#and he was probably too caught up in everything to think about what happened to her in the first place

[vroomvro0mferrari]

LN4 | Win & Woo

Summary: Congratulating Lando after his first race win is a lot more difficult than you expected. When you finally get the chance to, he reacts differently than you anticipated.

Lando Norris x best friend!Reader

WC: 3.1K

Warnings: None

Masterlist

You’re watching from the garage as Lando drives around the track. You keep your eyes on the screen in front of you as you bite your nails. You don’t think you’ve ever been this nervous before. Lando has been leading the race for over twenty laps now, and it’s only a few more until he wins – his first win. Your heart is beating out of your chest as your eyes are locked on Max’s gap to Lando, not even paying attention to everything else that’s happening on track. You’re grinning widely, barely keeping in your excitement, when you see the number get larger at every glance. You’re trying to calm yourself down, to not get too excited too early because you know from earlier experiences that everything can go wrong in one split second, even on the last laps, but there’s no rain today.

You hear the commentators speaking in the background as you stare at the TV. Every time they say something about how this might be Lando’s first win, your heart skips a beat, mentally scolding them not to jinx this wonderful opportunity. Your focused gaze on the screen doesn’t falter as Lando starts his last lap. No matter what happens around you, your eyes are pointed that way. You’re fumbling with your fingers and nibbling on your lip anxiously as you watch Lando turn through the last corners, a smile slowly making its way on your face.

Next thing you know, you’re screaming, jumping and cheering as Lando crosses the checkered flag first. You’re smiling so big that your cheeks hurt as you hug Max and cheer with the team. You quickly congratulate the team before rushing to the parc fermé, hoping to congratulate Lando before he’s whisked away for the podium. 

It’s busy – what else did you expect? You can barely work your way through the crowd, but you try anyway, pushing people aside to see your best friend. You can’t see him yet, but you hear the cheers of people as he appears on the big screens nearby. You watch how he’s congratulated by his competitors, as Fernando and Carlos come over to hug him and how Lando takes a sprint to the team awaiting him. He’s got a big smile on his face, a blissed-out look, when he jumps over the fence into the team who’s ready to catch him. 

You’re close enough to see him on top of the crowd of orange, but he can’t see you. That doesn’t mean he’s not trying to, tough. The second he got out of the car, he was searching for you, and that’s what he does as soon as he’s got both his feet on the ground again. But before he can properly look around, Zak has found him, and then Andrea, and in no time he’s led away from where you’re standing. It’s useless for you to fight your way to the front when he’s already gone. So you change your course, quickly move back, and rush to the podium.

You search your way through the seemingly maze-like paddock as you hurry to make it to the podium in time. You can hear the drivers talk about their race over the speakers that are everywhere while you walk and you can hear Lando laughing in the background, but you don’t let it distract you; you’re on a mission. 

When you get to the podium, you’re once again pushing through the crowd in search of a place in front, somewhere Lando can see you. Thankfully, Zak spots you and helps you out, pulling you to stand in front of him where Lando’ll be able to find you. Although Lando hasn’t told him, Zak has caught wind of his secret crush and knows that he’ll probably be searching for you in the crowd of orange.

You cheer and clap politely when Charles and Max walk to their respective podium steps, but you watch with tears in your eyes and pride welling up inside you when Lando runs onto the stage. You clap and cheer as loudly as you can, staring up at him on the highest step. You can see his eyes flitting around in search of you while he pumps his fist through the air. His face lights up with happiness as soon as he finally spots you in the crowd. He winks with a big grin, and your smile grows even more in response. You can’t feel anything but delight at his achievement – the goal he’d been trying to reach ever since he stepped foot into his first kart, his life-long dream. The tears of joy are rolling down your face; you’ve never been so proud. 

He smiles at you from his spot that’s much too far away and sticks up his thumb as if he’s asking you if you’re okay. You laugh at the motion and nod your head. Of course, you’re okay, you’re more than okay, you’re elated.

You admire Lando in his essence. He looks so pretty up there, face turned towards the sun with his eyes closed, soaking in his victory. He wipes under his eyes, and while some might question whether it's sweat or tears he’s wiping away, you know it’s the latter.

You cheer when the anthem ends, and then again when he throws the trophy up, nearly gasping in shock when you see it flying through the air. It would be such a Lando thing to break his first P1 trophy, but he catches it in time and places it securely on the ground, although it’s not necessarily safe there either.

You can’t seem to take your eyes off him, not when Andrea’s handed his trophy, or when Max gets his. And when Charles receives his prize, your gaze is still focused on Lando. But then again, he’s staring at you too. Your eye contact is so intense that Lando doesn’t see the champagne coming. Absolutely shocked at the cold beverage that’s sprayed on his face. And even if he had seen it coming, he would’ve had no time to react to how fast Max and Charles were targeting him.

He’s wiping his face, this time not because of tears (or sweat), but to get the slightly burning alcohol out of his eyes. His hands are slippery when he shakes the big bottle of champagne before slamming it. He can’t see that well right now, but that doesn’t mean he can’t aim well. He grins when he hears you squeak at the cold fluid, even though he doesn’t see your reaction with his head turned away.

Your eyes follow Lando’s every move as he wipes the champagne from his face and takes a sip before spraying the bottle again. You can’t help but admire him like this. He looks so happy up there, smiling in joy while he and his colleagues cover each other in champagne. His beaming smile and damp hair, which is curling more than ever, make him look so beautiful, too. You know you shouldn’t be thinking like this – he’s your best friend, but you can’t help it when he looks so pretty up there.

After he has his picture taken, he makes eye contact with you again. He nods his face towards the side, eyebrows raised, silently asking you to meet up with him and you nod in response. Quickly leaving the podium and making your way to the motorhome, you feel Lando’s eyes pricking your back. He feels so lucky, so incredibly lucky, to have you here with him. He can’t believe that you chose to fly out here for him, that you care about him so much that you’d fly around the world just to watch him work. He’s overjoyed to have you here with him to celebrate his first Formula 1 win; to have his best friends here, although he secretly wishes you were more than that.

Lando finishes his duties as quickly as possible, rushing through all the polite talks with the team members, celebrities and competitors so he can go to you. He gets antsier every time someone stops him on his way to his driver’s room, and when Zak stops him to have an extensive talk about his amazing performance, and how much he deserved it, he’s had enough.

“Sorry, Zak, but can we do this later? Y/N’s waiting in my driver’s room and I really want to celebrate with her right now. I haven’t been able to talk to her yet, and-”

Zak grins while Lando rants. He knows there’s more than friendship between you and Lando, and Lando’s current behaviour is only proving him right. 

“Of course, Lan. Enjoy the moment!” He says grinning, patting Lando on the back before pushing him in the right direction.

Lando thanks him before rushing off. Now that he’s finally out of the grasp of the needy people at the podium, he’s basically running through the paddock to get to you as quickly as possible. Completely overheating from the Miami sun, he unzips his race suit before entering the garage. He shakes hands with the team members he comes across, accepting their congratulations with a hasty smile, and hugs Oscar when he runs into him but doesn’t pay them much attention otherwise.

Lando doesn’t even take a moment to calm his mind before rushing into his driver’s room. You squeal in surprise when the door smashes into the wall, and Lando lifts you up into the air before you can catch a look at him. He squeezes you tightly to him as he twirls the both of you, your arms wrapped around his neck so you don’t fall.

You giggle at the feeling of his face pressed into your neck as he slowly settles you onto the floor. Not wanting to let go of Lando yet, you slide one hand over his back as the other combs through his hair while you stay close. The champagne covering his curls makes your hand sticky, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You can smell the sweet alcohol on him as he leans his head on your shoulder and sighs.

The big smile on your face refuses to fade as you whisper, “You won”. You can feel Lando’s cheeks pressing against your shoulder as a smile takes place on his face. Running a hand through his hair once more, you feel the happy tears rolling down your face again. You move your hands away from Lando so you can wipe your face as you sniffle. Lando’s head lifts as soon as he feels the weight of your hands disappear. Holding your waist and gazing into your eyes, he asks, “Are you crying?” with a teasing smile on his face.

You punch his shoulder and roll your eyes, “Shut up!” 

You wipe under your eyes again before sighing, “I’m just so proud of you,” you say, arms hanging limply at your sides.

Lando stares at you intensely, his silly smile still on his face. His gaze is so penetrating that you nearly feel the need to look away. Lando is oblivious to how piercing his eye contact is, only focused on the thoughts that are racing through his mind. No person would cry at the achievements of their best friend, right? Max wouldn’t be crying right now, that’s for sure. Does that mean that maybe you see him as more than a friend? He certainly hopes so. Lando can feel the adrenaline running through his body as he looks at you, it’s pushing him to do things he’s not sure will work out well. He doesn’t want to ruin your friendship, but he wants to kiss you more.

Lando smiles at you, wiping your cheeks clean while he watches you. His hand rests on the side of your face while the other slides down to your hip, where he pulls you in close. He banishes all the thoughts from his head and kisses you with full conviction, with no hesitation (or thoughts) in his brain as he lets his body take over.

His lips move against yours aggressively while his hands grapple to pull you closer. He grips your hip tightly and uses it as leverage to press your body against his while his other hand moves from your cheek to the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair. The feeling is heavenly, something he has wanted to feel for so long. It feels so right to kiss you, and to feel your body against his.

He’s completely lost in his passion and adoration for you as he kisses you. Meanwhile, you’re in shock. You didn’t expect Lando to kiss you, especially not as fervently as he did. Your surprise left you frozen, completely unmoving, apart from Lando’s hands pulling you nearer. The firmness of your body doesn’t mean the kiss is unwanted, though. In fact, you’re just about to pull Lando closer when he realises your unresponsiveness. His mind switches back on and races faster than his car a moment ago. Fuck – you don’t want this. You’re too polite to stop him, but you don’t want this. He just screwed everything up. Once it dawns on him, he pushes you away so fast you think you’ll have a whiplash.

Your hands are still up in the air where they were about to touch Lando’s chest as you stare at him in shock. He runs his hands across his face in frustration at his fuck-up as he avoids your gaze. He turns away from you, so you can only see his back, his very muscled back, as he sighs and mumbles to himself.

He turns around to face you. You can see the guilt in his eyes when he tries to explain, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that” 

You stay quiet as you process Lando’s confession. Why is he apologising? 

He sighs once more at your silence, running his hand over his face, again. He looks up at you through his lashes but doesn’t say anything. You’re about to respond when he continues, “No, fuck it. I’m not sorry. I love you.”

“Lando,” you tell him, breathlessly. You step closer to him and smooth your hands over his shoulders and towards his chest, “kiss me?”

You don’t have to say that twice. Lando grabs your waist as his lips meet yours in another rough kiss while your hands shoot up to hold his face. He pushes you up against the door as he nibbles on your lip. You moan softly at the feeling of Lando’s body against you, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You can taste the champagne on his tongue when you kiss him back just as passionately.

Your hands find their respective place in Lando’s hair again and you pull on the curls softly, earning a quiet groan in reward. The sound gets you hot, and it doesn’t help when Lando lets his hands wander over your body. He squeezes your ass gently before hoisting you up and you immediately wrap your legs around him in reflex.

Lando leaves you panting when he moves his kisses from your mouth to your jaw. He manages to pull another moan from you when he sucks on the skin behind your ear. Softly biting before soothingly licking the soft skin, most definitely leaving a mark behind. But that’s exactly his goal, his plan even, as he sucks love bites along your neck. And as much as you love the feeling and don’t want to think about anything but Lando in this moment, the thoughts of leaving the paddock later with the race winner, and the amount of paparazzi that’ll want a picture of him, penetrate your mind. So, you push Lando away from your skin.

“Lan,” you gasp, “we should stop.”

It takes a few seconds for Lando to get his mind back into the right headspace, a headspace in which not every thought is obsessed with you. He stares at you with hazy eyes, and you stare back. Dear God, it’s hard not to kiss him again when he looks like this, with his hair wet from the champagne and messy from your hands and his lips swollen and red from your heated kiss. You nearly let out another moan at the sight, but bite your lip to prevent it.

“Baby, don’t bite your lip if you don’t want me to kiss you,” Lando says hoarsely.

“Sorry.”

You’re both panting while you stare at each other. Neither of you is sure how to continue now. Lando admitted he loves you, should you say it back now? You do love him, but maybe you should wait until he says something. Does this mean you’re dating now? Is he your boyfriend, or do you have to ask first? It’s so unnecessarily confusing and complicated.

“I love you,” you finally admit.

Lando smiles at the confession, “You do, huh?” He says cockily. 

You punch his shoulder again, “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like… I don’t know. You’re all smug about it, but you said you loved me first, so I win.”

He laughs at your response, “Sure baby, you win.”

You smile at him, “So, does this mean you’re my boyfriend now?”

Lando has a big grin on his face now while he stares at you adoringly, “Yes, if you want me to be,” he says sweetly.

“I want you to be,” you murmur, fiddling with the strands of hair that are falling into his face.

“Good, because I want you to be my girlfriend,” he responds, pulling your chin up.

You smile a big grin at his admission. 

“So, now that that’s settled, can I kiss my girlfriend?” Lando asks with a cheeky smile, to which you merely nod in response.

Lando pulls you closer by your chin, gently placing his lips back on yours. This time, you can feel him smile against your lips while he kisses you softly and lovingly. Nevertheless, the kiss is passionate and lustful. How could it be anything other than that when this was the best day of his life. He just won his first Formula 1 race and got the girl. There's absolutely nothing that could ruin this perfect day, he's sure of it.

#Lando Norris #Lando #Norris #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Lando Norris fanfic #Lando Norris fanfiction #Lando fanfic #Lando fanfiction #Lando Norris x reader #Lando Norris x Y/N #Lando x reader #Lando x Y/N #Formula 1 #Formula 1 fanfic #Formula 1 fanfiction #F1 #F1 fanfic #F1 fanfiction #LN4 fanfic #LN4 fanfiction #LN4 x reader #LN4 x you #LN4 imagine #LN4 one shot #LN4 #Lando Norris one shot #Lando Norris imagine #friends to lovers #miami 2024

[lunajay33]

Lost Part.2

•🗝️🕊️🩶•

Summary: Carl Grimes was your best friend since birth, when he died the world turns grey, he was your partner in crime so you shut yourself off from the world, no one could get through, until one day you’re wondering Alexandria seeing Negan in his cell, maybe he could be the one to break you out of this hell

Pairing: Negan Smith x f!reader

Content: Age gap, Depressing themes, Consoling, Spicy themes later on, breeding kink, character development

Part.1

•Masterlist•

After Michonne caught me having a moment with Negan, she told Daryl and now they’re ripping me a new one, I’ve never felt like I disappointed anyone more but I can’t help how I feel towards Negan, I don’t get to chose how I feel

Daryl and Michonne are pacing back and forth in the living room in front of me as I’m sat on the couch waiting for their outburst

“Damn kid what the hell were ya thinking? Ya know what he’s done” Daryl groaned

“I’m going to chalk this up to you trying to distract yourself from Carls death but…..”

“DON’T!” I cut Michonne off feeling that rage

“Y/n…..”

“Don’t talk about him, and don’t tell me how to feel, you don’t understand how I feel, Negan does….he’s helping me, I don’t feel extremely depressed when I talk to him, I thought I’d get better eventually but it’s been 2 months, hell Maggie got herself together quicker than this after Glenn, I don’t know what’s wrong with me” I feel my bottom lip wobble again hating the disappointed look

“Why can’t you let us help? Daryl’s tried, do you want Maggie to come back maybe she could talk some sense into you, see the reason why she doesn’t have Glenn anymore” Michonne huffed before she stomped out the house slamming the door

“I don’t like ya talking to him but…….i can’t watch ya go through this anymore, if yer just talking to him and it helps do it, just be careful sunshine” Daryl said more gently as he rubs my back

“Thanks D, I’m just gonna go to my room” I say defeated but at least Daryl was sort of on board, thankfully Michonne never brought up what she caught me and Negan doing, if so Daryl would’ve probably marched down to his cell and beat him black and blue

It’s been a week since everything happened, the first day after I got up to go see him and right as I got to his cell Michonne dragged me back to the house, she wasn’t as keen as Daryl was, I tried again the next day and the same thing happened, see even got Rick involved so now I’m basically under house arrest, by the third day I could feel that darkness seep back in, I continued to stay in my room, Daryl would occasionally bring me food and water just like now

“Hey kid, ya hungry?” He asks as he sits on the edge of my bed with a sandwich and glass of water

I nod feeling too tired to even speak, this was way out of character for Michonne, sure she could be a hard ass but this…..this was too much

“They still won’t let ya leave?” My silence answered his question hearing him sigh

“It’s happening again isn’t it?”

“Yeah, Negan was helping for a bit, I can’t think of anything else except Carl when I’m locked up in here” I say looking at the letter that I have placed on the night stand, he followed my gaze taking it and reading it

“Ya can’t keep reminding yourself of this over and over”

“I….i didn’t even get to say goodbye”

“Would seeing his grave help?”

I didn’t even know he had a grave, no one even told me but maybe seeing it and talking could help resolve something that’s been missing

“I know this might be a long shot but could I take Negan? Would you be able to convince Rick just for the day to let him out?”

He watched me for a bit with that look I can never decipher what he’s thinking

“I’ll try but I ain’t promising nothing, now come on I’ll walk ya to the cell”

I ate my sandwich on the walk to Negan and of course when we got there Michonne and Rick tried to stop me

“I’m telling ya Rick let her go, ya haven’t seen what I seen, she needs this” as they are arguing I slip past them down to Negans cell

“Hey” I call catching his attention

“Long time no see darlin”

“I’m sorry, if you can hear them you’ll know they’ve been keeping me under house arrest, I tried to come see you but…”

“I know, I heard everytime Michonne tried to stop you, I missed our talks though, I can see you have too”

“I’ve been thinking about our conversation last time, it’s partially been keeping me sane all locked up”

“Can’t say it hasn’t crossed my mind baby, but you know I’d never use you right, I ain’t sick like that”

“I know, you’re different now hell I’m different now, I just wish you weren’t in this cell I’m working on it”

“What do you mean?”

“Daryl said I could go to Carls grave, I didn’t even know he had one until today, I asked if I could take you out for the day since I don’t feel judged with you, obviously only if you wanted, he said he’s gonna try to work something out”

“Oh sweetheart, you got a good heart but are you sure you want me out with you?”

“You don’t have to”

“No I want to, I wanna be there for you”

Just being here for a few moments have lifted that weight off my chest

Later that night everyone went to bed early and they left my door unlocked so I sneak out as quietly as possible, quickly making my way down the block to Negans cell and he was still wide awake, I unlock his cell and sit next to him his arms immediately wrapping around me

I sigh in relief to be able to touch him again, to feel his warmth, he moved me around so I’m partially laid against his chest and lap as he sat back against the brick wall playing with my fingers

“Have you tried anything since our conversation last week?” He asks breaking the silence my body feeling on fire instantly

“I still don’t know how”

“Want me to show you baby?” I look up at him feeling my legs tingle

“You’d do that?”

“I’d love it, you need to unwind, forget about your problems for a moment”

“Please, please help me forget” I whine feeling his hand rub up and down my thigh

“My pleasure” he smirks as he plays with the hem of my pants before pushing his hand fully down basically grasping my pussy

“Look at that baby girl, already wet and I’ve barely done anything” I can feel my face redden

“This is so embarrassing” I mumble hearing him laugh

“Nah baby, this is hot as hell, you’re being such a good girl” his praise eased me

His fingers circled my clit making me jolt it felt so foreign, everytime I’ve tried it’s felt like nothing but his strong hands touching me was so much more than I could imagine

“Oh god” I whine as he gets faster pushing me closer to the edge

“You like that angel? Do I make you feel good?” He teased as he grips my hair with his other hand

“Yes Negan! Oh it’s too much fuck” I gasp when he moves his hand down and enters a finger then another stretching me a bit with his big long fingers

“You okay darling?” He asks as he continues to finger me at a slow pace, doing a come here motion hitting a spot I’ve never felt before

“Woah, that feels…….oh god that feels different”

“Different good?” He goes a bit faster making me see stars as my head slumps against his chest

“So good, why does it feel better when you do it” I whine

“Cause I know how to please ya, this tight pussy just need a good man to clear your head, fix all your worries”

Something was building low in my stomach, it felt so weird but good but also like I was gonna lose control

“Negan wait I’m gonna…” but he kept going

“No baby it’s alright I’ve got you, let it go” his thumb came up to rub my clit again and I instantly let go feeling his hand wrap around my mouth as I let out a intense scream my sight going white, my pants felt soak as I came back down to earth laying limp in his arms

“Fuck baby, that was hot as fuck, you’re dripping” I sat up realizing what just happened, I look at him as he sucks his fingers clean making me hot all over again

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I told you something was happening now I made a mess and my pants are full of piss, I have to go” I turn to leave completely embarrased when I feel his arms wrap around me from behind

“Oh baby, you’re so damn cute, that’s normal and it’s so damn sexy, you just came all over my fingers and let me tell you, you taste like heaven” he whispers in my ear as I turn in his arms

“Are you sure this is normal…….it did feel really good couldn’t see for a second” he smirks gripping my hips

“If you think that was good baby, wait till I give you this dick, you’ll be begging for more after”

“Can we now?” I beg as I push him back on the bed straddling his hips

“As much as I’d love to destroy this pussy, I ain’t taking your virginity in some grimy cell where everyone can see and hear us”

“Okay, but what about you I can feel how hard you are, I can help” I say grinding down on him moaning as I feel his bulge rub against my sensitive clit

“Not tonight, tonight was about you”

“Well if I can’t help…..can I atleast see it?” I ask biting my finger aching to see his dick

“You ever see one before?” He asks laughing

“No please I wanna see it” I pull on his belt slowly undoing it waiting for him to stop me but he never does, unbuttoning his pants, we both stand so I can pull his pants down to his thighs, playing with the hem of his boxers

“Go ahead darling, he ain’t going to bite” he says gripping my hair, I pull them down seeing it smack against his stomach and my knees felt like jelly again, it was so big and thick it was mouth watering

“You like what you see”

“Can I touch it” I look up at him seeing his eyes were blown with lust

“Go ahead baby” I run my finger up the bottom till I reach the tip and circle it my finger wet with liquid, I bring it up and lick it and it tastes so good I want more hearing him groan as I do it

“Fuck you know what you just did?”

I shake my head I feel so clueless with all this

“God you’re going to be the death of me” I push him back down on the bed again and kneel between his legs

“Please I want more let me lick it”

“God how can I say no to that”

I lean down flicking my long over the tip tasting him again but I need more, I’ve heard others talk about blow jobs and this must be it, I take him in my mouth circling my tongue around hearing him hiss I look up but her looks like he’s enjoying it as he runs his hands through my hair

I take more of him in my mouth till he hits the back of my throat but I keep going till my nose is flush to his stomach moaning when I finally fit him in

“Jesus Christ baby” his moans drive me insane, I move my head up and down as his groans get more and more louder till I feel a warm liquid fill my mouth it’s surprises me, I lean back on my legs looking up at him with a mouth full of his cum, I swallow it feeling like ecstasy

“Was that your first time cause god damn woman I ain’t ever had my dick sucked like that”

“I want more, god Negan I could get addicted to this” he lets out a low laugh as he tucks his dick back in his boxers

“Oh baby what have I unleashed”

Taglist: @lanadelnegan @lvrgirl6999 @aubiewabie33 @mordilwen-of-mirkwood @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @sadgenderfluidmaniac @aleemendoza2425-blog @donniedarkosblog @itsmytimetoodream @twisteduniverse5 @heidiland05 @negandevotee

#twd fanfiction #twd daryl #negan x y/n #negan x you #negan smut #negan #negan smith #negan x reader #negan imagine #negan fanfiction #twd negan #the walking dead negan #negan smith series #negan smith smut #negan smith x y/n #negan smith x you #negan smith x reader #twd x reader

[vodika-vibes]

*gently slides some credits over to you* spare some more Fordo x reader x Alpha-17 poly fics please my sweet vodika? 🥺🙏

Ruthlessness

Summary: You’ve been patient. You’ve been kind. But the Kaminoans have finally pushed you too far.

Pairing: Alpha-17 x F!Reader x Fordo

Word Count: 1734

Warnings: Uh...Fordo gets experimented on and Reader loses her shit.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So. So. This probably isn't what you had in mind when you sent in this request, but I got smacked with the inspiration hammer. And this was born. This Song was the inspiration.

It’s late when your boys come to you. 

Later to be more specific. You’re not unused to Alpha’s late nights, or Fordo’s for that matter.

But generally speaking, Alpha and Fordo don’t come to you if it’s after a certain point of night. They want to make sure that you’re getting enough sleep, that you’re able to function to the best of your ability the next day.

So when Alpha keys open your suite door at 2 am, all but dragging Fordo with him, your heart plummets into your stomach.

For a moment, one heart stopping moment, you think that your Fordo is dead.

There’s so much blood, and some of his limbs are twisted at unusual angles, and it’s not until he releases a pained groan and rolls onto his side to spit blood across your floor that you snap out of panicked girlfriend mode and into doctor mode.

You tie your hair up into a knot at the back of your head and rip your robe off, throwing it to the side to be dealt with later, and you drop to your knees next to him. “Alpha, I need my kit.”

“Where is it, cyare?”

“Under my bed, the green bag, not the blue one.” You don’t turn to see if he’s following your instructions, you know that he will. “Fordo, baby, can you hear me?”

His head rolls and you swallow your panic with great difficulty. Alpha returns with your med kit and the emergency gurney that you keep stored in your closet. He sets it up quickly while you go about removing Fordo’s armor.

He looks...bad.

His injuries wouldn’t look out of place on someone who’s been thrown from a speeder. Ideally you’d bring him to your medical suite, but…

Alpha brought him here, to you directly. Which means there is some information that you don’t have. Information that you don’t need. Not right now. Not yet.

Fordo’s eyes are closed, but he’s breathing. So you push everything from your mind except the next step you need to follow to keep him alive. You allow yourself a single touch of your fingers against his badly bruised, and bloodied, cheek. “It’s going to be alright, Fordo. I’m going to fix this.”

It takes you hours to pull Fordo back from the brink. Long enough that you have to send a comm to your coworkers telling them that you caught a bug and won’t be able to work today. Long enough that you skip not only breakfast, but also lunch and dinner.

But, by the time the sun sets, Fordo is stable. His wounds dressed, and is sleeping peacefully on the bed.

You leave Alpha watching him for as long as it takes for you to shower and make some quick food for the pair of you, and then you collapse on the couch next to Alpha, your head falling to his shoulder.

Now that you’re sure that one of the loves of your life isn’t going to die under your hands, you’re starting to tremble. And it’s obvious enough that Alpha, the other love of your life, wraps his strong arm around you and presses his hand against the back of your head.

“You did great, cyare.” he rumbles against your ear.

“Alpha...what happened?” It’s a demand. It’s a plea. You’re not sure, really, what it is, but you need to know. “He looked like he was thrown from a speeder-”

Alpha hesitates and you pull back to stare up at him. Alpha never hesitates. Ever.

You reach up and press your hand against his cheek, “Alpha?”

His dark eyes scan your face for a moment, and then he sighs and brings his hands up to cup your cheeks. Slowly he pulls you into a gentle kiss, and then presses his forehead against yours. 

“You know the new Kaminoan who arrived the other day?”

“The doctor? Iza Nu or something, right?”

“Yeah. She had...ideas. Fordo-” He trails off, as though he doesn’t have the words to explain what he saw, what she did.

You consider his words for a moment, your gaze drifting from his face to linger on Fordo’s bruised and battered body, “If I’m understanding you correctly,” you murmurs, “Iza Nu did this to him.”

“...yes.”

You’re a doctor. You know exactly what would need to be done to a person to inflict those types of injuries on someone. In fact, you can even picture it in your head, exactly what tools would be needed, exactly how much force-

Not for the first time since you took this position, you feel the stirrings of rage deep in your heart. Unlike the previous occasions, though, this time you don’t shove the rage away. You don’t bottle it up.

This time you let is envelope you.

You’re done.

They have, finally, pushed you to the point where you can no longer look the other way.

You exhale slowly, and focus your attention back on Alpha and offer him the softest smile, “You look tired, love.”

His eyes close, “It’s been a long, long day.”

You hum your agreement, and gently card your fingers though his hair. “Fordo is using the cot, but he doesn’t need constant monitoring anymore if you want to sleep.”

“What about you?” He asks, pinning you in place with a serious gaze.

“I’m afraid I’m far, far too wired to try and sleep.” You trail your fingers down his cheek, “Will you try to get some sleep? For me?”

He searches your face for a moment longer and then he sighs and kisses you gently, “For you, I’ll try.” Alpha stands and pulls you with him, and he brings your hands to his lips, his gaze locked with yours, “I love you.”

“Love you too.” You watch as he vanishes into the bedroom and listen as he settles in the bed. If you close your eyes, you can see him shifting and turning until he’s comfortable. If this was a normal day, you’d be tucked protectively against his chest and Fordo would be pressed against your back and their hands would wander as they regaled you with stories about the day-

But today isn’t a normal day.

You press a feather light kiss against Fordo’s forehead, and check his IV one more time, before you straighten and head for the door. With luck, you’ll be back before Alpha realizes you’re gone.

You quickly walk through the halls, until you reach the office belonging to the newest Kaminoan. Iza Nu looks just like all of her brethren, though draped in the crisp white jacket of a medical professional.

She tilts her head when she sees you, “Ah. Doctor, you are feeling better? I was saddened to hear that you were unwell. I was looking forward to working with you.”

You hum a response, “Is this your workspace?”

“Indeed.” She gracefully motions towards the massive surgical suite, “I’m still trying to clean-”

You step into the suite, and trail your finger against the cold metal of the surgical table. There’s blood on the floor. “It looks like you had a busy day.”

“Indeed, the clones are most interesting subjects.”

You walk further into the room and pick up a scalpel that was left out. It was made for Kaminoan hands, not your much smaller human ones, so it looks more like a dagger in your hands. “Is that right?”

“Do you not agree?”

“They’re still human.” You reply flatly.

“That is true, I suppose.” The door to the surgical suite slides shut, “Ah, you like my scalpel? It was specially made for my hands.”

You hum noncommittally.

She walks over to you and reaches out for the blade, and you smile as you dodge her hand and press the blade against her chest...and then into her chest. She staggers back, a surprised noise falling from her as you twist the blade and then pull it out.

“Y-you...what-?”

“I have been...patient. I have been kind. I have been gracious.” You list quietly, “I find that it takes a lot to make me angry. But you...in one day you managed to cross the line.”

“I don’t-”

“Stop talking.” You don’t raise your voice. You don’t have to. “No one is coming to help you.”

She slides backwards on the floor. “Perhaps...we can talk about this?”

“I spend the majority of the day trying to save the life of the man you decided would be your test subject.” You say flatly, “There is nothing to talk about.”

“Please...I didn’t know he was yours. Have mercy-” She pleads.

“Mercy,” You repeat the word, as though it was foreign, “I have no mercy left to give.” And that’s that.

You leave the surgical suite 15 minutes later, Colt is leaning against the wall across from the room. He glances at you, and then passed you at the dead Kaminoan in the room, “Doctor.”

You tilt your head, “Commander.”

“Looks like there was an accident.” He notes absently as he pushes off the wall and brushes passed you, “Is Fordo okay?”

“He will be.”

“Good. I’ll handle this.”

“You’re an angel, Colt.”

“I know I am.” He smirks at you, “Beat it, doc.”

You favor him with the smallest smile and turn to head back to your room.

Alpha is sitting on the couch when you return, and Fordo is somehow awake and talking. “Welcome back, cyare.” Alpha greets, “Get everything sorted?”

You hum your answer and walk over to check on Fordo, “Colt is handling the rest.” You smile warmly at Fordo and press your hand against his cheek, “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a bus,” He replies honestly as he leans into your touch, “Sorry for worrying you.”

You blink tears out of your eyes, “It’s alright. I’m just glad Alpha brought you to me.”

Fordo turns his head and kisses the palm of your hand, “As if he’d bring me to anyone else.” He focuses his gaze on your face, “Love you, cyare.”

“Love you too, Fordo. Get some more sleep, love. I’ll be here when you wake.” You whisper as you brush your fingers though his hair.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

As he drifts back to sleep, you sink onto the couch next to Alpha and bury yourself into his side. He kisses the top of your head, but doesn’t say anything. Because there’s nothing left to say.

#star wars #tcw #alpha-17 x reader x arc captain fordo #alpha x reader x fordo #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

[wingedhallows]

i got my eye on you - four; marauders

pairing: marauders (sirius black x reader) | 2k words plot: albus reaches out to you to keep the marauders save, to not have them die, so you join them in their seventh year. authors note: i hope you're well, love u! If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!

navigation | part one ; part two ; part three ; part four

You had left Sirius’ room when the others returned from hogsmeade. With kisses and little miss you’s, you left him alone. The walk to your room seemed longer than usual. You stopped outside the corridor, the moonlit night had a calming effect.

You pushed a stick between your lips and lit it with a tap from your finger. You let your gaze wander, though nothing much could be seen in the dark.

Something caught your attention or rather someone. Four figures argued with each other. You couldn’t make out three of them, they were hidden by the dark but the fourth one, you were sure, was Peter.

Your eyebrows furrowed, unsure what to think of it. You didn’t know Peter as well as the others, not like Sirius. He probably had friends apart from the marauders. You made a mental note to keep an eye on Peter, for his own sake.

Before you were able to accompany Sirius and his friends to breakfast, Albus had waved for you. Sirius didn’t have a chance to argue before you aparated away.

“What’s the matter, Headmaster?” The old wizard swatted his arm, signaling for you to take a seat. You didn’t argue and sat yourself down, the lighter which you stole from Sirius’ bedside table between your fingers.

“You have a little sister, am I correct?” You sighed and nodded your head.

“Millicent Fox, I believe.” You were well aware that your parents had another daughter, although you’ve met her maybe once or twice.

“She’s small, we’re almost twenty years apart.” You answered.

Albus nodded and plopped a lemon drop in his mouth. “Seventeen years to be accurate.” You diverted your gaze and dropped a small “whatever” in the process.

“She’s to enroll for her first year here in Hogwarts.” You looked at him, eyebrows furrowed. “How generous of our parents.” He didn’t answer and gave you a small smile.

“Maybe you could look out for her and the first years.” A small smirk found itself on your lips. “Yet another task, Albus?” 

“Don’t think of it as a task, I heard she only speaks in the highest tones of you.” You shook your head, face in a scowl.

“She’s a kid.” He nodded.

“Exactly, so help her and the others stay kids, we all know what’s happening nowadays.” You didn’t answer the old wizard.

“Was that everything you wanted to talk to me about?” He shook his head.

“Not exactly.” You waited for him to continue. “I wanted to forward my praises.” He paused.

“For-”For exceptional execution of protection. The incident at the last Quidditch Match was a horrible incident which you defused in a short time. For a brief moment your relationship to Sirius Black stated a problem but seeing how you execute your work erased that worry.”

You were dumbfounded.

“My relationship?” He gave you a smile.

“I know everything, Miss Fox.” You cringed at your last name.

“One issue I do have, I’m afraid.” You once again didn’t interrupt him and waited for him to continue.

“I must plead to you that punishment of students in any form is to be executed by a teacher of this school, vigilantism is something I don’t want to see in these walls again, Miss Fox.” You nodded and excused yourself.

With a cigarette between your lips you wandered the school grounds, deep in thought.

You hadn’t seen Millie since she was a toddler, not that you knew her very well. Somehow you felt bad, bad for the little girl who had to grow up in the same awful household you had to. You’d give her a chance, you thought.

Give yourself a chance, maybe.

“Are you my sister?” A girl with big brown eyes started up to you, her hand grasped your coat with an iron grip. You looked around, eyes wide. “Miss Y/N?” A house elf you knew too well stood in front of you. “Esmy.” You spoke, your voice barely a whisper.

You crouched down, your arms already around the elf’s shoulders. “Where has Miss Y/N been? Esmy was greatly worried.” She tried. Esmy has been more of a mother than your own has ever been. 

She cared for you when you were sick, wiped your tears and played with you when neither of your parents paid you any mind.

“Miss Y/N is Miss Millicent’s sister.” Esmy spoke, pulling the little girl forward.

Your sister threw you a big smile and threw her tiny arms around your shoulders.

“I knew, you’re my prettiest best sister ever.”

She said, her pigtails hitting your face in the process.

“Esmy showed me photos and told super stories.” You gave her a small smile and grasped her cheek.

“Is that so?” She nodded and played with your hair while you spoke to Esmy. “How is she at home?” Esmy shook her head. 

“Not as strict but not kind either.” She said and you sighed.

"Millicent? Where are you child? Millicent?!”

Your eyes widened. “I gotta go, Millie.” She frowned and sniffled as she stared at you. “

No, I don’t want you to go.” “Take care of her, Esmy.” Esmy nodded and grabbed Millicent.

“I love you, Millie.”

You spoke before you aparated away, desperate to get away before your parents arrived.

“Love, here you are.” Sirius pulled you out of your thoughts, his bag slung over his shoulder.

With one hand he took your cigarette from you and with the other he pulled you closer, his hand buried in your neck. He pressed a hot kiss on your lips and smiled at you.

He took a drag and looked at you.

“What’s the matter?” You sighed and leaned over the railing. “Dumbledore knows of us.” He chuckled and threw an arm over your shoulders, another kiss pressed to your cheek.

“Does he have an issue with that?” Your lips broke into a small smile. “Not really, since I saved your ass a while ago.” He chuckled and took another drag.

He looked at you once more before intertwining his fingers with yours. “That’s not everything, is it?” You shook your head, a sigh left your lips.

“My little sister will come to Hogwarts soon.” His eyebrows furrowed.

“Sister? I thought you were an only child.” You shook your head.

“She’s seventeen years younger than me, she’s barely a child. I don’t even know her.” You grasped his hand to take a drag yourself.

“Albus told you that, why?”

Your hand found his brown locks. “He wants me to look out for her and the other first years, with everything that’s going on.” He sighed but rummaged in his pockets for his pack. With a flick of his lighter, the next cigarette was lit.

“Then we’ll look out for them together.” You gave him a smile and pressed a kiss on his cheek.

“Let’s grab a bite, huh?” You nodded and took the cigarette from his lips.

Sirius poured some pumpkin juice in your cup and went to grab your plate but you stopped him.

“I’m not hungry.” You protested, your head still swinging with all the thoughts and worry.

“You’ve got to eat something, Y/N.” James had to laugh as he grabbed his cup.

“What’re you laughing at, Potter?” Sirius glared at him. “Oh nothing, Black. Just, hilarious to see you acting all love sick.” Sirius straightened up quickly and threw a biscuit at him.

“I’m not.” James and Remus chuckled.

“Do you want some Pumpkin juice, my love.” James reenacted the previous event.

“Yes please, Sirius.” Remus joined in. “I do not at all sound like that.” You protested.

“Whatever you two, we’re hanging out in the yard later, you comin’ too?” James asked, his question directed at the both of you.

Sirius looked at you, his answer totally laid with you.

“Sure-” Your answer was interrupted by a sudden poof as your house elf, Suki appeared.

“Miss Y/N.” Marlene was so badly startled that she dropped her pumpkin pasty with a yelp.

“Suki, what’s the matter?” You watched the elf trying to not step on any plates or knock something over. 

“This letter arrived for Miss arrived just now. Suki hurried to deliver it.” You took the letter from her tiny hands and thanked her before she disappeared again.

To: Y/N Fox.

From: Millicent Fox.

“What is it?” 

You didn’t answer as you opened up the envelope. The paper was slightly crumbled, maybe she hesitated to send it.

Dear Y/N,

I don’t know if you remember me but I am your little sister, Millicent. I’m about to enroll for my first year at Hogwarts, School of Magic. Your house elf, Suki, has visited me. She let me know that you would be there too, though she didn’t tell me what for. I can’t imagine you as a teacher.

Don’t punish your house elf for talking to me, mother punishes Esmy for every little mistake. I hope you’re nothing like her, hopefully.

I’m excited to meet you, I hope you’re as kind as I imagine you to be.

With kind regards,

your little sister, Millie.

You closed the letter and pushed it back into its envelope.

“Who wrote you?” Sirius asked, pouring some milk into your cup of coffee.

“My sister.” He nodded and stirred the liquid some more. “Here you go.” He paused and placed a biscuit on your saucer. “Just this.” He spoke, puppy eyes forcing you to comply. After you took a bite of the biscuit Sirius had given you, Lily turned to you.

“You have a sister?” You nodded and took a sip from your coffee.

“A very small one, yes.” Sirius placed his hand on your back and spoke again. “What she say?” You grasped his hand and intertwined your fingers.

“She’s very excited to meet me.” Sirius nodded, taking a bite of his food. “That’s good, right?” You nodded, a small smile on your lips.

“I hope.” 

“So, are you two official yet?” Marlene asked, the table stilled. She furrowed her eyebrows.

“Oh please, you two hold hands, smile at each other all the time. I’m not even going to begin to imagine what you lot did while we were at Hogsmeade the other day.” 

James stared at his friend and then at you.

“You two, I thought you were joking?” Lily had to chuckle.

“You really are blind, Potter.” You cleared your throat, a small smile on your lips.

“He hasn’t asked me yet, so no, not official.” Sirius let go of your hand, eyes wide.

“We kissed!” He threw in. “Boys.” Marlene sighed while shaking her head.

“Oh and how we kissed, my dear Sirius.” You paused.

“But until you ask me to be your girlfriend, I’m not.” He sighed and took another bite.

“Do you-”Not like this, Sirius.” Marlene threw in.

“Not over the dinner table, you neanderthal.”

“But how?” She smirked at Sirius.

“That’s for you to figure out, love.” You smiled before you lit yourself a cigarette.

Sirius stayed quiet as his thumb caressed the back of your hand, his head visibly smoking.

“Idiot.” Marlene commented.

“I really don’t know what you see in him, honestly.” You blew some smoke. “He’s not just a pretty face, Marlene.” She huffed a chuckle as she took a sip of her drink.

“Whatever you say.” You threw her a smile and felt Sirius relax. The letter in your pocket weighed a ton, your head was full of thoughts.

You didn’t know if you were prepared for all that but there was something you were absolutely sure about.

These kids would stand by your side and Sirius would be closest.

( taglist: @navs-bhat ; @amethyistheart ; @hermionelove; @madsireds ; @urbansaint ; )

#harrypotter #hp fanfic #marauders imagine #the marauders #marauders era #harry potter fanfic #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfic #siriusblack #marauders fanfiction #james potter #remus lupin #lily evans #marlene mckinnon #peter pettigrew #albus dumbledore #harry potter fandom

[bkgpackets]

CHP. FOUR | WHAT RECONCILIATION REALLY MEANS (NSFW)

SUMMARY: Katsuki has settled into a routine-like dance with you ever since your debut as a hero. He takes care of you like harmonious clockwork, but as he peels layer after layer, he’s caught up with his own tantalising feelings when he finds your blood staining his hands. You teach him, slowly, of what it means to fall in love.

TAGS: pro hero au, fem reader, banter, hurt/comfort, smut (piv, unprotected, breeding, aftercare)

CHAPTER LENGTH: 3,990 | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT CHP.

The first few weeks of January don’t really seem real. You’ve claimed your spot as number three, pushing Shouto down a rank for the time being. You chuckle a bit, was it worth it? 

Your schedule is far from normal, your manager has forced you to be on rehabilitation leave, all of your patrols are being taken up by the sidekicks in your agency, and the only work you’re allowed to do is paperwork, records and organising. 

The first day that you came back was hectic. It was the sixth of January, villains caused more ruckus than usual, probably running high on those New Year’s Eve emotions. 

(But does that mean you can rob a bank too?)

On doctor’s orders, you are not to do any extreme sports and get any more major injuries in at least 2 months. It’s nice, sometimes, you're given a long-awaited breather, heroes who occupy the top 10 ranks know that they never really get a day off. Even when you’re on vacation, if that place needs a hero, you’re still a hero. 

Every day becomes softer, your morning jog is cut to a mile only, and you get to drop by the cafe near your agency for some breakfast before you head to the office. Your hand still instinctively reaches for the locker door that houses your hero suit after your morning showers, and you wince everytime.

Bakugou has been texting you less, maybe that's what the emptiness is. You check your phone more, you see dozens of texts and emails from companies, sponsors and coworkers, but the cavity eating away at your heart doesn’t stop. You’re waiting for something, maybe it’s Dynamight’s picture of the neighbourhood cat, maybe it’s the picture slyly taken of Red Riot helping an old lady cross the street– no more everyday tragedies. 

The Herald: Metal Gear’s Rise and Fall — Why Was the Quirk Ring Bust-In Such a Controversy?

By the second week of January, time starts passing by a little too fast. You still attend the physiotherapy lessons you’re assigned, you still complete the paperwork in your office, you’ve grown accustomed to eating out alone and not Katsuki’s meals too– it’s light work but everything feels so heavy. 

You don’t get a chance to slow down, you blink and sunrise becomes sunset, you rest your eyes and when you open them once more, you’re greeted with your bedroom ceiling and you're awake again. Every day you have something to do, and now it’s your opportunity to take a break for the night– January's group hangout is hosted at Eijirou’s.

You don’t think about anything on your way to his apartment, you don't remember whether you were standing or sitting during the subway ride, you don't remember the colour of the sky, it’s odd because you usually have such a good memory, you can remember Bakugou’s birthday, you can remember all the names of Mina’s cats, what happened?

You don’t notice until you’re about to knock on Kirishima’s door, you let the cold air bite down your throat, it stings, your sinuses hurt, but you don’t think you’d be able to hold yourself together otherwise. 

You don’t smile when Mina opens the door, she has this look in her eyes, like she knows something you don’t, maybe she’s doing you a favour by not saying it aloud, yet it somehow still feels a mockery. 

You don’t greet everyone in the room, they still return friendly and worried smiles, all except one. When you were just about to say ‘Hey Bakugou’ he walks out the door, mumbling something about picking up the food, and when his shoulder brushes yours, he flinches like it hurts, and you try not to wince at the stab in your heart. 

You don’t participate in conversation much either, you don’t laugh as hard at the punchlines, everyone notices, even Katsuki, but no one says anything, too nice to point it out, and too tired to meddle with it. 

The movie continues playing, flashes of black and white occasionally breaking through the haze of your mind, dialogues are but a background noise that fails to distract you from your thoughts. You had looked forward to this, being around friends has always been soothing when you spiral too deep into your own head, but now that you and him aren’t talking, you think that maybe it wasn't your friends that had ever calmed you down to begin with, just him.

They all take turns trying to start a conversation, but the silent tension between you and Katsuki has also dwindled everyone’s mood, you feel sorry, you don't know how they put up with you two sometimes. 

Time starts passing by in a blur again, you’re watching a movie on the couch, you’re eating takeout, you're drinking beer, you're putting on your shoes, Mina is talking about something, Bakugou doesn't ask you to stay with him, Bakugou doesn't look at you when you're turning around, Bakugou doesn't shout some reminder regarding safety when you begin to walk away, Bakugou– forget it. You're already on your way to the subway station, and the air is cold when his arms aren’t wrapped around your shoulders. 

“Can’t you just let it go?” Kirishima leans onto the balcony beside him, a beer in hand. He doesn’t look at him, after all, having been friends with him since they were mere teenagers has given him instincts, he knows that by looking at him Bakugou will only be more shameful, so he does him a favour and looks at the sea instead. 

“This is for her own good.”

@alpha-deku: MG is.. falling off, i think if the quirk ring thing happened a year ago she would have done it smoothly without any hiccups at all, not being able to foresee the extension of quirks and to put yourself into danger so that other people around you have to pick up after you is.. kinda dumb for a top 4 hero lol you would assume that she would’ve had a plan B and not just fall out of the sky to take a bullet for somebody who was clearly more powerful in terms of skill compared to her 

“That fucking cunt..! Wha- who does he think he is? You can’t just drop in and out of my life just because I’m convenient, asshole…” You mumble, drunk, steps crossing haphazardly as you stomp the curb with anger. Your friends struggle to hold you up as you fling your arms around in vexation; some weeks of bottled emotions finally clawing at the edges of the jar, overdue. The blaring music from the clubs all around you and the filth that comes out of the mouths of low-lifes can’t be drowned out, why don't they have airpods for his voice? 

You look at the flesh of your thumb, fingers dancing over the bumpy patch of scar, it’s weird what grief does to people.

(What grief? For what?) 

Every scar has its own beginnings and endings; you got that scar after tripping over a rock while playing hide and seek with Katsuki as a child. When you landed on the rough asphalt with your palms open to break the fall, you had actually slid a few inches. 

Tears were left unspilled behind your glossy eyes, gaze landing on your bleeding thumb, lips plumping into a pout as you held in the sobs that were bouncing inside your skeleton. 

When Katsuki kneels in front of you, he’s as much of a gentleman as he is now, holding your arm tightly, inspecting your wound carefully, wiping your tears away, he brought you to his mother, where she immediately assumed the worst: ‘Katsuki! Did you do this? I raised you not to hurt girls! What’s wrong with you–’ your hiccups interrupted her, ‘I’m sorry Mrs. Bakugou, but it wasn’t him, I tripped myself, Katsuki helped me up.’ It was a miracle that she had understood you through your sniffles, but her expression immediately changes and she starts bandaging you up right away. 

You two stopped playing hide and seek after that, none of you realised that that accident would be your last time playing hide and seek until years later, when you’re reminiscing in your rooms late at night. 

The scar is ugly— the skin there is patchy, uneven, discoloured, the shape is rugged and asymmetric, its origin is as childish as it can be, but you love that scar. It’s weird when you find love in violence. 

(You love it because Katsuki showed you his treehouse afterwards to cheer you up, not even Izuku knows about that.)

That night, when you lay in bed with your run-down makeup washed off, when you have changed out of the revealing and uncomfortable fabrics and into an oversized hoodie that doesn’t belong to you, you wish someone was there to listen through your sniffles and wipe your tears away. 

Your lives have been so deeply intertwined that everything and anything he sees, he’s reminded of you. The neighbourhood stray cat you named Hummus, the hot potatoes sold on the side of the street by that old lady you love talking to, the bus stop advertisement campaign you did with the local animal shelter, he can never truly escape you, even when he’s making the active effort to. Maybe he never grew out of his own cowardice. 

You don’t make it to the February hangout. 

@shotoswife: #mg_overparty it’s so unfair that shes up a rank while shoto is pushed down to fourth??? What did she even do in the mission that the HPSC is selling as a GLORIOUS triumph, shoto literally saved 14 kids from that avalanche in hokkaido, why is that any less impressive compared to that absolute fiasco

The Spring Hero Gala is rolling around the corner, with one month remaining, your stylist has taken advantage of your still freed up schedule and sent you to nine different fittings over the span of a week. It gets tiresome, from taxis to studios to taxis to studios, from itchy and restricting fabrics back to your breathable and flowy hoodies, but it distracts you from the overt absence of Katuski in your life, so you welcome it with open arms. 

After some discussions, your stylist settles the deal with Balenciaga, and your dress for the Hero Gala in March is decided, a maroon silk dress that shapes your waist and chest, it’s flattering on you, the staff had said, you thank them with a humble smile.

(Unconvinced, much like how the internet would feel, you think.)

You return to hero work at a slow and steady pace, increasing the hours of patrols day by day, the abilities of the sidekick accompanying you slowly decrease week by week, and by the time March chases itself into your back, you’re once again a regular occupant on the ranks of the latest villain captures on the official HPSC website. 

Life is moving on, with or without Bakugou, with or without his lunches, with or without his good-mornings, you don’t want him to be your biggest what-if. 

Top 10 Most Scandalous Paparazzi Photos This Month: No.1 Metal Gear Seen Leaving a Gay Bar With a Man Draped Around Her Shoulders! view entire article 

Bakugou has been twisting and turning in his bed for the past hour. He’s always had a good sleep schedule, when his head hits the pillow, it’s lights out within five minutes. He’s not used to this, this unending cycle of thoughts spiralling in his head, he can’t seem to shut off his brain, is he really avoiding you for your own safety? Or his own cowardice– no. Not his own cowardice. Never his own cowardice. 

It’s been exactly three months since you got out of the hospital. Bakugou, like many, has thrown himself headfirst into heroics as a means to not think about you, not that it’s been of much success. Every day and every waking hour, he spends it thinking of you, your hair, your gentle but firm touch, your ringtone, your ‘did u eat yet’s. 

His manager has already chosen a suit for the upcoming Hero Gala, he didn’t have a say in it, he hasn't even glimpsed at what he’d be wearing that evening. These days he just spends them scrolling tabloids on his phone, the latest scandal regarding Metal Gear, recent paparazzi pictures of you. He spends them far away from you, yet still paying close attention to your life. And so unlike himself, he drowns in his own self-pity before his alarm blares him awake, signalling another exhausting day of hero work, filled with villainy and bloodshed. 

Bakugou recalls his teenage years, and even the years he spent in the Genius Office, he has never thought that he’d ever stop being friends with you, he remembers making a vow at the ripe age of 22, promising himself and his friends that he’d never tell you just how much he wanted to have you in his embrace if it could preserve the state of his friend group back then, harmonised and synchronised like it’s their job, but seemingly Bakugou has a knack for fucking things up, he never meant for this to happen, but maybe forever was a word meant for memories, not people.

2X51 Spring Hero Gala Name List: Missing Plus-Ones from Dynamight and Metal Gear? Catch Up On the Latest Hero Drama from THE EVENING STANDARD

When Dynamight first sets foot on the red carpet, he is greeted with a myriad of flashes and shouts. Paparazzi, fans and the like all vie for his attention, the stuffy March air makes his skin sticky, his scowl is in place when he fights his way across the room. He’s tipsy, he has made sure of it, he knows he won’t be able to deal with you in public, let alone sober. 

He used to be a lot of things, sometimes he was your questions and other times he was your answers, but right now he wants to be a comfort that doesn’t quite require either, but he thinks he might end up as your greatest I’ll-never-know. 

When he sees you arrive, his heart skips a beat. Did your stylist do this on purpose? It makes his palms sweatier than usual when he sees your dress, the same hue of red as his eyes, he thinks you look dashing, as you always do, he’s meticulous in the study of you, he’s skilled in reading your expressions, the slightest twitch of a brow and the smallest tick of your lips, maybe the cameras won’t be able to pick out the tired dread that sits on your face, but he knows your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, yet he still can’t look away.

“You look stunning.” He finally admits.

“Oh you're talking to me again?” He winces, he’s been ignoring you, he knows that, you know that, the entire friend group knows it, even the public is aware. He feels like a schoolboy with the way he pretends your existence doesn't matter, some hypocrite he is, he thinks, who was he to criticise your coping mechanisms when he avoided you to protect himself? 

He’s spent three whole months convincing himself that he’s cutting contact with you for your own good, that maybe without him in your life, maybe you’d lead a peaceful one, one without peril, but he knows now, he’s been avoiding you out of his own fear, he never grew out of own cowardice.

“I’m sorry I’m in love with you.” The way he looks at you conveys everything that you need to know, his eyes are filled with something you don’t see in Bakugou very often.

(Fear, fear of losing you, again.)

Your silence is uncanny. It makes him wonder what he’d do if you were to answer with a ‘I’m never talking to you again’, your lack of a response is perhaps more infuriating than that, but he doesn’t have anyone to blame but himself. If you were to block him and refuse to ever see him again, he’d feel sorry. If you were to move from the city and to somewhere else to avoid him– no, you won’t do that, he’s sure you won’t give up everything in your life right now for him, for pitiful him, but it does make him think how he’d do just about anything to see you again. He’s taken that right for granted so far, it never struck him as a privilege to be able to lay his eyes on you, but right now it’s all he’ll ask for, because your absence doesn’t get any quieter even when he conditions himself to it. 

You look beautiful, you look like the one thing he'd love to look at for the rest of his life. 

Somehow your smile is still blazing, like the sun. “Did you miss my rage?” 

(You always knew you’d put down your ego and everything else to talk to him again if he asked for you once more.)

@bkgpackets: i think metal gear has done a lot, i think she’s done enough, for musutafu and for our boi katsuki too, it’s time for them to reconcile, they've been through so much tgt, i'm sure they’ll be able to make amends within a few words spoken

“Let’s welcome our top five heroes this year, they have done plenty in guaranteeing the safety of our neighbourhoods, some have risked their lives, some shared their blood, sweat and tears with us, for the sake of our livelihood. So let’s give them a round of applause, a standing ovation, for their courage and dedication towards protecting our reformed society. Welcome to the bright stage, Tsukuyomi, Shouto, Metal Gear, Dynamight, and Deku!”

Your ears are filled with a sore ringing, eyes blinded by overwhelming blinks of flashlights as you’re greeted with a warm welcome back by the hero society, the most powerful and influential part of civilization standing up to clap for you while you accept your award. You don’t glance down, afraid to fall, you look up and into the cameras, head-on with determination in your gaze and kindness in your grin, you’re Metal Gear. 

+++

When you call your manager to tell her that you won’t be attending any after-parties, she merely agrees with a knowing chuckle, and tells you ‘good luck’. 

After the five-course meal, you’re stuffed when you see Katsuki’s text on your lock screen, meet me behind the hotel garden, it said. Your purse is fluffed with congratulation cards from your coworkers and acquaintances, you clutch onto it as the wind sweeps beneath your dress, heels clicking across the marble floor as you look around and ask star-struck workers where the garden is. It took some extra effort making sure that you stayed away from front doors and cameras, not wanting your meeting with Bakugou to be interrupted by the paparazzi or obsessive fans. 

His back is turned towards you when you push the door open. You know he knows you’re here. He looks up, like troubles are weighing heavy on his shoulders, you can’t help but want to walk up to him to massage them, to strip his layers and take away his worries. 

You take your time walking up to him, you look at the flowers that surround you two, the moon that gives light to his shadow, you let the wind mess up your hair before you are finally shoulder to shoulder with him. He sighs, and you smile.

“I never got you out of my head. I don’t want to either, but I already think about you every hour of every day. I think about how if I were smarter with my emotions, I’d be able to kiss you and love you right every second of the year, of my life. Give me one more chance and I won’t fuck it up. Please.”

You continue glancing down the city while he twists his head to look at you, but when you look back at him, he stutters on his breath, the way you look at him has never changed, through the thick and thin, it is all so gentle.

“I’ll– can I make it up to you? I’ll make this our first date, I’ll make up for the time I lost, so– eyebrows, will you go on a date with me?” He’s blushing, you realise, to your absolute delight. And when you say yes, Bakugou thanks the Gods for the first time in his life. 

He takes your hand as he leads you to his car in the parking lot, it’ll take some time to get used to these gestures of affection. 

(He’s learned his lessons, every second spent by your side is precious, and he’ll learn to appreciate and accept that fact.) 

He opens the car door for you before getting on himself. When he drives you back to his home, he gives you the aux; the windows are rolled down, the air isn’t as humid anymore, it’s cool and it slightly nips at the exposed skin under the jacket he offered you earlier in the night. The journey is smooth, with just a few cars on the road as the clock ticks past 3, he pulls into his driveway, a view you haven’t seen since the last hangout hosted here. 

He doesn’t let you undo your seatbelt, he insists on doing it for you before he gets out of the door and walks over to your side. His touch is soft when he laces his fingers between yours, he guides you to his door as if he’s bringing a valued gift home, like you don’t already know the ins and outs of this apartment with the hours you’ve spent here, you’re sure you can navigate it blindfolded. 

The click of the lock is loud in the quiet of his apartment. You still see your mug sitting lonely behind his cupboards. He takes your purse from you and sets it gently on the cabinet before bending down, with his calloused fingers, he takes off your heels carefully, as if they’re made out of glass and would shatter on impact. When he stands to his full height again, he’s one breath closer, you can count the scars that dust across his countenance this way, you’re shameless in the way you let your eyes meander over his face, the delicate skin that have seen so much tragedy, right at your fingertips, smooth but rugged at the edges of his blemishes, his stories. 

His hands snake around your waist and land on the small of your back, pulling you near, until not even a sheet of paper can separate the two of you, the way he looks at you– it makes you feel nervous, shy, and just like every other aspect in his life, he meets your eye with courage, dedication, to prove himself to you once again. 

It’s you who kisses him first. You go on your tippy toes, just reaching his lips in time that he scoops you tight and close, your hands begin to make their way up his nape and into his messy locks, ashy and for you, its scent familiar. His big and rough hands cloak their way under your thighs, picking you up effortlessly before setting you down on that corner of the kitchen island. 

His breaths taste like liquor and you’re addicted. His lips are soft, even, in a way that you know he takes good care of himself, but his kisses begin to get a bit more desperate. Teeth begin to clatter, he begins to nip, like the wind and like you’d get away otherwise, and maybe you will. The grip you have on his hair grows needier, like you’re begging. 

He picks you up, and a small noise escapes from your lips that he swallows greedily. He’s waited so long, been so patient for so long.

Katsuki decides that he’s been a gentleman long enough. He slowly walks towards his bedroom, pushing the door open with his hip before he puts you on the bed with as much tenderness a starving man could have. 

He doesn't hesitate in stripping you when he sees the same desire glinting in your eyes, the silk dress slips off like butter. Despite it being you two’s first time, you all but work together like a well-oiled machine, harmonised and synchronised. Somehow, he knows that your whine means you must want his shirt off as well. He’s generous in taking off his suit and dress pants, his belt leaves his waist with a clip before your hands take its place. You swear your mouth waters at his slim waistline, his eyes glimmer when he lays them on your breasts, spilling from behind your lingerie. 

“I’ve waited so long for you, my love,” He whispers with his nose tucked beneath your jaw, you shudder when he licks a long and teasing stripe up to your ear, your nails scratch his shoulders in tandem, a silent plea for him to do something. He hears your prayers and begins to make his way towards your clothed heat, you’re embarrassed as he looks at you directly when he kisses your clit. His fingers go up to your hips before sliding your panties off at a terrifically slow pace.

Bakugou thinks he’s in nirvana when he sees your wetness clinging to the fabric, his eyes are far rolled back into his skull, he suddenly thinks he’s a man dying of thirst. The way your core glistens under the soft moonlight shining through from his windows makes him weak in the knees, “Please, Kats, I don’t need prep, I just need you,” 

He smiles when he hears you before complying. Even in your haze, you can still clearly recognise the wet spot on his underwear, his boxers seem uncomfortably tight, but you’re not in a much better state, when his cologne drowns you in his bed, you think you’re in limbo. 

Katsuki’s body must be shaped by the Greek sculptors, you think. His abdominal muscles are nothing short of a breathtaking sight, he chuckles when he hears your sharp intake of breath. The way his fingers slip into your wet cunt earns you a place in hell, but you feel like you’re in heaven when you see him wrap his digits, coated with you, around his cock, pumping up and down until his pink tip is leaking and waiting. He’s out of breath before you even begin. 

“Fuck, baby, you ready? ‘Cause I can’t wait anymore,” Your nods are overzealous, but his chuckles are cut short when his tip slowly pushes past your hole and into your pussy, he’ll die happy now, he thinks, you’re nothing short of perfection. 

Your moans are sacrilegious when he sinks his entire length in, his arms are caging you in, and you’re forced to look at him, dazed and eyes lidded. It’s not long before he starts moving, and then your hands are gripping the sheets, he gets up close and personal, so he can listen to your moans right at his ear while he sucks a bruising hickey onto your neck, so that no doubt you’ll be his by the end of tonight. His pace is set fast, but it becomes erratic soon enough, “Kats–! Hnng, fuck! Baby I need you so bad, give it to me, oh god!” He grimaces once, his fingers intertwined with yours before bringing them above your head, “Don’t beg god for mercy, he won’t save you now, beg for me, scream my name instead baby,” he grins, swallowing all of your sobs of his name possessively. 

His hips snap towards yours faster and faster and you swear he's reached an undiscovered spot when he brings your legs atop his shoulders, his grunts grow in volume, he begs for you now, and you’ve never felt more powerful having Dynamight appeal for your love and mercy. “Oh, oh, love, you want me to fill you up? Pump you full with my cum, you want it, don’t you?” The grip he has on your hips is brutal and you’re sure they’ll leave a mark but you can’t be happier, you scream “Yes! Yes! Yes!” and by your third promise he’s already painting your warm walls white, he doesn’t stop for your sake, his fingers go around your clit in small but fast circles, and you’re quickly thrown over the cusp and left twitching as his cum is pushed into the deepest crevices in you before he collapses on top of you, panting, sweaty, and sweet. 

Your eyelids become heavy, threatening to close when he pulls you close to his chest, the familiar aroma of his nitroglycerin sweat mixed with his shower gels flooding your nostrils brings you comfort; you grip onto his pillow case, you’ll pretend to fall asleep, anything to keep your tears in, and dare they ever fall over your cheeks, you’ll face into the soft cushion and inhale what you can now call home. 

A leap of faith, they call it, a dive into the uncertainty of what Katsuki will bring to you.  

“Eyebrows? We need to take a shower,” He whispers while cradling your head in his calloused palms, voice soft and gentle, you don’t want to open your eyes, wishing they’ll remain shut for as long as he allows, “come on, we’ll sleep afterwards,” but with a promise that you two can spend the remainder of what is left until dawn together, when the two of you will have to suffer the violating scrutiny of the public eye once more, you follow him to the bathroom, to the edge of the Earth if he asks, because it won’t be everyday that you get to preserve this kind of unbreached privacy, the kind of seclusion spent with you tangled in his limbs and tucked beneath his sheets, safe and sound, away from the rest of the world. 

#sy.katsuki #bakugou headcanons #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x you #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugou #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugo katuski

[purplewhiteandgold]

In pain thinking about the fact that after things settled, Axel was probably forced to eventually connect the dots and realize that the reason he (and everyone else) forgot about Xion was because she and Roxas were once again forced to fight each other and she'd lost, and he wasn't there to stop it that time because he'd lost Roxas' trust and couldn't save her from that fate or save Roxas from being forced to do that

#kingdom hearts #girl help im getting emotional over sea salt trio again #like! he didnt know! he had no idea what happened to her! #roxas left the organization and by the time axel saw him again roxas had fought her but theyd both already forgotten her #there was no way for him to even wonder what happened to her until he remembered her at the end of 3 #and he was probably too caught up in everything to think about what happened to her in the first place #but he tried so hard to protect them both from being used in that way or from being turned against each other #and it would probably break his heart to know that no matter how hard he tried it didnt matter #yes they did eventually break free but it doesnt change the fact that they still spent so much time being used as pawns #even as he worked so hard to protect them from that #i really hope this post is coherent i should have been asleep like 2-3 hours ago

[tobe-sogolden]

.

#hm #hmmmmmmmmm #you know what i was thinking #this probably sounds way too conspiratorial or maybe other people were thinking it and i missed it bc i was mia #but does anyone else think about how j**** already tried to sabotage d*d once #by serving her those papers and making all the news stories about that rather than the film #and then think about what happened over the last few weeks #bc i remember reading whichever interview she said she that whole farce wasn't surprising to her and she left that rs for a reason #and i remember thinking damn he's not gonna like that and thinking he was gonna make promo so messy #and honestly i forgot he existed until this weej #and i was like wow i was wrong he didn't even try to stir up drama during promo #and then i was like hm 🤔 or did he #like i truly tried to avoid everything that was being said so idk where it was coming from or what exactly went down #but from what i understand it was all anonymous sources no? #which to me like...given the way the general public was eating it up you'd think whoever it was would've revealed themselves for the clout #like everyone would've been on their side #UNLESS it was someone who knows that being caught shit talking and spreading rumors about her would not be flattering for their image #and i cant think of very many people that applies to tbh #just interesting that's all #again that might be a little too conspiracy leaning for me #and is probably the result of my ocd brain STILL ruminating over this shit bc it bugs me and i want someone to blame 🤭 #i wish i knew how people just let shit go bc my brain physically will not let me when it's something that bothers me so much #anyways ignore me i need to get back to studying

[xob1tchs]

just thinking abt older miguel x younger reader (smut 17+)

age gap! dark concept!

𖦹꙳࡛࣪⋕ ˚.✦ ⵢ₊˚.

you’re his best friend’s daughter, who he watched grow from an awkward teen to a young woman.

until puberty hit, and everything changed. no longer wanting to be around miguel or your father, prancing around like you’re better than that – than hanging out with family.

you grew up much faster than he’d hoped you would and sooner rather than later he’s loosing you to parties and dumb college boys (not like you were ever actually his) that he obviously thinks aren’t good enough.

no more wanting to spend Friday evenings snuggled on the couch, watching a scary movie. no more splashing around in his pool, shrieking out when he tosses you from the ladder. it all came to a stop.

you smiling at him or wishing him a good day coming to a halt, and he begins hearing your father complain of your behavior almost everyday. he’s getting sick of it, wishing you’d just be a good girl again. he tried to tell your father that you need punished, but he’s not having it – he swears it won’t do any good. that you’ve grown up too much.

miguel isn’t oblivious to what a young woman in college does. he was your age once, he knows. knows that your frame filled out, and that your legs grew longer, eyes got shiner, pouty lips got poutier. he just tries not to think too hard about how other men know that as well. and don’t get miguel wrong either – he feels like a creep for staring too long, looking where he shouldn’t. you look up to him.

or atleast you did.

but he’s also not an idiot, and he knows that when he’s not looking at you – you’re looking at him. chewing your lip, thinking things you probably shouldn’t, because that would just be wrong. it would be so so wrong.

it’s miguel who knows that it will do good. a simple plan really, to catch you alone, corner you and scare you into being a better daughter. miguel knows he’s a scary guy, that not even you can see past.

a late evening, one where your father is working late, and you don’t have to study. miguel is going to do it then, slipping in through the front door quietly, padding up the stairs to your bedroom.

that’s when he sees you doing something you definitely shouldn’t be.

your bedroom door is cracked, because you think you’re alone, and it’s just enough for him to see you – pillow lodged between your thighs, face screwed tight in pleasure, hips jumping and squirming. Your shirt is longer than it should be, but it’s caught on the curve of your bare ass, revealing it to his wide eyes.

He knows he should just silently retreat, go home and try to pretend like this hasn’t happened, he really does know it. but he stays put.

in a trance, length growing hard in his boxers with every stupid little incoherent plead you let out, squeaking and whining. you’re begging into the air, please wanna cum, please please. frail frame shaking and twitching. he just can’t seem to stop watching, drool pooling at the back of his throat, swallowing thickly.

you gasp out, thighs clamping tighter around the pillow, clearly approaching an orgasm, but you force yourself to stop, chewing your bottom lip. miguel thinks for a moment that maybe you can see him somehow, but that thought diminishes when you toss the pillow to the floor, falling forward, pressing your face into the mattress, legs spread wide, ass high in the air.

he can’t breathe when he sees it – your soaking pussy, screaming for him, creamy and puffy as if you’ve been at for hours.

you slip two fingers in your hole, moaning out, toes curling. the noises you make when you start thrusting your small fingers in and out, gushy and obscenely loud, make him hot. sweat building at his hairline, cock twitching in his pants.

and as if it can’t get any worse, you say it. what he’d been imagining you do.

“miguel please, need it so bad mi vida” you croon, muffled by the bed sheets, but clear as day in his ears.

“hmmm what does my sweet girl need” he coos, clicking his toungue, sucking a breath between his teeth to suffice the nerves building in his stomach.

you pause, face twisting around to see him as he trudges into your room, glowering down at you with shame. your pussy clenches around your fingers, wetness seeping out around the knuckle, and you whine.

your fingers spread your folds, letting him see your greedy hole as his hands come to spread your cheeks, shuddering at the sight up close.

“want you to fuck me, want it so so bad”

he hums, fingers ghosting over your slit, flicking your clit “since you’re begging so sweetly” he smirks.

you behave better the next day.

𖦹꙳࡛࣪⋕ ˚.✦ ⵢ₊˚. severely unedited! pt.2 here

#hard thoughts #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara smut #smut x reader #fanfic smut #spiderman smut

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ STRAWBERRY FLAVORED — GETO SUGURU.

contents. here is a lil prequel to this btw, basically this is suguru’s shower scene but if he actually had someone to take care of him, reverse comfort, aka my extremely self indulgent drabble of fixing suguru before he turns into a mass murderer <3

it’s been a while—suguru has been in that shower for long enough that you’re starting to grow concerned. you contemplate for a bit, whether it’s a good idea or not to enter the boys shower, weighing the possibilities of being caught.

satoru’s not here, you reason, nanami and haibara are gone too, and yaga shouldn’t notice either—so, with a heavy sigh, you walk up to the door, opening it slowly. you can see him, standing as the water pours over his body, not even moving a little when you enter.

suguru is not the same—not after everything that’s happened. you can tell, you can see it under his eyes from the lack of sleep, you can see it in his cheekbones as they show a bit more from the lost weight, you can see it in the stiffness of his body when you’re around him. he’s not the same, and no one’s seem to have noticed, but you have. you always have.

you slowly strip from your clothing, walking up to him quietly until your arms circle his waist and your cheek rests against his bare back.

“baby,” you hum, “you’re turning into a prune. look at your skin,” you grab his hand, running a thumb over the tips of his fingers, wrinkly from the water.

he gives you an empty chuckle—you don’t think you’ve heard a real laugh from suguru since that day. “but aren’t i a handsome prune?” he mumbles.

“of course,” you kiss his shoulder, “the handsomest.”

“that’s a relief,” he says playfully—there’s nothing playful about his tone, though. it’s numb, automatic, like he’s trained himself to respond to you the way he always does. but you can feel it. he’s not the same.

“you’ve been in here a while. i got tired of waiting.”

“sorry,” he drops his hand from yours, falling limply to his side, “lost track of time, i guess.”

“suguru,” you say softly, “what’s wrong?”

he’s quiet, probably contemplating his answer. no one else might’ve noticed, but you have. you always do—he knows you always will. finally, he decides to answer, “are you really asking me that?”

“yes,” you say firmly, “i want to hear it. i want you to hear it. stop pushing it down.”

“i’m fine,” he mutters, “just tired.”

“i know,” you say softly, “i know you’re tired. what’s got you so tired?”

gently, your arms twist his body—he doesn’t put up a fight, just spins to face you until his face is digging into your neck on instinct. he can smell your body wash, can inhale the familiar scent of you from here. there are no curses to consume and no people to save at the risk of himself here, just the soft feeling of your skin and the warm press of your lips on his head.

riko would’ve liked you, he thinks. he can’t help it.

for a fleeting moment, when his hand was outstretched to her, he’d wondered if you’d like her too. he’d decided you would—you’re kind, you always have enough love for one more person. you’ll like riko, he’d thought. and then just like that, she’d been on the floor, dark pool of blood under her head.

you never got to meet her, and he never got to introduce you.

“what’s wrong, sugu?” you ask again, voice more delicate this time.

“everything,” he whispers.

he’s tired, so incredibly tired. suguru is exhausted. so for today, he’ll let you pick up the pieces. he doesn’t want to worry about you right now, doesn’t want to think about whether or not the edges will be sharp enough to slice your fingertips. suguru is exhausted—so for once, he lets you worry about him instead.

“i see,” you nod, letting your fingers trail to his head, stroking the wet strands gently as he trembles against your body, “everything is a lot. let’s start with just one, yeah?”

“i hate the taste of curses,” he spits, “it tastes like vomit.”

“that’s no good,” you agree, and then you’re pulling his head out of your neck—he wants to protest, wants to stay right where he is so he doesn’t have to face you, or anything. but you’re insistent, gentle as you are firm, cupping his cheeks as you force him to look at you. “can you still taste it?”

“yeah,” he nods. it’s true, he can’t forget the taste even if he tries. it’s like a phantom pain—but it resides on his tongue, haunting him long after it’s gone, even as he breathes and swallows and talks. “i hate it.”

your lips are on his after that, soft and sweet against his mouth. he can taste the strawberry of your chapstick, the familiar taste of you that he also could never forget. it washes down the vile taste of curses easily, so he leans in for more. and more. and more. he needs more.

“what about that?” you ask, stroking his cheek when you pull away, “how does that taste?”

“good,” he says shakily, “i…i like that.”

“i know you do,” you smile, pecking the corner of his mouth, “i can’t change how curses taste. but if i could, i’d make them strawberry flavored for you.”

he chuckles at that—it’s small, but it’s real. for the first time in a long time. it’s real.

suguru hates how curses taste, and you can’t change that, but you can help make swallowing become easier. he’ll take it—he’ll take anything you give.

“that might make the job easier,” he says, burying his face back into your neck, “they’d taste like you.”

“i’ll kiss you then,” you stroke his hair, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his head. his lips wobble, vision turning blurry. suguru is tired—he doesn’t want to hold it in anymore. “after every curse you swallow, i’ll kiss you. it’ll make it easier.”

“i don’t know if it will,” he admits, “this….what do we do it for? none of it is easy.”

he used to think it was. fighting curses was easy—satoru and him were the strongest. fighting curses was like stepping on ants as they walk on the concrete, crushing them before they can bite anyone. but he starts to wonder if people deserve to be bitten, if the people who kick at ant piles mindlessly for fun deserve to be saved from themselves.

you think for a bit, contemplating his question as the water runs over both of your bodies, slipping into the thin crevices between your skin and his.

“it’s not,” you agree, “it’s not easy. i would’ve loved to meet riko. i know you wanted me to. i’m sorry, suguru.”

somewhere along with the water on your shoulder mixes his tears, and his body shakes against yours. suguru is tired. he’s tired of swallowing curses and tasting bile. he’s tired of pretending the weak are innocent. he’s tired of carrying so much weight on his young, innocent shoulders. they deserve to be free.

“is it worth saving them?” he asks as he sniffles, “if they clap over people like us dying?”

“people like us aren’t always so different,” you point out.

people like us don’t need saving, he wants to argue—but you don’t give him a chance to, turning the water off behind him as you stand there holding him as he leans into you.

“there will always be someone who needs to be saved,” you murmur, “and there will always be something they need to be saved from. it’s not always as simple as curses and exorcisms, though.”

“that doesn’t make any sense,” he frowns, “that’s the whole point of jujutsu. to exorcise curses.”

“and if we exorcised them all? would that make everyone safe?”

“maybe not,” he furrows his eyebrows, “but at least we wouldn’t be dying for them.”

“you never know,” you reach for the towel, slowly pulling away and patting his skin gently as you dry his dripping skin, “maybe you’d die from something worse.”

“what could be worse?” he asks bitterly. he doesn’t understand. but you smile, pressing a kiss to his jaw as you brush his bangs from his face.

“i don’t know,” you shrug, “but i’m sure there’s something. there’s always something worse. but there’s always something better too.”

he still doesn’t completely understand. but the weight on his shoulder doesn’t feel as heavy when you lean and kiss it again—he feels like at least some of his youth is still his, still yours.

“you make no sense,” he grunts, scowling when you ruffle his hair obnoxiously with a giggle.

“well, maybe you’ll make sense of things after a nap,” you poke his chest accusingly, “you really need one. and then you’ll eat something. c’mon.”

“i don’t sleep with wet hair,” he reminds you as you tug him along, stopping where his clothes hang. you gesture at him to hold his arms up, grabbing his shirt. he rolls his eyes and indulges you, letting you dress him.

“i’ll dry it for you,” you chuckle, “my sugu is so high maintenance.”

and then, before you can turn to grab your own clothes, he tugs your wrist and pulls you in, kissing you hard, kissing you hungrily, kissing you like you’re all he has. just because he can. he can taste the last bits of your chapstick—he wants to keep tasting it forever. it’s strawberry, his favorite.

“i like strawberries,” he presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes, “so don’t change the flavor.”

“okay,” you grin, cupping his cheeks, “i’ll always get strawberry for my sugu.”

he just needed a few kissies and he would’ve been fine. i guess i’ll take one for the team and kiss him a few times 😔 i guess i can take the responsibility of loving him 😔 i’ll be fine guys no need to worry about me 😔

#operation: heal suguru! #teepods.writings #drabbles. #geto x reader #geto x you #geto angst #geto fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru fluff #geto suguru x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[reredaydreams]

Red Lace || Jeon Jungkook

Paring: bf!jungkook x f.reader

Summary: on a rainy day, Jungkook has fun with reader in a car.

Warning: this contains mature content, 18+

Content: car sex, public sex, tit sucking, fingering, riding, cowgirl, neck biting, smut, fluff, at the beach, mature, red lace bra, established relationship

Wc: 3.8k

Masterlist, Chapter 2

“Oh, you're back—'' Jungkook began to say as he looked up from his phone, but halts as he takes in your appearance. It wasn’t anything special; your wet hair flying backwards with the slight breeze of the air, a few tiny strands sticking to your forehead. You were just wearing a short-sleeved white shirt, and gray shorts that reached your lower thigh. The shirt, however, was the perfect tightness as it hugged your chest beautifully, while a red, lace bra slightly visible through the thin cotton material.

“Sorry, the line in the washroom was so long. People are starting to leave early today, probably because it looks like it’s going to rain” you say as you take a seat on the lavender picnic blanket, drying your hair with a towel

Today’s weather was amazing. The sun was shining, giving warmth to your skin, but it wasn’t too hot either, as there was a slight breeze of air. To enjoy the day to the fullest, you and Jungkook had decided to head to the beach.

So here you were, after taking a swim in the sea with him, sitting on the blanket, situated near a tree, allowing for shade and air to circulate around the spot.

Jungkook’s eyes had followed your movements, observing every detail. His eyes flicker to your chests, before slowly making their way to your eyes, which we’re already looking at him.

A slight playful smile rests on your lips, as you glance at Jungkook with soft eyes. Jungkook gulps before returning a cute smile, “ are people that afraid to get wet!?” He exclaimed , with an exaggerated expression. “ It's not acid rain or something. These people need to chill.”

You couldn’t help but smile widely at the cute expressions he was making while expressing his disappointment for these people.

“What, why are you smiling? Y/n, babe, are you scared of getting wet as well? Jungkook says, trying to sound serious, but couldn’t fully hide the smile on his lips.

“Ya, I am, and what about it, huh?” You said with a playful, challenging expression.

Jungkook gasped. ”Oh no, you're one of them,” he said, with a shocked expression. “don’t tell me, you're going to stop loving me just because of that?” You questioned back, acting to be hurt.

“No, that’s something that’s never going to happen. However, we will need to get rid of this fear of yours, and what other way than direct exposure.” Jungkook answered with playful eyes.

“No, you wouldn’t do that!?” You exclaimed with an exaggerated gasp. You both stared at each other before bursting into laughter.

“But no, seriously why do people get so wary of the rain?” Jungkook questioned.

“I don’t know? I guess just humans being humans” you replied back, laying on the blanket, while putting your head on his thigh.

Jungkook was already sitting on the blanket, legs extended out and crossed at the ankles. He was leaning on his arms, as his eyes were looking intently at you. His eyes traced every curve of your body, from the legs to the hips to the curves of your chest. The slight red visible through the cloth wasn't helping Jungkook much, it just made the imagination run more wild.

“Jungkook. I can feel your eyes on me. Were you checking me out?” You asked, turning her head to look up at jungkook.

Jungkook flushed a bit, having been caught in the act, before replying.

“Of course I was! Why wouldn't I when you're wearing that shirt.” Jungkook said proudly.

“In fact, I say we get to the car, and take it off, with everything else”

“JUNGKOOK!! Is this all you ever think about?” You exclaimed.

“Hey!! It’s not my fault that my partner is so hot!” He said, crossing his arms around his chest, trying to act serious.

You sat up, putting your hands on either side of Jungkook, and bringing your face closer to his. “Oh really? You always say that as your excuse. Seriously, you ne—“ you halted mid sentence, getting distracted by the people in the back, packing up, hastily making their way to their cars, as it had slightly begun to drizzle.

While you were distracted, Jungkook snaked his arm around your waist, bringing all your attention back to him.

His eyes gazed deeply into you, “seriously, what love?” Jungkook said, his eyes traveling to her lips. He brought his face closer to hers, stopping just inches before their lips would meet.

“Jungkook!” You whined. “Stop, there are too many people here, and I am not an exhibitionist like you.”

“You say? Then who was the one who trapped me between their arms, trying to tease me?” Jungkook questioned.

Getting a bit annoyed Y/N lightly pushed him on the shoulder before getting up and fixing her shorts.

Jungkook held on to Y/N’s hand before questioning her about where she was going.

“No where!” You expressed with slight annoyance. “I’m just going to pack up a few things incase the rain gets worse”

He let go of your hand as you started working on the task, jungkook helping you as well.

Once the stuff was packed up, you and Jungkook sat against the tree that was right next to the picnic blanket. Your head rested on his chests and your arms around his waist. His arms were wrapped around your shoulders, keeping you warm.

The sight in front of you was breathtaking. The dark clouds shadowing over the ground. The raindrops’ dent gently kisses the waves on the water of the sea. The crisp sound of the light drizzle hitting the ground was bliss to your ears. The environment and the presence of your lover felt calm and just like home.

Until it wasn’t anymore. The thunder started to pick up and the rain came down hard. You and Jungkook collected all your belongings and ran to your car in the parking lot, which was already empty as everyone had already left. By the time you made it into the car, you both were soaking wet.

The car was faint, the mix of yours and Jungkook's heavy breaths from running could be heard scattered with the sound of rain smacking on the surface of your car window, which made nothing outside visible.

Your appearance was a sight to behold, the small wet strands of hair sticking to your forehead, and the red lace bra that was slightly visible through your white shirt beforehand, was now prominently seen along with some skin. Despite the deceived look, you looked rather hot and sexy. A candy for the eyes.

Jungkook’s eyes were on you, devouring the candy they had been given.

“It’s raining quite badly outside and not much is visible. We should stay put for the time being." Jungkook informed you.

You hummed in response, eyes still closed and resting against the headrest. As you caught your breath, you could feel someone staring intensely at you. That someone being none other than jungkook.

Slightly opening your eyes you looked towards him, arching your eyebrow in a questioning way.

Jungkook’s corner lip turned crescent. “Since we are going to be here for a while, don’t you think we should have some fun?” There was a mischievous look in eyes, and you understood exactly what he meant by fun.

“Fun. Seriously, huh?” You questioned “Ya, what do you say?” He questions back, while leaning towards your seat. His eyes traveled to your lips, as he licked his own lips, and looked back into yours.

“No. I’m tired, I’m going to rest for a bit. I don’t want to have fun.” You asserted, closing your eyes and resting your head. Your statement made the playful smile that rested on Jungkook's face vanish.

You could sense Jungkook residing back into his seat, before a sound of an angry exhalation of breath made its way to your ears. Jungkook had his arms crossed over his chest, his lip forming a small pout.

“Jungkook” you called out, looking towards him, only to be completely ignored as he continued to gaze out the window; there was nothing visible outside as the heavy rain made the visibility very low.

“Jungkook” you called out once more, only to be met with his silence once again.

Your arm reached towards him, hand grabbing his neck, fingers wrapping around his throat and pulling him close. So close, that your lips only centimeters away, ready to enclose the others with one's own. The damp strands of hair that stuck to his forehead brushed against yours. Both yours and his eyes locked on to each other, looking intently into the depths.

“Baby” you said, caressing your thumb over his jaw in a soothing manner, yet still, Jungkook remained silent. He continued looking into your eyes, his chest moving up and down with heavy breaths; a result of your actions, as they sent an exhilarating rush through his body.

“Baby” you once again called, tilting your head a little, as your eyes made their ways to his lips. “I was just teasing you, I’m always down to have fun with you” saying that you connected your lips with his. However, as he was about to respond back to the kiss, you pulled away.

“Y/n,” there was a warning in his voice, and an intensity in his eyes. You hummed, in a motion to tell him to continue. ”Stop teasing me” he said, momentarily waiting. “Please.”

There was a desperation in his voice, a want, no, more like a need. A need for you, a need to have you, a need to be tangled with you.

You smiled softly at him, before locking your lips with his, in a real kiss this time. He kissed you back as if it was a necessity to him, as if to dispel a long, fervent thirst. It was almost as if he had been a wanderer in a never ending desert, finally having come across the water he so desperately required.

His arm folded around your back, pulling you even closer. His other hand traveled towards his own neck, holding on tightly to your hand that was wrapped around it, all in an effort to keep you from pulling back again.

The kiss was passionate, so intense that it sent a burning sensation through your body. Your tongues danced and tangled together, fighting the other for dominance.

You released the grip on Jungkook's neck, but his hold on your hand tightened. He knew you were going to pull back, and he didn’t want to let you do that.

You pried your hand out of his hold before pushing his shoulder with a light force. This made him finally let go of the kiss.

You moved back, hand over your chest, as you regained a composed breath. Jungkook was staring at you intensely, breathing deeply himself.

“You really love taking my breath away, don’t you?” You questioned. He remained silent, looking at you with the same intensity.

This time it was him, who grabbed onto your neck, pulling you in for another kiss. This time it was slow, as jungkook softly sucked on your lips. He pulled back momentarily, meeting your eyes. “I love making you breathless,” he stated. “Do you know how hot you look in this disheveled look? And knowing that I have as much of an effect on you, as you have on me, just makes me want to worship you, to see even more of this beauty of yours.”

He pulled you in for another kiss, this time it was more intense, more fierce, devouring you in that moment. Your hand went to his muscular bicep, holding onto it tightly, as if to prevent you from completely losing control, though it wasn't helping much. Jungkook rubbed small circles on your neck with his thumb, while the other hand, that was encircled around you, massaged the side of your waist. You loved these tiny physical touches that intoxicated you in his love.

Jungkook pulled back, connecting his forehead with yours. “Y/n. Shall we have some fun then?” he questioned. Your eyes were still closed, as you took deep breaths. You opened your eyes, and looked into jungkooks, his eyes were already locked on to you, waiting intently.

“Jungkook,” you said, taking a moment, while caressing his lower lip. “Lets fuck.”

In the next moment, Jungkook was sitting in the passenger seat, with you on top of him, straddling his waist. Your arms wrapped around his neck, his one arm encircled around your waist, keeping you close, as physically possible. While another hand held your head, pulling you in, locking your lips with his. You could feel how excited he was sitting on his lap.

“Aren’t you horny? Hmm.” You questioned, as Jungkook pulled away to trail kisses along your jaw, down to your neck. “Getting so hard already,” you teased.

Jungkook moved his head to rest his chin on top of your chest, looking up into your eyes. “Ya, and it's all your fault” he stated. “And you like seeing this, don’t you? The effect that you have on me, hmm?'' Jungkook asked, with a little pout on his lips, while his eyes held a teasing glint, earning a chuckle from you.

A little “ow” left your lips, as Jungkook bit your neck, before softly sucking the area where he had left bite marks. “Hey” you exclaimed playfully. “What? I can’t leave you with bite marks, like the ones you leave on me all the time?” Jungkook poked.

Your eyes narrowed, as you glared at him with an angry expression. “No, you can not. It's my thing” you declared. Jungkook lightly laughed at your cuteness, earning an even more intense glare from you. He gave you a sly smile, before leaning in to give you a light kiss on the lips, while his hands sneakingly moved your shirt up, leaving it to rest above your chest area.

He pulled, looking down towards your chest, the red lace bar that was driving him wild earlier, teasing him gently with the little hints through your shirt, was now fully seen in front of his eyes. He leaned in, licking the slit between your cleavage, trailing kisses to your boob, sucking on the soft area above your bra lining.

His fingers hooked onto the upper lining of the bra, pulling it down and resting it under your boobs, exposing them to the cool air, sending a shiver down your back. His thumbs went to the now hard nipples, rubbing circles on them, hearing a hum of contentment from you.

His soft lips connected with your nipple, sucking on it tenderly, while his one hand continued to play with your other nipple; he would rub it, squeeze it, pull it, and pinch it. As he carried on this show of affection, the soft movements turned more heated, more passionate, and more intense. He sucked harder.

“You like that, baby? Having your tits sucked by me?” he teased. Though he didn’t get a verbal answer from you, but by the sounds of satisfaction that flowed out your lips, he could tell you were finding enjoyment in this, like you always did.

Jungkook leaned back in the seat, taking in your whole appearance; oh, how gorgeous you looked. Your messy damp hair flowed over your shoulders, a few short strands lingering on your forehead, your wettish shirt resting above your chest area, your boobs laying upon your bra. He couldn’t wait any longer, he needed you. Now. The way you were looking at him, your eyes carrying a temptatious look, as if commanding him to initiate what he was thinking, told him that you needed him too.

Your hands probed his chest area, before making their way you to the hems of his t-shirt, slightly pulling it up to make you intentions aware. Jungkook understood, and eagerly complied with your command.

Once his t-shirt was discarded, leaving him only in his shorts, Jungkook quickly went to take off all your clothes, throwing them aside to the driver's seat.

His hand reached down, and began rubbing circles with his gentle, yet icy fingers on your now exposed pussy. The touch sent a cold, yet electric sensation through your body, causing you to grab onto his shoulders.

“Someone was calling me horny earlier, but now they’re wet from just getting their nipples played with,” Jungkook remarked. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

“Nipples are a sensitive part, but you got hard just from looking at me and kissing me” you countered, leaning in to whisper into his ear.

“You’re never going to let me win, are you?” Jungkook questioned, with a lazy smile. “Never!” You declared, shaking your head.

A sudden moan left your lips, your hold tightening on his shoulders, as Jungkook sneakingly inserted a finger inside of you. “Even if it means for me to be a loser, I will always make you the winner” he expressed, moving his icy finger in and out, while rubbing his thumb over your clit.

It felt good, really good, the sounds of pleasure leaving your mouth serving as an indication. The attention on your pussy continued, while more digits were added, making you even more wet, leading you closer to a delightful frenzy. However, his movements came to a sudden halt, earning him a groan of disapproval. “Though, I never said that the win will be easy”

A teasing smirk rested on his lips, keenly gazing at your annoyed expression, anticipating your next move. Oh, you were very much annoyed, and you were not going to let him go so easily for edging you like this.

Your hand grabbed onto his neck, as your lips attacked his jaw, trailing down to his neck, leaving kisses along the way, all the while sucking the skin harshly. Your teeth latched onto his shoulder, biting it with a slight intensity, only enough to cause a tiny sting of pain. Low moans left his mouth, not just from the pleasure, but also from the satisfaction from seeing you behave like this. He loved this side of you. And that bite you gave him, only resulted in a wider smile to play on his face.

You continued to leave marks on him, as your hands roamed all over his chest before making their way to the waistband of his shorts. Without wasting any time, you swiftly freed his hard cock from its containment. Your fingers caressed its length, while your thumb rubbed over the tip.

Strings of moans left his mouth, as he was lost in delight. “Look at you, leaking already” you examined, retreating your hand completely, leaving him to groan in response.

You brought your lower body close to his cock, spreading the lips of your pussy, you rubbed your clit against it. It felt good, not just the motion, but also the satisfaction of seeing the desperation appearing on his face.

With half open eyes, he gazed at you, “babbyy,” the whine left his mouth. “Please” he pleaded. “Please ride me”

With a smirk of victory, you picked up his wallet that was placed in the cup holder. Retrieving a condom from it, you placed it on him, rubbing your wetness on it as a lubricant.

You lifted up your hips, spreading your lips down there apart, lining his cock with your entrance, and slowing moving yourself down. All the while making sure his eyes remained on you at constant.

A moan of contentment left his lips, finally being able to feel himself inside of you, sending him into a bliss. You began to move your hips back and forth, a bit slowly for his liking though, you still weren’t done teasing him.

“Happy now, that you get to feel yourself inside me?” You teased, earning a tiny groan from him as he rested his head against the seat, eyes closed, and lost in the feeling.

After a bit longer of teasing him while riding him sensationally, you picked up your movements, now moving up and down his cock. Your breasts followed suit, swaying in a similar motion. Your movement slowly picked up pace, increasing the sounds that left yours and jungkook’s lips, in amount and intensity. His fingers pinched your clit, adding to your pleasure and soon enough you clenched around his cock, releasing over him.

Just as you finished your climax, jungkook’s hands went to your hips, lifting you up slightly, as he began thrusting into you. A sudden ‘ah’ left your lips, followed by a string of moans. Your arms wrapped around his neck, clutching on tightly, as his movement became more vigorous, leading him to a release soon after.

Jungkook slowly moved your hips down to rest on him, as you slumped over him, still hugging him close with your arms around his neck. His arms wrapped around your back, while his face rested in the crook of your neck. He soothingly rubbed your back with his hands, along with placing soft kisses on your neck and shoulder, causing a small smile to appear on your lips.

You pulled back to meet his eyes. There was the most loving look in his shining, doe eyes, as he admired his beautiful partner. “So, did you enjoy having fun?” You inquired.

He rested his forehead against yours, his one hand caressing your check gently. “Yes. I always enjoy having fun with you” he stated. “In fact..” he trailed off. “We go for round two?” He asked, with the mischievous look displayed on his face once again.

“Alright. However, I’m a bit tired, so you have to do all the work” you asserted. “Whatever you wish, my princess” he complied, making you roll your eyes playfully at the nickname, before he placed a small peck on your lips, a smile never leaving his own.

And like that, here you were, laying on the back seat of the car, while Jungkook was on top of you, trusting in you once again. “My beautiful y/n,” he admired, his fingers trailing along your face, pushing aside a few strands, before continuing to graze his fingers down your body, from chest to stomach, to finally resting on your thighs that were wrapped around his waist.

Moans of ecstasy left your lips, as he continued pounding you passionately. His hand made its way to your throat, wrapping around it softly, before connecting his lips with yours. “Do you feel good, baby? Are you enjoying me thrusting into you like this?” He questioned playfully, only to get a hum of satisfaction in response.

“Are you going to cum princess?” He teasingly inquired, hearing your moans grow in sound, along with his speed and intensity. “Let it all out, cum for me baby” he assured, and soon enough you did, followed by him moments later.

As you both had regained your composure, Jungkook cleaned you up and himself with the tissues available in the vehicle. He grabbed a blanket, adjusting the position so that his back rested against the seat, and you were laying on top, followed by him bundling up both of you with the blanket.

Taking time to relax, you nestled up in each other’s warmth, comfort, and love, while waiting for the rainstorm to pass by.

#bangtan #bts army #bts fanfic #fluff #bts #jungkook #riding #sexy lace lingerie #smut #story #cowgirl #suck my tiddies #fanfic #fyp #fypage #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook imagine #jungkook drabble #bts x y/n #bts imagines #bts fic

[ink-n-shadowfiction]

Alright...hear me out. Ghost with a fem!reader that wakes him up with a blow job, and he later returns the favor by waking her up by either eating her out or very gently fucking her awake. I am a FERAL for consenting somno.

this, THIS is what i needed to write about😌

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

word count: 908

warning: smut (minors—DNI), consensual somnophilia (m! and f!receiving), oral (m!receiving, mentions of f!receiving), slight dirty talk? (basically just simon having a way with words), not proofread

note: pt. 2 can be found here ⤳ link

you wouldn’t even know how this whole thing started with simon. you would both probably be a bit tipsy, trying to celebrate his most recent mission with a few sips (an entire bottle) of wine at home.

you would be sitting in simon’s lap, thighs hooked on either side of his hips and leaning back against the hands he was running along your spine. you weren’t even sure you heard him right at first, which made your eyebrows furrow a bit as you met his gaze.

“you want me to what?”

simon rarely got sheepish or embarrassed, but when it came to sex, he was typically a bit more reserved.

“c’mon…don’t make me say it again, sweetheart. that’s fuckin’ cruel to do to a man.” he joked quietly, the touch of his hands on your back becoming a bit firmer as he pulled you closer. “just wanted to give you somethin’ to think about, lovie. i think it’d be bloody sexy to wake up with my cock halfway down your throat."

simon never mentioned it again. but you remembered, letting the idea hang in the back of your mind for weeks. the more you thought about it, the more it excited you. so when you woke up early one morning with simon still fast asleep next you, you knew that it was the perfect time.

you slowly slipped down the bed, nestling yourself under the blankets and between simon's slightly opened thighs. you gently tugged down the hem of his briefs until you could fish his semi-hard cock from its confines, unable to hold back the soft hum that fell from your lips as you felt its heaviness in your palm.

it didn’t even matter that the blanket over your head concealed simon’s peaceful face—all you could focus on was licking a long stripe along the underside of his cock, tongue flicking against the soft pink tip and fingers squeezing along the base. the heady taste of simon bled out on your tongue, making your eyes slowly flutter closed as you closed your lips around him and gave him a gentle suck.

simon’s legs twitched at the sudden stimulation, his brain slow to catch up and stir out of his tired stupor. “mmm…what’re you—oh christ.” his hand found the back of your head beneath the blanket, his other making quick work to push the fabric away from your face and letting his eyes feast on the sight in front of him. “jesus, sweetheart. m’not—fuck, not gonna last long with your throat squeezin’ me like that.”

simon was still half-asleep, his movements slow and sluggish as he shifted further up on the pillows to get a better look at you sucking him off. one hand remained on the back of your head, not as a guide but simply to touch you, the other resting along your opened jaw and fingers brushing at the corner of your stretched lips. he was right—he didn’t last long. it took only a few more languid dips of simon’s cock into the back of your throat before he spilled his cum into your eager mouth with a soft hiss and whimper of your name.

what you didn’t expect to happen after that morning was for simon to return the favor.

you had fallen asleep on the couch one afternoon, legs splayed open and head nestled against the armrest as you slept. it was a blazing afternoon, one so hot that you were only wearing a pair of silk shorts and a tank top—all of which exposed too much and not enough all at once.

simon was walking through the door, arms loaded with his bag of gear and dirty laundry he’d collected while away at base. his eyes caught on your figure immediately, and it took everything in him not to drop the items in his grip. you looked so peaceful as you slept, but simon couldn’t care less about that.

once he had placed this things into a neat pile by the door, simon made his way over to the living room and sunk down on his knees in front of your sleeping form. he didn’t even bother pulling your shorts off of your hips, afraid the movement would stir you from sleep too quickly—so he settled for pressing heated kisses directly along your clothed core, a soft groan leaking from his lips as one arm curled around the thigh propped up against the back of the couch and tugged you closer to his waiting mouth.

a smirk flitted on simon’s lips as your sleeping body reacted perfectly to him, your legs falling open a bit more as you shifted your hips up in your sleep. he continued pressing those kisses along your covered slit until a breathy whine fell from your mouth. he peeked one eye up to notice your tired eyes fluttering open, a soft ‘what’re you doing, si?’ falling from you in a panted breath.

“remember last week? woke up cummin’ down that pretty little throat of yours.” simon mumbled into the heated skin of your thigh as he sunk his teeth into your flesh, pulling away with a lewd pop. his hand dragged up your body, palm pushing against your balmy skin from the top of your cunt until his fingers were splayed on your sternum. “just returnin’ the favor, sweetheart. relax f’me, baby—yeah, that’s it. go back to sleep and let my tongue do all the work, m’kay?”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley headcanon #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost headcanons #ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #cod smut #call of duty smut #ghost mw2 #iNs requests ⭒ #iNs anons: ✧w✧ #iNs over 1k ❂

[mooshywrites]

Could I request headcanons for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor react to his shy gender neutral crush accidentally sitting on his lap? They get off immediately while apologising the moment they realised!

A/N - Ahhhhh this prompt idea is so adorable ;-;!!!!!

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Masterlist

Art commissions

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Astarion -

~ Astarion would definitely not let you forget something like this.

~ After a particularly hard day full of fighting, I can see the whole camp deciding to relax and pass around one or two (or a case) of wine.

~ The alcohol goes straight to your head and you’re tripping over your feet in no time. This isn’t a problem, that is until… you stumble and trip your way right into Astarion’s lap

~ Your cheeks get all red, your words coming out with a plethora of excuses and Astarion basks in your embarrassment with glee.

~ He’s secretly loving it for another reason, that being the closeness of you against him now. You’ve been much too shy up to this point to even look him in the eye, let alone touch him

~ You’re falling over yourself trying to get up, apologizing more times than anyone can count and of course Astarion has all the petty things anyone could ever say

~ “If you wanted a place on my lap, you need only ask, darling.”

~ He loves it even more the next morning when he notices that now you can’t even look in his general direction without turning a beautiful shade of red

Gale -

~ Gale would be all jokes if you accidentally sat on him, trying his best to ease the awkward tension

~ “You know, I always thought I looked like an awkwardly plush chair” he would tease, lending a hand to help you up

~ I think he would love the flush to your cheeks, knowing you’re absolutely mortified by the experience.

~ He wouldn’t tell a soul about it, not even in jest. He knows how shy you are and knows the accident would only embarrass you further if your other companions caught wind of it, even if part of him wanted to brag

~ Instead, he would playfully point out ever tripping hazard while with you, leaving it an inside joke between the two of you

Wyll -

~ I can definitely see you losing your balance while practicing a difficult attack, landing right into the Devil’s lap

~ Wyll would be as charming as ever about the whole situation, making a dramatic flourish as he “caught you”

~ He’d probably rave on and on about how the ‘Blade of the Frontiers’ often had to catch damsels in distress as they fell into his awaiting arms. Everyone else may think this was because he was a braggart, but you knew deep down he did it to ease your embarrassment

~He would definitely be kind enough to ignore your reddened cheeks, whispering that everything was absolutely alright as you shot up practically shouting an “I’m sorry”

~ From that moment on, though, he always made sure to be the closest one to you, making sure he’d be there if you needed a knight in shining armor’s lap to save you again

Halsin -

~ You would be immensely tired after a long day of traveling, not even looking where your feet planted as you plopped down on what you thought was a log.

~ You practically jump out of your skin when strong arms wrap around you casually, Halsin continuing on his conversation with the others as if nothing happened

~ You would feel the red hot embarrassment in every nerve of your body, hissing to Halsin to let go, apologizing for sitting on him

~ He would cling on for a few moments, letting out a deep chuckle at your blunder

~ “Think nothing of it, my heart, I simply thought you wanted to sit somewhere softer than the ground. Would you prefer to sit on me if I were a bear?”

~ You couldn’t even answer him, smacking his chest and jumping out of his arms

~ Thank goodness it was dark, you wouldn’t want anyone seeing the goofy smile on your face paired with the knowing grin on the gentle giant elf

Dammon -

~ Dammon would be so generously kind as you accidentally sat on him, helping you back up, worried he made you uncomfortable

~ He would definitely be the only one to be more embarrassed than you, his cheeks the exact same shade of red. He’d try to play it off, but the cracks in his voice gave it away immediately

~ Both of you would be an adorable mess of apologies and stutters, trying to ignore how nice it was to be that close only moments earlier.

~ He would finally clear his throat, trying to change the subject as the red in his cheeks began to even seep down to his neck.

~ You both finally relaxed a little, smiling relieved smiles

~ That is until a very loud, very obvious Astarion would gesture between the two of you, “When the hell are you two going to finally admit you like each other! Seriously, this is getting difficult to watch”

~ It would take days before the you and Dammon could make it through a conversation without sounding like a bumbling lovesick kit after that

Rolan -

~ If anyone could be more awkward than Dammon when you sat on his lap, it would absolutely be Rolan. Apparently the invisibility spell he was trying out worked a little too well.

~ You would let out a shriek as you sat down, expecting the chair to feel… well… like a chair. You spun around to an apologetic smile and hands held up in defense

~ Both of you would choke out an “im sorry” at the same time, giggling a little breathlessly

~ “What the hell were you doing as a chair?” You’d complain, trying to swallow away the embarrassment, not knowing it was written across all of your features

~ “We’ll, technically, I wasn’t a chair” He’d say defensively, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of his already crimson skin

~ Neither of you spoke of it after, but you definitely didn’t miss the way Rolan seemed extra attentive in the days after

Zevlor -

~ Zevlor would be sickly sweet about all of it, a little disappointed when you didn’t stay for more than a moment

~ You’d make up for that when your sweet quiet voice would squeak out some apologies, eyes looking anywhere but him. He so very loved when you were embarrassed like this

~ He’d brush it off quickly, pulling up your hand to kiss it gently

~ This would make you blush more but that was probably his whole goal to begin with

~ “I’m completely at your disposal.” He’d say, taking every opportunity to memorize the shy smile you gave him

#bg3 fanfiction #bg3 headcanons #bg3 zevlor #zevlor x reader #astarion x you #bg3 astarion #gale x reader #bg3 gale #wyll x reader #bg3 wyll #halsin x reader #bg3 halsin #dammon x reader #bg3 dammon #rolan x reader #bg3 rolan

[bigfatbimbo]

Requesting an nsfw version of the fluff with vox ask from earlier! Reader just soft-domming and taking care of all his needs <3 (fem reader pref)

a/n — oh my god i really like this idea so i hope i did it justice, i’m kinda worried it’s out of character so you’ll probably see few little edits here and there.

He appeared at your door more disheveled looking than usual. He stood with his hat crooked and his bow-tie undone in the entrance, waiting to be let in.

“Is everything ok, Vox? You look a little—“ 

“I’m well aware of how I look, yeah. How long will it take for you to kiss me, already?” His attempt to be confident was in vain, he looked down at his feet while he said it, straightening out his suit jacket and frowning.

You didn’t lean in yet, “Did something happen at work?” You knew very well what happened; the usual, the stress of being a CEO of a company had finally caught up to him after a long week. 

Not to mention whatever Val and Velvette had going on because you doubt it was pleasant to deal with.

“Look, I haven’t got all day—” He started before you shut him up with a kiss because you clearly weren’t going to get him to open up. His hands fell on the sides of your arms as your hands rested on his chest.

It didn’t take long to get back into the usual routine. Kissing turned into making out, making out turned into palming his dick through his pants and pushing him onto the bed.

He scowled, probably thinking about his suit and how you just wrinkled it with your forceful movements. But there was something else there, like he didn’t want to be treated rough.

You picked up on it and straddled his lap before kissing again, this time more tender. Surprisingly he found himself sinking into your lips and gasping softly when your fingers grazed over his pants zipper.

Slowly you pulled his dick out. Soon his other clothes came off too, and this time you were careful not to wrinkle them too much. 

Vox found the next couple minutes to be strange because it was almost foreign how you were handling him.

Your strokes were gentle and thought out, not too fast and just slow enough to ease him into the mattress.

He didn’t even complain or try to take the power back, he was far too tired. Instead he just whined and shut his eyes, “Inside, inside plea—szz—se.” 

You temporarily removed your hand from Vox’s cock to position yourself above him, “Of course baby, you deserve it after the day you’ve had.”

He looked up at you and moaned quietly, confirming your suspicions. When you sank down on him he whimpered and bucked his hips ever so slightly.

He looked at you, half expecting some string of degrading words thrown at him. Instead you shushed him and took both of his hands in yours, starting to rock your hips back and forth.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby,” you say, earning a low moan from him as you kiss his hands.

“Stop—zzz—stop it,” Vox pleaded looking away from you. He didn’t know what to do with all the praise, but at the same time he desperately craved it from you.

“Why, sweetie? Don’t you think you deserve it?” you inquire, humping his cock slightly faster and leaning over too kiss up his body.

“N—no, no I—sskk—“ he buffers and whimpers when he feels your soft lips on his chest.

“So pretty for me,” you say, moving up towards his neck, “so pretty and good.” 

He whimpers uselessly under the praise and makes a pathetic chocked noise when you bite down on the upper part of his shoulders.

“‘m not— bzz— ‘m not those th—hh—things,” he complained, whined slightly as you sought to suck on the bruises you left.

“Who told you that, baby? Because i’m looking at you right now and I think you’re the prettiest—“ you move to his upper neck and briefly bite down, “smartest, most amazing, person i’ve ever met.” 

He whimpers and throws his head back, the praise did something to him. It contrasted so much with his normal bratty tone it made him wonder what prompted this.

He anxiously awaited more of your words, feeling his cock heat up in your pussy. He didn’t want to cum this early though, however your genuine words were making it hard.

You planted a kiss on the bottom of his screen and rocked your pussy down on his cock.

“Vox, baby, look at you. So impressive, so talented,” you dragged on, earning a glitched out moan from Vox.

“ohgodohgodoh—zzz—“ he whined pathetically, needing more praise.

As he felt his climax build up, his hands shot to the sides of his screen like they normally do, but this time you caught them.

You kiss all the way up his arm before pinning both of them down on the bed gently, but firmly. His legs shook from you, trying desperately to hold back his release.

“mommy— mo—tsk tsk—mommy, please,” his feet kicked out and he pathetically whined loudly for you, your touch, your words, anything.

You shush him and release one of his hands to caress his screen, “You want mommy to take care of you, baby?”

He nodded frantically. You smiled, you hadn’t even asked him to call you ‘mommy’ tonight, he simply did it. He must have really needed approval.

“My perfect boy,” you speed up on his cock, “My beautiful, amazing, good boy.”

He whimpered and arched his back up to you, squirming uselessly. 

“You’re so amazing, so good for me,” You coo down at him, humping his dick slightly harder now, “Mommy’s so proud of you. I’m so proud of you, Vox.”

He moaned and threw his head back in the pillows, releasing all sorts of pathetic noises, whimpers and sobs. He was so close to fucking short circuiting under all of your validation.

Despite you being able to hear his moans and glitches, his face was only there every other second, other wise it was a screen that read ‘error.’

He squirmed beneath you, bucked his hips up, chasing his orgasm, and finally, came. 

He gazed up at you with tired eyes. You recognized that he was checked out for the night, and got off of him.

You kiss him on the top of his screen, “i’ll take care of everything, sweetie, just close your eyes.” 

And he did, under your touch, he went to bed finally feeling appreciated.

a/n — so what’s funny is i got a soft aftercare with Vox request so i’ll be doing that after this

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #dom reader

[a-kaash-me-outside]

˚₊‧ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟ ɴᴏᴡ? ‧₊˚

♡ ft. geto, toji, gojo, higuruma, nanami ♡ total wc: 10.9k // nsfw minors dni! // ♡ contents: ౨ৎ 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 ౨ৎ, afab reader she/her pronouns, no smut in gojos or tojis im sorry, emotionally stunted men kinda but they grow isnt that nice (not talking abt higuruma and nanami god no), the aftermath of fwb caught feelings, consolation, emotional aftercare ig, lotta domestic fluff for higuruma and nanami's!!!! (everyone say ty @noosayog for nanami's bc she is the only reason i wrote his) ♡ listen along: casual by chappell roan ♡

- ᡣ𐭩 time passes and people change, and just because you fell first doesn't mean you don't get a happy ending + bonus continuation of higuruma's and nanami's ᡣ𐭩 -

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴇᴛᴏ [ 3 ʏᴇᴀʀs ]

on the list of people that you thought you’d see tonight, geto isn’t even in the top 100, not because of probability or likelihood, but solely based on the fact that you have not thought about this man in years. if you were asked the question from your future self, “holy shit, guess who we saw tonight?” you would’ve listed old friends, distant relatives, exes, minor celebrities, other flings, teachers from high school, people from stories you’ve only heard of, and then geto. 

after that night, you really didn’t see barely any of him. a few posts on your feed: one 2 weeks after and another 2 months after that one when you remembered that you forgot to unfollow him. once on campus: him across a million tables getting lunch with some girl too long after your little thing for you to care about who she was to him at all. once at a mutual (though you didn’t know was mutual at the time) friend’s party close to graduation: you ran into him grabbing a drink from the cooler and neither of you said a single word to each other, just exchanged a very knowing glance.

fast forward a handful of years, with geto not on your mind during a single one of them, and you’re stunned, nearly speechless, as you recognize him across the bar. the track of which your mind is racing takes you stop after stop to thoughts and feelings you didn’t really ask to experience. they follow a curving roadmap in your mind of: why is he here? ↝ wow, he looks great ↝ does he live nearby still? ↝ that’s weird ↝ no, it isn’t weird, i still live here ↝ then what are the fucking chances that he’s here ↝ no, seriously he looks so good

he looks different though, you realize about 3 minutes into sneaking glances in his direction, in some way that you just can’t put your finger on right now. in your slightly tipsy state, you barely stop to ask yourself how you even clocked that it was him so quickly, how there was no hesitance in the recognition or questioning in the placing. he looks really fucking good.

in fact, now that all of the obligatory thoughts have come to a heed, that’s really the only thing that you can think about. how good he looks.

the events that happened that ended your situationship all of those years ago are nothing but outlines now; whatever you said or he said just sounds like underwater conversations. you can see the way that you left and you remember being dumbfounded, but everything else has lost its sting, like a story you’d recall to a friend of a friend in a setting much like the one you’re in. time has handled the memory the way that time does and as a result, when the two of you finally make eye contact after what feels like an hour of missed mutual glances, you offer a small wave. a wave that says, “i remember only knowing you in past tense. we are such different people now, i wonder what it would’ve been like if we met now instead.”

the wave was the first step, technically, sure, but he makes the literal first step. he departs from the conversation he’s been enthralled with for as long as you’ve been stealing glances and he weaves between people in the middle of their own stories before ending up in front of you. 

when he does, he asks, as if he’s just randomly bumped into you rather than intentionally coming over, “shit… is that you?” he puts his hand on the back of your chair, thumb brushing your shoulder.

the friend that you’re with cocks their head, furrows their eyebrows, has no idea who this is or their connection to you, the timelines of their interactions with you spaced too far apart for one to know the other. geto notices this look, addresses it. “we used to…,” he pauses, “see each other? for a little bit.”

you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your chest at the way he describes it. “yes, yes we did,” you nod. “back in college,” you explain a little further, “been a while.”

the interaction quiets, the two of you exchanging soft smiles instead of words, and your friend knows where this thing is going before either of you even do, so they bow their head, offer their seat to geto, and take their leave in the name of some bullshit excuse. he takes it without a second thought, asking you how you’ve been, laughing about the time that you saw each other at that party, and after an hour of just talking he says, “yeah, i actually thought about you the other day.”

you nearly choke on the drink he’s bought you. you rush to put it down. “you did?” you ask.

he nods. “i don’t even remember what prompted it. i think, maybe, i saw a photo of myself from college and how different i looked and how different i feel now and then just, out of nowhere, remembered how shitty i was to you.” 

you don’t say anything in return, running your finger around the lip of your glass as you stare at him. you don’t know how to say that you don’t care anymore, that you haven’t thought of those days in years, that the surprise that you displayed a few seconds ago was completely genuine, because you were so convinced that neither of you had. it comes out something like a shrug and, “we were practically kids.”

he answers so quickly, “well, kids or not, i’m sorry.”

you laugh, gently so he won’t think you’re laughing at his apology. really, you’re laughing at the notion of apologizing for an act that no longer warrants forgiveness. you laugh at the thought of giving it anyways. you place your hand on top of his on the edge of the bar. “thank you,” you nod. he nods back. 

when you let him take you back to his place for old times sake, you’re half-expecting the same person from the ghosts of memories from years ago, like all of the things he said at the bar were just a last ditch effort to usher the night in the exact direction that it’s heading in. 

but he’s different now, just like he said he was before he apologized, and you can feel it in his movements and his actions. more confident, more intentional. he kisses you first and it doesn’t taste selfish. it doesn’t feel rushed to get to the main event. he savors it, holds your head in his hands, and doesn’t touch a single other inch of your body until he’s found the right combination of fingertip pressure and tongue that has you melting into his palm.

your mind flickers to the notion that these actions might be pre planned because they feel so meticulous and thought out, but that impression quickly dissolves when he sinks inside of you, slowly, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he does, his hand reaching down to cup your cheek, fingers nearly trembling against your jaw when he presses his hips completely against the insides of your thighs. 

“shit,” he hisses, hands moving down to your waist, fingers light like feathers practically crawling against your skin, as if each print was so grateful it got to make contact with the softness below. when he grips into the fat of your hips, he’s careful, intentional or not, pressing his thumbs into the bone, but not letting his nails leave a single mark. it’s pressured, but comfortable. 

he holds you in place, slowly pulling his hips back and he can’t help but look down between your legs, watching himself disappear inside of you, a creamy mess at the base, shallow breaths recycled in his chest. 

“hey,” you say, eyes locked on the tenseness of his jaw and the way that he stops himself with sharp inhales. he finds your gaze in a second. “don’t hold out on me here.” you rest your arm on his bicep, fingers curling around wherever they can reach.

you can feel it under your palm, his muscle tensing as his pace picks up, rhythm consistent, but unrelenting. the breaths come out of you quickly and you’re unable to hold any sort of facade. “ah- shit, f-fuck,” you cry, “holy shit.” you squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing harshly as strangled noises leave you without vetting a single one.

“n-no,” you shake your head, regretting it instantly as he slows down in response. you shake your head harder, “no, don’t stop, but- ah,” you groan, “your- you were- i meant,” you exhale a laugh, “let me hear you.”

his eyes widen slightly as he processes what you want from him, and then he listens. he leans down to kiss your lips and then your cheek and then your jaw and then your ear. yes, he’s fucking you better than you’ve ever been fucked in your entire life, but that’s not what makes you crumble. no, it’s his grunts and pants and breathy groans pressed right up against your skin. 

you thread your fingers into his hair, twirling the ends of the locks between the tips, raking your nails down the base of his neck to the front, and then smoothing them down his chest. “more,” you mumble against him, and you’re not sure exactly what you mean, but he gives it to you, whatever it is. you’re certain he’d give you anything in the world right now if you just asked for it.

there’s a moment after when you’re lying there with him, shoulder pressed up against his, chest heaving, barely recovered, that you find yourself back in that college dorm. you don’t know why the tightness is rising in the hollow below your sternum, but it is. you remind yourself that you weren’t expecting anything from this anyway, so it doesn’t matter, but it does. you’re not sure if you just don’t want to be treated like that again or if it has something to do with geto being the one lying beside you. 

when you turn your head to face him, he’s already looking at you. he doesn’t shy away in embarrassment, like it’s wrong that he’d be gazing at you after all of that. his features are steady, confident, strong. he smiles softly, brings his hand up to cup your cheek. “should we get breakfast in the morning?”

in the morning, you repeat in your head. you wait a beat, trying to come up with something to say, to proceed with caution or to discern his intentions or to at least not sound desperate, but all that comes out is, “in the morning?” 

he nods, turning on his side so he can stare at you without his neck getting sore. he inches closer to you, kissing the top of your shoulder and then your temple. he drapes his arm over your stomach. “if that’s okay with you,” he says and then kisses you again.

“okay,” you nod back, lazy smile on your lips, eyelids heavy at the warmth surrounding you now as he pulls you closer to him. “yeah, sure,” you affirm, voice so soft and airy that the tightness in your chest is lifted away with the words, all that’s left is a hope you feel comfortable letting stick around.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴏᴊɪ [ 3 ᴍᴏɴᴛʜs ]

you are not expecting anyone. you have resigned yourself to a nice pair of pajamas and comfy socks and a warm cup of tea and a spot in the living room that you will only leave for a refill and bathroom breaks. you are tucked into the corner of your couch, back pressed up against the sturdy arm, legs crossed, and a throw blanket over your lap.

you are not expecting anyone, so the sound at the door should have felt a lot more jarring. well, it is jarring for a second, a few seconds actually, the echoing disruption bouncing off of the walls of your living room and back to you, but then the noises repeat themselves, like they’re on a looping track, and you realize that-

you know that knock. heavy-handed with a tight fist, back of the knuckles, not the tops. almost pittering out by the end of the three successions, like the first one is direct and assured, but the second and third don’t really bother keeping up. that knock almost makes you run to the door. if it were 3 months ago, you’d be skipping to the door. 

but you hesitate for a few reasons. firstly because when the connection hits that you know that knock very well, you remind yourself to proceed with caution. secondly because it sounds the same but with a difference as small as a hairline fracture. you heard that knock far too many times during the span of a year and a half, and this one sounds almost completely identical, but there’s a half second pause between the first knock and the second knock and the raps feel less impatient. 

you don’t have to look through the peephole to know who’s standing on the other side of the door, but you’re glad you do anyway. if for nothing else, it gives you a slight edge, you’re convinced, like you’ve seen him first, you have the upperhand now. at least, that’s what you tell yourself. 

toji hadn’t contacted you since he left that day. no texts. no calls. no showing up at your apartment at 3 am. nothing. you kept telling yourself that you’d hear from him. when that didn’t happen, you started telling yourself that you didn’t care if you heard from him. you’ve actually been waiting for this moment, replaying what it would look like if he came back, the things you’d say to him and how you’d say them.

now, looking out at him just standing there, you’re frozen. every scenario you’ve replayed in your head, all of the emotional venting and blow out screaming that you’ve rehearsed and you can’t recall a single scene. you think about leaving him out there, about telling him to go away through the door or just pretending like you’re not home.

“i can see the shadow of your feet under the door,” toji calls out, muffled by the barrier between you guys, and yet it still rings out through your entire body. 

you slowly open the door. though, even if it took an entire hour to open the door, you’re not sure it would’ve mattered. you don’t think time is something that could’ve prepared you for seeing him. seeing him didn’t even prepare you for seeing him. you don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything, folding your arms over your chest. you just wait. 

“i-,” he starts, but then immediately stops, half sighs/half scoffs as he leans his chest forward, eyes scanning the inside of your apartment, for what exactly you’re not sure. 

“what, toji?” you ask, voice stronger- and more annoyed- than you anticipate it being. you’re grateful for that. “why are you here?”

“shit, this is already hard enough for me t-,” he says, shaking his head, corner of his mouth tugging upward in frustration. 

you narrow your eyes, cutting him off, “sorry, this is hard for you?” you feel like laughing or strangling him more than you do crying, which is a desired outcome in this situation, you suppose. “you know that you haven’t talked to me in three months, right? you haven’t talked to me?” you ask, and you can feel your pulse in your wrist and your chest now, because the lines are coming back to you slowly, one by one, circling your brain, fueling your confidence. 

“yeah, no, of course i know that,” he combats, like you’re the one that’s being an asshole right now. 

you smooth your fingertips against your eyes, blocking the sight of him out for just a second before gesturing with your hand as you ask, “are you going to answer my question or…?”

“look, i said that this is hard enough as it is for me to just be here,” he snaps, and if you were a little less annoyed, if he hadn’t come at this whole thing exactly how he was, you might’ve clocked the desperation in his voice or the uncertainty in his pupils. 

“do you know how fucking stupid you sound right now?” you ask. it’s a rhetorical question. 

one week after he left, you were certain he was going to come back. you and toji had gone a week without seeing each other or even speaking. you had even gone two weeks. sure, the conversation felt much more serious and, sure, really deep down you knew this time was different, but still, you held out dumb hope. 

one month after he left and you realized this was not just him being weird and distant. this was something brand new that you had never had to deal with before. you were still trying to figure out how to navigate it when the two month realization hit: that maybe he wasn’t coming back at all, ever, maybe you had done something wrong. if he had shown back up on your doorstep during that time this conversation would’ve gone very differently you think. 

but he didn’t. he showed up at month three when your reaction to random memories of toji were no longer tears and guilt, but laughter and bitterness. there weren’t many things that toji could say right now that would warrant anything more than you standing in your doorway for 4 minutes or less. 

“i-,” he starts, but then sighs. he looks left, down the hallway of your building, eyes shifting from object to object out of your view. 

“please don’t waste anymore of my time,” you reply and it’s softer than you intend. you thought it’d come out angrier. that seems like a theme for you tonight: everything sounding different in your head. when he doesn’t reply, you start a countdown, promising yourself that when you make it to 15, you’ll close the door in his face. you only make it to 13.

“i’m not here to waste your time,” he says, with no air of disgust or annoyance, the first halfway decent thing he’s said to you tonight. “i-,” he huffs again, “i’m here to say sorry. and-,” he hesitates. 

you wait, just listening. the longer that he hesitates, the more time you have to think about what he might say and how you’re standing with your door open for the entire floor to hear your conversation. you’re not sure what’s worse, having this conversation in the confines of familiar grounds or the openness of neutrality.

“and ask… are you already seeing someone else?” he finishes. 

you’re dumbfounded, blinking at him slowly before responding in the only way you can think of right now, “goodnight, toji.” you shake your head, cursing yourself for expecting anything more.

“no,” he rushes to say and then stumbles over the rest, “i- i tried to see somebody else, quite a bit of other people actually…”

you scoff, squinting at him, saying more sternly this time, with an added attestation of closing the door in his face, “goodnight, toji.”

he reaches out with a quick reflex, grabbing the door before you’ve barely even moved it. “wait, no, i- fuck,” he mutters, scrambling, “can i just come in?”

“so that was your plan then?” you drop your hand from the door. “to come back here unannounced, be shitty to me, ask if i’m sleeping with anyone, tell me that you’ve slept with lots of people, and then ask if you can come inside?” you ask.

“i didn’t have a plan-,” he replies.

“clearly,” you interject.

“but i’m trying,” he finishes, and you’re waiting for there to be more, to explain exactly how this constitutes as trying, because you don’t really see that here.

“fucking christ, toji, you’re going to have to try harder than whatever the fuck this is,” you sneer. 

“we- we had a good thing,” he tries again. you don’t understand how every time he opens his mouth it gets worse and worse. why are you even entertaining this anymore?

“fuck you, man,” you scoff, and it feels like all of the anger has left your body, and in the void where it once was present is nothing but disinterest. 

“no, not like that,” he backpedals. maybe if he would say more than four words at a time, or four better words at a time, then you wouldn’t have to keep filling in the blanks or being pissed off or- “for the last six months of our relationship, i didn’t sleep with anyone else,” he admits like it’s the answer to all of your problems. the word relationship burns at the forefront of your mind so hard that you don’t realize what he’s said for 10 whole seconds.

“i, so what?” your voice is unconvincing even to your own ears. you had slept with other people even 2 months before that last day. that wasn’t the issue. you guys were allowed to sleep with other people. you had an explicit conversation about the fact that you could sleep with other people, something along the lines of, hey, we can see other people right? yeah, we’re not fucking dating. okay, just checking.

the so what, you had already answered for yourself, inner voice replying to your own question, screaming, you guys were exclusive, unknowingly to each other, for 2 whole months before you confessed and he left. 

his answer is much different. he says, “so nothing really. i just- i needed you to know that.”

“well, what the fuck do you want me to do with that?” you ask, and it comes out bitter and discouraged, but what you really mean is, please tell me what you want, please, can you just tell me that you missed me. 

“whatever you want,” he answers instead.

you take a deep breath, a million emotions coursing through your veins and up your throat. “you know what?” you say, and it doesn’t sound angry, it sounds playful, “no, seriously,” you smile and then you laugh, “fuck you, toji.” you close your mouth like you’re done talking, like that’s all you needed to say, but your heart disagrees, forces more words out into the air no matter how hard your jaw is clenched shut.

“you show up here and you’re an asshole and then you’re decent and then you say shit like that and then- then i ask you what you fucking want from this, what you’re trying to play at here and you tell me whatever i want?” you say, exasperated. 

“what i wanted was for you not to leave me three fucking months ago. that’s what i wanted,” you spit, “i wanted you to tell me this shit three fucking months ago before i sat alone, by myself, sad and then angry, and the entire time, fucking missing you, you fucking asshole. that’s what i wanted.”

and then it’s there, out in the open, airing for the two of you to witness and to face, and no matter what happens, you know you’ve done everything and said everything that you’ve needed to. he’s quiet for a few moments and you let him be, not tapping your foot or rolling your eyes or being pissed off, but just letting it play out. if this is the last time you ever see toji, why not just let it play out?

“okay,” he says, and it’s soft in a way you’ve only ever heard from him one time in your entire relationship. “i’m sorry.” he pauses. “i really don’t know how to do this,” he admits and you believe him. it feels different from when he told you something along those lines earlier, but you have a feeling that this is what he was trying to say all along. 

“do what?” you push, because your mind is making assumptions, but if he’s going to prove anything to you, he needs to start now. 

“ask for forgiveness?” he says, like he’s thinking out loud, “apologize? date someone?” you don’t say anything. you’re looking for something more concrete than that. it takes a handful of uncomfortable seconds before he says, “actually care about someone.”

“and do you?” you ask.

his lips press into a thin line, his eyes shift from left to right again. you can feel him getting antsy with the conversation and he’s barely said one vulnerable thing. you look at him, eyes soft and pleading, silently begging him that if he’s grown from this, you’ll let him back in, you swear, but you’ve been hurt before and you know what you’re worth, so you’re going to need some sort of evidence as collateral. “yeah,” he mumbles, but it’s audible. “you,” he says like it isn’t obvious, and it’s quiet and daunted, but you really appreciate the effort.

“okay,” you say, and that’s all you say.

“okay?” he questions, confused. “that’s it?” 

“yup,” you say, but your small smile and the fact that you’re not slamming the door in his face again gives away a bit more than that. 

“can i… come in?” he asks, hesitant, like he’s still being tested.

you shake your head, hand gripped onto the edge of the door. “no,” you say, scrunching up your nose and furrowing your eyebrows. “because if you come in here, we’re going to have sex,” you admit, half because it’s the truth and half just to see the look on his face. (it’s worth it.)

“wait,” he says, placing his palm flat against your door, but not moving it. his hand is now inside of your apartment, the only part of his body that’s made it past this invisible barrier of hallway and your place. “that sounds like a great thing. why am i not allowed in?”

“because this is me having self-control,” you explain, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing the small portion of him that’s crossed the division back into the hallway. when you feel his skin against your pinky, soft fabric of that familiar shirt underneath your palm, you almost make a fool of yourself right after you say the word self-control, but you remind yourself what’s at stake here, what you really want. 

“i came all the way out here to see you-,” he starts, but he doesn’t make a move to replace his hand on your door, letting his arm fall back to his side. it’s for the better, too, because you’re not sure how much more self-control you have already, no matter how much you tell yourself about longevity and whatever. 

“if you really care,” you interrupt him, using his few vulnerable words against him, “and you weren't just trying to sleep with me tonight,” you pause, letting those words sink in, “you will go home and you will call me tomorrow morning and we will get breakfast- the least sexy meal of them all- and then maybe coffee if i enjoy hanging out with you outside of just having sex with you, and then we will go from there.”

“i-,” he starts to protest, but you cock your head. the truth is, if he said another word, reached out and touched your cheek or your hip or really anywhere on your body, if he kissed you, or just walked inside of your apartment and sat down on your couch, you wouldn’t have stopped him. you might even have gotten breakfast with him anyways. he doesn’t know that, you don’t think, but even if he does, he doesn’t act on it. he bows his head slightly, conceding, and says, “okay. i will just… talk to you… tomorrow… then.”

you nod. “goodnight, toji,” you say, hand on the door, closing it as slowly as you opened it. 

“uh, yea, night,” he says back. you won’t tell anyone, and neither will he, about the stupidest small smile you see on his lips as he leaves your apartment that night or the fact that he wakes up extra early the next morning, muttering under his breath about how ridiculous dating is before he calls you at 9:30 on the dot.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴏᴊᴏ [ 3 ᴡᴇᴇᴋs ]

being away from ɢᴏᴊᴏ feels like detoxing. not from like hard drugs or alcohol, but… coffee. 

like you know it’s not necessarily good for you, drinking it every day, but it’s a habit you’ve had for a while now and you just can’t seem to break it. it’s not really hurting anything in your day-to-day and you’ve been doing it for so long that it’s probably fine to just keep doing it.

but out of nowhere it hits you that maybe drinking coffee as much as you do is a waste of money and even if you don’t feel the negative effects constantly in your daily routine, you remind yourself of the times where you could distinctly feel the thump of your heart and the unsteady of your hands. you recall the time that you stayed up all night for the promise of a cup of coffee to get you through the day. in every memory that you’ve ever had in your entire college career, you’re holding a cup of coffee.

so one day you make the choice to stop. you stop buying coffee from coffee shops and pods for your coffee maker and cups from diners and accepting free ones from friends. you don’t really need a good cup of coffee as badly as you think you do. and it’s stupid, you think, because it’s just coffee. it doesn’t mean anything. just because you’ve been drinking it consistently for quite awhile doesn’t mean it has any sort of hold over you. it’s just coffee. 

but then the headaches come and the irritation sets in and nights are hard, but for some reason mornings are unbearable, and you feel antsy all the time and you haven’t left your room in the past three days and the only thing you want is a cup of fucking coffee and you can’t relapse with coffee; it’s fucking coffee. 

yeah, being away from gojo feels a lot like detoxing from coffee. 

you try to just not see him. it’ll be easier for you if you just don’t see him, you tell yourself. you go out of your way to avoid his walking path on campus and you refuse to leave your dorm when you don’t absolutely need to in fear of bumping into him or worse, just seeing him from afar, and god forbid you even come within three streets of the corner where his apartment resides. you block his number and you delete social media off of your phone for the time being, too many mutual friends to make casualties, and you do not let yourself think about him. not falling asleep, not when you wake up, not while you’re doing homework, not in your dreams or in the shower, not when something reminds you of him, not when you see his favorite show on your recently watched, not when you really need a good cup of coffee. 

and it works for a while.

but not forever.

three weeks into your detox and you’re doing such a good job at not thinking about gojo that you mix up his monday schedule with his tuesday schedule and on your way back to your dorm, you see him. if you keep walking at the same pace that you’re walking, you will collide with him. if neither of you do anything, one of you will get hurt. 

you look down at your phone, hoping, in the forefront of your mind, that he didn’t see it was you. (in the back of your mind, you’re hoping that he’s the one to break the longest bout of silence the two of you have had since you met.) when you sneak a glance, he’s already almost reached you, jogging to catch up with you. “hey,” he calls out, just in case you haven’t seen him.

“hi,” you say, stopping in place and letting him approach you.

“i’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” he offers, like you wouldn’t have known that.

“oh, sorry, haven’t been on my phone,” you lie. he knows that you’re lying. he can tell that you’re lying, so you don’t really know why you lie in the first place. maybe to prove a point. maybe to make him feel bad.

“look, about…,” he trails off, trying to remember how long he’s been without you, “about that… day…,” he opts for instead. 

you put your hand up, waving the topic off. you mean to say something like, don’t worry about it, see you later, but it comes out like, “we don’t have to talk about that here.” here. fucking here. if you would’ve left those four letters out, it would’ve been a perfect line to walk away with, but you don’t. your stupid coffee-craving brain tacks it on, hopeful. 

“right,” he says, nodding, “should we get coffee maybe, then, or?”

it’s not out of the ordinary, or it didn’t used to be, but now it feels taboo. you want to snap and ask him if he’s sure, because coffee sounds a bit too much like a date for people that aren’t together, but you realize very quickly that the irritation from your coffee detox is maybe a little bit too much to hold in without any closure. “sure,” you agree, “i just got done with class so we cou-.”

“i know,” he says, because three weeks hasn’t erased your schedule from his brain either. 

you order an iced tea. you’re still convinced you’re done with coffee for good. he looks surprised at your choice, like he’s never seen you order an iced tea before, because he hasn’t, but he doesn’t say anything. you sip on it throughout unpleasant pleasantries and it’s refreshing, but it’s lacking something. in fact, the longer that you drink this stupid drink that has caffeine anyways and isn’t as good, the irritation bubbles higher and higher until- “can i start?” you ask, tapping your fingers against the table in rhythmic succession. 

“yeah, sure,” he says, bringing his coffee to his lips and taking a sip.

“if at any point in this conversation your answer to anything i have to say is that we weren’t together, i don’t think we should have this conversation,” you reason, and you mean it, but his reaction takes you aback. you notice the smallest flinch when you say weren’t.

“i wasn’t-,” he shakes his head, sighing, “no, i wasn’t going to say that.”

“okay,” you say, dragging your fingertips along the condensation on the side of your glass. “then what were you going to say?”

he thinks for a minute, like he didn’t assume that he’d get this far when he brought up the idea of coffee. “i wanted to stop you from leaving,” he says.

“but you didn’t,” you rebuttal.

“i didn’t,” he affirms. it’s quiet again. you can hear the scrape of the cups against the table as they’re picked up, drank from, and put back down. the chatter in the coffee shop drones over the sounds of hesitance and nerves. “i’m sorry,” he says after a while.

“so, do you think we were together?” you ask, “and be honest. i’ll know if you lie.” you search his face as he answers, and the only thing that comes up is another flinch when you talk in past tense again.

“yeah,” he says, honest. “being apart from you these past three weeks has been one of the shittiest things i’ve ever been through.”

“ever?” you ask, quirking your eyebrow, as if it isn’t somewhat true for you too. 

he nods in response, continuing, “it’s been hard.” he pauses. “i’m sorry i was so shitty.”

“pretty shitty, yeah,” you agree, but you can’t hide how nice it feels to just talk with him again, to call him shitty and to sit across from him at a coffee shop table. “i’m sorry i ghosted you these past few weeks,” because it deserves to be said too. 

“i really missed you,” he says, and he doesn’t hide from it. he looks you directly in your eyes and you can tell that he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand. you want that too. 

“me or just, like, sleeping with me?” you ask, somewhat terrified of the answer, scanning his face for the truth once again. 

he laughs softly and, try as you might, you can’t stop the fluttering in your stomach or the warmth in your cheeks hearing that for the first time in too long. “please, i haven’t thought about sleeping with you once,” he jokes.

“oh, no? not at all?” you ask, scoffing lightly, a tiny smirk threatening to break.

he forces a thoughtful frown, shakes his head dramatically and says, “can’t say that i have.” you’re laughing now, but through smile-squinted eyes you can still tell that he’s actually being genuine. “not really,” he says. 

“so just me then?” you ask to make sure.

“just you,” he affirms. “a lot of just you.” you hum, content with his answer, but he gives you even more than thought he ever could, “i don’t want to just go back to the way things were. i don’t think that’s enough for me anymore.”

even though you’re sure a response like this would’ve sent waves of shock through your entire body, it doesn’t. it just feels right. you reply quickly, “good. i don’t think it’s enough for me either.” you reach across the table. the back of your hand brushes against his, and then past it. you wrap your fingers around the handle of his coffee cup and bring it to your lips. 

he doesn’t protest or snatch it away from you or make a snarky comment. he places his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow against the surface of the table, and smiles at you. you take a sip from his mug, warmth spreading through every bit of your body. 

why would you deprive yourself of coffee when it brings you so much comfort?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ʜɪɢᴜʀᴜᴍᴀ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

you’re not exactly sure how many times something has to happen before it becomes a theme. 

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“do you -huff- want to -huff- have kids someday?” higuruma asks from beneath you, palms resting on the tops of your knees, thumbs massaging up to the insides of your thighs. 

you slow your bounces and then you stop them completely. you blink at him once and then twice. “that is a really wild thing to ask while you’re inside of someone,” you scoff, searching his face for any kind of tone indicator. is he being serious? is he just saying something to get a rise out of you? is this a kink thing?

he smirks, placing his hands on your hips, coaxing you to continue your movements, and you do. you lift yourself off of him, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as you chase the feeling you lost when he asked the question. you’re breathless when he asks again, the repeated question no longer stilling you. the second time around it feels almost normal. “do you?” he asks on his exhale.

you shake your head and then tilt it side to side, closing your eyes so all of the conflicting fast paced movements don’t dizzy you. “i- don’t- know-,” you huff, “maybe- conversation- for- a- different- setting.” each word is punctuated by the slap of your thighs against his hips. he nods, completely okay with that answer, and then just drops it.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“shit,” you say in realization, hips circling, fingers combing through his hair. you pull your head away from his shoulder, pushing yourself up to look him in the eyes. “wait, how did your meeting go today?” you ask, and this time neither of you miss a beat. 

when he slows to think about it, you pick up his slack, rolling your hips, feeling the drag of him inside of you, a breathy moan floating up your chest. he answers over your noises, “really good actually.”

“everything as planned?” you ask further, genuinely just as invested in this as you are in the act. 

he nods, smiling. “yeah, to a t,” he says, wrapping his arms around your lower back and pulling you against his chest. he kisses the side of your temple, holding you in place with a tight grip as he lifts his hips off of the bed, thrusting into you. “surprised you didn’t ask as soon as i came through the door.”

you shake your head against his shoulder, placing a soft kiss against his collarbone. “was thinking about it all day,” you explain. he fucks into you faster in response and it feels like a reward for caring about the things that are important to him. “but when- shit- when you got home…,” you grunt, “it completely- ah, fuck- completely slipped my- ah- mind, s-sorry.”

“ts alright, pretty.” he nudges his nose against your cheek, peeling your attention to his face. your cheek rests against his shoulder and you blink at him, focus dipping from the topic at hand as you feel that familiar tightening in your core. he can see it written all over your face, so he drops his head to kiss you, silently communicating that you don’t have to worry about finishing the conversation right now. he’ll bring it up again in a bit.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“should we get married?” he asks, back up against the headboard, looking you directly in your eyes, gaze following yours as you rise and fall. 

“you are not proposing to me while i’m riding you,” you say, shaking your head, but you don’t still or slow. conversations like this in a setting like this just don’t phase you anymore. honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he did propose right now. you’re not even sure you’d say no.

the corner of his lip tugs upward and he exhales a laugh as he leans forward the smallest bit to kiss you. “i’m not, i’m not,” he assures, “why? would you say no?” 

you’re quiet for a minute, not because you don’t know the answer, but to keep him on his toes. you won’t lie to him, you don’t think, but you don’t want to come right out and say it. his questions are rhetorical anyways, half-jokes that he’s not expecting serious answers to; you’ve known higuruma well enough and long enough to be confident of that. you could’ve replied with an eye roll and a scoff and nothing else and he would’ve dropped it. instead, however, you answer, “course not. i’d say yes in a second.”

he nearly comes inside of you right there.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

maybe it becomes a theme when someone points it out. 

you can’t tell if it’s intentional or not, the way that the two of you keep having these serious conversations during sex. you know that you don’t do it on purpose; things will just hit you during the repetitive motions and you worry you’ll forget them and you know that higuruma won’t judge you for just saying them, so you do. whether this is the case for him, you’re not sure. 

but the interruptions just keep getting more casual. it starts with big conversations: weddings and promotions and thoughtful decisions, and then it’s like you just start remembering things in this position: work drama and mundane did you knows. it’s almost as if starting with big topics just made it seem so easy to talk about anything like this. 

it didn’t help, you think, that it’s just always easy to talk about anything with higuruma. you guys have been together, officially together, for over four years now, and conversation, no matter the topic or severity or setting, is something you’ve never struggled with. you continue to not struggle with it, inside of the bedroom and out. 

you’re not sure what about the position and the moment makes you so susceptible to remembering little things that you want to tell higuruma when he’s not around, and vice versa. in fact, you’re not even convinced that it’s something about the action that jogs your memory anyway, it’s probably just a really weird and common coincidence.

and then one night you can’t find your keys. 

you’ve searched everywhere for them, in your car, in your bag, every nook of your room, the places where they normally are, higuruma’s coat pocket just in case, and then everywhere else in your guys’ apartment. they’re nowhere to be seen. 

when higuruma walks through the front door, even from where you’re searching in the kitchen, you hear him let out an elongated, “woah.”

you pop your head into the doorway, “don’t say anything about the mess.” you can see his eyes resting on the overturned couch cushions and then on the various opened drawers. “hey,” you warn, pointing towards him as you walk quickly into the living room. you throw your arms around him tightly and give him a small greeting peck. it’s routine at this point; if you don’t do it your whole night feels off. “i said don’t say anything.”

he lets you hang off of his neck as he puts both hands up in surrender. “i didn’t say shit,” he says, pressing a kiss into the side of your neck, then moving his hands to your waist, “the fuck happened here though?” he laughs against your skin and you can feel the vibrations travel to your fingers and toes. 

you pull away from him, shaking your head. now that you’re back in the living room, it’s like you have to start this room’s search over too. you start checking under the couch and in the hall closet. “lost my fucking keys,” you grumble, smoothing your palms over your face, “i swear i’ve looked everywhere. i just can’t remember where i left them when i got home.”

“did you check th-,” he asks, walking into the kitchen, grateful that you’re not in there with him or he knows you’d yell at him for the way his eyes go wide at the clutter and chaos everywhere. 

you cut him off, “wherever you’re about to say, probably yes, ughhh. i’ve retraced my steps, i’ve looked in places that are fucking stupid to look in like every pair of shoes we own and in the fucking guest bedroom pillowcases. i’ve looked everywhere.”

from where he’s stood in the kitchen now, he can see you scrambling as you vent. he leans against the wall, “well, not everywhere or you would’ve found it by now.”

“i’ll kill you,” you say, eyes snapping up to meet his to show how serious you are.

he just laughs, “i’ve got a pretty good lawyer, you might not want to do that.”

“good legal can’t help you when you’re dead,” you snap, almost completely joking. he meets you back in the living room, helping you check all the places you’ve already checked. 

15 minutes pass and then 35 and then he stops abruptly. “oh my god, i have an idea,” he says, and you look at him, hopeful. “you know when you usually remember things?” 

your first reaction is joking annoyance, picking up a throw pillow and sending it his way. he catches it and sets it back down on the couch. “i’m serious!” he yell-laughs. 

you throw another pillow at him as your second reaction sets in. “that’s not going to fucking work,” you say.

“how do you know?” he asks.

“because,” you say, trying to come up with a good answer other than just blind doubt, “because i don’t remember things while i’m riding you. it’s not a fucking superpower.”

“you don’t know that,” he jokes back and braces to be hit with another pillow. “okay, okay, but i’m being serious! besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen? you don’t remember and we’ve had sex, how horrible,” he reasons.

you let your arms fall, pillow in your hands resting against the tops of your thighs. you look at him, thinking, which, in hindsight, was a dumb thing to do, because higuruma can see the contemplation on your face. 

eight minutes later and he’s inside of you and you’re the most embarrassed you’ve ever been.

“this is so stupid,” you mumble. you haven’t moved an inch after slowly lowering yourself onto him. you’re fully seated against his hips, hands smoothing over your face and then lingering there, covering. 

he reaches up, fingers soft and kind as he wraps them around your wrists, pulling them away from your face. “ts not stupid,” he reassures, but you’re not convinced. you groan, turning to look away from him, but that just won’t do. he reaches up again, soft grip on your chin coaxing your gaze back to his. “hey,” he says softly, “just focus here, angel.”

you listen, somewhat, mind still flickering back to why you’re even riding him in the first place. “just enjoy yourself, okay,” he tries again, rolling his hips upwards, pressing himself inside of you as deep as he can. you close your eyes, and it’s quite easy to just focus on the feeling of being as full as you are right now. “good,” he whispers, “just like that.”

it doesn’t take long for you to lose yourself completely, moving on your own, letting the whimpers and whines take over any other thought you might think to say, chasing that feeling rather than worrying about whatever you’ve lost. 

it all kinda clicks at once: where your keys are and why you always remember shit when you’re like this.

in the midst of everyday noise, so many things get lost: important and unimportant thoughts alike. but now you’re not worried about anything else. you don’t care about anything else right now. you don’t have to. you don’t want to. and in this state of letting everything go, mindless and blissful, some things slip back through the cracks.

you collapse onto higuruma’s chest, spent and happily aware of this new revelation that you have not, for once, shared in the middle of sex, but kept quiet as a come down surprise. you hum softly as he rubs up and down your back, hum again as he presses a kiss into your forehead. “m sorry it didn’t work, angel,” he murmurs. 

you turn your head, ear pressed right against his heart as you gaze up at him. “i left them in the fridge,” you reveal, and he knits his eyebrows together. 

you assume that he’s going to say something about how did you leave them in the fridge? or why are they there? but instead he questions, “what? and you didn’t tell me until now?” like you’ve harbored a life long secret. you laugh softly, snaking your hands up and scratching your nails against his scalp, playing with the ends of his hair. “don’t think this is going to get you out of it,” he says, “‘ts my favorite thing when you just blurt shit while you’re on me.”

you can feel the warmth in your cheeks and your chest as you breathe a laugh. “you’ve never told me that before,” you murmur. 

“think it’s cute when you just can’t wait to tell me things,” he says, “feels more intimate than being inside of you.”

“ew,” you say, scrunching up your nose, even though you weirdly agree. 

he just laughs in response. a few seconds of quiet comfort pass before he backtracks, “wait, why the fuck are your keys in the fridge?” 

and you tell him all about it, about the day that you’ve had and how you remembered you hadn’t drank enough water so you were refilling your bottle from the pitcher in the fridge as soon as you got home from work, but your hands were full so you set your keys on top of the leftovers from yesterday, but then you had to go and set everything down and the fridge closed and by the time you left the kitchen you remembered you needed to do something else… and it just keeps going.

you tell him as you’re taking a shower and as you’re eating dinner together and as he’s brushing his teeth and you’re washing your face and laying in bed and setting your alarms. every room in the house is a mess, but you’ll deal with that later, you decide. you rest your chin on his shoulder. “and how was your day?” you ask, even though the clock reads much later than it should for how much sleep you both should get before you’re up early for work tomorrow. 

nevermind that, he decides, and tells you all about it anyways.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

“can i ask you something and when i ask you, you’ll know i don’t mean anything bad by it at all because i love you more than everything in the world?” you ask, putting down your phone only after you’ve finished your sentence. 

you wait a few seconds for nanami to take in what you’ve asked. he reaches over to the night stand for his bookmark and sticks it between the pages. he shuts it with an audible shuffling of paper and a sharp thump. 

nanami has been with you long enough to not typically be surprised by your out of the blue… questions. (dronings? is there a word like droning but the connotation is more positive? like you talk at him a lot and he loves to hear the ramblings in your brain, but sometimes he is just trying to read his book before bed. whatever that word is.)

he places the book on his lap and then turns his chest towards you completely. you now have his full attention. “is that a yes?” you ask. 

he inhales deeply, “if i say no, will you still ask it?”

you think on the answer to that question, really mulling it over before shaking your head. “no, i don’t think so.”

“then yes,” he smirks, “i suppose i have to say yes then.”

“great,” you say, tossing your phone onto your bedside table with a clunk. you sit up straighter, rocking forward to fully adjust your position on your side of the bed. you put your hand on his thigh and cross your legs, letting your knee rest on the side of his comforter covered hip. “do you ever regret not dating more?”

it definitely takes him by surprise. he thought you might drop another weirdly specific hypothetical about would he love you if… or request a glass of water even though you already told him tonight when he was getting into bed and he asked if you wanted one, that you did not. 

now he’s the one mulling over your question and despite how nerve wracking it could be to wait for an answer to a what if that involves not you, you’re not anxious in the slightest. you’re quiet, just waiting for his answer, and when he finally speaks, you know exactly why you weren’t scared in the first place, “i’ve honestly never thought about it since i met you.”

“really?” you ask, and you’re mostly feeling very lucky that nanami is yours and you are his, but there is an underlying feeling of guilt that he’s unintentionally caused with this statement. 

he nods. “sounds like you have though,” he says, and it’s not even a little bit judgmental. it sounds like he’s imploring you to keep talking, like he wants to hear exactly what you’re thinking, why you brought it up in the first place.

“i wouldn’t trade this security, this love, exactly what we have, you for anything in the world,” you start to explain, and it’s nothing but the truth, “but sometimes i just think about that first night when we were in that bar. the flirting, the risks, that feeling of not knowing where the night is going to end up. sometimes i think about that a little bit.”

he hums, thinking about that night, and after a few seconds of silence, he speaks up again, “first date nerves,” he nods, “now that i think about it, i miss those.”

you cock your head at him. that’s a weird part of dating to miss, you think, but then he explains further, “like when we went out on our first date and i didn’t know what you were going to wear or if you liked the restaurant i picked or if you’d let me pay for your food.”

“or if i’d take you back to mine,” you joke, raising your eyebrows at him, but really you’re burning inside. your cheeks feel warm just hearing about these feelings he’s never mentioned to you before. 

“yeah, that too,” he laughs, getting back on track, “like, i’m still finding out new things about you all the time, but back then i was discovering who you were every second we were together, and that- that felt like…”

“like finding out soulmates were real?” you ask, because that’s what it felt like to you, that same exact phenomenon he’s describing. he smiles at you warmly, like you’ve just put to words what he felt he could only experience. “i know what you mean,” you smile. 

he leans forward, cupping your cheek with his hand and guiding you towards him. he kisses you softly, placing his other hand on your other cheek and kissing you harder. “should we go on a first date again?” he asks against your lips, barely pulling away to speak. 

you laugh, but when you pull away, you can tell he’s not joking. “what?” you ask, “what do you mean?” you’re already blushing though, already feeling the exact first date nerves he was just talking about. 

“let’s go on a first date,” he repeats himself. “i’ll pick you up at your front door and i’ll choose the restaurant and it’ll be a surprise and i’ll ask you questions that i’d ask you on a first date even if i know the answers to all of them and more at this point.”

you’re smiling so big that your cheeks are sore as you nod fervently at the concept. “okay, yeah,” you agree. 

“right, so we probably shouldn’t kiss or make out or sleep with each other until then to really play into the whole thing?” he teases, and you roll your eyes in response. 

“you’re very funny, kento,” you say, leaning in, brushing your nose against his. he doesn’t even last a second, closing the gap with a small peck and then another and then another and then a much longer one and then he’s putting the book on his nightstand so he can pull you into his lap. 

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

you get a text 5 minutes before 7 that nanami is going to be 3 minutes late picking you up. the text looks a little weird underneath a thread of:

>> nami <3 >> how’s work baby

<< read << if you love me you’ll come and pull the fire alarm to get me out of here early :) :) :)

>> nami <3 >> fine but that’s a class four felony in some cases. will you be providing legal assistance or should i look elsewhere????

<< read << how do u know that?? nerd!!!

>> nami <3 >> google tbh. 

<< read << wow. first i have to stay at work all day alone and sad and now i get to know my bf isn’t sexy and off the dome smart about everything. :(

>> nami <3 >> goodbye.

<< read << :(

>> nami <3 >> i love you

<< read << :)

you bite back the urge to reply with something you’d say to him after knowing him for years. rereading the text and thinking back to your first date, it makes you giggle. actually, it makes you kinda nervous. you text back a polite no worries! take your time! and he replies with a heart and you truly feel like you’re dating for the first time again. you feel honest to god giddy. 

arriving to the restaurant, you are genuinely surprised. you thought after knowing him as long as you have and having gone to as many restaurants with him as you have, you’d go back to somewhere nice you’ve already been. but that isn’t the case. 

he drives you to a pop-up restaurant 20 minutes out of town that you’ve never even heard of, but is the cutest place you’ve ever been, and the entire time he can’t stop sneaking respectful glances at you. he won’t stop telling you how nice you look. he even apologizes for it by the sixth time, pushing your chair in at the restaurant saying, “i know i keep mentioning it, and i’m sorry, but if i said it every time i thought it, it’d be a never ending string.”

if he keeps this up, you’re going to feel like you’re cheating. this seriously feels like a first date, like you’ve been in a relationship for over 5 years and you’re also going on a first date and it’s really messing with your head, but you never want it to stop. 

he stays true to his word, asking you questions he already knows the answers to, but hearing them again, they sound brand new. he doesn’t know if he’s just forgotten some of them or if the testaments of time have weathered your answers just enough to sound unfamiliar, but either way, he’s hanging on to every word. 

by the end of the night, you’ve truly convinced yourself that there are stakes to this date, like if you play your cards wrong, you won’t get to keep seeing this incredible guy. he pays the whole bill, even though you insist on getting your meal or at the very least dessert. he says, “you can try next time too.” and you can’t breathe, you feel so lucky. 

“i’m sorry if this seems forward, but i’d really like to keep seeing you tonight,” you say as the waiter takes away the paid bill, and your heart is thumping so violently against your chest, you swear he can feel it too. 

he shakes his head, “perfectly forward,” he smiles, “your place or mine?” you break character for the first time tonight, giggling at the reality of the question, hiding behind your hand as you do. “what’s so funny?” he asks, but he’s grinning just as big as you are. 

“just thinking about how dreary my life would be if i hadn’t gone on this first date,” you say, and it’s a little too meta, but he’ll let it slide, because he’s a bit flustered at the sentiment. “mine is great,” you answer, placing your hand on his, rubbing the tips of your fingers against his knuckles. 

everything about the rest of the night feels like a first too. it feels like your first kiss in front of your front door. it feels like he’s seeing “your” apartment for the first time. it feels like you’re making out on your couch for the first time. 

it feels like the first time he’s ever been inside of you. 

when he pushes deeper into you, eyes on yours shut tight, you tell yourself that you want to pretend you’re on a first date every single day of your life. you can’t stop whimpering, pleading for him to never stop fucking you ever, please don’t stop, please never fucking stop. 

you break character for the second time when you’re right on the edge. he keeps looking down at you with so much love in his eyes and his hands all over you feel like they know every inch of you, and you can’t stop yourself. you grab his face in your hands, “kento, baby, please, ‘m gonna- ‘m sorry, i- fuck, please. i love you, fuck,” you whine, and he can’t stop himself either, hips stuttering, head falling against your shoulder as he feels you clenching around him as he empties himself inside of you, murmuring how much he loves you right back. 

the way you’ve been feeling all night: blissful and coy, it’s not because it’s a first date, it’s because he’s nanami. it’s because he’s orchestrated the entire night and no matter how “new” everything feels, the underlying foundation of that newness, and the reason everything feels so good, is familiarity and safety. 

“i’m sorry that i-,” you breathe, but he stops you, reaching his hand up to drag his fingertips against your lips, and you laugh, pressing a soft kiss into them. “okay, okay,” you say, and he places his hand back down by his side. “done with the first date stuff, just want to be yours again,” you murmur. 

he scoffs, light, and you can hear his smile in it. he falls over onto his back, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head. “never weren’t,” he mumbles against your hair. “always will be,” he mumbles again, holding you tighter. 

“good,” you say back, settling into his arms like that’s the only thing you know to be true in the entire world. you wouldn’t trade that truth for a million first dates. 

sure, holding your breath at quick witted flirts and stolen glances is nice, but it’s a lot nicer just knowing that you will never be loved better and you will never love harder. 

♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡ no bc the yelling really worked very well idk yell at me more to write a continuation for toji (maybe also gojo bc hes the only one i havent written even an inkling of smut for) idk i'm just thinking of so many scenes idk throw hcs at me in my inbox IDK! toji dating for the first time? got me fucked UP

ᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴀɢs ᡣ𐭩 @igocrazyeveryday @vernasce-blogs @minty86 @abrielletargaryen @pompompompompompompom @mysticrays @lilolpotato @thisisew @pnkoo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @ryumurin @cisseadven @multi-fandom-fanfic @noosayog @anxious-chick @mintleafwrites @(tried to tag some other folks but couldnt!!)

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #toji smut #gojo smut #nanami x reader #nanami smut #higuruma x reader #higuruma x reader smut #higuruma smut #nanami x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #actually not really tbh theres no smut in tojis or gojos cant even lie #toriwritesshit

[erwinsvow]

the water is hot—much too hot for skin, you’re well aware, but this is your everything shower, so there’s no use in not having scaldingly warm water rain down on you. rafe’s bathroom is a mess of your products—a honey scented candle flickering on the sink counter, your soaps and scrubs along the tub. the entire place smells like vanilla and coconut, smells like you. 

you just need to finish washing your hair and give yourself one last soapy rinse before you can step out and finish up—all that’s left is lotioning up and your skincare. 

but it’s hard to want to leave when it’s so warm, and you feel so clean, and it’s so cold outside, colder still without the warmth of your boyfriend, who is out and about for the day.

so you decide to cherish this time, letting your head run under the showerhead and basking in the feeling. you only get another thirty seconds before the door opens. 

“wha—hey!” you yell out, thinking maybe sarah came in, since sometimes she does that when wheezie’s using their bathroom, and she’s only caught you and rafe showering together twice so far.

“shut up. it’s me.” your boyfriend’s sweet as always, walking in and closing the door behind him.

“rafe, i’m showering,” you start, worried for some reason that he’s gonna yank you out.

“yeah, i can tell. m’not blind, kid.” you hear him settle—he’s probably taking a seat, getting comfortable. “you won’t believe what barry said today-”

you poke your head out from the side of the curtain. rafe’s sitting on the toilet, staring up at you.

“get out!” 

“no. i gotta tell you what barry did.” he makes himself comfortable, sniffing the candle and then starting his story. you aren’t surprised at his antics anymore, there’s no privacy between you two anyways. you go back, finishing your hair wash while listening. 

“jesus, it’s fuckin’ hot in here. how do you still have skin?” 

“this is the perfect temperature,” you sigh, reaching for your body wash. rafe can’t see much through the curtain—it’s not sheer in any way, but he can make out your shadow from the other end, hands running over your body while you wash away the suds, the shape of your face under the showerhead. 

he shouldn’t have come in here.

“alright, i’m goin’. finish up.” you poke your head back, sticking your tongue out at him.

“already? what happened to the rest of your story?” 

“you told me to get out, remember?” you pout.

“was just kidding. i like this.”

“if i stay in here m’coming in there with you.” 

“promise?” 

#hahahah silly i jus love him #domestic rafe <3 #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader

[whydon-twego]

"You have Arthur's complete trust" Merlin laughs when Gwen tells him this and asks her what she is talking about.

Gwen looks at him strangely, as if she thinks Merlin is joking but then she sees Merlin's expression and can't hide her surprise.

"Merlin, you do realise that you're the person Arthur trusts most in the world, right?" Merlin chuckles again but this time it is with a sense of guilt and annoyance that won't let him alone.

"I don't think so."

Gwen, who until then had been mending one of Morgana's dresses, puts down her needle and thread and looks at him seriously, Merlin doesn't think he has ever seen her like that.

"You two fooling around and teasing each other is fine, Merlin, but you can't really think Arthur doesn't trust you. You can come and go from his rooms as you please, whether he's there or not, you have the keys to his room, and you're the only person who has them, and the whole castle knows perfectly well that Arthur has priceless things in there. I know you shave him every morning and believe me, that is not the job of a manservant,"

"But he is the one who-"



"That's right, Merlin. He's the one who."

Gwen seems genuinely annoyed that Merlin doesn't grasp how much Arthur trusts him, and Merlin finds himself having a chasm in his chest because he doesn't want to think about it. He doesn't want to think about Arthur's trust in him, he doesn't want to think that Arthur thinks Merlin is a person worthy of his trust, because Arthur is the most noble and sincere person in the world and Merlin is hiding most of his life from him.

"I have to go, Gwen."

Merlin leaves everything where he is and does not even turn around when Gwen (probably guilt-ridden from that lecture) calls him back.

Merlin hides in the first crevice he finds and struggles to breathe.

He struggles to breathe because Arthur trusts him and he knows it, but he tries to think about it as little as possible. He tries to live life day by day and not think about tomorrow and how long it is that he is lying to him. He tries not to have a heart attack every time Arthur looks at him and smiles or pats him on the back saying "good job!" or when Arthur is the first to worry about him when they are attacked by bandits.

Merlin tries not to think about Arthur's scream when they were separated on a mission and Merlin had to drop rocks to protect him. He tries not to think about the time he had to steal the keys from Arthur's room and Arthur, finding him in the room early in the morning, didn't bat an eyelid at the excuse of the woodworms because Arthur trusts him and simply told him to leave.

Merlin is a horrible person who does not deserve this kind of trust, not when he is lying to the most important person in his life.

"Breathe."

Merlin, caught in the middle of a panic attack he didn't even realise was happening, jerks at the voice and Arthur's hand resting on his shoulder.

"Breathe, Merlin, come on, in and out, calmly, follow me" Arthur takes deep breaths and Merlin tries to keep up with him but Arthur's mere presence makes the situation worse and Merlin finds himself with tears in his eyes as Arthur looks at him more and more worried.

"Gwen!" shouts Arthur then and Gwen is at his side within moments "Go get Gaius, I can't move Merlin from here in this condition."

Gwen looks at Merlin and she's so worried and feeling so guilty that Merlin wants to say something to her but is already so much if he can breathe.

Gwen leaves and Arthur and Merlin are alone and Arthur strokes his back trying to calm him down and Merlin bursts into tears. 
Arthur lays a hand on his shoulder and settles him on top of him, not holding him too tightly for fear of Merlin's breathing getting worse.

"I was looking all over for you, you know? I thought you'd be at the tavern or having fun somewhere and instead, I find you here doing the doppol-head."

Merlin laughs between sighs and sobs and Arthur continues.

"You have a myriad of tasks to do. My armour is completely ruined, I have no idea where my sword is and you were supposed to revise my speech for this afternoon but apparently, you had better things to do."

Merlin's breathing calmed and he was finally able to concentrate better, noticing that the king was sitting on the dirt floor next to him and practically rocking him.

"Arthur…"

Arthur turns his head slightly but they still can't make eye contact.

"I have magic."

Arthur stiffens and Merlin already feels lost without his king by his side even though he is still physically there.

"Alright," Arthur murmurs and Merlin gets up to look at him because there is no way he is hearing correctly. Arthur turns to look at him and his expression isn't the happiest but Merlin can't blame him "we've been through a lot worse, haven't we?"

And etiquette be damned, what is right or not right to do at court, Merlin throws himself onto his king and holds him as if he never wants to let him go again, holds him trying to tell him everything he is unable to say right now in words.

Arthur holds him just as tightly and Merlin finally knows that everything will be all right.

And that is how Gwen and Gaius find them, embraced tightly in the middle of a corridor in Camelot.

#merthur #merthur prompt #merthur fic #merlin #merlin prompt #merlin fic #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #gwen bbc #gaius bbc #merlin emrys #merthur fanfic #my writing