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priniya · 9 months

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📸 END UP HERE

synopsis. when a guy keeps harassing his best mate’s cousin, there’s not a single thought on his mind that would make theo feel bad about wanting to beat the shit out of him.

theo nott x lestrange!reader. PLEASE. request more things for theo or mattheo. i’m literally in need.

theo couldn’t remember the exact moment, when his mind filled the urge to hit cormac mclaggen as hard as possible. on second thought, he definitely could.

theo’s been watching you ever since the party started. you were standing in the corner of the room, trying to get as little attention as possible — you wouldn’t even been there if amelia didn’t beg you to be her emotional support, so considering you were the best roommate (and friend) she could imagine, you said yes. maybe it was just the start of mistakes you were supposed to make that night, or so you thought.

you had a tight, dark red dress on you that hugged all your curves in the places it should. your make up just made you stand out from all the girls there, that’s what theo thought when he saw you. of course, you didn’t want to be there, but you couldn’t just pass on an occasion to dress up a bit, since you were going anyway. maybe your clothing choice was another of those mistakes.

nott’s attention was fully on you — a girl tried to hit him up? too bad, because she wasn’t even half as pretty as you were, and he knew you didn’t even try. it became obvious to all his friends that you were… quite a distraction. he would engage in a conversation, trying hard to have his focus on his friends, but then you would do something, and he felt obligated to look at you, but you were clearly oblivious to his gaze averting and coming back every once in a while.

“can you stop eye-fucking my cousin?” draco groaned, leaning on the wall behind them, bringing a cup to his lips, taking a small sip of alcohol. “it’s disgusting.” he added.

draco malfoy was the only reason that kept theodore from getting his hands on you, at least that’s what he would always tell people he bluntly ignored, when you walked into the room he was in. just because draco treated you like a sister, people thought nott would get a hold of his hormones.

but how could he, when you always looked so gorgeous?

“i’m not eye-fucking her, i’m a cultured man.” he said, getting lots of mocking laughs from mattheo and lorenzo (“you? a cultured man? never heard that much bullshit in my life.”). “i’m admir— ouch, c’mon, malfoy.” his fingers massaged the place that the blonde boy punched.

it all happened later that night, when nott was already a little lightheaded from a blunt he was smoking with mattheo. even if he didn’t want to concentrate on you, it was pointless, so he just watched you, shamelessly, being teased for it by his friend at the same time.

he noticed that cormac fucking mclaggen cornered you, and you had no possible chance to run away from him, your eyes scanning the room, looking for help until your gaze landed on theodore’s face, and he knew immediately. you watched him get up from the couchy, mumbling something to riddle before he made his way towards the corner you stood in.

he didn’t even say a thing, the discomfort in your eyes was enough to assume everything. he tapped the gryffindor’s shoulder, quickly throwing his fist forward, and you could’ve swore to god that you had heard bones crushing. theo just grinned mischievously as cormac looked at him a confussed expression, brushing his lip with his thumb.

but nott didn’t stop himself there, starting a fight. while mclaggen’s friends tried to pull the poor gryffindor away from theo, mattheo and enzo just stood behind him, with wide, prideful grins on their faces, shouting once in a while to encourage theo to “crush his skull”. if it wasn’t for blaise, who finally appeared (with amelia right beside him), the fight would go for probably even longer until one of the teachers didn’t interfere.

“stay the fuck away from her, mclaggen.” dark-haired spat at his opponent, the adrenaline running through his veins, so the bruises didn’t hurt at all. not until he was sat by the edge of the bathtub by you, when he realized that his face was throbbing with pain.

“theo.” you whispered, stading right between his legs, trying so hard to focus on patching him up more than the burning sensation of his hand on her hip. hearing the way you said his name almost made him groan — you were so perfect in his eyes that if he manned up, his hands would be everywhere, not just your hip. “could you please lift your head for me?”

there was something so incredibly intimate about that moment. he just fought for you, and instead of getting mad, you were right next to him, cleaning his face and hands off the blood, speaking so softly and touching him with such a gentle manner that theodore thought he died and woke up in heaven.

“i thought you said you wouldn’t be fighting random guys anymore.” you began, brushing his hair back, so you could press the wet towel to his forehead. “was he making you uncomfortable?” he asked, his tone a little raspy.

“well, yeah but–”

“then it wasn’t random.” theo shrugged, and if you two were in different circumstances now, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from crashing your lips into his. “he should’ve known that you’re my girl.” he mumbled as his hand slipped down on your thigh, his fingers digging into your soft flesh.

“you looked so good tonight.” he muttered after a minute of silence as you kept trying to concentrate on helping him first. a sigh left his lips as he pulled you a little closer. “i want to rip that dress off you, jesus. what are you doing to me?”

it took him one more swift pull to get you to straddle him. his fingers traced soft circles on your outer thighs as you were silently finishing up your job. your entire body was burning. unfortunately, your face was revealing the effect he had on you, and you hated it, because theo always made it his mission to make you blush as hard as possible.

the thing between you two was… indescribable. you weren’t a couple, but you acted like one, you weren’t friends with benefits, but you weren’t just friends. there were feelings involved and neither of you denied. there were mutual attraction, desire, urgency and neither of you could see themselves with someone else. if soulmates existed, then theodore faustus nott was yours and no one else’s.

“alright.” now, it’s your turn to sigh. you put the towel aside, cupping his cheeks, scanning his face for more bruises to patch up. when you were sure that you treated every single one, you let yourself relax, getting a soft chuckle from theodore. “you worried me, theo.”

he mumbled something under his breath, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was, since he found his face nuzzling in your neck, leaving small kisses in the spots that he knew would make you shiver. he inhaled the sweet scent of your shampoo and perfume. oh, and did it drive him crazy.

he picked you up, your legs wrapped around his hips as he walked the two of you to his bed, merlin help how weak he felt, but carrying you around was something he did every single time you were at his dorm. theo put you down, letting you get comfortable in his sheets (he bought them, just because you said it looked pretty — so now he had floral themed sheets). on the other hand, he was searching for some clothes you always wear, so you wouldn’t suffer in a tight dress.

maybe he never directly said he loved you, but his actions and behaviour towards you was enough to tell you he did.

you’ve changed into clothes he gave you, allowing your… situationship to help you unzip your bra, and you fell down on his bed. it took you a brief moment to realise that you were still in your goddamn makeup. a long sigh escaped from between your lips. theo’s face lit up with confusion, although he understood why you were lazily getting up from his bed.

“you don’t have to go back.” he smirked, looking you up and down, admiring how gorgeous you looked in his shirt, pictures of him ripping it off you started playing in his head. god, the things he’d like to do to you right now. “i hated how you complained about your makeup stuff. bottom drawer is all yours. everything you need.”

and to be honest, you almost cried upon seeing what he prepared for you. any possible kinds of makeup remover (creams, lotions, gels), tissues, pads and tampons, cotton balls, all those products that he noticed you used for your hair and skin-care essentials, he even stocked your favourite shampoo that you told him wasn’t produced anymore. there were even the same exact products you used to put on your makeup, perfect matched foundation shade, all kinds of eyeshadow palettes you liked, lipsticks, chapsticks, lipglosses, even the glitter and gems you used for yule ball once.

“theodore faustus nott, you are so incredibly pussy whipped, i’m shocked it’s possible.” your laughs filled his chamber, when you got back from the bathroom. “at the same time, it’s so attractive that you bought all of that for me.”

“shut up, lestrange.” he rolled his eyes, his hand wrapping around your leg, pulling you onto him. “i would kill for you if you asked.” he mumbled against your skin, leaving a trail of kisses from your jawline down to collarbone.

#harry potter #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott fic #theodore nott rec #harry potter x reader #slytherin #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle x reader #lestrange!reader #draco malfoy x reader #niki’s works 🫂

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charles-leclerizz · 3 months

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🏎️ ๋࣭ ⭑The sweatshirt

🏁 Pairings : Charles Leclerc X fem! Reader

🏁 Warnings : none! just fluffy times

🏁 Word Count : 1.7k words (1792 words)

🏁 Author's note : First post! Hopefully you all like it. I am definetly thinking of new things to write so I pray that ya'll look forward to them! Make sure to lilke and reblog (anything is appreciated, but comments and reblogs fuel this sad little writer). Also, peep the word dividers (lana del ray coded) by @plum98! Note that all translations are avaible at the end, via radio comm! Thank you <3

🏁 Music player : The bones by Maren Morris & Hozier

“Mon amour, have you seen my sweatshirt?” Your fiancé’s voice rung throughout your shared apartment as you stacked the damp plates into the washing machine. The odd clunking of you organising dishes continued as he rushed out of the bedroom passing by the kitchen, where you worked, and towards his office.

“Which one?” You called back, drying your hands on the pale green washcloth that hung from the fitted hook above the sink, the new one! “No, I haven’t seen it, baby, you come back with new sweatshirts every week, just wear another one?” You offered helpfully, bending down towards the indented shelfs within the breakfast bar to grab new hand towels, wanting to replace the one’s that hung, used and abused in the bathrooms.

“But that one is important.” A worrying thud emitted from the home office, which was soon followed by a deep groan from Charles.

You hummed in support, stacking the fluffy white towels in your hands, “Why is it so important?” because! “Because what?” Leaning down to the scented fabric in your grasp, you take a large breath in, enjoying the strawberry scent that emitted from them.

“It just is,” He whined in reply, emerging from the room he had left in disarray whilst rubbing the back of his head, hissing as he pulled his fingers back to check for blood, “Why is my desk so low?”

“I don’t know my love, I warned you when you had bought it in the first place,” You scurry away from the kitchen, wanting to avoid his assessing gaze, lest he find out where his new sweatshirt really was, “Aren’t you just going to Max’s place? Why do you need it?”

“Because he wanted to see- hey...” He cuts himself off with a suspicious lilt in his voice, you try to speed up your efforts seeing the glinting metallic handle of the bathroom waiting for you to escape into, “Amour...” His voice is accusatory but amused, as if he appreciates your efforts to evade him.

“What? Charles I really need to get the chores done; I only have this weekend.” You turn around slowly and watch him approach you, his eyes crinkled with affection. Busted.

“Baby, why do you have my new sweatshirt?” He reaches out to tuck a stray hair behind your ear before resting his hand on your cheek, caressing it with the pad of his thumb.

“’Cause,” You mumble, fiddling with the tag of one of the towels cradled on your chest, “It’s nice,” You shrug, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Even after six years, you found in hard to admit such things to Charles, despite his kind eyes and cute dimples. Emotional affection was hard to extract from your dark, stony heart, so such pitiful attempts at it, such as stealing his sweatshirt and admitting why you did it, was completely out of the question.

“it’s nice?” He cocks his head, like a small puppy waiting for a treat, “I still need it baby, you can have any other one of mine,” He smiles kindly at you, eyebrow arching sympathetically when he feels you bite on the inside of your cheek.

“Of course, amour,” You clear your throat, pushing the stack of toiletries into his chest, before writhing out of the sweater and pulling it over your head, not caring if more odd chunks of your hair had fallen out of the claw clip you had carelessly attached to the strands, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Mon ange,” He chuckles when you huff and swap out the items in his hands for the sweater, “I’ll be back in an hour or so, d'accord?” He slips on the article, pulling at the sleeves and adjusting the hood, then taking your face in his palms once again to pull you closer and press his lips against your forehead.

You hum, leaning into his touch, “À toute à l'heure,” You mutter, twisting your head so that you can peck the inside of his hand.

Truthfully, you wanted to jump on his back and order that he take you with him, not wanting to feel the absence of his sunny presence. But you were aware how much he valued his time with his friends, despite his many objections to your conclusion, so reluctantly you waited until you heard the muted click of the electronic lock of the front door before you continued to re-set your beloved home.

“Je suis à la maison mon amour!” Charles calls out, toeing off his shoes by the door before walking further into the apartment.

“I’m over here!” You call out from your own office, the door slightly ajar, you hear him hum before the tell-tale squeak of the hinges to the foyer bathroom screeches through the hallway, followed by the kitchen tap running. Soon enough, he stepped into the carpeted area of your office, setting down the tall glass of water and a singular pill.

“For your headache mon ange,” He came behind your chair, resting his chin on your shoulder whilst running his hand through your damp hair.

Though to most, it would seem that Charles was being your lovable drug dealer, always managing to drop the singular brightly coloured pill to the side of you whilst petting your head wistfully. When in fact, he knew that after an hour or two of working, your temples would begin to throb mercilessly and you required your prescription, that many were not aware of.

You relaxed in his embrace, your once pin straight spine became slack and your clenched jaw felt numb with his attention, “Thank you, baby.” You twisted your neck, pressing your lips against the scruff on his cheek.

“Are you wearing another one of my sweaters?” He asked, pulling away to rotate your spinning chair so that he could step back and asses your outfit, long black flare leggings with another one of his sweaters. This one, he had ordered from a fan’s etsy account, a large grey body with a small, illustrated version of this season’s current car along with his autograph and name, printed below it.

“You said that I could,” You mumbled inwardly, pulling at the long drawstring that lay on your chest, “I’m not taking it off,” You pouted, tucking your knees beneath fabric so that only your head and red painted toes were visible from beneath the hem.

“And you don’t have to,” He pinched your cheek adoringly, coming to his knees in front of you, so that you were looking down at him from your “dough-ball” position, “But I had bought you a matching one to this, wouldn’t it be easier to just, wear that one? Juste?”

You pushed your mouth into the collar of your sweatshirt, your answer muffled by the thick fabric.

“What was the ange?” Charlese brings his ear closer to your mouth, or what would be your mouth if you would bring it out of your clothes.

“Smells like you…” You admit, eyes wide and unblinking as you wait for Charles to pull away, most likely thinking that you’re weird.

“It does?” He moves his head lower, sniffing the hoodie, “I don’t think so?”

“Yeah, well obviously you don’t think so!” You exclaim, allowing your legs to fall out of the hoodie and popping your mouth out once again. He widens his eyes at your outburst, taking in your teary lashes and wobbling lip, “Baby...”

“I only wear your stuff because I know that you’re busy…” You admit, looking away from his annoyingly understanding expression, “I’m not your only priority and this way-“ you move your arms up, showing off the baggy attire, “I can be close to you even when you don’t necessarily want to be close to me.” You conclude, wrapping your oversized arms around your torso, “And for the record, you smell like caramel and copper.” You add haughtily, up turning your nose.

“Really?” He asks innocently. You nod, one choppy movement before you harrumph and look away from his entertained face.

“Baby. you’re right, you aren’t my only priority. But you’re my first priority. And who said I don’t want to be with you?” He pats your knee, signalling for you to stand so that he can wrap his hands around your waist, pulling you into his chest, “I love you, my baby, and I’m sorry that you had to resort to wearing my clothes instead of just asking me to stay with you.” He kisses the crown of your head, inhaling the pungent smell of your cranberry conditioner.

“I don’t want you to feel bad!” You pull away from him, scrunching your nose at his guilty expression, “I like your clothes, they’re comfortable and I can’t possibly ask you to stay with me 24/7?”

“You can!” He insists, squeezing you ardently, “You’re my fiancé, and about to be my wife, you’re meant to be able to ask me. Because I will always say yes. No matter what.”

“Charles...”

“Amour” He mimics your scolding tone.

“You’re so busy my love, I can’t do that.” You nuzzle your head into his chest, making him laugh at your antics.

“You can-“ He takes your cheeks in his hands, squeezing them together so that your lips pucker comically, he leans down to leave a wet kiss on your lips, “-and if I don’t get such demands from you, I will be very sad.” He pouts down at you.

You sigh, “hmkay.” You manage to speak through your forced pucker, furrowing your brows with concentration. You knew he was merely humouring you, cajoling you like a child so that you would do as he asked, but hey, it was a good enough reason to do exactly what you wanted.

“Mia dolce bambina, così adorabile, non vedo l'ora che tu diventi mia moglie, forse allora non ti sentirai in colpa per avermi dedicato il mio tempo.” He continues to press his lips against yours, making you giggle.

“charmles, too much ithalian,” You lisp through your cheeks whilst squeezing your eyes together, accepting his affection happily.

“Too much Italian? In quale altro modo potrei dirti quanto voglio che tu occupi tutto il mio tempo senza che tu ti allontani da me? Mia timida bambolina, continuerò a ricoprirti del mio amore finché non potrai accettarlo in abbondanza."He grins at you cheekily, watching as you translate it slowly in your mind.

“Babe...” You whine, managing to wriggle free from his grip on your cheeks to hide your face in the crook of his neck whilst wrapping your forearms around him.

“You can have all of my sweatshirts baby, and all of me” He whispers, raking his hands through your hair.

“I love you,” You breathe out in reply, kissing the skin on his neck.

“I love you too.”

📻 Kcccchh.... come in.... come in...translatiion available...over

📻 Kchh...french....to english....over

Mon amour - My love

Amour - love

Mon Ange - my angel

d’accord - All right

À toute à l'heure - See you later

je suis à la maison, mon amour - I’m home, my love

Juste - Right

📻 Kchh...italian....to english....over

Mia dolce bambina, così adorabile, non vedo l'ora che tu diventi mia moglie, forse allora non ti sentirai in colpa per avermi dedicato il mio tempo. - My sweet little girl, so adorable, I can't wait for you to become my wife, maybe then you won't feel guilty for taking up my time.

In quale altro modo potrei dirti quanto voglio che tu occupi tutto il mio tempo senza che tu ti allontani da me? Mia timida bambolina, continuerò a ricoprirti del mio amore finché non potrai accettarlo in abbondanza. - How else could I tell you how much I want you to take up all my time without you shying away from me? My shy little doll, I will continue to shower you with my love until you can accept it in abundance.

📻 Kchhhhh.loosing sign....al.....kcchh....over and out...

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tojiwrd · 9 months

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6: fate is fickle ; gojo satoru

pairing gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary when satoru breaks off your engagement, you understand and accept it. but when he marries someone else, you don't understand because he didn't want to be tied down.

content warnings mentions toxic family, mentions of forced marriage, emotional infidelity, lots of crying, drama drama drama, confrontation, lots of reminiscing. also not proofread so im sorry for any mistakes !!

word count 4k

a/n sorry for late update lomls my gojo fate is fickle ver. came back into my life after three years of silence so this is chapter is coming straight from my bones guysssss . also i am so so so grateful for the support on this fic, genuinely makes me so happy i love u guys sm thank you SO much !! <3 also credit to the person of the art!! i can't find their name so if anyone knows then lmk <3

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Gojo Satoru didn’t get on one knee and ask to marry you. He did it when the two of you were in the apartment he bought just a few months prior, laying on the bed as the small opening of the curtains let a thin stream of silver streams in. It wasn’t that he wasn’t prepared because when he slipped the question while the two of you were facing one another, a hint of sleep heavy on the eyes on his moon-kissed face, he backed it up with the ring he’d carefully tucked away in his sweatpants. You swore your cheeks were hinting a fresh glow for the next week.

Maybe it was dumb to think you and Satoru, only twenty-five, would’ve worked out when he proposed on a random Sunday in bed. It did seem dumb, though, while you sat across Hana who was relaying her own proposal story. You’d tuned it out, not wanting to hear her drone on about how it was the most perfect, breathtaking moment when he got on one knee at a rooftop restaurant. You didn’t want to be there, partially because you truly felt as though Hana was painting Satoru out into someone he wasn’t, and partially because you were human and humans tend to get jealous sometimes.

It was meant to be a simple brunch with ten people, friends of friends of friends. You had Reina right next to you, Reina, whose eyes were continuously twitching as Hana would relearn a new moment from that picture-perfect night and feel the need to share it with everyone on the table. You could also see some of your own friends who were aware of yours and Satoru’s relationship look at her, then you, with furrowed brows. Hers mostly out of confusion, and at you to ask why the fuck are you quiet?

“Ugh!” One of the girls, Jia, exclaimed as Hana finally seemed to get to the end of her engagement story. “I wish I had someone like Gojo Satoru; all these men are so unromantic and act like genuine children.”

Truthfully, if Satoru wasn’t your ex-fiancee, you would be on the same boat as the girls who were unaware of your past relationship. Hana’s story, from the pieces you forced yourself to hear, was dreamlike. A small part of you wanted to tell her that her romantic and unchildlike husband had proposed to her, too, right after he’d done some other things that would end that conversation immediately. But you didn’t because it wasn’t Hana’s fault, even though your mind kept putting some blame on her, that Satoru broke it off with you.

“I hope all of you find somebody like Satoru. He truly is the best,” Hana replied dreamily.

You clenched your fists. Reina slammed hers on the table.

“You’re so delusional, Hana, it’s concerning.” You wanted to raise your arms and pull Reina down and ask her to shut up. To not cause a scene. But Hana looked at Reina, a confused, concerningly kind expression covering her features and you realized there lived a monster in you that wanted to see Gojo Hana crumble. “Don’t look at me all coy, high, and mighty. You don’t know shit about your husband. Why don’t you skip over these semantics and really tell them the only reason the two of you got married was because your parents forced you to?”

You delighted in the flash of anger that slid across Hana’s face as she pursed her lips, trying to find the right words. You leaned back and stared, an uncharacteristically numb look covering your features. This, a part of you realized, might be detracking you from your healing process but it was fun.

Hana looked around the table and noticed how all eyes were fixed on her figure. If there was one thing you’d learned from girls' brunches, it was that everybody loved when it blew over and left one or many people scathed. She sputtered over her words, the tangle coming out completely incomprehensible and you almost felt bad. Almost felt bad because it wasn’t expected of her to admit to a whole group of socialites that the marriage to the Gojo heir wasn’t out of love, but out of an arrangement that went in their favor. If you were in her place, you, too, would’ve waxed poetic about your marriage because if the truth would bring the palpable exciting energy down, you would feel bad.

“Perhaps it was suggested by our parents,” she started, glaring at Reina with faux sweetness. “But it was only because our parents saw how in love we seemed with each other.”

You tried to hold yourself back but it was just so simple for you to scoff at her words. When Reina looked at you, a sheen of anger coating her eyes, you pushed yourself to talk. “It’s not love if he cheated on someone with you.”

You had thought about this moment before; you’d wondered if, were you to ever meet Hana again, you would drop the ticking time bomb in her presence that might either blow up her entire marriage or just cause a small blip in the working systems of it. But saying it now, after hearing her say all Satoru had said about you was that your fathers worked together, felt completely underwhelming. Though the shoe was dropped and it was clear everybody managed to get a small tatters of it to whisper about with other people, it felt wrong. Wrong because the way Hana looked at you, eyes brimmed with tears and brows coming together in sadness, you had most likely broken a piece of her.

She gulped then cleared her throat. “Can—Can we talk outside? Alone?” she asked and, without sparing a glance at anybody on the table except for you and Reina, she walked to the sliding doors of the restaurant and into the glaring sun above.

Reina placed her hand on your forearm and said, “Come on, let’s go.” It was surprising to see a miniscule hint of guilt on her features, and you realized you had to have the conversation.

Hana had most likely heard the clicking of yours and Reina’s heels because she didn’t turn back to face the two of you. “I know you and Satoru had something going on.”

You froze, stunned and silent.

“I had heard from my mother that you both were in a relationship. He never mentioned it to me, though, and I didn’t mention it, either.” She turned around, eyes wide as she looked down and shuffled her feet in anxiousness. “I don’t know how it ended or when it ended, but I thought when he—he finally acknowledged there was something between us, the two of you were over. I didn’t want to know. We did get married because our fathers told us to, but I wasn’t lying when I said he was sweet and caring.” Her stare burned you like a billion matches. There was truth in her words, you knew—

“You homewrecking bitch!” Reina’s voice cut off your train of thought as she walked towards Hana, an accusatory finger pointed in her direction. Once again, you didn’t stop her even though you probably should’ve. “If you knew he was in a relationship, how could you even think of flirting with him? They were engaged. God! I swear, both you and Gojo are two peas in the same pod. You deserve each other.” Her words were also ringing through your head and there was confusion bubbling up within the same pot as growing anger.

“Why’d you pretend not to know when we saw you at the club?” you asked, finding your voice again, in a calm tone that surprised you, too.

Hana shook her head. Her face had curled up into fury, and you wondered if her nice, docile, angel-sent-from-above personality was a card she held up her sleeve the entire time. “I didn’t care. I didn’t want to know because Satoru was mine—is mine. You weren’t a part of his life anymore, so I didn’t want to add any worries that were misplaced.”

You wondered if you should tell her that Satoru had tried reaching out to you at Suguru’s gallery.

“If he had told me he was with you, I wouldn’t have tried anything with him.”

You were sure you had moved past everything.

After more than a year of avoiding any fire from your past with Satoru, the past two weeks had been filled to the brim with situations revolving around him. It was easy to ignore what you had with Satoru when he seemed like a distant memory and then a mere ghost in your thoughts. But when he’s insistent on giving you answers you never asked for, answers you didn’t want to know, and his wife had made an appearance that caused your brain to run without stopping, it was difficult to treat him the way you had.

No matter how much you wanted to ignore everything and reset your brain back to its default settings, you couldn’t when the world was caving in on you and reality seeped through its cracks to light a bright, pertinent light in front of your eyes. You hated Gojo Satoru with every inch of your bones, but you were never truly able to forget just Satoru himself.

Your mind had an interesting way to deal with the pile of information dropped onto your shoulders. You should’ve been reliving how Satoru made your blood boil when he got engaged with Hana, how he carelessly broke your heart because he began falling for somebody else, somebody brand new while he was taking space on your bed every night. You should’ve been, but you weren’t.

‘A relationship broken is always a relationship that could’ve been,’ is what you’d read once graffitied onto a brick wall you were leaning against with Satoru once in the middle of the bustling city streets. You’d pointed it out, he’d agreed. He’d agreed. You wish he hadn’t because there was a fragment of you that wished he remembered those words now. The devilish part of you wished that’s what he remembered, recounted abruptly while he was sleeping next to his wife.

You wished he’d think of the could’ve been’s instead of the measly fears he told you about at the gallery.

You also wish you had those fears, too. You loved Satoru to a point that he was in everything you did; your clothes smelt like his detergent because you would always take your laundry to his house for the weekends. The lamp next to your bed had his bracelet wrapped around it because he thought it was too loose on his wrist and he’d lose it. You would always accidentally call him because his contact was on your home screen, causing you to press on it when you were scrolling (he always picked up and he always talked to you for hours after, making you forget why you had opened your phone in the first place). The tattoo, a small design of baby’s breaths, on your hip reminded you of how he had held your hand through the pain.

You knew Satoru’s dreams. You knew Satoru’s biggest fears. So, why did he never tell you the fears he had for the two of you?

As soon as the thought hit your mind, it was followed by you harshly reprimanding yourself by reminding you that it was because he was getting excited over someone else’s calls, someone else’s dreams.

“Y/N, honey.” You heard your mother’s voice call from your ajar bedroom door before she hesitantly stepped in, heel-clad feet grazing over the off-white floor with footsteps following behind her. “Your friend from the gallery here to see you.”

You knew exactly who she was talking about which is why you raised slightly from your bed, a panicked look in your eyes, and only began pleading with her to tell him you weren’t here. Before you could even utter a complete, coherent sentence, Suguru had walked in with his head down and your mother simply walked out of the door, sparing you a sad smile. She didn’t know any of what had happened, but she most likely sensed it wasn’t anything worth toasting to after seeing Suguru’s mood and your reaction.

“Please, Suguru.” Your voice wobbled, a slight hiccup in your words because this was too much. Even though Suguru was somewhere on the top of your least-favorite people list at the moment, he didn’t deserve to see you get angry at him without having control over your words. “Leave.”

“Listen, listen, Y/N. I just… I heard some stuff and I needed to check on you.” His words were hesitant, as if he’d rehearsed them but had changed the script at the last minute. He walked closer to your bed and you couldn’t find the words to ask him to leave. “Hana told me—”

You snorted, cutting him off. “Hana told you what? That I ended her perfect, dreamy image of her marriage in public? Are you here to—what? Reprimand me? Tell me I was wrong—”

“Fuck, no. Stop, just for one second.”

You did stop because Suguru seemed more tense than you knew what to do with.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Y/N.”

You stared at him, unblinking. “What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he quickly addressed, his body finding its way to the edge of your bed. “I want to say I’m sorry, and you don’t have to accept it. I was wrong—I realize that now but… I was scared, Y/N.”

“Scared of what? I wouldn’t have been any worse if you’d just told me what you knew, Suguru. You hid it from me when you saw how I was going insane the month after the breakup.”

“I was scared of this. How you’ve been feeling since Satoru told you the truth himself.” You couldn’t reply to that. “But I want to tell you that even though I hadn’t told you about it, I did let Satoru know really well what he did was wrong. Not that it’s any better, but I never supported what he did. I—I couldn’t stop him from marrying her because… well, because he’s Satoru. I shouldn’t have assumed you were okay, especially not after finding out about Hana after three months. But I thought you were and—I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking straight.

But I heard from Hana earlier today about what had happened at brunch. She said she was scared Satoru would find out what she said and I—I have no idea why she trusted me with that information. I’m not friends with her. I don’t know why she told me.”

You took in a deep breath processing all the information Suguru kept on dropping. “I’m not telling Satoru anything.”

“But she—”

“She nothing. I don’t want to hear it, Suguru. Whatever she did, even if she actively tried to sabotage me and Satoru, it was on him that he let her.” Your phone lit up from beside you and you glanced at the time, internally thanking whoever controlled it for the real excuse to kick him out of your house. “I have plans with Kento. You need to leave now, actually.”

You didn’t miss the way Suguru’s face flashed with a hint of disappointment at your words.

Kento Nanami wasn’t understanding—not truly—which is why you were surprised that halfway through your date, when you told him you had to talk to Satoru, he understood. He walked you out of the restaurant, a calm, unwavering hand on your back and told you that no matter what happened, he’d be there by your side.

And though you knew you had people by your side, you really couldn’t remember who and felt a flutter in your chest.

By the time you reached Satoru’s (and Hana’s) apartment, the urge and confidence you felt when you came up with your plan ebbed away into pieces and left you lying there in a situation you weren’t sure you could face. You raised your hand up to press a finger against the doorbell regardless, trying to force away the thought that you would see the apartment you helped him move into and decorate. You briefly, for a second, wondered if he had changed it. You also wondered if it would hurt to see the small paintings you’d bought as a present for his new apartment not be in the spots of the wall Satoru put you on his shoulders to pin.

When the door opened, you were met with the same eyes that had haunted your dreams and nightmares. His mouth opened, wide enough for a fly to fly into, then he schooled his features into mere curiosity. You realized that you were the one that sought him out this time, you were the one who dropped in unannounced at his house, which meant you should speak.

“I need to talk to you.” And frankly, at that moment, you didn’t care if Hana was lurking behind him and able to hear you initiate a conversation with her husband. That was what he was: her husband before your ex-fiance.

He breathed out and shook his head as if willing himself to speak, too. “Yes. Yeah. Come in, Y/N.”

And you did. You saw the walls, the paintings, the small hearts on the corner of the dining table you drew with a sharpie, the couch you picked out, and even the necklace you had forgotten that peeked from under his coat on the coat hanger. You didn’t comment on it, though.

“Do you want water? Tea? Liquor?”

You almost laughed at the anxiousness in his voice. “I’m good. This won’t take long.”

Satoru’s expression was what you could confidently call crestfallen, and he didn’t try to hide it this time. You forced yourself not to think about it. You merely went down to the couch in his living room that you picked out and placed yourself on the left corner because you always used to sit on the right. It helped you see the TV better.

“She isn’t home.” You knew who he meant by ‘she.’

“Goj—Satoru, I need you to do something,” you said, unsure of how to start it off. In all fairness, you hadn’t prepared what you were going to say, it was just a messed up, jumbled backbone of stuff that you knew you had to tell him.

His reply was instant. “Anything.”

“I need you to not feel guilty or—I don’t know, keep feeling guilty but just keep it to yourself, okay?” You sounded like you were talking like a preschooler, and it wasn’t much different because Satoru looked at you with the hopeful eyes a kid has before you reject their wishes. But Satoru wasn’t a kid, Satoru was a man who made poor choices and hurt someone by doing something unexcusable, and that made it okay to tell him to stop.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t talk to me. If we’re in the same place, don’t talk to me. Don’t ask me not to hate you. Don’t tell me you regret what you did to me.”

It hurt to break your heart by your own words.

“Y/N, don’t do this,” he trailed off, eyes wide and filled with fear now. “Please.”

“Stop.” Your own eyes brimmed with tears you weren’t going to shed. It was fine dealing with Satoru when he tried to talk to you, but doing it on your own terms gave you an inexplicable feeling of sadness you hadn’t expected. “You’re being selfish.”

“No. How…”

“You take when you want, Satoru. You know more than anybody else that I loved you and lost myself when I couldn’t. You were there that night in the car, holding me when I cried when you left me. You left me!” you exclaimed, pointing your index in his direction that would’ve jabbed him in the face if he wasn’t further away. “You were there even after you left me. You’re there now, making me all confused and angry, when you know you can’t give me anything. You don’t have any intention of being somebody I need in my life, so leave. Make this easier for me and leave. Let me live my life while you live yours.”

He had shifted down the couch, and though he was still not too close, it felt too close.

“Don’t—fuck, don’t say that, love. Please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

You flailed your arms in the air, his words not helping your case at all. “You can be sorry a million times over, but what’s done is done. You can’t… Fuck, Satoru. You can’t do this.”

A moment passed. Then another. He placed his head in his hands, facing ahead while you faced his shaking body.

“I love you,” he said, and you were lost.

“Don’t do this to your wife, Satoru. You love her. You’re supposed to love her. Don’t do this to someone else.”

“I love you,” he repeated, his eyes now looking into yours with a familiar fire of determination. “You know that, right? You know that I love you?” His words broke out into a sob that ripped directly from his scratchy throat. “Tell me you know that.”

“Then please leave. Don’t show up. Stop showing up, and stop explaining something that can’t be understood.”

And when Satoru placed a hand on your cheek, you didn’t push it away because you saw that previous fire dwindle within a second. He tugged his lower lip between his teeth as he scanned your warm face, your glassy eyes, and he noticed how you were shivering under his touch. You didn’t push it away because Satoru might’ve been selfish, but you were, too. And you would inhale the embers of him before they turned into ash.

“You want this?” he asked, but you could see he knew the answer. You didn’t reply. He continued, “I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want. But—But I want you to know I wanted it to be you. When Hana walked down the aisle, I thought of you. I wish you’d come. I would’ve never said ‘I do.’ I swear. I’m sorry I fucked up—I fucked us up. I got carried away and…”

You smiled sadly. “Don’t do that to her. You have a chance at being happy, Satoru. Don’t ever do what you did to me again.”

“Do you?” he asked.

“Do I what?”

“Have that chance at being happy?”

You thought about the question and Kento’s name flashed in your mind. It might have been small compared to the colossal amounts of feelings you felt with Satoru back then, but it was something. Even though you didn’t shake under Kento’s touch or feel your stomach turning upside down everytime he smiled at you, you felt safe and you knew that if you could stay, Kento would stay, too.

“I do.”

He inhaled a sharp breath, a single tear falling from his eye. “Is it wrong that I still wish it was me?”

You wanted to say no, it isn’t because a part of me wishes it was you, too. You didn’t.

He continued, “I can’t let you go, Y/N.”

Another tear, then another, till they continued streaming down his face. You couldn’t stop them. You couldn’t react to them. Not even when he took his hand away from your face to messily wipe them away between sobs and hiccups.

“You said you didn’t deserve me, and you were right. Remember that.”

And even though a larger part of you didn’t want to leave, you left, afraid that you might end up entangling yourself in his arms to cry with him. To get one taste of his lips for the last time before deciding to fuck it all and make one kiss more. To hold onto him for longer, forever. You left because you weren’t sure you could tell Satoru to leave again. You thought you still loved Satoru just not in the way you used to. But when you saw him pleading for nothing because there was no good outcome for the two of you, you realized you might still love Satoru the way you used to, just less and concealed by the hurt. You would’ve chosen all the bad outcomes and then some more if you stayed a minute longer.

#gojo x reader #angst #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo angst #gojo satoru #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst

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charlietheepicwriter7 · 5 months

Text

Why is it always Hellva Boss earworms that make me come up with ideas?

So, during the whole Freakshow thing, it wasn't true mind control. Danny was definitely affected, but it messed with his self esteem and emotions to the point where he damaged all of his relationships and is considering running away. Freakshow, who was a little bit smarter in this, then reveals that he knows Danny's a halfa and hey, why don't you join my ghost circus while you figure some things out.

So Danny becomes a clown because he's always liked clowns, and if you've seen the new episode, you know what happens next

and over the course of a few years, Freakshow isolates Danny from his family and friends, indoctrinates him into the crime side of business, and gaslights Danny into thinking he's nothing without him. Danny loves performing, but is so beaten down that he thinks he can't leave even if that's what he wants. Danny's a famous performer at this point, even if no one knows his real identity. The other ghosts aren't really a comfort since they're mind controlled.

The Justice League, specifically Young Justice, already know that Circus Gothica is a crime ring, but have no evidence to get them arrested bc the ghosts (who they think are just metas) are too good. The leader during the thefts (Danny) is the only one they've ever been able to get close to. Maybe at some point, Tim!Robin and Danny get trapped and Danny has a panic attack for failing Freakshow? Something happens that makes Tim convinced Danny isn't a criminal willingly, but he can't convince the others.

Danny and Klarion somehow end up dating. Freakshow joins the light, probably, and the two work really well together. Klarion asks Danny out, and Danny was really reluctant since he hasn't had... anyone, in years, but they date and it's just another thing for Freakshow to hold over his head.

Eventually, Freakshow gets the inkling that Danny isn't working as hard as he should be so he puts "Greatest Clown in the World" contest, and tells Danny that all the clowns who don't win will be immediately killed.

Danny is horrified, but he can only care about himself right now, so he's working his ass off.

(Meanwhile, in Gotham, the Joker tried to join, but the Batman broke in, stole all his bones, and left him in the hospital for a few months)

So Danny's putting his all into this performance, but Young Justice finds out about the murder bit and infiltrates with, IDK, disguised Nightwing? Klarion is also there to support his man.

Danny ends up tying with Nightwing, and the tie-breaker is a three minute performance and whoever's more entertaining wins. Danny has a panic attack during Nightwing's performance and Tim and Klarion team up to talk to Danny.

Danny's convinced he will be nothing without Freakshow (literally, he might fully die), so while Klarion helps him feel better about his skills, Tim finally gets the deets about Danny's whole situation. Tim logics that Freakshow mindcontrolling this other dimensional species + Danny is half this species = Danny is being mind controlled, pissing off Klarion while Danny thinks back to what happened when Circus Gothica first came to town.

His irrational anger at family and friends, his desperate need for approval from Freakshow, how he never even considered going independent, how he thought he was immune to the mind control staff despite being half ghost.... He's pissed. He wants to quit.

So he tells Tim that YJ needs to get the staff during his performance; without it, Freakshow wouldn't be able to mind control anyone. And he goes on to give his performance.

As for that... look, 2 Minute Notice is an amazing song with amazing choreography. the only thing i would add would be a quad somersault during the trapzee part.

Danny proves himself as an amazing clown, Freakshow gets arrested since Danny is willing to testify against him, the ghosts are free, and Klarion later murders Freakshow in a cell because that's his boyfriend, you pathetic excuse of a warlock.

"Freakshow, you sad sack of shit! Fuck you!"

#chaotic spirits #dc x dp #dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc #c: danny fenton #c: freakshow #c: klarion the witch boy #c: tim drake #c: nightwing #cw swearing #cw attempted murder #did i imply that danny was actually a grayson in the end?#yes i did and both tim and nightwing are having a little freakout over that #i'm tired of people saying danny's afraid of clowns bc freakshow isn't a clown! it's just circus trauma #now i gave him DOUBLE circus trauma #klarion loves his silly clown boyfriend #danny loves his scary magic boyfriend #tim loves having his theories validated and lords the fact that he was right about Danny over YJ for weeks

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gtgbabie0 · 11 days

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omg your writing is so good and ik this is kinda a basic request but could you writing something about a Finnick x reader and reuniting in district 13?🫶

-Finnick Odair x reader

{Reuniting with Finnick in district thirteen}

Sorry this took so long. Thank you so much for the request! Enjoy my lovelies!💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺

Fluorescent lights that sting the back of your eyes are the first thing you’re met with when you wake up in district thirteen. A safe haven in comparison to the Capitol, despite the coldness of the room and the firm mattress you’re lying on.

You sit up, a dull ache seizes your body and a certain tension builds between your shoulder blades. You groan in a mixture of pain and exhaustion. It’s a lot quieter here than back in the Capitol, where there’s always a distant buzz of constant noise that rings in your ears.

The coldness of the tiles beneath your socked feet sends a shiver through your body, but you push on, ignoring the pain that lingers within your bones. Walking through doors and surprisingly empty hallways, while pulling along the IV drip that’s attached to you.

You soon hear it, through a sea of voices, Finnick. He’s saying your name, begging to see you, calling out to you like a lighthouse does to a boat and it causes a surge of adrenaline to wash over your achy body.

Without hesitation you rip the IV out, rushing past people through tear-blurred vision. The doctors try to urge you to stop but their pleas are drowned out by Finnick and the need to be close to him.

Finnick is rendered completely speechless as he sees you, the exhaustion that lingers heavily underneath your eyes makes his heart ache with guilt that he couldn’t do more. He holds you close, harbouring your body within the safety of his arms not willing to let go… not again, not ever again.

“You’re okay… you’re okay.” He breathes, both a statement and a promise. His hand reaches to hold your head against his chest, the beat of his heart calms you like a sea chanty.

His lips meet your own, slotting together like pieces of a puzzle. His nose bumps against yours as he kisses you so softly and yet so desperately that it sends a tingle down your spine.

The people around you clear away with soft murmurs, giving well-deserved space to the pair of you as you both reunite.

“I thought… they told me-” You decide not to finish that sentence, cutting yourself off with a soft gasp, because neither of the things they told you were real. Finnick was here and alive still looking at you with love in his eyes.

His big hands cup either side of your tear-stained face, tilting your head up gently to look at him. His thumbs brushing away any stray tears.

“None of it was true… not a word.” He says with so much conviction, a tone that carries a certain understanding, that the doubt in your mind ebbs away for now.

His expression softens when you nod, the way you lean into the warmth of his palm and how your eyes flutter close ever so slightly at his touch. His breath catches in his chest, overwhelmed by the rush of emotions.

“Do you know how many times I’ve dreamed of this?” He whispers, voice quivering slightly. “Every waking hour, honey.” His fingertips trail along your cheek.

“Me too Finn… I was so scared I was never going to see you again.” The way your voice strains is enough to make Finnick's knees weak with devastation.

“I was never going to let that happen.” He promises, pressing a kiss against your forehead letting his lips linger for a moment in hopes to soothe you.

You press your face against his chest as if you were trying to hide away from the world, tears staining his shirt. “You’re safe… I’ve got you, honey.” He whispers, fingers brushing through your hair gently.

His hands trail down along your arms, his fingertips skimming over the spot where the IV drip was inserted. “Let’s get you back into bed, yeah?” He smiles softly, his arm supporting you as he guides you back down the hallways.

“You’ll stay? I don’t think I can sleep another night without you.” You whisper softly, voice hoarse from all the crying.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight baby… not in a million years.” He swears, helping you back into bed. Fluffing up your pillows and pulling the blankets over your legs.

Finnick sits on the edge of the bed, helping you drink and eat. His hand holding your own, fingers entwined with yours as he peppers loving kisses along your knuckles. The future holds an eerie uncertainty but there is one thing Finnick is, without a shadow of a doubt, certain of… he’d never leave your side again.

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bouncybongfairy · 2 months

Text

Not A Peep

Simon (Ghost) Riley x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: You're a medic on Task Force 141 and Ghost finds out you have a thing for him when you get flustered stitching him up. Once you guys get back to the barracks, he fucks your throat under a desk.

Word Count: 1.0k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Dom Ghost, Face Fucking, Rough Smut, BJ Under Desk

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It was easy to separate yourself from all the stories being told while studying to be a combat medic. Tales about women falling for soldiers and then being immortally traumatized from watching the war take its effect on him. Whether it be emotionally or physically, the horror stories were gruesome. One teacher talked about how she had to treat her fiance after he’d been shot in the arm, apparently it fucked her up for a while. In a way, you would mock the fact that anyone would put themselves in that situation. Falling in love with someone with such a high risk job. It seemed like common sense not to put your heart on the line, especially when it could affect your job.

That was until I met Simon and you started to understand that those wives tales weren’t so far fetched. The two of you didn’t talk much but it always felt like there was so much tension. Constantly making eye contact, becoming flustered and tongue tied whenever he spoke to you. Avoiding him when you could, not liking the feeling of your heart racing when you did. He held so much emotion in his eyes, like he was projecting his thoughts through eye contact. On a recent mission, a bullet brushed past the area above his hip bone; creating a laceration that needed stitches. Barding into the tent and pulling his pants down and shedding his gear.

Immediately you get on your knees, pulling everything you needed to treat him out of your tactical vest. Looking up just before starting the first stitch, he was already looking down at you. His eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes were narrowed onto you. Blood was running down, trailing down the contour of his v-line. Hands started shaking slightly, especially as he started to moan and curse in pain. Even though you were fully aware his reaction was from discomfort, you couldn’t but imagine if it… wasn’t.

He was watching you like a hawk, swiveling his head to watch you whenever you grabbed gauze. All hope that he didn’t notice you acting flustered was ditched when you started feeling dizzy, swaying a little. He grabbed your arm to prevent you from falling, your partner taking over. Now back in the barracks, you took a long hot shower. Trying to figure out why you got so in your head, the water began to run cold. Prompting you to get out and get dressed, walking back into your room. Ghost who was stripped of gear, laying back on the bed supporting his weight with his elbows.

“Do you need me to redress that for you?” you asked, assuming he was waiting to see you about his wound.

“No. Do you need me to undress you?” he asked, sitting up.

“I- What?” you asked, taken off guard.

“Do you. Need me to. Undress you?” he asked slower, like you were too dumb to answer the question.

“I don’t understand-” you began saying.

“No no, I saw you today. The way your eyes widened when you were on your knees in front of me. The desperation and neediness was so potent I could practically smell it on you. I could have taken you right there if I wanted, forced myself into your throat. So hot and bothered you couldn’t even do your job, I consume your thoughts. Don’t act like I don’t” he said, backing you against the desk that was in the corner.

“I don’t-” he interrupted.

“Wanna say something you regret,” he said, running his thumb over your bottom lip. Dipping it into your mouth, feeling around to see your reaction, “I think it safe to say that if you didn’t want my cock, you wouldn’t be sucking my finger like a whore. Would you?” he asks, you shake your head and in response he gives you a sharp smack on the cheek.

“Would you?” he asks again, giving you a chance to correct your answer.

“Yes sir,” you say, melting at the way he looked at you.

“Good girl, get under the desk.” He said, which you did without hesitation.

He unzipped his fly, struggling for a second to free his member but finally got there. Sitting down in the office chair, rolling into the small space under the desk. Completely trapping you inside the small space. No longer being able to see above his shoulders, not that it mattered when his cock was right in front of you. Every time your lips finally encased his tip, he would use his hand and pull it away. You reach up and try to take his length into your hand. His voice booming through the room as he pulls away a couple inches to look you in the eyes.

“Put your fucking hand down, you haven’t done anything to deserve it,” he said, scooting back in, using his hand to guide your head down.

After all the teasing, the feelings of his cock pushing past your lips felt like heaven. Ever since you met him all you could think about was him ravaging you. Using your body for whatever he wanted. A loud groan coming from the back of your throat, his other hand was stroking your cheek. Slowly starting to push your head down further, you gagged which made him chuckle.

“Fuck, I knew i’d eventually have you gagging around my dick,” he cooed, letting his head fall back. You looked up, now being able to see his exposed jawline. Reaching your hand down and starting to play with yourself. Spreading your wetness around and circling your clit. Moaning as drool and pre-cum started sliding down his shaft. He grabbed your hair and starting to fuck your mouth. His eyes were rolling back, feeling feral hearing the wet slobbering and slapping sounds. There was a knock at the door which made you squeal and try to pull away.

“Shhhhh!” He hisses before clearing his throat and answering the door. However just before he does, he presses your head down, applying pressure with both hands on the back of your head. Forcing your lips all the way down to the base of his cock.

“Yeah!” he yelled, Soap opened the door but remained in the doorway.

“Have you seen y/n? We have training soon,” Soap asked while you were digging your fingernails into his boots, swallowing around his length which hurt slightly.

“Yeah, I think she went to get some fresh air,” Ghost said, stars were forming in your vision. Soap thanked him and promptly exited and Ghost finally let you pull back. Gasping for air and wiping the tears out of your eyes. He moaned as the cold air hit his dick just after getting used to your hot throat.

“That’s a good girl, just breathe. Yeah, you’re a such a good fucking girl,” he snarled and pulled you back down on you.

He stood up and balled his fist in your hair, and pinning his hands onto the top of the desk. Essentially locking you into place and he obliterated your throat. Making sure your nose was pressed into his base with every thrust. Not bothering to pull his cock out as he started came. Warm cum flooding down your throat and into your stomach. He pulled out, not wasting any time putting his dick away. You rested your upper body on the now empty chair that sat in front of you. Ghost squatted down and grabbed your wet chin to look up at him before speaking,

“Firstly, you should thank me for feeding you before training. Secondly, I didn’t make you cum because you left scratch marks on my boot,” he said, walking out of the room.

#rough smut #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #ghost smut #simon ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction

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thechekhov · 5 months

Text

Dungeon Meshi Quick Reacts

CH.28 (Red Dragon)

I'm sure nothing will go wrong from here on out! :)

Okay, but she worked hard using illegal magic! She deserves this! I support women's rights, and women's wrongs.

Oh. Oh I see.

Is THAT what the kids are calling it these days...?

File that under 'foreshadowing I'm sure will come back to haunt us all later'.

Ah, yes. Tell your cleric girlfriend about your forbidden wizardry. Or don't. Actually. Maybe don't.

distract, discombobulate, overcome. Eyes up...there... Falin....

YOU DIDN'T ERASE IT YET???? MARCILLE, THE PLOT--!!

No bag of holding, huh? Well, I guess you'd need a bag of colding....

At this point, the fact that Chillchuck is still... well... chill? Is really shocking to me personally. He just takes it all in stride.

She did it for love, you guys! It's fine!

"My motives are noble! Anyway, if you ever tell a soul about this--"

uh oh.

Senshi, how could you not have known?!?!

Do we have to resurrect you too now?! Is Marcille's list of crimes going to just keep going up?

oh, apparently not. Why does SHE look surprised?

I guess when you create a body for your girlfriend using a dragon, which is inherently magical.... you kinda supercharge her?

Congrats on your easy bake oven! It's conveniently made of... meat?

So... it's philly steak sandwiches? From dragon?

I mean, what did you expect? She's Laios' sister... of course she'll eat it.

Also, come on Marcille. Several hours ago you were elbows deep in dragon gut, doing a 3D jigsaw puzzle with her digested bones. You can stomach this.

Just think of it as Falin being partially inside you................

I damn well told you. And look at Laios' smirk! He knew she'd be down.

Chilldadchuck is back at it again with the side eye.

He's not even impressed lmaooooo

B-but... but your little buddy! You would drown it just like that?! It hasn't even done anything malicious to you! It was just trying to survive!

..............Press X to doubt.

You know the uh. The contrast between that upper left panel and the bottom right is. Quite. Quite there. That's quite. Different.

ohohohoh Marcille what an unexpected turn of events! No way around it I'm afraid! Bed sharing is the only way.

This is the strongest display of emotion we've seen in Laios in a while. It's. really so telling. And what a good shot.

YOU DIDN'T FUCKING ERASE IT?!?!?!? HOW HARD COULD IT HAVE POSSIBLY BEEN--WHY-- NOOOOO!!!!!

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi liveblog #chekhov reads dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon

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xuchiya · 2 months

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j.yunho {espresso for two?}

cafe love m.list || k.hongjoong || p.seonghwa || j.yunho || k.yeosang || c.san || s.mingi || j.wooyoung || c.jongho

I change the location from New York to Japan. hehehe

Jeong Yunho.

Just the name sent a fresh wave of nausea crashing over you. Two weeks. Two measly weeks since he'd so casually declared, "We need some space," his voice as smooth and forgettable as the lukewarm latte he always ordered.

Space? What for?

It wasn't supposed to end this way. You and Yunho have been together for three years, a whirlwind romance that blossomed during your college days. He is your everything: the man who is charming, funny, with a smile that could melt glaciers. Spent hours lost in conversation, future plans whispered over steaming mugs of chamomile tea at your apartment after a long day of class or even workloads, the very one you now toiled in, perpetually surrounded by the bittersweet aroma of love and heartbreak.

The cracks started appearing subtly. Late-night texts unanswered, cancelled dates for "work emergencies," a growing distance that chilled you to the bone. You tried, you did— clinging to the remnants of what you both had, showering him with affection that felt increasingly one-sided. Then came the bombshell – a text, impersonal and cold, informing you of his "need for space."

Your world had tilted on its axis. The vibrant cafe, once a haven of shared laughter and stolen glances, now felt suffocating. Your co-workers, bless their oblivious souls, tried their best. Your senior head took notice of your distant and pale face–offering you to take a quick break which you deny saying that you just haven’t retouched yet after the morning rush, Wooyoung the ever-optimistic barista, bombarded you with motivational quotes. And Seonghwa, the stoic manager, offered gruff words of support (his way of showing he cared). But nothing could mend the gaping hole in your chest.

A particularly demanding customer snapped you out of your reverie. Her shrill voice, laced with entitlement, taking a deep breath, you plastered on a customer service smile, channelling your internal turmoil into forced cheer. Maybe, just maybe, a day spent slinging coffee and feigning happiness would numb the ache a little.

But as you steamed milk softly, the bell above the cafe door chimed, a jarring note in the morning lull. Your gaze flicked up, drawn by a sudden prickle of unease. There, by the counter, stood Jeong Yunho. His usual carefree demeanour was replaced by a shadowed weariness. Your breath hitched, a thousand unspoken words churning in your stomach.

He hadn't changed much. The same tousled hair, the same charming smile – a smile that now felt like a stranger's. He scanned the menu, a flicker of surprise crossing his features when your eyes met. Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.

"I—," he finally said, his voice strained. "Hi …"

Your heart pounded a frantic rhythm against my ribs. A million questions bubbled up, but professionalism reigned supreme. You plastered on a neutral smile, "Did you find anything you like, sir?" You managed, your voice surprisingly steady. Adam's apple bob before a small slick smirk creeps on the corner of his lips, “Yeah … you.”You rose an eyebrow, finally showing your emotions that went from ‘Fuck! my ex is here!’ to ‘Let me punch him, the audacity!’. He saw your reaction, his eyes darted on the menu before crawling his throat, “J-Just espresso ..” “Take out or dine in?” “Dine .. in”

You look down to punch his order, “Do you want to add anything, sir?” He shakes his head but his lips move again, stuttering, “M-Make it two .. please.”

You breathe sharply before giving him the receipt after he pays for the two espresso, telling him to sit for a while. He nodded before mumbling a ‘thank you’. As you pulled the shot, stolen glances confirmed the changes you sensed. Dark circles marred Yunho's eyes, etching lines of fatigue onto his previously youthful face. The weight of the world seemed to press down on his broad shoulders. A pang of sympathy warred with the anger still simmering within you.Just why? Where did it all go wrong?

When your barista announces Yunho’s name, you watch in the corner of your eye as he places himself on the window side of the cafe with the two espresso in his hand. As you punch the order of the customer in front of you, a tap on the shoulder interrupts your work, you look over to see Seonghwa with an anticipated look over his usual stoic look, “Yes manager-nim?”He breathes sharply, eyes flicking towards somewhere before looking back at you, “You can take a break … someone needs to see you and let them explain themself.”

You immediately knew who he was talking about. You know Yunho never goes unprepared and certainly, he comes with a fixed mindset.

You sigh, removing your apron as Seonghwa rubs your back soothingly before he places the apron on him to take care of your position. You look at the side to see your senior head, giving you an encouraging smile along with the others cheering on you. You felt grateful as they have been supportive of your relationship with Yunho for a short while of announcing about your boyfriend with minimal information about him yet they never ask you questions about it until you do so.You approached his table, sat down opposite of him. He had an awkward look on his face, “Yunho please get to the point, rush hour will be an hour—”

“I’m sorry.” Those simple words were so easy to say yet the words he wanted to say were stuck in his throat. The air hung heavy with unspoken words. Yunho's apology, though sincere, seemed like the tip of a much larger iceberg. The man across the table fidgeted, hesitant to dismiss an apology so abruptly. The tension crackled between them, amplified by the approaching rush hour Yunho himself had mentioned.

"My excuse won’t do justice to the pain you went through and my sorry can not heal all those pain .The pain you feel is a constant reminder of my failings. I have doubted myself so much that I have neglected you and become selfish for my own emotions and at the end, I have regret all of those things, I have regret ever hurting you, rejecting your small offerings or even your love— I am sorry.” Yunho spoke with sincerity in every word he said, his hands were clinging on the cup of his espresso—controlling himself to not take your hands—while his eyes were glued to you the whole time.

You were slightly taken back, his words were piercing through your head. Your heart soars to the extent that, maybe just maybe, he did regret what he had done. You have known Yunho for as long as you both were before in the stage of dating, you have seen him grow to be a man and you have seen how he came to learn from who he was and what he is today.

Yet there goes the mind from letting you decide from your emotions. Your thoughts run through the painful days you have cried, doubted or even questioned your worth— you were also afraid to go on your days without thinking of your looks that had you wearing a mask to cover yourself— you were a complete and shattered person inside your apartment. The battle between your head and your heart, it is hard to listen.

Yunho, being the observant he is, took notice of your shaking eyes and contemplated heart. He knows what’s going through your head, every thought and he cannot blame you. Even he would be in a complicated mess if your ex suddenly came into your life after months of disappearing after a text so shitty.

“You do not have to talk or anything, I just came by to explain and maybe … have a closure before I go.” Your eyes that were fixed on the table slowly, trails towards his glassy eyes.

“Cl-Closure? Yunho what–” Why does he need closure? You were confused, your heart was expecting something more from what he had mentioned even though your mind had concluded that he will ask for a second chance but this? A closure? That is something you weren least expecting!

Yunho’s head nodded, a small smile on his lips, “Yeah– I have .. thought about it that you deserve an apology… “ He looks around the small cafe, eyes twinkling in admiration before his eyes settle back to you. The softness never left and it made your heart hurt, “I may have not talked to you for weeks but I have come across you a few times and I have seen you grow day by day. You slowly regain back that smile, your contagious laugh and your glow. You deserve so much more than the pain I cause you.” Both of your eyes were turning glossy, his nose was clogging making his voice slightly muffled yet no tears were evident.

Finally, he lets go of the cup and reaches for your hand which you let him hold on to. He squeezes them like he used to, “And you deserve those, you deserve a better chapter … without me.”

There, the water in your eyes had finally streamed down your cheeks when he gave you the smile that you have adored. A smile that reassures you that things will be okay, eventually. You’re gonna be okay and that he will be there to support you.

“Yu-Yunho …” Yunho shakes his head, giving your hand a final squeeze before letting them go. You jerk slightly, wanting to hold him again, “I’m off to Japan with my mom. Seoul will always hold a piece of my heart, but Japan has pushed me in ways I never imagined. I've grown here, found a strength and independence I never knew I had. As much as it pains me, returning feels like something I have wanted. Our paths have diverged, and forcing them together wouldn't be fair to either of us.”

Yunho reaches over, wiping a stray tear, you shamelessly lean into his touch. Yunho’s breath hitches, itching to hold you back in his arms but he has to do it, he has made up his mind that things have reason to happen, “Maybe someday, our paths will realign. Until then, I'll cherish the memories we made.” He stood up, giving you the other cup of espresso while the other tight in his hand.

He looks at you one last time before leaving the cafe. As the door chime hits close, your body shakes as silent sobs echo the, now deserted cafe. The tears blinded yet love never does it, it wounded you to make you wake up in reality that things were over and the questions of him leaving you were answered.

You look at the cup of espresso in front of you, and more tears fall on your cheeks as you read the letters, ‘Espresso for two?’ the inscription seemed to scream, each word a fresh tear on your heart.

You traced the lettering with a trembling finger, the memory flooding back. It was his idea, a silly spur-of-the-moment purchase during a weekend, he had to pull you out from your shift and drag you out to have the rest of the day with him. You'd laughed, teasing him about his overenthusiasm for a simple coffee cup. "What if you never have someone to share it with?" you'd joke, never truly believing it.

He'd squeezed your hand, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Then it'll be a reminder of me sharing this espresso with you so i could espresso my love for you," he'd promised, his voice laced with a confidence you envied now. You laugh at his joke, making him chuckle as your enthusiastic laugh echoes down the street.

A sob escaped your lips, the sound harsh in the sudden silence of the cafe— despite your co-workers glancing at you once in a while to check up on you. The espresso remained untouched, a cold, bitter echo of a love that had turned as quickly as burnt milk. But even through the fog of grief, a flicker of defiance sparked. Wiping your tears, you straightened your spine. Maybe it wasn't meant for two today, but that didn't mean it couldn't be filled someday.

You finish the cup in a go, eyebrow furrowed. You have made up your mind a little to late, but there are things were meant on a perfect time.

You look outside by the cafe windows, "I'll share the espresso with you again."

part 2? another ending? idk 😭😅

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez atiny #ateez jeong yunho #ateez yunho x reader #yunho x reader #jeong yunho #yunho angst

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