#songs i have been listening to on heavy recently

[astoryisaloveaffair]

Fix You - Chapter 16 - Genesis

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader

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Read on A03

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Chapter Summary: 🤷‍♀️

Word Count: 4K

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: cussing, graphic violence, mentions of sex. I'm not giving more warnings than that, sorry.

A/N: Hey all. First I want to say I'm sorry. I literally had no time or motivation to write this. I'm gonna be honest, this is a really tough chapter, and it was hard to get in this headspace. Suffering a recent heartbreak, things in this chapter are things I have thought also, and so it was really hard for me to voluntarily want to address that. I also started working in veterinary medicine, i do not have the spare time that I used to. We also recently adopted a puppy who we named Bucky! And if you read my earlier posts, you know that I was SA'd last January. All that to say, sorry I couldn't do this faster.

Also want to wish a happy birthday to @musings-of-a-rose, my beloved, my bestie, and my constant support. This is for you. Sorry it's not a happier chapter....

* If a character is speaking fully in Spanish, I will put “[ ]” around the dialogue. I speak pretty decent Spanish but not good enough for this

Suggested Songs: "Exile" Taylor Swift feat. Bon Iver, "I Love You" Billie Eilish, "Vampire" and "Logical" by Olivia Rodrigo, "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron and Phoebe Bridgers, "Genesis" by Grimes

You didn’t even flinch at the landing, which was rough, so that’s saying a lot. When the janky cargo door (which looked like at any time during the flight would be ripped right off) opens, you barely even lift your eyes from the floor. You felt heavy and hollow, somewhere suspended in between shock and just not giving a fuck anymore. The only thing you could still fell was the pinching in your heart. It was still broken.

At some point during the journey, the co-pilot had taken pity on you and untied your arms from behind your back and bound them in front of you instead. You hadn’t struggled. There was no point. Where would you go? Jump in the ocean? You weren’t that great of a swimmer and you loved sharks and everything but the open ocean is not where you are supposed to be.

You have no sense of space and time, so you have no actual clue where you are other than not the mainland. You’re dehydrated as fuck, groggy, your vision’s blurry and you’d figured out the sticky moisture on your face was your own blood. 

Because when you had suddenly blacked out it was because they’d hit you, and had absolutely no hesitation doing so. They did not care about you, they did not see you as a human being, they didn’t even bother strapping you into a seat so you had been sliding around the cargo bay the entire flight, bumping into everything. You were in deep danger, any hope that you would have some ransom protection had pretty much disintegrated. You had hoped that the boys wouldn’t come for you at first. Then you had hoped that they would, because if you’re ransom, even if at the very least you’d be alive until then, right? But “alive” doesn’t mean unharmed.

A shadow looms over you and it finally makes you look up, squinting to adjust your eyes to something so close, as well as the brightness of the sun. It feels like it takes you 10 whole minutes to process that you were being spoken to in English.

“Eh!” The man leaning over you snips, and when you simply blink in confusion and don’t answer, he slaps you lightly on both cheeks. You’re stunned enough to finally look at him, his oval face, beady eyes and unique sideburns seeming so familiar to you but quite frankly you wouldn’t trust yourself with recognizing even your dad at the moment, so you push that thought aside.

He kneels down in front of you. “You listen to me. We don’t want you. We want the money. This means if you don’t fucking piss me off, I might be nice and not kill you, you understand? Be a smart little girl, eh?.”

You nod, you probably should be feeling some sort of panic setting in but you don’t. Whatever. Who even cares anymore.

He takes your silence as submission. “Bueno.” He whispers, leaning down and grabbing you by the arm, lifting you until you are back on your feet. He tilts his head and steps to the side, revealing 5 additional men with AKs pointed straight at you. From behind, you feel the sharp tip of another poking your back, urging you forward and down the precarious ramp. The pilots.

You didn’t trust that they wouldn’t hurt you, but you knew you had no other choice. Trying to fight was asking for it, and once you step out of the hold and realize you were in the fucking jungle, there would be no sensical place to go even if you did get away.

You step out of the plane onto a rickety steel ramp that bounces as the footpad of your sandals touches it and shuffle slowly down it. You feel suffocated sandwiched between four men, your hands chafe where they are tied and you have been in the same positions for so long your whole body is sore. Every touch and movement hurt.

You stumble as the ramp ends but one of the men grabs your arm and yanks you so you don’t fall. It wasn’t kindness. It was a way to hurt you that he could get away with. The tiny dirt landing strip is almost canopied completely by the jungle trees, leaving large patches here and there where the plane flew through, not noticeable from far above. It looks like you’re walking to nothing, just a dirt road that ends right into the thick middle of the jungle, but you don’t stop at the edge. You push through.

It’s hot as shit and you felt sweat buildup in every crevice of your body, your thighs are rubbing raw from your asinine decision to wear short shorts to the fair, and you could feel a heat rash growing under your tits that you couldn’t even scratch because your hands are bound.

You walk for forever. You walk until the friction rash on your inner thighs turn to lesions. You haven't drank water in almost 48 hours and it feels like 150 degrees out, with full humidity. You’ve had to stop twice already to vomit from heat exhaustion and you still occasionally gag even though there’s nothing in your stomach to come up anymore. All the years that you did not appeal to insects are making up for it now, they’re all over you and you can’t walk 3 steps without one getting in your eye.  The jungle gets tighter and you can’t breathe because it’s pushing in on you almost as tight as the hands on your shoulders pushing you forward..

You start crying. At least, that is what you tell yourself as you whimper and sob as quietly as you can. You know you’re strong, but this is just beyond reason that any normal person could take. And when you think about how this is probably what life was all the time in Delta for the boys, you cry even harder because you feel guilty, that you have no right to complain.

Finally, after what feels like forever, the tightness of the jungle seems to loosen. More open. You notice some of the trees look more oddly arranged than others. As you get closer you realize they aren’t trees at all, but tents and dilapidated buildings built into the shadows of the trees.  The huge roots and overhanging canopy of the jungle transformed a bustling camp into what looks like a little village. At the entrance, a line of guards in jungle fatigues that were impossible to detect until you got right up to them. You hear someone speak above you, alerting you to a man up in the trees on a platform tucked between the branches. There was another in the tree on the opposite side. He calls to the man with the sideburns, saying something in Spanish you can’t interpret fast enough, but it’s jovial and they laugh, and it makes you feel like you’re going to go mentally insane. 

It’s like it’s not even serious to them. And it’s so serious to you.

You are pushed through the camp quickly, but not quick enough that you don’t see the insane amount of cocaine packages piled up in the makeshift buildings, sheds, and tents toward the back. Men were milling about checking them, moving them and glaring at you as you walked past.

You continue past the main camp, crossing over a bustling creek whose bridge was literally just planks of wood, but you noticed there were tire marks across them so you felt at least safe it could handle a car’s weight. Across the creek, an old stonework manor stood. You can tell at one time it must have been glorious, but the white stone-worked walls were dirty and crumbling in many places, the fountains out front had dried crusty palm fronds and dirt in them and looked like they hadn’t sprayed water since the 1980s.

It was still oddly beautiful. You thought about how this house came to be, what it might have looked like when it had been first built. A beautiful Caribbean sea mansion. A jungle that hadn’t closed in on it yet. Fountains spraying and colorful birds resting on the rooftops. But then you  realize that this place has probably always been used for what it is now. Someone like Carl Lehder probably lived here and ran an entire cartel within this very jungle. Maybe it was the same one, just run by someone else.

There was a shabbily made shack to the left of the manor with padlocks, piles of debris piled next to the door. You assume that’s where you would be taken, but you were instead led up the stairs to the manor proper. And as your eyes focus in on the ground while you were being guided to the mansion instead, you realize the heap of matter by the shack that you thought was some dying plantation was actually a crumpled human body. A boy looking not much older than 17, shot execution style in the head and left to rot.

Then smell hits you, your knees buckle and you vomit on the stonework stairs, a scream of shock and realization pierces the jungle, making the nearby tropical birds explode from the treetops. When the sicarios pick you up and carry you through the mansion door, you’re still screaming.

Eventually whoever was carrying you became fed up, and simply dropped you at the bottom of the stairs and dragged you up backwards by the armpits instead. You didn’t even feel the step edges hitting the small of your back all the way up, but you would later. 

You were tossed stricken and shivering on a disgusting, top-sheeted mattress on the floor in the corner of a room, your feet still bound together and your rope-bound hands looped through a radiator that was long enough only for you to lie down or shuffle over to a bucket for your business. Everything stank and you still had vomit on your chin so you curled up in a ball and slammed your eyes closed, hoping that in time the voices and smells and fear would give way to just simple numbness. You didn’t hear a female voice speaking to you for several seconds.

Your eyes snap open, skin pulled taut from dried unwiped tears,and you jolt upright to look in the direction of the voice. A woman who wasn’t even tied up was propped up against the adjoining wall, and as you take in her condition you could understand why they hadn’t even bothered. She wouldn’t have been able to run.

Her legs look..wrong, splaying at angles that shouldn’t be possible. They look like they could be broken, but you can’t tell for sure because she was wearing jeans that cover up most of her skin. The jeans were ripped in some places and stained with dark blood spots, the color turning brighter wherever her skin shows through the tears in the fabric. She’s missing several fingers on her left hand that had been burnt at the ends to cauterize, and her face was black and blue, swollen and smeared with more blood that seemed to be coming from her scalp somewhere. Her lips are pale and cracking and her eyes are glazed over and barely open. When she speaks, she already sounds like she is dead. 

She swallows and winces slightly in pain, then licks her cracked pale lips.“Is…my…her–my brother. Did you see him? Out there?” 

Your face scrunches in confusion, which actually hurts a little and you’re not sure from what specifically. Perhaps you look just as bad as the other girl. “Your–I—I don’t understand.”

She’s too exhausted to even be annoyed with you. “My brother. They took him from me days ago. They do not talk to me anymore. They don’t—need me anymore.” A single tear falls down her swollen cheek and you suddenly feel so much connection with this woman and how  incredibly fucking strong she is. Her eyes roll over to you, meeting yours for the first time. There are burst blood vessels in them. 

“I think that they killed him.”

Your lips part and you utter a shuddering breath as you connect the dots. There’s no point in sugar-coating it. You nod slowly. “I think so. But it’s not…recent.” You look away as her eyes slowly close, the additional tears she was holding back finally spilling over and cascading down her cheeks. 

“Bueno.” She says. “Then at least he is not suffering like me.” 

You both fall quiet and you look over her again. Her pants aren’t completely done up and her t shirt is ripped at the neckline, exposing a gashed shoulder. Almost like…

You start crying again, and you feel even worse about it this time because you have in front of you a woman who has been through much worse and is somehow NOT crying. You curl tighter into yourself to try and hide. 

But she simply asks. “Who are you?”

You swallow, raising your head up off your arms, quickly wiping the access tears off on your sleeve. It’s incredible how adrenaline and fear can sometimes make you the most clear-headed you’ve ever been. Your thoughts are swirling but you knew one thing for damn sure, if they didn’t know your name yet, you weren’t going to say it now. 

If I look forward I am lost. Focus on right now. Nothing else. It’s my best chance.

You know enough about trauma that compartmentalizing this moment is your best chance. You can’t think what will happen if you don’t escape, if you aren’t found, if they never come for you. You need to stay focused. You need to keep hope alive. You need to stay coherent, because if a chance pops up, you need to be able to think quickly.

“I’m no one.” You mumble. “Just happened to be dating the wrong person.”

She sniffs and looks away, but it’s muffled because her nose sounds congested. You don’t miss her tone though. “Mmmm. His new one then.”

You blink. “What?”

Her glazed over, discolored eyes snap back to yours. “Pope.” She spits. “Your man. Santia—”

“NO!” You cut her off with a shout, you know there is a guy who is in the area and you still don’t know how much these men do or do not know. “Don’t. Don’t give them names if they don’t already know it.”

“I don’t give a shit about Agent Garcia, or his friends, or anyone else, it’s their fault I am here and it’s their fault my brother is dead and..” She finally, finally starts to cry. “I told him I didn’t want to do it. They said they would let us go if we gave them what they wanted.”

“It was you.” You exhale with a shuddering breath. “They found us cause of you. You told them.” You shake your head, and for some reason you feel betrayed by this woman even though you’ve never met her.  “How could you?” 

“Because all I care about is my brother, do you understand?! I wish I’d never met him, Garcia, we would have just snuck away and no one would never seen us, but no, instead we listened to him and helped them steal from fucking Lorea, and now they found us and I knew they would, and YES, I gave them EVERYTHING because they said they’d let us go so long as they found you and–”

“Eh!” A voice trails in with a watchman you knew was hanging out somewhere in the hallway beyond. He slips through the doorway, a smaller man you were not expecting from that voice, and leans against the deteriorating door frame. He crosses his arms and his legs and it makes the handgun on his hip jut out prominently from his skinny hips. “No talking to each other.” His voice is silky and the words all slide together so it sounds like ‘no talkintoeeachother.’

You shrink back into the dirty wall behind you as your associate spits a bloody phlegm ball in the man’s direction. “FUCK you!” She snarls, a tirade of cuss words in Spanish flying from her lips. 

A loud pop almost bursts your eardrums and your heart and you exclaim in terror as your associate is shot point blank in the head, her back slumping against the wall and her head hitting with a bang, pieces of blood and brain tissue spraying over the back wall with pieces flying in your direction.  

The man remains completely motionless with his arms still raised before huffing a laugh to himself, putting the gun back on his hip, and looking at you with the such an unaffected gaze it leaves you feeling dizzy and you scream and scream and scream yourself hoarse, crumpling onto your mattress in a terrified heap, arms over your head, sobbing hysterically.

A gentle but firm palm wraps around your forearm, yanking you back up to a seated position. You look away, but the man’s other hand takes you gently by the jaw and makes you look at him. And just behind him, the woman slumped in a pool of blood and brain matter. You try to wriggle out of his grip but he tightens ever so slightly, and you can’t help but notice how different it is when Frankie would grab you like that versus this man. Frankie held you the same, sometimes harder, but you had trusted his domination and his care of you and because of that, it made it arousing. That same motion with this man has you more scared than you ever have been in your life. 

“Bebita.��� He coos, thumb lightly caressing your jaw. He wipes at a small speck of blood you don’t know is even there. You can feel yourself shaking and breathing so fast you can see his half waxed back tousled locks that hang past his temples are blowing in its breeze. You can’t answer him. “Look at me.”

You do. His eyes are a dark, almost black chocolate brown, shape mismatched, a scruffy beard and goatee and thin lips. In another world you would find him devastatingly attractive and the fact that you do makes you feel absolutely violated and disgusted with yourself. 

“Do not cry.” He continues. “You have no reason to if you behave, si? You be good and you listen and I will keep you safe you understand? Well, at least for now.” He shifts closer to you, you can smell his breath. It smells like orange and cloves. “There are a lot of men here Bebita. I am sure you understand what this means, si? Answer me.”

“Yes.” A final fat tear spills from one of your eyes, and it stings as it mixes with your sweat and the raw skin around your eyes. 

He juts his head in the other woman’s direction. “This one, she fight the whole time. I like a easy job. Make my job easy, I make sure you always deal with me. Do not make me call in the other guys, they are not as nice. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He releases your chin and you scoot back quickly as he saunters over to the other woman’s bloody body, grabs it by the arm, and casually drags her as dismissively as possible out the door and out of your sight, leaving a bloody trail behind.

At first you just sit there in a slump staring at the opposite wall,, you don’t know for how long. Probably hours. Maybe days. The man, whose name you figured out from when he spoke to someone else in the hall, is Angel. Sometimes he would sit up and watch you, as if figuring you out, your body and the way you shift and switch positions when you are uncomfortable, what it looked like when you were crying and trying to keep quiet and unnoticed. But most of the time he ignored you. Occasionally others would come into the room and either speak to him or approach you, but upon noticing Angel watching them they would hiss or spit a curse and slink off.

The room reminded you of those old houses from the 70s that had those drafty unfinished basements that were simply concrete floors, painted stucco or white brick. To the sicarios, it served as an overflow area, there was a rotting desk along the side wall with a metal folding chair and piles of scattered papers and random household tools on them. Against the opposite side wall was a pretty nice tv, considering, which was always playing soccer. Angel seemed to make that his home base, his lithe frame sprawled across a grandma-fabric sofa, head resting on one of the puffy arm rests. He binge-smoked cigarettes and his right hand was always stretched over his head resting against his forehead in the direction of to an end table with an massive overflowing porcelain ashtray on it. You didn’t used to mind the smell of cigarettes too much but now it makes you feel sick.

You’re ashamed of how little you actually think about your current situation and like the hopeless romantic idiot you are, mostly all you can think about is Frankie. The things he said–you knew he said mean things when he was mad, or things he didn’t mean, but isn’t there always some truth to things that are said in the heat of the moment? That was enough for you to silently spiral. You thought about every memory you had of him and how it could be viewed through the lens that Frankie just wanted to fuck you. Your self confidence was low enough it was believable, and your mind races through every instance of an older man being in a relationship with someone much younger and how of course it was predatory, and how could you not see it, that you didn’t have anything in common? It’s a tale as old as time. He just wanted to fuck you, he wanted to fuck you and dominate you, his dark desires seducing you into feeling so wanted you can’t believe you thought he loved you and didn’t see right through it. 

And his friends, well, they were all in on it weren’t they, because why would they want to hang out with someone like you either? Why would men such as that actually want to be friends with you when you have never experienced half of what they have.

Fuck him. Fuck him and his lying ass, he was a fucking loser addict and you’re pissed at yourself for even considering him. Like how lonely were you?? To choose an old man with a kid who served in an institution that represented everything you hated about this country? To be so easily blinded by pretty words and love bombs to immediately take your clothes off. Because how, if he actually loved you or even like you, could he possibly have lied about something so big?! Or bought you something nice with all that fucking drug money he stole. Not that you’d want it or expected it, but why wouldn’t you want to treat someone you love as much as he claimed to? 

How could he sit there and make up what happened to Tom like that, when you were being so coddling and trying to be a caring ear. And Benny…Pope...if they were your friends they should have told you, that’s what real friends do…

But they weren’t your friends. They were never your friends. 

And if you went the other way, and considered that it was all true, that he did love you, that they were all your friends, and that he lied to you and threw stones to hurt you and push you away, how was that any better? You couldn't even think about a future not being with him, but obviously he could. He could watch you cry and question him and not even look at you, completely ignore you, then not even think about you again. No texts, no calls. No “I’m sorry, please come back.” Silence. 

How could it be so easy for him? How can he just go about his life like you never happened? Why did you still care?

Why did you still want him? 

Why did you still love him so so much. Part of you wishes they’d get on with it and just kill you. At least then you wouldn’t have to feel this excruciating pain. You wouldn’t have to see him show up to rescue you because he has to, to have to see his fucking face and every line, crinkle, scar, the bald patch in his beard and the tousled little curls that pop out of his hat…only for him to save you and then leave again, or die and then you have the guilt of killing a man who no longer loved you.

Yea. You think you’d rather die.

You feel like you’re going to throw up again. You’d let him force his cock in your mouth as far as it could go, let him tie you up and fuck you hard enough to leave bruises you had thought of as a badge of honor. You’d let him cum on your face. You’d let him fucking cum inside you! He’d gaslit you so you actually wanted him to tie you up with zip ties—-

Your heart almost stops. You can picture how his face looked exactly when he said it.

Sometimes rope can give over time.

That’s why we always used zip ties.

You look down at your bound hands.

They’re bound with rope.

#fix you fic #triple frontier fanfic #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie catfish morales x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic

[tinygarbage]

✨when you get this you have to put 5 songs you actually listen to, then tag 10 of your beloved beauties who live in ur phone✨

thank u for the tag @joelsversion & @breakfastatjoels 🫶💗

1. the archer - taylor swift

2. goodbye to love - phoebe bridgers

3. HERMANOS - JPEGMAFIA

4. fafo - zack fox

5. cinema - harry styles

no pressure tags: @nostalxgic @ilovepedro @annasinterests @bastardmandennis @undrthelights @harrisonispunk @daydreamingmiller @photo1030

(sorry if y’all have been tagged)

#tag game :) #music! #songs i have been listening to on heavy recently

[mariocki]

Infinite list of favourite lyrics: 221/?

Half Man Half Biscuit - Stuck up a Hornbeam (2014)

"I'm so desolate, I'm so all alone.

I feel arthritic in every single bone.

I've got a mynah bird -

It does nothing but moan.

For you, I'd lose

My self-esteem;

For you, I'd lose

My self-esteem;

For Crewe, I'd use

Junction 16."

#favourite lyrics #half man half biscuit #stuck up a hornbeam #nigel blackwell #urge for offal #2014 #post punk #I'm admittedly late to the party with HMHB‚ despite being dimly aware of them for the last decade or two I'd never actually heard #any of their work until fairly recently‚ on a trip to a second hand record store where the owner was playing their (wonderfully titled) #2018 album No One Cares About Your Creative Hub So Get Your Fuckin' Hedge Cut. after chatting to him and laughing at the lyrics #i went home and looked them up and listened to a couple of albums all at once (as an aside‚ just going to record stores is honestly #a great way to discover music you haven't heard before‚ I've found several favourites this way) #Urge for Offal seems to be recommended by several critics as a good introduction to the band‚ with its guitar heavy pop punk #tight 3 minute songs and more up to date pop culture references (all of HMHB's back catalogue is bulging with wry references‚ jokes #and nods to bits of british culture‚ film‚ tv‚ history‚ music etc etc but as the band has been going since the mid 80s some of these lines #have drifted into obscurity for newer listeners. sure‚ i appreciate the Chigley drug parody but I'm weird‚ and idk how well known the #worlds of Trumptonshire are in 2023). regardless of accessibility‚ the band (and it's surprisingly difficult to find out who exactly is #writing their songs but some googling suggests lead singer and guitarist Blackwell is the key lyricist) #have a genius gift for witty juxtaposition of universal themes of love‚ loss and depression with hyper specific cultural illustration and #genuinely very funny jokes. the first time i heard this the 'for Crewe I'd use junction 16' line made me laugh out loud

[arachine]

yes, i'm ready (to fall in love)

── ˚₊✩‧₊ genre: smut, fluff, mild angst

── ˚₊✩‧₊ synopsis: after reader is persuaded into putting herself back out there by long time friend, shoko, she successfully ends up scoring a date. unbeknownst to her, though, the gods have different plans—and one of them seems especially interested in her relationship with ex-husband, gojo satoru.

or in other words: a failed date results in a night of passion amongst former lovers.

── ˚₊✩‧₊ contents: 13.5k words, ex-husband!gojo + co-parent!gojo, slight dub-con (alcohol use), dumbification, overstimulation, vaginal penetration, unconventional form of contraception (pull-out method - don’t do this), pussy eating + one oc for the sake of plot

── ˚₊✩‧₊ note: i know this is really long and most people don’t have the attention span for it but PLEASE give it a chance! this is literally the longest piece of fiction i’ve ever written and i’m really proud of it :(

songs to listen to for best reading experience: donny hathaway - i love you more than you’ll ever know barbara mason - i’m ready partynextdoor - showing you bryson tiller - been that way

After you divorced your ex-husband, and decided to devote all of your time to being a mother, you never really considered getting back into the dating world. Not that you didn’t eventually want to settle down with someone new, but the dating world now was just so–different.

Different in the sense that meeting people organically was becoming increasingly difficult. It wasn’t like how it used to be in high school or college, and it really didn’t take that much effort then to get a man’s number by the end of your outing. 

When you were in your early twenties, a brush of your hand on a man’s arm would’ve worked. An ‘accidental’ bump into someone at a grocery store or cafe might’ve ended in a quick lay. Using these tactics today, though, might earn you some weird looks–have–earned you some weird looks. 

You’re on call with a friend from college when you begin recounting something embarrassing that happened to you recently. At first, the conversation started out about all of the professors you would’ve slept with (if given the chance), but then, one thing led to another, and she asked you something that made you wince: 

“‘How’s your dating life been since, you know, Satoru?’” 

There’s a heavy silence from your end, and she almost thinks you hung up. 

“I mean, if you want to share,” she splurts, attempting to approach this gently, “I know that after the divorce, I wasn’t there for you like you needed, but I’d like to make up for that–if you’d let me.”

Shoko’s always been like that. Blunt and charismatic, but gentle and zephyr-light in the way she cares for those closest to her. It’s a trait of hers that you admire, because not so many people would care to treat your heart with such fragility.

“No, it’s okay. You can ask, you know, it’s not this secret thing,” you start, sighing before continuing, “it happened, and it was a mutual decision.”

Shoko hums on the other side, “Well, I’m still sorry. I let us go without talking for far too long…”

“Well, I accept your apology, even if it’s unwarranted. Like I said, it was mutual and…there wasn’t really an intense grieving period for me? The only thing that hurt me is that you distanced yourself. I mean, the girls did miss their aunt Shoko…” you say, trying to make her feel bad but not too bad. 

“I know, I know, I’m a bad aunt,” she jests, then the tone shifts to something serious. “I think I was just scared because both of you were my best-friends. I didn’t want to ‘pick sides’, but I see now that it was a mutual decision, so I’m assuming you two are on good-terms?” 

Again, you pause, “I mean, yeah. Satoru will always be my best friend. We may not be together romantically but he’s such an integral part of my life, I couldn’t do this–all of this–alone.” After you say it, you feel a weight being lifted off of your chest that you didn’t know was even there. 

You think nobody would understand if you told them this. You think they’d question how a person could divorce someone who’s supposed to be their best-friend. And with the way you describe it, they’d probably think you were still in love with him. But Shoko’s different, she gets it. Which is why saying it to her came so easily. 

“He is a great father,” she chimes in, “but you two rushed into it so quickly, I don’t think either of you had time to discover yourselves after college.”

Although she can’t see it, you smile. Because she gets it. Even if time did place itself in between the two of you, she was there for most of it, when things were still touch-and-go. When things were fresh, and clumsy. 

“Exactly, that was our biggest gripe,” you admit, “We didn’t afford ourselves that time to grow, and I think that hindered our relationship. We weren’t husband and wife first, we were parents–and we were young, way too young.”

“You made it, though,” Shoko tries to brighten the mood, “you’re both amazing parents, and I know those beautiful girls that you created are lucky to have you.” 

The intimacy of the conversation sends your emotions into overdrive. You quickly realize how much you missed her, how much you yearned to talk to her. To reconnect on this level. 

A single tear cascades down your cheek, and you try not to sound like you’re crying when you say, “Ok, enough about that. You wanted to know about my shitty dating life, right?”

It happened last week, the grocery store incident. You were out picking up a few things for dinner when you spotted a cute guy standing outside of the aisle a few rows from you. He was fit beyond measure, in looks and strength, and was wandering around aimlessly in pursuit of red pepper flakes. 

Coincidentally, you just happened to be in the seasoning aisle, and like the good samaritan you were, decided to personally hand-deliver it to him. 

You wince as you vividly recall the embarrassing ordeal that ensued immediately after. 

“Hey,” you peer from behind the aisle, with a bottle of red pepper flakes in tow. “I heard you mumbling about finding this, and you looked pretty lost, so I thought I’d pick ‘em out for you.” 

The man’s brows furrow briefly before his lips up-turn into a grateful smile, “Oh, cool, thank you so much!” As quickly as the conversation started, it ends even quicker. He gives you a final nod of endearment before he’s turning around on his heels to resume his shopping. 

“God, could he be any more dense? The men today really make you work for it, huh?” you mumble to yourself, pulling the bosom of your blouse down until a good amount of cleavage is on display. “Okay, alright. You got this, you got this. This always used to work, right? Yeah, men love boobs.”

Walking up to the man again, you try a different approach–a bolder approach. “Not to be a bother but I was wondering if I could-”

“Babe? Oh, there you are,” a new voice interjects. The owner of the voice emerges from around the corner and walks up to the man with a cart and a baby in tow. You’re stunned, to say the least. All you can do is stand there and blink in complete and utter dumbfoundment. As you remain in their presence, you take a moment to analyze the woman. She’s gorgeous, and toned. A real model-type broad, with feline-ish features that make so much sense paired with the man who appears to be her partner. 

Oh, you think, and apparently say aloud, too. That’s when the woman turns to you, finally acknowledging your much smaller, and much quieter presence. 

“Hi, can we help you?” she smiles, and it’s actually genuine. Toothy and perfect, and totally not jealous. You blink once, twice, before gathering your wits to answer her question. 

“Yeah, uh, no. I actually, uhm, was helping your h-husband. He was looking for red pepper flakes,” you mutter embarrassedly, and point to the bottle in his hand. Upon further observation, you notice that she isn’t exactly wearing a ring. You find this odd, especially because his not wearing a ring is what encouraged you to pursue him. Carefully, you prod. 

“If I may ask, how come neither of you are wearing rings?” The couple gives each other a look, one that makes you feel like the odd man out. A look that is universally known, and without a doubt, could easily be translated to: ‘did this chick really just ask that?’

Still, you smile as you wait for an answer. The woman takes the initiative. “Yeah, we don’t really believe in rings, isn’t that right, babe?” she says so matter-of-factly. You blink again for what seems like the thousandth time, because of all things, you did not expect that to come out of her mouth. Her husband is quick to validate her statement. 

“Yeah, we think rings are unnecessary, you know? You don’t need a piece of metal to confirm your feelings,” he says walking to his partner’s side and wrapping an arm around her. 

Disgustingly, the two give each other googly eyes before locking lips briefly. You can tell they’re the type to probably share this information with just about any soul who asks. Today, you just happened to be that unfortunate soul. 

“Are you married?” she queries, tilting her head against her husband’s chest.

“I was, now we just…co-parent,” you purse your lips, ready for this entire interaction to be over. The woman frowns at your answer, and this time it’s not as genuine.

“Awe, well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was actually a mutual decision,” you quip.

“Okay,” she smiles, widening her eyes at her husband to signal a departure, “well, it was nice meeting you, and thank you for the red pepper flakes.”

The family turns away and heads to the front where check-out is. You don’t even buy the items you intended to purchase, just leave your cart in the middle of whatever aisle you abandoned it and leave the store.

“Oh, baby, you didn’t?” Shoko asks in horror. You nod your head, still forgetting she can’t see you and the way you’re sliding down against the wall. 

“I did, and I shan't ever again,” a laugh erupts from your throat. 

“I mean, fuck, are we getting old? ‘Don’t believe in rings,’” she mumbles, “Don’t believe in rings, my ass! Is this what the youth are doing these days? Not proposing with rings?”

Now that you think about it, you wonder how that would even work. “Yeah, right? I mean, how does that even work? ‘Will you marry me? But, actually, you should know I don’t have a ring for you, so people will have to guess that we’re together purely based on vibes and energy,’” you mock, in a not-so-great man voice. 

Shoko’s laughing so hard by the end of your bit that she breaks the sound barrier, and the sound that makes on the phone sends you into your own fit of laughter. You laugh so hard it seems like a stream of pee comes out. Curse your developed incontinence after motherhood.

“God, you’re so stupid, I can’t breathe,” she says exasperatedly, and you know that on the other side she’s probably keeling over in her bed. 

“Oh, please. I bet you haven’t laughed this hard in a long time, bitch.”

“I haven’t,” she cackles. This back-and-forth continues until the two of you settle down enough to continue discussing your (pee-inducing) love life. 

“You tried any dating apps?” 

It’s a simple and valid question, but it only makes you laugh even harder. You only stop when the other side of the line goes quiet. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. It’s what everyone’s doing these days! You’re not that old, you know.”

“Shut up,” you kid, “ it’s just that I never considered it. I mean, dating apps feel so impersonal. How serious do people even take it?” 

“Sure, there’s people who use it for casual hook-ups and stuff, but a lot of people do come out of it with a relationship. Just don’t knock it ‘till you try it.”

“Oh?” you muse, curious. You wish Shoko could see your face, and the weird little dance your brows were doing. “Shoko, have you used a dating app before?” 

The brunette kisses her teeth. “Can’t get anything past you.”

“Never.”

There’s a sense of hesitance but you encourage her to elaborate because ‘she became estranged from you for almost a decade and needed to pay her dues’. Sighing defeatedly, she eventually acquiesces. 

“Fine, fine, maybe I’ve…been on a few dates,” she starts, “–and had a few one night stands, maybe more than a few, and maybe even dated a guy that turned into my stalker–”

“Ieiri Shoko! You naughty, naughty girl! Wait, stalker?”

“To make a long story short, I got a restraining order on that creep. Anyway,” she segues, attempting to change the subject, “We should make you a profile!”

For the rest of your phone call, Shoko guides you through all of the dating app basics. She offers her expert advice as you scroll through your camera roll for potential photos to use. You go through about a hundred before you finally settle on five that she really likes. 

The one that she tells you to put first is a photo of you in a bikini. It’s a few years old but she says you look ‘radiant’ and that your ‘tits were practically spilling out of the cups’. Plus, for further consolation, she says most people on dating apps are liars. 

“Everyone’s got at least one old photo on their profile, doesn’t make you a catfish,” she quips, “just means you’re a nostalgic person!” 

“Right…” 

The next one is a selfie. You’re smiling big in it, showing your gums, and it’s genuine. Shoko says guys like those types of photos because it shows them that you’re approachable. It also won her over because it’s fairly recent, too. 

Out of all your photos, there’s only a select few that were taken within the year. You had to admit to her that you never really took photos of yourself anymore. Satoru took most of your candids. Still, she had a mission. And she wasn’t going to be satisfied until she stuck around to see your first match. 

“After the selfie you should put the one of you with the girls.”

The picture she’s referring to is one Satoru also took. You remember that day fondly, and even now, the memories feel like a warm embrace. 

about 8 years ago . . .

“Dad, mom, look! Hurry!” Hana, your oldest, shouts. Satoru and you are sitting on a blanket up on the sand dunes with Haruki, who’s trying her best to make a sand castle–to no avail. 

“What is it, hon?” Satoru and you rush over to her, snatching toddler Haruki in the same breath. When you get to the scene, a flood of warmth washes over you upon discovering the ‘threat’. 

“See, it’s baby turtles!” Hana’s squatting in the sand, watching with pure and unfettered fascination as the hatchlings crawl north to the ocean. When she looks up at you, with eyes so bright, and a smile so big that’s missing two of her front teeth, you want to cry. 

“Oh, hon, that’s beautiful,” you gasp, lowering to your haunches so that you can join her. Satoru is about to follow suit before deciding at the last minute to go back to the blanket. When he returns, he snaps a picture unbeknownst to you. Eventually, though, you turn your gaze to him and he captures–what he used to think then–the ‘prettiest’ photo of you.

“You sneaking photos of me?” you squint, pointing at him. He trods closer until he’s standing above you. Then he snaps another. Your head’s tilted up, and you’ve got one eye open, and the other closed because of the sun. He always liked when you squinted like that because it made your nose do this cute little scrunch. 

“Yup, ‘cause you’re my muse.”

You’re pulled out of your daydream when Shoko says your name on the other line.

“You still there?” 

“Yeah, it’s just…”

“Just what?” she queries, waiting for a response. 

“I wanna use it, but my ex-husband took it. It feels weird, you know? And do I want to use a photo of me with the girls?”

“Hon, who cares if Satoru took the photo? It’s still a good photo, and to answer your second question, why wouldn’t you include a picture with your girls?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just afraid no one will be interested. Nothing about a picture of a mom with her two daughters exactly screams ‘fuck me’.”

Shoko lets out a small chuckle but you’re being serious. “Oh, sweetie. You’re so cute. Milfs are in these days, I don’t think I’m the one getting old, I think it’s just you!”

“Ha-ha, laugh at the mom,” you feign annoyance, but give her a laugh in return.

“But seriously, please use that photo. Nobody’s going to skip you just because you’re a mom. A lot of men on there have kids of their own, just gotta tweak your settings,” Shoko reassures you.

By the end of your call, the profile is set. You thank your old friend for the previous heart-to-heart conversation, and the time she spent helping you set up your profile.

“Keep me updated, and don’t talk about mom stuff, okay? Now, I’m not saying you can’t talk about them,” she begins, “but show these guys your personality! I know she’s in the closet somewhere hiding next to our old slutty clubbing clothes.”  

Then, the both of you say your goodbyes and she wishes you a good-luck on your newly established dating journey. As you lay in your bed, you give your profile a final onceover. Not too bad, you think to yourself. 

You ended up using all of the photos she had originally picked out for you. Even the beach photo. To compensate for your old photos, though, Shoko made sure that your prompts were witty and full of personality. 

“I’d match me, I think. No, yeah, these are funny. She did a good job.”

The following day, you open your phone to fifty notifications from the dating app. A tingle of excitement shoots through your body from the tip of your toes, to the top of your head. It takes all of your might not to squeal in the office. 

“Holy fuck,” you whisper at your desk. The amount of notifications that you initially saw on your homescreen read ‘50’ but when you opened the app, it showed you an overwhelming ‘100’ with a fat plus sign next to it. “Wait, are these all the people who liked me? Shoko’s gonna flip.” 

Getting up from your chair, you make a beeline to the nearest bathroom. Not that you have to use it, but so you can scroll through all the potential prospects without your boss seeing you on your phone. 

Pulling open the door to the bathroom, you close it shut behind you and lock it. A few minutes pass in the time you’re able to get through about half of the people who liked you. You end up skipping a lot of them. They’re either too young, too self-absorbed, creepy, or just downright not your type. 

Some stick out, though. Even trick you into thinking they’re potential matches, but then the other shoe drops–because there’s always another shoe. You’ll scroll through their profiles, and they’ll seemingly have all the perfect traits: intelligent, witty, handsome, tall–and then, boom. You see their ‘don’t want kids’ preference. Every failed match only discourages you more and more. 

It’s weird, because your profile preferences are set to ‘have kids’ and you even have a photo pictured with your girls. So why are men liking your profile despite that? After a few more scrolls, you’re just about ready to head back to your desk but then–you have a hit. 

Your finger hovers over the ‘x’ at the bottom of the screen, then retracts. The guy’s profile at first impression is miles better than the rest, it’s almost too good to be true. His first photo is what piqued your interest. It’s of him posing for a silly photo with his sons, and he’s got his arms draped around their shoulders. 

As you scroll down his profile, you see that there’s even more of him with his children. You take this as a green flag. He wants people to know he has kids, and that he isn’t embarrassed to show them off. You admire him for it. 

The last few remaining photos are an amalgamation of selfies and full-body photos. To the average, well-adjusted adult, looks wouldn’t be a deal breaker. But he definitely wasn’t too bad on the eyes, and you were not complaining about that–especially, after the odd men you had to scroll through to get here. In other words, he was gorgeous and still fit despite being older than you (him, respectively being in his early forties). 

Checking the time on your phone, you realize that you’re pushing your little ‘bathroom break’. Before heading back to your desk, you decide to respond to his first photo.

You: Cute! Could never get my girls to stand so still for a photo like this now haha :)

Work goes by slower than you’d like, but finishes up just in time when you get a notification from the dating app. You’re a little more excited than you’d care to admit. Tidying up your workspace, you say your goodbyes to your colleagues and head to the elevator. Absent-mindedly, you rush to answer his message but realize it won’t go through because of the elevator’s poor service.

Kazuki: Oh, they’re moody and grown now, don’t be fooled. I can't remember the last time I saw my youngest smile. 

You don’t answer his reply until you get home. Actually, you do just about everything but answer his reply: check on the girls, shower, prepare dinner, pour a glass of wine–you’re nervous, and you don’t know why. But you know you should probably answer soon before he becomes disinterested. So you get comfortable in bed with your glass of wine and pull open his chat.

You: Lol, know that all too well. Kids are little assholes, aren’t they?

The speed in which he reads your text is startling, you don’t even have enough time to close out of the chat. Then, he responds. 

Kazuki: Hell yeah they are! 

Kazuki: Sometimes I want to strangle my youngest. He’s at that age where he’s starting to rebel and question everything. I told him he was supposed to be the ‘easy’ one, but his knucklehead brothers are bad influences on him…Tell me, does it ever get easier?

You: Sounds a lot like my oldest. She used to cling to me like a koala but now she’s the ring leader, and I’m the enemy. My youngest still loves her mama, though (for now lol). 

You: And to answer your question, I’d like to think so? 

You take a second before continuing your response. Shoko told you to keep the mom talk limited, but this seems to be working for you so far, and he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. So for once, you’re going to ignore her advice. 

You: Kids go through phases. It's our job to reassure them that we’re not going anywhere. No matter how much they push us away or try to, that is :)

Kazuki’s chat bubbles pop up, then disappear. You think he’s deciding on what to say. 

Kazuki: I can tell we’re gonna get along great. It’s nice opening up like this, you know? Talking to another parent. If I'm being honest, dating apps have always intimidated me…

Kazuki: People see kids as ‘baggage’, and it really bothers me. My kids aren’t baggage. They’re the best parts of me. And if someone doesn’t see that, then we have no business getting to know each other. 

Kazuki: Sorry for getting all sappy. Just felt like I needed to say it. 

His apology makes you frown. It feels like a breath of fresh air to hear someone talk about their kids so lovingly, because you feel the exact same way. You’re glad you downloaded the app, and you make a mental note to thank Shoko again later (after you debrief her about this). 

You: Never apologize for speaking about your kids! And if we’re being absolutely transparent, that was my biggest gripe with downloading this app, too. 

You: I’m so glad we matched each other. I’d like to get to know you more. And I’m hoping the feeling’s mutual?

Kazuki: It’s more than mutual. 

Kazuki: Don’t want to get ahead of myself but how do you feel about dinner? There’s a cool high-scale restaurant in the city that I haven’t been to yet. Heard it’s got two Michelin stars despite opening up not too long ago. 

The prospect of going on a sit-down dinner date has your stomach in knots. It’s been a hot minute since the last time you’ve done so, but you’re eager to know the man behind the screen on a more personal level. Plus, being treated to a high-scale restaurant with two Michelin stars doesn’t seem too bad either. You’re never one to turn down free dinner.

You: I’d love to, but how soon we talkin’? Gotta see if it’ll align with my schedule.

Kazuki: How’s this Friday at 8 sound? :)

The days leading up to Friday breeze by in a blur. For the majority of the week, it feels like you’re walking on cloud nine. Eventually, the conversation transitions from the dating app to exchanging phone numbers, and since then, the two of you have been texting back-and-forth everyday.

You talk about mundane things. Work, shows, movies, books you’ve recently read, what your kids are up to–but the other things? The other messages are flirty, and sexy, and filled with so much tension that it could cut a rope in half. 

In between messages, the two of you have also exchanged a few photos. Nothing risqué or anything of that nature, just random photos of you throughout the day. The last one he sent was a few hours ago of him at work, captioned with: ‘Could this meeting be any longer?’. 

You reply to the message with the ‘ha ha’ reaction, in consideration of not wanting to get him in trouble at work (even if he was the one who initiated the conversation). As the days go by, though, you make it a habit to update Shoko every step of the way. 

Her first reaction to hearing about him was enthusiastic. That is, until you showed her screenshots from his profile. You vaguely remember her saying something that was meant as a compliment, but came out more like an insult. 

“‘Oh, he’s a dad!” was her initial response, “oh, he’s a dad…and he really loves his kids. You’re meant for each other.’” 

When you tried to ask her what she meant by that, she changed the subject. Every update since then has earned slightly more positive reactions, though.

Today, you ask her for more advice. Only this time, you’re on video call. 

“Shokoooo,” you drawl, “our date is tomorrow! You have to help me find something to wear.” The panic in your voice is so palpable, she can almost feel your shaky hands through the screen. Flipping the camera, you hurriedly pan your phone around the closet. 

“Breathe, girl, breathe,” she demonstrates first, before telling you to repeat the same motions. “Take me to that section over there–no, not that one–wait, yep, there.” You amble over to the area she’s directing you to through the phone.

“What’s that black little number right there?” She points. You prop the phone up on a shelf and scour through the section, tugging out a dress you haven’t seen in ages (which has you questioning how she even spotted it because it was pretty far back into the closet). Walking back into frame, you hold the fabric up to your body. 

Shoko nods in approval, “That’s the one, babe. Try it on!” 

It’d been about a decade since the last time you wore this dress. It’d also been about a decade since you were ever this small. Looking in the mirror, you run your hands over every surface inch, every crevice of the dress, in a newfound sense of appreciation for the adult weight you’ve gained since becoming a mother. 

The dress was always stunning but it hugged everything perfectly even more so now. When you walk back into frame, your friend gives you a look of pure adoration. She’s so enthralled that she snaps a few screenshots for keepsaking. 

“Thank god it’s Satoru’s turn to get the kids tonight,” she says, “‘cause you’re definitely getting some tonight.” 

You roll your eyes, reminding her she’s on speaker phone. “Oh, please. It’s just dinner!”

“Not in that dress,” she retorts, wagging her finger in the camera. While the two of you continue to chat about the details of tonight, a knock on your bedroom door draws your attention. 

“Mom, can I come in?” the voice sounds. It’s Haruki. 

“Come in, hon!” 

After you give the ok, you turn to Shoko and mouth to her to behave. Haruki turns the knob and enters, closing the door behind her. She sees you standing in front of the mirror before you see her, and silently utters a ‘wow’. You’re just about done putting your earrings in when you join her in the other room. 

“What do you think, bun? Does your mom look hot?” you spin around, smoothing your hands down the length of the dress. You wait in anticipation for her approval, because if anyone could tell it like it is, it was always going to be a kid. Your Haruki was no exception. 

“You look really pretty, Mom. I’m glad you’re going out tonight, I mean, you don’t really have friends so I think this will be good for you,” she elaborates, though you wish she would’ve stopped at the compliment. 

Still, it puts a smile on your face to hear her verbalize that she’s okay with you doing something for yourself. You never quite discussed the prospect of getting back out there with your kids–and not even intentionally. It just never felt like the right time. 

“You could’ve stopped at the compliment, punk!” you grab her, then wrap her in your arms, “but thank you. Love you, bun.”

“Love you more, mama.” Neither of you make the effort to pull away. Instead, you both stand there. Hugging, breathing, embracing each other’s warmth. You don’t always get hugs this good, so when you do, you savor it. Drag it out until your arms and legs get all tingly. 

Or until someone interrupts. Another knock on the door. This time it’s Hana. 

“Ew, what’s going on?” Hana feigns a look of disgust. You know she’s just jealous; she’ll never admit it, though. Which is why sometimes you have to force her to participate. 

“Get over here,” you scrunch your nose, forcefully pulling her into your tight embrace. She tries to protest but eventually accepts defeat. You squeeze them both until they whine that they can’t breathe anymore. Then you squeeze them some more because this one’s for you. 

“My special girls,” you breathe in, taking in all of their love. Soaking it all up so that tonight you have the courage to try again. To allow yourself a love of your own. When you let go, there’s a sniffle from the closet. It totally dawned on you that Shoko was still on the phone. 

“They’re so big now, they don’t even know their auntie,” she fakes a sob, blowing her nose into a tissue. 

“Mom, who’s on the phone?” Haruki queries with a confused expression etched onto her face. It suddenly dawns on you again that although you’ve been communicating with Shoko again, you haven’t exactly told them. 

“Hey, you came in here to tell me something right, Han?” Your attempt to change the subject is poorly done, which doesn’t come as a surprise to you considering deflection has never quite been an ability you excelled at. Nonetheless, the look of suspicion they give you after is fleeting before they explain to you in unison that their father is here. 

“Your father’s been waiting down there this whole time and nobody cared to tell me?” you whisper-yell, left eye twitching to emphasize your ill-preparedness. The girls only shrug their shoulders in response, like this was something you were just supposed to know. 

“Well, you did force us into a hug and make us do all that Kumbaya stuff,” Hana mumbles under her breath.

“Okay, enough about all that. Are you guys all packed? Where are your bags? I don’t want your dad seeing–” 

“You don’t want dad to see your date, right?” Hana raises a brow, all knowing. Sometimes she was a little too smart for her own good. You want to blame that on the private schools Satoru had them enrolled in, but really you just know she’s just a menace in her own right. She learned that from him. 

“I agree with the kid,” a voice chimes in. You rush to the closet and grab your phone from the shelf. There’s a huge, shit-eating grin on Shoko’s face. Somehow she’s responsible for this. You don’t know how yet, nor do you have proof, but you know it. 

“Okay, thank you, love you, bye!” Before you can hang up, Shoko blurts something. 

“Tell him I said hi,” she begins, “–andnottogetahardonwhenheseesyou!”

You hang up the call and roll your eyes, chuckling to yourself because of her idiocy. When you enter the corridor, you hear a faint sound of hushed voices from downstairs. It’s only when you round the bannister at the top, when those voices become discernible and louder. 

You stop at the top, and when your eyes meet his, it feels like all the air in your lungs have expelled. Suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of what you’re wearing, and the fabric, and the way it clings to your body. Neither he, nor you, look away–you should, you want to, but you don’t. 

And in the time the two of you gaze upon the other, time stops for a modicum of a second. In this second, you and him are the last two souls in the world. At least, that’s how it feels anyway before he breaks eye contact. 

You shift your gaze shortly after, and put on a trained smile. Those eyes of his were always so intense. You guess you forgot over the years how easy it was to lose yourself in the crystalline pools of them. Gathering your wits, you resume your movements and saunter down the imperial staircase. 

“Hey, didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Sort of lost track of time, but I think the girls are all packed,” you say, your voice coming to a decrescendo upon noticing the way his eyes trail over your frame. They’re unreadable, though. Indifferent, and honestly, you’re not sure how to feel. So, you begin fidgeting uncomfortably with the rings around your finger. 

Then, he smiles. It’s eerie and fake. “Not a problem, I haven’t been here too long. But, uh,” he begins ambling around the place, touching random objects around the living room, “Didn’t know you had plans. What’s the occasion? Going out for drinks with your colleagues?” 

You furrow your brows, confused with his sudden interests in your plans. It wasn’t really like him to prod. “No, actually,” you rock back-and-forth on the balls of your heels, “i’m…i’m going on a date,” you finish with a pursed smile. He only nods his head in response, still walking around the place touching stuff, messing with the picture frames on the mantle. They’re all crooked now. 

“How come this is the only picture you have up of me,” he asks suddenly. You know, that he knows, the answer to that. And he knows, that you know, you’ll indulge in his games anyway. 

“The girls wanted them in their rooms. Why do you ask? You want me to go grab them and put ‘em all up around the house?” Again, he doesn’t say anything. Just gives you a final once over before heading back to the foyer to ask if the girls are all set to go. 

“Yeah, but I can’t find my tablet, dad. Can I go look for it?” Haruki speaks up. “I thought I packed it.”

Satoru looks at the time on his watch, pinches the crease in between his brows. “Sure, kiddo. Can we make it quick, please?” He throws his hand in the air for emphasis, then points to his watch. Haruki nods, then runs up the stairs. 

“Actually, you go on up too and help your sister. You guys are holding up dad,” you turn to Hana and gesture for her to head up with your head. She rolls her eyes, yelling up the stairs for her younger sister to ‘freaking hurry up’. 

You and Satoru both turn to each other with wide eyes, laughing at the nerve of those children. 

“They get that attitude from you, you know,” you point to him, driving your index finger into his bicep. 

“You sure? Their mom’s got a pretty bad mouth on her, too. Or, have you forgotten?” He teases, bending his knees slightly to level his eyes with yours, intruding into your space. The smirk he dons is cheeky, too friendly–too inviting. You want to smack it off of him. 

“Oh, shut u–” the sound of your phone chiming interrupts your banter. It’s a message from Kazuki, and you open it while Satoru stands over you. Probably close enough to read the message on his own if he wanted. 

Kazuki: Hey, I hate to do this but I don’t think I can go through with tonight. 

When you read the message, your heart drops into your stomach. There goes the other shoe, you think, fully embracing your pessimism. Who were you kidding, really? To think that tonight you’d go out and have a good time. Do something for yourself. It was stupidity. 

Chat bubbles pop up on the screen. He has more to say. 

He has more to say, and you’re fighting the urge to cry–to not shake out of sheer frustration while you’re still standing in front of Satoru. Because nothing would be worse than him seeing you can’t even land a date. 

Kazuki: I recently just went through a divorce, and I know that I should have informed you about this before continuing our conversations…Especially since you’ve been so transparent with me about your own divorce and strife.

Kazuki: But if I’m being completely honest, I was scared. I genuinely wanted to see this through, at first. I wanted to forget about my ex-wife for just one night. But I realized I’ve been asking the impossible of myself…I’m still in love with her, and it’s because I’m in love with her that I won’t allow myself to lead you on any further. 

Kazuki: I think we would’ve had a good time tonight. It's unfortunate we had to meet under such circumstances because you’re a really lovely woman, and I’m sorry an asshole is standing you up right now. 

Kazuki: Take care. I know there’s a guy out there just waiting for his shot. 

Satoru takes notice of the way your face drops as you read over the messages. Part of him wants to overstep his boundaries and take a peek at the screen. But he doesn’t. He gives you your space and takes a seat on the couch, waits for you to say something first. 

In the meantime, he studies your face. Watches intently as your eyes become glossy the more you scan the messages, watches as your bottom lip catches between your teeth to hold back from crying. He thinks he knows what just happened. 

Taking a deep breath, you lock your phone and put on another trained smile, “Well, looks like I’m staying in tonight.” Satoru dislikes when you do that. When you put on a fake smile and overcompensate to make others around you feel better, even when it’s so very obvious you aren’t. He wishes that sometimes you would just be selfish–act out. 

And then you continue the façade. It makes his skin itch. 

“I was too tired anyway, guess I can just catch up o–”

“Will you stop,” he spits, rising from his seat on the couch to stand. It comes out harsher than he intended, but he doesn’t regret it. You look at him like he’s got two heads as he walks over to the mantle and leans against it. His back is turned towards you, and the palms of his hands hold the crest of it. He uses it as leverage to rock on the heels of his feet. You can tell there’s something he wants to say because of the way his jaw ticks. 

Satoru is never one to bite his tongue, so you’re not exactly sure why he’s choosing to be so restrained. If he wasn’t going to spit it out, you were going to poke. “What’s your problem?” 

He chuckles at this, rubs his chin then pushes off the mantle to stand in front of you, gets all in your space again. The movement almost sends you back but you hold your ground, tilt your chin up at him and repeat the question. Slowly, this time with more venom. 

“My problem? What’s your problem?” He breathes through his nose, his eyes flickering back-and-forth between your own. “Why do you always pretend like you’re not lonely? It’s okay if you were looking forward to having fun tonight. It’s okay to be upset and be mad at the asshole who stood you up!”

With every verbal prod at you, the gap between you decreases. His feet inch closer and closer to your own and force you to retreat farther until your back hits the wall. The coldness of it causes your breath to hitch, and you try to stay calm as Satoru encroaches more into your personal space. Being on the receiving end of his passion was always suffocating, you feel exposed under the intensity of his gaze–even more so as he continues to tear into you. 

“Why do you even care?!” you cut him off, eyes wide and veins pumping full of adrenaline. “It’s not your place to be so invested in my life anymore! We’re not together, you don’t have to get so hot and bothered about things going shitty for me. I’m a big girl, and I’m perfectly capable of fighting my own battles.” 

By the time you finish, you’re a heaving, shaking mess. He takes this as a sign to withdraw from your space, and goes to sit back down on the couch. When you finally settle your nerves, you join him, leaving a foot of space in between you. There’s an awkward silence, one that wouldn’t have even happened if he just respected your boundaries in the first place. Now he feels like the asshole instead of the actual asshole who dumped you. Taking a hesitant breath, he decides to speak up. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t…It wasn’t my intention to come off so strong like that,” he begins, “I just wanted to let you know that you don’t always have to pretend to be fine. It’s not fair, you shouldn’t do that to yourself.” His eyes wander over to you reluctantly, like he’s scared that if he looks too long you’ll disengage from the conversation. 

“It’s okay,” your voice is small, just above a whisper. You want to face him, but you know that if you do, you'll break into a million pieces. So you keep your gaze downward, busy yourself with the stray pieces of thread on the bottom of your dress. “You’re right, you know. I think I just…I think I just tell myself to expect disappointment so that when something bad happens, I’ll know it’s not because I got my hopes up.” 

Satoru turns to you, and you can see him frown through your peripheral. Still, you don’t face him because you’re not done talking. But you thank him silently for listening without interrupting. 

“Even though you’re right, I don’t appreciate the way you came on so strongly. We’re not married anymore, we’re not a couple–we’re co-parents. So if there’s something I want you to know about that’s outside of the scope of our kids, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, leave it alone.”

Satoru’s face softens. For once you’re being selfish, putting your foot down. This is the side of you he likes. “Okay. I respect that,” he says, “But can I ask you something?” The smile on his face is mirthful, like he’s got something else up his sleeves this evening. Skeptical, you finally face him with a raised brow. 

“What?”

“Let me take you to dinner.” 

You laugh in his face, even go as far as smacking his arm because you want him to know you found the joke really funny. He doesn’t budge, and that’s when you realize he’s being serious. 

“Wait, what?” 

“Let’s go to dinner,” he stands up, crossing his arms across his chest. You tilt your head in disbelief. You’re just waiting for someone to tell you you’re on that old reality show punk’d. 

“Funny, I just poured my heart out to you and now you’re making fun of me,” you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance. 

“I’m being serious,” he reassures, “you’re already dressed up. It’d be a shame for it to go to waste.” His eyes are twinkling with hope, and once again, you find yourself falling victim to their persuasiveness. 

Being under Gojo Satoru’s gaze was suffocating. 

Giving in, you ask, “So what are you gonna do? Drive all the way home to get dressed?” 

The question is genuine, but the bastard just grins. “I’m a little hurt,” he throws a hand over his heart, “don’t you know me by now? I’m a businessman. I keep pressed blazers and slacks on me at all times.”

He swings his keys around his index finger, hoping that the promise of a spare change of clothes being in his car is enough to convince you to say yes. 

“I don’t know…” you trail. 

“C’mon, let me take you out. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Somehow he was able to persuade you into going out. After he changed into his spare clothes, you ended up telling your girls that there was gonna be a change of plans, and that they’d go home with their dad tomorrow. 

Of course, before leaving, you made sure to leave some money on the table for pizza, and you also made sure to drill into their heads not to open the door for anyone except the delivery guy. You knew they knew the drill already, but it didn’t feel right to leave without saying it anyway. 

“Be good, listen to your sister, she’s in charge,” you pinch Haruki’s cheek. Hana smirks, nodding her head in agreement with you. 

“I will mom, I know,” she huffs, crossing her arms.

“And you,” your finger wags at Hana, her smirk drops. “Don’t provoke your sister, be nice. Act like you love each other, please.” 

“Fine, whatever. I guess,” she grabs the knob to the door, ready to kick the both of you out already. “So does this mean the two of you are back together, or?” 

Satoru and you turn to each other before answering in unison, “No.” 

“Okay, cool. Well, have fun,” she practically closes the door on the two of you, locking it after. Satoru is just as dumbfounded as you are, but then you break into a fit of laughter. 

“Those kids, man.”

“Your kids!” you correct, pushing him playfully as the both of you walk down the pebbled pathway. He finds his equilibrium in time to unlock the car and open your side of the door. You pause before ducking inside.

“Oh, how gentlemanly of you,” you jest, “And they say chivalry is dead.”

“How could it be when I’m alive?” He says matter-of-factly, closing your side of the door. He taps the top of the car before sliding across the hood to the other side. Nice to see some things never changed. 

When he gets inside and turns on the car, he puts his hand on the back of your seat to back out. The proximity sends a shiver down your spine, and you have to physically refrain from letting your eyes linger on his jaw, and his arms, and the face he makes when he’s trying to concentrate. 

You try to dispel these less-than-friendly thoughts by looking somewhere, anywhere else but him. But you can’t, and it’s irritating. 

This is the second time tonight you’ve been this close, and it’s only this time that you realize something about him is…different. Earlier, he didn’t really smell like anything, but you quickly notice his smell has changed. 

There’s a sort of piney scent coming from him. It’s not strong or obnoxious enough to blind your nostrils, but it’s enough for you to just barely pick up on it. You almost think it was premeditated, that he took the liberty of spritzing some on before walking you to the car. Before you separated, he’d made it a habit to wear variations of woody scents for you. If you can recall correctly, a passing comment you made about the cologne he was wearing that day is what sparked the habit. 

Surely, this couldn’t be coincidental? 

“You smell nice,” you blurt, filling in the silence. 

Satoru glances at you, “Thank you.” You hate that from the corner of your eye, you can see his stupid little smirk growing bigger by the minute. He already had a big ego, it didn’t need to be stroked any more. 

“Don’t let it go to your head, though. You usually smell pretty rank.”

“Ohhh, is that so? Guess I gotta start wearing this more often then, huh?”

“Sure, do what you want,” you say, trying to remain indifferent even though you’re failing terribly to hide your smile. When the car approaches a red light, you finally decide to ask the big question. “So where are you taking me?” 

“You’ll see,” he glances over, “Just know I’m good friends with the owner, so last minute reservations weren't a problem.” 

The rest of the car ride is silent, save for the low hum of the music playing on the radio. When you arrive at the location, Satoru makes sure to walk all the way around to your side of the door again and open it. Immediately after, the two of you are greeted by a young male. He’s wearing a white button down, black slacks, and a black vest with a red tie. Judging by his appearance, you assume he’s a valet driver. 

Satoru drops his keys in the driver’s hands, and escorts you towards the entrance. The boy bows and goes to park the car. Looking around, you start to wonder where exactly this place is supposed to be. The area is dark and secluded, and from where you stand outside, it doesn’t sound like there’s supposed to be a restaurant here. You don’t hear any voices, you don’t even see any security or other passerbyers. 

Still, you follow behind him like a duckling, only coming to a halt when he leads you to a door taller than the both of you. He gestures for you to back up, then raises his knuckles to blow a strong, single knock. You’re taken by surprise when a set of angry eyes appear behind a slot in the door. 

The pair of eyes first scan over you, then Satoru. A gruff voice is second to accompany them, “Where can I get a good drink?” 

“I heard the bar down the street is nice,” Satoru answers. The hatch to the door closes, then swings open the door, and the man behind it moves aside to welcome you in.

“Follow me, please.” Once he closes the door, he begins guiding you down the dimly lit hallway. After making what seems like your hundredth turn, you eventually reach a staircase. The man gestures for you to go on ahead, and you think this is him implying where the three of you will depart.

“Thank you,” you say softly, disappearing down the stairs. Satoru isn’t too far behind, keeping a pace between you. As you near the end of the long, narrow hallway, a stream of white light brightens up your whole path. It leads you down to another door like a beacon of light, and when you reach it, you can hear voices, live music, and dishes clanking on the other side. It’s bustling with life. A huge, joyous smile plasters across your face. It’s almost child-like in appearance, like you haven’t seen something this cool in a long time. 

Satoru stands beside you and winks. “What d’ya think? Any idea yet where we are?” 

“I think this is fucking cool, and hm,” you take a second to mull it over, “are we at a speakeasy?” 

“Smart girl. Now come on.” Stepping back, you allow him to pull open the door, and when he does, there isn’t a word to describe the atmosphere of the place you step into. All you can do is stand there in astonishment. Before long, a man walks up to you. 

“Welcome, what is the name you reserved under?” 

“Gojo.”

Nodding, the host instructs you to follow after him. He leads you to a private seating area, somewhere far in the back that’s secluded from the other patrons. The space is much bigger, and much more extravagant. You know you’re only sitting way back here because Satoru is who he is. And in all the years you’ve known him, his connections were just another party trick in his arsenal. 

The hostess seats you, then Satoru, and tells you that a waiter will be with you shortly. 

“This is nice, really nice, but is it–”

“Legal?” he finishes your sentence, “don’t worry. It’s a modern speakeasy-style restaurant. There’s nothing illegal going on here, promise.” 

While you wait for your designated waiter, your focus shifts from the man in front of you to the man singing on the stage. Up until now, his voice was white noise in the background, but then he started singing a tune scarily reminiscent of your past–and your breath catches in your throat. 

If I ever leave you, baby

You can say I told you so

And if I ever hurt you

You know, I hurt myself…

Turning your gaze back to Satoru, you squint your eyes mirthfully in disbelief. You wonder if this is just a funny coincidence, if this is the universe playing her tricks, but you know deep down, that coincidences and Gojo Satoru don’t belong in the same sentence. 

You open your mouth to speak, but quickly close it when you see the waiter approaching from the corner of your eye. He greets the both of you with a polite smile, then sets down two glasses of water. 

“Good evening, I’ll be your waiter for the night,” he says, placing a menu in front of you, “Can I get you fine folks started off with a bottle of wine?” 

Satoru nods, tells him to bring the best bottle of red they have and then gestures for him to come closer so that he can whisper something in his ear. All the while, you sit back in your seat observing, clicking your nails on the table until the server pulls back and bows. 

When he departs, you immediately lean in over the table, and ask, “Just how much time did you have to plan all of this?” 

Satoru feigns aloofness, taking a sip of his water, “What do you mean?” 

You roll your eyes, gesturing at the stage with your eyes. Then, as if suddenly coming to a realization, he goes, “Oh, that? Yeah, I had nothing to do with that. But isn’t it funny they’re playing our old song?” 

Now he’s smirking, with his elbow leaning back on the chair, and a gaze so piercing, you’re certain you’ll crumble into nothing unless you look away. So you do, avert your gaze back to the stage and sway calmly. 

Is that any way for a man to carry on

Do you think I want my loved one gone

Said I love you

More than you’ll ever know

More than you’ll ever know

“So funny,” you counter. 

Eventually, the server comes back with a bottle. “1982 Chateau Latife Rothschild,” he holds it out to present, “Is this alright?” 

Despite the years spent with Satoru, and the many elitist events you often attended with him, your knowledge on wine had never surpassed anything but surface level. You knew the difference between good wine and cheap wine was the taste, but your taste buds had grown accustomed to store-bought, so if anything, store-bought tasted like heaven to you. Anyway, though, you nod your head and urge him to pour a glass. 

“Thank you,” you smile, before gently swirling the glass and bringing it up to your nose to smell (something you only know to do after being the odd man out at so many company banquets). Satoru waits for you to sip your glass before he sips his. The way you melt into your seat is a silent assurance that you’re pleased. 

“This is great, you’re amazing,” you tell the server, who seems pleased by your compliment. 

“Glad to be of service, miss. Are you ready to order?” 

Dinner goes by smoothly. In fact, it goes by so smoothly, you and Satoru finish the entire bottle of wine. Now you sit at the table, bellies full, faces flushed and sore from laughing, and now you find yourself telling him about the grocery store incident. If you had half a mind (a sober one), you’d shut up right this second to save yourself from the embarrassment. But you don’t. And Satoru’s very persuasive when you’re tipsy. 

“Keep going,” he leans in, hand nestled under his chin. He’s completely invested in the story. Actually, as soon as he heard the words ‘store’ and ‘cute guy’, he just had to know more. And you begging him to change the subject didn’t help, not when the sadist in him loved to see you so embarrassed. 

“Fine,” you hiccup, “It was so - so bad, Toru.” He doesn’t miss the way you slip and call him by the nickname you’d always reserved for him. It makes his heart race, and god, does he miss the way it sounds spilling from your lips. But he ignores the feeling, and refocuses on your story instead. Which, by the way, was proving to be a task in itself because his eyes couldn’t stop drifting back down to your lips. So soft, so–

“And then she said ‘we don’t believe in rings,’” you whisper, fist coming down on the table. The sound it makes nearly sobers you up, and you realize just how loud you’re being despite your table being secluded from others. Giggling like a kid, you continue, “I mean, how fucking insane is that?!” 

“Something as bizarre as that could only ever happen to you,” he replies, laughing along with you, “those people were crazy.” 

“The craziest,” you agree, throwing your head back in another fit of laughter. Gradually, the two of you begin to settle down, and once again, you find your attention being drawn back to the man on the stage. Only this time, he’s making an announcement.

“Good evening ladies and gentleman. Tonight I’ve got a special request,” he says, looking out into the audience. Looking at you. “This one’s for a very special lady who, from what I’ve been told, is a great mother that needs to start doing things for herself.” 

The singer steps out of the spotlight and hands the note to a server. Your server. Then he begins to sing, and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. It was your wedding song. 

[...] I don’t even know how to love you

Just the way you want me to

But I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

Yes, I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

“Now this one? This one was me,” Satoru leans forward, and you swiftly turn your head to face him. He smiles as he watches your face go through ten different emotions before ultimately softening. It warms your heart to see how incredibly planned this evening was, despite the amount of time he was given to work with. Even so, it kind of scares you–because then that meant this was a grand gesture–that this was his way of saying something. And you weren’t too sure if you wanted to hear it. Your gaze drops to your lap, and Satoru frowns. 

To fall in love 

To fall in love

To fall in love with you…

“Look at me,” he says softly, but you don’t. “Hey, look at me.” He reaches over the table to take your chin in between his fingers. The touch alone feels electric. Sends liquid hot lightning down the column of your spine. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze, and like always, it’s suffocating. They’re so wide with hope, and so, so gentle in the way they hold you. The longer you gaze upon them, the more you convince yourself it’ll be okay if you surrender to them. 

“It’s been years since we’ve divorced,” his voice is shaky, almost strained, like he’s actively thinking how to choose his words carefully, “and when we sat down that night, I thought it was what I wanted, too, you know? And for a while, it was,” he reaches a hand across the table to rest atop your own, “but you gotta know…you gotta know–you’re it for me. There’s no one else on this Earth that I want to start over with. You’ve always been the beginning and end of my story, and I’ll be damned if I let another man start one with you.”

Your heart is beating faster than you can even process what he’s saying. The only thing you’re focused on is not passing out in the middle of this damn restaurant. But then he’s squeezing your hand, and your focus is drawn back to those piercing, pale blues that even put crystals to shame. 

“So what do you say?” he says, so softly, so tender. “Can we try again?”

Waiting for your reply, he squeezes your hand again. It’s like your soul is wandering the line between death and the living, and his touch is the tether that brings you back. In the background, the tune of the song sung at your wedding gives you a push of courage. 

I don’t even know how to kiss your lips (kiss your lips)

At a moment like this

But I’m going to learn how to do 

All the things you want me to

Yes, I’m ready

(Are you ready?) Yes, I’m ready

To fall in love

To fall in love

To fall in love right now

“Yes.”

The walk back to the car is hurried. Aided by both, years and years of built up tension, and the liquid courage currently bubbling in your systems. 

The race back to his apartment is even faster. You thank the gods silently that it’s within close proximity to where you just were. 

Once you get there, make your way past the doorman and concierge (who both give the two of you a knowing look), go up the elevator, and finally get into his loft–it’s over. Years of restraint, years of pretending, wanting–yearning, come crashing down. 

There’s barely any time to close the door before he’s pushing you against it. His lips trail down the column of your neck, then come up to kiss your jaw, until eventually, they find your lips. And when they do, it’s instantaneous–that familiar feeling, the feeling that feels almost like falling. 

Once again, for what felt like centuries, you feel again the rush of helplessness. The push and pull of the tide. It brings you down, down, down to the bottom of the ocean floor, and it’s unmerciful. 

Kissing Satoru is like being shocked with ten thousand volts of energy. Like all this time you’ve spent not kissing him, has been costing you your life, and he’s the only one who can deliver you salvation. It’s all teeth and tongue for a minute. Messy, and sticky, and nasty. A true testament to the desperation brewing in the pits of both your stomachs. 

The sensation of it all has your knees going slack, and that’s when he says–

“Jump.” 

Obeying, you do just that. Jump right into his arms, and wrap your legs around his torso like you’ve done so many times before. The way you feel now is the way you used to feel before then, too. Like you were made to fit like this. To be held in his arms like you were molded from the same clay. 

Carefully, he adjusts his grip on your body. Keeps his palms planted on the bottoms of your ass, and begins the trek to his room. He struggles a bit getting there because you haven’t stopped kissing since entering the apartment, but he figures it out after a stumble or two (which resulted in a bitten lip and you apologizing profusely through giggles). 

“The turbulence up here is crazy, don’t blame me, blame the pilot,” you jest, kissing down his neck to make up for it. 

“I’ll make sure to let him know,” he jokes back. As soon as he gets to the bed, he sets you down at the edge of the bed. You try to bring him down to your height but he stops you, wags his finger in your face playfully before using it to push you back into the bed. His fingers start to play with the fabric of your dress, and then his face takes on an indifferent expression. The same one from earlier that night when he first saw you walking down the stairs. 

“Can’t believe you were gonna wear this for him…” he trails, lifting the fabric up slowly, eyeing you while doing so, “as if this dress doesn’t mean something.” 

Of course, when Shoko chose it, its significance did make you falter–but in your defense, not once did you ever anticipate for him to see you in it. And you especially didn’t expect for him to remember it, the last time you wore it was almost a decade ago. 

“I didn’t…” you start, a smile creeping on your lips, “think you remembered?”

“‘Course I did, how could I not?” He says more sharply than intended, taking offense. He takes offense because he spent the better half of the night showing you he remembered. The little things and everything else in between. Couldn’t you see that?

“It was our 4th anniversary. Bought you this dress and fucked you in it that same night. Funny how the second time I’m seeing you in this dress, the circumstances are the same except only this time we’re divorced,” he says, crawling over your body. “Guess I gotta show you just how much I remember.” 

With that, he slips a hand under your dress, pulls your panties to the side and runs a finger down your slit. Oh-so-willingly, do you spread your legs for him. It’s almost subconscious, the way your body responds to him. And he revels in it. Lets his fingers work you, feel you, bring you to ecstasy. Then he heightens your pleasure tenfold when he kisses his way down your body, and takes a seat before you on his knees. 

Unceremoniously, he pulls your body to the edge of the bed. Takes his time slipping your panties down the length of your legs, then kisses the insides of your thighs, before finally stopping at your mound. 

Slowly, he lowers himself to your cunt, kisses your clit softly. Once, twice, three times. The pace in which he’s moving is killing you, to say the least. But you know he’s savoring the moment, making up for all the years he spent not kneeling like this between your legs. So you let him; let him caress you all over before he comes seeking the honey-sweet salvation dripping from your core. 

The second his tongue makes contact with your heat, you find yourself clamping a heavy hand over your mouth. “Fuck, Toruuuu,” you drawl, back arching off the bed. Pleased with his abilities, he smiles smugly, using this as an opportunity to push himself even deeper. Up and down, he licks at your slit, uses his fingers in tandem with his tongue to prod at that spongy spot he knows you love. 

“Tastes,” a harsh suck, “so good,” another, “better than I remember.” 

You know he’s talking, but his words fall on deaf ears. You’re so caught up in your own high, you don’t even take notice of the obscene sloshing sounds coming from your pussy, or the moans you’re making. All you can do is lay there and take it as he takes, and takes, and takes from you. 

Soon, you find your orgasm cutting through you like a knife, and you come with a strangled cry that has you biting back tears. Satoru talks you through the whole thing. He lays his head down on your thigh and continues working you with his fingers until you start to shake from the overstimulation. 

For a few, you lay and stare at the ceiling. You think you can see the Milky Way–and all the constellations that make it up. It feels like your soul is floating beyond your physical body, and you don’t come back down to Earth until a sharp, stinging sensation brings you back. Did he just?

“Did you just bite me?” you lift your head, peering down to see the evidence. In all its glory, there it was; a red ring smack-dab in the inside of your thigh with teeth imprints. Looking at Satoru, he grins. 

“Had to get you back from earlier,” he says, sitting back on his knees. You attempt to kick him with your foot, but he grabs hold of it. Pretending to be wounded, he gasps, “Is this how you treat the man who just gave you a soul-shattering orgasm?” 

You roll your eyes, but to your dismay, it only encourages him to continue. 

“Fuck, Toru,” he mimics, “oh my god, Toru. You fuck me so goo–”

“Alright, enough!” you manage to kick him this time, laughing as you bring up your hands to cover your face. “Keep carrying on like that and I won’t let you fuck me…” You’re serious in your bite, but he’s smirking. Like he knows you’re full of bullshit. 

“Yeah right. You and I both know I make you feel too good.” 

Feeling bested, you scoff, though, there’s no real weight behind it. While he begins to remove his shirt, you sit up and replace his hands. He relinquishes control and allows you to unbutton it until the item falls haphazardly to the floor. 

He’s so beautiful, you think. Still so chiseled, so perfect after all these years since you’ve last seen him like this. At his most vulnerable. The only difference now is that there are more freckles littered across his skin. Back then, he’d say they were signs of aging, and he’d hate them. 

But he’s older now. More mature. So much so that he even winks at you when you trace your fingertips over them.

“They suit you,” you whisper. 

“Yeah?”

You nod your head, “mhm.” 

Continuing your ministrations, you begin removing his belt. He holds your gaze the entire time it takes for you to unzip his pants and pull them down–and he doesn’t once shy away when you discover the wet spot on the front of his briefs. Slowly, delicately, you remove the soiled item and let it fall down to the floor with the rest of his clothes. 

Still looking at him, you take hold of his length and fist him once, twice, experimentally. A dribble of pre oozes from his slit and you bring it to your mouth. All the air in his lungs expel into the air when you lick it off with your tongue, and god, he thinks he could come from that alone. 

God, he’s missed you. Missed your touch, your lips–the way you hold him with your eyes like he’s something worth being gentle with. Nothing could ever compare to you, not even his own hand. 

As soon as you’re about to take him in your mouth, he stops you. Pushes you back down onto the bed and slots himself between your legs. “No more playing, I’m tired of playing,” he breathes, lowering himself down until half of his weight is on top of you. 

Guiding his cock to your entrance, he pushes past your folds with little resistance. The feeling of your cunt squeezing him in has his arms wobbling like jelly, but he musters enough strength somehow to stay up. You, on the other hand, are close to tears. 

The more he eases himself in, the more you feel like you’re being stretched open (despite him previously prepping you). If you were being truthful, this wasn’t a complete shock to you. You’ve known that he’s always been big, but something about tonight feels different. Or maybe it’s just been too long since you’ve had something more than just your own fingers. 

Even so, you try your best to ignore the burn of the stretch. You throw your arms around his neck and invite him deeper into you, hooking your legs around him so tightly that it renders his limbs useless. For a minute, all you can feel is the weight of him inside of you, and his chest against yours as they rise and fall asynchronously. 

“Toru,” your voice is just barely above a whisper, but enough to make the hairs on the nape of his neck stand. “Make love to me.” 

Heeding your request, he begins moving. Painfully slow, he unsheathes himself from you until only the head of his cock is inside, then pushes himself all the way back in with force. Again, and again, he repeats this motion. Pulls out, pushes in. Pulls out, pushes in, until he decides to increase his pace and set a steady rhythm. 

Every thrust into you is meticulously calculated. Sharp, and forceful, and not once does he disrupt the rhythm. He listens carefully to the sounds you make. Even listens to the way your breath hitches when he hits a spot right. Everything he’s doing is perfect–and it’s to no surprise. Deep down, you know that Satoru knows your body like the back of his hand. He’d know it if you were all old and wrinkly. He’d know it if his soul reincarnated. Hell, he’d know it blind. 

“Missed this,” he grunts, burying his head into the interstice of your neck, “missed you,” a kiss to your neck, “missed us.” 

The veracity of his words render you speechless. He’s already professed his feelings for you tonight, but it feels even more real now that you’re beneath him. To be loved by Gojo Satoru was a feeling many couldn’t say they had the consolation of knowing. Only a few in his circle could hold that position–but only one person in this world could truly ever know his love to its fullest extent. You. 

Satoru continues his mindless rambling, “I love you,” a thrust, “it’s always been you,” another, “was always going to be you.” Leaning back on his heels, he pushes your dress all the way up to reveal your breasts. Now it’s him who sits back and admires this time. As if he were reacquainting himself, he traces the planes and pastures of your chest with an eager hand. He runs it up and over each mound, squeezing and kneading the flesh experimentally. 

Then, he dips down and kisses the space between them. Sucks and licks until the skin bruises, and he has evidence to prove tonight actually happened. Eventually, he withdraws from your chest and returns his focus on easing his cock in and out of your cunt. 

“So beautiful,” he says, but it’s more to himself than anything. You’re so lost in your own pleasure, he doesn’t even think you can hear him. “Want you to cum on my cock, know you can do it, baby. Know you can,” he grunts, taking your hand and intertwining it with his own. Letting his head fall into your neck, he begins to quicken his pace. Fucks into you with everything he’s got and willing to give. 

“Toru,” you finally manage to say, “‘m so close, keep going. Do it - do it inside.” 

Do it inside. Do it inside. Do it inside. The thought is tempting, too tempting. It makes his dick twitch inside of you, and he swears if you say it again, he’ll actually do it. But he knows better than to listen to anything you say out of delirium. 

“Trust me, sweet girl,” he cradles your face, to which you lean into, “I want to - I want to so fucking badly. But we both know you’d regret it later.” 

Whining, your lips form into a pout, and the sight is so cute, he can’t help but to kiss it off of you. Compared to your kiss earlier, this one is much sweeter. Slower. More relaxed. He kisses you with the intent of making you dizzier than you already are, and it’s scary. Even so, you don’t pull away. You allow him to drink you up. Like your lips are the only source of water around, and he’s been quenched for days. 

Finally, with a few more thrusts, you reach your climax. The pressure building in the pit of your belly pops like a balloon, and everything goes white. “Toru!” you shriek, arching off the bed and trembling in his grasp. 

Using your arch as leverage, he keeps his hands underneath your back and continues to ram into you without abandon. You’re a babbling, wet mess at this point, and your cunt squeezing around him only encourages him more. 

“Fuckfuckfuck, ‘m gonna - ‘m gonna,” he curses, balls beginning to tighten. Quickly, he unsheathes himself and fists himself the rest of the way. With an impassioned moan, he climaxes–spurting thick, white, ropes of seed all over your abdomen. Then, falls onto your limp body with a grunt, chest heaving rapidly, and slick with perspiration. 

By this time, you’ve settled down enough to form a proper sentence. “That was…”

Satoru huffs, catching his breath. “Yeah.” 

Still spent, he continues to lay atop you. And you, having nowhere else to go, let him. The two of you lay comfortably in silence like this for a long time. Just you tracing shapes into his back, and him purring into your neck. Both of you know you should be getting up, but neither of you make an effort to do so. In this moment, time is transcendent. There is no rush to move when time stands still for you. 

Soon, that silence is broken. 

“I love you,” you say, and there’s no elaboration. Not even a recant. In fact, you say it so nonchalantly, he’s not even sure it was real. You say it like you’ve never been more certain in your life, like it’s the easiest thing you’ve ever had to do. 

“Really?” he queries, almost pathetically like the mere idea of you loving him is something unattainable. You look at him like he’s got two heads. 

“Yeah, you’re my best friend. I’ve always loved you,” you admit, pausing your ministrations on his back, “I just had to relearn how to love you.” He smiles at this, hums into your neck to keep from crying. 

“I’m glad we found our way back to each other,” he mumbles into your neck, “so where do we go from here?”

“From here we take it slow. We’ll learn together what it means to be individuals, and then from there we’ll see where it goes,” you say matter-of-factly, “no more repeating past mistakes.”

“Agreed,” he nods, “what will we tell the girls?”

That’s when your eyes widen and you sit up, forcefully pushing Satoru off of you. 

“What did I say, what’s wrong?” he queries, sitting up on the bed. He watches you rummage around the room maniacally, head on a swivel as you run out of the room and return with a purse. You pull your phone out to see a slew of missed calls and messages. 

“We forgot to call the girls!” You yell, showing him your phone screen of missed calls. Gojo jumps up to join you, one leg already sliding into his pants. 

“Shit!” 

Noticing the state of your appearance, you pinch the skin between your brows. “Satoru, I can’t wear this! You got cum all over it,” you groan, pointing to all the splotches of white. He tells you to wait a second before disappearing into his closet, then he comes back with a fist of clothes and throws it at you. 

“I can’t wear this either, they’ll wonder why I’m wearing your clothes!” 

Satoru runs to you and pull the dress off of your body, “We’ll wash it!” he screams, disappearing again out of the room, and to where you imagine, the laundry room. When he returns, he’s out of breath and panting. It’s only then do you realize how insane he looks with half his shirt buttoned, and his pants twisted around his hips. A giggle escapes your lips.

“What are you laughing at? Chop chop,” he claps, ushering you into his bathroom. 

Yeah, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss this idiot.

comments + reblogs very appreciated !!!

© arachine 2023

#art by: @yamada_souko (twt) #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x y/n #jjk smut

[lnfours]

* ✰. — labyrinth | l.n

summary: as @arieslost would say, “the friends to lovers connoisseur is back”! lando is the best listener, you’ve had a shitty day, and he’s the one who makes it all better.

warnings: i’ve been listening to a lot of midnights recently so this is inspired by labyrinth by taylor swift. university student!reader, friends to lovers if you didn’t get it by now, tooth rotting fluff, pining, longing, maybe swear words, talks about mental health and overall lando being the sweetest, kindest soul, trash writing.

masterlist | listen

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

you walked out of the building your lecture was held in, taking a deep breath as you tried not to think about the overwhelming amount of stress that was slowly taking a toll on your mind and body. you hadn’t been sleeping much, too focused on your studies. it seemed like every time you finished a project, you got a new one thrown at you. it was all starting to pile up, you weren’t sure when you were going to break but you knew it was coming.

the sun was setting as you noticed the mclaren sitting in the parking lot, lando leaning against the hood of the car. you smiled softly at the sight of him, clad in a hoodie and a pair of sunglasses. he had texted you and told you he was back for a short break between races and that he was going to pick you up after class, but seeing him in the flesh sent electricity through your body. you were fighting the urge to run straight into his arms, but you did however pick up the pace of your walk as you neared him.

he smiled up from his phone as he heard your footsteps approaching, shoving it back into his pocket before he was pulling you into his arms. you let out a sigh as your head rested on his shoulder, taking in the smell of him. he smelled like his aftershave and cologne, mixed with the scent from his shampoo and laundry detergent. he smelt like home.

he pulled away from the tight embrace, noticing the slight lack of energy from your usual loud and bubbly personality, which he loved. he raised an eyebrow at you before he opened his mouth to speak, “you okay?”

you nodded, “just tired.”

he nodded back at you, “hungry? we can stop and get something,”

you shook your head, just ready to be back home. he nodded at your silent answer, moving to take the backpack from you before he opened the passenger side door for you. he shut the door behind you before shoving your heavy bag in the back, climbing in on his own side.

the car ride to your shared off campus housing was silent other than the music softly playing from the speakers. the playlist had consisted of songs you had mentioned to him that you thought he’d like, but you didn’t have the energy to ask him about them. you leaned against the window, watching the trees pass by you as he neared closer to your home.

he took several quick glances your way, noticing how quiet you were. something wasn’t right and he wasn’t sure what it was. surely it wasn’t because of him, was it? had he messed something up? forgetting about something? he wasn’t sure. but he was going to get to the bottom of it, that was for sure.

he placed a gentle hand on your thigh, “you sure you’re not hungry?”

you shook your head, “i had lunch before class, but thank you.”

he nodded, “sure.”

he pulled up in front of your house, grabbing your bag from the backseat before you made your way into the house. your roommates were in the living room, smiling saying hello to the both of you. they were glad to see he was back, even if it was just for a short time. they knew how much he meant to you, even if he only saw you as a friend.

“we’re gonna order a pizza, you guys want any?” lily, your blonde roommate asked. you looked at lando who shrugged his shoulders.

“i’m good,” he smiled softly, “thanks though.”

they nodded back at the two of you before letting you climb the stairs. you led him down the hallway to the back of the house where your room sat, pushing the door open before plopping down onto the bed and kicking your shoes off. he closed the door behind him, placing your bag at your desk and watching as you sat criss-cross on the bed, staring off into space. something you normally did when you had a bad day.

he knew you’d talk to him eventually, but it was killing him to see you beat yourself up like this. but nonetheless, he kicked his shoes off too and climbed onto the bed with you, pulling his hoodie off and tossing it towards the suitcase that sat in the corner of your room, the one he had dropped off before he went to pick you up.

he grabbed the tv remote from the bedside table, clicking on the tv, “movie?”

you looked up from playing with the ring on your finger, the one you always absentmindedly played with. the ring he had gotten you as a birthday present a few years ago before you went to college, a simple number four ring you always wore on your pointer finger. a subtle way to remind you that he was with you, even when he was across the globe.

you nodded, watching as he scrolled through the different apps to find one you both hadn’t seen. that’s when it slowly started to hit, your mind running a million miles a second as the silence had started making you think. making you think about all the overwhelming stress, how you put so much pressure on yourself to succeed and be the person you always wanted to be. and it felt like nothing was going to plan. it felt like you were falling behind in life compared to everyone else, like you hadn’t figured out what the missing piece to the puzzle of life was. it was exhausting.

you hadn’t noticed the tear slip down your cheeks until it landed on your hands, and then it was too late. a constant stream of warm tears falling. your uneven breathing was his silent sign to look over at you, and when he did, his heart dropped. he was quick to drop the remote and take your hand into his, the fidgeting with the ring stopping as he gently reached out to you.

“what’s the matter?” he asked softly, wiping away tears from your cheeks. you shook your head, lip trembling as you tried your hardest to hold back the sob threatening to spew from your lips. you took your free hand and wiped away the tears on your other cheek, feeling stupid. feeling like everything you had done, all the hard work, was just getting you nowhere. were you even good enough?

“i don’t know,” you finally choked out, voice breaking as you let him scoot closer, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side, “i just…”

you cut yourself off with a sigh which turned into a quiet sob. you sniffled, resting your head on his shoulder. he rubbed your back comfortingly, resting his cheek on your hair. the smell of your shampoo flooding his senses as he held you, the smell of coconut and vanilla.

“it’s okay,” he said softly, “take your time. i’m right here, ‘m not going anywhere.”

and you did. you took your time, trying to regain your composure as you rested your head on his shoulder. the smoothing circles on your back didn’t stop, the hand that had taken yours still there, his fingers tracing over the metal of your ring. his heart tugged at the sight of it on your finger and how he wished that one day he’d grow the courage to finally ask you out, and eventually put a shiny diamond on your other hand. he was positive no podium highs could ever compete with the feeling of being in love with you, as cliche as it sounded.

you had finally collected yourself enough to speak, “i feel like i’m in a losing battle.”

he looked down at you in question, letting you continue, “i feel like i’ve been on an up hill battle for so long, like i can’t win. no matter what, i turn around and i’m smacked in the face and i’m just stressed and overwhelmed and i just..”

you trailed off, letting another sigh slip from your lips, “i just feel like i’m not fit for this. like i’m not good enough for any of this, i’m just so stressed out all the time. i can’t sleep, i can’t think straight. my anxiety is at an all time high and no matter what i do i feel like nothings fucking good enough.”

he listened to every word you said, letting you vent and ramble away. something he was good at, took pride in. he was always a good listener, letting people come to him to vent and talk about anything and everything, especially you. of course he knew when to give feedback and when you were just getting things off your chest, but it pained him to hear you say you weren’t any of the things you truly were.

“what makes you think you’re not good enough?” he asked.

“no matter how much studying i do i feel like nothing sticks, like i’m reading a bunch of gibberish and none of it makes any bit of sense no matter how hard i try. and i feel like im getting nowhere, and ill stuck being the loser friend who just clings to her famous formula one driver best friend.”

he pulled away from you to turn and look at you now, your eyes meeting his. those same watercolored eyes you fell for the moment you met him. even in the dim lighting of your room, you could make out every single beauty mark and freckle that made him uniquely him. all the parts you loved about the boy sitting in front of you.

“y/n, listen to me,” he said softly, his tone not having a single trace of anger or disappointment, “you’re none of those things. you’re so unbelievably smart, definitely the smartest person i know. you belong here, you deserve everything good that’s coming your way because i know how hard you’ve worked to get here. you don’t have to have every single piece of the puzzle figured out at the moment, i definitely don’t, but please, for a second, don’t ever let someone make you doubt yourself. you’re the kindest, smartest, most beautiful person i fucking know and it kills me to know you don't see that.”

you looked at him, heart pounding against your ribs. you watched the way his eyes scanned over your face as the silence fell back over the two of you. his heart had shot up to his throat as he thought about how he had just blurted out that he thought you were beautiful. of course he did, who couldn’t? you were the definition of his ray of sunshine on a cloudy day, your smile being the one he’d break his back for just to see it light up your face in the most captivating way.

“lando,” you breathed, “you just.. called me beautiful.”

“i know,” he nodded, “because you are. i wish you could see yourself the way i see you.”

the energy had shifted, now feeling like love and longing rather than the feeling of sadness from a few moments ago. he had somehow, someway, turned your world upside down just when you felt like it was coming to end. he had turned it upside down in a good way, because here you were, sitting in front of your best friend. undeniably falling even more in love with him, if it was even possible.

without thinking, you moved forward and pressed your lips to his. the shock of the feeling of your lips on his made his brain short circuit, making you pull away when he didn’t reciprocate the kiss. your brain automatically shutting down every feeling of embarrassment as he grabbed your face back into his hands, kissing you deeply. you kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulled you so close there was no room for air between your bodies. all the silent pining and longing paying off.

he pulled away, forehead resting on yours, nose pressed against yours. you breathed for a couple seconds, letting his lips brush against yours before you spoke, “i’m falling in love with you.”

he smiled softly, “i’ve always been in love with you.”

you smiled now, all the worries slowly starting to wash away. somehow, someway, he had managed to turn everything around. the puzzle piece no longer feeling like it was missing, a new feeling of comforting safety enveloping you.

and it was. because no matter what, no matter how uncertain life seemed, you'd always have him. and that was never going to change.

#idk if i like this #but i was bored and this struck my mind #lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 x reader #fluff #ln4 #ln4 imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris fluff imagine #lando norris x reader imagine #lando norris x reader fluff imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 fluff #ln4 x you #ln4 x y/n #ln4 one shot #ln4 fluff imagine #ln4 fluff fic #ln4 x reader fluff #formula one #f1 #formula 1 #mclaren #mclaren f1 #mclaren formula one

[cosmicanakin]

picking up the pieces.

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

pairing. dean winchester x female reader.

outline. a heated argument with dean leads to a vulnerable confession of your long-held feelings.

word count. 1546.

warning(s). angst, arguments, implied sexual tension, mild language, season 1 dean, mature themes (nothing too explicit).

authors note. back with a new fic whaaaat?! i recently started rewatching supernatural to mend my broken heart after the season 15 finale… they deserved so much better & just thinking about it pisses me tf off. anyway i was listening to stairway to heaven for hours on end while writing this (that song is my childhood.) enjoooooy!

You stared out the window of the Impala, watching the roads and scenery fly by as Led Zeppelin played softly in the background. The familiar rumble of the engine and the comfort of the leather seats usually provided a sense of peace, but today all you could feel was tension.

You and Dean had gotten into a nasty argument earlier, one that had been brewing for a while now. It was about his careless flirtation with other women, even when you two weren’t officially exclusive. You couldn’t help the feelings you had harbored for him over the years, feelings that only seemed to grow stronger the more time you spent together on the road. And it hurt to see him so freely give his attention and affection to anyone but you.

You tried to push those thoughts aside, to focus on the music and the drive. But it was impossible to ignore the way Dean kept stealing glances in your direction, the way his hand would occasionally graze your thigh in a move that had become comfortable and familiar between the two of you. Each subtle touch sent a jolt of electricity through your body, a painful reminder of what you couldn’t have.

As the familiar chords of the song played on, you closed your eyes and tried to will yourself to sleep, to escape this tense situation, even if just for a little while. But just as you felt yourself starting to drift off, Dean’s hand suddenly landed firmly on your inner thigh, sending your eyes flying open as your heart raced.

Without a word, Dean pulled the Impala over to the side of the road, putting the car in park before turning to face you. The intensity in his green eyes made your breath catch in your throat, and you found yourself unable to look away.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice low and serious.

You swallowed hard, every fiber of your being telling you to run, to avoid this conversation at all costs. But you knew it was inevitable, that the tension between the two of you had been building for too long to ignore any longer.

“Okay,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dean studied you for a moment, his gaze searching your face for something you couldn’t quite decipher. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his short, spiky hair.

“Look, I know things have been...tense between us lately,” he began, his eyes never leaving yours. “And I know a lot of that is my fault.”

You opened your mouth to interrupt, to argue that it was his fault, that his reckless flirting had hurt you more than you cared to admit. But he held up a hand, silencing you.

“Please, just let me say this,” he pleaded. “I’m not good at this whole...feelings thing. You know that. But I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened earlier, and I...” He paused, his brow furrowing as he struggled to find the right words.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice sincere. “I never meant to hurt you, I swear. It’s just...old habits die hard, you know? And I...” He hesitated, his gaze dropping to his hands, which were fidgeting nervously in his lap. “I guess I was...afraid.”

Your eyes widened in surprise at his confession, and you couldn’t help but lean forward slightly, your curiosity piqued.

“Afraid of what, Dean?” you asked softly.

He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Afraid of this,” he said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “Afraid of...of letting myself feel something real, something that could actually last.”

Your heart ached at his words, the raw vulnerability in his voice cutting you deeper than any of his careless flirtations ever could. You knew, deep down, that Dean had been through more than his fair share of pain and loss in his life, and the thought of him being afraid to open himself up to you only made you love him more.

“Dean...” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “I...I had no idea.”

He looked up then, his green eyes meeting yours, and you were struck by the raw emotion you saw there. “I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And that’s my fault. I...I’ve been pushing you away, because I’m scared of what this could be. Of what we could be.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words, hope and fear warring within you. “What are you saying, Dean?”you asked, fiddling with your thumbs.

He reached out then, his calloused hand coming to rest on your thigh again, his thumb brushing against it in a gentle caress. “I’m saying that...I care about you, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. And I’m tired of pretending that I don’t.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, your eyes flooding with tears as the weight of his words settled over you. “Dean, I...I care about you, too. So much,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

A small, tentative smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he reached up to gently brush a stray tear from your cheek. “I know,” he murmured. “And that’s what scares me the most.”

You nodded, understanding dawning on you. “Because you’re afraid of losing me, too,” you said softly.

He nodded, his hand moving to cup your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I’ve already lost so much in my life, Y/N. I don’t think I could handle losing you, too.”

You leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth and comfort of his hand on your skin. “You won't lose me, Dean,” you whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He studied your face for a long moment, his green eyes boring into yours, before slowly leaning in. Your heart raced as his lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative at first, before deepening into a passionate kiss.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other. “I love you, Y/N,” Dean murmured, his voice barely audible but you heard him clear as day.

“I love you, too, Dean,” you whisper, your fingers tangling in the short strands of his hair.

For a long moment, the two of you simply sat there, lost in each other’s embrace, the tension and pain of earlier melting away. But then, a thought occurred to you, and you pulled back slightly, your brow furrowing.

“What about Sam?” you asked, your voice tinged with concern. “I mean, we’re on our way to pick him up from Stanford, and I don’t want him to feel...I don’t know, awkward or anything.”

Dean chuckled softly, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “Don’t worry about Sammy,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eye. “He’s been rooting for us to get our heads out of our asses for years.”

You couldn't help but laugh at that, the tension in your shoulders finally starting to ease. “I should have known,” you said, shaking your head in amusement.

Dean grinned, pulling you in for another kiss, this one deeper and more passionate than the last. When you finally broke apart, you were both breathless again, your hearts racing.

“So, what does this mean for us?” you asked, your voice soft and uncertain.

Dean's expression turned serious, his hand moving to intertwine with yours. “It means that I’m all in, Y/N,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “No more flirting with other women, no more pushing you away. I want this, us, more than anything.”

You felt your heart swell with emotion, tears of joy threatening to spill over. “Me too, Dean,” you whispered, squeezing his hand gently. “I’m in, too.”

He smiled then, a genuine, warm smile that lit up his entire face, and you couldn't help but lean in and kiss him again, savoring the feeling of his lips on yours, the warmth of his body against yours.

As you pulled apart, Dean’s expression turned mischievous once more. “So, what do you say we give Sammy another day and find us a nice, secluded spot to...celebrate?" he asked wiggling his brows, a hint of suggestiveness in his tone.

You couldn’t help but laugh at what you were hearing, playfully swatting his arm. “Dean Winchester, you are such a hornball,” you teased.

He grinned, his grip on your hand tightening. “Maybe so, but you love me anyway,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet confidence that made your heart flutter.

“That I do,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss him once more.

As the Impala rumbled back to life and Dean guided the car back onto the open road, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace and contentment wash over you. The tension and hurt of earlier had been replaced by a deep, abiding love and trust, and you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you and Dean would face them together.

You nestled closer to Dean as he drove, your hand still intertwined with his, and Stairway to Heaven filling the air, you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to bask in the feeling of pure, unadulterated happiness.

#﹙ kari writes 𝜗𝜚 ﹚ #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester angst #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #supernatural #sam winchester #spn #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester one shot #dean x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural angst #supernatural smut #supernatural fluff #sammy winchester

[februarybluues]

You spin my head around (like a record)

summary: hobie never believed in throwing his money away to useless big corporations. but, when you started working at his favorite record shop, he decided to make a small exception. warnings: slight flirting, terrible british a/n: i love this idea so so much and have many ideas for it so if you want a part 2 let me know!!!

If there was one thing hobie hated most, it was capitalism. Having to spend money on things you didn’t need but were marketed in a way that made you feel like you needed them, pissed him off to no end. Especially when it came to big corporations. He didn’t see the purpose of having to feed these ‘money-hungry pigs’, which would only end up causing harm to everything and everyone that got in their way. The only exception was small businesses. He never gave his money away on anything unless he desperately needed it, but that wasn’t often. Until it came to you.

There was a particular record shop in the middle of the city that he occasionally visited. Mainly because it was the only one near him that actually had his favorite artists. – which were rarely sold due to how ‘underground’ they were. Don’t get me wrong, he liked his fair share of mainstream, popular artists, he just also liked his fair share of small garage punk bands. The kind of small bands you’d find playing at your local pub. But, the point is: that specific record shop was the only one he actually liked. But, that didn’t change his hatred for capitalism. Which meant he wasn’t shy to ‘borrow’ a few cd’s, or vinyls from that shop. Actually, he hadn’t once paid for anything, and he’d never once been caught. That’s just how things were. He’d never planned to feed into society’s corrupt ideations. Never. He would continue to visit that record shop whenever he pleased, but never once considered buying anything. That is, until a new employee started working there.

They were perfect. The living embodiment of utter perfection. Every time Hobie entered the shop he was greeted by a sweet smile from behind the till. Everything that person did drove Hobie crazy. - in the best way imaginable. That person was you. You’d only recently gotten the job, around a few weeks ago. It was simple enough, but it definitely was not your dream job. You only got it because you needed the money, even though the pay was barely enough to get you going for the week, it was something! Despite never once having a proper conversation, Hobie knew he liked you. From your genuine, unrelenting kindness, to your style. He was fond of everything you did. And before he knew it, his occasional visits turned to him visiting whenever he could. Not because he wanted to actually buy anything, but because he wanted to see you. Any chance he got, he would rush straight over to you. It got to a point where he had memorised when you were working and when you weren’t. And now, here he was.

“Are you actually gonna pay this time?” you asked him, familiar with his habit of pocketing cd’s and vinyls and then leaving. You never did anything about it for many reasons. One of which was because you did not get paid enough to deal with it. And also, because he was insanely attractive. He laughed. Not like an actual laugh. But, a small exhale, similar to scoffing. “Maybe I am,” he said, handing you the vinyl. You smiled at him and scanned the record, noticing the familiar album cover. “Oh sex pistols!” you exclaimed, mentally taking note of how his music taste was almost as beautiful as he was. “You’ve got good taste.” you said, before putting the record in a bag. You didn’t notice how he lit up at the sudden compliment; freaking out on the inside, but playing it off well. “You listen to ‘em?” he asked, his heavy accent now very prominent. Your smile never once faltered as you looked back at him. “I love them!” you said. You began to hum the tune to one of their songs, doing a dramatic little dance, which earned a small laugh from him. “You know… It’s surprising that you’re actually buying something for once.” you commented, jokingly but also genuinely. He tilted his head to the side in response. “Oh yeah? How so?”  he leaned against the till, hands in his pockets as he talked with you. “Well, I see you here all the time. - Almost every time I'm working, actually. And - I guess I kinda got used to you wandering around and then leaving. It’s kind of weird how this is the first time I’ve heard your voice.” you laughed, and his lips quirked up in a small, almost unnoticeable smile. “What’s wrong with havin’ a look around?” his voice was low, and he spoke innocently. Despite the both of you knowing he was anything but innocent. “We both know you’ve been having a bit more than a look around.” you said, in reference to the many times you’d seen him ‘borrowing’ a few cd’s. He laughed this time. In truth, he cherished this moment. As it had been the first time he’d heard your voice. You were sweet, funny, and apparently had good music taste. All three of those traits were almost impossible to be found in the people Hobie had met. There was just something about you that was so different from everything else. So unique and-

“That’ll be 24.99” you said, snapping him out of his thoughts. 24.99? He repeated in his head, confused. He could’ve sworn that the price tag said 30? Had you given him a discount? For literally the first time ever, he handed the money to you and paid. He regretted a lot of things, but getting to talk to you was not one of them. You handed him the bag and smiled at him once more. Hobie then realised this would probably be the only time he’d ever interact with you again. In a panic, he spoke up again. “D’ya wanna spend time together after this? We could maybe listen t’the record? See if it was worth th’money?” While the usual confidence in his voice remained, there were hints of hesitation laced under his words. “I’d love to!” you exclaimed, blatantly happy. He smiled, now exposing his teeth. “Lovely.”

“I almost forgot–here’s my number!” you pulled out a pen from your pocket and wrote your phone number on the paper bag that you put his vinyl in; trying to make it as neat and legible as possible. Once you were happy with it, you handed it back to him. “I get off work at 6. Call me then and we can organise something, yeah?” you offered, to which he nodded. “It’s a date.” he said, and winked before turning around and exiting the shop; the jingling of the door suddenly sounded way happier than it usually did. Maybe your new job wasn’t so bad after all.

hey pookie just wanted to let u know my requests are opennn and you wanna request something sooooo badly so why don't you just go over there and send one in thanks love u hope you liked that little fic

#. feb writes #hobie brown #atsv #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie x reader #across the spiderverse #atsv fic #atsv hobie #hobie spiderverse #hobart brown #hobie my beloved #spider punk x reader #spider punk #spiderman #spiderman atsv #spiderman atsv x reader #spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #hobie x you #itsv #hobie brown atsv #atsv x reader #spiderverse fic #hobie fic #hobie brown headcanons #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown my beloved #hobie brown drabble

[carakook]

Shut Up .・。.・゜✭・.

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“If I fuck you, will you calm the fuck down and listen to me?”

🔞FOR MATURE AUDIENCES🔞

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Synopsis: After taking a job as a co-writer, you quickly find that you and your “boss” just don’t get along. Constantly butting heads, disagreeing on things, and he isn’t even nice about it. He’s a fucking dick. He’s always criticizing you in embarrassing ways, but you’ve tried to be patient, ride it out. Over the short time you’ve worked here, the tension has built quickly, and it is clear both of you cannot stand each other. Unfortunately, today is the day you reach your limit after he humiliates you in front of several of your coworkers… and the “conflict resolution” is definitely something you did not expect.

Genre: Enemies to lovers (or hookup in this case), workplace affair.

Pairings: Boss/Writer!Namjoon x Co-writer!Reader

Word count: 7.5k+

Warnings: 18+, Heavy smut!! Hate sex, protected sex (wrap it up), rough sex, face fucking, light slapping (not in the face), a bit of spit play, face fucking, cussing, crying (sort of), heavy conflict, degradation, arguing, name calling, a bit of teasing, cum eating? (Sort of), dry humping, face humping, being slapped with dick (lightly), Let me know if I missed anything!

⚠Disclaimer⚠:This story does not in any way reflect the character of those who are mentioned, it is totally fiction and just for fun. Please don’t take it seriously.

A/N: Hiiii! This is my first one shot. I’ve actually had it in my drafts for a long time but never posted it, I decided to finish it recently and post it here. I hope you like it! I love writing, have soooo many drafted one shots/full on fanfics with each of the boys. A looot of them are with Jungkook, can’t help myself. He’s my lover… 😭 Anyway, if you guys end up liking this I’ll post more. Thank you so much for reading if you do!

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╝

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

There aren’t many things you regret in life. Because if you allow yourself to regret things, you overthink. Overthinking is never a good thing.

See, it wasn’t awful at first. But the moment you met Kim Namjoon, you could tell he had a problem with you. What? You didn’t know. You still don’t know. But he never bothered hiding it.

You powered through, because this was sort of like a dream job for you. You loved writing music, writing lyrics. It was hard to even find a job like this to begin with. So when you got the callback, you jumped at the chance. You were so excited to be working here, and you were familiar with Kim Namjoon. You thought his songs were beautiful, his writing style seemed similar to yours.

Boy, you were wrong.

Not even a week into working here he was heavily criticizing you. But again… you pushed through. Because you were new, he had a right to be picky. This was his studio, he was technically your boss… technically. So you tried to be patient and listen to his criticism.

Which didn’t last long. Because he was not subtle. Arguably, there is a difference between constructive criticism and being blatantly rude and picky. Namjoon was straight-up rude. And at times it was embarrassing.

Nothing you did seemed to satisfy him. Every single time you brainstormed with him and the team, he disagreed with you. Every time you proposed lyrics, he rejected your ideas. Every time you so as much opened your mouth, he had an issue with what you had to say.

You tried to be patient… you genuinely did. But you don’t like feeling disrespected or embarrassed. And you certainly don’t take shit from anyone. So the last two weeks you’ve both been bickering, and the tension is noticeable not only to you and Namjoon but to the entire damn team.

The worst part about it all? You are so fucking attracted to him. He makes your tummy swoop with butterflies. He smells good. He’s tall, his dimples are fucking adorable, and his body… god, he is to die for. The sexual tension is prominent.

If only he wasn’t such a dick.

Today pushed you to your limits. Never in your life have you been more embarrassed.

It all started with a song he was working on. He played the beat, and immediately you were inspired. You got excited. Your attitude was bright, and you immediately jotted the lyrics down on your paper when they came to mind. You seriously thought today would be the day he’d be proud. He would agree. You felt good about it.

Only for him to burst out laughing when he read the lyrics. That wasn’t even the worst part. It’s bad enough that he laughed at you in front of the entire team. But what he said next is what made you lose your shit.

“Oh- shit. You’re serious?”

He stared at you for a moment, taking in your very irritated expression. And then he fucking laughed again.

“Fuck, Y/N. I thought this was a joke. God, I wish it was a joke because it would be hilarious if it was. It sounds like a fucking kids-bop song. You can’t be serious.”

And that’s when all hell broke loose.

You went off on him. In front of everyone. For three minutes straight you cursed him out, waived your hands around, and made it clear how much you cannot stand him and how rude he has been. How humiliated you feel. You’ve always been praised for your writing, so why the fuck doesn’t he like it? You are fucking pissed.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to cuss your boss out in front of everyone… but at this point, you don’t care. If he gets you fired by the company, oh-fucking-well.

Namjoon stares at you for a moment once you’re done. Your chest is heaving, your cheeks are red, and your brows are furrowed angrily. Clearly, he didn’t expect your outburst. His nostrils are flared and his jaw is tense, it even does the little tick thing that drives you crazy. Fuck him for being so hot. Fuck him for being so damn hot and such a dick.

He raises a brow at you, tongue in cheek, making that angry face that would be incredibly attractive if it weren’t directed at you. He lets out an angry huff of air before speaking.

“Studio. Now.”

He points at his studio as he says this as if you’re too stupid to understand his words. This pisses you off even more.

“You’re not my fucking boss.”

He scoffs at you, briefly smiling at your bold choice of words. You infuriate him just as much as he infuriates you.

“Actually, Y/N, I am. Studio. Now.”

You know that technically, he is your boss. But you refuse to listen to him after how humiliated he made you feel. In front of everyone, how dare he speak to you this way? Regardless of his weird hate for you. Besides, he can’t fire you. He may be able to request it, but you know that he won’t. From what you’ve heard, It took forever to fill this position. He was picky when it came to hiring someone… which makes this more confusing. You can’t figure out what his issue is with you, especially when he is the one who helped pick you for the job. Regardless, you know that he doesn’t have the patience to do it again. He’s full of shit.

You stand your ground. You won’t back down this time. You’re tired of the disrespect.

“No, Namjoon. Whatever you want to say, you can say it here. You’ve already embarrassed me, so go ahead, do it some more. I’m sure you get off on it.”

No longer smiling, his gaze is dark. He’s pissed. Now he’s a bit embarrassed… that’s what he gets.

“I won’t ask again. You can march your ass upstairs, or I can carry you. Your choice.”

You say nothing, surely he wouldn’t do that. He’s bluffing. Regardless of how harsh he has been towards you, you know that he wouldn’t cross that line. You hope that he doesn’t. The last thing that you want is for him to touch you. Not because he makes you uncomfortable, but because you already have enough dirty thoughts about him. You hate him, yet he turns you on in a way you’ve never felt. Lust driven by pure hatred, it’s a dangerous thing.

But of course, you were wrong, and he never ceases to surprise you. Never underestimate Kim Namjoon.

You stay silent, secretly hoping that he will just back down and continue the brainstorming session. But is Kim Namjoon the type of man to back down? No. He never has been.

He strides over to you quickly, taking big steps in your direction, causing you to miss your chance to run.

He swiftly grabs your waist and hoists you over his shoulder, his fingers digging into your thighs. You don’t even have time to react before he starts carrying you upstairs to the studio. He has no trouble doing so either, carrying you as if you weigh nothing.

You come to your senses and swat at his back while you yell profanities at him, demanding that he put you down, threatening to report him, and telling him that he’ll be fired by morning if he doesn’t stop.

But you know that he won’t. This company would never side with you, no matter what Namjoon did. They relied on him. They didn’t rely on you. You were replaceable, even if it would be difficult. Namjoon is not replaceable.

“Resume the session. If you finish before we’re done, you’re free to go. This may take a while. Don’t interrupt us.”

Hurried nods are sent in his direction, no one dares protest him or intervene. Cowards.

He kicks the door open to the studio, entering with ease, making sure not to hit your head on the doorframe as he walks in. You wish he would have hit your head, knocked you out, hell even thrown you over the staircase. Anything to avoid this humiliation he has cursed you with. You almost wish you would’ve just kept your damn mouth shut.

But the damage is done now. No point in backing down.

He throws you roughly on the couch sitting opposite his desk and then closes the door, locking it before facing you.

You glare at him, chest heaving, heart beating out of your chest. You’re just as pissed as he is. Yet, you still find yourself clenching your thighs together, irritated at the fact that he turns you on so much. You shouldn’t be horny right now… yet you are. The way he squeezed your thighs… fuck. Fuck him. God, fuck him to hell. You hate him.

“What the fuck was that?” You nearly growl at him.

He stands in front of you, arms crossed, looking down on you as if you’re nothing more than a pesky roach that he wants to squash.

“I told you, you could walk, or I could carry you. You made your choice, clearly.”

Fuck him.

“Fuck you, Namjoon. This is ridiculous.”

He laughs. He laughs at you.

Fuck him.

“You are ridiculous, Y/N. Why are you even here, if you can’t take criticism?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I can take criticism, constructive criticism, something that you are apparently incapable of giving. You’re so fucking mean to me and I’ve done NOTHING to you.”

“No, I-“

You cut him off, unable to control your mouth.

“And another thing, it’s only me that you speak to this way. I’ve yet to see you speak to anyone else the way that you do me. What is your issue with me, why do you hate me so much?”

“Maybe if you-“

You cut him off again, and his jaw does the tick thing. He’s getting angrier, but you do not give a fuck.

“No, this isn’t on me. I earned my spot here, I was hired for a reason, and everyone else respects me, why don’t you?”

“Because-“

Again.

Fuck him.

“There is no reason, you obviously have some sort of sick vendetta against me. You’re fucking insufferable!”

“Me? No, you-“

Again.

And he’s had enough.

“No, fuck you Namjoon, fuck you and this weird ass game you’re playing, you—“

He borderline growls before he pins you on the couch.

You don’t even have time to register what he’s doing, and if you did, you’d slap the shit out of him.

That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

His lips crash into yours as he hovers over you, one knee perched in between your legs, while his other leg steadies him. He grabs your face with force, so rough that you swear he could break your jaw if he gripped you any harder. His other hand is on the back of the couch, steadying him the same and pinning you in place.

The kiss is no different. His lips assault yours, and he wastes no time in forcing his tongue into your mouth. He kisses you with vigor. A kiss unlike any you’ve ever experienced before. You’ve only ever been kissed like this in your dreams, the same dreams that wake you up in the middle of the night leaving you touch-starved. It’s fucking aggressive and rough.

And of course, you kiss him back. You don’t want to. Yet you do. You don’t want to give in to him. But you do. You can’t help it. As soon as he made his move, you were under his control. He has that way about him, he’s easily able to affect people. You were a different story. You always defied him, disagreed with him, challenged him. Yet, this is the way that he tames you, even if only for a minute. Shit. You’re weaker than you thought.

He nips your bottom lip before pulling back, your jaw still in his grip. His nostrils are flared and his breathing is rigid, as if he’s just as shocked as you are at his actions.

And he is. He has no idea why he just kissed you. He has no idea what came over him. He just wanted you to shut the fuck up, and he acted on impulse. And now he has a raging hard-on, which pisses him off even more. He doesn’t want to want you, in the same way that you don’t want to want him. But you both do.

He whispers, searching your face, studying your reaction.

“Do you ever just shut the fuck up and listen?”

You clear your throat, still trying to come down from the rush of the kiss, adrenaline running through your veins.

“I-“

“Do you know how fucking irritated you make me?”

Suddenly, you have no fight left in you. You feel intimidated. Fuck him.

“Then why-“

“Am I gonna have to kiss you every time you need to shut the fuck up?”

You blink at him, unable to respond. You have no idea what to do, or how to react, and are becoming distracted by the puddle seeping between your thighs.

You haven’t had sex in over a year. You haven’t been able to grow interest in someone enough to give them that piece of yourself again. Your last situation-ship left you simply sick of men. Sex wasn’t appealing enough to go through that again. But, of course, as if the universe is punishing you, Namjoon awakens your sex drive.

You nervously bite your lip and clench your thighs, not even realizing what you’re doing. You’re on the verge of tears, overwhelmed with anger and lust. And this doesn’t go unnoticed by Namjoon.

He looks down at your thighs, and you immediately unclench them. Your cheeks betray you by reddening, thanks to the smirk that very clearly gives away that he knows exactly what you’re feeling right now.

He keeps his eyes on your thighs for a moment before looking up at you. He smirks, raising a brow, giving you a crooked smile that tells you he knows your dirty little secret. Your jaw is still firmly in his grasp.

“Is that it? You’re sexually frustrated? Is that why you’re being such a bitch?”

You try to wriggle from his grasp, embarrassed, angry, horny. You’re starting to wish he would just fire you. Anything to save you the embarrassment of his knowing glare.

“Fuck you.”

He chuckles, bringing his face closer to yours, so close that you can feel his breath touch your lips.

“Yeah? Fuck me? If I fuck you, will you calm the fuck down and listen to me?”

You blink at him again and say nothing. You want to protest, tell him how gross he is, tell him how much you hate him, tell him that he’s the worst. Yet, his idea just makes you hornier. You’ve never had hate sex, and oh fuck, you’re sure that it would improve your mood, even some of the tension between you two.

But it pains you to even admit that. It’s humiliating. He has humiliated you enough.

He moves his hand to the back of your head, angling it upwards so that he has better access to your neck. He places his lips on your jaw, running his teeth up it, leading to the crook of your neck, keeping his lips on you as he speaks his next words.

He grabs your wrist with his other hand, leading it to his crotch, coaxing you to feel him. And he’s hard. So hard that you’re certain a button will break on his jeans. Fuck. He feels giant… You’re so fucked.

“Do you see what you do to me? Never in my life have I had anyone piss me off to the point of getting a fucking boner.”

You can’t help but whimper at his dirty words, but you make sure to bite your lip, preventing yourself from begging him to take you as you so desperately want to. You aren’t one to beg for anything. And you hate him even more for bringing you to that point.

“I’ve thought about fucking you so many times, Y/N. Fucking you to the point that you don’t even remember your own name, and my name is the only thing that you can scream. I just wanna fuck you until you shut the fuck up.”

“Please, just… do it then.”

Word vomit. You thought it but didn’t intend to say it. Yet, you said it. Of course, you did. You’re on the brink of cumming just from his filthy words.

He kisses your neck before speaking. And you can feel him smile as he does so.

Fuck him.

“Oh, Y/N, baby, hearing you beg makes it so tempting. I never thought you’d be the type, considering the amount of shit you talk.”

You croak out, suddenly feeling defensive, “I’m not. I don’t beg for shit.” You weakly push at his chest, even though you both know damn well you don’t want him to stop.

He laughs, pulling back to look at you, keeping his face close.

“Yet, here you are, begging for my cock like a desperate whore.”

You frown at him, feigning offense, when in reality his degradation is making you even more desperate. Why? You don’t know. You’ve never liked being degraded, in fact, nothing turns you off more than being called names… but hearing it come out of Namjoon's mouth? Fuck.

“I’m not a whore.” You whisper.

He tilts his head at you, amused.

“Fucking obviously, you’re acting like you’ve never been touched before. Are you this needy with other men?”

“There are no other men.”

He studies you for a moment, carefully calculating his next move. The way that he looks at you makes you feel insecure, as if he’s a judge on one of those cooking shows, trying to figure out whether he likes the taste of you or not. You have the urge to push him away and take off, his gaze is too goddamn intense.

He is too intense. Never met a man like him.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You mumble, looking away from him.

“Like what?” He asks, furrowing his brows. Amused.

“Like you think I’m the most vile thing on earth.”

He’s taken aback by your response, almost looking offended. Because that is the last thing he was thinking. If only you knew.

“Vile? Baby, I’m so hard for you right now that it hurts, do you know how hot you are when you’re pissed? Fucking annoying, but soooo hot.”

You squirm, your cheeks pinking again. You didn’t expect that. You expected him to laugh in your face and agree. He grunts as he takes in your facial expression. If only you knew what you truthfully do to him. He closes his eyes and scrunches his brows, taking a deep breath before he pulls away from you, leaving you considering getting on your damn knees and begging for him to touch you again.

He chuckles while shaking his head, eyes still closed as he speaks. As if he’s in pain from pulling away from you.

“Yeah, fuck, and you’re cute when you blush. This is fucked. I can’t stand you, yet you’re so fucking cute. What the fuck are you doing to me? Huh?”

Fuck. He’s making this hard. You’re so overwhelmed. So pissed, so horny, you wanna push him away and cuss him out some more, but also you’ve never wanted another man more in your life than you do him right now.

Both of you stare at each other silently for a moment. His jaw keeps doing the tick thing, and you squeeze your thighs tighter, rubbing them together to relieve some pressure. His eyes flick to them, and you don’t even bother hiding it this time. As humiliating as it is, his cock is hard and bulging out of his jeans. So you can’t find yourself caring too much at the moment.

What really makes his resolve waver is the way you’re looking at him, which you don’t even realize. Normally you look at him with such disdain, as if he’s the vile one. But right now? Your eyes are wide and glossy, your lip stuck between your teeth. You’re looking at him almost sweetly. The desperation in your gaze is impossible to hide.

He loses it completely.

“Ah, fuck it.” He declares before grabbing you by your hair again as he sits on the couch. He tugs you roughly into his lap and starts devouring your mouth again.

You let out a little huff of air as he does this, not quite used to the rough handling. But god, it’s fucking divine. You feel as if all of the anger you’ve held for him comes rushing out in the form of kisses and touches. He feels the same.

His hand leaves your hair and he grips your hips, roughly grinding his hard cock onto your pussy. Dry humping like fucking teenagers as you make out aggressively.

Your hands come to rest on his face, framing it as they tremble slightly from the overwhelming emotions. You don’t hold back this time either, licking into his mouth wantonly, letting out little grunts and mewls that make his cock strain and twitch inside of his jeans.

His hands leave your hips to grip your ass, and he fucking groans into your mouth. He slaps it once, testing. When you let out a whine, he slaps it much harder this time, making your body jerk slightly.

He laughs into your mouth and says breathily, “Fuck, you really are a whore aren’t you?”

You bite his lip hard when he says this. You hate it. You love it. You grind down harder onto his clothed cock. He reaches back up to grip your hair and tugs your head back, pulling on it harshly and pulling you away from his mouth.

He grins when he hears you whine at the loss of his lips. “You wanna fucking bite me, huh? Uh-uh, fuck no you don’t.”

He pushes you off of his lap and lets go of your hair, you look up at him with heavy-lidded eyes and confusion. Honestly, you already look fucked out and he’s barely done anything. You’re just touch-starved, so every little kiss and touch is fucking you up. You’re craving relief from both your sexual frustration and the building irritation he’s caused you over the last month.

Before you even realize what he’s about to do, he grabs your hair again, his grip much firmer this time. It actually kind of hurts… yet you don’t stop him. He pushes your face roughly into his clothed cock, and grinds onto your face as he spreads his legs wider on the couch.

Oh fuck.

He grunts as he starts nearly smothering you. When he feels a bit of your drool gets onto his crotch, he yanks your head back, he laughs again, “Bet your big fucking mouth is great at sucking cock. Should we find out?”

You just glare at him. Don’t wanna give him the satisfaction even though every single thing he has done so far has made you borderline cream your pants.

He clicks his tongue, “No? Don’t have anything to say now? Isn’t that funny…”

Fuck him.

He keeps his grip tight on your hair as he uses his other hand to fumble with his zipper and button. Once it’s undone, he whips his cock out. It hits the fabric of his rumpled shirt and is already dripping precum.

Holy. Fuck. His cock is huge. A good nine inches.

He yanks your head forward again, literally smearing your face all over it, humping your face again. His head falls back and he grunts at the feeling. Your skin is just so soft, and the way your makeup is already becoming fucked up is making him go crazy. He’s always loved sloppy sex. And you are fucking gorgeous like this, he thinks.

He grabs his cock with his free hand as he tilts your head back, starts slapping your mouth with it, your cheeks too. The precum starts stringing from your cheek to the tip of his cock, and you can see his pupils dilate even bigger, he almost looks like he’s about to lose control.

He says uncharacteristically softly, “If you want me to stop, pinch my thigh real hard, yeah?”

If you had even a single moment of free thought, you would’ve probably been thankful that he gave you an out. You know despite him being a huge piece of work, he’s not a bad guy. So the fact he’s setting boundaries in your favor, even in the heat of the moment, is comforting. He cares about your safety and comfort. It’s the bare minimum of course, but most men lack even that. It’s why you stopped having casual sex to begin with.

But you don’t have a moment to think because pushes your lips down onto his cock abruptly, your mouth opens on instinct and he shoves himself inside. Doesn’t even ease into it, he just straight up plows his cock inside of your mouth until your nose is pressed against his pelvis.

You cough, and gag, already drooling all over him. Fuck it’s hot. You’ve never been face fucked like this before, but you’re starting to think maybe you’ve been missing out on good sex if this is how good rough sex feels.

You can’t even imagine what his cock would feel like inside of you if it feels this good in your mouth.

When he sees tears start to form, he pulls your hair back, strings of spit and precum connecting from your mouth and onto the tip of his cock. Fuck, it felt so good feeling your throat constrict around his cock. His resolve is wavering heavily. But he’s trying to remain patient. He smirks at you, stroking his spit-covered cock lazily directly onto your lips, causing beads of precum to escape his tip and cover your lips like lipgloss.

“Fuck, look at you. And you haven’t said a damn word. So pretty when you shut up.”

Your cheeks flush and you say petulantly, “Fuck you.” Because even now you don’t wanna give him the satisfaction.

That’s short-lived though because he starts fucking your mouth again. He shoves his cock inside and starts thrusting into your mouth as if it’s a goddamn sex toy. He hits the back of your throat with every thrust, causing you to gag and cough, your hands squeezing his thighs hard but not pinching.

You can take it.

He grunts out, “Fuck… I swear to god I’ll fuck your pretty little mouth every goddamn time you mouth off from now on Y/N, since nothing else has worked so far.”

Each word punctuated by a harsh thrust, he grunts our, “Just shut. the. fuck. up. Fuuuck.”

He keeps fucking up into your mouth, not easing up even for a second. Your eyes roll back in your head, and all you can do is take it. His thrusts only become sloppier and wetter. His head is thrown back and his abdomen starts clenching hard. But he knows you need to breathe. As much as he wishes he could just cum down your throat; he has other plans…

He pulls your head back again, he’s already feeling a bit too close to cumming. He doesn’t wanna cum too fast, he’s certain it would give you more to talk shit about.

He gazes down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, his mouth parted slightly and his breaths coming in fast. You look utterly fucked. Your makeup is ruined completely now, your eyes are red and teary, and your pretty pink lips are swollen. His stomach flutters, because he thinks you have never looked prettier.

He’s always thought you were so pretty. It’s one of the reasons he can’t stand you. He isn’t supposed to want you. You’re his coworker, technically his subordinate.

But none of that matters now, does it?

He doesn’t look much better, his shirt is covered in wet spit and his boxers are ruined too. He should’ve taken his clothes off… but luckily, he thinks it’s so much hotter this way.

His cock twitches against his belly, and he strokes your cheek with his free hand. He murmurs, “You good?”

You nod stupidly at him even as drool dribbles down your chin and your mascara runs onto your cheeks. There’s nothing to say really. You’ve never enjoyed having a dick down your throat so much. And he has effectively shut you up.

He nods and guides your head up, kisses you deeply. His eyes roll back as he tastes his precum on your tongue. So fucking good, he thinks.

He guides your pliant body to lay down on the couch, and then he settles in between your legs, his hands stroking up and down your thighs as he looks you over. God, there is so much he wants to do to you. He wants to use you but also wants to make you come undone as many times as possible.

Maybe then you’ll be more tolerable. Maybe this is what you both need, he rationalizes.

But he’s getting impatient. His cock is standing tall as he looks down at you, visibly pulsating, jerking upward now and then. And fuck, it’s making you impatient too. So much so that you whine at him, “Fuck, stop looking and just do something.”

His jaw ticks. He’s getting irritated. That’s what you think, anyway. But in reality, he’s preening on the fact you’re just as impatient as he is. It gives him an excuse to cut the foreplay and fuck you stupid.

You want him to do something? Oh, he will.

He lets out an almost mocking laugh, “Yeah? Want me to do something about it? You sure?”

You groan and roll your eyes at him, scooting your ass closer to his pelvis on the couch, his cock dripping so much precum, you have no idea how he’s not losing his mind right now. You certainly are. In fact, he’s starting to piss you off again.

Right as you’re about to talk shit, he can immediately tell. He grabs the front of your button-up and he rips it open. Doesn’t unbutton it like a normal person, but fucking rips it open, sending buttons flying on the floor of the studio. You let out a grunt, and blink at him in surprise with your mouth open.

You liked that shirt. Fuck him.

“Fucking seriously? You’re ruining my clothes now?”

Your patience is almost nonexistent at this point. You have drool and precum drying on your chin, you’re so horny it hurts, and he just ripped your shirt open like a wild fucking animal.

But him? It’s like he’s not even paying attention. His eyes are averted downward, tongue flicking over his lips. He looks almost stupid like this. What the fuck?

You look down to see what he’s gawking at, and… Oh. Oh. Kinda slipped your mind that you aren’t wearing a bra today. You were running late this morning and forgot to throw one on. Oops.

Namjoon doesn’t even look at your face at this point. His eyes are glued to your tits. He feels kind of ridiculous, getting this worked up over tits. He’s seen tits many times, it’s nothing new. But something about yours has him salivating, has his cock jerking upward.

He reaches down and starts lightly slapping the sides of your tits, watching them jiggle with a gaze full of hunger, he rasps out, “Not the only thing I’m gonna be ruining.”

One hand remains playing with your tits like they’re fucking stress balls, and Namjoon would argue that they absolutely are. The other hand reaches down and lifts your skirt, causing it to pool around your waist. He looks down a bit further, begrudgingly tearing his eyes away from your perfect tits, his other hand pushing your ruined panties to the side. He groans, nearly growls when he notices how wet you are. Fuck. He’s so close to losing control.

He dips a single finger into your sopping heat, just barely. Moves the creamy juices around before pushing his finger fully inside, squeezing your tit hard in his other hand. Your hips buck up involuntarily and your head falls back against the couch. You fucking hate yourself for the desperate noise that claws out of your throat.

Namjoon is no better, the moment he feels how wet you truly are, he lets a sound that sounds no better than the one you just let out. His breathing picks up, his heart starts beating faster, and his cock is so hard at this point that it’s actually painful. God, you are just so tight. Your pussy is clenching around his finger as if it’s trying to swallow him whole.

“N-Namjoon— please. Fuck. Please.” You beg again, don’t even care how pathetic you sound. A single fucking finger isn’t enough for how badly you want him right now. Want to be filled up and fucked hard. He’s barely moving it too. Just lightly grazing your walls, and it’s so frustrating. You just want to cum. Get it all out.

Namjoons resolve finally breaks when he sees a trickle of creamy white drip out of your pussy and onto the couch, he can’t take it anymore. He genuinely wanted to tease you, make a fucking mess of you. Make you beg and cry for him because of how much you piss him off. But not even he is strong enough to stall, he needs you. Now.

One last slap to the tit, he pulls his hand away and hastily reaches over for his wallet on the side table next to the couch. He pulls a condom out, brings the wrapper up to his mouth, and tears it open. And fuck, that’s so sexy. Your pussy clenches his finger again at the sight, and then he jerks it out of your pussy with a grunt.

You whine at him, almost feeling offended. But Namjoon knows damn well he’s going a little crazy because he just got jealous. Jealous of his own fucking finger. Should be his cock, not his finger. What the fuck are you doing to him?

He doesn’t warn you before he stuffs the same finger, accompanied by another finger, into your mouth. Nearly making you choke just like you did on his cock. Then he tosses the wrapped condom onto your bare chest, “Put it on me. Quick.”

You don’t even hesitate, you grab the condom with shakey hands and fumble it out of the package, all while sucking his fingers clean of your own juices. It only turns you on more, tasting yourself on his skin.

You reach for his cock, grab it with one shaky hand and his hips buck into it a bit. He lets out a little hiss through his teeth because of how sensitive it is, neglected for too long. That’s how it feels, anyway.

You roll the condom onto his cock snuggly and then look up at him expectantly with a desperate but wrecked look. Give him the best ‘fuck me’ eyes you can muster up. He keeps his fingers in your mouth. Doesn’t even move. Again, drawing it out. Attempting to, anyway.

You whine against his fingers, and would probably be begging him if you could talk. But Namjoon can’t take it anymore, lucky for you. He moves his hips forward and uses his free hand to position his cock at your entrance.

The moment the tip is sucked into your tight hole, he snaps. Literally, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt. You cry out even with your mouth around his fingers, sounding muffled and wet. Your back arched obscenely because fuck you didn’t expect him to just go in like that.

You’re not complaining though, fuck no.

His head falls back like yours, and he stays like that for a moment, his teeth grit and eyes clenched shut. He removes his fingers from your mouth and grabs your face with one hand, smooshing your cheeks, the other hand coming back up to your tit and squeezing it harshly, as if he just can’t help himself. Squeezing so hard that it kinda hurts. But fuck, it feels so good. You’re starting to realize maybe you have a thing for shit like this.

Doesn’t help when you feel his cock twitching inside of you. It’s just enough stimulation to make your pussy start throbbing around him.

It’s pathetic how close you already are. But god, it feels like he edged you for hours. Even though he barely did anything. You guess you just kinda forgot what actual dick felt like compared to your fingers or a toy.

He starts moving his hips slowly, trying to be patient while your pussy adjusts to his size. But your patience left the moment he entered you.

“Fuck. Go faster, please.”

Your voice sounds high-pitched and a bit loud which you don’t even realize. You can’t control it. He clicks his tongue at this, gives your face a little shake as he says, “Thought I told you to shut the fuck up? Unless you want all of your coworkers to know you’re letting your boss fuck the shit out of you like a whore? That what you want?”

He pulls back out and then slams in again. You let out another cry, body jolting at the force. And he starts just pounding into you.

You asked for this.

How the fuck are you supposed to be quiet when he goes from 0 to 100 like that? Holy fuck.

“Oh, so you do? You want them all to know I’m making you my slut after humiliating you for your shitty writing? C’mon, speak up. Can’t hear you. Use your fucking words.”

All while snapping his hips harshly into yours, out one moment, deep inside the next. You can barely take it. You swear you can feel him in your fucking stomach. Hardly even register his degrading words because you can’t think, can’t speak, can’t even control the loud noises coming out of your mouth, although you desperately try.

Tears prickle your eyes, not because it hurts but because you’re overwhelmed. He’s so hard to figure out. Acting like he’s gonna tease you one moment, and then fucking you like he’s trying to split you in half the next.

He lets out a grunt at your lack of response and ends up squishing your cheeks harder, forcing your mouth open. He leans down slightly and fucking spits in your mouth and then stuffs his fingers back in your mouth, “Actually, just shut the fuck up. Keep your mouth busy and shut the fuck— ah, fuck— the fuck up.”

Fucking disgusting. Fucking hot.

The way his words falter and he loses train of thought for a second makes your pussy clench deliciously around him. Because it’s confirmation that he is just as affected as you are. Just as fucked up right now.

You both look a mess. Your shirt is torn open, your skirt all crooked and pushed up to your waist, and your panties aren’t even fully off. His shirt is still damp with spit, his pants only halfway pulled down and now there’s a creamy white stain on the front of them from your juices dripping down his dick.

It’s heaven, honestly. Or maybe hell. You aren’t sure. But it feels so fucking good.

His hips piston into your cunt hard and fast, and you do your best to focus on sucking his fingers, but the pressure is building fast. You can feel your pussy start to flutter, your clit throbbing, begging to be paid attention to. He can feel it too, it’s making him go crazy because of how responsive you are.

He slams home one more time before staying there, swiveling his hips in a circle so that his pelvis brushes against your clit each time, giving it the minimal amount of attention that has you nearly seeing stars, almost there, but not quite.

“Need more?” He pants out.

You nod your head quickly, his fingers covered in your saliva at this point. Dripping in the essence of you just like his cock. He nods back, removes his other hand from your hip, and settles it at the bottom of your belly, pushing down and placing his thumb over your clit. He starts flicking it fast and starts fucking into you again, picking up the pace so that the room fills with wet squelching noises and skin slapping.

The way he’s pushing onto your tummy while rubbing your clit, Jesus fuck… it’s intense. Makes it feel like he is inside of your stomach. So fucking deep.

Yup. That does it. The stagnant pressure starts building rapidly, he can feel it too. Your pussy starts tightening and fluttering beautifully around his girth. You’re making the prettiest noises, still quiet thanks to his fingers stuffed in your mouth but he can hear you the perfect amount.

God, it’s so perfect, he thinks.

You, you’re not thinking at all. He really is fucking you stupid. Your eyes are continuously rolling back and your hips buck into his thrusts desperately, quickly approaching your climax.

He flicks your clit back and forth, fast but precisely, “C’mon baby, give it to me. Fucking cum all over me. Make a mess. Ungh— god you’re such a fucking slut.”

And that sends you. Out of everything, something about Namjoon calling you a slut just fucking does it for you. You let out a muffled moan, that would be a scream most likely if his fingers weren’t sheathed into your mouth. Your legs tremble and your body shudders through the force of your orgasm.

Your pussy throbs violently, walls rippling around his cock as you finally see those stars. It feels fucking amazing, makes tears fall down your cheek. You can barely breathe because of the force of how fucking good it feels to cum on his cock.

This is his end too. He simply can’t hold back when he feels the vice grip of your pussy desperately trying to keep his cock in place, the rippling of your walls nearly feels like vibrations. He lets out another groan, but it almost comes out like a whine. Very subtly. His face is scrunched up and his mouth open as his hips stutter, his cock spilling and filling up the condom.

It goes on and on. Neither of you thinking about how much you hate each other, only thinking about how good it feels to be together like this. He swears he’s never had sex better than this. You feel the same.

The reality of it all is hate sex is unmatched. Especially when tensions build for so long and you both act as if you can’t stand each other… who knew a fuck could’ve helped with that?

At the last twitch of his cock, when your pussy becomes overstimulated and sore, he collapses on top of you. Both of you panting harshly, catching your breaths as your hearts beat in unison.

He removes his spit-covered fingers from your mouth, and he places lazy little kisses on your skin. He isn’t even sure where, too fucked out to pay attention, just anywhere he can reach while he rests on top of you. It’s an oddly tender gesture. A little sweet, even.

It’s silent for a few minutes. And you both start to realize what you’ve done. You just fucked your technical boss… he just fucked one of his co-writers.

Definitely shouldn’t have happened.

He can’t find himself regretting it though. He feels so light, that he could almost smile. As much of an excuse as it was at first, it genuinely helped with the tension. He’s not quite as irritated with you. Does he like you now? Fuck no.

But the more post-nut clarity comes to fruition… the more he thinks he can tolerate you. Maybe even work with you, compromise with you.

You on the other hand… you don’t know how to feel. You don’t regret it, because fuck, it did help with the tension. You feel lighter too. Not as sensitive. Not as hateful.

Maybe it was for the best. It’s not like anyone has to know, anyway. It’s like couples counseling sort of… except you’re definitely not a couple, and you both still cannot stand each other.

But you can tolerate each other now that most of the tension is gone for the time being.

“You good?”

He tears you away from your thoughts, and you look up at him with bleary eyes. It makes you feel sort of warm and fuzzy inside knowing despite his dislike for you, he’s still checking to make sure he didn’t cross any lines.

Well, he crossed several lines. But, you aren’t complaining. You’re glad he did. Glad he reduced you to this.

“I’m fucking great.”

That earns you a little chuckle. He sighs a breath of relief, was worried he went a bit too hard or did too much, especially since you didn’t set any boundaries beforehand. But you took what he gave you and you took it like a fucking champ, he thinks.

He reluctantly gets off of you because now that you’re both a bit more clear-headed, the couch feels a little too small, and he doesn’t wanna crush you.

His softening cock is still inside of you, so he braces a hand on the couch and slowly pulls out, both of you hissing at the feeling. He watches in awe as your juices flow freely out of you. God, what a pretty pussy, he thinks.

He dips a finger back into your heat, causing you to let out a little noise of surprise. But he removes it quickly, brings his finger up to his mouth and sucks it clean.

“Mmm. Yummy.” He says, wiggling his brows.

Ugh.

He pats your thigh before getting off of the couch, taking the condom off, and tying it up to chuck it in the trash. He stuffs his soft and sensitive cock back into his underwear and pulls up his pants, feeling utterly satiated now. Bubbly and light, even though he won’t show it. He makes his way to the little fridge in his studio and he grabs two bottles of water, tosses you one which you barely catch.

You gulp down the water gratefully, parched considering he stole most of your fucking spit. Asshole.

He begins walking into the bathroom attached to his studio as he says, “C’mon let’s go get cleaned up. Then we can look at those lyrics again and see if it still sounds like kids bop now that I’ve fucked you stupid.”

At your immediate glare, he lets out a laugh, and shrugs innocently, “What? Pussy is magic, can change a man’s mind about a lot of things. Now hurry up, you’re a fucking mess.”

And with that, he’s stepping into the bathroom.

Yeah. Fuck him. Still insufferable.

But god, you really do hope to fuck him again.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfction #bts namjoon #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #namjoon fanfic #smut #fiction #fanfic #kim namjoon fanfic #bts smut #namjoon smut #kim namjoon smut #faceclaim

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

I Know it Won’t Work || Tom Blyth x singer!reader

Summary: You and Tom break up after three years of dating and you perform a song about the truth of the breakup for the first time live.

Warnings: slight age gap, reader is 23 and Tom is 30

Wc: 658

A/n: these r addicting to make lol. Also, changed up some lyrics for the sake of the storyline making sense. 2/4? Fics I’m posting today!

Tom Blyth x singer!reader au masterlist

Divider by @pommecita

You let out a shaky breath, "I left you here, heard you keep the extra closet empty," You sing the first words of your unreleased song to the crowd. "In case this year, I come back and stay throughout my twenties, what if I won't? How am I supposed to put that gently?" You had just freshly turned 23 and broken up with Tom.

You honestly don't know how you ended up here, in-front of a crowd of hundreds in London. Performing in front of people was the last thing you wanted to do at the moment but you had to keep a strong front for your supporters, this show was highly anticipated.

"I've had the thought, tried to work it out through anxious pacin'" Your biggest coping mechanism was writing songs. You never knew how to really express your emotions in sentences to someone, so instead, you write them into songs. Your real feelings and emotions laced into words that in the end, formed a song.

"But it's a lot, all the shine of three happy years fadin'" The crowd watched in silence, partly because it was a new song and they did not know the lyrics to sing along, but also because they were mesmerised. Your voice held so much emotion.

Your fans weren't aware that the two of you have broken up, but a few had already pieced it up. "The whole facade, seemed to fall apart, it's complicated." Everyone viewed you and Tom as the power couple, deeply in love with one another with no flaw or doubt in the relationship

While half of it was true, the other half wasn't. The seven year age gap different had been brought up so many times throughout your relationship. You remember the first time the two of you got together, you were 20 and he was 27.

You both received heavy backlash from the internet but the two of you ignored them all. They weren't the ones in the relationship, they weren't the ones to make the call about whether or not you should be together.

"And part of me wants to walk away 'till you really listen, I hate to look at your face and know that we're feelin' different," As the three years went by, uou hoped you weren't the only one in the relationship that doubted a few things. You didn’t want to admit that other people's comments were getting to you. As the three years progressed with Tom, you felt as if you were just both in such different phases of life.

You were still so young in your early twenties and fresh in your career while it seemed that Tom was ready to settle down, marry, and start a family. He would always mention starting a family and you would listen, not really knowing what to say to him.

But recently, you came into terms with the truth that both you and Tom don't share the same feelings or goals at the moment. "Cause part of me wants you back, but, I know it won't work like that, huh?" You loved Tom, parts of you still do. He never did anything wrong, he was everything you could have ever wished for. You like to think of him as the right person, wrong time.

But nothing was going to change the fact that you two were just in different stages of life. Nothing will change the seven year age gap between the two of you. "I know we cut all the ties, but you're never really leavin'"

Tom hasn't left your mind. It would've been easier if he did. But he just couldn't. "And part of me wants you back, but, I know it won't work like that, huh?" Your voice slightly cracks, a single tear drop runs down your face. Eyes closed, you let it. The dewy stream your tear left—accentuated with the bright lights focused on you—did not go unnoticed.

#fanfiction #tom blyth #tom blyth x singer!reader #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #social media au #social media #gracie abrams #tom blyth angst #tom blyth x gf!reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #coriolanus snow fanfiction #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #president snow #tbosas

[tojisbbg]

𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙞𝙚

❝come and take a walk on the wild side, let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain; you like your girls insane.❞  

♡ geto suguru ♡

a/n: was listening to this song earlier and it reminded me of him. 😞 i know there's been a lot of angsty shit on my blog recently, but i promise new content soon! how we feeling about a tattoo artist!geto smutfic? 👀 lmk in the comments!

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

content: geto suguru x fem!reader, takes place after geto becomes a silly little cult leader, spoilers (slightly, i changed up some stuff), angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, a little long 'cause i got carried away lol, not edited.

---

"y/n?! weren't you on a business trip?" gojo gasped, your sudden appearance made everyone's heads turn, including his.

however, gojo's words flew over your head, frozen in your tracks as your eyes widened. it really was him, his hair was much longer than the last time you saw him which was... ten years ago.

"suguru.." you breathed out, feeling your backpack that was slung over one shoulder slip off and fall to the ground. you felt your body tremble, his eyes meeting yours as they never wavered.

without any hesitation, you began to walk forwards, pushing past the sea of higher-ups that were grouping around behind gojo. you were about to walk past the tall white haired man as well, only to be halted as he grabbed your wrist.

"don't. he's not the same suguru that we once knew, y/n. don't let your emotions conflict with you, he's a threat to jujutsu high." gojo sternly said, his other hand lifting the bandages of one eye as he looked down at you with a begging look.

you looked up at him with a glare, a frown painted on your lips.

"let go of me, satoru." you calmly replied, making him thin his lips before a heavy sigh left his mouth.

"y/n-"

"i said to let go." you spoke through gritted teeth, twisting your wrist in his hold before ripping out of his grasp. the crowd gasped at your actions, you could hear principal yaga and gojo yell your name, but all of that just sounded like white noise.

you were blind and deaf to anything that wasn't related to the man in front of you. geto looked at you with an amused grin, watching your wobbly legs walk up to him without a single care for your safety, as you were now just a few inches away from him.

you noticed how his eyebags got darker, his eyes that once shimmered with joy were now replaced with nothing but emptiness and tire. it made your throat swell up, feeling it burn as tears stung your eyes.

"you grew out your hair, sugu." you said, though your voice was as soft as a whisper, allowing only geto to hear. you brought up a shaky hand and caressed the long and silky smooth ebony locks. he allowed you to touch it, humming in response.

"i didn't have the time to cut it." geto bluntly responded, onyx eyes looking down at you as you never once broke eye contact with him.

"busy?" you casually asked, earning a nod from him.

"killing people, right?" you added a follow-up question, which you knew the answer to, but all these years you were still in denial about it.

you heard it all over the news, read it on the paper and yaga himself told you. yet, still in your heart you believed that he was innocent and that it was nothing but a mistake or someone trying to frame him.

you knew geto like the back of your hand, he was gentle, calm and soothing. he reminded you of a soft, gentle spring rain shower in the middle of the night.

however, all of that hope would soon come crumbling down as you saw him smirk.

"how'd you know?" his tone dripped with nothing but sarcasm and malice, setting off goosebumps all over your body.

"you're lying to me! i know you'd never do this, suguru. i've known you for years. who's behind all of this? there's still time to fix everything!" your voice trembled, clammy palms coming up to cup his face as your thumb dragged along the soft skin of his cheeks.

"fix? there's nothing left to fix, y/n. everything that you heard was true, i killed that entire village. matter of a fact, it didn't stop there. i killed more and more and even more people all these years!" he laughed like a maniac, making your heart rate increase, feeling his larger hands cup yours.

"stop... please, stop." you sniffled, tears streaming down your face, which made him frown.

"why are you crying? isn't this what you wanted to hear?" he asked with faux sympathy, his thumb brushing away your tears as you looked at him with glossy eyes.

"i missed you so much. every night, i prayed that one day you'll come back and say that everything was a lie. and here you are now, telling me all of this bullshit! why, suguru?! why did you leave??" you yelled at him, not caring about your safety at that moment, knowing that he wouldn't dare to lay a finger on you.

"it's simple, y/n. i'm creating a world where us jujutsu sorcerers can live peacefully without these filthy monkeys." geto tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his words making your stomach churn with sickness.

yet, this was your last attempt in trying to convince him. who knew when you'd ever see him again? if he disappeared for ten years without a trace, then perhaps your next encounter with him might be too late.

without thinking, you closed the distance between you both, burying your face in his kimono as he let you embrace him without any protest.

he still smelled of the same fragrance that you bought for him in your teen years. you cried on his chest, gripping onto the fabric as your arms tightened around him.

"please, don't leave me again. come back to us, suguru. we'll find a way to fix this, i promise. i'll help you!" you tried to persuade him, feeling his chest take in a huge supply of air before breathing it out. suddenly, you felt him pull you away from him.

your breath hitched when you saw his face morph into a scowl, his fingers grabbing a hold of your jaw to look at him dead in the eyes.

"come back? come back to what, huh? my execution or that terrible life that i abandoned ten years ago? it's time that you realize that things aren't the same for us anymore, y/n. i am no longer on your side, we are enemies now. your sweet sappy talk won't work on me, i'll proceed with my plans no matter what. and if you get in my way—" he harshly spoke, each of his words stabbing you in the heart multiple times, making it bleed and cry.

"i'll kill you." geto's eyes darkened, his tone dropping an octave lower as you gulped. he let go of you, walking back to the huge bird that you assumed was his form of transportation.

"i'll see you all on the night parade of a hundred demons! bye-bye~" he sang out, waving at everyone as the bird took off. you watched him grow smaller and smaller into the distance until he was no longer visible to your eyes.

your knees felt like jelly, no longer being able to support your weight before collapsing. you sat on the cold cemented ground, tears dropping onto your thighs as you sobbed. you could hear distant murmuring which belonged to the higher-ups, probably snickering about your unacceptable behavior today towards a traitor, but you couldn't have cared less.

he was your suguru, your best friend.

he's the only person who's ever made your heart flutter and make you feel like the world's cruelty didn't seem so bad when you were with him. in a never ending void, geto was your comfort.

you heard footsteps nearing close to you before feeling a hand on your shoulder. you turned to your side, being met with the familiar cerulean eyes.

"come here." gojo softly said, pulling you into his embrace as you cried on his shoulder, feeling his arms wrap around you.

"it's so unfair! so fucking unfair, satoru!" you choked out, feeling him stroke your back in a comforting manner.

"i know... i know, y/n."

---

it's been about two weeks since the incident, you were on mandatory house arrest while the higher-ups further investigated your loyalty towards jujutsu tech. not that you minded, in the end, you knew you'd slip out of these accusations because gojo satoru existed.

and yaga knew you as if you were his own child.

nonetheless, you treated your little 'punishment' as a well-deserved break. long before the incident, you've been quite literally abused with never ending missions, the majority of them shoving you overseas since gojo couldn't go on them frequently due to his students.

you'd occasionally see him, but it was like on a rare moon. you worked full-time and overtime as a sorcerer.

what a hassle.

night had fallen, you glanced at your window which was slightly opened to let in the cool spring breeze. you could hear the faint sound of the sky rumbling, storm clouds slowly grouping together.

"looks like it'll storm tonight." you mumbled to yourself, walking towards your window as you closed it along with the curtains. a few seconds later, you heard a knock at your door.

who'd pay you a visit at this hour? it's nearly a little past midnight.

regardless, you pushed your thoughts aside and went ahead to open the door.

"oh, shoko?" you called out, your tone a little surprised in seeing her so late, assuming that she'd be long knocked down by sleep.

"mhm, mind if i come in?" the dark brunette asked, taking one last drag of her cigarette before throwing it on the floor, crushing beneath her foot.

"no, of course not!" you gave her a smile, stepping aside to let her enter your house.

"so, what was that whole romeo and juliet incident involving you and suguru about?" shoko chuckled at her own joke, making you sigh.

"so you've heard." you replied, making her hum.

"i did. you know, i'm a little hurt that i didn't hear it from your mouth instead. those shitty higher-ups really have a way with their words, and it's not poetic." she snickered, making you scoff.

"they always exaggerate shit." you grumbled, balling your hands into fists.

"mhm, so, i need to hear it from you now." shoko took off her white coat before tossing it to the side, plopping on your couch as she patted the empty seat next to her. you took in the offer, sitting down as you looked down at your lap, fiddling with your fingers.

"i.. he-" you could feel your words starting to get stuck in your throat, the memory of that day washing so vividly clear in your mind, making you feel sick. shoko attentively watched you, a long pause embracing your lips.

"you know i trust you, right y/n?" she suddenly blurted out, making you look up at her with wide eyes.

"huh?" was the only thing that left your lips, a little astonished to hear it from the lips of the woman who was left to cope with everything by herself after geto's departure.

it was cruel and uncalled-for, after all, the four of you were best friends. but, life happened and it was a harsh split.

"if i were in your place, i'd feel the same and i know satoru felt the same too. he's just too ignorant to come to terms with his emotions. so, tell me." shoko offered you a small smile, comfortingly rubbing your back as you told her everything.

"ah, i see. i've gotta say, you got some balls, y/n." she giggled, making your face turn red.

"that's not the case, my body just led without my control." you defended.

"hm, you must've gotten a harsh earful from principal yaga." she leaned back in the sofa, hazel eyes meeting yours.

"yeah." you thin your lips.

"are you serious right now, y/n?! you're one of my most trusted students, a senior and mentor at jujutsu tech! how could you act so rash and stupidly like this?! it makes no sense, i'd rather have it be satoru than you. do you know how much of a dangerous position you're in now? they're investigating you because of rising accusations that you might be suguru's accomplice. they're questioning your loyalty and if you're possibly another traitor like him!"

yaga's words rang loud and clear in your head, making you scowl as you slumped back.

"you're still in love with suguru, aren't you?" shoko suddenly blurted out, making you choke on air as your eyes widened.

"what?!" you gasped, a little mortified at how she knew.

"i'm not stupid, y/n. you were so painfully obvious back when we were teens and it seems like nothing has changed now either." she smirked at you, watching how your body was fidgeting as you tried to think of a quick lie.

but, you soon gave up, not having the energy or will left to care about covering up your stupid crush. you nodded your head, not meeting her eyes as you were afraid of being teased.

you've kept this little secret of yours hidden for over fourteen years, but, now someone knew.

"shoko?" you absent-mindedly called out, being lost in your thoughts.

"hm?" she hummed in response.

"you're a doctor, right?" you stupidly asked, making her laugh.

"of some sort, yes." shoko played on with your words, even though you already knew the answer to it.

"then tell me how to stop feeling like this. i can't live knowing that he's suffering and being swallowed in a pit of self-loathe, blame and pity. i can't stop loving him, shoko." you looked at her with begging eyes, feeling tears pricking them.

"i'm a doctor who heals people's injuries, not a relationship therapist." she nonchalantly spat, her words smacking you back to reality.

"right." you said, tone laced with disappointment but you expected it. after all, there simply was no answer to your question, nor was there a solution to your problem.

"but, i can try." she gave you a cheeky smile, making you cock an eyebrow.

"how?" you asked, a little confused at what she was suggesting. shoko grabbed her coat, digging something out of her pocket as you watched her pull out a small card.

"what's that?" you asked with curious eyes, taking the card before examining it.

"suguru's number, well, it's his weird cult's main line. but, maybe it might come in handy. i don't know, do as you will with that information. i should get going before it rains." shoko smirked, looking at you with a playful glint before getting up and putting on her coat.

you walked her to the door as you watched her slip on her shoes, twisting the lock afterwards to unlock the door.

"you won't tell the higher-up or satoru about this, right?" you asked with a little caution, feeling a little uneasy.

"of course not, my time is pretty precious, you know? i'd never waste it on talking with those fools. oh and by the way, i never gave you this information. goodnight, y/n." she gave you a bright smile before waving at you as she walked out.

---

"hello, master geto suguru's assistant speaking, how may i help you?"

"uh, may i schedule an appointment with master geto? i've been dealing with sleep issues and would like to consult him."

"and what are these sleep issues like?"

"well.. um, of monstrous creatures, i think? and it feels like there's another entity residing with me."

"i see, well, you could come first thing in the morning tomorrow."

"ah, you see, these dreams tend to worsen at night. so, i was hoping if i could perhaps consult with him tonight?"

"at this hour? i doubt he would."

"could you ask, please? i'm willing to pay a pretty penny to him."

"please hold."

the line goes silent.

"he surprisingly agreed. master geto will be meeting you within the next hour at the location that will be texted to you."

"thank you."

---

your heart was beating rapidly in your chest as you skillfully sneaked out of your house, avoiding all the cctv cameras. it was pitch-black outside, the only source of light was from the dimly lit street lamps as the moon was covered by the thick storm clouds. you decided to take a cab to the designated location, which was a park close to shibuya, not wanting to loop ichiji and waste time to create lies for your cover-up.

it seemed like you arrived first, leaning against a tree as you waited for him to come. your hands were getting cold and sweaty, your nerves were eating you away as well.

what if things escalated and got out of hand? you had no backup plan for a potential attack. your cursed energy is drained due to your fatigue, and geto is a strong sorcerer himself, it'd be difficult fighting against him.

all these last minute questions buzzed in your mind, making you slowly regret your rash decision to contact him without any proper precautions.

was this a bad call?

"so, i was right. it is you." you heard a familiar voice speak within the distance, footsteps nearing you as you looked up to see a figure inching closer to you. the faint light emitting from the street lamp allowed you to see the figure that was dressed up in a purple hoodie and green cargos.

geto stood in front of you, taking off his hood as you saw his disheveled hair from being shielded inside the hood. it seemed as if he grew fond of the new hairstyle of keeping a half-up do.

he knew it was you?

"but, how?" you asked, a little shocked at how you failed at being so discreet. you didn't even speak to him nor give a name to his assistant.

"it was a hunch." geto smirked with his eyes closed, shrugging his shoulder. you looked down at your shoes, your fingers playing with the hem of your t-shirt as you didn't know what to talk about.

"so, why'd you wanna see me? surely, it's not to exorcise curses." he cut straight to the chase, raising a brow as he looked down at you.

"i don't know." you blurted out, not meeting his eyes. it was true, you didn't know why you called his stupid cult to set up an appointment with him at like one in the morning.

you didn't know why your mind couldn't wait and think this whole plan twice. you had nothing in particular to tell him, it was clear that geto didn't agree with your plans of him returning to jujutsu tech.

"do you think my time is something to waste?" he scoffed, making you wince at the brazenness of his tone. you let out a sigh, finally looking up at him with a furious glint in your eyes.

"could you stop acting like that?" you balled your fists in anger, making him narrow his eyes at you.

"like what?" he bluntly spat out.

"like we're strangers! how can you just forget everything that we've been through, huh? you were my best friend, for fuck's sake! we went to school together, hung out almost every day, went on missions together, celebrated each other's birthdays. all kind of that crap! how can you just stand here and look at me like i'm nothing more than a mere bug that you could step over and move on with your life?" your voice trembled as you spoke out your feelings, but, your voice never once wavered. you made sure that each of your words were loud and stern enough to drill into his skull.

"you wanna know why, y/n? i'll tell you why. it's 'cause you don't mean anything to me. i've cut all my ties between everyone back in that school. you are nothing more than a stranger to me, actually, you're being quite a nuisance to me now." geto said in a monotone, words piercing through your heart as it made tears sting in your eyes.

"lies... you're lying! cut the bullshit, suguru. you promised me that when we're both together, we're the strongest. even stronger than satoru!" you bellowed, feeling the rush of adrenaline as your body was being overwhelmed with all kinds of emotions.

pain, anger, sadness and frustration.

nothing was making sense, he wasn't making sense!

"yeah? well, welcome to reality, y/n. i don't need you anymore to be the strongest. in fact, i don't need anyone!" he yelled back at you, his face now displaying an irritated expression, but you continued to push his limits. you cupped his face in your hands, thinning your lips as you saw his face relaxing to your touch, going back to his resting face.

"i know, suguru. you never needed me or satoru to be the strongest. suguru... mistakes happen, it wasn't your fault." you spoke to him in a soft voice, caressing his cheeks. his eyes widened at your words, looking at you with a puzzled look. you felt his hands creep up before wrapping over yours.

"don't you dare speak to me as if you know everything. god, you disgust me." he roughly shoved your hands off of him, making you gasp, as it wasn't your intention to offend him. geto looked at you once more before turning his heels, walking away.

"sugu-"

"i'll let it slide this time, but i can't promise to be this generous if there's a next time. let's never meet again, y/n. unless... it's for killing one another." geto spoke with a low voice, his face turning to the side as he looked at you through his peripheral vision.

your mouth was wide open, not believing how crudely he could say those words and prance off. you gritted your teeth, running towards him before harshly grabbing his arm, pulling him towards you with all the strength in your body.

"what the f-"

"i'm sick and tired of your bullshit. you act like the world revolves around you, like you're the only one who's been through shit. yet, when it comes to facing things, you're nothing but a fucking coward!" you glared at him, your grip on him tightening to make sure he can't break free. geto scoffed, using his free hand to grab your jaw, pulling your face closer to him before looking down. you squirmed in his tight grasp, but he didn't budge.

"oh yeah? my words must've hurt your little feelings, didn't they, y/n?" he pouted, faux sympathy laced within his tone.

"shut up! you know i'm right. the incident with riko and toji had a toll on all of us, but it struck you the hardest." you tried your best to speak coherently through your squished cheeks.

"it did. what about it? you never did anything and neither did satoru. i took my own matter into my own hands. that's not cowardice, it was a leap to another direction, my redirection. silly little girls who chew on their emotions like you won't understand my motives." he smirked, making you wince as he squeezed your jaw, your hands coming up in defense to peel them off.

"redirection? ha! don't make me laugh. you wanna hate toji for killing an innocent girl who you were supposed to watch over? it'd make you a hypocrite, 'cause what makes you any different from him now?" you gave him a grin, bullets of sweat running down your forehead.

"guess you do have a brain somewhere in that stupid head of yours." he grumbled, releasing you from his hold before turning around to once again leave.

even if it meant that you'd have to chase him to the end of the earth, you're more than willing to do so.

you lightly jogged behind him before catching up, now standing in front of him as you blocked his space. you could sense him slowly getting annoyed, hand dug inside his pocket.

"don't you know that it's rude to leave mid-conversation, master geto?" you threw in a slight tease, trying to ease up the situation, but that might've irritated him even more.

"seriously, what is your problem? move." geto sternly ordered, his patience running low. but you didn't bother lifting a single muscle, staring back at him.

"no."

"i'm gonna kill you."

"okay."

"i'm being serious, y/n. go home."

"no."

geto grumbled at your stubborn behavior, scratching his head as he didn't want to use jujutsu against you when he knew that you were bluffing around.

"fine! then what do you want from me?!" he was fed up, eyes boring holes into your body.

"i need answers. i want... no, i need you to tell me everything that you went through after that incident." you replied, eyes looking into his with determination and perseverance. geto's eyes locked with yours, your knees turning into jelly.

you tried to look for some form of truth in his eyes, but you only see nothing but a vast abyss. those same eyes that once twinkled on those hot summer days where you spent being a bunch of reckless teens doing stupid shit was gone.

suddenly, it began to rain. a few drops turned into pouring rain, making your clothes wet along with his. you saw him take in a deep breath before averting his gaze.

"goodnight, y/n." geto pulled up his hood in order to avoid his hair from getting wet as he avoided your request, deciding to walk in the opposite direction.

you stood frozen in your steps, not bothering to run after him. you watched him slowly get smaller and smaller in the distance, just like you did two weeks ago.

you felt your heart shattering to pieces, watching your best friend, and the person who owns your heart walk further towards the dark path. the sickening and thick feeling of guilt has always embraced you ever since geto left jujutsu tech for good, the feeling of being responsible for his outcome always washed over you.

you were his best friend after all, yet you failed him. you watched him spiral down to his downfall, still, you turned a blind eye. it was foolish, you were young and so stupidly dumb.

of course, you didn't know any better at the tender age of sixteen. hell, you didn't even understand your own emotions, let alone anyone else's. nonetheless, after that whole incident, there was a split between the connection you, geto and gojo shared.

gojo coped by training until he passed out cold on the ground, geto resorted to self-isolationism, and you?

you'd disappear to god knows where. it wasn't a lie that you were a very rash person, your decisions being impulsive. after you touched school grounds, you booked a ticket to italy and stayed there for a couple of weeks.

no one questioned it, none of your friends.

of course, yaga soon tracked you down and threatened you to either come back or else the outcomes wouldn't be in your favor if he had to go there to get you.

so, when you did come back, gojo seemed as if nothing ever happened. meanwhile, geto's condition looked extremely poor. however, you selfishly ignored the red alarms in your head and thought maybe he was still going through it and needed space.

not to mention that you haven't properly healed from that incident and seeing how satoru was doing a little too well, neither has he.

at that time, you didn't want to bring up those events nor even trigger those horrific memories for you or the others. the mere thought of it made you have an instant panic attack. so, you chose to ignore it and hoped that maybe geto could recover on his own.

but, that's where your mistake was.

you should've asked. you should've been by his side and tell him that it wasn't his fault. you should've been there for him.

all these should've and could've's, yet nothing could ever fix what was already broken.

which is why your decision was final. you already lost him once and you weren't gonna lose him for a second time.

you woke up from your trance, picking up your legs as you ran as fast as you could. surely he couldn't have walked that far in the span of five minutes. you ran like a lunatic in the pouring rain, your clothes sticking to your body. although your vision was blurry with a mix of your tears and the rain, you were able to make out his figure, which was leisurely walking at a slow pace.

without thinking twice, you crashed into his back as you wrapped your arms around his waist. you felt geto jolt from the unexpected impact, his body freezing on spot.

"what the fuck?" geto breathed out, his heart nearly exploding from the shock. he looked down and recognized your hands, exhaling in relief that it was just you.

"do you remember when you'd summon your stingray shikigami every time i'd whine to you about my feet hurting from a long mission?" you sniffled, your words slightly muffled into the cloth of his hoodie, but geto had keen ears.

"yeah, you were pretty aggressive about it too." he snorted, making you break out into a small laugh.

"i sometimes lied about my feet hurting. your stingray shikigami can't carry more than two people at a time. i wanted to spend time with you alone." you snuggled into his back, squeezing him gently in your arms to get impossibly closer to him.

you could vividly remember how you and geto would spend hours surfing the sky on the curse, overseeing different people and how they lived their normal lives.

"did you chase me all the way here to confess that?" geto laughed, making you let out a deep sigh as you loosened your grasp on him. this allowed geto to turn around, now facing you.

he took note of how beautifully destroyed you looked under the dimly lit streets. your hair sticking to your neck and forehead, cheeks rosey red, eyes puffed up from crying and lips swollen from biting them so much.

you looked up at him, his face now wet from the rain as his hood was long put down, his hair messy and wet as well. your heart bled little by little as you looked at his drained out face. in your mind, you thanked god that it was raining or else he could've seen how your tears were like a nonstop waterfall.

"i'm sorry." you choked out, looking at him with glossy eyes. geto raised an eyebrow, slightly confused at your sudden apology.

"what?" he asked.

"i'm sorry for being a horrible friend. i knew that you weren't holding yourself up well. when i came back, i saw how thin you got, your dark eyebags, those fake smiles... i noticed it all. yet, i didn't say anything because i was selfishly thinking about my own sanity. i'm sorry for not being there when you needed someone the most, suguru." your knees gave out, collapsing on the ground as you sat on your knees while crying into your palms.

geto's eyes widened at the revelation, unable to move a single limb as his brain tried to process your words. he never craved for attention nor did he ever raise a hand for help, but, he always hoped that someone saw through those fake smiles while he died a little inside every day.

and you did.

geto never resented you or gojo in the slightest when he chose his own path, it wasn't something he did out of hatred for you two or anything against anyone in jujutsu tech. it was his brain that twisted everyone's words, from toji's last words that were uttered to him along with yuki's ramble about sorcerers.

it was during the wrong place at the wrong time.

whether you were there with him or not, there was no saving geto suguru.

he crouched down to level with you, watching how your body shook as you cried uncontrollably in your hands.

"i don't hate you, y/n. and... whatever that i went through and the outcome of it isn't your fault either, so stop blaming yourself." geto spoke in a gentle voice, peeling your hands off of your face to look at you. with tear-filled heavy eyes, you opened them and looked at him through your fuzzy vision.

his voice was now like the suguru you used to know, so soft and honey-like. there wasn't any malice or anger rooted into his words or tone.

"i could've stopped you from leaving." you reasoned, choking on your breaths as you tried to calm down, wanting to hold a collected conversation now that he's willing to open up.

"i don't know about that." he thinned his lips, looking down at the cemented ground.

"everything fell apart after you left. satoru tries to hide his pain, but i could see right through him. he doesn't wanna talk about it. then shoko... she didn't even know the full story until much later and i don't think she's coping too well even now. everyone's a mess because you left, suguru. you were the glue that held us together." you confessed, making him pause for a second.

"and i wore off, yet, no one put me back together. this path that i chose—it was the only way i found relief. it held me together at my lowest, y/n." geto's voice shook, your throat going dry as you could see him slowly break in front of you.

"suguru." you called out his name, not even knowing how to respond to such heavy words. he stood back up while collecting his composure back, extending a hand to help you up. you accepted, the skinship between his flesh with yours sent electric shocks all over your body.

"i'm glad that even after all these years, you still have the heart to love and care about someone like me, y/n. however, if you met up with me tonight with the intention of trying to convince me to come back, then i'm sorry because it won't be happening." he gave you a sad smile before fixing your soaking wet hair that was sticking to your face. you shuddered at his touch, looking at him in disappointment.

"i know." you bit your lips, preventing a cry from escaping your throat. geto nodded at your acknowledgment.

"you should head home before you catch a cold, y/n." he spoke with genuine concern, making your stomach flutter. you chewed on your bottom lip, not wanting for it to end this way.

"run away with me, suguru." you suddenly blurted out, your own mind shocked at the suggestion that left your lips. geto's eyes were now the size of two full moons, his mouth wide open.

"what?" he gasped, completely flabbergasted at your ridiculous suggestion.

"i mean it. let's run away, together." you gave him a crazy look, holding his hands as you gave him an insane smile with pleading eyes.

"are you out of your mind, y/n? did you drink before coming here?" geto asked in shock, but there was no foul scent of liquor radiating off of your body or mouth.

you were completely sober and in the right state of mind.

"i can't watch you destroy yourself like this anymore, suguru. this path that you call your redirection is slowly killing you. i can see it in your eyes. you kill people not because it's fun or you want to, but because it's a coping mechanism from what you witnessed. if you go back to jujutsu tech, you'll be executed without hesitation. so, why bother living a life like this? let's start fresh somewhere else in this huge world." you explained your idea, as each word leaving your lips made you sound even more insane.

were you even thinking this through? you're asking him, a mass murderer, to runaway with you, one of the strongest jujutsu sorcerers to be born in this era that's supposed to help humanity.

"you're willing to throw away your life for someone like me? no, i can't accept this." he shook his head, declining your offer.

"do you think this is a life that i want to live? a life where i'm chained to the responsibility of saving people, to fight life and death face to face every day, to pretend that everything's fine? i've reached my limit, suguru, and so have you." you argued, making him bitterly chuckle.

"do you have any idea how many people i've killed with these hands? if blood was thick enough to stain, my hands would be darker than red. do you still want to forgive a sinner like me?" he shamefully admitted, an attempt to make you disgusted of him or even burn in hatred.

he wanted you to loathe him for his crimes, to have an immense amount of resentment towards him. but, instead, you treated him like a delicate petal.

you brought his hands up to your face before kissing each of his palms. geto's eyes widened at your sudden action, not expecting you to react this way.

"i'll bear your sins with you. you're not alone anymore, suguru. i'll follow you into the deep pits of hell if i have to." you cupped your face with his hands, staring deep into his eyes with a determined glint, making him speechless.

that was the last straw, those very few words that you uttered to him in a matter of seconds was all that it took for geto's walls to come crumbling down. you watched his eyes well with tears before he bit his top lip to stop a painful cry from leaving his throat.

"it's okay, sugu. let it out." you encouraged, rubbing comforting circles on the back of his hand with your thumb.

"i-i.... i swear, y/n, i didn't take my eyes off of her even for a second. i even offered to take her away from the mission so that she could live a normal life. i didn't know when that shitbag entered, i didn't even sense him the slightest. one minute she was smiling and then... i see her on the ground bleeding." geto cried, trying his best to speak in between his sobs as you attentively listened to him. your heart shattered to millions of pieces as you watch him break down in front of you.

"i know, suguru. it's not your fault, come here." you closed the distance between you two, hugging him tightly as geto buried his face in the crook of your neck, the pouring rain continuing to rain on you guys with no mercy.

"satoru definitely blames me. i screwed up, y/n!" he added, making you shake your head as you disagreed.

"he doesn't, suguru. he knew the extremity of the situation and both him and i were nearly on the verge of death. it's not your fault, suguru. whether it was me or satoru in your place instead, riko would've died regardless." you comforted, stroking his hair as you tried to calm him down. he pulled back, looking at you as his eyes were now red and puffy from crying.

"i felt like i killed her and because i found no escape in that pit of guilt, i tried to derive relief by killing even more people. i.. i didn't even wanna kill them, but i did it for that feeling of finally being able to breathe. i can't do this anymore, y/n, i can't! absorb, exorcise, ingest, absorb, exorcise, ingest! i can't fucking do it anymore. i can't even enjoy a meal because of how pungent the taste is left on my tongue. the taste of curses, like a rag wiped with shit and vomit. i'm tired, y/n." he rambled, finally opening up about his true emotions. seeing him like this only broke you more, seeing him this panicked, scared and shame-filled.

he was just a kid.

"i know... i know, suguru. it must've been so hard on you and you've suffered enough. it's time to tap out and find happiness, sugu." you stroked his wet cheek, feeling him tremble under your touch.

"why would you do it for someone like me?" geto whispered, his voice cracking as a lump formed in his throat.

"because i love you, suguru. as my best friend and as a person. i loved you ever since we were kids. i can't live without you and i learned that the hard way through fourteen lonely and miserable years. me living a happy life is a life with you, sugu." you confessed your feelings, watching his eyes soften.

"i love you too, y/n." he smiled through his tears, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you closer to him. your heart was filled with content, an overwhelming wave of emotions struck you.

you pulled his hood over his head before pulling his head down. leaning in towards his face, your lips just centimeters away from his. geto closed the distance between you two as he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you in for a kiss. your hands clutched harder onto the fabric of his hood, your lips perfectly molded against his soft ones.

you could taste a mix of the rain along with both of your tears, kissing him hard in the pouring rain. geto walked forwards with you still in his hold, your back now hitting against a tree as he pressed his body into yours. the warmth radiated off of him to you, making you whimper.

geto couldn’t wrap his head around this new feeling which set his soul on fire. his mouth was producing more saliva than usual, like how you’d salivate when you eat good food. the awful taste of curses no longer lingered on his tongue, instead, now replaced by the taste of your sweet cherry flavored lips.

it nearly made him cry.

he tilted his head, angling his lips to kiss you deeper and harder. you could feel his body shudder, lips shaky as he kissed you like this was his last time with you.

you let go of his hood, the wind blowing it down which made you tangle your fingers into his wet ebony locks. geto's tongue swiped against your bottom lips and you gasped, allowing him to enter his tongue.

the kiss was full of need and love, the both of you touching one another and pressing onto each other impossibly closer. you both finally pulled away, gasping for air as you looked up at him, a warm smile painted on his lips.

you went on your tippy-toes, pressing gentle kisses all over his face. you kissed his forehead, cheeks, the tip of his nose, his chin and finally; you pressed a tender and loving kiss on his lips. geto chuckled at your actions, enjoying the affection he was receiving.

"so, what do you say?" you asked once again, looking up at him with hopeful eyes. geto looked down at you, seeing how your eyes glimmered with anticipation and it warmed his heart to see how much you wanted this.

not for you, but for him.

geto gave you a cheeky grin, gently grabbing your chin before leaning down to press a kiss on your lips.

"let's run away, y/n."

---

"happy anniversary, y/n! open it, baby." geto eagerly encouraged, his eyes sparkling as he placed the small, neatly wrapped gift on your lap. you chuckled at your boyfriend's adorable behavior.

it's been about five years since you both left behind your tragic lives, finding escape in the peaceful city of venice in italy. you both left that night, in your sopping wet clothes, not even bothering to go back for your stuff because it'd be too risky.

these past five years were nothing but a dream that finally came into reality. no more curses, no more exorcisms, no more death or tragedy. you and geto were just two normal people living your lives.

sometimes you sit alone in your balcony and think about how your life did a whole three-sixty. all those lonely nights that consumed you with your own guilt, self-loathe and tire... was no longer an issue.

instead, you slept peacefully besides your lover, wrapped up in the soft silk duvet that smelled like a mixture of you and him, indulging in his warmth.

of course, it was never that easy in the beginning. you both still suffered from very traumatic dreams, especially geto. you'd wake up in the middle of the night finding him crying quietly or having a panic attack.

but, you were always there for him, holding him like a precious gem as you cradled him in your embrace. you stroked his hair, kissed his tears away and held him tight.

you healed geto suguru.

you spent five happy and peaceful years with the love of your life, as if you both started from a clean slate. they say that hair holds memories, so, geto cut his hair back into his shoulder-length wolfcut. you dyed your hair along with cutting it short.

both you and geto owned a small restaurant that was pretty famous with various japanese cuisines.

it was definitely a new beginning.

"oh my god! this is adorable, sugu!!" you squealed, nearly falling off of the gondola as you held up the bunny plushie before hugging it. geto looked at you with hearts in his eyes, watching his cute girlfriend gush over the toy.

"there's a surprise for you inside its carrot." he gave you a cheeky smile, making you hum in confusion as you examined the carrot. you noticed it had a little zipper, tugging it before shoving a finger inside.

you felt something thin and cold, like a ri-

your eyes widened at the realization, tears pooling in your eyes as you looked into geto's eyes. the familiar softness and adoration that he's always held for you shone through his beautiful onyx eyes.

"pull it out, my love." his voice was like a whisper, your tears streaming down your cheeks as you pulled out the gorgeous diamond ring.

"if someone were to ask me what is a moment in my life that i never regretted, i'd answer that it would be every moment that i spent with you. i don't think i'll ever be able to repay you for all that you've done for me, as my best friend and as my lover. you saved me, honey. because of you... i had a second chance to life. thank you for everything, y/n. i love you so much, so, so, so, much. there isn't enough languages nor words on this earth that exists for me to express my love for you. which is why i want to keep loving you until the end of time. will you marry me, y/n?" geto caressed your face, watching you give him a bright smile as you cried tears of joy.

"yes! make me your wife, geto suguru!" you yelled in happiness, surely to have piss off the italian neighbors who were trying to sleep at this hour.

but, you didn't care. you just got engaged with the love of your life.

geto chuckled at your reaction, slipping on the ring before pulling you in for a kiss. all of a sudden, you felt wet droplets on your head, making you both pull away and look at each other in shock.

"it's raining." you said the obvious, making geto smirk before once again pressing a gentle kiss on your lips.

"it's a sign that we're meant to be together forever, y/n." he smiled against your lips, making you giggle at his superstitious reasoning as you pecked his lips.

after your little date, both you and geto reached home, changing out of your wet clothes into pajamas. you walked outside the bathroom, watching your fiancé place down two hot cups of tea on the table before sitting down on the sofa.

you took in a moment to soak in the image of how gorgeous geto was. sometimes, you questioned if you even deserved to be with such a beautiful man inside out.

"so, you gonna stand there and watch me or come here to get a better view?" geto teased, patting his lap as your cheeks tinted red. you giggled, walking over to him before sitting on his lap, placing your head on his shoulder as you watched the diamond sparkle under the light.

"this is like your hundredth time looking at it, honey." you can feel the deep vibration of his laughter against your chest, making you hum.

"it still feels like a dream, a long dream that i never wanna wake up from." you admit, gawking at the ring before nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck, pressing soft kisses.

"this is our happy ending, y/n. it's just you and me, together forever." he whispered, making you smile as you raised your head to meet his eyes.

"that's all i need." you answered, kissing him on the lips.

geto stared at you as if you hung the moon and stars, eyes twinkling with love and adoration. he couldn't get enough of your voice, your touch and your presence in general. you were the light in his life, the person who kept him sane.

you rested your head on his chest, your arms wrapped around his waist while he played with your hair. you listened to his heartbeat, feeling yours syncing with his as the gentle thumping sound lulled you to sleep.

"do you miss them?" geto suddenly asked, making you hum.

"yeah. do you?" you asked him the same question. you felt his chest heave before relaxing, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.

"yeah." he softly answered.

"do you think satoru's married by now?" you thought out loud, making geto snort.

"i highly doubt it. he's too much of a manwhore." geto snickered, referring to how gojo was a player by heart.

"so were you! getting all the ladies back in high school. but, look at you now, stuck with me forever." you looked at him with a smirk, making him laugh before pecking the tip of your nose.

"that's 'cause you're the only lady my heart was meant for." he cheesily answered, making you squirm in his embrace.

"what about shoko?" you asked, since you were on the topic of your old friends.

"eh? hopefully with a boyfriend if lung cancer hasn't taken her out already." geto nonchalantly responded, making you gasp as you slapped his arm.

"suguru!" you scolded at his brash words.

"ow! i'm being logical." he winces, even though it wasn't a painful impact.

"i hope shoko's doing well. if it wasn't for her, none of this would've happened." you smiled, reminiscing back to that night when you last saw her.

"hm, you should give her a call then. i doubt she changed her number, she's too lazy for that." geto suggested, making your eyes widen.

"huh? wouldn't that be too risky?" you looked at him as if he grew two heads.

"probably not, i'm sure she predicted something like this." he shrugged.

"i'll see. i don't think satoru has changed his number either. you should give him a call in that case, suguru." you caressed his bottom lip.

"maybe. i'll see." he copied your answer, making you chuckle.

a lot has happened between these past five years, both you and geto took it one step at a time. maybe one day, you both can finally muster up the courage to catch up with your old friends.

but for now, no one else needed to exist in the world that you both created that was meant for you two only.

#geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x y/n #jjk geto #geto #suguru #jjk suguru #jjk geto suguru #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu geto #geto fluff #geto angst #geto suguru fluff #geto suguru angst #geto headcanons #geto imagines #geto scenarios #geto suguru headcanons #geto suguru imagines #geto suguru scenarios #geto suguru drabble #geto drabble

[tearskillstardust]

hello hello I have a genshin request!! genshin men Xiao, Neuvillette, Alhaitham, Wriothesley, (sperate) x y/n??

It's nothing special but hearing y/n sing for the first time?? She's very quiet and closed about her life but they go looking for them and hear them singing!!

(also shes singing Doria mermaid song!! I would suggest searching that up and listening to it first!! Have fun!!)

-🦇🎀

✎ GENTLE HARMONY... al haitham, xiao, wriothesley, neuvillette.

✎ they hear you singing once, but now that they've heard your mellow voice and seen your vulnerable side, they aren't letting you off the hook about it so easily.

— female reader. no trigger warning except that childe has a crush on scara which may be traumatizing lmao

✧ XIAO

serenity and peace had shaded the brilliant skies a gentler shade of grey as the trees leaned in towards each other in idle chatter.

in the eyes of the yaksha, it was an ordinary view. if the skies were grey, then all it meant was that rain would follow soon after, nothing more nothing less. but in the eyes of his lover, whose romantic nature he had begun to come to terms with and secretly adore, a grey sky meant so much.

it was rejuvenation after the bright seduction of the summer breeze— the first onset of the dance of the peacocks as they spread their wings in all their glory, and the onset of the romance of the lovers who had only recently united.

xiao had known you for as long as he could remember, you had just, sort of been there when he first began serving rex lapis. a nature spirit, rex lapis had simplified after a great struggle of trying to explain what you were. and though your discontentedness with the term was very great, because you were not just a spirit, you decided against voicing your opinions.

part of your reluctance stemmed from the fact that xiao had uncontrollably smiled then, unaware of what he was doing, not having controlled his emotions. he had blushed very harshly after that, and though he never explained the 'why' part of it, you assumed nature was simply a touching subject for him.

the yaksha stopped in his steps.

a lone bird at a distant tree took off in flight, the cranes choosing another spot for rest, complaining about the loud of a certain flute.

a flute.

in these high mountains?

he was the only one around himself he had known could play the instrument —other than a certain peculiar kid dressed in red who said he smelled like a distant past and a longing pain and xiao had to control himself from smacking him— so where did the tune originate from?

he would have moved, he certainly would have if the tune wasn't so melancholic in nature—it was like a paradox almost, bright where it was dull, buoyant where it was heavy, ephemeral where it was harsh.

suddenly, he felt like a young adeptus again, clad in green robes as he stared out into the sky, loud chatter behind him as the rest of his friends talked loudly, exchanging fruits and trinkets they'd got from villagers who thought of them as divine earthly spirits.

'c'mon xiao!', a certain rough hand pat his back, and he was so startled that he would have almost fallen down the ravine had another strong one not grabbed him right then as they dragged him back to the cavern where everyone else was and forced-fed him apples.

'haha! have some apples! especially for the most fearsome of yakshas!'. everyone around him laughed at that, and someone pinched his cheeks when he huffed, red at the teasing.

the memory was too distant for any image to properly solidify, his heart throbbing in pain of revived memories. but strangely enough, he remembered having felt so happy that day—the last day he had seen all of them smiling before everything dissolved to dust.

no, he shook his head, gritting his teeth as he held his spear tighter, ignoring the dull pain in his heart, stupid, stupid memories.

he moved slowly in the direction of the tune, spear in his grasp, agonizingly as though a snake trying to catch sight of the rabbit— and when the rabbit came to sight, his mouth fell open in slight shock.

it was you.

he almost called out to you but then realized that you would stop singing if he did. you had always been private about this side of yours, never quite revealing it to him entirely. he had always been slightly perplexed when zhongli would laugh and tell him about how skilled in the arts you were, and he would always have difficulty accepting his words for he had never even seen you reading a poem, much less sing or perform.

so when he heard you sing, he couldn't help but simply sit down behind the bushes as you completed your tune, humming peacefully, all alone, defneseless.

defenseless.

'so you hate the arts because it makes you weak?', cloud retainer asked him jokingly once when he told her he didn't like songs or arts. he wasn't entirely sure what to say to that response of hers.

'it makes you vulnerable.' he answered her back, clearing his throat.

and it was true.

the vulnerability that danced in your eyes at that moment made his heart mellow with equal parts love and nostalgia. of lost memories, lost friends, lost loves, lost happiness— everything he had lost, he had sacrificed for a single goal born out of devotion. he could not find it in himself to move away from your gentle song, nor did he have the heart to disturb you when you were so much at peace.

so he remained there until you were done, reliving old memories as he got further lost in your song, and he could have sworn your gaze flickered exactly to where he sat amongst the bushes, a smug grin on our features before you turned away, staring serenely at the sky as the downpour began.

✧ WRIOTHESLEY [modern au]

the captain of the baseball team had no business around the club rooms. especially around the music ones. and he knew it.

but when a certain ginger-haired, dumbass of a friend decided that it was best to have a crush on scaramouche, the most introverted, 'golden-kid' guy of the school, he had to decide against his better judgement to look for him around the music rooms where he would often be during afternoons.

but when he came across the rundown music room with the sign 'do not enter' hanging outside it, he was suddenly reminded of you who had been entering the room, continuously sniffing and coughing as you tried to gather the courage to enter, a broom in one hand and a mop and bucket in the other. he snickered quietly, remembering the snarl you had given him like a wounded cat when he offered help.

when he tried remembering who you were, however, his memory betrayed him. he only remembered that he had seen you receiving a reward for an inter-school musical performance you had given, but your name or class was entirely a different matter.

'childe can find out about her,' he thought, and then blushed furiously when he realized he was obsessing over a girl he had seen just yesterday. he shook his head once again, 'no i'm a confident man.'

pause.

actually, not so much.

because as soon as he slid the door open out of pure curiosity —hoping somewhat that if some of the cleaning work would be left, he would do it and act like the prince clad in white robes on a white horse— the sight in front of his eyes almost made him drop to his knees.

you sat in front of the piano, back towards him as you played a melody, your fingers working quickly as your voice filled his ears. you looked so pure and unbothered in that moment that he had to force himself not to march right up to you and ask for your number.

he could not help but stare at your fingers as they worked quickly on the keys, never staying still, and then your mellow voice as you sang the notes perfectly, the highs and lows evident in your voice. he was surprised how touching the song was, and almost complimented you when he felt a hand on his shoulder and almost screamed.

childe pressed his hand further against his mouth and pulled his back, and softly slid the door back in place before looking at wriothesley with a teasing grin.

'so?', he asked suggestively.

'so what? you absolute piece of shit i was about to get down on one knee and—

'do you even know her name?'

pause.

'w-well i will! eventually! '

childe sighed and rubbed his forehead. 'you know what actually? forget i ever said anything about that purple twink. i'll talk to him and this girl for us.'

wriothesley eyed his friend suspiciously, aware of his playboy tendencies. 'oh c'mon,' childe said, smiling smugly, 'i would never flirt with my soon-to-be friend's dearest—

'ugh, shut up.' wriothesley said, completely red in the face. he grabbed childe by the throat and began roughing him up affectionately, both of them laughing loudly in the empty corridor.

'excuse me?'

wriothesley dropped childe and straightened up immediately at the familiar voice. 'oh! hi!'

you eye him once before nodding. 'hi. i'm practising a song, please keep it low.'

he was a bit surprised with your short response but managed to smile nonetheless. 'oh, yup, we're sorry. also, your singing is amazing!'

oops.

to his surprise though, you smiled gently at him and blushed. 'thanks, i wrote it a long time back!' and he had to try not to combust with embarrassment and glee. he smiled widely, red in the face as you went back in and slid the door in place.

oh, he could marry you.

'let my shirt go, dumbass!'

'oh, go to hell ginger. i'll talk to her myself.'

✧ AL HAITHAM

al haitham liked his peace. period.

much to his annoyance, however, kaveh's best friend, you, that is, who was staying over at his place for some time to look after both, him and kaveh because both of them fell sick at the same time, hated silence.

no, not disliked. hated.

in your eyes, it was a day wasted if there wasn't an element of song and loudness in it. you always left a cd playing at the gramophone. you didn't even care about the genre, something just had to always keep playing. and you should always be able to listen to it. otherwise, you start becoming irascible.

once he had turned off the radio that you'd left on even when you were working in the balcony, hanging their clothes to dry and that night, as you placed the cloth over his heated body, you made sure it was extra cold making him hiss loudly.

it wasn't very fair, but he didn't go much against you after that.

he would not have needed your help, but tighnari had insisted that they keep you there to ensure that their viral does not get any worse. he had mentioned some botanical words al haitham was too annoyed to remember and then pushed you in the house, leaving.

still though, with his own fever which was always accompanied by chronic headaches, with his inability to read which was clawing at him, and kaveh's endless chatter about one thing or the other, even he was bound to lose his patience at one point.

today was precisely that day perhaps when he had thought of at least 101 reasons why silence was necessary right now in his house as he strided over to kaveh's study where you were working on your herbology work. or at least he thought you were.

standing right outside the room, he heard a soft tune of singing. right.

now that he actually thought about it, the entire house was quiet except for your soft singing that was infiltrating his ears right now. he had no interest in invading anyone's privacy or being rude, nor was he fond of the arts, but when he heard the softness of your voice, he couldn't help but press his ear further to listen closely.

he was so used to your loud, excited and energetic voice, which always irritated him —no offence intended— that when he heard the softer side of it, the more vulnerable one, he couldn't help but get mellow from the inside. he almost wanted to gag, but even he couldn't deny that your singing voice was beautiful.

he had always had a bit of a lonely life.

not that he was upset with it, no, he almost called it, welcomed it with open arms. he was rich, intelligent, no scratch that, genius, capable and competent. he simply didn't need anyone around.

but sometimes when he stared at kaveh moving around the house, holding a ladle one time, then a stack of books the other, he couldn't help but feel a tinge of emotion— something he couldn't quite place his finger at but something which forced him to smile nonetheless.

and then there had been you. there was nothing in you that the scribe would've liked romantically, initially anyway; you were loud and bright and energetic, always jumping from one task to the other, always had a story to tell and a joke to crack, never quite had a dull moment or a need for rest. he almost laughed every time he saw you interacting with kaveh and the way you two just clicked together—the two most annoying people on earth.

the only two people close to his heart.

wait a minute.

he suddenly realized that your song had stopped, and he immediately skipped from the door to the kitchen, or as far as he possibly, quietly could, when you opened your door and stared at him confusedly.

'scribe?'

'al haitham.'

'same thing, what are you doing here? you need a newspaper?'

he looked where he was standing and found he was in the middle of the hall in the most awkward way possible and then cooked up an excuse quickly. 'uh, yeah, kaveh's being a pain again.'

you snickered quietly and quickly came to where he was, standing on your tiptoes as he instinctively bowed down to let you press your hand against his forehead. when he realized his action, he blushed furiously.

you frowned seeing him all red, 'you still have a temperature, al haitham. go back to bed and if you need something, just call me. i'll bring today's newspaper.'

fuck the newspaper, he thought, quickly walking back to his room—confusing both of you; you, over how weird he was being all of a sudden and himself over why he cared so much for you all of a sudden.

✧ NEUVILLETTE

the chief justice of fontaine.

interesting title.

but the duties that came with the position were not so interesting. don't get the ludex wrong— he loves his people, and his job and he was completely devoted but it's simply that when he can, and wants to, spend time with a fun friend and funnier melusines, it's a bit hard to focus on your work.

it was just that time to time, it was nice having someone around who can alleviate your stress without being loud or obnoxious or landing him in more trouble. and it just so happened that you provided him the perfect gateway for that, his newly assigned guard.

he hadn't insisted on keeping one but wriothesley and clorinde had, telling him about the fragile state of fontaine in these times and how any kind of chances of attack on the ludex remained high and that even though he was the hydro dragon himself, a skilled and trustworthy mercenary was always worth keeping around.

what they never said to him though was that they had also assigned you the duty because they were aware of your jokester nature. they knew that you would entertain him with jokes and keep it light when he was getting too tense. and then there was this empathetic nature of yours, which always allowed you to comfort the hydro dragon when he felt upset.

he was genuinely amused by you. you were a nice influence to have around, with your light-hearted chatter and sweet-spoken self. what he didn't expect though, was that he would start getting so restless when you weren't around. he convinced himself for a week, then two, but when the third week passed without having you around, he wanted to visit you.

you had fallen sick, clorinde had informed him. surely, you would be better by now? where were you then? did you grow tired of being around him? he felt upset at that thought. of course. he never openly admitted to liking your jokes or witty banter, certainly, you hated him now. regardless, it was your duty now, and he didn't really ant any kind of stain on your reputation. he would gladly —well, not gladly— let you leave but with proper documents and papers.

he knocked thrice on your door, only for the door to open with a creak.

negative thoughts infiltrated his mind.

he walked in slowly, expecting anything and everything to jump at him. he looked around slowly as he closed the door behind himself, frowning deeply. then he paused.

a song.

and he was so relieved upon hearing that song that he couldn't help but follow it to its source blindly, the innermost room where you had once told him you kept all your musical instruments. you were playing the song on a lyre, and he could almost imagine your serenity as you pluck at the strings idly, staring out of a window.

you often sang it when it was dark and you were lighting all the lanterns around the place and switching the lights on. there was a certain joy, a promise of love in the sweet song that you often sang that made him love it so much. or perhaps it was not the song at all but the person singing it instead.

he stopped right at the closed door and heard your voice, putting him at peace. he thought about how peaceful you must be in this moment, so vulnerable with your closed eyes and parted lips as you addressed the wind with your gentle song—

'sir?'

the song stopped.

he turned, irritated at the interruption, only to find clorinde standing behind himself, holding a small pouch of herbs. now that the situation sank in, he realized that there was shock in her tone, as though she wasn't expecting him at all. he blushed.

'good evening, miss clorinde.'

she tried hard not to tease him and shushed him by pressing a finger against her lips and quickly hid him behind the cupboard, as he crouched, half embarrassed, half thankful as you opened the door.

'who's there clorinde?' your voice came, albeit a bit softer than its usual pitch.

'oh, it's no one.'

'but you said sir?'

'c'mon be serious, you really think i would address someone if they barged right into our house? i would crack their skull open just like that!'

neuvillette flinched slightly from his place before grimacing.

he sneaked out slowly when the door closed and moved out of the house, making sure to shut the door behind himself. and as he walked back to his quarters, he could not help but feel every emotion known to mankind— love for you, anger at clorinde, sorrow for himself, guilt at entering without thinking, then irritation for overthinking, sulking for not being able to see you and confusion at the fact that he was feeling so much all of a sudden.

one thing was sure though, the ludex had taken a liking to your voice, and when you returned, there was no way he was going to let you finish your shift for the day without singing him the song in your lovely, lovely voice.

i wanna kiss the anon who sent this request! this was so cute and fun<3 and the song was amazing my darling, love you for it! i hope i could deliver what you hoped

also, who wants to help point out what al haitham is feeling? 😌

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #neuvillette genshin #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette fluff #fontaine #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley x you #neuvillette #al haitham #kaveh #genshin alhaitham #al haitham x reader #al haitham x you #al haitham x y/n #al haitham fluff #xiao x reader #xiao genshin impact #genshin xiao #genshin fluff #fluff #anon <3

[mt-oe]

𝘾𝙤���𝙚 𝙖𝙨 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝘼𝙧𝙚—bandmate mizu hcs

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

I've been listening to an old playlist I made when I still had time to listen to various genres of music and nostalgia hit me in such a good way.

Hope that you will find much fun in these headcanons as much as I had fun writing them <3

Enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

warnings: not proofread, she/her for mizu, implied afab reader

note/s: manager reader; mizu has a crush on you

✦ She plays both electric guitar and bass. She'd be sporting a white Epiphone 1961 Les Paul SG Standard, a graduation gift from her step father. Since it had so much sentimental value to her, she never really got around to replacing it. But when she got her first job, she spent the first few months saving up for her bass which was a Fender American Performer Mustang Bass.

You'll never see her in the studio without it. She even keeps it by her side when everyone's taking a small snack break. It's like they're her babies.

One time Taigen tried playing with it while Mizu was in the restroom and everyone was surprised at how fast she came out of the comfort room to smack him on the head with a force so heavy the smack sound echoed around. With that incident, everyone knew not to touch her instruments.

✦ Dresses up either in the typical oversized shirt and baggy pants...or like Kurt Cobain. You cannot change my mind. End of conversation.

✦ Mizu would be the type of member who has argued or fought with every one at least once. It didn't matter how insignificant the issue was. If she didn't like what she saw or what was happening, she doesn't hesitate to speak up about it. This, of course, led to arguments and fights that you often had to mediate.

Why you? It's because she never really listens to anyone else. If anyone else broke up the fight, she'd fight with them as well.

"Mizu," you sighed out, crossing your arms and staring at her with an unamused look.

When you arrived at the studio, Ringo had immediately informed you that Mizu and Akemi were arguing yet again. The atmosphere inside was so thick, you could probably cut it with a knife. This led you to pulling Mizu out of band practice to have a talk with her.

She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms back. Her head was turned towards another direction, not really able to look at you. "It's her damn fault. Her and her old man," she simply replied, making you sigh yet again.

"I know you're annoyed at her dad for interrupting our practice again but you know you can't argue with Akemi all the time," you responded, unfolding your arms and placing a hand on her shoulder. "We need both of you in this band, y'know?"

Her body tensed up slightly when she felt your hand make contact with her shoulder, a blush forming on her cheeks ever so slightly. Fuck you're so cute. She glanced at you before pushing herself off of the wall, rubbing a hand over her face, seemingly annoyed. "Fine, fine. I'll apologize," she grumbled

You smiled at her, making her glance at you again. "Thanks, Mizu."

When both of you returned inside, she immediately apologized to Akemi like a brat who was scolded. But Mizu knew she'd argue with Akemi again the next time her dad barges in the studio. She's just trying to please you for now.

✦ If she isn't playing, she'll be sitting all by herself, researching about where to buy instruments and paraphernalia or watching recordings of another band's recent gig. Ringo would often join her when he spots her. His sudden appearance often makes her jump. At first, it would just be Ringo talking about his day, then what he ate, then the new songs he discovered from the smart shuffle feature of Spotify to which Mizu would either respond by not saying anything or just nodding.

When Ringo spots her looking for better instruments, he'll start talking about second-hand equipment and old but gold repair shops. Although it seems like Mizu isn't listening to him, you'll spot her checking the seller's profile or going to the shop itself on her free time even if she had no intention in buying anything.

✦ Has the most random playlist among everyone in the band. While everyone had a main genre they stuck to, such as Taigen with grunge, Akemi with pop, and Ringo with country, Mizu just listens to whatever. As long as it sounds good, she adds it to her playlist.

And mind you, she just dumps all the songs in ONE playlist.

You tried listening to it once and hearing AC/DC's Back in Black after listening to Twice's TT followed by bouquet by Ichiko Aoba was not something you'd expect to hear in that order.

She gets embarrassed when she finds out you listened to her playlist but doesn't make it obvious. The next time you look at her profile, you'll find a playlist named "you, it's always you" and it's just filled with love songs and songs about having a crush.

✦ Along with the previous, their opponents during battle of the bands competitions often underestimate her. The other competitors would be so confused because why is this dude listening to Tchaikovsky backstage instead of practicing his rifts?

Mizu was simply chilling backstage, earphones in, listening to her random ass playlist again when a shadow looms over her. She looks up and sees Akemi, staring at her and saying something she could not hear.

She removes an earbud, raising an eyebrow at their vocalist in a seemingly annoyed manner. "Your music is too loud. We can hear it from the dressing room," Akemi points out, crossing her arms. She leans forward and looks at Mizu's phone before letting out an amused huff. "Don't you think listening to Hamilton before the competition is a bit weird?" she asks with a smirk.

The other bands sitting around and eavesdropping on the two whispered, glancing at them. Hamilton? Really? Before a battle of the bands competition? Bud is already throwing away his shot, they thought.

The guitarist simply grunts at her, shrugging her shoulders at her. "This is none of your business. Go warm up or something," she replies before putting her earbud back in and closing her eyes as she leaned back against the chair. Akemi rolled her eyes before walking off, probably to find the rest of the band.

When they get up on stage, everybody already thinks the guitarist doesn't know shit. But man, the look on everyone's faces when she starts playing Chopsuey? Goddamn.

Goddamn.

✦ Unlike the others members, she doesn't actively try to build connections with other bands. Once the competition is over, everyone except Mizu is out their mingling with other bands. You're out there talking with your fellow managers, Ringo is talking about food with the other bands for some reason, and Taigen is out there attracting the other women which leads to Akemi dragging him by the ear. Mizu is just...there.

She finds interacting with other people unnecessary. She also has her moments when she recognizes and wants to talk to someone from another band but she's too awkward to talk to them. What she'll do is just stare at them from a distance and wait for someone to introduce them to her.

"You're burning a hole through their heads," Taigen comments, sitting down next to Mizu on the equipment crate and propping his leg up. Mizu grunts in acknowledgement of his comment but continues to stare at the other band. "They probably think you're a weirdo," he laughs.

She glares at him for a brief moment before looking at the band at a distance again. "They had a gig in the bar near our studio. Pretty impressive," she explains. Taigen nods, now staring at the band too.

The both of them watch as you approached the band of interest, cheery and bubbly. Almost immediately, you were already chatting it up out there.

A manager's skill probably.

Mid-conversation, you felt someone watching you so you turned around, eyes meeting with the two. Your smile widened, making the two of them stand up, knowing what was about to happen. They watched as you talked with the other band again. Suddenly, they looked at Taigen and Mizu's direction and approached them with you by their side.

"And these are my bandmates!" you introduced, moving over to their side. Just as Mizu was about to shake the vocalist's hands, the vocalist from the other band immediately patted her shoulder. "You're that person from one of our gigs! So how was it?"

The introvert in her was thanking you so much.

✦ She's a lady killer, but she's also very awkward when women approach her. As much as Mizu is pretty, Mizu is undeniably very handsome as well. Let's be honest, who wouldn't be attracted to a tall, well-built guitarist with an aloof aura and the sexiest deep voice you've ever heard?

The problem was, she didn't really know how to interact with them. The moment someone tries to hit on her, she's either frozen stiff or already planning her escape.

Mizu could not do anything but stare at what had landed on her feet.

It was a bra. With someone's number on it.

"Call me! Please!" someone from the audience screamed. She looked around in confusion before looking at the article of underwear by her feet with her eyes narrowed. Slowly, she bent down and picked it up, holding it by the straps.

Holy shit these were big.

What the hell was she supposed to do with this? Throw it back to the owner? Poor Mizu was lost. She continued to hold it up awkwardly, trying to figure out what should she do. If you hadn't told her to toss it you, she'd probably still be staring at it by the next song.

And you'd think people would stop doing that, but no. In fact, the amount of women hitting on her backstage increased. The little incident on stage somehow increased her charm with the ladies. Because holy shit...she plays both guitar and bass, both tall and well-built, looks so fucking good in a relaxed fit, can be both pretty and handsome at the same time, has an aloof and mysterious aura, AND she's awkward?? Sign me up. Sign me the fuck up.

✦ Unintentionally gets good venues for gigs. That's why you always bring her with you when talking to the owner of the venue. None of you really know how she does it, but she does?

"For the last time, I'm telling you. We've already booked enough performers for this month," the owner grumbled, glaring at you and your persistence.

You frowned at him, clasping your hands in front. "Please! We just need a gig to fund a new amplifier," you begged, giving the owner doe eyes. To no avail, the old man wouldn't budge...is what you thought.

Mizu saw your frown and knitted eyebrows and decided that it was a good time to approach you. She looked at you before looking at the owner with narrowed eyes, almost like a glare. "Is there a problem?" she asked, stepping forward and closer to the owner, stopping only once she was almost face-to-face with him. Her sharp blue eyes stared at his, piercing through his soul.

The owner stepped back a bit, looking up at her before shaking his head. "No no, we were only uh...talking about which time slot you wanted next week!" he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head.

Upon hearing this, you immediately perked up and gently pushed Mizu aside. "What? Really?!" you exclaimed, holding on to the guitarist's arm in excitement. The owner nervously glanced back at Mizu, who was still looking at him with the same intimidating stare, before nodding in clear defeat.

After you had negotiated with him, the two of you left with a smile. "That went supeeer well!" you laughed out, looking over at Mizu. "What'd you do anyway?" You grasped her arm, shaking it slightly.

She shrugged, looking anywhere but at you to conceal her blush. "Beats me. I just looked over to see what you were frowning at."

✦ She doesn't like singing even if she sounds pretty good. Everyone in the band, except you, has heard her sing and has tried to convince her to be the lead vocalist for at least one song but is always greeted with a "no" or a "shut the fuck up". She WILL do the back up voice but she feels too insecure about how deep and husky her voice is so it's rare.

You didn't know she didn't like singing though and on one faithful occasion...

You opened the door to the studio and was immediately greeted by the sight of Mizu sitting on the floor with her guitar in hand. The two of you arrived pretty early so the rest weren't there yet. Her guitar was unplugged and it seems like she was looking up songs on her phone.

"Hey..." you greeted her quietly, to which she nodded. "What's up?"

She looked up from her phone before sitting up straight and propping her phone on her thigh, getting ready to play. For a moment, she did not do anything but stare at what was on her phone before looking at you.

"Want to hear me sing?"

You looked at her with wide eyes, a smile slowly tugging on the corner of your lips. Despite her question catching you off guard, it was still a welcomed surprise. You nodded and sat down on the floor next to her, leaning against her slightly.

Her breath hitched upon feeling you so close to her before she slowly relaxed and started strumming on the unplugged guitar. At first, she started strumming a bunch of random chords to calm her nerves. Once you heard the first few chords, you immediately recognized the song.

"If I could begin to be half of what you think of me, I could do about anything..." she sang, strumming on her guitar softly. "I could even learn how to love."

The way she was singing the song so shyly yet so tenderly warmed you up.

Each strum.

Each word.

Each pluck .

It was like she was singing the song with someone special in mind. You leaned closer to her, resting your head against her shoulder, not minding how much it was moving.

She moved her shoulder a bit lower so you could fully rest your head against it, still singing. "Look at you go. I just adore you." She glanced at you for a moment before continuing. "I wish that I knew...what makes you think I'm so special."

A small smile also tugged on her lips as she looked at you. You looked so peaceful. You felt so peaceful. Like you were enjoying your time with her as she continued to sing. "When I see the way you way you look shaken by how long it took, I could do about anything.."

"I could even learn how to love like you"

#bes mizu x reader #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu #mizu x reader #bes mizu #bes x reader #blue eye samurai mizu #mizu imagine #mizu x you #mizu blue eye samurai

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

im in love with your blog my god...its actually so stunning and i LOVE how you write ethan. like the other anon said, you're truly saving & feeding us <33 can i request fluffy sex with virgin ethan? maybe even a little subby, considering lack of experience. but he finally feels ready w the reader after a couple months of being together. they're taking every big step slow but ethans always initiating first im done & deceased

Thank you!!! you're so sweet, I hope you like it:)

Dark Side of Your Room - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

Virgin!Ethan Landry x Experienced!Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: Your boyfriend is ready to lose his virginity.

A/N: I tried to make this as realistic as I could when it comes to a guy losing his virginity haha. I'll probably do a part 2. I hope you guys like it! - HATED this, rewrote it:)

Fun Fact: a lot of my titles come from the song I'm listening to at the time I'm getting ready to post lol

When you met Ethan, he had this innocence that just kind of drew you in. You knew from the beginning that the two of you would end up together, even if he did struggle to make eye contact for the first couple weeks after meeting you. He soon gained some confidence, and finally asked you out on a date. The two of you have been together since then, and he’s recently started to show more interest in other things people in relationships do. You weren’t a virgin, but he was. You were okay with not sleeping together, and the last thing you ever wanted to do was pressure him into something he wasn’t ready for. After the last time he came to your house, and a simple kiss turned into him on top of you kissing your neck, you had a feeling that a conversation was coming soon.

“Hey, babe?” he asked, as he sat beside you on your bed doing homework.

“What’s up?” you asked, glancing over to see his cheeks a light shade of pink.

“I think I’m ready,” he said, looking down at the keyboard of his laptop, trying not to get flustered under your gaze/

“Think you’re ready, or know you’re ready?” you asked, a smirk playing on your lips.

“I know I’m ready,” he said, “but if you don’t want to have sex yet, I understand.”

"I want to," you said softly, his head snapping to look at you. His heart started to race as his anxiety creeped up from his lack of experience.

You closed you laptop, your assignments being the last thing on your mind as he leaned in to kiss you. The kiss was gentle...at first. He pushed you back on the bad, your mouth moving with his as you glided your tongue across his bottom lip. He let you deepen the kiss as you felt his erection pressing against you.

As he kissed you, his hands started to roam, for the first time. He almost wanted to pinch himself to see if he was dreaming. He squeezed one of your breasts, making you whimper. His head shot up, concerned that he hurt you.

“You okay?” he asked, his eyes wide as he looked over your face.

“Yes baby, it felt good,” you said, grabbing his face and pulling him back so your mouths reconnected.

He started to lift your shirt, running his hand across your stomach. His hand inched further up, massaging you over your bra. You wanted him to take his time, but you felt yourself getting more wet by the second.

“You can take my shirt off,” you mumbled against his lips.

“Okay,” he said, fully lift the material over your head.

His lips went to your neck, as you felt his hips start to grind against you. He gasped at the feeling, breathing heavy against your sensitive flesh. His hands snaked behind you as he struggled to unhook your bra. You giggled as you leaned up, the determination evident on his face that he wasn’t going to ask for help. After he got it unhooked and slid the straps down your arms, he looked at the newly exposed skin.

“Fuck,” he whispered, trailing his kisses down your neck and over to one of your nipples.

Your breath hitched in your throat at the feeling, as he reached his hand up to massage the other one he wasn’t already giving attention to. He sucked your nipple into his mouth, causing you to make a new sound he'd never heard before. He switched to the other side, before trailing kisses down your tummy. He wanted to take his time, but he didn't want to embarrass himself by cumming in his pants.

You intently watched him as his mouth moved lower, stopping at the top of your pants.

“Can I take these off of you?” he asked, pupils blown out in lust, paying that you'd say yes.

“Yes baby," you whimpered, your core throbbing as he undid the button and slid the zipper down.

He slowly dragged them down your legs, taking in every inch of newly exposed skin. He trailed kisses along your hips before moving down lower as kissing up your thighs. When he made it to your clothed pussy, he placed a kiss to it over your panties. He grabbed you by the hips, before sliding them down your legs to meet your pants on the floor.

“Can you walk me through this?” he asked, a hint of embarrassment in his tone.

“Yeah, babe," you said, grabbing his hand that was on your hip and leading it to where you needed him. "Rub your fingers right here." He started off slow, his fingers getting wet with your arousal.

"Move your fingers a little bit faster," you said, your breath hitching in your throat as two of his fingers circled around your sensitive clit. "Just like that, baby."

He was trying to fight the urge to taste you, not knowing if he'd do a good job. The last thing he wanted to do was stop all the pretty sounds coming out of your mouth. You could tell he was holding back, so you tried to encourage him.

"You can use your mouth if you want to." His eyes lit up, wasting no time to lean in and place a small lick to your clit.

“Oh fuck,” you whimpered, his eyes connecting with yours as he repeated the action.

The curls on his head were tickling your thighs as he started to lick faster, loving that he was making you feel good. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you started to praise him. "You're doing such a good job," you moaned, as he sucked your clit into his mouth.

"Baby," you whimpered, "Can you put one of your fingers inside of me?"

“Okay,” he said against your clit, the vibrations from his voice making your legs tremble.

He slid a finger inside of you with ease as his mouth moved against you. "Fuck, you're so wet and tight," he mumbled, watching your face as he slid it in and out of you. "Can I use two fingers?"

You nodded, as he added another finger. The feeling of him stretching you out had you craving more.

“Okay…fuck…curve them a little, like you’re telling someone to come to you,” you rushed out between moans.

When he started to hit that special spot inside of you, and latched his mouth back onto your clit, you felt your orgasm quickly building. You started to cry out from the pleasure you were feeling, which made him go faster. Your hips were moving against his hand as his tongue struggled to keep up. He put his free arm over your waist, holding you down. The power move made your pussy start to clinch around his fingers.

“Oh my god,” you cried out, the feeling of ecstasy washing over you. Your hands were shaking as they tangled in his hair. The groan he let out from your actions sending vibrations to your clit, making your orgasm more intense.

He started to pull his fingers out before you whimpered, "No baby, Don't stop!"

He worked you through your orgasm, his fingers sliding out of you when your walls stopped fluttering.

“Did you cum?” he asked, a huge smile on his face.

“Yes baby, fuck that felt so good,” you said, trying to catch your breath.

He was beaming, so proud of himself, as he walked over to his backpack to grab a condom. He took his pants off and started to crawl back on the bed before you stopped him.

“Boxers too, baby,” you smirked, as his cheeks started to turn red.

“I’m kind of self-conscious about my size,” he said, not wanting to make eye contact. But as your saw the outline of his hard cock, you knew he had nothing to be embarrassed about. You were questioning how it was going to fit in you.

You didn’t say anything as you crawled over to the edge of the bed in front of where he was standing, sliding his boxers down. He gasped at the feeling of his erection being freed, standing at attention right in front of your face.

“Fuck, baby,” you whispered, as you wrapped your hand around it. His eyes screwed shut the second you touched him, his salty precum leaking out of his tip.

“I need to be inside of you,” he said when your hand started to move. "I don't want to cum yet."

You nodded, wanting this experience to be exactly what he wanted. You laid back on the bed as he opened the condom, his hands shaking as he rolled it on.

"It's okay, baby," your sweet voice said, trying to ease his nerves.

He crawled back on top of you, your legs spreading as his hips met yours. He looked at you for a minute, his eyes full of sexual desire and love. You felt so special that he wanted to experience this with you.

"Hey," he mumbled, "I just want you to know how much I love you, and how much you mean to me."

Your heart melted at his words, "I love you too, baby."

When you felt his hand reach between the two of you, you whispered, "Please be slow. It'll hurt if you just shove it in."

"Okay baby," he said, slowly sliding in. "Oh shit," he whimpered, the tightness and warm feeling making it hard for him to think.

He stilled in you for a second after he was all the way in, before his eyes started to plead with yours. "Can I move?"

“Yes," you said, leaning up to peck his lips.

He slowly started to thrust, the feeling of his cock stretching out your pussy making you a moaning mess underneath of him within minutes. He groaned as he rocked his hips into yours, loving the way he felt inside of you. You couldn't stop watching him. The way his mouth fell open, the way the muscles in his arms flexed, the way his brows furrowed together.

"You're doing such a good job, baby," you praised, as his hips started to stutter. You knew he was close so you started to moan even louder, trying to push him over the edge.

"Fuck," he groaned, "I'm gonna cum." He filled the tip of the condom, but you could tell he was disappointed in himself.

He slid out of you, taking the condom off and throwing it in the trash. His head hung in shame as he refused to make eye contact with you.

"What's wrong, baby?" you asked, his face red with embarrassment finally turning to look at you.

"I didn't make you cum," he sighed, sitting down beside you in the bed. "I didn't want to cum before you."

"Baby, you made me cum earlier. It's not a big deal," you whispered, your fingertips rubbing against his arm. "We could always go for round two."

#scream smut #scream #ethan landry #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Jason with a private s/o until one day nosy Damian breaks and realizes his brother has a gf.

"So much for a safe house," Damian scoffed, easing the window open, wary of traps- though he doubted any lethal countermeasures.

Todd was going soft.

He'd been... pleasant to deal with recently. His father suspected that Jason was plotting something though no one, not even Oracle could find a single trace of anything less above board than normal.

A light was on above the stove. And another light glowed in the back bedroom and Damian could hear a soft voice. A woman's voice- singing. Some song he'd never heard. And Damian froze for just a moment, melting into the shadows and waited.

While he waited he glanced around. Throw pillows. Scented candles. Framed pictures and prints of artwork- inexpensive ones. And he scoffed slightly. It was one live laugh love sign and a beige accent wall away from being some suburban decorating nightmare. But- the woman who ever she was lived here.

Odd.

Her name wasn't on the documents. It was listed under one of Todd's aliases. Kidnapping? It could be Stockholm syndrome? Would he stoop that low to have a consistent way to relieve whatever carnal-

The front door opened and Damian dashed quickly back through the open window, exhaling slowly when he heard heavy boots on the floor. Todd.

Lights clicked on and he watched from the shadows he'd hidden in as Jason scanned the area and closed the window.

And quickly, he tuned the earpiece in his ear to pick up the sounds coming from inside.

"Babe? You decent?"

He listened to the heavy boots stopping at the door and frowned. Why would that-

"Yeah," the soft voice sounds uncertain. Not scared but... tentative.

"The window was open," Jason said quietly, and Damian heard the rustle of fabric. Some kind of embrace?

"I didn't-"

"Stay here," Jason said calmly. "It's probably just some kids but-"

And before Damian could hear anything else, he was gone. If Todd found him anywhere in the vicinity, the game would be over before it started.

#Jason Todd #Jason Todd x reader #ask answered #minors dni #secret!reader

[simping-for-joe]

Cause Everything I want, is Everything that's Here

Leon Kennedy X Wife Reader

Leon returns home after a mission, thankful to return home to his wife and daughter.

(Title taken from the song “This is where I belong” by Bryan Adams)

A/N: Yes, the song is from the horse movie. I just listened to it again recently and literally couldn’t help but think of RE 6 Leon. Like the relief he feels to say he has a family and a home he can always return to and always feel love. Also, I’m a sucker for domestic Leon.

Leon sighs out softly as he walks off the helicopter, the bags under his eyes heavy. He doesn’t really pay attention to other agents around him. Just focused on getting out his gear, to head home. It’s been almost a month since he’s been home. He didn’t want to waste any more time waiting around here or even talking to anyone. Not even the president could get him to stay at the DSO headquarters for a moment longer. Hunngian promised him she’d handle anything, which he greatly appreciated. He just wanted to get to where he wished to be the most.

As he drives his car, he can clearly see the wedding ring on his finger reflect the street lights. A small smile forms on his lips, he can imagine your shock and surprise when he just shows up. It was one of the few reasons he didn’t always mind these long missions, and then he thought how excited and happy your daughter would be. How she’ll jump up and hug him tightly. He can’t fight the smile that forms on his face as he thinks about it. Finally, he pulls into the driveway with only one other car parked there. He gets out and he watches as his breath is visible in the cold air. Snow having fallen recently, there were remnants that the snow had been disturbed in the front yard. He smiles to himself as he notices two snow angels of different sizes. He walks the short path to the front door, pulling his keys from his jacket pocket. As he does he notices lights on in the house, he secretly hopes he isn’t too late for dinner.

“Baby, make sure your hands are clean.” You tell your daughter gently.

“Okay, mommy!” She calls and rushes back past you. Her blond hair is everywhere as she dashes by. She looked a lot like Leon and acted like him too. The only thing that didn’t look like him was her eyes, she had your eyes. You’re setting up the plates for dinner, putting down two plates. You feel some sadness at not being able to set a third plate. When you suddenly hear a squeal. You rush to see what is going on, to make sure your daughter is okay.

“Daddy!” You look to see Leon grab his daughter from the floor.

“My munchkin!” He calls out joyfully as he picks her up, her giggles never stopping.

“I missed you!” She says brightly as he holds her.

“Oh, I missed you too! More than you could ever imagine!” He blows air on her stomach making her laugh more. You’re practically frozen there as you look at Leon, his smile as bright as your daughter’s.

“Mommy look!” Your daughter calls as you finally start to walk closer. Leon puts your daughter down and is quiet for a moment before you hug him tightly.

“I missed you…” You say simply but so much more is said. Your arms are tight around him. So much you want to say but your daughter is here. I’m so glad you’re alive, I’m so happy you came back to me, I don’t ever want you to leave again.

“I know…” He replies softly hugging you back as tight as he can. His face buried in your neck and hair, taking in everything that is you. Small tears well up in your eyes but you quickly brush them away and smile.

“Come on… we were just getting ready to have dinner.” You tell him that with a bright smile, that reminds him. He’s home.

You quickly set another spot for him, and he listens with a smile as your daughter explains her day. Her feet kick under the table and her smile never fades as her dad is home.

You originally meant to make sundaes to distract your daughter from her father's absence, but now they were a celebration of his return home. Your own fond smile never leaves your lips even as your daughter gets ice cream all over her face. Leon only finds it amusing and kisses her cheek.

After cleaning up and making sure no one has any ice cream anywhere. You head to your daughter's room.

"Goodnight sweetie..." Leon kisses your daughter's forehead gently.

"Daddy... are you going to be here tomorrow..?" She asks in a tired tone, looking up at him. Some part of Leon's heart broke when his daughter asked him that question. You could see it in his blue eyes.

"There is nowhere I'd rather be... than here with you and your mom." He says softly. "Just know... even if I have to go, I'll always return..." Your daughter nods, to which she receives another kiss from Leon.

"Goodnight baby..." You add, tucking her in a bit tighter and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Love you..." You add on softly.

It's quiet for a moment in your shared bedroom. Before you hug Leon tightly again. As if you're floating in the sea, and he's your only life raft. Confirmation that he's here, and present. Leon not needing an explanation just hugs you back just as tight.

"I will always come home..." He assures you hugging you a bit tighter. Holding part of his entire world in his arms.

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #no use of y/n #x reader #fanfic #x female reader #x wife reader #hurt/comfort #some angst #domestic fluff

[takenbypeter]

Nothing Like Ross and Rachel

Adam Warlock x reader

Words: 1259

Authors Note: kinda continuation to A New Form Of Intimacy but it still makes sense on its own

You didn’t know what you unleashed after that first kiss with Adam, but it seemed like now he found any and every opportunity to connect your lips together.

You enjoyed kissing him just as much as he did you, but sometimes you found it to be a little much.

For example, when he’s running out to complete a quick, and I mean quick errand, or when you’re going out just to greet Cosmo.

Though most of the time you did find the whole scenario absolutely adorable, especially on days when he would visit, excitedly telling you about all the good that he performed during the day. It could be the simplest of deeds; helping someone with heavy items, or helping an animal, and after telling each story he’d then wait with his golden lips puckered slightly and you’d of course lean down to meet them.

Because, how could you say no to that face, plus like mentioned before you truly didn’t mind too, too much.

But because of this, you decided it would be quite amusing to play a little joke on him. It was simple, all you had to do was avoid kissing him. How hard could that be?

Adam arrived at your living quarters that night at his usual time but this time as you opened the door to greet him, instead of your typical kiss, you quickly hugged him in an embrace. If he found this odd he hid it well as he easily adapted, reciprocated your hug.

You hastily pulled him to your bed which you did almost every night. He got cozy under the covers as you turned the radio on.

Quill had given it to you as a gift the last time you all dropped him off on Earth and you were honestly truly grateful for the gift, especially since you’ve been missing television these past few years that you’ve spent on Knowhere.

With the radio though, of course it was only sound that would be emitted but you two considered that more than enough, still finding the entertainment very enjoyable.

Recently you two have gotten into Friends, with you claiming it was one of the top ten most iconic sitcoms to come to, and together you’ve been listening to it each and every night. And of course if at any point Adam found himself stuck on a mission you would always fill him in the next day.

As you got everything you needed you finally ran to your bed where Adam was already waiting as he held the covers up so you could fit in his arms. As you crawled in between his sturdy yet welcoming arms he puckered his lips a little and although you noticed it you chose to ignore, instead saying, “this is my favorite part!” You shouted, as you began to sing along to the theme song while doing the claps.

You tugged Adam’s arms, crossing them around you as you lay your head on his chest. You would find yourself laughing every now and then but noticed that Adam would just chuckle lightly, seeming to just follow your lead.

You noticed Adam’s fingers start to rub the tiniest of swirls against your arms. And then after a few moments he then relaxed his hands resting them around your upper arms before he squeezed them twice.

You made a point not to react.

Adam, still not picking up on anything, leans down pressing his lips against the top of your head to which you scrunched up your face, “Adam please. I’m trying to listen,” you said, making sure you were firm in your words.

And with that all his actions stopped and he was no longer laughing when you laughed. You were actually feeling a little bit of guilt.

Feeling conflicted, you decided to take the opportunity to use the bathroom and get your thoughts together.

“I have to use the bathroom, I’ll be right back,” you said as you gently pushed against his chest. Adam reached out, keeping you from distancing yourself too much.

You glance at him and were met with puckered lips as Adam clearly was waiting for a kiss goodbye.

Instead you pressed two fingers to them before successfully separating yourself from the boy, “Adam I’m just using the bathroom,” is what you said and you watched as his lips curved into an obvious pout.

“What if something happens?”

“Then I’ll just call you for help,” you said and all Adam could do was watch as you left the room.

In the bathroom you truly couldn’t decide if you should continue this whole prank that didn’t seem to be funny anymore, or if you should just end it.

Eventually you came to decide on the latter and exited the bathroom.

As you came to the main area you noticed Adam was now sitting upright in the bed with his arms pulled to his side as he stared off into the distance.

“I’m back,” you sang as you walked closer to where he sat.

Before you could explain yourself he asked the question, “are we on a break?”

The question caught you off guard for a split moment as you sat at the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry, what?”

Adam pushes his hands against the cushions and shifts himself so he’s facing you. His eyebrows are curved in the center with clear worry written on his face as his eyes are wide. “Rachel and Ross fought before they went on a break. Are we on a break?”

“We’re not on a break.”

“You won’t kiss me! Did I do something wrong? Did I make you mad? Are we fighting?” His mind seems to just be coming up with more questions just as he expels them and you have to cup his face to bring his attention back to you.

“Adam we are not fighting, and we are most certainly not breaking up…unless…” your brain suddenly wondered if he thought of the possibility before, “you want to?”

You didn’t think it was possible but his eyes got even wider, “no, never!…do you?”

“No of course not! This was just a stupid prank I’ve heard about. I thought it would be funny but now it’s just upsetting.”

“A prank?”

“Yes, a joke…” your hands finally leave his cheeks as your head ducks down, beginning to feel awful about the whole thing you’ve put him through, “I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was mad…I’m sorry.”

You didn’t expect him to become this upset, but in all honesty you completely understood his reaction. Truly it wasn’t even that funny of a prank.

You were really just feeling awful sitting there having upset both him and yourself but now Adam was the one to cup your own face, his golden fingers lightly resting against them.

He tilts your head up and you look into his eyes for a mere moment before he pushes his lips into yours.

You comfortably give in, matching his movements before you both distance from each other, but Adam kept his forehead against yours, “I’m just glad you still love me.”

You grinned, giving him a quick peck again, “I never stopped,” you reminded.

Adam pulled you back into his arms as you two resumed listening to the episode.

“I can’t believe you thought we were Ross and Rachel, those two are very toxic together. If anything were like Bananahammock and Crap Bag,” you added.

“Who?” He asked not having gotten that far in the show yet.

“Oh you’ll find out.”

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