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#I almost forgot this started today lol
aceofwhump · 1 year
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Happy Aromantic Awareness Week!!!!
💚🖤💚🖤💚
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helielune · 6 months
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love deluxe 💘
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munch-mumbles · 6 days
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ive been a little upset about it all night so i need to write out all the things that happened at work today and are bugging me so i can TRY to get it out of my head and actually RELAX bc i just keep pacing in circles around it instead of just accepting it and moving on
#for context i was working frying chicken today. ok so i arrive and literally all the chicken out expires within ten minutes of each other#meanwhile to remake everything takes about an hour 20#tried my best to get everything out and replaced and make sure i have enough of everything and then take my break bc with chicken there are#few narrow windows to take your break in you have very little control over when it is#get back and while im getting ready for my next fry one of the assistant leaders comes back and passive aggressively asks 'everything ok?'#and when i say yeah shes starts saying how shes 'just checking' because apparently i didnt have enough chicken out for her liking and went#on about how we're in a chicken drive (I KNOW. I WORK CHICKEN SHE NEVER HAS.)#etc etc. i just say ok and she leaves#like 20 minutes later she comes fucking back to rag on me again about how i need to choose my break times better and i need to have more#chicken out there as back up (extremely difficult bc there is literally only so much room in the fryers. the batches i usually make already#nearly completely fill them up) blah blah and then when i try to explain how i WAS making pretty big batches people are just snatching them#up fast she keeps trying to walk out the door right away and keeps stopping and looking over her shoulder to just stare at me while i try t#finish my sentence#and she just. doesnt say anything in response when i do finish she just leaves#so clearly she didnt want a conversation she just wanted to rag on me#then later for cleanup the timing of everything just kept lining up inconveniently so i kept having to get in and out of raw cleaning gear#and slowing myself down and i end up having to stay almost 15 minutes late to finish cleaning#during cleaning i have to go grab a key to the back door to take out my trash and this one coworker i have was standing in the way of the#door. i say excuse me and she just stares at me and goes huh?#and i say i need a key and she barely moves out of the way without responding and she has a look like im bothering her#why are you acting like im being douchey. i just need a key. thats something she does a lot she acts like im inconveniencing her by asking#basic favors . ive stopped asking her to help me open the back door (sometimes needed if i also have raw garbage to take out and therefore#cant touch the key myself) for some reason she takes it upon herself to almost completely close the door after i walk out so when i come#back i have to awkwardly use my foot to reach around and pull the door open#ive asked her before not to do it and she just ignored me#GRAH GRAH. and then like i said in my last rb i realized while i was drivign home i forgot to wash a damn pan#im mostly worried about it because ive forgotten a couple times in the past too . in my defense its a pan i personally dont use but it just#gets left behind from first shift sometimes and then second shifters end up having to make sure its clean#im just irritateddd and im mad im worried about it all. its all little things piling up on each other#LOL I WROTE A LOT MORE BUT THE REST GOT CUT OUT IG I HIT A TAG LIMIT. tumblr voice ok dude quit your bitching !!
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smol-tired-binch-blog · 9 months
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He is like an angel to me <3
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nearwildheaven · 2 years
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i cant believe how much im still reeling from the amount of money i spent on arctic monkeys tickets this morning……… all to get in the front standing section………………
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actual-corpse · 8 days
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I'm so excited to move out....
I can't sleep😫
#bruh#i also just realized that I forgot to pack yesterday while I was off#so ill have to pack today#start some laundry#dump my ex's clothes out of my tote#unload dishwasher#pack my clothes#prep stuff for my dad to help me move#KITCHEN TABLE?! FUCK#im definitely moving the cat last to try and avoid issues with her#i need to buy cat food and food bowl#set up the gravity water for my ex's cat (just because you dont like your ex doesn't mean you abuse their pet... I fucking love his cat...*#* She's basically my baby now... seriously I have that cat spoiled lol... If I can work out a living situation where I dont have to move in*#* with my cousin.... Im GONNA adopt another cat. i love cats)#i shouldn't have too much to move since I've downsized... a lot... sold my mini-fridge 😭 made the -easy- decision to leave my furniture*#*(an old power-lift chair that no longer works. some Mainstays shelves and entertainment center - they're almost 10 years old. cost $50 and*#*are made from particle board. they've been moved 3 too many times and they're falling apart) these were hard decisions tbh#im leaving a complete set of Mainstays dishes (cheap. i dont want them. my ex needs dishes. etc)#my mind is awake with all these plans... but I have to work tonight and i need to sleep (luckily I went to bed early)#i need a shower caddy. another (dedicated) dressing gown. a Jeep Wrangler (i hate them but they can tow mid sized campers and like. if I en*#*enjoy living like I will... Maybe I'll just make it my lifestyle) I know well-off people have made unconventional living trendy. but like.*#*Im a poor and it's more viable to live in the camper my parents bought on relatively cheap campgrounds#bro
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lillybean730 · 8 months
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took ollie to the vet and made my brother pay for it 😎
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sutorus · 6 months
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BAD IDEA RIGHT? BEST FRIEND'S DAD!TOJI for KINKTOBER 2023!
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DESCRIPTION: you and megumi are old friends, but a recent development (called growing up) has made you aware of just how hot his dad, toji fushiguro, really is. you sit on your desire for years until one night, you get an idea. 
PAIRING: best friend’s dad!fushiguro toji x reader
WC: 5.1k whoops!
WARNINGS: 18+ MINORDS DNI. fem reader, afab reader, age gap! power dynamics, slight daddy kink, degradation, spit (like a lot it's a Thing here), oral (m! receiving), unprotected relations, slapping, gaping, size difference/size kink, creampie, toji is Nasty and a pretty bad dude lol 
A/N: this is nasty and very descriptive i’m so sorry i really sinned here. anyway enjoy!
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you and megumi have been friends since school. after all, it was inevitable that a friendship would form between the only two kids whose parents consistently forgot to pick them up after class. 
nods of acknowledgment quickly developed into trading pokémon cards, sharing samanco waffles, cheating off each other during tests. 
it was the most meaningful relationship you had in your life, the one other person who really got you and the situation you were in, and before you knew it, you two were being admitted to the same college, like you’d talked about all those years ago. 
in the meantime, megumi’s dad had… mellowed out. from what you knew. 
sure, he was still gone for weeks at a time, neglectful, irresponsible and womanizing, but one final falling out with their family seemed to have lifted a big weight off his shoulders, and he became more present in megumi’s life, less resentful. you knew he wasn’t a good guy, but you also knew he was trying, in his own way. 
besides that, you also couldn’t help noticing other things about the man. you first started paying attention when you were in high school, always hanging out at megumi’s place to play video games or study. 
toji would come home sometimes, smelling of smoke and sake, tonguing the scar on the side of his lip. plopping down on their shaggy sofa, legs spread wide, thick thighs straining the fabric of his pants. you would give megumi some excuse about getting something from the kitchen and just watch toji, lazily browsing channels with one hand inside his sweats. 
it wasn’t a big deal. but it never quite went away, your infatuation growing with your desperation the more the man hung around. you did everything you could to get his attention. 
you wore the frilliest, shortest skirts, left dirty dishes on the sink, showed up too late at night drunk and stumbling “looking for megumi”, acting out so you could try to get some reaction out of toji. but he never seemed to give you a second thought, annoyance being the closest thing to an emotion on his face every time your eyes met. 
but you were no quitter. you knew one day you would get what you deserved. maybe not today, but… eventually.
you approach the fushiguro household’s front door, fishing out the extra key megumi had given you from your backpack pocket. you two had a study session today but he’d texted you telling you he’d be late and to just let yourself in, so that’s what you do. 
with a sigh, you set down your laptop on their coffee table and sit down on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. before you can finish getting comfortable, a tall, broad figure is looming over your face and you almost jump out of your skin. 
“what the f—oh my god,” you laugh in embarrassment. “you scared me, fushiguro-san.”
he doesn’t react, his eyes boring into yours. “me? you’re the one breaking into my house.”
you roll your eyes, pulling your legs up below your body. “megumi gave me a key. we’re supposed to study today, do you know where—“
“he’s with that itadori kid. don’t think he’s coming back tonight,” toji moves to sit down on the loveseat, turning the tv on. the old, boxy thing crackles to life, a boat race playing on the screen. toji adjusts his body in attention. “so you can fuck off back home.”
“um,” you start, but nothing else comes out of your mouth. you let your eyes wander all over his lax form, and you can faintly make out his abs below the raggedy shirt he’s wearing. it makes your stomach turn. 
without taking his eyes off the screen, he addresses you again. “you know where the door is.”
an idea starts to form in your head. a really, really bad, tempting idea.
you discreetly take off your sweatshirt, leaving you in just your undershirt, no bra. you hope toji can scent the whiff of perfume you exude when you move, scooting closer to the edge of the sofa. 
“nah, i think i’ll just study here. my parents are home today and they’re too… y’know.”
“not my fuckin’ problem,” he picks at his teeth, spreading his legs wider. your desperation is growing with each second he spends not looking at you. 
you lift up your bag, something clinking inside. it's a bold move, but it's now or never.
“i brought booze. we could just share some and then i’ll go.”
that at least gets a reaction. the man snorts, finally glancing over at you from the corner of his eyes. you instinctively push your chest out, feeling eager. 
“is that what you do with my son under my roof? get shitfaced in the house that i pay for?”
“well i paid for the vodka so i don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you make a point to pull out the bottle from your bag, swinging it around. 
toji’s expression hardens, his jaw clenching. you know he doesn’t like to be challenged, absolutely hates smart mouths. you should be in for a treat. 
“who the hell do you think you’re talking to, kid?” he stands up and snatches the bottle from you, turning it around in his — big, veiny, deliciously calloused — hand and laughing. “vanilla flavored? fuck, you really are a kid.” he says it like the realization excites him. 
you can feel your face flush.
“are you gonna turn down free alcohol, toji?” it’s risky, dropping the honorific. you know he doesn’t like it, can see it in his face, but he doesn’t say anything. 
instead, he unscrews the top with ease and takes a swig, grimacing at the taste. you watch as his throat works, adam’s apple bobbing.
his arms are huge, you can’t imagine he was ever shaped like megumi is nowadays, slender and frail. toji is tall and broad and big, with a permanent 5 o’clock shadow on his defined features. 
he grabs two whiskey glasses and sets them down on the coffee table — no coasters —, pouring some vodka in both of them. it was most definitely not your idea to do straight shots tonight with megumi, but you will not go through the humiliation of asking for a soda to mix it with. 
you’re desperate to have toji view you as the adult you are, no longer megumi’s awkward middle school best friend. you know you’ve grown up well; all you need is for toji to see it too. 
you drink in silence for a bit, the only noises coming from toji being his disappointed grunts as the boats he bet on fall behind. you type away at your laptop, not really being able to focus with the heat rising within you. 
he refills both your cups a couple more times, but makes no effort to talk.
you slowly but surely start to get antsy, your determination wavering and giving way to a funny feeling one can only experience by drinking with their best friend’s dad who they’ve wanted to fuck for like, ever. 
so you bite the bullet and with the liquid courage flowing in your veins, you strike up conversation. 
“y’know, toji, i’ve always wanted to ask,” his head lolls on his shoulder to look at you lazily and disinterested. “what happened to megumi’s mom? he doesn’t talk about it.”
“yeah, well. me either,” toji replies. you take a deep breath. 
“you’re gone a lot. megumi is alone a lot.”
toji scoffs.
“thought that was what you were here for, hmm? megumi’s done well for himself,” he finally, probably for the first time in your life, gives you a proper look over, his eyes traveling all over your frame, tucked into the armrest of the couch. “scored himself a nice little bitch.”
you let out a strangled noise. you’re fighting laughter when you exclaim, “i’m sorry?! you think megumi and i have a—like, a thing?”
toji just shrugs, stretching one leg out in front of him. “i figured. why else would you loiter around my house so much?”
oh, if he only knew. 
“no, no. it’s never been like that. megumi’s not really my type.” toji hums inquisitively, and you take that as a sign to continue. “i’m into more… mature guys.”
toji eyes you knowingly, but seemingly amused. 
“that right?” you nod. “fuckin’ kid like you even know what to do with a man?”
you raise an eyebrow. you’re a sophomore in college, well into your twenties. he can’t be serious. “surely you know i’m not a kid anymore. surely you d—“
“surely my ass,” he exclaims and oh, he’s a little terrifying like this. toji downs however much was left in his cup and turns to you, pointing with the hand holding his glass. “you’re a full of shit, foul mouthed, rude brat. get the fuck out of my house, you’re pissing me off.”
you’re used to toji’s outbursts, not because you know him well but because every time you see him, seldom as it is, he always loses his temper, sooner or later. 
“i think,” you take another sip, feeling loose. “your old ass wouldn’t be able to handle sex. like, actual sex, not those rich hags you who just lay there for you and give you money in the end. if you had to put in any real work i bet your heart would give out you slimey pi—“
you can’t finish your sentence because you can’t breathe, suddenly. your eyes widen, chest spasming as your oxygen gets cut off mid-sentence. toji has one of his huge palms covering your nose and mouth.
you look up at him with watery eyes but he’s not looking back, he’s chugging vodka straight from the bottle again.
he puffs his cheeks and moves his hand to cup your jaw, smirking around a mouthful of alcohol. 
you catch your breath quickly, the hand that was clawing at his falling limply on your lap. toji holds your face, his grip unforgiving as he leans over you. his form is so, so much bigger than yours, towering over you completely, and all you can do is look up at him with a blank expression. 
his thumb pries your mouth open with ease, the digit hooking behind your bottom teeth as toji’s face gets closer and closer. on instinct, you close your eyes. 
soon, hot, stinging liquid is pouring steadily into your mouth. toji swishes the rest of the vodka between his cheeks — on purpose, you’re sure — before spitting it directly on your tongue.
it’s disgusting, everything about it makes your stomach churn, but it also makes you squeeze your legs together, chest rising and falling rapidly as you swallow without having to be told to. 
“ya talk too fuckin’ much, brat,” he grumbles. ironically, you’re at a loss for words. “someone needs put you in your place already.”
“you,” your voice cracks and nearly fails you, but you’re determined. it surprises him, that you’d have something to say. that you’re still game. you can see it in his face, in the way his hands come off of you. “i want you to.”
toji’s expression is hard and unchanging. his fingers go back to your face, two of them slipping inside your lax lips.
your breath stutters as you inhale, instinctively sucking the digits and working your tongue around them.
toji grabs his cock through his pants pointedly.
“fuckin’ slut… that what you want?” you nod. he takes a step forward, knees hitting the couch. “is that why you walk around my house looking like a fucking whore?”
a whine dies in your throat at the sweet, sweet recognition.
he noticed.
he noticed and it bothered him and you really couldn’t bring yourself to care that he was your best friend’s father right now because he was tenting his sweatpants and your mouth was watering at the sight. 
“please…” you paw at his waistband, pulling on the drawstrings. toji laughs at your desperation, voice growing gruff. 
he buries a hand in your hair, fingers closing around your locks tightly and making your eyes sting with tears. slowly, he pushes your face into his crotch, so close that you can feel it pulsing, can feel every ridge, can feel that he’s not wearing any underwear.
god, you can smell him, and it makes your head spin, your mouth huffing out hot breaths and wetting the front of his pants. 
you hook your fingers in the back of his sweats and pull until they’re down tight around his thighs. you have to maneuver the fabric over the head of his erection, earning a hiss from the man towering over you.
his dick springs up, slapping you in the face and leaving a smear of pre across the bridge of your nose. you think toji snorts at that but you can’t be sure. you’re too mesmerized.
he’s so, so big, the skin darker and flushed, tight, heavy balls and the head, angry red, peeking out from the foreskin.
your throat goes dry at the thought of it inside of you, inside any of your holes, because you know it’ll destroy you forever. and you want it. 
toji doesn’t have the appeal that most men his age do to most girls your age. he doesn’t make you feel safe, he doesn’t offer financial support, he doesn’t care about your well-being, he doesn’t have his shit together. and to make matters worse to you, he’s your best friend’s dad, who your best friend doesn’t even like that much, whose presence has been totally indifferent to megumi for most of his life. 
it makes you burn in shame to know you’re about to have a man 25 years your senior in your mouth.
you readjust your position on the couch so that you’re sitting on your knees, angling your face with his cock. it’s curved, pointing up, and you wonder how much of it he’s gonna wanna stuff down your throat. judging by the pure evil glinting in his eyes, it’s gonna be as much as possible. 
you take a deep breath, steadying a hand around his length. it’s concerning that you can just barely close your fingers around him, but you put that thought aside to focus on pulling the skin down gently so you can wrap your lips around the tip. 
toji sighs in relief, his grip in your hair tightening.
you begin to work your head up and down, licking the underside of his cock to gather up saliva. 
“thaaat’s it, what a good little bitch. got a sweet little mouth on ya,” he whispers, hips thrusting slightly to work his cock further into your mouth. “yer gonna take all of it? or are ya all talk?”
you whine, gripping the base and sliding further down his length. he’s already hitting the back of your throat, making your eyes water and your stomach seize. you pick up the pace, twisting your wrist rhythmically as you suck him. 
“don’t swallow,” he threatens, forcing his cock deeper into you, the head sliding into the opening of your throat. “lemme see how messy this slutty face can get.”
you choke audibly, eyes smarting with tears, makeup smudging. you look up at him with furrowed brows in a silent plea of mercy. 
toji’s having none of it.
he puts one foot down on the sofa, next to your legs, giving himself the leverage to start fully fucking your face now. he wraps both hands around your throat and thrusts his hips violently into your mouth, his thumbs pressing down to feel his length in your throat. 
“ahh, fuck,” he throws his head back, reveling in your desperate gurgles. you feel like a fucking ragdoll, like a fleshlight, unable to control the noises you make or how much dick you take. “takin’ me so well. who taught you to squeeze your throat like that, huh? so fuckin’ slutty.” 
you sob around his cock, nose buried in his pubes. he’s impossibly hard, impossibly wet as thick strings of spit and pre hang from your lips, dripping down to his balls, falling to the floor.
toji keeps fucking your throat relentlessly, granting you mere seconds between thrusts to inhale a desperate breath that immediately starts to burn in your lungs. 
he’s a fucking sight though, above you. chin tucked into his chest, veins bulging and biceps flexed, nostrils flared as he watches you devour him. 
he pulls out suddenly, leaving you choking for air. tears stream down your face, spit bubbling out of your nostril. you look all wrong, like you’d been put back together by someone after being utterly demolished.
“open your mouth,” toji orders. you obey and he grabs his cock, slapping the head against your tongue a few times. he slides his length in and out for a bit before he starts jerking himself off. “suck my balls.” 
you take that moment to swallow down the saliva that had pooled between your teeth, tucking away the wet strands of hair that frame your face.
toji’s lifting his cock towards his belly, fisting the head and flicking his wrist. he looks at you expectantly, and you understand it’s time to prove yourself once again. 
you place a gente thumb right below his shaft, where his sack hangs. your tongue dips in between his balls, shyly at first, just slightly tracing the shape of them before you pop one into your mouth. 
toji groans, the hand on his cock gaining speed. you squeeze your thighs together; you’re so wet that it makes you uncomfortable. you lean forward on your knees, steadying yourself with your palms planted firmly on his thighs. 
you’re sucking his balls earnestly now , one then the other, then both at the same time, angling your head up and working your tongue up and down the wrinkled skin.
toji’s loving it, maybe more than the blowjob, and it makes you feel like a toy all over again, in an even more humiliating way because now you’re not even allowed to touch his cock, he’s just getting to use your mouth anywhere he wants. 
it’s so fucking hot that it makes you dizzy. you hollow your cheeks, giving his nutsack a good suck before gingerly lifting his balls. you sneak a glance up at toji, hoping to catch him by surprise when your tongue dips even lower, approaching some pretty controversial territory. 
it works. his breath catches in his throat and his knee kicks out instinctively.
he grabs your hair immediately, pulling you away from him. 
“fuck,” you look up at him smirking, lips smeared with saliva and snort. but you don’t even care how debauched you look right now, as long as you can keep the upper hand. “you’re a nasty little bitch, aren’t ya?”
he leans down to kiss you deeply, messily, inhaling loudly through his nose. toji finishes stepping out of his sweatpants and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing what you’d been imagining for so many years. 
you run your hands over his chest, his abs, down his hips, his v-line. he’s so fucking hot, got bulging muscles you didn’t even know existed in the human body, and scars you can’t even fathom the origin of. 
he stares at you, looking bored. “get up.”
you do, legs shaking and prickling with pins and needles. now you can fully feel the scope of your arousal, how your panties stick to your core uncomfortably, how the wet tops of your thighs rub together. 
toji sits down on the sofa and you waste no time getting on his lap, clawing at his chest and leaning in for another kiss. he’s unforgiving even like this, so much bigger than you, his hand on the back of your neck and his mouth on yours. 
“arms up,” and when you comply, he’s pulling your tank top off. “good girl.”
you shiver, instinctively wrapping an arm around yourself. toji tsks at that, easily taking both your wrists in one hand and pinning them behind your back. he grabs your tit with the other, popping as much of it as he can in his mouth. 
you groan, fighting against his grip to get your hands on his hair, his shoulders, anywhere. toji relentlessly sucks on your nipple, nibbling and circling it with his tongue.
when he pulls off, he lands a swift slap across your boob, ripping a groan from you. 
“such a good fuckin’ slut, look at that body.”
he slaps your ass, this time, tugging your shorts over your butt. you help him get it off of you and then, finally, you’re straddling toji’s cock, no layers in between you two, just your dripping core on him. 
you think, belatedly, condom, but then toji is pulling you in for another kiss and for all you know megumi could come home any minute and you wouldn’t want to waste time like that. or so you tell yourself. 
his hands guide your hips to grind over him, soft mewls coming out of you and being buried into the crook of his neck. 
“pretty little girl, gonna ride me? hmm? gonna ride this old man’s cock?” you whine, nodding.
you press your front against his so you can lift your ass up and guide the tip into your entrance. you don’t expect to be able to take it all, but at least like this you can control the pace and how much of it is going into you, the only thing keeping you from panicking at the sheer size of him. 
the head of toji’s cock doesn’t slip inside so much as it pops inside, the ridge locking just past your opening.
it’s too big, and even though you’re soaking wet, it’s still a stretch. you both groan in unison and you realize, this is it. this is your fantasy, you’re fucking toji fushiguro, megumi’s dad, your best friend’s dad. 
your legs tremble as you hold yourself up, too soon to sink down more on his cock. toji’s playing with your nipples but you have a sneaking suspicion his patience isn’t going to last much longer. 
you give it a valiant effort to take more in and it feels like being ripped in two. you clench your jaw, a bead of sweat rolling down your temple. 
“fuuuuck, so fuckin’ tight,” toji spreads your ass cheeks with both hands, rubbing the thin skin where you two are connected. he thrusts up, feeding your poor pussy more of his cock, and you let out a scream. “take it, c’mon.”
“unghh—can’t, toji, hang on—“
“‘course ya can,” he fucks up into you again and you sob, nails raking down his chest. he hisses and slaps your ass in punishment. you realize you might really cry.
“i can’t, it’s too big, too much—“
“shhh,” in an uncharacteristic display of affection, toji kisses the furrow between your brows, snaking a thumb between you two to rub your clit. 
you throw your head back, body torn between seeking more pleasure and running from the pain. you can hear how wet you are as toji fucks in and out of you, your plush walls hugging him so well, weeping around him. 
he speeds up and you bury your face in his chest, moaning wantonly into his skin. toji lets out staccato grunts, working his cock further into you with each thrust. 
“any scrubs your age givin’ it to you like this?” he breathes out, grabbing your ass hard and moving it up and down his length for you. you whine, drooling on him. “yeah, that’s right. fuck, take it, that’s a good girl.”
“ahh, toji—“
“that’s not my name, whore,” he fists your hair and drags your head back until your eyes meet. “try again.”
“fushiguro-san—“ that earns you a hard slap on your ass. you yelp — wrong answer. 
“toji-sama—“ another slap, and this time he grips the reddening flesh viciously. you whine, squirming in his grip. 
“little braindead cumslut,” he wipes a tear with his thumb. “who’s fucking this tight pussy right now? huh? tell me who's ruining this slutty cunt.”
“d—daddy?” 
toji smiles, humming, his grip on you softening as he leans in for a kiss. “that’s right, sweetheart. show daddy how much you want it.”
it’s amusing to toji, you know it. he just wants to humiliate you because he’s aware of how badly you’ve wanted this. but it does something to you, it’s serious to you, it’s so fucking depraved and sexy to you. 
he lifts you up with ease and lays you back down on the couch. you feel so empty suddenly that it makes you want to cry, like toji has already carved a home inside of you for his cock that no one else will ever be able to fill. 
he wastes no time getting on top of you, hooking a hand under your leg and lifting it up onto his shoulder. your eyes widen immediately, a protest dying in your tongue. this position… his cock… it’s, god, it’s gonna be—
toji plunges in in one violent, perfunctory thrust. you let out a scream, your heel kicking toji square in the back as your body rises up from the couch. he’s all the way inside now. 
you can feel him bruising your cervix, his balls, wet with a mixture of the two of you, slapping against your ass, his hip bones drilling into you. 
“you’re so deep,” you look at him with panic in your eyes, chest gone cold at the overwhelming pleasure. “you’re so deep.”
toji laughs, pulling out to spit on his cock. he grabs your ankle and sets it on his shoulder. “yeah, baby, daddy’s all the way inside now. feels good, doesn’t it?” 
“fuck. oh fuck,” you let out shaky breaths, allowing toji to lay more of his weight on top of you. your knee is by your head now and somehow in this position his cock seems to hit even deeper, to curve up exactly in the right spots that have you struggling to breathe. “you’re gonna break me.” 
“takin’ me so well. just a natural slut aren’t ya,” he’s fucking you so fast now, wet, slapping sounds resounding across the whole house. 
there’s a thick creamy ring at the base of his cock, frothy and bubbly with how much you’ve been gushing for him. toji presses a thumb against your clit and rubs tight little circles, making you squeeze against him like a vice. 
he grunts, speeding up his movements.
“so sensitive, this cute little pussy. you a virgin?” he slaps it a few times, your wetness sticking to his fingers with every pat. “gonna cum soon, whore?”
you whine, nodding. you wrap both arms around toji’s neck and pull him closer, open mouth awaiting expectantly.
toji grins, spitting onto your tongue before leaning in to suck it. 
“toj—daddy,” you moan against his mouth, “daddy, i’m close.”
you don’t recognize your own voice. it’s slutty, desperate, pitchy, juvenile. it's too far gone.
toji works your clit over and over again, fucking you harder than you’ve ever been fucked. he splays a hand over your stomach, kneading the place where his cock is nestled inside of you and hitting a spot that makes you lose control of your body and words. 
“ah, ah, ah, oh god toji fuck daddy make me cum, please please can i cum—“
“oh, fuck,” his thrusts start to become erratic and you know he’s close too. you clench around him, one leg wrapping around his hips to make sure he stays inside until you're done. “cum on daddy’s cock, come on. make a mess, little girl.”
you throw your head back, burying it into the pillows as your entire body thrashes with your orgasm. you clamp around him so hard that you can't even tell where he ends and you begin. 
toji takes no mercy on you, his messy cock plunging in and out of you fast. 
“gonna fill up this pretty pussy, yeah?” you shake your head desperately, one hand punching his chest. he can’t finish inside of you, right? but why do you want it so bad? “no no no, don’t fuss now baby. you want daddy’s cum inside you, don’t you? wanna give megumi a baby brother? fuck yeah i know you do fuckin' take it whore fuuuuck, fuck i'm coming—”
he thrusts once, twice, three more times, knocking all air out of your lungs and the most ridiculous moans out of your mouth before he’s spilling into you, locking your legs like a fucking pretzel and biting down your neck. 
you can feel it pulsing, spurting inside of you. you can feel both your heartbeats in your abused cunt, both of your juices combined and oozing out of you. 
once you catch your breath, toji pulls out of you languidly, with a yawn. you two made a fucking mess, a sticky puddle on the couch right below your ass. 
toji eyes it disinterestedly, much like how he’s eyeing you right now. your sweaty, messy, fucked out self, nearly melting on the fushiguro household’s sofa. 
“ah. are ya on the pill or what?” he asks, like he just now remembered. after a few seconds you nod, a little incredulous. “heh. good.”
you slowly sit up, reaching for your sweatshirt to at least cover yourself up. you sneak a hand down to your cunt, fingers sliding through the mess there to dip inside you. 
fuck, you’re gaping. toji well and truly ruined your pussy. it makes you panic a little bit, but it also makes pride swell within your chest, knowing you took it, all of it. 
toji finally addresses you. 
“i’m gonna go take a shower,” he looks behind his shoulder, sighing. he points at you. “we left the fuckin’ tv on. if this shit racks up my bills you’re gonna have to pay me back.”
you guffaw. “me? pay you how?”
he smirks. 
“got one more hole i haven’t wrecked yet, dont’cha?” he flicks your forehead. you just sit there, incredulous, trembling legs, halfway to horny again. from the bathroom, toji calls out, “let yourself out. oh, and leave the vodka.”
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A/N: lmfao! i got nothin to say in my defense. reblogs r very much appreciated
6K notes · View notes
cheolhub · 4 months
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WHAT YOU NEED — JEON WONWOO ࿐
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summary. wonwoo knows how shy you get telling him what you want, but he’ll get you to use your words one way or another.
wc. 2.5k
warnings. mean-ish soft dom!wonwoo, sub! reader, corruption kink + slight humiliation kink! lots of teasing from wonwoo, lots of begging from reader, pet names [love, baby, sweet girl], dirty talk [😵‍💫], possessiveness (reader is so into it), heavy praise, unprotected sex, creampie — MINORS DNI 18+
note. it’s been months… hellooo… i forgot how to write so forgive me for the shitty plot lol. this is me attempting to get back into the writing world 🤓 hopefully ONE of u enjoys this <3 p.s. i’m srsly in my wonu era
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“remember what i said, love,” wonwoo murmured, soft lips pressed against the shell of your ear. “if you want something, you gotta use your words.”
you hated this– everything about this– the teasing, the deep timbre of his voice that shoots heat straight to your core, him in general. he’s well aware of the fact that you can’t stand it at this moment, but that doesn’t put an end to his teasing. 
your back arches off his chest as you feel the ghost of his fingers over your painfully wet cunt, covered in a pair of cotton panties. “wonwoo…” you whine, eyes brimming with tears of frustration. “please…”
he merely chuckles, pressing a kiss to the skin under your ear. “please what?”
when you and wonwoo started dating, you were so shy. so shy and so, so sweet. you’d never been with anyone before him, and of course he felt bad that he was the one to rob you of your innocence, but he was filled with a sense of pride (and urgency) when he’d found out he was the one to corrupt you and ruin you for everyone else. 
and he was gentle. yes, jeon wonwoo was so, very gentle, handling you like a pretty doll while coaxing orgasms out of you left and right with his hands and mouth till your body was slack and you were nothing but a puddle of tears. he got you ready for his cock and you took it well. then you took it again. and again. and again, till you and him both knew you were his and he was yours. 
it got to the point where you’d crave him at the most inconvenient times. while you were running errands, at work, at dinner with your friends– it was almost insufferable. 
but he always took care of you. all you had to do was ask and he’d be there at your beck and call with whatever you wanted, whether it was with his mouth, fingers or cock. 
he always makes you ask because wonwoo’s taken a certain… liking… to making  you say the filthiest things. he knows it makes you nervous, but that’s why he thinks he loves it. he loves your stammering and how he can feel the heat radiating from your body. it’s cute.
which is why you’re in your current predicament, sat between his legs, your own spread over his with your back pressed to his chest after sending an innocent ‘come over, please? <3’ text. 
“don’t make me say it, won… it’s…it’s unbecoming. just… please.”
usually, he’s not so adamant on getting you to say exactly what you want. all you had to do was say please, and he was all yours. 
but no, not today apparently. 
“there’s nothing unbecoming about it, my love.” he noses at your neck, his breath fanning over your racing pulse and eliciting your soft shudder. “just tell me what you invited me over for and i’ll give it to you.”
“please… touch me.” you whisper, heat creeping from where his lips are on your to neck all the way up to the tips of your ears. 
you can feel his shit-eating grin and you want to scream at him, but your need for him is much more profound than your desire to slap him in the face for teasing you to this extent. 
his hands rub up and down your arms and you hear his smile when he asks, “like this?”
you groan, shaking your head, “you know what i mean!” 
“i don’t know what you mean, actually. can you dumb it down for me?” 
you mentally curse him out, but you try to steady your breathing before you speak again. “touch me… down… there.” you attempt to say, but it comes out as more of a squeak.
wonwoo’s uncharacteristically large hands find your tummy and you want to sob when he asks, “here?” you shake your head. “words.” the demand vibrates through you and you let you an embarrassing whimper.
“lower,” you whisper, unable to trust your voice. “please, wonwoo.”
he runs his fingers down your abdomen and trails them down your thighs. you can’t help the cry that leaves your mouth. “mean. you’re so mean.”
“you can say it, sweet girl.” he whispers. “it’s not unbecoming. it’s not inappropriate. it’s fucking hot. i want you to tell me exactly what you want and i swear to god i’ll give it to you.”
you sniffle, frustrated and slightly embarrassed, but you stutter out in the softest voice he’s ever heard you use, “please touch my pussy, wonwoo.”
you think it feels awkward and gross coming out of your mouth with your voice, but wonwoo… wonwoo groans, hand immediately slipping into your panties. “good fucking girl.” he grumbles as his fingers find your clit. 
you jolt at the contact but melt into him just as quickly. “fuck,” you whimper, thankful that you’re finally receiving the touch you’ve been craving for the past half hour. “f-faster, please.”
wonwoo’s chest swells with that familiar sense of pride again as he hears your beg. he obliges, the rough pads of his fingers circling the swollen, pleading bud. “you’re so fucking wet…”
you moan, head falling back on his shoulder. your face burns like never before as you get out, “f-for… you. ‘m wet for you.”
wonwoo isn’t always vocal, but when he is? he’s loud. so the moan that slips from his mouth startles you a bit. 
“that’s right, all for me.” he grunts, possessiveness lacing his voice causing the jostling of butterflies in your tummy. “all fucking mine, forever mine.”
you change your mind at this– you love the teasing, the deep timbre of his voice, him especially. 
“always yours.” you nod vigorously, body writhing as he quickens the movement of his fingers. 
wonwoo doesn’t have much self-control when it comes to you, so it’s taking everything in him to not flip you over and fuck you till all you can say is yours, yours, always yours. instead, he opts for trying to get more out of your pretty mouth. “how do you feel, baby? tell me how much you like my fingers playing with this pretty little cunt.”
it’s so filthy, but you can’t help but arch your back at the sound of his words. “love them s’much, wonwoo. feels s’good.”
he’s sure you do feel good, he’s a skilled man after all, but he knows you probably need more. 
“yeah?” he responds breathily, cock aching at the validation and how pretty you sound saying his name. “this enough to make you cum, or do you want more?”
your brain fogs over at the thought of more. you can nearly taste ecstasy on the tip of your tongue and you don’t doubt that you could get off with just his fingers, yet… the idea of being filled to the brim with his fingers or his cock is much more compelling. 
“more.” you breathe in reply. 
“what was that?” he teases, fingers slowing down. 
there’s that wicked sense of humor that makes you want to slap him across the face.
you barred your teeth before gritting, “fuck me, please. i need more. i need you, wonwoo.”
his ministrations stop and before you get the chance to complain, he’s rolling your panties down your legs and guiding you to straddle his abdomen. he slips his sweats down enough for his cock to come out and, even though you can’t see it, you can feel its looming presence. 
“take what’s yours, baby.” he stares up at you while you stare back, eyes wide. 
“y-you… you want me to…?” he knows what your unfinished question translates to and he nods and gives you a lazy smile even though you can see the burning desire in his blown out pupils.
you let out a short breath and nod, more to yourself than anything. he’s never let you have control while you’re on top, but you feel giddy that he’s giving you a chance now. you lift your hips up and take a hold of his hardened length in your hands. you run the blushy tip of his cock through your folds, eliciting a hiss from the man under you, before finally sliding down his cock. slowly, you feel every inch of him invade your pussy and it’s so good, despite the slight burn.
you forget how tight the fit is every time. even with how wet you are, you still feel your walls stretching to accommodate his size. 
you cry softly, body going limp as you finally hit the base of his cock. “won…”
“you feel so good,” he moans softly, hands finding purchase on your hips. “are you alright? does it hurt?” he manages to ask, cock twitching at the way your walls wrap around him.
you shake your head incessantly, hoping he doesn’t worry too much. “no– no, ‘m okay. j-just need to adjust.”
wonwoo nods empathetically, rubbing soothing circles into your skin to ease you. “you’re doing so well.” he whispers after a minute of silence, the only sounds being your ragged breaths and the soft hum of the air conditioning. “gonna make sure you feel so good, baby.”
you feel the heat reappear and a gush of arousal leak at the praise in his hushed voice. it inspires you to take action. 
you press your palms to his clothed abdomen, wishing he’d taken off his shirt so you can feel his skin, but you can’t be bothered to ask him to do so now. you lift your hips up his cock before letting yourself drop, a moan tumbling out of your mouth when you feel how deep he is inside you. 
you repeat the sloppy movements, stangled moans slipping with every sharp thrust as you spear yourself on his length over and over. 
it’s not till wonwoo guides you with the tight grip of his hands on your waist that you find a steady tempo, the sound of skin on skin growing louder with the mixed sounds of his grunts and your mewls. 
you slip your hands under his shirt, craving the closeness, and lightly run your nails down the skin. you feel him contract under the contact and you can’t stop the way your walls tighten around him when his hands squeeze you harder. 
the longer you ride him, the more your thighs burn. it eventually causes your speed to falter and wonwoo, ever the observer, is quick to notice. he decides you’ve had enough and bucks his hips into you, meeting you halfway while groaning out your name. 
the bulbous head of his cock rams into your sweet, special spot as he takes over and you throw your head back in utmost pleasure. tears spring to your eyes and wonwoo finds this to be the most beautiful sight he’s ever laid his eyes on. your tits bouncing with every push, your mouth cracked open as the prettiest sounds leave it, the way your eyebrows knit in pleasure– he makes a mental note to bring his camera next time you invite him over. 
“tell me what you need, love.” he demands yet again, words breathy and clipped as his cock throbs in between your velvet walls. “tell me what this pretty pussy needs and i’ll fucking give it to you.” his sentence ends in a growl when your nails bite into his bare skin, leaving red, crescent shapes in their wake. 
you let out a choked sob, “w-wonu–”
he sits up, using his strength to bounce you up and down at a leisure pace– one that he knows does nothing for your needy body. “don’t get shy on me now, baby, you can tell me.” he coaxes, sultry voice circling your brain. 
you swear if your body burns any hotter, you’ll explode.
your mouth opens to let out a plea, “p-please make me cum– please, i-i wanna–” your words are swallowed by him as he smashes his lips to yours. you moan his name into his mouth and he all but moans back into yours. 
you involuntarily clench around him when he hastily bucks into you while also guiding your hips on his cock. when he pulls back, he sports swollen lips and lust-ridden eyes and it makes you all the more needy for your coveted release. 
“rub your clit and get yourself off for me, yeah?” you pants before his mouth lands on one of your breasts, sucking and tugging at the peaked nipple. 
you follow instructions, two of your fingers moving to circle the swollen bud and your free hand gripping his shoulder for more support. 
at the onslaught of pleasure, the knot that’s been rapidly forming in your tummy all night tightens beyond belief and you know you’re on the precipice of an orgasm. wonwoo, being as perceptive as he is, just moans at the way you pulse uncontrollably around his cock. 
if you’ve learned anything from the teasing and the rather humbling experience you’ve had tonight, it’s that you should definitely voice what you want. 
and that’s exactly what you do. 
“i– fuck, wonwoo. i need to cum, please let me.” you beg as you get closer and closer to your anticipated release. 
he releases your nipple with a pop and nearly growls. “cum for me, baby.” 
it’s all you need to hear before a silent scream leaves your lips and white, hot pleasure runs its course. your body goes taut as the tether in your belly snaps in half, cunt and body practically spasming all the while your brain spins erratically. 
wonwoo is enthralled by the sight and feeling of you. the grip he has on you is near bruising as he watches you fall apart on him– feels you fall apart on him. 
“so beautiful,” he praises, voice strained as he nears his own release. “my beautiful girl. you’re so fucking good for me, you know that?” he rambles, cock twitching as you let out more whines and whimpers.
“c-cum in me.” you demand, voice broken and hoarse from all the screaming. “i-i wanna feel it. i need to.”
an animalistic growl bubbles in the back of his throat and his slow pace and sweet praise disappears, replaced by an unforgiving speed at which he pounds into you. you’re back to broken moans as he lets out labored pants till, shortly after, he’s stills inside of you, cock nestled at your hilt and he’s releasing his warm load inside of your battered walls. 
you collapse on top of him, savoring the feeling of his warmth inside of you. 
“did i hurt you?” he whispers after a few minutes of unsteady breathing from the both of you. 
you shake your head. “just my dignity,” you joke softly, resting your forehead against his. “i’m alright, don’t worry.”
he chuckles, cupping your cheek and running the pad of his thumb over the dried tear streaks, “i was a bit mean, huh?”
“so mean.” you tease, kissing the corner of his mouth. “you’re lucky i love you.”
“beyond lucky.”
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2K notes · View notes
satoruhour · 2 months
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i need jealous racer geto hes js so whudurieiw and the way u write about himm🤭🤭
LUVRGIRL
a/n: eeuuughh idk whether to like this or not but enjoy nonetheless !!! not so much of racing but the sentiment is there lol. previous part (lloromannic) here / @screampied @kizoken @t4kio @redskyvenus @mysugu @suguruplsr @slttygeto ✶
wc: 6.3k
warnings: racer!geto, soft dom!geto, fem!reader, sprinkle of fluff, pet names, praise, ldr, phone sex, masturbation (both f and m), fantasising, daisuke is being annoying again!!!!, sorta jealousy plot point, brief dry humping, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, clit stimulation, fingering, unprotected p -> v sex, breeding / creampie kink, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut
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the next six months were torture, indefinitely. it was an endless heap of assignments, of deadlines, of long-distance calls with your love that you both were so close to booking flights of your own. university was brutal, too. on top of tuition fees and getting the materials for your classes, it was heart-wrenching to even look at the prices of the flights from your country to japan, so you bit down your pride and subjected yourself to settling for the long-distance arrangement.
“hey, baby,” geto mumbles sleepily and your frown deepens upon forgetting that tuesdays was where he slept early. you still had to call, though, but you realise it too late when he answers with that groggy, raspy voice of his. there’s some ruffling behind the call, no doubt the sounds of his bedsheets as he gets himself comfortable while you huddle at the small nook of your room that’s next to the window.
from here you can see the sun setting, a totally different story in japan where you can hear geto yawn and down a glass of water next to his bed.
“shit . . sorry su, i forgot—”
he scrambles to reassure you, awake and sat up, “no! no— no, it’s okay . .” you wince when you hear him yawn yet again, but this time he sounds a little more in the realm of consciousness. you’re unaware of the smile forming on his face just from hearing your voice, fidgety fingers squeezing and releasing the duvet over him, “what are you up to, my love?”
you hum into the phone and you’ve never wanted to backpack across the seven seas to see someone so bad before. now on month nine, your excitement’s become even more prominent at wanting to end the semester as soon as possible, willing your lips not to mutter out the arrangement you’ve been planning with his group of friends.
“just needed a break from studying for finals. i’m dying,” you lament over the line and your heart flutters at his chuckle, something you miss against your ears and skin immensely, “just wish you were here . .”
“yeah?” and you have to squeeze your eyes shut and rub your thighs together at the soft, rough yeah he mumbles out. you can imagine it too: sitting against his headboard half-naked while the duvet pools around his waist area. he’s sitting there like plaster sculpted by Monti while his hair flows around him. you almost squeal and your boyfriend only catches just the start of it.
“what? what was that?” he asks and your hand is clasped so hard over your mouth like a captor’s got your hostage, but you only let out a breath.
“n-nothing,” you laugh, picking yourself up from the nook and getting yourself comfortable in bed. it’s been a long day of studying, anyway, and your next exam isn’t until five days later. you could afford some downtime, right?
“but,” you sigh, turning on your side and sneakily slipping a hand into your pants, “my day’s boring. it’s all studyin’. why don’t you tell me what you did today, instead?” you can hear your parents already preparing dinner outside, but you press on and try to drain out the intrusive noises of cutlery and porcelain and the incessant calls of your mom to your dad for some help on the stove. 
“alright,” he drags the word out and laughs again, getting comfortable in his bed just like you do, but your end goals are entirely different, “but it is pretty boring as well. it was maintenance day today.”
“oh!” you remember him briefly mentioning that the other day — since halloween was approaching, there was bound to be more patrolling policemen around the streets and underground, so races had to be put on hold for the meantime. there was still other more secluded areas to race, but geto didn’t want to risk his Mazda being taken away nor for a stain to appear on his clean academic record.
“changing the crankshaft? i know the old one was giving you loads of trouble,” you mumble, feeling your cunt pulse and throb from the breathing you can hear over the line, “among . . other things.”
“yeah, my baby’s so smart for remembering, huh?” he praises, continuing to go on about his day. while it was merely taking-care-of-his-car day, it was still way more eventful than yours. he had went on a solo day out to your beloved café to relish in the good times, he had hung out with gojo for a while and drank some beer atop the mountain they frequented, even went out for some arcade fun.
“unfortunately—” geto’s low voice spurs you on. you’ve been lazily rubbing at your pussy, just humming into the phone while you only descend more and more into pleasure, “it’s taken a hole out of my allowance, i guess. my dad’s more generous with the parts that he gives me but at the same time i feel like he knows what i’m doing underground.”
he laughs and you fake a giggle, but your breaths are starting to get heavier with each sentence he utters, mind filling with flashbacks of how many ways he’s bent you over to fuck you, drunk on the phantom-like winds upon your ear that sound like he’s whispering all those filthy things to you. “and . . just missin’ my girl.”
“how’ve you been, baby?” he asks with a low voice, like he knows what you’re doing and the term of possession only has you sucking in a breath, fingers slip inside you after possibly a decade of teasing and you find it hard to answer. “darling?”
“y-yeah, ’m still here,” you pant out, afraid of being caught, but your voice quivers enough just for geto to catch on to what you were up to. he didn’t fault you, though (he never blames his girl), but there is a small smirk that forms on his face. he purposely lowers his voice even more, if it was possible, mirroring and mimicking your breathy tone when talking to him.
but with one hand that goes down to his pelvis, he doesn’t have to mimic you at all, hand palming languidly at his bulge. in the dead of the night, there wasn’t much need to keep his voice down in order to hear the pretty moans falling from your mouth; he does anyway.
it’s too shitty of a reception especially with your nokia’s, so he hears the artificial, metallic-like voice coming from his phone, but your sounds are just too lovely, transcending the robotic-ness of a phone call. and it’s like you’re actually there, smiling mischievously at him while stroking his cock and teasing him the way he liked to be teased.
“s-sugu?” you mumble, mind heading into the extremes and confident now that he’s just weirded out and silent, but it’s anything but that.
“yes, baby?” he hums, smiling to himself when he hears rustling over the phone and he can imagine you lifting your hips to remove your panties, tossing it somewhere across the room. “wanna tell me what you’re doin’?” 
you suck in a breath — so he knows — but suguru always knows everything so you’re whining into the receiver, pleasantly surprised when he replies with a deep groan that only makes you clench around nothing.
“that’s right . .” he drawls and you hear a soft thud over the line, and now you’re the one quieting your movements just to hear your boyfriend, the faint shlick shlick sounds of his hand along his cock. geto gasps when he squeezes his tip just like how you do it, pre-cum starting to leak. “need you h-here, doll . .”
you mewl softly and start the hand on your clit again, abandoning the tight hold around your phone just so you can use the other to slip your fingers into your warm cunt. it doesn’t even compare to the thickness and length of geto’s dick, but you have to work with what you have. with head turned toward the speaker, your boyfriend has gone non-verbal, too, moaning like a slut into the receiver.
“suguru, i’m— please . .” you whine softly, hips bucking into your hands, “doesn’t feel as g— good.”
geto coos inwardly at your needy voice, mouth falling open at his rock hard cock. it’s so hard that it hurts, left to merely fuck his fleshlight whenever he could and use his hand on other days. he missed your sweet fucking pussy so, so much, just picturing your beautiful arched back that lifts off the sheets and your shaking thighs. he imagines your perfect pout on your face as you finger yourself, unsatisfied, obviously, begging him with tugs to his hands and his eyes flutter close.
“i know, baby, and ’m sorry,” he mumbles, taking the nokia from his ear to put it right up to his relentless pumping and you swallow, the slick, wet sounds more clear now. “but you hear what ya do t’me, don’t you?”
“mhm . .” you trail off, thinking of his fat cock impaling you instead, and you follow his actions to a T, bringing it right to your sopping cunt and geto has to scrunch his already shut eyes just to wish that his hand was your pussy. your hand is getting tired, he’s sure, but you finger yourself so prettily his hand easily speeds up, giving his shaft periodic squeezes.
“so wet, suguu . .” you drag out his name, already feeling your high approach soon, but you want the both of you to cum together. “i miss you stretchin’ me out . .” a hiss from suguru, “i miss your cum spilling out of me.”
that has geto choking out a whine, “f—fuck, sweetheart, don’t say that. i do miss g-giving you all of my cum—”
the filthiness of everything contributes to all your senses, parents omitted from memory, your finals at the back of your mind and only focusing on the envelope that resides on your bedside table containing a plane ticket. in one week you’d be able to see him again — a sweet treat given to you by gojo and nanami with their combined expenses.
you didn’t even know how you could thank them and while nanami waves you off for any payback, gojo did say you could treat him to anything in that café. it was difficult not to be excited, a louder whine drawn from your throat again and he laughs breathlessly, voice down low and distraught.
“any particular reason w-why my girl’s so needy lately—?”
geto basically chokes out his question while you shake your head until you remember that he can’t see you, answering with a broken “no”.
you resist the urge to spill on the exact reason — your mind spiralling from the anticipation of meeting him, the many, many lewd memories you’ve made over six months, his just-woken-up voice — because he’d never let you live it down.
“c-close, suguru—” your thighs are squeezed tight around your tired hand, sensitive from the immense overstimulation, “’m g’nna cum soon—!”
“me too, my love,” geto’s eyes are back open, trained on his cock and watching the sheer neediness shown in his weeping tip and bucking hips. he needs this, he needs you, and once you’re submitting your final paper, he’s sure to look at flights right to your doorstep.
“i’m c—” you’re whining out, body totally turned over and lying on your stomach as you chase your high, fuelled by the deep guttural groans of your boyfriend. your lips and mind are only filled with suguru, suguru, suguru, not even caring that your sheets are soaked and your fingers are cramping.
“baby, baby, baaaby . . s—shit—” geto reaches his release first, mind filled with replenished memories of your tight pussy hugging his cock, spurts of white spilling all over himself with a loud groan and you’re left to listen out for the desperate sounds of your boyfriend miles away, lengthening his climax as he continues to pump himself. “cum all over your fingers, doll . .”
suguru coaxes in that sweet voice of his, mumbling deep into the phone only for you. “doing so, so good, aren’t ya?” the quietness on his end, the slow lazy stroking of his hand again, and you’re cumming all over your fingers, eyes blown wide from the orgasm that he talks you through while you ride it out on your mediocre fingers. your mouth is stained with endless profanities and moans mixed with geto’s name, muffled by the bedsheets you’re so harshly biting into to prevent any loud, unbecoming sounds.
“that good?” he asks with a laugh, yawning yet again and you feel guilty again—
“i’m sorry, s—”
“no. don’t, doll, don’t apologise,” suguru brushes his thumb over his thigh, partially wiping off the cum and partially hoping he can relax the furrow of your brow like he always does. “you’re frowning and your shoulders are up, probably, relax . .”
you sigh, another thing that geto values a lot and has taught to you; deep breaths and untensing all parts of your body.
“good girl, was that good?”
“the phone sex or the deep breaths?”
geto grins. god, he missed you so fucking much — “both.”
“both was very good, thank you very much,” you giggle, not paying much mind to the way you remove your fingers from your cunt, turning over to the bedside table to take some tissues, “although the sex was a little better.”
“aw, no wins for the intense, groundbreaking, spirit-calming deep breaths?”
you shake your head (you’ve got to stop doing that), “ehh . . it was alright.”
geto’s reluctant sleepiness grants you a few more minutes together, his words starting to slur more and more the longer you were on the line, but you can’t say you don’t enjoy it. with fatigue came the words laced with unhindered affection, murmuring softly about hoping to see you soon, to feel you, to kiss you, and you expressed the same sentiment back to him.
the other switches the output to speaker, wanting to take in the messily taken profile pic he set your contact with. a blurred, blinding smile with his face squished against yours; a little below the two of you, berry and cherry clutched within your palms, doing the same. “can my girl do her best for her finals?”
“i can’t promise the best, but i’ll try . . okay?”
geto hums, a soft smile on his face. he’s cleaned up by now, new sweatpants on and duvet pulled right to his neck while he stares at your face, the pixels of the nokia never diluting your beauty.
“attagirl. have a good dinner, lovergirl.”
that knocks some breath out of you, and you grin like a schoolgirl.
“have a goodnight’s sleep, loverboy.”
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you bounce on your heels impatiently when the plane finally lands, waiting for the throngs of people on the flight to leave through the bridge, but it’s taking ages, speed walking once you’re out. you wanted to be the first at the luggage conveyor belt, you needed to be the first passenger of your flight to be out of the arrival doors.
without the rush of the people and the striking colours of your boyfriend’s friends’ hair colours, it wasn’t too difficult to run up to them for a big hug.
“(y/n)~!” gojo drags out your name, waving you over excitedly and bringing the both of you into a group hug. nanami is adamant on being the ever broody racer, but you catch the ghost of a smile when he wraps a careful arm around your shoulders.
“how was the flight, (y/n)?” the blonde’s firm but concerned voice cuts through the chaos of the white-haired man.
“don’t ask lame questions like thaaaat, nanami! you’ll just bore me—” and a resounding smack! is then heard, and gojo’s clutching the back of his head in pain, the other taking the opportunity to lead you away from gojo’s antics and offering to help with your luggages. without words, nanami already feels your nervousness, patting your back in solidarity.
“hey— hey! oi!”
gojo slams the door to his car. “okay, we’ve painstakingly tried to hold suguru back whenever he was about to book flights—” gojo mentions in the car on the ride there, taking way too quick turns for your liking with your luggage going to town in the trunk. its thumps against the roof and sides always seem to interrupt the conversation with the white-haired man, but he seemed too much in a hurry to care. “think it was almost eight separate times!”
“thank you— ah!” you almost lurch forward at the amber light, but gojo decided at the last minute that he was just going to run it — braking then speeding it up all over again.
“you know, for a racer, you’re a terrible civilian driver . .” you groan once you reach the mouth of the familiar car park that you frequented in your six months in japan, but now that gojo’s easily manoeuvres the car to a slow, the adrenaline of the fast drive changes into something of dread, of a dizzying feeling.
what if suguru didn’t want to see you anymore? what if he already booked himself a flight and was nowhere to be found? what if he’s cheat—
your hands are clammy, not even present to how gojo calls out from you from the driver’s seat. cautiously, he’s putting a hand on your shoulder (because god forbid gojo touched anything of suguru’s, both Mazda and girlfriend), and shaking you out of your daze.
you catch glimpses of his sentences: “all  . . talks about . . trust . . no girl has . .” but you stop his rambling with frantic slaps to his shoulder. you know you shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions but it’s hard not to when the scene is clear as day. suguru is never one to cheat — from the six months you’ve known him, from the many calls and check-ins the two of you do over the line.
defying time zones, fighting fatigue . . for this?
but you know better to list your lover as the instigator, especially from how this other girl was just hovering all over his Mazda, sticking her ass out and trailing her hand all over his finishing. that was one thing — but geto isn’t making any move to shove her off, only looking at her through hooded lids that could definitely drive anyone off. she wasn’t affected, though.
you’re not listening to gojo even when you step out of the car, already used to the curious eyes that rake over you and your figure — curiosity turns into recognition and then shock when they see how your boyfriend acts, but before you can actually make your way toward them, another man sidles up to you.
oh my god, it’s daisuke. you sigh loudly, knowing how gojo had dealt with him before and how much of an asshole he is, but all he does is look you up and down, not giving one fuck to how the subject of his embarrassment was sitting right in the driver’s seat.
“hey, babygirl.” you want to vomit from that one greeting alone, but you try not to pay him much mind. “what’s a pretty lady like you doin’ out here?”
“don’t your sorry ass have a girlfriend?” daisuke doesn’t even begin to digest the insult, and you think that he’s a masochist with how much he sets himself up for getting insulted, but then the girl’s eyes meet yours — she’s in his pictures, she’s in his wallet, you’ve seen her when this loser beside you blatantly brags about his girl. you’d feel sorry for her but it seems she’s as stupid as him.
they’re exactly that — realising you just walked yourself into one big jealousy scheme planned by the biggest jokers of the underground racing scene, your suspicions are confirmed when his eyes are also locked on his girlfriend with your boyfriend of all people, making sure she sees that he’s all up in your space. she’s doing the same, but when she actually tries to touch him is when geto finally does something, and the jealous burn in your heart quells a bit.
geto’s too smart to be mingling around with her, you hope, when you hear him mutter something to her and you smile to yourself when she cowers under his stare and words.
“you touch my fuckin’ car one more time and i’m sure to drive both you and your loser boyfriend, out of here forever. you can take your clown asses to another parking lot and race there and then i won’t have to see your faces any more,” his hold around his wrist isn’t harsh, but it is firm, and he prevents her from leaving until she gets his message, “plus i have a girl i’m obsessed with. take your lame jealous charade somewhere else and maybe go to couples’ therapy. you two clearly need it.”
and when she looks at you again — you think it’s how your identity settles in her mind — she yelps and finally runs away at the daggers you give, not even sparing a glance to daisuke who’s carefully scooching closer to you. but just as he tries to wrap his arm around your waist, your eyes catch suguru’s.
his eyes soften for just a moment; it was just like the café. his palms turn sweaty and he feels like he could collapse — but now you’re looking just a little different. he wasn’t sure if it was because of your hair or the tiredness from exams, but you’re still as stunning as the day he led you out of the parking lot.
geto cannot resist giving you a big grin, but it quickly fades when his gaze falls on daisuke beside you and a scowl appears. and while your body’s already distancing yourself from the man’s crusty ass lips, you feel a throb go right down to your core when the same annoyed glower forms across his features: eyebrows pulled taut, long strides, muscles bulging in the wifebeater he’s got on.
six months away from your man has clearly done things to you.
with one smooth swoop, geto has you pulled flush against him, not even looking as he uses his free hand to grab at daisuke’s neckline before he leans in to kiss you. it’s admittedly a little embarrassing, cause your body reacts so readily to him, tits pressed against his chest while your fingers tangle themselves in his long hair. he tastes like cigarettes and cherries like always and you moan softly into his mouth when his hands wander right down to your ass to give it a squeeze.
“satoru’s not very good at hiding secrets, unfortunately,” geto spills and you pout, surprise ruined by the loud mouth of his friend, but before he gives you his undivided attention, he tugs daisuke closer, roughly. “but that don’t mean i ain’t happy to see ya, baby.”
geto laughs at your flustered state, until his expression darkens again — “you have a lot of nerve touching my girl.”
“I—i didn’t! she was basically begging for me to touch her.”
“don’t you—”
“p-plus! my girl was all up over you too, so i thought i’d give her a little lovin’—”
geto almost smashes his jaw in. either way, he lands a clean punch to his face that has daisuke writhing on the floor, clutching his mouth in pain but that doesn’t deter daisuke one bit who sits up . . and then is immediately beaten down again with a boot to his chest. your boyfriend leans down and looks him straight in the eye.
“i’m cancelling my race just so i can make my girl scream my name loud enough for you, because you could never fuck her or anyone that good with your shit dick game,” geto scoffs, “and forget girls, you can’t even win enough races to rise up the ranks. you’ve embarrassed yourself enough, don’t you think?”
suguru doesn’t bother waiting for an answer, only ushering you toward his Mazda parked in the familiar corner, easily shooting a text to gojo to cancel the race as he mentioned just so he could . .
with windows down, you relish again in the tokyo night air, the hand that you miss so much on your thigh, the alluring voice he’s speaking to you in, the beauty of geto suguru. everything looked the same since you left, from the photos he’s put up on the dashboard, the berry keychain hanging from the rear view mirror, the outer orange coating of his car.
“i—”
“i’m sorry, my love,” suguru leaps forward to apologise, stopping the car abruptly. you’ve already reached your destination but, it seems he wants to say something first.
“why are you apologising?”
he frowns, bringing his hand to cradle your cheek. easily, you’re leaning into the touch, closing your eyes. “for ruining the surprise, for that stupid fight with daisuke, for letting my emotions take over.”
you mirror him, features also deepening in somberness. “you didn’t do anything — if anything, you were a victim of his girlfriend too. but . . seeing her be all over you, made me think the worst after not seeing you for six months.”
geto’s eyes soften yet again (he simply can’t help it around you), using both hands to hold you, now, and you float into his arms like a feather, like he’s in command. you let him guide you into the driver’s seat, faces so close and just hoping to touch after so many months apart.
“i . . i love you,” he swallows, brushing the hair from your face. you find that he’s shaking and breathing so heavily you’d think he was hyperventilating, but he gathers courage on a deep breath and continues, “i have since you left. right after, i went home to cry.”
“oh . .” your lip juts out, eyebrows downturned and eyes filling just a little, “oh, sugu . .”
“i just have always wanted to say it, i guess,” he chuckles, sniffling to hide his true emotions, “i just didn’t know whether i should say it over the phone where it would sound cheap; b-but, you don’t have to say it back, of course—”
you smile through tears, pressing a peck to his forehead in gratitude, “it wouldn’t sound like it to me, but i appreciate you waiting until i returned,” geto relishes in your lips upon his skin again, and he doesn’t think he could survive another day, another minute, another second without you, “i have, too, but i’m not sure when. it definitely includes the time you set alarms to wake me up for exams, though.”
he laughs freely at the memory now, of alarms interrupting his dinners and his parents asking “another call?”, but they let him do whatever, happy to hear their boy joking and laughing over the call with his mystery partner. you giggle, using your thumbs to wipe away the tears that did fall, letting the interior fluorescent light of the Mazda illuminate the features you love so much, all belonging to the man you pined over from many miles away.
“i love you too, suguru — stumbling into that random car park was the best thing i’ve ever done.”
“well, it might’ve not turned out as well if some other group had gotten to you first,” his thumb plays with your bottom lip and brings you to him, “’m just glad i got to ya in time . .”
“yeah? what if you didn’t at all?”
“then i would’ve made sure i’d find you in any way that i can, even if i had to beat up a thousand daisukes.”
that makes you giggle at little, a sliver of eye contact shared with your lover before he engulfs you in a rough kiss and your moan reaches the heavens, body so sensitive from being away from his touch that you jolt when he wraps an arm around your waist. 
“relax, baby,” geto chuckles, speaking against your lips, “take it slow.”
“but i don’t wanna . .” you whine softly, clinging to him in surprise when he pulls a lever next to his seat and the backrest falls all the way down.
“ah!” you grin, “new mod?”
suguru barks out in laughter, “ya caught me. i got it modified yesterday.”
“so you could do dirty things like this?”
he rolls his eyes with a blinding smile, just so, so happy he’s got you back in his arms again, “exactly that.”
the other willingly shows you just what the modification can take, both hands spread out on your ass and pulling you onto his crotch. your core already feels the half-hard bulge under him, using your hips to grind down even more along him. everything feels like too much, after so long away from him that you already feel your high approaching from simply grinding your clit against him and he teases.
“you g’nna cum, already?” he grins slyly, suddenly moving his hips to meet yours that has a broken mewl leaving your throat.
“b—been too long away from you . .” you admit a little sheepishly, using his shirt as an anchor while you continue to grind your cunt into his front, only your panties and his trousers separating the contact of skin. but with how your body jerks in pleasure, you’d think there was nothing between the both of you. “i need you, quick.”
geto says nothing but help you with small pants, the backlighting from the headlines accentuating your figure so nicely that he grunts out your name in between swears, soon stuttering your syllables once he feels you still on his lap with arched back and throbbing cunt. he can feel you, feel you squeezing around him even when he wasn’t in you.
“guess your fingers were pretty crap, h-huh?” massaging your sides, you hum in disapproval at his cheeky smirk, hoping to change that when he lets you do whatever: you pull him up by his shirt and open the door to his car, pushing at him to get out. you don’t day anything and he already knows what you want when you spread your legs, biting his lip at the wet patch on the pretty set you decided to don.
and even with witnessing this sight over and over, you’re never used to the way geto worships you, reveres you, when he kneels down on straight gravel. he doesn’t care if his pants are littered with small specks of dust and dirt, whether he knees start to hurt, but he only has his eyes set on your alluring cunt, finger delicate when he pulls your panties to the side but just brutal when his mouth meets your clit.
“su— s-shit—!” is all you can manage, hearing the other breathe through his nose once his mouth latches on your pussy. it’s something that he hasn’t tasted since long ago, and he’d be damned to let you go again, so he takes the opportunity to savour your arousal, switching between flicking and sucking on your clit like a starved man.
“she tastes so fuckin’ good hmmff—” his eyes meet yours and he feels you squeeze around nothing, making a show of letting you watch how his tongue circles your bud, down to your hole and up again, slurping up your juices sloppily. “i hope this pussy’s missed me as much as i missed her, yeah?”
“y-yeah . .” you moan out softly, legs moving apart more to get more of him, pelvis humping against his face so much that he has to hold it down with a hand. your pre is dripping all over his leather seats and onto the floor, but he makes sure not to spill any more from the way he scoops it up and prods at your entrance. 
“let your pussy do the talkin’, baby,” he mumbles drunkenly, pushing in a finger past your walls and the stretch is already so much better than your own. your jaw hangs open in ecstasy, body already bucking and craving for more when he pushes his thicker finger all the way in and it’s no problem for geto to slip the other in, “she’s sucking me in so well, can she do this to my cock too? hm?”
wordlessly, you’re nodding, catching a whisper of good girl before he’s back on your sopping pussy, sucking up and swallowing all of your arousal that it’s downright filthy, the noises echoing throughout the space. geto doesn’t waste any time pumping his digits, moving them in tandem with his tongue.
“s—suguru . .” you whine, struggling to keep your eyes open from the sheer pleasure, and you’re met with the vision that you can never get enough of — your racer boyfriend’s tongue out, hooded lids and soaked chin — and he grants you a little more of euphoria, groaning loudly into your pussy. with each minute, he’s only getting harder, unbelievably so, so your fantasy cut short when he removes his fingers and mouth with a pop! and laughs at your needy whine.
“you’ve been away too long, come,” geto stands to give you a kiss first, letting you taste yourself, “i need to be in you, darlin’.” 
and so when he first slips in, it feels like heaven on earth, his leaking tip nudging past your folds and right into your warm cunt that he whines so loudly, long hair falling all about his face and body. you’re not different, nails digging in his skin at the stretch that you’ve missed, cock so much longer and thicker than your fingers.
“t-this is better than any fleshlight, fuuckk . .” he mutters to himself, one hand holding your ankle up and the other holding your bent knee. he’s hoping the modification he made to his car wouldn’t give up on him, because he knows he won’t be able to hold back once you’ve adjusted. but when you start moving earlier than he expects, he doesn’t give you the chance, slamming right up to the hilt until you’re shivering and clenching around him.
“g—god, r-right there, sugu—” you preen, nothing but incoherent and repeated sentences mumbled by you over and over, “feels s’full . .”
“y-yeah? tha’ it?” you don’t need the shitty light of the abandoned parking lot to make you look beautiful, you’re doing it all on your own when your body arches towards him and your legs shiver in his hold, catching glimpses of just how wet you were — juices smeared along your inner thighs, a clear sheen of it along his length, all thanks to the lighting. “so sloppy, huh . . listen to ’er.”
geto emphasises his thrust, in, out, and in, out, just for you to hear your dripping pussy dragging along his shaft, one of the things of yours that makes him go insane. 
“all because of you,” you babble mindlessly, fingers expressing your need for him and he listens like he always does, body hovering over yours just to kiss you and because of that he’s thrusting all the more deeper into you as you break the kiss with a loud moan. geto laughs against your lips, hips making quick work to make sure he stays in his new angle, and he’s rewarded with your lewd pleas for him.
he’s ramming into you so perfectly, mushroom tip just barely brushing against your cervix each time that it has your mouth permanently open in pure pleasure.
“well . . you’re the only doll to get me hard and needy like this . .” he chuckles again, kissing down your neck to make sure you get blue and black into your skin, “and i fuckin’ love her for it.”
with a shaky hand you pull on his ruined ponytail, “s-say it again.”
“i love you,” suguru almost whispers, afraid of breaking the silence.
“again . .”
“i love you, sweetheart,” that makes you bend into his hold, undoubtedly.
“again, suguru—”
his hips are relentless, still moving even through his pussydrunk confessions, “i love you— i-i love you, i love you. so, goddamn, much— s-shiiit . .”
“m-me too, su . . i love you— i—” your arms trap him, circling around his neck and making sure he stays close to you and he pushes on your knees more, fat cock fucking into you in a more open mating press, knowing you’re close by how your toes curl and your stomach contracts, by how your pussy flutters around his mouth and soft needy sighs turn into wanton moans. he’s got you mapped out, memorised, all from his devotion to you.
“i know, baby, you’re close, y—yeah?”
he feels you nod, thighs starting to burn from the position but while your pussy keeps sucking him in, he’s sure to continue to slam into you, making sure all four walls of the parking lot hear the obscene sounds of his balls slapping against your ass.
“c’mon, cum with me, princess,” he murmurs, lightheaded with the tightness and warmth of your pussy. it’s a wonder he hasn’t cummed already, sneaking one hand in between your bodies to rub at your clit. your moans are rendered inaudible, only managing pathetic squeaks before you’re tipped over the edge and you’re whimpering so loudly into his car, cum dripping down and out your cunt and right to your ass.
your pussy flutters with geto’s continued thrusts, prompting him to reach his release right after with a deep groan, hips stuttering in your sensitive pussy until he’s spilling his load, white and hot. it’s just so, so goddamn much, stuffing your hole full of his cum that it has no choice to spill and dribble out when he removes his cock, the sight just so mesmerising to him.
“p—please,” your energy is far from used up, turning your body over just so you can present your ass to him. face squished into the driver’s seat, you use both hands to spread your cum-filled pussy, just asking for more and geto only smiles with a certain lilt in his voice. “need more, suguru . .”
“that’s my lovergirl.”
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onlyswan · 11 months
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summary: in which jungkook is giving up on you but you have so much love left to give.
> idol!jungkook x f!reader / angst, fluff, suggestive / wc: 8.3k
> warnings: mention of infidelity (no one did u can breathe ily), mention of a classmate slipping their number in oc’s pocket and oc feeling unsafe, mention of puking, mentions & allusion to s/x, alcohol consumption, making out, boob!e fondle, gr*nding kinda? jungkook is hard™️ they’re so in love it’s sickening
> in which masterlist!
playlist! and if/or when - ruel / hate everything - jungkook cover (gsoul) / hits different - taylor swift / statue - lil’ eddie / i wouldn’t ask you - clairo (i had to get in the zone & this is so oc-coded i need u to listen i’m so srs)
next: in which you don’t want to give up jungkook (even when he gave you reasons to, even if they give you reasons to).
note: this was a journey. happened back in june 2019.!! i’m ripping off the bandaid <3 deep sigh writing this made me realize how my babies have come so far. hopefully will follow up with a fluffy fluff lowkey inspired by the underwear live soonest lols i’m excited for it 2 stay tuned 🫂 reblogs & feedback are much appreciated <3
you forgot the walls of the apartment building you’re living in are thin. a small portion of the white paint has been chipped off, it looks like a birth mark, you note — except it’s not, and you’re the one who caused the irregularity.
your favorite glass is scattered across the kitchen floor, reduced to shards and to sparkling pieces almost as miniscule as dust. you don’t know what came over you. you don’t know why you threw it at the wall instead of filling it with cold water to only drink three sips like you usually do.
just when you thought you’ve been faring well in holding yourself together today, a fresh wave of sorrow overwhelms you. your knees buckle as you begin weeping, the loudest you’ve been since this nightmare has started. it swallows the knocking sounds at your door, but it’s still not loud enough to quell jungkook’s quivering voice playing like a broken record on loop inside your head.
“we should end this… i think it’s for the best, before we get drained.”
the rain is coming down fiercely and you’re freezing inside his car, parked outside your apartment. after all, his balenciaga windbreaker can only do so much against the blasted airconditioner. your throat is painfully dry, and your hands and face are numb from the piercing cold. but those are the least of your concerns because you feel like your head had just been dunked in ice water. the sting in your eyes are burning warmer as the seconds fly by and the muffled sounds of the torrential raindrops drum frantically in your ears. they’re clouding the car windows, mirroring jungkook’s tear-stained cheeks.
“i’m leaving again in three weeks. and i’m leaving again next year… and i’ll be gone again soon after that for a long time. i-i don’t know when i’m coming home, ___.” he pauses. the heel of palms press against his eyes, as if that could possibly barricade the saltwater leaking from them. “i never know where my life is taking me and you have your own… there’s too much-too much going on. i think that i’m just wasting your time, that this isn’t- it’s not going anywhere.”
“open the door! hello?! ___!”
“what do you want?!” you seeth in annoyance, swinging the door open to reveal your pesky neighbor.
he scratches the top of his head awkwardly at the sight of the mess that you greeted him with, having not bothered to pretend that you weren’t wailing your heart out.
”hey, i know you’re going through something…” his lips remain parted as he struggles to find the correct word, his right eye twitching voluntarily. “soul-crushing? right now. but i heard glass breaking and i was concerned that you, uhm, might’ve hurt yourself.”
the apparent nervousness and sincerity in his actions pull you out from the isolating disassociation you’ve imprisoned yourself in. you feel humiliated, presenting yourself in your most pitiful form infront of a kid two years younger than you. you envy him for having it together after storming out of his parents’ house while you-
“i’m not hurt. it was just an accident.”
you’re shamelessly lying infront of his face because the truth makes you feel too ashamed of yourself.
he only nods, smiling in relief. “i don’t know how to help make you feel better, so i just brought honey like i used to do before.”
you sigh, the familiar jar of honey and its red checkered lid waving at you like an old friend. has it been a year?
“bro, i told you i can’t accept this anymore.”
“you and your boyfriend already broke up. what’s the big deal?”
you have never wanted to smack someone more, the genuine confusion painted on his face feels like an infuriatingly harsh slap to yours.
“he wasn’t threatened by your honey, you dipshit. we just found out my blood sugar was getting a bit high!”
“oh- i’m so-”
you angrily slam the door shut. the silence you’re left with is suffocating, and you find yourself breaking down again.
he jumps in surprise when you open the door again, yelling- “and we’re not broken up!” before ripping away the jar of honey from his sweaty palms. he’s left completely flabbergasted, an inexplicable heaviness weighing on his chest when he hears your sniffling from the other side of the hard-wood.
“does that mean i can deliver again next week? i have too much in my kitchen…”
he doesn’t receive a snarky answer, surprisingly, so he continues talking.
“and f-y-i, your left cheek is bleeding! you might want to check on that!”
“you didn’t even give me any signs…”
you inhale a deep, shaky breath in a fragile attempt of keeping your composure. you want to scream, rip apart this thick tension with your bare hands, and force him to admit that this is just some kind of sick joke. you finally see him in person after months and all he has for you is a gift bag filled to the brim with heartbreak. this is too casually cruel, not something you would’ve expected from your jungkook.
“do you really mean that? or is there something else you’re not saying…? look at me.” you plead, weakly tugging at the hem of his long-sleeved shirt. the horrors of long-distance relationship stories claw their way out of your skin, adding fuel to the fire of your deepest fear. “you didn’t cheat on me, right? that can’t be it. we- we always-”
after you ended your last relationship, you cried at the parking lot of your university and continued living your life the next morning as if nothing happened at all. you did it all for yourself, anyway. he was gradually tearing down your confidence and your dignity; and you didn’t want to become a person the future you would despise for not being wiser, stronger.
and here you are at present day: spending the cozy sunday night solving chemistry problems on your desk. you have a blue bandaid plastered on your face and a cheek full of fruit and honey. and you would say you’re fine, but jungkook wasn’t here to sweetly dote on you while treating your wound. he isn’t here to taste the honey from your lips with that coquettish smirk of his. he isn’t laying on your bed, fighting to stay awake because he wants to fall asleep with you as his pillow.
no matter how hard you try to shut out this thought, it keeps knocking on the door. he’s going to be doing these sweet nothings for a different person when he finally reaches a more stable place in his life. you want to kneel on the ground, beg the heavens to meddle with destiny and never let you hear about it.
because that means he will never set foot in your apartment again, and the personal belongings you left in his room will be thrown out to erase the traces you left behind.
so this is how it begins.
the ugliest parts of you are swimming to the surface, tying themselves around your ankles because jungkook took away the ground from beneath your feet after unearthing your soul and… nothing makes sense to you anymore. if you wake up every morning to tend to your garden, and you look outside the window to learn that the sun has stopped burning, what do you have left?
your lips inevitably curve into a frown, but you inhale a sharp breath, patting your eyes dry before they can smudge the black ink on your notepad. and then you dip a strawberry in honey for the third time.
“no, baby, no- that’s not it.”
the dread and insecurity weaved into the cracks of your voice fill him with nausea and panic. he captures your frigid hand with haste, firmly holding it to his pounding chest.
“i would never do that to you. just the thought alone fucking disgusts me… you’re the only one. you’ve ruined me for everybody else.”
“then why are you giving up on me? am i becoming a burden?”
jungkook feels painfully numb, mind floating as the buildings outside the window get left behind him as a mere, passing blur.
“yah, jungkook-ah. are you crying?”
a torturous moment of silence passes as he struggles to find his voice. his tongue is tied, and his lost eyes are betraying the nights he spent practicing how to explain himself to you. back then, the reasoning he curated made sense. but faced with the consequences of his actions, the love of his life’s brain running a thousand miles per hour, recording a tale of woe and heartache on his passenger seat — he has never felt this much loathing for himself and his weaknesses.
you release a shaky breath, patting his rosy cheeks dry with your sleeves. you smile at him kindly, and he watches you in sheer disbelief. he can’t fathom the perpetual luck he’s been blessed with that he met, who he believes to be, the purest soul to grace this corrupted world. they’re damp with your tears, so it’s practically useless, but the sweet gesture is a stray beam of sunlight in the midst of the dull gray clouds.
the comforting rubs on his shoulder extracts him from his torturous thoughts, and only then does he feel the wetness on his face.
“you’ve been holding it back for the past week. just cry it out.”
he nods wordlessly, hiding himself in the fleece blanket from his lap. yoongi can feel a lump forming in his throat as he witnesses his youngest brother breaking down, jungkook’s pain also being his pain. as a group who’s been living together for the past decade, no one will be able to empathize with them as well each other. especially during times like this.
“___ hasn’t called?”
jungkook shakes his head wistfully, wiping away the tears that slid down his nose. he is dying to send you a text message, worried sick, and still used to hearing about your day the same way he is used to sleeping on his stomach.
“hyung,” the sound of the word borders on a sob. “it’s over. this is killing me… it’s all my fault.”
“but isn’t that what you wanted?”
“exactly. so why am i crying?” his hands ball into closed fists. “i’m an asshole.”
“enough of that!” yoongi loudly whines out his scolding. ”we all know you had your reason.”
“but, hyung, i fucked up!” he tenses up, blurting out the acknowledgement that’s been haunting him day and night. “she told me the most romantic thing and i felt so… fuck, i’m so angry at myself. i ruined everything. and i’m scared that i’d end up making things worse if i try fixing it.”
“stop beating yourself up. we can’t solve things this way.” yoongi grabs a bottle of water from the cupholder between them, twisting the cap open before handing it to jungkook. “drink first.”
once he starts drinking, he realizes that his throat has been awfully dry and sore. it’s most probably best for him to rest his voice. he can already foresee the concert rehearsal being absolute hell tomorrow. if he can’t sing, he doesn’t know how else he’s supposed to keep himself sane.
“talk to me. what did she say?”
“you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, do you know that?”
and with that revelation, he loses the warmth of your touch, and he comes crashing down like a wingless aircraft.
“i also need time to think about it. that’s only fair, right? that i get to decide, too…?” you swallow thickly, lips parting as if the words are resisting to come out of your mouth.
he looks at you with an emotion you can’t name, a push and pull between longing and trepidation.
if this was a movie, he would brave the rain and somehow perfectly deliver a poetically romantic speech that would sway your heart. if this was a movie, you would take a warm bath together, make out in the bathtub, and make love on your bed. if this was a movie, the day would end with the two of you tangled up, peacefully asleep and rhythmic breathing in sync. but he knows you. apparently not as well as he thought, but to some extent, he knows you. if he pulls you closer in the heat of the moment, you would feel suffocated and defensive and you would push him away; and he would lose you for good. that much he knows. so he lets you leave and he stays in the car— heartbroken, crestfallen, and regretful, because he might’ve just recklessly thrown away the best gift the universe has ever given him.
“i was thinking about how she never would’ve made this much sacrifices and efforts for anyone else and i feel like… i- it’s all going to waste because our future is uncertain. i can’t be committed to her as much as she is committed to me. and, and i felt like the guilt was eating away at me, you know? i wasn’t thinking straight.” jungkook chews on his bottom lip, a last ditch effort to prevent himself from sobbing. “it just… consumed me? like i was drowning… and all i could smell and taste was the saltwater.”
“i see,” yoongi sighs, crossing his legs and intertwining his fingers infront of his stomach as he finds the right words to say. “that’s a normal response. our brain is a very complex friend… but you know, everything i’ve been through as myself and as a part of our team, hmmm, they taught me that there are times when a problem doesn’t necessarily need a solution per se. you just keep going until the fog clears up and then you move past it.”
fuck, jungkook needs a glass of whiskey. or two. or twelve. he listens intently despite seeming like he’s spacing out.
“this won’t last forever and time slips away from us without us even noticing. you should do what you want to do. if we’re going to deprive ourselves of good things, what will we have left after everything is over? money we can’t spend in one lifetime? there’s no happiness in that.”
yoongi frowns, wishing he could do more to alleviate the weight hanging on jungkook’s shoulders.
“you deserve love outside all the noise, too. focus on the present which you can still control and deal with the future when it arrives. if you do otherwise, you’ll just be tormenting yourself… and i know it’s easier said than done but! do you want to hear something i’ve had on my mind lately?”
with a flushed face and swollen eyes, he tilts his head to curiously spy on his hyung.
“what is it?”
“your motivation to work out after our shows is so you can stay awake and spend time with her. that’s why you fall asleep everywhere else. do you know how scary and endearing it is to watch that? is that what you call ‘not being committed enough’?”
yoongi fails to hide his gummy smile, body vibrating with silent laughter as pictures of jungkook falling asleep standing up flash before his eyes.
“seriously, you punk! you scare me! i just pass out and die straight after while you- really, you’re really unbelievable. i envy you. for being able to love with everything you have until they break your heart. i mean it!”
“but i’m the one who broke their heart this time.” jungkook somberly utters in defeat, bottom lip jutting out and chin quivering.
yoongi encouragingly pats his shoulder, shaking his body lightly. ”you can make it up to her. she’ll reach out before we leave. have some more patience.”
jungkook’s eyes turn into slits, suspiciously squinting at the man sitting beside him. “why do you sound so sure?”
“because she loves you. why else?”
you automatically pause from eating cup ramyeon when your phone lights up on top of the journals you’ve been reviewing for the past hour.
“ah, shit! shit!”
you abruptly cover your mouth with your hand, exhausted eyes watering because you accidentally bit your tongue after reading the name of the sender of your newest text notification. you take sips of cold water, peering at your phone as you do so. your hands itch to type out a response, but the screen dies and turns black, another of yoongi’s messages in the same pile of unanswered ones from your friends checking up on you tonight. you can’t talk to anyone right now; you need to get shit done.
after eating your dinner at the convenience store, you come home to a plastic of fried chicken hanging on the doorknob of your front door.
Eat lots and stay healthy! I’m feeding Jungkook well too. Don’t worry. — Yoongi
you peel off the blue handwritten note, sticking it on the cover of one of your books. you carefully carry the food using your free hand, and you can feel it radiating on your skin, the heat of a freshly-cooked meal. you were always worried of being a bother when you occasionally ask him how jungkook is doing on tour, but this made your heart significantly lighter. gaining a good friend after losing your lover, perhaps life can show a smidge of mercy when it wants to.
too bad you’ve always been one to be greedy.
“ah, seriously. why did you have to break up with ___?”
“we’ve been through this a million times!” jungkook exclaims in exasperation as he fiddles with the controller, bumping his knee with taehyung’s. “focus. you’re supposed to be helping me forget.”
“i don’t remember agreeing to that.” taehyung responds with a shrug, smirking when he picks up a booster and runs past his friend’s character. “you finally found someone who could put up with you and you let them go? i won’t let you forget.”
jungkook scoffs, eyes rolling upwards. “bro, i should be the least of your problems.”
“nuh-uh.” taehyung tuts with a grin, belly aching with laughter when jungkook’s car jumps over his to steal the lead. he didn’t even know that was possible. he plans on using the same trick against him later. “i’m making you my biggest problem so i don’t have to deal with mine.”
“they’re not married yet. you still have a chance, you know?”
“yah!” he gapes at jungkook in shock, entirely forgetting about the game. “take that back!”
“don’t act like you haven’t thought of it!”
“yeah, but i don’t say it out loud. it sounds too wrong! i still have my morals left!” he cries out, stomping his feet on the floor.
jungkook lightly punches his arm, eyebrows pinched in confusion. “i meant you have a chance if they break up. i have morals too! what do you think of me?!”
“oh…” taehyung blinks. “you know who else have probably thought of that too, though?”
“who?” jungkook boredly questions as he scrolls through the game collection, contemplating about which one to play next.
“all the other people waiting in line for ___.”
the realization renders him motionless, stirring up the possessiveness coursing through his veins. for the love of god, he doesn’t want to be petty but that struck a nerve. he wants to storm out of the house and look for you, beg on his knees for you to take him back.
“aish, hyung, you’re driving me crazy! why would you tell me that? are we torturing each other?!”
“are you crying? yah, jungkook-ah.” taehyung watches his hunched figure with a guilty wince, hesitant hands rubbing the expanse of his back. “i’m sorry- i’m sorry… do you want a hug?”
jungkook stays quiet, head hanging low to hide his face crumpling with anguish. the loose but affectionate hug that he gets pulled into prompts him to fall apart, catharsis blossoming in his ribcage and turning his bones into jelly.
he hears obnoxiously loud sniffles, and he abandons taehyung’s shoulder to look at his face. “are you crying, too?”
“stop ruining the moment.” taehyung groans, forcefully pushing down his head again.
namjoon comes out from his bedroom in search for another extension cord, still sipping on the half-empty iced americano he took from the fridge only ten minutes ago. the heartfelt scene on the couch causes him to halt on his tracks. how did they go from playing games to crying together? he silently observes the two members for a moment before deciding to approach them.
“what am i going to do with the two of you?” he grunts, ruffling his hair in frustration. “shall we go out for drinks to disinfect your wounded hearts?”
the mention of alcohol makes them perk up, jungkook’s tearful doe eyes sparkling at the prospect of temporarily erasing the pain that has uncontrollably spread throughout his system. he wants to drink until he forgets that he has hands, until he forgets what it feels like to touch you.
“thanks, monie-hyung. i’ll have my appetizer.”
and the iced americano gets snatched away from namjoon’s unsuspecting hand within the blink of an eye.
“this is not a barbecue restaurant.” you stare blankly at the orange neon lights spelling out the name of the night club your friends secretly conspired to bring you to.
“___, loosen up! the fastest way to move on is to find someone else. this is the best place for that.” aera turns around from the passenger seat of the taxi, her red lips painting a thrilled smile. “just forget about jungkook. we all knew this shit was going to happen. i’m surprised you even lasted that long!”
“i don’t know what you’re trying to imply but i don’t appreciate your tone.” you warn her with a sharp, threatening look. “and the ‘someone else’ that i found at a bar before turned out to be biggest fucking jerk i’ve ever met. i’m not doing this again.”
“things might be different this ti-” mi-ran aids in persuading you, but it only adds fuel to the fire.
“oh my god! fuck off!” you yell in irritation, aggressively getting off the car and slamming the door shut on their faces.
you never look back, ignoring the shouts of your name and half-assed apologies. you don’t have the slightest idea about where you’re going — your feet have a mind of their own and they chose to go the opposite way of home. this isn’t how you envisioned your night. you just wanted to listen to the sound of the meat grill and complain about life giving you a taste of true love just to cut your tongue with it until you bled. was that too much to ask?
you’re about ninety percent certain that you just lost two of whom you treated to be your closest friends. you think of ah-young, and you briefly consider crashing at your best friend’s band practice, but you’re too exhausted to travel to the other end of the city.
with eleven seconds left in the timer, you cross the street with swift and long strides alongside a crowd consisting mostly of employees wearing the same navy blue uniform. at last, you’re among the bright and lively restaurants, the inviting smell of good food making your stomach sting with hunger.
it’s only taehyung who recognizes you when you unknowingly pass by, almost choking on his glass of somaek, the combination of soju and beer. with his career on the line, he is confident that he can recognize that balenciaga windbreaker anywhere and anytime. meanwhile, instead of talking about you, the youngest is drunkenly reminiscing about the alleged ghost encounters he had in their old dorms. their leader is tragically left to tend to the grill alone. he deeply regrets not dragging any of the older members with them.
“everyone, i think i just saw __-”
a grimace of cluelessness is plastered on taehyung’s face when jungkook claps once, enthusiastically pointing at him as if he just announced something inspiring and life-changing.
“you’re right, you’re right! that’s it! what i’m kind of trying to say here is…” he pauses, facial muscles relaxing into a gloomy expression. he sniffles and rubs his nose, making it a brighter shade of red. “when we move houses again, i won’t have stories like these to bring with me. the new ghosts will be my memories with ___.”
none of the other two dares to speak after that, the oddly satisfying sound of meat being grilled and the chattering from other tables occupy the uneasy and heavy silence. instead, they begin filling their own shot glasses with pure soju. namjoon is the first one to spill it down his throat, slamming it on the table before dishing out his phone from his pocket. by this time, all of them are already drunk, double vision blurry and speech a little slurred. they gave up on counting the green bottles and cans of beer a long while ago.
“shit, that was a good metaphor. i need to write that down.”
“namjoon-hyung, he’s crying again!”
jungkook’s head slumps on the table with a thud, hot tears escaping down to his temple as he laments. “i miss her so much. why did i have to break up with her the second we got home? why…? am i so impulsive? what do i do if… if she agrees that we- h-how am i supposed to live with myself after that…? i’m never going to love again.”
they shuffle apprehensively on their seats, but still, they tell jungkook what he needs to hear since he won’t remember tonight’s events, anyway.
that’s not going happen. she just needs some more time. i’m sure she’s missing you too. everything will be okay.
but it’s been almost two weeks of radio silence. their flight is in nine days, drawing nearer and nearer as if it’s purposely taunting jungkook. everyone is thinking the same thing, and everyone is afraid to say it out loud.
it’s 7am when his work alarm goes off. with a disgruntled noise, a hungover jungkook drowsily drags himself out of bed, eyes still closed as he swings the bedroom door open.
“oing?” he creates a noise of confusion when his arm bumps against an object. he blinks at the brown paper bag hanging on his doorknob, removing one of the handles to peek at its contents.
he buffers for a moment, staring blankly at his belongings safely tucked inside. there’s his black mini bluetooth speaker, tinted lipbalm, wired earphones, bucket hat, facial cleanser, moisturizer, and shampoo. these are everything he left on top of your study desk and in your bathroom. neatly folded on the side is his windbreaker, which he recalls as clear as daylight, how you reveled in its comfort the last time that you were together. the fabric softener you use has replaced his perfume, the cherry scent forming a rain cloud of nostalgia and longing above his head.
if this is a nightmare, he is begging for somebody, anybody, to break into the room and to bring him someplace where hope is not desolate.
his wounded heart, as his namjoon-hyung described, is experiencing an excruciating pain he never even imagined was possible. he now understands, why the broken heart syndrome is a real thing.
he can’t read you. is this your way of ‘reaching out’? have you kicked him out of your house, out of your life? for good?
the dread of losing you forever is gnawing at his insides. nausea almost succeeds in knocking him off his feet. his brain hisses with static. he panics at the disgustingly familiar sensation brewing in his digestive system, sprinting to the bathroom to spill out his guts.
they say that you don’t realize what you have until you lose it. that early morning, jungkook realizes that he’s only a human being after all.
“when did i put that there?”
you’re sorting out your dirty laundry after showering when you notice a tissue paper tucked in the front pocket of your denim jeans. you huff out a sigh, ripping it apart into tiny pieces over the trash bin with raging vexation. you will never understand how men thinks that these kind of stupid tricks are supposed to compel you into seeing them anywhere near attractive and desirable in your eyes. if anything, they make you feel unsafe and if your paths cross again, you will run the other way. great. another person in the lecture room to avoid. just fucking great.
at this point, you want to mockingly laugh at your own misery. just when you thought your day couldn’t possibly get worse, it fucking does.
you tuck yourself in bed by midnight, texting a friend about your joint presentation next week, and then rereading your conversation with namjoon from this morning for the nth time. you’ve been hoping it will shine light on the right path to take, because you’re still lost and hurt.
Namjoon:
he’s been devastated since
can’t this be sorted out?
stuff’s just been overwhelming and honestly i’m as anxious as him
i'm not trying to force you into getting back together with him ofc but please talk for closure atleast..
you’re also my friend. i think you need it too..
you scroll a bit further down afterwards, and your heart drops to your stomach when you see the three dots under the contact name ‘my jungkook’. you click on it as it beckons you to, only to allow time to flow like a river with no sea to kiss, idly watching the bubble appear and disappear, appear and disappear. almost everyday, you catch a glimpse of him at the very least, typing a message and never sending it.
the same goes for tonight, it seems.
his silence is torturing you. in the car, in your inbox, in your call history. a person knocks on the door and a part of you foolishly predicts that it’s jungkook not using his copy of the key out of respect.
you succumb to the yearning, heading to your shared media and files that you’ve been actively resisting for the past three weeks… for this exact reason.
you randomly click a video sent by jungkook three months ago.
“i know you’re in class but i’m too excited to show what i got you today!” he beams at the front camera, bunny teeth cutely showing. he picks up the first item from the hotel bed with his free hand. “you already own this book but this one got a different cover, see? it’s hardback? they say it’s a limited edition.”
he eyes it fleetingly, obvious that there is something else he is dying to mention.
“i won’t show it too close. you can look at it when i go home. there’s a little surprise inside.”
he scrunches his nose before teasingly sticking his tongue out.
“and then here we haaave-”
following that, he shows you an adorable fluffy white bunny with red eyes. it occupies more than half the screen, and without a doubt, it is soft and huggable.
“cooky’s new sibling! we found it at a gift shop and hobi-hyung said it looks like me.”
he presses his cheek to the bunny’s. “i accept. we do look alike, but my eyes are so much bigger.”
in the upcoming seconds, the video is muted except for his breathing. he plops down on the bed while ruffling his dark hair, staring at the camera wordlessly, evocative of when you catch him dreamily watching you study while you’re on a videocall.
“i miss you.” he smiles sadly, deep dimples appearing on his cheeks. “don’t forget to text me when you’re on your way home.”
he drops on his back, the firm mattress breaking his fall.
“mmmwah!“ he kisses the camera, and your screen freezes on the final frame.
the silence in the aftermath is defeaning. you tear your glasses off your face, burying your face in the pillows. you arrive at your final decision then and there. you don’t care. you don’t care. you don’t care anymore. you cannot bear to spend more of your days like this. his things that used to live here might be gone, but you look for him everywhere. you look for his car in the parking lot. you look for his hair when you see flowers. you wait for his name to be called in the coffee shop. on your way home, you linger at the playground where you used to usually meet.
because if your relationship with jungkook is truly doomed to fail, you want to watch its foundation collapse on the ground, burnt down to gray and black ashes that disintegrate when you try to grasp them in your hands… with good grace, it’s the only way for you to believe that there’s no more home to come home to.
with a trembling hand, you press the call button and for the very first time, you beg someone to stay.
jungkook’s breathing ceases, heartbeat violently racing in his chest. the ‘chimes’ ringtone tickle his ears, his phone vibrating incessantly in his hands. the two features he specifically customized in your contact settings so he will immediately recognize that it’s you who’s calling.
it’s been four days since you dropped off his things. and here he was, laying on his bed and struggling to find the right words to say because he refuses to believe that this is how it ends. the paper bag is still hanging on the doorknob. he hasn’t touched it since the first time. he doesn’t have the courage to do so.
fuck giving you space. he wants drown himself in you and never come up for air. he’s more than willing to suffer your anger or your coldness. he’s prepared to prove himself worthy of a second chance every second of every day. he wants to occupy half of your desk and half of your closet again. he selfishly wishes to be the first and the last person you fall in love with.
but until the very end, you’re the braver one.
“love?” your voice is quiet, barely audible, but it’s there, and he hears the affectionate term of endearment distinctly. “i’m sorry. i tried, i really did, but i couldn’t do it…”
“baby,” he falters breathlessly, half of him in disbelief, convinced that he has officially lost his goddamn mind and delusion is bleeding into reality.
“i tried living without you like you wanted- but i can’t-” you hiccup in between small sobs on the other line. “i love you, jungkook. i can’t live carrying around all this love with me. it’s too heavy…”
exploding and breaking apart, jungkook’s heart is a meteor that has entered the planet’s atmosphere, and he doesn’t know where to begin digging for the fragments so he can piece himself together again.
“we are too young and we don’t know what the fuck we’re doing and i love you too much. you don’t have to protect me… i’ll take my fair share of the responsibility, so just-” he hangs on your every word, and then you pause, your following words eliciting a powerful punch to his gut. “just let me love you and let me learn my lesson the hard way… let’s do that, okay?”
the walls of him room ebbs and flows in like the sea. he rests his forearm over his eyes, his skin gradually dampening with tears. he once promised himself that he would never put you in this position. he should be the one begging for forgiveness, repenting and crawling on his knees. but rather than wasting his time with surfing through another tsunami of self-blame, he reminds himself: i want to be a better man.
“okay, baby. let’s do that, hmm? let’s do that. it’s what i want too.” he coos softly with a hoarse voice. “are you at your apartment?”
you hum in confirmation, sniffling. “come home.”
a half-naked jungkook abruptly opens the door to yoongi’s room, wearing gray sweatpants with his left arm awkwardly inserted in one of the black t-shirt’s armhole.
“hyung! can i borrow your car? mine’s getting a check-up.”
yoongi tears his eyes away from the computer, hanging the black headphones on the nape of his neck. he merely shrugs before throwing the car key, and jungkook catches it in one hand with ease.
he sighs in relief, politely bowing his upper body to express his gratitude. “thank you, hyung.”
“what are you doing?!” yoongi half-smiles with fondness, jokingly waving him off. “just go- go. leave!”
jungkook nervously stands before your front door, head woozy with anticipation and fear. what if things have changed? what if your relationship never goes back to the way it was?
“oh. you’re back together?”
he whips his head back to find your neighbor arriving home from his part-time job. huh, he just realized that he has never really learned what his name is. the only information he has on him is that his sister owns a bee farm.
“how did you even know?” he asks with knitted eyebrows. “you haven’t been giving out honey again, have you?”
“she only accepted it once.” the stranger puts his arms up in surrender with a roll of his eyes. “and don’t make her cry again, will you? she blasts sad songs late at night.”
and with an unpleasantly forceful shut of the door, jungkook is left alone in the hallway. his jaw clenches as he glares at the next apartment, but he rubs his face to release his frustration before he goes to meet you.
“we need to move in together.” he grumbles to himself as he enters your unit, relocking the door behind him. he removes his sneakers, neatly setting them down beside your pairs of shoes by the doormat.
he pads on the wooden floor with his white toe socks, looking around the dark and quiet living room. a faint orange light is seeping under the gap between the floor and the bedroom door, which he recognizes to be your favorite mode on your multi-colored nightstand lamp. he cautiously cracks the door open, and he is instantly greeted by your curled up figure, peacefully sleeping.
it’s muscle memory when he hangs his backpack on the backrest of your study chair before anything else. he also brought the paper bag you sent, putting it down on the floor.
he squats down infront of you, lightly prying away the phone you’re hugging to your chest and placing the device on the bedside table. the light is shining over your skin, and there are a thousand of photos and videos organized into the most treasured folder in his gallery, but not a single one of them will ever do you justice.
god, he missed you so much. it hasn’t been two years, but the life he had before he met you feels like an extremely distant memory.
he sighs, talking in hopes that he appears in your dreams. “how do you do this? you make it impossible not to love you.”
he unconsciously frowns at the sight of your puffy eyes. never again. never again. never again. he chants inside his head. he plants a kiss on each of your eyelids, taking his time to bask in the feeling of your weight under his lips.
he climbs on the opposite side of the bed, tucking you underneath the blanket before securely holding you from behind with his thigh hanging over yours. the warmth of your body and the scent of your shampoo cures the headache that’s been bothering him the whole day. he drifts off to sleep soon after.
the feather-light brushes through the silky locks of his hair pulls him out of his slumber half an hour later. he can make out your silhouette through his half-open eyes, the little-mermaid-like scene feels too vivid for a dream.
“why didn’t you wake me up?” you whine, sulking with a pout.
“i’m sorry.” he answers quietly, sitting up to engulf you in a tight embrace as endless apologies tumble from his tongue. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i gave up. i’m sorry that i hurt you. i’m so sorry… are you angry at me?”
“i’m upset.” you admit after a few beats, not seeing the point in sugarcoating it. “it hurts when i remember you saying that. and i understand you but… but i don’t like that you decided alone for us. if you do that again… then it will be over between us.”
he has an arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand firmly holding the back of your head. it’s a little hard to breathe, but it’s so reassuring to feel that he doesn’t want to let you out of his embrace. because you hated it — hated how it felt like letting you go was so easy.
“i regret everything. i’m sorry.” he whispers, concealing his tears by nuzzling his face on your neck. “and you’re not a burden. that’s not true.”
he knows that you mean your every word, so he lifts up his head to gaze directly into your eyes, showing that he is as sincere and true to his.
“from now on, all i’ll think about is what i can do to make you happy and safe without compromising our relationship… i’ll do better. i’ll love you better. i promise that i’ll be stronger for us. i won’t make the same mistake twice.”
you wish jungkook could be kinder to himself, treat himself with the same gentleness that comes so naturally with you. why is it that humans find loving themselves so laborious? why does being have to come with such a curse?
taking glimpses at the past, you should’ve been reminding him of these affirmations everyday.
“you don’t have to be strong all the time. i’m not asking for that.” you shake your head, voicing out yourself in a tone so soothing and illuminating. “i don’t want to go anywhere far away from you so think of yourself, too. i told you before, it’s okay to hold on to me. i’m also strong.”
jungkook feels so safe at home. he doesn’t remember what he was so worried of anymore.
“and you know what? if you really see it that way, then i’m telling you now. i want to waste my time on you. you can’t stop me.” your threatening eyes widen in conviction, provoking a sheepish smile to tug at the corners of his lips. “i always get what i want.”
“and you want me?” he innocently points at himself.
“love you.”
“i love you.” he replies, nosing at your neck before leaving a chaste kiss on your skin. “so much.”
“then put yourself in my shoes.” you hum, combing his hair with your fingers, lightly tugging to initiate eye-contact. “i want to take care of you just like how you want to take care of me. i think we have something rare and beautiful…” you pause, self-conscious about coming across as too needy now that you’re face-to-face, but an epiphany shatters your apprehension with a bow and an arrow.
this is what he needed to hear from you that day.
“so stay with me.”
jungkook’s vision becomes unfocused. he’s speechless; the only sound in the room is the humming of the airconditioner, but it’s almost as if you can hear the gears of his brain working their hardest. the pain that glossed his enchanting doe eyes has been replaced with a devotion you’ve never seen expressed so passionately in them before.
“all the time i own is yours.” he declares, cupping your face, the pad of his thumb daintily stroking your cheek. “all of it. we can do anything you want to do. let me make it up to you.”
“anything?” your face lights up with joy and mischief, and the butterflies in jungkook’s stomach come alive. he wants to make it his life’s mission to make you smile everyday; and that, he will do. “then i want you to kiss me.”
the sultriness of your enticing voice makes him go haywire. it’s been too damn long. he has forgotten what it feels like to kiss you. he slowly inches closer, his lips brushing against your lips before he pulls you in deeper, a fervent display of his yearning and apologies. he swallows the needy moan that escapes you as he slowly lays you down on the mattress, stripping off his shirt and mindlessly tossing it somewhere when you impatiently tug at it with another whimper. you cage his face in your hands, bringing back his lips on yours as if he’s the air that you breathe.
he wants to grieve for all the wasted time because everyday, he craved for this. to be honest, he forgets his name when he’s kissing you. outside, the crowds scream his name for being the best at what he does best, and he happily lives for the euphoria of it all. but in this room, there is only you and him. you communicate using the unspoken language of love with your lips. you bare the soft animal in yourselves with your teeth sinking in the other’s skin. you allow your rawest desires and truths to unravel with a slip of the tongue. he exists beyond his name, becomes an indecipherable enigma even to himself. what is the use of an explanation if there is no meaning anyway? all he knows is that he loves you despite all the reasons, against all the reasons.
he sneaks under your shirt, fingertips teasingly exploring your skin as if he’s drawing a map. he feels you quiver when he finally reaches your chest, gently kneading the soft flesh in his palm. this makes you mewl in pleasure, arching your back as your hand unconsciously curls around his wrist, the cotton fabric separating the two of you. the action electrifies jungkook, makes him lose himself a little more, which he didn’t think was still possible.
“touch me, please- jungkook. need you-” you choke out a desperate whimper, nearly sobbing as you guide his hand between your thighs. you can’t bear to spend another second untouched; the last time you made love feels like an eternity ago. he slips past the waistband of your underwear, the only article of clothing you’re wearing below. but to your disappointment, he gently caresses your hip bone instead of dipping his long fingers into your wetness.
“shh, hold on, baby-” he forces himself to break away from the kiss, swollen and red lips glistening with spit. “baby, look at me. you didn’t drink, right? i don’t want to take advantage.”
you gape at him with your chest heaving up and down, dumbfounded. “how could you even think of that right now?”
his eyes widen in panic, worried that he might’ve offended you. “no, no, no-” his palms skim your thighs, guiding them to wrap around his slim waist. you gasp when he presses up on you and his hard length rubs on your folds, sending jolts of electricity up your spine. a gush of arousal dampens the thin material covering your center.
“i want you so fucking bad that it hurts.” he gingerly wipes away the tears that you didn’t even notice streamed down to your temples. you can’t remember the last time you cried before today, they must’ve gotten tired of asking for your permission. “but you were crying when you called, baby. i had to make sure.”
“oh, my boyfriend is such a gentleman.” you muse dreamily. pepper his face with delicate kisses, lips curving upward with an adoring smile. “look at him enjoying my kisses.”
you playfully squeeze his cheeks together, making his pillowy lips pucker.
“you really wanted to break up with me in this case, huh? you wanted to live without me and my kisses? no way.”
his eyelids flutter open, and he shakes his head as he dips down to kiss you. “it was hell without you…” his teeth captures your bottom lip, nipping at the supple flesh. “going to build a life with you. i’ll build furniture, and they’re going to be ours.”
“good. you better.” your high-pitched giggles bounce off the walls as his lips trail down to your neck, licking a bold stripe over your ticklish spots. “i don’t have the patience for it, but i’ll be your trusty assistant.”
it’s ridiculous, how even the sound of your laughter turns him on even more.
jungkook learned that you finished your exams yesterday, having spent majority of the past two weeks pulling all-nighters to prepare for them. you seem to be confident about the results, the way you talked about it without concern. he never once doubted that you’re resolute and persevering, but acing your exams in the middle of a breakup is beyond what he can digest. it must’ve been a grueling experience, he can only imagine.
he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and then your lips, before dragging the blanket higher over your naked figure, a thicker one he brought out from the cabinet. poor thing, you fell asleep on his lap while he was drying your hair, incoherently murmuring about how tired you are.
he walks to your study space, fixing the loosening towel wrapped around his waist. one by one, he pulls out the items from the paper bag, returning them to their old places on your desk. he toothily grins at the windbreaker, ecstatic due to his plan on wearing it at work today. he wants to give it back to you smelling like him again.
an index card lands on the ground when he unfolds it, making him peer down in curiosity.
“what’s this?” he mumbles, bending down to pick it up.
jumbled thoughts. a letter shoved at the back of the mailbox. a hesitant confession. a bittersweet reminder that says: a wound does not magically disappear overnight. it requires the proper treatment to heal correctly, and even then, it might still leave a scar.
These are only a few of many. Why is this the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do? I’m usually the more logical one. Was it really so bad that we weren’t going anywhere?
and messily crossed out at the end,
I miss you.
taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D
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ggomos-maribat · 10 months
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damn im full of ideas today
dp x dc x mlb prompt
Ladybug and Phantom start a podcast where they just shit on the justice league for abandoning/ignoring Amity and Paris during their times of distress
And when the JL finally discovers the podcast they
cannot.
track.
them.
Down.
(thanks max and tucker)
So the podcast continues with Danny and Mari recounting their horrible experiences but in like an unserious way like "yea almost the entire population of paris drowned in an akuma-caused flood but its all good lol" "o yeah i forgot the whole town disappeared for a while too. Good times."
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jade-jini · 5 months
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My brain still has some g!p loser virgin Minjeong left so I need to keep talking do not shut me up.
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(I need her deep in my *cars collapse*)
Ok clearly she ain’t a virgin anymore lmao but still she’s not experienced at all. You’re surprisingly patient with her:’) guiding her through the basics of it. She was very eager to learn how to eat you out. So when she first did it it was both messy but also so good. “So this is your clit, right?” She asked softly touching it with the tip of her finger, lying in between your legs nsfndk loser. “Yes. Remember what I told you?” “The more I stimulate it the better you feel?” “Good puppy. Do you wa- holy fuck Minjeong!” You couldn’t even finish and she was already licking it up and down 😭 like yeah it felt nice but she was being so messy and impatient you actually had to grab her hair and slowly guide her. Which ended up in you basically fucking her mouth. That day she was so focused on ONLY eating your pussy and using her fingers. She wanted to get better at it and make you proud :( so she kept going until the only reason you were grabbing her hair was because of how good she was making you feel.
“Is that good y/n?” She’d ask while looking up at you and smdnfk those puppy eyes I’m telling you. “So good puppy, you’re so good…” you’d moan while patting her head and that made her so happy.
Minjeong is such an impatient puppy when she’s inside you, so you teach her how to have a less erratic pace, grabbing her hips and guiding her when she’s the one on top, or fucking yourself on her cock when she’s behind you (which she loves even after she gets better). And of course, the more you fuck the better she got at not.. coming so fast dnndkd.
You can’t be too good and patient tho, you torture her a bit and that’s where cockwarming comes in the picture 😌( mainly the reason I wanted to continue writing shdjdjw). You’d take her home after class and since you’ve been teasing her all day, she assumes you guys are gonna have a lot of fun once you’re at your place and she’s so excited already lol. So when you explained to her that you were gonna watch a movie she was a little confused but, nonetheless was ok with spending time with you. Oh but poor thing.. didn’t know what was coming (spoiler alert: not her for a while). You guys were chilling at the sofa, when suddenly you started unzipping her pants which she willingly took off, silently grateful to know all that teasing wasn’t for nothing. When you also took yours off and slowly sat on her shaft, she was quick to grab you and start moving you up and down on it and Omg it felt so good you almost forgot what the plan was. Ah yeah- cockwarming. “Wait-Omg wait minjeong.” “Hm? what’s wrong y/n? Did I hurt you?” She asked worried and immediately stopped sndjdjf why did she have to be so cute all the time. “No no, but there’s something I want us to try today ok? Just stay still, don’t move.” And so she did. But you see, being inside you and not being able to move was so hard for her that not even 20 seconds went by and she was already asking you “w-what do I do now? When can I move?” “Once the movie is done. But you’re gonna go through the whole almost 2 hours without coming, ok?” “..What?!” She gulped. Wdym not coming?! What did she do? Jeongie didn’t understand if this was some type of punishment because nothing sounded crueler than that. You quickly turned around, now facing her and grabbed her face to softly explained to her that she didn’t do anything wrong. You used the excuse of “this will help you last longer”. And she doesn’t have the brain to fact-check on that so she just trusts you 😭. She just wants to make you feel good so she’ll do whatever you ask her for even if it was something as hard as this.
Ofc you didn’t make it easy for her tho. You didn’t only move a little bit throughout the movie, but also left little kisses and praise her from time to time. She’d only hug you closer to her and whimper, trying her best not to lose it. After a little more than an hour tho she was already begging you to please let her come lol and you almost gave in but no! She could hold it in a little longer. She wanted to prove she was your good girl right? So she better behave. Poor girl almost looked in actual pain, sobbing against your chest while she hugged you, whispering how good your pussy felt and how much she needed to come inside it and ughhhh- the rest of the movie was as painful for her as it was for you. Once it was over tho you made sure to reward her and ride her so good ‘till her legs were shaking dndkfnjd. (The pic of minjeong sitting down with that dark shirt-).
She gets touchy too 😳 whenever she gets horny she goes behind you and holds you by the waist, her hand dangerously getting closer to your boobs, but if it’s in public you just look at her, daring her to actually do it. Ofc, she doesn’t 😭 so she just groans and stays holding you. If you’re alone tho she will grab them and get your ass right against her already hard dick, silently begging you for some attention. When y’all fucking her hands will travel everywhere; from spanking your ass, to grabbing your legs, playing with your boobs, grabbing you by the neck 😩specially when she’s behind you, holding you closer and closer to her and you can be sure sometimes you’ll have marks on your skin.
teaching her not only how to pleasure you, but also teaching her things she could do while you’re both far from each other 🙊. A lot of phone sex. Making her masturbate for you either on FaceTime or simple call, talking her through it. If it’s regular call then you’d tell her to describe exactly what she was doing for you. She does it but gets so lost in pleasure she ends up mumbling and moaning. “Hmmgh y/n… I need you here.. I m-miss you so much.. please..”. Also controlling when she comes. Making her touch herself fast then slow then fast again and once you finally tell her to come for you she makes a complete mess in her hand. Telling her to clean it for you and to show you 😳 she looks so hot doing it it makes you fantasize about if you were the one with the dick and how you’d make her suck you off- I’m losing myself rn one second one second.
So yeah anyway girlie ends up becoming so good at fucking you 😳 and she’s so proud of herself.
“You’re such a good fucktoy, just mine. Aren’t you, puppy?”
“Yes y/n, only yours…”
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tojiwrd · 8 months
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1: fate is fickle ; gojo satoru
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pairing gojo satoru x fem!reader
summary when satoru breaks off your engagement, you understand and accept it. but when he marries someone else, you don't understand because he didn't want to be tied down.
warnings not much tbh,, just swearing, satoru being an ass, mention of family death, family drama, bad parents, and breakups, not proofread
word count 3k
a/n made a new account because the gojo brainrot is so deep i wanted to start a multichap, mega-angst fic lol
send requests next ↠ to be added to taglist
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You stood under the silver luminescence of a crescent moon on your balcony, fingers curled around the neck of a wine glass that’s contents were dissolving into your bloodstream a lot slower than you wished. You didn’t expect anyone to walk through the looming windows behind you and condemn you for disappearing from the meeting because—in your mind—you’d done everything that was expected of you: sit there, look pretty, and occasionally nod your head whenever your mother speaks and voices her opinion.
It was rather funny, though, because your mother had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. When your father decided to kick the bucket seven months ago, he’d left your mother dealing with the remnants of his problems he wasn’t able to solve in his lifetime. Yesterday, your mother had to finally meet with the stockbroker as her grieving period was officially over and today, your father’s advisor advised her to have the meeting with the Gojo family your father set up before his death. 
You had assumed it was niceties, a sense of normalcy after losing a bigshot businessman between two powerful families. You were wrong. Twenty-seven minutes into the dinner, Gojo Takayashi throws his wine glass against the wall, staining the clean sheen of white paint a horrifying shade of crimson that looked like what the walls would truly be painted with were this dinner not to go the man’s way. 
“I need this company back,” he’d said, a lilt of rage coating his voice as he did his very best to not do something that would warrant him being kicked out. His wife, Aya, merely looked down to scan her manicured nails and took a large gulp of her wine, then sneakily took a sip from her flask (that obviously contained something much stronger) you’d caught a glimpse of. 
You’d pursed your lips, a melancholic sigh leaving your lips as you inspected the damage on the wall. Knowing your mother, she’d have somebody come in by tonight to fix it. 
“And you can have it back, as I told you.” Your mother evidently rolled her eyes as she replied to the man, jaw gritted. 
“I am not emptying my entire wallet to buy my own company!”
Your mother, much to the eldest Gojo's ire, let his statement simmer and marinate in the inexplicably thick air of tension and continued chewing down the last bit of her food. 
Nobody dared to talk, even your grandmother who stuck to clicking her heels against the linoleum floors. You’d decided to skip out on dessert, creating some measly excuse of a stomach ache that nobody believed but didn’t deign to respond to. You didn’t think you could get away with both families not noticing the tension between you and the Gojo’s youngest, but the elders truly gave you a run for your money because you went almost the entirety of dinner without having to speak to Satoru. Keyword being almost. 
You couldn’t be childish and spill the red wine over his obnoxious, perfect-fitting white shirt like his father spilled over your walls because that would most likely start the next war were his family to see such blatant disrespect. But, when you felt his presence behind you in the balcony, you knew you had free reign and you could, in fact, be childish. 
“Hey.” His voice was soft, so soft that you almost forgot how the last time he’d spoken to you his voice had run through and sliced your chest like a knife. “Dinner’s over so—”
You cut him off and said, “Then go home, Gojo.”
Not Satoru. Not ‘Toru. Just Gojo. You were sure he couldn’t be the tiniest bit affected by the subtle (glaringly obvious) jab, but it felt good for more than a millisecond to reclaim some thin shreds of your dignity. You wanted to crane your neck to gaze at his reaction, to see if there was a reaction in the first place but you knew if you looked back, he’d be the one seeing a crochet of emotions weaving over yours. 
“You look good, Y/N,” he said, completely ignoring your disinterest in the conversation. Of course, you looked good. You knew that. But why did he have to say it? 
“Can’t say the same for you.” Lie. You intended to have more bite in the words, but they came out almost emotionless.
You looked down at your waist as you heard him shuffle behind you and his hands reached out to clutch at the metal railing in front of you, arms almost brushing against your waist. His fingers curled, and it gave you a chance to see the ring on his finger. You took in a shuddered breath as the sandalwood and slightly musky scent of his cologne snaked their way to your nostrils, entirely taking you back to the times when you fell asleep to that scent and had it floating around you nearly all the time. You hated him. You hated him because the way he let out a small, barely audible chuckle at your inhale, you knew that he knew exactly what was going through your mind. 
“I just—I want to talk about everything, Y/N.”
When Gojo Satoru broke up with you, it wasn’t poetic nor was it something for the movies. 
When Gojo Satoru broke up with you, you couldn’t respond with prettily crafted words to make him reconsider or, in fact, respond at all. Your friends always told you that you had a way with words, and you believed you did, too, because you were hardly ever afraid of speaking your mind. However, when Gojo Satoru broke up with you, your mind most likely short-circuited because all you did was stare at the deep sea you were sure resided within his eyes. 
His voice was unwavering, or maybe it wavered and you were simply too gone to notice it, when he said, “I think we moved too fast, Y/N. I don’t think I’m ready to be tied down for life, honestly.” 
When he opened with words as hard-hitting as those, how could he have given you any more closure? What could you have asked him to make him stay? He was the one who got down on one knee in the rooftop restaurant he’d rented out for the night and gave you a perfectly mesmerizing speech before he pulled out a maroon velvet box. He was the one who assured you that both your families would be okay with this—that they’d finally accept your relationship as a genuine one instead of as a fling between two twenty-something-year-olds who have nothing better to do with their time. 
You thought about how ecstatic your father would’ve been once he realized his little princess was getting married. Your mother would probably squeal in excitement before running herself ragged with the wedding preparations. You weren’t sure about his parents, though. Your families always had a moderately decent relationship, decent enough that Satoru’s father signed over their shared ownership of their company to hers after the Satoru’s began being involved in legal issues that threatened the company’s image. But you did know that despite the companionship, Satoru’s parents were difficult. They were sheltered people that knew nothing of how to treat their kid except what they’d learned from their own parents, and that was why Satoru hardly ever let himself feel too much over their words and demands. It didn’t cut deep for him because he knew they didn’t know any better.
All of that didn’t matter anymore, though, because Satoru had asked for the family heirloom engagement ring back with shaky, hesitating hands. You wanted to laugh and cry because he’d said, “I don’t want my parents to notice it’s missing, just in case they check.
How were you meant to know that after three months, you’d be hearing from Suguru that Satoru was engaged to Kimura Hana and she was wearing that wedding ring?
Suguru didn’t blame you when you got the idea that he broke it off with you because he wanted to marry her—docile, do-no-wrong Hana that you weren’t even aware he’d met—and he let you go along with that idea. You tore apart the rhinestone-studded invitation that your mother handed to you, a sad look gleaming in her eyes when your teeth dug into your lip at the sight. You cleaned up the strayed pink jewels that fell off from the thick paper and threw them in the trash, though you kept finding several of them in every nook and cranny of your room for the next month. 
It was a horrid feeling, seeing the heavy cursive inviting you to the wedding of Gojo Satoru and Kimura Hana. Inviting you, your name in just a small font at the top when it should’ve been next to his. In the middle. 
You called him a week after receiving the invitation, words you should’ve spoken in the car heavy on your tongue waiting to be let out. 
“Hey!” You’d heard the chipper, upbeat voice of a woman through the speaker of your phone and your fingers loosened their grip enough that it fell onto your blanket with a soft thud. “Who is this?” 
“Hana?” Him. His voice. It was hardly close enough for you to fully make out it was him speaking, but you’d heard the lilt of his voice you’d memorized over three years and it would’ve been difficult not to recognise it. “Who is it?”
She hummed, as though she forgot you were still on the line. “I don’t know, it’s an unknown number.”
You heard him scramble for the phone, and heard when it pulled away from her ears. “I told you not to pick up calls from—”
The line went dead, and it seemed as though a part of you died with it, too.
Maybe it was silly that what hurt the most out of everything—even hearing the girl who he’d picked’s voice—was the fact that he deleted your number. It wasn’t news that Satoru had found somebody else, but to know that he had erased nearly every fragment of his life from yours when the movie ticket of your first date was hung safely on the corkboard above your desk hurt. You were still finding pieces of his wedding invitation in the parts of your room the housekeeper hadn’t reached, and he didn’t even have any trace of you left on his phone. 
When you went on your second date, he showed you the list of his contacts on his phone to prove he only had a small list of twenty-eight numbers saved. He told you he only kept the phone numbers of people who mattered. At that moment, it was funny that he’d said the words, verbatim, “I only keep phone numbers that matter to me.” It was also a warming feeling when you noticed your name amongst them. 
Two months into your relationship, he’d told you in the midst of conversation that he saved your best friend, Reina’s number because he felt it was important. 
And now… 
Well, you couldn’t do anything. You felt as though him saying he didn’t want to be tied down was enough closure for you to come to terms with it. It made sense, too, in a twisted way that did hurt you because commitment wasn’t easy for many people and Satoru had fallen prey to that mentality. What you couldn’t come to terms with was how he’d gotten engaged three months after your breakup. And now, she was picking up calls for him and asking you who you were when you were one of the few people that reached his phone. 
It hadn’t made sense, not one bit. But you only had the tattered bits of dignity left in you to not make yourself seem weak in front of the person who’d given you the carpet to be vulnerable upon then abruptly snatched it from under your feet. Even if you wanted to. 
You were sure the wedding was a gorgeous, over-the-top, once in a lifetime procession. That was one of the many reasons that you didn’t go: it was once in a lifetime. And although people remarry very often around the world, they only have one first wedding. One first kiss as a wedded person. One first night of married bliss. You didn’t want to think that Satoru and Hana would separate because that was, in every way, a devilish thing for someone to even imagine but you were assured by your friends that it was completely valid for you to want him to hurt after what he did.
You didn’t grow the guts to tell them it was because you wished it would be you who he remarried. 
If you couldn’t be his first, you weren’t sure you wouldn’t settle for being his second. 
Satoru’s father went to prison not long after the wedding and that, finally, cut off nearly every form of companionship between your family and theirs. Your father had begun talking down on his father’s name after that, and you weren’t sure why and you didn’t ask because you couldn’t stomach speaking of anybody related to Satoru. Every trace of Satoru’s name vanished from your household, and you believed that was destiny’s way of offering you a chance to start anew because Satoru had. With Hana.
“We should meet Suguru soon,” Reina had said, and you knew she was right. You’d cut off contact with Suguru, albeit slowly and subtly enough that he forlornly caught onto the hints and crept out the door of your life completely. But that didn’t mean it was closed; neither of you held bad blood for one another, and you knew that he understood. 
You declined, wanting to live in the prolonged moment of life that had nothing to do with Satoru. 
The next, and only time, you’d seen Satoru in person was a completely miscalculated and chance encounter even the most highly-regarded fortune teller couldn’t have predicted. You had been in the bathroom of the club you, Reina, and your other friends went to nearly every weekend, when you heard a small squeal of recognition coming from the door next to the sinks. You didn’t need to do anything and were merely waiting for Reina to finish using the bathroom while you reapplied your lipgloss. 
“I know you! You’re Y/N from the… L/N family? My husband’s father works with yours.”
You craned your neck to the side, and were met with a delightfully sweet smile coming from one of the largest banes of your existence. 
You gave her a short, curt, once-over before you met her eyes and forced yourself to reply. “Yeah, and you are?”
She looked a bit shaken at your indifference and lack of recognition. You could only imagine how awkward she felt after deigning you with a bubbly greeting. “I’m—well, I’m Gojo Hana now, I guess.” She giggled, though the humor was hardly there behind it. It seemed as though she was scraping any and every corner to lessen the tension of the interaction. You didn’t care, though, because your mind was reeling at the idea that his wife didn’t even know you and Satoru dated for three years.
“Are you fucking—are you serious?” Reina appeared next to you, and you hadn’t even noticed the click of her heels as she’d walked out of the stall. You reached out a hand and placed it on her forearm to stop her from asking the question that was lingering in your mind, too. “Your husband only tell you that their fathers work together?”
You gritted your teeth. “They don’t work together, actually, since Mr. Takayashi is…”
In prison, the words went unsaid but were still communicated through the neon haze of the bathroom lights. 
“Well, that’s all I know. I’m sorry?” You almost felt bad for Hana because she was clearly clueless. A part of you wanted to mock her, say that he was mine first. But she could instantly rebut that by saying, he’s mine now. And you would lose that pissing contest. So, you kept your mouth shut. 
“Alright, sweetie,” Reina responded, giving her a wide berth, catching a hint of your thoughts and turning around to wash her hands. 
You blinked. “It was nice meeting you,” you said with no sweetness and kindness she offered you. 
Hana took that as her cue and mumbled it back before she scurried off to leave, completely forgetting why she had to go to the bathroom in the first place. 
“Man, she’s something.” Reina whistled through her teeth once the sound of the door shutting reverberated off the walls. 
“Isn’t that right,” you murmured, attempting to hold yourself from letting your thoughts drift into ones that could get your mind racing at 200 miles per hour. “Never thought I’d have to see her, though.”
When you and Reina walked out of the bathroom and sat down at the table with some of your friends—the others presumably on the dance floor—you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to find Hana in the crowd. And you immediately regretted it when you did, because she was at the bar, tucked between a pair of jean-clad thighs you knew all too well. She seemed to be speaking to Satoru, and a hand reached back to the nape of his neck as he hung onto every word she spoke and you felt your stomach twist into small, ugly knots at the sight. His neck turned around instantly, and his eyes immediately found yours, and you attempted to look away. You really, really wanted to. But that was the first time he’d looked at you in a year and three months.
Your throat clogged up, and though he was far away under the dimmed red lights shining from the large, obnoxious signs near the bottles, you itched to speak to him. His shiny white hair was a soft shade of crimson under the lights—you’d always point it out to him, how his hair looked exactly a solid color whenever he was underneath a shaded light. 
His lips curled slightly when he looked at you and his nose scrunched up into what you assumed was anger for treating his wife with such animosity. But the small moment of staring at what once could’ve been—at what once was—ended when he blinked and turned to meet her eyes again, and a healed fragment of your heart cracked again.
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starlost97 · 8 months
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— stubbornness.
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summary: You just got home from the hospital, and are still learning how to walk properly again. You knew at the moment that you woke up from the surgery that Buck wouldn’t leave you alone. And you were right. He only went back to work when he couldn’t take any more days off, even though you insisted that he shouldn’t worry about you. The thing is, you are very stubborn, and it became even more obvious when you couldn’t do things on your own, but still wanted to.
keywords: fluff, recovery, stubbornness, worried Evan Buckley, f!reader.
characters: Evan Buckley, Maddie Buckley.
warnings: allergic reaction, swearing, author’s medical knowledge is very very bad.
a/n: I got this idea after watching an episode of 911: Lone Star (no spoilers here, though), also searching epi-pen and paramedics aesthetic wasn't on my bingo card this year lol.
word count: 1,438.
requested?: no!
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Once more, you opened your eyes and felt a sharp pain when trying to move. You always forgot about your legs.
“Oh, fuck.” You murmured, trying to be as quiet as possible. You didn’t want to alarm Buck even more on his first day back to work. “Buck?” You called, hearing noises of things being stumbled on and quick steps on the stairs soon after.
“Honey, hi!” He said, almost falling on the ground when rushing to the bedroom. “Here, let me help you.” Buck grabbed your waist and carefully got you out of bed. “Are you sure that’s ok for me to go back to work?”
“I promise, babe, it’s fine. I can take care of myself while you work.” You said, caressing his hair and cupping his face with your free hand. His blue eyes finding yours. You could tell that he was worried, but you knew how much he wanted to go back to work.
“You can call me anytime, ok? If I don’t pick up, someone will.” He hugged you and kissed your cheek, making you laugh.
“You’re going to be late, Buck.” You said as he trailed kisses down your neck.
“I love you, ok? See you tomorrow.” He said, kissing your lips and leaving the bedroom.
“Love you too!” You said, catching a glimpse of his smile as he went down the stairs. You waited until you heard the front door closing to start getting ready.
People always talked about how Buck was a workaholic, but they didn’t notice how you were just as bad as him. In the last weeks, you didn’t have the chance to leave the house and go to work, since Buck wouldn’t leave your side. But now, with your boyfriend going on a 24 hour shift, you had plenty of time.
You got ready as fast as you could and left the house, driving to the Los Angeles Service Center.
As soon as you arrived, you received a message from Buck asking if everything was ok. You smiled at your phone and answered, saying that there’s no need to worry.
You got to your floor, using a walking stick to get to your desk, which was right beside Maddie’s, so you knew she would see you there soon. But you were prepared to argue why she shouldn’t tell Buck you were there.
As soon as you sat down, you heard a familiar voice calling you by your full name, which would have startled you if you weren’t expecting it
“Maddie! You look so pretty today, you know that?” You said, smiling at her.
“You are unbelievable. Does Buck know you’re here?” She asked, crossing her arms.
“... No, and you’re not going to tell him.” Maddie opened her mouth to answer, but you were faster. “And you own me one, remember? I didn’t tell Chimney that you came in sick when he had specifically told you not to.”
“Well, it’s different. You are recovering from a surgery, when I was just a little constipated.” She said, putting her hands on her hips.
“You still said that you owned me one, so I’m claiming that favor now.”
Maddie looked at you up and down, trying to decide if you were being serious or not. Usually, you would hold onto a favor for dear life until you wanted something nearly impossible. Getting back to work was something that would happen eventually, so all you had to do was wait.
But you couldn’t wait anymore. At home, everytime you heard your phone ringing you got excited because it reminded you of work. It was pathetic. Before becoming a dispatcher, you always judged Buck for being so obsessed with being a firefighter. Being a nurse was good, and you loved helping people, but you got too overwhelmed at the end of the shifts with all those people around you.
“Look, I will be careful. It’s not like I will be moving much, right?” You could see Maddie holding her laugh.
“You do have a point.” She said as she sat right beside you, preparing for the first call of the shift.
Time passed, and you tried very hard to not talk on the radio when the 118 was attending the calls. Sometimes you heard Buck speaking and smiled, trying not to talk to him as you always did. You got used to having conversations while he did things that didn’t really require his full attention, and he loved doing that too. It was something that helped him a lot when he needed to relax.
As the day went by, you got more relaxed. You and Maddie shared lunch, and she helped you change your bandages.
“Everything looks great, honey.” She said as she finished, making sure that the medical tape was well put on your back. “Buck is doing a great job taking care of you.” You smiled at the comment.
“You know, the moment I woke up from the surgery, I knew that he wouldn’t leave me alone.”
“He was so scared, honey. He wouldn’t leave your side.” She said as she started to walk back to her desk with you.
“He is a sweetheart, Maddie.” You said, sitting on your chair. “Even though I missed working, he made sure to make those weeks enjoyab-” Before you could finish your sentence, you heard a loud bang, followed by screams. You looked around and found one of the new dispatchers unconscious on the floor.
You and Maddie went as quick as possible — considering you were using a walking stick — to the girl, who looked like was having an allergic reaction. You asked someone to bring the medical kit, hoping to find an epi-pen.
“Nothing here.” Maddie said, looking at you, worried.
“Look at her bag! She might have brought it with her.”
You soon started to hear sirens, but you didn't think anything about it. Your focus was on the girl.
“She's here!” You heard Sue say, hearing footsteps coming in your direction.
“We think it's an allergic reaction, but we don't have any epi-pen.” Maddie said, making space for the paramedics.
“You are right. Chimney, give her some epi.” Hen said, measuring her heart rate.
You got up, standing right beside Maddie and putting your hand on her shoulder for support. You both were worried about the girl. It took you a minute until you realized that Buck was in the same room as you.
You waited until the girl woke up, which didn't take long. Hen and Chimney explained to her what happened, and she agreed to go to the hospital to get checked. This was the perfect moment to try to hide from your boyfriend, but you weren't fast enough.
“Y/N?!” You heard your boyfriend say, just as you were trying to get away.
“Hi, Buck.” You said, turning to his direction. “How's your day going?”
“What the hell are you doing here? You should be at home!” He said, looking worriedly at you, holding your hands.
“I was just getting some things with Maddie!” You lied, looking at your friend, who agreed with her head.
“Why are you in uniform, then?” He asked, crossing his arms, staring at you. You could see Chimney and Eddie looking at Hen, who had a smug smile on her face.
“Pay up.” She said, looking as both of the firefighters picked up their wallets.
“Buck, I’m fine! I swear. And there’s lots of well trained people here to take care of me if something goes wrong. Maddie even helped me change my bandages!” You said, and your boyfriend looked at his sister, who gave him an awkward smile.
Buck looked at you hesitantly before tilting his head and biting the inside of his cheek.
“I guess I can’t make you go home, huh?” He said, smiling slightly and caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Look, please be careful, ok? Promise me that you will take any pain seriously. I don't want you getting any worse.” He smiled at you, kissing your lips.
“I promise, Buck.”
“And now that I know you're here, I want to hear your voice through the radio, ok?” You smiled, confirming with your head.
“I miss doing that.”
“Me too.”
“Ok, lovebirds, let's go. And I'm talking to you too, Chimney.” Hen said, startling Maddie and the firefighter.
“I gotta go, bae. I'll see you home.” Buck said, quickly kissing you before running through the door with the 118. “Love you!”
“Love you too!”
And just like that you spend the rest of your shift talking with your boyfriend through the radio.
Sometimes being stubborn pays off.
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leossmoonn · 3 months
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can you please write something with Mike being a hero, maybe saving the reader from something? I feel like he is such a caring, protective person who wants to help others and I would like to see something where he is able to do that - your work is so appreciated and incredible btw!
thank you :D.
a/n- thanks to jess for this idea. i didn’t just want to do a copycat scene of mike and afton. that’s the only idea i had lol. and i feel like this could capture what you wanted you :)
warnings / includes -lowk near death experience lol. reader can be read as gn ! one use of y/n
————
“i’ll see you in thirty, mike.”
mike gives his co-worker a small smile and nod. “yep.”
he exits the employee’s office, stuffing his hands in his pockets in search for his keys and phone. he checks his phone for any texts or calls from max about abby, relieved to see nothing was the matter.
he makes his way out of the mall and to one of the fast food options across the street. he forgot to pack his lunch again. not like he does, anyways. he usually can get by with lots of water and some gum, but today he’s hungrier than usual. he hates to spend money on food for himself, but he knows that if he doesn’t eat, he might pass out. that’s not something he needs happening at work.
“hi, can i have a number three. no drink,” he orders. he pays with cash, taking the table number and sitting down in the corner of the restaurant.
he looks out of the window, trying to think of anything else but the home he has to go to at the end of the day, and the fact that he should get another job. he thinks about what abby might say to him, or what she might not say to him.
he ponders about the day his brother was taken. if only he could go to sleep right now in this mcdonald’s. if only he could travel back in time and see who took his little brother. if only he was able to protect garrett from the monsters that lurk on this earth.
his appetite is shot, but he forces himself to eat something since he paid for it. he saves some fries for abby, putting them in a paper brown bag and folding it hastily. he gives the workers an awkward smile as he leaves, pulling out his phone to check the time. he still has 15 minutes before his break is over. he might as well just go back to work. he doesn’t get paid to be on break, and every cent counts.
he makes his way across the parking lot, pressing the crosswalk button once he gets to the street. he watches as the cars speed by, the wind blowing in his face and providing a calming sensation. a wave of tiredness washes over him and he feels his eyes start to flutter shut. he runs a hand over his face, dragging his skin down in attempt to somehow stimulate him. but, of course, it doesn’t work. mike is in terrible sleep debt and will be for the rest of his life.
he starts to feel impatient as the light is taking too long — for him, at least. in reality, he’s only been standing there for almost two minutes, but it feels like 10. his attention is turned away from the terrible timing of the traffic lights when he hears a loud laugh. he looks to his right, seeing you approach him. you’re on the phone with somebody and talking very loud. the wind seems to carries your voice as you laugh once more, rolling your eyes right after.
as you get closer, mike quickly looks away. he glances at you through his peripheral once you stand next to him.
“yeah, i’m not sure what to get him. i might just get him money. that’s what teenagers what anyways, right? he can just spend it however he wants,” you say.
mike tries not to listen to your conversation, but you’re right next to him. it doesn’t seem like you care, anyways. it’s not like you’re talking about anything incriminating.
“well, i’m about to cross the street and head to the mall. can i send you pictures of things i find and you can tell me if he will like them or not? okay, thanks. yeah, i’ll talk to you later.”
mike turns his head to you slightly, watching as you end the call and slip your phone in your back pocket. you glance at him, giving him a sweet smile. it’s not a polite, awkward smile like mike usually gives someone. it’s genuine, like you’re happy to see mike or something. the corners of your eyes crinkle and the apples of your cheeks raise. mike can’t help but stare for a few seconds too long.
finally, the crosswalk gives them the green light. mike lets you walk first, but as you take a step, a car that’s turning right doesn’t stop. everything happens so fast, you barely have time to process. first you were calmly taking a step, next thing you know you’re heart is racing and you feel like you’re about to shit yourself. your body feels like a sloth and your legs stutter, not sure what to do even though your brain knows you should take a step back. luckily, mike out and grabs your arm, yanking you back onto the side walk. the car has the audacity to honk at you, speeding into the parking lot behind you two.
“oh, my god,” you mutter, a little breathless. you look down at his hand that’s wrapped around your bicep. his grip is firm, but gentle. his hand is warm and you can feel the callouses that live at the base of his fingers.
“sorry,” mike murmurs as he tears his arm away from you.
“don’t be sorry. you saved my life,” you smile gratefully. “it’s… it’s no problem,” he nods.
“ugh, now we have to wait another cycle. i’m sorry,” you groan as you watch the lights on the other side turn green.
“you shouldn’t be sorry, either. that asshole almost killed you because he couldn’t wait a few seconds.”
“yeah,” you sigh. “i wonder why he’s in such a hurry.”
mike looks back to the small strip of restaurants behind him. “must be hungry.”
“mmm, being hungry and driving are not a good mix. trust me, i know,” you joke.
mike laughs softly. you give him another smile. “i’m y/n.”
“i’m mike,” he says. he says your name in his head a couple of times as to commit it to memory.
“so, are you always saving people from angry drivers?” you ask. you internally cringe at your cheap way of trying to keep the conversation going, but mike doesn’t seem to mind or notice.
“only sometimes.” he gives you a playfully grin that makes your heart stutter against your rib cage.
you stay silent for a few moments, looking over him. you feel like you’ve seen him before. he looks so familiar, but you don’t know why. you know you’ve never spoken to him before. you only knew one other mike, which was one of your co-workers. and you know you’d remember this mike if you had even bumped into him. he’s handsome, no doubt. his eyes are dark, like he’s experienced terrible things, but they’re also soft and kind. he doesn’t look welcoming or forthcoming. you can tell he’s quite reserved in the way he stands, his stolen glances, the way his hands rest in his pockets. once he smiles, though, his face lights up and there’s a twinkle in his eyes.
you stare at him for a few more moments. you trace the slender curve of his nose and prominent jawline that could cut butter. it’s when you take another look at his whole face you realize where you know him from.
“do you work at the mall?”
mike eyes widen slightly and you can see his ears redden. “yeah, i do.”
“i knew i recognize you from somewhere!”
his lips twitch up into an almost smile. “how often do you come to the mall?”
“well, i’ve been making very frequent trips since some of my families’ birthdays are coming up soon. they all seem to be born one month after the other. and then, of course, when i come home i realize i forgot to get something.”
“i think i’ve seen you, too.” mike’s eyes flicker down your body and a thrill runs up your spine.
“you work in security, right?” you ask. “i do,” he nods.
“well, you are great at doing your job. you saved my life today.”
“well, technically i’m just supposed to make sure nobody is stealing anything. so, i was just doing what a good samaritan is supposed to do.”
“believe it or not, not everyone would do what you did. especially if we were in a crowd of people. i might have legitimately died, or gotten seriously hurt.”
“i’m glad i was here to help, then.”
mike can’t help but feel a small ounce of pride fill his chest. he’s always been a pretty humble guy, and he knows that him saving you from an asshole of a driver was what he was supposed to do. but he’s spent most of his life feelings helpless and worthless. he can’t hold down a job, he’s doing a terrible job of raising abby — by everyone’s standards, at least — and he just feels like he’s living the same day over and over again. he feels like he’s going nowhere and that he’s stuck permanently, like his feet are cemented to the ground and he will never be able to move.
but being here with you, his day feels a little different. he feels a little lighter and happier, even. he feels like he finally did something good in his life.
“god, finally,” you sigh in relief as the cross walk gives you the go.
you and mike both take a moment to make sure no one is coming. you two share a little laugh before walking across the street.
“it was nice meeting you, mike,” you smile as you head towards the entrance of the mall.
“you, too. i hope you’re able to find a gift,” he says. “so, you were listening to my conversation earlier,” you raise a brow.
his jaw drops a little. “i-i —”
you laugh, “i’m just teasing. i know i’m a loud talker. i hope I’m able to find a gift, too.”
“there’s a gamestop inside near the build-a-bear, if you haven’t looked there yet.”
“i will definitely check it out, thank you. maybe i’ll see you around?” you ask. you hope you don’t sound as hopeful as you feel. mike doesn’t seem to notice, but he seems to feel the same.
“definitely,” he smiles. you give him a little wave as you make your departure from him. he watching your retreating figure. for the first time ever, he is actually looking forward to his security job in hopes of seeing you sometime soon.
————
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