#i didn't realize this would end on the line it did and it made me fucking CACKLE

[billwidoll]

Why? What?

Summary: Rafe was always in love with you, but he didn't want to show his feelings, but then Topper ended up taking what was his.

Warnings: Cheating, Unprotected sex, explicit speech

Author's Notes: Horned Topper 🐂

The first time Rafe saw you, you were on the beach playing with small turtles. He thought the first impression was useless, but then he analyzed it and realized that you were an angel of a person, You smiled sweetly, played like a cute child and had wonderful skin.

And Rafe managed to get closer to you, he managed to become friends with you. And little did you know Rafe's intentions. But Rafe was afraid to express his true feelings, so he needed more time to understand that feeling called Love.

But Rafe unfortunately went too slowly, Topper, your best friend, ended up taking what was "his" when you started dating, which made Rafe surprised. He knew Topper hit on But I didn't know that you get all his pick-up lines.

But now they were there, You Topper and Rafe were at a table, talking about various legal topics, but Topper only knew how to whisper inappropriate things in your ear. And it was killing Rafe

"Can you two stop?" Rafe talks about being stressed and he was very jealous

"What's up man? She's my girlfriend" Topper says, running his disgusting hands over your body and it makes you uncomfortable

And Rafe noticed this and immediately questioned him

"And she's your girlfriend, not your whore!" Rafe speaks taking the tone of his voice with Topper and that makes you a little Concerned

"Are you crazy, Rafe? I'll do whatever I want in my relationship" Topper says, finally letting you go and raising his voice to Rafe too

"I think you better keep to your Thompson!" Rafe speaks, getting up on the table and already prepared for a fight with Topper.

You enter in front of the two, after you already knew what would happen

“Y/N get out of my sight!” Topper shouts at you

"Don't tell her what she should or shouldn't do!" Rafe counters by heading towards

"YOU TWO ARE HERE! Topper, I'm fine, okay?" You say holding your boyfriend's hand

"what will you do?" Topper asks already shut up

"I'm leaving! And you're going home" you say, taking your coat

"Okay, I'll get the car keys" Topper says looking for the keys

"no Topper! I'm not going with you! This dinner just showed how disgusting you are and Chernoboy" you say leaving him confused and Rafe surprised

"Rafe...mind if I go home to wash?" You ask "innocently" and you see Rafe's huge smile growing on his face

"and Of Course Babyboo" Rafe says he's proud of making Topper mad and happy to finally have the opportunity to try something with you

"That's good... Topper, I'll call you later, okay?' you say leaving the restaurant with

You and Rafe walk towards Rafe's car and get in. You were left in an awkward silence on the way home and Rafe knew he needed to express his love for you. Even though it was hard for Topper

“What music do you like Y/n?” Rafe asks trying to start a conversation

"well...I like the Beatles, I know they're a pretty old band...but I love them." y/n speaks answering Rafe's question

"Beatles? They're really amazing, want me to put some of their songs on the radio?" Rafe asks, already starting a cool topic to talk about.

"Yes, Could you put "Yesterday?" You say smiling to Rafe and it didn't take long for Rafe to put on the music

"why?" Rafe asks making you hiss in confusion.

"what?" You ask Rafe innocently.

"Why Topper? Why did you have to fall in love with him right away?" Rafe asks, stopping the car in the middle of a dark, foggy road.

"I'm not literally in love with Topper...I like him" you say a little uncomfortable because Rafe stopped on the road

"So why are you with him? You should be with someone who values ​​you" Rafe says and you finally look at him

"Sorry Rafe...but I'm really good at taking care of myself, okay? And why are you so interested in this?" You talk a little ruder to Rafe.

"Okay! Go! Look like you don't value yourself in any way!" Rafe screams and slams his hands on the car's rolling stock.

"Screw you Cameron!" You shout and open the car door to leave in the middle of nowhere

“y/n stop!” Rafe says getting out of the car too and following you "Where the fuck are you going?" Rafe says, following you down the deserted and foggy street

"to a place where asshole boys leave me alone!" You say finally stopping and looking at him.

"You want to know something? I love you! I love you when you smile, I love you when you get embarrassed about something, I love your way of liking old and outdated magic..."

Rafe simply explodes, he was tired of guarding that strong feeling he felt for you. He just wanted to know the scent of your breath and the soft touches of your lips

"why?" You ask with a shaky voice.

"what?" Rafe speaks confused once again

"Why don't you just kiss me, you fucking idiot?" You say approaching Rafe and grabbing his neck and finally kissing him

The kiss had desire, love, passion, betrayal, lack, affection, this kiss brought good and bad emotions

You stop to breathe and look at each other carefully, look at each other to the depths of your souls

"What do you think about having sex in your car?" Rafe says smiling and it makes you laugh

"I think it's a great idea, but what about Topper?" You talk to Rafe

"Break up with him, because now you're going to be mine....y/n Cameron"

#dark rafe cameron #drew starkey #drew starkey smut #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron headcanons #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe smut #rafecore #rafe imagine #rafe obx #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron moodboard #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron thoughts #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic #rafe x reader #rafe x you

[goth-mami-writer]

Hi there! So here's my idea. The reader (medic officer) and leon just come out as a new couple and they're happy until one day they get draft for a mission and there meet the one and only Ada Wong that they have to cooperate for the mission. Leon is paying way more attention and all over Ada that he almost disregard the reader. She tries to be understanding and softly communicate with Leon but it turns into an argument. The reader gets upset and misunderstand Leon that he is very not much over with his "the one that got away". Leon regrets the things he said and tries to talk to her but she proceeds to avoid Leon at all costs. Que the enemies attack their base and the reader sees that the enemy is aiming to shoot Ada and at the last minute takes the critical hit for her while thinking that Leon would be heartbroken if Ada dies. Reader flatline a couple of times. I would like to know how Leon would react to this. Let's end it with a happy note ^^

▪︎~ Wildflower ~▪︎

~(AU) Leon Kennedy × f!Reader angst/jealousy work @bat-yo-us ♡

《 You stood there beside him outside of the artillery bunker that afternoon and felt your lip quivering with heartbreak. You stiffened up your trembling mouth, knowing any second you'd be blurting out the words you once thought you'd never say to his face even with a gun to your head.

But you were ready.

“Listen-” Leon began knowing just by the look on your face that you were making decisions that he couldn't change your mind on no matter what he had to say about it,

“I know I've been saying and doing things here lately that…have made you think-”

“Made me think?” You asked him, laughing with tears in your eyes at the audacity he had.

“No, not made me think. More like: made me know- made me fucking realize-”

You put your head in your hands, laughing more at the thought of your once pure, dumb hope that this would ever work after the turmoil of the past few weeks.

“And I'm done.” You said finitely until suddenly the base's sirens rang with their whirring, metallic urgency that filled the air overhead all at once. You looked in the distance to see enemy vehicles piling into the dirt lot after surging through the gated barricade by force.

“Get inside.” Leon said, watching the dirt spin away from their tires with a charging speed, and together, you both ran towards the closest underground bunker that was already flooded with the officers and personnel directing the others inside.

You heard your chief director calling for all on the unit to line in for roll call and your heart was racing trying to prepare yourself for the many casualties and injuries that might result from an enemy raid right now. The medical staff was short handed to begin with and you knew your work wouldn't be done for well into the morning with this.

“How many on unit?” One of the deputies called that oversaw the emergency protocol.

“Sixty.” One of the lesser privates answered and then called out the count that made your bones chill.

“Fifty nine present.”

Leon looked around with the others, trying to find who was missing and you did the same. You thought of your other medics and the doctors onboard the base too. All were here, you reached out to touch their hands to somehow guarantee your racing mind that they were in fact safe. But you stopped.

Ada. It was Ada.

“Wong!!” The chief director said, making the emergency officer call out the same to try and find where in the lineup Ada was. But only you and Leon knew.

He turned to you, asking if Ada ever came out of the artillery bunker and you shook your head in terror. You knew exactly why she didn't hear the raid sirens and you said to Leon gravely with fear in your voice,

“She's down in the stronghold. It's concrete. She can't hear a thing down there.”

Leon’s eyes went wide knowing that the downstairs of the artillery bunker would be one of the first things to be potentially raided due to its vast supply of weaponry and ammunition. He turned, not knowing who to tell first that Ada was still out there and someone would have to go out amid this enemy storm to get her back to safety.

You watched Leon's chest rise and fall with the thought of Ada being in danger and you felt that was the only image to prompt what needed to happen next. She was special and there just wasn't a way for you to argue it anymore. You swallowed the hot, heavy lump in your throat and your feet took flight against the ground to get you back upstairs.

Leon had already turned, preparing to tell the emergency staff of Ada's whereabouts but seeing you flee frantically to escape back to the surface was enough to make him charge forward. He screamed your name as you raced upstairs, now tapping your badge to the entry scanner to allow you outside and your feet pounded to the dirt.

This was insane. Here you were racing to save your boyfriend's ex from trouble. But it was more than that wasn't it?, you thought as you heard gunfire and enemy commands to detain anyone onsight. Ada made Leon happy. As much as you hated it. She was different from you and it was that simple.

You didn't want to be a hero that brought her back to safety. You just Leon to be happy knowing someone he cared about was free from danger.

~2 weeks prior.

~3 miles north, southbound enclave.

“Kennedy- tell your girl that we got a few wounded up here that we'll need looked at when we make camp.” Your chief directorate radioed in over the comms placed inside the military jeep taking you both south to the neighboring base located outside of Racoon City.

You had met in the months prior, doing recon in the city and around the outskirts. In the few times Leon himself had been wounded, you were always his favorite on the med staff and he knew right away that he liked you. After trying his luck, you two had decided to commit and come out as official even amid the ongoing chaos of a fallen city.

“10-4.” Leon said into the comms and looked at you smiling in the passenger seat.

You weren't used to being called his girl yet and it was still an instant feeling of giddiness that always made your lips turn up in a grin.

Leon looked over to see you basking in your little moment of bliss and he questioned with a chuckle although it was something he already knew the answer,

“What are you smirking at over there?”

“I'm not…smirking.” You said with a shake to your head as he drove, watching his gloved hands wrap around the steering wheel.

“Sorry-” He said shifting gears without even a glance downwards,

“Guess a shit-eating grin is better to call it, huh?”

You slapped his arm, watching as he clearly enjoyed the playful banter as well as you did. He teased you more with comments that you could never admit to enjoying and finally you said flirtatiously across the seat, watching as the neighboring base appeared on the horizon.

“You know, I've got a little syringe in my bag that could fix that mouth of yours?”

“You wouldn't-” He said looking over with a grin.

“You think I wouldn't?” You said slyly, “Why's that?”

“Cause I'm the one driving.” He joked cockily, slowing down as the guards from the front gates held up their hands for the car to stop for inspection before being given clearance. You laughed loudly as he showed your IDs and then sighed in love that this was your new normal.

When you both received clearance and met after the hours of menial work patching wounds and giving injections, you found him again inside one of the supply tents, well into a conversation with someone you couldn't make out from their obscured view behind others passing through. But when you got close enough, your heart dropped to see Ada Wong.

Leon in the past had mentioned her and their falling out when escaping the now ruins of Racoon City. You quickly became confused as to why and how you were seeing them together this way and you approached cautiously.

When you became close enough, Leon turned and introduced you to the woman who warmed you with a smile. Immediately, from what you'd heard, her warm, kindred way of smiling seemed venomous to you but here infront of Leon, you swallowed the distrust you had.

“I'm Ada. Very nice to meet you. She is pretty, Leon. You were right.”

You brushed away that compliment just for now and watched the way that Leon smiled when he graced her with a moment more of conversation. Ada stated that she was working with some of the higher-ups into getting more federal help with providing aid and medicine and that she'd be around often.

“Well, I certainly won't talk your ear off, Leon. We'll catch up later.” She mentioned with another half smile that just felt artificial to you somehow and prowled away as she began reading from notes gathered in her hands.

You looked to Leon whose gaze seemed to linger as she made her exit and you watched too for another moment. There was a voice in your head telling you that now that you'd met Ada, you understood why Leon almost never brought her up. It was more than likely to protect your feelings.

She walked like the earth was made for her perfect feet. She was slender with hardly an ounce of curve in the wrong spot. It was an exterior that money couldn't buy and God could only make once. There just wasn't a flaw even if you were only looking for them.

You looked up to Leon, hoping to snap him back to the present and you mentioned with a false tone of curiosity,

“So, I guess you two…are made up? After she pointed a gun at you?”

Leon picked up quickly that you weren't pleased by the sight of him chatting with Ada so casually after the events that had befallen them previously and he mentioned, trying nicely to ease your concern,

“She wasn't going to shoot me.”

“Hm-” You said full of doubt to that assumption you thought was a rather poor one,

“I think it's the intention that counts.”

Leon paused, telling you with words that he knew he needed to choose wisely given the delicate situation,

“You don't need to worry about Ada. That…that part of our story is done. It's..completely different now.”

You nodded, wanting with all of yourself to believe it. Leon had given you no reason not to trust him in the past so you gave him the benefit of the doubt, deciding that the past was indeed past. Feelings change and people certainly do as well. You shared kinder, more soft words before parting for the night and decided to rest the issue.

In that next week, it was normal for you to find Leon grouped up with Ada somehow, either coming back from recons or loading supplies out onto the GPW's for runs to the other bases. It was hard to find even yourself talking to Leon with how much you had on your plate. This was one of the more populated bases near the city so you always had something to finish or begin yourself.

One day, you were crouched down preparing a suture on an officer that was sleeping peacefully with a sedative and your hair kept falling into your face messily as you worked with sterile gloves. Your back ached from having to lean over in this process and you felt as two small hands brushed back your choppy bangs in a gentle comb of their fingers.

You flinched to the first touch but felt even more on edge realizing that it was Ada that stood over you now. She whispered, not knowing how strong the man's anesthesia was exactly and mentioned in her soft tone,

“Let me pull your hair out of your eyes, girlfriend. Don't mind me.”

You felt as her fingers brushed back your tangles to comb them gently into place and she fastened your top bun back into the elastic you were using. After making sure the officer's sutures were secure on his leg wound, you unsurely thanked her. Not exactly certain why she would perform an act so kind when she hardly knew you.

“I wanted to tell you that we are phoning in for more staff upstate and we should be doubling our medical help by the end of the month. You work too hard and I'm tired of seeing you run so ragged to help these people.” Ada mentioned, crouching down beside you as you made a dressing for the man's completed stitches.

You could only look at her peripherally as you worked but you mentioned quietly amid the wrapping and unrolling of the white gauze,

“I- I appreciate that, I guess. I mean, the help would be nice. For sure.”

Ada nodded, knowing that's not all of what she wanted to say when she found you and then said more discreetly with her voice lowering due to the nature of her next words,

“I..also hope that it doesn't bother you that Leon and I are friends. Well..friends trying to work out our differences.”

You looked away for the first time since she'd appeared beside you and finally you said a little more brave, trying to shake away the nerves of what you thought to be insecurity,

“I'm not….bothered. I just don't…”

You lost your words and Ada nodded, knowing somehow exactly how you felt in case you were finding trouble in explaining it. She assured you that herself and Leon were platonic and that you needed to worry about absolutely nothing fishy between them.

Goddammit, you thought to yourself.

This is exactly what you didn't need. She could at least be a bitch- Or act like you didn't exist or hell just sleep with Leon and boast about it behind your back to justify your sense of distrust. But she was kind. And compassionate to your feelings. And here you were, jealous of nothing more than an assumption.

Who was the bitch now? You thought.

After a joke and a smile, you parted ways with a gentle wave before you moved to the next tent.

Maybe you were overthinking everything.

It had been a slow day for you the day that Ada walked up to you in the medical tent. She wanted help gathering a list of inventory for the medical surplus for her list being sent upstate and you obliged with a smile.

“Most of your unused stock is in the stronghold right?” She asked for clarification as you finished preparing an injection. You nodded saying that anything unused would always be down in the concrete stronghold below ground.

“Good deal.” She said checking her watch,

“You wanna meet me over there in thirty? We'll grab a bite after, you and me, if you want?”

Why was she being so nice? You wondered, making your guard come up once again but you agreed, trying your hardest to remember that you had put her past grievances behind you.

You hadn't seen Leon in atleast three days but weirdly after all that you'd thought about, the absence wasn't as critical as you thought. He was busy doing recon of course but it felt like you were teaching him a lesson in a subconscious way. You wanted to see how long it'd take for him to approach to ask you to see him.

When you arrived at the artillery bunker, you noticed some of the GPWs parked outside, meaning that Leon's unit had actually returned early which was surprising. You thought of trying to find him after nipping this task with Ada but you opened the door to realize he'd already been found.

Leon stood there, smiling mid conversation with her as she held her mouth with that alluring laugh that made your skin crawl. He'd forget everything in the years you'd spend with him but how would he ever forget the way her eyes lit up during that laugh that could change a room.

You wanted to make your presence known so you kicked over an empty box to let the clatter interrupt them quietly.

“There you are.” Leon said with his gaze shooting over and you could only glare when he approached, leaving Ada behind.

“I'll be down in the stronghold whenever you're ready, girlfriend.”

You only stared into him coldly, pursing your lips together to avoid saying something confrontational to Ada who was in fact above you in rank and Leon then asked seeing the heated look in your eye,

“Honey, what's wrong? We were just joking-”

“I'm so fucking sick of finding you with her, Leon. I've not seen you in days but conveniently you find Ada before me? You’re still in fucking love with her!” You said fearless, feeling as your hands shook from the adrenaline of finally addressing what had been on your mind for days. Leon scoffed before looking away, telling you somewhat guilt-less as he denied your accusation,

“Look, we were just talking. It's not like you just found us….fucking around or something?”

Your eyes widened and you nodded before turning to leave with a heavy footfalls that stomped your way outside,

“How about this? You can go fuck yourself.”

You felt invalidated completely now. As if you were blowing this whole thing out of proportion once again. You hadn't seen him in days, not only due to the tension but also due to his schedule and the first person he seems to reunite with is Ada. It felt insulting.

Leon chased behind you now, telling you stop so you could both work this out and you faced him outside the front doors. Unbeknownst to you both, Ada had only pretended to go downstairs. She watched as you two stopped outside the glass doors to the bunker, arguing about what undoubtedly had to be her influence on Leon. When she heard the raid sirens begin in the moments after, she was calm and calculated as she made her way to the reinforced stronghold.

Waiting to meet her armed associates when they arrived.

~~~

~During the Raid

“Ada!” You shouted from the top of the stairs after somehow slipping through the enemy fire. She turned around wide-eyed as she loaded her gun and found you in the shambles you sounded to be as you raced down the stairs.

“What are you doing?” She called out in disbelief as she saw your shadow moving through the pallets of supplies and ammunition towards her.

All you wanted was for Leon to be happy and tears streamed down your face as you told her that you were here to take her back to the main bunker and she shook her head, never thinking that anyone would actually risk their life to come down here and save her. She knew the people conducting this raid and knew you'd be killed on sight if they found you.

“You need to go, sweetie. I'm-”

“Ada, please. We can make it.” You begged before hearing thuds on the steel door at the top of the stairs. Ada told you again, more hushed and with emphasis that you needed to get out of there and fast but you refused.

Getting her out was all that you wanted. If it's what Leon wanted, it was your main priority. Even if you just weren't his.

You heard the footsteps coming down the stairs but you only saw the tactical flashlight burning into your eyes.

Ada can't die, you thought as you saw them pointing their weapons, bracing their trigger fingers to fire, Leon will never be the same.

You saw the muzzle flash of the bullet when they fired. But only Ada heard the shot.

You saw the ground next as your torso felt warm, then wet when you became still. Ada screamed to retrieve you but your body was numb to stop her from crying. Only your shaking hand rose as she knelt down next to you, pulling at you to get up, demanding that you hold on. But you held her instead.

In the minutes later, amid the booming of battering rams and defense teams making their lines of fire, you laid on a medical gurney with the doctors you worked beside rushing to keep you stable. Somehow. Leon was called inside the tent but told to stay out of the way of those maneuvering to save your life.

“We're losing pupillary!” One of the working medics called as they shined a small light into your retinas to gauge the failing response of your eyes in the light.

“Pulse is dropping!” One of the others cried as they watched your life slip away by the second on their wrist watch.

Leon's eyes watered and his hands met his head and defeat when he heard them scream for a defibrillator. He watched the paddles being pressed into your chest, your body surging in an upwards jump from the charge with no response. He held his mouth with the back of his hand, not knowing if he could watch any longer but he tried to get closer.

He stepped further into the tent, yelling between the chaos for you to come back and one of the med team pushed him back, begging him to clear the walkway but he was violent with his shove in pushing them away, telling you again to live with gravel in his shaking voice.

In that moment between your life being reduced to a flat, stagnant line on a screen, he wasn't sure if regretting the last few days would even suffice. He wanted to regret ever existing instead as his face was washed in tears.

Ada walked by the tent at that moment during the evacuation of the higher up staff. She looked into the tent, seeing you staring out with a glaze over your lifeless eyes but she kept walking after realizing that there wasn't hope. This was another stop on her way to finding her truth of Racoon City. Saying goodbye to Leon would be a mistake so silently she made her way forward, moving through the crowd that still surged in the presets of active turmoil. Of course a life lost was never the price she thought she'd pay but people change.

Even you knew that.

You fell into a coma when finally you were revived by some miracle that surprised them all. And Leon stayed by your side as you rested in the quiet ward set aside at one of the remaining medical centers closer to the heart of the city's defense. His nights were long and restless as he waited for you to be with him again. In his heart he knew that it was the very, very least he could do since you'd waited for him to wake up too in these last few days.

It was his turn now for patience, and his wait to see you once again had begun. 》

Loved writing this!! Send me more asks and I'd love to work with your ideas. ✌️🫶

#leon kennedy au #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil #resident evil 2 #angst #send me asks

[buttdumplin]

A John Price meet-the-fam special!! This is pure, indulgent fluff.

1.2k

CW: gn!reader, latine reader

When Price first meets your family, it goes over smoother than fucking water over a polished worry stone. It just is. You thought it might go like that, knowing that he’d do practically anything to make himself fit in as seamlessly as possible. But you also knew that bringing home a white guy always comes with a very specific brand of first interactions.

You prep him for the teasing that’s to come, about his accent, about his complexion, about the food he eats. John takes it all in very seriously, nodding along and asking probing questions. It’s all for your benefit, and he’s incredibly mindful of that. You don’t necessarily need to know he’s already got a plan of action, though.

By the time you arrive at the family home, you’re a little stiff, braced for the barrage of probing questions that’s to come. You can tell the family is curious, you see the tías eyeing up and down. But there’s no interrogation this time. Because John beats them to it. He’s polite and answers all the niceties as respectfully as he can. And then he immediately launches into offering up information, as cryptic as it may be. He dons that dimpled smile of his and tells them what he can.

“I’ve been at this job for a while now, but I’m retiring soon. It’s actually my personal life that I'm more invested in improving now.” 

“I’m hoping to buy a home in the very near future. Maybe like this one, a big family place. I’ve been tucking away money for it for a while now.”

“I’ve had to spend a lot of time away, but I’m really looking forward to staying home with this one.”

The tías are swooning when he makes intense eye contact with you across the table as he speaks. He’s not hiding any kind of intentions, from you or them. None of the information is particularly new to you, but hearing him say it out loud? In front of all the people important to you? It’s one thing when it’s quietly discussed in the early hours of the morning. It’s another thing entirely to hear it all said in such a permanent way.

At one point, your godmother, as entrometida as she always is, mentions she’s willing to go shopping with him if he’s ever in need of a ring, says she’s always had a good eye for your style.

“Oh, no. Se lo agradezco, pero ya no va a ser necesario,” he replies with an even bigger smile, and it’s got the women hollering. They’d take a bite out of him if they could. John carries himself with the firm confidence of knowing who he is, and they can see that. They respect it.

The tías, predictably, also do everything they can to keep you two physically apart. You’re put on comal duty, keeping you in the deep corner of the kitchen where he can’t reach you. John himself doesn’t try to reach for you, wanting to spare you the godforsaken “chiflando y aplaudiendo” even at your big age. So he keeps busy by setting the table, asking only where he can find the cups and tableware. They all ooh and aah.

“Ven? Ni se le tuvo que pedir,” they shout at the tíos, pointing at John’s busy hands.

A few questions do pop up once dinner is set. Do you eat this kind of food? Have you had this before? Do you like it? Tíos razz him into adding more and more salsa on his food, and John, knowing full well how it all ends, goes along with it. He’s managed to build up some tolerance that he’s quite proud of, but there is no way that’s saving him. He knows what he’s in for. A single bite and his face turns so red it’s almost purple, his coughing making it hard for him to get water down. The tíos laugh and he’s smiling along with them, the tías rushing to get more water and napkins and a cup of milk because “I heard this helps white people?” You swap his plate out for a new one while they’re all caught up with John, taking a few bites of food to try to match it to the dish he had before. 

A bubble of softness blooms in the room. The tías are cooing over him, consoling him after his “brave attempt.” The tíos take turns patting his back, smiling down proudly at him for having met their challenge. He smiles back at you from across the table, knowing full well what you’ve done to his food, spotting a few more veggies than he’s originally served himself. The tablecloth is long, surely they won’t spot him gently nudging your foot with his own. 

When your godfather invites him out onto the porch for a smoke, John knows it’s his time to shine. He asks you to stay inside with a wink. He brought those Cuban cigars with him for a reason, he’s sure he’ll make it through. You hold him at the door for a second longer, just enough to give him a tender kiss before sending him along. Neither of you missed the way your godfather so clearly recognizes the way John moves, his own military past helping read further into the man you’ve brought home. You know there’s a good chance of this not going perfectly. 

Ignoring the calls from your tías, you crawl to sit below the window that lets out right behind them. They both let out soft grunts as they settle into their chairs, a long hum of appreciation from your godfather clearly signaling John has opened the cigar box for him. It’s silent for a while. The only sounds come from the lighter and their soft exhalations. Then a soft rustling begins. It’s not the trees, it’s too muted for that. It’s not gravel, they aren’t going anywhere and they certainly didn’t make their getting-up grunts. No, it’s their clothes. Because they’ve come up with hand signs on the spot, across languages, so you can’t listen in. 

There’s some chuckling, surely that’s a good sign! But the low sigh coming shortly after isn’t very encouraging. You try to make sense of it somehow, but there’s no distinct rhythm to it. And suddenly you’re twelve again and trying to sneak a peek. You may not need a stool to help you, you’re tall enough to see through the window on your tiptoes. Maybe if you do it slowly, they won’t notice. So slowly it goes, your knees creaking as you inch up. Their rustling continues; good, they haven’t noticed. Yet as stealthy as you try to be, they’re both looking directly at you as you finally get eyes on them. Their smiles all too knowing. You godfather winks at you, clicking his tongue fondly. He holds a hand up before you can say anything, groaning a little as he rises. He takes a beat to look down at John. You’re all frozen for a moment. And then your godfather’s hand comes down firmly on John’s shoulder, giving him a sturdy shake. 

“Me meto antes de que la vieja huela todo este humo,” he says. It’s done. No disaster, just acceptance.

When you turn back to John, he’s already got a mad grin on his face, “See? This old white boy’s still got some moves.”

AN: I am buckled the fuck in for all this latine reader content, so yall will be seeing a whole lot more of it. Thank you again to @mikichko!!! For your support and encouragement, and your incredibly generous feedback. I'm doing this to feed us both.

Let me know if yall wanna see anything with latine reader in particular!!

#captain john price #price x reader #price x latine reader #latine reader #cod x reader #cod x latine reader #cod #my only non poly fic to date lmao #but maybe if you squint there's still room for it #and price's spanish?? fucking delicious #uses it so deliberately too #mans knows exactly what he's doing #i didn't realize this would end on the line it did and it made me fucking CACKLE #hope yall enjoy!!

[puppyboychewtoy]

getting forcefem'd (among other happenings) revealing that, yes, even the consentual pushing of boundaries can cause strain on a relationship or dynamic (and my back-and-forth, mixed / conflicting feelings definitely highlight that) ... but the trust i have in them and the trust they have in me (to listen and understand when i say something is too far, or too far right now, or fine to push and im just upset by it and not with them ; to trust that i will do by best to gage my limits and not hold against them the pain i ask for) is just. really good

#the forcefem stuff is. idek if im actually into it but it's a very easy fasttrack to discomfort and humiliation that they have my full permi #ssion to push on #this is just me thinking about something that happened a couple nights ago and really rode the line of almost too far. i did get kinda frea #ked out which scared them and i ended up sleeping on the couch which worried them even more #but in the morning they still made sure i was okay and i made sure they knew i still love them with my whole heart and they didn't go too fa #r in any way that would make me leave. that i was just freaked and needed a chill and that everything is okay #hm. looking at that all laid out makes me realize that part of this dynamic probably fulfills our expectations for toxic emotional tug of wa #rs from previous relationships. except with this its juts an outlet for it and resolved easily because things between us r built on trust #im spilling too many beans. bye

[grasshoppergeography]

Hey All,

I've been away for some time, as we've been working really hard on something quite exciting:

let me present to you the world's first ever global ocean drainage basin map that shows all permanent and temporary water flows on the planet.

This is quite big news, as far as I know this has never been done before. There are hundreds of hours of work in it (with the data + manual work as well) and it's quite a relief that they are all finished now.

But what is an ocean drainage basin map, I hear most of you asking? A couple of years ago I tried to find a map that shows which ocean does each of the world's rivers end up in. I was a bit surprised to see there is no map like that, so I just decided I'll make it myself - as usual :) Well, after realizing all the technical difficulties, I wasn't so surprised any more that it didn't exist. So yeah, it was quite a challenge but I am very happy with the result.

In addition to the global map I've created a set of 43 maps for different countries, states and continents, four versions for each: maps with white and black background, and a version for both with coloured oceans (aka polygons). Here's the global map with polygons:

I know from experience that maps can be great conversation starters, and I aim to make maps that are visually striking and can effectively deliver a message. With these ocean drainage basin maps the most important part was to make them easily understandable, so after you have seen one, the others all become effortless to interpret as well. Let me know how I did, I really appreciate any and all kinds of feedback.

Here are a few more from the set, I hope you too learn something new from them. I certainly did, and I am a geographer.

The greatest surprise with Europe is that its biggest river is all grey, as the Volga flows into the Caspian sea, therefore its basin counts as endorheic.

An endorheic basin is one which never reaches the ocean, mostly because it dries out in desert areas or ends up in lakes with no outflow. The biggest endorheic basin is the Caspian’s, but the area of the Great Basin in the US is also a good example of endorheic basins.

I love how the green of the Atlantic Ocean tangles together in the middle.

No, the dividing line is not at Cape Town, unfortunately.

I know these two colours weren’t the best choice for colourblind people and I sincerely apologize for that. I’ve been planning to make colourblind-friendly versions of my maps for ages now – still not sure when I get there, but I want you to know that it’s just moved up on my todo-list. A lot further up.

Minnesota is quite crazy with all that blue, right? Some other US states that are equally mind-blowing: North Dakota, New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming. You can check them all out here.

Yes, most of the Peruvian waters drain into the Atlantic Ocean. Here are the maps of Peru, if you want to take a closer look.

Asia is amazingly colourful with lots of endorheic basins in the middle areas: deserts, the Himalayas and the Caspian sea are to blame. Also note how the Indonesian islands of Java and Sumatra are divided.

I mentioned earlier that I also made white versions of all maps. Here’s Australia with its vast deserts. If you're wondering about the weird lines in the middle: that’s the Simpson desert with its famous parallel sand dunes.

North America with white background and colourful oceans looks pretty neat, I think.

Finally, I made the drainage basin maps of the individual oceans: The Atlantic, the Arctic, the Indian and the Pacific. The Arctic is my favourite one.

I really hope you like my new maps, and that they will become as popular as my river basin maps. Those have already helped dozens of environmental NGOs to illustrate their important messages all around the world. It would be nice if these maps too could find their purpose.

#maps reimagined #geography #cartography #maps #my art #rivers of the world #ocean drainage basins #ocean maps #river maps

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 ❞

❝ EVERYONE WANTS SATORU GOJO, SO WHY ARE YOU THE ONE STUCK GUARDING HIM ? ❞

✧ pairing: rich boy! gojo x bodyguard! reader

✧ summary: after the gojo family receives threats to their lives, you're hired to protect the heir to the company, satoru gojo - you just didn't realize how charming the rich heir would be - and just how hard it would be to resist his advances.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, reader is around the same age as gojo (both in their 20s but age is vague), virgin! gojo, switch! gojo, oral (f + m), handjob (m), dry humping, fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), depictions of violence, mentions of yakuza, dirty business dealings, gojo's made up dad and suguru make an appearance

✧ wc: 15,311 (i don't know what to say at this point)

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 1 has been sold to @forest-hashira and two anons!

“So, is this your first time?”

Satoru Gojo would be the end of you — one way or another. 

One way would be you sacrificing your life to protect him — fairly run of the mill when it came to guarding someone, the risk of putting your life on the line, though the chance of death usually was fairly slim. You had only come close — twice. 

You didn’t care to make it a third. 

The other, increasingly more likely, way was that you would lose your mind to his incessant yammering before you even had a chance to neutralize any threat to his life. 

You nearly spit out your drink at the question, wiping your mouth with a napkin, before managin to choke it down, “Excuse me?” 

And his lips annoyingly curl, “Your first time guarding someone,” 

The heir seemed fairly nonchalant, even after his father had sat the both of you down in a room filled with more security agents than the prime minister of Japan himself had, and had lectured him about the importance of staying with you the entire time and to respect your authority — well one out of two wasn’t bad. He’s eating a piece of cake instead of a meal, his fork digging into the back of the cake again and again, toying with his food as he did with you, “I mean, you seem fairly young, but old enough to be entrusted with my safety,” 

“Well, since you insisted on going to school, your father needed someone unassuming who looked around your age,” you lean against your hand, your other drumming against the table, as your eyes scanned the area — table of frat boys, group of girls sneaking glances at Gojo, various other students, no real threats — unless you counted the girls’ death daggers towards you, “someone who wouldn’t look out of place with you, raise any suspicions, but who could still protect you,” 

His lips curl, as your eyes find their way back to the young heir, “So basically, you had to look like my girlfriend — shouldn’t I hold your hand? Sell the act? All in the name of my safety,” 

You jerk your head towards his group of admirers, “I think what we’re doing now is plenty — unless you’d like your guard to get mauled by a bunch of hormonal college girls,” 

His eyes slid to his adoring fans, as he pities them with a wave, erupting squeals from them, “I think you could take them,”

“How flattering,” you reply drily, picking at the food in front of you, “now finish your lunch so we can get to our next class on time,” 

“Are you still upset that we were late this morning?” 

“No, I’m upset that we missed half the class and I had to take the fall for it,” the heir had oh so kindly told the professor that you had made them run late (even though he was the one who spent far too long in the bathroom). 

And even though you wouldn’t be attending this school for long, you hoped that you wouldn’t have to make yourself look like a fool the entire time you were here — but — your eyes found Gojo’s again — sticking with Satoru Gojo almost made that a guarantee that you would look like a fool — one way or another. 

And you were already the fool — for thinking that a college aged boy would have any real food in his refrigerator. Although, Satoru Gojo was a different breed — instead of alcohol and questionable containers of takeout, there was...sweets. 

So. Many. Sweets.

Not just cookies and candy — but literally six different kinds of mochi (for some reason?) and almost any pastry you could possibly think of was stocked in the house. And the freezer was more of the same — seven different containers of ice cream and one aged bag of edamame stuck in the back. 

“Gojo?” you stare into the open refrigerator, while Gojo lays back on his couch, scrolling on his phone mindlessly. 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you have any food?” 

“What do you mean? The refrigerator is full of food?” and his voice is thick with genuine confusion and you’re almost wondering how this man survived to this age. 

Oh yeah, he’s rich. 

You sigh, closing the refrigerator doors, and striding over to him, only to snatch his phone out of his hands, “Sweets are not real food — how do you eat like this and function?” 

He only shrugs, lips curled into a grin, “I’m just built different,” 

“You mean like a person who won’t make it to age fifty?” you toss his phone back at him, “get up,” you grab your sweatshirt hanging by the door and throw his jacket at him. He barely catches it, as he sits up, his face displeased with your sudden need to get him up. 

“Where are we going?” 

“So,” Gojo says, his hands in his pockets, as you both walk the aisles of the grocery store, “why did I have to come with you?” 

“Because I’m going to show you how to actually shop for groceries, so you don’t have a heart attack and die before my stint with you is up,” you grab essentials and basics — oil, rice, cereal, pasta, spices, flour, sugar (although did he really need sugar with the amount he was already consuming?), “you know it would suck if my client died before we eliminated the other threats on his life,” before you add with a smile, “though I think your eating habits are more likely to kill you,” 

“You know men really hate sarcastic women,” he bites back, before something catches his eye in the aisle and he places it in the cart, “major turn off,” 

“Well, mission accomplished then,” you roll your eyes, as you look back at the cart to see a box of cookies, “you know when I said you were a moron, I was half kidding, but now,” you lift up the box of cookies, “you have a million cookies at home,” 

He pouts — why do you feel like a mother refusing their child their candy at checkout? — “Not these ones,” you take the box and put it back on the shelf where it belonged, and he relents. 

“Did you eat like this before college?” 

He shook his head, “My meals were prepared for me by the chef at my home, I never really had much of a say in what I ate, or anything really,” and you shake your head, “my father wasn’t really the type to let me handle anything on my own — thus the need for a babysitter,” 

You nod, “So no one really taught you how to take care of yourself?” and he shakes his head. 

“Guess not, but I guess no time like the present to learn,” he examines the box of baking powder you had just placed in the cart, “like what this is,” and you snort, taking the box from him and placing it back in the cart. 

“Maybe by the end of this trip, we’ll have you making it past the age of forty,” 

He raises an eyebrow, “I thought you said fifty?” 

“The cookies made me lose more faith in you,” 

The two of you continue to shop, as you help him pick out vegetables, meat, and other necessities for the house. You separate the things for you and for him meticulously, as the two of you head over to the checkout, and he’s placing everything on the conveyor belt together, including your own things, “No wait, those are mine—” 

“Consider it payment,” he stops you, as you continue to try to argue, but he’s only blocking you from the conveyor belt with a raised arm, a real smile on his lips, “just let me do this for you,” And you can’t find any words, so your mouth shuts, and you nod — as you watch him speak with the older cashier with his patented charm. 

And the cashier stops you right as you’re leaving, whispering, “That’s a good one, don’t let him go, ok?” and you pause, her words sinking in as blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“We’re not—” 

“I know,” the older woman chuckles far too knowingly, as she hands you the receipt, “but you never know.” 

“You coming?” Gojo calls, turning to look back at you, as he pushes the cart of groceries, and you look from the cashier to him, before fleeing with a quick ‘thank you.’ 

And as you go home, you glance at Gojo, maybe there was more to him than you initially thought. 

“This is so boooooring,” Gojo’s whining for, what you assume is, the billionth time, “I hate philosophy, moral arguments? It’s such bullshit,” 

“You know philosophy is literally a subject that encompasses everything right?” you tilt your head watching him lay on the floor as the two of you sit at the table, his head right next to you, as you sit cross legged, “there’s no avoiding it in life,” 

“Well can’t I avoid it in school at least? Because college feels very different from real life,” and you roll your eyes, flicking him between the eyes. 

“Just write your paper, I already finished mine,” and he perks up. 

And he slides his laptop over to you, “Then you can write mine,” 

“That’s not happening,” and he groans again, “you know if you spent all the time that you whined working on your paper then you’d be done,” 

“Were you this much of a buzzkill when you were in college?” Gojo stares at you, “what do you even do for fun?” 

“Why is this relevant to you writing your paper?” 

“Why is writing my paper relevant to protecting my life?” and you open and close your mouth, “c’mon give me something, anything,” 

“How about this — when you finish a page, I’ll answer a question, any question,” you offer, and he grins, as he sits up and begins to type away at his laptop. 

You sit back, lying back and using your phone, until about fifteen minutes later when he’s holding his laptop up, showing you that he completed a page, “That fast?” you’re skeptical, and then you grab his laptop, skimming the page, wondering if he was trying to trick you — he wasn’t. It was good, more than good — it was a wonderful discussion of deontological ethics. 

“How did you finish this so fast?” you raise an eyebrow, “you complain so much, but you wrote this page far too quickly,” 

He shrugs, “I’m good at everything, sweetheart,” and you roll your eyes, “jealous?”

“Totally,” you scoff, before grinning,  “so get back to work,” and he gapes at you, before groaning dramatically, lying back on the floor again. 

“Ugh, this is too much work,” he whines again, “I don’t know why I had to take this stupid class,” he grumbles. 

“Then why did you?” you scroll through your phone, checking for any new alerts or updates from his father or any other member of the security team, “you have a choice in what classes you sign up for, don’t you?” 

And for one of the first times, you saw Satoru’s playfulness ebb away, replaced with almost a bitterness — as bitter as his words were usually sweet, “Maybe most college kids do, but I don’t have a choice in most of the things I do, including the classes I pick,” 

You tilt your head, “Your father?” And he nods, “did you even choose your major?” 

His eyes drift to the ceiling, “Is it a choice when your father tells you you’re either being groomed to run his company when you graduate or he’s not paying for you to go to school at all?” 

“No, it isn’t,” you admit, “but it could be worse, he could have stuck you with a glorified babysitter on top of it,” 

He cracks a smile, “I don’t know, maybe I have a thing for babysitters,” and you roll your eyes, cracking a smile. 

“Get back to work.” 

“Fuck,” Satoru muttered, watching the rain come down as he waited outside the university awning of the building he had just finished his class in. You had left him to go to class by himself — you trusted him enough not to get murdered while in class and on the walk back (high praise) — and said you’d likely just meet him back at the apartment. But now, he didn’t know how he’d get home without getting soaked. 

He checks his phone for any rideshares nearby, but there were none. And he would rather go drown in the rain than call his father’s driver, and guarantee a lecture about being prepared for “any given situation.” 

Shit. Maybe he would just risk walking. 

So he did. The rain soaked through his clothes all too quick, the wet fabric clinging to his skin, and the cold leeching the warmth from his body. And he couldn’t help but think if you were with him, you would have remembered to bring an umbrella. 

Weird, when did he ever really rely on anyone else? 

Yes, his father had maids, cooks, and personal shoppers when he was growing up — but they weren’t people he relied on — he did, but it was expected. It was their job. And yes, he was a job for you too — but…it was different. 

Satoru didn’t know when it happened but he had gotten used to your presence in his life. Whether it was at home or in class, you were always there. And it wasn’t as annoying as he thought it would be. It was…nice to have someone there to lean on. But, as he glanced up at the storm clouds, holding a hand above his eyes — rolling dark clouds with no signs of the rain letting up — this would be his reality once the threats were a distant memory. 

“Gojo!” He blinks, his eyes snapping forward, and he sees someone coming over the horizon. 

It was you — umbrella in hand, as your footsteps echoed with the splashes of water from the rain that collected on the ground. And you found your way to him, holding the umbrella over his head. He stared at you as you grew closer, wondering if you were real. And he wasn’t surprised you found him —

“How did you know?” He asks when you stand, catching your breath, short pants, as your eyes flicker up to his. 

“You always forget your umbrella, so I figured you needed one,” you shrugged, “plus I finished my meeting early so I came to get you,” and he only stares at you, “what?” 

And he only shakes his head, as he takes the umbrella from your hand, fingers brushing, as he holds it up over the both of you, your shoulders brushing as you begin to walk home. And he found himself wishing for a split second that the threats would never stop. 

“Just wondering if it’s in your job description to protect me from colds too,” and you snort, lips curling into the same smile he loved to see. 

“With you? It is.” 

“A party?” 

“Yes, known as a gathering of people where—” 

“I don’t need you to define the word,” you grit your teeth, as you watch him pull out shirts from his closet, holding them up, before shrugging, “do you know the kind of danger you could put yourself in by going?” 

“I know, the party might go into a frenzy at the sight of me, think of all the students who’d glare at you then,” he grins, as he finally settles on an outfit — charcoal gray shirt and a blue button down, “might have to call another bodyguard to guard you instead, princess,” 

“Aren’t you the princess if you’re the one being guarded?” you bite back, and he only laughs, hands in his pockets, “Gojo, you have serious threats that have been levied—” 

“Against my father—” 

“And you, the heir to your father’s company,” you cut him off, crossing your arms, “are you seriously going to risk our lives because you want to get drunk and fuck around with a bunch of idiots?” 

The answer was yes, of course. 

And now here you were, stuck babysitting this spoiled heir at a party. You hadn’t really been to any parties — hadn’t bothered to. You had gotten through college at a young age, perks of skipping a few grades, and you ended up in the family business regardless — so you didn’t bother to party much. Not when you had things to accomplish — babysitting a drunk heir wasn’t one of them. 

It has started as you expected. Gojo had flitted away from your side the first moment he got, disappearing into the throng of horny and drunk college students. You wove your way through the crowd, careful not to trip over the students making out, dancing, or drinking on nearly any available surface. The smell of beer and cheap cologne wafted through this dorm. And you had almost given up on finding him when you spotted him stuck to the sides of three girls, all of them far too eager to hang off his every word. 

You sighed, this was going to be a long night. 

“You one of Satoru’s girlfriends?” you glance to your side and see Suguru Geto in person. You had learned all about Satoru Gojo and the people he hung around. Like those three girls — one of them had a long distance boyfriend, the other had a cheating situationship she was trying to make jealous, and the other just wanted to fuck him for the experience. Suguru Geto was one of the only friends of Gojo you had liked from what you had read about him — humble background, on scholarship at the college, but one of the best students here — and a philosophy student of all things, the very subject his best friend hated. 

You want to say no, but unfortunately, you have no idea what the idiot has been saying to other people, “Something like that,” you sip at your drink to make the bitter words slide down, “why? Are you?” 

A chuckle slips past his lips, as he takes a swig of his drink, “Well I already like you better than the others. You have a sense of humor and seemingly more than two brain cells,” 

“Don’t give me too much credit,” you snorted, leaning against a wall, “I did end up here after all,”

“Fair enough, how’d he convince you to come?” And you shake your head — good question. What choice did you really have? You could have let him go alone, but probably not a good look 

“I don’t even know honestly, feel like I’ve been dragged here to make sure he doesn’t do something stupid,” you glance at him and the gaggle of girls, “though maybe I already fucking failed at that,” 

Geto shrugs, as his gaze slips from Gojo to you, “I mean until he sticks his tongue down one of their throats, I think you’re doing pretty well,” 

You laugh, “Good to know,” and you both continue to chat, and unbeknowst to you, while your focus is torn away from Gojo, his attention is fully on you. 

If looks could kill, Satoru imagined his crystal eyes were nothing more than daggers ready to strike, as he watches you and Suguru talk. 

It was his fucking idea to come to this party, so why were you having more fun than he was?

He swirled his drink miserably — he had barely taken a sip of the beer poured for him — why would he when it tasted like piss? He didn’t understand why people liked to drink — especially when they could eat mochi instead — but now, as he stares at you and Suguru, maybe he was starting to understand. 

He can’t hear what either of you are saying over the blaring music and the chatter of students surrounding him, but he can see the smile on your lips and the laugh that left them. 

Why the fuck do you look so happy to talk to Suguru? 

You seemed so bored when he was with you—and did you just fucking laugh again at something Suguru said? 

The crinkle of plastic and the distinct feeling of a spill made his gaze snap to his hand — he just crushed his plastic drink cup. He sighed, as he simply placed it among the other abandoned drink cups on a nearby table, before wiping off his hand with a napkin. 

Why did he even care? You were nothing but a nuisance anyway. All you did was follow him around, make him go to class on time, make sure he was safe, care about his well-being— 

What the fuck was he thinking? 

His eyes couldn’t help but slide back to you as he tried to enjoy the girls' company, their slight touches and soft pouts and sweet words not going unnoticed by him. But that was how it always was. Once people found out he was rich, people wanted to be his friend, they wanted to date him, they wanted him — but not really him, they wanted his money. 

First world problems, right? 

But you — you hadn’t been like that. You were irritatingly punctual, unfazed by his money, didn’t care in the slightest about his father or who he was — you just wanted to do your job. And he was your job, for the time being. 

And now he got to see you smile — your lips perfectly curled in a smile that both he wanted to see all the time and grated on his nerves — but you were smiling at someone else. And Suguru no less. 

“C’mon Satoru, you gonna make eyes at your boyfriend all night?” Aiko said, nudging him teasingly, her words far too slurred. 

“Help us finish these shots,” Yumiko whines, as she offers him a shot, urging it into his hands. 

He’s grimacing, he hates alcohol — he hates how he feels during and after; he hates the disgusting, metallic taste; and if it couldn’t get worse, he’s a lightweight. He stares at the shot. 

“It’s just one shot,” Misaki grins, holding up her own, clinking hers to his, “you’re already three shots behind everyone else,” 

And he’s about to open his mouth to refuse — make up an excuse of having to wake up early or stomach being unsettled — and that’s when you catch his attention. You were laughing now, a noise far too pretty for his liking, as you shoved Suguru’s chest playfully. 

Fuck it. 

He downs the shot, the liquid searing down his throat, dragging down until it settles in a burning pool in his stomach. Finally he tears his gaze away as the girls offer him another shot — as you grin at Suguru — this was going to be a long night. 

“Hey,” Geto jerks his head, “you might want to deal with that,” 

You whip your head around. 

“Oh what the—“ 

Gojo was hanging all over the girls he was with, barely able to stand on his two feet, as he swayed from side to side — his cheeks glowed with the telltale glow that told everyone he had been drinking (if that wasn’t obvious by literally everything else). 

Fuck. 

You had kept an eye on him. You swore he had only taken two shots of alcohol, how was he this drunk already? You examine and sniff the two shot glasses he used — no peculiar smell or residue — you run through the gamut of tests you could do on hand and conclude two things: 1) Gojo wasn't drugged and 2) he was a lightweight. 

But that didn’t stop him from acting like he wasn’t, as girls egged him on to take more shots, and from the way they were eyeing him, their intentions were anything but pure. 

You sigh, walking over, slipping past a drunk couple making out, a person passed out and sleeping on the floor, and a cluster of cheering onlookers as a student chugged what you can only assume was a disgusting concoction of alcohol. 

Until you finally reached his side. 

“I think you’ve had enough, isn’t that right, Satoru?” And he’s blinking at you, before he’s grinning, slurring your name.

“You’re no fun,” and he’s clinging all over you, his hands curled around your waist, “such a buzzkill, don’t even like to have any fun with me,” 

“Looks like you had too much fun without me,” you murmur, your arm slinks around the middle of his back, “let’s get you back to your dorm,” 

“Hey he’s fine, he’s having fun with us,” Aiko glared at you, a hiccup leaving her lips, “don’t go crashing our good time because he’s not interested in you,” 

“Yeah why don’t you go hang out with Geto or whatever? We’ll take good care of him. C’mon Toru, let’s go to my place in Shibuya, I have a huge house there,” Yumiko says, barely coherent, and you raise your eyebrows at the nickname, as she leans in to whisper, alcohol wafting off her breath, as she lifts up her middle finger, “fuck off,” 

Honestly the only reason you can understand the gist of what she meant was because of her middle finger. Their other friend is passed out on the couch. 

“I don’t think any of you can even care for yourselves,” you scoff, and Satoru is hanging all over you already, mumbling words you can’t make out in your ear, “I’m taking him home, you should take your friend home,” 

“Geto, wanna help me out?” And Geto nods, trying to take Gojo other arm, but Gojo pushes him away, instead clinging to you, you stumble a moment before catching both of you, “Gojo—“ 

“No, wanna go home with just you,” he’s officially whining, and you’re having flashbacks to the summer you spent babysitting, but — you look at the drunk white porcupine clinging to you — somehow this idiot is worse than the kid. 

You sigh, “Geto, make sure that girl gets home safe,” you gesture to the one passed out on the couch, “I’m going to deal with this one,” 

Geto stares at the two of you, the far too tall Satoru hunched over onto your body, “Can you—“ 

But you’re already walking away, able to drag Gojo away with relative ease (it’d be far easier if he’d pull his own weight, but at least he was quiet). 

That was, until you got outside. And then the whining began again. 

“How can you treat me like this?” Gojo’s hands cling to your arm, his face buried in your shoulder, “you shouldn’t ignore the one you’re supposed to protect!” and he’s shaking his head like a petulant child, his bottom lip quivering. 

“You’re the one who left my side, not the other way around,” you grumble, as he’s finally beginning to walk by himself but he’s still stuck to your side like an overgrown cactus, “you’re the one who wanted to go to this goddamn party,” 

“Yeah but you’re the one who's supposed to protect me,” he pouts, as he stops right in front of his building, “I can’t do your job for you,” and he’s finally standing in front of you, his cheeks and nose still flushed from the alcohol, his hand still clutching at yours, “do you even know how to do your job?” 

You grit your teeth. Would punching the person you’re hired to protect be a breach of contract? You rub your temples, it may come to that. 

“You’re an idiot,” you jerk your hand away, shaking your head, “my job is to protect you, not to stop you from doing stupid college boy shit,” 

He’s crossing his arms, “I could have been in danger — what if that alcohol was poisoned? I feel really sick,” he grips, holding his stomach with pursed lips, and you’re thoroughly unimpressed. 

“I looked at it, it wasn’t poisoned,” you raise an eyebrow, before sighing, and shrugging your shoulder bag off your shoulders, rooting around in the pouch, “but if you want, I have something in my bag that will turn your stomach inside out and we’ll be sure to get the poison out,” 

“Nooooo, no! I’m fine,” he’s shaking his head, his voice grows soft, “I just need to get to bed,” he mutters, and you roll your eyes, but grab him by his wrist. 

“Come on, we’re going inside,” and it’s a struggle to get to his apartment — more like a luxury penthouse — on the top floor, but somehow you get him inside and shepherd into his bedroom. And he’s shrugging off his button up before pulling off the shirt underneath. 

Your gaze snaps away, cheeks burning, your eyes trying to erase the glimpse of his fucking unfairly chiseled physique — complete a surprisingly broad chest and shoulders — how the fuck was that hiding under his clothes? He looked like a stick normally with his clothes on. 

“See something you like?” he’s snickering, as you hear the click of his belt and the and sounds of rustling — assuredly stepping out of his jeans. 

“No, just not used to clients stripping for me,” you turn your back to him, as you hear the creak of the mattress and the crinkling of his comforter and sheets. 

“Am I just a client to you?” his words were still mildly slurred, and you knew he’d be pouting if he had enough brain cells to do so, “you can turn around, I’m under the covers,” he adds with a grumble. 

You turn and see him curled up under his blanket and you have to bite back your smile — now he most assuredly looked like one of the kids you used to babysit. 

“Well what else am I supposed to see you as, Gojo?” you cross your arms, and he’s muttering under his breath, “what?” 

“That’s just it. You don’t even call me by my first name,” he’s brooding, face twisted in a scowl, “I don’t have a lot of people I trust. Most people are just after my money or my looks,” he looks at you, “you’re different. Kinda weird,” 

You quirk an eyebrow, “is that a good thing?” 

“Well I trust you,” he admits, and you note the tips of his ears barely visible outside the comforter are red — is it still the flush from the alcohol? “I don’t really have many of those,” 

And you’re taken aback — you thought you were nothing but a nuisance to this party obsessed prince, but maybe there was more to him than you thought. You toyed the ring on your finger, maybe you had more in common than you thought. 

“Thank you, I’m glad you do, because you can, trust me that is,” you say softly, “good night, Satoru.” 

And he does sleep after that, as you spend the night keeping watch, half to ensure his safety and the other to make sure he slept on his side in case he threw up

(and he did, twice). 

“I need to talk to you,” Suguru Geto barely looked up from his phone when he saw Satoru in front of him, his best friend looking more irritable than usual — his usually bored affect seemed to be on holiday, “Suguru?” 

“I heard you the first time, what is it?” and Satoru snatches the phone from Suguru’s hands, “what the fuck—“ 

“What were you doing last night?” and Suguru tilts his head, before rubbing his temple.

“Give me my fucking phone—“ 

“What did you talk to her about?” And Suguru stares at him, his brow furrowed, smart mouth ready with a reply about a stint in a spa or a retreat was needed before his lips curl. 

“Oh. Her,” and he’s leaning back, a lazy shrug, “this and that,” 

“Cut the shit, Suguru, do you like her or not? Did you get her number?” And Satoru is trying to unlock Suguru’s phone, as Suguru watches with a tilt of his head and a wry grin on his lips, “huh? what is it?” 

“So you like her, that much is clear,” and he’s crossing his arms, “I assume you didn’t tell her or you wouldn’t have come in swinging and stealing?” 

Satoru stares at him, slack jawed and cheeks turning a deep pink that only carnations could rival, “No! She’s just a…friend of the family, and she’s not supposed to be with—“ 

“She told me she liked you,” his heart catches, mouth falling open, before Suguru’s lips curl, “well, she said that she was one of the many, rather,” 

Satoru’s cheeks burn, “It’s not like that, she barely even fucking looks at me. Can you believe that? Me?” and he gestures up and down his body. 

“I see your ego is still intact,” Suguru scoffs, shaking his head, before leaning back on his palms, “just tell her how you feel, Satoru, what’s the problem?” 

“The problem is I have no idea how she feels and it’s all your fault!” And Suguru raises an eyebrow, “you charmed her and I’m sure you’re the only one she’s thinking about now,” he covers his face, “and after what I said to her last night…” he couldn’t believe he admitted that you were the one of the only ones he trusted. And he called you weird. 

He honestly didn’t know what was worse. 

“What did you even say?” 

“Say to who?” and Satoru turns, finding you standing behind him, arms crossed. 

And Satoru cuts Suguru off before he can say a thing, “Not important. What are you doing here—“ you grab him by the wrist, a wave of heat makes his nearly burn red as you begin to drag him away, “what are you—“ 

“Bye Geto,” you say, waving at the raven haired student, before taking Geto’s phone and tossing it back to him, “I’m taking the idiot—“ 

“HUH?” 

“Good luck. He might need to be fed — he’s in a mood,” and he waves back, same smile on his lips. 

“What did you two do, adopt me?” Satoru grumbles as you pull him away, “where the hell are you dragging me? How did you even find me?” 

“The post hangover suits you well, we have to get to class, and I placed a tracker on you,” and he’s jerking his hand away, staring at you, “I have to be able to find you, don’t I?” 

“Where?” 

You tilt your head, “Why would I tell you? Don’t worry about, I’ll remove it after we’re done here,” 

You weren’t going to budge on this — and if he argued more, you would take it up with his father. And he would like to avoid that as much as possible. He sticks his hands in his pockets, , “I’m tired, can’t you just go and take notes for me?” 

“I thought you’d be more concerned about the threats against your life, instead of sending your bodyguard off to your class for you” you hiss, and he’s pouting again, unable to meet your gaze, “what’s your problem, Satoru?” 

And he pauses, the retort on lips dying as his brain looped in an infinite spiral of his name on your lips, “You called me ‘Satoru,’”

You tilt your head, “you told me to last night,” and then you add with a wicked grin, “remember? When you said I was one of the only people you trusted,” you tease, but he’s too busy hearing his name repeat in his head again and again, “Satoru—“ 

“Better be careful, sweetheart,” his lips curl into that annoyingly charming smile, “keep calling me by my first name and I may fall for you,” 

You glare at him, before rolling your eyes, “I see you’re feeling better now,” you walk forward, glancing back at him, “you coming?” 

And his wrist tingles still tingle from your touch, his lips quirk into a smile, “Yeah.” 

“Why did you become a bodyguard?” Satoru asks you, the movie you had haphazardly chosen still ongoing had all become background noise while you spoke, the illumination from the television screen being the only thing that kept your faces lit in the dark living room (he had insisted on shutting the lights off for an “authentic movie watching experience”). 

It had been a few weeks, with no signs of the threat posed ever being eliminated — still new threats were being made, and the Gojo family was still on edge. 

But you were on edge for a whole other reason. 

His fingers were still shoved in the bag of kettle corn he had been snacking on this entire time, but you could feel his gaze on you, instead of the movie. 

“What do you mean?” your eyes slide to him, as your phone’s ringer goes off with a spam email, and you silence it, keeping it on vibrate for emergencies, “and what’s with the sudden question?” 

The two of you had settled into your routine — days spent in class, meals shared, grocery shopping, and nights spent either in or out — but again, always together. And, it wasn’t bad — some of it was fun, to the point you almost forgot you were working. 

But you were working. Even now, as your legs are thrown up on the couch, crossed underneath you, your knee brushing against his thigh. 

He shrugs, “You owe me a question, remember?” and he reminds you of your promise from weeks ago — you had wondered why he had never asked you anything that night, “You never talk about yourself. You implied you have your degree, but not much else. From what I’ve seen of you, you’re intelligent — you could have done anything, why this?” and his lips curl into that mischievous, “unless you just had to guard me when you found out it was me,” 

You toss a throw pillow at him, but he catches it with ease, “If only your body was as bulletproof as your body,” and he huffs out a laugh, as you sigh, “why are you interested anyway?” 

“Because I am,” you scoff. 

“Nice reasoning,” he only grins, a thousand watt even in the dark. 

“I thought so,” and he’s holding the pillow to his chest, “c’mon, can you not tell me even one thing about yourself?” 

He wasn’t going to let this go was he? And you relent, chewing on your lip, “My family has been in this business for years — my grandfather, my father, my uncles, and my cousins, and I wanted to be one too. To protect people — it’s a lot more work than it seems. It’s quick thinking, critical reasoning, and analytical skills. It’s all I ever wanted to do after watching my dad do it,” you say softly, “but he didn’t think I was capable of it. He thought I was too soft. Too weak. So I decided to prove him wrong,” 

“You weak? Has your father met you?” and you huff a laugh, “I’m serious,” his cerulean pools meeting yours with not a ripple of hesitancy in them, “I’ve seen you — I don’t I’ve met anyone this determined, or stubborn,” he adds with a smirk. 

“I’m stubborn?” you gape at him, “this coming from the king of stubborn,” 

“Only if you’ll be my queen,” and you roll your eyes, but your cheeks burn, as your gaze turns back to the movie — why did your heart catch at his words? “but trust me, I’m very flexible in other aspects,” 

“Oh my god, is every other sentence that leaves your mouth a pick-up line?” and he opens his mouth, “don’t say ‘only for you,’ or I will be the only threat you have to worry about,” 

“Promise?” you grab another pillow, but he catches your wrist before you can toss it. Your breath catches, and you can’t meet his gaze — you can’t, because you know if you do— but then he whispers your name. 

And you can’t help it. You look at him. His eyes are so pretty. They were really the first things that struck you when you met him — that was before he opened his mouth. They looked like they contained multitudes, a far too beautiful ocean tucked behind sunglasses and an irritated scowl. But it wasn’t a secret that Satoru Gojo was attractive — especially not when every other person glared at you for simply being in his presence. But physical attractiveness meant little if a person wasn’t good — because superficiality could only take you so far. 

And you knew what it was like to be only judged superficially — and by the way Satoru’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes when these people chatted him up, he was far too used to it. 

And once he did speak, you had written him off as another rich kid — you had seen them a dime a dozen throughout your schooling and from the people your family was protected to hire. But there was something about him — something you couldn’t quite shake, even though every part of you was telling to do so. 

“What is it, Satoru?” And his fingers tug you a little closer, gently, his hand loose enough for you to slip away, but you don’t. Why don’t you? 

“You don’t always have to have your guard up,” his voice is soft, far too soft for the far too loud heir, “it’s okay to open up,” 

You shake your head, but still unable to pull away, “It’s dangerous,” and he laughs, a sound that only warms the thin icy barrier between you both, melting it to nothing. 

“Isn’t danger the whole reason we met?” And now his thumb brushes up and down against your wrist, and you wonder if he can feel your pulse roaring just underneath. 

You pull away again, shaking your head, as you cross your arms, trying to hold your resolve together, “I can’t do my job if I’m distracted,” and you couldn’t, even now, you weren’t evaluating any risks, you weren’t trying to find the source of the threats — no, you were too busy trying not to inch closer to your client, trying not to look at his lips, trying not to give in to what you wanted. 

“And I’m a distraction?” he looks far too pleased, but a thought seems to sour his smirk, “I thought Suguru was more of one,” and his lips are caught in a slight pout. 

“Geto was just keeping me company while you entertained those girls hanging on your every word,” you can’t dull the point to your words, and it replaces his pout with a grin. 

“So you were jealous,” 

“You’re the one who was jealous — you could have killed Suguru with your glare alone,” 

“But you didn’t deny it,” and it makes you stop — why didn’t you deny it? 

“I can’t do this,” and you’re pulling away, before flicking off the tv and rising from the couch your phone in hand, turning towards the hallway, “it’s late we should go to bed—“ but he’s catching your wrist again, “Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he corrects, and you hated how gentle his fingers felt around your wrist, “how are you supposed to protect me if you’re too busy running away from me?” 

“I’m great at multitasking,” and he’s drawing closer to you, his soft footfalls against the carpet, even as you step away from him, “my job is to protect you, we can’t get distracted—“ 

“I thought you were so good at multitasking,” he chuckles, his fingers find your wrist again, slipping to intertwine with your own, fingers interlaced, and your phone falls from your fingers and onto the couch, “what I said that night when I was drunk was true — I don’t have a lot of people I trust. People don’t understand. They put me on a pedestal or they don’t want me, they want the concept of me — not the reality,” 

“I’m not licensed as a therapist you know,” and he’s sighing. 

“Do you always have to deflect with humor? Because if we both do that, we’ll never get through a conversation,” and he squeezes your hand, “which I guess I don’t mind if that means you’ll stay,” 

“Satoru—“ 

“We don’t have to do anything now — we don’t have to do anything at all,” and you can feel his words warming your skin, “but don’t you feel something?” 

You hesitate, and you can’t look at him,  “No, I don’t,” 

“You’re not a very good liar — don’t they teach you that in bodyguard academy?” 

You snort, holding your head, “Is that where you imagined I got my training done?”

“Well, you don’t exactly like to share, now do you?” he’s stepping forward again, and you can’t bring yourself to run away anymore. 

“I shouldn’t,” and you hear the faint sound of his breath hitching, “but I do,” 

You don’t need to look at him to hear the smile on his lips, “so maybe it’s a distraction worth having,” 

“But—” and he’s gently turning you to face him, his fingers brushing a stray hair from your face, heat blooming with his touch, “Satoru…” 

“Why do you keep saying my name when you know I like hearing it?” he’s teasing, but you’re not shying away from his touch, as his fingers cup your chin now, upwards, so you meet his gaze, “maybe we should have had you pretend to be my girlfriend,” 

You chuckle, “Oh I could see that going wrong in so many ways,” and he’s leaning even closer, as he’s left the line you’d drawn far behind, marred it with his touch, and is luring you over to stumble over the edge with him. 

“Is this one of them?” 

“Probably,” and his lips brush against yours — he tastes sweet, the taste of kettle corn lingers, as his fingers cup your cheek now, and find purchase on his shoulder. It’s brief, a soft press that leaves you far too breathless, as if his touch had taken the air from your lungs, only to leave heat behind, “definitely,” 

“Is that a good thing or—” and your lips find his this time, a gasp you swallow with a smirk, and he melts into your touch, eager fingers grasping at the front of his shirt. And he responds in kind, his fingers tracing a path, as they tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before his hand settles on the back of your neck. 

His touch set every nerve ending on fire — a desperate wildfire that burned a trail across your mind and body — leaving only the crave of his touch behind, that left you wanting more, needing more.

“Was that good?” you murmur, as you take in your handiwork, his pink lips were bitten red by your kisses, his marble skin a lovely flush, and his gaze far too needy. God, it’s far too easy to get lost in him — pull your anchor from the shore and get lost in his gaze and touch, “god I shouldn’t ask that, we shouldn’t be doing this—” but your body refuses to pull away, and you don’t think by the grasp he has on you, that you’d be able to anyway. 

But he only gives you the same answer to each of your statements — he kisses you again, slower and more languid this time, as the two of you walk towards the bedroom, your hands reaching for each other and the walls, as you both stumble into his bedroom. 

“We don’t—” he says, between kisses, “I didn’t—” 

“I didn’t either, but—” you can’t stop touching him, you don’t want to, despite the logical part of you screaming at you to leave his room, it’s overridden by just how much you want him. He’s frustrating, he’s an idiot, he’s sweet, he’s cute, and he’s a little pathetic — but you liked that in a man. Every sense of logic is screaming at you to stop — but it all turns to white noise  “but I don’t want to stop.” 

He’s grinning as he pulls you into another kiss, his arms wrapping around his waist, pressing you against him, “That addicted already?” lips parting as he kisses down your neck, pulse jumping under his touch. 

“You’re just lucky Geto didn’t get to me first,” and he furrows his brow, before his teeth graze against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, drawing a gasp from your lips, “Satoru, what was that for—”  

“So everyone knows you’re mine? Including Suguru,” he’s sucking lightly at the mark, soothing his tongue, “and I’ll make sure he knows,” 

“Oh, I trust you’ll be subtle,” and he’s guiding you towards his bed, both of you falling onto it, his knee pressing your legs apart, as he hovers over you, his ocean gaze dark as a storm ridden sea. 

“Oh you know me, princess,” and his knee presses against your clothed cunt, rubbing against it teasingly, “subtlety is my specialty,” 

“Subtle as a truck,” you murmur, and he’s laughing as he kisses you again, making your lips curl, as his hands slide up your sides, squeezing your hips, “Satoru, please,” 

“What’s the fun if I don’t get to tease you?” he’s kissing needy kisses to your neck, as his knee doesn’t relent, grinding lightly against your increasingly wet core, slick leeching through the thin material of your shorts, “gotta make sure you want it right?”

“You treat all the people you bring home this well?” and he’s pausing, lips against your neck, “I didn’t mean anything—” 

“You’re the first,” you stare up at him, and he’s hesitant for once when usually he’s always barreling forward, “I’ve never brought anyone here,” and he licks his lips, a deeper flush settling over his porcelain skin, “I’ve never actually—” 

And you blink, “Really?” 

He huffs, “Is it that surprising—” 

“I mean a little, from the way everyone acts around you, and the way you act—” 

“Well, ‘act’ is the key word, now isn’t it?” he’s licking his lips as he looks down at you, “it’s easy to act when you know what they expect from you — a role to play,” 

“Well, the role’s been filled, so how about you just be yourself for me?” you murmur softly, a featherlight touch as you trace the curve of his jaw, and his lips find his smile under your delicate touch, “so I can ask, is this your first time like you asked me?” 

And he’s leaning up to kiss you, your hand resting against his chest, his heartbeat galloping under your touch, “And if I said yes?” 

You smile, before flipping him onto his back, his gaze wide as he stares up at you, “Then we better make it memorable.” 

“Please, I want to—“ his soft pants left his perfect lips, chest heaving as your fingers curled around his erection, far too hard from just what you had done. You’d stripped yourself and him bare — your inhibitions left far behind — as your lips kissed the tip of his aching cock.

“Lemme make you feel good, Satoru,” you murmur, looking up at him with fluttering eyes, your fingers smearing his pre cum along his length, and he’s pressing his head into the pillow, “s’big, can’t wait to feel you inside me,” you murmur, and you slowly pump him, drawing moan after moan from his lips. 

“Won’t last long—can’t—“ he’s biting his lip, his hips thrusting into your touch, before your lips suck at his tip again, and he’s gone, cumming hard all over your face and fingers. God, it never felt that good when he touched himself. Your fingers even brushing against him made him want to cum almost instantly, your soft touch and lips were enough to send him over the edge over and over again.  

He’s panting, eyes fluttering open to see you licking your lips clean with your tongue, as you meet his gaze with a grin, slowly sucking on each one of your fingers until you’ve cleaned yourself of his cum. 

“Princess, fuck,” he’s lying back on the pillow, as your lips slowly kiss back up his body, your tongue dragging between the fluttering muscles of his stomach and chest. 

“Already hard again?” You murmur, a smirk on your lips, “so sensitive for me,” 

He’s keening at your words, a whimper leaving his lips. His eyes are blown out in pleasure as he meets your gaze, and you kiss him again, sloppy and messy, as his tongue brushes against yours, your clothed pussy grinding against his erection. 

“Please,” he can’t help the words leaving his lips, “I need you,” 

“Is this the first time you’ve begged for something?” You tease him, smirk on your lips as your thumb teases one of his nipples, pulling a gasp from his lips, “such a good boy,” 

He hissed at your praise, “fuck—“ 

And you’re grinding against him, he’s already embarrassingly hard, blood rushing back to his cock as if it never left, as it drags against the all too wet fabric of your panties. And every small moan that leaves your lips leaving him needing more, his pre cum mixing with your cum that seeps through your panties, and is the second time he comes with you gonna be just grinding against each other on this bed? But he can’t help it if you keep nibbling at his neck like that, your pretty little pants in his ear, the head of his dick catching on your clit — so fucking good. 

“Toru, c-close, ngh, g’nna cum—“ and he’s nodding, forcing his eyes open to watch you cum, your chest shaking, as you hover above him, your eyes squeezed shut and lips parted as you said his name. 

“S’good,” he’s grunting, “Cum f’me,” and you both do, the slick and stickiness between your bodies almost unbearable, as you both pant, as you rest your head against his shoulder. 

The silence sinks in for a moment, as you kiss his cheek, “we can stop here if you want,” your voice is soft, nose brushing against his neck, “don’t want to make you—“

And he’s flipping you onto your back, his fingers finding the waistband of your shorts, your breath hitching as he drags the material down your legs, and tosses it behind him, “I want this, I want you, and I won’t stop saying it until you believe it,” he leans down, breath warming your breasts through your shirt, before his lips suck at your clothed nipples, making you shiver, “you like that, huh?” 

“Shut up,” your cheeks burn, but he’s only tugging your shirt over your head and off, his gaze hot as he drags his eyes down your exposed body, and it makes you squirm, “Satoru — please—“ 

“Now who’s the one doing the begging?” he leans down to suck on your nipple, while his fingers toy with the other between his thumb and forefinger, “I wanna learn what makes you feel good — wanna make you cum under my touch, wanna taste you,” he switches sides, his teeth grazing the skin of your breast, sucking a mark before soothing it with his tongue, “mine,” 

“Satoru, fuck, I want—“ and his fingers trace down your body, making you gasp, he’s kissing down your chest and then your stomach, tongue dipping into your bellybutton, “you fucking—“ 

“Gotta make you feel good don’t I?” he has a shit eating grin on his lips, as he settles between your thighs, and his fingers press against the growing wet patch on your panties, “though it looks like you’re already feeling good,” 

You bite back a whimper, “Are you gonna make me feel good or are you gonna keep talking—“ you moan when his thumb bears down on your needy clit, rubbing it through the nearly translucent fabric of your underwear. 

“What was that, sweetheart?” And he’s snapping the waistband of your panties against your skin, “couldn’t hear you,” 

“You fucker—“ and he’s kissing your clothed cunt through the wet fabric, nose brushing against your clit, making you nearly shake, as he inhales before he moans. 

“So sweet, must taste even sweeter,” he murmurs before tugging your underwear down, before you’re kicking it off, making him chuckle, “so eager,” and you scowl up at him, ineffective from the way lips are parted, “you’re so cute,” 

“I’m not cute,” you pout, and he’s laughing, a noise you could drown in, just as you do his eyes. 

“You’re very cute, and I’ll tell you as many times as it takes you to believe it,” and his lips press soft kisses to your thighs, “my cute bodyguard, you gonna guard my heart as well as you do my body?” 

And before you can reply his breath is warming your soaked cunt, his fingers parting your folds apart, your clit was puffy, your sex slick with your mixed juices, “so pretty, this all just for me?” And you hiss as he holds your outer lips apart, “so this is what your pussy looks like, huh?” And your thighs are twitching, trying to shut, but his palms hold you apart, his heated gaze meeting your shy ones, “you’re perfect, don’t hide from me, you’ve done enough of that,” and he kisses your clit, making you moan, “and I won’t have that anymore,” 

“Satoru—“ and his tongue drags over the length of your dripping pussy experimentally, tip of his tongue flicking against your clit, fuck, how can he this good at this? Your toes are already curling as he groans, his fingers sliding under your thighs, and tugging you impossibly closer to his face. Your fingers weave into his white locks, “‘ngh— 

“Be a good girl and take it,” he grunts against you, slurping your juices, the sounds of his tongue buried in your cunt, fucking you open, dragging across your walls, “taste s’fucking good, how’d I hold out this long without tasting you?” And your eyes flutter open at his groans, seeing him grind down on the sheets, so fucking horny from eating you out, “g’nna just cum from your taste alone, Princess,” you’re so incredibly soft, so soft, despite your walls being so tough, and it makes only eat you eat you from the inside out. 

You’re so close, and all you hear is the sounds of his greedy tongue swallowing you whole, and the sound of your heartbeat and short gasps. Your walls flutter around his tongue, your thighs twitching under his touch, hips jolting forward to meet his touch, his tongue so fucking deep that you can’t see straight, “Toru, please, I’m so close—“ 

And you feel him groan into your pussy, redoubling his efforts before his fingers find your clit and rub at it while he sucks at your cunt. You cum hard, fingernails digging into his scalp, as your back arches as he eagerly eats you out through your orgasm. The wet squelch of your cunt and his tongue slurping against you, drinking every drop you offer him. 

And then finally he’s pulling away with a pop, his chin and mouth dripping with your release and his spit, pink tongue darting out to clean up your cum from his face, wiping off the rest as he looked up at you from white lashed half lidded eyes. 

And you can’t even speak, still coming down from your high, as he kisses up your body again, your thighs still shaking from your orgasm, your fingers reaching for his cheek, tracing his jaw, before cupping his cheek. 

“How the fuck do you know how to do that well?” And he flashes a pretty smile, as he drags his thumb down your lips. 

“I said I was a virgin, I didn’t say I didn’t know how to do some things — and as you know, I’m an excellent student,” and you huff, raising an eyebrow, “and I’m naturally good at everything,” 

“And always so humble,” he laughs, before he kisses you again, letting you taste yourself on his sweet lips, and you’re rolling him over onto his back, his erection slick with precum, pressing against your sensitive cunt, “let me make you feel good now,” you murmur, his cock twitching against you, “wanna ride you, Toru, need you in me,” 

And he’s hissing, as he moves to sit against the headboard, “You keep talking like that princess, I’m g’nna cum before you even—“ and your fingers are reaching between your bodies, and you’re stroking him, smearing his precum over the length of his shaft, making his hips jerk, “fuck—” 

You’re so fucking pretty — your teeth baring down on your bottom lip, as you straddle him, hovering still, his aching tip barely brushing against your dripping cunt, “are you sure?” you murmur, eyes meeting his own, and his lips quirk into a smile. 

“Never been more sure of anything,” and you sink onto him, thick length parting your folds, and he groans, as you fit him in your pussy, inch by inch, until your hips are flush. And fuck, he’s never felt anything better — pleasure runs up and down his body, as his hands find their way to your hips.

You’re tense at first, your back slightly arched, and when he shifts under you, a moan is ripped from your lips, as you begin to adjust to his size, “s’big, Toru, gonna make it hard for me to last too, feels too good,” you’re mumbling, and he’s holding his hips taut, making sure not to move — or else, he’s sure he’d cum in one stroke, “g’nna move ok?” and he’s nodding desperately, your walls already fluttering around him — slick and warm, better anything he’d ever felt. 

You lift up to the tip, before beginning to rock steadily up and down, as he moans, your sweet cunt swallowing him eagerly, as you began to fuck yourself on his cock. Your chest bounces as you ride him, and he can’t resist leaning forward to take a hardened bud in his mouth, your moan making his cock twitch inside you. And he knows why people become addicted to sex — hell, he knew was an addict for it now, but only with you. 

“Fuck, never felt anything this good before, sweetheart, feel s’perfect for me,” he’s grunting, the coil in his stomach growing tighter, as your pace grows more and more sloppy. He wasn’t going to last long, and neither were you from the way you were groaning his name again and again. The wet squelch and smacks of your bodies meeting again and again, only making it harder to hold back, and when he looks to see a white ring of your precum pooling around the base of his dick, he’s nearly gone, “fuck, baby, need you to cum with me,” 

“It’s okay, pretty boy, cum for me,” he keens at the praise, but he’s stubborn, as you established, and he won’t cum until you do too — and so he ensures it, reaching between your bodies to rub meanly at your clit before meeting your thrusts with his own. 

And his tip brushes against that spot that has your vision blurring and toes curling, “Toru, ngh, I’m—” and you’re cumming hard around him, making him spill his warm and thick seed inside your cunt, and he’s groaning you name as he does, your body slowing as you both come down from your highs, your head resting on his shoulder, as your bodies grow limp, resting, his back pressed to the headboard of his bed. 

His fingers trace the curve of your back gently, as he turns his head to press soft kisses to your neck, “Am I still just a distraction?” his lips curled into a smile, and you chuckle, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“Definitely,” but you lean back to cup his cheek, and look at his pretty face again, “but one worth having.” 

You don’t wake from your alarm the next morning. 

Instead, you wake to banging on the door. You both jolt awake, and he’s pulling you into his arms, even as you move to get up, he won’t let go, strong arms around your waist. You’re easing his arms off, trying to be gentle, “Toru, let go, and wait here, your father had a panic room installed in your closet, you hear anything, go inside—” 

“No, I’m coming with you,” and you shake your head. 

“I’m hired to protect you, not the other way around,” you leave his embrace, and face him, his crystal eyes blurred over with worry, “I can handle this,” you reassure him, your fingers intertwining with his, as you press a kiss to his knuckles, “I promise,” 

“But—” and you kiss him gently, silencing his protests, before you slip away into the hallway. 

You enter the living room, shutting the bedroom door without a sound, stalking through the hall, as you grab a knife and pepper spray from the chest of drawers that was pressed to the wall of the hallway — you had several self defense tools hidden all over the apartment. Your heartbeat thunders in your ear, mouth dry, as you approach the door from the side. 

“Who is it?”

“It’s Mr. Gojo, open this door,” and you sigh, relaxing, as you check and unlock the door for him. 

Shinsaku Gojo was only a man you were able to meet once before your work for him began. And it was a privilege even to see him then. His schedule was always packed — multiple meetings, multiple clients, and multiple women, all vying for his attention. Even as you spoke with him the first time, his eyes were on his phone the entire time, except when he had warned you, not to let anything distract you from protecting his son. 

And you had done just that — and even worse, his son had done the distracting, “Mr—” 

“Where’s my son? He hasn’t answered his phone all morning, and neither have you—didn’t you hear from your agency?” his voice is raising, as he dials your number again, and your phone vibrates on the couch. He scoffs, disconnecting the call, as his hard gaze turned back to you, “what if there was a threat? You left your phone—” 

“Dad,” Satoru emerges from the room, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, “it’s not her fault, she forgot it last night when we were watching a movie,” 

“Watching a movie?” he sneers, his cerulean gaze the same as son, but without any of the warmth Satoru had — an icy tundra compared to a warm pool, “she should be watching you, that’s her job—” 

“She was watching me — something you never bothered to do,” and his father’s eyes narrow, “she’s shown more concern for me than you ever had — and she only met me a few weeks ago. What’s your excuse for being a pathetic piece of—“ 

“Satoru,” your fingers brush his shoulder, shaking your head, “sir, I take responsibility for this lapse of judgment. Don’t blame your son,”

Satoru lowers his voice, “it’s not your fault—“ 

“It is. I disregarded by duty to protect you,” your cheeks burn with shame — “what if i had missed an alert you were in danger? What if I failed to protect you because I wasn’t focused? What if—“ 

“Nothing happened,” he says softly, and the twitch of his fingers tells you he’s gonna reach for you, but you step forward, shaking your head. 

“Nothing did,” and you turn to his father, “I’ll protect Satoru until you can find a suitable replacement for me. But I compromised my mission to protect him. I would like to resign as soon as possible,” 

“No! I—“ 

“Agreed,” his father says, “I’ll have your replacement here in an hour, make sure you’re packed up by then,” and his father leaves without another word. 

You brush past him to gather your things, but he’s caught you by the wrist, “Why did you do—“ 

“Gojo,” and you can’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes, “I can’t let my feelings get in the way of keeping you safe—“ 

“I don’t care—“ you cut him off. 

“I do, I couldn’t stand if something happened to you because of me. What it was an emergency last night and you got hurt because of my own carelessness—“ 

“It wasn’t careless what happened last night—“ 

“It was,” you say, walking to your room, “and it won’t happen again.” 

You left. You had expected a fight, an argument, a dramatic show of tears — but nothing. Satoru hadn’t even opened his door to watch you leave. The other bodyguard arrived quickly, and you left the penthouse and didn’t look back. 

It was for the best. 

You had a duty, a role to play, and more than that, you couldn’t let him get hurt because of your inability to compartmentalize. Even so, Satoru’s father was kind enough not to have told your father what happened — or you supposed it was pity in exchange for your quick and easy resignation. 

Fuck. Why were you still thinking about this? You rolled over in bed, burying your head under your comforter. A week out, and you still couldn’t stop worrying about Satoru, about his safety, about the hurt on his face, about that night… 

You had fucked everything up, and fucked Satoru up in the aftermath. 

You poke your head out, and stare at your phone on your bedside table — 7:45 PM, no new messages — you had written out six different messages to him again and again, before deleting them. You wondered how many more you’d write before you finally would rid your mind of him. 

Would you ever rid your mind of him? 

And that’s when your phone rings. But it’s not flashing Satoru’s number — it’s his father. You scramble for the phone — why was he calling? And you can only think of one reason. You can’t say a single word when you pick up — his father already hissing his first question.  

“Where is he?” your words are lodged in your throat, stuck on your heart that had leapt from your chest. 

“What?” 

“Where’s Satoru? He came to you didn’t he?” he growls, and you hear a slam, assumedly his fist against his desk, “he shook off his new bodyguard, and his phone is off,” 

“He hasn’t — I haven’t talked to him since I left—” your mind is running a mile a minute, racking your brain, placing the call on speakerphone, as you text Satoru, where are you? “Where did the bodyguard see him last?” 

“He had him at the dorms, he said he was going to see a friend, and then gave him the slip,” his father groans, “you hear anything from him, otherwise—” 

“I’ll let you know,” you cut him off at the threats — you had more important things to do. You checked your messages, but your messages hadn’t gone through, and you tried calling him — but it went straight to voicemail. Satoru was upset — he could’ve blocked you or turned off his phone to piss off his father, but you didn’t see him doing that. He was an idiot, but he knew his father would lose his shit. 

And then you remembered. The tracker you placed on Satoru — you never took it off. You had sewed it into the insole of his daily shoes (the man had far too many clothes and shoes, but he rarely found the energy to not wear anything besides the shoes he always wore). 

You turned it on, biting your lip as you watched the tracker loaded, and his location popped up — and it wasn’t at his apartment. 

It was in Shibuya — you typed in the address and he was at a house. 

You furrow your brow, who did he know who lived in Shibuya? And then it clicked. 

Fuck. 

Those girls. 

Satoru groaned, fuck, why is his head hurting so badly? 

It wasn’t exactly unusual the last few days. He hadn’t been sleeping much since you left, he spent most of his nights watching TV and rotting in his bed. But everything reminded him of you — his bed, his couch, and even the shows he watched (he had continued one of the shows you both had started one late night). 

His apartment was a disaster — a mess of empty soda cans, empty wrappers of candy and old takeout containers. But he couldn’t be bothered with it — to clean it up or call someone to clean it up. His bodyguard had taken up residence in your room — or rather the guest room — and hardly emerged, keeping an eye on him through cameras his father had installed around the doors and hallway. 

Not that he really needed to, Satoru rarely left his apartment, even had skipped classes for a week — sending an email that he had a very contagious illness and that he’d be happy to attend class if necessary. They sent him materials to work on classwork from home, piled untouched on his kitchen counter, with a possible smudge from the hot fudge he had last night. 

He had made progress — instead of staying in bed, he moved onto the couch for his afternoon nap, and he had just fallen asleep when there was a banging on his door. He groaned into the couch pillow he had just gotten comfortable on, before pulling it onto his head, trying to block out the sounds of the knocking. 

“Satoru! Open up,” he hears Suguru’s voice through the door, “open the fucking door, I know you’re not sick,” 

He pulls himself up, groaning, as he wipes the small amount of drool from his lips, as he meanders to the door, throwing it open. 

“You look like shit,” Suguru says, brushing past him to enter. 

“No ‘hello, you look like shit?’” He mumbles, still rubbing his eyes, “what are you doing here?” 

“I should be asking you that,” he stands, hands in his pockets, as he takes in the mess with a wrinkled nose, “although I see you’ve decided to redecorate,”

“Hilarious,” Satoru replies, lying back on the couch, “did you come here just to hassle me?” 

“I’d be lying if I didn’t say that wasn’t part of it, but the other was to see if you’re ready to pick yourself back up after your breakup—“ 

“It wasn’t a breakup,” Satoru snaps. 

“If it wasn’t, then why does it look like you haven’t showered in several days since she left?” Suguru raises an eyebrow, and Satoru scowls. 

“I’m sick,” he turns away to face the couch, “I don’t have the energy to shower,” 

“But you have the energy to eat about half a dozen mochi doughnuts?” Suguru holds up an empty doughnut box, and Satoru holds a couch pillow to his chest, “Satoru, come on, it isn’t like you to wallow like this,” 

“I’m not wallowing—“ 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re sick, right?” Suguru says sarcastically. Satoru doesn’t need to look at his best friend to know he’s rolling his eyes, “well you don’t seem like you’re sneezing or coughing so go take a shower or something,” Satoru gives a weak fake cough, and he could feel Suguru’s glare, “fine, rot in bed, but you have to get up sometime, just text me when you’re ready to,” 

And Satoru hears Suguru’s footsteps recede to the door, swinging shut with a click behind him. He buries his face in the pillow. It wasn’t a break up. How could it be when you didn’t even have a relationship to begin with? You had made that clear enough when you left without another word to him. He didn’t leave his room until he heard the door shut behind you, and he made his way out to watch you leave out the front door of the apartment. And you didn’t even look back. But you weren’t the type to. 

He felt like he was always looking back — one way or another. 

And even now, as he came to — he was trying to remember what he had done after Suguru left. Someone else had shown up — knocked at his door. Offered to get him out of the house — offered him free alcohol and a distraction. 

And he had agreed — if only to forget about you for a moment. Drinking was the only thing that made him forget — if he only could somehow forget how terrible alcohol tasted. 

His head spun, so was this a hangover? It’s certainly worse than the one he had before — the last one felt like his brain was fuzzy and nausea clawed at his stomach — this time, it felt more akin to someone taking a blender to both of those organs. And his neck, he stretched it both ways. How had he fallen asleep? 

And then he tried to lift up his hand to rub his eyes, and he couldn't, wrist straining against something — his brow furrowed, what was arm caught on — and his eyes fluttered open. It was dark — the only light came from another room, peeking through the crack at the bottom of, what he assumed was, a door. And then as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he looked at his arms. 

Ropes. Twisted around both his arms, binding his wrists and forearms to the arms of a chair, and his vision blurs — what? His legs jerk instinctively, but ropes dig into the flesh of his ankles, and he glanced down only to find what he expected. 

“You’re awake,” the light flicks on, he lifts his head, blinking away the fog in his head and the burning tears slipping from his eyes, “didn’t realize the drug would knock you out for that long,”

He blinks again and again, light flooding his eyes, until he can see and sees a familiar face — “Misaki?” the light sends a piercing jolt through his head, “or is it Yumiko?” 

“Well that’s flattering, you can’t even remember my name?” she sighs, crossing her arms, “well I unfortunately don’t have the same luxury,” and then she adds with a quirk of her lips, “it is Yumiko,” and she steps forward, as his eyes squeeze shut, his head still banging, “sorry what I gave you to knock you out can cause some light sensitivity,” 

It’s slowly sinking in, “I don’t know what kind of weird kink you have, but I’m not interested,” and she scoffs, pressing her knuckles to her chin, “where am I?” 

“Do you think I’m really going to tell you that?” she raises an eyebrow, “I did send you threats after all, you don’t think I’d be that stupid to tell you where I am,” 

He needed to buy time, he needed to find a way to get out of here, and to do that, he needed time, “What? Are you obsessed with me or something? Do you want my body?”

“I’m going to stop your overinflated ego there,” she sighs, leaning against a table that was behind her, “I have a debt to pay and you’re the price,” 

“Debt?” he repeats, “is this where you explain your whole plan? And villain speech? Because I usually I could care less, but I’m feeling a little generous with my time, as I’m a little tied up at the moment, so—” 

“Do you ever shut up?” 

“It’s known to happen on occasion,” she rubs her temples, and then something occurs to him, “how did you get my address? You showed up and invited me,” 

She shakes his head, “You think I couldn’t find out your address after sending you threats?” and she sighs, “You know this is why I tried to do this at the first party — get it over with so I wouldn’t have to deal with this. But then you crushed your beer cup, your little girlfriend got in the way, and that idiot Misaki accidentally switched her shot glass with yours, so I couldn’t get you dosed,” she grits her teeth, “and then the rest of the semester, your girlfriend was up your ass the entire time — but she wasn’t your girlfriend was she? She was your bodyguard,” he says nothing, “you don’t need to confirm it for me, I already found her information, her name, her address—” 

“What do you want? Money? My father will pay anything to get me back. Tell me who you need to repay and he’ll do it,” and her lips curl. 

“So serious now — and so cooperative, maybe I should have kidnapped her too while I was at it,” she shrugs, while she grabs her phone from the table — a burner — “my father will be here to escort you to where you need to go. The yakuza will take it from there,” his blood runs cold, “Don’t cause a fuss and i can promise your girlfriend will stay safe,” 

He grits his teeth — he was so stupid. This was exactly the kind of shit you were trying to protect him from. And it was the thing he landed himself in the moment you left. But he didn’t care — because it was better this way, because you were safe this way.

“Wow, you’re pretty cute when you’re all quiet,” and she’s walking over, and he’s flinching as she drags a manicured nail down his cheek, before tilting it up, “it’s just that mouth that’s a problem,” and her thumb brushes down his lips, “don’t bite, or we might have a problem,” 

And he doesn’t, but then he smiles back, “you might like it when I bite,” he smirks, “why don’t you come here and find out?” And she raises her eyebrows, leaning closer, and he smashes his forehead into hers, “fuck off,” 

She stumbles back, losing her balance, and leaning against the table as she clutches at her forehead. Satoru watches her, trying to wriggle out of his constraints, rope chafing against his skin, red welts rising on his skin, but he only manages to get one hand free before she’s starting to get her bearings, and then he’s trying to free himself, his chair tipping over. And now he’s lying helplessly as she stumbles forward over to him, clutching a knife she grabbed off the table. 

“I have to hand you over to the yakuza, but they didn’t say you had to be completely unharmed,” she presses the tip of the knife to his cheek, “maybe we’ll do something to that pretty face of yours,” he grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. 

CRACK. 

He hears a body slump over, and the clatter of the knife against the cement floor, and his eyes open to find you kneeling beside him. He’s blinking, murmuring your name, “What are you—” 

“Well I never did remove that tracker did I?”  You’re cutting the ropes on his wrists and ankles with the knife, “and I’m lucky you wear the same damn shoes everyday,” 

“Why did you come for me?” he says, as you finally free him his restraints, your fingers gentle as they examine the welts and bruises left on his skin, “you could have just told my father where I was or the police,” 

“I could’ve. I saw where you were and I figured it out—“ and your voice wavers, “but all I could think was that I wanted to find you. And I didn’t wanna wait for anyone else. I didn’t want something to happen just because someone else was too slow,” the lump in your throat grows only larger, as you sit, “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you,” 

“Why?” he asks softly, his fingers brush against your cheek, and he knows why — he does, but he needs to hear it. 

“Because I just want…to be the one to protect you,” you admit, tears burning at your eyes, as your thumb traces over his rope burns and bruises, “I wish that I could have,” 

“You did a pretty good job, considering I almost was about to get my face cut up,” and he gently wipes your tears away, “imagine what a tragedy that would be,” 

You give a watery chuckle, cupping his cheeks, “I’m sorry,” and he opens his mouth, “no i really am. I shouldn’t have slept with you, only to cut and run after. I thought…I thought I was doing you a favor,” 

“How?” And you sigh, blinking away your tears. 

“I put your life in danger by doing that. I couldn’t do that. I knew the only way you’d let me go is…if I lied to you and said I didn’t care about you,” you bite your bottom lip, “and I’m sorry because I only hurt you more in the end,” 

He kisses your lips gently, chastely, his breath warming your lips as he parts from them, “you did,” and you scoff, pushing him playfully, “but as long as you promise not to do it again, I think I can find it in my incredibly generous heart to forgive you,” 

You kiss him again, softly, your fingers sliding to the back his neck, into his undercut, “I promise,” and he grins, before leaning back to kiss you again, when a cough behind you catches your attention. 

“My father will be getting here shortly you idiots, while you gaze fucking stupidly into each other’s eyes,” she sneers, and you raise an eyebrow. 

“You think I’d come here without calling the police? They already have picked up your father — and they should be almost here—“ and the sounds of an ambulance and police sirens come into earshot. 

“Good timing,” Satoru mutters, as Yumiko tries and fails to stumble to her feet, and you get up and pin her to the ground. Satoru raises an eyebrow, and watches, as you glance back at him, tilting your head in question, “nothing, it’s just…hot to see you in action,” 

You laugh, “Did she hit your head too?” And he shrugs, as he gets onto this feet with shaky legs, “Satoru—“ 

And he sits next to you, leaning on your shoulder, “just let me rest here for a minute,” he mumbles. 

For the first time since you left, Satoru felt like he could finally rest. 

And Satoru did rest, he realized as he blinked awake to the ambient sounds of the hospital room, the distinct beep of the heartbeat monitor, the dim light of the moon filtering through the shades, and the distant sounds of people walking through the hall. He hears the sounds of sheets rustling, and his gaze snaps over to his left. 

His gaze softens. You were fast asleep beside him, your arms tucked under your head, your breaths were soft, as they were the night you two had spent together. He sat himself up — fingers running through your hair gently. You had fallen asleep before him that night, face buried in the crook of his neck, and your legs entangled with his. And now you slept beside him on a chair, leaning on his bedside. 

His fingers carded through your hair again, and you stirred, as he swore under his breath, your eyes fluttered open, “Toru?” you mumbled, still half asleep, and he hummed. 

“Sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he sighed softly, “why are you sleeping here? You should have gone home,” you sit up, stretching, as you furrow your brow, eyes scanning him for any sign of an injury or distress. 

“I wanted to make sure you were okay — you were unconscious, but no concussion thankfully. I tried to wake you up but you wouldn’t wake,” you sigh, words tumbling out almost faster than you can think of them, “they mostly kept you for observation, but are you feeling okay? Should I get the nurse—“ 

And he’s pulling you into a hug, arms wrapping around you, as he sighs, burying his face in your neck, “I just want to stay like this for a while,” he murmurs, “I got everything I need right here, got it?” He feels you nod, and he feels the hint of your tears on his skin, but says nothing, only his lips quirk, “you did mean your promise?” 

“I did, I won’t leave like that again,” and he’s leaning back, head tilted, and you chuckle, “I mean I won’t leave you at all, how’s that?” 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, leaning closer, and his heart squeezes when he hears your breath hitch as he does. His eyes flicker to your lips and back, “can I kiss—“ 

But you kiss him first, softly, your fingers brushing his cheek, and god, why was it that a single touch from you melted him away to nothing? Whittled his world view to a pin where all he could feel, all he could see, was you. 

And then you kiss his cheeks, his chin, his jaw, and then your teeth graze the soft part of his neck, drawing a pretty gasp from his lips, as you suck lightly on his skin. 

He’s whispering your name, breath sucked from his lungs as if your teeth had pierced through his throat instead of just his skin, “what was that for?” 

And you smile, “so everyone knows you’re mine.” 

“You’re changing your major?” Suguru raises his eyebrow, as he lounges on Satoru’s couch, holding his head up with his elbow propped against the top of the couch, “your father must’ve been thrilled about that,” 

“He lost his shit, but that geezer can fuck off,” Satoru shrugs, “he threatened to not pay my tuition, but once I threatened to go public with his dealings with the yakuza, he saw it my way,” 

Suguru tilts his head, “His what?” 

You bring over tea from the kitchen, placing it on the table, “After what Satoru found out from Yumiko and her father, their debt to the yakuza would have been paid off by kidnapping one of Satoru’s father’s close relatives, but I was wondering why was the yakuza so eager to do so?” 

“Apparently my old man had the brilliant idea of entertaining the yakuza on some deal he was making,” Satoru explains, leaning back on the couch, as you sit against his legs, “and when he backed out, the yakuza wanted to push it through anyway — and well, thus their blackmail of Yumiko’s father, once they found out his daughter went to school with me.” 

“Yeah, turns out her father had gambling debts owed to the yakuza,” you sighed, “she got caught in the crossfire — I almost feel bad,” 

“Speak for yourself, she drugged me, tied me to a chair, and held a knife to my face,” Satoru scoffs, sipping his tea that he had you drown in sugar. 

“Well you didn’t complain when I did that last night,” you reply, making both Satoru and Suguru choke, and you laughed, squealing when Satoru lifts you into his lap to bury his face into your back. 

“You two are officially sickening to be around,” Suguru grimaces, still coughing from choking down his tea, “I think I liked it better when he was wasting away in his apartment,” 

“You wasted away after I left?” You turn to look at Satoru, who shoots a glare at Suguru, “sorry Geto, that’s not happening again,” and Satoru softens his gaze, pressing a kiss to your head. 

“Alright, that’s it, I’m leaving,” Suguru gets to his feet, as he glances back at you two, “don’t rush to get up, I’ll see myself out,” he rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t worry we weren’t going to,” Satoru pulls you closer, and Suguru narrows his eyes, before his lips curl into a grin. 

“Just for that, I’m sending your girlfriend a picture of the mess you looked like when she left,” Satoru gapes at him, while you bite back a laugh. 

“Suguru!” Satoru calls, but the door’s shut, and you’re starting to giggle. He’s pouting now, “so my girlfriend thinks it's funny to see me in the pathetic state she left me in?” 

“Oh your girlfriend finds it very funny, and she might even make it her boyfriend’s contact picture,” you smirk, and he’s biting back a smile, “What?” 

“This is just the first time we called each other that,” he mumbles, a slight dusting of pink on his cheeks, “it’s nice,” he admits. 

“Well, I am yours, aren’t I?” you smile, and he presses a kiss to your lips, as he would again and again. 

“My one and only.” 

✧ a/n: so this fic was so freaking long. i'm sorry it took so long to post this - i got a little sidetracked by prof geto haha. but i'm hoping to start on the next one soon :). i think i'll put a poll up on which one i should write next! edit: forgot to tag the people who requested this, its now added in T_T

✧ taglist: @teatreeoilll, @intrxspectiv, @marvel-fanaticz, @ilovemybabes, @lwustyz, @jayathelostdragon, @vampzys, @sleazymac-n-cheesy, @soilmayo, @iwassentfromhell, @lobotomy-kaisen, @gojoallmine, @forest-hashira, @h3artpiecexx, @lailarratx, @gummibat, @hanlay, @ilovewoo9, @nvmlolo, @h6avenly, @eriyvesa, @alexandraioann4, @eclipsephase, @sokkasmoon, @aizzon, @makotome9, @daddytojji, @fluffy-pancakes01, @imjustmememe, @spookyy-gracee, @forest-fruits-jam, @that-goth-bisexual, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @lookinreality,

#sab [mlist] #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader smut #satoru gojo fanfiction #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[anantaru]

I HATE EVERYONE BUT YOU

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — scaramouche has always been yours, yet he needs you to know that you'll always be his no matter what— even when you get all flustered while he shows you.

— ꒰ a/n ꒱ — in scaramouche we what?

— ꒰ wordcount ꒱ — 1.7k

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ns]fw, fem! reader, jealous! reader, dom scara, rough sex but very passionate, scara hates everyone but you, slightly possessive scara, spitting, cumming inside of you

"you have nothing to worry about,"

"stop thinking about it and look at me," fingers gracefully trace on your bare skin, "because i need you to realize," drawing all sorts of shapes into your searing flesh, like subtle curves into your ribs, "that you'll never get rid of me," and lines dragging across your stomach when scaramouche's hand ultimately settles on your hips.

your stomach does flips at his words, and a fresh tide of relief cuts through your initial doubts. he grins and clicks his tongue, eyes dancing with amusement when he catches your shyness, "hm? what's up with you? where's this pretty voice of yours now?" and that smile, ugh, he cannot help himself but irritate you abundantly, especially when he knows how you'd react to his words.

"shut up," you hiss, "don't do that,"

"do what?" he cocks a brow, "—that?" he breathes, boldly as his thumb rolls over your clit in slow circles. the fire in his eyes was hard to miss and when he feels your body react to his loving trace, he's more than happy to indulge in those waves of lust— most notably show you that he'll never go away.

"fuck—" you whine, "you're mean," and you find out that his thoroughly chosen words would end up adding fuel to the looming wildfire burning between you both, the two of you high on the tension and rush smoldering the air.

and scaramouche's confessions were driving you into a spiral.

"careful there," he coos, "take it slow," for him, there was no competition, and even if there was a competition, you're not in it. you're above everything. you're perfect, no one could ever set his heart ablaze like you did.

scaramouche hums, "you're stuck with me." he candidly bites down on your bottom lip, "okay?" when you nod vigorously at him, your hips leaving the bed as your back arches into his digits, your hands finding immediate comfort in his hair as you tug softly at his roots to press his lips on yours.

scaramouche was pretty when he looked at you like that, kissed you like he needed you to survive— dreamily while flushed, his cheeks seething with scarlet redness when he inhales deeply for a moment.

but he's not used to all of this, and he didn't like the fact that you could become jealous sometimes— after all, humans suffer more in imagination rather than in reality, and you have nothing to worry about, scaramouche certainly thought he made that very much clear.

but he's embarrassed, although not because of the fact that he might've gotten too close to someone who wasn't you and experienced regret, which, in fact, wasn't possible.

he simply cannot stand anybody besides you.

truth be told, he's a little annoyed that you forgot about the fact that he wasn't a big talker per se, he even actively chose his schedule so he wouldn't see a lot of people, or anyone for that matter. scaramouche never sought out to make any meaningful friendships with the people of the akademiya as well— despite the god of wisdom helplessly attempting to push him out of his comfort zone.

with that out of the way, the real reason as to why scaramouche was embarrassed was quite silly, because it's due to what your jealousy did to him— fuck, he finds it beyond attractive, yet he refuses to acknowledge that a special heat conquered his chest like that, reaching his groin until he couldn't think straight.

there's a delicate challenge in your ways of reacting when he tells you that you mustn't be jealous, and scaramouche drinks it like water— he knows you're everything he's ever wished for, like ice cream on a hot summer day, you're melting his heart.

he nuzzles into your skin to inhale your scent, leaves soft kisses on your cheekbones while holding your jaw, making you look directly at him.

does he need to show you that he's utterly addicted to you? so, do you require it like a challenge of sorts? because archons, he'll do it, easy work easy done.

to note, it's not scaramouche's fault that people want to talk to him and are curious about the new addition to the akademiya— yet he doesn't like them, it's pestering when they get too close to him as well, ask if he could talk a little more about where he was coming from because they wanted to be nice, civil but end up making him scoff with a roll of his eyes.

enjoying his own company was fine to scaramouche— and he always found himself fantasizing about you all the time, particularly about your soft laughs and candid smiles, your voice, your stories and your understanding was like a sweet melody to the wanderer, and he could indulge in it during his breaks, before he needed to finish a mission, or he could imagine it every single night before he'd fall asleep to the thought of you.

your body was rubbing against his now, sweat colliding as he removes his fingers from your cunt and wraps them around his erection, pretty dark lashes accentuating his flaring cheekbones while you loop your arms around him— parting your legs a little so he could easily slide himself in.

scaramouche gently adds pressure on your tight hole before moving his hips, but it's slow— gentle and delicate that you can feel every crevice of his length in you.

a soft moan rips from his throat as you mold around him easily, feeling him attentively as he traces the thick vein along the side of your walls as your hips twitch at the slight sting deep in your abdomen.

scaramouche was as desperate as ever to show you his love through physical attention— and the word shame didn't seem to find a place in his phraseology when he forces your gaze back under his. "open and stick your tongue out," he taps, once twice, against your lips with his thumb, "wanna taste me, right? so do it now," while keeping his throbbing dick buried inside as he purposefully moves his hips a little to make you squeal.

you cannot help the way your lips curve into a smile before you're parting your lips, applauding his efforts to claim you. it's merciless when he bundles the saliva budding in his mouth before spitting on your tongue, his crystalline eyes open to catch your tremble— how can he not indulge in this? you're nothing short of perfect, pleading for him to give you more.

"show me," he commands further, groaning deep into his chest when he looks at his saliva melting with your own and how it's dribbling from your chin, his length twitching rapidly as you try to steady your breathing at the sinful scenario you're living through.

scaramouche's hands clench at your waist as he fucks you as passionate as he can, his cock pressing against the overstimulated bud in your pussy before starting slow circles with his hips, your mouth huffing out candid i love you's amidst your moans.

inch by inch he slides into you, in and out in rapid movements, the more you take the better it felt having him rub your pleasure spots he so desperately desired to feel suck on his shaft and milk the cum out of his cock. he finds it cute when your face suddenly scrunches up if he moves faster than previous, your jaw parting in awe at how much better it felt the more he upped his tempo to batter your sore pussy.

it feels good— it always does, and if being a little jealous here and there would always result in this, than you'd gladly play your part as much as he needed it. it's almost like you don't hear yourself moaning and spell out honeyed praises, too occupied to indulge on the way scaramouche rolled along your walls and the noises of his balls colliding on your skin over and over.

"fuck— you're gonna make me cum fast," scaramouche gasps, dragging his sensitive cock through you like you're made for him, as if it just fits and he doesn't need to prep you, which he in fact, really enjoyed doing as well.

frankly, nothing tasted as good as your pussy rubbing across his mouth.

one hand leaves your hips before he gives your clit a little attention, pressing through the curtains that protected your sensitive pearl as he rubs your slick over the sensitivity, smirking devilishly when you arch your back off the mattress and begin to shake, your walls spasming while being so perfect when milking his cock, your pussy dripping with slick as he toys with your clit.

you cry out a sound between a broken sob and sharp moan of his name and that's when scaramouche knows you're close too— swift when he drags his hand from your clit to intertwine his digits with your own as he fucked you into the bed, your pussy pulsing around him as your eyes scrunch shut when you reach your high, falling slack against the bed and whining out shortly when he warms you with the weight of his body.

"fuck— shit!," his hips faster, his breath quicker, "you're fuckin mine, mine, mine," scaramouche falls apart,  panting against your ear and groaning lowly, his erection pulsing while constricted by your walls as he holds his cock deeply buried in you before thrusting back and forth once, twice, three more times as he spills his load into your pussy— his warm seed setting your belly on fire by how perfect it felt to be claimed in such lewd, passionate way.

"fuck," he breathes, "gonna stay like that for a bit,"

archons, it's so sticky— borderline filthy and shameless with every intention of it being like that. your tits were still bouncing up and down from the following, last thrusts of him pumping his precious cum into your hole and making sure not a single drop gets lost midway.

after a while of collecting your breathing and turning it evenly again, you giggle out, finding his darkened hair strands as you greet him with a wet, sloppy kiss, "wanna join me for a shower later?" you mumble, eyes half-lidded as he hums softly into your lips, "mhm, or i'll decline so you'll get mad at me, right?"

"i will bite you," you threaten, shaking slightly as he pulls himself out without warning to expose his drenched cock being weaved with your slick, the filthy mixture dripping along your inner thighs,

"please do, "i'm counting on it," scaramouche ends with a wink.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

#genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x you #wanderer smut #wanderer x you #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles #genshin x you #genshin Impact x you

[kuromiiyuuu]

"You're insufferable." part i, jjk.

-in which you got in a heated argument with jjk men.

part ii.

toji, satoru, and nanami, (f).

warnings, genre. swearing! not proofread! | angst to fluff! |

notes i. this was requested from like a year ago so... yeah.

Toji. the scarred man was flaring up your temper for sure, you sat at the your side of the passanger seat. drowning in your own sea of thoughts whilst you looked outside the window of the moving car. tiny drops of water was plastered right on the car window. the sound of pitter-patter by the rain can be heard but slightly muffled.

the car however was silent, toji, your boyfriend was driving with a deadly grip on the steering wheel. you both were driving home after a disasterous date. it was going on fine at the beginning but all of a sudden, your meticulous boyfriend and you were suddenly fighting with him over something you didn't seem to think about now. you were just fuming in your seat because he had raised his voice at you in front of many people, "are you going to keep up this being a bitch act of yours?" he bites, you can feel the venom seeping through his voice.

you stayed silent, trying to send him the hint that you weren't going to talk to him any sooner. he hisses beside you before slamming his hand on the steering wheel, making you look at him with a flinch, "damn it!" "what the hell is wrong with you, toji!" "now you decide to talk to me."

"if you were just being so fucking easy back there, then maybe i wouldn't have yelled." the man beside you fills you in, trying to point out your mistakes from the fight.

"oh so now it's my fault that you have anger issues that you can not somehow get a hold of? you're a fucking assassin, toji. yet you act like you can't color inside the lines with a gun to your fucking head."

"what the fuck did you just say?" his voice grumbles, and just in time for a thunder to roar in the sky, light flashes in a second before the rain came down heavier. toji took a glance at you, his eyes were filled with anger and you can tell, you calmed yourself down. looking out from the window again you wrapped your own arms around your body to provide warmness, you couldn't handle it anymore. there was never a day where you don't find yourself arguing with the scarred man over and over again, you were tired, to an extent.

"you're a fucking jerk." you mumble, resting your head on the window as you feel your tears starting to build up. it hurts you, him being too comfortable yelling at you in front of a crowd, it shatters your heart into millions of pieces. you knew you were hard to love but... toji made you feel like there wasn't hope at all.

"I hate you." it came out like a whisper, your voice vulnerable and weak. toji's grip loosened, his eyes softening in an instant with his face muscle finally relaxing, but not in a good way. damn did those three words, eight letters, stab his heart a million times repeatingly, over and over again. he was hurting you, and now he realizes it, he has gone too far now, "y/n."his voice was gentle now, no sign of anger or irritation.

you didn't answer, you felt so weak now. you felt like you were going to burst into tears within a second, " 'm sorry." your boyfriend says, your heart warms up in an instant, it was unfair, he had this effect on you and you just can't ignore it, "whatever." you replied with a sob at the end of your sentence, you had been crying again... because of him.

toji didn't like seeing you like this so he swore in him, he would kill anyone that made you cry, and if he did make you holler again, he'll end his self instead.

Satoru. "This is crazy." you say in frustration, looking at your lover as if he has grown tw heads to make your eyes shine with horrid, "oh this is crazy? you're

crazy." the silver haired exclaims with his tone sharp and absolute, you were taken a back by his response, "oh wow, don't try to point this on me when you're the one who flirted with a girl." "it's like I can't even do anything in this relationship anymore, you have this fucking vision in your head that im so fucking wrong all the time."

"you're just making up excuses, satoru. it won't cover up the fact that you flirted with the girl." you pointed at him, your eyes glared at him with your voice slightly raising. smoke was basically coming out of satoru's ear, he was fuming, "you're insecure, that's what you are." "what did you just say?" "you make a big fuss whenever i talk to another girl, you're afraid ill le...

there was the sound of your palm hitting his right cheek, it echos through out the room with your eyes tearing up. who am i kidding, it already rolled down your cheeks, your eyes held betrayal. satoru, never in your life did he point out your insecurities in an argument.

"what happened to you. if that's what you think then I'm afraid we're better off by ourselves." you say calmly, your tears still can't help themselves from falling, "y/n." "no, you don't say those hurtful things and expect me to be okay."

"im sorry, i know i crossed the line." the silver haired exclaims with a saddened voice, the slap was like a slap from reality. truly the reason why he realized his mistake. "i would never do that to you." your voice cracked, you couldn't anymore, the burden rose up to your throat and it made hard for you to say something without finding it hard. you were crying now.

backing away from your boyfriend your back hits the wall and you slide down to the floor whilst trying to calm yourself down. and just like that you feel your boyfriends familiar scent crouch down to your level, grabbing your hands gently to replace his slender hands to wipe away your tears. "im sorry baby, im so... fuck, i hate seeing you like this."

Nanami. "im just trying to calmly apologize to you, i dont want to fight anymore." the blonde says, he brings his hand up to his mouth in a frustrated manner, you stood there, your arms crossed in front of your chest with your eyebrows furrowed. your face was bear but the outfit you were supposed to wear to your date with him was still on your body, "how is that going to help me, is it going to bring back the two hours i waited for you!" you exclaim, you were frustrated, the man forgot your date because he went to a party at work. and he didn't even tell you he was going, so it caused a misunderstanding, and you waited fir him like a fool.

"did you get hurt? i said i was sorry didn't i? can i go to bed now." he says in almost a monotone voice, you were offended by the way he reacted. it was almost like he didn't even care about your feelings. your eyes by now had widened, "so you're invalidating my feelings now? so what you said sorry?" "god your voice it's so..." "its so what." "...." "answer me!"

"fucking annoying! that's what it is, you yell, you yap do you ever get tired?" nanami finally loses his composure and his words were like daggers stabbing your heart. and if you listened closely, you can hear your heart breaking into pieces, and shattering beneath you. "you... you're the least man i have ever thought to say those words to me."

"wait." but it was too late, you had slammed the door in your shared room, nanami was left inside the cold atmosphere of the living room. he drops his self to the couch, placing his elbow on both his knees as he runs his finger through his blonde locks in frustration, he fucked up.

he needed to calm his self down before comforting you, in case he hurts you again.

#jjk #jjk ff #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen ff #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fluff #toji fushiguro #toji #jjk toji #toji angst #gojo fluff #gojo satorou #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #nanami fluff #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami angst #gojo angst #jujutsu nanami

[motherlvr]

love me better, listen more.

wc: 3.2k

Pairing: Earth-42! Miles Morales x f! reader

Summary: After Miles' father died, everything changed. Including your relationship with Miles.

Warnings: angst w/ happy ending, cursing, friends to strangers to lovers, angry makeout session, Flash Thompson exists here

A/N: honestly my fav fic i've made so far, im literally running out of photos for him. im gunna have to start using photos of his jordans

As you walked home, an arm wrapped around your shoulders from behind, "¿Cómo está mi ángel hoy?" Miles’ voice flowed through your ears.

He called you his, but you weren't lovers.

You were slightly startled but immediately recognized him. Letting out a soft chuckle, you said, “Your ángel, huh? That��s a new one.” smiling up at him.

"It suits you." Miles gave you a wink.

Usually, he called you 'ma'. So his switch-up today made you narrow your eyes at him skeptically. "What's with the good mood today? No 'ma'?" You tilted your head at him.

Shrugging it off, he said, "What, I can't be happy to see my girl?" He had a point, except for the fact that you weren't his girl.

You laughed and shook your head at him, "By all means, go ahead." As he accompanied you on your way home, you realized he made your walk home much more pleasant. Arriving at your house, you told him "This is me. Thanks for walking me today." You gave him a light peck on his cheek.

"Course. Make sure to wear that outfit I like tomorrow, mami." He teased with a grin, only half serious.

Rolling your eyes at him, you smiled, "You're insufferable. Adiós, Miles!" You waved as you walked up to your doorstep.

"Chao, princesa." Walking away, his mood felt lighter. He walked home with a little more liveliness than usual.

For reasons unknown, Miles walking you home was becoming a reoccurring event. Within the next few weeks, he walked you home more often than not. You started to look forward to it as you searched for him after school.

As you both walked down the street of your neighborhood for what seemed to be the hundredth time, you approached your house. As you both stood in front of your house, you turned to him and said, "Thanks for walking me home, Miles." You placed a kiss on his cheek. It seemed to be turning into a daily routine now.

"Anytime, princesa. Hasta luego." He smirked at you and watched you walk into your house before leaving.

Little did you know, that would be the last time he walked you home in a while.

Later that evening, you kicked your feet up on your couch and turned on the television. The first channel that popped up was the news channel. Reading the headline, your heart dropped into your stomach. It read,

"Police Captain Jefferson Davis Found Dead At 44.”

"Holy shit." You gasped. In an instant, you dropped the remote and tried to contact Miles. You tried calling but were sent immediately to voicemail. So you opted to text him, "I'm so sorry, Miles. I'm always here if you need to talk."

You left him multiple messages that night to no avail. The following day at school, you tried to scout him out in the halls. But he was never there. You would call if you thought he would answer.

Miles and you always confided in each other. There was a mutual trust between the two of you. However, within less than twenty-four hours, Miles' demeanor completely changed.

Leaving him another message after school, you said, "Where have you been? I'm worried, Miles. But you know that already. Sorry for the messages."

No response yet again. He didn't even bother to read it.

Weeks passed by with little to no contact from Miles. He seemed to entirely disappear. Your concern only grew for him. You haven't even seen him in the hallways at school. There was no denying it, you were starting to miss him.

Although, today was a new day. And for the first time in what felt like a century, you saw him in the hall. He looked a fright. There were new frown lines on his face that weren't there before. He looked slimmer, even. His smug smirk that would always adorn his face around you was no longer present. Your eyes lit up at the sight of him nonetheless. Jogging up to him, you called out.

"Miles, wait." You softly said as you delicately grabbed his arm, not to startle him. He paused, looking back but not into your eyes. He shook your grip off, never making eye contact with you. "I just need some time, alright?" He told you. But what does 'some time' entail? What if he just didn't want anything to do with you in general?

He walked away and didn’t look back.

You felt your heart break into two as you watched him fade away from your view. It broke for both him and you. Seeing him like this pained you. But at the same time, your heart ached as he pushed you away in the process.

Yet, you granted him his wish. You stopped looking for him in the hall. You stopped trying to message him. You stopped leaving voicemails. Maybe if you gave him some time, things would smooth out. Grief is a long process, after all. You couldn't blame him for grieving.

Weeks turned into months without any contact from Miles. And it didn't seem like he was going to break that any time soon.

You fell back into your old routine, the one where you'd never met Miles. He was merely a stranger that you thought too often about. You walked home without him next to you. And into class alone as well. You no longer looked forward to walking with him at the end of the day. The walks home were infuriatingly quiet.

Every day you arrived at your doorstep but never felt at home. You had a home, and he was it.

-----------

While you were getting books out of your locker, an arm slung around your shoulders. An almost familiar sensation. But it wasn't him. Far from him, actually.

Instead, it was no one other than Flash Thompson. His notorious blond hair and conceited attitude were tell-tale signs. You could almost smell the arrogance radiating off of him before you even acknowledged his presence.

"How are you, gorgeous?" He removed his arm from your shoulders to close your locker. Leaning his arm onto the locker above your head, he encased you on your locker with your back against it.

"I'm fine." You dryly responded, uninterested in his pursuits.

"That you are." He gave you a predatory smirk and winked at you. You mentally grimaced. "Anyway. You still with that Morales kid?"

Raising a brow at him, you respond, "We were never together.”

"Huh. He's always by your side, like an over-protective guard dog. So I assumed." Flash said. He wasn’t necessarily wrong. But that wasn't the case anymore. It hasn't been for some time.

This was one of the many times Flash had tried his advances on you. However, it never worked to his intentions since Miles was always there to tell him off. This time was different. Miles was nowhere in sight. At least, within your sight. Meaning Flash had an open opportunity with you. There was no Miles around to try and bite his head off.

"Yeah, well. Not anymore." You muttered. Suddenly feeling awkward, you directed your stare anywhere other than Flash's hungry gaze. An uncomfortable cold shiver ran down your spine.

Flash leaned in, his fingers pushing a strand of your hair away from your face. Whispering in your ear, he told you, "That's too bad. I could treat you better than him, though. He doesn't have to know, baby.”

You looked up at him and tried to hide the disgust that was forming on your face. But, hey. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise, you tried to convince yourself. This was a chance to get over Miles. His hold on you was ridiculous, considering you were never actually together. You weren’t going to wait for him to crawl back to you.

You put a hand on Flash’s chest in an attempt to push him away from you. But he misinterpreted it and encased his palm over your hand that was laying on his chest. “See? You’re warming up to me already. You don’t need him.” He cockily said.

Turning your head away from him, you said, “I don’t know, Flash. I’ll think about it.” pretending to consider it. He gave you a displeased look, "What's there to think about? We would be good together, babe." he tried to persuade you. It was evident that he wasn't going to give up anytime soon.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Miles turned around the corner and instantly spotted you. He’s been skipping almost every day. All of a sudden, he felt glad that he didn’t skip today as he saw you with Flash Thompson. Way too close for his comfort. And then he saw your hand on Flash’s chest. That was his breaking point.

Miles saw nothing but red as he walked over to the two of you. If looks could kill, Flash would've been dealt with by the first second he walked around the corner. He sneered, "Back the fuck off my girl, Thompson." shoving him in the chest away from you.

You couldn’t believe him. After all that time, now is when he decides to make an appearance. He was the one that cut you out of his life. Not you, but him. Huffing at him, you spoke up before Flash did. "I'm not your girl. You've made that clear." You rolled your eyes in irritation.

Flash gave Miles a smug smirk at your words, "You heard her. So go fuck yourself, Morales." He spat at Miles, getting up close and personal with him. As Flash glared at Miles, it was clear he was trying to intimidate him. It wasn't working.

You almost didn't comprehend what was happening as a fist collided with Flash's face, knocking him down momentarily. He groaned in pain, holding onto his nose as blood dripped from it.

“What the fuck?” You screeched at Miles’ outburst. Flash was still laying on the floor, stumbling to get up. Before it could escalate further, you pulled Miles by his arm and dragged him into an empty supply closet. Miles opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

"The fuck is wrong with you, Miles? You don't speak to me for months and now you suddenly want something to do with me?" You said in disbelief.

He said bluntly, "I don't want to see you with him again."

His hands traveled over the curve of your hips to your waist, pulling you closer to him. You tried to get out of his touch. Or, you would've. But his hands on you felt too natural. He felt right.

That didn’t mean you’d let him off easy. This was the first conversation you both held in months.

"Well for the past few months, you didn't want to be seen with me either." You quipped, aggravated. His sudden change of heart polarized your emotions. You were conflicted with yourself.

He shook his head, “I’m sorry, mami. There’s shit going on that I couldn’t involve you in. I can’t bring you down with me.” He uncharacteristically apologized.

His words made you become hyper-aware of his hands on your waist. The way he rubbed circles into your skin with his thumbs. How you almost folded under his touch, but maintained your unbothered facade. No matter how much time has passed, he still made your heart race.

You scoffed at him and continued, "I’m not going to wait around for you like some lovesick puppy. Do you want me or not, Miles?"

Without a moment of hesitation, he quickly said, “You have no fucking idea.” Inspecting his eyes, you tried to find deception within them. What you saw in return was the gaze of a man starved.

“Then earn me.” Glaring up at him, you harshly retorted as you furrowed your brows at him. But one more look into each other's eyes was all it took for the tension to snap in half.

He grabbed you by the waist swiftly and pulled you in, your lips finally connecting. You wrapped your arms around his neck. Your bodies pressed together against the wall of the closet, knocking over supplies. The pent-up frustrations inside of you came undone as you kissed him with all the fiery passion you could muster. You bit his lower lip, making him groan against your mouth. That was a sound you realized you'd love to hear on repeat. Your lips moved together in perfect harmony. Like they were made to fit each other.

His hand traveled to the back of your head into your hair as he pulled it softly, making you muffle a whimper into his mouth.

Miles pulled away for a split second to whisper with a smirk, "Cállate, hermosa. But I'm down if you want everyone to hear." His lips were hovering over yours, only seconds away. You felt both of your chests heaving against one another, his breath overlapping yours. You were sure he could feel your heartbeat.

"Fuck you, Miles." You briskly closed the small distance between both of your lips once again before he could make a crude remark about how 'you'd like that'.

You spent the rest of the class period cooped up with him in the minimal space of the supply closet.

-----------

After school, you looked for Miles. Something you've been restraining yourself from doing over these past few months. However, you were hoping things were different now. In a good way. You'd think spending some quality time in a supply closet together would change things.

But as you looked across the courtyard, Miles was nowhere to be seen. You felt irritated with him once again, but you weren’t going to let him cut you out of his life for a second time.

So you did what any rational person would do. You visited his house to talk with him. You believed that if you had a decent conversation with him, it would fix what broke between the two of you. After all, his mother did tell you that you were always welcome there. His house was the place the both of you created a collection of memories. Memories that you stayed up late thinking about. Before it all went downhill. Knocking on the door, his mother answered it.

You greeted her with a smile, "Hola, Mrs. Morales! Is Miles here?" She gave you a knowing look. Mrs. Morales always did have a knack for knowing exactly what was going on.

Nodding her head, she told you "You caught him at a good time. He's been in and out with his Uncle lately. Come on in." She promptly led you inside the house.

"Gracias, Mrs. Morales." You told her before you made a beeline for Miles' room. Stopping right in front of his door, you knocked. Silence came from the other side. "Miles, I'm going to come in. Please don't be naked." You covered your eyes with your palm as you opened his door.

You didn't hear any yells of protest, so you assumed it was safe to peek through your fingers. As you removed your hand from your face, you noticed he was climbing through his own window. But that's not what made you stop in your tracks. Rather, it was his attire. He wasn't naked by any means. Instead, he was wearing the infamous suit that you've seen on the news time and time again. Over the past few months. The correlation clicked in your brain. He wasn't purposely avoiding you for the last few months. His life was just turned upside down in more than one way. He turned into the Prowler.

He looked just as shocked as you while he climbed through his window. "Fuck, what are you doing here, mami?" He frantically asked.

Closing the door behind you, you said, "I came to speak to you, but it seems like all my questions are answered now." You felt numb.

He didn't have a response. He didn't know what to tell you. It was exactly what it looked like. There were no words exchanged, but much was said within those silent moments.

Breaking the silence, you exclaimed, "Y'know what? Forget it. Forget I came here. Matter of fact, forget we ever met." You just about had it. Miles, the one that used to walk you home, being the Prowler was not exactly something you predicted.

"You know I can't do that." He said. You started to back away from him, turning away. He grabbed your arm with a feather-like touch, despite wearing his steel claws. You knew he wasn't going to hurt you. Not physically, at least. "Just let me explain."

"What is there to explain? That you've been avoiding me for months because you're the Prowler? I don't think anything else needs to be said." You let out a faint melancholic chuckle.

He stared into your eyes as he removed his claws, gently grasping your shoulders. "Mami, just listen to me." He pleaded, "You understand now why I couldn't tell you. That's why I had to stay away. This business is the shit I can't have you affiliated with."

"If you don't want me affiliated, then don't join it." You snapped at him, pushing a finger into his chest.

Your response set off something inside of him as he blurted out, "I'm in love with you. Shit, I love you so fucking much. I always have. You're the only one that's ever on my mind, 'ight? If I permanently lost you, I'd never come back from that."

Those were precisely the words you've been waiting ages to hear. But not like this.

"Miles. I can't be a part of this. I don't want to do this 'back and forth' thing. I can't do this. Not with you." Turning your back on him again, you tried to hold your composure as you stepped away. Out of his grasp. You had no intention to break down in front of him. This time, you were the one walking away. You were going to be the one leaving him.

"Wait," He called out, his voice faltering. You were slipping through his fingers, right in front of his eyes. If he had to beg you to stay, so be it. Even after all that time apart, you've been the sole reason he woke up in the morning. He couldn't afford to let you leave him for good.

"Quédate conmigo, mami. Por favor. I can't lose you again." His voice trembled with desperation. Your steps hesitated, his words plunging knives directly into your heart. You've never seen him like this. And it was a sight you never wished to see again.

So you obliged. You might as well have taken what you said and thrown it in the trash. He had the ability to change your mind with only a few words. Turning back to him, you wrapped your arms around his neck in a tight embrace. He reciprocated as he enveloped your waist with his arms.

You buried your face in his neck as you whispered, "Don't fucking do that again. Don't shut me out." You placed a light kiss on it. You continued, "I love you too, Miles." removing your face from his neck to stare up into his eyes.

"I promise, mami. It's only ever been you." He softly said, pressing his lips to yours. You kissed back with just as much delicacy.

You were aware it was an incredibly dangerous business Miles was involved in. For him, you'd give up anything. You hadn’t a clue what being involved with the Prowler would exactly entail. It was something you both would have to figure out together.

Your relationship was by no means perfect. But you were both learning. As long as it was with him, you wouldn't have it any other way.

-----------

¿Cómo está mi ángel hoy? - How's my angel today?

Princesa - Princess

Adiós/Chao - Bye

Cállate - Shut up, be quiet

Hermosa - Beautiful

Quédate conmigo - Stay with me

Por favor - Please

(yes the title is a childish gambino reference)

#earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #miles morales spider man #jealousy #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #spider man #prowler miles #friends to lovers #prowler!miles x reader #x reader #miles morales prowler #prowler miles morales #miles morales

[sourbinnie]

☆ hit me where it hurts.mp3 ☆

♡ genre ¿? ♡ -> angst ¡! ♡ pair ¿? ♡ -> hyung line!skz x gn!reader ♡ plot ¿? ♡ -> sometimes things shouldn't be said (or thought) but the words slip right out of his mouth at the worst time. ♡ warnings ¿? ♡ -> arguments ; the boys being a little mean but instantly regretting it ; cursing ♡ request ¿? ♡ -> yes!

maknae line

a/n: first reaction ¡! i decided i would go with the "compares you" part. hope i did it well for yall and to the person who requested it, thank u!!! i'll publish maknae line whenever i'm free:]

chan ✉

arguments could get pretty heated with chan sometimes (he's a libra at the end of the day). it could get stressful since you've been going back & forth for so long now, as you tried to make him understand that he wasn't taking care of himself but it only brought back hurtful words that you were letting it pass under the excuse that he was "too tired". maybe you were too naive at that moment thinking that he would calm down and you guys would solve it like you always do.

then you heard it, he didn't say their name but you could only imagine who he was talking about at that point and time. 

"they would just leave me alone and let me be, why can't you do the same? ah right you're not them and you will never be." he said and horror washed him instantly as they realized what they did. fights were inevitable but you can always keep comments to yourself right? it was just the heat of the moment that made him slip out such cruel words. as soon as you were turning away to leave, he was trying to find his way to you but it was too late anyways. "baby nono, don't leave not right now, it's late and i was fucking stupid. i'm so fucking sorry-."

"i just need some space right now, yeah? i need to be away from you." you said and that only made him worry even more as that's the last thing he wanted right now. "just let me christopher, we'll talk when i get back." 

"don't call me that, i'm still your channie, your boyfriend and i still fucking love you. listen i'm sorry but please don't go." he said close to the tears falling from his eyes and you just shook your head as you grabbed your things and he followed you around the house like a lost puppy. "(y/n) let's work this out yeah? i'll go to the dorms tonight and you'll stay here."

eventually knowing he wouldn't give up, you just nodded as you went to your shared bedroom and sighed. letting the tears finally from your eyes and hearing the door close was enough to let your sobs out from how much those words stung in your heart.

minho ✉ 

fighting with minho wasn't easy. his witty responses and his hurtful comments always stood out like daggers in your heart. he usually didn't fight at all but when he did, most of the time he took it too far and it wasn't easy to forget what he said. as the new comeback approached, you tried your best to be supportive but when you couldn't see them on their first win, it hurt minho. he wanted you to be there, backstage or in the crowd cheering for them but he did not see you anywhere. turns out you were too late, had a "work" emergency, he called bullshit on that.

"i'm sorry min, i'll promise i'll be on the next one. my boss really needed me and-." he cut you off immediately, not wanting to hear it.

"it's fine. it's not like they would miss out on this like you did. maybe i should just get back with them." he muttered and it was enough for you to walk away from him. all the boys were there to talk to him about what just happened and why were you crying but he was completely petrified from your reaction and how you just went away without a word. "god i'm such a fucking idiot." he said as he chased after you through the hallways.

"don't even try talking to me. i get that you're fucking mad but that doesn't give you an excuse to say stuff like that." you said as you still walked away and didn't even look in his direction. minho tried to process what was happening all at once but couldn't bare to see the look in your eyes as the tears were still going down your face.

"please listen to me for a second. it was stupid that i got mad, i should've understood you from the beginning but please stay and i'll make it up to you. i promise." he said and even if it did sound sincere, you just couldn't do it.

"i'm sorry, i think i wanna be alone tonight." you said as you looked at him one last time and kissed his cheek before muttering "goodbye minho" and walking through the door. leaving a distraught and regretful minho behind.

changbin ✉ 

it wasn't rare for you to fight with changbin, what was rare was when he got mad. this time when you were at the studio, making sure 3racha were feeling well and not overworking themselves, you were met with a furious bin. it surprised you, you've never seen him mad and maybe something else was happening that you didn't know or you chose the worst time to visit the studio. whatever it was, it made you feel so small and like you were in a place you did not belong. jisung and chan weren't even there to witness it but you guessed that as soon as they heard, they left you guys alone.

"look i'm sorry. i don't know what i did wrong but that doesn't excuse your attitude and how you're treating me right now!" you said but it wasn't enough to his ears as he gave you the next words.

"god i can never say anything, at least with them they would let me express myself. i should've never broken up with them if i knew i was gonna end up with you." ouch was all that could be said about that as you nodded and felt the water in your eyes grow slowly. "shit- i'm so fucking sorry, i don't know what came over me baby."

he tried to get close to you but you just took a step back and that broke changbin's heart completely. it made him feel like a monster in front of you but he couldn't blame you for that, it was all his fault in the end. when he saw you walk away, as much as he wanted to, he decided not to follow you and let you go. he couldn't describe what he was feeling when he saw you practically run away from the building and not answer for jisung's calls since he was just walking in with chan. 

"what the fuck happened hyung?" jisung asked as he crossed his arms and that's when changbin lost the control of his tears. he wasn't one to usually cry but he was now gonna be haunted with muttering those words to you and what he made you feel in that moment.

"i fucked it up like i always do." he said brokenly.

hyunjin ✉

as much as you loved hyunjin, he got so petty in fights it was irritating. he was the definition of drama queen and he could fight on & on about the tiniest of details. like right now when you just got home and you forgot to do some things in your shared apartment. tiny things like the dishes or the laundry usually didn't piss him off but today when he got home practice and saw, in his words, that the whole house was upside down, he got stressed. 

"look i'm sorry, i forgot to do it and i know you've been busy with practice. i'll do it tomorrow since i get to go home earlier." you tried to explain but he just shook his head and crossed his arms.

"tomorrow? are you serious? they would've done it right here and now and wouldn't be putting up excuses like you're doing." he didn't even have to mention them for you to know who he was talking about. it felt like twisting the knife on the wound as you just looked at him with the most hurtful stare.

"of course they would. they didn't have a job in the first place and relied on you for everything!" you said and laughed bitterly but in a sad way. "if it's my job then it's a problem but with your job there's literally no excuse right? 'cause it's more important. grow up hyunjin." 

"look babe i'm sorry. i don't know what the fuck i was thinking when i said that." he tried to make up an excuse at the moment but he knew nothing would justify what he said and implied with his words. it was met with a sigh from you and it was your turn to shake your head. "i don't think your job is less important and i shouldn't have said what i said-."

"but you said it." you whispered and decided to head to your shared bedroom to lock the door. you needed some time alone not only because of the harsh words but because it made you process your whole relationship in a flashback. 

#sourbinnie #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz reactions #skz angst #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids angst #stray kids scenarios #stray kids reactions #chan x reader #minho x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #skz #stray kids

[chuluoyi]

everything, but not anything

- gojo satoru x reader

you were his last remainder of the happiest blue spring in his life, until your untimely demise. and on the death's door, he finally found you again.

genre/warnings: angsty wangsty, consolation towards the end

notes: i said i can't create gojo fics without feeling depressed, so here i present to you, angst. it's inspired from a thread in twitter i read about how gojo was given everything but he couldn't do anything and my heart just incredibly hurts and―this happened. it's unedited because the idea popped into my mind at 1 in the morning

i wrote this while listening to this wonderful song. consider it the theme song for this piece. i highly recommend you to read this and listen to it!

[update] sequel -> found you

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

You were so pretty. So really pretty, in fact. And he likes pretty things. Perhaps that was what spurred him to spontaneously ask you out.

You declined him at first―after all, he was a special grade weirdo. And you half-expected him to give up soon enough, only that he didn't. He persisted like a cockroach, smothering you with his very being. Then like a sweet romance novel, you too finally fell for him, melting at his clumsy attempts to woo you.

And by God, you were happy together. To Satoru, it was the brightest, most vibrant page in his life. And with his very being, he would do everything he could to protect you. After all, he was blessed with the best, he had all means to protect you.

He should've known better.

It started with his failed star plasma vessel mission. Riko was dead, and at that time he was just numb. Later, he made excuses. He couldn't have foreseen that a sorcerer killer would join the fray and made a mess of things.

But then his best friend, Suguru, left. Satoru couldn't make excuses any longer. For that, he was wholly responsible. From then, he realized that just being strong wasn't enough. And throughout those dark days, you were with him, consoling him as you brought his head to your chest, letting him sleep in your arms.

"Don't ever leave me, okay?" he whispered at the dead of the night with hoarse voice. It made your heart sting. You nodded and ran your fingers throughout his hair, mumbling a soft "of course."

And you never did. You were always by his side.

Satoru was really grateful for that. To have the last years of your life by his side. Looking back, it was like a beautiful mirage.

He had hidden himself behind the facade of the strongest. The unreachable. Untouchable. It felt nice, still is. Before he had known it, he had drawn this line between himself and other people. Between him and you. He wasn't lonely, but he was at the very same time.

And perhaps he had gotten way too arrogant, and thus the heavens decided to humble him.

He couldn't prevent the Shibuya Incident from happening. Worse, he fell into the enemy's hand and got sealed, and just before he was trapped inside that accursed box, he saw you die. And even after the most excruciating 19 days of his life afterwards, he couldn't do anything about it.

Your face haunted him. The tears you shed for him still lingered at the tips of his fingertips. The blood from your mouth still soaked his vision.

"Satoru..." you croaked. You were afraid. Afraid of dying, but most of all, afraid of leaving him. You had promised him once, on the bunkbed of your dorms back in Jujutsu High, that you wouldn't leave him. Tears wouldn't stop falling from your beautiful eyes.

Satoru burned that image on his mind. He wanted to hate himself with every fiber of his being, but then you said the most damnable thing possible.

"Thank you... for everything..."

And you had a smile on your face. In your last moments, you decided to convey how much he meant to you in this life. How much you cherished him. You prayed with all your heart that it would reach him.

And once again, just like the first day he saw you at the training grounds of Jujutsu High, Satoru found you to be really breathtaking. You were beautiful even as you laid dying. Even as his visions were obscured as he fell into the darkness.

Inside the prison realm where time passed long and uncertain, he made himself numb once again.

You were his most cherished figment of the most precious memory held in his heart―the three years of his youth. He wouldn't have changed anything about it. He was devastated, severely so, but so did the sweetness aftertaste he felt.

Your feelings reached him, and because of that, even if the road ahead was long and hard and painful, he would stay on that road.

If it meant he could meet you again on the other side of this dream... he'd stay and move towards tomorrow, no matter how bleak it was.

When his comrades freed him from the prison realm, he gained knowledge that most people he knew were also dead during his absence. Nanami. Yaga. The students.

Perhaps it was his curse. To be blessed with everything, but not being able to do anything about it.

He had nothing more to lose when he fought against Sukuna. He gave it his all. Everything his life had led him to―he put it all on the line.

And suddenly―suddenly, he was back to the happiest chapter of his youth. Everyone was there. Suguru was there. Nanami, Haibara, even Riko.

And you.

On the other side of that dream, you were once again standing before him, in your old uniform, just like when you’d get ready for a class so many years ago, and with the smile he fell in love with. The smile he would gladly fight the world for.

"Satoru," you called, breathless, but just like before you left him the first time, you frowned and your eyes suddenly glistened with tears. "Why... are you here? How did you―"

But you choked back your tears when he ran to you and pulled you into his arms so tightly. You heard him grunt, and then to your surprise, slightly sob.

Now he is no longer Gojo Satoru, the strongest. He is back to a young sorcerer wanting so badly to live his youth to the fullest, happiest.

"You lied to me," he reprimanded you amidst his weeping. "You left. You freaking left―"

Your vision blurred. "I'm sorry..."

Satoru let you go to have a good look at you. You were no longer bleeding. Your insides were intact. Just a little crying because you couldn't help it.

"I love you, you know that right?" he blurted with the most sullen expression he could muster. He turned back into the child-boy you somehow fell in love with.

"Satoru," you breathed out, anxious. "You shouldn't be here―"

"I should," he cut you with a firm tone. "I have no regrets. I have done what I can, and now―"

"But the others―they need you! They need you, Satoru."

He drooped his head. He had thought it over too, but he had come to a final conclusion. "No. They don't."

Maybe it was finally the time to let go of it. It was time to just... pass it over. No more interventions. No more tipping the balance of the world itself.

Immediately, you understand what he means. Gojo Satoru has served his purpose. There was nothing left that he must and could do.

"You waited long, huh?" you whispered with tears, yet a smile bloomed on your face.

"I did."

"Then... now that you're here," you offered your hand towards him, and then looked at the faces of your friends. They were all beaming at you and him, waiting for this exact moment.

You stared at him fondly, lovingly.

"Would you... walk this road with me once again?"

Satoru snapped his head. He nodded at you with pure certainty, zero hesitation. "Yes."

He took your hand, grasping it tightly in his.

"Even when there's a possibility that you have to walk to the other side of a nightmare again?”

"I would," Satoru resolutely replied.

Because it's you, he would. He'd willingly and gladly cross the throes of hell and set out on this lonely yet hopeful journey, just to meet you.

You chuckled at him heartily, and Satoru felt the immense love he held for you as the two of you walked towards tomorrow, without regrets.

It may be his curse, to have everything yet nothing at the same time. But each time he would be faced with this decision, he'd remember that feeling and let go of everything just for this very chance to live a life with you again.

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo satoru #jjk fic #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader angst #jjk236 #jujutsu kaisen #angst with a happy ending #or angst with a somewhat happy ending? #okay this actually spiraled out of control #satoru gojo x reader #jjk fanfic #gojo

[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

Preparations, Danny soon realized, were very much useless. He'd spend a while just watching the vigilante, recording his habits and schedule, following him around and taking note of the little details. Call him a stalker, but he was just trying to make sure Nightwing didn't end up in an early grave.

Not like him.

Any and all preparations Danny had made could not ever fully gear him up for actually talking to the only vigilante he'd ever met. Sure, he knew the guy from afar, but actually speaking to him? Looking him in the eye? Having the other look back at him and actually respond? The closest he'd ever gotten to letting the guy know he was there was when he left food out for him and made sure he had water, sometimes coffee, within reach at all times.

Now that Danny was here, standing in front of the door to Nightwing's - Richard Grayson, he'd learned on day three - apartment, he was frozen. Was he actually about to do this? Could he really risk it? What if Nightwing flipped out?

No. He couldn't think like that. Nightwing's a vigilante, a detective, and an officer of the law. He won't attack willy nilly. Besides, it was too late to turn back now. Danny knew way too much about Nightwing's life to back off now.

Not allowing himself to hesitate any longer, he reached up and pressed the doorbell. He didn't hear the sound, but shuffling from inside alerted him that the man he'd come to see was now moving towards him.

'I hope this goes well,' Danny thought. Then, the door opened. "Good, at least you're taking care of yourself and actually eating proper foods. Now, I'm here to discuss your extracurriculars and how to time manage them properly without running yourself into the ground." He didn't mean to enter the apartment uninvited, but he didn't want to risk Nightwing closing the door on him or something. "I've brought my own board with an ideal itinerary that I expect you to follow." He turned to look at the man. "Any questions?"

Nightwing rook a second to process the words. Then, he said, "Yeah, just one: Who the fuck are you, kid?"

Well, he was in this deep, might as well dig himself a deeper grave. "I would say I'm your new legal guardian, but you're older than me and I can't exactly adopt a fully grown adult." Right? Yeah. Danny sat down stiffly, his bag on the floor and leaning against his leg. He pulled out the binder he'd cleared out and dedicated to helping the older vigilante and put it on the table. "I could say that you're my new legal guardian, but we run into a similar problem." Kind of. Being dead is a legal barrier, so adoption's off the table. Transferred custody on the other hand? Well, he's got that taken care of. Though, he had to wonder, "Could you adopt me?" No, he couldn't think of a way that would work. "No matter."

Nightwing, still standing by the open door, shook his head a bit as if to clear his mind. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

Introductions? Yikes. "I'm Danny! Nice to meet you!" He had no idea how he's not completely bombed this yet, but he wasn't going to complain.

Nightwing didn't move from the door, let alone shake his hand. Danny put it back on his lap. "Likewise, I guess."

"What, no name?" Was that pushing it?

"I'm optimistic, not an idiot." Yeah, he'd towed the line a bit.

Shrugging to try and rid himself of the nervous butterflies in his stomach, Danny opened the binder to the front page. It was mostly so he'd have something to do with his hands, but it proved to be a decent distraction for Nightwing, too. Though, he pushed down a blush when he saw the glittery blue writing. It was the only other pen he had on him and he'd stolen it from Jazz.

The distraction didn't last. "How did you find this place?" Nightwing asked, the door still wide open.

"Doesn't matter." He didn't think the vigilante would take kindly to being stalked followed around the subject of a kid's curiosity.

Nightwing very much did not seem to believe him. "Why do you think I have a day job and a night job?"

Did he- Oh. The man was probably holding out some kind of hope that Danny wasn't saying what he was saying. Oops. Should he apologise? "I'm a realist, not an idiot."

Throwing the words back at him was probably not the best decision. Then, again, Danny hadn't made a whole lot of good decisions since he'd stepped foot in Bludhaven. At least here, there was a chance he could get away with it, relatively scot free. Imagine if he were in Gotham? With how violent Batman got recently? No thank you. He'd rather take his chances with his parents.

Danny did his best to not clear his throat as he flipped to the next page. "First thing's first. Why do you do what you do? Why go out at night to fight crime when, I assume, that's what your day job is for? Why hurt yourself to help other people?"

Those were all questions he'd had to ask himself before the portal destabilized. Why did he do what he does? Why risk himself to help the people who'd never thank him for his help? Why put his life on hold to do the job of adults?

He'd thought he'd had solid answers for them back then, but he wasn't so sure anymore. Regardless, this was a good place as any to start helping Nightwing.

If he could help just this one person, he'd be satisfied.

Part 3 Part 5

Tag List: @flame-343

#part 4 #danny phantom #dick grayson #dc #dp x dc #dp dc crossover #dcxdp #dcu #danny needs help #dick needs help #danny needs a hug #dick needs a hug #being a vigilante is hard #danny's a hypocrite #reverse adoption #work life balance #but it's being explained by a hypocrite 7 years younger than him #danny is going to make sure dick takes care of himself #is it really adoption if the kid shows up one day and just doesn't leave? #death is a legal barrier #danny's pov from part 1

[lizthewriter]

i'm right here / billy loomis

PAIRING  fem!reader x billy loomis

SUMMARY  you and billy had been dating for quite a while now. you had always been so dependent on him, so clingy, so needy, and you were starting to realize that maybe he didn't like you nearly as much as you thought he did. when you stop calling him and ignore him completely, he's not just angry, but he comes to the realization that he doesn't know who he'd be without you. he's lonely and he needs you just as much, if not more, than you need him.

TAGS  fem!reader x billy loomis, angst, fluff, if you squint, sexual tension, smut, only on the clothes stuff, billy wouldn't dare break my underwear rule, teasing, making out,, desperate men >>>, deranged men >>>>>, billy is a lil' toxic, just a lil' bit, cursing, slight stalking (come on, we're talking about ghostface here, get with the program)

QUOTE  "i'm calling you, pick up your phone . . . well i don't give a fuck about your friends, / i'm right here, here / well baby talk a look around, / i'm the only one that hasn't walked out, / i'm right here," - right here by chase atlantic

WORD COUNT  2.1K

WRITTEN  10.25.2023

A/N this is my first smut 😭😭😭😭 also i watched scream for the first time and if billy and stu weren't murderers ... omg 😭😭😭 anyways, i will get up another fic on sunday and one next wednesday ... PLS SEND REQUESTS FOR BILLY AND STU 😭😭😭😭

You once again hung up the phone in a huff - Billy has tried calling you for the fourth time that evening. You would have let the phone ring if the sound of it didn't set you off.

You tossed the clunky phone back onto the other end of the couch and settled onto the cushions with a relieved sigh. Finally, some time for yourself - you had been swamped with so much work recently, it was nice to finally take a moment to relax. You flicked on the television, channel surfing before the phone went off again. You groaned and picked up the phone, pressing the decline button before setting it back down. You let out an incredulous laugh at the irony of the situation. You were ignoring Billy because he barely spent any of his time with you and didn't seem to be putting anywhere near as much effort into your relationship as you were. You were so tired of being taken advantage of and eventually being walked out on by friends and family that you finally, for once, walked out on someone else first. But now, now that you've broken things up with him, he seemed interested in you.

"Asshat," you mumbled under your breath, finally settling on a channel playing some mildly entertaining thriller that was gripping enough to keep you interested, but not so much so that you were discerning and questioning every detail. You laid back down on the couch, head lolling to the side as you space out and got lost in your own thoughts. The one thing that startled you from your own head was the sound of the phone ringing once again.

More than irritated, you grabbed the phone and finally answered, shoving the clunk of plastic next to your ear. "Listen here Billy, I told you once and I don't want to say it again, I'm. Done -"

The voice at the end of the line spoke only your name in greeting, but it soundly oddly gruff and robotic. Not Billy's voice, which made you pause in hesitation. "Yes, that's me . . . what do you want?"

"I always thought The Sixth Sense was a sort of underrated masterpiece."

You launched up from the couch, fear settling into your gut as you glanced out the back patio doors outside. "What kind of prank is this? Stu, are you fucking with me again? Because I swear -"

"It's not Stu, sweetheart. Guess again."

You paused. It was a long shot. But why would he change his voice? You decided to play a little game of your own. "You know what I'm watching, so you must be somewhere outside, in the backyard, right?" You got up from the couch and stared out at the backyard, but no one was there. "Who is this? Randy? Bobby? Which ass decided to piss me off today -"

"I did." The voice, unexpectedly, came from behind you. You jumped at the sound and turned around to face Billy, who was holding up a portable phone. He hung up, tucking away whatever kind of voice modulator he'd been using, and took a step towards you. In return, you took a step back, placing your house phone on a nearby surface.

"What are you doing in my house, Billy? I'm having friends over soon, you can't be here."

"I came over to apologize."

"You?" You asked him incredulously. "Apologize? That's rich. I didn't know the word 'apologize' was even in your vocabulary."

Billy offered you a grimaced smile and took another step forward. "I really mean it this time, all right?"

"Oh sure, yeah, and I'm the Queen of England," you retorted with a roll of your eyes. You glanced at the clock and decided it would be best to prepare snacks now, before your friends got here. You began to walk past him, in the direction of the kitchen. "Go home, Billy, I'm done with you and your indifference."

Before you even took another step away from him, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his chest. He stared down at you, hunger, desperation, adoration in his eyes. You couldn't help but soften as you stared up at his face - even if you were doing this for yourself, you couldn't help but miss him. And fuck, was he the most beautiful bastard you've ever seen.

He ran his index finger along your cheek, his head bowed as his eyes trailed all across your face. "I didn't appreciate you like I should have . . . I realize that now. I guess it's true. You don't know how good something is until it leaves." He bowed his head closer and closer to you, and you couldn't help but feel yourself weaken. As though you hsd fallen prey to his seduction spell. You had to admit, it was easier to ignore his calls then to ignore his prescene, that sultry voice and those beckoning lips, the brown strands that you wanted to tug on oh so badly. "Give me one more chance. I'll prove it to you that I can be better . . . " And he said the one word you've never heard leave his mouth ever. His voice came out as soft as a whisper, as hot as the fiery gates of hell on your mouth. "Please. I need you."

Your breathes came out hot and heavy - you wanted him bad, so bad. But you knew you shouldn't. You always followed the same toxic, hurtful patterns. You needed to let go of the people that hurt you, but God you couldn't let him go. You tried to find an excuse.

"Billy, my friends are going to be here in ten minutes." Your voice came out much weaker, less assured then intended.

"I could give a flying fuck about your friends. They don't treat you right, no better than I did. Yet here you sit, cleaning the house, buying food and renting movies, all for people who could care less. If you're going to give someone a second chance, let it be me." He held up your hand, pressing gently kisses along the edge of it. His eyes met yours again, dark and lustful, filled with meaning. You just couldn't help yourself - you knew you'd regret this, but honestly . . . you didn't care anymore.

You finally grabbed the back of his head and pushed him down to meet your lips, hands tangling in those chocolate locks of his. His mouth tasted like pennies and cigarettes, apricot and clove. He was far from being shy, he equally reciprocated your actions if not overcompensated and pressed back into you hungrily. He was slightly rough with you, never enough to hurt you, only rile you up. He pushed you back towards the couch, your knees buckling as they met the cushions, forcing you to sit yourself down on the couch. His eyes roamed your body and he gestured towards your shirt.

You leaned up, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pulling him down to your level. "No. I'm tired of initiating. If you want me, come get me." You released his shirt, sitting back on the couch with crossed arms and watching his next movements.

His eyes widened in slight shock. You had never been one to take the lead and boss him around, but now that you had, he found it incredibly arousing. And he also felt he owed it to you to give you whatever you wanted. After all, he'd been a terrible boyfriend and if he was truly being honest, you deserved better. But that selfish, possessive side to him couldn't let you go, craved you like a starved man.

He pulled off his shirt, revealing the chiseled chest beneath. He wasn't paticularly buff, but he was certainly well built and plenty aesthetically pleasing. He bent down, latching his lips back onto yours. He allowed your hands to roam over his bare torso, smirking slightly at the groan that left your lips. His hands gradually slipped under your shirt, pulling it overhead and revealing the lacy bra beneath. As strong as he was, he was easily able to shift your position so you were laying along the length of the couch. He crawled on top of you, one hand laying atop your breast, the other being used as a crutch to keep him balanced. His lips returned to yours, wet and burning with passion, running along yours smoothly. His other hand slipped down to your waist, tightening around it as his tounge poked through your lips and into your mouth. You couldn't help the soft moan that left your mouth, hips rolling up to meet his. You jolted as you were met with something hardened, a shiver running down your spine.

"Billy . . ." You whined, eyes pleading with him to stop being so painstakingly slow. You wanted him and you wanted him now. "Please. I missed you . . . need you."

"S'okay baby," he responded, lips now meeting the skin of your neck. You missed the feeling of his nose brushing against your skin with every kiss, his roaming hands exploring every inch of your body, those glances from.his darkened eyes that almost unsettled you. "I'll take care of it, I promise."

He rolled his hips up into yours, causing a moan to spill out of your mouth. You had wrapped your arms around his back, hands digging into his shoulder blades. "Missed your pretty little moans, baby." He lifted his head away from your neck, hand running through your hair as he looked down at you. "Promise I'll be better, hm? You'd like that?"

He rolled his hips up again with a smirk and you shut your eyes tight, only able to respond with a high-pitched "mhm!"

"You're - such a tease," you gasped, opening your eyes again, a faint blush spreading over your cheeks.

"I thought you liked when I teased you, pretty girl." You hated the smug smirk painted across his cheeks, but the thing you hated the most was that he was right. You loved the teasing, the degradation, the humiliation, the praise. He knew just how to get you hot and bothered, so much so that you couldn't help but snap at him. You know he did those kinds of things on purpose just you'd give him an attitude and he'd get to punish you. But if you were being honest . . . it turned you on.

"Just - please."

"Please what?" He asked with innocent eyes, rolling his hips up harder but keeping the bulge in his jeans pressed against you this time.

You groaned loudly, clawing at his back. "Not - not fair."

"What's not fair? This?" He rolled his hips upwards against, drawing another moan from your lips.

"N-no, stop -"

He let out a mock sigh of disappointment and began to draw away. "All right, I'll stop, if that's what you really want."

"No!" You exclaimed loudly, grabbing his hand and pulling him back towards you. "Don't leave . . . please."

You wanted to smack that stupid little grin off of his face, but then he dropped his knee between your thighs and the words you had wanted to speak suddenly left your lips. He glanced down at your pajama pants, toying with the waistband teasingly.

"Say the words then."

"What?" You responded with furrowed brows.

"Say, 'Billy, I want you to fuck me.'" His eyes bore into yours - the sweet chocolate now turned to charcoal black. He loved the effect he had on you, he loved messing around with you. Especially when you got all flustered and embaressed like this. "Come on, say it. I know you can, sweetheart."

You paused. "Billy, I -"

The doorbell rang, followed by the sounds of giggles. Your friends all shouted your name and dissolved into another bought of laughter. You glanced back towards Billy, torn about what to do.

He pulled away with a gentle sigh, planting a final kiss to your forehead. "We'll pick this up another time, yeah?" Desperate sex with Billy was always good, at least, you thought.

You held onto his hand for a few more seconss before it slipped away as he walked backwards towards the stairs. He must have crawled inside your bedroom window like he usually does. "Okay. I'll call you in the morning?"

He grinned. "Sounds good, sweetheart. I'll pick you up, too."

The doorbell rang thrice more, your friends yeling at you to come answer the door. Billy grinned and departed up the stairs, but not before grabbing his shirt on the way out. You picked up your own shirt from where it had been discarded on the floor and pulled it on as you approached the front door.

Your friends greeted you enthusiastically as they entered your house and while they were all excitedly chattering about the movies you selected, you could only think of Billy, stupid, seductive Billy.

#— [ glizzy posts ☆ ] #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis smut #scream #scream 1996 #billy loomis #my writing #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my fic #writing #fanfic #billy loomis x you #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #ghostface

[verstarppen]

summary; slowly but surely that fake dating plan you cooked up starts leaving its confined lines

pairing; mick schumacher x fem!reader [ no faceclaim ]

a/n; babe wake up star finally made a mick smau this demands a national celebration; title is count me in by they. because i was listening to it when this story idea appeared between my brain folds TW for mention of food poisoning and hospitals (comedic purposes) but if you're in a place where this might make you uncomfortable i strongly suggest you avoid this post and i'll see you for the lando series update tomorrow, take care

liked by georgerussell63, lewishamilton, mickschumacher and 295,953 others

ynusername favourite necklace

view all 63,029 comments

georgerussell63 I so desperately wish my ability to read would disappear.

ynusername you got us in this mess now suffer the consequences georgerussell63 I didn't do shit, it's entirely on your shoulders.

mickschumacher why aren't you holding them

ynusername no hand holding before marriage please

houseofwebber if they ever break up you'll see me on the news actually

eastcoastbearman babe wake up micky/n are alive

lewishamilton Embarrassing.

ynusername just like this comment

liked by georgerussell63, logansargeant, mickschumacher and 590,201 others

ynusername took the dog out for a walk

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rothgothgasly stop calling me single in 29 different languages

albonite PARENTS ARE PARENTING

julyestie maman and papa

filipe3596 Hi God it's me again

setbackhamilttel mick the type of guy to say "i don't argue with my girl she tells me to shut up and i do"

ynusername it's true mickschumacher yeah setbackhamilttel THE LEGENDS REPLY!?

liked by estebanocon, totowolff, ynusername and 890,294 others

mickschumacher visiting my favorite corpse

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ynusername EXCUSE YOU I CAN EAT SOLID FOODS NOW

mickschumacher i did that on day 4 get good ynusername sorry that my guts aren't as cool as yours mickschumacher let me rearrange them, then ynusername that was smoother than my throw up

mclandolorian HE ESCAPED

baconforza weren't you also a corpse like 2 days ago

armstrongslayer ARE THE RUMOURS ABOUT THE FAKE DATING TRUE

ynusername anything to piss george off

liked by mickschumacher, lewishamilton, georgerussell63 and 201,506 others

ynusername if a doctor sees this for legal reason these are old pictures :)

view all 80,577 comments

lewishamilton And to think this all could've happened sooner had you people had the balls to say what should've been said.

ynlantern just like a bowl of cereal that's been collecting dust for an hour, it's still delicious in the end innit lewishamilton All's well that ends well, I guess.

vertiddieenjoyer the only people on earth that can go on a first date after 12 months of dating

nandogoat ao3 friends to lovers, fake dating, only one bed, 294k words, alternative universe - europe, no beta we die like mick's career in haas

osc_pastry i don't think they realize how funny this is to watch from the sidelines

pic credits: instagram and pinterest

blog taglist: @coffeehurricanes @iifloweringnightsii @jsjcue @lanando4 @fastcarsandshit @christianpulisic10 (hi besties hope you're having a lovely evening and you aren't also crying about the qatar quali)

#mick schumacher #mick schumacher x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #f1 social media au #f1 smau #instagram au #social media au #mick schumacher imagine

[surftrips]

BAD REPUTATION | LUKE CASTELLAN

HEARTBREAKER — CHAPTER 02

pairing luke castellan x fem!ares!reader

summary y/n is challenged by campers and her growing feelings for luke castellan.

author's note thank you for all the support on this series! i made a masterlist here so you can easily find the parts <3 as always, comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the taglist and lmk your thoughts :)

→ installment of this au read for context

Luke Castellan found it increasingly harder and harder to hide his feelings for you. He could no longer make eye contact with you without his face turning an embarrassing shade of red. In fact, he could hardly look at your face because somehow his eyes would always end up darting toward your lips, or even lower if you were wearing a certain tank top that day. 

“My eyes are up here, Castellan,” you quipped at him once. 

Quite frankly, it was ruining his own reputation around camp as the best swordsman and a stoic warrior. If word got out that he fell to his knees at the hands of an Ares girl, what would people think of him? 

As stories of your excellent skills got around, so did rumors about you. Everyone was interested to hear whose heart you had broken next, all because of that first fateful incident with a camper named Connor. 

Connor, son of Apollo, thought that he could challenge you to an archery competition. He had bet that if he won, he could take you out on a date. How could you resist the urge to prove him wrong?

A small crowd had gathered to watch the two of you. Some people rooted for Connor, trusting that his combat skills would be stronger because of his father. However, the innate strength and talent from your own godly father allowed you to become familiar with the bow and arrow rather quickly. 

“Careful, or one of your siblings will have to heal you later,” you warned. 

“Oh, I think you’re the one that’s going to end up at my cabin later,” Connor responded snarkily. 

You hated losing. It wasn’t an option for you. You didn’t care that Connor technically had the upper hand here, you were going to beat him regardless. 

The rules were simple: there were four targets. Whoever hit the most points, won. 

Connor went first, hitting an impressive 34 points. 

“Beat that, pretty girl.”

You tried not to cringe at his nickname for you, and confidently walked up to the front. You quickly scanned the crowd, eyes landing on the brunette-haired boy you didn't realize you were looking for. Luke smiled at you, and suddenly everyone else faded away.

Turning back toward the targets, you lined up your bow and arrow and took the first shot. You hit eight points, which was not bad, but you were going to have to do better in order to win.

Trying to hone in on your training, you closed your eyes for the next shot and trusted your instincts. You heard the arrow hitting wood and before you could open your eyes, cheers had erupted from the crowd. Bullseye. 

With 17 points left to beat Connor, you had to hit at least another bullseye. And you did just that. 

Turning to Connor, you said, “Any last words before I take this final shot?” 

“What time am I picking you up tonight?” he said, not losing hope just yet. You had to give it to him and his tireless persistence. 

Your eyes focused in on the last target, until all you could see was the gold center. It kind of looked like the sun, and reminded you of a certain someone. You released the arrow, but at the last second felt your finger flinch.

Shit, you thought. But the crowd had already begun cheering again, and you breathed out a sigh of relief. You had hit eight on the last one, just enough to win. 

“Okay, who’s next?” you declared triumphantly, not missing the disappointed look on Connor's face.

After the competition, Luke walked over to congratulate you on your win. 

“Hey, that was sick!” He placed his hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey, thanks!”

“You’re not beating yourself up over that last one, are you?”

“Wh- how’d you know?” You were silently cursing yourself for not making that last bullseye and blowing Connor completely out of the water. 

“I know you, Y/N. Don’t look so surprised.” 

“Okay, well, what am I thinking right now?”

“Hmmm,” he pretended to be lost in thought. “Dinner?”

“You know me so well.” 

Ever since then, various people at camp had challenged you to their own duels in an effort to ask you out, just for you to beat them time and time again.

You weren’t sure why anyone thought you would be interested in them, when you had not once expressed a want for any sort of romantic entanglements. Because that’s all they were to you, entanglements. Complicated messes that were hard to get out of.

“Okay, I need boy advice,” Annabeth announced.

“No,” you responded. This was the first of many sleepovers you, her, and Clarisse would have together. 

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“That’s my advice, do yourself a favor and just don’t.” 

“Okay, what’s the story?” the young girl asked. 

“I dated this guy once. Long story short, all men do is disappoint you. It’s not worth it.” 

“I second that,” Clarisse joined in. 

“Wait- who do you like?” you asked, processing Annabeth’s original question.

“Oh, forget it. I’m not gonna tell you guys now,” she responded.

“No, you have to tell us!” Clarisse insisted. 

When Annabeth didn’t respond, you and Clarisse began throwing pillows at her. 

“Stop! Stop!” she giggled. “Fine, fine. I’ll tell you guys.” 

You and Clarisse waited with baited breath as Annabeth formed his name in her mouth. “Percy.”

Chaos ensued. You’re pretty sure that you squealed loud enough to break glass and Clarisse nearly woke up the cabin on the other side of camp. Luckily for you guys, it was a weekend that many of the campers had gone home for. 

“Why are you guys cheering?” Annabeth asked, confused.

“Because we’re happy for you! Your first crush is so exciting!” Clarisse said.

Annabeth had always been like a younger sister to you and Clarisse, and you couldn’t help but be happy for her, despite your personal feelings about love. 

“Y/N, what do you think?” Annabeth turned to you. 

“I think you don’t even need our advice. Just be yourself, I’m sure he already thinks you’re amazing.” 

The young girl beamed at you. “I thought you were anti-boys.”

“I am, if it were up to me, there would be no boys here.” 

“Not even Luke?” Annabeth asked, feigning innocence.

“Well, is he a boy?” you responded.

“Yeah, but not just any boy….” Clarisse joined in.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you sat up on your elbows in bed. 

“Y/N, just admit it! He’s different!” Annabeth said.

“No, he’s still just a boy,” you said, trying to convince them, or yourself. 

Annabeth and Clarisse looked at each other knowingly, but dropped the subject before upsetting you further. 

The truth was, the thought of Luke Castellan terrified you. 

At first, you didn’t want to admit it. There was no way Luke Castellan liked you, and there was absolutely no way that you liked him back. Not in any universe, above or on earth. Not after you had made it your whole mission to swear off boys completely. 

Sure, you constantly picked each other as partners in Capture the Flag, sat next to each other over bonfires, and talked to each other everyday, but nothing friends didn’t do. 

You tried to be oblivious to his longing glances at you, the way his face lit up when he saw you, but Annabeth and Clarisse were not shy in pointing out each time he smiled at you like you hung the moon and stars. 

For years, Luke had repressed his emotions for fear of being perceived as weak. But each time you came around, he wondered if love could even be equated to weakness if he had never felt anything stronger. 

Liked by lukecastellan and 170 others.

tagged annaaabeth and clarisse

ynuser with the girls 🏹💕

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annaaabeth love youuu

clarisse so much fun!

lukecastellan ur foul for that last pic

ynuser whose side are you on

percyjackson second pic is me to you when i don't get invited to the sleepover :(

—

TAGLIST: @ravisinghs-wife @jules-loves-lukecastellan @favreader23 @clydeisalsoellie @yuminako @luxreziaa @eddiesdrummergf @whataprettyshadeofred @grace-928 @girls-and-guts @supercutszns @noodlesketchbook @birdiewriteslit @mitskiswift99 @idontevencare1223 @randomnpc456 @lucycarlisleswife @angelicdanvers @imguce @anitatvd (please lmk if you want to be added or i missed you!)

#bad rep series #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson series #percy jackson #pjo #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell x reader #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson x reader #pjo x you #luke castellan x you

[primaviva]

HUGS N’ KISSES

PAIRING: miles g. morales x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: your boyfriend, miles, invites you over to his place since his moms not home and he can finally have the door shut. but one teasing comment you made later and suddenly he’s asleep in your arms as you smother him in tender kisses. is he really tho?

WARNINGS/NOTES: pure fluff, one suggestive joke? heavily coded latina reader w implied curly hair, miles being petty, that’s all !!

“translations:” ¿qué onda? = whats up, novio = boyfriend, relájate = relax, chuleto = used to refer to a fashionable/flirty boy or fboy, tonto = idiot, lo siento = i’m sorry, princesa = princess

after an exhausting heatwave, new york had been graced with a week of downpours and cool streets.

you hadn't recently seen your boyfriend. yes, you spoke to him in your classes and in the hallways when you saw him at school, but it had been some time since you had last seen him outside of the school building. he frequently claimed to be busy with whatever the hell it was. but you decided against pushing it. miles is loyal to you and has been through a lot, so you don't push him to tell you when he's busy or doing something else to fill the time. instead, you wait for him to open up.

currently, you found yourself comfortably sprawled on the couch in the living room. the morning's heavy downpour had gradually subsided as the afternoon arrived, leaving behind a gentle drizzle that cascaded down the windowpane. without any particular program capturing your attention, this day seemed to be a slow one you just had to follow the vibe of. as you idly absorbed the atmosphere, your eyes wandered to the television, where a journalist was discussing the prowler's recent involvement in a local drug bust.

exhaling a sigh, you contemplated switching off the tv and surrendering to another nap, when suddenly, a notification chimed on your phone. your gaze shifted to the coffee table, where the glow of your phone illuminated the surroundings.

it was a message from your man, miles.

mi novio : ¿qué onda, mami? i miss you 😩😩

you couldn't help but roll your eyes at your phone as you silently read the text. miles had a penchant for playfully teasing and maintaining a smooth facade, all in an attempt to fluster you.

you : relájate… we texted this morning and it was you who stopped replying

you : but ig i missed you too

you could almost picture the expression on his face at that moment. maybe a subtle smirk adorned his lips in response to your sassy reply or the mention of missing him. or maybe he even did a small pout, feeling defeated that you didn’t completely fold.

mi novio : ik you missed me

mi novio : you tryna come over?

as soon as you finished reading the last line of his message, a loud laugh escaped from your lips. once again, he was acting cocky. your mouth stretched into a soft smirk as you realized you couldn't pretend that you didn't like the way he acted. it didn’t help how bold he was asking for you to come over. now that’s when you knew something was up.

the supple fabric made contact with your skin as you took up your phone and sat back against the cushions, instantly soothing your muscles as you typed up a response.

me : come over and do what lil boy…

with a laugh, you rose from the couch and strolled toward your bedroom, mentally getting ready. it was a familiar routine, the satisfying dance of teasing and banter that defined your dynamic. deep down, you knew you would end up there regardless, but relishing in the opportunity to playfully toy with him was irresistible.

you put your phone down on your bed as you opened your closet and began to put an outfit together. you felt your phone ding as you jumped into your jeans and pressed the buttons together. picking your phone up, you glanced at the text message that flashed across the screen.

mi novio : girl you know not the start with me

mi novio : and don’t act like i’m on some freaking timing when you texted the prowler to stop by your window the other night, ma

a gasp escaped your lips, and your hand instinctively flew to cover your mouth, overwhelmed by the sudden nervousness that surged through your body. your cheeks were so warm from the sudden boldness of his comments you swore you could feel the steam radiation off of them. you were well aware of his nature, but this time, he had truly caught you off guard with his little comeback.

your head quipped at the sudden notification that dinged your phone again.

mi novio : what’s wrong, you stopped typing? don’t get all shy on me now when you started it

mi novio : just come over and we’ll figure it out damn i jus wanna see you

despite your nervous state you couldn't help but smile warmly at what she said. miles isn’t always vulnerable but you loved the little crumbs you got when he spoke his mind. you could tell he really missed by just how much he was double texting, something he only does when he talks to you.

you : i'm comingg you can stop now 🫶

as you coated your hands with the product, carefully working it into a rich lather, a playful image of him rolling his eyes in response to your text crossed your mind. undeterred, you tenderly scrunched and massaged the product into your luscious locs. casting a final approving glance at your reflection in the mirror, you made sure your fit was good. with your headphones and house keys in hand, you slid into a jacket, being mindful of the weather. swiftly, you shot miles a text, letting him know you’d be there soon.

you took a deep breath as you stepped out of your house, the familiar door closing behind you with a soft click. the gray sky’s gentle glow kissed your skin, casting a dark hue upon your face. the sound of your footsteps created a comforting cadence as you strolled through the gloomy neighborhood. with each step you glanced at the dark shadows that had overtaken brooklyn throughout time.

within a short time, you found yourself on his block, reaching into your pocket to retrieve your phone and let him know you were about to pull up. as you turned the corner, his apartment building came into view, and there he stood, positioned at the entrance, patiently awaiting your arrival. clad in an oversized black puffer jacket, he exuded a sense of warmth, his hands tucked protectively into the pockets for an extra layer of comfort in the outside weather. drawing nearer, his face gradually came into focus, revealing the cool, icy gaze that harmonized with his stoic demeanor. yet, behind the stoicism, a gentle smile graced his lips, radiating a tenderness that could not be concealed around you.

he let out a sigh as a cloudy mist escaped his soft lips. “hey baby,” miles whispered, his voice raspy almost as if he’s a bit tired as he moves closer and wraps an arm around your shoulders, holding you close.

“hola chuleto,” you replied back, enamored by how gorgeous he looked in pale sunlight. you put your hand on his cheek and felt his supple skin beneath your fingertips. “so, can i get a kiss from my boyfriend now?”

before he responded, you prepared to start leaning up to kiss him but miles had playfully straightened his back and added to the distance between you two. you looked up shooting him an annoyed glare as a smirk painted his featuress.

“ah, mami. y’know i can’t resist you,” miles mumbled against your ear as he leaned back close to you and let out a small laugh.

he leans down and kisses you, both of his hands resting softly on your hips. he let out a satisfied hum as his lips met the warmth of your mouth. the feeling was something of ecstasy. he had missed you so much all he wanted to do was just be near you. his hand moves down to your lower back, pressing you against him. miles pulled back with a hum as he looked down at you with soft eyes as you gazed up at him through your wispy lashes. he pulled you into a hug as you both slowly rocked back and forth in each other's embrace.

as the chilly mist continued to linger in the air, miles gently pulled away from your embrace, his concern evident in his eyes. "hey, we should probably go inside the apartment building before we catch a cold," he suggested, his voice carrying a note of practicality. his words were accompanied by a warm smile, a gesture that conveyed both consideration and a desire to keep you safe.

nodding in agreement, you intertwined your fingers with his as a silent affirmation. miles opened the door to the lobby and guided you to the staircase as you began your descent up to his floor.

your kisses always had a way of melting his demeanor away into something much gentler, if your friends ever saw him this way they would barely recognize him.

as you reached the landing, miles fumbled for his keys, his hand briefly brushing against yours, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver down your spine. the door swung open, revealing the dimly lit and mostly empty apartment.

“you hungry? cus’ i cooked if you want anything,” he mentioned from behind you as he locked the door.

"cooked too, huh? and here you are always tryna act all hard," you giggled. "no, i’m good but thank you"

it always was amusing to you how miles acted so differently than how he actually felt but at the same time it gave you butterflies that he had made something with you in mind. he really did have a soft spot for you.

miles shot you an annoyed glare at your words. he never liked being called out, did he?

“i’m not hard or whatever,” he mumbled as he reached behind you, his large hands going around your waist to pull you close behind him before removing your jacket and putting it on the coat rack.

miles turned, catching sight of the amused expression on your face. his eyebrows furrowed in curiosity, prompting him to take a step closer, deliberately lowering himself to meet your eye level.

“yeah, i cook,” miles stated, licking his lips. “so i don’t know why you’re giggling at me. a man can’t show off his skills once in a while?”

before you could let out another laugh, miles had grabbed you by the hand and dragged you into his room.

“c’mon, let’s relax and watch a movie or somethin,’” he suggested as you both made your way inside and kicked your shoes off.

miles settled onto his bed, reaching for his laptop and powering it on. as the soft, ethereal glow of the screen bathed his face in a light blue hue, he started looking for fall movies.

"and what movie might that be?" you asked, your expression tinged with curiosity and skepticism.

"i wanna watch a scary movie, but you're too scared so i'm letting you choose. just no more romcom nonsense." miles pleads as he pats the space beside him.

"whatchu mean romcom nonsense?" you repeated in a mockingly hurt tone. "i don't wanna hear that from somebody that said jason x was heat…”

"oh? so we gon bring that into this,” miles groans as he lays back onto the couch, pulling you down gently so you're laying on top of him.

you looked up at him with yet another raised brow as a small pout formed onto his playful lips. "jason x was heat, you're jus’ too much of a hater.”

“yeah i am a hater, but because i love you imma refrain from clowning you for that false statement,” you playfully teased, feeling miles grab your shoulder and lean back, creating a comfortable space for you to rest against his chest. he smirked, and you could tell he was enjoying the banter.

miles sighs, "alright alright, i guess jason x wasn't the greatest...”

he shifted slightly, propping himself up to lean over your body, his gaze fixed on you with gentle intent. with a tender touch, he reached for the blanket, enveloping both of you in its warmth as he carefully draped it over your bodies.

“jason x sucked,” you spat out as miles began to tuck the blanket into your sides.

miles reclined once more, his arm finding its place on your shoulder, drawing you even closer to him. the warmth of his touch sent a pleasant shiver down your spine.

"you always smell good," he remarked, his voice laced with admiration, as he gave your waist a gentle squeeze. "is that the perfume i got you?"

a smile effortlessly spread across your lips at his question. the fact that he had noticed the fragrance you wore, especially since it was the dior one he had given you some time ago, filled you with a sense of excitement.

"could you really tell?" you asked, feeling a bit bashful.

he could sense the flustered effect his words had on you and responded with a sly smirk. as the remote made a satisfying click noise, miles finally selected a movie, capturing your attention. it was a satirical classic— a scary movie that promised both fright and laughter. "of course, i could tell," he quipped playfully, "the bag it came in made my room smell for weeks."

the sassy retort that was on the tip of your tongue dissolved into laughter, unable to resist the infectious humor he exuded. these were the things that made you appreciate his sarcasm even more, and more importantly, made you realize just how deeply you loved him.

miles smiled down at your laughing form, relishing in the pure joy that radiated from you. his fingers danced through your hair, a soothing gesture he often performed, as he loved these intimate moments you shared. planting a tender kiss on the crown of your head, he tightened his embrace, drawing you even closer as the movie commenced.

giggles escaped your lips as his hands continued to play with your hair, his gentle touch leaving a trail of butterfly kisses along your scalp. as the movie progressed, your positions shifted, with miles essentially becoming your cozy human blanket, his body nestled on top of yours.

with one hand lightly caressing his scalp, you both remained engrossed in the film. however, you couldn't help but notice the subtle heaviness in his eyes. between funny scenes, instead of laughing he would slowly blink, accompanied by silent chuckles that escaped his lips.

"tired?" you ask softly, noticing his drowsiness.

he responds with a gentle "mmhm" and a light snore, his grip on you tightening as he draws you closer. despite his fatigue, it's evident that he finds complete comfort and trust in your presence. as he starts to drift off, his breathing becomes more relaxed, and his hold on you gradually weakens, revealing his vulnerability. in this moment, there's no facade of stoicism or toughness, just the authentic him.

as the movie reaches its conclusion, the blooper reel snaps you back to reality. you reach for your phone in the corner, curious about the time. your heart sinks as the bright text on the screen reveals it's already 9:30.

"my mom is gonna kill me," you whisper under your breath, a hint of worry in your voice.

turning to your boyfriend, who is sound asleep in the crook of your neck, your senses come alive as each gentle breath of his tickles your skin.

"miles?" you call out, trying to rouse him from his nap, but there's no response.

cautiously, you place your hands on miles' shoulders and gently shake him, hoping to wake him up. but of course, he remains deep in his sleep, undisturbed by your sad attempts.

out of desperation you continue to try, shaking him a bit more, but it seems miles is completely lost in dreamland, his snores filling the room. he shifts slightly, but remains peacefully asleep, holding onto your neck and cuddling you tighter.

this turns out to be the worst possible scenario for you. the impending lecture from your mom, the potential attack with a lanky shoe, the grounding— everything seems likely to happen. miles shifts once again, clinging to you, and you can't help but feel both exasperated and affectionate in this bittersweet moment.

"miles, please..." you silently pleaded, but as you looked down at his serene face, a wave of tenderness and adoration washed over you. he looked so peaceful and irresistibly cute, and a part of you hesitated to disrupt his slumber.

a defeated huff escaped your lips as you surrendered to the sight before you. his bottom lip slightly tucked under his top lip, his eyelashes resting gracefully against his cheeks, and the faint smile that graced his face as he dozed off—all of it captivated your attention. it was an irresistible combination, making his features appear kissable and utterly adorable. the soft snores he emitted only added to the charm.

unable to resist any longer, your desires took over. cupping his face gently, you leaned down and pressed a tender kiss on his forehead. miles stirred slightly at the unexpected touch of your lips, but his response only made him look even more endearing as he leaned into your affection.

a smile played on your lips as you let go of any reserve, fluttering his face with multiple kisses. from his hairline to his cheek and jaw, your kisses were light and ethereal, filled with both gentleness and profound love for him. another kiss found its place on his nose, until the vibration of your phone interrupted the moment once again—your mom calling.

"damn, i really have to go," you muttered under your breath. summoning the courage, you slowly maneuvered miles off of you without disturbing his peace. gathering your belongings, you kneeled by his bed and pressed a gentle kiss on his scalp, one last show of affection before you run on home.

as you tried to move away, he unexpectedly grabbed your thigh, his grip leaving a faint imprint. with a laugh, you carefully pried his slender fingers off, savoring the sweet connection before leaving his side.

"goodnight, tonto," you whispered teasingly, ready to make your exit.

just as you were about to close the door, you heard miles mumble something under his breath.

"goodnight, ma."

he had been awake the entire time.

in an instant, it was as if you were hit with a flashback, remembering how you used to mock miles for his tough and stoic demeanor. was this his way of playfully getting back at you, by pretending to be a big baby?

"don't 'goodnight ma' me! you weren't even asleep this whole time?" you exclaimed, feeling a mix of surprise and embarrassment wash over you. the kisses you had showered him with while he was awake suddenly felt awkward.

"oh, come on, don't be embarrassed. i'm sure we both enjoyed it," miles chuckled, sitting up and leaning against the bed frame. "yeah, i was just messing with you a bit. it was funny."

"yeah, i bet it was real funny," you retorted, crossing your arms and standing defiantly in the doorway. "you always play too much."

miles let out a laugh, thoroughly amused by the small pout that formed on your lips. he rose from his comfortable position on the bed and approached you.

"aww, is la princesa mad at me?" miles teased, leaning down to your height, playfully taunting you.

"oh, can't you tell?" you shot back.

as miles sluggishly smiled, he couldn't help but say, "but you're so easy to mess with."

"being easy to mess with doesn't mean you should actually do it! i thought you were asleep for real," you commented, moving closer to him. "lo siento, pero i have to go home before my mom skins me alive or something."

miles mumbled, "didn't deny that you enjoyed it, though," clearly trying to push your buttons.

and it worked.

"miles!" you called out, your irritation evident in your voice.

"you're cute when you get all angry, you know that?" he continued to tease, his words meant to playfully provoke you.

as much as you wanted to maintain your anger, you couldn't help but let out a dry chuckle. you were still annoyed with him and his antics, but there was no denying the underlying affection he had that melted your heart.

he goes in for a hug, sighing softly as he kisses your cheek while embracing you. "alright, mami, go home before her anger starts to grow and she starts getting the chancla," he teases, but there's a hint of wistfulness in his expression as you prepare to leave.

you laugh at his joke. "don't manifest that for me!" you reply, worry in your voice as you slip on your sweater. miles walks you to the door, still holding onto your arm.

"no promises," miles jokes back. when you reach your front door, he keeps his grip on your arm and smiles. "i had a lot of fun today." he glances down briefly, his cheeks turning a shade of red.

"yeah, today was nice," you reply, returning his smile.

he doesn't say anything in response, instead emitting a soft hum. you turn to face him and smirk as you notice miles leaning in.

however, you interrupt his attempted kiss with a finger, playfully reminding him of his prank. "should i tho?"

"aww, come on, i'll make it up to you," he pouts, looking down. "please?" miles appears genuinely sad, and it becomes clear that you won't be able to keep up your annoyed facade for much longer.

frowning, you find yourself unable to resist any longer. you rise up on your tiptoes and cup his cheeks before leaning in for a kiss.

miles' eyes light up in surprise as you kiss him. after a moment, he kisses you back, and the kiss lingers on. eventually, miles breaks the kiss, his cheeks flushed and a smile on his face.

he looks at you, his expression hopeful. "are you not as mad at me now? did i make it up to you?"

"hmm, i'm not as mean as you, so i guess you're forgiven or whatever," you say, rolling your eyes playfully as you step outside, ready to start your journey home.

"so dramatic," miles chuckles, watching you walk away. however, he stops you at the door, a mischievous grin on his face. "hold up, did you see how red your face got?" he pokes your cheek and teases, "i didn't know you got that flustered." miles continues to poke your cheeks while smiling, clearly enjoying teasing you a little too much.

you give miles a deadpan look as he laughs at your reaction, not quite amused by his amusement.

miles kisses your cheek once more as you walk out, and calls out to you, "be safe and remember to text me when you get home!"

you hoped too that you’d be safe.

what awaited you at home, however, was pure hell. your mom sent you straight to your room after a heated argument that you wisely chose not to escalate. the interrogation that followed only added to your annoyance. you were definitely in trouble.

as you changed into your pajamas, you settled near your window and observed the serene scene outside. the orange and green hues of the falling leaves gracefully descended from the slender trees, landing softly into puddles. it was a tranquil moment, and you found solace in witnessing the slow descent of the fall beauty.

suddenly, a notification from your phone interrupts the peaceful atmosphere. it's from miles.

mi novio : i miss you already mami…

with a sense of contentment, you let out a loud giggle and swiftly reached for your phone to respond to miles. despite the trouble you’re now in with your mom, at this moment, it feels like a small price to pay for spending time with your boyfriend.

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