#I need business to pick up like right now

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: TOJI

A/N: You’re booked. Busy. Filled to the brim with board meetings. Then your car decides to stop functioning. There’s one mechanic shop open and somehow they seem to only hire God’s sweetest eye candy. One of which keeps getting stuck in the back of your throat. Uh—I mean—

S/N: Toji Mother-Fucking (literally) Fushiguro. Idk why it took me so long to feature this green-eyed monster but I am foaming at the mouth for this AU, him, and his lil vampy co-worker. Toji girlies, can’t WAIT to rush Toji Tau Sigma this fall 🙂‍↕️

C/W: ….he’s his own CW. Mature, 18+. MDNI. 

Art credit: yashaliart_01 on insta

Music: for the love of God if you don’t listen to Obsessed x Mariah Carey I’m calling the coast guard. Reader wants to pretend Toji is not her newest vice so BAD. Ive never laughed so hard and been so painfully turned on writing a piece. SOMEONE tell me not to make this a series RN.

“Can I get a little help here?”

Toji grabs the rag nestled in the back pocket of his heavy work cargos. Charcoal ink stains the fabric. 

Bugatti engines are such a bitch. And make a mess like one too. 

“Hello? Am I talking to a wall or..?”

And just like that, you’ve earned yourself a few more seconds of silence. 

The mechanic’s Evergreen gaze and satisfied smirk peer back at him in the mirror. Not even a second passes before you ensnare him in your fiery scrutiny. 

Ahh, yes. Just his type. 

You are mean. 

With a sexy fucking silhouette. An angry merlot painted on those beautiful, pouted lips. A fresh manicure and keys to your Benz dig into hips that have definitely stopped traffic. 

The mirror image isn’t enough of a bite. Toji needs a real taste, so he turns around to lock eyes with his new favorite unsatisfied customer. 

“Mornin, doll.” 

“Nice of you to grace me with your presence! I was starting to think no one worked here.” 

Melodramatic, the way you narrow your gaze to bring his name tag into focus. It’s hot, though. All this sarcasm and irritation. 

“—Toji? Is it?” You hiss venom. Clearly there’s a point you’re in a hurry to make. 

But..

it’s 7:13 AM on a lovely Monday morning.  Birds are singing. The Red Bull he just downed was particularly delicious. Life is good, right now. 

Toji has all the time in the world. 

He’s in no rush. Especially when a stunning, uptight, bratty little thing — sorry, career woman — like you woke up and chose him to be your personal punching bag. 

And he’s built to take hits. From fists much, much larger than yours, gorgeous.  

“Toji, it is. What can I do for you, darlin?” 

And he knew that sweet, innocent pet name would dump diesel fuel all over those pretty flames. 

You ramble off your full name as if he is going to use it. By the time he’s through with you, you won’t have any use for it either. 

His name, though. You’ll have plenty use for his name. 

“…and when the stupid thing turns on this morning, the dash light won’t turn off.” 

Toji lands on earth just in time to clasp the car keys shoved into his chest. You’re gawking at him. Expecting a fury of motion and urgency. Because your charming little fingers demand it. 

So accustomed to time stopping and starting on your watch, aren’t you? 

“You’re so pretty.” Toji responds with a shit eating grin. 

Just for the huffing and puffing you’re currently displaying. Sputtering about how unprofessional he is. And how much work you have to get done. 

Adorable. 

Toji slips past your disdain and makes his way to the front door. Matte black G-Wagon with a champagne interior. The vision of you behind the wheel, scowling at traffic, in your tailored dress and stilettos makes his cock twitch. 

“She’s a beauty.” He calls from the driver seat. 

“That’s why I bought it. Can you please pick up the pace a little?”

Both arms are folded across your chest, eyes rolling at his wasted breath stating the obvious. 

You’re going to look phenomenal when he has those defiant arms pinned above your head. He’ll diminish those daggers in your eyes to tears. And make those puffy lips whimper for mercy. 

Toji will have you begging him to pick up the pace in no time. Your snarky comment was just a test run. 

The mechanic lets out a low chuckle, his eyes scan the dash for the source of your apparent distress. 

The tire pressure gauge. 

Really, gorgeous? This is why you’re screwed so tightly this morning? 

It should take approximately 3 minutes to fix. But there’s no way Toji is letting you slip away from his skilled fingers so easily. Not when you need to be unwound.

Unraveled bit by bit until you’re a warm, sweet, puddle of manners and gratitude. 

“Alright, babydoll—“

“My name is—“

“I’ll have my guys get to workin on it, sweetheart.” 

He can play this game all day. You scoff. Temporarily placated by his promise of a fix. 

“It’s an all day job, though.” Toji’s right hand man comes into view. 

The only other guy in the shop (on the planet) to get as much play as he does without meaning to. 

Women are insane about his stupid, empty-headed, love-drunk stare. And the purple rings around his eyes like the last time he got sleep was in his mother’s womb. Always giggling and asking about “the hot one with the pigtails” and “the pretty one with the tattoo on his nose.”

If he were a less confident man, Toji would’ve called someone else over. But the kid gets his antics. 

And today is going to be stuffed with them. 

“Choso! Can you take this beauty to the back for repair?” 

Dracula’s first born is sporting his hair down today. Already a bit damp from work. He gives you a once over, then offers a smile that evaporates underwear off of women. 

“Happy to. Which beauty am I taking to the back?”

“Ha, quit your lover boy shit.” Toji teases, and you sneer at his hypocrisy. 

“The car, big guy. Have it ready by 5:00, yeah?”

“5:00 pm?” You do a thing with your hands eventually landing on your hips. And Toji’s dick leaks like a virgin. 

“Well, there must be a courtesy rental. My first meeting starts in an hour.”

“I’m so sorry, miss. We don’t have that.” 

Kamo, you slick fuck. 

Choso apologizes with his signature puppy-eyes and half open mouth. Even you, made of sharp words and soft curves. Goddess of Fire and Ice, you melt under his gaze. 

Toji snickers to himself, while you stutter to a shockingly patient understanding. 

Something about the boy looking half asleep and like he can’t string letters together to spell his own name always does the trick. Leaving you wide open for the kill. 

“Tell you what, sweetheart.” Toji moves in with an assassin’s expertise. 

“Consider me your courtesy rental.”

“I’m sorry—what?” You flicker between the two smiles, rightfully suspicious. 

“I’ll get you from point A to point B, safe and sound.” The mechanic offers again with a broad smile, dangling his own car keys in his hand. 

Pensive eyes drop down to your watch. Board meetings start soon and he is offering a courtesy ride. 

“Fine.” Finally, a little submission. 

“It’s a 10 minute drive. The high rise on the corner of Koen and Mitake street.” 

The financial district. No wonder why you’re so tightly wound. 

“I know exactly, where we are going.” Toji beams. Beating your slender fingers to the passenger door. You barely mutter a ‘thanks’ before settling into the seat. 

You in your heels. And suit jacket. And handbag that costs enough to feed a large family for 6 months. Nestled so perfectly into his passenger seat. Toji can’t help but acknowledge how hard his dick is right now. 

The career woman clearly doesn’t approve of how fast he is hurling down corner streets. But you should understand, no? Places to be, and all that jazz?

“Uh, I’m sorry, where exactly are you taking me?” You perk up. Darting those beautiful warm eyes at the very short building in front of you. 

Not the corner of Koen and Mitake street, but Toji’s favorite coffee shop about 3 blocks over. The only place in the city that can get an Americano right - La Parisian. 

Toji grins maniacally. Pulling his sports car into a front row spot. 

“Point A, darlin.”

“Look, I don’t know what kind of game you are playing but I swear—“

“C’monnn. Lighten up.” He turns to face your incredulous expression. You wear it well, by the way.

“People stand when you walk in a room.” He continues. “They’ll still stand if you’re 5 minutes late and properly caffeinated.” 

Silence. Two huffs. A bitten lower lip. And one long, drawn out sigh.

“Fine. 5 minutes, max. Then I’ve got to get going I have—“

“Meetings baby, I know.” Toji finishes you off. 

He steps out of the driver’s seat fast enough to be at your door before your fingers touch the handle. 

The two of you walk in stride (in Toji’s mind) to the cafe. It’s adorable how you beeline towards the pastry display. Salivating over the various treats. Doing the thing women do, badgering the person manning the register about nutritional details. 

As if your figure wouldn’t make any living red-blooded human being fall to their knees. 

“What can I get started for you?” The barista probes. 

“I’ll have a soy London Fog latte, please.” You flicker over to the dessert you think you’re leaving behind. 

“And?” Toji probes. He taps the glass in front of the vanilla macaroon.

Another crack in the shield. You flash him a genuine smile for 0.04 seconds before turning back to the register.

“…and a vanilla macaroon, please.” You’re cute when you’re sheepish. 

“And I’ll have the largest iced Americano you can make, thanks.” 

Toji closes out the transaction and you two mosey over to a small table by a window. Your shoulders relax with the first sip of coffee. 

A satisfied grin tugs on your chauffeur’s lips. He knew what you needed the second he laid eyes on you. 

Much to your chagrin, and Toji’s delight — conversation flows like a bottomless well between you. The second something warm and another thing sweet landed on your tongue — the shield crumbled down. 

You’re an account executive. 

You work 80+ hour weeks. 

Live in an uppity neighborhood with a Doberman named Rocky. You got him because you like walking around at night to clear your mind. Having a dog taller than you on its hind legs and probably twice your size has eased your anxiety about that. 

You have a mean sweet tooth. 

And you’re single. Have been for the last year or so. 

“And not looking to change that anytime soon.” You reiterate, tossing him a look. 

Toji holds his hands up in feigned defeat. “I wasn’t plannin’ on it, sweetheart.” 

You’ve warmed up to his pet names, albeit against your will. But you’re there. The both of you harmonize light-hearted laughter. Fitting together like missing puzzle pieces.

“Your eyes are so green.” 

A rather obvious observation of your own, after a few moments of comfortable silence. 

As if your eyes don’t bend time. 

Toji catches his breath before responding. 

“They are…your kids could have ‘em too, if you want.” 

You burst into another fit of giggles. Unknowingly driveling rogue pastry on your chin. Babbling on and on about how ridiculous he is. And how cheesy his pick up lines are.

Meanwhile, you’re sitting there all high powered and intelligent. With a smile that makes him want to be a better man than he is. 

…and pastry all over your chin. 

Yeah. 

He’s going to marry you one day. 

Toji reaches over and swipes the macaroon off your chin. A sharp gasp tumbles from your lips, staring at his fingers. Which Toji slips into his mouth. 

He’s a betting man and would put money down on the fact that the dessert tastes exponentially better off of your skin. 

“Toji!!” 

“What else can I do for you?” Each word more smug than the last. 

“You could’ve told me I had food on my face!” Bunny lines along your nose deepen when you frown and Toji’s cock throbs to life. 

“Why?” The mechanic shrugs. “I wanted to lick it off instead.” 

The choppy inhale is music to Toji’s ears. You avoid him. Like the plague. Peeling your gaze away and planting it on the side window. Under the guise of people watching. 

But Toji knows better. 

He doesn’t miss the way you struggle to swallow your last bite. Or your thighs coming together so aggressively beneath the small table, rip tides break the surface of his Americano. 

“I felt that, baby.” Toji leans in. Shameless about the way he scans your face. 

Your lips should be outlawed.

The bottom one is marginally fuller than the top, so it naturally hangs a bit open. Inviting the most vile thoughts from his cock. Toji’s rational mind went to sleep the second you climbed into his passenger seat, princess. 

“What?” You sputter, gulping down the rest of your U.K. cloudy cappuccino, or whatever. 

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.” Your voice is steady, but the fidgeting and cagey eye contact hold the truth. 

Oh, really? 

“You’re squirming in your seat.” Toji counters, unblinking. Filling as much of your personal space as he can without tipping over. 

“Quick to cross your legs—“

“Toji!” 

Is your underwear as sticky as your face is flushed? Saliva pools in one direction, warm pre-cum pools in the other. 

“You are so out of—“

“All that talkin’ and you haven’t denied it once, doll.”

Toji’s palm digs into his crotch underneath the table. You are fucking his brain smooth with the raspberry blush along your nose and high cheeks. Sure, the sarcasm and ball-busting is hot, but this? 

The Career Woman suddenly so flustered and shy? 

You’re already thawed out. All he needs to do is dive in. 

Toji blinks back to reality when you rocket up from the table at warped speed. Your fingers clumsily fondle the zipper of your purse. 

“Excuse me for a minute.” You’re halfway to the restroom stalls by the end of your sentence.

The mechanic lasers down to the serpentine curve of your hips. Your plump, perky ass is just begging to be handled. It’s a felony, the way your work dress hugs your body. 

Is he really going to do this?

Heat slams into his groin. Wave after wave of lust slowly chipping at his teetering self-control. 

You might slap him. 

Call him a goddamn pervert. 

…and just the thought of either of those things makes his dick beat against his zipper. 

Fuck it. 

Toji is slick, how he maneuvers his way over to the restrooms. Both single-use stalls occupied, he walks up to you muttering some kind of pep talk to yourself. 

“Get your shit together.” You spit out. 

Amused, Toji leans against the wall behind you. Curious about where this cute little speech is going to go. 

“He’s a rando you met at a mechanic shop. For fuck sake, are you that horny?”

“Sounds like it, baby.” Toji takes the liberty to answer. You whip your head around and crawl out of your skin. 

Eyes wider than a newborn kitten. Mouth gaping as if you’re trying to show off how much you can handle. Toji swallows a groan. He can’t lose control. Not a chance. He has to savor his first taste of you like this. And every taste after that. 

Because, the weather in Hell is a balmy 0 degrees Fahrenheit and you are his, now. 

“I—uh, I—“ Your eyes dart over to the poor soul opening the bathroom door in slow motion. 

You think you’ve found an out, gorgeous?

Toji is faster and bigger than you are. Gripping the handle of the open door, ushering you into his new lair. Still choking on the shock of him catching your admission, you look to your left and right before diving into the empty bathroom. 

“Toji I…” 

Your back hits the wall and eyes settle on your hands. Shifty and nervous. Toji palms himself at the sight of you caged in like this. 

He’s disgusting, he knows that. 

And normally, he would ask permission. Being a gentleman and all. 

But there’s something too alluring about the way you’re trembling right now. The obvious conflict written all over your face, and heaving chest…and tense thighs…

His cock can’t take another second. 

And apparently neither can you. 

Because the second his fingers cup the back of your neck and his breath grazes your mouth you crash into him. Slotting your puffy lips into his, taking him by surprise for a millisecond. 

“Oh, T-toji.” You whine into his mouth. Grasping at his shoulders that are far too wide, far too muscular for your dainty grip.

Fucking, christ. 

Hearing his name like that. 

The gorgeous, high-pitched, pathetic plea trails down his ears to his aching sex and jerks it. If his cargos were any lighter you would’ve seen the pre-pubescent mess he’s making in his pants right now. 

But they aren’t. And you don’t. 

You mewl at how Toji nips at your bottom lip. Sinking it underneath his teeth until its swells to his liking. Melting beneath his large grasp, currently riding the dizzying lines of your hips and ass. 

“You taste fucking good, baby.” Toji mumbles into your warm cavern. Licking along the warm, soft ridges. 

“Ah-T..god.” You pull away and dive into his neck. Attempting to hide your utterly fucked out daze, but he won’t let you. 

Toji palms your ass with a tenth of his strength. You yelp and jump into his arms. He takes advantage of the momentum and lifts you high on his waist. Temporarily forcing you to look down on him.

Glassy eyed. Kiss abused lips. Panting and heaving. Cupping his face like your hands were made to. 

And something tight clenches in Toji’s chest. It takes a moment for him to shake it off, but it existed.

He’ll revisit that later.

“You look good up there, babydoll.” He pants, before setting you down on the sink ledge. He catches your chin in his hand before you turn away. Rooting you in place. 

“I…Toji.” 

Moaning his name like you’re begging for him to start and stop all at once. 

Your eyes descend to his lips. Watching the smirk blossoming across his face. Distracted enough not to notice his free hand shove up your dress in one swift motion. 

Your thighs recognize his authority and melt wide open for him. He kisses your tiny whimpers while nestling between them. 

“Mmmgh g-god please.” 

“This why you were so bratty this mornin baby?” 

Toji’s index and long fingers stroke your soaked, clothed core. Thin lace panties plastered to your warm sex. You wind your hips into his fingers. Batting your eyelashes up at him as if he’s going to give you what you want so easily.

He hovers his lips over yours. Pulling away each time you lunge forward for a kiss. Pouty and frustrated, you dig your nails into his neck and grind along his stationary fingers. 

“T-Toji, please…I’m so..ahh.”

“Needy cunt just wanted some attention, mm?” 

His fingers slip past your opening, and you offer up a soprano moan that shatters to stardust. 

Hedonistic noises fill the spaces between both of your punched out gasps. You’re fucking tight. Gummy, slick walls clamp down around his knuckles when he curves up to pet your pleasure spot. 

The steel pipe between his legs throbs against his thigh. Demanding friction. But one hand is cupping your chin and the other is so pussy drunk an army couldn’t pry his fingers away. 

“T..I—I’m oh fuck I—“

Toji bites down on your bottom lip. And you clench around him. Gushing more of your sweet arousal into his palm. And he damn near laps it up with his greedy tongue. 

“Shhh baby,” he coos against your jaw. 

“Can’t have everyone hearing the Executive getting fucked open by some mechanic’s hands can you?” 

There is a delicious irony in you treating him like a punching bag no more than an hour ago and now bucking your hips on his fingers, chasing an ever elusive high.

Sandpaper lines Toji’s throat. 

He wants nothing more than to bounce you on his cock in this bathroom. Fill you up with his cum and send you to your meetings full of him. 

But you haven’t learned your lesson yet.

“What did I promise baby?” Toji strains in your ear. His hand migrates from your chin to your neck, while his fingers ‘pick up the pace a little.’

His pretty little powerhouse. 

You babble a chorus of nothing. Unable to breathe, unable to think. Only drip. And leak. And squelch around his digits. Toji tightens the grip around your pulse point. Lulling your mouth open.  

“Talk to me, princess. What did I promise you?” He probes again, stealing air from your lungs. 

Tha—y-you would…p—point A.” Barely audible syllables tumble out of you. Ascending in pitch. Your hips reflexively try to pull away from your threatened orgasm.

“Keep going, I’m listenin.” 

“Oh fuck T..Toji?! I-Im c-im gonna—”

“I know, baby.” He smears wet kisses along your jawline. “ I can hear how messy your precious little pussy is. But I didn’t give you permission to stop. Keep going.”

Your walls spasm at his command. Followed by an angelic pitiful little whine. You’re close. So close. 

“P-P-point A to—“

“Point B.” 

Toji finishes your sentence as you reach nirvana. Full body convulsions. He slots his arms around the small of your waist. And it fits like it was molded for him. Like you were sculpted for him.

And he, for you.

The mechanic burns his gaze into your skin. Riding each choppy wave of your ecstasy. Such tiny, sexy sounds. Staccato breaths fanning his lips, his chin, his neck when you try to hide from his scrutiny. 

You are a goddamn dream. 

And his future wife.

Toji guessed it when the macaroon balanced on your chin for a full 30 seconds before he swiped it away and you accused him of defamation of character. 

But now? 

Watching you saddle this stallion of an orgasm. Clawing at his back with all the desperation of a pretty little damsel in distress. 

Distress at just his fingers, alone. 

What intoxicating melody will he unlock when he laps up the honey straight from your core? How will you gasp and moan and squirm when he single-handedly re-shapes your cunt to accommodate his size? 

He has no clue. 

But Toji will spend forever figuring you out. And mastering you.

The back of your neck fits beautifully into his grasp as he coaxes you from hiding. Pupils blown out. Cheeks flushed and warm. Tendrils matted along your forehead. Before he can speak, you beat him to the punch.

Of course you do. 

“I’ve decided,” You pant. The baseline spice returning to your grin. 

“That you might just be obsessed with me, Toji.” 

Both of you share a hushed laugh. Exchanging cotton candy breaths. But then his lips accidentally brush yours and Toji can’t help but dive in for a kiss. Fucking the warm cavern of your mouth with his tongue. 

You pull away before he’s ready, with a look on your face that makes him feel like a God. 

“I might be.” Toji whispers, partially against his will. His lips find the corner of your mouth. Careful to avoid falling victim to your pout again.

“Let’s get you to the other point B, baby.” 

The car ride to your office could make anyone queasy. 

Constant banter back and forth. Full bodied laughs. You mindlessly stroking his forearm with those angelic fingers riling his cock up as if it just now discovered women. 

You let out a small sigh, with slightly dropped shoulders when your office building comes into view. Toji doesn’t know how to interpret it. But for him? Reality is coming too quickly.

“So,” You start once the both of you are out of the car. Pretty face tilting up and Toji’s dick strains against its confines.

“What do I owe you, Mr. Fushiguro?” 

The way you say his name.

It takes the will of God for Toji to bite back his original response.

“Nothin, doll.” He’s wearing the same, dumb, love-struck face Choso wears on a daily basis. Shockingly, Toji couldn’t care less. 

“The tires just needed air. Choso will drop it off in an hour.” 

He would do it himself. But the urge to park in an empty lot and abuse the fuck out of his cock until a shred of clarity re-settles in his mind is a tad bit overwhelming, sweetheart.

Then your mouth drops in an incredulous ‘Oh’ and all Toji can picture is ruining the back of your throat. How pretty you are going to be wretching around his girth. Gasping for air. Choking on his cum. 

“Toji. Fushiguro.” You like using his name, don’t you?

“You held me hostage for a whole morning for some air—“

Toji kisses the rest of your complaints off your tongue. And you whine. Slot open for him with no resistance. Because under all that irritation and sarcasm, buried within the Trojan Horse, lays your supple, delectable submission. 

And he will take every opportunity to taste it. 

“I had a great time on our first date, babydoll.” Toji rasps against your swollen lips. 

The raging erection is threatening to embarrass him. There’s not enough restraint in the world to be around you any longer. Toji nestles your voice in his back pocket. The two of you watch each other with wordless, taken aback smiles as he takes slow steps toward his sports car.

Before the mechanic sinks into the driver’s seat, he makes a promise.

“Can’t wait for our second date, Mrs. Fushiguro!”

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[usedpidemo]

Too many nights ((G)I-dle Yuqi)

The way you see it, even if the signs were right in front of you all along—written in bright, colorful signposts with the largest text imaginable—you’d still be hurling yourself off that cliff. 

Yuqi knows this too—you think she does.

At the very least, she looks convincing enough that she feigns innocence on the matter, and she is. It's mainly a you problem. She doesn’t know you much other than being the sweet, quiet guy who was her roommate in college and nothing else.

And that’s probably the reason why she’s standing in front of your newly minted apartment on a random Monday.

—————

You’re waiting for her to pick her bags off the floor and leave. You told her to leave three times. Threaten to call security on her. She doesn’t budge. Instead, she stares. Stubborn, obstinate, unyielding.

“Please, give me one opportunity. Please let me explain myself.” Yuqi finally breaks her silence, eyes wide, glinting with tears, pleading.

“Shoot.”

She looks down, unable to see you eye to eye, her hands running through the pockets of her skirt. “You’re right. I’ve taken your kindness for granted, and I’m sorry. I really am.” 

Pausing, you’ve never heard her sound this quiet, this personal. “I never truly appreciated you till I was home with my parents. I should have focused more on studying than going out and having fun. Now look. They’re pissed that I’m being a bum at home instead of working, so they kicked me out.”

She proves your theory to be true. She has no reason to be here unless you bail her out of trouble again.

“But I can’t find one job that I like. Working a 9-5 or any regular cashier job seems so boring, you know what I mean? Doesn’t feel like my type of thing to do,” she continues, lightly kicking the suitcases with her feet. “My friends are all busy, so I had no one to lean on. Then I remembered you! So here I am.”

At least it was nice seeing Yuqi act mature for at least three minutes before reverting to her usual spry, childlike personality. 

“Okay? Well that’s on you for being lazy, and I can’t help with that. Sorry to hear you got kicked out, but I have nothing to offer you. It was great seeing you, though. Good luck with that job.” 

You try closing the door, but she stops it with her foot. Peeking through the narrow space, you find Yuqi persistent, unrelenting. “Wait. Hear me out for a second, I said I didn’t wanna be your roommate.”

“No, Yuqi. Just go—”

“I really need you right now. I’ve already applied to like five different companies on public wifi, it’s so fucking slow and I doubt they even got my email. I just need a place to stay for like a month. Trust me, I’ll get a job and when I get paid, I’ll spend it on finding my own apartment! Just give me this one time.”

You swear you’ve never heard Yuqi this desperate, this loud. Your neighbors are probably ringing up security right now, maybe the owner too.

“Okay, okay. Just calm down for a minute, will you? Our neighbors are listening.” You open the door lightly and Yuqi’s eyes light up. You didn’t even say yes, but it might as well be a confirmation to her.

“You promise? You’re actually working on a job application?” you ask, doubtful about her claim.

“Of course.” Yuqi shows her phone, presents pdf files of multiple application letters to the very places she doesn’t want to work. Some fastfood chains, at convenience stores, and mall outlets. “None of them have replied back, so—I’m still trying to apply to more places, but I’m almost out of data on my plan and I don’t wanna spend another night inside my car. Just give me this one thing? Okay?”

Seeing the evidence firsthand, you can’t help but be impressed. If you had any spine, you’d contemplate the proposal more, give it some time to mellow out, maybe let her elaborate some terms of agreement. But in a moment of weakness, you yield right away. What’s one month of Yuqi gonna do to you?

“All right, fine. I’ll let you stay—”

“I owe you one, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Yuqi doesn’t even let you finish your sentence when she brings her suitcases into your apartment at record speed. She gives you a peck on the cheek in appreciation twice, one for each pair of suitcases she shuffles in.

You can only sigh in response before closing the door.

—————

Before Yuqi gets comfortable in her new place, you sit her down on the living room couch to discuss house rules. This isn’t like college, where you share a dorm together, split the bill and have personal spaces. While you don’t own the apartment, you make one thing very clear: she’s bound to you and whatever rules you impose on her.

“Let’s make one thing and one thing clear: you break any of my rules, you’re outta here. I don’t care if you explain yourself, you’re gone. Understood?”

“Right.” Yuqi’s trembling with excitement and impatience, nodding erratically, kicking her legs up, goading you into rushing through everything so she can lay on an actual bed. 

You take a moment to analyze her suitcases in the middle of the room. Facing her, you ask cautiously, “Tell me you didn’t bring your—”

“Yep!” She responds almost immediately, thrilled to answer your question, as if it were muscle memory. “It’s exactly what you think it is.”

And there goes your supposed rule one. Of course she brought her entire dorm room decor along. Knowing her, they’re likely encompassing two of her suitcases.

“Yeah, no. My landlord is quite strict about decor, so you can’t put them up,” you tell her bluntly; there’s no getting around his rule, even if your roles were swapped.

She frowns, visibly devastated, probably more hurt than being kicked out by her family. It’s the end of the world, but she won’t give in. If there’s even a slight possibility she can have her way, she will force herself through. “Please? Even just my room—”

“Not a chance. It’s just a general rule here, sorry.” You make sure to shut her down immediately. “I didn’t make that rule, anyway. Blame the owner.”

Yuqi acquiesces. She groans with displeasure, crossing her arms, acting bratty. No act can convince you to change your mind.

“Right. Now actual ground rules. This isn’t a dorm so you can’t just freeload as much as you want. Now I understand you're still working on that job application, so all I’m asking is just for you not to be completely messy, got it? So don’t eat my leftovers without asking, don’t go out to clubs and ask me to drive you home when you’re drunk, none of that. If you’re drunk, sleep outside the room. I don’t want to clean up vomit on the carpets.”

Surprisingly, Yuqi agrees without complaint. You’re unsure whether she’s nodding so she can settle in, or if she actually understood every single word.

“I seriously hope you’re working on that job—”

“Don’t worry! Just give me the wifi password and I’ll be set.” Yuqi can’t help but interrupt you every single time, and to her credit, it’s effective. She does seem dead set on taking this opportunity to redeem herself, and it’s a convincing act. As insufferable as she can be at times, you want to see her succeed. You want to see her win.

You jot down the wifi password on an extremely thin sheet of paper and place it on the table before her. Before walking away, you ask her, “You need me to help with your belongings? I’ll get the guest room ready while you make yourself comfort—”

“Nah, it’s fine!” Yuqi’s typing on her phone, not even shooting you a look in your direction. “I’ll get it sorted out, don’t worry! Just pretend I’m not here.”

To her credit, she does get her belongings sorted out. By evening, she moves into a cleared out storage room that’s now her designated bedroom. Words are hardly exchanged other than simple pleasantries and greetings. You ask her if she had dinner, she says yes. She doesn’t take anything from the fridge other than some water. There’s a knock on the door; she answers and comes back with a package of chinese food. She offers to share some, but you modestly decline.

You never ate together when you shared a dorm in college. She would eat her inside her bedroom or after you already cleaned up. At times, she’d come back to the dorm late and you wouldn’t see her till the following day. You share the same space but you have vastly different lives. The feeling is familiar, but the setting is new: having dinner under the low light, uncertain about your futures. 

This feels like your first day together all over again.

—————

The first night with Yuqi is a quiet affair. There’s hardly any commotion. An unusual scene. She finishes her food ahead of you then retreats into her bedroom without uttering a single word. 

When you wake up the next morning, Yuqi is already at the dining table. Browsing her laptop, coffee in hand, seemingly focused on that next job application. She doesn’t even greet you or acknowledge your existence; she’s in her own world, but in a good way. 

“Morning,” you quietly say, trying to grab her attention, but it falls on deaf ears. 

“You off to work?” she asks, preceded by a mouse click while you pour onto your mug. Her attention remains glued to the screen, paying you no heed.

“Kind of?” You take a seat opposite Yuqi’s side on the table. “I work here. Or should I say: this is my workplace.” 

“Wow. I wish I could work from home. Would be nice,” she replies between mouse clicks and keyboard taps.

You take a light sip of your coffee. “What course did you take again?” 

“Umm—” Yuqi slumps back in her chair, “I think it was medicine? I wanted to become a guitarist and have my own band, but my parents wanted me to become a doctor. And I don’t wanna ruin my handwriting, so—” 

“Don’t you have a band with your friends? The one with—”

“Yeah that dream died two years ago.” Yuqi��s eyes squint, brows furrowing, running through every word slightly faster than normal. “And I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Not even a little—”

“No.” She faces you with a surprisingly cold glare, a sight you’ve never seen before. “They can just fuck off—those goddamn bitches.” 

You find yourself unable to move the conversation forward after her abrupt turn. It’s probably for the best; you hardly paid any attention to Yuqi’s life to be entitled to a substantial explanation. 

The rest of the hour goes by in deafening, awkward silence. Here’s Yuqi, this ball of energy whose life primarily revolves around partying and getting rowdy, calmly clicking on the touchpad and typing a few words every now and then in search of a way to fund her addiction. You can tell from her sullen expression just how deprived she is of that high—how incomplete she feels without the rush of adrenaline, ecstasy, and alcohol flowing through her veins. It’s impressive how it takes someone to hit rock bottom to turn their life around, how all this could have been avoided with a few decisions.

Still, it’s never too late for someone like her, and as long as she holds up her end of the deal, i.e. leave you for good after this, you’ll actively root for her success.

—————

“Fucking hell, dude,” sighs Yuqi, slamming the panel of her laptop hard, her fist narrowing missing the edge of the table. While you’ve made yourself comfortable at your usual workplace, a spacious office desk on the other side of the living room, you’re preoccupied scanning through numerous documents and emails your boss sent you. A look at the bottom right of the screen tells you it’s half past lunch. Then your stomach grumbles, as if the clock wasn’t enough of a reminder.

“Gonna make lunch,” you say to a vexed Yuqi, who’s stretching her legs against the table and her arms to the ceiling, body likely aching from her hunched position. “You good?”

“Yep.” Her tone perfectly toes the line between sincerity and sarcasm. “Got three rejections—no, four, actually. The last one was sent minutes ago.”

You’re not sure how to respond.

“Oof.” 

You couldn’t relate to her even if you tried. Of the two applications you sent, your current job is the one that gave you the freedom and flexibility to work from home, even if it paid less than the other. That was six months ago; finding job opportunities has become way harder, or so you’ve heard from your other unemployed peers from college.

“Finding a job sucks,” says Yuqi, stating the obvious. She finally gets up from her chair, brings her laptop back into her bedroom to charge before reemerging with a hairpin wrapped around her knuckles, tying it around her loose red hair. “So, what’s for lunch?”

“Meatloaf and eggs,” you reply, firing up the stove as you grab pans from beneath the sink. “Not sure if you’ll like it, though.”

She lifts her eyebrows, intrigued, but mostly unbothered. She’ll eat anything as long as it isn’t fast food or from the convenience store, and she doesn’t have the gall to complain, anyway, as your roommate. 

—————

“So, how’s the job hunting going?” you ask her right as the sun descends over your apartment windows. You have your schedule down to a science, finishing all intended projects and goals when neighboring buildings’ lights open. Weekdays can’t be anymore mundane and monotonous, but you get the job done, you’re paid handsomely, and you have time for your other hobbies.

Meanwhile, Yuqi looks like she doesn’t want to stare at a computer screen for a week, maybe a month. She looks worse off than she did in the morning. It’s evident in her clothes, her hair, her face: frazzled and messy. A perfect representation of her state.

“What do you think?” she replies, never sounding so heated, so frustrated. A look at her screen shows a new rejection letter, piled between several others, already read. Each one with different reasons, different ways to hurt, but with the same intent: we appreciate your interest, but we have chosen a different candidate from a very competitive pool—we don’t think you fulfill our qualifications—we’re looking for someone with more experience—we wish you the best in your future endeavors. You’ve noticed she tends to click back and forth between each letter, as if to torture herself further.

“I think you should put that laptop away. Try again tomorrow,” you tell her, closing the panel while she’s scrolling, stealing her attention. She readjusts her glasses, blinking rapidly, annoyed at your little intervention. “I’m going for a walk. You should join me.”

“And what if I don’t?” she asks, threatening to pull her laptop away from your fingers. 

“Good luck going out when I have the room key then.”

“I don’t have my running shoes,” she replies, and she’s telling the truth; she only brought one pair of slippers with her, the rest being colorful sets of boots and expensive high heels.

“Then grab some from my closet and wash up. You’ll look stupid if you go out in those silly boots.”

—————

At first, you believe she had declined the offer; you had already left the building when Yuqi caught up to you moments later, huffing and puffing from exhaustion. Hey, maybe she could have been a great track and field athlete if she put her mind to it.

You can’t help but make a little comment. “Thought you weren’t going to go out.”

That was for all the times she’d make similar remarks to you back in college. They never really bothered you; you were never a man of high morals and upstanding, but at least you had your priorities sorted out, unlike Yuqi. 

Yuqi playfully counters your rib, shooting you a disparaging stare. “Dude. I’m doing you a favor by doing this.”

“Elaborate.” You laugh.

“You never went out whenever I asked you. You always said no to parties.”

“And for good reason. Look at us now.” 

If you wanted to, you’d be harsher. You have years of dirty laundry and grievances to air out, but this is as concise and as restrained as you can express them without getting accused of attempted murder. Besides, you can’t keep a straight face the longer you look at her. She clearly stands out in a rather dreary and dull crowd, and it isn’t the red hair as bright as the sun, it's her look—or lack thereof. Your oversized hoodie, your running shoes mixed with her pajamas, the lack of bra—it’s obvious she only did the bare minimum to look decent in a public setting, and yet she fits in all of them like a glove.

“Where are we going, anyway? Can it be a bar? I hope it’s a bar.” 

The first thing she wants to look for once outside is a place to drink. Of course. It’s hardly a surprise to you or anyone at this point.

“Where’s your car anyway?” you question back. 

“I dunno. Could be in the carpark, could have been impounded. I don’t remember, and I don’t really care. It smells like dogshit, anyway, cause I’ve been living in it for the past three weeks.” 

Yuqi talks with a fine blend of fast and sardonic, evidently scarred from all her ordeals with that car. She’s never experienced living outside her glass castle until now, and it shows. She’s dragging her feet with every step following you close behind, trying to soak in the scenery around her. Street lights, joggers, buskers, friends, and partners of every sort, people that you actually know and recognize. It’s all foreign in her eyes. All she knows are strobe lights, loud music, drinks, and rowdy crowds. 

“So, like, do you just go on a walk every single day or you only do this because I’m your roommate?” she wonders, her gaze lingering at a passing woman jogger that catches her eye. Jumping to conclusions, she adds, “Are you telling me to touch grass? As if I hadn’t been doing that for weeks?”

You turn around and notice her distant stare, still fixated on that woman, ruminating the prospect of leaving you for her instead. “I don’t think getting blacked out drunk and vomiting in your car counts as touching grass.”

“How do you even know that?” Yuqi faces you, provoked by your comment, pouting. “You hardly attend parties, even when I invited you. You always turned them down.”

“Word gets around fast. I thought you already knew that.” 

If she could, she’d grab you by the throat and strangle you to death or rip you in half. It stings. She questions whether your blunt, matter-of-fact delivery makes the statement ten times more scathing. Then she wonders if she made a mistake, dressing up and going after you, when you’ll just be making her regret her life decisions like her parents did. You hardly cared back then, so why now?

“Can we just go to a bar? You’re being annoying.” Yuqi stares into the distance, intentionally averting her gaze away from you.

“If you have the money, then sure, let’s go for it.” You know she has no leverage or power; she can only afford fast food and a month’s worth of groceries and daily necessities. It pains her to make a willing decision to pass on alcohol and avoid bars and parties. She’s down horrendously, but she won’t directly confess her own fatal flaw. 

It takes everything within her not to slap you square in the face. 

And you can play this game all night long until she folds. You can stand there, argue, and debate with Yuqi till she runs out of excuses and complaints. Four years of pent up material to unload onto her, make a scene in public and turn her into an example about not wasting one’s life away. You can go further, you promise. 

Instead, you both settle down in a cafe on the other side of the park as a compromise.

The place is more suited to Yuqi’s style: lively crowd, comfortable ambience, all the caffeine and sugar as a proxy to her raging alcohol addiction. Most importantly, she won’t pay for shit. You don’t even end up drinking your own order; she does it on your behalf. You settle for a tiny cup of tap water instead. In a way, she’s acting like a needy dog, desperate for attention without concern for anything else that doesn’t involve her.

“Fucking hell, I never knew I needed this,” she echoes, sipping up the last quarter of your coffee, glancing at the menu over the counter, itching for another. She’s keen on paying from her pocket this time; she recognizes you won’t give her another freebie. “This shit tastes so good.”

You can only shake your head, not even remotely trying to hide your frustration toward her. Her obliviousness is kind of cute in a way, making her look a bit sympathetic. 

“Maybe I should just work here,” she says, her eyes moving in every direction, her attention taken by something shiny every five seconds. Plenty of action happens at night: groups entering and exiting, the pervasive scent of fresh coffee brewing in real time, and plenty of girls to ogle at. In particular, there’s a waitress with a cherry tattoo on her neck that’s captured her interest. She can’t help but point her out to you, grinning widely at her. “See that waitress? She’s kinda cute.”

“Uh-huh.” You’re not really paying attention; you’re there mainly for the free wifi and a snack, not to flirt. Luckily for you both, the waitress is preoccupied with meeting high customer demands to notice. “Good idea, maybe you should apply here.”

The longer you stay inside the cafe premises, the more Yuqi becomes less inclined to leave. You end up having dinner, a couple of ham and cheese sandwiches from the snack menu. On her end, four cups of coffee strewn on the table, all drank by her. If this was some ploy to make you pay for free drinks, it worked to a tee. Anything to avoid engaging you in a serious conversation.

The opportunity never presents itself. Soon, the cafe becomes dimmer and muted. Staff are closing off sections, clearing trays, and cleaning up empty tables. Since you entered the cafe, she has not made a move on the waitress at all, even when you’ve tried pushing her over the cliff numerous times. Her shift is close to done, ready to check out for the day. One more opening. Still, Yuqi watches her intently, but can’t find the strength to stand, let alone pull the trigger.

“Well? I thought you were gonna ask her out or something.” You take a look around and come to a grim realization: that you’re the only two customers left.

“I—I don’t think I wanna do it now.” Yuqi turns around, playfully grinning, but rushing through her words. “Maybe when I get the job here. Maybe.”

You can only react in quiet disbelief to how this was all just a huge waste of time—and money.

“Fucking—” you sputter before masking the rest of your response, groaning as you rise from your seat, leaving.

After two days, your main observation is that Yuqi hasn’t changed much. If at all.

—————

The rest of the week follows a similar structure. It’s comforting; it’s the kind of monotony you’ve acquainted yourself in ever since having your own apartment. Yuqi’s always up before you, an hour in advance, she’ll tell you. At her usual spot around the dining table, on her laptop, coffee in hand. You stop asking for updates after the third day; you’re certain she’ll figure things out. Your mindfulness and curiosity get the better of you, peeking through the screen on occasion, only to find the same thing. One rejection after another, mixed in with a new application letter in between. From the outside looking in, it’s as if some divine force doesn’t want her to get that job.

In the evenings, you go for your usual walks. Yuqi joins you out of the apartment building, but instead of following, she separates and heads the other way. She’s wearing her own earphones and your hoodie, something she’ll end up keeping. The few times you run across each other, she's holding some drink in her hand, usually the coffee from the cafe you spent time with her in, her hoodie pooling with sweat all over. No pleasantries, you mind your own business till you return home.

It isn’t until two weeks after she’s moved in that you extend an invitation: a visit to a newly opened lounge on the other side of town. You preface the invite saying you only knew about the place because it had opened a month ago, and had mostly forgotten about it until you remembered her. She’s doing well for herself, so you might as well reward her for her efforts, even if it hasn’t gone anywhere. And it isn’t Yuqi without asking for some kind of favor; in this case, taking a ride in your car because hers has been impounded by the police. You’re not even surprised that she’s too lazy to reclaim it herself.

Your friend says the lounge is newly opened, but once inside, you’re uncertain about her claim. Whether it's by design or her being a complete liar, grimy, poorly lit, in the vein of all those underground clubs you had seen in action movies where a shootout or police raid occurs. Simply put, there isn’t anywhere pretty to look at, and you feel icky just by being here.

To Yuqi, it’s a fantasyland: it’s where she’s meant to be all along. She’s so overjoyed to be there. 

“It’s you!” calls a familiar voice; you turn and find a friendly face over the counter waving to you. You quietly leave Yuqi to herself and approach the bartender, who just so happens to be the owner. “I never thought you’d come and visit! It’s great to see you.”

“Only doing this for a friend, Minnie,” you silently tell her, pointing your finger at your invited guest, the sole reason you’d ever be here. She recognizes her immediately and understands.

“Yuqi, huh?” She looks intrigued, her gaze lingering at the girl. A subtle grin is forming on her face. “Never thought the two of you would be an item like that, considering she’s a party animal and you’re—”

“No—no—don’t get it twisted,” you interrupt, frantically trying to clear up any presumption. There’s no chance in hell you will ever find yourself attached to Yuqi romantically, not even a little. “It’s—a long story.”

“Do tell.” Minnie smirks, teasing, alluring. She looks the part of a bar owner, all right; dark eyelashes and shadowy lipstick matching her pitch black hair. Not to mention her slim dress perfectly hugging her tight frame, showing enough cleavage to draw attention. As a friendly gesture, she gives you a wine glass and pours a drink on it. “We’ve got all the time in the world and all the drinks you need. All in house since you’re a friend.”

So you oblige yourself to a tiny sip. The place is surprisingly quiet and empty, even though it’s the weekend, with lo-fi music playing through the speakers as the only form of background noise. Minnie doesn’t have much on her plate. She can lean on the desk and listen to you all night long.

“So, two weeks ago, Yuqi moved into my place trying to look for a job,” you tell Minnie before taking another sip. Both of you take quick glances at Yuqi, seemingly having the time of her life, scaring off the sole patron by the billiards table. “And I was wondering if you can get her a job here. She’s been rejected from every company she applied for. I know she doesn’t want to work a nine-to-five, and I suddenly remembered this place.”

Minnie raises a curious eyebrow, brushing small strands of hair covering her ear. “I see.” Looking past you, she notices Yuqi, now at the karaoke, amused by her voice and energy. You follow along and watch too, wincing at her talent, caught completely by surprise. You can feel the passion and emotion from her rather honeyed, deep singing voice, as well as her natural charisma while performing. 

“Damn. She sounds really good. Borderline natural at it.” Minnie’s in awe of Yuqi’s abilities, the sort of reaction that pushes buttons, steals the show. “Wasn’t she in a band? I know she played guitar.”

“She said it doesn’t exist anymore, won’t tell me what happened.” 

Even in the midst of conversation, Yuqi’s voice manages to snatch away your focus. She’s an extremely powerful singer—a natural, as Minnie said. Her voice is overpowering the background music with little difficulty. There’s little need to watch when her vocals can easily capture your attention all the same. 

Facing you again, Minnie replies, clasping her hands together, “How about she perform by herself?” she suggests. 

You meet her eye to eye at the drop of the notion, curious.

“What do you mean?” You take another sip.

“We have an open mic night next weekend, and we could use talent to liven up the place. She sounds perfect for that kind of gig. Who knows? Maybe she can be a resident singer if the cards are right.” Minnie smiles through every word, recognizing Yuqi’s talent and the untapped potential she has. All she needs is a platform to showcase her skill properly. And taking another glance at her, you see that too. She has the passion and the vocals to croon a live audience.

“I’ll tell her,” you say, turning to Minnie again. Yuqi has finished performing and is on her way over to the bar. Your conversation breaks off as the two women greet each other with an exchange of kisses on the cheek. 

“Great place you got here girl,” Yuqi tells Minnie, beaming from ear to ear. “I’ll be popping by often if you don’t mind.”

“Thanks. I could use some company on the weekdays, if I’m being honest.” Minnie hands Yuqi her own wine-filled glass, as well as a complimentary bottle. She makes sure not to “Take it, it’s on the house.”

“God, this is why I love you so fucking much.” Yuqi drinks up the whole glass in one swig, and immediately pours some from the complimentary bottle. Minnie can’t help but shake her head with a little smile, knowing this is still the same Yuqi she’s acquainted with since college. A rose-tinted view of days gone by. 

The two women spend the rest of the time catching up. With how much they talk, it would be a safe assumption to think that these are two long lost friends who haven’t spoken in years. Then the conversation goes on and on, revealing more details than you should probably know: exchanged  private messages as recent as last night, Yuqi’s intentions to visit the lounge sooner before present circumstances got in the way, and how she ended up in your apartment. As a listener and side character in her story, it’s a part you quite frankly never wanted, let alone be involved in under any capacity. You make sure to add your point of view in the narrative and clear every question. Whenever you chime in, they laugh heartily. It’s a mess, and they’re unapologetically quirky, never failing to make fun of you at times.

Despite everything, the topic is never brought up: the upcoming open mic night, her performance, her natural talent. You were planning to shoehorn the idea, but one too many drinks later, the conversation and opportunity eventually slips away. Again. 

Yuqi can hardly stand on her own two feet when she finally decides it's time to leave. It’s two in the morning when you guide her back to your car, with her drunk out of her mind and slipping into unconsciousness. Minnie assists you, making it even more embarrassing. Even when she’s so inebriated that she can barely move a muscle, she says she wants another round, slipping back into her old ways.

You escort Yuqi back to your apartment, setting her down on her bed and promising yourself that you’ll tell her about Minnie’s offer when she’s sober in the morning. 

Except it’s the one fucking day in the month where your job calls you into an actual office for a meeting. Despite that, Yuqi is not at her usual spot in the living room the next morning (unsurprisingly), so you leave food on the table for when she eventually wakes up.

—————

Returning late in the afternoon, you find a note from Yuqi on the outside door of your apartment, stamped by strawberry lipstick, simply reading:

> Not gonna be around till tomorrow. Have something urgent to attend to - XOXO, song yuqi

Sure enough, one brief tour of the apartment and Yuqi is nowhere to be seen. Her room remains untouched: the same, colorful space it’s always been, with most of her clothes and belongings still strewn everywhere on the floor. You don’t even mind the stickers and posters plastered all over the walls; she was gonna break that rule regardless. Typical, but expected. At least you know she hasn’t completely left yet.

Deep down, it’s the first time in a while that your apartment feels a lot smaller—and lonelier. It’s not that you have any sentimental attachment to Yuqi—not in the slightest—but her presence clearly livens up the place. The difference without her around is night and day. Even when your interactions are limited to a minimum, the brief moments you interact make living by yourself a bit more tolerable. 

So you preoccupy your mind with your usual schedule: a walk in the park, then dinner by yourself. But these intrusive thoughts grow worse and worse. You’re not in your pajamas at the usual hour, her absence is keeping you up at night, and waiting for her to walk through that door is about as brutal as federal punishment.

You end up driving to Minnie’s bar, inquiring about Yuqi’s whereabouts. She says she hasn’t been around, and she hasn’t exchanged messages with her since last night. Then she asks about open mic night; you tell her about the inconvenience, about the note on your door, which is why you’re there. Good effort, but she ultimately gives you nothing.

“You should stay here a while, who knows? I can message Yuqi you’ve been looking for her,” says Minnie, her smile as welcoming as it’s ever been. “Why not have a drink in the meantime?”

“Hmm.” You entertain the thought, but she promised to return tomorrow, and perhaps you’re overthinking it; you just have to let it play out. “No thanks.” As a distraction you’re watching another girl at the karaoke machine. She has distinctively pink hair, has similar energy and passion for singing, except her voice is much higher, more nasally. All she does is remind you of Yuqi, but she’s nowhere close—in appearance and in ability. “She promised to be back tomorrow. Maybe I should take her word for it and go home.”

A pour of wine on the glass is followed by her siren-like whisper. With her hand caressing your shoulder, she mutters, “So—you like her. You like Song Yuqi.”

You raise an eyebrow, taken aback by her statement. Facing Minnie, you reply, “What? No way. I don’t like Yuqi at all. I’m just concerned she might have disappeared, that’s all.”

“Cap.” Minnie smirks, murmurs to your other ear. “You like her. Actually, you love her. You just won’t admit it.”

“And what makes you say that?” 

“The fact you look so distressed wondering where she is. I mean—just look at you.” Her voice is slow, delicate, each word delivered with profound emphasis. She flickers a lighter, then directs the cigarette in her mouth for a puff. “Would someone who doesn’t like her worry like this?”

“I mean—I’m just trying to help her get back on her feet,” you tell her, and Minnie can only chuckle in response. Puff more smoke. In her eyes, you’re not doing yourself any favors. Your words have no weight to them. It’s the same old same old most women like her hear dozens of times. I’m not into her, says the guy who’s showing an alarming level of concern towards said girl. Something she’s all too familiar with. “You know? Just looking out for a friend, that kinda thing.”

Minnie wishes she can hold up a mirror against you now to prove her point. In a place meant for everyone to relax and ease themselves, you look tumid, on the verge of a historical crash out. She smirks into her next smoke, shaking her head, scrolling through her phone. “Sure. I believe you,” she remarks, and there’s no effort made to hide the sarcasm in any capacity.

That piece of cigar looks quite appealing right now. She sells smoking like she sells the off shoulder dress draping her defined figure: exceptionally well, like she’s meant for it.

Later in the night—you’re unsure whether it’s still today or tomorrow—Minnie suddenly approaches you with a shift in enthusiasm, as seen through her grin: “You should probably head home. Unless you want to stay the night waiting for someone who won’t be here in the morning.”

“She’s back already?” You manage to decipher the hint right away.

She nods, can’t help herself from beaming continuously. No effort to lie or maintain the mystery further. “I guess you’re not as stupid as I thought you’d be.”

Running up the stairs in a hurry, you respond to her little jab with a shout, “And you owe me one for that. Actually—no, I owe you one!” 

Unknowingly, Yuqi’s little mannerisms are starting to reflect in you, too.

Sure enough, you’re home within a matter of minutes. Empty streets, dead nightlife on a weekday, the loudest thing heard for miles is the roar of your car’s engine and the elevator headed up to your apartment floor. Any other time you’d burst through that door like an officer with an arrest warrant, but it’s almost three in the morning, and the last thing you want to be is apprehended yourself after a noise complaint. 

The place remains as unchanged as you had left it: completely dark, save for one light over the kitchen. It’s quiet, eerily silent—until you hear airy, soft noises in the distance. Room by room, you carefully inspect where the sound is coming from, only to find nothing at all. 

There’s only one place left to check, and it happens to be the Yuqi’s bedroom. A room you remember being empty. As you approach the sole unopened door, you notice the faint sound growing in pitch. Hushed words from a familiar tone.

“Fuck—oh fuck—”

You press an ear against the door frame. She sounds clearer.  Way more explicit. Vivid.

“So—so—good—fuck yes—”

There’s a subtle creaking sound that accompanies her singsong tone almost perfectly. Nothing is left open for interpretation; Yuqi is feeling herself. Feeling a satisfaction that only comes from something slick, something rough, something good. 

As much as you want to respect her space, her moment in the dark, you can’t help yourself. She sounds so good, so gratifying to the ears, it’s making you a little hot and flustered, much to your own guilt and shame. You don’t care about the consequences; you’ll allow yourself one little look then pretend it never happened. At best, she’s too preoccupied with her own bliss to notice, and at worst, it’ll be one awkward conversation starter in the morning.

“Oh, oh God—you feel really good baby—just like that—”

It’s as if she’s reading your mind, understanding your intentions. The way she moans your name like an invitation—something you never thought you would hear or even consider—how it’s naturally delivered from her sweet, intoxicating voice. You’re doing yourself a disservice by listening through the door.

There’s no better opportunity than now.

With your heart racing against your chest, every nerve in your muscles tense up as it desperately opens the door, slowly and as quietly as humanly possible. Miraculously, you go completely unnoticed. Even as light from the living room slowly penetrates through Yuqi’s bedroom, it fails to cover what really matters: the bed and Yuqi herself. 

Nevertheless, the sight that welcomes you is one to behold, one worth looking at with complete awe.

Yuqi’s body is splayed out on the bed. Her legs are spread wide, a couple of her fingers aggressively rubbing against her exposed clit, and there’s a glossy sheen coating the sheets before her soaking wet core. Her clothes are, unsurprisingly, scattered all over the floor, along with a pair of consumed alcohol bottles. She’s completely bare for your eyes to see. Nothing is left to your imagination. More importantly, she looks so fucking hot. Your heart is racing like never before, and the scene has your pants in a twist.

Her other hand runs up and down her lithe frame, then squeezes her own breast. She lets out this sharp mewl, grinding her hips against air. Her jaw slacks wide. Her eyes shut tight. Her back arches. Waves of self-induced pleasure send shockwaves through every fiber of her being, her moans growing more and more erratic.

“Fucking give it to me—I love this cock so fucking much—”

It’s about as pornographic and explicit as it gets. It riles you up in an uncomfortable way; you end up unzipping your pants to free your growing erection, but nothing happens beyond that. It feels wrong. It is wrong, but you can’t muster up the strength to look away, let alone walk away. You want to see how it ends. How she cums.

She wraps a hand around her own throat, while her knees are planted upright with her feet firmly gripped on the sheets. There's a noticeable tone change in her whines, as if simulating the act. Yet, the words flow from her lips seamlessly. “I’m so close—so, so close—”

The cackle she makes after is mortifying. Here’s this girl, who you had zero attraction prior to tonight, shamelessly declaring how she’s going to cum, how good your cock feels inside her—without either of the two even happening to begin with. The fact she likes you is the least shocking revelation in itself. A reminder: you only had three meaningful conversations with her since she moved in—two if you consider how blackout drunk she was the night before, and even if you go all the way back to your college days, you can count them with your fingers alone.

“Fucking—cumming—oh my God—”

Yuqi strains her knees and loosens her grip on the sheets as she lets the pleasure wash over. Clear liquid gushes past her throbbing, relentless fingers and spills onto the linen. A guttural, deep moan fills the bedroom as she slumps her body flat on the mattress, her energy completely depleted, her thoughts filled with nothing but orgasmic bliss. Her coated hands rest on her bare waist, her tummy, leaving viscous sheen on her creamy pale skin.

When she isn’t screaming your name or touching herself to the thought of you, Yuqi, at her barest, looks so gorgeous like this. Flaws and all.

Albeit brief, it’s quite the show to more than satisfy your thirst for her. You remember your uninvited presence in this room and where you stand in this relationship. That she’s only a tenant—an acquaintance at best—and nothing more. Any other person and situation would already send you damning to hell. 

So you quietly leave, gather your bearings, hoping her haze doesn’t clear before she is made aware of your presence, but you hear a faint whisper right as you close the door, clearer than any whine of pleasure:

“Hey.”

Part of you wants to ignore her, pretend this is all a huge misunderstanding and feign ignorance. Then you hear her soft, alluring voice calling your name and it’s what ultimately folds you:

“W-what time is it?”

Again, you consider the choice of entertaining her question or leaving her dry. She’ll probably fall asleep shortly after and forget these few moments. You tell her it’s three in the morning, hoping she dozes off.

She doesn’t.

“Shit. Can you come inside? I mean—come in.”

She’s still thinking about you, and it’s admittedly cute. You love how unabashedly blunt—and lewd—she is when she’s drunk. You give her the benefit of the doubt and reenter the room.

Yuqi realizes the messy state she and her bedroom are in when you turn on the lights. Cheeks puffed and red from embarrassment, she tries to hop off the mattress, only to stumble to the floor on her fours. 

“I’m so, so, sorry. I didn’t think you’d—” 

“Hey hey, it’s fine.” You grab her off the floor and sit her on the bed. “Don’t apologize. I’ll get some water; stay here and rest.”

Your eyes are meeting, hers twinkling. In those few, crucial moments, right when you’re about to leave, you feel an irresistible tug pulling you closer to each other.

Suddenly, Yuqi pulls you in by the shirt for a deep, passionate kiss. Her lips taste like actual whisky and vodka, indicating what she drank earlier that night. Yet they feel so lush, so sweet, filled with so much passion. You don’t bother trying; you fold to your lust, submit to her desire. You sink onto the bed together, never breaking apart, even for a second. Next thing you know, her hands are all over your body, roaming your chest, coiled around your neck, removing the shirt over your head to be tossed aside and completely forgotten.

Yet there’s still some resistance. Despite making the first move, she pulls back, and you do so in return. You’re hovering on top of her—an unexpected but welcome position to be in. 

“I didn’t know what got me there. I’m sorry. I just felt this sudden need to kiss you and—”

You shut her up by diving in and kissing her again, pinning Yuqi down to the mattress—the very thing that got you into this position to begin with. With you all over her, she’s able to shed the rest of your clothes: first the slacks, followed by your boxers. She mewls at the sensation of your hard cock pressed against her slit, and it’s beyond what her imagination can describe. It’s electrifying. And God, you know you’re no better than her, but you just want to fuck her right then and there, give her everything she wants without a second thought. 

Grabbing you by the scalp, she rips your lips off her chin as you’re making your way down her neck. “Not yet. Nuh uh.” She pulls you into yet another kiss, as if you’re oxygen—and in a way, it’s appropriate: you’re breathing new life into her. “Did I ever tell you that you were a good kisser?”

“Not at all,” you tell her, gently shaking your head. “You’re not half bad yourself.”

“Half bad?” Yuqi raises a sharp eyebrow, seemingly offended by your backhanded compliment. A dangerous smirk forms on her lips. “Says the one who was watching me the entire time—”

“You knew?” There’s a heightened sense of panic in your voice. “I thought  you were—”

“Shhh.” She kisses you, pulls you into a warm cuddle atop her. Slender legs wrapped around your hips, she follows: “Less talk, more lovemaking.”

And more lovemaking you do. You grow more easily acquainted with her lips than with her personality, and you barely know them: it’s only been a few minutes. Even though it’s a Thursday, the weekend feels like a lifetime away. You should be up five hours from now; you have the alarm preset and everything. But Yuqi’s getting in your way again, as she always has, and this won’t certainly be the last. She’s so hypnotic, so alluring, you find yourself unable to slip away, no matter how hard you try.

You find that it’s easier to give in than to struggle aimlessly. 

It’s effortless to get your fingers pressed inside her sopping core, brushing along sensitive, wet ridges of skin, where thoughts of you manifested into thin, delicate strokes. Her moans ring against your ears in varying pitches, each with a distinct, pulsing plea of satisfaction. Keep going, she tells you, and you follow without complaint. All this while you leave a soft path of bite marks down her neck and collarbones, until you reach her petite chest.

And fuck, you just go down on Yuqi. Sucking on her breasts like you’re in the middle of an oasis in the desert. She goes wild. Tossing, turning, trembling. You can feel her body close on you, wanting to take you in and suffocate you. The bed is creaking, growing strikingly more intense, turbulent. All this spurring you on, making you more reckless, more daring with her. 

“Mmmmm—fuck!” She lets out a hum of desperation, her hot, shaky breath fogging on your skin. You become an intertwined labyrinth of limbs that fit together, where you have no idea where it begins and where it ends. Your fingers vanish between her legs, still working tirelessly, perfectly snug around her pussy even when crushed between the weight of her thighs.

Eventually, you find yourself staring aimlessly at Yuqi. She’s so beautiful, and you’re punching yourself mentally, wondering why it took so long to come to this conclusion. Even when she’s not rocking the trendy hair color of the week and her face is a canvas for every conceivable makeup and filter, she’s naturally pretty. Especially now, completely bare—and with nothing but an exasperated, satisfied look of inebriated, lust filled bliss.

You find the light peeking from the living room, casting a shadow between your tangled legs. She’s dripping at her core, showering your fingers with a fresh flow of sheen, messing up the sheets even further if that’s even possible. They’re beyond saving at this point, and so are you. 

Rolling to her side, Yuqi wraps her arm around you, as if enticing you to stay. You shouldn’t have done this, but it’s too late: there’s no going back. You’re too lazy to close the door, and you have the girl you previously never gave a second look rubbing lazy circles on your stomach with her coated nails. Her hair draped all over your arm and shoulder, her eyes looking up at yours, acting all soft and innocent—

Until she starts talking again. “It wouldn’t be complete unless you cum inside me, wouldn’t it?”

The difference between her body language and her lips is night and day. Right then and there, you immediately recognize that there’s no other way this night will end. How your body moves at her will, how you immediately roll on top of her, as if it’s programmed to follow her every command. You have her legs pressed up and spread wide, her knees bent, lining your aching cock against the wet slit of her cunt. All while her features twist into a sickening, slimy grin in the slim shape of a lip bite. The fire, the desire—it’s still as bright as ever. 

And to make sure you aren’t second guessing the idea, her arms are coiled around your neck, her hands grabbing at your hair, pressing on your nape. Yuqi wants you—needs you—to fuck her silly; it’s the only way she can be satiated.

You watch Yuqi’s expression contort from anxious to messy, and the feeling is mutual. You slip in, slow and delicate, going against her instruction, and you almost lose it at the first stroke. The deep, guttural moan you make echoes throughout the entire apartment, while her firm walls pulse against your cock. It’s hot, it’s tense, it’s suffocating. 

“Shit, shit, shit—” you mutter, gently trying to pull back, but the fiery sensation burns, scratches away at your psyche, at your loins. “So—fucking—tight—Yuqi—fuck.”

“C’mon. Fuck me. Fuck me now.” She kisses your ear, her legs pounding against your hips, demanding you to move. There’s some serious intent behind her tone, a seamless blend of demand and impatience. “Use that big cock—mmm!”

You can only groan in response as you thrust back in deep, her grip on your body tighter than ever. And it’s more than just her cunt; she’s clinging onto you for dear life.

It hardly matters when you’re leaving sore, red marks on her skin or ripping through the blankets. It hardly matters when Yuqi can barely breathe. It hardly matters when you’re so loud that everyone can hear you. What’s important is you’re fucking her—and you’re fucking her hard. You both love the filthiness to it. There’s no rhythm, no pace, no flow; it’s one slow deep thrust, followed by a fast pump into her tight, inviting cunt. You become comfortable; you take her like she’s meant to be used.

And Yuqi takes your cock so fucking well. Bounces against every stroke with ease, as if the feeling is second nature to her. Knowing her, she’s probably been in this position more than you’d want to know or hear. You don’t really care about that for now. Even after what seems to be an endless cascade of orgasms, she’s still keening, still needy, still soaking wet that it’s alarming. Her back arches, melts deep into the cushion. She still wants more.

“So—fucking—good—more—need—fuck—”

The only noise you need is the mesh of your flesh slapping against hers, bouncing against her sharp cries of pain and pleasure. Reaching into the deepest, most sensitive parts of her pussy with your cock, this violent shudder rocks both you and Yuqi to your core. With each drag, more of her slick coats your shaft, and the easier you get access to her smothering heat. You can’t find the will to stop, not that you ever want to; she feels so warm, so inviting, so sloppy sounding to the ears that it’s driving you just as crazy as her.

It’s also driving you wild why it took you this long to fuck her—use her—like this. If you had known, you would have cared sooner. You’d have some leverage when it came to negotiations. A body like hers is too good not to have on speed dial.

Right now, it’s the least of your concerns. Not when you’re pounding a tight body like Yuqi’s so freely, hearing her demand to fuck her harder, like your life’s depending on it. Better late than never.

And it’s for the best that the moment happens later rather than sooner. She cums. Cums again. Eventually you’ve stopped counting, because there’s no point. The mere thought of you restarts the cycle, and your touch accelerates the process. The clutch of her cunt is too overwhelming to avoid at this point; it’s all but directly telling you to fill her, to unload all that pent up tension and need into her. The thought never bubbled up in your head even once; the idea of you and Yuqi with a child together. You never really questioned it. She goes out often, probably gets fucked multiple times in one night if she’s with willing company. She probably knew you’d walk in on her; hell, she’s probably got this whole thing planned out and Minnie is one of her accomplices. Maybe the entire time, she’s been yearning for you, because you’ve never heard her this passionate, this loud, this filthy in your life, even at her most inebriated.

“Inside me. Please cum inside me. I’m safe, don’t worry,” she whispers, as if she’s reading through your mind, reassuring you from your doubts. Her hand is palming your back, as if to line you straight so your cock directly hits her sweet spot. She sounds so pretty, it’s almost impossible to resist.

“Gonna cum,” you tell her, voice going hoarse, rasp, and she nods immediately in return, reinforcing the notion. She’s focused her effort on holding on, her legs tightly wrapped around your waist, her arms coiled around your neck, subtly pushing you against her hips. 

“This—pussy—so—fucking—God,” you mindlessly utter, averting her doe eyed gaze, desperate to cling to the last of your resolve as it quickly dissolves with each thrust. You’re on borrowed time and it’s quickly slipping away. Yuqi is tilting your face down to her, to her airy breaths, to her fluttering eyelids, to her passionate expression as you fuck her, pushing you over the edge. “Holy fuck, Yuqi—”

Yuqi’s lips part like a flower in bloom, and it’s a pretty sight. Yet it’s not enough of a distraction to keep everything from falling into place.

And God, it fucking burns. 

You swallow hard, but are unable to keep that groan suppressed. Your hips meet her halfway, your cock comfortably buried deep in her heat, and that’s where you come undone. Yuqi digs deep into your skin as it fills her—your cum—and she goes frozen at that moment. It’s a quiet, tense flash of silence. Afterward, she finally breaks. Cries out this deafening whine, her grip all over you loosening, time eventually catching up to her. 

She lays beneath you, completely limp, but her body remains trembling, shaking, seizing. You don’t find the strength to drag your cock from her heat; the feeling lingers. Endless ropes of cum gushing into her womb, emptying yourself, just as she wanted. Then you pull out, agonizingly slow, and more viscous slick gushes from her core. 

You feel guilty for that poor patch of soaked linen between her legs. It’s about as ruined as a collapsed power plant.

There’s little need for Yuqi to beg you to stay. The climax saps whatever energy you had left. You end up slumping flat on your belly beside her, both of you bathed in the afterglow of sex, exhausted from an already long day, too worn out to make another sound. And when you’re tired, any bed, no matter how messy it may be, is a comfortable bed.

—————

You already expected the scene at the breakfast table to be awkward.

And it was.

It isn’t until Yuqi calls you out standing at the doorway of her room that you realize you’ve been shooting a thousand yard stare the whole time. She waves at you, her cheeks red, flustered, chuckling. “Good morning to you, I guess. Put something on. I don’t wanna drink coffee while looking at someone’s dick. It’s gross.”

This time you’re the one unbecoming, completely in the nude while she got herself into some pajamas. Despite that, you hardly feel any guilt or shame, like this is a normal occurrence in the household. So you scramble to your room and get appropriately dressed. A look at the time and it’s already 15 past ten in the morning, an hour later than when you normally start work. Even more unusual is the absence of the laptop. It’s just Yuqi and her coffee.

Sitting opposite Yuqi, today seems a bit more tense than normal, and you can guess the reason why. She knows it, too. Neither of you are willing to break the ice, only shooting occasional glares at each other while sipping on coffee and scrolling through your phones.

“So, Yuqi.”

The words slip from your mouth, accidental, nearly silent. They follow the mild screech of the chair she sits on. When you meet eye to eye, she asks what’s up. What's on your mind? There’s a sudden barrier in your throat. You have a vague idea of what to say, but not the power to speak them. 

“About last night—”

Her lack of response is unnerving. The visible curiosity, the probable apathy. You and her possibly sharing the same sentiment: a feeling of regret. 

“I—I just wanted to say sorry. For last night. I should have just—”

“Sorry for what?”

You suddenly stop. This is not the expected reaction; it’s the complete opposite. A moment where you face the consequences of your actions.

Yuqi stands up and walks over to your side, beaming from ear to ear. “What we did last night was—fucking amazing. Don’t feel bad. If anything, I should feel bad because I didn’t tip you off sooner. We could have done so much more.”

You don’t pick up on the implication right away. It’s all strange, uncharted territory. Your previous flings were simple one-and-dones: a night of reckless, frivolous fun. Short, but fun nonetheless. They would disappear in the morning, never to be seen again.

“I didn’t think you’d walk through that door, especially since it was three in the morning,” says Yuqi, casual, running her fingers through your hair. “I got a bit too silly, as usual, but there’s a good reason for it.”

“And that is?”

“I got a job!” Yuqi’s gripping to your shoulder, the only thing keeping her from jumping for joy. “I got a job at the cafe with the pretty lady. I start on Monday.”

It’s certainly a cause for celebration. You can’t help but root and smile for her, caressing her hands. “Well, damn. Congratulations.”

“Yeah!” Yuqi’s wrapped you in a rather heartwarming embrace that you willingly fold into. “I had the interview yesterday, so I needed to lock in. Needed to be alone. Then I got accepted after, so I went and bought some drinks to celebrate.”

That doesn’t surprise you one bit. You’re just thrilled that she’s finally getting somewhere.

“So—does that mean I can kick you out once you get your first paycheck?” you ask her.

“I guess so. But—” Yuqi pauses, tilts your chin on an incline. She’s warm, radiant, pretty. She doesn’t care that you’ve worded yourself poorly and you’re taking it back; she’s still riding off the high from yesterday. You’re already counting the days before she leaves, and admittedly, you’ll miss that sight. “I’m gonna miss staying with you. Thanks for having my back when I needed it. I honestly don’t know how I will ever repay you.”

She tops it up with a quick peck on your lips. It’s all over your face, etched completely in red. The devilish grin. 

“I think I know exactly how.”

And that’s all that needed to be said.

Before you know it, you’re right back at square one: clothes scattered everywhere on the floor, her body pressed on the mattress, flat on her belly, your cock stretching her pussy out as you fuck her mindlessly from behind. This time in the comfort of your own bedroom.

All the more reason for you two to stay together.

—————

(A/N: fucksorryforgoingonanotherhiatusfuckfuckfuck—)

(Okay, but I really do wanna apologize for going on yet another unannounced hiatus. Final weeks of the semester were hell, then I was on vacation the week I promised this fic would be released (I'm basically the LeBron James of K-smut when it comes to lying at this point), not to mention a health scare courtesy of my mother. Some very hard times have hit me lately, so my mind wasn't 100%. Nevertheless, I am still standing (shoutout Elton John). Lots of free time throughout June and July, so hopefully nothing bad happens ISTG lemme have some peace for once and let me fucking write goddammit—)

(In non-personal news, Yuqi's solo was very fun and she's getting on that Yena level of bias where she's the perfect blend of cute and hot. Then she went pink recently and that made me :pphurt: Sort of a feel out fic before I *finally* finish these commissions over the coming weeks, thank you for reading!)

#smut #kpop smut #gidle #yuqi #song yuqi

[shoyudon]

𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐈 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 .ᐟ

them forgetting a date night.

starring. gojo, sukuna, toji x fem! reader

heads up. cursing, no fluff, sukuna can use a phone (bcs u taught him lol /j), sukuna calling u "woman"

note. haiii, how are you guys doing? make sure to take care of yourself!! i'm feeling a bit angsty today, so i'm gonna write a bit of angst. i miss gojo, like so much u guys :( i might make a part two for this btw hehe

──────〃★ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

the one thing you hated more than people being late was people who don't keep their promises — your boyfriend wasn't an exception to it. gojo's a busy man, you get it. for months you haven't been able to see him because he was so caught up in the jujutsu world; he saves people dan and night from lingering curses that it broke you a bit.

the jujutsu world treats him like a weapon; and you never liked it. despite your constant battering on him, trying to get him to quit and just settled in for a quiet life, he tells you that he can't. that people needed him, and you felt selfish.

but isn't it fine to be selfish sometimes?

clutching onto your phone, you'd tried dialing gojo's number at least six times before he answers. his voice groggy and slow, as if he had just woken up from a deep sleep, "huh . . . hello?"

you wanted to yell at him, especially because he was the one who has been reminding you about this particular date night — and he was the one to forget about it, "good sleep?" you ended up asking him, voice hard.

"y/n . . . why did you—"

"why did i call? oh, i don't know. maybe because my boyfriend stood me up for an hour and a half. i look like an idiot sitting here, satoru," you mutter out in embarrassment, avoiding the lingering gazes from both waiters and waitresses around you.

for the past hour, you've lost count of how many times you'd ask them to refill your glass of tea — embarrassing. then telling them you were waiting for someone when they tried to ask you if you were going to order anything since there were people waiting for a table, just for the said person not showing up.

"what time is— oh, fuck. baby, i'm so sorry, i fell asleep when i was work—"

before he could finish his words, you finished it for him, "working. i get it, you're always working. clearly, you don't have time for anything else, right?" you ask him, signaling the waiter nearby for the bill.

"baby, i know. i'm so sorry, i'm on my way, okay? please," he whispers. you could hear a few shuffling on the background; along with a few curses he muttered under his breath as he stumble over his feet, mind hazy from all the sudden movements he was doing despite just waking up.

"no need. i'm leaving the place," you mutter, walking out of the restaurant — heels clacking on the pavement, "and 'm leaving you, because clearly you're not ready for a relationship, so bye."

gojo yells out, "what? no, baby. i swear — i'll make it up to you, please. don't leave me . . ." he rambled on the same words over and over again, "where are you? i'm picking you up. please, can we talk about this? i'm sorry, i know i should've—"

"bye, satoru," and with that you ended the call.

──────〃★ 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍

you fiddled the hem of your dress as you sat inside the almost closed restaurant, the last speck of hope you had on your boyfriend —sukuna— dissipating into hopelessness. standing up you walked over to the cashier, taking out your card to pay for the one glass of shrimp cocktail and one glass of white wine.

the cashier shot you a sympathetic look, and you didn't dare to look her into her eyes. face hard from embarrassment and shame, "thank you for coming, come again next time, ma'am . . ." she bids you goodbye as she returns your card.

walking out of the restaurant that now had the 'closed' sign flipped made your stomach churn in mixed feelings: anger, embarrassment, shame, sadness, everything all at once.

sinking your nails onto the palm of your hand, you muttered out strings of curses. you knew being in a relationship with someone who had no understanding to the concept of love was a hard thing — but honestly, you thought you got a hang of it. all this time you had been nothing but patient with sukuna, but maybe even that wasn't enough for him.

three hours. you sat alone inside the restaurant you booked for the both of you for three hours — each hour depleting your hope even more. and sukuna just managed to fuck it up even after he said he'd try. well, you should've underlined the keyword there: he said he'd try not that he'd come.

maybe you saw it coming yet it still disappointed you anyways.

your phone rang. even before you see who it was — you knew it's none other than sukuna. your heart screamed at you to answer his phone call, but your mind told you to leave it ringing because you were in no mood to talk to him. yet, at the end — you still pressed the answer button.

"what?"

"where are you?" his rough voice echoed through the line as you walked down the nearly empty street, holding onto your purse, "place's closed."

scoffing, you answered, "'f course it's closed, it's almost ten. i've been waiting for three hours, ryo. three hours."

you could hear him inhale sharply, "i was caught up with something, woman. where are you now?" he questioned. hearing a few car honking behind on the background, "where are you? answer me."

"doesn't matter, i left. and i'm leaving you, i was wrong thinking maybe i could've changed you — turns out, i couldn't. good luck to you," you mutter out sternly.

sukuna raised a brow, "y're kidding."

you weren't, and all he could hear next was the loud dial tune of the other line hanging up — now did he realize that this was all serious and you were actually leaving him for good.

──────〃★ 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

you sighed, dialing toji for the first time of the night when he said that he was going to pick you up for a date, the phone rung for a while before going into voicemail. grumbling under your breath, you tried dialing him again for the second time, which ended up the same way.

all these time spent on makeup and picking out the best outfit — all for nothing as your boyfriend, toji failed to show up on time. angry, you tried calling him again for the third time, only for it to end up in voicemail yet again. this time you decided to leave a message for him.

"hey, you forgot. didn't you? hope you're happy with yourself, cause 'm not."

dating toji wasn't the easiest — but you love him, no matter what he was like. and it was stupid of you to do so, all this time you've defended his name against your friends' malice towards him, saying how he wasn't treating you well enough and that you deserved so much better.

despite all that, you love him. disregarding their words, retorting back to how toji treats you well, which he does — except for the times he tended to forget about everything, even you. maybe it was time to open your eyes and actually break up; because you did deserve better than this.

it would be a shame to let all this makeup go to waste, and so you hailed a cab and decided to go out for a treat. and made the best out of everything, that is until toji decided it would be the most convenient time to call you back amidst your little "me time".

wiping your hand on the napkin, you answered him, "huh, you're alive," you muttered out, huffing.

he sighs, "i forgot, sorry." you couldn't see him, but toji actually looked remorseful, already on his way out of his apartment to yours, "i'm on my way."

you chuckled, "doesn't matter. i left my house," you informed, taking a bite out of the crab meat, "so don't bother coming — and i don't think i don't deserve this kind of treatment from anyone, even you, toji. i'm breaking up with you because clearly you don't take this relationship as seriously as i am."

toji furrowed his brows, "i forgot, i fucked up, i can make it up. where are you right now?" he asks, his voice still as calm as cucumber. but the look on his face contradicted the tone of his voice.

"bye, toji. good luck."

© shoyudon 2024 . no copying or reposting allowed !

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #gojo satoru #gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo angst #gojo satoru angst #sukuna ryomen #sukuna #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna angst #sukuna ryomen angst #toji fushiguro #toji #toji fushiguro x reader #toji angst #toji fushiguro angst #gojo satoru x female reader #sukuna ryomen x female reader #toji fushiguro x female reader

[uzurakis]

could you maybe write when reader throws an engagement / promise ring at jjk characters (please include gojo) during an argument? i love your work btw😩🙏

PROMISE? BROKEN!

featuring: gojo satoru. nanami kento. fushiguro megumi. choso kamo.

n. thankchu for liking my works, it means a ton to me nonnie XD u ask and i shall deliver !

the tension in the room was thick and neither of you seemed willing to back down. voices raised, accusations flew, and frustration mounted. finally, in a fit of anger and hurt, you yanked off your engagement ring and threw it across the room. it landed with a small clink on the floor, the sound echoing in the sudden silence that followed.

GOJO SATORU. gojo’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, he was speechless. then, in the midst of that, one irritatingly smug lips played on his face as he tried to lighten the mood. "wow, you’ve got quite the arm," he joked, he literally. just. joked.

his tone playful despite the situation. "maybe you should try out for the baseball team." you glared at him, intensely, still fuming. "this isn’t a joke, satoru!"

still joking around, held up his hands in mock surrender, stepping closer to you. "hey, i get it. you’re mad. but throwing jewelry? that's a new one, baby.” he teased, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

you crossed your arms, trying to maintain your anger. "i’m serious, satoru. this isn’t something you can just laugh off."

he sighed, his expression softening as he reached out to gently take your hands in his. "i know, i know," he said, his voice more serious now as he picked up your ring from the floor. "but you know me. i joke when i’m nervous. and right now, seeing you this upset makes me really nervous. i might piss my pants already, really..”

hesitating, you slowly took the ring from him, the anger starting to melt away. "you really know how to defuse a situation, don’t you?"

the guy grinned, that familiar, mischievous spark returning to him. "it’s one of my many talents. besides, i can’t let my very beautiful fiancée stay mad at me forever, can i?"

NANAMI KENTO. although nanami's body moved briefly, his expression stayed calm and composed. he took a deep breath, clearly trying to keep his emotions in check. “alright,” he said, steady as ever. “let’s pick up the ring and sit down to talk.”

“kento, this isn’t something we can just sit down and talk about like it’s a business meeting.” you weren’t dealing with his cool demeanor.

nanami exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “i know you’re upset, sweetheart. i beg you to not throw our ring again. let’s approach this rationally.”

“you always want to be so practical about everything. sometimes, i need more than just rationality…” you complained.

the guy walked over to where the ring had fallen, bending down to pick it up. he held it out to you, expression sincere. “sweetheart, i understand that and i need you to calm down. but we can’t resolve this if we’re not willing to communicate properly.”

“i just… i feel like you’re not listening to me.” reluctantly, you took the ring from his hand, your pent up starting to wane.

he nodded, eyes meeting yours with genuine concern. “i’m listening. i promise. let’s sit down and talk about this. i want to understand what you’re feeling.”

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. “really?” he said, voice low and simmering with resentment. his sharp, green eyes were narrowed and those dark eyebrows were furrowed in frustration, casting a slight shadow over his eyes, which were usually so composed. “you’re just going to throw away the ring?”

you glared at him, your chest heaving with the force of your emotions. “you’re not listening to me, fushiguro megumi! you never listen!”

“oh, i’m listening, alright. you think this is helping? throwing our engagement ring?” he scoffed, jaw clenching, muscles tight as he tried to keep his emotions in check.

you felt a wave of regret wash over you, but your pride wouldn’t let you back down. “maybe it’s the only way to get through to you.”

megumi clenched his jaw for the nth time, maybe holding back other words to keep them from lashing out. taking a deep breath as he tried to rein in his anger. “you know what? fine. if that’s how you feel, maybe we both need to cool off.”

he turned away, clearly struggling to keep his composure. the silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable. after a few minutes, he took another deep breath and turned back to face you, his expression softer but still strained. “look, i don’t want to fight like this. throwing the ring… it hurt, alright? but let’s not make things worse.”

you looked down, feeling the sting of guilt. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done that.”

the man sighed, his shoulders relaxing a bit. “yeah, well, it’s not exactly something you can just take back. but i get it. you’re frustrated. so am i.”

CHOSO KAMO. “no, baby, please,” he pleaded, voice breaking as his heart sank deeper. it felt like time slowed down, the metal glinting in the light before it hit the floor with a dull thud. he moved towards the ring, expression a jumble of desperation and panic. “don’t do this, please.”

you could see the raw emotion in his eyes, at that moment you knew you did such a wrong thing. choso reached the ring and picked it up, clutching it tightly in his hand as if it were a lifeline. “i’m sorry,” he said, turning back to you whilst trembling. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean for it to get this bad. please, let’s talk about this.”

the sight of your fiancée, normally so strong and positive, looking so vulnerable tugged at your heart. “choso, i…”

he took a step closer, holding out the ring to you. “i love you,” he said, being earnest. “i don’t want to lose you over this. can we just sit down and talk? please?”

his genuine remorse washed over you, crawling under your skin. “okay,” you agreed softly, your anger beginning to melt away. “let’s talk.”

choso let out a breath of relief and carefully slipped the ring back onto your finger, “thank you.”

@uzurakis

#.writing #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi #megumi x reader #megumi fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojo fluff #jjk gojo #choso x you #choso kamo #choso kamo x reader #choso x reader #jjk choso #nanami kento x reader #nanami x you #jjk nanami #nanami kento #nanami x reader

[thefoxtherapist]

hiii! i saw you were taking requests for wuwa and was wondering if you could write general cuddling headcanons or scenarios for jiyan, calcharo, scar (idk if he’s a cuddle type guy lol), and/or any other characters of your choosing. can have already established relationships

tysm 💜👾

Thank you for the request! I hope you like it! I'm still learning the characters so go easy on me o7

-Scar actually strikes me as somebody overly clingy if given the opportunity. If his schedule allows for it, there's almost nowhere else he'd rather be.

-He's pretty brash about his wants and needs, he doesn't hesitate to take what he wants. And yet, his approach to relationships and intimacy differs from this. If his storytelling is to be believed, I think he'd be hesitant.

-But the moment you open your arms when he comes home? Scar's arms are around your waist in seconds. Always a bit too tight, face buried against you in one way or another. It can be bruising at times, or the complete flipside of far too gentle.

-With Scar its rarely big spoon/little spoon. He prefers when you're laying on your back, either on the bed or the couch. He likes to lay partially on top of you, his face buried in your neck, body half on top of yours like a protective shield. Your arms around him, holding him tightly.

-If he can't breathe because he refuses to remove his face from your neck or hair, then he's cuddling correctly!

-You know those memes that are like (brooding edgy guy) "and what were you up to-" "killing..." "we were cuddling." YOU CAN'T DO THAT WITH HIM! Scar will PROUDLY announce everything you two were doing. IN DETAIL.

-He's a proud man. And you've eaten his hair. Ultimately, 7/10.

-Jiyan gonna hit you with "I'm too busy right now, I'll make it up to you." then never make it up to you. The weight of the world is on his shoulders and to some degree he put it there himself.

-You gotta drag his green ass into bed, I'm sorry. But once he's in bed, he will stay there. The thing about cuddling with Jiyan is that it isn't just cuddling? It's also nap time. He's tired, he's overexerting himself, he's fighting a bazillion internal and external wars.

-He likes being the big spoon (you slept on his hair accidentally ONE TIME). Jiyan is a bit tense as his arm wraps around you, his other arm under the pillow. At first his chin will rest against your head, he'll sorta look over you.

-Eventually though he'll relax, his chest will loosen, his grip will loosen, and his face will drop into the top of your head. His breathing gets quieter, calmer. Every time he breathes out a lil hard, there's a gentle breeze that rustles the sheets. But it keeps the temperature perfect.

-It is at this point you could turn in his arm if you want to, bury your face into his chest. Jiyan is fast asleep and happy to hold you as he finally gets some rest with his lover. He's a bit of a snorer though, sorry.

-3/10 on a normal day, but once you get him into the freaking bed, he's so comfortable to nap with and snuggle so 9/10 once hes in there. Good luck though.

-So the edgy brooding guy I mentioned in Scar's section, that is Calcharo. Most of the people who work for him, or even know him, don't even know he has a partner. This is to keep you safe.

-But because of this, physical intimacy is often put aside for safety. He isn't a fan of it, I doubt you're a fan of it. But Calcharo puts those he looks out for pretty high up on his priority list.

-You have a secret knock. And when he knocks in that secret way, he's quick to push by you and into your home. He's quick to check all the locks before he even says hello.

-But his hello is picking you up and bringing you to the nearest soft surface. Your back hitting the couch cushions, him still holding your thighs as he pretty much lays on top of you at a bit of an awkward angle.

-Calcharo tends to kiss and cuddle, it isn't just a relaxing snuggle, he wants to get his kisses in too. Each one gentle, almost tired, as he peppers your face in small kisses. He's a bit like, yes I am saying this to be silly, a puppy.

-If you don't push him off and get him outta his gear, he will sleep like this. Look at that man, he's tired. But the second you push on his shoulder, he's off of you. Very respectful man, my beloved. But he'll follow you to your bedroom, dropping gear on his way. His weapon beside your bed.

-8/10. He's back to giving you kisses and he hasn't undone his boots yet.

#Wuthering Waves x reader #wuwa x reader #Jiyan x reader #Calcharo x reader #Scar x reader #༻Stygian #༻Tenebris #༻Decree of 👾 #can you tell which sections i've finished / what 5* i have by the length of these? lol..

[chosows]

TRAIN RIDES 🚞

Hiromi Higuruma x Fem Reader

Summary: Due to attending your parents’ marriage anniversary, they have provided your transportation on a luxury train that will travel across the country. With your lack of experience in high-class transport, you found yourself lost upon boarding. While roaming around, you spot a man who looks like he could assist you.

Word count: 3.7k

Contains: Smut, face riding, cowgirl, missionary, cunnilingus, train ride, fem reader, descriptions of intimacy, smut, hookup, no established relationship, alternative universe: no curses

Note: i wish i was on a luxury train — cross posting tomorrow on ao3 because i’m too tired

Boarding a train was always an overwhelming task, especially when it was your first time on a luxurious train. It was huge, spanning across several carriages. Everyone around you seemed to know exactly where they were going, all suited up in formal attire while you were in casual clothing. Panic settled in as you watched the world move through the window, realising you’ll need to find your seat soon. You walked through the endless rows, peeking at the numbers, though none seemed to match the one you were given. You felt sick, it was mortifying knowing there were eyes glued to you as you dragged your suitcase behind you—you couldn’t make more noise if you tried. Entering a new carriage, you spot a man who isn’t glued to a piece of technology—your potential saving grace.

“Excuse me, could you check my ticket? I can’t find my seat.” You suck in your lower lip as you extend your hand, the man in the suit slowly lifts his head from his paperwork.

“It’s been fifteen minutes; have you been walking around the entire time?” His voice was monotone, but he didn’t intend to be brash—it seemed to be a sincere question.

“Yes, this train is too big. I knew I should’ve just driven.”

“You would’ve paid a month's worth of rent on gas; your seat is right here by the way.” He shifts his briefcase and you say your thanks, awkwardly scooting in beside him. As soon as you put your headphones over your ears, he struck up a new conversation.

“I’m Hiromi; it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Since you were unable to hear him correctly, you bat your eyelashes, causing him to crack a smile, “Hiromi. What’s your name?”

“Oh, sorry,” You turn your music on pause and share your name, apologising for your ignorance, “I assumed you were busy with all those documents.”

“I was skimming through my folder; I have to make sure I have everything prepared for my client’s case.”

“Very interesting, and probably extremely confidential.” You pout your lips, desperate for him to be quiet. It’s not him who is the problem, you are pleading to destress from the walk of shame you went on.

“That’s right,” He copies your expression, smirking to himself while he packs his briefcase again, “It’s a good thing I don’t have a wife.”

“Why?”

“I have to travel constantly for work, she’d get lonely.”

“Being single is better anyway; you don’t have to worry about keeping another person happy all the time.”

“That’s definitely one outlook.”

“I’m going to listen to my music now; it was nice to talk to you, Hiromi,” You say cheerfully, giving him a sincere smile before your eyes drift to your phone.

Rather than returning the courtesy, he simply nods his head. This train runs overnight, meaning the two of you are bound to spend hours by one another’s side. He was respectful and stayed within his boundaries; out of the corner of your eye, you could catch a glimpse of him flipping through a novel. Since you couldn’t afford one of the rooms this train has to offer, you begin dozing off beside him. Your head droops down and your phone crashes to the floor, but you don’t wake up. Hiromi glances at you, noticing you are fast asleep; with little to no other option, he leans over you and attempts to pick it up. Due to the abrupt grazing of your legs, your eyes flutter open and you find Hiromi hunched over. 

“Your phone, sweetheart. I can’t reach it.” He points to your phone flat in the middle of the aisle and you scurry to pick it up.

“Thank you.” You check your screen for any cracks, then rest your head back against the seat; it wasn’t comfortable, but it would have to do.

“Are you tired?” Hiromi takes a sip of his water and then turns to face you.

“I’m exhausted—I just want to go to sleep.”

“I have a room if you’d like to use it; you should’ve told me.” He rummages through the pocket of his blazer and reveals the keycard—it’s one of the more expensive rooms this train possesses.

“Oh, you don’t have to. I sleep on trains all the time; I’m used to this—”

“If you’re tired, you need proper rest. I’ll take you to the room and you can have a look in; you might change your mind.” He stands up, meaning you also have to stand in order to let him out. Your suitcase and your purse are dragged along as he strides forward with the baggage, leaving you to sprint behind him.

Reaching the new carriage, you are taken back by extravagant decor—you almost forgot you were on a train. He beckons you over while he scans his card, allowing you to take a step inside. You were in awe, it had a double bed and a small desk space—it even had a dining table. The warm yellow lighting made the wooden interior appear cosy, much like the floral duvet—it reminded you of your grandparents’ home. You spin around to Hiromi who had taken his blazer off and loosened his tie, now realising how sunken his eyes were from lack of sleep. Perhaps he needed this more than you—it would be unfair to take something that someone else had spent their hard-earned money on.

“It’s lovely here, but I can’t take it from you. You’re going to need more sleep than me.” You clasp your hands together and provide him with a soft smile, only to hear him chuckle.

“Take the bed, it’s yours. I’ll be fine, I do appreciate your concern though.”

“Are you sure?” You sit down on the mattress, instantly melting into the rich memory foam. It moulds around you, cushioning every inch of your body.

“I’m certain. Why are you on this train—work-related?” Hiromi asks from the dining table, staring over at your limp body.

“No, family-related. I have to celebrate my parents’ wedding anniversary.” 

“Sounds like it will be fun,” He rolls up the sleeves of his white cotton shirt, revealing the watch on his wrist, “It’s better than what I’m doing.”

“You’re a lawyer, right? Or did I make that up?” You roll over onto your stomach and lock eyes with him, growing comfortable in his presence quickly.

“Unfortunately. It’s a nightmare, I wish I wasn’t.” 

“I’ve never met a lawyer before; law is one of the most desirable courses for young people studying. Guess they have their hopes too high.”

“Absolutely—far too high. They think it’s fun when they’re twenty, then it hits them full force when they’re thirty-six.”

“You’re thirty-six? I thought you were younger—maybe twenty-eight.” 

“I’m flattered, but no. I’m thirty-six and I feel like shit to put it simply. I should’ve gone into finance.” 

“Being a lawyer is more impressive. You look like you’re good at your job; you dress well and you seem professional.”

“I’m glad you think so, but I’m not the most professional out there—not when I’m out of work.”

“Do you live a double life? Lawyer by day, male stripper by night.” You motion your hands in the air and laugh, hearing him join in with your absurd sense of humour.

“Male prostitute, actually. It’s going to cost you for this conversation; I charge $10 per every five minutes.”

“Do you take card? I have no cash.”

“You’ll have to find a way to make some then.”

“You’re funny, Hiromi. Do you live in the town we departed from?” Your eyes drift up as he approaches the bed, locked on him without shifting.

“Live and work there; I have for a while.”

“Could I get your number? It’d be nice to keep in contact with you.”

“Give me your phone, I’ll type it in.” He takes a seat next to you while you pass him your phone, observing him as he creates the new contact.

“What brand is your watch? It looks fancy.” You poke his forearm and he places your phone down on the bed, rotating his wrist for you to see the watch face.

“Vacheron Constantin.”

“That sounds expensive—it’s gorgeous.” It was completely silver, gleaming in the light. He undoes the strap and puts it on you, allowing you to temporarily wear it.

“It was, the price isn’t important though. It looks pretty on you.” His smile widens, revealing his straight set of teeth. Hiromi isn’t a bad-looking man, he also has a similar sense of humour to you—you were lucky to have bumped into someone like-minded.

“It’s a little too big for me, I’ll have to give it back.” You extend your wrist forward then draw it away, taunting him playfully.

“I thought you were tired.” He continues attempting to grab your arm, but you dodge him each time.

“I am, you’re just too slow.”

After a back and forth of him trying to grab your arm, he pushes you flat into the pillow and forcefully grabs your wrist. You turn your head to the side, sensing yourself burn up from the contact; he was on top of you, removing the watch. When he’s finished securing the watch in place on his wrist, he notices how silent you become. He lies down beside you and groans, his hands resting on his abdomen, untucking his shirt. 

“Have I destroyed this friendship already?” Hiromi clears his throat, then ruffles up his hair since it has gotten messy.

“No, far from it. I like to play around.” You raise your hand in the air, stretching your fingers and then the rest of your body in turn; the yawn you had been holding back finally escaped.

“People who play with me always lose,” He meets your hand mid-air and gets intertwined with it, shaking it side to side, “Especially when they’re sleepy.”

“That feels targeted.” 

“Maybe it was.”

“A lawyer has never won against me; I suppose you’ll be the first to lose.” You bite your lip and roll over onto your side to meet him; a smug expression takes over his face, twisting his lips up into a smirk.

“I like your confidence.” He places your hand on his chest and shifts your position, now straddling him.

“Do you?—” Your fingers brush against his face as you loom over him, “—Your skin is so smooth, wow.”

“Yeah, I get quite a bit of stubble but I prefer the clean shave.”

“You’re cute, Hiromi.” You continue to stroke his face; his brows furrow after he hears your words and he chuckles.

“Cute?”

“Handsome, attractive—whatever you want to call it. You’re good looking and I like your personality.” You retract your hand and beam at him; his expression significantly warms, and the grip he had on your hips becomes lighter.

“I wasn’t expecting that; a lot of people find me to be bland. Speaking to someone with a similar sense of humour is refreshing.” 

“If you’re bland, we must be two of the most boring people.”

“We probably are,” He snickers, his eyes drifting from your face and down your torso, “Maybe not you, but me.”

“I don’t believe that; I think you have a fun side, everyone does.” 

“How am I supposed to flirt with a woman like you while I’m sober? You’re stunning; I don’t know what to say to you.”

“You’ve been doing a good job,” You play with his tie, loosening it while you wrap it around your hand, “Do you speak to many women?”

“You’re hilarious,” He scoffs, squinting his eyes while he glares at you, “I’m not that bad. I’m not used to flirting with new people, that’s all.”

“Were you never the type of clubbing guy?”

“I think it’s a waste of money—there’s hardly any class in a club; don’t take that the wrong way. I prefer more meaningful ways of meeting someone.”

“What’s a more meaningful way then?”

“Becoming acquaintances with a lost lady on a train, assisting her when she dropped her phone, and allowing her to take my room because she claimed she was so tired. Though I don’t think she was that tired, clearly.”

Thumping fills your ears as your heartbeat increases, drowning out all other sounds while becoming flustered by his statement. Hiromi had a way with his words; even the most basic statement uttered with the correct tone would prompt you to feel some type of way. It’s a powerful yet effective charismatic trait—likely one he uses in the courtroom. With a gentle hold on your jaw, he lures you down closer, brushing his thumb over your lips. Your lip gloss was smeared across his skin, but he continued the motion. You refrain from making the first move; if this is all a big game, you aren’t going to be the one to lose. He continues muttering out compliments under his breath, then draws himself just a centimetre away. His breath was hot on your skin. The sexual tension is at its peak; it’s bursting at the seams, begging to be released. Unable to stand it much longer, you press your lips to his and lose yourself in his kiss. 

One hand is on the back of your head and the other is on the small of your back, pushing you as close as he can to deepen the kiss. You could feel his boner forming through his pants, though you were in no position to comment as the damp patch forming in your panties grew. An experienced kisser, but you believe these lips haven’t kissed many women. Hiromi had always been the long-term relationship type of guy until his last breakup; he had given up on finding love—it would only waste his time searching through women to find the right one. His hands slip under the fabric of your top and he unclasps your bra, sliding the straps down from your shoulders. To catch his breath, he breaks free from you and watches as you take your top off, revealing your exposed breasts. 

“You are gorgeous,” He gropes your breasts, not enough to invoke pain but enough to generate a slight increase in pleasure, “Perfect even. A woman like you shouldn’t still be single—what type of man could fail you? I’d do anything to make you happy.”

“What type of woman could fail you?” You repeat his statement, altering it slightly. If you were Hiromi’s ex-girlfriend, you wouldn’t have hesitated to tie the knot as soon as you got engaged.

He didn’t answer your question—he was too focused on getting you out of your pants. After undoing the button, he tugs them down and reveals your panties. You hadn’t been expecting to end up in a scenario like this so you were in potentially your worst underwear set—it is far from sexy, but he doesn’t seem to care. Your chest was heaving as his fingers skimmed your inner thigh, hooking onto your panties and guiding them down slowly. While you were fully naked, he was entirely clothed. The power dynamic was in his hands. He pushes you forward, moving your hips further up his body just before his mouth.

“Don’t be shy, ride my face. I’ll make you feel good, I promise.” While you’ve been eaten out before, you have never been in this position. It was strange to experiment so suddenly, but your body was urging for his touch.

“Will you be okay?” You wrap your fingers around strands of his hair, hovering over him while waiting for confirmation.

“I’ve done this before; you have nothing to worry about. I’ll be fine, so will you.” He squeezes the flesh of your waist, reassuring you that you have no reason to doubt his word. He guides you as you lower yourself, planting your pussy on top of his mouth.

The first flick of his tongue gathered up your slick, but he gave you nothing more. He slapped your ass gently, widening his eyes to signal you to begin moving. You sway your hips as he works his tongue, building up an orgasm faster than you have before. Though you were poking fun at him earlier, you’re convinced this is the first pussy Hiromi has indulged in for a long time. He was starved, sucking your clit and lapping his tongue in all of the correct places. He knew how to stimulate you, and he knew just how to hit those sweet spots. You had taken advantage of your position, grinding against him as his hooked nose bumped into you. The sweet taste you provided was causing him to strain, his tip beginning to leak pre-cum in his freshly cleaned suit. He grumbles as you continue, his fingers grasping you hard enough to the point they leave indents in your skin. You found yourself moaning legitimately rather than forcing it—little whimpers flying out between your laugh provided by the satisfaction.

“Hiromi,” You mutter his name, his hazy eyes opening and locking with yours. He was intoxicated by ravishing your cunt, and his expression had pushed you closer to the edge of a climax.

The coil in your core had snapped before you had time to alert him you were cumming, resulting in a whine as he continued to collect anything remaining. Your eyes became half-lidded until the sound of his phone buzzing caught both of your attention. Hiromi couldn’t care less of who attempted to contact him while he still had you in his hands; he lifted you from his mouth and flipped you over, pulling your bottom lip down with his thumb. He spits what cum remains in your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself as he’s busy unbuckling his belt. No one had ever made you feel so mighty and then so belittled in the span of minutes, but you liked the treatment you were receiving. He wipes his face clean with the back of his hand and continues exploring every inch of you. 

In moments, he was in his boxers. A faint trail of hair was present at the lower end of his abdomen, leading down into his boxers. Though he wasn’t in perfect shape, he was toned and his muscles were present. You could see the outline of his dick, switching your gaze between it and his face. He leaned over to pick up his briefcase, searching for his wallet. When he finds it, he pulls out a condom and tears it with his teeth, turning away as he puts it on. You close your legs over and he turns back to you, his entire length on show. 

“I forgot how awkward this was,” He grunts as he scoots his way closer to you, prying your legs apart to situate himself between them, “Are you okay?”

You nod your head, unable to get words out of your mouth. He took your breath away; the fact he is embarrassed baffles you. Positioning his tip at your entrance, he allows himself to lubricate using your slick. Since both of you were breathing heavily, he locks his fingers with your hands and inches his way in, hushing you to remind you that there are other people nearby. You had completely forgotten you were on a train. He slips in quickly, finding an adequate rhythm to thrust into you. Hiromi enjoyed seeing your face contort as he hit you in deeper spots, but this position was growing old. A woman as divine as you deserves to be on full display. He continues to thrust into you in that position before pulling out and rolling over, planting you on top of his dick.

You slipped him back into your sopping hole and began to bounce, riding him in a way that chased your climax. The girth of his dick filled you up nicely, his tip rubbing repeatedly against a sweet spot found deep inside of you. He would groan as you rocked your hips, his eyes fluttering back to resist his cum from shooting into the condom. A true gentleman of the sort, prioritising your sexual needs before his—he was letting you use him without saying a singular word. Your walls begin to tighten around him, finding yourself coming undone for a second time this evening. As you begin to lose stamina, he takes control and begins pushing into you. You droop forward and snuggle your face into the crook of his neck, placing kisses and bites in areas the collar of his shirt would cover. One thing for sure is that you’re going to give him something to remember by the end of this train ride. 

His face scrunched up as he released his load, moaning quietly as the condom filled up. He thrust you down on him a final few times before slipping out of you, his dick becoming flaccid. He pulls your head back and stares at your exhausted face; if you weren’t tired, you were now. Hiromi finds himself in a predicament as he realises he has nowhere to toss his used condom, so he rolls out of bed and takes it off, switching into his more neutral attire as you remain flat on the bed. The door to the room slams shut and you sit up, rubbing your eyes to prevent the drowsiness from winning. You climb back into your lingerie and put his shirt on, doing up the first few buttons. It was large on you, but it did the job of providing comfort. A few minutes go by and he returns, giving his full attention to the phone before he glances back your way.

“The trial got pushed back a few days; do you think there’s room for one more at your parents’ party?” He’s testing his luck—he’ll have nothing else to do in this city until the new date of the trial arrives.

“Don’t wear anything fancy then—I don’t need them asking me questions.”

“I won’t. That was good sex,” He sinks into the bed and pulls you into an embrace, tackling you to the mattress, “Do you want the whole cuddle thing or is it too soon for that?”

“It’s never too soon for a cuddle.” Your face lights up with a smile, squeezing him back while pressing your cheek into his chest.

“You lost by the way.”

“How? You initiated.”

“You came first. Since I won, I’d like to take you on a date. We can do anything you’d like; I have a week free.”

#higuruma x reader #higuruma smut #jjk higuruma #higuruma x y/n #higuruma hiromi #jjk #oneshot #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #alternate universe #smut

[xazse]

the afab gojo x male reader is so good ! but i lowkey want gojo to get his lick back and make male reader jealous like i get it’s unrequited but i lowkey feel like mreader is attached to him a bit.

IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I REALLY WANTED TO GET THIS OUT TO YOU BOTH ON TIME SO I APOLOGIZE IF THIS IS RUSHED. SO HAPPY YOU LOVED MY AFAB<333 I HOPE YOU STILL LIKE AFAB GOJO!!

Idk about you but I feel like the best revenge is to slowly drive the other person insane.

Male!reader is a scumbag and might not align with you, like forreal scumbag!

Warnings: Fem!Satoru x Male Reader, Pussy-eating, sexting, jealous!reader, mean!reader, patheticmale!reader

Oh m!reader is most definitely in love with Satoru, that night When you were fucking Suguru he realized how much you would ramble on how much you hated Satoru’s guts and the only thing he’s good for is his body and pussy. But he seen the slight light in your eyes when you were describing him, by the end of the night Suguru just wanted to go home , he hadn’t even realized you were involved with Satoru so he felt like shit by the end as well, so ready to go home and tell Satoru to avoid you like the plague.

Satoru does eventually start to slowly distance himself from you, no longer is he blowing up your phone wondering where you are, he’s barely responding to your messages, and he most definitely stopped begging you to see him and look at him. He finds himself not entertaining your attempts to make him jealous or angry. He does work on himself, meaning he’s buying a new wardrobe and posting cute selfies, basically in your words auctioning himself off to other people.

You do notice the things he’s doing, ignoring you in favor of other people who aren’t even worth his time or yours. Two can play that game, Satoru is clearly going through something and needs a little convincing to get him back in the right mind, so you’ll give him the space he so clearly fucking needs, and it’s most definitely not gonna drive you crazy.

A week later your at a party, attempting to look for someone even as half as pretty as Satoru, he’s also present, so beautiful and a beaming smile gracing his face, he looks a little brighter, and it’s definitely not because of you. He’s with his usual group of friends, looking so dull compared to him. There’s a hand behind his back, seemingly going up and down in a soothing motion, you follow the hand and you scoff loudly from across the room.

A dude who looks plain and most definitely not Satoru’s type.

You see Satoru peek at the man and give him a kiss on the cheek whilst he whispers something in his ear, a giggle leaves his pretty pink lips before he’s departing somewhere. You’re quick to follow him outside to talk.

“What’s with you lately? Why are you avoiding me? And who’s that dude in there?” You pester Satoru with endless questions, not letting him even get a breath in.

“He’s someone I’m talking to right now, and why are you so worried?” Satoru glares, his eyebrows furrowed and yet you still find him to be so pretty when he’s frustrated.

“Not worried , just wondering why you aren’t picking up my calls.”

“Been busy, enjoy the party.” Satoru is quick to push through you and back to party, forgetting what he came in the kitchen for. He peers over his shoulder to see you standing there staring daggers at him with an expression he doesn’t recognize, oh you’re fucking pissed. It makes his body shiver and his cunt clench around nothing, he wants to see just how much he can push you.

One night while Satoru is alone in his room he does the unthinkable, he props his phone up and spreads himself wide in front of his camera, his pretty pussy on display, he grabs his favorite dildo and begins working it inside of himself, slow and steady is how he starts, he makes sure the video gets everything, every sound, every movement is captured. The dildo reaches so deep while it stretches his hole and makes him so wet, he’s heaving as he continues to abuse himself to completion. When that’s all done with he sends it to you, but he makes it look like it wasn’t for you, an accident is what he wants you to think.

A few hours later Satoru’s doorbell rings and to his amazement it’s you, looking a fucking mess, dressed like as soon as he sent the message you were out the door and on your way to his place. There’s a fiery but pathetic look in your eyes.

“Toru’ please” your voice sounds raw as you beg?

And a few minutes Satoru has you on your knees eating him out, you flatten your tongue and lick a stripe up his pussy, you’ve been wanting him for as long as he’s been torturing you, starving just to even touch him a little bit. You’re ravenous with your tongue work, licking up all his essence as it seeps out of him.

Satoru is rough with his hands, shoving your face even deeper so you can lick all the parts of him, he snaps at you to suck on his clit, and you listen like the obedient thing you’ve become, he’s moaning and mewling so cutely, you’ve missed his sweet honeyed voice, though he isn’t yelling your name you’ll take what you can get.

Your balls feel heavy when you unbuckle and pull your pants down to rest around your thighs. Fat cock already fully hard you begin stroking yourself slow and steady, precum already dripping you use that as lubricant. The burn in your body ignites, the combined sucking on Satoru’s clit and jerking your cock off feels so damn good, everything feels right, but also twisted.

#zsworks #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #afab gojo x male reader #afab satoru #fem!satoru #female satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #afab gojo smut #dom male reader #male reader

[wrioluvr]

coming out to + confessing to belobog men. ⋆⋅♡⋅⋆

note: wanted to try my hand at writing more cute stuff <3 also there are like ZERO posts in the luka x male reader tag my baby deserves more. happy pride my beloved readers!!! i wrote this like 6 months ago and coincidentally just picked it back up in time for june! i don't even play hsr anymore... crying emoji content: male reader, fluff. luka, sampo, gepard

sampo (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

would 100% know before you even told him

"hey, [name]! heard you got something to tell me, don't worry, your good pal sampo's all ears."

"sampo... uh.....i like... guys...."

"oh, is that it? i thought it was obvious..."

"HUH????"

"i meant- thank you for trusting me enough to tell me. your secret's safe with me, hehe." placing his hand over his heart in a dramatic gesture, he promises sincerely. despite his initial reaction, he really is touched. not many people trust him, so your willingness to share something so personal made him feel special.

"oh, and one more thing....."

"what is it? you got a secret boyfriend you didn't tell me about?" he asks teasingly, not expecting the bomb you're about to drop on him.

"...i like you."

his eyes go wide. "now that's a surprise."

even though he'd scam people without a second thought, some calling him cruel, he can't bring himself to be indifferent to you. here you were, pouring your heart out, with such a nervous expression on your face, how could he maintain his usual sly demeanour? in all seriousness, he knows he's a bit scummy, so he would be a bit hesitant about getting into a relationship for your sake. he's always running about, chased by the authorities, he doesn't want you to be involved into all that. but if you're willing to accept him and his slippery ways, he'll be sure to put an equal amount of effort. he hates owing favours, after all.

"oh, how could i refuse such a an enticing offer? of course i'll be your boyfriend, [name]." he can't help the grin that appears on his face at your expression, simultaneously shocked and overjoyed. "seriously, you're too precious.... c'mon, let's go on a date!" throwing an arm around you, he squeezes your shoulder excitedly.

"wha- like right now?? and you accepted my confession just like that???" you're at loss of words as he drags you along to who knows where.

"what are you waiting for? let's go, pal! wait- should i call you pal now that we're dating? how about buddy? hmm... still too friendly. how do you feel about sweetheart?"

જ⁀➴

every time he appears at your door, giving you a sheepish grin as he explains how he needs to lay low for a bit, it always comes with a kiss, or several, along with a heart-shaped box of your favourite chocolates. he might go missing for a few days at a time on "business" (probably some illegal trading), but he always makes sure to update you on his whereabouts so you don't worry, sending a bunch of heart pom-pom stickers to let you know he misses you. if anyone were to ever make some snide comments about your sexuality, his first instinct would be to drop every job he's doing and comfort you, followed by using his various contacts to deal with that person swiftly. natasha and seele can't believe he actually got someone to like him, much less get into a serious relationship, but nevertheless, they make sure to look out for you to ensure he doesn't break your heart. he vows not to ever hurt you though, it's the last thing he'd ever want. his promises are often fickle with his clients, but with you, they're always sincere.

luka (૭ ｡•̀ ᵕ •́｡ )૭

would definitely being overenthusiastic about being an ally

"[name], hey! you wanted to tell me something? i hope it's about training with me...."

"sorry, luka, it's not about that.... i.... i just wanted to let you know that i'm gay."

"oh! like seele and bronya!"

"i mean- i guess....?" your nervousness was immediately replaced by a comical surprise at his response, you had to suppress your laughter. he was so genuine, it was endearing.

"don't worry! if any thugs give you shit for it, just tell me. i'll deal with them right away... i've been itching for a fight anyway." he immediately gets into a fighting stance, throwing a few punches in the air to get his point across. he ended his little show with a wink, causing your stomach to fill with butterflies. you decided to tell him then and there.

"and uh, luka. i like you."

"aw, thanks! i like you too. you're a great friend, [name]."

"like, in the romantic way..."

"that works too! that way, i can protect you easier." without missing a beat, he flashes you a grin and a thumbs up, seemingly unfazed by your sudden confession. but the slight dust of red on his cheeks let you know your words did have an effect.

"wait... you know this means we'll be boyfriends?" your head's reeling at how easily he accepted your feelings. did this man really not think about anything but training and beating up thugs??? not that you were complaining, his drive was one of his charming points, but still.

"yeah, i don't mind. with someone like you by my side, i'm sure i could take on any enemy. thank you for giving me this opportunity."

જ⁀➴

even though he puts on a strong front, secretly, he's deathly afraid of becoming a burden, especially to you. one of his favourite pastimes is training and working out with you, or he'd be content for you to just watch him train and cheer for him as well. as long as he has the reassurance that you know he's getting stronger, allowing him to shield you from the dangers of the underworld. if he ever gets injured, a simple persuasion won't work, you'll have to physically hold him in place so that you can treat his cuts and bruises - no matter how much he protests and insists he's fine, he does appreciate it. a lot. he enjoys the little things, the way you run your fingers along the cool metal of his arm as you ramble about your day, or the enthusiastic whoop you give every time he knocks an opponent out at the fight club, or the scent of the freshly cleaned towel you bring him to dry his sweat. you help him realise that there's time to relax, his self-imposed training schedule being so intense and demanding. getting him to not be so hard on himself would be a treat. if you ever get derogatory comments about your sexuality... trust, he'll personally teach them a lesson, and ask natasha not to treat them once he's done. after all, you give him another reason to continue training to be the strongest. he has to be there for you.

gepard ( •̀ - •́ )

dense cutie... wouldn't get your hints until you told him explicitly

"my apologies for being late, [name]... you had something you wanted to tell me?"

"no problem, gepard... i just wanted to tell you that-" taking a deep breath, you prepare youself for his reaction. "-i like guys."

"oh? me too, i'm quite fond of the guards under my care."

"i mean that i'm gay..."

"oh, that's what you meant. are you telling me this because you've faced some form of discrimination lately? don't worry, belobog has strict laws in place to prevent-"

"no, gepard- i'm telling this because i like you..."

"oh."

જ⁀➴

congratulations, you've courted the sweetest man in all of belobog! initially, he was slightly worried that your newfound relationship would interfere with his duties as protector of the people, but much to his surprise, making time for you is easy. or more so, it's because you always make the effort to stop by whenever he's out patrolling, so you end up spending a lot of time together anyway. his face might get red when you blow him a kiss behind the rest of the silvermane guards' backs, but he always makes sure to let you know how much he appreciates your guidance. he's a little self-conscious about his lack of romantic experience, so be gentle with him! don't tease him too much. while he is fully devoted to his duty, he's not above slipping away for a few minutes when you text him to meet in a back alley, to gift him some flowers you may or may not have stolen from belobog's florist. the next day, he would return the favour by holding out a bunch of your favourite flowers, home grown (an attempt was made) in his very own garden. hey, even if they're slightly wilted, it's the thought that counts, right? don't look at him with that affectionate gaze! he's embarrassed. it would be quite funny if you had criminal tendencies, gepard would be absolutely torn between lecturing you and turning a blind eye simply because his lovely boyfriend had made lunch for him earlier in the day. especially if you're friends with sampo, the little shit would threaten to snitch to you everytime gepard almost catches him. or.... perhaps.... he let you off the hook because of that one time you pinned him against some alley wall (when he was supposed to be patrolling! blasphemous.) and kissed him so hard his legs gave out. you've become one of his weaknesses, but he doesn't mind it. at all.

pic credits to dailysampo, dailygepard and dailylukaa on twt!

#honkai star rail x male reader #hsr x male reader #male reader #sampo x male reader #luka x male reader #gepard x male reader #sampo x reader #luka x reader #gepard x reader #honkai star rail x reader

[drvscarlett]

About You Pt 7

Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

About You Series 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

A/N: okay after a long while, here we have an update! huge shoutout for @olesyaexperience for the lovely message she left me for this series. i hope you enjoy this!!

Taglist: @spideybv28@randomcuboidshape @mehrmonga @casperlikej @cliosunshine @honethatty12 @randomgirlnumber-13 @sugyomama @ririyulife @skywalker1dream @vicurious28 @khaylin27 @0710khj @its-elias-world @vizzzashley @allisonwoods @taytaylala12 @miarabanana @ceciii-b @lindsayjoy444

2010, Winter break

If anyone asks, Y/N was not waiting on Sebastian's call.

She definitely was not checking her phone every five minutes to see if Sebastian left a message or anything. In her defense, she was just a bit worried that Sebastian must have been upset with her not being around. This championship is a big thing and a once in a lifetime achievement so she should have forced herself to celebrate yesterday with the team. With their abrupt leaving yesterday, she fed the media with the narrative that Webbers are crybaby and can't accept that Vettel won.

But she might have given herself away when she picked up the phone without it going on a single ring.

"Whoa its like you were waiting for me to call" Sebastian's teasing voice greeted her.

"Well hello there Mr. World Champion" Y/N replied back "Seems like you've been busy"

Sebastian chuckles at the other end and Y/N could just picture that smile on his face right now.

"Not too busy, just chilling around" Sebastian shrugs.

Y/N wraps her jacket closer to her body. It was snowing today in Australia, a big contrast to the tropical weather of Abu Dhabi. She finds herself thinking if Sebastian is inside his hotel room and taking a break from all the media duties.

"How are you feeling champ?"

"Amazing. Unreal. Phenomenal. High" Sebastian enumerates.

She was brimming with joy for Sebastian. It was really a well-deserved win. She wished that she could be there for Sebastian but her health is really taking a toll on her.

"You don't have to worry"Sebastian reassures "I'll win the championship again next year and you could celebrate with me then"

"Really? You are that confident?"

"Of course especially when you are smiling wildly like that"Sebastian teased.

"You got that I'm smiling from hearing my voice?" Y/N confusedly asked.

"Look out your window"

There was no way that Sebastian would be traveling all the way to Australia just to see her. However, there was the german driver standing with a grin on his face. Y/N didn't waste any more time and ran down to hug the world champion.

"You're fucking crazy Seb" Y/N exclaimed before hugging him.

They could feel both of their hearts pounding as they exchanged gleeful chuckles with each other.

"Only for you Y/N" Sebastian whispers "Only for you"

And Y/N swears her heart just went faster.

2011, Melbourne Grand Prix Circuit

It was a different feeling walking back to the paddock and having so many people cheer your name. For Sebastian, being the current world champion, has instantly given him a boost of fans especially among the young boys, who wanted to be a world champion just like him.

He never felt intimidated by the kids but with the way that this blonde kid has been making his way to him, Sebastian would like to rethink his decision that kids aren't scary.

"You are Sebastian Vettel right?" the blonde-haired kid asked.

The kid was dressed in a casual way without any team merchandise or branding with him. He looked pretty serious looking for a kid of his age and Sebastian swears he seen this look before. He cautiously looked at the paddock passes that hung around the child's neck, Mick Schumacher.

"I am Sebastian" Sebastian straightens himself up.

"I have heard a lot of things about you from Y/N" Mick said "I need to talk to you privately about her"

Sebastian could only nod as he led the young Schumacher to his driver's room. He honestly didn't think that he would be following a young kid's orders but here he is.

"What do you wanna talk about?"Sebastian started to ask

"I heard you went to her over the christmas break that's why she couldn't join us to go for skiing" Mick paced the room "And I heard you also took her to Monaco for her birthday"

The way Mick looked at Sebastian, he honestly doubt if Mick is actually a Michael Schumacher in disguise.

"And so what's your deal with her?"Mick crossed his arms "Do you like her?"

"What? How can you possibly say that, that's cra-"

"You do things for Y/N that my Papa does to my Mama"Mick said

His face was heating up by the ambush questioning of Mick and he felt himself sweating with the pressure building up. Sebastian already knew of his feelings from long ago but he couldn't understand why he doesn't have the guts to admit it.

"Well, I'm waiting here"Mick was an impatient kid "Do you like her or not?"

"I like her" Sebastian mumbles as if its a secret he only wanted to shared with himself.

"What? I can't hear you"

"Fine, I like her. I like Y/N" Sebastian admits louder.

It was the first time that Sebastian saw a small smile appear on Mick's face. He felt like his shoulders relaxed a bit while the young boy sits on one of the couches.

"So if you like her then why don't you make a move on her?"

Sebastian was stumped by the boy's question. Why doesn't he make a move on her?

"Well its complicated Mick and its not easy because I might lose a friend" Sebastian argues "It's not that I don't want to make a move on her but I don't want to put her in a difficult position"

"But isn't this also difficult for the two of you? Pretending you two are friends when you two are so much more"Mick had a good point.

He scratches his head. He actually had a plan long ago about confessing to Y/N when he becomes world champion but its been months after he became a world champion but he has no where near a game plan of how to confess to Y/N.

"You adults are so complicated, no wonder Mama doesn't want me to grow up"Mick complains.

"You won't get it, its too complicated and dangerous"

"You drive fast cars for a living and you say that telling a girl that you like how you feel is dangerous" Mick pouts.

Sebastian could only laugh how smart Mick was. He cannot believe that a young boy is telling him what to do with his love life.

"I only came here for one thing and that's for you to make a promise to have good intentions with Y/N"Mick added "Y/N is one of the best person out there and she takes care of me and my sister when our parents are not around"

There was a clear adoration in Mick's eyes and Sebastian felt himself warm up to how Mick is here because he is looking out for Y/N. He gave him a small pat in the back.

"Don't worry about it, I got her"

"Promise me that you won't hurt her okay? Even if it takes time for you to say your feelings"Mick reiterated.

"I promise Mick"Sebastian chuckles.

The little boy felt comforted by Sebastian's words and soon enough the two were engaging about a topic on motorsports. It turns out that having a great adoration for Y/N isn't their only shared interest. As they were heading out of the Red Bull motorhome, they encountered a very stressed out Y/N.

"Ohmygod Mick, we have been looking everywhere for you" Y/N worriedly states "Your Papa and Mama has been worried sick"

"I only went to have a chat with Seb"Mick grins.

Y/N looked at Sebastian suspiciously as if trying to figure out what the two talk about.

"Should I be worried?"

"You shouldn't stress about it"Sebastian assures "C'mon lets get little Schumi back to Michael"

The walk back to the Mercedes motorhome was how Mick held on both Sebastian and Y/N's hands. The three were giggling with each other while the cameras capture them. If there were new fans on the grid then they would have thought that they are a family walking at the paddock.

Somehow this thought couldn't leave Sebastian's head.

2011, Sepang International Circuit

Sebastian's dominance for the season is being affirmed with his second win for the current season. Y/N understands how this puts a lot of pressure on Mark especially when he feels frustrated that they have the same car but they are performing differently.

Usually, Y/N would congratulate Mark with a stellar drive because he went from P10 to P4 but her older brother is having a tantrum.

"I'm not doing well so save your congratulations for when I win a Grand Prix" Mark was furious with his words.

"Can you be a good sport and just for a second think rationally before speaking"Y/N pleaded.

"I don't give a crap about this" Mark replied "I am here to win and not be Mr. Congeniality"

Y/N slammed the door shut so no one could overhear them talking. With the way their voices are raised right now, Y/N's main goal was not to let the media get a whiff of this whole conversation.

"Seriously Mark, this isn't you... What is happening to you"Y/N asked.

"I'm actually done playing nice one with Sebastian and I'm focused on how to beat him this season" Mark stated "I don't care if he is your friend but on track he is a different person and I'll start acting like that"

"Mark, this isn't good for you"

"Just shut it Y/N if you're not going to help me win" Mark's words were cold.

And he left Y/N with her devices. Y/N couldn't believe that Mark could say such words but she attributes it to the pressure that must have been building up at his side of the garage. She just brushes it off as a bad weekend attitude from Mark.

2011, Silverstone circuit

Webber made the second driver again.

Mark Webber must have thought that he can secure a win for this weekend with his pole position advantage. However as the race began, Sebastian Vettel, his teammate and current world champion, has received a better start. Vettel was quick to surpass his teammate and hold a comfortable distance between them. Webber was able to retake the lead when Vettel had a pitstop but his victory was only shortlived after Webber suffers a horrendous pitstop.

By the end of the race, the controversial radio of Red Bull telling Webber to retain his position behind Sebastian. But Webber disobeyed the orders and continues to fight for Sebastian at the very end. Unfortunately for the Australian driver, Sebastian Vettel stays ahead claiming P2 and him in P3. Well its not bad for a second driver, atleast you are still in the podium Mark.

Webber and Button reunited in McLaren.

Y/N Webber and Jenson Button are spotted leaving the Silverstone Circuit last Sunday. Eagle-eyed fans spotted how they went straight to the McLaren Technology Center. It is quite funny because as one may recall it, Y/N Webber is technically a Red Bull employee as Mark's personal assistant. So what is she doing winding up in the enemy's territory?

2011, Nürburgring

Sebastian would like to think that this is all just an elaborate prank and that Y/N transferring to McLaren is just a joke. However, as race week start to approach and he sees how Y/N is wearing a McLaren team merchandise, Sebastian was out of focus.

He immediately seeks out his teammate because how could he have let Y/N go to other teams.

"Mark, what the fuck is going on with Y/N?" Sebastian barged in "I just saw her entering McLaren"

"What do you think it looks like?" Mark scoffed.

There is no way that Y/N would have been supporting McLaren unless she wasn't actually supporting McLaren.

"You fucking fired her?"

It was the only logical explanation available for Sebastian. Y/N got fired by Mark and Y/N had to find another job to sustain herself. Sebastian already know that McLaren has been trying to poach Y/N since Jenson moved there but he was always confident that Y/N would only switch if Mark fired her.

"I have to"Mark confirms "She is a distraction for me and a liability"

"A liability? A distraction?" Sebastian was bewildered.

"Yes because as long as she is here then I cannot fight you for the championship because I'm thinking how my personal relationship is at stake if I fight you"Mark was placing the blame on Y/N "But I want to fucking win"

Sebastian was beyond speechless. He have seen how much Y/N has tried her best to seperate their friendship and her family relationship especially during the championship. He felt so angry because all Y/N has been doing for the past few years has been to support Mark. But Mark has a too big of an ego to see that.

"You better watch yourself because I'm going to run you to the wall" Sebastian promised.

There was a certain anger in Sebastian's eyes because he felt like he would be driving with a personal vendetta for the next few races. Y/N has been so wronged by her brother and Sebastian promises that he will make it much more difficult for Mark.

"Is that a threat Vettel?"

"You bet it is"

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel imagine #about you #sebastian vettel angst #sebastian vettel fluff

[dduane]

...So once again it's the time of year when I return to this piece of digital art (or its earlier versions), tweak it a little in the attempt to get closer to what I see in my head, and repost it for Pride. (ETA, 3 June 2024: image tweaked a little bit more via late-night re-render because the upholstery wasn't rendering correctly, and as a result the kitty sort of vanished. Which would not be at all her style...)

At the moment I'm looking at These Two Idiots (for so they are) and considering with the usual bemusement how long I've been working with them. Of all the characters I've worked with in print, the only ones I've known longer would be the crew of NCC-1701—and very shortly now, for the first time as paid writing, a couple of gentlemen named Holmes and Watson.

I first "met" these guys in late 1970 in the form of the fellow college students on whom they'd be based: a couple of gents (not gay, as it happens) who were friends to me when I needed some. They were a tall dark guy and a short blond one with a mustache that came and went... so that, not even knowing the word "trope" at the time, I fell headfirst into one.

Less than a year after I met them, I changed educational tracks and schools, and we all drifted apart. But something about them stuck. The nature and depth of their friendship was unusual. So was one way it manifested itself: in ruthless snark that had no meanness or cruelty about it whatsoever—just affection.

In the late sixties I'd begun writing some very derivative fic strongly influenced by Tolkien. Rather to my surprise, though, as I started nursing school in 1971, the nature of that fiction started to change, and began rearranging itself around two characters who had a friendship like those of my college friends. With them as its core, a rather different kind of medieval-ish fantasy world started knitting itself together from various scraps of themes and imagery lying around in the back of my brain.

Even so early in the construction phases of this world, something the characters quickly made plain to me in the writing was that their relationships with one another were not what mainstream 1970s culture would consider conventional. They were gay... but that was a background issue,* and not at all the most important thing in their lives. They had far more important business to deal with—as became clear as their personalities and priorities started filling themselves out in the foreground.

One of them turned out to be the deliberate, analytical, methodical son of a provincial nobleman, all too aware of the expectations of those around him: that he might well eventually wind up running that province himself. Yet at the same time he also became aware that he had other problems, chief among them the discovery of a nascent power that would kill him young if he couldn't master it. And in the last thousand years, no one of his gender ever had.

The other presented himself more and more clearly as a difficult case: someone who wanted very much to be good at the family business, but wasn't... and knew it. Kind of a screw-up, repeatedly doing the wrong things for what he was sure were the right reasons. Yet, no matter how often he screwed up, he was also the kind of person who keeps picking himself up and trying again, because he's been told over and over that that's what people like him have to do: otherwise they're no use to anybody.

Imagine my shock when I realized that these two men—initially canonically enemies in their adolescence, then best friends as they grew, and eventually much more—were the (incomplete) answer to the question I'd once asked my Mom at the end of the bedtime reading of some fairy tale or other: "Why can't a prince rescue another prince?" Because one of them got himself more than once into situations where he really needed one kind or another of rescuing. The other one obliged him, while once or twice getting rescued himself. Those interlocking patterns started to solidify out of concept and into character detail and plot, while their world grew and proliferated into its own detail around them.

Then, without warning, in 1978 both world and characters decided they were ready to get real. I was abruptly dragged gasping and flailing under the surface of a novel that would begin the tale of what those two characters had yet to become. The period it took to produce that first draft was possibly the most interesting six weeks of my life... and that includes the six weeks during which I first scrubbed in on brain surgery. Day and night, for days at a time, I barely even existed except as something for a novel to come out of. When it was done with me, it just as abruptly dumped me back into my life and wandered away, leaving me staring around, blinking and wondering if anybody’d got the number of that truck. Nothing like it has ever happened to me since, which may be just as well. I’m none too sure that these days I could handle the strain.

The book—which sold a couple of weeks after it landed on its first publisher's desk—kicked off my career as novelist and screenwriter, and in its way proved that the world was at least somewhat ready for epic fantasy in which the basic culture was pansexual, polyamorous, and inclusive in ways that hadn't been attempted before.

So I owe them a debt, those two gentlemen up there: the tall dark curly-haired guy with the amateur strategist's mind, the blacksmith's shoulders, and the peculiar sword, his background thought always nibbling away at the question of how to heal the world's wounds: and the short fair gent who if he could would stay at home, live quietly in town, and work in the local library... except for when saving the world (or his found family) requires him to subsume his being into that of his ancestral demigod. Due to the success of the book in which they made their debut, these two became, in their way, the fairy† godfathers of the Young Wizards—and additionally enabled all that Star Trek fanfic I'd started writing a decade before to proceed to its logical conclusion.

More to the point, though, a lot of people in the 1980s and '90s who'd never seen queer representation in a fantasy novel, found it first, or at last, while following Herewiss and Freelorn down their road. It's been my pleasure to hold that space for new readers, and keep adding to it... because (if you ask me) it's needed more now than ever.

So, to the readership of the Middle Kingdoms works—now pushing half a century old—and everybody else who's celebrating the season: happy Pride!

*Not least because everybody else in their world is (at least potentially) some shade of queer, including God.

†(snicker)

#Pride #Pride 2024 #Middle Kingdoms meta #Herewiss #Freelorn #LGBTQ #LGBTQ fantasy

[middlingmay]

“Let me get this straight: You’re calling me at 3 am, disrupting my beauty sleep on a workday, to ask me out?" - for Buck and Bucky please!

Hello Anon!

Thanks for the request - this one was so fun to write. I hope you like it :)

They’d settled near each other, after the war.

On that Florida air strip, where Wisconsin lay one way and Wyoming another, it had taken root inside Gale: the life ahead of him with patient, wonderful Marge, who no man could ever deserve, had stopped driving him on, compared to the life behind him with John.

When Gale had turned up on John’s doorstep, all his bags in hand and asking if he knew of any rooms to rent in town, he’d gotten to enjoy the sight of Major John Clarence Egan speechless for the first time in his life.

Gale had achieved what the combined forces of the US military, countless missions, German fighter pilots and a POW camp could not.

John had tried to offer him a room at his house, but Gale refused. It would have been easy, so easy to say yes and slip unspoken into this something between them. But Gale was sick of it being unspoken. He wanted to do it right this time.

In the days following his arrival, they found Gale a place to live, and like John, he found himself a little part time job to keep him busy and keep him from plundering his savings from his military salary, which remained largely untouched and offered a pretty little nest egg should he ever need it. (But not for the little apartment he and John found for him; that was hopefully only temporary.)

In the weeks following his arrival, they spent time together doing up the parts of John’s house that had gone without care for a little too long, and making Gale’s apartment feel a little more like a home. They went to eat in restaurants and John showed Gale his favourite haunts (not all of them bars, he was pleasantly surprised to see). They drove and walked around, perfectly aimless for once in their lives.

But none of it, Gale thought, could have been constituted as a date. And Gale did so want to date John. He wanted to take him out and make him feel special and walk him to his door at the end of the night and see if he could be lucky enough to steal a kiss.

He just had to ask him. Because apparently John was a gentleman, following this thing at Buck’s pace.

Gale had almost asked him that first day he’d turned up tired and hungry and John had taken care of him like it was the easiest thing in the world.

He’d almost asked him when John had dragged a heavy second-hand bookshelf up a flight of stairs to Gale’s apartment because he knew how Gale loved books and cleanliness in equal measure.

He almost asked him when Gale had a bad day and a worse evening, and John had steered them passed all the bars, up to Gale’s apartment, settled him with a poorly-made tea, and read to him from a physics book where he mispronounced half the words (Gale thought at least half must have been on purpose).

And now Gale was lying awake at some ungodly hour because he almost asked him.

Gale had been a cocksure pilot; one of the best, him and John. He had led squadrons of men in war, kept his guys together in a POW camp for a year and a half. He knew himself and what he was about. But here he was, flaking out, being a coward - a whole big pile of chicken shit - over John, who'd never made him feel anything but brave.

What kinda man was he?

Gale threw back the covers and hauled himself out of bed.

He was Major Gale W Cleven—Buck—goddamn it, and he could do this.

One of the selling points of his apartment had been its own private line. He padded out to the tiny lounge and picked up the phone and dialled the number he knew off by heart by now.

*

They were finally flying home, he and Buck. Just like he promised.

Gale grinned at him from the left. It was that grin he tried to hide sometimes, the one that showed off the apples of his cheeks and couldn't disguise his soft eyes when he looked at John.

When they both turned eyes front to enjoy the clear blue skies together that would take them home, Bucky saw them. The white far-off pinstripes of a hoard of incoming German fighters. But they were still a way off; they still had time. Buck still had time.

“Bail out, Buck!” They were so close to going home, he wasn’t risking Buck now.

But Gale just smiled at him. “Since when have you backed down from a challenge, Jon?”

The Germans were nearly on them.

“Gale! Go—get out! I’ll cover—!”

Gale petted the yoke unhurried. “Easy, Bucky. We’re safe as houses up here. Last two pilots left in the sky, just like you said.”

The Germans opened fire with a shrill ringing, ringing, ringing—

John bolted up in bed, chest heaving and heart beating hard and fast.

The phone was ringing.

He collapsed back onto the sheets. “Fuck.”

He almost let the phone ring out. It was fuck-knows-when in the morning. But then he remembered the very exclusive list of people who actually had his number, and he felt like he was jolting out of a nightmare all over again as he scrambled to catch it before it ringing stopped.

Buck. Buck might need him.

In the hallway, he snatched up the phone as soon as his fingertips grazed the smooth dark plastic. “H-hello?”

Whoever was on the other end was lucky to hear his voice over the thundering of his heart.

“It’s me, John.”

Buck. He knew it. “What is it?” He asked blunt and panicked. “What’s happened? What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’! Nothin’ John, I swear.” Buck exhaled slow. “Uh, I uh, god. I’m sorry; I wasn’t thinking.”

Sheepish. Buck sounded sheepish. He could work with sheepish. It wasn’t frightened, afraid.

“It’s fine, Buck,” he said. Heart finally getting under control. “C’mon, it’s fine. What’s on your mind?”

“I just, um. I was wonderin’. You promised me a baseball game. I was wonderin’ if I could take ya.”

Bucky frowned. Much as he was warmed by Gale remembering a promise he made what felt like a lifetime ago; and as much as something inside tingled and sparked at Gale asking him to one, he did wonder if Gale hadn't woken up from the same kinda dream as him. The kind that made it hard to fall back asleep and left you reaching for distractions.

But still, like hell he was going to pass up this kind of opportunity. “Well—well, yeah, Buck, of course. I'll take you to a game. “

“No.” Gale blurted too loud down the line. “No, I wanna take you. Like a…”

That tingling and sparking thing caught and used up John’s body like tinder. “Let me get this straight,” he sad faintly and cast a look at the hallway clock finally. “You’re calling me at three am, disrupting my beauty sleep on a work day, to ask me out?”

Maybe Gale’s blood was pounding as furiously as John’s, because that was the only reason he couldn’t have heard the delighted, tremulous, terrified disbelief in John’s voice.

Instead, Gale rushed out over the line, “No, no. I know. It was—God, I’m sorry, John. Go back to sleep. It was stupid—just—goodnight.”

John was left calling the dial tone Buck.

Stupid, Buck had said. Well, John felt everything he had ever wanted at his fingertips. If Buck wanted stupid, he would give him stupid.

It wasn’t far from John’s house to town, so he didn’t bother with a coat. He simply shoved a sweater over his undershirt and some boots on his feet and took off running.

By the time he got to Gale’s apartment building, the cool night had turned to fog, to a gentle spray, to a light rain. The thin pajama pants he wore started to stick, and his curls caught droplets of dewy moisture and sprinkled them on his face and neck.

He unlocked the door to the building with the key Gale had cut for him and headed straight for 1B. He knocked once and Gale didn’t answer within three seconds, so he let himself in the apartment, too.

The lights were out and Bucky headed for the bedroom, figuring Gale had gone back to bed to try and get some sleep. The curtains were thin and some strains of the street lights lit the room a little. John saw Gale, his back shoved against the wall, all bundled up like they’d never been able to do at the stalag.

He got close and gently shook his shoulder. “Buck. Buck.”

Gale woke quick and was upright in a second, eyes alert but mouth full and puffed up in sleep. “John? What’s wrong?”

Gale tried to get up out of bed but John pushed him back down. “S’okay. All good, Buck.”

“What are you doing here? It’s—”

“’Bout 3.20am. You never let me answer. On the phone.”

Gale cleared his throat and looked at his covers like they were some new textbook that demanded all of his attention. John smiled small and cheeky out of Buck’s sight and reached out to pluck up a strip of covers with his fingers to tease the material out of Buck’s grasp.

“Yes,” John whispered, smug and happy. “Obviously you can take me on a date.” He sat on the edge of Gale’s bed who now looked at him eyes wide and full of wonder. “But I want the whole nine yards: good seats, hot dogs, you desperately trying to follow along—the whole shebang.”

Gale smiled that same apple-cheeked smile from John’s dream. “You come all the way here in the rain to say yes to a question I chickened outta askin’?”

“Mhm,” John agreed cheerfully.

Gale laughed and collapsed back onto his bed. Only John’s damp clothes and the crumb of decorum he had left stopped him from collapsoing down with him.

“Thank you, John. I would love to take you out.”

“’Kay,” John said softly biting on his lip before collecting himself before it was too late. He stood up and slapped his hands on his thighs. “Well, g’night Buck. Sleep tight.”

He turned on his heels to make from the room and Gale called after him.

“John!”

John spun round, hand on the door jam. Gale looked at him, exasperated and fond.

“It is 3.30 in the morning. It’s rainin’. You can stay till morning.”

John shook his head, droplets spattering the wall. “You gotta wait for that, Buck. Your girl isn’t easy.”

Gale gave an amused huff and leaned his head back against the wall, before John’s words took root. He sat up at the gall of of the man and yelled through the open door. “Since when?!”

He heard John’s laugh even as the front door to his apartment swung closed.

#fic request #clegan #buck x bucky #john egan #gale cleven #mota #masters of the air #fic

[thefallennightmare]

Okay the car accident headcannon for next Tuesday you have to do a part 2 to noah losing his shit about everything

@thescarlettvvitch @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @lma1986 @dsireland86 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @exitwoundsx @shayzillaaaa @lookwhatitcost @badomensls @princesspeach-00 @burning-outx @shadowseve @collective-heartbreak @klutzy-kay24 @sorrowsofsilence @sweetlittlekitsune @shilohrosechicken @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @niicoleleigh @thatchickwiththecamera @hoe-for-daddywise @whenthesummerdies @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @thisbicc @sammyjoeee @pathion @flowery-mess @tashka @Karenfranco @its-inourblood @amelia-acero @xxkittenkissesxx

PART ONE HERE

After Jesse brought you home, he made sure you were comfortable in bed before giving you the typical disappointed dad look with the pulled brows and hands on hips.

"What?" You asked.

He scoffed. "You need to call, Noah. Now."

You picked apart the loose threads of your blanket, still nervous. "He's busy and I don't want to bother him."

Jesse sat on the end of the bed, giving your leg underneath the blanket a reassuring pat.

"You know that's not true, Y/N. He needs to know. At least about the crash. The pregnancy thing can wait till he's home."

You sighed, knowing he was right, so you grabbed your phone and clicked on Noah's contact name for a Facetime call.

Jesse got up to leave but you grasped his arm, keeping him in place. "I need you here for support when I tell him about the car."

He rolled his eyes, the noise of the ringing in the background. "He's not going to care about the car. As long as you're alright, that's the only thing he'll worry about."

"Hi my angel."

Noah's deep and sleep-filled voice tickled your ears as you positioned the phone so it could face you head-on.

His dark eyes took in the sight of the cuts and bandages on your face and was suddenly wide awake.

"What the hell happened? Are you alright? Is your arm in a sling?"

Your eyes flashed over to Jesse, who urged you on with a nod.

"I was in a car accident earlier today," you said slowly.

Noah's face twitched with something you weren't sure.

"Why are you just calling me now?" He wondered while doing his best to sit up in his small bunk.

You shrugged your good shoulder. "I know how busy you are and were sleeping so I didn't want to bother you."

"Angel," his voice was stern. "You always call me with anything, alright? Especially with something like this."

Guilt ate away at you as you nodded slowly. "I'm sorry."

Noah frowned. "For what?"

Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself to break the news.

"Your car is totaled. It's not worth fixing."

"I don't give a fuck about the car," Noah said. "As long as you're alive and home that's the only thing I care about."

"Wait," he spoke again. "How did you get home?"

Jesse's head of curls appeared right next to me and waved at Noah. "I'll make sure she's in bed and doesn't overdo it."

"Good. Because I'm on the first flight home."

"No," you shook your head. "You can't cancel the shows-."

"Fuck the shows, Y/N. You could have been seriously hurt. You need me right now, that's the only thing that matters."

You knew trying to fight with him about this would be pointless so instead, you agreed with a nod.

Which also meant you had less than twenty-four hours to prepare yourself to tell him the biggest news of all.

Due to not being able to take strong pain meds because of the pregnancy, it was a rough night of sleep. When you eventually did fall asleep, you were almost dead to the world.

You didn't even know Jesse had left the next night to pick Noah up from the airport.

You didn't even hear Noah enter the house downstairs or his deep footsteps as they ascended the staircase.

You were asleep on your back, broken arm slung over your chest, and Noah carefully grazed a finger over the bandages on his face. All while holding a specific folder and picture in the other.

You were so exhausted that you forgot to hide the ultrasound.

He was quick to slip into bed with you, not bothering to change out of the clothes he spent his entire travel day in. It had been a mess of canceling the rest of the tour and trying to find the next available flight home. It consisted of two layovers and one that took nearly three hours.

But he was finally home to you.

And his baby.

His hand rested on your stomach, his soft voice cooing. "Hi baby, I'm your dad."

When he first saw the ultrasound pictures, he was frozen in a state of shock.

You two weren't even trying to have kids, not now anyway. But according to how far along you were, he remembered the exact night it happened.

You were begging him to cum inside you, fill up your walls. He tried his hardest to resist, but your cries of pleasure had him spilling inside you.

You stirred in his embrace and when your eyes finally opened, you were shocked to see him in bed with you.

"When did-?"

Your question was cut off with his lips to yours in a slow and lazy kiss. Your hands ran through his messy locks of hair as you breathed in his familiar scent.

"I'm so glad you two are alright," he murmured against your lips.

You were about to speak but were halted by his words.

You two.

"How did you?" You asked.

Noah held up the ultrasound picture with a proud and goofy smile.

"You left it on the kitchen counter."

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. "I had this whole idea planned on how I would tell you but I must have been so exhausted from everything, I just couldn't get out of bed."

His lips brushed along your forehead. "It's alright, angel. I'm here now. I've got you."

#tina talks #noah sebastian #bad omens #noah sebastian headcannons #bad omens headcannons #headcannon tuesday

[antebunny]

IRONY

(Or: my take on a post Red Robin Dick & Tim reconciliation. Because they love each other so much, and that's why it hurts).

-

Tim can admit, once an alert pops up on his computer and he immediately opens up the live feed of Dick’s kitchen, that there’s some cruel, bitter irony in what he’s doing. Also quite a few broken laws, and bent morals, and some icky stuff which he would not like Dick to find out about. Inserting surveillance cameras and trackers all over your loved one’s property, after all, is Bad Sibling Behavior. After so long spent trying to be a good sibling, Tim is hardly going to admit what he’s doing to anyone else.

Because he’s stalking Dick. 

Like a creepy little obsessed fan. Or a creepy villain-adjacent stalker. Like a ten-year-old Timmy Drake. He never thought he’d be doing it again as eighteen-year-old Tim Drake. Nonetheless, he stalks and tracks and surveils Dick from afar without ever talking to him. It’s like old times. Jason is even alive again. Except that instead of Tim stalking the Bats because he was a lonely little ten-year-old left to rot in a huge mansion with no concept of privacy or boundaries, he’s a less-lonely eighteen-year-old who knows far too much about Dick Grayson. Too much because far too much has gone down between them for Tim to just…talk to the guy. It’s impossible. Definitely impossible. 

Tim misses the days of late night ice creams, arms resting on his head or slung over his back, trading skateboard tricks for tumbling tricks. He aches for those days with a hunger he didn’t know was possible after a childhood spent starving for affection. 

But they can never go back.

Which is why Tim learns that Dick isn’t taking his meds because his surveillance equipment detected a change in behavior. Dick usually goes to his kitchen, breaks out orange juice or soda or some energy drink from the fridge, and takes his meds. Tonight he did not. Tim doesn’t know what the meds are for, he’s not that much of an invasive creep. It’s enough to know that Dick is getting treatment. And Tim doesn’t have to talk to Dick to find out how he’s doing. It’s enough to stalk him from afar to check on his well-being. 

Now the question is: what can Tim do about it? He can’t ask Dick himself. That’s obviously out of the question. Dick would listen to Damian, but the brat resents Tim’s very existence, so best not try that route. Dick would listen to Jason, but Red Hood barely tolerates Tim nowadays, and Tim isn’t interested in owing him a huge favor for something he really should do himself, so not him either. Dick would maybe, maybe listen to Bruce, but that’s hit-or-miss. 

Tim calls Barbara. 

“I need a favor,” he says as soon as she picks up. “Are you alone?”

“Yes,” Barbara replies, immediately business-like. “What’s up?”

Tim spins around in his swivel chair. Best purchase for his lair by far. “Not cape stuff, sort of, or imminently pressing, well, it’s pressing, I just needed to make sure no one’s listening in.”

“As sure as I can ever be,” Barbara confirms dryly. Answer: there’s always a chance, in the Bats’ paranoid minds, that someone is eavesdropping. But according to Oracle, she’s in the clear, and it really doesn’t get better than that.

“So, don’t ask me how I know this,” Tim prefaces, knowing she’s about to find out about his surveillance cameras in Dick’s apartment (if she hasn’t already), “but Dick didn’t take his meds last night. I don’t know what they are, so I dunno how bad it is that he skipped, and I don’t wanna pry into your, uh, relationship with him but–”

“Dick and I aren’t talking right now,” Barbara says flatly.

So, they’re in the off-again part of their on-again, off-again relationship. Most of the time Tim is rooting for them. Sometimes he thinks they should do what he and Steph did and settle into a best friends for life relationship. 

“Right.” On his next rotation, Tim catches himself on the edge of his table. He taps one hand on the clear surface and thinks of possibilities. “Do you think he would listen to B–”

“No.”

“Right.” Tim tries not to sigh and fails. “Okay, uh. Jason?”

“Jason can’t keep a secret.”

Which is sort of unfair to Jason, but keeping a secret is relative. Compared to Barbara and Tim, Jason can’t keep a secret. And Tim is not one to argue if someone’s making fun of Jason.

“Cass? No. Same problem.” 

It’s against her very nature to lie. If Cass does hold a secret, it is by accident. Tim doesn’t want to leave this up to chance. This was easier when they had Alfred to mediate. 

Tim starts spinning in his chair again. His room whirls past. “What about his friends? Kori or Wally or…literally any of them?”

“I don’t see,” Barbara says, “why you’re avoiding the obvious solution of asking him yourself. He’d listen to you.”

He’ll listen to you. What a heavy, crushing promise to make. You have the trust of Nightwing. Nightwing, admired by the entire superhero community. It’s true, maybe, probably. That Dick will listen to Tim. He’s mostly sure of that now, after everything. That’s the problem, really. The “after everything” part of Tim’s confidence. Their trust is not from years of steady partnership, or slowly developed siblinghood. The trust Tim has in Dick originates from months of silence, of terribly intimate understanding, of shared grief and one horrible, nausea-inducing day. 

Dick hates when people leave him and when people fall and he can’t catch them. People don’t usually leave Dick Grayson, but Tim left and then he fell and Dick caught him. So Dick will listen, probably, maybe, if only because he doesn’t want Tim to leave. And Tim can’t ask, knowing that they don’t have the nice, easy brotherhood they ought to, the companionship siblings should have. Knowing Dick is only listening because he wants to keep Tim around. That’s the sort of fake compassion Tim spent his life running from. It’s not empathy, it’s sympathy. 

A vicious little voice that sounds like Janet Drake tells Tim that he should shut up and suck it up and accept whatever Dick gives him, because he’ll never be worthy of anything more. Tim slams his head into walls to shut that voice up. He won’t accept it. He cannot. He must not. 

“You’re not talking to him, are you.” Barbara’s voice has a tinge of that shaking-your-head condescension that drives Tim up the walls. The tone that carries that undercurrent of, why are you making this so hard, Tim? As if it’s so easy. As if everything that fractured Tim and Dick’s relationship is so easily repairable. 

Of course, Tim can’t explain that to Barbara. It sounds pathetic, even to himself.

“Bold words, coming from you,” Tim retorts.

Barbara sighs. “Look. At this point Damian has the best communication with Dick. And unless you have a way of tricking Damian into–huh.”

Tim, whose manipulative, stalkery little brain went in the exact same direction as hers, echoes her exclamation. “Oh. Yeah. Hm. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Unfortunately,” Barbara says, voice dry as the desert Tim was reborn in, “yes.”

The Belfry, a secret headquarters perfectly unobtrusive in Gotham’s old gothic and industrial skyline, was built by Tim and Barbara shortly after Bruce’s return. Since it’s so much newer than the Clock Tower, its inhabitants are not yet established. Where the Clock Tower houses the Birds of Prey, and Barbara’s friends in general, the Belfry sees a small but wide-ranging group of heroes coming in and out. Dick, Cass and Steph are the only other Bats to be allowed in.

Tonight, a little eleven-year-old boy crouches in the welcome darkness of one of the many nooks and crannies, dagger in his hands, and pretends with all his might that he belongs. 

“…at least wrap it,” Barbara is saying as she disengages the many, many security systems and enters the many passwords to get into the Belfry. 

“What’s the point?” Tim argues. “It’s not like–”

Both he and Barbara freeze. Tim raises a hand slowly to his belt. Barbara fingers one of the many buttons on her wheelchair. He gestures her to the left. They’re caught in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling windows. With ceilings as high as a warehouse (it’s a bell tower, after all), those windows are high indeed. 

And then–

“Oracle. Red.” Damian emerges from the darkness like the little gremlin that he is, chin held high in his Robin uniform while he omits the Robin part of Tim’s new superhero name. “I have been here long enough that I could’ve killed both of you. How careless of you to not notice.”

Translation: Damian had been hoping to go unnoticed for longer.

“Here, where you most definitely do not have access,” Barbara points out. She wheels closer now that they know it’s just Robin.

Tim, while Damian is distracted with Barbara, sidles over to a table as stealthily as he knows how and sets down his package. 

“Clearly, your security standards are in need of upgrading,” Damian sniffs. Then his eyes narrow as he notices what Tim is doing. “Drake. What is that package.”

“None of your business,” Tim snaps back immediately. He moves to cover it with his back. “Get out of here. Invites only, you weren’t invited, you know how it is.”

Damian folds his hands behind his back and raises his nose. “It is for Grayson.”

“For Christ’s–how did you know?” Barbara demands.

“You just confirmed it,” Damian replies smugly.

Barbara rolls her eyes. “Okay. Fine. It’s for Dick. Happy now?”

“No.” Damian marches up to Tim, then folds his arms, dagger and all, over his chest when Tim blocks his path to the package. “Tell me what you are giving to Grayson.”

Tim leans back against the table and folds his own arms over his chest, affecting a casual state of relaxation he absolutely does not feel. “I said, none of your business.” 

In truth, there’s something so heart-breakingly ten-years-old about Damian’s behavior. His cool older brother is part of a cool group of friends with a secret hideout that Damian is not allowed into. Of course he broke into it. Damian, under all his bluster and bravado, wants to be a part of it all. He’s only human. He’s only eleven years old.

“You may be poisoning him,” Damian insists.

Tim laughs. “That’s more your wheelhouse, isn’t it?”

Seems like Damian hasn’t yet heard the saying your wheelhouse, because he scowls but doesn’t respond. Oddly enough, Tim feels worse about that than he does about the actual insult. Kids are not their parents or the secret assassin society they come from, he knows, he knows this. Yet this intellectual knowledge always flies out the window in favor of emotional responses when it comes to Damian. 

“It’s not,” Barbara interrupts, before they can come to blows. “It’s just something to make him feel better, since he stopped taking his meds. Now will you leave?”

Damian scowls again, this time resembling an angry kitten more than a fearsome assassin. Not that he ever has resembled a fearsome assassin, despite all the assassination attempts. For all the pent-up resentment and bitter anger Tim has about Damian, he can’t help but find the kid a little cute. 

(The thing is, back before everything, Tim really wanted a little sibling. Back before everything, Tim used to dream about Jason coming back).

(Isn’t it funny how the universe keeps giving Tim what he wants just to spite him?)

“Fine.” Damian glares at both of them in turn. “Since both of you are so incompetent in taking care of Grayson, I will do it.” 

And he sweeps out of the Belfry with all the righteous fury that an eleven-year-old can muster. 

Tim and Barbara finally make eye contact after Barbara ensures, using the Belfry’s surveillance cameras, that Damian has exited the building for good. Then they both burst into laughter. The rafters ring with the force of it, pealing like the bells on Sunday morning. Barbara slaps her knee. Tim leans back on the table, hands clasped over his stomach, and shakes.

“I can’t believe,” Barbara says, once she’s calmed down enough to get a proper sentence out, “that we just tricked a kid into doing our dirty work for us.”

“Hey, if it works,” Tim says, voice full of mirth. 

He easily identifies himself as an adult despite only recently turning eighteen. It is impossible to feel like a child, he reasons, after waking up in the desert. After running Wayne Industries, however briefly. After striking out on his own. After everything.

Perhaps that’s why he gets along so well with Barbara these days. She understands that he is not a kid anymore, even if she wasn’t there for everything. Dick, on the other hand, still sees Tim as the kid he was. (As Robin). As the Before Everything Tim Drake that the real Tim is getting so very tired of thinking about. So what if he misses all of it, the good and the ugly? That’s just the nostalgia speaking. That’s just part of growing up. Tim had to grow up fast, so he did. He did what he had to do and he won’t let himself regret it.

#tim drake #barbara gordon #damian wayne #dick grayson #my fanfiction #my writing #antebuny's ficlets #batfam #batman #red robin #robin #might actually turn this one into a full fic

[nicromancytarot]

WHAT DO YOU NEED TO FOCUS ON RIGHT NOW?

This is a general reading based on a collective of people. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you don’t feel the pile resonates with you, don’t be scared to try another, if it still doesn’t feel right, that’s ok! Maybe our energies aren’t as connected and my readings are not for you.

I do these strictly for fun and educational purposes. I do not charge for these readings, and I do not fake readings. I would tell you the cards I get for the readings, but I pull like 15-20 cards each reading and that is just slightly a strenuous task to write them all down lmao.

PICK A CARD TAROT READING

I asked my spirit guides what you need to focus on right now, pick a picture and find out what they had to say!

Pile 1 ———> Pile 2 ———> Pile 3

Pile 4 ———> Pile 5 ———> Pile 6

PILE 1

Maintaining relationships and friendships is the most important thing for you guys right now. It’s been proven hard for people to hold up friendships and relationships of those who they are about, as lots of people are becoming less tolerant towards bullshit. Perhaps you’re not being the best version of yourself towards your friends right now. I’d recommend taking a look inside yourself and figuring out what is making you act out in possibly not the best ways, and how can you help yourself, and make up with others in the process?

PILE 2

You guys need to focus on your money and how you are treating it, I don’t know if you’re being too lenient, or too stubborn with your spending, some of you will fit into their of these. Make sure you spend responsibly. For those of who who have the money and are scared to spend it because you fear you will lose it, you won’t - you can spend an amount without worrying about not making it back, because you will gain that back. For those of you who are the opposite and spending too much, or too impulsively, take a breather and allow yourself to take a break from spending for this next month, only spend money on necessities.

PILE 3

You guys have a decision that you need to make right now, something in which you are very confused or stuck towards. I’m assuming this decision to be quite life changing for you guys, so get thinking and try to figure out the best choice for you. Not to scare you my pile 3’s, however if you don’t make this decision and choose the direction or path you desire to go down, the universe will do it for you, and they will lead you to that tower moment to get rid of everything and start again.

PILE 4

This is a very specific message, so if it doesn’t resonate, choose another pile. For the ones of you who this does resonate with, you guys seem to currently be struggling on whether or not you want to give your heart to someone. You may have been hurt in the past and now worried about opening yourself up to a person in such a way. Don’t stress so much about this, you will find and make the decision that is right for you.

PILE 5

Focus on your healing journey so those around you who have hurt you and caused you great sadness will be able to feel that of what they made you experience. Your reading is themed heavily around karma that can only be achieved once you heal yourself and accept that these people hurt you. Take your time, not too much, but allow yourself to figure out who these people were and what they did to you. You are so incredibly powerful, the universe wants you to heal so they can have your back and get at those who have hurt you. For a very select few or you, this could theme around legal trouble, gather your evidence and keep it all orderly for when you need to speak about it.

PILE 6

You guys need a breather, take some time to just relax, rest, stop doing so much. You guys are very busy, some of you are really into the whole nightlife scene, and are constantly out partying until early hours of the morning. Take a moment from it and relax, you need to rest instead of working or doing so much constantly. Allow yourself to relax for the love of god. SLEEP.

#tarot #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #tarot witch #free tarot #tarot reading #tarot cards #pick a card #pick a pile

[lavouredior]

rare moment when i do an unrequested story ???

anyways bunny!reader and vark + bunny!reader feeling neglected by vox

warnings: bunny!readers on a bit of a hunger strike

Feeling Neglected

you were sat on valentino’s lap, clearly in a bad mood. vox had adopted a shark puppy to keep you company as you were starting to get more clingy with him. not that he cared, he adored how every morning if you woke up after him he woke up to you, bed head and all running to go sit on his lap and cuddle as he worked

but it was starting to affect his work. although now you had a new problem. the puppy was taking your vox time

like every morning you woke up and ran to go cuddle with vox, except this time the puppy was already on vox’s lap leaving no room for you, luckily before you could throw a tantrum valentino was sitting on the couch in vox’s office ( which is also technically the couch he bought for you when you complained about how your legs would get tired from being on vox’s lap all day, but you decided your battle of the day was with the puppy )

“conejita come here, i don’t get enough conejita time anymore.” which is when you angrily ( though adorably for vox and valentino ) walked over and sat on valentino’s lap.

you got more comfortable with valentino the more he decided he wanted to like you. he started buying you whatever you wanted ( as long as vox approved because vox got mad that valentino bought you a massive doll house that you never play with ) and started being another comfort for you.

“conejita, you hungry? velvette texted and said she’d make you something?” but you just shook your head no. that’s how it’s been for a while. all three of the vees had been trying to get you to eat but you refused because usually vox would make you food but you’ve been mad about the fact he’s been too busy with vark to even offer to cook for you.

“princess, you need to eat.” vox said as he pet the puppy on his lap causing you to let out a huff. “conejita, please?” but you just shook your head before getting off valentino’s lap and wandering out of the office.

“princess, where are you going? val go watch her.” valentino got up and ran after you, you were much shorter than him and took much smaller steps but when you were angry, man were you fast.

once he caught up to you he spun you around then picked you up causing you to let out a giggle. “you tired conejita? you usually talk more than you have been all morning. been without a stuffy all morning too.” you didn’t respond, you just simply laid your head against his shoulder.

he sighed before walking back to the office. “vox something’s wrong with the little conejita.” vox just sighed, “i’m busy with work right now val.” valentino sighed again before sitting back down on the couch with you.

velvette came in a while later with chicken nuggets, vox paying no attention to any of the three of you. “try to get her to eat at least one.” valentino nodded taking the plate once velvette left.

“look conejita, you’re favorite.” he said trying to get you to take a bite of the chicken nugget in his hand but you refused, letting out a much quieter scream than you usually do which got vox’s attention but not in the way you wanted.

he handed valentino his phone. “here, put on a movie for her and she’ll be fine, there’s a couple of games on there too that she likes to play let her just do her thing.” valentino handed you the phone before pulling out his own to text velvette.

Valentino

i feel bad for the little conejita, vel. she refused to eat yesterday and now is refusing to eat today.

Velvette

and what’s vox doing about it?

Valentino

absolutely nothing!

velvette left valentino on seen. which he soon realized the reasoning of it was because she had decided to come tell of vox “vox i swear to fucking god! the little bunny refused to eat yesterday and is now refusing to eat today and notice how you have that stupid ass shark on your lap instead of her? she looks beat like she hasn’t gotten any sleep in her and you’re just sitting there neglecting the poor thing!”

vox looked over at you, you didn’t have any of the energy you usually did. by now you’d be done with breakfast and asking him for a snack but nothing. now that he thinks about it you haven’t said anything to him all morning.

he took vark off his lap and set him on the ground. which caused the puppy to come jump onto the couch next to you and valentino which made you thump your foot against the couch.

velvette rolled her eyes. “figure your shit out vox or else she’s coming with me for the rest of the day. valentino keep me updated.” she then walked off

you just stared at vox before, vark had the brilliant idea to lick your face which caused you to thump two more times.

“hey, princess. we don’t thump you know that.” he said as he got up to come pick you up off valentino’s lap, then he noticed the plate of chicken nuggets. “did you see they made your favorite.” he said picking up one off the plate.

you just shook your head avoiding vox’s attempts to try and get you to eat. he sighed before looking over at valentino who just gave him a confused look back. “the little conejita’s been like this since yesterday.”

“you want ice cream?” you just shook your head no and that’s when vox got really worried. “princess, what’s going on i need you to talk to me. if you don’t wanna talk to me can you talk to valentino at least?” you just shook your head again.

he let out a sigh before starting to walk towards your shared bedroom, valentino following along with vark. he sat you down by your toys hoping you’d go play with something.

that’s when vark came and started licking you. “no!!!!!!” you practically screamed as valentino immediately ran to pick you up, vox going towards vark both being worried he had bit you.

“conejita what’s wrong? did he bite you?” valentino asked, worried about your well-being. “hate puppy.” that’s when vox’s eyes widened and he went and took you out of valentino’s arms so that he could hold you.

“princess, you don’t hate vark, he just wants to give you kisses.” but you just shook your head. “no! he steal my bubs.” that’s when valentino and vox realized what was going on.

“what makes you think that princess?” all you did was let out a frustrated groan, which worried the two that you were gonna have a tantrum.

“he sit on bubs lap but that bunny’s place.” vox just nodded. “so why isn’t bunny eating then?” vox asked but that’s when he realized how preoccupied he’s been with vark

“oh so bubs been busy with vark so bunny don’t eat?” you just nodded “bubs cook for bunny.” he nodded back at you. “but bubs been busy with puppy?” he asked which made you nod, him chuckling at the way your bunny ears flopped.

“princess, that’s your puppy though. you’re the one i got him for.” you just furrowed your eyebrows at him which caused him to let out a chuckle again. “i no want puppy i want bubs.”

he smiled before kissing you on the head. “you just need more bubs time?” you nodded but the look vox gave you told you he wants a vocal response from you. “you’re my bubs not his! and! and! and! he a dumb puppy! i a smart bunny.”

valentino let out a chuckle at your last comment which vox glared at him for. “okay princess, you’ll have more me time but you gotta go eat the chicken nuggets velvette made you okay?” he said as he set you on the ground. you nodded starting to skip off back to his office

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfic #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x bunny!reader

[deepestnightcolor]

https://www.tumblr.com/forrest-onfire/749854472357953536/so-ive-got-the-date-night-redux-mod-for-sdv-and

saw this and thought of you immediately!! it sounds so cute

ᴀ/ɴ: First of all, thank you SO MUCH for thinking of me! I tried my best with this one, and I hope you will enjoy it! I think I got a little carried away, hehe... Thank you for your time and thoughts, love!

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 4182 words.

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: sloppy sex, unprotected sex, teasing, despair, semi public sex, Sam still has a dick piercing (fight me), drool, biting, mentions of oral (male receiving)

☾ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛꜱ ☽

Being a farmer was in direct relation to being incredibly busy. Getting up early every morning; caring for all the hungry mouths that needed to be fed, tending to crops that either required watering or harvesting. Sure, your husband, Sam, was often of great help, getting up even before you to give you a hand, but that didn’t mean you could just relax for the rest of the day. A livelihood needed to be made, after all. Sadly, being a farmer also meant that you hardly ever had time to come up with ideas for dates. You tried really hard to compensate for that with thoughtful gifts or tasty dinners for your husband, yet still, sometimes you wished it was different.

That was also why your heart had leaped in your throat when Sam stopped you as you were just about to leave the house. Green-blue eyes sparkling at you with the excitement they always held when he came up with a new project or idea as he asked you on a date to camp out in the woods. “I will get everything ready; you and your cute ass just have to show up,” he had smiled. And how could you have said no to that? There was no way in hell you could have done that either way, but now he underlined his words with that cute little pout he used when he tried to convince you of something (often of something stupid, you had to admit). Instead, you had wrapped Sam in a tight hug and kissed his cheek, then his lips as you said yes, leaving the man on the porch with a bounce in your step.

And really, Sam was so proud of himself for coming up with the idea. It was going to be perfect, he found. So right after you had vanished in the barn to begin with your daily routine, he shouldered the heavy backpack that contained everything he would need to make his way to Cindersap forest.

He chose the spot close to the river, making sure to be far enough from both Leah’s and Marnie’s homes – after all, he wanted you all to himself tonight. He dropped the rucksack to the earthy ground, excitement rushing in his veins when he pulled out the bag that contained the tent. The user manual was the first thing that smiled at him when he opened the sack, but why would he, Sam, need a user manual? It was just a tent, after all. Pitching it would be self-explanatory, right? And besides, how hard could it be? Those wilderness explorer kids he sometimes saw on TV could do it, so…

It turned out that it was way fucking harder than it looked and those wilderness kids were probably a scam. At least that was what Sam’s bruised ego would have liked to believe, given the fact that he had dropped the metal bars on his toes more than once already and that he had even gotten himself caught in the canvas that was supposed to offer the two of you shelter tonight. Sam was huffing and puffing as he finally managed to untangle himself from the fabric, sweat glistening on his forehead. Where the fuck was the user manual when he needed it? He lifted the canvas again, only to be met with the pile of metal laughing at him. Why did a tent even need this many bars? It was a tent, not a mansion, for fuck’s sake! What had he been looking for again? Right, the manual. He lifted the backpack off the ground, letting out a relieved huff as he saw the booklet resting right beneath it. He was just about to reach out for it, yet a gust of wind proved itself to be faster. The booklet was picked up by the invisible force and dropped in the cool of the river. As if to add insult to injury, Sam was able to watch it drift along the stream, slowly vanishing out of his field of vision. Exhausted, he allowed himself to drop on his butt, hollering as the hard metal bars met his tailbone. What the fuck was this tent’s problem? He got up again to give it a good kick, just to regret it when his toes actually hit the hard material – even he had to admit that he could have guessed that outcome.

A glance at his phone revealed that it was nearing ten AM, and the tent didn’t even have the decency to be halfway pitched. The blond decided that harder measures were needed. Pulling out his phone again, he searched for the only solution he could think of: “Dad? Can you teach me to pitch a tent?”

Sam’s father had appeared surprisingly fast, and after getting the first few questions out of the way -very good questions, admittedly, like why he was trying to pitch a tent at ten in the morning, and where the manual was –, the tent found its master. Kent was quick in setting it up; it didn’t even take him half an hour. Sam was watching in disbelief as his father worked because he made it look as easy as it seemed on TV. “We will practise that again,” Kent offered, smacking his son on the back affectionately. “So you don’t need to call me out here again.” A grin was plastered on the otherwise stern face. “Treat her well tonight.” Sam was left blushing in the Cindersap forest as Kent made his way back home, the blond staring at tonight’s shelter. “Why the hell wouldn’t you act that way for me?”

After staring some more daggers at his newfound mortal enemy, your husband decided there was no more use in crying over spilled milk. You would arrive in about six hours, and Sam wanted this to be perfect. He carefully put up the fairy lights he had brought before he began working on the fireplace for tonight. He had brought a pot and some veggies, hoping he would be able to make a good stew for later. The rest of his plan was executed more smoothly, especially since he didn’t have to make a fire from scratch but instead had the support of his lighter.

“Sam, wow,” a voice, so soft, so full, completely in awe came from behind him. He quickly dropped the ladle he had used to stir the stew, turning around to see the love of his life. His heart swelled in his chest, seeing you like this. You had put on a dress and Yoba did you look pretty. You always did, of course. But every now and then he had moments where the realization of just how pretty you were sunk in for him; hitting him like a ton of bricks at full speed. Sometimes it overwhelmed him, to know that you, you of all people were married to him; it made him want to kick his legs, jump around, holler out the excitement that squeezed his heart in a grip full of love. He pulled you in his chest and kissed your head, allowing himself to take in this moment and quietly thank you for showing up. You felt so right in his arms, and Yoba, he would have done anything for you, just to see the look of happiness on your face. Just so you could catch a glimpse of how much he loved you.

“Come on, I made dinner,” he smiled, leading you to the fireplace. He pulled out two bowls from his rucksack – for once it seemed that Sam hadn’t forgotten anything – filling it with the hot stew that he had been preparing ever since he had been done with setting up. The two of you cuddled up near the fire as you took the first sip, a small moan leaving your lips at the taste. If Sam knew how to do something, he always managed to rock it. This stew was a recipe both he and you knew inside out, and yet it always amazed you how delicious it turned out when he cooked it. Sam was so full of pride and love that he felt himself ready to burst. When your head rested on his shoulder, he knew he had done everything right; and fuck, how he wanted to please you. Dinner was mostly silent aside from the sound of you humming happily as you did that little bobbing motion you always did when you were happy about food. It was those little things that had made Sam fall for you hard and that had him in an iron grip even after a year of marriage.

The bowls were long empty as the sun had finally settled in its bed behind the hills, but your head was still comfortably resting on Sam’s shoulder. The blond had his arm wrapped around you tightly, fingers brushing through your hair. He was mindlessly picking up pebbles off the ground as he held you, flicking them into the river. Some bounced across the surface, which always managed to get you to coo out in awe. “You know, I never figured out how to skip rocks,” you murmured into the silence of the night. Sam gasped at your confession, eyes immediately snapping down to you. “You didn’t?” “Nope. I tried once or twice, but my rocks always sank right away.” “That will definitely change tonight.” There was no time to protest because Sam had pulled you to your feet faster than you could have reacted. Just mere seconds later you were standing near the river, pressed up against your husband’s chest with a flat rock in your hand. Sam pulled your hand back gently, just to guide it forward, sending the rock bouncing over the water. “Oh wow, what the-“ you laughed, tipping your head back so you could look up at him. How was someone being so undeniably cute fair? “Now you try,” Sam urged, but what he didn’t expect was the feeling of your ass grinding into his dick as you suddenly bent down, picking up a rock that seemed flat enough to be skippable. “Like this?” You asked, pulling your hand back and then twisting it forward, just like he had shown you. The rock had the mercy to bounce twice before sinking with an audible plop.

“I did it!” You called out, jumping up and down on your heels. Sam wanted to be excited for you, seriously, he tried! But the pressing and grinding of your ass against his crotch was… a distraction.  One that made his cock stir against the fabric of his jeans. “You did it!” He strained, only barely able to hold back the moan at the tip of his tongue as you bent down again. This time your ass was flush against him, having his head roll back. Sam had always been down bad for you, and Yoba did you feel good. He knew you probably had figured out by now that he was hard and that this was part of a little game, but did he care? No.

His hands wrapped around your waist, and it took him nothing but mere seconds to pull him flush into his chest again. With a strong grip on your hipbones, he thrusted forward, allowing himself to inflict friction on you this time around. His voice was husky as it met your ear, and you could feel the smile that was plastered on his lips as you shuddered against him. “I know rock skipping is fun once you’ve got it figured out, but I have got something that could be much more fun.” “Oh, do you now?” It was a weak attempt at biting back, yet there was no way to blame you. Sam’s erection was now grinding between your legs, and you could already feel that delicious cock entering you, drooling all over your squishy walls. You could feel the metal of his piercing bump against you while he fucked into you, praising how good you took him. You could already hear his shaky little whines that always escaped him when he mindlessly and sloppily bucked his hips into you, always like a bitch in heat. It was undeniable that you could feel yourself growing wet, your clit throbbing under that arousal that ran down your spine. You hadn’t thought your teasing would bear fruit so quickly, yet your mouth was able to do much better things, you believed. Like shamelessly bellowing out that shaky moan as Sam rubbed against you much faster, with much more vigour as his hands held you to him with an iron grip. Sam’s thoughts were definitely going in the same direction, his head tipped back, your question long forgotten. He wasn’t even ashamed that he was rutting against you out in the open, illuminated by the innocence of the fairy lights he had put up just hours before. Your moans simply were so delicious, so precious. He could have fed on them for hours, starving as he was. Usually, Sam would have taken you right then and there, not minding if your screams awoke the whole valley. Though tonight, he didn’t feel like sharing.

Sam’s body moved backward to the tent, one of his hands always staying on your hip bone, as the other simply began to tug and rip at your clothes. He simply didn’t have time to be careful with how incredibly hard he was for you, his heart thundering with both arousal and love for you. “Sam!” You gasped out as you heard the seams of your shirt rip, but a muffled “sorry” had to suffice. After all his lips were busy kissing all over your neck as he dragged you to the tent, a set of sharp fangs sinking into your freshly exposed shoulder while his other hand worked on undoing your pants. The urgency within his movements finally made you snap into motion, the fingers that had been curling in the fabric of Sam’s blue jacket now finally working on discarding the bothering piece of clothing.

When the two of you finally stumbled into the tent both of you were breathless, and you were already half naked. Sam clumsily zipped the tent shut, before slowly turning around to you. You had already dropped to your knees on the ground, looking up at your husband with those big doe eyes of yours that he had fallen in love with. He let out a shaky breath, roughened-up palm reaching out to pin back a loose strand of hair. He had to close his eyes for a second when you leaned your head into him; the feeling of love that rushed through him was almost unbearable. “Sam,” you suddenly cooed, your own palms reaching for the tent – that one he had been able to pitch easily – in his pants, “I...I am so wet. Please, please hurry.” It was a mere murmur, but one that sent his stomach into tight twists. He knew his cock was leaking in his boxers, the wettened fabric clung to the shaft in a way that had him embarrassed. Sam licked his lips as he unbuckled his belt, half-opening his eyes to see the look of anticipation on your face. And really, your eyes were glued to his crotch as you rocked your own against your legs. He really was the luckiest man on earth, wasn’t he? Being gifted with a literal angel. He allowed his pants to pool around his ankles, his boxers soon following suit. Sam almost stumbled as he tried to approach you, but your hands on his hips guided him into a steady position. The sweet smile you gave him made his pierced tip leak more globs of pre-cum – at least he hoped it was only pre-cum. He had to hold himself together, to feel your sweet, wet cunt clench around him, hug his dick like a glove. Which, again, was harder than he had deemed it to be, especially now that your tongue darted out and pressed flat against his tip, just to turn to kitten-licks in an attempt to clean him up. His breath was already shaky in his throat, and he was surprised he was able to inhale air with how tight his whole body felt already. “Fuck, babe, no- I- I asked you on a date,” he tried, lowering himself to his knees. He was surprised you didn’t whine as he took in a criss-crossed sitting position, though he soon found out it was only because you busied yourself with getting on his lap. You had pulled off your panties by now, the fabric hanging loosely between your teeth.

“Did I ever tell you how lucky I am to have you?” Sam breathed, leaning forward to grip the string of lace between his own teeth, just to drop them on his lap in favour of kissing you. The kiss was hard and sloppy, teeth clattering against teeth as your tongues licked at one another’s. The moan you two shared made Sam shiver, his cock so painfully hard this felt like the most pleasurable torture on earth. His hands reached for your pretty tits, only to find them still held up by your bra. Your husband grunted into the kiss; a sound of dismay while his hand reached around your back. You could feel his fingers work against his skin, and just seconds later your breasts bounced free. After all, if Sam had acquired a skill, he was good at it. “Pretty, pretty wife,” he whispered against your lips, tugging on the lower one gently. “Fuck, I love you so much, baby. So, so much,” he murmured. You giggled into the silence of the night, but the sound quickly shifted into one of a moan as the blond’s lips wrapped around a perky nipple. You needed Sam; you needed him so, so badly. Your mind had been whirring for him all day, and now you could feel him; smell him, touch him. Usually, it was Sam’s patience running thin, but this time it was yours. You lifted your hips while your fingers wrapped around the base of the man’s heated up shaft, guiding the leaking tip to your drooling hole. It was like you froze Sam in place, his lips still wrapped around your nipple, but his tongue did no longer swirl around it. He was too busy moaning your name, the high-pitch in his voice only turning you on more. Fuck, he really tried to give you the reins tonight, but you were so wet already and your pretty sweet pussy was clenching around him already, as if it attempted to pull him in. He would have been an absolute monster if he didn’t oblige! He needed to, or he would go up the wall. “Saaam!” the whine was long and drawn out as he bucked upwards, his thribbin g dick gliding along your walls. And he had to swallow down the dryness ruling in his throat caused by that glorious sound, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down at the strained motion of his throat. He loved you. Shit, he loved you so, so much- and he simply couldn’t resist. His hips moved upwards, the stretch his length caused only making his eyes roll back. You always felt so perfect around him, and it never did not feel like a betrayal when he had to pull out of you. He could have stayed forever like this, buried to the hilt inside of your beautiful cunt. Yet your hips shifted upwards, and he could slowly feel the tightness wrapping around him so snugly vanishing. This time it was Sam who whined until he felt you slide down on him again. He had to keep himself from fucking into you whenever you lifted your hips, so his arms wrapped around your hips tightly. “That’s my girl,” he cooed, his head thrown back, just for him to crane it forward in an attempt to catch your bouncing breast. “Takin’ me so well again, aren’t you?” His words were already slurred; feeling you around him like this just always had him so incredibly pussy-whipped. He could hear the wetness of your pussy squelching around him in protest whenever you moved upwards, and your moans just mixed so beautifully with that sound. Sam knew he was big; he knew it was always a stretch for you and that it never was easy to take him, but you just fucking did. Fucking yourself on him the way you liked, looking like an absolute goddess as you were bouncing on his lap.

The greenish blue of his eyes was filled with admiration, neigh worship spreading out in the sea of them. And the way you looked down at him – eyes holding the same love for him he felt for you, freckles of lust having them glazed over. He could have cum from nothing but looking at you, yet your pretty pussy felt so incredibly good around him, too. He barely was able to breathe as the cocktail of emotion swirled around in his blood, a trail of drool leaving at least a trace of all these feelings on your chest. “That’s my girl, my good, good girl. Think you can- ah- think you can handle me a little faster?” The beg that was underlying in his words was obvious; Sam simply wasn’t ashamed to beg. His arms were still pressing you to his body as you rocked back and forth, your jaw slack when you felt his pierced tip bump into your sweet spot. And it felt so incredibly good around him, feeling you leak all over him, moaning out his name in a sense of pride, with so much need accompanying these pathetic little sounds. The more high-pitched they grew, the closer you were. Sam knew it- and he just couldn’t hold back anymore. His hips snapped upwards while you rocked yours, tearing that cry from you that never failed to make his world go black. He himself was teetering incredibly close to the edge; each clench around his shaft, each begging whine of his name, each brush of your hands along his neck, soon to be followed by your lips leaving reddening spots behind; it all pushed him closer. His thumb found your clit to rub sweet little circles on, his lower lip now bitten in an attempt to keep himself from filling you to the brim. Not yet, he told himself; he had that carnal need to make you cum first. “Sam! Babe! Oh, fuck!  I am going to- I need to-“ A sob escaped you before you could silence it by biting down on his shoulder, yet the whimper that left your husband only made the twists in your tongue tighten. The blond wasn’t able to produce words anymore, only your name left his wettened lips. A trace of drool ran down his chin, tongue lolling out as he licked down along your cleavage, thumb unwilling to come to a halt on the throbbing bundle of nerves. The whisper of your name, so full of…everything, simply was too much for you. The knot in your stomach snapped, making you shoot upwards and press into Sam, your thighs shaking as they wrapped around his tender hips. You were sobbing quietly while your orgasm rocked through your body like a storm tormenting the sea. You were barely even able to feel how tight you clenched around your husband, who struggled to aim his sloppy thrusts upwards. “Saham!” You cried when his tip bullied further into you, earning a groan in response. “Fuck- shit, so tight,” he yapped, only managing one last buck upwards before he himself came undone.

Only your name left his lips in tiny whimpers as ropes of cum painted your walls, his eyes halfway closed as he tried to overcome the wave of pleasure that seemed to take a never-ending hold on him. His hips were still giving tiny thrusts upwards, unable to hold still under the pressure of his orgasm. You were still sobbing against his neck as his hips finally halted, sloppy thrusts having milked everything out of him he had. And you were full – so fucking full of your husband’s cum that mixed with yours.

Your head tiredly dropped against Sam’s chest, shaky breath nothing but an effort to ground yourself. Sam wasn’t in much better shape; his body still quivered from the orgasm that had just wrecked through him. Still, that didn’t keep him from beginning to run his fingers through your hair, tiny little “I love you”s were sent your way as soon as he had been able to find the words. Sam kissed your head, giving himself permission to slowly drop back onto the sleeping bag that he had brought, his arms locked around you still.

The two of you lay there for a while, allowing the sounds of the night to wrap around you like a warm blanket, basking in the afterglow of your orgasms.

“Take me on dates more often?” “Fuck yes.”

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