the words leaving your mouth a blatant lie, “It’s ok. I understand.“

His shoulders fell as he watched you. He brought you into a hug, squeezing you against his body, holding onto you.

Ludicrous. Empty.

You cried, your knees held to your chest in comfort as a shield from the feelings of abandonment. How could you be so naive?

You: “Just wanted to say thank you for telling me. I’m sorry if my feelings complicate things, I care about you a lot Noah.”

N: “I’m sorry, for everything. You mean a lot to me, and I care about you. ”

You: “If you knew who I liked all along… why did you say that my crush liked me back?”

It took him almost an hour to respond.

N: “Because I do like you Y/N. I like you a lot… but I promised myself to someone.”

The tears that fell from your face that night left you parched and broken, your world-shattering.

You found someone else a year later. Love that fulfilled your every need, someone to cherish you for you. It was someone who gave you everything; but your mind selfishly always wandered back to him.

You didn’t know that the day he found out you became spoken for, was the day he broke into a million pieces from a whole.

His heart was mutilated, head spinning with uncontrollable thoughts of regret.

How could he have let you slip through his fingers? All for some what-ifs?

He pretended to be happy for you.

Years passed, and you both grew. Both changed, both matured.

You got a ring, and Noah played in a band. You went to every show, you still showed up, even though you knew you were always a second choice.

He watched you the whole time as his fingers traced the strings of the guitar, and your heart yearned for him; screaming and aching and crying that you were just a body in the room.

It wasn’t until he found someone, that you told yourself it wasn’t healthy to fixate on past uncertainties.

It was rare you went to shows now. But when you did, you watched as he stood on that stage and sung; his smile brilliant and just for her.

But then you would meet his gaze, and you knew that the ochre was always for you. Forever yours.

His October eyes sang secret confessions as he poured his soul into the melodies of desolate love.

But you weren’t his: you weren’t mean’t to be sung for.

Some nights you called him drunk. You told him you missed him, that you wanted him to know you think about him all the time.

He told you he missed your voice, and how he wished you two still called.

He said he was happy you found someone to love you, because you deserved to be loved.

You knew he was lying.

It was the last time you talked, until you saw him sitting in the audience as you walked down the aisle, marrying a man you loved. A man who promised himself to you forever. A man who chose you first. A man who was not him.

Noah asked for your hand, he asked you for a dance. Your bodies swayed one last time in a synchronized beat, but just as friends; as desolate lovers.

You never listened to Wonderwall again.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you let out a quiet sob, unsure why you were even crying for someone who was never yours. You were meant to be happy now.

As your fingers grazed over the pages of yearning within the leathered journal, your heart reminisced the ache for unattainable amour.

A reminder of what would never be.

A reminder of what once was.

Noah got a tattoo; a constant reminder of the pain.

No one talks about the grief of a loss that was never yours to mourn.

#sorrows of silence masterlist #bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens cult #bad omens band #noah sebastian davis #bad omens fic #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian angst #angst #sad poem #bad omens angst #angst fanfic #desolate love

[smytherines]

I love One Step Ahead for all the obvious reasons (gay angst), but also because it is so packed with little storytelling moments. Also it just seems exhausting. So much happens in that song:

1. Motorcycle chase (with office chairs)

2. Boat chase

3. Staff fight

4. Sword fight

5. Vigorous musket loading

6. Run up the staircase

7. Hang glider chase

8. Fistfight

9. Run halfway down the stairs again

And the entire time they are doing all of this, they're belting out a vocally demanding song. I mean, no wonder Curt Mega had to take a breath during that final note. That's a feat of endurance. I simply would've passed out and died.

One Step Ahead is one of my favorite setpieces of all time. In anything. Ever. It is so impressive, and it is even more impressive when you realize this was done by a tiny little independent company with the theatre budget equivalent of $1.50. Unreal. It should not be possible.

And the thing is, One Step Ahead is the perfect narrative counterweight to A1P1 (Spies Are Forever). The amount of thought they put into this is just stunning. Because here's the thing: A1P1 is also incredibly physical. For most of the song Curt and Owen are on the move, they're going up the ladder, they're fighting goons, they're going down the staircase, they're running.

But more importantly, Curt and Owen are touching a lot in A1P1. And yeah, that's fun in a swoony curtwen vibes way, but its also incredibly important to the narrative. They are touching a lot, and when they aren't touching they are standing just a little bit too close together. Its subtle enough that you initially dismiss it as a stylistic choice, but once you have the full context it is remarkably intimate.

Those are important details- like the way Owen has his arm around Curt and is literally holding his hand when they're talking to Cynthia. Its meant to tell us that they are together. In the romantic way, yes, but also they're just aligned, working together, on the same page. They are partners here. They literally have each other's backs.

And that's down to Curt Mega and Joey Richter selling the absolute shit out of these roles, and genius choreography by Lauren Lopez, and Corey Lubowich being the director of all time.

The digital download BTS has a part with Joey and Curt rehearsing the bit where they do the hug, and right after that they're trying to figure out what cool action poses to move into and Corey says that he wants to see something with them "connected," which is just... yeah, that's the perfect word to describe what is going on in A1P1. These two are connected.

So then we get to One Step Ahead. At the very beginning, Curt does the arm clasp with Tatiana. The first time they did this, Curt had a flashback of Owen. Owen was still his partner in his heart. But this time that bond is severed. Curt thinks of Tatiana as his partner now.

We get into the action of the song, and Curt and Owen do not touch. Even when they are very physically close together, there are weapons between them. In A1P1 they had lots of moments with their backs turned to each other, trusting each other, working perfectly in sync. In One Step Ahead they are facing each other head on. They are literally and figuratively fighting. They are breaking up.

The only moment during this sequence where they are actually touching each other is when Owen slaps Curt, Curt punches Owen twice, and they do that lock up move. They're only touching to hurt each other now.

And its so subtle and well executed that you don't really think about the parallels between these two scenes the first time you watch them. But you feel it on an emotional level. They had about ten minutes to establish the relationship between these two, and they used that ten minutes so effectively that the staircase scene ends up hitting like a ton of bricks.

Just. I love this show. I love how much TCB and Curt Mega and the rest of the cast care about this show. I'm so grateful they keep coming back to it. I cannot wait to see what they do with these scenes for Spy Another Day.

#spy another day #spies are forever #owen carvour #agent curt mega #tin can bros #curtwen #saf #tcb #tinlightenment world tour #saf rants

[pernadette]

Imagine: You try to apologize to Graves (negative ending)

“Mr. Graves!” you called out as you chased after him down the empty corridor of the base, your heels clicking loudly on the worn cement floor. You had to do this before your courage could pack its bags and flee with a one-way ticket to Hawaii.

Phillip Graves hesitated, half inside his assigned room already. He glanced around quickly and cautiously, checking for witnesses, before finally settling on you as you stopped just shy of his door. “Yes, what can I do for you?” he asked with cool politeness that did not meet his eyes one bit. 

Trying your best not to be cowed by the carefully managed anger that simmered beneath his words, you got straight to it. “Do you have a moment? Please, I want to apologize for…earlier.”

Graves' dark blonde brows raised as he considered the obviously unwelcome request. “You have sixty seconds," he said as stepped fully into his room and motioned for you to follow. "Make ‘em count.”

This made you hesitate. You had expected to speak to him out here, where a witness could easily be called out to if the conversation went south. You did not expect to be invited into the ominous privacy of his temporary bedroom. Judging by the almost smug expression on his disarmingly handsome face, it was clear he knew this.  He was testing you.

Fine then. Test away. The sooner this was over, the better. 

Bolder than you felt, you stepped into the room, forced to brush rather intimately past him as he refused to budge from his position. It was only once you were fully inside that he stepped back and closed the door. “Fifty seconds.”

Bastard.

Heart hammering in your chest, you tried to ignore the closed door and instead looked directly up at him as you offered a very rehearsed apology. “Mr. Graves, I apologize for my behavior early. It was inappropriate, and though I am not military, it was insubordinate. Truly, I am sorry. It will not happen again.”

Graves listened as you spoke, sharp blue eyes never leaving your own. “Apology accepted,” he said with a slight grin. He took a step closer, forcing you to take back. This repeated until your back was against the wall. Stepping right into your space, he leaned forward, face close to yours. “However, it is very important that you listen to what I’m about to say, and take it to heart darlin’.”

Without warning he lashed  out and took hold of your jaw tightly, slamming the back of your head into the wall. Ignoring your pained cry, he leaned in until his lips were barely an inch from yours, cold eyes drilling into you. “I don’t give two shits about your ‘civilian status’, don’t you ever speak to me like that in front of my men again. Do you understand me?”

Terrified and certain he would crack your jaw if he held it any longer, you tried to nod your head. “Yes, I understand,” you whimpered out, traitorous tears pooling in your eyes, betraying your fear. You tried to blink them away.

Far from satisfied, he pressed you mercilessly into the wall with his own hard body, grip on your jaw tightening. “Yes what?”

Trembling as he pushed a knee between your legs, you managed to stammer out, “Yes sir, I understand sir.”

He held you there still, body pressed fully into yours, grip tightening further until you were certain he meant to maim you, only to release you after a minute. He patted your aching cheek almost affectionately, thumb brushing your lips gently as he smiled down at you now. “Don’t you ever forget it, sweetheart. You can close the door on your way out.”

#cod #call of duty #call of duty imagines #phillip graves #graves #graves x reader #shadow company #cod mw2 #cod mw3

[bubble-popping]

okay this is kinda embarrassing bc i meant to post this a long time ago and just... Didn't.

More dnb gods au bc them <3

Truthfully, Techno didn't know why he stood here, hand hovering above the wood of a door. Even less did he understand why he felt so nervous about going in. The words 'Dream's Study' felt like a permanent 'do not disturb' sign. He knew how much he hated to be interrupted when he worked, especially for trivial matters such as a minor headache. Techno hadn't seen Dream for a while, and it was showing with how Chat nagged and clawed at his brain. He wasn't quite at the stage of attacking his dearest friends and causing major property damage because of their volume and relentlessness, but Dream had asked--pleaded, to be more precise--for him to visit before it got to that point. So, here he stood, trying to think of how to phrase his current predicament without sounding like a total loser. And Chat was not helping.

just knock?

man's forgot how to knock

bro forgor

E

E

average dork in love behavior

no u guys don't get it he's so normal about dream i promise

social anxiety L

L

LOL

L

L

"How do you nerds even know half those phrases? I don't say anythin' like that-" Before he knew it, the sound of squeaks and chirps emitted from behind the door. The Blobs' heightened senses never ceased to amaze him.

"What? Techno's outside? How-OW!"

Techno startled upon hearing the exclamation accompanied by a thud and finally kicked himself into gear, opening the door and peeking inside to see Dream standing up from behind his desk, cradling his horns and uttering more hisses of pain. "Dream? You alright?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine! Jus' bumped my head is all. I'm alright." The blond waved off his concern as he sank into his chair. "Is something up? Chat being loud again?"

The piglin god decided to step further into the room. He'd gone this far, might as well go the full mile. "Well, not at the moment now that you're, ya know, talkin'."

"Aw, they just missed me, huh?" Dream rested his head in his hand, smile smug and eyes scrunched.

YES

DREAM

DREAM POG

simps. every single one of you. me too.

GUYS SHUT UP I CAN'T FOCUS ON HIS PRETTY

pretty dreamie :)

WE AGREED ON DAYDREAM FOR THE NICKNAME IDOIT

**idiot lol

lol

LOL

Lol

LOL

"I didn't say all that. Don't get ahead of yourself, teletubby." As if Techno's absolutely scathing remark wasn't enough of a blow to the man's ego, several Blobs then decided it was their special moment to shine as they dropped down on Techno chirping and cooing not too unlike Phil's crows. He glanced up to see many more piled on a hammock above his head. The majority still soundly slept. Techno could only imagine what it'd look like if they were all awake.

"Hey! What have I told you guys about personal space?" Dream promptly stood from his chair and came over to brush the little Blobs off, a bright gold strong as sunshine glowing on his cheeks. It really didn't match the stern expression he was trying to show. "I'm so sorry about them. We're still working on that..." He didn't meet Techno's eyes as his hands swiped across his shoulders. Not even when he reached further up, lifting on the tips of his toes to pluck away the ones that had settled in his hair.

"They're not so bad. At least they're cute. Chat is just plain annoyin'," Techno grumbled.

WE'RE RIGHT HERE YA KNOW

techno hates us y'all

we're literally fixing your love life?

so ungrateful

Dream giggled softly, shaking his head. Only then did he meet Techno's gaze. "Chat isn't bad either. It's just like the Blobs, they're excitable. I think Chat's cool."

dream gets us y'all

omg he's looking at us guys

HE'S THINKS WE'RE COOL

i hope he wins the custody battle in the divorce

they aren't even married yet

praying on their downfall already is crazy

SHUT UP HE'S STILL TALKIMG

he stopped tho?

**talking

LOL

LOL

L

L

L

Techno pressed a hand to his temple, face twisting in discomfort. "You don't have to hear 'em all the time..."

Dream offered a sympathetic smile before he seemed to get an idea. "Would you like to rest with me while I fulfill some dream requests?"

"I don't wanna bother ya if you're workin'-"

"You wouldn't be a bother, ya big idiot. C'mon, I could use the company." He smiled sweetly, taking Techno by the arm with pretty green eyes begging from under long blond lashes. Naturally, Techno let himself be dragged away--but he still wasn't a simp, Chat, shut up--to a different corner of the office: an area that closely resembled a pillow fort.

Techno really had to duck down to enter it, clearly not built for a god his size. Inside was more spacious than it initially appeared. Made of many different colors and shapes of cushions, all draped with soft blankets, and partially bordered by the lower shelves of a bookcase. Dream easily found a spot to lay down, propped up and facing the curtain canopy. Techno squeezed against the nearest wall out of consideration for Dream's space, but regardless only managed a gap of mere inches. He too looked up, and when he did, he swore that nothing was above them at all. Tiny lights were strategically placed to emulate the night sky. Techno could even see certain constellations in the pattern.

"How did...?"

"Oh, some Blobs got into my glowstone dust by accident and they reminded me of stars, so I got this idea." And Techno believed him because when he squinted he saw, as his eyes adjusted to the change in lighting, many tiny Blobs hanging by thin threads with the proudest grins on their faces.

"Of course..." He huffed, smirking and shaking his head.

A comfortable silence succeeded his words, covering the pair in a particular kind of blanket. The kind that had Techno curiously glancing over to see Dream concentrating on a cloud held aloft by the green strings connected to his fingers.

"What's that one? If ya don't mind me askin'."

"Hm? Oh, well, usually I don't share other people's dreams. They're personal things, meant for your mind alone. But..." Dream got a small, almost mischievous smile on his face. "This one here is for one of my regulars."

"Regulars?"

"Mhm. I think she prays almost every night, always for the same thing. She's an old woman and recently her wife of almost 60 years passed away from an unfortunate accident. Do you know what she asks to dream of?"

Techno couldn't imagine knowing that much about a mortal. But then again, all those that prayed to him usually didn't live very long, so he supposed he just never got the chance to.

"What?"

"She just wants to speak with her again. Nothing else matters, except that she's there. They talk about so many things. Sometimes, they don't speak at all. Just sit there next to each other, enjoying the company. I've put them in all sorts of places. Relaxing on a beach, watching a fireworks display from afar, sitting on their rocking chairs in their living room..." He'd finished crafting the dream by then, offering it to one of the Blobs who devoured the cloud whole and promptly wiggled into the crevice of two pillows. Afterwards, he folded his hands atop his stomach and closed his eyes, smiling wistfully. "Such a sweet, pure love... I only hope someone will love me like that."

A heat unlike any other instantly filled Techno's cheeks.

ASDFGHJKL HE'S LITERALLY ASKING FOR IT

LET'S GOOO

KISS HIM YOU IDIOT

how did that guy make that sound

KISS

KISS

KISS

L matchmakers fr

wdym we're such W matchmakers

yeah he boutta get that sheep pus-

Techno quickly sat up from the comfortable pile onto his elbow, resolutely pushing that thought out of his head.

"Techno?" Dream looked to him, gaze wide and inquisitive. The piglin god turned to stare down at him, and though he knew he had to say something that might finally shut Chat up about this, the words got caught in his throat. Green eyes were simply too pretty, surrounded by freckles and waves of golden blond. A hand surprised him out of his admiring. Gentle fingers pushed the hair that had fallen into Techno's face behind his pointed ear then came to a rest at his cheek. "Something wrong?"

"No," he answered with a shake of his head, placing his hand upon Dream's and leaning into the touch. It still didn't make a lot of sense to him, why Dream was so tender towards him despite his reputation and prowess... Or, perhaps, because of it? Techno cherished it all the same. "Nothin's wrong. 'm just... 'm not sure how to, how to word-"

"Tech," the sheep god murmured, now cupping both of Techno's cheeks and wearing a bittersweet smile, "you don't have to force yourself. I was just thinking out loud. I wasn't trying to-"

"It's not that, I mean, well, it is, but-" He sighed, closing his eyes to collect himself before opening them with a renewed determination. "I get what you're sayin' and I feel the same way."

"You do?"

"Ya think I'd come just to make Chat shut up? That's just a sweet bonus, dude."

Dream giggled, a similar blush rising on his face. "So, what does that mean?"

"It means I... would really like to kiss ya, if you'll let me."

The blush immediately brightened to a shimmering gold. He pushed himself to a sit as well, closing the gap between them to barely a few inches. "I think I'd like that."

They both leaned in, heads tilting to accommodate the other, but when Techno connected with something, he knew it was not Dream's lips. A Blob had managed to slip in at the last second, squeaking happily. The two pulled back in equal astonishment, allowing the Blob to drop on Dream's lap.

Dream's expression rapidly soured. "You little-!" He snatched the Blob up, gripping its little body in a tight grasp. "That's it. You're all going in timeout now." With a snap of his fingers, all the Blobs including the ones that hung from the ceiling exploded into puffs of clouds, leaving the two in near total darkness aside from Dream's glowing eyes. "Much better. Now..." Hands suddenly grabbed Techno by the shoulders and twisted them so he was flat on his back and Dream was straddling his waist. His voice lowered to a whisper as he leaned in once again, bright green illuminating both their faces. "Where were we?"

#idiots in love #dnb #dreamnoblade #dnb god au #bubble writes #suggestive #i should be posting these on ao3 too but idk #i always feel like what i post on there needs to be a certain format/length so tumblr just gets everything

[sunsetzer]

On one hand, I want a final fantasy 6 remake, because the game is criminally underrated and the amount of fan content (which is all absolutely fantastic btw) is Not Enough for my neurodivergent, hyperfixating brain.

On the other hand, that would inevitably encourage more people to join the fandom, which would be great, except it seems these days the bigger a fandom gets the more toxic it becomes, and I really like what we have going on over here in our little corner. We all just love the game and its characters and nobody fights about who should and shouldn't date who or who you shouldn't like because they're ~problematique~. Nobody's trying to make one ship morally better than another, nobody's calling anyone names or threatening to doxx people who don't agree with their opinions. It's so peaceful and I love that for us. We're just vibing. Moisturized. Unbothered. In our lane. Flourishing.

#as someone who was in an extremely toxic and chaotic fandom and lowkey still traumatized #to the point where I'm afraid to mention which fandom it was/what my ship was #i have to say #i genuinely love it here #i was nervous at first sharing my ships and headcanons but everyone is so chill i was worried for nothing #thank you to everyone I've interacted with who has made this fandom a healing experience for me #i shudder to think about what some of the people i interacted with in a previous fandom would do with ff6 #probably would take edgar's flirting at face value and call him problematic for objectifying women #instead of considering the narrative and what we know about him and the way he actually treats women #my man drinks loving and respecting women juice he's not a creep #or that weird moment with relm that admittedly made me double take before i realized what he meant #theyd have a whole campaign against him lmfao #bc those people boil characters alive until they're just a formless pile of tropes and stereotypes #and seem to disregard all positive aspects of a character they don't like which is fine #but then they go and try to force other people to think like they do and ugh #theres a lot of silly moments in the game and aspects of these characters that make them well rounded and realistically flawed at times #and i fear that would get lost in the chaos if the floodgates opened after a remake #maybe im just jaded lmao #im jaded and i have anxiety so im always thinking about The Worst Case Scenario #the collective positive spirit of the dwellers in this fandom might actually foster a positive space if more people were to come in #ff6 #my post #i was gonna say maybe this is bc we're mostly adults #but that falls flat when i remember how some of the most toxic and immature people in some fandoms are grown ass adults #who bully each other and younger fans #and some of the most mature and cool people were actually younger #maybe ff6 fans are just built different lmao #also idk how old anyone else actually is there might be teenagers here i just don't think about it a lot

[munamania]

something that makes me feel guilty is the fact that seeing that persons face rn literally makes me angry. they walked into class and i nearly winced. and in all fairness they were quite kind to me. outside of the several kind of odd red flags. girl whatever. to be quite frank i am a horny bastard and vocal proud etc but few people interest me enough to actually want to hang out with and get to know And i have deep seated intimacy issues so it's like. we really dont have a shot unless the circumstances r exactly right on a full moon perfect thursday of a month etc like. well and tbh i probably would have fucked around with this person but i dont... care... about some big relationship w them.. and i know i could be a relationship girl like eventually i have it in me to have a muse that's what im built for i think idc but not rn... rn i need to hang out with my friends and do my film stuff and have people that maybe wanna make out sometimes is that so much to ask for. for a lesbian at a bar to want to make out perhaps. ** for there to be lesbians at the bars to potentially make out with.

#and i am quite lonely yes thank u for asking. yeah someday id love to get to know someone again in the context of falling in love #what about it. so what now. i dont think im meant for our understanding of romantic love but boy do i crave it #why am i having this moment rn. well ok consider im on my period all i could think about this morning was [redacted] and both parties #of my dyke drama were back in class today. and the one gay person that i think has a crush on me but we dont see each other super often #so im just. guessing based on the way awkward lesbians communicate. idk #and i feel really just mean but i quite literally dont have it in me to pretend to be nice to this person anymore #i wasnt like. some villain for realizing we were acting really coupley and being like oh shit because i didnt want to hurt them #. and trying to communicate and put some distance between us when i thought they were probably in too deep. it's unfortch it took me a sec #but jesus christ yk i cant walk around and feel awkward about it forever. and im frustrated by the fact that we're just acting so odd #but again frankly i think it's largely bc they have an unhealthy relationship with dating. THROWING HORIZONTAL PUNCHES HERE. #OK. STONES FROM A GLASS HOUSE. IM AWARE. REAL RECOGNIZES REAL. #and YET. despite my past insanity. ive been kind. i can understand disappointment and a little awkwardness #but jesus would you rather i pretend to be in love with you for months and then really break your heart. #this is where i get mean and make a joke like well hey if we couldve had weird really mediocre sad angry dyke sex abt it #that would have been cool with me. but alas. we're here instead and it's fucking with my friendships too #and like we were kind of ok friends too. what now. its just u me and this brick wall u built between us bitch #now was EYE not answering texts for a minute. we dont need to get into it. #because the thing IS if i dont play things exactly right. and im not good at that without prior planning. i will accidentally say or do #something that i know. again. from being insane myself. would be just enough for them to hold onto hope #and im not trying to do that to them you know. i was trying to help with the detachment. shitty as it may be. i dont fucking know dude #this post is going to make me look kind of. well. whatever u guys have seen me at my worst. mostly. and post #ok one last thing sorry if this makes me sound like i have a giant ego. like wow heres this person who really liked me and im just shitting #all over them. not what im meaning to do but whatever

[aeide-thea]

wow okay then. finished the book, yelled a lot at el's sleeping inbox about it, may archive some subset of that yelling here later but. definitely that was. an experience i had. compellingly plotted, on the whole, although WOW was the denouement lurid, but. exTREMely long list of bones 2 pick as per previous posts (& also possibly forthcoming ones).

#like it became clear as things unfolded that our Fantasy Novel was really not very secretly a Mystery Novel also #or like. suspense thriller what have you #which i'm not at all opposed to but that meant Our Heroes became detectives which meant that in a couple of instances they became cops #(Interrogation Scene‚ also a very brief moment where an apprehended suspect mocks the protag so his husband jerks the guy around— #'[suspect] laughed‚ and was instantly punished with a swift jerk on his bound wrists by [husband]'—which. not cool actually!) #anyway. just wanted to jot that down somewhere before i lost track of it #anyway further notes later but i guess the tl;dr version is that there was just enough here to make me really mad abt its failings #a LOT of ethical concerns of various sorts signposted in a way i don't even necessarily expect from a text‚ only to then be fumbled #like fundamentally if your story has started out by raising issues of consent #you can't then turn around and say 'my protag is friends with his servant!' #without acknowledging that fundamentally the power dynamic of a master-servant relationship complicates if not precludes a friendship #not to mention that frankly the master absolutely does not TREAT the servant like a friend‚ he treats him as there for his own convenience #anyway. enough yelling for one post probably #i did learn a new word from the book‚ namely 'graunch' #i don't learn new words too often so that at least was exciting! #bookblogging

[tedhugheshater]

i had a dream with gerard. i miss it already and i just woke up

#so #i was in mcdonalds with my best friend and my bf. and they were saying that gerard was upstairs with some fans #but i didnt want to go upstairs and bother him or sum. so i just go and look for a table (were not actually tables and were school desks) #and in the second row i see him sitting there totally alone. he was like tbp era yk and he looked at me and idk what we talked #so i sit next to him and we start talking. but wait we are not talking like face to face which would be the obvious thing to do bc hes next #to me -we were talking via twitter. like he tweeted something snd i answered and so on. i dont remember exactly what he was saying but it #was very gerardesque bc in my dream i went like god hes really back on twitter this IS gerard. at a moment a fee fans were also answering #to his tweets obvs and there was like a conversation between me and g and the fans made comments and casually joined every now and then #we were joking with him ablut blood and he said something smong the lines 'i havent listened to all of my songs in some time but you guys #sound as if you listened to all the vynils and then consumed them with ur mouth and swallowed them' normal clearly #they bother him (friendly bc he isnt bothered) with saying shit like haha u r a kinky bitch and thats when he says that #and he says he doesnt even remember what he said in his songs because 'i have written so much' but that he does remember not writing about #girlhood and being a woman -he was joking. so i answer 'gerard. gerard. look me in the eyes' and say abt the times he sang abt girlhood #and i mentioned revenge and not that kind of girl and he laughs like uuuhh u got me i was just joking hehehe. then we continue talking but #now face to face. i ask him what he thinks about argentina (im argentinian and in the dream he was here) and he says he likes it a lot bc #1. its small (????? we are literally the 8th biggest country but okay??? i think he meant like buenos aires is very. narrow streets and cool #like the way its built its weird and unique) and 2. its the only place in the world where it frels like its still the 90s #i know we talked some more but i dont remember by now. next thing i know i am with my mother saying i need her to give me money #because they were playing a concert that night and she was like i cant #and i think i was like damn okay ill ask gerard themself if i can do it free if i go with them but then i woke up #rad. the first part felt very real btw #then i was just showing symptoms of illness and being chrinically online /j #but yeah. that i guess. i never remember when i dream eith him #music #mcr #emo #gerard way #we didnt even eat at mcdonalds we were just sitting there

[uglyducklingofthe2000s]

Never Mix Business With Pleasure - LN

A request from @luvrrish

Summary: After a disappointing one night stand, y/n finds her new boss is the man behind the disappointment. She'd spared him the knowledge till a staff night leads to an indirect admission that she's faked an orgasm. Out of some pride, Lando has to know if she did with him.

Themes: Smut (eventually), nipple piercing (is back bby)

No part 2 requests please

Y/n had known she'd recognised Lando, but a couple drinks deep into the night. She really couldn't think straight other than the man was surely worth having between her legs.

Turns out she only wanted him between her legs till he got there.

Not that he was...bad. But more accurately...selfish.

Admittedly, she snuck out of there as soon as he was snoring beside her. Not entirely her brightest of ideas. But she really felt no appeal of sticking around for an awkward morning after.

What she didn't expect was a week later for her to find him at the head of the table leading a meeting at her new job.

Now y/n is an adult she can have a one night stand and it not be awkward. Especially since she's almost certain that he has no idea she faked it.

"Y/n, can we just have a chat?" Lando asks when Max calls the meeting to an end, though Lando's best friend looks at him suspiciously since usually Lando doesn't bother to invest his time in new employees.

"Uh-Yes, yes. Of course." Y/n confirms before the rest of the room leaves and closes the door.

"I just wanted to make sure that you're...not uncomfortable working here-"

"Mr Norris, you're my boss and our one night stand happened before my official employment start date. I am more than capable of maintaining a professional relationship with you as I'm sure you are with me. It's only the two of us who know and we're adults, I'm sure that we can get over having seen each other naked." Y/n smiles trying to maintain as cool and unbothered an attitude as possible while keeping herself professional.

"Yeah right, I just...wanted to make sure you were comfortable. And everyone here kind of builds a friendship so just call me Lando. Mr Norris is...professional but too professional for me."

"Right, Lando. Anyway, I know you need to get off. So I'll not keep you."

-

Y/n did make friends with everyone at Quadrant. She also really found this to be the best job she's ever had.

Thankfully, Lando has such a busy schedule beyond Quadrant. He's not there nearly as often as she had originally anticipated and when he is, neither of them struggle.

Although it has only been 2 weeks.

"I bet y/n has some secrets. We can get out of her." Ria comments when the game of never have I ever is thrown out as part of the gathering.

It was meant to be for staff, but there was definitely a few plus ones who had beefed the group up and quite a few that y/n didn't know.

"Secrets? I'm an open book." Y/n laughs while swallowing back a mouthful of water since she's determined to not end the night anything more than tipsy.

They each go about saying a never have I ever, some of them going for boring safe options and some of them going for the spicier variety.

"Alright, this one is for the ladies...and maybe the men. Never had I ever faked an orgasm." Max states seeming to watch his own girlfriend who takes a small sip making the room burst into laughter.

"It wasn't with you." She assures him with a pitiful pat that seems to be more of a "I'm trying to save you while also being honest in front of your friends".

Y/n and Ria actually cheers as they also take a mouthful of their drinks.

Y/n really didn't think to check if Lando was watching her, it hadn't struck her that he might be or that he might even care. After all he certainly didn't in the moment. So the idea he would now never crossed her mind.

The game goes on before people eventually get bored or too drunk to focus.

Y/n ends up deciding to be one of the first to leave, though it's not as if she's leaving early. It's near enough 1 in the morning.

"I was going to leave too. I'll give you a ride." Lando states catching up to her as she pulls on her jacket at the doorway, the suggestion of him driving her making her frown. "I haven't been drinking-well one drink, but nothing strong."

"I don't know if we're going in the same direction. I could walk to my place from here." Y/n murmurs since there's something about Lando's expression that makes her feel like there's a reason he rushed to leave early. "It's only about a 15 minute walk really."

"Well it'll be even quicker and warmer in my car." Lando smiles making her look at him for a moment before she nods.

"Yeah, you're right." Y/n nods before following him out.

He's got one of his expensive ass sports cars that she could maybe afford if she spent the rest of her life not spending a penny on anything, not even food, and then worked till she was 150. Then she might be able to afford a second had version.

"You look annoyed." Lando comments making her furrowed brows quickly raise themselves while he adjusts his grip on the steering wheel. "Actually I wanted to ask you something."

"Oh ok." Y/n nods feeling herself get a little nervous.

Lando might not be as involved in the day to day workings of Quadrant as she'd thought when she realised he is her boss. But he is still her boss, if he decides she's not performing well enough then he is well within his rights to fire her.

Fuck.

"Back when we were playing that game, you drank when Max asked if anyone had faked an orgasm." Lando states keeping his eyes trained perfectly on the road.

"Yeah." Y/n confirms suddenly gritting her teeth at the feeling of where this conversation is going to go. "I mean I think all women have."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I just...did you with me?"

How fast is he going? To fast for her to open the door for a jump, tuck and roll manoeuvre?

This is not a conversation she wants to have with any man, much less a man who turned out to be her boss. But something tells her she won't believe her if she lies.

"Yeah, I did." Y/n admits watching his knuckles turn white from his grip on the steering wheel. "It's-Well I was a bit drunk, it's harder for me when I've had a drink."

Not entirely a lie, but also not exactly the truth. She tends to last a bit longer while drunk but it doesn't stop her from getting there.

"You don't have to lie to save my feelings." Lando states making her sigh. "I could make it up to you."

"Lando, that's really not necessary." Y/n tries since she isn't looking to make a man insecure. "It's not as if every woman ever has faked with you. It's just...sometimes it's easier."

"But I'd like to make it up to you." Lando stresses making her sigh again. "It doesn't have to be tonight...what if...I took you on a date?" Lando tries making her almost jerk her head back in reaction.

"You want to take me on a date?"

"I mean I would be up for it tonight, but I feel like it might be awkward now." Lando murmurs earning a small smile.

"That's true...Well you have my number, you can call me with plans and I definitely won't turn you away." Y/n states softly making Lando finally manage a small smile.

Y/n directs him to her apartment before she does give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek goodbye.

-

There was a few date ideas that y/n had. Lando flying her out to join him on one of the race weekends was really not on the list.

"This is insane." Y/n murmurs to herself as Lando walks in behind her.

He'd made sure she flew with him on the jet and pulled out all the stops for her in addition to that. She's never felt so well off in her life.

"You alright?" Lando asks making her turn and look at him for a moment.

"Yeah, just...it's the nicest hotel I've ever been in." Y/n laughs lightly before feeling his hand on the small on her back. "I feel like I'm underdressed just for a lobby."

"You're fine." Lando assures her with a small laugh before he moves them to the reception desk and checks them in then starting to guide her to the lift as he sorts through the keys. "I got them to give us a suite with an adjoining room. Just so you got your own space."

"So am I here to call you my boss or just...a one night stand redemption?" Y/n asks trying to ease her own tension.

"Neither of those sound great." Lando hums as the lift appears and they step in. "Just call me your...date."

"My date." Y/n echoes then smiling at him in slightly approval.

-

Lando really doesn't want to rush y/n into having sex, even if he's determined to show that he's not some inexperienced idiot who has no concept of the female body.

Admittedly, he didn't put his all into the first time they had sex. But the idea of her faking an orgasm just made him feel sick to his stomach for some reason.

He took her to play golf, then out for a meal and they were nearing the end of being able to stretch out the meal any longer.

"We should probably go. You've been looking at me like I'm the next course for a while now." Y/n comments trying to hide her smile.

Lando decides not to comment since maybe his thoughts have been slightly more x-rated selection. Though he genuinely thinks he can't be blamed, y/n dressed to impress and she achieved that and more. But he's not about to make this about him at all.

He manages to get the check and pay for everything before they head out.

"I've never been so lavished before sex. This must be what sugar babies feel like." Y/n jokes before clearing her throat when she realises that might not be a joke he's very happy to be a part of.

"I hope it doesn't actually feel like that." Lando laughs lightly as the valet appears with his car.

"No." Y/n confirms with a soft smile as the second valet opens the door for her and they both climb in. "Now I just have to trust that I am getting an orgasm tonight."

"You think I'm stopping at one? That's bold." Lando comments making her pause for a moment.

"How many are you stopping at?" Y/n chokes out not expecting it to have had to be a question between them.

"You'll just have to wait and find out." Lando shrugs innocently but the smirk speaks for itself and actually, whether it's the intended affect or not, she's not sure but it sort of turns her on.

When they get to the hotel, Lando again hands his car over to the valet before quickly moving around and dismissing the valet about to help y/n out of the depth.

"Thank you." She smiles as he quickly leads her inside.

Admittedly the anticipation that should be making this all so awkward is actually just making her more eager. His promise of multiple orgasms definitely makes her feel a little more eager to get to the hotel suite.

It's either going to live up to his promise, fall short or make her figure out a way to really sell her fake orgasm as believable and never tell him that actually it was yet another disappointment.

"You look like you're thinking pretty hard." Lando comments as they step into the lift.

"Yeah, I'm just thinking...what your plan might be." Y/n murmurs earning a small smirk. "I hope you're not about to get performance anxiety."

"No. Definitely not." Lando chuckles, somewhat hating that his hotel room is so high up meaning the lift is taking slightly longer to get them to their floor.

Lando's hand links to her own as they near their floor and just as they step out he manages to gently tug her into a kiss, his hands landing on her waist as they kiss and y/n steps backwards, trusting his guidance.

The room isn't far from the lift so when he breaks the kiss, it's not a long distance later that she finds herself gently pushed into the room in a brief pause.

Lando kicks the door closed and proves that actually when he wants to try, he certainly can seduce a woman with just touch. The touch that's specifically working, is his ability to slide the slinky slip dress off of y/n's body.

The silky material slides down off of her body with ease and she's left with no bra and admittedly some strings worth of underwear. She also steps out her heels as Lando lifts her up to wrap her legs around his waist.

There's definitely a bit of a power play with Lando still fully dressed while she's literally one flimsy and quickly dampening piece of material away from completely naked and exposed to him.

She's placed down on the bed with Lando's lips kissing down her body.

"I definitely did not appreciate your body enough last time." Lando comments, lips brushing her skin as he pauses the kisses moving down her body.

Y/n actually arches up against the soft feeling of his lips before he lifts up and removes his jacket that he's been wearing just for some more movability.

"You know I've tried to keep professional..." Lando admits moving his hand up to her boob, thumb gently rubbing over her piercing making her teeth nibble on her lip. "...but every time I saw you, I kept thinking of this shiny little piece of metal."

"Well, it's fully healed and free use to play with." Y/n smiles shifting to try and stop arching up into his back like she'd doing instinctually.

Lando smirks at her comment before he finally reaches down to the so far neglected area that he's most eager to get access to. He presses his fingers onto her slit through the wet material then having to use his free hand to keep her thighs from closing on him.

"Don't tease." Y/n murmurs impatiently while Lando just remains quiet pushing the fabric aside and testing her wetness before pushing a finger into her and pressing his thumb onto her clit which even to her own admission, she wasn't really expecting him to find or touch with such precision.

He wastes no time pushing a second finger in when he leans forward choosing to pay attention to her nipples too, the feel of a piece of metal between his lips is sort of unfamiliar but the reaction from y/n is a quick pay off, already twitching around his fingers. Feeling the beginnings of her build up towards an orgasm.

His hand is soaked already from her and he's suddenly realising the moans she's producing sound significantly less controlled and more genuine than what he recalls of their previous hook up.

When he finally locates her g-spot that's when things really change, he can feel her body started to tense from underneath him.

Y/n whines a little, feeling the build up starting to near the peak. Lando does let up on her nipples either his mouth on the pierced one and his free hand on the unpierced one. When she completely tenses, arching a little up against him. the moan that escapes her lips and the feeling of her thighs locking to squeeze either side of him might just be better than the feeling of his own orgasm.

She's clamped down on his fingers with a tightness that he's already going to dream about for a long time.

"Fuck." Y/n whimpers when she finally relaxes and melts down onto the bed. "Fuck, Lando."

"That's just the beginning, I told you more than one." Lando chuckles then shifting up to kiss her. "But it's good to know what a real orgasm sounds like from you."

Y/n almost wants to be insulted that her fake orgasm apparently isn't anything like the real thing. But maybe she shouldn't really be insulted by it.

"I've never have multiple orgasms before."

"Happy to be the first to make it happen." Lando smirks then gently blowing on her nipple as he goes back down her body. "Part of my redemption."

Y/n breathes a little, her body shuddering when he gets low enough to see her pussy still pulsing from her first orgasm. She's not even sure what it feels like for someone to give her head after she's already had an orgasm.

"This is going to sound stupid, but I didn't know it was possibly for every part of a person to look so pretty." Lando comments and she's about to say something, only for him to latch his hands onto the top of her thighs before he dives in-between them and licks her up and down. His nose managing to nudge her clit that was still entirely oversensitive at the feeling of pressure on it.

"Jesus christ." Y/n breathes, mainly to herself at the feeling of Lando treating her exactly like she'd joked earlier in that she's the final course of his meal.

Actually it feels like she's completely devoured by the man, she's not sure if the build up is just as quick, slower or faster but she can feel it already and her jaw drops open a little.

"Lando." Y/n whimpers, not being able to stop herself from threading her hand into his hair.

There's something that sort of dawns on Lando as he doesn't let up, he's never cared all that much about a woman's side of the pleasure. Sure it's a great addition and he enjoys giving head, but with y/n there's something much more satisfying.

Maybe it's a point to prove, or maybe it's how good his name sounds being moaned by her.

Her voice wobbles in another moan before she feels her orgasm hit her much harder, and with less of a build up. It hits her, catching her off guard but she's not so sure Lando was as surprised about it. Not that he lets up, hell he seems to extend the length of her orgasm from just keeping going and if her brain didn't feel slightly fuzzy then she might question if he'd even noticed she was hit with the waves of more ecstasy.

She hardly has a moment to catch her breath before he's shifted, finally getting himself undressed as he can't wait any longer to get inside her.

"You ok?" He asks climbing back over her making her nod quickly, seemingly desperate but wordless as she tries to pull him closer.

Really y/n is torn between the temptation of a third orgasm and the fear of what it will actually feel like.

When he pushes into her, she reminds her voice enough to moan while he drops his head into her neck trying to keep himself from caving into the urge to really let every ounce of his energy go into her. Not straight away at least.

"Move, move. Please." Y/n whines making him hum before she whines at him then being silenced when he kisses her and begins thrusting in and out of her.

The angle must be working because he knocks her g-spot consistently and she's scrambling for grip, unable to choose between the sheets and latching onto Lando. It's not really any time before her third orgasm hits as she actually cries out holding on tightly to him.

"Oh I'm not done yet, gorgeous." Lando chuckles, though he certainly was close. He managed to hold out. For some reason he just wants to aim for four.

It's his number after all.

Y/n whines trying to latch onto him tightly before holding onto him as he keeps going, but he manages to wiggle free only just so he can roll them over and sit her up to straddle him. He's not getting lazy, he just needs better access if he's going to get the fourth.

After a few thrusts with his hand reaching down to gently press on her clit, it seems to strike her like electricity and she tightens around him so much that he almost feels pain, but he stops fighting his own finish and groans pumping into her with no thought other than he is definitely doing this again if she'll let him.

Y/n falls forward against Lando, breathless and whimpering with every exhale.

"Fuck. Fucking hell, you were holding back on me that much?" Y/n whispers, not quite having found her voice properly.

"Sorry, I promise to never let it happen again." Lando laughs while she hides her face in his neck as he gently strokes her sides. "Take all the recovery time you need."

"I will. Trust me." Y/n groans trying not to think about the sheer amount of sweat and other fluids they're both coated in.

After a while Lando does manage to move her to lie beside him, purely because he wants to at least clean them up a little and get y/n some water.

"Thank you." Y/n mumbles as he wipes her with a damp cloth.

"You really don't need to thank me." Lando sighs shaking his head at her while she smiles lazily. "But if you want to thank me. Another date and significantly more sex like that would be something I'd accept."

"I think I might be able to muster that up." Y/n nods, biting her lip a little as she tries to hide a grin. "Especially when this is the treatment I get afterwards."

"Yeah?" Lando laughs lightly before looking around for the room service menu.

"Yeah." Y/n nods then smiling when he hands her the menu. "Is this for sustenance?"

"I'm a caring man. You need to reenergise." Lando grins then rubbing her tummy.

"So what do I call you now? Just so when I talk to being railed, they know the status." Y/n smiles earning an eye roll. "Just my date?"

"I fucking hope not." Lando grumbles then looking at her for a moment. "Boyfriend, if you're ok with that."

"I think I'm definitely ok with that." Y/n confirms before she let's out a heavy sigh and relaxes down into the soft bed then remembering the amount of fluids on it. "Oh god, we're sleeping in my bed tonight. These sheets are so dirty now."

Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos @llando4norris @partyinpitlane @lpab @xoscar03 @harrysdimple05

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[santacoppelia]

Aziraphale's voice - Michael Sheen's voice

I know we all have talked a lot about Michael Sheen's ability to manage microexpressions with his face, but this post is to mark another really interesting character crafting decision: his voice.

I believe that, If you are a hearing person and you watch Good Omens in its original language, identifying Aziraphale's pitch, tone and timbre is really easy. That's because it is slightly higher and more of a dulcet tone than the usual Michael Sheen voice (which usually is more deep and lower).

However, there are three times when Aziraphale uses the "Michael Sheen voice" in season 2 (I'm not sold on having heard it during season 1). All of them are on point for the character and I love the acting choice, so I came here to share:

I have already seen this one discussed, so it goes first: the "Azirapalala- Aziraphale" moment, when correcting Furfur in the e04 minisode. It is made even funnier because we have already seen him being so happily flamboyant... And his voice going lower with the annoyance of correcting his name is precious.

When he vows to protect Gabriel, during the final defense of the bookshop, in e06. “You came to me, I said I would protect you And I will”. His voice shifts as he makes that last point clear, and suddenly his Sheen voice becomes the sign of his commitment to keep his word. He doesn't use that voice when menacing the demons; he goes with a more "Aziraphale tone", while having his face do the "fierce" work.

My personal favorite: during e01, when Crowley comes back after their fight, trying to keep his cool, and Aziraphale is so not having it. He uses his natural register when he says he wants "a proper apology, actually". And he practically keeps that tone until the apology is finished.

@susanwhynow noticed (and I had absolutely MISSED) that when he answers the "Smitten. I believe." he is using his Michael voice. I was fooled by the "You're being silly!" being delivered in a tender, usual Aziraphale manner... But yeah, one of the best lines of these two being sweet is in "Michael tone". Do with this what you want :D

That is quite an acting choice! When a character is built around choices that separate them so clearly from the person who performs them, deciding to use the "natural" repertoire is really meant to make an impact. It is a really subtle voice work, but goes a long way to convey the seriousness of those moments for Aziraphale.

And I brought this here just to present my respects to Michael Sheen for those choices!!

#good omens 2 #aziraphale #michael sheen #good omens #michael sheen appreciation post #acting craft #great acting choices

[wileycap]

So, uh, Netflix Avatar, huh? Yeah. I guess I'll make a really long post about it because ATLA brainrot has is a cornerstone of my personality at this point.

So.

It's okay. B, maybe a C+.

That's it.

Now for the spoilers:

The biggest issue with the Netflix version is the pacing. Scenes come out of nowhere and many of the episodes are disjointed. Example: Aang escaping from Zuko's ship. We see him getting the key and going "aha!", and in the next scene he's in Zuko's room. And then he just runs out, no fun acrobatics or fights, and immediately they go to the Southern Air Temple where he sees Gyatso's corpse, goes into the Avatar state, and then sees Gyatso being really cheesy, comes out of it, and resolves that conflict. Nothing seems to lead into anything. The characters don't get to breathe.

The show's worst mistake (aside from Iroh fucking murdering Zhao) is its' first one: they start in the past. Instead of immediately introducing us to our main characters and dropping us into a world where we have a perfect dynamic where Aang doesn't know the current state of the world and Katara and Sokka don't know about the past, thus allowing for seamless and organic worldbuilding and exposition, they just... tell us. "Hey, this is what happened, ok, time for Aang!" There's no mystery, no intrigue, just a stream of information being shoved down the audience's throats and then onto the next set piece.

The visuals are for the most part great, but like with most Netflix productions, they just don't have great art direction. It feels like a video game cinematic, where everything is meant to be Maximum Cool - and none of the environments get to breathe. It's like they have tight indoor sets (with some great set design) and then they have a bunch of trailer shots. It's oozing with a kind of very superficial love.

Netflix still doesn't know how to do lighting, and with how disjointed the scenes are, the locations end up feeling like a parade of sets rather than actual cities or forests or temples. As for the costumes, Netflix still doesn't know how to do costumes that look like they're meant to be actually worn, so many of the characters seem weirdly uncomfortable, like they're afraid of creasing their pristine costumes.

The acting is decent to good, for the most part. I can't tell if the weaker moments come down to the actors or the direction and editing, but if I had to guess, I'd say the latter. Iroh and Katara are the weakest, Sokka is the most consistent, Zuko hits the mark most of the time, and Aang is okay. I liked Suki (though... she was weirdly horny? Like?) but Yue just fell kind of flat.

The tight fight choreography of the original is replaced with a bunch of spinny moves and Marvel fighting, though there are some moments of good choreography, like the Agni Kai between Ozai and Zuko (there's a million things I could say about how bad it was thematically, but this post is overly long already.) There's an actually hilarious moment in the first episode when Zuko is shooting down Aang, and he does jazz hands to charge up his attack.

Then there's the characters. Everybody feels very static - Zuko especially gets to have very little agency. A great example of that is the scene in which Iroh tells Lieutenant Jee the story of Zuko's scar.

In the original, it's a very intimate affair, and he doesn't lead the crew into any conclusions. Here, Iroh straight up tells the crew "you are the 41st, he saved your lives" and then the crew shows Zuko some love. A nice moment, but it feels unearned, when contrasted with the perfection of The Storm. In The Storm, Zuko's words and actions directly contradict each other, and Iroh's story gives the crew (and the audience) context as to why, which makes Zuko a compelling character. We get to piece it out along with them. Here - Iroh just flat out says it. He just says it, multiple times, to hammer in the point that hey, Zuko is Good Actually.

And then there's Iroh. You remember the kindly but powerful man who you can see gently nudging Zuko to his own conclusions? No, he's a pretty insecure dude who just tells Zuko that his daddy doesn't love him a lot and then he kills Zhao. Yeah. Iroh just plain kills Zhao dead. Why?

Iroh's characterization also makes Zuko come off as dumb - not just clueless and deluded, no, actually stupid. He constantly gets told that Iroh loves him and his dad doesn't, and he doesn't have any good answers for that, so he just... keeps on keeping on, I guess? This version of Zuko isn't conflicted and willfully ignorant like the OG, he's just... kind of stupid. He's not very compelling.

In the original, Zuko is well aware of Azula's status as the golden child. It motivates him - he twists it around to mean that he, through constant struggle, can become even stronger than her, than anyone. Here, Zhao tells him that "no, ur dad likes her better tee hee" and it's presented as some kind of a revelation. And then Iroh kills Zhao. I'm sorry I keep bringing that up, but it's just such an unforgiveable thematic fuckup that I have to. In the original, Zhao falls victim to his hubris, and Zuko gets to demonstrate his underlying compassion and nobility when he offers his hand to Zhao. Then we get some ambiguity in Zhao: does he refuse Zuko's hand because of his pride, or is it his final honorable action to not drag Zuko down with him? A mix of both? It's a great ending to his character. Here, he tries to backstab Zuko and then Iroh, who just sort of stood off to the side for five minutes, goes "oh well, it's murderin' time :)"

They mess with the worldbuilding in ways that didn't really need to be messed with. The Ice Moon "brings the spirit world and the mortal world closer together"? Give me a break. That's something you made up, as opposed to the millenia of cultural relevance that the Solstice has. That's bad, guys. You replaced something real with something you just hastily made up. There's a lot of that. We DID NOT need any backstory for Koh, for one. And Katara and Sokka certainly didn't need to be captured by Koh. I could go on and on, but again, this post is already way too long.

It's, um, very disappointing. A lot of telling and not very much showing, and I feel like all of the characters just... sort of end up in the same place they started out in. I feel like we don't see any of the characters grow: they're just told over and over again how they need to grow and what they need to do.

To sum it up: Netflix Avatar is a mile wide, but an inch deep.

#avatar the last airbender #atla #atla spoilers #avatar netflix #netflix avatar #atla live action #netflix atla #zuko #iroh #katara #aang #sokka #zhao #ozai #review

[iceandpeaches]

hi idk if you know the summer i turned pretty but there’s a scene where a character says “My chest physically hurts not being able to tell her how. much I love her” and I can just imagine luke being in love with a poseidon!daughter where her dad doesn’t approve of anyone for her. He tells percy about his chest hurting and will catch glimpses of Luke actually placing a hand on his chest whenever percy’s sister is around or walks away 😫😫😫 bonus if he actually PRAYS to poseidon angst but fluff ughhh

oh anon you cooked… the praying to poseidon part made my own chest hurt hurt.. i'm kinda familiar with tsitp but i never watched it.. sorry this is kinda long!! i hope this was good🙈🙈🙈

my chest hurts; luke castellan

for years, luke had been hopelessly in love with you. from the moment you step foot at camp after being attacked, he knew he wouldn’t love anybody other than you. he was excited he could spend time with you while you were still unclaimed, but upset when you were claimed by poseidon. he couldn’t spend every moment with you anymore, by your side, your best friend. 

he was devasted that he couldn’t see you from the moment he woke up till the moment he fell asleep. with you now residing in the quiet and slightly eery poseidon cabin, you were only part of his dreams if the gods allowed it.

and with poseidon being your father, he wanted to be in your life. which meant that with you and percy, he wanted to keep his children safe from the world and people that could harm you. which is why, poseidon declared to deny any boy who asked for his blessing to date you. upon hearing such, luke never gave up hope. he’d find a way to persuade your father, somehow. 

luke headed to your cabin to look for you, walking in since he knew it would be open. it wasn’t like there were hundreds of kids running in and out all day. 

“hey y/n– oh. is she not here?”

luke glanced down at your younger brother, sat by the body of water that sat in the middle of your cabin. poseidon kids. 

“yeah she’s.. mad at me right now. she went for a swim.”

“oh. then i’ll wait for her to come back.”

luke sat by percy, fingers tapping against the area that held a pool of water. he got bored after a while, turning to percy he stared out into the opening of the cabin door. 

“hey percy.. could i tell you something?”

“yeah, what’s up?”

“it’s just.. i want to be with y/n. i think about her all the time. and it hurts, like my chest physically hurts. to be able to tell her that i’m in love with her.”

luke gripped his shirt, thinking about every moment you smiled at him, laughed at his jokes, your eyes lighting up everytime you mention something about the water or going for a late night swim, every hug, everything you did. there was something so special about you, and he wanted you to know how special you were to him. percy watched as his friend’s grip tightened on a portion of his clothing, brows creased into a frown. 

an hour or so passed, and you’d come back from your cool off swim. luke’s lips curled into a gentle smile, noticing that your hair was wet which emphasised the curls in your hair. your expression brightened upon seeing luke, your towel wrapped around your shoulders.

“luke! what are you doing here?”

“well, you’re late.”

“to?”

“bracelet making with the hermes cabin.. duh! only the best cabin ever.”

you refrained from laughing, patting him on the back. you nod in acknowledgment, grabbing a fresh camp tee and a pair of shorts to slip into running toward the bathrooms to go change. luke smiled, feeling pressure in his chest again which caused him to grip his shirt as he followed behind you. 

for the next few days, luke’s chest hurt more than it usually did. for after every interaction with you, he had to take a moment to himself to breathe it out. several times percy had caught him with a hand on his chest whenever you’d walk away to tend to another camper’s needs. luke could’ve sworn he felt raindrops and thunder every now and then, hoping it wasn’t poseidon angry at him or something. 

luke tossed and turned in bed, the thought of you still fresh in his mind. you never left his mind, all he thought about was you. he slipped out of his bunk, then out a window to find a spot to burn an offering – not to his father, but yours. he lit a match, putting in into his tin can then burning away a piece of bread he had wanted to finish off in the morning which he’d miss most.

he watched the bread burn, tossing it into the small tin can. he fiddled with the drawstring of his hoodie, thinking of what he’d like to say as a prayer to your father.

“hi mr poseidon. i am luke castellan. son of.. hermes. i.. i don’t know how to explain this.”

he fumbled with his words, his mind incapable of configuring sentences he would’ve formerly said to the poseidon. it was messing with his brain. 

“i like your daughter. and i know that, you’d want her to have a guy good enough for her. i may not be that guy but.. i was hoping.. am i saying that right? uh.. i’m seeking for your blessing to, give me a shot?”

“i want to be that guy for her. i’ll take care of your daughter with my life, i’ll be there for her when no one else can. i promise, sir. i’ll love her, comfort her, take her side no matter what…”

he gulped, the flame dancing as he spoke. he wasn’t sure if poseidon would hear into his concerns, but it was worth trying. he hesitated to seal his promise, but he loved you. he’d do anything for you.

“sir, i’ll take good care of her. i promise.”

it almost sounded too desperate. luke blew out the flame, heading back to his cabin to not get caught by harpies. his heartfelt confession made his burden slightly lighter, actually being able to sleep this time.

"luke castellan, son of hermes. i've heard your prayer."

huh? who was that? luke opened his eyes, seeing the god of the seas in front of him. he swallowed the lump in his throat, bowing down only to feel poseidon's hand on his shoulder.

"will you keep to your promise? everything you said?"

luke glanced up at the god, nodding. yes. everything he said in his prayer. he'd keep to his promise. poseidon was staring him down, luke slightly intimidated by the death glare the god was giving him. the god's eyes reminded him of your eyes, every wave reflected in them.

"yes, sir. i will keep to my promise."

"how will i know for sure?"

huh? luke thought he'd made it clear with his intentions. but then he remembered – poseidon would deny him. poseidon would've never cared what luke had said in prayer, poseidon already deemed him unfit (like any other man) to date his daughter.

"but si–"

"you already know what i'm going to say, luke castellan."

"sir plea–"

luke woke up sweating. he looked around as he caught his breath, was that real? or was that all a dream? did poseidon really visit him in his dream? his chest hurt. his chest ached. his chest felt it was burning. for all he knew, he might've just lost his chance to love you. he didn't know if he could leave his cabin when morning came, he just wanted to disappear.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan angst #charlie bushnell #pjo luke #luke pjo #peach's fics

[old-lorarri]

꒰꒰ ‧₊˚𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 ─ 𝐋𝐒𝟐 ˚₊· ꒱꒱

─ summary . . . ❨ your friend forces you onto a dating app and to be honest you weren't expecting much but maybe it was worth it ❩ ─ pairing . . . ❨ logan sargent x fem! non-famous! reader ❩ ─ genre . . . ❨ social media file ❩ ─ author note . . . . ❨ now tbh I was meant to do this for a different driver but changed last min so I hope this is still good so enjoy! ❩

❨ taglist | masterlist ❩

WELCOME TO L♡VE LINE

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number: xxx-xxx-xxx

name: Y/N L/N

birthday: xx xx xxxx

nationally: british

idea type: funny, nice, and not a serial killer

about you: creeps stay away 🤺🤺🤺

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we have found 4 matches

matt markson has requested to message you

accepted decline

birthday: november 10th, 2002

nationally: american

ideal type: sexy, funny, and submissive

bio: best haircut in ohio

matt

hey baby girl 😮‍💨

how about you give me a show 😏

Y/N

no 🥰

also you hair is fucked

you have blocked this person

try again

yes no

lukas morris has requested to message you

accepted decline

birthday: january 21st, 2000

nationally: poland

ideal type: hot, horny, shy

bio: drug, drinking, sex 4 life

lukas

what are your thoughts on gun play?

Y/N

...

lukas

not a fan I see

how about blood play

has anyone told you

that you would make a beautiful corpse 🥵

Y/N

no

goodbye 👋

you have blocked this person

try again

yes no

amir abbas has requested to message you

accepted decline

birthday: july 19th, 1999

nationally: uae

ideal type: modest, kind, god fearing

bio: habibi come to dubai

amir

you are so beautiful ❤️

Y/N

aww thank you ☺️

your good looking to 👀

amir

I would love to bring you to dubai 😉

Y/N

bit soon don't you think?

amir

no

I think it would make it easier to get to know each other

you know face to face

Y/N

yeah ig

amir

great

just don't tell my wife

Y/N

your what?

amir

my wife

also you can't post me

and I can't post you

but I'll buy you channel and a ferrari ❤️

how does that sound habibi

Y/N

fucking awful

I am not some fucking side hoe

hope your wife finds out what a piece of shit you are mate 🖕

you have blocked this person

yes no

logan sargent has requested to message you

accepted decline

birthday: july 19th, 1999

nationally: usa

ideal type: funny, kind, honest

bio: american f1 driver

logan

oh thank god

this app has finally matched me with someone normal 😮‍💨

Y/N

right?!?!?

eveyone on this app is givning either serial killer or scum bag 😭

but I gotta ask dude

what's up with that pfp 💀

logan

my friend alex took it

he forced me to make this account

he said it was a good photo

is it not?

Y/N

wait you got forced on here too??????

same 😭

my friend megan said I needed to

"meet new people"

what ever tf that means

also

if I were you

I would sue alex for defamation of character 💀

cuz that photo does not do you justice

makes you look like a ✨ serial killer ✨

very ✨ted bundy✨

also question

american white man

which type of american are you 🤔

logan

florida baby

RAHHHHHHH 🦅🔥🇺🇸

Y/N

oh dear 😅

it's always florida or ohio...

but anyway

thoughts on taylor 🧐

logan

queen 👸

icon 💅

the moment ✨

mother 😌

Y/N

hummmm

you have passed the test ✅

logan

yessss

anyway question

Y/N

shoot

not literally florida

figuratively 😭

logan

florida really?

anyway

what do you do for a living?

Y/N

barista

I know I know

before you say it yeah customers can be a bitch sometimes

but I'm a sucker for free coffee

what about you

logan

f1 driver for williams racing

Y/N

oh cool

don't really know what that is sorry 😭

I only really watch football

liverpool fan till i die 🫡

logan

you mean soccer

Y/N

football

logan

soccer

Y/N

football

logan

soccer

Y/N

football

logan

soccer

Y/N

it's football you twat 🥰

listen we don't call american football

kick run catch and occasionally punt now do we

logan

okay speak your truth queen 👸

Y/N

thank u king 🤴

okay but why when I googled your name

this was the first thing that came up 😭😭😭

logan

oh god

sorry you had to see that

Y/N

not a problem mate ☺️

logan

wow 💔

I just got mate zoned 😢

going dark 😞

Y/N

no no no no no

I'M SORRY 😭😭😭

I'M BRITSH IT'S IN MY DNA

logan

all I hear is excuses 😞

Y/N

WHAT CAN I DO TO MAKE IT BETTER

logan

I think you number would heal my broken heart rn 🫣

Y/N

smooth america real smooth 😭

logan

thank u thank u

Y/N

xxx-xxx-xxx

if you turn out to be a serial killer I'm going to be pissed 💀

logan

Is the photo really that bad 😭😭😭

Y/N

yes babe 😌

dw when we go on a date I'll take some yummy pic's of you

logan

bet

text me the deets

Y/N

will do mr miami 🫡

logan reacted with a ❤️

read

─ inspired by . . .

@landitolover ─ dulce hotline

─ requested by . . .

anon ─ Any driver of your choosing where the reader doesn’t know who they are and is just a regular person

#꒰꒰ ‧₊˚📁 ─ my works ˚₊· ꒱꒱ #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant imagines #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #logan sargeant x y/n #logan sargeant fluff #logan sargeant fanfiction #f1 instagram au #f1 social media au #f1 smau #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 fluff #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 one shot #logan sargeant

[bro-atz]

candy

in which: you're their sweetheart who tastes sweet like candy, and they simply cannot get enough.

pair: frat bros!ateez/afab!reader

word count: 6.1k

content: smut, gang bang (more like four threesomes), nicknames (they call you sweetheart), unprotected sex (PLS REMEMBER TO WRAP UP IRL!), oral, anal, double penetration (x4!), creampies, filthy, completely consensual!

rated: R | nsfw — minors do not interact

author's note: i actually wasn't planning a part two, but... let's just say i had a dream... tysm to @k-hotchoisan and @yungilia who both helped me w this one hehe and sorry @juyofans and @yunhoszn but y'all just got another submission for your event LMAO also I HAVE NO IDEA WHY IT'S SO LONG THIS TIME AROUND HELP

networks:

@atzhouse @cromernet @cultofdionysusnet

@newworldnet @san-network @wonderlandnet

frat bros!ateez: part one | part two

Life pretty much went back to normal after your initiation was completed. Okay, that's a big fucking lie. You still were their sweetheart, but you were also their sweetheart, which meant that you had a little more obligations that the frat bros bestowed upon you.

"Hey, Wooyoung," you greeted the boy as you stepped into the kitchen. "Cooking?"

"Yeah," Wooyoung sighed slightly dramatically. "Yeosang wanted fried chicken again, so I'm making fried chicken again."

"So then why are you making curry?"

"Because I don't want curry, sweetheart. I want curry."

You bit back a laugh, but a little puff of air left your lungs, the acknowledgement bringing a smile to Wooyoung's face. After stirring the pot a little, Wooyoung took another spoon and scooped some of the curry.

"Give it a taste," Wooyoung told you.

He brought the spoon to your lips, and after blowing on it to cool it off, you tasted it.

"It's good! But it's definitely missing something," you responded.

"What? Is it salt?"

"I... I actually don't know."

"Let me try it."

You thought Wooyoung was going to try his own spoonful, but no. Instead, he kissed you, his tongue swirling around yours to get the lingering taste of the curry. Refusing to let up, he turned the stove off and walked you away from the stove to a (surprisingly) clean countertop before pinning your waist against it, his lips locking with yours feverishly.

"You taste so sweet, sweetheart," Wooyoung exhaled blissfully after the kiss ended. "I could just eat you up..."

Without a warning, Wooyoung lifted you up and sat you down on the kitchen countertop, his head tilted up as he looked at you in anticipation. The way he looked in that moment, the pink tint of his lips, was so inviting that you ran your fingers through his hair and rooted your hands on the back of his neck as you kissed him.

"Fuck, I need you right now, sweetheart," Wooyoung mumbled against your lips.

You felt his fingers brush along your waist as he grabbed your shirt and forcefully pulled it over your head, your shirt flying out of the kitchen. His hands then moved down to your jeans, and he pulled them off within seconds before spreading your legs wide open. He took two fingers and rubbed them along your folds, your arousal collecting on his fingers.

"And it looks like you need me too," he said cheekily. "Look at how wet you are, sweetheart."

"Wooyoung, please," you were so close to begging him to shut up. "Just fuck me already."

"You won't let me savor my meal? You won't let me taste how sweet you are down here?"

He sunk down, his lips hovering over your cunt. Running your fingers through his hair, you pushed his head closer to you and said, "Dear God, just fucking do something, please."

Wooyoung only got to lick a singular stripe up your cunt when he lost all his patience. Just seeing the way your pink pussy quivered with anticipation made his dick press so hard against his pants that he almost was in actual physical pain.

"Hop off and bend over," he grunted out, his voice hitting a new level of low octave.

You quickly obeyed and waited for him to unbuckle his pants and stroke his cock a couple of times before rubbing the tip against your folds. Then, without warning, he thrust his cock into you, your waist hitting the countertop, and your entire body moving forward as his hips slammed against yours. It took everything in you to choke back a moan, and it only got more difficult for you from there when Wooyoung started lightly slapping your ass.

"Fuck, Wooyoung," you moaned in a hushed tone. "You feel so good."

"Yeah? You like that sweetheart?"

You couldn't see Wooyoung's face, but you knew for a fact he had that devilish smile on his face that made your heart flutter. Not only did your heart flutter, but your cunt did too when he spanked your ass a little harder than the time before, earning a little yelp from you.

Suddenly, you heard someone drop one of the bowls from the kitchen and turned your heads to see an uninvited guest standing awkwardly in between the living room and the kitchen.

"W— I— I just— My chicken—" Yeosang stuttered as he saw you fully and completely naked bent over on the kitchen countertop with Wooyoung's dick deep inside you, his face going bright red.

"Forget about your chicken for a second, Sangie. You should pay attention to our sweetheart," Wooyoung waved the boy over. Then, pulling out and spreading your folds to give the guy a better look of your cunt spilling cream onto the floor, Wooyoung said, "Look at how wet she is... We gotta do something about it."

Yeosang gulped nervously as he stared at your arousal covered cunt, saliva continuing to pool in his mouth at an alarming rate. He leaned down to face your cunt, his hands clutching your thighs as Wooyoung continued to egg the boy on, "You want a taste, right? Come on, you know you want to."

It was true— Yeosang desperately wanted a taste. He moved so that he was right behind you and spreading your asscheeks wide, giving him better access to your cunt before leaving the most intense kiss on your clit, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked up as much of your arousal as he possibly could. Your legs trembled completely and could barely keep you up as you leaned further into the countertop, a long but quiet moan escaping you.

"Here, sweetheart," Wooyoung leaned onto the countertop and grabbed your cheeks. "Lemme give you a taste of you as well."

With Yeosang eating you out from behind and Wooyoung practically eating your face off, you could feel the tension building in your stomach, your hormones desperately wanting some sort of release. So, you whined into Wooyoung's mouth and reached back to grip the roots of Yeosang's hair, indicating to both of them that you just wanted them inside you already.

 You and Yeosang both stood upright, the boy's hands immediately grabbing your waist and spinning you around so he could press himself against you. He pressed his forehead against yours, and you could feel his heavy panting hit your skin as he slowly started stripping down, his lips nearing yours. You wrapped your hands around the back of Yeosang's neck as you decided to cut to the chase and kiss him, the sweet taste of you lingering on your tongue as Yeosang made out with you passionately.

Wooyoung, meanwhile, was grinding his waist against yours, his cock rubbing up and down your asscrack. Not going to lie, he was a little frustrated at the way you were giving Yeosang so much of your attention that he decided to take some of it back. He quickly shoved his cock back inside you, practically pushing you further into Yeosang's arms.

"Oh, fuck, Wooyoung!" you whined as he slowly moved his hips, his cock sliding in and out of you with relative ease. "S-So good!"

Wooyoung hummed in response, his hips snapping up sharply to meet yours suddenly, making you yelp and cling closer to Yeosang. Yeosang, who had unbuttoned his shirt to reveal his pale chest and rock solid abs, was losing his mind gradually the more he felt your nipples and breasts rub against his chest, his own cock throbbing and practically ready to burst.

"Sweetheart, I don't think I can wait any longer," Yeosang whispered to you, the desperation obvious in his voice. "Can I please fuck you?"

Yeosang asking you for consent was honestly the cutest fucking thing, and you wanted to savor the moment more, but you were unable to because Wooyoung was making all sorts of raunchy noises as he thrust sharply into you, his hands holding onto your waist tightly.

"Yes, Yeosang," you responded, your breathing hitching with every thrust from Wooyoung. "Fill me up, baby."

Yeosang wasted no time. He pulled his cock out of his pants and rubbed the tip against your clit before pushing his own way into your cunt, both boys now fully inside you. What drove you even more insane was when Yeosang hooked his arm behind your knee and pulled your leg up, giving both him and Wooyoung easier access to your fluttering pussy.

"Try her ass— it's so fucking tight, and it feels amazing," Yeosang advised the guy behind you.

With a smirk and a nod, Wooyoung pulled out and pressed the tip of his cock against your asshole, the sensation already driving you insane even though all he was doing was teasing you with just the tip.

"Relax, sweetheart," Wooyoung whispered into your ear. "Otherwise it's going to hurt."

You did as Wooyoung instructed, allowing him to move his cock in and out of you with relative ease. You flung your head back and began moaning a little more loudly as the tension within you built up exponentially.

It was when Yeosang rubbed against your G-spot perfectly several times in a row did the tension snap. With one hand on Yeosang's shoulder and the other  on Wooyoung's arm, you grabbed onto them tightly as you came loudly, your moan and cries of relief echoing in the kitchen and living room.

Your walls and ass tightened up as you came, both boys wincing as they, too, nearly came upon feeling you squeezing their cocks.

"You felt that good, sweetheart?" Wooyoung asked breathlessly. "You like the two of us fucking you like this?"

"God, ye-es!" you cried. "So fucking good!"

Both boys chuckled and continued to fuck you senseless until they were forced to stop when another person interrupted the fun.

"You've gotta be shitting me— What the fuck are you two doing?!" San yelled, completely startling you to attention.

You turned your head to see through bleary, teary eyes the figures of San and Jongho, the two of them standing in identical poses with their arms crossed over their chest.

"What the fuck does it look like, dumbass?" Wooyoung retorted.

"You know Hongjoong hyung and Seonghwa hyung said to leave her alone, so why are you fucking her?" Jongho clarified.

"How can you expect us to stay away when she looks like this?" Yeosang questioned as he grabbed your face and held it up to show the other frat bros your half-lidded, glazed over eyes with beads of perspiration dotting your forehead and making your hair stick to your skin. "Our poor sweetheart needs us to fuck her brains out... Did you really think we would say no?"

Just the sight of you looking so pathetic and desperate, Yeosang's and Wooyoung's cocks getting squeezed so tightly in your holes, the two of them fondling and gripping the appealing parts of your body— San and Jongho understood.

"Sannie..." you whined, the boy's face turning red. Jongho's face matched that shade when you continued, "Jjongie..."

That did it. The two of them quickly joined the other two who were fucking you, their clothes coming off at a record speed. San gently gripped your throat and turned you to face him, his lips hungrily meeting yours while Jongho started stroking himself off by himself, only for you to reach out for his cock and start stroking him yourself.

Wooyoung was still steadily rutting into you while the newcomers got situated because after you came, he was so ready to cum since your ass squeezed him so tight. His breathing hitched, and white started to fill his vision, making him pull out of your ass and struggle but successfully slip his cock into your cunt, the two cocks in you driving you insane.

"Shit, I'm cumming," Yeosang hissed before biting his lower lip, his eyes fluttering shut.

Both cocks, both waists slammed powerfully into you at once, Yeosang groaning loudly while Wooyoung bit your shoulder. San released you from your chain of kisses with him, letting you gasp and moan as you felt both boys fill you up, their ropes of cum spurting inside you nonstop. Yeosang pulled out of you first, but Wooyoung remained inside you as he whispered, "Keep our load safe, sweetheart. Don't let a single drop spill in my kitchen."

"Yeah, wait, what're we doing fucking our sweetheart in the kitchen?" Jongho asked.

"She should be somewhere more comfortable, right sweetheart?" San cooed.

Normally, you would've slapped San silly for treating you like that, but you were so desperate for both him and Jongho to stuff you full with their thick cocks that you just let him do as he pleased. San ended up passing you on to Jongho, who quickly slid his fat cock in you, spreading your walls so open that you felt completely stuffed by his cock. Then, when he cupped the underside of your asscheeks and lifted you, you felt him even more, his cock driving deeper into you. You clung to him as he bounced you on his cock and walked you into the living room— at that point, you knew that none of the fraternity brothers were going to drop you, so you trusted them to just carry you around wherever they wanted to take you. 

Jongho sat down on the couch, making you automatically sit on his lap. He wasted no time bouncing you faster on his cock, his hands still firmly planted on your ass. You clung to his shoulders and let out little yelps and cries until San stuffed your face full with his cock.

"Quiet, sweetheart," San warned. "We don't want the hyungs finding out, do we?"

San's cock muffling your response, you settled for nodding before focusing on licking and sucking his cock while Jongho worked overtime underneath you, his hips bucking upwards every so often to give you that extra pleasureful sensation. You gripped Jongho's shoulder, your nails digging into his skin as he continued to relentlessly fuck you.

Suddenly, San pulled his cock out of your mouth, a line of saliva trailing from the tip of your tongue to the tip of his cock. San inhaled sharply, the sight of you looking up at him with your mouth open and begging for his cock driving him simply insane. The thing was that he desperately wanted to fuck you as well, so he quickly made his way around the couch so that he was standing behind you. He held your waist with one hand and positioned his cock against your cunt before pushing his way through.

The thickness from both Jongho and San was too much for your brain to comprehend. You desperately wanted to cry out loudly, but you didn't want Hongjoong or Seonghwa to realize what was going on, so you settled for flinging your head back and biting your lower lip painfully hard.

"Good girl, sweetheart," Jongho complimented you when you brought your head back and buried it in the crook of his neck. "Such a good girl staying quiet like we asked."

"Oh, fuck, Jongho," you whimpered, the compliments from him turning you on even more. "M-More..."

"You want me to keep calling you a good girl?" Jongho chuckled, his laugh making your fingers and toes tingle with excitement. "Then be a good girl and gimme a kiss."

You happily obliged, your lips locking furiously with Jongho's. His grip on your waist got tighter when you ran your fingers through his locks, your thumb brushing against his ear. And since Jongho was so busy kissing you, San took it upon himself to continue showering you with compliments.

"Look at how well your cunt is swallowing our fat cocks. You were really made for us, sweetheart. A good girl, a good fucking sweetheart," he muttered in between grunts as he thrust sporadically.

That's when San made the decision to spank your ass before grabbing it with his large, firm hand, making you nearly bite Jongho's lower lip. It was the combination of San slapping your ass and his hips moving at just the right angle that made you cum for the second time that day. Breaking your lips away from Jongho's, you let out a breathy whine into neck, making him shiver with excitement.

"Oh, fuck, sweetheart," Jongho bit out, his voice strained. "I'm cumming too!"

San pulled out and let Jongho have you to himself for several more thrusts before he came inside, the feeling of his cock twitching and throbbing inside you stimulating you further. The second Jongho pulled out, San immediately re-entered you, refusing to let a single drop of cum spill onto the couch. He turned you over— with his dick still inside, making the sensation feel incredibly new and amazing— and pinned you to the couch, his hands holding your arms above your head. He looked so deathly serious in that moment, and it made you nervous, excited, and definitely more horny.

"Sweetheart," he drawled as he pressed his body closer to yours. "I need you to do me a favor."

"Y-Yes, Sannie?"

San hummed as he started rolling his waist into you, the feeling of his cock, now without any obstructions, tapping your cervix making stars fill your vision. In an insanely low register, he continued, "I need you to keep what happened here quiet. Do you understand?"

You nodded, but that wasn't enough for him. He held both your arms down with one hand, allowing him to stick his fingers in your mouth and force you to open your jaw.

"Use your words, sweetheart. You are not to tell Hongjoong hyung or Seonghwa hyung that we fucked you, got it?"

"Yes, Sannie," you whispered.

"Good girl," San smiled at you so angelically as if he didn't just practically threaten you seconds prior, the look on his face making your heart race faster. "You're such a sweetheart."

San leaned back and let go of your arms so he could grip your waist, his hips gyrating into yours faster, a solid look of concentration befalling his face. You watched through bleary eyes as his hair covered his darkened eyes and as he licked and bit his lower lip.

It didn't take long for him to finish— he was honestly holding himself back ever since he heard your breathy whine into Jongho's neck, but he wanted you to himself for just a moment, to enjoy having the sweetheart belong to him and only him for a split second. Slamming his waist into yours so hard that your head nearly hit the arm rest, San came hard, his cockhead hitting your cervix with just enough force that you came instantly, stars completely filling your vision at that point.

You don't know how, but while you were still recovering from the high of your orgasm, San, Jongho, Yeosang, and Wooyoung had managed to get you dressed for the most part— they couldn't figure out your bra for the life of them unfortunately. When San slipped your panties on, you heard him whisper, "Don't let a single drop spill, and I'll reward you later."

"What if she does spill, though?" Wooyoung asked.

"Then we punish her," Jongho stated definitively.

"I don't know, I think she would enjoy that," Yeosang snickered.

"No, like we dump all of our chores on her," San explained. "A real punishment."

Suddenly, the five of you heard the garage door begin to open. You blinked the daze out of your eyes and did your best to regain you sanity while the other four made a mad dash for it.

"Hi, sweetheart," Hongjoong greeted you comfortably.

"Oh, hi," you squeaked out as you pressed your legs together, suddenly remembering San's warning.

"You okay, sweetheart?" Seonghwa, who followed Hongjoong shortly thereafter, sat down on the couch right next to you.

"Y-Yeah! I'm fine," you cleared your throat and scooted away from Seonghwa before he could put his arm around your shoulder as he normally did. "I just remembered I have a... A project! Yeah, I have a project to finish so I'll, um, I'll be in my room."

With that, you scurried off, and instead of going to your room like you said you would, you went to San's room to figure out how fucking long you would have to hold the cum inside you. But, before you could even grab the handle, Seonghwa grabbed your wrist. He dragged you to your bedroom and threw you on your bed, Hongjoong trailing after you two and closing the door behind him.

"Seonghwa?!" you exclaimed as he pinned your arms on either side of you. "W-What— W-Why—"

"Tell me the truth, sweetheart," Seonghwa said, his voice dangerously low. "Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?"

"What?!"

"Seonghwa, what the actual fuck?" Hongjoong piped up. "Listen, sweetheart. You gotta tell us if anything happened between you and anyone else while we were gone."

"No...?"

"Sweetheart," Hongjoong's tone turned a shade darker. "Tell me the truth."

"Yes..."

"Oh my fucking God, and after we specifically told them not to?!"

Rather than storm out of your room and yell at the boys, Hongjoong sat on the bed next to you and explained, "I guess we should've told you too... But the reason we didn't want anyone touching you— including us!— is because we value you and the work you to for us, and your initiation was one thing, but we don't want to break your heart or anything like that because we don't want to lose you."

"Also, we didn't want the college finding out," Seonghwa added.

"Yes, that too."

A mixture of embarrassment, shame, and guilt swept over your body.  "I'm sorry, Hongjoong," you apologized with a heavy sigh, your eyes downcast as you looked down at your lap. "Can I make it up to you somehow?"

There was a brief moment of silence in the room before Hongjoong leaned towards you, his nose brushing against your ear as he tucked stray hairs behind your ear.

"I think it's only fair if we get a turn as well," Hongjoong murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "Is that okay?"

"Yes, Hongjoong," you breathed out, the feeling of his hand slowly riding up your thigh arousing you. "That sounds fair."

Hongjoong smiled briefly before running his fingers through the hair on the back of your head, his lips meeting yours softly. He kissed you sweetly, pulling him into you, love and affection swirling through your head and heart as he started so gently with you— that being said, you wanted more from him than this vanilla bullshit. The two of you collapsed on the bed entangled in each others' arms, leaving Seonghwa to get started on stripping you down. The second he pulled your pants off, though, he got an eyeful.

"Is this... Is this what I think it is?" Seonghwa asked as he saw the white spill out of you.

You pressed your lips together and looked away, your face turning bright red as you wordlessly confirmed Seonghwa's assumption. Hongjoong turned your head to face him, the darkness in his eyes building as he said, "Well, we can't have that, now can we?"

With one swift motion, Hongjoong turned you around so that you were on all fours and your ass was high in the air. He spread your asscheeks and folds open to see the cum from the four boys who fucked you prior spill out of you and onto your bed, staining your sheets. The sight of your red, raw pussy and cum dripping out of it was a little too much for Hongjoong. He could barely wait at that point. He quickly pulled his cock out of his pants and lined his cock up with your cunt before sliding in easily thanks to the cum and your arousal.

"This pisses me off, not going to lie," Hongjoong admitted quietly mainly to himself. "I hate that they deliberately disobeyed me and had their way with you."

"Then have your way with me," you responded absentmindedly.

"Yeah? You sure?" Hongjoong immediately perked up.

"Yes, Joong. I want you to have your way with me," this time you truly meant what you said.

That permission was all Hongjoong needed to thrust into you with full force, your entire body lurching forward as a result. Your arms buckled under you, making you press your chest into the bed, a moan mixed with a cry leaving your lips.

"Don't tell me someone spanked you as well," Hongjoong said through gritted teeth as he noted the light pink hand mark on your ass.

"I bet it was San," Seonghwa said confidently as he knelt on the bed before you, his pretty cock pressing against your cheek. "Right, sweetheart?"

You let out a little noise indicating to them that they were right, an annoyed sigh leaving Hongjoong's soul. Grabbing your ass harshly, he said, "Let's replace his mark then."

You yelped when Hongjoong's palm made quick contact with your ass, the stinging feeling slowly melting into pleasure as he continued to rut into you at a gradual pace. Seonghwa, meanwhile, grabbed you by your cheeks and guided you upwards, his cock tapping your squished cheeks.

"Won't you suck this for me, sweetheart?" Seonghwa asked you nicely, a stark comparison to what the other frat bro behind you was doing.

You enthusiastically took him into your mouth, a long exhale leaving him as he felt you bottom out. He pet your hair and mouthed good girl to you, making your entire body tingle with excitement. His hand on the back of your head, he kept you in place as he moved his hips slowly, his pace uneven compared to Hongjoong's, who was speeding up exponentially.

After leaving another quick, tight slap on your red ass, Hongjoong reached over and grabbed your arms, pulling them back so your wrists were crossed behind your back, Hongjoong's hands keeping you in place. Your back arched in a different way than it was arched earlier, sending waves of pleasure through Hongjoong's body.

"You feel so fucking good, sweetheart," he grunted. "I'm gonna cum inside."

As Hongjoong's thrusts got more aggressive, Seonghwa's demeanor changed. He went from being angelic to a total devil when he firmed his grip on your head and started moving you at a faster pace, his cock reaching the back of your throat and making you gag occasionally.

When he thrust into you powerfully one final time, Hongjoong ended up shoving you so far into Seonghwa that his cock hit the back of your throat hard, making you gag loudly. Seonghwa let you breathe as Hongjoong's cum filled you up, and when he pulled out, all the cum seeped out of you at an uncontrollable rate. Hongjoong got off the bed and took a step back to appreciate how fucked out you looked while Seonghwa fully got on the bed, his cock raring and ready to go. That's when someone knocked on the door.

"Hey, sweetheart, is what San saying t— oh my God?!" Mingi shrieked as he saw the vulgar position you were in.

Normally, you would be embarrassed, but you were so far gone in your horniness at that point that you just wanted anyone and everyone to fill you up and fuck you like a fucking slut.

"Hey, what the fuck?" Yunho frowned at the two older frat bros in the room. "You're the ones that told us that our sweetheart was off limits, so why does everyone get to fuck her but us?!"

"Well, I don't see why you can't now," Hongjoong said with a sigh.

"Sweetheart, would it be okay if Yunho and Mingi joined us?" Seonghwa asked you.

Your eyes half-lidded and full of desperation, you nodded and beckoned the two tall boys to come and abuse you.

Yunho and Mingi did not need to be told twice. They quickly stripped themselves down and hopped on the bed, Mingi beating Yunho to your lips. Mingi wrapped his fingers around your neck and guided you to kneel in front of him, his fingers squeezing lightly, giving you the right amount of pressure for immense pleasure. Yunho, meanwhile, barely started fingering you before the knot that was slowly building inside you quickly snapped, his fingers curling and grazing your G-spot perfectly. You cried loudly into Mingi's mouth and practically flung yourself onto him as you squirted all over your bed.

The sight of your arousal and five boys' mixed cum dripping down your leg was too much for Yunho. He practically tore you away from Mingi and brought him to you, your ass facing him as you went back down on all fours. You muffled a moan as you felt Yunho slip one of his slender fingers into your asshole, the finger gliding in a little too easily, and it was still too easy when he slipped in another finger.

"I heard Wooyoung loosened you up a bit earlier, huh? Well, that's helpful," Yunho chuckled delightedly. "This still may hurt a little bit, though, so relax, sweetheart."

Yunho didn't lie. It fucking hurt when he slowly shoved his cock inside you, but the second he bottomed out, that pain turned to pleasure, the throbbing of his cock inside your tight ass turning you on even more. He stayed stationary for a bit, allowing you to get used to his immense sized shoved all the way inside you.

The other two, however, were also eager to fuck you, and they didn't want to wait any longer either. Seonghwa slid into the space under you, the tip of his cock rubbing against your clit and making your legs wobble while Mingi knelt before you the same way Seonghwa had earlier, his huge, throbbing cock intimidating the shit out of you.

"Come on, sweetheart," Mingi said, his low voice sending shivers down your spine. "Lemme feel that pretty little mouth of yours."

Mingi practically shoved his cock down your mouth, your mouth opening so wide that you felt the corners of your mouth crack. You immediately hollowed out your cheeks, making him sharply inhale and groan in pleasure. He couldn't even find the words to tell you how fucking good he felt, but you could tell he was on cloud nine when you looked up at him and saw him gnawing on his bottom lip.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you can't look at me like that," he groaned. "I don't wanna cum just yet."

You continued to tease him by batting your eyelashes and took him out of your mouth, a long, thick trail of saliva connecting the two of you. He broke the trail when he slapped his cock against your cheeks lightly, a teasing smile on his face as you looked up at him and giggle, only for the smile on your face to be knocked off when Seonghwa caught you off guard and thrust into you, Yunho doing more damage by moving slowly.

"Don't just give Mingi all of your attention, sweetheart," Yunho lectured you. "Hyung and I are still here."

Yunho started moving inside you, his cock making you feel like he was going to pull your insides out. Seonghwa, meanwhile, decided to stagger his thrusts so that he was going in while Yunho pulled out, the level of stimulation going right to your head. You could barely keep focus even when Mingi pulled your head back towards him, his cock yearning to be inside you again.

Below you, you could hear Seonghwa's little whimpers and whines as he fucked you slowly, the sounds of desperation making your cunt, and coincidentally asshole, unconsciously clench, both Yunho and Seonghwa letting out some sort of erotic groan. Yunho, squeezing his eyes shut, did his best to hold off on his orgasm, but Seonghwa lost it at that point. Sliding his hands over your ass, he grabbed your asscheeks and pulled you down as he thrust upwards, a loud exhale leaving his lungs as he emptied his load inside you.

Respect for the eldest frat bro flew out the window the second Mingi and Yunho both realized he had cum. Yunho pulled out quickly— the sheer force nearly making you cum— allowing Mingi to lift you off Seonghwa. He laid down on the bed and effortlessly laid you down on top of him, your back pressing against his chest. Yunho then appeared above you, his soft, deceptive smile letting relief wash over you for a millisecond before you saw his monster cock rest on your stomach.

"I don't know why you look so scared, sweetheart," Yunho chuckled. "You fit both me and Mingi in you before. You can do it again."

He lowered himself to you and kissed you sweetly— so fucking misleading considering what he was about to do to you— while slowly rubbing the length of his cock against your clit. Mingi, taking advantage of Yunho's slow pace, slipped his cock inside you, your head pressing back into the nook of Mingi's neck as you cried out loudly. You could hear Mingi's low chuckle right next to your ear as he hooked his hands under your legs, pulling them up so that your knees were pressing right into your breasts.

Yunho decided to slip his own cock in without warning, making you scream yet again. This time, you weren't able to fling your head back because Yunho grabbed the roots of your hair and held your head up, forcing you to look at him, your body curling towards him.

"That's my good girl," he praised you, the praise washing pleasure through your body once more.

You smiled and bit your lower lip, a shy little giggle leaving you as you looked at Yunho fondly. That giggle in and of itself was enough to make both him and Mingi cum, but they refused to let up just yet. Still holding onto the back of your head but a little more lightly, Yunho hugged your leg to his chest and started rolling his hips into yours, his breathing getting shallower and higher in pitch the longer he thrust into you.

Below you, you could hear profanities pour out of Mingi's mouth in a hushed tone, his grunts slowly turning into tiny whimpers as his hips bucked into yours at varying paces. His hold on you got weaker as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, the boy unable to hold back any longer. Yunho pulled out, allowing Mingi to hug you properly and thrust at a wild speed, stars filling your vision as his massive cock kept hitting your cervix repeatedly. However, Mingi came right at you were hitting your peak, disappointing you slightly when you felt his ropes of cum fill you up.

Since you were so close and desperate, your brought your hand to your clit and were about to rub yourself, when Yunho pulled you off Mingi and laid you down on the bed next to him, his hand pulling your leg over his so he could fill you up with his cock once again.

"You feel good, sweetheart?" he asked you, his voice hoarse. "You wanna cum?"

"Yes— Mmm— I do," you responded weakly.

"Alright, sweetheart. I'll make you cum."

Flipping you around so that you were no longer facing him, Yunho pulled your leg back to open you up again and re-entered you before snaking his hand around your waist, his delicate fingers brushing against your clit before rubbing fast, vigorous circles over it. His thrusts got more powerful and sharper, and he rubbed your clit just right at the same moment his cock hit your cervix, making you cum. Yunho, however, was still inside you, so you were squirting with every thrust, the fluttering of your cunt too much for him to handle. He slammed his waist against yours, his cock spasming inside you briefly before he pulled out, letting you squirt all over the two of you and the bed before re-entering you and completely finishing inside you.

You remained on the bed in a puddle of pleasure and cum as the two tall boys got up and off the bed. The left your room, only to return moments later with water, towels, and new sheets for your bed. The other six frat boys decided to help out until you were revived (for the most part).

"Alright, let's clear out and let her sleep," Hongjoong tried to usher the other members out of the room.

"Hey, no way! You're totally doing this so you can stay back and cuddle with her!" Wooyoung realized before he took a single step.

"That's not true!"

"Then why are your ears turning red?" Seonghwa accused Hongjoong.

"That wasn't— I didn't—"

"Guys, let's settle this a different way since clearly all of us want to be with her tonight," Yunho interjected. "Sweetheart?"

You looked up at the eight boys, your eyes still hazy, your mind still dazed.

"Who do you want to sleep with tonight?"

tags:

@/k-hotchoisan @eyeryis @sinnarols @sunshineangel-reads @hwallazia

@dazzlingstarrs @dutchessskarma @yourlocaljonghoe @st4rhwa @frobin4ever

@sanhwajjong @certifiedmoa @therealcuppicake @yuyubeans @hyunukitty

@startlinglyoongi @hyukssunflower @chewyhotteoks @bsehindu @alexwritesfics

@woomyteez @skteezcursed @yessa-vie @sanglix @minkilicious

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@ninoshome1 @aaa-sia

apply for the permanent taglist here!

#rager: you can’t out rage us #atzhouse #cromernet #cultofdionysusnet #newworldnet #san network #wonderlandnet #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez smut #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #hongjoong smut #seonghwa smut #yunho smut #yeosang smut #san smut #mingi smut #wooyoung smut #jongho smut #broatz

[missmugiwara]

Just Say It Already

Summary: fem!reader x Gojo // Satoru is an ass, but he's your ass. He just loves getting under your skin - especially with the way he's been calling you his girlfriend for years. But guess what? You're so in denial about it. Warning: 18+, NSFW, smut, flirty, the Gojo rizz, so much sexual tension going on but I live for that, friends to lovers, unprotected sex, swearing, it's complicated, slow burn, mutual pining Note: Oh my god. I told myself to stop writing for more fandoms, but look what happened. Foaming at the mouth for my insane love of this man. Some minor spoilers if not caught up to season 2?

✦ Word count is 7.7k. Thanks for bearing with me and reading! I just really love long stuff! ✦

Quietly, you spoke to Nanami as you recapped the details of your last mission with him and training Itadori. Nanami nodded here and there, looking focused, listening attentively and appearing as cool as ever. As you two conversed, you both didn't even realize a certain someone passing by on his way out of the meeting room. A small hum left Gojo's lips, and he paused at the doorway. As if to get a better view, his hand pulled the blindfold upward from his face to reveal a singular blue eye whilst adorning a smirk so wicked that it only meant one thing: Gojo was up to no good.

"Trying to steal my girlfriend away from me, hm?"

And the conversation instantly ended. Nanami hissed through his teeth. You twitched in anger, an apparent frown pulling your lips downward. In synch, you both turned to the white-haired man with the cheshire grin as he cocked his head to the side. That sapphire eye fluttered to meet your gaze. Another moment, and Gojo returned the blindfold to where it once was before resting his hands in his pockets. It was painfully obvious he was savoring this.

"Satoru! How many times do I gotta say it!? I'm not your girlfriend!"

You whipped around to face him, taking an index finger and poking him repeatedly in the chest. He only laughed in response. You whined and sped up the poking at his cheerful display, trying to hide your obvious chagrin somehow with this. You fought and fought so hard to stop the growing heat to your face, but your fluster was so evident to Gojo himself that you knew he would just tease you more.

As if he didn't do it enough already!

It was so difficult to try and not be flustered, but ugh. Gojo was so good at unraveling you at the seams no matter how many times you were accustomed to this… wooing, one guessed it could be called.

"Not my girlfriend yet!" he purred, cocky as ever. He grabbed your hand to rest on his chest, and you fumed even further when he took a step forward. When he loomed over you like that, it was so easy to forget how freaking tall he was. He seemed so big no matter what height you were. You immediately pulled your hand from his.

"Not your girlfriend ever! Stop saying that! People will get the wrong idea!"

"Oh, but I want them to get the wrong idea."

The blindfold was slid upward on his forehead again, held there by a thumb, just to make sure his sultry expression was visible. He peered at you with heavily lidded eyes and a smirk so coy that it -

Well, it just -

It just made your heart race. Made you melt. Made your mind spiral.

Once more, the rising heat against your cheeks blossomed anew.

Gojo had been doing this shit since the dawn of time. Ever since long ago, way back into your youth. You were students at the time, and you had been flirting with another student from the Kyoto school during the exchange event. Like a typical silly high schooler, you just wanted to go on a date. All of a sudden, Gojo came flying in and kicked the guy square in the face - knocking him out cold on the spot. When you frantically screamed out of confusion, Gojo responded with a cheeky smile.

"What? This guy's trash."

Another pause and he leered at the unconscious highschooler with a sort of dark gaze.

"Lay off my girlfriend."

Ever since then, your sweet Gojo interrupted your love life - continuing these daring exploits well into adulthood. It seemed he lived for the sole sake of pushing your buttons. Pushing your buttons and making sure you were miserable.

And single.

Forever.

One time, you both were walking together to a work meeting across campus - now that you both were teachers. You were engaged in a very flirty phone call with a boyfriend. Gojo swiped the phone from your hand, earning him a gasp. Answering a phone call with Gojo right next to you was a big mistake, and you clearly should have known better. You pathetically hopped next to his tall, lean frame to try grabbing the phone (as he stretched out one arm to comically hold you back).

"Oh, hey - yeah. Look, we are very busy right now," Gojo would emphasize provactively, "so don't call back." As Gojo pulled the phone from his ear, you heard screaming from the other end before Gojo promptly hung up. That's when you knew you had another ex.

There was even a time when Gojo had invited himself over (unannounced as usual) while you ran around your apartment wrapped in a towel to get ready for a date. It was with a shy guy you had been out with a handful of times. But when said date finally showed up to the door? Gojo answered it with a frown. Oh, your date was shocked to say the least: trembling, scared, a fumbling mess as he clutched a bouquet of flowers to his chest. His jaw dropped upon seeing Gojo - a way more attractive, beautiful, model-like man who for some reason was there. Gojo took only one look at the guy, just one look and -

"Oh, god, no."

And slammed the door right in his poor face. Gojo turned toward you, smirking as always, as your jaw dropped in turn. He gave you a deliciously teasing smirk. You couldn't believe Gojo would be so daring! You went to the bathroom for one second, and this happened? That guy you were seeing wasn't actually bad (well, maybe he was kind of a square, didn't like anything you did, a bad kisser… but still).

Why? Why? Why was Gojo doing this!? He made you so freaking mad!

Satoru Gojo was so arrogant, so infuriating, so unbearable! Not to mention, he was so…

So…

He was so…

So damn hot.

Fuck.

Let's face it - the man was walking sex.

Whatever spell Gojo put you under, you hoped it would last an eternity. Because loving him was so natural. Sure you got mad at him, but maybe - just maybe the way he wanted you all to himself was kind of attractive. Just a little. When he walked in the room, butterflies took flight in your stomach. When he smiled at you, you restrained from grabbing his face to smooch those glossy lips. The way he put his hand so casually on your knee while talking during a meeting would send you over the edge.

No one ever looked at you like Gojo did. No one ever made you feel like Gojo did. Man didn't even need to try and you were a hot mess.

And those guys mentioned before? They were trash, just like Gojo said. There were lots of failed relationships. Because one cheated on you, one stood you up, one borrowed your car and crashed it - and yet you kept dating losers? Now somehow Gojo was able to tell who would hurt you from the beginning. So he put up these ridiculous defenses to protect you.

Speaking of ridiculous, it even reminded you of how you broke up with someone once. They complained that you spent too much time with Gojo and needed to stop being his friend. Nothing had ever made you angrier than that. No way would you ever push Satoru Gojo out of your life.

Despite the failed relationships, there were some good times, but only because of Gojo. One time, Gojo appeared at your door with snacks and a movie. Upon seeing your puffy, red eyes fresh from crying after being dumped - Gojo immediately dropped everything and was off to kick the guy's ass.

Satoru Gojo really, truly cared about you. Even if people thought he cared about nothing but himself - well, they were just stupid. They didn't understand how loneliness accompanied great strength. Nobody understood him like you did.

There was nothing wrong with Gojo. You didn't hate him, and he certainly knew that too. Because the two of you knew each other for forever, and you were quite smitten. Quite comfortable in snuggling on the couch after a bad break up, quite comfortable with his head on your lap and talking into the early hours of the morning. Never kissed, never groped, never pushed any boundaries… and yet you ran back to him as if he were always your lover. And he to you, through all his casual dates as well. Dates that always made you seethe with jealousy.

Gojo was close to your heart, but he definitely got on your nerves! He was conceited, a jokester, always did whatever he wanted - but this flirting game was so confusing. With the way Gojo acted, it was just… was he serious about liking you like that or was he really just poking fun at you after all these years? And that's what drove you mad the most.

Or maybe what drove you mad the most was the way you kept trying to push him away. Maybe you were pretending to be mad at Gojo about all of this girlfriend nonsense, to find something that could be your excuse to not date him. Because you feared losing him in this mad jujutsu world, just like how you lost your friends Haibara and Geto long ago. Everything was so difficult even though your heart swelled at the way Gojo seemed to want you so much. What if you got in a relationship with Gojo and it ended badly? Heartbreak from Gojo would be awful, but heartbreak from others? That was easy. Why were you in these awful relationships and never putting effort into them?

Whatever the reason was, it was all so stupid. It was obvious you were acting absurd. But if Gojo could just be more clear instead of leaving you to writhe in whatever frustrated state this was - yes, that would be great. Or maybe if you could stop acting this way, this nonsensical way, that would also be great.

"You know I'm just talking work business with Nanami. No one's stealing me from you."

You scoffed and crossed your arms, cheeks still hot, as you turned away from the tall man. Hopefully, the sarcasm got across. Nanami was long gone by now since he was always annoyed by Gojo's persistent little attempts to drive you wild. A chuckle and Gojo stepped forward to press his chest into your back, gently tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as his lips lowered to it.

"Aw, come on, baby. You know I'm the jealous type."

After a pause, he blew a puff of air into your ear rather hotly. You jumped out of your skin and squealed. Goosebumps erupted on your neck, and you clutched your chest as Gojo grinned widely. Damn him for being such a tease. After a moment of gaining composure (and catching your breath), you smirked impishly.

Because you were so bad. You stroked his ego only further than he did to himself. In fact, anyone could clearly see you egged each other on way too much. Many times, people had called you both out on it - insisted you two just needed to get a room already.

"Why, Satoru!" you batted your lashes dramatically, resting the back of your hand to your forehead, "No man could ever sweep me off my feet when I have you - the strongest. No one could ever compare. They should be jealous of you."

A pause. Gojo smiled as he pulled back in an amused manner.

"See? This is why we're perfect for each other. You get me."

Know what else could never compare? The audacity. The audacity this man had was second to none.

You snorted out a laugh, "Please! No need to feel so threatened."

"Oh, I assure you I'm not. Dumbasses who think they actually have a chance with you?" he paused to chuckle, "Just putting them in their place. No one's good enough for you. Only the best."

As you reached for your coat resting on a chair, you stopped. Quickly, you turned to Gojo to try reading his expression, but the blindfold was back to covering his eyes. His plump lips were upturned into an innocent, closed-mouth smile - a genuine smile over one of those carefree smirks. He leaned against the wall, hands in pockets again, waiting patiently.

Only the best.

A fiery heat fluttered over your cheeks. Huh, well he certainly believed he was the best, so was he referring to himself when he said you deserved the best? He took your breath away. He was sweet when it mattered most. He was arrogant but had a heart. Despite others overlooking this, only seeing Gojo as one thing - the strongest - you knew otherwise. For many years, you always thought you weren't perfect enough to be with the strongest. You worried about living in Gojo's shadow, of unwarranted expectations from others, of him judging you for not being like him… but those feelings were silly. Even though they still fizzled in the back of your brain. Moreover, Gojo never did think less of you. So after another moment of reflection, you mirrored his soft smile.

"Do you really mean that?"

"I don't lie to you."

A small chuckle.

"Satoru, you… you're so sweet, you know that?"

"I know! The sweetest, right? Quality boyfriend material!"

His pink cheeks and goofy grin were adorable, his hands splayed out into the air in emphasis of his quality. In a failed attempt to look mad, you stifled a laugh. Gojo got you once again with his bravado. He was amazing. The way his tone brightened up and became chipper. The way he was so serious one minute and so silly the next.

For a split second, you wondered why your mouth just moved on its own.

You placed your hands on your hips as you gave him a lidded gaze, "Careful, Satoru! I just might fall for you."

Gojo sang back, "That's the plan!"

No hesitation whatsoever. Too bad he didn't know you fell years ago. Unless if he did know then you were just his plaything again, but you were more than happy to be his personal toy. More than happy to be used and teased by Satoru Gojo. Whatever he wanted. Why keep doing this to yourself though? Ignoring the rising anxiety, you draped your coat over your arm and turned to him.

"You know what would make me fall even more? Being spoiled. Let's go grab a drink, yeah? You pay this time!"

A grin as you walked up to the man, slinging an arm around his waist.

"Whaaat? Come on!"

He said facetiously, also with a smile, only to rest a lean arm around your shoulders as you laughed. And so began another trip to the bar between a couple of old friends after a terribly boring work meeting. More like a couple of fools, cackling down the sidewalk, arms around each other - acting as if they were already drunk. A couple of fools, sitting on an empty train car as the sun set - your arms wrapped possesively around Gojo's and your head leaning against his shoulder. Faces so close you could feel each other's breaths between all the jokes, the snickers, the whispers, the attempts at flirting but you shooting him down. A couple of fools, you whining when Gojo's mouth pressed close to the sensitive skin at your neck, nearly nipping you. A couple of fools, with you smacking his hand away when it rose too comfortably inward on your thigh.

A couple of fools indeed.

Since it was a weekday, the bar was pretty empty. The lights were low, and Gojo grabbed his drink only to cause the ice to clink gently when raised to his mouth. He took a sip, then set it down. He was never really a drinker, but once in a while he indulged. His crystal blue eyes darted over to meet your gaze. You rested your head in your hand and released a heavenly sigh.

He looked damn good. White collared shirt with the first few buttons undone, part of his collar bone peeking out, dark sunglasses perched so prettily atop his nose. His niveous hair flowed and framed his perfect face like a work of art.

He really was so gorgeous. Beauty so effortless.

His gaze turned lusty as he noticed you staring.

"Like what you see?"

Lay off my girlfriend.

Gojo's lips curled into a delicious smirk at the memory of the first time he called you his precious girlfriend. Honestly, he just did it out of boredom and wanted to see how angry you would get. Oh, and he was right about one thing.

It was so funny.

So he kept it up. Even when you went to college and took a hiatus from jujutsu. Even when he hung out with you between classes. Even when you came back. When you stood in your new teaching uniform at the gate to the school grounds, Gojo called out.

"Oh, did you miss me that much that you came crawling back? Well, I forgive you because… you're my girl. My one and only."

The wind blew, and you turned to him with the most astonished expression ever. The way he said that… he spoke so lovingly. Gojo tilted his head. How could you look so speechless when he had been calling you his for years? Amazing. A pause, and a tender look in your misty eyes formed. A tiny smile appeared, but you bit your lip to stop it from growing. Gojo's breath caught in his chest. He had never seen that look before. He thought you were going to get mad for certain.

"Come on, you big baby. We talk all the time! But if you must know, I did miss working with you… my Satoru. You never change."

A moment more, and Gojo realized -

Damn.

My Satoru.

He could have been brought to his knees. The way you looked melted his heart. The way your lips were glossed and eyes shined. The new hairstyle. The way your body formed new curvatures that were pleasing to his eyes. The way your face matured with the smallest of wrinkles now slightly forming as you began to approach your thirties. He knew it must have been from crinkling your face while laughing at his jokes all these years. He had never seen anything so sexy.

He did take a risk by calling you something different today, and he was so glad. Girlfriend never sounded crazy to him. It was the only thing he could say without freaking you out too much - to let you know how he felt. There was a problem though. It sounded so informal.

He wanted more than that.

Gojo always liked you. It was always more than a little crush. If you had asked, he would have told you how he felt without hesitation… but it never happened. Would you be all right with loving the strongest? Would that lead to high expectations of him being the perfect boyfriend? Huh. Gojo didn't give it much thought. Not that he was worried. Why was everything so hard? It didn't have to be, but you were both acting like children. Just because Satoru Gojo was the strongest did not mean he had everything. He did not have you. One of his best friends. The one that stayed.

He didn't mind waiting for you.

The look you gave him was so loving. And the way your eyes softened at him? Ugh, he couldn't take it. You never gave that look to anybody but Gojo. Nobody ever smiled at him like you did. Nobody ever wrapped their arms around him like you did. The way your mood brightened up when he walked in the room always sent him over the edge.

God, if only.

If only he could show you how much he loved you. If only you could scrunch up that pretty face while lying underneath him. Moaning with pleasure, eyes rolling back, crying out -

"Satoru!"

You whined, slapping your hands on the bar top. A chorus of glass shaking caused Gojo to blink and turn back to you, a slight blush on his face.

That was enough to snap you both out of lechorous daydreams. It was clear as day Gojo caught your dreamy gaze since you were so stupidly swirling the straw in your drink while biting your bottom lip a second ago. Gojo hummed playfully, his brows furrowing inward as he looked around for a second.

He raised his arm in the air to call the bartender, exclaiming that his girlfriend needed another drink to which you slapped his hand down. Oh, how he loved to embarass you as punishment. The moment you walked in that bar, Gojo went off. Really loudly, he drawled out the most shameful things. Oh, how sexy his girlfriend looked today. Oh, how thirsty his girlfriend was, and oh, how good of a boyfriend he was for taking his sweet girlfriend out.

He asked if you wanted another drink. You shook your head, murmuring that you were done for the day - just off to use the restroom before leaving. As usual, you insisted he could go on home without you, but he never took up the offer. Never wanted to go unless you were leaving with him. Now that you thought about it, that sounded very implicative. So with a wave of your hand to brush off your fluster, you told Gojo you'd be back in a minute.

Apparently, a lot can happen in one minute.

Because when you returned, some chick was seated next to Gojo. She had an obnoxious laugh, an incredibly ugly outfit, and Gojo looked utterly bored as he stared straight ahead at the wall of liquor behind the bar.

Your brows furrowed in disgust. She was trying to flirt, to get his number, or something. More importantly, this bitch needed to know that Gojo was here with you. This was when you hoped (oh god, for once you were admitting it) he would just simply state that he had… a girlfriend. Gojo never got the chance because you never left room for one. In a fit of rage, your body just moved on its own and flew over there. Gojo and the woman both looked up at you once your hand slammed on the bar.

"Get your hands off my -"

But you froze.

Your what?

"My…"

Your voice trembled. The expression in Gojo's eyes was so clearly readable when a smirk curled upon his lips. Because he sure as hell knew what was happening. You could practically read his mercilessly toying thoughts.

Hm? Just say it already.

That's exactly what he would say outloud! If he wanted. And he could, but alas he loved to torture you more. You could already imagine his velvety voice coming from those pretty, pretty lips of his.

You know you want to.

"My…"

Stop lying to yourself.

"My boyfriend!"

Gojo's mouth went into the surprised shape of an o, then a toothy grin. The woman's eyes widened in bewilderment. Immediately, she threw her hands up and backed away slowly. The expression on your face was indescribable. You glared as if she were a dumbstruck animal that just accidentally walked right into a wolf's den (with you being the wolf of course). You lividly watched her, making sure her ass scooted so far out of the bar that she was completely out of sight.

As soon as that woman was gone, you let out a sigh and your body relaxed. Fists unballed from your sides, and feeling those gorgeous blue eyes boring into your soul, you froze. Gojo was still there. So nervously, you blinked at him with a forced smile, but no amount of explanation could make this normal. No amount of excuses could get him to think otherwise. Especially from a tease like him who just heard the greatest slip-up of all time that revealed everything he wanted to hear but already knew deep down in his heart.

Gojo's sapphire eyes slowly drooped at you, the dark sunglasses slipping from his nose. The look he gave was absolutely sexy. He blinked once before his lips turned into a raunchy smirk.

"Your boyfriend, huh?"

That look, that dangerous yet lustful look in his eyes made your heart race. No matter what signals your brain fired to your body, you could not move. The first thought was: oh no, was this a mistake? The second was waiting for an onslaught of merciless jokes and teasing. But the latter never appeared. Carefully, you watched Gojo move smoothly as he took his chin from his hand, uncrossed his legs, and stood up.

"You wanna get outta here?"

He leaned his forehead to touch yours as his voice lowered to a whisper. It took every single ounce of willpower to stop yourself from pouncing him, from melting into a gooey, lovesick puddle on the floor. Gojo's breath fanned across your lips, and you whimpered at the sensation. Cheeks burning hot, you clutched your hands to your chest as Gojo chuckled before licking his lips. Eyes glued to his beautiful blue orbs. Your voice was barely a squeak, barely a whisper.

"Yes. Yes, I do. So badly."

With a hum, he just simply grabbed his coat.

"Turn around."

Gojo mused, and the smirk never left his face. On command, you immediately turned on your heel. Gojo gently draped his large coat over your shoulders. With his other free arm, he just gabbed your purse and coat to fold it over his arm. For some reason, your face was on fire at the gesture. Your mind was reeling.

"Then let's go, sweetheart. Can't keep you waiting any longer now, can I?"

An arm slung around your shoulders, Gojo's head tipped high into the air proudly as he led you out of the bar.

It was only an instant.

A blink of your eyes, and suddenly you were both in your apartment living room. Knowing Gojo as long as you have, teleportation antics were quite normal to deal with by now.

A pause.

You and Gojo just stared at each other. It was obvious your face was heated in a fluster, and cutely enough, there was a pink hue to his cheeks. Neither of you moved for a few seconds. Neither of you bothered to turn on the lights. His pale face was illuminated by the moonlight peeking through the windows. Then Gojo moved. He dropped your things to the floor and when his knuckles brushed against your jaw, thumb tucked under your chin as he leaned in -

It was over.

Your eyes fluttered shut, heartbeat thundered, lips parted as you let out a breathless sigh. Eagerly, you tipped your head upward to meet him.

Satoru Gojo's mouth touched yours.

The softest, most gentle kiss you had ever received. His lips were soft, plump - everything you imagined and more. They were warm. They were angelic. It was enough to make you question whether you were in heaven right now. A simple, soft kiss that lasted for a few seconds, and Gojo pulled away. When his lips released yours, he smirked because you had let out the tiniest moan.

With a slight nervous laugh, you both leaned in again to repeat that same soft kiss. This time, the white-haired seraph gently held your face in his hands, and you moved your arms so quickly to rest against his chest that the jacket slipped from your shoulders to join the rest of the belongings on the floor. Your lips moved slowly, smacking against his own once, twice, three times before he dipped his tongue past your lips - and you were losing it. If he said so, you would have dropped your panties then and there. When you pulled away for a breath, you both grinned sheepishly.

That low chuckle, that smirk upon his face when he brushed his thumbs over your cheeks. If only your mouth could make words, but he took your breath away.

"Took you long enough."

There it was. The comment you were bracing yourself for. When your throat tightened and you gripped at his shirt sleeves as he was about to turn away, Gojo stopped. He blinked in perplexion, about to ask why you clung to him, when his heart dropped. Your eyes watered and eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh my god… you're - you're crying. You're actually crying!" and Gojo settled his hands at your waist with the softest of touches.

Confusion was apparent in his blue eyes - you two had just shared a passionate kiss, and all of a sudden you were crying? Gojo was not one to panic, however, he really hoped this was not a terrible mistake and he had not hurt you in any way. When he led you to sit next to him on the couch, he did not ask any questions. He just waited. Waited until you were ready. There was a brief moment where Gojo had gracefully waltzed over to the bathroom, grabbed a tissue and handed it to you when he sat back down. Again, Satoru Gojo really was so sweet to you, and he placed a hand on your thigh.

"I'm just… so stupid!"

Oh.

He instantly knew what that was in reference to. Truth be told, he always knew how you felt about him, and you did too. He also knew you must have felt like an idiot for wasting all this time, for not just going after him earlier in life. To hell with all that. He couldn't care less.

"You're not stupid, babe."

"But I -"

A finger was pressed to your lips.

"Just shut up."

With a smile, he drew back his finger.

"Everything couldn't be more perfect."

With a hum, you tucked your chin down to stare at your hands folded in your lap. A tiny, gingerly smile graced your lips.

"Okay."

There was another pause as Gojo shuffled in his seat, bending downward to pick up all the dropped items on the floor. He placed them onto the coffee table with ease, then picked up his coat.

"I should go."

He firmly stood up and threw the coat over his shoulder. He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead. With that loving gaze you always gave, the one he was such a fan of, you watched as he proudly strode over to the door. He wanted to give you some more time - was not about to start putting on the moves when you seemed a little upset. Especially on a work night, no less. When his hand settled on the doorknob, he whipped his head to you and smiled so widely that his eyes clamped shut.

"I'll call you tomorrow?"

Oh, too cute. The way he said that implied he was going to anyway but wanted to check first. You let out a small laugh. Surely, he did not forget you would see each other first thing in the morning at work, right? Tomorrow was the last day before summer break, after all.

"Satoru, we're going to -"

"Don't ruin it, babe!"

Another confident grin from him caused you to giggle. With a roll of your eyes, you grinned back.

"Yes! You can call me!"

"Great. Today was wonderful, by the way. Good night then."

"Good night."

There was another pause. No way you could just let him leave after all that.

"Satoru?"

Gojo's ears pricked at your tone. He turned to you. You jumped up from your seat and twiddled your fingers, hoping it would distract you from them trembling.

"I - I… will you stay over for the night?"

A red hue dusted over Gojo's cheeks as he blinked in amazement. A second to register what had been asked as your eyes away from his. For the umpteenth time that evening, that delectable smirk graced Gojo's plump lips.

"What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you down?"

It started innocently enough.

Gojo was used to this. He asked you to grab extra blankets and pillows as you usually did when he stayed over. He was prepared to sleep on the couch, but something was a little different in the way you stared at him then. You tucked your chin downward.

"No, no…"

And he paused.

"You… you can sleep in my room with me."

He froze again with a red hue so gorgeously plastered across his cheeks. There was a silence for some time, but another smirk from Gojo and he moved.

Gojo kicked his shoes off and leap-frogged over the couch to land next to you, grin and all. The impact caused you to bounce on the cushion, and in bashful fashion, you brought your hand to your mouth to stifle any giggles. When Gojo grabbed your thighs to pull your body closer, the giggles only increased as he peppered your face with kisses. Oh, it was supposed to be innocent. This relationship was still fresh. No need to rush, after all. Just throw on a movie and cuddle on the couch like you've done so much before. But then -

Gojo kissed your mouth.

So softly. So sweetly. So tenderly.

Then you kissed his.

With such ease, the white-haired man pulled you into his lap. His hands at your hips, thumbs rubbing gentle little circles. Your hands, holding his face as your lips pressed in perfect synch to each other. Those sweet, little kisses transformed into tonguing, and then that led to biting. Then it only became hotter when those kisses turned into sloppy, open-mouthed kisses and grunts and groans.

It didn't matter that a movie was never decided upon. In fact, why would you want to watch a movie when this was so much more fun? Hot and slow touches began to sneak under clothes, on areas of skin you didn't even know needed touches, areas that you could never fathom feeling so electric underneath his fingers.

"Oh my god… angel," Gojo breathed, "you keep up those pretty little noises, and I won't be able to control myself anymore."

"Then don't."

He pulled back for a second. Gently, you held his face in your hands while running your thumbs over his cheeks. He gave a cheesy smile.

"Ugh, will you marry me?"

A heat returned to your cheeks as you rolled your eyes at his teasing. A second more, and he pulled you back to him - clutching his arms around your form, nearly knocking you on your back as his mouth immediately went to your neck for little nips and kisses to it. He was so strong, and he was just tickling you endlessly as you laughed uncontrollably.

"Ah! Sa… Satoru!" you laughed wildly, trying to push him away, "Satoru, please!"

"Satoru, please."

Body thrown against the mattress, lips feverishly mashing and molding against each other's, so many delicious moans and groans and hums inbetween them all, and what sweet music to your ears. A growl, one that sent shivers down your spine, and Gojo pulled away for a split second to snatch your collared shirt from your shoulder before firmly planting his lips to your skin, giving a quick bite. Oh, it would definitely leave a bruise as you clenched at the sheets below you in desperation for support, or some form of relief. But how cute because that bruise would only match the other marks adorning your chest.

Gojo's lips moved expertly along your collar bone and settled on your neck, leaving hot and wet kisses against your skin. A tingly yet ignited feeling that left you yearning for more as you whined, being pushed into the bed further. The sensation of his warm saliva on your neck, leaving wet stamps of his lips and soft traces of his tongue, reduced you to a mewling mess. One of your hands clutched against Gojo's chest to ball the fabric of his shirt, and with the other free hand, running it along the satisfying undercut of his hair before gripping his white locks.

"You're mine." he breathed against your skin, "Mine, mine, mine."

"Yes… ah - all yours!" you panted as you ran a hand through his hair again. A whimper escaped your lips when his tongue slid up your neck, "Always have been, always will."

Yes. It was always this way. Your feelings were limitless.

There was no doubt in your mind. Should not have ever tried to ignore your heart especially when it raced upon seeing him every single day. Why in the world did you date such losers when you could have had…

Satoru.

Satoru, Satoru, Satoru.

"Yeah, that's right, sweetheart."

Breath caught in your chest at his angelic beauty. And before you could gasp, his lips were back to your neck. They left such needy kisses, such sloppy, yummy kisses. His touch was leaving you drunk as your eyelids drooped heavily. Your will was breaking, practically bursting at the seams. Just thinking how badly you needed his mouth everywhere else. But you didn't have time to tell him when you turned your head further and released a moan that had the man chuckling lowly in your ear. The smirk on his face only grew when his hips bucked into yours, and you gasped while drawing your trembling arms around him in attempts to steady yourself.

"Goj - oh!"

"Ah, ah, ah - Satoru." he corrected, and your legs could have turned to jelly right there at his seductive tone. Your entire body could have melted into a puddle. He could have said the least sexiest thing in the world like that, and you could still fall for him.

"How long have you known me? You gettin' shy on me?"

A whine left your lips when you realized you said his last name. You just couldn't think straight. One thing was obvious though. It was obvious from the start that Satoru Gojo was in charge especially with how sugary he spoke. Such a sweet tone. Such honey-kissed, nectar-like, addicting words that dripped from his lips just like you were dripping wet with arousal. Heart pounding, core throbbing.

"It's cute."

Gojo was here and all yours. You couldn't believe it. Especially when you opened your eyes to take in this irresistible scene. Gojo, sunglasses thrown off somewhere to reveal those sapphire eyes, with his white shirt unbuttoned to show off his toned chest heaving to catch his breath. His pants looked a little too tight, hardly hiding his hard-on beneath them. He hovered over you, hands on either side of your poor, dizzy, flushed head. Those sky blue eyes roamed over your nearly naked form - which was barely covered by undergarments, with one bra strap already straying from a shoulder.

"N-no, I'm not being shy."

"Look at you. You're just a mess right now, sweetheart." he grinned, lowering his mouth to breathe against your ear, "Haven't even done anything yet."

A brush of his fingers against the wet, clothed spot between your thighs made your hands clutch his chest on command. They glided up to rest on his shoulders, effortlessly slipping beneath the fabric to slide the shirt from his beautiful, marble-like form. For a second, he stood on his knees to finish slipping the shirt off before undoing his belt, letting the small clink ring in the air. Pants were unzipped, leaving them to hang precariously from his hips, and Gojo returned back to his beloved spot, pink lips hovering over your own. You pressed a finger to his mouth and he paused.

"Please, Satoru…" you whispered, "don't tease me. You always do."

Gojo planted a quick kiss to your fingertip before his tongue poked out to run along it, causing you to freeze in surprise. He opened his mouth to gently suck your finger in, massaging his tongue against it before releasing you with a pop of his mouth.

"Oh, but it's sooo fun. I live for it."

That was always obvious since forever ago. Ugh, that sexy drawl and that smirk to match it. He was amazing in every way. So, running your fingers against the undercut at his neck, you whispered.

"Need you bad, Satoru."

You grabbed a fistful of his white locks, leading his mouth to your own to repeat that hot make-out session from earlier on the couch. Lips completely locked, not even stopping at getting in the way of clothes flying off, not even in the way of bodies swiftly moving and hands grasping at skin. His hands roamed over your breasts, squeezing them - biting with his teeth, pinching nipples and leaving you a moaning mess. His hands roamed over your thighs, over your ass - no part left untouched, but always savored. Nothing stopped this limitless love, even when Gojo hooked an arm under your legs and tossed you effortlessly into position on the bed - your head landing perfectly on its pillow while Gojo bounced on the mattress above you, mouth against mouth again in a heated kiss, slipping out a groan between parted lips.

A raspy whisper, "You ready for me?"

And you bashfully nodded yes, smiles and all as your sweet Gojo - the strongest, the most insufferable, but the most loving - positioned himself so that his pretty cock slid between your slick folds. A gasp escaped your lips when he groaned from how deep it went. Another gasp, followed by your soft moans when he started thrusting, giving that good friction and allowing your walls to tighten and suck him in further.

"Oh, fuck, sweetheart - fuck! So perfect."

"Sa… Satoru, fu - oh!"

A sharp intake of air once Gojo used a hand to greedily slide over the plushness of your thigh. He moved it ever so slightly, pulling it up a bit higher around his waist so that you both froze in place immediately, before letting out a pleasured groan in synch. The new angle which allowed him to go somehow deeper made your head spin.

Oh my gooood.

Your eyes clamped shut at the sensation, drool pooling at your mouth from how delicious Gojo's body was and when his lips drunkenly met yours, matching in swolleness. A little more speed, and you wrapped an arm around his neck as you just whined into his shoulder, clawing the skin at his back.

Oh my god oh my god oh my god more.

"Toru, fuck!"

Babbling his name over and over like a prayer. Curse words and moans spilling from both your mouths. Begging for Gojo to be faster, to be harder because god dammit you had waited too many years for this and he did too. Skin slapping on skin, sweat making your bodies stick together, and you could only grip onto him tighter as you were nearly screaming from the pleasure warming up your body.

"I love you, I love you, I fucking love you! Please, please, please, please, please!"

"Fuck, y-yeah… Love - love you too!"

And that tight coil in your lower half only got tighter and tighter, until - It snapped. The pleasure igniting your body as you were filled with his seed. You thought you saw stars? Forget that. Gojo could have put you in his domain, and you would have thanked him. A quick kiss to your mouth, raking your fingers through his damp locks before he released you to finally breathe, to ride out this high with a few slow and lazy thrusts of his hips. Lazily, you blinked the tears from your eyes. How sexy Gojo looked in this moment - if that even meant anything because he always looked good. His pure white hair stuck to his forehead in cute, wavy tufts. The way his pale face was red and flushed at the cheeks, lips so swollen to complement this as he panted, sweat shining on his skin in the dull light of the bedroom. Eyes clamped shut to recover from his high, but feeling your gaze on him, he blinked once. Your heart thumped in your chest at the sight of his illuminated blue eyes looking at you with hunger, glowing if just for a split second before he blinked again and the glow was gone. Your face heated up again - no, you must have imagined it.

"So you love me?"

He purred, eyes drooping at your flushed out face. Seemed he caught you staring off into space again. He panted against your skin, bringing you back from the endless blue maze that were his eyes.

"I do." you purred back with a smirk.

Between all the pants, Gojo cupped a hand to your face. He leaned to give you a quick peck on the forehead, then grunted when he laid next to you. When he got comfortable, you shuffled over to lay your head on his chest and firmly grab his jaw - giving a small kiss as he groaned into it. You pulled back to stroke a white lock from his forehead as he watched you with those blue eyes of his.

He smirked - one that meant he was up to no good again.

"So glad to be here with my pretty wife."

A pause.

You gawked at him. Literally, your jaw dropped open. Naturally, Gojo adorned a very wide grin and he swiftly crossed his arms behind his head.

"Oho… wife now?"

"I know, I know!" he winked, "Can't help it."

"You're kidding."

"Come oooon, let's just get married."

"Satoru!"

"Oh, yeah, baby. Say my name again."

"SATORU."

If only.

If only you weren't further embarrassed when Gojo pressed his lips to yours in a kiss again. And if only you two hadn't kept going all night, you would have never accidentally overslept into the next day. You both fumbled to school to be late to a faculty meeting. Of course, all eyes were on you. Because the staff sure as hell knew what happened judging by the shaken appearances (and bites to your neck that you forgot to hide).

And, if only Gojo didn't make things worse.

"Sorry, all! Guess my wife and I got a little carried away last night! But what are you going to do when two young adults are in love, am I right?"

You had never seen everyone's eyes widen in synch before.

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