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prettyboykatsuki · 3 days

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BLOOD FEUDS, ANCIENT AND MODERN | RYOMEN SUKUNA.

✮ tags ; no curses au, blood incest, use of honorifics (oji-san) abuse (mostly verbal / emotional), classism, grooming / generally predatory behavior, large age gaps (20+ yrs), blood feuds, imbalanced power dynamics, white collar crime, afab + fem!niece!reader, uncle sukuna, the word rape used in text, non/dubcon (not noncon necessarily), fingering, petnames (little one, kid, little lamb), thigh-fucking, and other things, very horrible and gross sukuna behavior 18+

this is very dark and it deals BRIEFLY with sukuna being very predatory to reader when she's UNDERAGE / young. nothing explicit happens WHILE she is underage, but sukuna does leer at reader and it is mentioned. please proceed with caution !!!

PLEASE HEED THE TAGS BEFORE YOU PROCEED!!!

✮ wc ; 10.3k (???????????)

✮ a/n ; thank you vic @saintshigaraki for always indulging my nonsense and also tomfoolery. kissing you.

i'll be honest lads this one got away from me BAD jksdfhjs. i think its interesting at least.I KNOW THE TAGS ARE WICKED but i promise its like. kind of sexy at least.

also yes the title is from the rdr2 soundtrack shhh

✮ synopsis ; blood is thicker than water. resentment, you think, is thicker than both.

Bastard.

An intimately familiar title, lacking tooth and effect. It's meaning eroded with time and usage - and a moniker you've wielded proudly for as long as you can remember. You don't recall much of your life before it became part of you.

The daughter born of wedlock. Bastard daughter. The only remaining stain to your family's reputation aside from your late father.

Your mother often tells you that you were her hardest child to birth. When you were littler it was a story relayed to you with affection, and but now it's with such bitter hatred you can feel it lodged in your throat.

The most important element is the predestination in it. You came into the world kicking and screaming, throat hoarse and violent. From birth, you knew you were half-forged with bad blood and came into the world trying to be absolved of it. It's shaped your life, your relationships, everything about you.

The other half of your DNA, the good half, is from your father. Before you were a bastard, you were your parents' only child. Your father was a good man. The best you know. An average, humble man. From a generation of other working class men with a tough job in construction. Your best memories come from when he was still alive.

A quiet life, untainted by the residual bitterness of your mothers heritage. You lived away from it, outside of it. The mother in your memories from back then seem like a dream now, some mirage from long ago - disinterested in anything but you and your father. Your mama and papa. Your father took good care of you both, and your mother loved him madly.

You lived as a normal family in a small apartment just outside of Gifu for the first seven years of your life. You attended a small local school and had friends with crooked teeth and messy hair.

Your childhood was mostly happy if you break it up into pieces like that. Blissfully uneventful.

There's a concise break of change of what your life was versus what became of it. Your fathers death the splinter in the wood, separating the two halves.

The worst of your childhood, of course, came in your fathers passing. Not just because of the loss, but what it made of your life. His funeral welcomed people of all walks of life with the most notable absence of your elusive mothers side of the family.

Another old memory you have with your mother is looking at her face during your fathers wake. The deep darkness of her eyes, sunken in and hollow. The first time you ever found her terrifying instead of comforting. While the world mourned your father, your mother—you think—mourned her life.

Forced into single motherhood with no prospects and no career, your mother decided it was best for the both of you to return home.

You think the worst of your life started there.

Your mother's side of the family has never welcomed you with open arms. You wouldn't come to know why until much later. You were a child then. There's no way you could've known about feuds that deep.

The only thing you knew was that you were hated vehemently, and nothing could change that.

Your grandmother's estate was always frightening to you in your childhood. You've yet to grow out of that feeling despite living there for the last fifteen years. It's remained unchanged since you moved in and the lights in the hall never seems bright enough. Jade green painted walls and white tile floors. Some rooms have classically Japanese flooring and heirloom paintings from the Heian era. Others modernized with sterile whites and grays and house plants that add no life to it at all. Stretched wide with tens of rooms, and easy for a child to get lost in.

A sinking abyss. A terrible place. A dark labyrinth. Anxiety inducing to even think about now. No place for a child your size or your age.

The best way to describe your childhood after your father died was cold. Removed from your life in the suburbs and placed among other rich kids, you became overtly self-conscious of the differences between you and them. Them being anyone who grew up wealthy and your other extended family. You were constantly reminded of your place as the bastard child. Later learning how your mother left her fiance many years ago for your father, your poor and worthless father.

(You theorize any warmth that your mother had for you was buried in your dead dads casket. Living there, among them, made sure she'd never find it again.)

Your mother is the most complicated part of your life. You don't have a time for when she gave up on raising you. There was a year when she tried, you think. For the most part, you lived in that house utterly alone.

At first that abandonment was miserable (as it would be to any child, certainly) but a time came where you were glad you saw so little of her.

Your mother, who you had once loved and thought highly of, became a pitiful prey animal in the four walls of your grandmother's house. Small and anxious and utterly hateful. A bunny born with some cosmic knowledge and horrific understanding that its destiny is to become food for a wolf. Viciousness between her siblings, no doubt fostered by your grandparents and their establishment, tore apart the aspects of her your father mended and ruined her. You were too little to stop it.

Blood feuds that ran bone-chillingly deep plagued most of the interactions with your extended family for as long as you've been a part of them. Your mother has exactly four siblings. Two sisters between her with her as the middle daughter, and two brothers. One of which is estranged so completely you don't know his name.

And the other being your Uncle Sukuna.

Your hatred for your aunts and their children came to you rather naturally. For every gala and ball and charity fund your worthless bloodline ever raised, came catty arguments and verbal abuse from the shallow mouths of your beloved cousins. You had nothing to prove to anyone in that house. You were detested since your birth and your grandparents made no small effort to show you through as much neglect and verbal lashing as they could get away with.

Rotten girl. Cursed daughter. You're the reason your mother is like this. You're the reason she is miserable. You should've been buried with your father.

Compared to the experience of your grandfather ripping into you at age ten for simply being alive, your cousin's commentary on you was remarkably uninteresting. You resented them for being nuisances, though, with the exception of maybe one who bucked it out of that place as soon as they could. Just like you planned too.

For a long time, Sukuna wasn't around enough to have a real presence in your consciousness. You tried not to think of your extended family more than you had too. You got used to not knowing about your relatives living there, but there was no one so elusive as him.

It was as if, increasingly, you heard whispers of his name at everything you were forced to attend.

The first time you ever meet your Uncle, you're freshly sixteen. It's the birthday party your mother throws for you each year in an effort to show how close the two of you are to the rest of your relatives.

The first time you see Sukuna in person, the only thing on your mind is how much he stands out from the rest of your relatives. He's a head taller than the tallest person there, and he's...bigger. He's not clean or neat, scruff lining his chin. Old, dark eyes. Visible tattoos that reek of disgraced son and hardly of prodigy.

At sixteen, you understood intimately what your family considered to be gold standard. Your uncle was antithetical to it. His very existence a paradox to the ideas you've had been hammered into you for years. Dyed hair, piercings, tattoos - his suit jacket undone to expose his chest. Lacking respect and formality and dignity.

He was a lot like you. You got that impression, somehow.

When your eyes met with your uncles for the first time, you had your second fully formed thought about him.

Dangerous. Like an alarm. Like a ringing bell, throbbing through your skull and pulsing through your teeth. Some part of you just knew that he was a very dangerous man. Not just a wealthy one.

The first conversation you ever had with your uncle proves to be the most significant. Brief, yet - tonal in all ways. The gold standard for how he viewed you. How he would view you.

How he would treat you.

("So you're the new brat,"

Your uncle is an imposing man. You are sixteen and slightly tipsy, which is the least horrible thing you could be since your other cousin is coked out in the bathroom upstairs. You sway, staring at him. You think that's disrespectful.

He's the kind of man who might kill you for that. Might hit you. But you don't find it in yourself to challenge your defiance when you're far from sober and even father form happy. You lean your weight to one side and hum.

"New bastard," You correct him, and take another sip of the flute of champagne in your hand. "My worthless fathers, worthless daughter."

Sukuna pauses, his eyes widening before his lips break out into a grin. You wonder if it's because you're drunk. You think he's staring at you. Your eyes are too blurry to tell but you think he's gazing down the low dip of your top. At the curve of your chest. Leering at the body you've yet to even grow into.

"Tenacious," Your uncle says, and takes a long drink of his sake. You stare at the edge of his glass, carmine eyes gazing so deeply at you - you think you'll throw up. "You're your mothers daughter. Through and through.")

The night of your sixteenth birthday, your uncle announced he'd be opening a business venture in Tokyo. All this time he'd been doing work overseas, but seeing family helped finalized his decision. You remember the look on his face when he announced it. Remembered his eyes searching on you through the crowd as he held the mic up to his lips. How he named you the main reason, one conversation and he grew so fond of his little niece. That you were a clever girl, and that even though he hadn't known you long - he was sure you'd go so far.

Happy Birthday to you, little lamb.

You remember best the feeling afterwards. How the crowd went nearly silent. Hundreds of eyes darting your way in seas of strangers. All the attention people hadn’t paid suddenly mattering, all the congratulations. You remember how they crowded you and how your uncle came to your rescue with a cheeky grin and air of nonchalance.

You remember feeling sick. You remember the chill creeping up your spine, bile in your throat - all wet eyes and nausea.

Your uncle is a dangerous man. And you, the uninteresting bastard daughter, had caught his full attention.

The next four years of your life would pass so slowly, you often wondered during them, if you died that night and you'd live through these days as punishment for the crime of existing.

A little after your birthday, your uncle moved back to Japan permanently - in a residence not far from your grandmother's estate. He became a permanent fixture in your life. Many things came with that reality, none of them being especially pleasant.

You learn three things in the four years you spend with your uncle in your life.

The first is that your uncle is more powerful than you can really understand.

Through conversations at your kitchen table about his escapades abroad, you learn nothing of the work he actually does. Only what it involves, who it involves - foreign governments and people much more powerful than your family. Your uncle has ties to the Gojo family, and the Zenins'. Your time here teaches you that they make up two halves of private militarized arms and they work domestically and internationally. The only thing you need to know about them is they are filthy rich, richer than your own family and twice as corrupt.

And Sukuna works with them. Knows them rather intimately, from the pictures you've seen of Sukuna and Gojo Satoru drinking together - two prodigal sons with silver spoons and unsettling demeanors.

The second thing you learn is that your uncle's power and influence extend past all borders and include your grandparents and relatives. In the years he'd been away from home, he's garnered a formidable reputation. You never cared to notice it before, but it's all you can see now. Every arrogant, vapid relative you have the displeasure of calling family sees your uncle as some sort of king. The golden ticket to grandparents approval. A wishing well for all their hopes and dreams - so long as they appease him.

They fawn over him. Sukuna knows it. But they're all so busy trying to get on his good side they never catch his subtleties. Never seem to notice the cold sarcasm and biting edge to his questions. They pander and peacock to him constantly, but not one of them has sense enough to understand him a little deeper. Except you, incidentally. That's part of your problem

The third thing you learn about your uncle is that he takes pleasure in your cleverness no one in your life has since.... who knows? Since your father died, you think.

And you are clever. A head smarter than the rest of your family and a try-hard in all aspects. You graduated highschool top of your class and got scholarships into better schools. It was never about proving your worth of course, but about survival. You wanted away from this place, and the only way to cut your ties completely is to carve a life for yourself. Academia, education, using your name to make connections - you've been working silently on it since you were in middle school.

The only person who'd ever noticed your accomplishments was Sukuna. In between his work, he'd visit you in your room. You grew close in one sense of the word. It was a secret kept between you - but Sukuna often reminded you of it. That he saw you for who you were when no one else did. That his interest in you exceeds your own understanding, and it'd be in your best interest to remember that.

Some half-way between threats and affection, for four years - your uncle remained at your side. Uneasy as you were, he'd never try to advance on you while you were still in highschool. Some part of you knew he wasn't above it. Rather his interest hinged on getting to know you.

Your uncle is above all things manipulative.

Rather he preferred to keep you on your toes during the duration of your time together. To get close but not too close. To get to know each other openly. Your uncle made sure everyone in your family knew of his fondness for you. He'd keep you close to his side or follow you around, always in public places with a million eyes. He'd whisper to you, laughed and asked questions.

You hated being the center of attention, so Sukuna turned it on you any chance he got. It made it hard for you to refuse him, but mostly it made it hard to go under the radar without his protection. It made it hard for your relatives to insult and berate you.

You hated it. You hated accepting his kindness, because you know your uncle well enough to know that everything in the world came with a cost. And that this protection is little more than luxury, promised to you as long as you played nice.

And you always did play nice. But you were cautious. Never alone too long in the same room. Never somewhere too late. Never drunk, never high. Always within distance of a door. Sukuna was a dangerous man, and you may be a bastard but you're no fool.

It'd work for years. You evaded any real alone time with him for years. Years.

Until earlier this year where your mother had made arrangements for you to spend the summer with your dear old Uncle - in his villa, far from the safety of Japan's main island.

In the years of your uncle's favoritism towards you, no one has been more pleased than your mother. You've come to hate her for it. Your relationship hasn't been good in years and for her to suddenly attempt to be your mother again felt like a mockery.

(It mostly felt like a betrayal. You didn't think she could betray you a second time after she all but abandoned you the minute she stepped foot in that house.

Like something possessing the corpse of the mama in your dreams, your seething hatred towards her started then you think.)

You'd spent years indifferent to her, but it was this change that made you hate her down to your bones. You were furious about the decision. Furious she didn't bother asking, furious about all of it.

About everything.

An entire summer alone with the man you know to be most dangerous to you. You wouldn't put it past Sukuna, to plan this around you - but it didn't make it any less frustrating.

("You'll be going with your uncle," Your mother says, hardly listening to you. There's a baby on her hip, your half-brother and a vacant look in her eyes. You feel your jaw tighten. "We've already made plans. Your stepfather,"

"Your husband." You correct. Your mother gives you a tight-lipped smile.

"We are going on a family vacation. Your grandparents wouldn't tolerate you here alone , so you're going and that's final."

"I don't need to live with you," You seethe, fighting the urge to grab her and punch her. You've never been violent. Your mother makes you homicidal. "I can find my own fucking place, I'm twenty I don't need-"

She slams something. Your half-brother makes watery eyes. She stares at you distantly, righteously angry. Whether she's earned that anger or not, it makes your mood worse. .

"This is the least you could for me. For us." She hisses, turning around. You think of killing her. "For all the shit you put me through."

"What I put you through? Fuck you," You admit, your throat burning like a star falling through the atmosphere. Then, through a shaky breath"There's something off about him, mom. Do you understand what I'm fucking saying? Where you're sending me?

Three expressions pass over her face. The ghost of grief, some kind of solace and then more vacancy. She swallows, turns around to keep folding baby clothes. Her voice trembles. She knows she's sending you to your doom. Knows what waits for you as soon as you go.

"You're going. We need this." She says, and still doesn't turn to look at you. Her voice is so frigid it doesn't sound like hers anymore. "That's final."

You shouldn't be shocked by it anymore, but it doesn't make it easier.

You slam the door on your wait out. You hope their plane crashes on the way there.)

You tried your best to worm your way out of the situation before the semester closed out. But Sukuna, three steps ahead of you at all times, made sure that wasn't possible. Your uncle owned a villa out on an island, private - and the bags had already been packed. You'll like it there, he assured you so many times, it's comfortable. There's a good view and the kids in the place will remind you of the kids you grew up with.

(It's hard not to notice the ways in which Sukuna tempts you into wanting to go. Though there's nothing, truly, that could make the experience a pleasant one - it's posed to appeal to you. A place to remind you of your childhood. You try not to think about it.)

Despite your protests, despite your vehement frustration - there was nothing you could do but go. If you didn't go with Sukuna, it'd be enduring 3 months alone with your grandparents. You could try to crash with friends but the friends you've made so far wouldn't dream of being so polite and you dare not think of burdening your childhood friends with your family problems. They deal with enough as is.

The last option was running away. You're desperate enough to entertain it. You do, several times - considering what the worst outcome could be. All scenarios end with Sukuna coming to find you, because he's crazy and connected like that. Even if he's deliberate in not displaying those parts of himself, you know his apathy to be a facade.

You know him well. He knows you well. It feels like a competition to see who can outsmart the other that you were forced into with no say.

So, come the end of your third year of college - a driver picks you up right as your finals are finished to take you to the airport. A private jet, a nauseating display of wealth just for your uncle to torment you with you're sure.

On the plane ride to a small island on the coast of Japan, you think to yourself that all gods in the world must've abandoned you before you were ever born.

The first few weeks of your stay in the island of Nii-jima prove to be uneventful.

For a small island, it's still governed through something related to Tokyo. It's not the city or even the country, some quiet and relaxing in between. There are people here who've lived for generations and others who are only touring. Your uncle's villa though, is far from all life - and a few miles out from a beach.

You can hardly understand what a single man needs such a big house for. There's staff there too, though less than at your grandparents place which you're grateful for. You've met six of eight, two of them people who take care of the yards and garden.

Sato-san is the woman you see most often. The one cook Sukuna has and the woman who's been working longest. She is kindhearted and sturdy, often bringing her grandchildren with her. She's quiet and motherly - and so warm you're unsure of how to behave around her. Your uncle is seemingly fond of her which is saying a lot. She speaks highly of him.

It's been so long since you've experienced something like maternal warmth, you're awkward around her. You try to not be too attached, try not to be fond of anything in this house because you know something horrible and dormant lies within it and you do not want to stay. Don't even want to entertain the idea of staying.

But Sato-san is good to you, with wrinkles and sunspots and a bright laugh. Her grandchildren are so well-behaved you wonder about how they were raised. A girl about seven and a boy about four, always quiet and inattentive. You've grown fond of them too, despite how bad you normally are with children. They're easy to be around.

You're frustrated mainly because you don't hate being here. The people are kind and welcoming and everyone locally is pleasant and good. You've been in the city too long, with insane people too long, and everything feels refreshing. The bus here is free and you can be at the beach whenever you like. You've made friends here - organically, with no strings attached. .

For the first time in your twenty years of living, you even have a guy you think is cute. It seems small, but back home everyone knows who you are. You've never had a relationship work out for one reason or another, but here? Here no one knows you, and the boy you meet at the beach with his friends is just a boy.

You don't want to like being here, but you do - and you don't want Sukuna to come back and he will. Nothing ever works out for you.

The worst of your luck you think builds on the edge of that thought.

You come home tonight doing a lot of things you would not normally.

For one, you've gotten yourself drunk. The reason being the cute boy aforementioned invited you down to the beach with his friend. You justified going thinking if you were going to be miserable all summer - a single good memory wouldn't kill you.

You had fun. Your swimsuit is underneath your short skimpy clothes, and you sat in his lap and made-out with him all evening. Got to pretend you were a normal girl and you got to kiss for the first time. You still reek of alcohol and his cheap cologne. Blissfully uneventful.

When you stumble into the foyer of the house with blurry vision and hear the T.V. playing, you know it instinctively that peace is going to be short-lived. You know that your uncle is home, and that he was waiting for you.

All the hairs on your neck raise. A shift in the atmosphere makes it hard to think clearly. Your lungs barely get enough oxygen in them to keep you upright. You think of leaving. You think of running up marble stairs to your room in hopes he won't catch you.

"Brat," Is yelled from the living room. Right, as if you'd ever get so lucky. You jump in your skin. "You home?"

Your stomach churns. You feel sick.

"Come to the living room."

You go obediently when Sukuna calls you, trying not to stumble over your two feet.You don’t think there’s more options than fearful compliance.

Your uncle is watching Scarface on the big flatscreen on the TV. The subtitles are on in Japanese though you don't think he needs them. He only barely turns his head to look at you, his interest piqued when he sees what you're wearing.

You feel sixteen again, self-conscious of your body and womanhood. He hides it even less than he did the first time - the leering. He notices your skimpy shorts and top, the bottom of your bikini. And he grins, and stares but doesn't say anything.

"Oh?" He says, calm and casual, glancing back at the T.V. "Finally went and had some fun did you? Thought all that studying turned you into a bookish little shut-in permanently."

You don't say anything, arm clutching your other self-consciously.

"Did you need something?"

He snickers, low and predatory. "Come on. You're here to spend time with me so let's spend time together."

You don’t bother asking where he’s been for the last few weeks. Your gut churns, feet heavy as they drag you to the far end of the couch. Sukuna stares as you sit hesitantly. You have no doubt he's going to make you move, but he's kind enough to leave you alone for now.

"Have fun on your..." He gives you another knowing look then laughs. "Outing?"

You aren't sure how to respond. "Just drank with some friends."

"Friends," He mimics, feeling the words out in his mouth. "The kind of friends that smudge the lipstick off your mouth, huh brat?"

You flush suddenly, embarrassed - and Sukuna barks a laugh. You don't know what he's expecting you to say there so you opt for nothing.

"Sorry," Is the only thing you can manage. Placating. He lets out a puff of air through his nose and relaxes further. There's an air to him, of nonchalance, that unsettles you more than if he was angry or unpleasant. Your throat bobs.

"You're a big girl now," He comments - sleazy and indignant. His indecency towards you, about you glints like a star. A sharp canine and piercing red eyes examine you from his peripherals. "Now that you're showing off it's only natural boys flock to you, hm?"

You can't explain the way this comment makes you feel. So much said with so little. The gap between is and has always been miles wide except sometimes it's not. Your uncle is unusual. Cold-blooded, manipulative, ruthless. There's no warmth in him in a comfortable, loving way.

There's even less of a normal relationship between you.

But you both exist in this space with... similar awareness. Of the world. Of yourselves. There's a conscious intelligence to him that's reflected in you - that you are both fractured parts of your grandparents bloodline in two separate bodies. That self-awareness affords him a presence. In your mind. In your fear.

You are undoubtedly related. Sukuna revels in that.

It’s rare to see that kind of awareness in your family. You’ve never felt threatened by people dumber than you, even if they had more power or money. Vapid and shallow and useless - there’d never been anything that could win you on. It might sound cocky, but it’s true. It’s been true.

It’s why Sukuna frightens you. He has everything, but above all - he’s smart. And hard for you to read.

You swallow, shakily - your eyes looking down at your hands. In a profoundly long beat of silence, the movie plays. A fair bit of gunshots echo through the loud speaker and they startle you.

"You scared? Come sit closer, then." He tells you, less than asks you.

You stand and sit next to him, still a distance away. Sukuna remains unmoving. You don't know what to do with yourself.The silence seems to stretch for miles and minutes. Sukuna just watches the T.V. and stares at his phone - occasionally answering messages. You stay like that for a long time.

"Need a smoke," He says, and it's not really directed at you. "Maybe later. Wouldn't wanna make you sick."

"People smoke around me all the time."

"Do you smoke?"

You shake your head, too tipsy to lie. He laughs at that. "Not even weed?"

You don't bother mentioning legality, you both know it doesn't matter between your lineage.

"Don't like the taste."

"How interesting. What a straight-edge kid. Most I've seen you get is drunk and this is the drunkest I've ever seen you. Still sober enough to talk clearly though."

"I just drink socially,"

"Ohh," He says, and then grins a little sharper. "A little shot of courage to fuck that little college boy then?"

This makes you jolt. "We didn't fuck—"

"No?" He looks genuinely surprised at this, though it's mild. "Poor kid must've wanted too if you came around him wearing that. Unless he came in his pants soon as you sat on him. Boys that age do stuff like that,"

The comment about his age reminds you of how old your uncle really is, and something in your chest flares hot.

"It wasn't that either—I've never-"

He cuts you off. "You're a virgin?"

You flush, stopping yourself from answering and he laughs.

"Ohhh, that's good. Very good," He grins, so genuinely pleased it makes you shiver. "I like virgins. Easy to please."

"That's—It wasn't for you."

For the first time in your relationship, Sukuna bridges the gap between you. He sits up and forward, his hand finding the bare skin of your knee. He rests it there, his thumb circling the flesh.

"Don't touch me," You hiss. Sukuna tightens his grip, but not threateningly. He turns to look at you that time, and you can't help but look back.

There's something in his degeneracy that horrifies you. It's fondness, you think. Genuine fondness.

"You sure?" He licks his teeth in a way that reminds you of a wolf. But not one that's starving. There's no desperation in his actions, but a self-assurance. Wolves don't often survive alone, but Sukuna has. And he hungers with the confidence of a predator who has killed all that stand before him. That's never been told no to what he wants to eat.

Your heart stops. Your voice a low whisper. "Stop,"

"You say that but you came in the house looking all desperate for sex and approval. You always look like that. Have for a little longer than what's normal for a girl your age,"

"I don't look like that!"

"You would've fucked that little college twerp if you stayed wouldn't you? Nothing wrong with honesty, brat."

Before you have a chance to understand what goes on around you, Sukuna changes position. You've never gotten a chance to feel and experience how strong he is - not like the way he's manhandling you now. You gasp at the arm around your waist and back. He pins you to the couch in a swift motion, not sure how he's done it, the alcohol making you dizzy.

Sukuna has never crossed the boundary with you like this before. Your heart is thumping loud, beating against your ribs. The source of it eludes you. If it's fear or discomfort or some other thing entirely causing such noice.

There's a certain blase in his attitude that makes you forget momentarily about the taboo and gives way just to the tension between you. You feel it for the first time with his body pressed against you, all hot and heavy. He smells of cologne, but it lacks the acidity cheap ones tend to have. There’s strong hints of cigarettes and aftershave accompanying it. Appearance wise, he has lines in his face like a man in his forties.

You don't know what's wrong with you. With a relationship so fucked up from the start, you thought crossing this line would feel different. You think you want to throw up, but you're completely calm.

You want to be disgusted. You want to thrash and kick and scream and fight. You squirm away from him, the threads of what's left of your moral conscience urging you to do so. Like a last ditch effort to keep you sane.

But there's just. Something. Something so inevitable about it that your heart doesn't beat at all. The panic itself feels hollow in nature. You are a rotted log and Sukuna has ripped the soft wood out of you with relative ease. But you’ve been that way for a long time, and nothing hurts. Not really.

It's relieving in the worst way.

"Get away from me,” You whisper again with noticeably less fight. Sukuna looks at you bright-eyed.

"You're a good kid," He says. The genuine praise knocks the air out of your lungs. That disgusts you more than anything else happening between you so far. "Interesting. A lot brighter than the other kids in our family."

Our family. You wince. .

"Stop, this is—" You don't know what word to use. He's your uncle and you're his niece and he's been gazing at you like this for god knows how fucking long. "Stop."

"You've got something going on behind your eyes at least, even if you're still just a wet-nosed and angry little housecat," He says, staring down at you. He's so imposing. His facial hair and his various tattoos. Everything about him, down to his bones. "But I can't tear my eyes away from you at the same time. You know that?."

You do know that. You cast your gaze away.

"I applaud how cautious you've been. But it didn't make a difference in the end. You know that too, right?"

You don't say anything.

"Clever little lamb you are, indeed. I like that about you." He hums, leaning down closer to you. His face is inches from yours. "You should be smart enough to know how this ends. But you know, you've been so entertaining to me this whole time I feel like I should at least be a little nice. So I'll offer you something. A deal of sorts, we can even write it on paper."

This catches your interest and he knows it does. He knows. You’re cut from the same cloth. And this place has made you lose your character, just like it always does. So if it means your survival and sanity or your morals, one comes before the other.

He grins at you.

"Come stay with me. Here in Nii-jima and back at my estate at home. I'll take care of your expenses and whatever else. I have better connections than the old hag," He says, leaning down even closer to you. You can smell him. He's intoxicating "You can be away from everything. I'll even let you have boyfriends and girlfriends over. You can throw sleepovers. I don't care. You can do whatever you want."

"What's in it for you?"

You can feel his knee press up against your cunt through your shorts and you gasp, hand going up to his shoulder. "This. Been thinking about this tight little cunt for a while now. You'd have to be at my beck and call. We'd be the closest uncle and niece in all of Japan," He snickers.

You wince at the reminder. You hate yourself for considering it. "Why me? There are plenty of women who are dying to fuck you."

He scoffs a little.

"Once we get you a little farther from the trenches kid, you might start to understand me. Wealth, fortune, fame - all of it's fucking boring. I came back to Japan prepared to leave again but you made me stay. Not much more to it than that."

"You're fucking your blood-niece out of curiosity? Your sister's daughter?"

"My sister never did anything good with her life except marrying your father and making you." Sukuna says, and laughs lightly. You hate how validated it makes you feel. Your skin crawls. "I'll have to thank her for it. She'll be pleased.

You make a face at him, uncertainty. Apprehension. Fear. Frustration. Everything you’ve been compartmentalizing comes bubbling to the surface and making your head feel weighted with lead. You want to kill everyone and everything including him. You want to run away from this place. You want to go home, though you don’t know where that would be anymore. They demolished your old apartment years ago.

You think spending a few years getting fucked and used might be less miserable than the suffocation of living with your mother and your baby brother and your grandparents. How much abuse you’ve endured already vs. what awaits you when their true heir starts to walk and talk horrifies you.

You look at him.

“You’re horrible.”

“Tell me something new.”

“I hate you. I don’t…want this. Any of this. I want to go home.”

You’re just venting. Really. You’ve made the choice already.

“Has there ever been a time where it’s been about what you want? I doubt it. But if you stay with me, appease my wishes for a while, well,” He laughs confidently. “You’ll get something, at least. Better than what you have.”

“The contract. Are you serious about that?”

He laughs at you. “Sure. If it makes you feel better, you can draft it and I’ll just have my lawyer sign. Bring your defenses. Whatever. Don’t really care as long as I get what I want.”

“And that’s me?”

“Seems like it,”

You purse your lips. It seems like a rash decision to make in the moment, but truthfully your heads never felt so clear. Even with the alcohol.

“...Fine.”

Sukuna hums when you agree. It feels anti-climatic somehow. Not that he’s not expecting your yes but that you’ve come to accept it so easily. It’s not like this takes away from the coercion, from the awful feeling of being violated. Sukuna was going to rape you whether you liked it or not. This way, at least, you get something out of it. This way it’s something you choose. Something tangible results from your inevitable doom - the fate your mother damned you to.

It affords you some plausible deniability too. In truth, you’re afraid for yourself. You’re afraid of what will happen when he finally does cross the line completely. You’re afraid you’re going to accept it, that it’s going to feel pleasurable, that years of repressing yourself will come back to make sure you never return to normalcy.

What will become of you when Sukuna has his way with you? Will you become a more apathetic version of yourself? Is it possible? Will you sober and feel like scrubbing your skin clean in the shower?

The worst outcome, you think, is nothing so horrible happening. The worst outcome is knowing you’ve fallen far enough for none of it matters at all.

Sukuna grins down at you. “What a well-behaved niece I have. Good girl. You’ll do well living with me.”

You make a displeased face at him, but your breath catches in your lungs soon after. Your uncle leans in to kiss you and you close your eyes trying to get away from it. But it’s true that your body has been burning up from the inside since you came back home - a dull throbbing between your legs turning you all kinds of stupid.

When Sukuna kisses you - your first thought is that he’s unexpectedly gentle.

You didn’t think he’d care about kissing to begin with. In your head you thought he’d tug off your shorts brutishly and fuck you without any prep. You were readying yourself for tears and pain, for screaming and crying - the sharp sobs of your own voice piercing your ears.

A gentle press of lips startles you from your drunk haze. You can feel the scruff of Sukuna’s face on your own, your arms wrapping around his neck instinctively. The taste of cigarettes and something else mildly smokey fill your mouth and make you dizzy. Sukuna tastes like kissing a man - or what you might’ve imagined that to be like. Not a boy, but a man. You feel his strength, your hands splaying at the base of his neck and feeling the faded undercut of his neck, the texture of his dyed hair. His weight shadows you, his strength making you feel fluttery.

He doesn’t tease you all during the kiss like you’re expecting. Nothing goes the way you expect. He kisses you in slow, short pecks and escalates to his tongue dipping against your lips - a little added element to his deep kisses. He kisses like he’s been doing it for longer than you have, with experience and finesse. You’re all but too conscious of everything little thing. About the sounds you make, about knowing when to breathe, about trying not to get wrapped up in the pleasant euphoria.

All you can think about is how good he is at it. Effortlessly good. You think part of you latches onto it to avoid thinking about what’s happening. Denial feels pleasurable at least.

You kiss like that for so long, your lips have swollen - sticky with spit and saliva. Sukuna has a self-satisfied smirk on his face when he pulls away from you, laughing at the flush in your expression.

You hit him lightly, looking away from his face.

“It’s a wonder you’ve kept your virginity,” He says, chuckling. “A kiss and a dirty old man like me could’ve taken it from you.”

“Shut up,” Your reply is weak. He laughs against your mouth, and you can’t get over the intimacy of it. You hope you’re deluding yourself but then he kisses the corner of your mouth. Hot, warm air tickles against your jaw and neck when he presses his lips there too and suddenly it occurs to you how real it is.

You don’t think your uncle is capable of warmth or love or anything that doesn’t come from coercion. But fondness. Maybe fondness.

He spends more time doing that than what’s comfortable. Relishes the feeling of you in his arms, his bulge grinding against your clothed cunt but not forcefully. Just with enough pressure to make you gasp once in a while when you don’t have a mind to fight it.

“I won’t take your virginity tonight,” He says declaratively. It surprises you. “You’ve got three months with me. It’d be boring. I’ll give you something else.” He looks at you then, then grins impishly. “What do you want?”

Your eyes widen, suddenly unsure of yourself. You push away, brought back to reality by the questions.

“How would I know?”

He blinks at you. “I know you said you were a virgin, but did you really mean in everything?”

You pout at him all of a sudden. “So what. I didn’t have that kind of time.”

Sukuna barks a laugh.

“Huh. I thought you were a goody two-shoes out of necessity but you really don’t do a damn thing in that house. Not even a boyfriend to do hand stuff with?”

“Ugh. No, alright? I don’t have time for that kind of thing like I just said.”

He laughs a little breathless, sitting up for a minute. You’re wondering what it means for you. Sukuna pulls you up along with him. He sits down again with his legs spread before looking at you. He pulls you into his lap with relative ease, until you’re half-way pressed into him with your legs over his thighs. You stare at him, feeling more exposed in this position. You get a closer view of his neck tattoo, realizing how far down his back it must go. You go to ask him what he’s doing - but he’s undressing you before you can.

Confident, large hands trapeze down your back as he finds the end of your overwear and pulls it off - leaving you in the microkini you wore to the beach. It barely covers your nipples. You made the choice to wear it, yet seeing Sukuna examine it so closely leaves you wallowing and regretful. Still, he’s silent as he does something similar with your jean-shorts. A hand lifting your legs up enough to roll the cheap, denim shorts and discard them right on the marble floors.

You’re still half-way over his lap - sitting on his thighs but you’re naked now.

You feel yourself growing self-conscious. Never mind that it’s the first time anyone’s seen you this naked, who exactly you’re showing it to makes you want to throw up. He stares for so long you wonder what he’s thinking, a lazy grin splitting his face. A hand nudges your thighs apart, moving your leg to give Sukuna more access to you. With an arm around your waist, his hand cups your cunt, rubbing it softly. You shift nervously. His thumb moves then, rests at the hood of your clit, pulling up to look closer at it. You hold back any noise as he examines you, bent pointer of the opposite hand brushing over the hair on your skin with a laugh.

“Unexpectedly, it’s pretty,” He says and your eyes shoot wide open. “Good job brat.”

“What are you,” You pant, your breath hitching as you close your eyes.”staring so much for it?”

“It’s mine to stare at.”

You don’t think of your uncle as particularly possessive. It’s more like he believes in that so much, so unshakingly nothing else could be true. You wonder if there’s more to it. He didn’t seem angry even after you told him about seeing a boy.

But comparing the two, Sukuna outclasses him in all ways that it should matter. He must be confident about that.

He spreads your thighs a little further. You’re half tucked into his side now - an arm around the back of his neck and shoulders. Sukuna ducks down a little, nudging his nose against your neck and scraping his teeth lightly against your throat. He doesn’t do much other than… touch you. Not directly. His other hand, the one not secured around your waist, rubs at your pussy but not in an attempt to pleasure you. It’s exploratory and intimate. He’s just touching you in a way that’s making you restless. And the angle he’s bent down, the proximity gives you a better view of him. From the side where you sit in his lap, you can see the tattoo again.

You shudder then, pussy suddenly clenching in a way that leaves you ashamed. Your uncle notices, though he doesn’t look up.

“Thought of something, brat?”

“No.” You deny, vehemently. He spanks your pussy but not hard. You jolt in reply, a shock traveling up your spine.

“C’mon now,” He hums, predatory. “Don’t lie. That’s not fun.”

“Y-your tattoo,” You say, suddenly feeling the influence of alcohol in a way you hadn’t all evening. “It’s…big.”

“Into bad boys or something, kid?”

You frown. “You look like a yakuza.”

This makes him laugh, more genuinely than you’ve ever seen him laugh. “Getting warmer, I guess.”

You don’t say anything to that. Instead spurred by the sudden confidence. “Why aren’t you…touching me?”

He looks at you surprised then tilts his head. “Is that what you want?

“I don’t want any of this but it,” You squirm again. “Feels weird.”

“Sounds like you want something, at least. Go on, tell your oji-san what you want.”

You scrunch your nose up at him, a familiar feeling of disgusting flitting through you. It fades as quickly as it comes.

“I’ve never put a-anything inside,” You admit, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“That so,” He hums. His middle finger slides down the wet seam of your cunt as you tell him this. You nod but you don’t think he’s really listening. His hand is warm, and big - and his fingers are thicker than yours. One of yours may as well make two of his, no end to how imposing he is. You don’t protest as he starts to touch you. You simply take a deep breath, holding onto him a little tighter.

With your head turned towards him, Sukuna leans in again to kiss you. It’s deep from the beginning this time, and a little rougher. He bites lightly on your lower lips as his middle finger dips down towards your sex. Your insides are throbbing, hot and wet as you feel some friction. It’s the first time anyone else has ever held you in your life, every touched you directly like this. Against your will, your body is sensitive to the stimulus. Everywhere he touches you goes alight, and the kiss makes your tummy flutter. A tender feeling of want spreads you open, tears you apart right in front of him.

With parted lips and a heavy head, you kiss him as his middle finger dips down low enough to penetrate you. A soft gasp pulls from your throat.

It doesn’t feel unpleasant.

“I thought it was going to hurt more.” You admit, feeling him inside of you. It’s a new sensation but it’s not bad.

“It shouldn’t hurt if you’re aroused enough. And wet enough. You seem to be both.”

You frown at him, face pinching. It’s washed away quickly by the sensation of him pushing deeper. It’s hard to describe it as anything other than feeling something inside of you. Deep in a place you didn’t think it could go. You shake a little, trying to get adjusted. Sukuna does it carefully, slowly - thrusting in even strokes and keeping you focused on kissing so you’re not too conscious of it.

He’s not thoughtful, not really - but you can tell that he’s going slower for your sake and that makes your heart stammer uncomfortably. The last word you’d ever use for him is kind but he’s not being horrible and it’s unsettling you.

Once one finger goes in and out smoothly, your uncle starts to add another. You feel it that time, the stretch of it - gasping hard at the sudden sensation. Your breath catches in your lungs, hand clutching at his shoulder for purchase. He pulls away from your mouth, his breath near your ear.

“Easy, little one. Give it a minute.”

“It feels different. It’s,” You can’t form the words as two fingers penetrate you in full, slowly being eased inside of you until Sukuna is knuckle deep. Your breath hitches. “Not like it hurts.”

“It’ll feel good in a second.” He says assuredly, voice smooth and raspy against your ear. You feel combative at his confidence, but then a minute passes of him rubbing along your insides and something strikes against you like lightning. You pause, blinking confused as Sukuna laughs. “There it is,”

“There what is?”

“C’mon kid, I know you’re too busy with school but you don’t know something so basic about your own body?”

“What is it, oh.”

His other hand toys with your clit, rubbing it in slow circular motions as he gauges your reaction to the touch. You jolt from the sudden pleasure, getting used to it slowly. You didn’t realize how badly it was throbbing to be touched until he does it in full. Your mouth dries up immediately. Little shocks of electricity spark up through you as his hands go full in on your body. The combined pleasure starts to uptick, something building slowly but surely. It goes from not feeling like much to feeling like something. Feeling physical.

Your mouth drops open in sudden shock, eyes lidded as you moan unabashedly - unable to keep the sound at bay. You own a vibrator, use to cum quick and hard just to curb the feeling. You’ve had orgasms on your own but nothing has ever felt like this before. It’s undeniably satiating, mimics the feeling of eating something and nearly making yourself sick on it. You go slack-jawed, your nerves on fire.

Two fingers curled against your silken walls and another two toying at the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs leaves little room in your brain to think. The only thing your body seems to remember is how to moan and whine - make these pathetic little noises you’ve never heard in your life. You didn’t even know you could make. Oddly enough, Sukuna is quiet through it. He makes grunts and little affirmatives but he’s mostly silent. You mostly hear the sound of your own voice.

The sound of your own wetness. You can feel the sticky sensation of your arousal but you can hear it even better. It’s lewd to listen too, wet smacks mixing with the pathetic bleats of your voice make you feel hot all over. Skin prickling with heat and sensation.

“I knew you were sensitive but haah. If I would’ve fucked you today, you would have cried.”

The thought drifts idly by about his cock and your whole lower half reacts to it by going weak. It aches just thinking about anything bigger or longer entering you than his fingers.

“Figure an insolent little kid like you isn’t much of a crybaby. I’m sure I can make you one.”

You don’t even think about asking what he means.

“Feels,” You make a gasping noise, body suddenly going tense. “Hngh, fuck. Feels so good, holy fuck.”

He groans a little. “I’m being too nice to you. I really should be balls deep in your cunt already and I’m not. You gonna cum for me, huh brat?”

You nod your head dumbly, unable to retort. To think of anything but the sensation washing over you.”Go on. Do it. Cum for your perverted oji-san.”

Something about the depravity of it sets your mind numb. Your body goes tight, every nerve firing off at once as you grip onto his shoulder and let the feeling of euphoria wash over you. Your whole body is so stimulated it’s numbing. The feeling of pleasure crashes into you, leaves your spine arching - mouth dropped open and nearly screaming. Your sanity melts, fades off completely and your brain feels like it’s gone empty. You close your eyes so hard little splashes of white show up in your vision, like you’re seeing T.V. static.

You think you scream. You don’t know. You just know that you’re cumming, hard, just from his hands and you’re terrified of what else he’s good at. You don’t think it boils down to sensitivity as the waves of your first orgasm ripple through your body.

You lay in his arms, sweaty and limp. Your vision is blurry with tears as you open them to look at him. Sukuna is rubbing your side, taking his fingers into his mouth. You look at him surprised as he does. He grins.

“Tastes good, kid.”

You flush. “Shut up.”

“Don’t think I’m done with you quite yet.”

Sukuna guides your hand to his pants, over his bulge. You gasp a little at it. His size through clothes is astounding to you.

“I’m not so generous to leave with nothing, you know.” He pats your thigh, moving you from his lap. “I’ve got a better idea than trying to teach you anything today, so try to hold still.”

You don’t know what he’s talking about until he guides you on the floor. You’re confused until you feel him position you - facing towards the couch with your knees spread on the floor. In doggy, you realize a little too late, your upper-half supported by the couch cushion. You feel more confused than you felt a moment ago.

Sukuna positions himself behind you. You can’t see him, but you can hear the soft rustle of his clothes moving as he stands on his knees behind you. More than that, you can feel his cock resting on your bare ass. You gasp, feeling the weight and size slide against your curves. Sukuna does a breathy little laugh at your reaction. He’s huge.

“Don’t cry kid. I told you I wasn’t gonna put it in tonight and I meant that,” He hums. His hands come to your hips, all of a sudden pushing them together. “Push your thighs together as tight as you can.”

You listen to him. You can do it with some effort despite how weak your body feels. You lean forward on the couch for support, bringing your knees together and pressing your thighs. You don’t understand what it’s for until something hard pressing along your spine moves down the curve of your ass. You gasp aloud as his thick cock pushes between your thighs, tip catching against your swollen clit. Your whole body is covered in goosebumps. Sukuna moans low in his throat, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Fuck, that’s it.” He hums, sounding pleased. “Keep them tight for me, alright girl? Try to at least.”

Sukuna is wordless as he grips your hips, your flesh dimpling under his bruising grip. You're silent, your voice threatening to spill again as you try your best to listen to him. You keep yourself tight and firm, your hands gripping the couch cushions as Sukuna pushes his cock between the fat of your thighs and starts a pace.

The angle makes you gasp, body feeling weak at the way it touches your clit with each bump. Sukuna doesn’t hold back at all. You’re not being penetrated but the weight behind each of his thrusts makes you feel like you’re being fucked. The bruising sensation of skin against skin - the hard muscles of his own legs smacking against the softness of your thighs.

Most embarrassing is the way the position makes you conscious of your uncle's cock. You knew he was huge before, but the way he’s thrusting. Where it reaches when he does thrust makes your throat feel nearly tight. You can’t stop thinking about the fact it’ll be inside you. You can’t imagine taking it in your hands - the girth and length of it fucking impossible. And he wants to fuck you with it? Take your virginity?

He’ll stretch you so open if he does. You can barely think of it fitting in you. When you do, your whole body shudders in a horrible and pathetic way - a new wave of arousal striking a strange chord. As he bumps and ruts against your clit and your mind fills with such lewd images, a new wave of lust starts to pour through you.

It’s unhelped by the feeling of Sukuna’s cock - getting so close. The throbbing with each thrust and the low, throaty groans he keeps vocalizing against your ear. All of it proves to be too much for you. It shocks you when you feel yourself grow hot all over again. Not even being touched directly and so soon after your first - a mere few minutes.

And you find yourself with all your muscles tight, your hand reaching back for Sukuna as you plant your face against the cushions and let him fuck hard between your thighs. You feel incoherent, stupid and so fucking horny. You’ve never experienced it. You can’t think of what to moan, so you choose his name.

This makes him laugh as he bends over you, his teeth biting your shoulder blades.

“Gonna cum again from this brat? Aren’t you fucking easy? Come on, cum with me. Just like that, take it. Fuck, that’s it. Good. Good girl.”

It’s the last bit of tension that pushes you over the edge, whether you care to admit it. Your voice breaks as a second orgasm washes through you - more intense but much shorter than the first and you nearly fall limp. You only barely manage to hold yourself up as your uncle keeps thrusting relentlessly.

You can feel him twitch hard between your thighs when his orgasm finally hits. You shake as you feel him squish the tip between your thighs - hot ropes of cum spurting against the swollen mound of your cunt and dripping down your thighs as he finishes. He smacks your ass as he finishes, making you yelp. Your whole body is rife with exhaustion, finally coming down from high-highs and low-lows.

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun together for the next few months kid,” He says, almost affection in his words. You’re too exhausted to reply, looking at him over your shoulder. “Let’s get along and do our best.”

“You’re a sick-fuck, oji-san.”

“And you’re a whole lot like me, aren’t you kid?.”

#sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna smut #jjk smut #writing tag #dark content cw #incest cw #dubcon cw #abuse cw #grooming cw #<- kind of sort of not really hes just gross.#THIS HAS SO MANY TRIGGER TAGS .. SORRY

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lowkeyremi · 2 days

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𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 !

pairing: suna, tsukishima, ushijima, osamu, sakusa, and iwaizumi x fem!reader (separate) note: thank you for the request @nicoleisdumb ! this was so fun to write and a nice refreshing break from jjk :3 miss writing abt these boys. summary: You forgot date night ! Oops... now your man is ignoring you?? How are you gonna fix this? content: slight angst to fluff, established relationships (marriage for a few, hehehehehe I will always find a way to sneak babies in), cursing, kinda suggestive for kiyoomi's part. not proofread!!!! wc: 3.3k

❥ 𝐑. 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐀

Rintaro is not one to usually get upset when you forget things because you're human just as he is and he forgets things all the time. He forgets his keys at home sometimes, or his wallet, sometimes he forgets his birthday, etc. (never his phone, he always has that thing).

There has never been a day that he's forgotten a date or an anniversary to your surprise. Lately, though, work has consumed both you and your boyfriend. He was handling it better though, because when you'd get home you would immediately collapse onto the bed and fall asleep. Rintaro would make sure to change you into something more comfortable and at least clean your face with a warm, wet cloth and your face wash.

Today was no different from any others. As soon as you remove your shoes and lay in the bed, all of your problems don't matter anymore. It was only around 7 pm then.

The morning had arrived in a blur. Finally, you had a day off. This morning is off though, because you don't wake up with a set of pajamas on or Rin's t-shirt. That was your first clue to something being off.

The second clue was the fact that he is not in bed. Rin doesn't get up out of bed unless he absolutely has to. Usually, he's holding you captive in his arms. Before you investigate, you take the initiative to shower and brush your teeth. When you're in a fresh pair of clothes; a tank top and shorts, you slowly make your way into the living room, sleep still in your body.

A brown tuft of hair sticks out from under your mickey mouse blanket and a body way too big for the couch is curled up on it. Why is he sleeping on the couch?

"Rin, baby, why are you on the couch?" Silence. He's awake, you know it because of the sound from his phone that's muffled by the blanket. Is he ignoring you? There's no way... he must not have heard you.

So you speak up in case he didn't hear you the first time, "Morning, Rin!"

Still nothing. He doesn't even move. What is his problem? Your mood instantly deflates into something sour. There was a hope within you that you would finally get to spend time with him today. Be it cuddles or going out.

Since he's not talking to you, you'll just decide to make breakfast in order to pass the time and fill the silence. While breakfast is being made you try to think of things you could have possibly done to upset him.

Then it suddenly clicks... you wanted to go out with him today. He had planned to take you out yesterday. That had to be it, right?

"Rinnie was yesterday date night? I'm sorry for forgetting. I think you had tickets for something? I feel so fucking bad, baby." Sleep had instantly taken you last night that you forgot to set an alarm or something so you could remember date night.

He still didn't say anything, but he did get up from the couch to get some food. His gold eyes were cold and unforgiving.

"Rintaro. I'm really sorry. I guess my body got used to going to sleep right when I got home. I didn't even check to see if we were doing anything yesterday. I'll make it up to you, we can go out tonight?"

He's not mad at you, not anymore at least. Even though he's not mad at you, he kind of wanted to be. It's hard for him to be upset with you for too long.

"Don't fall asleep this time, sleepyhead." That familiar smile that you know so well appears on his face. It causes you to smile just as wide if not wider.

In seconds your arms are wrapped around him in a loving hug. "I won't fall asleep. Promise."

❥ 𝐊. 𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀

Kei is mean and petty about it. Date night is usually something simple like Netflix and some homemade snacks or something of the sorts. Mainly because the two of you like to stay in rather than go out.

He texted you asking where you were, only for you to reply that there was some old close friend of yours visiting town, so you decided to hang out with them.

When you got home late into the night, it was a little too quiet for you. Kei is probably asleep or playing on his play station, you assume. So, without even knowing that your boyfriend is upset, you go through your whole nightly routine.

Upon entering your bedroom you see his body lying in bed, his chest rising and falling every second. "I'm home." Leaves your lips in a whisper. There is no response so you assume he's asleep.

Halfway through the night you can't sleep, at all. It's probably because your boyfriend's comforting hands aren't wrapped around you, like usual.

You softly nudge your boyfriend's side trying to ease him awake, "Kei."

After a few more tries he finally startles awake, "what?"

"I can't sleep." You whine, "I need you to hug me."

"Shoulda' thought 'bout that before you went off with your friend instead of having date night." His tone is sour, from both being woken up and from you forgetting date night.

A small gasp leaves your lips, suddenly the conversation you two had a week prior to last night floods your brain. You weren't working that day and neither was Kei, which meant you guys could have your annual movie marathon.

"I'm sorry baby, I completely forgot..." He doesn't say anything to you and you can't tell what he's thinking because his back is facing you.

With a new spring of motivation you hop out of bed to make some of your favorite movie snacks and grab your laptop, before heading back to your bedroom.

"How about a redo?" Kei turns his body to look at you, he eyes the snacks and your computer. How could he stay mad at you?

"Hurry up before I change my mind." A huge cat-like grin adorns your pretty face.

❥ 𝐖. 𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀

"Daddy, why red circle?" Your little son Nao asks looking at the calendar on the fridge.

"Mommy and Daddy were supposed to go out tonight, but work called Mommy and asked her to come." Wakatoshi explains to his three year old.

The original plan was for Nao's nanny to come a little early because Wakatoshi finally had time off of work and so did you. When she came to take care of your son you two were going to go to dinner and see this new jazz group.

Wakatoshi had only told his son part of the truth, you did have to suddenly go to work but it wasn't because they called you in, it was because you requested to work late, so you could have more time off in the future.

The only reason he sugar-coded it was, because he would never want to paint you in a bad light.

The both of you have enough to support the household and live a steady life so he has no idea why you decided to go into work tonight. It seems you'd even forgotten that you were supposed to go out on a date with him tonight.

"Mommy not gettin' dinner with you?" He asks for clarity.

"Yeah, that's right." He gives the little guy a pat to the head.

"So it's just you and me. After bath time and dinner we can do something fun like watch a movie."

"We watch Dootopa?" He asks with a beaming smile on his face.

"You wanna watch Zootopia?"

"Yes yes!!!" That is his all time favorite movie. Flash the sloth is his favorite character next to Judy Hopps.

"Okay, well lets hurry up and get bath time and dinner time over with."

When you arrive home, your two favorite boys are fast asleep on the couch. You make the assumption they've been watching movies all night because Toy Story 2 is playing and neither are awake to watch it.

Nao is curled up in his father's lap, while Wakatoshi's hand is supporting him in case he falls.

You pick the sleeping little boy up in order to take him to his bed. Wakatoshi ever the light sleeper awakes when you remove Nao from his lap.

Instead of smiling and kissing you goodnight he turns the TV off and proceeds to walk straight to your shared bedroom without a word.

You quickly place your son down in his bed kissing him goodnight. You know why he's upset with you and there's an eagerness for you to fix it.

"I totally forgot about dinner, honey, I'm sorry." Those words leave your lips as soon as you enter your bedroom.

Your hurry to change into something more comfortable so you can join him in bed.

"Don't be mad 'Toshi." He grunts, his back is turned to you, so who knows what he's thinking.

Luckily for you he tends to not hold grudges.

"I'll get us a reservation at your favorite place," desperation seeps into your voice when he still doesn't answer you, "I really feel dumb for calling into work today, please cut me a break baby-"

"You aren't dumb, by any means, and I'm not mad. I'm confused." That's when you remember that Wakatoshi doesn't usually ignore you when he's upset about something.

The reason he doesn't say anything is usually because he's thinking.

You wait for him to tell you why he's confused and as you do so you sink into bed. At the point he turns over to see your face.

"I'm confused as to why you needed to work late when you already have so many days off."

"Well- I was hoping the three of us could go on vacation this summer, if the team doesn't require you to do your workouts there." His confusion is replaced with awe.

"Just ask them for days off, if they dock your pay it won't matter. We have enough to live comfortably, I promise." It feels good to finally have your man looking into your eyes again. A relieved sigh leaves your lips.

❥ 𝐎. 𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀

"Forgettin' something?" Your husband asks right before you walk out the door to go to your best friend's baby shower. He's leaning against the door frame, his huge arms flex when he goes to cross them over his equally large chest.

Is there something you're forgetting? Nothing rings a bell, so you assume he means you're about to forget to kiss him goodbye.

You lean into kiss him and he kisses you back of course, but there's still a pout on his face and he doesn't look satisfied.

"I love you, 'Samu! I gotta get going before I'm late!" So you forgot about it. You forgot that tonight Osamu was supposed to take you to the shop and fix up a nice dinner for you two at your favorite table. He'd serve your favorite wine and you two would talk about the stupidest things into the early hours of the morning. He even closed early for tonight.

I mean, he can't blame you, your best friend of a lifetime is having a baby shower, and of course she wants you there. It would have made him feel a little bit better if you at least remembered it, but you didn't.

Osamu wouldn't be a Miya if he wasn't at least a little bit petty about it. He's decided he'll ignore you until you figure out that you'd forgotten about your date tonight. Maybe if he's not too sour he'll make dinner for you.

The petty man in question has been watching the clock for the past twenty minutes. You were supposed to be home by now, because it's already 8:45 pm. The baby shower started at 6 and ended at 7, so, where are you?

Just as he asks himself that question, the telltale sound of keys on the other end of the door snaps him out of his trance.

"Hey baby, I'm back!" The door swings open and your pretty face greets him.

He doesn't say anything back to you, he just pretends to be busy on his phone.

"Sorry I got back so late, I stayed to help her clean everything up." Your eyes watch your husband carefully, checking for any sign of him being upset, because he doesn't say anything yet again.

"What's wrong, 'Samu?" Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He's definitely mad, now you just need to figure out why.

After a quick change into your slippers and your keys are on the rack you walk up to him, giving him a hug from behind. You rest your chin on his shoulder. He's scrolling through twitter, his personal one not the one for promoting the shop.

"Why are you sulking? You're acting like your brother." Osamu accepts his fate, you know he can't ignore you when you compare him to his brother.

"Do not compare me to that oversized baby." When he hears your beautiful laugh he almost forgets why he was upset, almost.

"Did I not tell ya that ya were forgettin' somethin' before ya left?" The question in his voice makes you think for a second.

"Was it not a kiss?" He shakes his head. Now you're completely lost.

"I was 'posed to take ya down to the shop and we were gonna eat at our table." When he finishes his sentence you gasp in remembrance. Oh shit. You forgot about date night.

"Baby, you can't possibly be telling me I had to choose you or her." He stiffens for a brief moment, then relaxes.

"Nah, I was just hoping ya'd at least remember it." A shudder rolls down his spine when you give him a small kiss on the neck.

"I'm sorry for forgetting, baby. Let's have a do ov-" Osamu doesn't allow you to finish because he scoops you up bridal style and brings you into the kitchen to set you down on the counter.

"Ya better watch me cook or I won't forgive you."

"Aye aye captian!"

"Yer so annoying." He smiles at you.

❥ 𝐊. 𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀

"Bye baby! Mama and Dada love you!" Your baby girl waves at you shyly as you and Kiyoomi drop her off with her grandparents.

"I wuv you too! Bye bye Mama, bye bye Dada." Kiyoomi hugs his daughter tightly before setting her down next to her grandma.

"Alright, sweet girl, make sure to be good for nana and poppa okay?" She nods her adorable little head, the tiny ponytails you put in her hair swing rapidly.

As soon as you guys are in the car, a look of excitement flashes in your husband's eyes.

"What?" You can't help smile when he looks at you like that.

"Made us that reservation for brunch like you asked." Your smile immediately drops. You'd forgotten that you and Kiyoomi planned this whole weekend out already. You two had planned this weekend two weeks prior, which is kind of why you forgot and booked a mani-pedi for an hour from now.

"Fuckkkkk." Why do you forget the most important things?

"Kiyo, can we do dinner instead? I forgot about brunch and booked a mani-pedi because today is the only day my nail lady could fit me in."

A tension forms almost immediately when you inform him of your plans. Guilt is heavy on your stomach while listening to your husband cancel brunch over the phone. The rest of the car ride is silent except for the sound that's happening outside of the car.

Your husband is kind enough to drop you off at your nail appointment. You feel so bad as you hop out of the car, so in order to try and smooth things over you offer for him to come inside but he just mumbles a quick, "No thank you, I'll come get you when it's done."

That's how you ended up spilling everything to your nail lady. She shakes her head as she shapes the gel nails into the shape you asked for. "What's his favorite color on you, sweetheart?"

You think for a second before answering, "He loves when I get sage green." The woman gives you a knowing smile and you connect the dots as to what she's referring to.

"You want him to feel better? Take him to dinner and then give him a night to remember with those pretty nails. Works every time with my husband." She says with a mischievous smile.

Your eyes widen for a second, "Oh my- I- we haven't had time to do anything because our little girl requires most of our time, but she's with her grandparents for the weekend."

The nail lady giggles as she goes to find your color. "Honey, if that's not a sign to get laid then I don't know what is!"

When your appointment is over you see the cadillac waiting for you in the parking lot. Kiyoomi doesn't even bother to look up when you enter the car.

"Got your favorite color." You purr with a seductive smile on your face. Kiyoomi doesn't spare you a glance, "Cool."

"Stop being so mean, I'm sorry about brunch. I made a reservation for dinner." That finally baits his attention, he turns to you, a nasty look in his eyes.

"Oh I actually think I'm going to be busy, can't go to dinner." He mocks your voice to make you feel what he had felt earlier. He's being mean, but he doesn't mean it. He still kind of has this habit of getting defensive when he or his pride is hurt.

"Too busy to get a blowjob in the car after dinner?" You know you've got him when he stops breathing for a few seconds. Your husband is only a man, and what kind of man would he be to deny a blowjob from his wife?

"Shit, should have started with that. Let me see your nails." The whole time he inspects your pretty hands there's a smirk on your face.

"I love this color on you baby."

"I know you do Kiyo. Now, let's get home, we have to get ready for dinner tonight."

Having your daughter stay with her grandparents for the weekend was the best decision you guys have made in a while.

❥ 𝐇. 𝐈𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐈

Hajime has been ignoring you for the past two hours and you can't figure out why.

You know you haven't done anything to piss him off recently (or so you think), so his behavior is kind of strange. Nothing you did made him listen to you either.

He doesn't even let you know he's leaving for work, which reminds you of yesterday. You were so excited to go see your cousin's puppy you'd forgotten to tell your boyfriend you'd be out for awhile.

Suddenly while you're tidying up the kitchen you briefly remember him asking you on a date... yesterday.

That's probably why he's ignoring you.

So of course, being the problem solver you are, you head to the store to get stuff to set up a nice date at home.

You decorate the table with pretty rose petals and cook his favorite meal for him. Candles light up the table and two glasses of wine are set on the table.

Hajime lets out a loud groan as he enters the house, working with a bunch of athletes all the time is quite tiring. What he doesn't expect is the dimmed lights and quiet music playing from the alexa in the kitchen.

For the first time today he talks to you, "What's all this?"

"An apology for forgetting our date last night. I set up an at home date for us." He tries and fails to look upset, still.

"I'm glad you remembered," he pauses, "the day after our date." A snort leaves his lips and you roll your eyes.

"At least I remembered. Hurry up and put your stuff up so we can eat. The food is gonna get cold."

It's safe to say he forgives with the way a lopsided grin adorns his face.

divider: @/chachachannah

384 notes · View notes

qveerthe0ry · 3 days

Text

Your Ride, Best Trip

Summary: You sleep with your boyfriend Marcus for the first time Word Count: 9,001 Pairing: Marcus Pike x f! afab! reader Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, first time, vaginal fingering, oral (m! and f! receiving), unprotected PIV, squirting, creampie, dirty talk, so much fluff, so much kissing Betas: @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar as ALWAYS. Love you homies I'm kissing u both <3 A/N: I have nothing to say for myself this time

Marcus Pike is perfect.

He’s your dream man.

He’s sweet. He brings you flowers just because, and he’s remembered your go-to coffee order, and he never goes to bed without texting you goodnight.

He’s effortlessly kind. He offers to walk your dog for you when you aren’t feeling well enough to get out of bed, and he always does the dishes when you cook for him, and he makes sure his bathroom is stocked with all the personal products you use at your own place.

He’s fucking handsome. His smile is straight and pearly white, and his big brown eyes warm you up, and the way his broad shoulders fill out those suits he wears to work never fails to make you weak in the knees.

He’s so smart, and he’s so funny, and he’s all yours… finally.

See, when he hadn’t so much as kissed you by your third date, you wigged out a bit.

How could you not? He’d been so thoughtful and caring and all you wanted was to feel those pillowy, soft lips against your own.

So you asked him what was up, and he told you.

Divorced. Broken engagement. A whole year of therapy to pinpoint what went wrong, what he could change, and how he could do better, how he could feel better. And then, he said, he found you— like fate— when he wasn’t even looking, when he least expected it.

You had no problem taking it slow. You’re still convinced you’d wait forever for him, as perfect as he is.

After too many little dates to count, he told you he wanted to be your boyfriend, if you’d have him.

You told him you’d love for him to be your boyfriend, of course. You’d be crazy not too.

And then he finally kissed you.

It was slow and hesitant, but it still made your heart race, made your stomach do flips. He cut it off before it could become anything more than chaste, and left your front door with a sheepish goodnight.

You’ve kissed a lot since then. You never really enjoyed kissing that much, before. It always just seemed like a means to and end, a formality before moving on to other things.

But now it’s one of your favorite ways to pass the time with him. Waiting for an Uber to take you downtown, finally getting to his place on Friday after a long work week, cuddling in bed together with an old movie playing.

You haven’t made out with anyone this much since high school. And you enjoy it, you do, but Jesus Christ, he’s been your boyfriend for three weeks now and you need him.

It doesn’t help that he touches you like you’re the last person on earth. His hands are so big and they’re gentle and electric when they find the bit of skin just under the hem of your shirt.

You think it’s going to happen, this time. Friday night takeout has long been abandoned in the living room. You’re in his bed, in his clothes, and his pinky is teasing at the waistband of his sweats that you’re wearing.

His tongue in your mouth is making you dizzy, and there’s no more blood in your brain with all of it rushing between your legs. You whimper, and you arch against him, and you want him so bad but you can’t say it. You’d feel bad, making him rush when he’s made it clear he wants to take things slow.

When his lips leave yours, you open your eyes, and find his pupils obstructing all the deep, dark brown you adore.

You have to squeeze your thighs together for a miniscule amount of relief. He notices. Of course he does. Damn that Quantico training.

“Sweetheart—”

His eyes flicker down to your lips. You’re sure they look obscene, red and slick from nearly an hour of him sucking and nibbling on them.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

You don’t know why you say it, but you are sorry. You feel so bad for wanting him like this, desperate and aching in his bed, over eager.

“Don’t be,” he shakes his head and gives you a reluctant smile, a smile that tells you you’re going to fall asleep extremely sexually frustrated.

But it’s fine. He’s so worth it.

You give him a soft smile back, and lean in to peck his lips. But he pulls away with his brow furrowed.

“What do you want?”

His voice is gentle when he asks. So is his hand on your back, under his shirt you’ve claimed. But it doesn’t stop that fight or flight response from kicking in.

“Nothing! Nothing, Marcus, I’m okay— I’m great. Just wanna cuddle.”

But the creases in his forehead don’t smooth out, and his hand ceases the soothing circles across your spine.

“You’re lying.”

You sigh and close your eyes.

“I’m not lying, I’m just— I don’t want to push you to move too fast.”

You expect him to be angry. But when you open your eyes again, his own have taken on that puppy-like quality you usually love. Right now, it just makes you feel guilty.

“I’ve been lying, too,” Marcus whispers.

It’s your turn to scrunch your face up. Your blood runs cold, waiting for him to elaborate. A million scenarios run through your head at lighting speed— all worse and worse until your breathing picks up and you beg him with your eyes to just get on with it—

“I have a small dick.”

His face is so flushed. He can’t meet your gaze.

He’s staring at the bedsheets between you, and you’re both just silent for a long, awkward moment.

“I mean— the divorce and all that, it’s all true. And I did want to keep from moving too fast. But— the last few weeks I guess I’ve just been… stalling?”

He finally looks up from the threads to gauge your reaction.

“Marcus…”

“I get it, okay? If you wanna go. I know I lied, and you didn’t sign up for—“

“Marcus.”

You watch his shoulders raise and his mouth snap shut, and he looks terrified.

“I don’t want to leave. You didn’t lie. It’s just— you really think that would bother me?”

He lets out a big breath, and the tension in his body eases up a little.

“I don’t know. Most people were… bothered. I guess,” he shrugs.

You cradle his jaw in your hand, let the day-old stubble tickle the pad of your thumb as you think about how to best navigate this conversation.

Because saying ‘I don’t care’ seems too dismissive. But you don’t. You couldn’t possibly care less about what’s in his pants, when everything else about him has made you fall so, so deep already. But you don’t want to make it sound like it’s something you have to even bargain with, like the pros outweigh the cons, like it even is a con. Because it’s not.

“I’m not bothered,” you finally tell him.

He still doesn’t meet your eyes, in fact, he rolls his.

“You don’t have to lie to me. It’s okay, I’ve heard it all. I know I’ve lead you on—”

“Jesus,” you cut him off, “what did— who made you feel this way?”

He finally looks at you. His eyes are wide and he looks vulnerable and hesitant. You swipe away some hair that’s fallen flat across his scrunched forehead.

“Everyone?”

You sigh his name, and you’re tentative when you lean forward to kiss him, softly, when he lets you.

He looks less terrified when you pull back. You try to smile, but this whole interaction has left such a bad taste in your mouth that it feels more like a grimace when your lips turn up.

“That’s— Fucking awful, to be frank. Pardon my French.”

He chuckles, but his gaze falls away from your face again. His sheets are not that interesting to look at.

“Really, Marcus. I mean— maybe if someone’s just looking for a hookup, then I get it. You want something specific, whatever. But why would you ever think you were leading me on?

All you’ve done is be sweet to me, and shown interest in me, and taken care of me. Unless you’re like, secretly an ax murderer, or committing some kind of major tax fraud, you haven’t led me on at all.”

He’s still not looking at you. Why won’t he look at you, and believe you?

“I don’t want to sound dismissive. I understand you’re insecure about it. I’m insecure about some things too. I don’t want to invalidate that. But I need you to know that the last thing I care about is how big your dick is.”

There. He’s looking at you. He looks a little mortified, but he’s finally meeting your gaze.

“Really?”

You scoff.

“Really really.”

A reluctant smile tugs on the corner of his pretty mouth.

“Why?”

“Because— now, don’t go getting a big head about this— you’re perfect. Like, everything about you. You’re sweet and you make me laugh and you’re gorgeous.”

His face flushes, but he lets you continue.

“And I’m in this, with you. I want this to go somewhere. And I think we’re super compatible.”

“Me too,” he whispers.

“Good, so… we’re on the same page then.”

You watch him lick his lips, and his hand that’s been loosely draped over your waist finally starts back up, drawing little circles across the base of your spine.

“And… There’s other reasons,” you mumble, voice low with a hint of mischief.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah… For one, your hands.”

“My hands?”

He emphasizes his question with a squeeze of your hip, and you giggle at the way it tickles, and also with a bit of embarrassment.

“Yeah… They’re uh… big. I look at them a lot. Honestly surprised you haven’t noticed.”

He huffs, lets his big hand travel further up the shirt on your back.

“Your nails are always trimmed, and— your fingers are long and thick. I’ve thought about them a lot.”

He breathes your name, and now you realize you’re the one avoiding eye contact. When you look back, his pupils are all blown out again, and it spurs you on.

“And I love to give head.”

“Jesus.”

“And the bigger it is, the quicker I get tired. I could stay down there all night, if my jaw didn’t get sore.”

“Sweetheart—”

“Really, it’s one of my favorite things, making someone fall apart under my mouth. But I hate gagging and choking my way through it. It’s tedious.”

He says your name again, this time with a warning tone.

You bite your lip to keep anything from tumbling from your mouth unwarranted.

“You’re not lying.”

His eyes dart back and forth across your face, and you shake your head in lieu of opening your mouth again.

“Fuck.”

It’s the first time Marcus has cursed in front of you. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and your clit throbs.

“I’ve thought about you so much. Your lips, you have to know, right? How plump and full they are… I think about them at night, when I’m touching myself.”

That’s convincing enough, apparently. Before you can embarrass yourself any further with your confessions, he surges forward to press those plush lips against yours and groans into your mouth.

His hand flattens against your back and pulls, manhandling you closer to him. Your fingers find his silky hair and tangle in the strands, holding on for dear life at this shift between the two of you.

You can’t muster up an ounce of shame. Finally, you have Marcus where you want him, pressed against you. You hike a leg over one of his, getting it between your thighs for even the smallest amount of friction.

You feel him gasp, chest inflating to press even closer against yours. It’s a rush, finally getting this after waiting so long.

Your hands scramble to get under his white t-shirt. His skin is hot, even against your sweaty palms. There’s so much to feel, the slight swell of his stomach, and the muscle of his flank, the soft but firm pecs.

You whine when he pulls away from your lips. He shushes you gently, and you open your eyes to watch his slick lips and his hooded eyes and flushed face disappear briefly, just quick enough to shed his shirt.

Smooth, is the first thing that comes to mind. His tan skin has no hair above his belly button, just the errant freckle here and there. His nipples are peaked, and you reach out to press your thumb against one before your mind catches up to the action, before you realize you’re gawking.

But when your hand stutters against his skin and you look up at him, he’s smirking, amused and turned on. You falter a bit, mouth open while you search for something to say, some sort of excuse as to why you’re devouring him like you’re starved.

He saves you though, with his low, grumbled voice.

“I think about you, too. All the time.”

You dig your nails into his soft skin at his admission, scraping against his chest.

“You know that? You think I haven’t had you a million different ways in my head?”

Your heart stops beating, and you stop breathing, and the heat between your legs only gets heavier and wetter.

“You want me to show you, sweetheart?”

Your heartbeat comes back as a rush in your ears, and you squeeze the meat of his pec as you nod.

He kisses you again, licks at your lips until you suck his tongue into your mouth, and now it’s just filthy. No more pretense, it’s been months of pretense, and neither of you have any more patience.

His fingers seek out your own nipple, a tight bud protruding through cloth, and he rolls it between his fingers gently over the material of his shirt.

“You come over and wear my clothes like this, and you think you don’t drive me crazy?”

The words are grumbled into your mouth, against your cheek, then your jaw and your neck as he seeks out more of you to kiss.

“I don’t wash them when you leave. I wear them and I smell you all day and it makes me feel insane.”

You mewl at his admission. Everything he says now is so fucking raw, now that you’ve broken down his walls. He shushes you again, grabs the hem of his shirt to help you pull it over your head.

He curses when he sees you. It’s the first time. You’ve both been toeing this line of modesty, and maybe you’d be more nervous if you weren’t careening toward the pleasure he’s promised you.

He coaxes you to lie on your back beside him, and his mouth works a slow trail down the side of your neck, nipping and suckling until he finally gets your nipple in his mouth. You arch into it, encouraging him with a hand tangled in his thick hair. You feel his groan reverberating around your rib cage when you scrape your nails back and forth across his scalp. You need him, like nothing you’ve ever craved before.

“Marcus—”

“I know, I know.”

His syrupy voice isn’t as soothing as his lips, though, when he cranes his neck back up to kiss you again. He nips there, a sneaky distraction from the way his fingers trail down to circle your navel, and then even farther, teasing the hem of his sweatpants you’re wearing. His featherlight touch makes you jolt when it finally registers, your stomach jumping under his fingers.

“Can I?”

You’re nodding against his lips, into the kiss, and then whining when his hand breaches the waistband. Those thick, long fingers flutter across your mound. Your breath catches on every wiggle. But when his fingers splay out, half on one side of your slit and half on the other, teasing your lips, you exhale hard and press up into his touch.

“Oh, are you that sensitive?”

His voice is half-teasing, half-shocked, as he mumbles into the tingling skin of your neck.

“It’s just you.”

And it’s true. There’s no ego-stroking here. You’ve waited too long to get this and now you’re fiending, any touch is a relief.

And he’s huffing into that skin under your ear, like you’re playing it up too much, but he bites down on the skin anyway and groans.

“So sweet, huh?”

You make a disgruntled noise but there’s not enough blood in your brain to get your point across. Instead, you wrap your hand around his meaty forearm and force his fingers lower, where you know your underwear is a soaking, sticky mess.

He curses and pulls away from his assault on your neck to look at you. You’re certain you know what he sees, blown out pupils and sweat-slick forehead and bitten, shiny lips.

“That’s all for me?”

There’s a sly smile tugging at one side of his mouth, just barely there, but you see it in the way one dimple grows more than the other. You nod in answer, scrape your nails up the hair on his arm and watch him shudder.

But he retreats from between your legs, and chuckles when you squeeze his forearm tighter in protest. The sound makes you shiver, all low and gruff and teasing. But he softens the blow with another one of his kisses, heated and sloppy and needy. His hands, always so gentle and careful and big, find the creases between your hips and thighs. It makes you arch up into the touch and whimper again, and you wonder briefly if you’ll ever not be desperate for him again.

He watches your face twist up when he pulls away from you, watches the way your breasts move with every heave of your lungs. His dark eyes travel lower, where his thumbs sear circles into your hips, and his tongue swipes across his lower lip.

“Can I take these off, sweetheart?”

The tenderness in his voice fills you with a completely different warmth, white hot flames simmering into a blaze of feelings you aren’t sure you’ve ever truly experienced before. You let it consume you.

“Yes, please.”

He hums a satisfied little noise as his fingers hook under the waistband. He takes his time, making sure to catch your underwear as well. It’s a sight, his huge hands working your only remaining cover down, down, until you’re bare to him and he’s gently cradling each of your calves to fully remove the last of your clothes.

Those hands work their way back up, attentive, memorizing the valleys and peaks of your flesh, the nuances of your skin, the way it bends over your joints. Before you know it, he’s propped himself up beside you once again, one arm supporting his weight so his other hand can work its way between your thighs.

You drag your eyes away from his fingers to look at him, only to find him focused on your face.

It’s a few long moments before either of you move or speak or breathe. It’s you who breaks the spell, only because you know you’re at the very edge of control.

“You sure you’re ready?”

You reach up to cradle his neck in your hand. It’s hot to the touch, and so are his ears, the tips of them burning a cute pink where your thumb grazes them. His eyes get softer and crinkle even more around the edges.

“I’m positive… can’t believe I psyched myself out for so long.”

He huffs and shakes his head at himself. You’re ready to kiss that apprehension away again, but his hand on your thigh pulls, as gentle as everything else he’s done, to spread yourself open for him.

The cool air makes your breath catch in your throat. Or maybe it’s the anticipation. So close to what you’ve thought about every single night for weeks. Months– since the day you first met, if you’re being honest.

He keeps his eyes on you, and you hold his gaze even though it burns. But only until his fingers brush you. Your eyelids flutter shut at the feeling, mouth open wide in shock at how electric just one simple touch feels.

His finger glides so easily around your opening, and you hear him gasp as he explores all the slick.

“You’re soaked.”

His voice is thick with awe, as another finger joins in on the fun, gathering up your arousal. But they don’t breach, and you feel like he’s teasing, readying a whine in protest.

The noise gets stuck in your throat when they trail up, gliding through your swollen folds. They find your clit, full and begging for attention, and circle with hardly any pressure.

Oh, he’s fucking good at this.

There’s no apprehension in his movements. It’s like he’s read a fucking manual on how to press all your buttons. The light, slick touches are building up that heat in your gut quicker than you can ever remember with anyone else.

You’re stunned silent, eyes pinched shut and your head tilted back into the mattress, digging in for even an ounce of grounding.

“That feel good, sweetheart?”

Your vocal chords come back to life, finally, as you whimper from the gentle drag of his fingers.

“You have no idea.”

He chuckles, and you open your eyes to see his own still trained on your face.

“I think I do,” he mumbles.

He shifts, presses his hips into you, and the hard line of him digs into your side.

You clench around nothing, and your clit pulses under the pads of his fingers. He curses and responds to the needy little bud, applying more pressure and speeding up those little circles.

All the while he grinds his hips into you, soft little movements that sync up with his hand, and you want him so bad. You’re losing patience by the second, the only thing keeping you from pouncing is the way his fingers work you over so perfectly it’s like you’re touching yourself.

You’re not, though, and that becomes perfectly clear when one thick, long finger presses lower and slips into you. It slides so easily, despite how much girth it has on one of your own. You both make stuttered noises at the feeling, and Marcus’ lips capture your own to let them mingle together.

Your hips egg him on, lifting and shifting, but he is teasing now. It’s a slow drag in and out, his finger pin straight, and if he hadn’t been so diligent this entire time you’d think he didn’t know what he was doing.

But you whine, a soft plea of his name into his mouth, and he obliges. That thick finger crooks up, just as the heel of his hand flattens against your clit, and stars bloom behind your eyelids.

You groan, and he laps it up before his lips leave yours.

“That’s it. This what you needed?”

A pathetic whimper comes out in response as you nod your head. His finger presses harder into that perfect spot, and his palm slides over your wet clit. You’re clenching around him, savoring the feeling of being filled by him, working your hips down and back to meet his motions. It grows and grows, that feeling in your gut, so close that you can’t be bothered to worry about what needy noises you’re making.

He mutters another frantic curse, and his hips jump to press his cock into you harder.

“I gotta taste you, sweetheart. Can I? Will you let me?”

You nod so fast you’re surprised your head doesn’t detach from your neck. He soothes that frenzied part of your brain with another kiss, slips his finger out of you, and moves to get between your legs.

You thread your fingers through his hair to keep him still, even if it’s just for a moment. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and the drag of his sweatpants across your sensitive center makes you arch up into him for more, to seek out more friction.

He just huffs a laugh against your lips and angles his hips away, denying you the simple pleasure of grinding against the tent in his pants.

“Not yet. Let me take my time with you. You’ve waited so long, right? I’ll make it up to you, you just gotta let me.”

You huff.

You should’ve known Marcus would be just as much of an infuriating tease in the bedroom as he is outside of it. The trivia dates and the cocky smirk he always sported when he won, the little bets he’d make on how a movie’s plot was going to twist, the refusal to ever let you pay for dinner— it’s all adding up now, and you can’t believe you didn’t expect it.

Marcus Pike is a smug little prick underneath the humble, sheepish grins, and it’s hot and it’s yours.

“Put your money where your mouth is,” you breathe.

He chuckles and trails said mouth down the length of your naked body. You watch his plump lips explore your skin and leave wet patches littered in their wake, shiny little stakes claiming you. His five o’clock shadow is just long enough to abrade your skin a bit, delightful little pricks that make your muscles jump involuntarily.

He makes it to your mound before looking up at you. His brown eyes are mostly obstructed by his pupils, but they shine all glassy in the dim lamplight of his bedroom. His shitty grin has faded and he looks determined, and it steals the breath from your lungs.

He teases some more, of course he does. His lips peck and tickle the creases of your thighs, the skin of your outer lips, and the very tip of your hood before you finally see his pink tongue slip out.

All of a sudden you can’t watch, can only let your head fall back and close your eyes and drown in the anticipation.

The pointed tip of his tongue just barely grazes you, tracing a razor-thin line from your dripping hole all the way to your mound. It tickles, and your breath comes in faster as he does it again, and again, and again.

Just before you can beg for more, he flattens his tongue and drags it up your slit. He laps at your folds, slow and calculated, and the satisfied noises tumble out of you as you feel his taste buds glide against you.

All you can think to do is find his hair and use it to hang on. Your legs spread wider, and he takes the encouragement. His tongue finds your clit, so swollen and sensitive with need by now. He circles it, then wiggles his tongue back and forth, playing with it, playing with you. He shakes his head from side to side to give you more, presses even more firmly, and the heavy feeling in your gut tightens tenfold.

Your hips start to move on their own, rocking up into his face, helping his motions along. He groans with it, muffled and wet between your legs.

A delirious thought gets stuck in your horny brain. You don’t know how you’ll ever let him leave this spot between your legs now that you’ve finally got him here. It’s so wet and warm and incredible, and your nails dig into his scalp to drive the point home, to try and lock him here forever.

His voice snaps you from your reverent thoughts, thick and deep.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You taste so good, looks so fucking pretty.”

You brave a glance down at him, his red soaked mouth and his dark eyes that are boring holes into your pussy. One of his hands releases its grip on your thigh to glide across the dripping mess of your center. He toys with you, spreading you open with splayed fingers, watching the way your folds bend to his whim. With it exposed and protruding and aching for his touch, he leans down to wrap his plush lips around your clit and suckle. Curses fly from your lips at the concentrated attention, and it’s so so so fucking good you’re sure you’re going combust.

His hand slips lower, and his mouth doesn’t stop, and you’re dangerously close to tipping over the edge. And then two thick fingers slip easily into you, immediately seeking out that spot inside you and tapping there.

It’s blinding pressure overwhelming the two places you need him most. He drums up a rhythm that would remind you of a dance, maybe, if your brain were cognitive enough to form a coherent thought. Down with his head, engulfing your clit, and up with his fingers, squeezing that spongy spot inside you. Over and over, he works you with soft grunts against your cunt until your fingers lock up in his hair and your hips start to shake.

“Please don’t stop,” you pant, “I’m so close.”

To his credit, and this is more than you can say for the majority of men you’ve been with, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down, nor does he speed up. He keeps at you exactly how you need it, moaning strung-out little noises into your center until you’re dropping.

All the wind is knocked out of you. Your hips jolt into his face and he takes it in stride, lapping at your clit when the seal of his lips is broken from your erratic movements. You tremble through it, clench around his fingers, and squeeze his head between your thighs as you ride it out on his tongue.

As the shivers roll through you, Marcus’ fingers slow, and though he can’t remove his tongue from you because of how your legs have him in a headlock, he stills his tongue so you can take the last bit of what you need from him.

His breathing is just as heavy as yours, wheezing out moans and muffled words of encouragement. When you feel yourself slipping down from your peak, you let go of the death grip on his hair, and open your legs, and grant yourself a few deep breaths before you dare to look down at him.

He carefully, cautiously pulls his fingers out of you. A comforting ‘shhh’ is cooed into the sweaty skin of your thigh when you make a strangled sound. Both of his hands splay out on either hip, a light and grounding touch accompanied by the kisses he’s dropping all over the skin he can reach.

Finally, you grant yourself a peek down at him. The first thing you notice is how his broad shoulders are, heaving with baited breath. Then, his normally pristine hair, sticking out every which way and then some from your frantic fingers.

His face is red, you guess from exertion. Or maybe you really did restrict some blood flow. Christ. That’s what he gets, being so goddamn good at that.

And then his lips. His lips. Those lips that up until now you’ve only ever kissed or dreamed of. They’re even more plump, swollen and slick with you, shining just like his chin is.

You don’t know what to say. You know you want to kiss him. Funny, considering that’s how all this started, but you’re dying to see what you taste like on him.

Luckily, he breaks the silence, after licking those delectable lips and clearing his throat.

“So… How’d it compare?”

Your face contorts on its own, surprised at the sudden and intrusive question.

“Pardon?”

But then he laughs, pressing those wet dimples into your heated skin to hide them.

“To all those thoughts you told me about. How’d I do?”

You laugh too then, a weary huff of breath as you sit up.

“Don’t go fishing for compliments,” you tease, though there’s not much heat behind it with how out of breath you still are.

He goes to respond, but you get a hand in his hair again and coax him up. You meet him halfway, swallowing his surprised noise when you finally get those pillowy lips against yours and lick at them, his tongue, his teeth, until you aren’t sure what taste is you and what is him. Until you realize you’re flat on your back again as he hovers over you, still between your thighs.

You both hum when the kiss breaks, and you rest your forehead against his, nuzzle his nose and sigh at the floaty feeling in your limbs.

“Better,” you whisper.

You feel his grin bump into your own. You nip at it, playful and languid as you finally begin to get some of your bearings back.

And then you’re shocked back into the realization that there’s all this smooth skin right in front of you, this hunk of a man hovering above, the one who just melted your brain into a fuzzy little mold of itself. You grab his hips as he licks into your mouth and scrape your nails up his flanks, unhurried, while the touch makes him shiver.

You feel out the strength in his pecs, those broad shoulders you often daydream about, and then you push. Catching him off guard, he gasps as he loses his balance and tumbles to the side, and then laughs when you press him into the mattress and straddle his hips.

You laugh along with him, but it slowly tapers off as his hands find your naked skin— your stomach and hips and back and then your ass, where it hovers just above that bulge in his sweatpants.

He’s looking up at you with what you can only describe as horny apprehension.

His eyelids droop over his dilated pupils, but his brow is all pinched up in the middle. His mouth hangs open, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out.

So you kiss him, soft and gentle, as gentle as he’s been with you all night. His sigh washes heat across your cheeks, and you feel him relax under you just a little.

But then you shift in his grasp, lower your ass, and press your soaking center to his crotch. You whimper at the feeling of his sweatpants dragging across your sensitive, wet cunt. He moans and bites at your bottom lip maybe a little too hard.

But it’s okay. He pulls away and pants your name and you settle there, your weight pressed down on his cock. Your lips find that smooth patch in his stubble, biting that chiseled jaw, licking down the curve of his neck, his shoulder, up to his ear. You delight in every goosebump you draw, and breathe in his scent before you speak up.

“Will you let me suck it?”

All his breath rushes out in a big gust. His fingertips dig into your naked sides, and he nods.

“Please.”

It’s a barely-there whisper. You pull away from that silky soft skin where his pulse is hammering to check his reaction.

He’s begging with his eyes. It makes you smirk, sitting up straighter, trailing your fingers down the front of his body until you reach the drawstring of his sweatpants.

You’re still sitting on his groin, though. You give a little playful wiggle, and his hips rock up to grind harder. But you don’t want to tease any more. Every moment spent teasing him, you’re also denying yourself, and you’ve been patient for long enough.

So you shift down the bed, nestled between his legs, and get to work on the tie of his pants. Every time your fingertips brush the hair below his belly button, he sucks in a breath. You finally get the thing untied, and look up one last time for permission before you start to drag the material down, grabbing his boxers as you go.

Your eyes stay trained on his face instead of staring at his crotch, especially as he wiggles a bit and lifts his legs to remove his pants. You don’t want to stare, and you also don’t want to not look, you don’t want him to be uncomfortable at all with you.

You want it to be perfect. You want to make him feel the way he makes you feel.

He nods his head, and you cease averting your eyes to trail down his body, the bushy happy trail and the neatly trimmed hair above his cock and his cock.

His little cock.

It is, indeed, on the smaller side. Probably one of the smallest you’ve seen in real life. Three and half or four inches long, if you had to guess.

And it’s so pretty, cut and on the thicker side, the slightest upward curve that makes your pussy tighten around nothing.

You dive right in, press your nose to all the hair while you kiss at the base of him, humming when his cock twitches against the side of your face. He smells so good and clean, like always, but down here there’s even more of that Marcus smell that always lingers beneath his soap and cologne, salty and warm.

When you drag your eyes up to him, his head’s thrown back against the pillows, not looking at you. You want him to look, you want him to see how much you’re going to enjoy this.

You’ll make him look, one way or another.

For now, you just lathe your tongue up the underside of him, then back down to tickle his balls, all the while enjoying how his prick jerks under the attention.

He’s making little noises, mostly puffs of breath and gasps, and his hands twist up in the sheets beside you. You grab one of them, slow and steady, and lead it to the back of your head.

And then, you finally get your lips wrapped around the head of his dick, and you slowly sink down until he’s entirely in your mouth.

It’s not until your nose presses against the flatness above his cock do you hear him release a strangled groan. That’s when you look back up at him and find him staring down, mouth agape, locked on your mouthful of him.

You pull back up, wiggling your tongue as you go, memorizing the ridges and hairs and veins. Your eyes are locked on his, and his are locked on your lips, so you try to give him a show.

You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, nod your head up and down to let his cockhead tickle your tastebuds. A gruff noise leaves him, hearty and hoarse, and you want to smile but you’re not in a position to.

Instead, you flick your tongue against that little band of tissue just under his slit, and his hips stutter as his grip on the back of your head tightens.

“Fuck, sweetheart.”

Now you do smile, your lips upturned against the head of his cock, and it jerks against your mouth while you kiss it, until you envelop it once more.

You hum around him, at the weighted feeling of him occupying your mouth, how smooth it feels against your tongue and how nice it is to take him all the way in and not gag or choke or drool.

It makes your cunt ache, makes you crave him even more, makes you want to be full of him everywhere.

You reach a hand down to touch yourself. You’re still dripping, can feel it all slipping from your entrance and cooling your skin in the air conditioning. You’ve had just enough time to recover from the mess Marcus made of you. You’re sensitive but not too sensitive, when you trace your clit with your fingertips and moan around the mouthful of cock.

“Oh fuck, are you touching yourself?”

Your eyes flicker open and look up to him. He’s clenching his jaw, grinding his teeth as his nostrils flare. You hum and nod your head to answer, his cock slipping back and forth through the ring of your lips. He whimpers, and his head tips back against the mattress again, and it makes you speed up the efforts on both him and yourself.

He curses, soft little chants, kneading the back of your neck in his big hand as you suck him in over and over. You close your eyes and lose yourself in it for a bit, the way he slips so easily in and out, the way his hips move just a little, like he’s trying not to but he can’t help it. The sounds, his grunts and your sloppy mouth and your fingers working over your slick folds.

He says your name.

You hum, use your free hand to play with the fuzzy skin of his balls.

He says your name again, and this time it’s urgent, almost panicked.

“Sweetheart, stop, please.”

You do, immediately. You open your mouth wide and let him fall from your lips and unhand him while you look at his exerted face.

“Are you okay?”

He huffs, and his cock bobs beside your face.

“I’m so okay. I just— did you want me to…? It’s okay if you don’t, I just didn’t want it to be over—”

“Marcus.”

His heated babbling stops as he clamps his mouth shut. His broad shoulders lift and drop with his heading breath.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

You smooth your hands across the scattered hair on his thighs when you ask. His prick twitches again at your question.

“I— Yeah. Yes. I do.”

He looks almost guilty about it, with his wide eyes and the bashful expression spreading across his face.

“I want you to fuck me so bad,” you tell him, “I’ve wanted it for way too long.”

His breath leaves him in a shuddery exhale, something like relief or awe.

“Yeah? You still want it?”

His hand skates from the back of your neck to your jaw, his thumb brushing the apple of your cheek.

“Please, Marcus. Give it to me.”

You turn your head to kiss his thumb, a sloppy little peck before you take it into your mouth. You smile around it when he groans, and bite it before it slips away.

“Can you get on the edge of the bed for me?”

You can, but not without throwing a cheeky ‘yes sir’ his way. You’re not sure if the noise he makes is from arousal or a lack of amusement, but there will be plenty of time to explore that later.

For now, you do as he says. You scoot so your ass is just about to fall off the side of his bed. The wooden bed frame is the perfect height to rest your heels on, and as Marcus slips a pillow under your head, you’re as comfortable as ever.

The mattress dips when he gets up to stand in front of you. The lamplight from the nightstand is really doing things for him. The slight sheen of sweat on his chest glistens, as does the wetness at his temples where his hair is starting to curl up. All those lean muscles have never been more apparent than they are now, the golden glow creating beautiful shadows across his naked body.

He’s so hot.

It doesn’t help that his big, warm hands snake up your bare thighs as he gets between them. His small dick stands at attention, pointing toward the ceiling, and you feel your pussy spasm with anticipation.

“Please,” you whisper.

He nods, steps closer as you spread your legs wider and wiggle even further off the bed.

“Perfect, sweetheart.”

He leans over you with one hand on the bed to brace himself. The other is wrapped firmly around the base of his cock, and he looks down to watch it as he glides it through your slit.

“Are you ready?”

You nod and hum your affirmative. He takes the go-ahead and his cockhead slides across your clit, down, so slowly, until it catches on the rim of your hole and you both gasp at the feeling.

You look down to watch too, lifting up on your elbows to see the moment your pussy lets him sink inside, fluttering around him, engulfing his prick one inch at a time.

You knew it. You fucking knew his cock was perfect but still you’re shocked at the way the curve makes him drag across your upper wall. And when his hips are flush with yours, all that pressure is concentrated at that bundle of nerve endings inside of you, and you’re going to lose your mind if he doesn’t move.

“Oh fuck.”

You let yourself flop back in the bed, but reach for his hand that’s supporting his weight. Your nails scrabble for purchase against the skin of his wrist as you curse again, your walls contracting around him as you tense.

“Fuck, Marcus, please.”

You’re so far past caring about how desperate you sound. You need him, the textbook definition of it; it’s an absolute necessity that he fucks you.

He curses, and you realize you’ve closed your eyes. When you open them, his jaw is hanging and he’s looking at you, your face, like it’s something he’s never seen before. Like he’s shocked you’re here in front of him.

But his hips are still, and you’re helpless to the way your own cant up to urge him, and finally he’s pulling back out. The slow drag against the most tender spot inside you rips a noise from your throat, involuntary. He pulls almost all the way out, until the head of his dick is kissing your opening and you can feel how he stretches the tight ring of muscles.

And then in again, almost as slowly, and you’re already out of breath. The feeling steals all the wind from your lungs. It’s setting you on fire, perfect friction against just the right spot, the one that’s still tender and alight from your previous orgasm.

“It’s so fucking good,” you manage to choke out.

Marcus moans above you, and his hips snap into you, and his free hand finds your waist so he can dig his nails into your flesh.

“It is, fuck, sweetheart, you’re so fucking good.”

A bead of sweat drips from his nose and lands on your belly, and that seems to make you snap out of it.

“Fuck me. Fuck me hard, please, make me come.”

You watch his mouth quirk up into a pretty smirk, dimples on full display.

“Yes ma’am.”

Your giggles only last for a moment, dissolving into a high whine when he slides out of you and back in, a harsh thrust of his hips that doesn’t let up.

He fucks you. You try to watch; it’s too hot not to. His biceps flex respectively, one with his effort to hold himself above you, and the other where he holds you in place by your waist.

His neck, the one vein there that’s protruding as he bares his teeth. The way his chest is rapidly rising and falling as he drives into you. His big brown eyes, even darker now as he succumbs to the feeling of you.

But you just can’t keep your eyes open for long. It feels too good, you’re too close to the edge. Your insides are so tender and alight from the first time you came. Every single thrust inside you is taking you apart and building your second so quickly. Your eyelids droop closed and there’s already stars blooming behind them.

His little noises are louder, like this. Grunts and gasps and moans, falling over you, all for you.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you warn him.

Your back arches to encourage his pace. His skin slaps into yours faster as he groans.

“Thank god, me too. What do you need, sweetheart?”

Without a verbal answer to his strained question, you slip your hand down to press against your throbbing clit.

“Shit, yeah, play with your pussy for me. I wanna— fuck— let me see you come. Looks so gorgeous.”

His voice is thick in his throat, and you work your fingers over yourself faster. You’re clenching wildly around him, you can’t help it. Every thrust in sets your nerves on fire, almost too much, but not quite. His grunts are turning into growls, uninhibited and primal. You feel the mattress shift and open your eyes to find him standing up straight.

Both hands grab your hips now, and that little angle change makes him grind even harder into your g-spot, and you’re tumbling over the edge. It’s been building under the surface for so long that when it hits, it’s blinding. There’s static in your toes that washes over you, up, up, dragging a fiery heat with it that consumes your center and makes your head fuzzy.

There’s screaming.

You’re screaming. Your eyes are clenched so tight, as are your fingers, all your joints, your pussy, around Marcus as he fucks you through it with sloppy thrusts.

“That’s it, oh my god, sweetheart, you— fuck. I’m gonna come, I’m— where?”

“In me.”

Your throat is scratchy when you answer, and you don’t have any time to elaborate on why that’s not a bad idea. You’re still coming, wave after wave of warmth rolling across your body, and you’re vaguely aware of how wet everything is, the sound of him fucking you even more obscene.

His shout doesn’t quite rival yours, but you feel it when he empties inside of you. His cock jerks and and twitches, wringing out every little bit of pleasure from you, and you think you’re still coming, the pinpricks of pleasure are still too intense to be aftershocks.

He stays pressed as deep as he can be as his stomach convulses and his thighs shake, just like yours do where they’ve somehow wrapped around him. Your eyes open again, and the lamplight is so bright now, his breathing is so loud. He grunts and pulls out a bit, then presses back in, and again, until it falters and his whole body slumps.

His top half collapses onto you, his little breaths huff and tickle the tingling skin of your belly. Your own breath comes out in a weak moan, and it takes all the strength you can muster just to run your fingers through his sweaty hair.

“Jesus,” he says.

Your name cascading off his lips in such a strung out voice that it makes you clench around him again.

“Huh?”

God, how are you ever going to move again?

“You uh… Is that a common occurrence?”

Christ, why is he using such big words?

“What are you talking about?”

He clears his throat.

“You like— You squirted?”

You laugh, one delirious huff. It makes his head rock on your jiggling belly.

“I what?”

You gather the will to look down at him. His mouth is open, surprised and amused, and his eyes are shiny and bright.

“Yeah, like, a lot.”

He’s still inside you but softening, and his own chuckles make him slip out.

You lift up on your elbows as he stands up straight and the evidence is clear. The hair above his dick and high on his thighs is all dark and soaked.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

The sheets on the edge of the bed are absolutely ruined, and you pray he’s one of those men that has a mattress protector. You’re more than a little mortified, and the way he’s staring at you, silent, is beginning to make you squirmy.

“What?”

“Why do you seem so surprised?”

His fingertips are feather-light across your thighs, and you shiver.

“I’ve never actually… done that? I would have warned you.”

He makes a pained sound, and those fingertips turn into a tight grip just above your knees.

He doesn’t speak up. Instead, he lies on the bed beside you. He holds himself by his elbow, but that hand strokes your scalp while the other traces up and down your thigh, your hips, your breasts, anything he can reach. You avoid the topic at hand to relax into it, and you think you’re finally coming down as that boneless feeling washes over you.

You’re vaguely aware of his cum dripping out of you, but the sheets are a lost cause anyway. You just watch his lax face, the way the wrinkles in his brow are all smoothed out, the way his eyes follow the patterns he’s drawing on your body.

He catches you staring. His gaze meets yours and he smiles and it’s sunny. It warms you through, despite all the sweat that’s cooling on your body.

“Hi,” he whispers.

You giggle, and he does too. He tries to hold it in by biting his lip, but it’s no use. You will your exhausted bones to shift and face him, and he presses his lips to yours and they meld together.

It’s languid, unhurried, just reacquainting after too long apart. It feels a little goofy, with how you’re both smiling so wide, but it calms you into settling down after such a high.

Both of your breathing seems even, when you part.

“That was—”

“It’s never—”

You both chuckle.

“Ladies first.”

You feel shy now. You can’t imagine why, but a fluttery feeling overtakes your stomach.

“I was just gonna say… That was better than all those times I imagined it.”

You didn’t think it was possible, but his smile grows even wider. His eyes flicker from yours to the sheets between you, and you think maybe he feels as bashful as you do.

“It’s never been that good.”

A sigh escapes him when he speaks, and his nervous gaze lands on you when his face falls into something more earnest.

It takes your breath away. Because it’s never been that good for you either, and isn’t that such a perfect coincidence?

You tug him to you by the back of his neck, eat up the surprised little sound he makes against your mouth.

“When can we go again?”

#Pedro pascal #Pedro pascal x reader #Pedro pascal smut #Pedro pascal fanfiction #Pedro pascal characters #x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike smut #the mentalist

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thankskenpenders · 2 days

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The Knuckles show

The announcement of a live action Knuckles streaming miniseries was surprising, to say the least. I mean, what would such a show even be about in a version of the Sonic universe with no Angel Island and barely any characters from the games around? Is he gonna go treasure hunting with the gang from Montana or something? Would a streaming miniseries have the CGI budget to squeeze in any new game characters, even briefly? Rouge? Amy? At least one member of Team Chaotix? Anyone?

Now the show is finally out, and it turns out what they actually made was a comedy show about bumbling deputy sheriff Wade Whipple, the minor comic relief character played by Adam Pally who you might not even remember all that well from the first two movies, with Knuckles as his sidekick. While, yes, Knuckles does get a decent amount of screentime and opportunities to punch bad guys and do cool moves from the games, large stretches of this show focus on Wade's personal life, to the point that a couple times I almost forgot I was watching a Sonic-related show. If you're judging it purely by the metric of how well it adapts and engages with its source material, this surely must be one of the worst adaptations the Sonic franchise has ever seen.

So then, despite some huge complaints... why do I kinda like it?

(This will contain full spoilers for the Knuckles show.)

A brief summary of what the show is actually about because I know half of you aren't going to watch it

The show picks up not too long after the end of the second movie. Knuckles is now living in Montana with Sonic, Tails, and the Wachowskis out of a sense of debt to them, though he doesn't really see it as his home. He doesn't feel like he belongs on Earth, and his life currently lacks direction. After communing with the ghost of Pachacamac, though, Knuckles is instructed to keep his culture alive by teaching "the ways of the echidna warrior" to a new apprentice: deputy sheriff Wade Whipple, who's currently more concerned about winning a bowling tournament in Reno than anything else.

Things are complicated by the interference of two rogue GUN agents - Agent Willoughby, played by Ellie Taylor in a bad wig, and Agent Mason, played by Kid Cudi. (Yes, the artist behind the second movie's credits song is one of the bad guys in this.) They want to steal Knuckles' power and sell it to a former associate of Robotnik's played by Rory McCann (The Hound from Game of Thrones), who now works as a black market arms dealer. Yes, they're still doing the thing where Sonic and friends' quills radiate some kind of super-energy that the bad guys all want. No, I don't particularly love this element of the Paramount Sonic continuity. Anyway, they go after Knuckles and Wade, complicating their straightforward road trip to Reno. Antics ensue.

The Wade show

So here's the thing. While the first episode focuses largely on Knuckles, the entire rest of the show is very much the story of Wade, and by extension the other original human characters invented for this miniseries.

Episode 2 is about Wade having to rescue Knuckles from captivity after the GUN agents get him. Knuckles spends most of the episode in a cage.

Episode 3 is about introducing Wade's Jewish family, including his slightly overbearing mother and weird sister, so that Knuckles can learn about their family traditions and have Shabbat dinner with them (and then save them from bounty hunters that the GUN agents hired).

Episode 4 only features Knuckles at the very beginning and very end of the episode, probably for less than a minute total. Wade is captured by a bounty hunter he personally knows, and Knuckles decides to let that be a trial for Wade to overcome on his own.

The last two episodes feature the climactic showdowns with the GUN agents and their arms-dealing ally, who comes in with a mech for the obligatory final boss fight. You'd think this would be Knuckles' time to shine, but really, these episodes are mostly about the bowling tournament in Reno where Wade encounters his estranged father, wrapping up his own personal arc. While Knuckles does get some fights, a lot of the finale is spent on lengthy bowling scenes where Knuckles isn't in the room or even mentioned. It frequently feels more like a spiritual successor to '00s sports comedy movies like Dodgeball, Talladega Nights, or Blades of Glory than it does a part of the Sonic franchise, and the presence of ESPN 8: The Ocho commentary in the finale only drives those Dodgeball comparisons home. They get so immersed in the bowling stuff that it's genuinely hilarious when the show suddenly pivots and remembers "oh shit we still need to do the final boss fight"

Throughout all this, Wade is the protagonist. He's the character we spend more time with, he's the character who drives most of the major events, he's the character who gets more of an arc. The emotional core is Wade's journey. Knuckles is still present - sometimes, at least - but he's there as Wade's wingman, and also just as the excuse for there to be some fight scenes.

How much Sonic stuff is actually in this show?

Honestly? Not much.

Sonic and Tails are only in the first episode. Sonic gets some good scenes, but Tails gets a grand total of five lines. I counted. Unsurprisingly, Jim Carrey is absent as Robotnik, though he does get mentioned a fair bit. (For that matter, basically the entire established human cast beyond Wade is absent, even including Tom, though Maddie is there in episode one.)

GUN is involved in the story, which helps it feel slightly more connected to Sonic, but it kind of feels like it's GUN in name only. They don't use any recognizable GUN tech, and they don't call in the military. It's just two agents in suits. They might as well be the Men in Black.

The Master Emerald is mentioned as something Knuckles has to guard, but it's never seen. Angel Island is pictured as a drawing during the show's intro, appearing exactly how it does in Sonic 3, but it's never referenced at all beyond that.

I guess the climax taking place in and around a Reno casino is a reference to Sonic's many casino-themed levels. That's something. I'll give them that.

Oh, and if you're wondering if this is the point where we finally start to get actual music from the games: no, it's not. The soundtrack consists of a lot of '80s needle drops, many of which are generic Hollywood picks like "Holding Out for a Hero" for the billionth time, thought it at least has some slightly less obvious picks than the Mario movie. The theme song is '80s rock song "The Warrior" by Scandal. You'll hear it many times. You'll hear the Adventure era Knuckles raps zero times in this. You'll briefly hear classic A Tribe Called Quest song "Can I Kick It?" before Knuckles takes the question too literally and breaks the radio in Wade's car.

Beyond a handful of surface level references for nerds (one of which is admittedly wild - we'll get to that), this is probably the least an officially licensed adaptation of Sonic the Hedgehog has ever tried to actually engage with its source material. I struggle to think of another Sonic adaptation that has less to do with Sonic. For as much shit as I and countless others have given Penders for seemingly ignoring the content of the games in favor of building his own convoluted mythos, his Knuckles comics honestly included way more elements from the games than this show does.

Somehow, the one new(-ish) Sonic character introduced in this is the ghost of Pachacamac of all characters. Not even Tikal! Pachacamac! A very minor character nobody has particularly strong feelings about! You can't even use the excuse that they already had the character model, because they completely redesigned him compared to his cameo in the first movie to better match his Sonic Adventure design. And he's voiced by Christopher Lloyd! Honestly, so many of his lines are strained that it sounds like he's on death's door here, but then he'll surprise you with a more casual line like "just do it, man" and it catches me so off guard that I can't help but laugh.

Pachacamac here has basically nothing to do with the game character he takes his name and appearance from. Where the game character was a cruel warlord who kicked off a 3000 year cycle of violence, Paramount Pachacamac is now just this chill old man who gives Knuckles (and later Wade) advice in two episodes of the show. Hell, he also feels completely disconnected from his established role in the movies, where he's literally the guy who shot Longclaw. The show will not grapple with this contradiction at all. He's just here to be a thing fans like me will recognize from the games. Again, if that's all they wanted, it's kind of baffling that they didn't just use Tikal.

I don't love Knuckles in this

But what about Knuckles himself? Well, he doesn't feel all that much like Knuckles to me. Ironically, he sometimes feels like one of the weaker elements in his own show.

Back when the second movie came out, I noted that Knuckles' characterization seemed to be pulling heavily from MCU Thor as a gallant warrior from an archaic alien culture who doesn't really understand modern day Earth stuff. That worked for me in that movie. It was just there for spice. Just a little extra flavor for the character in what was otherwise a very faithful adaptation of Knuckles' storyline in Sonic 3 & Knuckles. Without those familiar elements grounding him and with a much higher reliance on comedy, Idris Elba's Knuckles becomes a pretty one-note character in this.

In damn near every scene with Knuckles, he's going to say something about being a proud, honorable echidna warrior, or brag about his glorious feats of strength, or be confused about some Earth thing and call it sorcery, or act like every other character is also a member of some noble warrior clan. He still has his moments for sure, but this schtick kinda gets old fast, and it just doesn't feel like Knuckles to me. His entire character feels derived from the scene in the diner where Thor smashes the cup on the ground and goes "Another!" Sure, I can picture game Knuckles smashing a radio to turn it off and being a little too gung-ho about busting holes through walls. That's Knuckles behavior. But building a barbarian combat pit in the living room so the Wachowski family dog can fight the mailman? Nope. That's some other guy now. It really does just feel like them taking a broad character archetype from something popular that kinda sorta fits Knuckles and just running with that, rather than trying to actually adapt the character.

Oh, but don't worry, he wears the OVA hat for like two minutes! AND he loves grapes! See, Sonic nerds? We read the wiki! That's his favorite food! Grapes! This is gonna come up like five times!

Knuckles kind of gets an arc here, but not as much as Wade does. I think the stuff about him starting to feel at home on Earth thanks to Wade's mom and the way he connects with their Jewish family traditions is oddly sweet. This arc is kind of let down, though, by the fact that Knuckles' heritage is treated as a complete joke. He's a cartoonish pastiche of various historical warrior cultures stuck together in a blender and used mostly for comedic effect. When Pachacamac's ghost appears, he's reading a newspaper and bemoaning the fact that the Mets lost again. This is not the place for a serious examination of Knuckles' feelings on being the last of his kind.

This is far from the only time the show undercuts itself with its jokes and attempts at self-parody. In the first episode, for instance, Knuckles clashes with GUN Agent Mason and his tech-enhanced punches, leading to an extremely on-the-nose inversion of the "Do I look like I need your power?" scene showcased in the trailer for the second movie. Except this time, Agent Willoughby butts in and points out how stupid that line is in this new context, since they're literally trying to steal Knuckles' power. The fight can't just be cool, they have to get cute with it. A lot of stuff like that happens in this show.

Given all these complaints, the first two episodes left me thinking I'd be fairly negative on this show overall. This seemed like the version of the show from the fandom's collective nightmares, one that undoes all of the progress the movie series seemed to have been making towards faithfulness to the games. Like, just look at these cast posters. Is this what you want out of Sonic? Do these excite you?

But then, something strange happened. Over time, I just kind of let the jokes and shenanigans wash over me and basked in how fucking weird this show is.

And I started to actually enjoy it.

Look. The Wade & Knuckles Show was never going to be peak Sonic. But that sure as hell doesn't mean it can't be entertaining.

This show is so fucking goofy

Here's the thing.

The show is funny.

Unlike a lot of other people, I didn't hate all the wedding stuff in Hawaii in Sonic 2, because I thought a lot of it was funny, both in its actual jokes and in the ways in which they tied everything back to Sonic. Tom looking wistfully at some bodybuilders doing Top Gun shit and spraying each other with beer and being like "I wish Sonic had that" is weirdly funny. The twist that those muscle bros are all agents of the newly formed GUN, who orchestrated the wedding as an elaborate scheme to catch Sonic, is funny. Mr. Olive Garden becoming the fucking GUN Commander is VERY funny. Are any of these elements of my dream Sonic movie? No, of course not. But my dream Sonic movie was never gonna happen in live action.

The Knuckles show follows up on the comedy of the previous films by being probably the funniest live action Sonic release yet. Did every joke land for me? God no. There are some stinkers in there that made me roll my eyes. But enough of them landed that it worked out for me overall. A big part of this is the fact that they've got a good cast of actors and/or comedians here.

Adam Pally is funny as Wade, and I found myself liking him more and more as a character as the show went on. He becomes an oddly endearing loser, with some sweet moments in his personal arc that made me feel for the guy. I like Wade more than Tom now, thanks to this show. I will now be happier to see Wade in Sonic 3 than I would have been previously.

The supporting cast is frequently great, too, many of whom are playing completely cartoonish, over-the-top characters. They took a cue from how exaggerated Carrey's performance was as Robotnik and decided to just abandon all pretense that this is the real world. Stockard Channing as Wade's mom is funny, and carries some of the more sincere parts of the show. Cary Elwes as Wade's very British dad who abandoned him as a child to run off and be the world's most egotistical professional bowler is funny. Edi Patterson as Wade's sister Wanda is... well, she's kinda trying too hard, but she has her moments. The Mighty Boosh co-creator Julian Barratt(!!) as a scenery-chewing bounty hunter, who was also somehow Wade's former best friend and bowling partner, is VERY funny. I love this guy.

(Honestly, they should let more people who were on Garth Marenghi's Darkplace be in Sonic stuff. Where's Matt Berry)

This is kind of a stacked cast for a bunch of stupid side characters in a live action Knuckles show! And honestly, that just makes it funnier to me. Even when they're not funny, the fact that this exists makes it funny. They somehow convinced Paramount to give them a bunch of money to make a spiritual successor to Dodgeball about a schlubby guy who wants to beat his dad at a bowling tournament... except also Knuckles the fucking Echidna is there as his personal life coach. My life is richer for the fact that I can say that sentence. I think about all the little kids who are probably watching this show this weekend, going in expecting a show about Knuckles the Echidna and having to sit through extensive bowling scenes and lore about Wade's family, and sorry kids, but I just have to laugh. Wade isn't even on the poster! The poster is just a picture of Knuckles!! They punked those kids!!!

In a franchise where every single aspect is so carefully micromanaged these days, it feels truly special to get an adaptation this bonkers. It frequently appeals to the same part of me that enjoys the fact that there's an officially licensed Knuckles comic in which Charmy Bee's best friend (also a bee) dies of an accidental LSD overdose from a drug-laced chili dog. Or like, everything about the original 1993 Super Mario Bros. movie. Or the fact that they made seven direct-to-DVD sequels to Alpha and Omega, one of which is half a retread of the adventure from the first movie (with more annoying supporting characters in tow this time) and half a literal clip show of the first movie. The sheer absurdity of the fact that these things exist is charming to me. Except, with the Knuckles show, it has the added benefit of frequently being funny on purpose! This is why I'm not sure I'd call it "so bad it's good." Like, it's not amazing, but there were a lot of parts that I enjoyed in the exact way I was supposed to enjoy them.

Look. Here's a list of real lines of dialogue from the Sega-approved Knuckles the Echidna streaming show that they're billing as a pillar of the Paramount+ lineup, to drive this point home. Let these marinate for a minute:

"I only eat grapes, and Cool Ranch Doritos™."

"Annihilate this little girl, Wade. Crush her spirit. Humiliate her so badly her parents won't even look at her again." "Doesn't that seem like we're going a bit far?" "Not far enough."

"So is he Jewish?" "Half, I think."

"I had a friend who when he listened to Alien Ant Farm he could lift a Toyota Corolla over his head."

"I'm in dire financial straits. Due to my lawsuit against an unnamed rainforest-themed restaurant franchise, I don't have two pennies to my name."

"We're here in sunny Reno, Nevada, which is so close to Hell you can smell the sparks."

"You can't threaten me with your Jewish karate chops because I am a federal agent."

"I will say, regardless of how you feel about child abandonment - and I'm against it! - the deals at TJ Maxx can't be beat."

This is a Sonic show in which they got Paul Scheer and Rob Huebel to appear as ESPN 8: The Ocho commentators.

This is a show where Wade's mom insists upon pronouncing "Knuckles" with the throaty Hebrew "ch" sound, and declares that Knuckles is basically Jewish. Later, they watch Pretty Woman together while enjoying a nice slice of key lime pie. Knuckles comments: "I don't understand. This young streetwalker with a heart made of gold, why do the others treat her with such disdain? Is it so wrong to walk the streets?"

This is a show where the fourth episode is directed by one of the guys from The Lonely Island and features a hallucinatory low budget rock opera stage musical put on by the ghost of Pachacamac. It recounts Knuckles' life story, with Wade playing Knuckles and the "evil" Longclaw played by the bounty hunter guy who's played by the Mighty Boosh guy.

Look at this.

And also, Knuckles' singing voice is provided by Michael Bolton, which they proudly announce in the middle of the musical.

And also...

Also...???

IBLIS IS IN IT????????????

Yes, Iblis!

From Sonic '06!!

Knuckles is said to have looked for a mythical power called the "Flames of Disaster" to avenge his clan, which ended up being the power that was within him all along that lets him do fire punches yadda yadda yadda. As part of this, he apparently fought Iblis off-screen at some point, as conveyed with the giant singing papier-mâché Iblis in the musical.

...Then Iblis sings about hitting up Facebook Marketplace

How? How does any of this exist? Why reference '06 of all games? How did Iblis get into the live action Sonic movie universe before Amy and Metal Sonic? Why are they using Iblis and the term "Flames of Disaster" in such a goofy way that completely disregards their original context?

I don't know. I don't know how any of this happened. But I love it. We got a Knuckles miniseries in which Michael Bolton sings the phrase "the Flames of Disaster." The world is a beautiful place sometimes.

Some people will tell you to skip episode four. "Knuckles is barely even in it," they say. "It's dumb and pointless," they say. "They clearly just ran out of special effects budget," they say. These are people whose opinions you should disregard. The episode with the least Knuckles in it is somehow the most entertaining episode of the show. I would, in fact, go as far as to say that if you only decide to watch one episode of the Knuckles show to see what goofy bullshit they get up to, it should be this one.

I cannot be mad at this show. It's so dumb, but it completely owns the fact that it's a dumb and unnecessary spinoff. Inferiority is baked into its very DNA. It's very self-consciously redoing the premise of the first movie, but stupider. It's about The Other Cop from the movies, instead of the competent one. Instead of being into a "cooler" sport, his life revolves around professional bowling. Instead of going to Vegas, he goes to Reno. Even his tragic backstory that shaped his entire life sucks. He was abandoned by his pro bowler dad in a TJ Maxx. Not even a nicer department store. A fucking TJ Maxx. This whole show is a Dril tweet.

They put a ton of effort into making it dumb in an occasionally spectacular way. So much effort was put into that joke rock opera that fans will just write off as stupid filler. They put their whole pussies into it. This is not a poorly made show. This has better production values than half the shit made for Disney+. This was made with love. Maybe not as much love for the Sonic the Hedgehog series of video games as we'd like, but it's love nonetheless.

Maybe this show broke me and these are the ramblings of a madwoman. Maybe I'm just really nostalgic for the '90s and '00s comedy movies all the Wade stuff is modeled after. Maybe the Alan Wake fan in me just really loves it when a story pivots to a silly rock opera for no real reason. I won't discount any of these possibilities. This isn't high art. This isn't something I would recommend to anyone with zero interest in Sonic, and it also isn't going to sway Sonic fans who hate the Paramount universe. I really can't blame them for being bewildered by this show. But for a specific type of person, this is the absurd three-star Sonic-adjacent comedy miniseries of your dreams. It's a mid masterpiece.

Again, I just have to step back, realize the fact that this shouldn't exist, and smile. Sega's too afraid to do stupid bullshit with the franchise like this these days. And I can't blame them, after years of Sonic being a treated as a laughingstock. But part of me misses some of the goofy shit. No matter how much I tore some of the Archie comics apart as I was reading them for this blog, I just look back on stuff like Cal and Al or the Many Hands issues and laugh. And that same part of me looks at this show about Knuckles being the sidekick to this fucking guy, and just goes...

"We're so back."

In conclusion, I genuinely think this was a more enjoyable TV show than Sonic Prime.

I wouldn't go back and rewatch Sonic Prime anytime soon, aside from maybe, like, a couple of the Shadow-heavy episodes. Huge stretches of that show bored me to tears. The writers squandered all of that show's potential. But I would rewatch the Knuckles show, which takes a terrible premise and has a lot of fun with it, in a heartbeat. Even the bowling parts. The bowling scenes in the Knuckles show are more engaging than 70% of the fights in Sonic Prime. I am not trolling. I mean that sincerely, with all my heart. Don't @ me.

Stray observations

There is effectively zero meaningful setup for the third movie in this, unless Wade's family or the two GUN agents come back or something. Project Shadow is not mentioned in this. There is no secret post-credits scene with Gerald

The CGI in this is pretty good. Not quite on par with the movies, but pretty good. Sonic's weird forehead wrinkles are distracting in his scenes though. Please fix that

I wouldn't say I liked this as much as the second movie, which obviously gets a ton of points for, you know. The Cool Sonic Shit. But I had more fun with it than the first movie, which I still feel is a painfully generic family movie that was only saved by Tyson's redesign

"Grapes are an interesting choice for someone who doesn't use his individual fingers."

Agent Willoughby was apparently the one at GUN who had to buy the Olive Garden gift cards and set up the fake wedding. Her origin story is that she hated doing shit like that and wanted to go fight aliens

This miniseries contains another Keanu namedrop because Wade's childhood bedroom has a Speed poster on the wall. I swear, if Sonic doesn't say Shadow sounds just like Keanu...

Knuckles is familiar with Paul Blart Mall Cop

Near the end the ESPN 8: The Ocho commentators say that the 1974 Reno bowling championship was also interrupted by an extraterrestrial, and given that was exactly 50 years ago I can't write off the possibility that that was Shadow. Please for the love of god give us a sequel series after the third movie where Wade takes Shadow the Hedgehog bowling. I need this more than I need air

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wolfish-trickster · 3 days

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You made your choice

Gojo x fem!reader

Part 2

Previous part

Word count: 2.4K

Summary: you asked Gojo who is more important to him, you or his bestfriend. He indirectly chose and now he's experiencing consequences of his own action (probably for the first time in his life).

Warnings: bad grammar (possibly), typos, angst, very little comfort

Taglist: @ilovebattinson @catobsessedlady @abcdefghijklmmopqrstuvwxyz @nanao4k

A/N: I recomend listening to this song while reading (was listening to it while coming up with the story, the song and the story aren't exact copies of eachother but the vibe is about the same) and to those who know me THE LINK IS SAFE TO CLICK I DIDN'T LINK IT WITH WHAT YOU THINK I SWEAR. Enjoy the reading 😊

"Hey, can I come over?"

"Dude, you were just here!"

"I know, I know. But I need a shoulder to cry on."

"Damn, that bad? What happened? You and Y/N had a fight or...?"

"Can I just come over?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll leave the door unlocked."

Geto Suguru has had a lot of weird moments with his best friend, but that phone call certainly was...something. No explanation, no joking around, just straight to the point.

About fifteen minutes later he heard his front door open.

"Satoru, did you learn how to teleport or something? We live an hour away from eachother," Geto joked before he could even turn around and see the state his friend was in. Disheveled hair, dry lips, red eyes. Something terrible must've happened.

"It's Y/N," was all Gojo said before he sat down at the dining table.

"Figured that much," replied Geto and took a seat next to him and waited. He knew Gojo. That man can't shut his mouth to save his own life. He'll spill everything sooner or later.

Gojo let his head fall on top of Geto's and sighed. Geto patted his fluffy white hair and kept on waiting. Good thing was they both sat right across a big window. Geto could count pine cones on the nearby trees while he waited for Gojo to open up.

It didn't take long.

"Y/N left."

"WHAT?!" Geto pushed the white head off of his shoulder and took Gojo by the shoulders. "What happened? What did you do?" He stared him in the eye.

Gojo just blinked. "I don't know! I don't think I did anything wrong," he looked oit the window again. A squirell jumped from one branch to another.

Geto rolled his eyes and turned Gojo's face back to his. "Satoru, people don't just up and leave. You must've done or said something that hurt her feelings. What did I tell you about comunication being-"

"Being the cornerstone of a good relationship, I remember," he put his hands on Geto's cupping his face. "We did talk. And I thought we came to a mutual understanding. Then I offered to cuddle with her and went to shower but once I walked out she was gone. All her things too..."

"Wow," Geto let go of his friend's face, "what a bitch."

"Right?" Gojo agreed and leaned back on his chair so far it was threatening to fall. "I don't understand. She never complained before, never said anything, then all of a sudden she pulls a stunt like that, throws a scene, slips into her selfhating thing again-"

"Wait, she what?" Geto asked confused. He has met you enough times to know you were very cheerful and life-loving person. What was Gojo talking about? Selfhatred?

"She has these moments,"he explained, "thinks she's too fat, then not curvy enough, thinks she's too basic to be with a guy like me, so on. When it happened the first few times i comforted her but even after all those years she still thinks of herself as less than and I'm too damn tired of it. I thought all of those negative thoughts would go away the first time I assured her I love her no matter what," he crossed his arms on his chest and looked out the window again. "I'm starting to feel like she's doing it for attention."

"Listen Satoru, maybe she's just extremely selfconscious and people like her need reassurance like that. Besides if she was really doing that for attention she wouldn't leave withoit a word. She would leave hints for you to find her and come beg her on your knees or something."

Gojo chuckled. "Suguru, you've got to stop watching Shoko's telenovelas."

"I'm a slut for drama."

A phone rang.

In a speed of light Gojo pulled out his phone hoping to see your lovely face. The screen was black.

Geto pulled out his ringing phone and picked up. "Well well, speak of the devil," he smiled.

Gojo couldn't hear what him and Shoko were talking about. He could only take hints from Geto's facial expressions and his occasional answers.

"What do you mean you have to cancel it? Oh. Okay. I understand. And did she tell you what-" his eyes got wide. "But wait, that's not- I didn't- Actually he's right next to me."

Gojo tried to get closer to hear what they were talking about but Geto jumped up and walked across the room.

"Okay. Okay, i'll ask him. No, that's fine. Alright. Take care, both of you. Bye," he hung up. Then slowly turned around to face Gojo now standing opposite him.

"Now you'll tell me exactly what had happened between you two. You said she caused a scene, what was it about?"

His mouth turned into neutral line, just like when you started this whole mess. "She asked me to stop seeing you. Can you believe that? Trust me, if I told her to stop seeing her friends all hell would break lose."

"Isn't that what happened when she asked you?" Geto pointed out the obvious double standard but Gojo wasn't listening.

"Didn't you hear what I just said? She wanted me to spend more time with her. Like, what does she want me to do? Make me and her morph into one being?"

"It is true that you've been spending a lot of time with me," Geto held his chin between his fingers in a thought. "But I don't get one thing. If you being away from her this often was a problem for her then she must've shown signs, not encourage you to come and spend time with me when she was too busy herself."

"About that," Gojo nervously played with his shades. "I might've over-exagarated that."

"Don't tell me..." Geto pinched the bridge of his nose.

"She wasn't always busy when I came here."

"Satoru!" He half shouted. "You always told me she was too busy and couldn't come! Why would you lie?"

"Because i felt trapped!" He yelled back. "I felt like I couldn't even breathe. Yes, being around has brought me so much joy but I missed the thrill of being free. Just being with you and Shoko and doing whatever. Now I just feel like I'm chained to something that I kinda want away from but also not," the entire time he spoke he was pacing back and forth. "I just wanted to feel like the old times."

"So in other words you miss the feeling of being single but you also like the benefits relationship gives you," Geto concluded. "I thought you were better than this."

"And I thought you would understand," Gojo turned his anger against his best friend who was calmly standing in the living room. "But wait, I forgot, you have no one," he mocked.

"Damn right I don't. Which makes me even more pissed off when I see how you treat your own relationship! Have you got any idea how much I envied you for having someone waiting for you at home and welcome you after a long day? Or just someone to be there for you in general?"

Gojo got silent. He didn't know. Geto never showed it.

Geto took it as his chance to try speak some sense into Gojo. "Listen, you only feel like this because you've never been in a relationship. Feeling trapped is normal, I think. What's important is that you love her and you're capable of changing to get her back, right?"

Gojo was just looking at him.

"Right?" Geto said a bit more panicked.

"I don't know!" Gojo exclaimed and Geto facepalmed. "I don't know how to choose between her and you."

"Is that what she asked? For you to choose between her and me?"

Gojo shook his head. "No, I think she just wanted me to spend less time with you."

"So she didn't out right prohibit you from hanging out with me, she only asked for you to stay with her more often," Geto was slowly but surely getting the whole picture.

"Something like that," Gojo shrugged.

Geto sighed. "You royally fucked up Gojo Satoru."

"No, really?" sarcasm dripped from his words. "I still think I did nothing wrong. She has no right to aks me to spend less time with you."

"She does actually. She's your girlfriend of what, three years?"

Gojo nodded.

"Three years and yet you place her beneath a best friend. How would you feel like if she had to choose between her best friend and you and she went for the friend?"

Suddenly, Gojo looked like it finally hit him. "I'd feel...terrible," he sat down on the chair. "But... but I didn't tell her I would choose you. Both of you mean so much to me."

"On the same level or a different one? Satoru, understand that the love for a friend and a love for a lover are two separate kinds of love. You not being able to distinguish between them caused you to be in this mess."

Geto walked over to where Gojo sat and towere over him. He put a reassuring hand on his wide back. "Let me ask you this: what do you want right now? To be with her?"

Gojo stayed silent. He didn' know what he wanted. He hated the fact that he can't have both a friend and a lover. Choosing one would mean losing the other in Gojo's eyes. He can't afford that. Not when both of his most treasured people made him so happy.

Geto took his silence as a no. "You know what I think? You didn't want to have her. You just wanted others to see you have her."

His words cut like a knife. Why? Why do his loved ones have to be this cruel? He only looked up from the floor to his best friends almost black eyes. His own baby blues were watery. A lump took place in his throat. With a horror he realised how weak he feels. One half of him already packed her things and walked away, he can't let the other half do the same.

"Do you hate me now?" He whispered, affraid if he will speak any louder he would cry.

Geto took a while. Then shook his head. "No Satoru, just dissapointed."

Gojo nodded and looked back down to the floor.

Few minutes passed. None of them said anything. After Gojo was completely sure he won't fall apart he spoke up. "Do you think I can fix this?"

"Hmm," Geto hummed and pulled out a chair to sit opposite him. "Fixing means returning to its original state. I don't think things will go back to normal."

"But, I don't want to lose her. I know I don't!"

"Then you must set your priorities straight."

"But-" Gojo looked into Geto's eyes again. "That would mean I will loose you and that's equally as bad."

Geto shook his head. "You won't loose me. I'll still be here. You can still come over and we can still hang out. It just won't be like before."

"And that's what I don't want," Gojo mumbled and crossed his arms again while leaning into the backrest.

"Truthfully, if I had a girlfriend as amazing as Y/N I would spend a lot of time with her and not you."

Gojo swore he could feel his heart crack. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs, "that it's only natural to pick your lover over your friends. Not always, of course, but often enough."

Geto lifted his head to see his friend pale as a ghost, his skintone could now rival with his hair. He immediatelly regreted what he said. "But as I said, even if that was the case, even if you chose her as your top priority, which you should've as a good boyfriend, then it wouldn't mean I would cease to exist. And if I get someone in the future and I do the same you won't cease to exist to me either. You are my best friend, Satoru," he placed a hand on Gojo's shoulder, "and no girl will ever change that."

Gojo's ocean blue eyes let some tears slipped. He realized that his best friend is right, as always. Geto will always be there. And sure, even after he gets busy in his own life and won't have time for Gojo and his antics anymore, that wouldn't mean they would change into strangers to one another.

Gojo quickly wiped his tears and nodded. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I don't want tk fix this. I want to evolve this. I want her back. I want to learn to love her again. Properly this time."

"You sure about that?"

Gojo nodded.

"Even after she won't forgive you?"

"Why wouldn't she? She's smart. She will understand. Besides, how can you rehect the best man in the world?" He forced out a chuckle.

Geto shook his head. "Arrogant and full of yourself as always."

"Yeah, what can you do..."

Geto's phone buzzed again. But this time nkt from a phone call but a message. Geto took out his phone, gave it a short glance and put it back into his pocket.

"Was it Shoko?"

Geto shook his head. "Just my reminder. Me and Shoko planned to go see a movie."

"Oh, is that what you talked about canceling?"

Geto nodded. "Y/N knocked on her door and asked to stay a few days. From what Shoko told me she was a mess."

Gojo slumped forward on his chair and hid his face in his hands. "I never wanted any of this to happen."

Geto hummed. "Do you know what this is callled? Consequences. Hurts, doesn't it?"

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo x reader #gojo satoru angst #gojo angst #jjk fanfic

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seat-safety-switch · 2 days

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In some countries, it is allowed to live on a boat. These house boats are called "houseboats," and they are quite a bit different from our more conventional housedirts. For instance, there is an internal-combustion engine in the basement. Wait, that's not different from my place at all.

For as long as I could remember, I've always wanted to at least sleep on a houseboat. In my country, we have lots of water, but none of it is in the province where I live, which is a flat hellscape devoid of all features except for white supremacy and a guy who incessantly honks whenever a hockey team scores a goal. It's not clear where his allegiances lie, but that is not the point of this story. The point is: I wanted a houseboat. So I snuck onto the airport runway and hid in the landing gear bay of a 747, hoping that it would take me somewhere that boats are also very mildewy-smelling houses.

As I rode there, alternately taking huffs of oxygen to stay alive, and glugs of off-brand Sichuan-knockoff not-Huy-Fung to stay warm, I thought about the downsides of the floating home lifestyle. For one thing, you'd be constantly trying to deal with leaks, and those leaks are quite a bit more serious than "spray Flex Seal on it and stop thinking about it" in a conventional home. My mind wandered a bit as the oxygen started to deplete, and then it struck me. I realized to no small amount of horror that the problem with houseboats is that there's no garage. If you want to park your car at your house, you simply can't.

This disgusting, deviant lifestyle had lured me across the world, all for nothing. Things kept getting worse for houseboats the longer I thought about it. If there was no lawn, I couldn't park a car on the lawn. If I couldn't park a car on the lawn, I couldn't park forty cars on the lawn. What would even be the point of living?

It all worked out in the end, because once the plane landed, I got to spend some time in Dutch prison before my deportation. Besides being prettier and better appointed than my actual home, it was also a houseboat. Well, prisonboat. I got a chance to try out this new, interesting way of living, and I didn't have to give up even a single shitty car to do it. Plus, one of my fellow prisoners explained to me that you can park a whole lot of bicycles in a houseboat. He was arrested for trying to ramp a BMX off of the forehead of a police officer while demanding the government turn a major highway into a bike racetrack. I think we might be related.

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ultimate-chickennougat · 2 days

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| I just want attention! |

Toji Fushiguro x Wife!Reader (Requested!)

Asking Toji for a divorce.

Word Count: 1.5k

CW: SFW, domestic mostly fluff and some angst, happy ending.

A/n: TYSM to the anon who requested! I'm not very experienced with writing angsty stuff so if it's bad my apologies. (Also tag: @chilichopsticks)

From the moment you met Toji, he was nothing but a gentleman to you. Maybe that was why you fell so hard and so quickly, so that when he was on one knee with a ring you didn’t hesitate at all after only a few months of being together.

He always swept you off your feet, when you got off work he picked you up and took you wherever you wanted to go. He always tried to make you happy and spend as much time with you as possible, buying you flowers when you got a promotion and taking you to an early screening of a movie from your favorite franchise, were only a few of the many things he would do often for you.

All he asked for in return, was for you to accept him, faults and all. He had made mistakes in the past, and still worked as an assassin, which was the only job he felt he was well suited for. With you in mind, he quit his gambling habit. After so many loses he finally got some sense knocked into him and decided to saved up his money, so that the moment the two of you tied the knot you wouldn’t have to work at all.

To most, Toji was seen as arrogant, if not invisible since he kept to himself, something that you never understood. On the day of your wedding, you were picked up in his arms and carried directly to the car, where he drove the two of you to your honeymoon destination right after the ceremony and fuss was over. Two weeks of hot springs and relaxing in a small town awaited you, where your husband doted on you more than ever. Every morning you awoke to a sweet kiss on your forehead, and warm arms engulfing you, making you wish you could sleep forever in the comfort of his protection.

You made sure to snap plenty of shots of walking around to the different shrines and temples, and your husband wearing a yukata which he realized he was rather fond of. By the end of your trip you were more in love with him than ever, and even more ready to embrace a wonderful life as his wife in your new home.

Somewhere in your heart you knew that feeling might not last forever, the butterflies you got every time Toji was around you. But everyone always said the honeymoon phase lasted at least a few months… not the length of the actual honeymoon. Nothing your family and friends had said about marriage prepared you for this reality, that the fade to normal life would be so sharp.

By the time the two of you got back to the house, your husband was already heading right back to work as usual. You kept yourself busy with unpacking all the boxes and setting things up around the house, but in a way that only made getting used to a routine harder. Toji didn’t come back for four days, being on a job he got unexpectedly.

His quick call barely did anything to calm your nerves. He was always so careful about telling you about his work before the two of you were married, trying not to worry you. Of course you knew Toji was strong, and you tried not to doubt him, but you could barely sleep from thinking about it. Now living with him you could feel his absence by the empty side of the bed and the single plate of food on the dining room table.

As soon as he was back, you were overjoyed by his presence, almost thinking that feeling you were missing had returned. But, it wasn’t for long. No matter how many hobbies you took up at home, or how many friends you made in your new neighborhood, the absence of your husband would always bother you. When he was right in front of you, he was still the gentleman you always remembered, who you loved with every ounce of your being. But when he was away, you couldn’t help but wonder if he thought about you as much as you did about him. If he even missed you, he was gone so often for his assignments. As weeks turned to months, it blurred into routine and so did the wall that started to grow between the two of you.

That day, you had finally had enough. After contemplating it in your head for a few weeks, you realized that the two of you were still relatively new into your marriage, and you could still probably get your job back even if things changed. Of course you still loved him, and you couldn’t imagine your life without him, but right now, that was almost what you were living. He got less and less affectionate every time he came home, and it was too stressful to have to worry every day that he got home safe in a job that you didn’t fully understand, as he couldn’t tell you much for your own safety.

You had promised him you would stay by his side for anything, but he had done the same for you. And right now, neither of you were anywhere near each other. Toji had no idea you had taken up watching the neighbor’s kid after school some days, or that you baked a fresh loaf of bread at the start of every week, something he was never there to try. You didn’t know where he was or sometimes for how long, not getting much more than a promise that he’d come home safe.

“Smells good, what’d you make?” Toji inhaled deeply as he walked into the house. For the first time in your marriage he was home on a Monday, bread making day. “It’ll be ready soon,” you referred to the loaf sitting on a cooling rack. You forwent the normal welcome, though you did it so rarely that it seemed to go unnoticed. Making a cup of coffee to go with a slice of the bread, you shifted you feet uncomfortably, making Toji watch your movements carefully. “Thanks,” he muttered, grabbing the bread off the plate while you sat down in front of him.

The two of you sat in silence. Starting it off with that question felt far too daunting. “Y’know what, I was thinking we should take a vacation,” he started, “for a week or two.” You lifted your head up to look at him. “Haven’t done that in awhile, huh,” he groaned, hand rubbing his neck at your bland expression.

He dropped his hand and sat up straight when he saw your face change. Your eyes, usually so cheerful and lovely, looked only of pain as they flooded with tears. “Toji, you know that I love you, I…” he watched you carefully as you spoke. “I… just can’t do it anymore,” you started to breath deeply, turning away to avoid your husband’s eyes.

Toji grabbed your hand softly, encouraging you to squeeze it back as he listened. “I love you too, okay? Just talk to me,” he muttered, trying to decrease the tension though he knew in his gut what you were going to say. Clearly it had been on your mind for a while, you just wanted to get it over with. “I miss you, a lot, but I know you’ve got your work and everything,” you grasped his fingers, pressing into them lightly. “But I just don’t know what I’m doing here, aside from worrying about you. I’m not even doing anything for you.”

Tears flooded down your cheeks as Toji reached up to wipe them away with his thumb. “Maybe we just shouldn’t be together,” as much as he was prepared for your words, they still hit him like a ton of bricks. If only he could express how special every moment the two of you had together was to him, and how excited he was to make new ones. “I love you, okay? I didn’t marry you for nothin’, remember that.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I don’t want to be without you, but my work takes me away a lot.” Toji frowned, realizing your apprehension to fall into his arms was something he should have noticed beforehand. “I’ll quit, I’m serious. I just want you to be happy, okay? I don’t want to get divorced.”

“It’s not just that, it’s-” he tucked you into his chest. “You’re right, just calm down and we can talk about it,” you nodded against the fabric of his shirt. “I just want some attention, it’s like we don’t even know each other sometimes,” you whined, wrapping your arms around him as well. He smiled as you brought your head out, face dry of tears but still a bit pink. “I want to learn everything about you, yeah? Like how’d you get so good at baking…” he bit off a chunk of bread, now room temperature and slathered in butter.

“This isn’t the time for joking, I just told you I wanted to get divorced,” you sulked as Toji laughed. “I’m just glad you changed your mind,” he let out a sigh of relief. “I still want to talk about this, but let’s leave it off for a bit,” he held you tighter, “I’d rather relax before I have to tell Shiu I’m quitting…”

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #jjk toji #toji fushiguro x reader #toji zenin x reader #toji x reader #toji x you #toji fluff #toji fushiguro x you #jujutsu kaisen toji #fushiguro toji #fushiguro toji x reader

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stayinlimbo · 2 days

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We Become We

pairing: husband!lee minho x reader genre/warnings: friends to lovers, marriage of convenience, fluff, poor attempts at me trying to be funny, mc's gender is not specified word count: 1.02k note: i am not dead yay. i tried my best since i haven't had time to write for almost a month so please take this as a peace offering ♡

Marriage. It’s an interesting concept, isn’t it?

You’ve always thought so, at least. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc.

Yours happens to be a man named Lee Minho. The same man you’ve been friends with for as long as you can remember. The same man who asked you to marry him for a reason you didn’t get to learn until he was already down on one knee.

(“I’m sorry, you want me to WHAT?” “Marry me. Please, I need health insurance.”

“Okay, yes, sure, whatever; now please get off the floor. People are staring.”)

Lee Minho, who, after dragging you to the courthouse and legally becoming your husband, finally elaborated on how his job would pay him more and cover both of your health insurances if he was married. So really, in his words, he was “doing you a huge favor” by marrying you.

And, in all honesty, he really was. No, you didn’t have a ring to show off your new husband’s weird skill at finding loopholes in company policy, and you’re like thirty-five percent sure the two of you are committing some kind of marriage fraud, but does it really matter when you can finally start using the hot water in your dingy apartment without worrying if you’ll have enough money to fund your crippling caffeine addiction? The government will have to drag you kicking and screaming before you resort back to mankind’s cruelest form of torture: cold showers.

Not to mention that marriage didn’t even change your relationship with Minho. And why would it? You’re still you, and he’s still him. He gets on your nerves just the same, maybe even a little bit more after he decided to frame your marriage certificate in his living room and send a photo to all your mutual friends. You’ll never forgive Minho for laughing at your helplessly panicked state when the group chat wouldn’t stop exploding with messages and incessant calls.

You’re still his best friend that resides in his apartment four out of seven days of the week while he inhabits yours for the other three. Maybe that’s why, two weeks after your “wedding,” when it was time to renew your lease, Minho suggested with a simple shrug of his shoulders that you move in with him since “you’re here all the time anyway.”

You’ve really got to learn how to say no to him because now you wake up next to your best friend/roommate/husband in his one bedroom, one bathroom apartment at the crack of dawn with a light pressure on your chest and fur in your face when his cats decide you need to wake up right now to feed them.

Not to say you don’t like the new arrangement! No, that would be the furthest from the truth.

Sure, you didn’t appreciate your skin care routine being interrupted by the unexpectedly high-pitched scream Minho let out when he saw you in a face mask for the first time, and what kind of person still has their phone’s brightness turned up all the way before bed? But who else would willingly tolerate your deliriousness before your morning coffee or indulge in your pleas to cook your favorite food three days in a row?

Living with Minho has only made the purely platonic feelings you harbor for him grow stronger.

That’s what the fluttering in your chest means every time you see him, right? The reason for the smile that grows on your face when you hear the distinct jingling of keys at the front door?

Yeah, that must be why heat spread across your cheeks when he handed you his phone to text one of his friends back, because since when did the heart emoji make an appearance next to your pinned contact name?

You just care about each other, that’s all. It’s normal to want to make sure he arrived at work safely and ask how his day is going during your lunch breaks. It’s normal to start receiving back hugs before bed—a comforting weight as Minho’s chin rests on your shoulder while you apply the rest of the products to your face.

It’s natural to have doubts about the nature of your relationship during an evening walk, acutely aware of his fingers lightly brushing against yours as you silently study his features illuminated by the soft glow of the scattered streetlights. What if he meets someone else and falls in love with them and wants a divorce and– oh.

Has he always looked at you like that? With his gaze softening as it locks with yours? With the corners of lips lifting into the gentlest smile you’ve ever seen? With all the stars shining above you finding a second home in his eyes? A look so loving that it takes your breath away and you can’t tell if you’re about to laugh or cry in relief.

And when you return home to get ready for bed, the familiar feeling of hands wrapping around your waist and a careful pressure resting by the crook of your neck quells the remnants of your worries.

It’s you and Minho. Minho and you, just as it always has been. Just as it’s always meant to be.

The distance between your bodies on the bed becomes nonexistent when you curl yourself into his side, laying your head on his shoulder and intertwining your legs with his as he immediately, unhesitantly, adjusts his arm, his fingertips finding purchase on exposed skin and roaming across the span of your back. A kiss to the top of your head is the last thing you feel before the gentle lull of breathing and the rise and fall of his chest begin to soothe you to sleep.

…

Ah, marriage—what an interesting concept. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc.

You love your husband, and you’re beginning to think he loves you too.

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn

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loveemagicpeace · 2 days

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🏹Astrology Notes 🛼

People with many aspects of Neptune, especially Neptune Square North Node, can get into bad paths (alcohol, drugs...) many times they look for a solution by running away from problems. In life, they struggle with many difficult, incomprehensible, strange things. They may come across many people who deceive them.

Pluto opp chiron - can illustrate that you never really get over your traumas that were inflicted on you when you were little. Many times you can carry a swordsman's side inside you and never really let it go.

Mercury opp chiron- you have a hard time expressing or talking about your pain. It can often take a really long time to talk about what's bothering you.

Mercury conj Pluto- you can always be secretive about what you say. It could also be that a part of you is always hidden behind words.

The aspect of the moon and Saturn indicates the relationship the person has with his mother. People who have very strong aspects with the moon and saturn can be very attached to their mother and the mother has a great influence on them. It also shows that this person is not emotionally open and can always keep their feelings inside.

Dynamic aspects (opposition, square, inconjunction, semi-square) between Saturn and Jupiter indicate that a person can be full of hope at one moment and completely desperate at the next. These aspects are often associated with suicide. Because people can hardly bear such strong energy.

There are differences: Sagittarius is much more changeable than Jupiter, more freedom-loving and irresponsible. Sagittarius is less likely to symbolize the acquisition of material goods. Also, being a sign and therefore a less powerful symbol than a planet, it is less likely than Jupiter to operate at an excessive level. Sagittarius is less likely to signify waste, excess, or arrogance. Sagittarius gets along best with planets like Mars, Uranus, and the Sun, which are fast-moving, energetic, and not resistant to change.

Strongly emotional planets do not do well in Capricorn because the sign tends to repress emotion in favor of discipline. The Moon is particularly difficult here, because Capricorn will not allow the Moon to enjoy being dependent on others, a mode of relationship that is absolutely essential to the Moon’s functioning at some point in life. Venus is also not at its best, because its emotional criteria for choice are likely to be subordinated to practical criteria. Venus in Capricorn can also indicate an attraction to older persons who can serve as authority figures as well as lovers.

The Pisces symbol is two fishes swimming in opposite directions, and like Sagittarius and Gemini, Pisces is traditionally referred to as a dual sign. There are two types of Piscean: the advanced (Pisces as the last stage in the evolution of the archetypal ego or self) and the primitive (Pisces as the stage just prior to a new beginning in Aries).

Pluto in the 3rd house can represent a very strong bond with a sister. So separation with your sister can very difficult if you live far apart. You can create a beautiful and strong bond with your sister.

Mars in the 5th house indicates a difficult birth and problems with children. Children may be restless, aggressive or angry. It is important to look at aspects.

Jupiter in the 9th house often indicates good intuition and prophetic dreams. So it is important to remember your dreams.

Virgo rising people are so beautiful. I notice that women have beautiful faces and skin. Men, on the other hand, have well-developed eyes and bodies. I would say that virgins can have more beautiful beauty than technical ones in the subsign. Otherwise, it depends on where Mercury falls in the house, but still, their beauty is very naturally beautiful.

Moon in the third house indicates sensitive emotions and feelings. Moods change quickly.

The Moon in the fifth house indicates great success for children. Also a person very dedicated to fun.

Moon in the sixth house can mean too much strain in terms of health. Lots of public contact. It can also mean insecurity and health problems in the first 7 years.

Mars in 7th house can mean that the individual is too open in relationships and dealings. It can also mean that he is jealous, intense and controlling.

Mars in the 11th house means you can be argumentative and want things your way. Many times the need for freedom is strong.

Mars in 12th house- the individual is interested in hidden things. You can join things that are secret. You like to work in the shadows. And you present your things when you are sure of them.

Uranus in the first house often shows that your personality is very unique and special. You have an energy that others find rare and interesting. You are a person who does not like drug treatment and prefers to find a different way (natural way of treatment). You want a job that is free and you don't like being controlled by others.

Uranus in the seventh house indicates premature engagement or marriage. It also means inharmonious relationships (if the aspects are not good). It also indicates a relationship in which one is ingenious and clever.

Uranus in ten house people are prone to emotional or physical loss through one parent. It is said that people with this position are also inclined to have two professions at the same time. It is important for women to check if her Uranus is in the 10th house of a man. Because this can indicate that the man is more focused on his career than her.

A person with mercury in the 9th house will always know at least 2 foreign languages, if not more. These people learn foreign languages very quickly and quickly understand others. They often prefer foreign languages.

Mars in Libra -A person can be quarrelsome and inharmonious. But it's not always like that. It depends on what aspects the person has. Person can be very passive aggressive and hides a lot of their energy. Many times they do something, but in reality they want something completely different. They can place the blame on others in many cases unless the person has Venus in good stabile sign.

Chart ruler of 8th house in 5th house -if it is in bad aspects, it can indicate the possibility of miscarriage, loss of a child at birth or in youth.

Chart ruler of 8th house in 8th house symbolizes benefit from the dead. Interest in immortality, spirituality. If the ruler is in an bad position then there can be problems with dying.

Chart ruler of the 9th house in 4th house travel is necessary for family matters. Property comes from relatives and partner.

Chart ruler of the 9th house in 6th house means handling due to travel. As well as good success abroad. If the aspects are in an unfavorable position, it can mean illness while traveling.

Chart ruler of the 9th house in 7th house means marriage in a foreign country or marriage with a foreigner. It often symbolizes a person living in another country. If it is in an unfavorable position, it may mean that relatives oppose the marriage.

The ruler of the 10th house in the 1st house- can mean a lot of ambition and talents. But it can mean loss due to father.

The ruler of the 10th house in the 6th house- symbolizes a humble position in society. Treatment can be an important part of an individual's life. If the aspects are bad, it can mean loss of career due to health.

Ruler of 10th house in 7th house- indicates benefit from public. Lawsuits are positive and marriage can bring fame.

Ruler of the 10th house in the 11th house - symbolizes the fulfillment of dreams. Strong and influential friends help the individual.

-Rebekah🧚🏻‍♀️🦋

#astrology #zodiac signs #astrological houses #birth chart #astrology observations #moon #my notes #planets #energy

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 days

Note

May I ask why you dislike Malleus so much?

[My TWST character tier list is here.]

[For context on why I dislike Malleus: here and here!]

Many of the reasons previously cited above are still applicable presently (though some points may be outdated since those posts were written before book 7). In this post, I will mostly be focusing on why my thoughts on Malleus have not changed despite the new added content of book 7.

I ramble on for a bit, so I put my thoughts below the cut! Ah—but before you read, please be aware that these are my opinions and not meant to be disparaging to any Malleus likers out there.

Me disliking him should not take away any of your joy!! Go out there and love him for me ^^

A lot of the things happening in book 7 were a long time coming, so really I felt as though Malleus finally “losing it” was affirming of all the red flags from before. Since day 1, his loneliness, aloofness, and awkwardness around his peers were key traits of his. What book 7 does is it magnifies the darkest aspects of his character.

We’ve seen several examples when Malleus has fits of rage and his power flares out of control or he at least threatens it. In Glorious Masquerade, he becomes enraged at the realization that the invitation he received was a false one. In A Firelit Sky, he insinuates that he would be upset if people questioned his presence for the trip. He crushes Lilia’s phone in his own Dorm Uniform vignettes, destroying a friend’s belonging because he was upset about not being invited to an occasion. In book 7, we see a flashback of Malleus freezing the whole castle as a child because his grandmother, overtaken by her duties, could no longer dine with him as promised. Malleus’s temper has been a persistent issue since childhood.

We’ve also seen him act callously toward his classmates and misuse magic to force his will upon them. Remember him stopping time during Endless Halloween Night? How he wanted some ghosts to enjoy themselves instead of missing out on being with everyone for the holiday? Now he’s stopping time in book 7 and keeping everyone in their happy dreams forever. Remember how (in his Dorm Uniform vignettes) Malleus thought it would be easier to make the other dorm leaders come to him instead of him coming to them for their meeting? So then he disregards their autonomy and casts magic that’s normally cast on objects on living beings (something which the other dorm leaders take offense to, as it is dehumanizing). He fails to consider their perspective when he returns to Diasomnia (he basically goes, “well, I wouldn’t have been mad if they cast that spell on me!”). Malleus learns nothing from the experience despite Lilia trying to tell him over and over to be more considerate of others and how different they are from him. Now we have Malleus relating his peers to a virtual pet that he never ever wants to leave him.

Malleus can be stubborn and arrogant. He has a very single-minded way of thinking and often does not consider others’ feelings before he makes the decision for them. Malleus can be insecure. He doesn’t even fully realize he is lonely until Yuu suggests it in book 7, but he’s capable of acting on his bouts of intense emotion. He has always had these flaws, and now they are being brought out in full; we’re being forced to confront OB Malleus and all the complicated, twisting feelings of abandonment that come with him.

Let’s make one thing very clear: I don’t take issue with the overblot boys in general; they are meant to be morally grey characters that act in dubious ways. It would be insincere for me to claim “I dislike Malleus because he did bad things!” News flash, many TWST characters have done bad things or at least questionable things that would give you pause. What separates Malleus from the others and makes him egregious enough to earn significant ire from me is the particular actions he takes (which triggers a personal disdain of mine).

Malleus consistently exerts a scary amount of control over others. This is not a new idea; Riddle and Vil are also notorious for being oppressive or controlling, and I’ll be the first to admit that. (You’ll note that those two are low on my tier list too.) The thing is, Riddle and Vil were very overt and open about their demands for obedience. Malleus can be too, but it’s so insidious how he acts within the dreams. He ignores people’s autonomy, gaslights others, and, again, acts like he knows what’s best for them 💀 Other characters have done these things too, but never to the same scale or by exerting this much power. Malleus then resorts to violence when his lies don’t work, even though he’s fully aware of the power disparity between him and his peers. It feels particularly scummy to me because of how Malleus frames his selfish actions and feelings (his wish for Lilia to not leave) as selfless (for the benefit of his peers) and something everyone else would want in order to justify it to himself 💦 I know he is in (or bordering on) overblot so he wasn’t thinking rationally at that point, plus the fact that many examples I listed come from events or vignettes which may not be canon to the main story timeline. Still, there is a concerning pattern of behavior with Malleus misusing his powers or not being considerate of others and failing to grow from those mistakes. You can only go “oopsie” so many times before you harm someone by accident. I expect people to learn their lesson by then and adopt some proper restraint. He keeps claiming his intentions are good as if that’s supposed to dismiss any harm that results from his actions??? No, his actions still harmed people and he has to deal with the consequences of them, not have them hand-waved away or excused. The behavior I’m witnessing is reminiscent of like… having a toxic friend that is constantly told “hey, what you’re doing/saying makes me feel uncomfortable; do you think you could dial it back?” and the friend tells you they’ll try but then never actually changes their behavior or defends their behavior with “I didn’t mean to, so therefore I did not actually harm anyone”.

You can give me a backstory, but a backstory only goes so far as explaining why he is the way he is; it does not excuse him at all. You can say “He’s a fairy! He’s sheltered!” until the cows come home, but when he relies on magic to quickly fix the problems he caused instead of stopping to genuinely reflect on why people are mad at him, it’s hard for me to sympathize. Because of his immense power and status, the only person that can reasonably hold Malleus accountable is himself, and he has not demonstrated to me that he can do that.

Book 7 is essentially the payoff for allllll the tropes and traits I never liked to begin with coming into fruition. That’s why Malleus has stayed where he is in my TWST character ranking. I did not expect the writing, no matter how good or tear-jerking, to change that. Until Malleus shows that he’s fully apologetic, recognizes the error of his ways, and consciously tries to connect with others and understand their perspectives, he’s staying squarely where he is.

Am I saying a character with flaws is a bad thing? No, absolutely not! Flaws are what make a character interesting, I’m not faulting Malleus or any other characters for having them. Am I saying that he is poorly written? No, I think Malleus is actually quite a complex character and he’s been really fascinating to follow. I love the emotional complexity of book 7–and it was so clever how the devs related his virtual pet to wishing for happily ever afters for people in his real life. This magnitude of danger is also just about what I expect of book 7 and the themes of togetherness that TWST was angling for from the start. But the fact remains unchanged that I perceive his attitude as irritating at best and reprehensible at worst.

My distaste for Malleus is based entirely on my own views and life experiences. The specific flaws Malleus has and how he acts because of them don’t sit well with me and the kinds of things I enjoy in fiction. It’s not anything deeper than that!

#twst #twisted wonderland #Malleus Draconia #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #book 7 spoilers #notes from the writing raven #question #Riddle Rosehearts #Vil Schoenheit #Lilia Vanrouge #a firelit sky spoilers #glorious masquerade spoilers #malleus dorm uniform vignette spoilers #endless halloween night spoilers #Yuu

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kopilot-pop · 23 hours

Text

[New Jeans x Oldest Member! Reader] - #3

-imagine.

Summary: Silly little fics of you and the gorls. You’re basically the tired father figure in their lives.

Warning(s): Cursing, car accident?, bribing a worker?,!crack humor, Hanni has a stalker, you get violent, etc.

A/N: This is like really unserious lmao. I wrote it really lighthearted. Also, this was written over the course of the whole Ador vs Hybe situation. So please understand I’m slowly becoming more unhinged as the story goes.

———————————————————————

You’re strong. I mean physically strong. All of New Jeans, hell, ADOR knows that.

Oh where’s Y/n unnie?; She’s out for a jog.

Unnie is your hand okay?; Yeah, I just had a sparring match today.

That’s just a part of your life.

Fans adore this about you, the girls adore this about you, and today, you’ve come to appreciate this fact too.

Especially when a stalker decided to show his face again at the airport.

It’s been about 2 months since you’ve last seen the man. He went viral on the news (by news I mean Dispatch) for being Hanni’s stalker.

The last time you met him - oh, it was ugly.

He snuck into a performance venue disguised as a staff member. You were the one that caught him lurking near the MC waiting room.

‘Hanni’s supposed to be in there.’

Five. seconds.

That’s all it took for Hanni’s scream to pierce your ear.

The stalker barged into the room, grabbed the girl, and attempted to drag her towards the exit.

You don’t remember much after that scene.

Actually you might remember punching his face something and throwing something him across the wall, but that doesn’t really matter does it?

It mattered alot to Dispatch, who got a hold of the security footage, and decided to share it for the world to see.

The whole situation cause alot of debates of “Oh he’s a stalker. He deserved it. Good job Y/n!” versus “Wow, you didn’t have to get that violent Y/n.”, and in the end, the company decided to put you on a short hiatus and a long scolding from the producer.

Currently, you guys are standing across a crosswalk in front of the airport. The six of you are scheduled to perform in Paris in a few days and decided to get there early to settle in. You all planned a short vacation before having a whole week of dancing after dancing.

So imagine your surprise to see the dirty little freak right between the paparazzis - with a broken camera, might I add - staring at your group.

After acknowledging his presence, you quickly turned to Hanni - hoping that she didn’t notice him yet.

Unfortunately, you were too late.

Hanni’s body was slightly shaking and you could see the fear in her eyes as she stares directly towards the area where the stalker is.

Instinctively, you rushed to her side, and held her waist with your arm.

“I’m not letting him get to you, bub.”

“I.. oh you saw him too?”

“Mm-hm, and I’ll sucker-punch him if he tries to touch you again, alright?”

Hanni giggles, “Nooo, I don’t want you to be stuck in our dorms again!”

“I think it’ll be worth it if I get to break his nose this time, no?”

Minji - overhearing your conversation - butts in.

“Please don’t break anybody’s nose today unnie.”

“I’ll try my best.”

Minji gives you a skeptical look and you give her an innocent smile.

When the crosswalk light turns green, the whole group starts to walk through the group of people, as security tries to make enough room for you guys to pass.

The six of you were just about to manage through the gates when Hanni’s pained scream cuts through the air. You snap your head towards your right to see the same stalker gripping a fist-full of her hair.

And in just a millisecond, a loud crack replaces the girl’s scream.

The paparazzis’ cameras went wild with flashes - all trying to capture how you grabbed the man by his collar and slammed your fist right into his nose. Your pupils were blown wide, piercing right through the stalker writhing on the floor.

“Y/N!!”

Minji was the only one quick enough to snap out of her shock and grab onto you before you could attempt to break anymore of his bones..

Yeah, guess you’re not making it to Paris.

———————————————————————

“UNNIE!! Look at this!!”

Danielle happily skips over to the rack filled to the brim with different bunny plushies. You, her and Haerin all decided to go to a state fair that was happening only an hour away from the hotel.

Technically, you were dragged here by the two of them, but that doesn’t matter.

You watched as the girls looked through the pile of plushies while sipping in your smoothie.

‘Is this what parenthood feels like..’

When the two of them finally chose a bunny they liked, they simultaneously looked over to you… expectingly..

“What. Wait. I already bought us food?”

They nod.

“And hats, I bought us three hats.”

They nod, again.

They’re now directly under your nose, giving you those big puppy eyes. Sweat drips down your back, and it’s definitely not because of the Texas heat.

With a exasperated sigh, you reach into your back pocket and take out your card.

“Excuse me, how much for two of those plushies?”

“Oh, so sorry, but those aren’t for sale. You have to win 50 tickets to win two of them!”

The worker gives you a smile and continues helping out a family near the shooting range. When you turn around, Danielle has a clear pout on her face.

“Aww.. I thought I could buy them..”

“Not you, I could buy them.”

“Potato po-tah-to.”

For a moment you think of the choices you have. It’s either waste cash on a rigged shooting range, give up on the plushes, and.. oh.

“Can the two of you get wait in line for the bucket of cookies over there? Here-”

You hand over a 20$ bill. Danielle squeals happily and Haerin finally has a tiny smile on her face. The older girl grabs her hand and runs towards the stand.

As soon as they turn their backs on you, you slither over to the worker again.

“I need the plushies.”

“Wha- oh it’s you again. Look man, we have a policy that we can’t sell the prizes for c-cash.. wha..what is that..”

You quickly tuck a 100 dollar bill into his front pocket and give him an innocent smile.

“Dude, this isn’t a drug deal, I- ugh, fine, I’ll grab you the fucking plushies”

“Thank you :D”

You carry the two bunny plushies in your arms and a giant teddy bear the man gave you in return for a signature to give to his sister.

You awkwardly walk towards your groupmates while balancing the giant furball on your back.

“Y/n unnie!!! Oh my god! What is that?!”

Danielle looks clearly surprised, but you can tell she’s having a hard time containing her smile. Haerin’s trying her best to help you with the teddy bear.

“I.. uh…-holyshitthisisheavy- I hit the jack pot! Yeah, jackpot….”

You give them a toothy grin, not noticing the group of people taking photos of the three of you, and definitely not realizing the absolute fever Twitter is having over the pictures.

———————————————————————

“I’m telling you guys, nothing’s gonna happen-”

A loud scream cuts off Minji as a ghost jumps out from the wardrobe.

Hanni and Danielle screams louder than the ghost, and runs into your arms in fear. You turn around to see Minji in the same situation as you - just with Hyein.

“Nevermind…” Minji rolls her eyes as the actor scurries off to a different room.

But her nonchalant behavior doesn’t last long when something under the bed grabs her ankle. She screams and - quite literally - jumps into your arms.

“WHY DID YOU CHOOSE A HAUNTED HOUSE FOR YOUR BUCKET LIST.”

The moment you let down a wide-eyed Minji, Hanni grabs your collar and shakes you; Pretty sure she’s trying to get revenge, but having absolutely no impact.

“Ack- I thought it would be fun..”

“FUN?! YOU THINK GHOSTS AND DEAD PEOPLE ARE FUN???!!!”

While Hanni growls at you with tears in her eyes, Haerin bravely opens the next door, only to be met with a doll dropped right in front of her face.

The shock causes her to let out a scream-

‘My ears are ringing.’

which you never expected from her - and run towards you to use your body as a shield.

“ALRIGHT, you guys stand behind me, and I’ll open all the doors, okay? That way I’m the one being threatened by the next ghoul or whatever…”

The girls nod their heads in unison. Hanni finally lets go of your collar to grip onto your left arm.

You cautiously kick open several doors, trying to find the exit, and on the third try you finally find another long corridor with a glowing exit sign at the end. The 6 of you slowly walk towards it but freezes when the buzzing sound of a chainsaw starting echoes from behind.

You’re the only one brave enough to turn around and see the clown standing in the middle of the room you guys just left.

“Okay, don’t panic but there’s a clown-”

The girls scream in unison as they sprint towards the exit like their life depends on it. You follow suit, and use your body to bust down the last door.

The whole group falls toward the ground together, and the younger girls naturally grab onto you, tightly closing their eyes in fear.

“Um… Congrats…?”

When you see the employee standing behind the counter, you sigh in relief that the haunted house is over.

“Guys, we escaped the house.”

They finally detach from you to take a look around their surroundings.

“Oh! Well that was nothing.” Hanni scoffs confidently, causing everyone around her to let out a deep sigh.

———————————————————————

“We got into a car accident.”

“WHAT?!”

You jump up from the bed - almost dropping your phone - and check the contact name again.

“Yeah, I think Haerin unnie has a concussion.”

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT.”

You quickly put the phone on speaker and fumble around to find your jacket.

“Yeah.. so since Haerin unnie got her license we decided to take your car out for a drive..”

“Wait, wait- MY CAR?!”

“Yeah, you said we can take it out whenever we want? Anyways, we decided to go to the beach… but the road was really messy, I think my phone is glitched, unnie.”

“HUH?!”

“We kinda went down this hill… blah blah blah… we hit a telephone poll- blah blah….”

“Oh my god.”

You rush out the door to the location Hyein has told you. When you arrive, you spot the girls and your BMW M3 that you recently acquired after begging your uncle for 3 months to sell it to you.

With a quick glance you can tell that - thankfully - the car is only a little scratched up, so you immediately turn your attention to the girl curled up in the driver’s seat.

Haerin’s head is against the handle with both of her arms covering her face. Her knuckles are almost white.

“Hey, hey, you okay?”

The only response you receive is a tiny groan from the younger girl.

“Hyein said you might have a concussion? Can you look at me sweetheart?”

“She’s been like this the whole time.” Hyein chimes in.

“The car can be fixed, it’s fine, just a scratch. But it’s more important to me if you’re fine, bub.”

With that a few seconds of silence passes and you finally get a tiny ‘I’m okay’ from Haerin.

“Alright then, let’s move you to the backseat so I can drive us to the hospital, okay? Hyein, get in the passenger seat.”

“Hell yeah! Shotgun!!”

You carry Haerin to the backseat, but as you try to get her seatbelt on, you finally notice the frown on her face.

“Haerin, I’m not disappointed you guys took my car out. I told you guys you’re free to do that. However, I am upset that you guys weren’t careful and got hurt. Okay? We can talk about that after we check if the two of you are fine.”

“What- me too?”

“YES, YOU TOO. YOU WERE ALSO IN THE CAR!”

Hyein pouts at your disbelief. You sigh and give Haerin a peck on her forehead, and hurry to your seat to get to the hospital.

“Put your seatbelt on bub, I’m speeding to the ER.”

“W-wait, you just told us to be caref-AHHH!!”

———————————————————————

A/N: This was fun to write lol.

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pb524830 · 1 day

Text

right where you left me

part: 1 pairing: paige bueckers x oc word count: 2.6k c/w: language a/n: heyyyy everyone! my anons have been begging for another series like anyone else, so here's one i've been thinking about for a second and finally put to paper. i hope you like this just as much as 'anyone else'. btw, if you guys want to send in long ass asks live reacting to my writing (whoever @imaginespazzi 's anon is that does this, i LOVE it) it's such a great way to know what you do and don't like about my writing, and i'd so appreciate it. love you guys!

I blink as the sun hits my eyes, almost blinding me. I stretch at my front door, loosening my muscles that are still a little tight from sleep. I squint against the blaring sunlight, then push my AirPods in and start off down my street. It’s this quaint little neighborhood in Virginia, a not-too-far cry from my home state of Minnesota.

My run is peaceful, Kendrick Lamar blaring in my ears, the music a smooth symphony of artful lyrics backed by a spurring beat. I take down about three miles, reaching what looks to be an old basketball court before slowing to a jog, then a halt. I pant, placing my hands on my hips and allowing my chest to heave as I recover from the run. My sports bra and shorts are soaked with sweat, but the summer air is refreshing.

I tip my head back, soaking in the sun, when I hear a voice behind me. “Hey, you shooting or…” I whip my head around, the voice impossibly and frighteningly familiar.

No fucking way.

“Maya.”

“Paige,” I breathe.

She hesitates, a ball braced at her side, and it looks so natural, just as it always has. She’s wearing a white tee shirt and dark shorts, with blue, red, and white shoes on her feet. Her hair is parted down the middle, slung into a bun at the base of her neck. My breath catches when my eyes meet her stark, blue ones - pools of crystal that glimmer in the summer sun. Her limbs are long and she’s tan, her lips stuck in that damned half-smirk that used to drive me crazy. It fades from her face a little as she takes me in, and I cross my arms over my stomach self-consciously.

“What are you… what are you doing here?” I swallow hard as I stutter over my words.

She coughs awkwardly, tossing the ball back and forth between her hands. “My friend, Azzi - don’t know if you remember her, um… She lives here. In this neighborhood. But we also moved to Virginia when we- when I left for school.”

I remember Azzi. She was one of Paige’s basketball friends, a tall, pretty girl with dark hair and a kind smile. Paige clears her throat. “You… uh, what about you?” I blink. “Oh, um. Yeah, same, actually, my family moved here. Also.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

We’re quiet for a few more minutes. It’s my turn to clear my throat awkwardly.

“Still dancing?” She asks.

I laugh nervously. “Can’t seem to stop. Still hooping?”

She smiles a little more at that. “Can’t seem to stop,” she echoes back to me. Paige hesitates for a moment.

“You look good,” she admits after a few moments.

My eyebrows shoot up. “Oh! Thanks, um… you do, too. Look good, I mean. You look great!”

She raises an eyebrow at my rambling. “Great?” She muses.

I scoff. “No, good. You look good.”

“No, I got it the first time.” Her smirk is widening, her tone teasing.

“Good.”

“Not great?” She’s pushing my buttons now.

“Paige, stop,” I blurt out.

It hangs over us - my usage of her name, the undeniable tension that lingers in the air, nearly suffocating.

She looks down at the ground, kicking at it. “Sorry,” she mumbles.

I sigh. “No, you’re fine. I should- I should go.”

“Maya, don’t do that. Look, I’m sorry-”

“No, I should get home. It was good to see you.”

Stubbornly, I plug my headphones in, pretending not to hear her voice calling out my name, the sound of it echoing behind me, praying I can drown out the past if I just turn my music up loud enough.

************

“You’re doing it wrong. Put your foot down on the off beat.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Paige demands, and I bite back a grin.

Patiently, I re-explain the 8 count to her. “It’s just a stupid TikTok. Bro, you’re so extra,” she whines. I hold my hands up. “You’re the one who said you wanted to learn it for real. Like, dancer-style.”

“I never said that.”

“I think those were actually your exact words. Okay, look-”

Paige groans. “Can we take a break?” She begs, grabbing her phone and tossing it onto her bed. She collapses onto it right after, shrugging her shirt off before falling back onto the pillows. I roll my eyes, grabbing my own phone. I sigh, looking at my notifications. Paige’s eyes flicker to mine. “What? Nicky again?” I shake my head. “It’s just… I need to break up with her.” Paige tries and fails to stifle a grin. “You think she knows?” She asks. There’s a hint of smugness to her tone that I don’t like.

I narrow my eyes as she eases off the bed and approaches me, slinging her arms around my waist. “Knows what?” I ask. Paige smirks. “You know what,” she smiles, dipping her head to mine. I shove at her chest, but she pulls me closer. “Knows what we’re really doing?” Paige teases. “Shut up, Paige,” I chide, but she moves in, anyway, slotting her lips against mine in a slow, meaningful kiss.

Her lips work against mine skillfully, and though I’ve only kissed Paige a few times by now, melting into her is only instinct. “Did you eat my Nerds?” She demands, pulling away and licking her lips. I crinkle my nose at her. “Maybe?” She shakes her head at me, mischief glinting in her eyes, before she hoists me up, tossing me onto the bed. “You’re gonna pay for that,” she warns playfully, before tackling me, fingers poking into my sides and eliciting raucous laughter from the both of us. “Okay, okay! I’ll buy you more, stop! Stop!” I shriek. She collapses on top of me, ignoring the way I push at her shoulders.

Paige stares down at me, then leans down to connect our lips again, mouth dancing languidly with mine. I sigh, pushing a hand into her hair and responding eagerly, winding my leg between hers. “Tell her,” she urges, pecking me once. I sigh. “I know. I feel awful about it.” She pushes her body slightly up and nudges my nose with hers. “Come on. She’s not stupid.” She tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “We’re… obvious. You know?” I raise my eyebrow. “If you mean that everyone can tell how bad you want me, then yeah,” I tell her. She sucks her teeth, hitting me on the shoulder. “Tch. You know what I mean. We… were gonna happen.”

I grin at her, though I don’t mean to. “You seem pretty confident about that,” I muse. She grins back at me, her mouth hovering over mine. “Good. I am.”

***************

My run home is more of a sprint, and I’m absolutely spent when I shove through my front door. “Maya!” My mom calls. “Come help with the groceries!” I oblige, unlacing my shoes and skidding into the kitchen. My mom’s head is stuck in the fridge, trying to make room for all the new produce she’s just bought, so I make myself busy storing away the pantry foods.

“You will not believe who I ran into at the store!” My mom exclaims, poking her head out from behind the fridge door. She’s still in her scrubs, probably just having finished off a shift at work. I raise an eyebrow. “Michelle Obama?” I ask. She frowns at me. “You’re not funny.” I shrug. “I beg to differ.”

My mom is definitely more of my best friend than my actual mom. I mean, she works so much, and I’ve had to practically raise my brother. Plus, with my dad out of the picture since… forever, she’s really all I had.

“Anyway,” she says pointedly, dusting off her hands. “I was at the store, and I ran into Bob Bueckers! Isn’t that crazy? I haven’t seen the Bueckers’ in years, and you and Paige were so close…” My mom continues speaking, I’m sure, but there’s a sudden muffled tone to it, like there’s water in my ears.

It’s just the mention of her name. I hadn’t heard it in years, had tried my best not to even think of her because I knew it would hurt. And seeing her today…

It isn’t fair. She does look great - better, somehow. Not the tall, lanky teenager I was used to. She’s a whole woman, now - muscled and lean, much more sure of herself. And yet… so much is the same - that damned perpetual half smile on her face, the way she tilts her head, the way her eyes glint. I can’t help but wonder if other things are the same, as well.

If her hands are as warm as they always used to be.

If she still picks her face when she’s nervous.

Fuck. Stop it.

“Did you hear what I said, sweetie?”

I shake my head out of my reverie, turning back to my mom. “Uh, no?”

“I invited them over for dinner tonight. Wear something nice.”

I splutter, processing what she’s just said. “I’m sorry. You what?”

*************************************

“Uh… here.”

I gingerly take the loaf of banana bread from Paige. I don’t meet her eyes as I let her, her brother, her dad, and her stepmom into the house. “Thanks,” I mumble. Drew stares up at me. “You look different,” he says matter of factly. I smile a little at him. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I tease. He narrows his eyes at me. “I’ll let you know,” he informs me, then skips past me. My little brother, Matthew, catches sight of him, and the two of them run off eagerly to play together.

My heart squeezes a bit at this. I hadn’t realized that Paige and I… growing apart, I suppose one could call it, would mean that our brothers would lose a friendship, too. “He’s, uh… He’s tall, now,” she tries, hesitantly. I glance up at her from the side of my eye, walking to place the dessert on the dining table. She follows me. I hate that she does. I hate that she still smells like herself, that the way she looms over me feels oh-so-familiar.

I toy with the sleeve of my top nervously. “Is that- is that mine?” Paige blurts out suddenly. I glance down at my navy blue top, and my eyes widen. She’s right. It is her shirt, and I hadn’t even realized. It’s a bit big on me, and I’d found it in a box after we’d moved to the new house. “Oh. I guess so, do you want it back? I can go change?” I yammer, and she shakes her head frantically. “No! You don’t have to- That’s not what I meant, you-” She clears her throat.

“It looks nice on you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

I chance a glance at my feet, my hands, anywhere but her. She sighs. “Well, this is fucking awkward,” she mutters. I laugh hollowly. “Whose fault is that, hm?” I say, and I can’t keep the acrid taste of resentment out of my voice. I don’t miss the way her eyes flit to mine, mouth twisting with an unspoken response. “Maya-” she starts. “We should go help,” I interrupt, turning on my heel and walking quickly to the kitchen.

As though it couldn’t get any more awkward, Paige ends up right across from me at dinner. Our parents chatter away, our little brothers in some heated discussion about basketball, and all she and I can do is pick at our food. There are onions in the stir-fry my mom made.

Paige hates onions.

I stifle a grin, despite myself. She’ll eat them, anyway, but I see her pushing them around her plate, putting it off. “Problem, Paige?” I ask sweetly. She narrows her eyes at me. “Not at all,” she shoots back. My mom abruptly stops the conversation she’s having. “Are you alright, honey? Is the food okay?” Paige nods hastily.

“Yes, Ms. Jacobs! It’s so good,” she reassures her. My mom cocks her head, sharp as ever. “Well, you’ve hardly touched it!” I bite back a laugh as Paige shovels a huge scoop into her mouth. “Really good,” she says around the food, smiling as best as she can at my mom. My mom nods, satisfied, and turns away. Paige shoots me a look, kicking me under the table.

I’m shocked. So shocked that the action is natural for her, and shocked at what I do next: kick her back. She gasps, and I guess the huge bite she’s just taken goes down the wrong pipe. She begins coughing violently, and my eyes widen. “Paige? Maya, honey, take her to the kitchen! Get her some water,” she instructs, concerned. Paige thumps her chest, holding up a hand. “All good, I swear,” she tries to say, but her coughs swallow her words.

“Okay, get up. Come on,” I sigh, walking around the table to haul her to her feet by her elbow. I drag her to the kitchen, patting her on the back. I hand her a water bottle from the fridge and she accepts it gratefully. When she looks to the ceiling, her eyes are glassy with tears. “You’re such a little shit,” I sneer. “Me?” She demands indignantly. “Yes! I didn’t even kick you that hard,” I complain.

She raises an eyebrow. “What? You want me to show you?”

“You kicked me first!”

“You were instigating,” she hisses back.

“Spell ‘instigating’, Paige.”

“Kiss my ass.”

“Find someone else to do it. That’s what college is for, isn’t it?”

We both fall silent at that. Then, realizing how close we’ve gotten, we back away.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

She sighs. “No, it’s… I deserve that.”

I bite my lip, glancing at the ceiling. “It’s fine. It’s been… what, three years?”

“Still. I should’ve-”

“Look, dude, I’m over it. I’m just giving you a hard time,” I say. Lies. I’m not over it. Not even close.

She blinks. “Yeah, no. Of course. I’m- I’m over it, too.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

It’s so painfully awkward that I want to scream. This is someone who had seen me at my worst, who had held me sobbing when I hadn’t gotten into the school I wanted.

This is the person who sat with me when my dad died, and I had grappled with the grief of losing someone I had hardly ever known.

This is the person who had seen all of me, who had taken my virginity, who had kissed away all my fears and made me feel loved and safe and whole - and the person who had made all of that come crashing down in one fell swoop.

And now I look at her, standing in my kitchen, far from the Minnesota homes we both grew up in. The sharp pain of ‘I don’t fucking know you anymore’ stabs at my heart, nestles into my throat, and I feel tears pricking at my eyes.

I turn away from her and march back into the dining room.

I’m done letting her make me cry.

It’s later that night, long after Paige and her family have left, when I’m finishing up washing the dishes that I hear a knock on the door. I frown, wondering if my mom is expecting someone. Drying my hands off with a towel, I warily open the door.

It’s Paige. My breath catches.

“Hi,” she starts uneasily.

“Hey. Did you forget something?” I ask, keeping my distance.

“Huh? Oh, no. I just…” She swallows hard, looking at her feet.

She clears her throat. “Can we talk?”

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #wcbb #fic #uconn wbb #✂️ anon #ncaaw #paige bueckers x oc #fic talk

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russellsppttemplates · 16 hours

Text

A red thread tying you to me (Charles Leclerc)

There was something pulling you to him and Charles was ready to act on it

Note: english is not my first language. I loved the blurb and now we have a big piece too!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions the death of reader's father's and Charles' father's deaths

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"The congress is just outside of Milan, the exact city and details are in there", your colleague Lucia offered as she flickered though the pages, "I've been a couple of times before and it's really enriching, I just know you'll love the students and the department head - she was my supervisor for a couple of years".

"It sounds great", you looked at the panel information and then the travel details, "it's such a shame you can't come with me though, but I also wouldn't want to risk your little dude showing up and have me as your midwife", you chuckled as Lucia rubbed her baby bump.

"You're capable of many things, Y/N, but I would prefer if the fate of my baby and my underparts was in the hands of a professional!", she bumped your shoulder, "and the area is really nice too, I'm sure you'll find something to keep you busy during the weekend".

"I have plans, actually, I'll be fine I think", you smiled.

Like Lucia predicted, you had a great time in the conference and the guest lecture you gave was applauded and discussed for nearly an hour after you showed the last slide of the presentation, topics going back and forth until everyone had to absolutely leave the room before the next lecture began. For now, you'd get to enjoy the region, drinking some wine and taking in the views you recognised.

The park where your father used to take you didn't look too different. The slides didn't look rusty anymore, and the swing was a bright red colour as you sat on it once you didn't see any other kid around who might want to use them and let yourself feel the breeze on your face and hair as you kicked your legs in and out. Your father used to make you feel like you could touch the sky with how high he helped you go, "you're going to touch the clouds, mia piccola stella", he would say and you would laugh loudly.

You missed him every single day, but over the years, your grief allowed you remember all of the happy moments you lived with him, cherishing them close to your heart. Spending the whole weekend in Monza and attending the race was something you hadn't done without him since he passed away. The circuit was your father's favourite - "it's the fans, Y/N, there's a thrill in the air that no other circuit has - Tifosi cover the streets, they're all you can see around town and it's magical almost" he would say to you, so when you noticed the conference was in the area and coincided with the Grand Prix weekend, both you and your mother agreed you should take the opportunity.

On your way back to the hotel, you stopped by the track, wondering what the preparations for a race weekend looked like after so many years. You still followed the sport, but you never got the chance to catch this on television.

"Oh my, oh my", you heard someone say beside where you were standing, "I can't believe my eyes, it's Y/N Y/L/N".

Turning around you spotted Salvatore, one of the mechanics your father worked with. He also had kids around your age and you would often play together whenever you were both in the garage for the weekend.

"Salvatore!", you cheered, giving him a big smile after kissing each of his cheeks, "you better believe your eyes then".

"It's been so long since I've seen you last", he recalled, rubbing your back softly. You and your mother had gone to Maranello for a tribute ceremony the team had for your father - that had been the last time he saw you.

"It has been, yes - I'm sorry", you apoligised. You told the team you'd be around and so much had happened since and you only watched it through a screen instead of living it in the flesh.

"It's okay, it was the time you needed - What brought you to Monza this weekend?", he wondered as he walked inside the paddock with you, scanning his card and getting you both in.

"A work trip actually - I finished a conference yesterday and I also gave a lecture at the university", you nodded, "and my father always loved Monza", you smiled at the memory, "he knew how cliché that sounded, but he always said there wasn't a better weekend on the calendar. And I've missed the rush, too", you offered, letting the tears flow freely and accepting them even though you were in the middle of the paddock, loud noises coming from every angle as the teams prepared the finishing touches for the upcoming race.

"He's very proud of you, I'm sure", Salvatore comforted, "and everyone will be happy to see you here - the little girl with the high pigtails is a grown woman now who attends conferences and gives lectures, who would've known?", he joked as you stepped inside the garage.

"Is this little troublemaker Y/N Y/L/N?", one of the oldest mechanics said after he applied a sticker to the halo.

When your father took you to the races, everyone knew they had fun guaranteed with you, always pulling pranks and laughing loudly, "my troublemaker days are over, I'm a responsible woman now", you chuckled, giving a quick wave to everyone before greeting everyone individually.

"Do you have tickets for this weekend?", Fred asked. Even though he had just met you, it was clear to him how much you mattered to everyone who worked with your father, "we can get you a pass, I'm sure".

"I have grandstand tickets", you stated.

"Silvia!", the team principal called the woman, making her approach him and rub your arm kindly, "do we have any guest passes left?".

"Let me check", Silvia mumbled, "we have one left, actually! Charles didn't even notice he asked us to save a ticket for his mother twice - I'll get it for you, it's in the meeting room upstairs", she smiled.

"Charles will also be very happy to see you around, did you tell him you were coming?", Salvatore mentioned.

"I haven't actually - I've been really busy", you mumbled.

You met the monégasque driver when he was Scuderia Ferrari's development driver and Prema Racing driver in Formula Two, accidentally running into him in the dining area of the hospitality and ending up spending most of his free time there throughout the whole weekend.

Quickly, it became a tradition to do so whenever he was over and whenever he was done with his Formula Two duties and you happened to be at the same track.

When you stopped attending races because the memories were too painful, you lost contact, opting to react to eachother's Instagram stories every now and again and sending quick messages through the social media app.

"The boys arrive today, but they're only coming to the track tomorrow", Fred added, "you'll have plenty of time to catch up".

Charles had finally arrived to the hotel after all the flights and drives, thankful that there weren't many fans around already and he could get inside without a hitch, checking in and getting his room keys.

"Hold it, per favore!", he said to the person on the lift, dreaming of the changing from his travel outfit and the bed waiting for him. When his hand helped him inside the metal door, he couldn't believe his eyes, "Y/N?".

He could remember the last time he saw you. He had just started his first season as a Formula One driver for Alfa Romeo and you had come back to the paddock for the first race of the season like you promised you would. He sat with you whenever he had a little break, you caught up with him and his early days as a driver with a seat rather than just watching from the sidelines.

"Charles, hi!", you gasped, hugging him and feeling him squeeze your body against his.

"I- what are you doing here? Are you here for the race?", he wondered. This couldn't be a mere coincidence. He hoped it wasn't.

"I had a work trip here that coincided with this weekend, and I thought of it as a sign", you explained, "you're staying in this hotel too?".

"Yes, the team are at the one where we usually stay for the weekend, but until Thursday, I'm staying here, yes", he smiled, "Goodness, I feel like it's both been forever and like it was yesterday", he chuckled, "do you want to get a drink? I have a nice selection in my room whenever I stay", he offered.

"I'd love to, Charles", you said, hoping that the tingly feeling on your tummy mirrored Charles' own excitement at this unexpected but valued encounter, "are you sure though? You just arrived".

"No, don't worry about that! My room is... 705", he checked on the card he was handed, "so you can join me now or maybe you want to set those things down first and meet me there?", he pointed to the bag you were carrying.

"Yes, this is quite heavy actually", you blushed, "my room is on this floor, so I'll meet in your room in fifteen? I need to freshen up because I've been walking around town all day".

Leaving the elevator on your floor, Charles waved at your before the doors closed andyou headed to your door. Stepping inside, you left the totebag with the books you bought in the chair before heading to the bathroom, brushing out any tangles in your hair and splashing your face with water to freshen up.

After getting yourself ready to go, you went up to Charles' floor, knocking on the door and waiting for him.

"Come in, come in!", Charles offered after he opened the door, "I've unpacked but kept it very organised still", he chuckled as you walked inside the room. It looked the same as yours did, only a different colour pallette for the decoration.

"How have you been?", you wondered once you sat down and shared some sparkling water, neither of you really feeling like drinking anything alcoholic.

"You surely know more about me than I know about you", Charles smiled, "but it's been good, this season has been great so far, I feel like we're in a really good path and things are working well", he took a sip from his cup, "the team have done such an incredible job".

"And the driver on the car doesn't have anything to do with that?", you squinted at his ever so modest take on things.

"I suppose I do", he blushed.

"I may have not been here, but I've watched every race - minus some of the ones at daft o'clock, I only watched those when my sleep was all messed up", you joked, "you're an essential part of this team, Charles, everyone can see that so you should give yourself more credit", you touched his arm.

Even though it had been years since you last saw eachother, you hit it off immediately and it seemed like no time had passed.

"And you? What is this work trip that brought you here?", Charles nodded.

"You're not the only one who gets to travel for work, alright?", you tsked, "I had to do a presentation on a conference and then the department invited me for a lecture, nothing big".

"Who's being ever so modest now, hm? That is fantastic, mon ange!", he congratulated before he noticed the words coming out of his mouth.

"When I noticed it fell around this weekend, I told my mum and she said that I should try and dip my foot here - I've been wanting to come to race sooner but...", you trailed off.

"I get it - it's hard going to the places that remind you of them", Charles took his hand in yours and squeezed it, "he was so cherished by the team, I'm sure everyone will be very happy to see you".

"Actually, I walked to the track today so I could see it up close before the race - I hoped it wouldn't be such a big shock once I got there on Friday -, and I bumped into Salvatore", you smiled, "he let me go into the garage and I saw everyone, it was really nice", you looked up so the tears on your eyes wouldn't fall.

"I can get you a pass, let me just text Silvia!", Charles said as he got his phone from his pocket with his free hand.

"She already did", you chirped, "apparently you booked two for your mother, so they had a spare one".

"You see, a couple of years ago, my mum was too late to tell me she was coming to the race and I was out of the guest passes, so I always have one on hold for her and I sent the list with her name on it as well", he admitted, "but it seems to have turned out just fine - meant to be even".

You ended up requesting room service for the two of you for dinner, neither feeling like going out of the room after feeling so comfortable there. Conversation was steady, vulnerability was easy to show and the butterflies were happily dancing on your tummy.

"I better get to my room, then", you stated once Charles told you about what he needed to do tomorrow once he was at the track.

"I didn't mean it that way - I'm fine!", he said after doing his best attempt at containing a big yawn, "I'm fine!".

"You're tired, and frankly so am I", you admitted as you got up from the bed.

"Would you like to come with me to the track tomorrow? If you don't have other plans that is", he mumbled the last part.

"I don't - I was just going to work a little bit, but if you find me a spot in the hospitality, I'll happily take my stuff there", you smiled reassuringly as you put on your shoes and headed to the door.

"I can take you to your room", Charles got up from the bed and followed you.

"No need, my room is just downstairs", you reasoned, kissing his cheek in a silent thank you still.

"That's right - so we'll go tomorrow after breakfast?", he rested his body on the door once you opened it.

"Yes, that works for me! Good night, Charles", you smiled before walking up to the elevator.

Walking inside the hospitalitynwith Salvatore and the rest of the team, he was quick to show you where you could set up.

"Charles likes to spend as much time as possible with the fans and it's right about now that they start becoming more and more and they're everywhere, too", he explained as he helped you in the table on the lounge area, "there's food and coffee in there if you need anything", Salvatore smiled, "if you need anything, just ask someone".

"Thank you - this is perfect", you assured, sitting down and working on your laptop and reading some of the books you had bought.

Charles and Carlos finally arrived at the hospitality, greeting the team and talking to them for a while before they headed upstairs for a meeting.

"You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend and you were bringing her here", Carlos told Charles as he poured some coffee on a mug after the meeting.

"I don't - I haven't brought a girlfriend here", Charles quirked an eyebrow at his team-mate.

"So who is that young woman you just smiled at and are pouring coffee for after giving her the heart eyes?", it was the spanish driver's turn to raise his eyebrows.

"Oh, Y/N!", Charles smiled as he mentioned your name, "she's an old friend! Her father was a mechanic before he passed away a few years ago - the older team members have known her since she was little, everyone loves her", he mused.

"Everyone loves her - I can see that", Carlos chuckled as he followed Charles to the table.

"We don't want to interrupt or disturb you too much", Charles announced as he set the mug next to your laptop.

"It's fine, sit sit!", you encouraged as you closed the books you no longer needed to make room for them, "I'm Y/N", you told Carlos.

"I'm Carlos", he smiled back, "nice to meet you", he said before you dove into conversation, discussing anything that popped into your minds and getting to know eachother.

"Don't let her fool you into believing she has always been a responsible, put together girl because she used to steal and hide all of our tools!", Antonio, one of the engineers pointed at you after he got himself a bottle of water, "Charles knows her tricks already but you, Carlos, don't fall for that!".

"You loved it every time I was on the computers and drew on Paint! You even had one of my drawings as the background for almost an entire season!", you threw at him as he approached you, patting the top of your head protectively.

"I'd like to see that! I've only known her since she was way older", Charles pouted.

"Jealous much?", Carlos teased, his voice above a whisper as Charles seemed to get flustered.

"Is it really that obvious?", the monégasque driver mumbled once you got up to get something to eat, "I've had a crush on her since I was a development driver".

"Why have you never said anything? She seems like she really cares about you too", Carlos mused as he thought to a few moments before where you too gqve him heart eyes. He would have to be blind to not notice it, and even then the energy between you too would still be felt.

"The timing wasn't right, I guess - her father passed away almost right after as I became a driver for Alfa Romeo, and she hasn't been in the paddock since. We have texted every now and again over the years and now she happened to be here for the race too", Charles offered.

"I'd say you should take a shot - trust me, she likes you back", Carlos patted Charles' shoulder after getting up, watching you go back to the table with a big smile on your face.

After Charles took pole position in qualifying, the team stayed a bit longer for the debrief, going over a few points of the discussion and the changes they still needed to make before the race.

"Y/N! We're having dinner at one of our favourite restaurants in town and I'm counting you in, okay?", Charles said as he spotted you in the garage, followed by Andrea, who had been keeping you company along with his brothers, Charlotte and Pascale.

"Your family is here for you, Charles, I don't want to intrude", you said as you got up, unaware of the Leclerc matriarch behind you.

"Chérie, of course you won't be intruding - we'd love to have you there!", Pascale chirped in.

"Well, in that case...!", you smiled, "just tell me where I should go and at what time, or are we going straight there?", you wondered.

"I was thinking we could go straight there if that's okay with you - you can can come with me and Andrea can ride with my brothers", Charles suggested, "unless you need to go back to the hotel", he quickly scrambled.

"No, I'm fine! Unless this outfit is not restaurant appropriate", you muttered as you looked down. Against all odds, you managed to not get any food stains on your dress. It was a midi skirt cut, flowy to allow your body to feel cool considering the warm Italian day.

"It's fine - you're fine, you look beautiful!", Charles was quick to assure you.

"Good, that's good then", you smiled before excusing yourself to go and get your things.

"You have to tell her, Charles - your affection is no use to either of you if you keept it in here", Pascale tapped her son's chest.

"Y/N", Charles called you before he had to go and get ready for the race, "I have something for you - we do", he said as some of the mechanics, including Salvatore, followed him.

"Oh, what is it?", you smiled.

"We commented with some guys back at the factory that you were here with is this weekend and they found something we thought you'd like to have", Salvatore said as he handed you a bag.

Looking inside, you noticed an old Ferrari cap and some embroidered lettering on the side, recognising it immediately. When you were a teenager, you decided to try different hobbies and hand embroidery was the one that stuck the most, so much so that on one of the race weekends, you embroidered caps for everyone on the team that asked you.

"My wife remembered the one I have at home and then the guys at Maranello found your father's and apparently one you did for Charles' as well", Salvatore offered as you took them both out.

"Dad always said he had plenty of embroidered things at home and this one was the one he had to travel with him", you chuckled as tears welled up in your eyes, feeling Charles soothingly rub your back.

"I remember getting this and loving it - I thought I had lost it!", Charles said, unaware if how close he was pulling you together so he could get a peek at the old caps.

"There's some loose string here", you chuckled, wiping the tears and fiddling with the red thread, "I didn't know how to properly tie it at the start, I kept losing it - I think I even glued it down at some point. Thank you for bringing this out", you smiled.

"Would you mind if I wore this for the driver's parade?", Charles asked you.

"I was planning on wearing my dad's while I watched the race", you offered, testing the fabric and placing it on your head before doing the same with Charles, fixing it on his head and looking up at him.

You never got over how handsome he was. The little scar on his cheek, his mole, the smile that never failed to make you smile, his beautiful green eyes. His kindness, his gentleness, his talent - there wasn't a way to deny how much you liked it. How much you liked him.

"We will be matching then!", Charles squeezed you against him before going to his driver's room.

Only when Charles was headed to take P1 on the grid did he hand the cap back to Salvatore and put on his helmet, giving you a wink before he left.

"How are you feeling?", Pascale asked as she sat next to you to watch the race. Over the last couple of days, she had grown close to you, not only because you had captured her son's heart and she wanted to get to know you, but also because Charles had told her how emotionally charged it was for you to be at the track, in Monza nonetheless.

"It's a lot", you admitted, "everyone has been so kind and warm, so all of the heavy feelings have been slowly infiltrating the good ones and it's been easier to deal with them like that", you blinked away a few tears.

"I get it", Pascale nodded, "losing someone is not easy, and I can't imagine what it feels like for you - the boys and I talk about my late husband every now and again and it gets easier to talk about it, I think that's what it is anyway".

"Yes, definitely like that. My mum and I have reached the point where we don't cry at every mention - despite what you might have noticed this weekend", you chuckled.

"It's emotional, chérie - I, for one, always cry whenever the boys achieve their goals. Hervé isn't here to see them, but I know he knows, and the boys know how proud he is of them", Pascale smiled, keeping some tears at bay too.

"You raised amazing young men, don't doubt that", you let out. At this point, you were sure she had noticed or had at least an inkling. As any mechanic for the red team who knew you since you were a kid would say, you were never a good liar - anytime you said you didn't touch something, they knew to look in your backpack first.

"Thank you, dear", she added, "you know, Charles is quite careful in who he lets in, but he's never been good at hiding how much he cares about someone and I can tell he cares a great deal about you".

"I care a lot about him too", you smiled before you were handed a pair of headphones each with the race about to start.

When Charles successfully kept the cars behind him away with a good gap, you clapped and watched the remaining laps number get smaller and smaller until there was only the current lap left.

Charlotte held your hand together with hers as you watched Charles be the first driver to see the checkered flag and when Xavi yelled "And P1!" into the radio, you did your happy dance, not having a care in the world about what others thought as you watched the Tifosi erupt in cheer.

"He did it! He did it!", Pascale clapped for her son, Arthur hugging her while Lorenzo did the same with his girlfriend while you softly touched your father's embroidered name on your cap with your fingers.

Running up to Parc Fermé, you stood in the sea of red, waiting for him to come back and hug them.

"You did so well, congratulations!", you said as you pulled Charles for a hug.

"Had my good luck charm with me!", he smiled back, kissing your cheek as he took advantage of you being shielded by the mechanics and engineers.

The team celebratory dinner was going really well, everyone happy with how the weekend panned out with both drivers on the podium and enjoying the meal on the restaurant's outside patio.

"If you guys want dessert, they're going to set them out on that table and you can grab as much as you like", Fred spread the message as you could see all kinds of sweet foods being brought out, a pudding catching your eye along with some raspberries.

You and Charles got the dessert plates and served yourselves, noticing the staff was already clearing up the tables, meaning you'd have to move to the bar area, many people opting to skip dessert and get some drinks instead.

"You can see the stars so clearly tonight", you mused as you looked up at the sky, setting your plate on the high table.

"My father always said that the stars did shine brighter here, and tonight the sky is very clear", Charles hummed in agreement, looking at your face. The moonlight and the dim lighting for the lamps and fairy lights illuminated all your features perfectly - your smile as you looked up formed the dimples on your cheeks, your eyes that were a tiny bit squinty and the way your whole body seemed relaxed.

The goosebumps on your arms caught his eye though, "here, have this", Charles said as he offered you the cardigan he had carried around all night since according to him his mother made him do it because it would be cold.

"Thanks", you smiled as you pulled the sleeves and folded them around your wrist so they would fit better, "this is really comfy, I might steal this if you don't ask for it back", you joked.

"I don't mind if you keep it, you have had my heart all these years", Charles stated. There it was.

"What?", you faced him, heart beating fast inside your chest.

"It's true, I've had a crush on you since I first met you, and these past couple of days have been amazing, and I can't believe it took me all these years to realize how I truly feel about you Y/N", he told you, no stutter or sign of regret on his face.

"I haven't been around, really, it's my fault", you fiddled with your thumbs before looking at him again, "but I can't lose you again".

"You never lost me, amour", he smiled as his eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips, his hand cupping your cheek your mouth pressed on his, ignoring everything and everyone around you.

Interrupting the kiss for air, Charles giggled as you hid your face in his neck once you heard the cheers and whistles, your lashes tickling him as his arms circled your waist and pulled you closer to him.

"He wins inside the track and outside of it, Charles Leclerc, P1 to Y/N's heart!", Carlos shouted before whistling again.

"Just so you know, I want an invite to your wedding!", Salvatore pointed his finger at you, "I still remember when you invited me for your wedding with Vettel!".

"You and Seb?", Charles chuckled once you pulled away from his neck.

"Sebastian was my favourite when I was little", you giggled, hiding your face on Charles' chest this time, "when he was back in RedBull still, I asked my father to ask him if he could take a photo with me and I cherished that for so many years - it was my most prized possession!".

"I can't promise you Seb, but I can promise you the very best of me", Charles said as he kissed the top of your head.

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