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youngks-smile · 2 months

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What I Want You To Know About Long COVID

Well lads, I've been suffering from Long COVID for over a year now. My life is at a complete standstill. I'm 25 years old and I'm too sick to go back to school, I can't work, I had to move back in with my parents and I'm still stuck here.

Here are just a few things I wish people knew about Long COVID, including things I didn't know myself until I got it.

COVID destroys your immune system. Yes, even if you don't have Long COVID. Are you getting sick more often now? When you get sick, does it last longer? There are many studies showing that COVID causes t cell depletion, even in mild COVID cases! T cells are how your body remembers how to fight off infections you've had before so losing those cells? Bad news.

Your initial infection can be mild and you can still get Long COVID. Right from Yale Medicine, "Most people with Long COVID had mild acute COVID." (This is also a good link for a basic Long COVID overview).

There can be a gap of time between when you "get better" from the initial COVID infection to the onset of Long COVID symptoms. Some people get sick with an initial COVID infection and never get better. Some get better and then weeks or months later start developing Long COVID symptoms. Long COVID symptoms can even fluctuate over time, can go away for months and then suddenly come back.

So many people have Long COVID and don't realize it. Do you feel more tired lately but no matter how much you sleep, nothing helps? Is it harder to concentrate at work or school? Can you just not think like you used to? You could have Long COVID and not even know it. Even mild post-COVID symptoms are still Long COVID.

COVID can do anything to your body. Long COVID has over 200 recognized symptoms and can affect basically any part or system of your body. There is no one mechanism or cause of Long COVID which unfortunately also means there's no one cure either.

The effects of COVID are cumulative. Each COVID reinfection increases your chances of developing Long COVID. COVID is also affecting your body in other ways, yes, even if you're otherwise young and healthy! "Repeat COVID-19 infections increase risk of organ failure, death".

Once you have Long COVID, repeat COVID infections will make your symptoms worse. "80% [of Long COVID patients] saw their symptoms worsen [from reinfection]. In 60% of people who were in recovery or remission from Long COVID, reinfection caused a recurrence of Long COVID."

There is a lot more I want to say about Long COVID but I want to keep this post at least somewhat manageable to read. Like how when COVID is contracted during pregnancy, those COVID-exposed fetuses have a 6.3-fold increased risk of motor developmental delays, or that another study found 50% of babies exposed to COVID in utero had developmental delays.

You need to keep caring about COVID, for others around you and also for yourself even if you're "healthy". Everyone is at risk. And don't forget 40-60% of COVID infections are asymptomatic, which is why masking even if you feel fine is crucial. The only way right now to not get Long COVID is to not get COVID in the first place. It's not too late, if you've stopped masking it's never too late to start again! I know it's easy to get distracted by things in your life that seem more real than the possibility of getting sick some time in the future, and the peer pressure to not mask can be intense. But it only feels less real or less important until your entire life is having Long COVID. Trust me.

I know this is a complicated issue, many people can't afford to stay home when sick even if they want to because of their jobs, there are disgusting policies trying to ban wearing masks, but please if you can. Keep masking. Masking works, masking saves lives.

This post got a bit longer than I wanted so below the cut is a non-exhaustive list of my Long COVID symptoms and some of my experiences as one of the "healthy young people" who got "unlucky". cw brief mention of suicidal ideation.

Welcome to the Thunderdome that is my body with Long COVID. Keep in mind these are just my experiences and symptoms, Long COVID can cause any range of symptoms at varying severities.

Dysautonomia: Exercise intolerance, Post-Exertional Malaise (PEM), fatigue, and heat intolerance. What do those things mean? Here's some specific examples. Absolutely terrible circulation I am so cold all the time but also, if I get a little too warm I will pass out. Eating hot food makes my heart rate spike, I sweat, my body feels heavy. Blood pooling and pins and needles in my feet when I walk. Don't even think about exercising past walking, it's impossible. I used to work out an hour a day 4 times a week and now walking up one flight of stairs makes my heart pound and I can't breathe. Can't take even just warm showers anymore or I will pass out. Heat rashes from being in the sun for 10 minutes.

Digestive issues: Honestly too many to name but: constant bloating, extreme nausea, constipation, slow motility, lack of appetite, just so much cramping and pain. I lost 18 pounds from Long COVID, as someone who was already considered underweight their entire life, and almost had to get a shunt put into my chest to deliver nutrients because I was nearly completely unable to eat. For the first 6 months of Long COVID, if I could manage 600 calories a day, that was a good day.

Histamine intolerance: Oh boy. My worst symptoms, I don't even know where to start with it. If you know Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS) it's very similar. I can only eat 19 foods. If i eat a single bite of something not on that list, it's 48 hours of absolute hell. Coughing, migraines, itchy eyes, such extreme nausea I cannot even describe it, panic/feeling of doom, racing heart rate, derealization, rash, uncontrollable muscle tremors. I only learned about histamine intolerance 5 months into having Long COVID so before that, I was experiencing these symptoms nearly every single day. Terrifying isn't even a strong enough word to describe how it felt to experience all this and have no idea what it was, how to stop it, or if it would ever stop. Really dark times.

Neurological issues: More of that derealization. Inability to concentrate. Anxiety. OCD-like symptoms such as thoughts getting "stuck" in my head, repeating 24/7 completely unable to stop them, genuinely felt like my brain had cracked open and I had lost my mind. Constant dizziness like I'm on a boat.

Sleep issues: I sleep like garbage. I have insomnia, I wake up dozens of times every night and every single time I sleep I have intensely vivid dreams. I can't sleep longer than 7 hours total no matter how exhausted I am. It is exhausting. I'm exhausted, I'm so so tired.

And finally. Just. Really intense suicidal ideation. My body, my health, my entire life has been stolen from me because someone else decided my life was worth less to them than wearing a mask or staying home if they feel sick. Before I got Long COVID, I was preparing to go to South Korea to teach English, then on to a PhD in neurolinguistics, I was supposed to meet my long distance partner and had already booked plane tickets when I got sick. All of that has been destroyed.

Most of us with Long COVID are stuck in a cycle of being extremely sick, then if you're lucky you'll slowly get better over months, just to get reinfected and go right back where you started or worse. Honestly, I'm not scared of dying from COVID. I'm scared of living for a long time, suffering from Long COVID the entire time. This isn't living.

I don't know how to end this now. I'm still fighting, I'm trying experimental treatments, I'm not giving up yet. I hope everyone reading this stays healthy and well.

#long covid #covid 19 #covid isn't over #pandemic

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mashpotatoe · 6 months

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im a white jew, i was born in israel,

ive lived there all my life and was brought up in an environment that fosters racism driven by nationalism, nationalism driven by racism.

in israel, they teach you jews and muslims (though usually, they just say arabs) have always been enemies, the same way the US deems the entire middle east as a inherent war zone, ridding them of the responsibility for perpetuating war in thst region.

they tell you "were the fair and humane side who strives for peace! its the arabs who never accept the offer!"

i remember the first time i began doubting that sentiment was in fourth grade, when we were having a discussion in class about the character of Saul from the Torah. the teacher was talking about how Saul, the first monarch of the Kingdom of Israel, used to fight the Philistines, and when she added that the Philistines were the natural enemy of the Israelites, she asked the class what group of people is their modern equivalent to which everyone very eagerly replied "Arabs!" and nevermind that there in that same class sat two arab boys, one of whom sat next to me, who i looked at and thought "but he isnt my enemy? hes just a boy in my class."

they teach you to hate arabs. sometimes they say it outright. sometimes they say it more carefully, or make a distinction between good and bad arabs, those who are with us and those who are against us.

in a state based on the idea of (white) jewish supremacy, they teach you jews are naturally superior. they use the conspiratorial narrative of "jews controlling the world" to their favor, giving their own watered down explanation for why antisemitism exists, saying that it must be driven by jealousy.

the zionist movement always used antisemitism to its advantage, either for reinforcing the notion of jewish supremacy or appealing to the real pain and trauma of generations, people who survived the holocaust, connecting them to stolen land where they are "guaranteed" safety ergo granting "justification" for the suffering of others.

its using peoples real pain that makes fear mongering so effective, and when the israeli population grows up being told all of their neighboring countries want to kill them, they quickly get defensive of the "only land where they can feel safe", but the only explanation ever provided for Why these neighboring countries are considered enemies is because theyre arabs.

and when it comes to palestine, it isnt even recognized as a country, nor identity. just a threat. ive talked to many people who are genuinely unaware of the occupation, and they arent willing to believe it either, because the media narrative has successfully shifted the blame on hamas. because "how could it be us? we want peace! its the terrorists who make us look bad! and their children, they grow up to be antisemites*, might as well get rid of them too!" they never stop to think what environment these children must grow up in to develop these "radical" ideas.

* what they mean by antisemite is really just antizionist, but the term anti/zionist isnt practiced in local dialect, being a zionist is treated as a given

any jew who stands against israels oppression is dubbed a self hating jew, but the biggest contributors to antisemitism is the people in charge of an ethnostate, because at any moment they could decide who is not white enough to be jewish, who is too jewish to be white, who stood against the current coalition government and who is an obedient dog.

israelis arent a monolith, but many of them have been won over, convinced its an "us v them" situation, when in reality it could never be the "us" that "loses"

the israeli government was waiting for an event like the massacre on the seventh of october to declare war, to have the so called "right to defend itself", so they could initiate the final steps of an ethnic genocide and displace, if not kill, all remaining palestinians. under the guise of bringing peace.

it isnt too late to call for a permanent ceasefire, to end the occupation.

please contact your representatives, attend protests and rallies if you are able. palestine will be free, and the flowers will rise again.

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heartss4val · 4 months

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𐑺 ˖ ࣪ ࿐ྂ I WANNA BE YOURS | percy jackson x gn!reader

percy jackson looks at you like you were the one who put the stars in the sky.

the son of poseidon gazes at you with so much awe and admiration in his eyes that most people would think you had just defeated a minotaur with your bare hands, or cured cancer or saved the world from total destruction, something that would be remembered for centuries to come. but in reality, all you did was toss a few nuts to the squirrels that scurried around camp. percy jackson looks at you in such a way that even aphrodite herself would point and squeal.

though, he'd never admit to that. the only telltale sign of his infatuation is the rosy tint that creeps up the tips of his ears every time you you pass by, and his lips that struggle to stay in a straight line whenever you flash him that smile—the one that makes his heart leap up and into his throat. even after four years of friendship, percy still hasn't figured out how to sit next to you and not be totally in love with everything you do.

it's as though you have some sort of magic power over him—a power that he's powerless to resist. and as much as he'd like to deny it, he secretly revels in the feeling.

but percy jackson would never confess his desires for you—not when kronos is still actively seeking to wipe out the demigod population. he can't afford to display any signs of weakness.

but it's worth it, he thinks, to risk everything just to wrap his arms around you and plant a kiss on your lips that would set the world on fire. yet he knows he can't—not without endangering you. not without putting you in harm's way. so why is it so unbearable to imagine life without you, when you were never really his to begin with?

and in those moments, when his mind is consumed with thoughts of you, memories of your touch and your gaze playing on repeat in his mind, he's left thinking, 'did i imagine it?' did he dream up the way your touch lingered on his arm as you adjusted his armor? the way you looked at him across the dining pavilion before turning away, as if you'd been caught in the act of something secret and sweet? he must have, right? because you would never look at someone like him with such tenderness. not at someone hot-headed and impulsive, someone with so many rough edges. no, you couldn't have looked at him like that. it must all be in his head.

you couldn't have looked at him the same way he looks at you.

despite his best efforts to conceal it, percy's convinced that everyone can see right through him. he knows that everyone can see right through him. the teasing from his fellow campers has been relentless—nicknames hurled his way, each one more unflattering than the last. romeo, hopeless romantic, loverboy..

loverboy.

he's no loverboy. not some kind of lovesick puppy at the mercy of some unattainable crush. no, that nickname is only reserved for the truly whipped, those who are wrapped around someone's finger, glued to their side at all times. he's no..

and then his head snaps up at the sound of your voice, suddenly alert. and there you are, all dazzling and gorgeous, a beacon in a sea of identical orange t-shirts and jeans. you stand out as though a spotlight has been trained on you alone. which is weird because to most people you're just another camper. albeit, an incredibly beautiful camper, but still, just a camper. so why is he so infatuated with you, specifically?

maybe he is a loverboy.

the realization hits him like a ton of bricks, and he almost groans out loud. can't he just carve his heart out and be done with it at this point? isn't that what the poets do?

but since he never really cared for those dead old men taught in school, like edward allan poe or whatever his name was, he'll settle for just daydreaming now. he'll settle for stolen glances across the room and the brush of your hands as you reach for a book. he'll settle for relishing in your little touches and how your lips shine in blueberry chapstick until he's ready. he'll admire the curve of your nose and the triumphant hugs you give him after your team wins capture the flag. he'll settle for it until it's not enough anymore. he'll settle for it until he needs more.

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson x you #heroes of olympus #percy jackson x y/n #heroes of olympus x reader #hoo #hoo x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson x yn #percy jackson fluff #pjo imagine #riordanverse x reader

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heritageposts · 2 years

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i saw the trailer for the new feel-good “anti-racist” US war movie about the carpet bombing of North Korea and started writing up something for this blog, partially inspired by the absolute shit storm i got for sharing that post i made with pictures of everyday life outside pyongyang

and then i gave up, because what’s the point? westerners can’t even handle a single picture of a north korean not looking miserable without screaming propaganda

meanwhile, there are no stories about the horrors of life in the ‘hermit kingdom’ that are deemed too outlandish to be believable. i can’t remember who said it, but it’s like the entire country has taken up permanent residence in the western imaginary as some silly little cartoon villain, where the leaders of the country does evil things for no discernible reason. they’re just silly and evil like that, and the citizens, of course, are silly, too. silly and brainwashed.

i watched a video recently of a tourists visiting an auto dealership in pyongyang, and the entire time he was just gawking at the employees and costumers, shoving his phone in their face, and confidently explaining to his youtube audience that everyone he’s interacting with are actually actors.

what level of dehumanization do you have to reach for that thought to even cross your mind? to think that the people you see before you are actors? that entire cities and shops are erected with to sole purpose that you, a western, will see them and be impressed?

what frustrates me the most is the casual cruelty that seeps into any mention of north korea, no matter how small. if north koreans are not being evil, they’re being silly.

a north korean newspaper reports that a group of archeologists in pyongyang have discovered an old rock carving with the words ‘unicorn lair’ (mistranslated), and the western press reports that north koreans now believe in unicorns.

a tourist at a hotel in hamhung is told by the receptionist to be careful at the beach: the waves can get high. that day the tourists goes to the beach, and there are no waves. she retells the story to her instagram followers, explaining that the poor woman at the hotel could never have seen real waves before because north koreans are probably never allowed to travel.

she adds a little teary-eyed emoji.

one of the cities i included in the post was sariwon, a densely populated city to the south of pyongyang. below are some pictures from its “folk customs street”, which was built to showcase old korean traditions and customs

here’s all wikipedia has to say about it

Built to display an ideal picture of ancient Korea, it includes buildings in the "historical style" and a collection of ancient Korean cannons. Although it is considered an inaccurate romanticized recreation of an ancient Korean street, it is frequently used as a destination for foreigners on official government tours. Many older style Korean buildings exist in the city.

it’s just north koreans being silly again. there’s no mention of what might motivate them to build a street like that — why the preservation of old customs, culture and architecture might somehow be important for the city

could it perhaps have something to do with how the U.S. air force dropped 635,000 tons of bombs, including 32,557 tons of napalm, over the korean peninsula during the war? the carpet bombings, which are now the topic of an upcoming hollywood movie about overcoming racism through warcrimes, destroyed an estimate of 85% of all buildings in north korea. some cities were entirely wiped off the map.

in sariwon they missed a few buildings, but not many — after an intense firebombing campaign the U.S. military estimated the destruction of sariwon to be at 95%.

none of this is mentioned on the wikipedia page for sariwon.

we destroyed entire cities. memory-holed the entire thing, called it the forgotten war. and now, 70 years later, we’re convincing ourselves that the people living in the ruins are actors.

and somehow the north koreans are the brainwashed ones

#forgive me lord for i am posting #to all the 'hate the government not the people' freaks in the notes #i'm coming for you next

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brainrotdotorg · 4 months

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imagine a dashboard for alligators. what do you think that would look like

2 notes

🍏gatoridae Follow

Controversial opinion. If you're doing nothing but eating meat, what are you even doing. Remember to include bugs, fruits, and legumes into your diet in order to help aid digestion of the meat that you get from snakes, fish, and mammals.

Just because we have the reputation for eating lots of meat, that doesn't mean we have to stick to it.

🥒biting-you-biting-you Follow

counterpoint: fuit yucky

🪵blog-from-a-bog Follow

wdym reputation of eating meat. i float lik ea log thats what im known for

4,904 notes

🌿swamp-ass Follow

asked dad if i could go and steal some Floridian guy's lunch and he said "we have prey at home" girl we have been doing shit ALL DAY i am an awesome 600 pounds and I need some meat left on me to deathroll with. let me get a quick snack that i don't need to kill mmmmmmm burgers I want people food soooooo badddd....... i know they shouldn't feed it to me but I have such a lovely smile oh please oh please give me your burger.........

182 notes

🥗aliali-seeyoulater Follow

mom says it was cold the season she laid me so i have to be a girl. because girls are always born from eggs laid during cold seasons.

cope and seethe mother first of all, second of all, the reason i am transgender is because you kept me too fucking snuggly warm in the nest.

#i guess if you wanted a daughter you should have. idk. made a shittier nest? #thats not really my fault man

81,337 notes

⛰fuckyeahhugesnout Follow

You'll never guess how I just learned that we have the honor of being the "loudest reptiles in the world"

🫑teethem Follow

Yeah yeah, the 90 decibel mating bellow, we've all heard it.

🤢ch0mper Follow

we've all heard the what

135,633 notes

🩲gaytorrr Follow

this guy asked if i wanted to see his gator hole and i said fuck yes. why this boy take me into a 65 foot long hole in the mud at the bottom of the lake

6,421 notes

🏞daily-clawsitivity

✨Remember to take it easy sometimes!✨We thrive in slow-moving waters!✨Even though we can run fast, we get tired fast too-- it's okay to let yourself take breaks!✨Let yourself relax, that's how we made it this far as a species.

mud-rocks-deactivated20140706

Yeah, imagine telling your prehistoric great great great great great great great great great great grandpa or something to calm down and relax when he should be doing nothing but deathrolls. the longevity of the species should be your only goal. It's irresponsible to encourage your fucking species to fall behind even more than it already has? Have some pride, you're not a crocodile.

scalesssss-deactivated20150310

jesus christ calm down

alidile-crocogator-deactvated20140709

Okay, this post has a lot of misconceptions in it. There aren't as many differences between crocodiles and alligators than you think. It's really harmful to think that we have nothing in common with each other. So what if they're carnivores and we're closer to omnivores, or their snouts are more U shaped while ours are V shaped. We're both badass miracles of nature that have no reason to be pit against one another all the time.

Don't listen to guys like this. It's just hateful and small-minded.

stop-jawlock-androll-deactivated20140911

crocs are like. like them shoes that float right

wetlandia898 Follow

i wish i was a crocodile because i could have a virgin birth and i wanted to see what it would be like to eat an immaculate conception.

bigchallengesrealblog-deactivated20190412

welcome to the no notes gator/croc discourse post.

🦖l8rg8tr-z Follow

omg this is the post.... i can't believe i would see this naturally on my dash

🎍taildraggers Follow

Uh are we just going to ignore the virgin birth reply orrrrrrrrr

🐊gator-heritage-posts

gator heritage post

0 notes

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Follow

hgwiow h

hsfhjs

howw ws i nbevyrboy tyopingssaog oo vd wi hhrth rh thrre cl alawas ?>>

🌴a-l-g-t-r Follow

lmao this idiot never learned how to use their tail to type

#/j lol yeah its kind of hard at first #actually i'd say cut your losses and forget how to type bring the laptop back to the dumpster its not worth it

39 notes

🐍bellowbellowmygoodfellow Follow

am i fucking stupid. i just learned theres another species of alligator other than just me and the guys in my swamp. and i said "oh wow I didn't know that! which one of the two are we haha" and my buddy just stared at me like I was a fucking idiot. how am i supposed to know if no one ever tells me this . WHICH AM I

🍖meet-eat3r Follow

there are only 70-80 mature chinese gators in existence while there are 750,00-1 million mature american gators . do the math.

🐍bellowbellowmygoodfellow Follow

i could have just hatched you don't know me.

20,570 notes

🍀gatortears Follow

a group of queer gators in church call that a congregaytion

#reblogging this one bc none of you appreciate me

1 notes

👞makemeintoshoesdaddy Follow

I'm seeing the no notes gator/croc post circulate again and ha ha yes it's very funny, but we are NOT starting gator/croc discourse in 2024. lets leave that shit in the past. i know that's not what the post really ended up being about but i am soooooo sick of it.

🌾clawstothewalls Follow

okay, so the one with a fetish for getting turned into handbags is gonna talk down to us now.

👞 makemeintoshoesdaddy Follow

Not to be a pedant but its Shoes Actually. It even says so in the name. Shoes.

2,663 notes

#this post was all an excuse to tell you alligator fun facts #i fucking got you dude. i got you

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lundenloves · 7 months

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dad!simon masterlist | taglist | masterlist | request info

dad!simon who will near fall asleep on the sofa, sat upright with wide legs and his arms crossed, only opening one eye to pretend he’s listening while one of his daughters rambles about school drama.

dad!simon who scoffs when another monthly subscription or amazon payment goes through his card, brows knitted together after asking just why the house has to be subscribed to four separate streaming services.

dad!simon who never remembers his kids’ friends names. it could be his daughters best friend of seven years and he still wouldn’t remember.

dad!simon who visually could not care less about the gossip his daughter waffles about, mumbling “mhm” every so often to appear engaged though shrugging when called out on his evident boredom.

dad!simon who tsks at all the parcels that come through the door day-to-day. living with three daughters and a wife, it’s constant. he detests being the only one home and having to sign for something — will actively ignore a knock on the door when there’s other people in the house.

dad!simon who (when drunk) is the height of amusement for his eldest. many snapchats exist of him being handed the phone already recording and goofily grinning into it while looking up at her “what am i supposed to be looking at?”

dad!simon who sticks post-it notes in bold handwriting to the fridge whenever anyone has an appointment due the following day. “don’t forget.” complete with a fullstop and a harsh underline of the time in military digits.

dad!simon who replies sarcastically to almost every obvious question with his natural glare, something each of his kids had genetically taken: “don’t ask stupid questions and you won’t get stupid answers.” he loves them really.

dad!simon who silenced the family groupchat as soon as he had figured out how to, only replying every other day with a thumbs up reaction or more likely a thumbs down.

dad!simon who side eyes his kids. he doesn’t mean it, yet it happens. watching throw away tv? side eye. talking too loud on the phone? side eye. wearing a questionable outfit? side eye.

dad!simon who has a firm routine. he fucking detests being interrupted, and or spoken to from the hours of five till seven in the morning. he’ll get up, have food and go to the gym all in this time frame before anyone can dent his peace.

dad!simon who sighs avidly. a long and painful sigh after any merely simple question is asked or he’s to pick up one of his kids from a night out. “fucking well told ‘er not to expect me past twelve.” while accidentally slamming the door behind him, keys jingling around his finger.

dad!simon who struggles to show affection in any other way than a short pat of the shoulder or a one armed hug, pulling his kids into his chest for mere seconds before stepping back.

dad!simon who groans whenever anything gets moved in the house. his military mind in favour of keeping things in one position, untouched and moved for preferably ever unless he was told. though, having kids didn’t quite work like that.

dad!simon who: “do i ‘av to do fucking everything in this house? eh?”

simon ‘ghost’ riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @fwibblefwobble @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @dilfdotgov @cliosunshine @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @maki-z @yyiikes @tieflingteatime @cosmoscoffeee @lilvampirina @cinnabeanz @bubbyblob

˗ˏˋ university is still kicking my arse into next week. i joined the football team too, fuck knows why i’m making myself busier than i have to be. alas here we are, and i’m feeding the pigeons! aka sprinkling dad headcannons until i get traction again. pls love me, pls follow me, pls reblog, pls validate me.

the reason i tag this as ‘x reader’ as it’s ur fuckin family with him. no one bite my head off man i can’t be bothered tonight.

#simon ghost riley #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod mw fanfiction #simon riley #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x female reader #simon riley headcanons #dad!simon #cod ghost #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley headcanons

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nadvs · 1 month

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bittersweet (one-shot)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning alcohol use

summary rafe both loves and hates that you’re his sister’s best friend. he gets to see you all the time, but it’s a constant reminder of what he can’t have… until one night, when his jealousy takes over and he can’t keep himself from you any longer.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Rafe wonders if you know that he can hear you. It’s just false hope, but maybe you’re trying to make him jealous.

You’re in the bathroom getting ready for tonight’s party with Sarah, your pretty laugh reverberating through him as if he’s right next to you.

But he’s not. He’s never been as close to you as he would like to be.

His bedroom is right next door, where he’s sitting in bed, wasting time scrolling on his phone, eavesdropping.

“You’re lying,” Sarah says.

“I’m dead serious,” you reply. “I’ll read it to you.”

Rafe overhears you reading out a text you got from your ex last night… he loves you, he misses you, he shouldn’t have ever broken up with you.

He remembers seeing you in tears a few weeks ago when you visited his sister. Admittedly, he lingered by Sarah’s closed door, hearing you sniffle through your words about how he had dumped you out of no where.

It made his blood boil knowing someone did that to you. But like always, he pretended like you have no effect on him, later passing you by in the hallway without a single word exchanged.

“Do you think you’ll get back together with him?” Sarah asks after you finish reading the message.

“No way,” you reply. This makes Rafe’s heart feel a little lighter. Until he hears your next words. “I hope that guy I was talking to last weekend shows up tonight.”

Rafe fucking hates hearing you talking about guys you like. His crush on you is too big to not let it rattle him. And tonight, he might have to watch you flirt with someone that’s not him in his own fucking house?

He can’t take it anymore, rushing to the bathroom to see you standing by the mirror, your makeup halfway done.

“Do you have to be so loud?” Rafe snaps.

The only way he can talk to you without throwing any flags up is by being a dick. And admittedly, it kind of feels good getting his sexual frustration over you out like this, even though it’s severely misguided.

Sarah only rolls her eyes, having fully resorted to ignoring him at this point, but you smile at him in that way that makes his heart jump.

“Okay, grumpy,” you laugh. You’re in baggy sweats and big t-shirt and still manage to look fucking stunning. “You’re one to talk.”

Rafe knows you’re referring to the many fights of his that you’ve witnessed, both with his family and with people at parties.

He hates that your smile and your teasing make him want you even more.

He scowls at you but before he steps away, his eyes linger on you a little longer than you think they should. Wishful thinking, you tell yourself. You gave up on the fantasy that Rafe will look at you as anything more than his sister’s annoying best friend a long time ago.

“Sorry,” Sarah says, apologizing on behalf of her brother like always.

“Don’t worry about it,” he hears you respond. “I know what he’s like.”

Rafe shuts his door. What he’s like. You don’t fucking know what he’s like at all.

If you knew that you’re his first thought in the morning and his last thought at night, you’d realize he’s so fucking grumpy because he doesn’t get to talk to you how he wants to. Or touch you how he wants to.

He’ll have to avoid you at his party tonight. He’s not interested in seeing you flirt with some jackass.

That night, Rafe is halfway into a beer, zoning out of the conversation his friends are having around him.

You’re on the other side of the room, arm linked with Sarah’s. You’ve changed out of your comfortable clothes, wearing a dress that leaves little to the imagination. Man, what he’d do to you if he had the chance.

But he knows he doesn’t. You’ve seen him at his worst. Who in their right mind would want him?

As you chat with Sarah, your eyes drift to Rafe every so often. You can’t help it.

There’s something about his presence that’s so magnetic and dominant. And why is it when he’s wearing his hat backwards like that, your stomach does somersaults?

You need to get your mind off of him. It’s never gonna happen.

Then your eyes land on your ex-boyfriend, who just entered the room.

Rafe watches your face drop and your eyes lose their light. You turn to look at Sarah, whispering something to her, then disappear into the crowd. When he realizes your idiot of an ex just showed up, it takes everything in him not to crush the solo cup he’s holding.

He told himself he’d avoid you. He needs to keep his own promise.

Later in the night, you’re filling up your cup at the keg when you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“Don’t hog it,” he says, a joking tone to his voice. You turn to see your ex standing behind you. You only furrow your brows, in disbelief that he thinks he can speak to you so casually.

You don’t respond and he awkwardly shuffles in place.

“Did you get my text?” he asks.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you say. It’s been weeks, but being with him again brings it all back, the way he told you he doesn’t see a future with you anymore. Instead of sorrow, though, you just feel anger.

“Can you just… can you give me five minutes?” he asks.

“Leave me alone,” you tell him. Rafe appears behind your ex, his blue eyes fixed on you. He’s angry like he always is, his jaw clenched.

You figure he’s annoyed that you’re using the keg when he wants to top up his own drink.

“I don’t get why we can’t just-” he continues, but is interrupted.

“She said to leave her alone,” Rafe mutters. Your ex turns around to face him.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asks.

“This is my house.” Rafe has to duck to talk to him. The image stirs something in you. “Either stop bothering her or get the fuck out.”

Your ex turns to look at you, shaking his head in confusion.

“This your new boyfriend?” he asks, voice thick with envy.

“What? No,” you reply. The way you look almost appalled by the prospect makes Rafe feel like his heart is being wrung out.

You almost laugh. As if Rafe would want you.

Your ex turns to face Rafe again. In the tension of the moment, you feel a lump form in your throat. Anger from what your ex did to you. Embarrassment that he won’t leave you alone. Excitement that Rafe is defending you, followed by a sharp sadness that he’ll never see you the way you see him.

Rafe is about to swing at him. But then he sees the look on your face and his anger dissolves.

“Fuck off,” Rafe says sternly.

Your ex looks at you incredulously. You’re sure he knows Rafe would take him down in a second.

When he walks away, leaving you and Rafe just a foot apart, you flatten your lips as you look up at him.

“Thanks,” you say quietly. You never thought you’d thank him for anything.

Rafe’s eyes soften when he realizes your eyes are wet with the threat of tears. You feel mortified to be crying in front of him, so you leave your drink on the table behind you and brush past him, stalking upstairs to the same bathroom you did your makeup in.

Your hands grip the counter as you look at your reflection. You managed to swallow down your tears, determined to have a good night.

Three knocks thud against the door.

“Someone’s in here!” you say, weak voice echoing through the small room.

“It’s Rafe,” you hear.

Your heart leaps. What the hell could he have to say to you?

You swing open the door to meet his gaze. He’s wearing an expression you haven’t seen before.

Rafe can’t fucking take it anymore. He steps inside, shutting the door behind him, boxing you in between his body and the wall. His arms are crossed to keep himself from touching you.

“Why were you with him?” he demands.

“What?” you ask. He’s mad. Of course he’s mad. This is Rafe. Mad is his default setting.

“He’s obviously a fucking idiot,” he snaps. “And an asshole.” You’re not sure if this is some cruel display of annoyance, but you don’t have the patience for it.

Still, a part of you is buzzing to be alone with him.

“Why are you giving me shit right now?” you ask, pinching the bridge of your nose. He brings his hand up to yours, pushing it away from your face.

It’s the first time his skin has ever touched yours.

“Why were you with him?” Rafe repeats. He’s so close to you that you can smell him. His aroma is earthy, like a comforting campfire. But nothing about him is warm. Never has been.

“How do you even know…” you mumble in confusion. You realize you have no clue how he knows that the guy he almost fought downstairs was your ex. “You don’t know anything about the situation.”

“I heard you,” he says. “I heard you crying over him. Why were you with someone who said that shit to you?”

Rafe recalls the way you told his sister that your ex called you names during your last fight. It made him sick.

You freeze for a moment. He heard you? Why the hell would he care to listen?

“Well, sorry I was being loud,” you say, still a little bitter about how he talked to you earlier tonight even though you had laughed it off in front of him. “Can you just… give me a break? It’s been a shitty night. I don’t need you judging me on top of it.”

“God, that’s…” Rafe steps back, taking off his hat just to smooth his hair back and put it back on again. “I’m not judging you.”

“Then what are you doing?”

A few heavy, tense seconds pass between you. Rafe is looking down at you, at how pretty you are, at how badly you need to be appreciated.

Then he leans down to press his lips against yours.

You were wrong. Rafe does have warmth to him. He’s nothing but warmth right now. The way his hot mouth captures yours and the way his hands cradle your cheeks fill you with need and happiness and a whirling sensation of unsteadiness.

Is this actually happening?

Rafe’s whole body buzzes when you kiss him back, your hands hooking up around his arms, palms on his shoulder blades. He’s pressed up against you, deepening the kiss, his tongue running over yours.

He wasn’t annoyed. He was jealous. You feel dizzy from the revelation.

Your back is flush against the wall, Rafe’s body curved against yours. He bites on your bottom lip for a second, sending an arousing pinch of pain through you, as if he’s punishing you for making him yearn for you.

The contradiction between your mind and your body is jarring - you thought he was annoyed by you, but he’s kissing you like he was annoyed at the fact that he couldn’t kiss you before.

Tasting and touching you like this makes Rafe harden, and he perches his hips back, unsure if this is too much for you. When your hands slide down to roughly pull his hips back towards you, he doesn’t need any more signals. You want him just as bad and it makes every inch of his skin burn.

Rafe shifts back, forehead pressed against yours, unable to open his eyes for a second.

“I need…” His voice is hoarse. He can’t do it like this. Not with you against a wall in the bathroom. “Let’s go to my room.”

You nod and follow him, letting him lead you onto his bed.

Your eyelashes overlap as Rafe hovers over you in his dark room, kissing you again. Tucked away from the crowds and music downstairs, all you can hear is the sounds of your lips smacking together and his fast breaths.

You spread your knees apart so he can settle between your legs. Desire consumes you as he grinds his cock against you. The sensation awakens the need you’ve had for him for so long but always told yourself you’re not allowed to feel.

You can’t help but feel a gnawing fear that this is just a meaningless encounter to him. You’re not equipped to deal with being just a piece of ass to Rafe. Sex with him will change everything. It needs to be worth it.

You gently push against his chest and worry floods through Rafe that he did something to make you uncomfortable.

He’s looking down at you in the shadows of his bedroom, his breaths shallow and fast.

“We shouldn’t…” you begin, and he nods quickly, arms straightening to sit up. Shit. He fucked up by kissing you. He’s not worth the risk to you.

But again, you pull him back in, this time with your hands cupped on his shoulders.

“Rafe, wait,” you breathe. “I’m saying… we shouldn’t if you don’t…” You take a beat to gain some courage. “I like you. For real. I’m not doing this if I’m just a hook-up to you.”

Rafe didn’t realize how heavy his heart sat in his chest until he hears you say that. He looks at you with wonder.

“You’re not just a hook-up,” he says, as if it’s obvious to you. “I like you so fucking much. I have for so long.”

“You mean it?” you ask. You realize this man has the power to break your heart.

He kisses you like you’re so damn delicate, like you could break in a second. The way you just said that, the edge and fragility of your voice, makes him feel like the luckiest man alive. You feel it, too. It’s not just him.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “I mean it.”

Your lips meet again with even more heat this time. He grinds against you with more pressure than before, his erection hard and big.

The fact that you’re the reason he’s so turned on is unreal.

Rafe’s hands dip under the hemline of your dress, fingers ghosting over your thighs. You tilt your hips up off the bed to offer him the space to pull your dress up. He immediately takes the invitation, watching you in awe as the fabric slides over your chest, your shoulders, finally off your body.

His open mouth attaches to the flesh of your breast, kissing and sucking. He pulls the cup of your bra down to close his lips over your nipple. The sensation makes you tremble and moan.

Your pretty sounds are better than anything he has ever heard.

His tongue flicks and wriggles over your nipple, then he moves to your other breast, eager to give all of you the attention you deserve.

“Let me eat you out,” he stammers. “Please.”

“Yes,” you whisper.

For so long. He said that he’s liked you for so long. Your mind is rustling with excitement and disbelief, your thoughts tangling together as you think back to every time he looked at you. Every time he spoke to you.

It’s crazy to think you can now reframe all those memories, knowing what you know now.

Rafe pulls your panties down and wishes his lights weren’t off so he could see you better. But what he does see in the dimness confirms what he always knew - that every part of you is beautiful.

You feel his fingers spread you apart, the cool air pressing against your core. The image makes his stomach numb with infatuation.

“Fuck,” he says, nearly whining. “Fuck… I can’t tell you how many times I wished I could do this.”

“Me, too,” you admit breathlessly. “I never thought you… wanted me.”

“Of course I do,” he half-chuckles. He regrets ever making you feel like you’re not desirable. You’re perfect.

Rafe dips his head. You’re like sugar on his tongue. You gasp when he presses his mouth against your clit. He can’t believe how much arousal is pooling between your legs as he starts to lap at you.

“You’re so wet for me,” he praises, planting a kiss on your cunt. His tongue twists and curls and when it dips inside of you, you feel like you’re on another planet.

He readjusts his hands to spread you even wider, wanting to pamper every fucking inch of you.

You bunch his hat between your fingers and throw it off of him to feel his hair. You dreamed of touching his hair for so damn long. You can’t help but tug at his roots as he gifts you with the best feeling you’ve ever had.

The thick, wet sounds of him slurping fill you with bliss. His mouth is giving you so much damn pleasure, the same mouth that would snap at you and frown at you and make you wonder why he disliked you so much.

It was all an act. He wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

You felt how big he is when he was grinding against you. You need him to fuck you. Now.

“Rafe,” you moan.

“Hmm?” he says, mouth still closed around your clit, sending a vibration through you.

“Get inside me,” you whisper. “I can’t wait anymore.”

His heart is thrumming with exhilaration. He still can’t believe that you want him.

He pulls off his t-shirt and unbuttons his jeans with such fever that you smile in endearment. He’s moving like you’ll change your mind or come to your senses or something.

He sits over you on his knees, holding his cock at the base. It’s big and curved so fucking perfectly that you start to ache for him even more.

This will change everything and you’re so glad it will.

Rafe slowly drops to rest on his elbow on top of you, his other hand guiding him into your soaked entrance. You shudder in near unison as he pushes into you slowly, every inch feeling better than the last.

“Damn,” he groans, unrestrained. “You feel so fucking good.”

“What you expected?” you ask, a small hint of insecurity in your tone.

“Baby,” he laughs. The nickname makes your body tingle. “Even better.”

He pulls back slowly, then buries into you again, a deep, languid exhale leaving his lips. He ducks to kiss you as he fucks you slowly and lovingly, stretching you out, your chests pressed together.

His pace begins to quicken, the curve of his cock hitting deep inside you so perfectly.

“Can I go harder?” he asks against your mouth.

“As hard as you can,” you request. He shudders as he pulls back and slams into you with all his force. Your body jolts, his bed squeaking.

“Be mine,” he says between thrusts. “I need you to be mine.”

“I am,” you say. “I always was.”

This sends him over the edge. He’s about to cum, but he needs to get you there first.

To your disappointment, he pulls out, but when his mouth is back on you and his fingers are scissoring into you, you lift your feet off the bed and throw your head back.

Your walls start to flutter around him as you cum and he quickly shifts to stuff his cock back into you so you’ll finish around him. He feels his gut tighten and he explodes into you with a string of oh, fuck’s, your pussy squeezing around him in pulses as he spasms through his orgasm.

Rafe loves the way your arms and legs are wrapped around him. He feels so needed by you. It’s like a drug.

He collapses on top of you, holding himself up the best he can so not to crush you.

You’re both sweaty and breathless and smiling. He dips his head to press his warm cheek against yours as you remain wrapped up in each other.

“So was I,” he mutters against your ear.

“What?” you breathe, your legs numb from pleasure.

“I was always yours, too,” he says. He kisses the side of your neck, wishing he could never leave this moment. You let out a sweet laugh, squeezing his big, hard body tighter.

He’s never going to make you doubt if he really likes you ever again. He’s sure of it. He silently vows it as he kisses your neck countless more times.

inspired by this anon! if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

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kafkasmuses · 1 month

Text

romeo meets juliet — luke castellan x reader : chess can be played in many different situations.

tags : 18+!! loser!luke (hes actually such a loser im sorry), college setting, brothers best friend!luke, mutual pining, religious imagery(?), classic literature references, body worship, smut, luke is pathetically in love

a/n : save me nerdy boy with sad eyes save me

luke didn’t acknowledge your existence at first, he stuck to himself, from his classes, to his dorm, maybe even the lunchroom if his roomate, your brother, convinced him to come rather than just making all of his meals in the dorm. luke and your brother were complete opposites, luke was studying literature, mostly classic, he didn’t speak to many people unless forced to— and your brother was studying engineering, which also basically required him to join a frat, and he spoke to nearly everyone with cockiness prominent in his tone.

one thing they did have in common, though, was chess.

now, your brother could never tell anyone, especially not his frat brothers, that he played chess, let alone was in the university’s chess club— but he felt pity for luke, most of the time luke played by himself, which was somehow equally as frustrating as having to play against someone else.

the only people that knew about your brother playing chess was luke, the chess club, and you.

luke remembers the first time you came trotting in to the dorm, complaining to your brother about some argument you had with your parents about how your friends are distracting you from your studies. your brother only rolls his eyes, barely listening to your non - stop whining about how it’s ridiculous, “i mean— you’re the one in a frat! why aren’t they mad at you?”

“because i actually do my work,” he mumbles, and luke breathes out in a silent laugh, moving a piece on his chess board.

“you’re in engineering, you don’t even have any actual work,” you frown, and albeit the fact that you’re wrong, you’re still confident in what you said.

“are you stu— whatever,” your brother waves you off, deciding to change the subject when he motions to luke, the boy in a nirvana t-shirt, currently moving to a different side of the chess board as he plays against himself, “this is luke, my roommate, obviously.”

luke immediately freezes, fingers curling around the chess piece he was adjusting to move— his eyes are wide, and they’re moving to look at you, only to immediately flicker to some other part of the room when they meet your expectant gaze. since he won’t speak first, you pick up the slack, “hey, luke.”

your brother notices how luke looks like a scared, lost puppy even by the slightest implication of having to speak to a woman, let alone be perceived by one, so he moves to whisper in your ear, “he’s like, deathly afraid of women, i’ve never seen him speak to one, ever.”

and you from that you don’t expect a response from luke, until he mumbles a short, “hi.”

that’s when your head tilts, noticing the way his curls fall over his brows messily, like he doesn’t pay attention to styling it, or maybe it’s on purpose, maybe he pays too much attention to styling it. the way he wore something so simple, yet so telling about himself, the way he awkwardly places the chess piece back on the board on the spot he wanted to. he assumes the conversation is over, so he moves to the opposite side of the board to make a move against his own.

“are you in the chess club?” you take a step closer, and he perks up, hand ghosting over the piece once more.

luke doesn’t say anything, his lips twitch around words that don’t come out. your brother speaks in his place, “he’s the president, he’s a fucking grandmaster.”

luke just awkwardly laughs, moving his hand to scratch at the back of his neck, eyes moving from the board to you, then to your brother, “i’m not like— actually the president,” another awkward, short chuckle, “i just— like.. um.. play a lot, i guess.”

“you are the president, dude,” your brother corrects, being insufferable as he always is.

but luke puts up with it, then you ask another question, “what do you major in?”

“literature,” luke responds for himself this time, finally able to move his hand to make a proper move on the chess board, before mumbling, “mostly classic.”

“you’re kidding, i am too, how have i not seen you before?”

luke’s eyes finally meet yours, now, pausing on your eyes, then resuming down the shape of your face, memorizing each feature, the curve of your lashes, the shape of your lips— he swallows thickly.

“i just— sit in the back.. and go to my dorm— as soon as class ends,” there’s that awkward, short chuckle again.

“have you finished the paper?”

luke nods, and that’s when your brother finally gets a bright idea.

“you should help her, luke, with the work.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

that’s how it all started, with a simple suggestion, that’s when you came to the dorm more often, when he began to notice that you were actually in his classes, and when you realized he had an awful staring problem. he thought he was slick with it too, letting his eyes move around the room for a mere.. twenty seconds before they finally snap to you, and from there, they stay, until you finally return the gaze and he’s immediately nervously looking away.

he hardly speaks to you, unless your brother urges him to, and he’s always avoiding looking at you when he speaks, stumbling over words, pausing in sentences to catch his losing breath. he was a complete and utter loser, terrible when it came to socializing, even worse when it’s with girls. with you, it somehow seemed to worsen.

“am i the first girl you’ve ever talked to?” you ask once, far too blunt for your own liking, you didn’t mean to really say it, it kind of just came out when seeing how much his leg bounced under the table with nervousness, nearly sweating himself to death under your gaze.

sweat beads down his temple when his eyes flutter up to meet yours, moving from the romeo and juliet book in his hands. isn’t it so ironic that he had just gotten done reading the scene in which romeo says, “did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! for i ne'er saw true beauty till this night,” when seeing juliet for the first time? truly, it isn’t the first time he saw you, but it’s night, and you are beautiful. truly, utterly, “beautiful.”

“what?”

oh, oh my god. saliva bubbles in his mouth, sour saliva, and he gulps it down, hoping it would somehow be a form of poison that would wake him from this nightmare. does he say what he meant? that he was thinking out loud? that he thinks you’re beautiful? or should he deny it? deny. he bursts into awkward laughs, “what— what do you mean— i.. i didn’t even say anything.. ha, haha.”

“why are you acting like that?” your brows furrow.

“like what?”

“like you’re hiding something.”

his breathing only shakes anymore, “i’m not hiding anything.. that’s like— a wild accusation.”

“it’s not an accusation, i’m just saying,” you frown at him.

his adam’s apple bobs with another swallow, “okay but like—“

“why are you harassing him?” your brother sighs, tired how much you press luke.

“i’m not— whatever, i was asking you— am i the first girl you’ve ever spoken to?”

your brother barks out a laugh, and luke’s eyes fall back down to the book in his hands. did not having proper conversations with women make him any less? romeo grabbed juliet’s hand once, and the first words he uttered to her was a promise to redeem himself if his hand was too unworthy to be touching her holy one. parallels sear in his mind, and he just mumbles a, “not really.”

he has spoken to women before, sure, small greetings, maybe even the slightest indulgence of conversation— but luke keeps to himself, and to be honest, he was a man used to running from women, as he did from his mother. he grew up being afraid of women, well, afraid isn’t the proper word, intimidated is better, and he just decided to avoid them as much as possible.

though, no matter how much he tries to avoid you, you’re always there, in his sight, in his mind. maybe it’s a disgrace, like romeo holding juliet’s hand, for him to even be thinking of you, looking at you— you were a goddess that offered a man on his knees the slightest bit of your grace, and now he was hooked.

it was pathetic, really, how he anticipated every time he suspected you would be over, how his eyes always found their way to you in class, how he made sure to purposefully walk past you in the lunchroom on the days he went, which was oddly more now.

a man who is still a virgin to adore a girl far too good for him, he is hopeless.

“it’s okay if i am,” you adjust, okay, there might be a little hope, “anyway, how do you like romeo and juliet?”

“it’s pretty nice—“ he notices the way your face perks up in shock, “kind of, i don’t know.”

“i think it’s a bore, i’m sure the movie is much better.”

“we should watch the movie— um.. together, sometime.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

if luke was being completely honest with himself, he didn’t entirely mean to say it, and as soon as you left the dorm, he nearly doubled over with shock at his own words, and even more shock at the fact that you agreed. not only did you agree, you actually came, and it was just you and him. your brother was off at some frat party, again, and he had left luke completely alone with you, even when luke begged him not to.

“you’re kidding, dude, i’m like— horrified of her,” luke frowns at your brother.

“you need exposure therapy, or some shit, call me your therapist.”

“you’re a shit therapist,” luke sighs, rubbing his temples.

“and you need to grow some balls.”

so, your brother left him, and now luke’s awkwardly standing with you at his door - step, staring at him expectantly, his lips twitch around so many possible words, possible sentences, and all that comes out is, “hey.”

he’s been staring for you for at least a minute, and all he can say is hey. your lips curve to an amused smile, “hi, luke.”

“um— you can come in, if you.. want, ‘course.” he moves out the way to let you in, watching you step past him so he can close the door.

“i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t want to,” you remark as if it’s the obvious, mostly because it is.

when romeo stood underneath juliet’s balcony, he praised how captivating she was, considers her as glorious as an angel, a winged messenger above his head. in his own words :

“one who makes mortals fall onto their backs to gaze up in awe as the angel strides across the clouds and sails through the air.”

consider luke on his back now, staring up at the stars in your eyes, the halo that shines above your head, the wings that flap with every stride you make— a goddess, an angel, venus incarnate, right before his eyes, staring at him like he had something deeply wrong with him. wait. he blinks a few times, and his eyes refocus onto your confused face.

“are you okay, luke?”

he quickly clears his throat, “yeah, yeah— duh, ‘course i am, uh.. we should,” he moves to the table in which his laptop was on, “watch the movie, yeah? ‘ts on my.. laptop, if you don’t mind.”

“i don’t, at all,” you move to sit next to him on the couch in front of the table, watching the veins in his hands pulse, palms sweaty when he moves to open his laptop, shifting a few tabs and pressing a few keys until he mumbles a small okay and presses the space button.

moaning. that’s all you hear, the sound of skin slapping, ah ah— oh fuck mmph you’re so b— luke slams the laptop shut.

dear god, save him now.

he can’t even bring himself to look at you, the sweat on his palms only worsens and spreads onto the top of the laptop as he smoothes his hands across it, replaying the scene a million times in his mind. to his surprise, you giggle, “you watch porn?”

he’s quick to awkwardly scoff out a short laugh, “yeah— i mean, everyone does.. but like.. i don’t watch it— that much.”

your finger moves to run along the vein on his arm, feeling him shudder under your touch, yet he doesn’t want you to stop, even the slightest touch makes his dick twitch in his pants, “are you a virgin, luke?”

he inhales sharply, “y-yeah..”

“do you want to have sex?” you lean the tiniest bit closer.

he pauses, “yes.. of course—“

“with me?”

“yes.” he responds quick, too fucking quick, it must’ve been at most a second after you said it for him to respond. the truth stings his tongue, to finally be able to say it out loud, how much he had fantasized about you in the late of night, even sneaking off to the bathrooms so his hand can dip underneath his waistband when he thinks about the times you’ve worn a tight shirt that frames your tits far too well.

but it was wrong, wasn’t it? you were a goddess, on a pedestal, and he was merely just a man, staring up at your statue in the hopes that you would notice him one day. forbidden, possibly, but all those thoughts leave his mind when his eyes move from the finger tracing up his bicep to your neck, then your lips, then your eyes.

“please tell me you’ve kissed before.”

“yeah.. yeah— i have,” a playground kiss counts, right?

it seems to when your lips fall against his own, the kiss was so gentle, until he dared to kiss you back, then it got hungry, mostly on his end. he kissed you like a starving man, nearly devouring you but at the same time, being horrified to. your tongue finds it’s way into his mouth, and to your surprise, he whimpers against your lips.

his hands are hesitant, unsure of where to go, does he touch your arm? your shoulder? your waist? he doesn’t want to push anything, so the waist seems far too much, his hands awkwardly place themselves on your arm, in a very weird position.

“have you touched a girl before?”

his lips are flushed from the kiss, eyes glazing over the position of his hands, and he quickly moves them off, “sorry— well, i just.. um.. didn’t want to push anything.”

“you can,” you reassure, but his hands still hesitate, the flesh of a goddess, to be touched by someone so inexperienced. was he really worth it? any of it? to even be in your presence was a blessing, and it was still taking him forever to register the fact that you had actually kissed him, prayers passed through your lips into his.

“are you sure?”

“‘course i am.”

it still took luke some getting used to, having you straddle his lap, you knew so much, it felt like more than just an honor to have you so close to him. his eyes flicked from your own to your lips, then to your tits, the low v - cut showing off your cleavage perfectly. and he looked like a complete deer in headlights, staring at the flesh pushed together between the window of clothing. you smile at his lack of self control, feeling the way his dick throbs underneath his pants, right against your ass, “you can touch them.”

“wha— nono, ‘ts okay— i just..” he trails off, sweaty palms moving past you to slide across his knees.

“really, luke, you can— why don’t i just..” you move to take off your shirt, his eyes immediately catching on to the lace of your bra, the way your tits are practically spilling out of it, all until you take off your bra as well and they immediately fall out.

his hand twitches around nothing, desperately wondering what it must feel like to have your flesh underneath his palm, fingers curling around the plush of it. it seems you must’ve heard his prayers when you move to take his hands, pulling them back to press against your tits.

soft, that’s his first thought, sweat sticks to your skin when his fingers curve around the flesh, gripping it ever so gently. praises spill from his lips almost immediately, thoughts he had since the day he saw you, finally being spoken, “y’re beautiful— fuck, i’ve always.. always wanted to— do this..”

you smile so sweet at him, nectar nearly drips off your teeth, “can i ride you, luke?”

his eyes finally meet yours, brows furrowing for a mere second, “huh— oh, oh.. yeah, ‘course you can.”

you didn’t expect him to have a big, no matter how cruel that sounds, you had heard rumors of nerds with big dicks, but sought to never believe it until you saw it, and good fucking lord you saw it. as soon as his dick springs out from the pants and boxers you were tugging down, luke’s hands mindlessly moved to your waist, your eyes widen.

no fucking way. he has to be.. six? seven inches, at least. slightly girthy too, he wasn’t all just length, and precum was beading from his red tip. he immediately inhales sharply when your fingers graze his dick, nervous under your gaze, “is it too small— i.. i’m sorry—“

“too small?” you scoff playfully at his scared expression, worried of what you think, “this might be the biggest dick i’ve ever seen, luke.”

“that’s— a good thing.. right?”

“obviously, god, it better fit,” this is the first time you’ve ever been concerned about whether or not a dick will fit, luke stiffens when you spit on your palm, pressing it to his dick and wettening it as you jerk him off, his response is immediate, carefully gripping at your skin and pressing his lips together to muffle his whimpers.

luke had jerked of many, many times, but it never felt as good as this.

“fuck—“ he grunts out, already far too close from just a simple hand movements.

you immediately stop, picking up on his nearing orgasm from the way his hips kept bucking up into your hands, pathetic whines slipping past his lips, but it was just so cute. the cutest thing, though, was his face when he got the first look at your vagina, he looked like a man staring at a piece of art he had admired. and this was art, sex was, you were, everything about you, it felt so sacred.

his lashes flutter when you take his hand, guiding it to your sopping cunt, allowing him to feel the wetness that was nearly pouring from you. like nectar from a fountain, it coated his fingertips when he touched you, his eyes focused onto your face, making sure that he was doing it right. he notices the way you gasp when his fingertips brush against your clit, so he presses against it again, and again.

he follows everything he has seen in pornos, spreading your folds, fingers grazing past your entrance, rubbing your clit— but he’s lost when you wave him off before he can finger you to prep you for his dick, wasn’t that something people did? “but don’t you…”

“it’ll fit,” you mumble back, relying on how wet you are to make it easier.

he watches the way your jaw falls when you move to press his tip against your entrance, allowing the tip to push into you and it’s already too big. his eyes widen at the feeling of your walls clenching around his tip, unable to hold back the noises that slip from his own lips.

“you’re like— the.. the girl of my dr— fuck— dreams,” luke hushed out between his mess of moans and grunts, he wondered if romeo ever felt this way when he kissed juliet for the first time, the sort of electric rush that riddled his bones, it felt unreal. you were a dream incarnate, one luke was always haunted with, the woman that would show up when his eyes would close at night, and now you were on his lap, sinking down on his dick.

“am i? really?” you question, inhaling sharply when you finally reach the base of his cock. for some odd reason, you didn’t believe you were all he was putting you up to be, and that made him sick— how could you think of yourself as any less? you were perfect, a vision, to be fair, luke would adore you even if you were an enemy, just like romeo and juliet.

he would stand at your balcony, stare at you from across the ballroom, kiss your knuckles, kiss you— he would do it all. he might even drink poison just to spend eternity with you.

“yes, yes— are you.. kidding? mmph.. fuck— you’re like.. a fuckin’ goddess,” it comes out like a prayer, as if he was on his knees at your altar, kissing your legs, and whispering worshipping words.

to nobody’s surprise, luke doesn’t last long at all when you’re bouncing on his cock, no matter how much he tried to distract himself from his throbbing cock by pawing at your tits, or moving to kiss you, his orgasm was just too close. “‘m g’na.. please.. g’na cum.. mmphh.. fuck!”

when he does cum, you had pulled off him, jerking him off, and he’s practically writhing, a whimpering and damn near crying mess. and once he’s helped you to your orgasm as well, you’re falling into his arms, finding a safe - haven in how he smells like old books, mint, and cheap cologne.

two star crossed lovers, one capulet, one montague.

“these violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder. which, as they kiss, consume.” — romeo and juliet, act two, scene six.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan x you #luke castellan smut #pjo luke #charlie bushnell imagine #charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell #loser!luke

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arkhammaid · 2 months

Text

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ RED BULL GIVES YOU WINGS.

fandom. formula one

pairing. max verstappen x snowboarder fem!reader (fc: zoi sadowski-synnott)

about. y/n l/n, olympic gold medalist, goes viral after her unusal win. her boyfriend silently cheers from the sidelines

content warnings. social media au, not edited/proofread

notes. i vaguely remember seeing the headlines (years ago) of a teen snowboarder oversleeping because he was watching netflix the night before the race LMAO. so this is kinda the inspiration for that

SKYSPORTS

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername, redbull and 3'370'884 others

skysports Gold Medalist @/yourusername had a rough morning during the Winter Olympics, she overslept thanks to a late game night binge with her boyfriend. Yet despite also forgetting her coat, she takes the win by storm, all while flueled by three Red Bull's she had as breakfast.

"When me and my boyfriend sim race, we totally forget the time. It's his passion and I like to challenge him in something he thinks he's best in. I think it was 3am when I finally went to bed, luckily I found a some cans of Red Bull. You can also thank my boyfriend for that, he drinks that sh*t as if it's water."

Y/n takes the whole incident with stride, jokingly saying that she will have to repeat this routine if she wants to win gold the next time.

user SIM RACING WITH HER BOYFRIEND???

⤷ user don't know if we should thank him or not

⤷ user you'll probably never be able to thank him, y/n and her bf have been together for years now but she never revealed who it is

⤷ user does she even have a boyfriend??

⤷ user check her insta, she's been posting the same man for a long time now

user SHE'S SO FUCKING UNSERIOUS I LOVE THAT

user she's literally the definition of genz

user i don't care what anyone else says, this right here is queen shit behavior

⤷ user i crown thee, y/n l/n, to the queen of whatever this whole mess is

redbull See! Red Bull gives you wings, we take no longer any criticsm

⤷ user you better sign her up

⤷ user imagine she actually lands a red bull sponsorship just because of this

yourusername lol, that was fun

⤷ user LOL???

⤷ user i can't do this anymore 😭😭

maxverstappen1 👏👏

⤷ user MAX?!

⤷ user game recognizes game fr

user i don't know what's better. the camera catching her downing her third red bull right before the race or her cursing after she won

⤷ user meme of the year fr

YOURUSERNAME

liked by maxverstappen1, redbull and 1'552'082 others

yourusername happy to announce that i'm flying with @/redbull now! if one red bull doesn't work, try three. i won gold with it 😉

user SHE DID IT!!! Y/N NATION WE WON!!!

⤷ user now only the x games left

user can't wait for the insane promo shots

⤷ user bet she will do tricks from a cliff, right after drinking four red bulls

⤷ user straight from the skilift is my bet

redbull Proof that Red Bull gives you wings! Welcome to the family y/n ❤️💙

⤷ yourusername ❤️💙

user ahh the bigs smile makes me so happy, she deserves it

maxverstappen1 Welcome to the winners

⤷ yourusername thank you champ, i'll enjoy my stay!

user MAX LIKED AND COMMENTED

⤷ user MAXY/N NATION WE WON TODAY‼️‼️

⤷ user can we not pls... she has a bf

mathilde_gremaud welcome to the team y/n, so happy to see you here!!

⤷ yourusername thank you 😚

user i love red bull athletes welcoming newcomers

⤷ user a big family fr

⤷ user big and batshit crazy

⤷ user never said they're not lol

YOURUSERNAME

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 2'003'863 others

yourusername the moment this trophy comes in our home i will throw it off the balcony. how dare you not kiss ME when you won your fourth world championship?!

all jokes aside, maxie, i'm so fucking proud of you, my #1 racer, my favorite dutchman and cat dad 🫶 to many more years of red bull domination (max and y/n version) love you sm!!

maxverstappen1 You will not touch my trophy.

maxverstappen1 Don't worry, I'll kiss you until you're sick of me

⤷ yourusername impossible!!!

⤷ user STOP THIS

⤷ user ew, that's sickening sweet (pls don't stop you guys are the sweetest)

maxverstappen1 I love you too, schatje

⤷ yourusername i love you more

⤷ maxverstappen1 Not possible? 🤨

⤷ landonorris okay we got it, you both love each other stop this shit

⤷ yourusername @/landonorris get out of my comments if you don't like it norizz

⤷ user WHEN IS IT MY TURN??

⤷ user not lando catching strays 😭

user IT HAS BEEN MAX ALL ALONG???

⤷ user five years of softlaunching... only for us to be hit by the biggest hard launch of the decade

redbull The Red Bull Powercouple™️

⤷ user simply lovely!

landonorris fucking finally! now max can bother someone else with his yapping

⤷ yourusername max doesn't do yapping, he just loves talking about me🫶

⤷ landonorris well, i got sick of it!! i literally should've ruined your softlaunch and tell the press about you guys

⤷ maxverstappen1 That's not what a friend would do

⤷ user HOW DID LANDO KEEP THIS SECRET FOR SO LONG??

⤷ user i bet y/n threatened him with violence

⤷ landonorris she did.

⤷ user HELP?!

user if max can comment on his girlfriend's post like a sap WHY CAN'T OTHER MEN AS WELL??

⤷ user they will never be max verstappen...

user brb, the highway is calling me

user con 😭 gra 😭 tu 😭 la 😭 tions 😭😭😭

⤷ user the bf was real... i fear i'm not strong enough to fight him for mother y/n...

⤷ user at least she's happy!!! (i'm actually crying my parasocial relationship is officially over)

taglist. @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel , @aimixx , @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @lupicalbestwolf , @akiraquote , @lilypadlover , @adorablezhui , @peqch-pie

DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE TAGLIST? please send a non-anon ask to be added to the taglist. taglist can be general taglist (all fandoms and all works), fandom taglist (all works within the fandom), series (all works for specific series) or nsfw taglist (all nsfw works and all fandoms).

crossed off tags mean i can't tag you!

ARKHAM MAID 2024

#f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 smau #f1 social media au #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen smau #mv33 x reader #f1 fanfic #— ˚₊‧⁺˖ creations

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envy-of-the-apple · 2 months

Text

The Earth Kills the Moon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word count: 6.3k

Part two of The Sun Eats the Moon

Synopsis: A retelling of The Sun Eats the Moon in Suguru's perspective

(Warnings: forced relationships, bullying, non con touching, non con kissing)

Suguru liked you.

It wasn't even a crush. A passing interest, maybe. You were pretty. You had a nice smile. Though, he'd never directly spoken to you, he could tell that you were kind. Not in the artificial cherry most people were. Natural, like honey, never spoiling. You share the same homeroom as Satoru, and he'd always tended to be observant, unlike his friend. One thing he liked about you was how observant you were. You were constantly looking out for your friends, mere acquaintances, and everyone in your vicinity. Often, Suguru wondered if being a people-pleaser was natural or from a fear of not fitting in.

Suguru is observant. He notices the lingering gaze Satoru gives you when you walk away, hurrying to catch up with the rest of your friends. Satoru then turns back to the carton of chocolate milk you'd left him.

"Cute," Satoru says after a minute. It's more of an afterthought than anything. He pops the carton open. Suguru hears the fabric tear. He hums in agreement. The topic switches to something else, a hot celebrity maybe? Suguru can't remember. That day had been so insignificant to him. It hadn’t mattered to him for Suguru to remember anything further.

A few days later, Suguru noticed Satoru was spending a lot more time with you.

It was hard not to notice, actually. His friend attached himself to you like he'd die if he couldn’t. Satoru went everywhere with you now. Suguru caught him walking you from school, offering you rides in his new car, following you to the lunch hall. And if he couldn’t go to where you were, he’d drag you back to him. Watching you and Satoru was a bit like watching two magnets. North pole and South pole. So different, yet constantly finding the other.

“Tryna’ run away from me, now?” Satoru asks, a teasing lilt in his voice as he watches you fiddle with your bag.

You laugh, continuing to fish out your lunch box. “Just grabbing lunch.”

“Eat with us,” Satoru insists, “we found a great spot up at the rooftop.”

You meet Suguru’s gaze just then. He’d been silently lounging on a nearby desk, observing the two of you. He gives a smile. You return it. Polite. He wonders if your mother taught you to smile like that.

“I thought students weren’t allowed up there?” You ask Satoru.

The boy rolls his eyes. “So, who cares? It’ll be fun.”

You pause, right then. The tiniest of hesitation. Suguru wonders if you’re noticing just how different you and Satoru were. You, the people pleaser, meek, always more than willing to bend towards authority. Satoru was rougher, more resilient, uncaring of signs and rules. The gap between the two of you is astronomical. Could you feel it as well?

Whatever you’re thinking, it’s gone in a moment. You rise, giving Satoru another laugh. To Suguru, it sounds pretty.

“Well, have fun for me. Besides, I can’t ditch my friends. They’re waiting for me.”

With that, you give both him and Satoru a tiny wave, before disappearing out of the classroom. Suguru waves back. Satoru doesn’t. Instead, he keeps his eyes on your back until he can’t see you anymore.

“Got ditched again, hm?” Suguru teases. Satoru only groans, tossing his head back as he leans dangerously on the chair.

“Always leavin’ me for ‘em, too,” he complains, “so fuckin’ annoyin’.”

Suguru can only smile, getting up to follow his friend out the door. He can barely count how many times he’d seen this before, each with a different person. It starts the same. Satoru will cling onto you for a couple more days, and then ask you out. When you say yes, he’d date you for a few weeks before eventually getting bored and dumping you.

It’s a cruel cycle, something that’s just an inevitability with Gojo Satoru. The boy can’t stay in one place, he’s constantly moving around, never one to stop. For Satoru, Suguru was the most permanent thing in his life. Which made sense, they were pretty similar in terms of ideals.

A cruel cycle, and Suguru feels a tiny bit of sympathy for you. You were sweet, unlike the type Satoru typically went for. Honey. Natural. Truthfully, Suguru was a little disappointed as well. The type of disappointment he’d feel when someone took the last crab stick before he could. A fleeting feeling, one that ultimately wouldn’t matter.

◉

From the day they first met, Suguru knew one thing: Gojo Satoru has never been told no before.

It made sense. He was the only child to one of the most powerful families in the country. Spoiled from day one, some could say. Satoru grew up knowing nothing but wealth and prosperity. They met when they were both still in elementary school, still with high-pitched voices and large eyes. Suguru’s family was fairly affluent as well. Now that Suguru thinks back, perhaps their meeting had been orchestrated by meddling parents in order to form more connected. It didn’t matter, either way. It had benefitted all three parties, after all.

Yes, Suguru knew from the moment Satoru pointed at him and declared him his ‘best friend’, that Satoru had never been told no before.

Satoru was the Sun. The universe revolved around him, catered to him. Suguru supposed he wasn't much better considering he too spoiled his best friend in that sense. They were different. They'd been born different, coming from families who cherish them with wealth and power. Suguru supposes it was natural for them to be so intertwined. Like calls for like.

Suguru isn’t aware of the exact details, but he knows you rejected Satoru.

The boy doesn’t have to tell him. His friend is uncharacteristically quiet during that weekend. He has no interest in the arcade, or the next basketball tournament his team is going to compete in. Satoru just sits on top of Suguru’s bed, casually sucking on a carton of chocolate milk. Suguru glanced down at the abandoned PlayStation remote. He’d lost yet another game against his dark-haired friend with no complaints. Satoru didn’t even play

You’d really done a number on him, Suguru thinks to himself. Suguru would assume it’s heartbreak, but he knows his friend better than that. Something burns in his chest, but he’s pushing it away before he can figure out why. Nipping it in the bud. It was a cruel thought. A bad one. He should ignore it.

Well, it’s done. It doesn’t matter anyway. Satoru would eventually get over it. He’s not known to sulk.

He’s not there to see what Satoru tells them, but he’s there to see the effects.

It starts out small. Or perhaps just not noticeable enough. Gojo Satoru has always attracted attention, whether it was satisfactory or not. Lackeys, Satoru often calls them because they're too far beneath him to even be called equals.

Suguru notices their sudden interest in you before even you can. A harsh word here and there. Giggling at the word 'easy'. You peacefully trek on, not noticing the abuse until it turns physical. That starts at the end of Monday.

By Tuesday, they're already shoving you down each chance they get. You get surprised when it happens the first time, then the second, then the third. You have soft skin, plushy, Suguru could tell. He wondered if it was getting marked now. He wonders if you go home, peeling of your uniform, staring at the bruises of hands on your skin because you’re so fragile.

(They never go too far, not enough to completely injure. Suguru knows this because one time, one of the idiots had pushed you too hard. You’d stumbled, nearly hitting the back of your head with a metal locker. Satoru had seen. Suguru doesn’t know what Satoru did, but that particular one was gone the next time and the rest got the memo to scare, not injure.)

Satoru never takes part in this, but he keeps an eye on you sometimes. Tuesday evening comes and they both silently watch you through a window. You move through an empty hall, before they arrive again, slapping your binders out of your hands, chortling with each other. They're too far away to hear, but Suguru could bet it would sound like nails scraping against a chalkboard.

Out of the corner of his eye, Suguru watches his best friend. Satoru looks impassive, face blank as he stares down at your figure. Akin to a child watching ants burning through a magnifying glass, instilled with that innate desire to see them explode into ash.

When the lackeys leave, you bend down on the floor, collecting your stuff. Your hair covers your eyes, so he can't see your expression, but he can see your shoulders tremble. Were you-

A corral of people run to you. They lean down, picking up the stuff you had missed. You look up, your eyes are shiny but you're laughing when they say something. You wipe at your eyes, standing up as they lead you out of the hallway. Suguru had seen them hanging out with you before. They all seemed like they supported each other, supported you.

Suguru feels his frown deepen, conflicted. He doesn’t like it.

"It's not nice to pick on the weak, Satoru," he quietly says.

Satoru's eyes trail your figure out the door. He gives a small hum.

By Wednesday, your friends disappear from your side.

The abuse is getting worse, noticeable to the point where the rest of the student body is heavily avoiding you. Teachers won't raise a finger at what's happening. As much as they like to preach about their 'zero tolerance for bullying', Suguru knows they'll willingly turn a blind eye when matters involve Gojo Satoru. No teacher wants to deal with the wrath the Gojo family is more than willing to unlease for the sake of their heir.

Yet, you aren't getting it. You don't break, don't bend. He can feel the humiliation roll off of you in waves, yet you don't react. Which was strange because he knew your archetype. A people-pleaser, constantly bending over backward for other's sake. You want nothing more than to become part of the crowd again, completely invisible. You’re community-oriented. You thrive off of companionship. This ostracization must be killing you. Suguru doesn't get it until he spots your face, just once, narrowed eyes, anger.

Pride. He'd forgotten other people had that too. Though, Suguru admires it, a part of him knows it shouldn’t last.

Suguru thinks he does it because he pities you. You're a little naive. Suguru has your thought process figured out. You think if you take the torment long enough, Satoru would eventually just forget about you all together. Once he's done with you, you'd focus on picking up the pieces that used to be your life. It's not a bad plan, if you weren't dealing with Gojo Satoru.

The boy is a hurricane. Fast, unrelenting, unforgiving. Satoru won't stop. He won't stop until you're ruined and broken. Turned into a mere asteroid of what you once were.

So, Suguru decides to give you a push in the right direction.

The students have already created a wide circle for you by the time he steps in, bending down, picking up the stuff you had dropped. You're silent until he hands you his pieces. He doesn't bother responding to your timid thanks.

"Give in," he tells you, watching the way your eyes widen as you look up at him.

You're weak. Physically, emotionally. He could easily pick you up with one hand, crush your body with his fist. Satoru could eviscerate your body from existence. You don't stand a chance with him. With either of them.

His advice to you is good. Reasonable. And yet, he sees the face you make, the way you slowly get up. You won’t listen. That same burning feeling in his chest starts. It's gotten more painful.

You don't listen to him until you lose nearly everything. Just as he warned you. Friday comes. You become Satoru's. And it's a little too late for everything.

◉

Suguru doesn't think you ever learn that Satoru loves messing with you.

Or, perhaps you do, but you can't help it. You're too honest, too open. He often wonders if that's how you were raised. To be honest, open, vulnerable. Your parents must have filled your thoughts with delusions, coddling you with words of cheap motivation. The world is your oyster. You just had to reach out and take it.

Maybe now you're finally realizing, sitting on Satoru's lap, that all men aren't created equal.

Clearly, you weren't happy about it. Yet, you aren't complaining, sitting there pliantly legs firmly crossed, hands curled into tiny fists, staring rigidly on the floor. The first few times Satoru had done this in public, you were always biting your lip, tears threatening to fall. Now, Suguru thinks you just dissociate, coming back when Satoru laughs at something, jostling you in his arms.

It's a bit like watching a helpless bird on the ground, twitching and spasming after it had just collided with a glass window. Pitiful, but there was nothing that could be done. It's the inevitability of it all that makes him pity you more than anything else, really.

Every so often, your eyes would catch his. It's a quick glance, as though you were wondering if he was watching. He can barely catch it, but Suguru is observant. Much like you. It's meaningless, and your gaze returns to the floor. Your fists tighten.

Granting you mercy, Suguru stops looking at you during those times.

He's not sure how Satoru sees you. Perhaps, you're akin to a dog for him. Though, that might not be very good for you. Satoru hadn't been very good with animals when he was younger. Satoru had always been rough with any pets he came into contact with, pushing and tugging. Suguru doubted that had changed.

Satoru's is your official title. It isn't a relationship. It's an ownership. Unequal from the start. The one who holds the leash in the end, will always be Satoru.

It took a while for you to fully learn that.

Suguru didn't mean to catch the two of you. Looking back, it was probably because Satoru couldn't care less if someone was watching. Maybe Satoru was being obvious on purpose. It was a little while after school had officially ended. Suguru knew your usual routine would place you right at the library, scrolling through books. Satoru would most likely be there too, pestering you about this and that. It's the scene Suguru prepares himself to walk into.

Instead, you're wedged in between the white-haired boy and the wall, there's no space for you to do anything but sink. You're already crying (when was the last time you smiled?), trying to pull away but Satoru isn't letting you. He's gripping you by the chin, forcing eye contact. His sunglasses are off, tucked on his collar.

Suguru's close enough to hear. You're begging. Apology after apology. It's barely a whisper, but they're spilling out of you like a prayer. He can't discern the context, but he knows enough.

You made Satoru angry.

He's still smiling, but it isn't sincere. Almost bordering on mania as he tightens his grip on you, forcing you further into the wall. Suguru doesn't think Satoru has ever hit you before, but now he's wondering if quick violence was preferable to this.

"Don't be like that," Satoru chides as another squeak leaves your lips, "Where was that smile you were givin' him, hm? C'mon, pretty girl. You were wearin' it just a second ago."

"It-it wasn't like that, I swear," you continue to plead, still not realizing that it's too late, "he was giving me his notes. Please-please Satoru-"

"Wrong answer," he cuts you off, you flinch at his harshness but Suguru decides Satoru's being nice to you. He's been known to do worse, "we've been over this before, haven't we? Or did your stupid brain forget?"

You're choking down another hiccup. It takes a minute for you to calm down enough to speak clearly. Ever impatient, Satoru's hand digs into your shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Satoru," you say, "it won't happen again."

He tilts his head, waiting. You wilt under his gaze.

"I'm sorry...’Toru."

Satoru gives a satisfied hum, pulling back and Suguru can practically see your lungs sag with relief. His mania is gone, replaced by something much more lighthearted and carefree. Suguru'd seen it before, but it was certainly something watching Satoru go from one high to the next. Even to Suguru, it's terrifying to witness.

Suguru decides to make himself known right then. He comes out of the shadows, acting as though he'd just arrived. His friend lazily gives him a wave, curling an arm around your waist. You try to scrub away your tears with your forearms, unaware of how much Suguru had seen. Another mercy Suguru grants you. He doesn't acknowledge it.

The three of you sit in the library for half an hour until you're done pretending that you're studying. When Satoru walks you home, Suguru follows. He notes that you barely hesitate to give Satoru a chaste kiss on the lips, and he wonders how often his friend has demanded one from you for you to be so casual about it.

He thinks he gets it when he and Satoru are walking on the street without you. To Satoru, you aren't a dog. You aren't a pet, something that he keeps to see bark.

No, you are just Satoru's.

◉

Towards the end of the year, Suguru realizes that Satoru loves you.

He's nicer to you, now. Suguru doesn't think you've realized how softer Satoru's gotten, but the change is there. He spots less marks on you now. The biggest evidence he has is that stolen moment of you and Satoru. You'd accidentally fallen asleep during lunch break, dozing off on your desk. Satoru was right next to you, gently pushing your hair out of your face. Satoru loves you.

You've changed too. Adapted, he should say. You cry less, now. Each time he sees you, you look more and more put together. As though, you're done mourning. The final stage of grief. Acceptance.

Despite how much nicer Satoru is to you, he's still just as clingy. Suguru notices that even now, none of your former friends speak to you. No one at school does. It's an unspoken rule to not mess with Satoru's things.

Suguru can still remember the last guy who hadn't gotten the memo. A new student. Freshly transferred. Suguru had heard the conversation. The guy was hardly interested in you. It was nothing more than small talk. The pat on your shoulder had been thoughtless at least, friendly at most.

Satoru beat him until the boy was bloody and had a broken nose. A week later, he'd transferred again.

You're off limits. To everyone but Suguru.

The Earth is the only planet capable of sustaining life within this cold solar system. It's close enough to the sun to feel the warmth, yet far enough so it doesn't burn. It's strong, too. A powerful magnetic forcefield, capable of shutting down the sun's cosmic radiation. Thus, the Earth spins happily around the Sun, surrounded by a sea of dead planets.

So, sometimes when Satoru can't walk you home. Suguru does.

It was just the beginning of spring. The school year was starting to end. The school itself was starting to slow down. Teachers were getting less and less strict, less work was given out. It didn't matter. Colleges had already been picked. They were all close to the end.

You don't say much when the two of you are alone. Suguru understands. It's hard to say much of anything when you're crushed by the weight of Gojo Satoru. But Suguru could have sworn he'd seen a flicker of relief when he came to pick you up and not his friend. You're clearly happier when it's him. Suguru decides he likes how that feels. It's a quick feeling of superiority. Something that quickly disappears when your eyes flick down.

He knows where your house is, but he lets you take the lead anyway. Suguru figures it's the least he can do, give you that sense of control when nothing you do ever really does anymore.

You and him have forged a shaky companionship. He's not sure what he is to you entirely, but you seem reliant on him in some way. it’s his fault, he thinks. He wonders if it has to do with the contraception he'd given you. He can still remember the trembling hands as you took it from him, curling the packet into your grip. That day he went home and his fingers felt strangely itchy.

Does the Earth ever wonder if it can turn the Sun?

When he asks you a question, you answer. At least you aren't mute, though Suguru doesn't think he'd blame you if you ignored him. Your voice is stilted, with enough words to answer the question, but still not enough to fully sate him.

And then, you break.

Just a bit.

A tiny piece of you shatters, and you show yourself to him.

He'd been talking about something insignificant, college, his plans. Just ramblings. Somehow, Satoru comes into the conversation and he's talking about the area of his friend's college campus, how Satoru mentioned that he's looking for apartments for the two of you to stay in. And then, you're uncharacteristically scoffing.

"Right," you say, head faced down on the sidewalk as you kick a rock, "because I'm following him there."

Suguru can't help but place the sarcasm in your voice. The bitterness. He's heard it before, but it's a fascinating thing hearing it come from you. And then Suguru realizes that you accidentally gave something away.

You were leaving.

Somehow, it never crossed Suguru's mind that you were still rebelling, even now. And yet, he can't shake off the heat in your voice, your words.

You seem to realize this too, freezing.

He lets you falter for a few more moments before giving you a reprieve.

"Satoru's idealistic like that," he let out.

Your shoulders lower, and for the sake of both you and him, he doesn't press any further.

He doesn't let himself let it go, even when he drops you home, arriving to his own house. Always cold. The mansion's lights are always off. No one's ever home. And Satoru's out of town.

It's better this way, Suguru thinks as he lies in bed, staring up at the ceiling. No distractions, he can think better, as he replays your words over and over again. You were leaving. You were leaving. You were leaving Satoru.

The night passes. When Satoru comes back to town, he's joyful as always, an arm slung around your shoulders. Suguru watches the way he coos at you, saying how much he missed you. You take his affections the way you always do, with a strained smile and wavering eyes.

You glance at Suguru. Suguru stares right back.

For a moment, Suguru thinks he understands why people are so enthralled with solar eclipses. The moon is seen as an underdog in most instances. It must be thrilling when a weak satellite can cover the sun's rays. Even for just a little bit.

Suguru doesn't tell Satoru. He pushes the burning in his chest, ignoring the itchiness in his fingers. Things are better this way, right? After all, the two of you come from completely different worlds. It's nonsensical to think otherwise.

Two weeks before graduation, you disappear without a trace.

And Satoru breaks.

It's a slow dissent. It comes in stages. The boy is angry at first, searching for you at school, when he can't find you there he loses his facade and demands where you are from your parents. They can't give him a clear answer because you're an adult now and you barely told them a thing before moving out. Suguru doesn’t think they knew what Satoru was to you. He doesn’t think they ever will.

The heat fades day by day, Week by week. Satoru starts to deflate the longer you aren't in his hold, his to mangle, and grab, and keep. He stops taking care of himself. His skin became paler, cracked lips, hollow cheeks. His eyes turn into this grayish blue that Suguru can't bring himself to look at for too long. He loses weight day by day.

Suguru had never seen him react this way before. Satoru was always shining. He was the sun. Now, the center of the solar system was dying. He can feel himself dying with it.

Satoru hadn't just loved you. Satoru had been obsessed with you. He breathed you in, inhaled your essence like oxygen. You'd been a part of him; a necessity. And then, you tore yourself away, leaving him bleeding on the concrete.

Guilt. Suguru feels it in his stomach, rising to his throat, threatening to stain his clothes. It's too late to say anything now, so he keeps it huddled deep inside of him. Suguru hopes it'll never come out. He helps the best he can, being there for his friend, his best friend.

It takes a month for Satoru to start eating properly again. A few months later he starts regaining his usual physique. The gray in his eyes stays for a bit longer than Suguru likes. Suguru supposes he should take what he can get.

A year passes like that. The evidence of what you left behind fades, like bruises disappearing on skin. Suguru and Satoru become college students. Then, they graduate.

When Satoru joins the business, Suguru, his right-hand man, his second, his best friend, is right next to him. They’ve always worked well together, but that doesn’t change as they shift into adulthood. Despite how different Suguru and Satoru were, Suguru liked to think that their personalities were stagnant; unchanging even to the times.

What Satoru feels about you remains stagnant as well.

Suguru doesn’t think about you often, these days. Barely a few times a year, when he feels nostalgic enough to get out his old high school yearbook. He’d page through, spot your smiling portrait face. He’d find himself staring at you far longer than he liked too.

At first, Suguru thought Satoru was the same. Much like how one thinks about a lost toy they cherished when they were younger. The resentment would fade with time. Satoru didn’t speak about you for years.

Suguru hadn’t expected the girls, however.

He doesn’t notice the first one. He sees her, but he doesn’t internalize it. She’s hurriedly putting on her clothes after a clearly exciting night, so Suguru respectfully averts his gaze. He’s more focused on his exasperation at how Satoru had missed yet another meeting with the board. They would be less than pleased if they discovered Satoru didn’t show up because he was hungover.

The second time it happens, Suguru has a passing thought of how familiar the girl looked, despite being sure he’d never seen her in his life.

The third time it happens, Suguru realizes all the recent girls Satoru’s been bringing strike an uncanny resemblance towards you.

It’s not anything too obvious, but all of them would look a bit like you. Most would have your skin tone, your hair. One had your eyes, not the color, rather the shape of it. Satoru had kept her around the longest.

Suguru doesn’t say anything about it. Part of him wonders if Satoru is even doing it on purpose.

Suguru loves Satoru like he would his own brother, but his recent hobby was starting to get on his nerves a bit.

“So much work,” the man complains, “Why can’t we just send all this off to Ijichi?”

“He has his own work to complete,” Suguru reprimands, “the sooner you stop complaining, the sooner we can finish.”

Satoru rolls his eyes but moves to another page of meaningless paperwork; Something that would be scanned into their system and then tucked away into a random file cabinet. They currently sat in Satoru’s grand kitchen, lounging on the barstools after Suguru had pounded Satoru’s door in. Satoru had let him in with an irritated look, complaining that it was the weekend and he had ‘stuff’ to do.

“He’s my assistant,” Satoru retorts, “my work is his work.”

“The reason why we’re in this mess in the first place is because you kept pawning off your job to the poor man in the first place. You’ve given him wrinkles from just the stress of being in your vicinity.”

“That’s insulting,” Satoru counters, “my presence is nothing but calming.”

“You do the exact opposite, actually. A black hole that sucks the soul out of everyone who hangs around you.”

“You hang around me all the time and you don’t have wrinkles.”

Suguru smiles. “It’s because I don’t respect you enough to listen to anything you’re saying.”

Satoru’s about to respond, when another voice interrupts him. Alluring, feminine.

“Satoru,” she coos, “When are you getting back here?”

From his seat, Suguru has a clear view of Satoru’s bedroom. Only her head is peeked out, and Suguru notes her bare shoulders. Your eyes, and your lips this time. She’s tilting her head, mouth curved in a coy smile.

Of course. Suguru can only roll his eyes. There’s that same burning feeling in his chest. During the years, it hasn’t really gotten any better.

“Coming, coming,” Satoru calls back, “just a minute, babe.”

“Stuff to do, hm?” Suguru drawls with amusement. Satoru flips him off.

"Worry 'bout yourself," Satoru says, "when's the last time you got any, huh? Honestly, when's the last time you've taken a break? A vacation?"

"I can't," Suguru replies, "I'm always stuck babysitting you."

“I’ve been waiting for half an hour, ‘Toru." The woman interrupts. "Can’t you just do it later?”

Suguru hadn’t even noticed it. He brushed it off, barely hearing their conversation as he shuffled around the papers.

Satoru had.

He hums. Straightening his back.

“Yeah, I’ve changed my mind. You should head on home.”

At first, he thought Satoru was talking to him. Then, he hears the woman’s annoyed huff.

“Hold on, you’re kicking me out?” She asks.

“Yeah, sorry,” Satoru says, not sounding very apologetic, “I got a lotta’ stuff to do and you’re not gonna wanna stick around.”

His tone is light, but Suguru can’t help but place a sense of annoyance in them. The anger. His posture is stiff, almost like he’s primed for a fight.

‘Toru. She called him ‘Toru.

You used to call him ‘Toru.

“Seriously, I-”

“I hate repeating myself: Get the fuck out.”

There’s silence, and then Suguru can hear her mutter to herself as she shuffles inside the room. She comes out minutes later, not quite dressed, but presentable. She shoots Satoru a glare, to which he only waves off. The door shuts with a noticable thud.

“Back to work,” Satoru says, “do you feel hot? The AC has been acting up, lately.”

He carries on like that, back to normal, as though he wasn’t about to snap just a few minutes ago. Suguru follows suit, not aknowledging the outburst, much like he doesn’t aknowledge most things regarding you.

Later, Suguru laughs about the hypocrisy of it all. Satoru brings home physical reminders of you, but he refuses the remnants of you. The most intimate parts, he’d kept hidden away from his life, yet he still wishes to touch, to feel. He wonders how you’d feel if you knew that Gojo Satoru is wrapped around your finger, even now.

◉

Satoru had done something yet again. It's always something with Gojo Satoru. Suguru should have left him to deal with the legal team himself, but here he was, trailing beside the firm’s directors as the man droned on and on how well Mr.Gojo would be well taken care of how here our clients are family. He forces himself to push away that feeling in his chest, scorching his throat. He was getting sick of the constant blabbering. He’d glanced away for just a second.

And then he saw you.

You, not some remnant, not some picture, not someone similar. You. He knew it was you. A little older, a little taller. You’d switched the high school uniform for a blouse and a pencil skirt. Suguru stares. He’s tempted to say your name, seek you out, as though you’re old friends-

He reels himself back in.

You disappear through a frosted glass door, completely unaware of his gawking. You hadn’t seen him. Good. The firm’s director didn’t notice his pause, carrying on as though nothing happened. Suguru smiles and laughs at the horrible ice breakers, but he also steals a glance at the name of the door you went through.

Later, Suguru looks up Higuruma Hiromi. A well-established lawyer. Worked at the firm for nearly a decade.

You are his sole paralegal.

Law. He had never considered it for you. Now, he thinks it’s a little fitting. He can’t help it. He looks you up. You have no social media, most likely from a remnant fear, but he finds where you went to college, what your area of study was, where else you’d worked, your life. Questions he’d had for nearly a decade he finally has an answer.

Honestly, Suguru was a little mad it was all so easy.

He can’t see the entire scope of your life, but he knows you were happy after high school, away from Satoru. You seemed happy when he caught that glimpse of you. There was a slight smile on your face, you never did that with Satoru around.

Satoru’s a little pathetic, a thought he has to concede to. He’s still hung over you, while you clearly hadn’t thought of him in years.

Suguru stares at your picture a little more.

The burning feeling comes back again. Hotter, melting.

Oh.

Suguru is disgusted by you.

You, that bitch loitering in Satoru’s bedroom, that greedy firm director. Disgust, that sick feeling crawling down his stomach, seeping into his bones. He’s disgusted by the weak.

He’s even more disgusted when they think they can defeat the strong. Decieve them.

You always thought you were better than Satoru, better than Suguru, even from the beginning. Even when you rejected him. Even when Satoru’s goons were torturing you, you still thought you could get out of it somehow. Even when Satoru had his hand on your shoulder, claws sinking into your flesh, you were still looking for a way out. It was like watching a rat trapped in a cage, pathetically sniffing around for an exit.

The weak could never escape the whims of the strong. It was a truth of the world, something he’d always known and yet it’d take a decade for him to put the words together. The weak could never make a fool of the strong.

You are weak. A mere satellite floating along, before getting trapped in the Earth’s gravitational force. Suguru could crush you with one fist. Satoru could evisirate you to atoms.

Does the Earth ever wonder if it can turn the Sun?

“I’ve put together a legal team that will represent you.”

Suguru places the neat stack of documents onto Satoru’s desk. The white-haired man barely gives them a glance. Suguru knows Satoru won’t ever look at them, even when your name is hidden somewhere within the sheets, along with Higuruma’s. Suguru wonders how long it’d take for Satoru to figure it out. It’s a shame he won’t be there to see it unfold in real-time, but perhaps, once Satoru puts the pieces together, he’ll thank him.

Here, in the present, Satoru types away at his computer, barely paying attention to Suguru’s words.

“Oh, great,” Satoru says off handedly, “thanks, man.”

Suguru sighs.

“Uh, I love you?” Satoru tries again.

“Never repeat those words to me ever again,” Suguru responds, “I wish you’d be a bit more interested in this, considering it’s your fault the company is in this mess in the first place.”

Satoru gives a hushed hum of agreement. Suguru smiles.

“In other news: I won’t be here next week.”

That catches his best friend’s attention. Satoru gapes at him.

“You’re quitting?”

“No, idiot. I’m taking your advice. I’m taking a few weeks off. I already put it in the calendar that you never check so why did I even bother.”

“A vacation? You never take vacations, even when I beg you to,” Satoru squints at him, “What’s the occasion?”

Eventually, Satoru will figure it out. For now, Suguru wants to enjoy this.

“I worked hard this year. I should reward myself, shouldn’t I?” He reasons, “oh, and I have a surprise for you showing up in a week or so. Let me know what you think of it.”

“A gift? For me?” Satoru beams. “You really do love me.”

“Don’t push it.”

If Satoru was the Sun, then Suguru supposed he would be the Earth. Close enough to receive the star's radiance, but with a strong enough magnetitic field to shield from solar winds.

If Suguru was the Earth, then Suguru supposed you would be the Moon. A tiny cratered satellite he tugs along with him, forever in sight of the burning sun.

#yandere #yandere jjk #dark content #dark gojo satoru #dark jjk #non con touching #gojo satoru #yandere gojo satoru #x reader #bullying #harrassment #non con kissing #geto suguru

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