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effwon · 2 days

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'cause i don't think that they'd understand || ln4 x reader (Part 1)

Summary: Lando just wants to walk down to the garage before the Miami race with you by his side. George and Carmen walked in together, Alex and Lily walked in together, so why can't you, as well? Despite your self-consciousness, you agree to walk hand-in-hand with him down to the garage right before the big race, but it's a much harder ask for you than anyone could ever realize.

Plus-size (she/her) Reader x Lando Norris

Warnings: Brief mentions of nausea/being sick, panic, reader is plus-sized and very down on herself about it, weight mentions, ect.

Characters: Lando Norris (your boyfriend) and feat Oscar Piastri as a last minute saving grace for you.

Rating: G, for now.

“I want you to walk down to the garage with me.”

You blink in surprise, Lando’s words are so sudden and so firm that it makes goosebumps raise on your skin. Walk to the garage with him? But that would mean…

“What? Why?” you ask, folding down the page in the book you’re reading, before placing it down softly on the table beside you. A slugging, churning feeling arises in your gut as you realize exactly what it is he’s asking of you.

“What do you mean ‘why’? You’re my girlfriend, I want you to walk with me into the garage.” He says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And, perhaps, for any other woman in this world it might just be.

But it isn’t for you. This is quite possibly one of the most difficult things he could ever ask you to do, and that alone makes you feel horrible. Lando deserves a normal girlfriend, who can react normally to very normal situations. Not someone who makes his life even more difficult than it already is.

You sigh heavily, knowing if you refuse you will just upset him. “I - are you sure you want to be seen with me? People will talk and they won’t be nice…” “Babe, we’ve had this conversation before. Just one walk down to the garage with me, that’s all I’m asking.”

You frown again, daring to look up and meet his gaze. He doesn’t seem angry, but there’s a desperation in his eyes, something that tugs at your heartstrings. What Lando doesn’t realize is that the backlash won’t fall too heavily on him - but on you…?

Oh, the fans and the media will eat you up. Lando is dating a fat girl? That will decorate the tabloid headlines for days, perhaps even weeks or months. The thought alone makes you sick. But how can you say no to him when he’s so earnest, when he wants to show you off, regardless if you deserve it or not?

“Yeah, okay.” You finally reply, looking away from Lando and down to the floor. He notices this, however, and kneels down in front of you, grabbing one of your hands in both of his own. His hands are so warm and so immediately comforting, working to ease the rapid beat of your heart in your chest.

“It’ll be okay. I promise. And just think, you’ll finally be able to come see the garage and paddock!” His voice is so cheerful, so genuinely happy and excited for you to be there with him. It’s touching, to say the least, but you are loath to admit that your excitement level is not nearly on par with his. Not even slightly.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve wanted to see them for so long.” The lack of enthusiasm in your voice does dull the excitement in his eyes, but he holds steady. Admirable, really. A trait you wish you could share with him.

“It’s almost time. Why don’t you go ahead and get ready, and we can walk down in about an hour?”

An hour? Well - here’s hoping you can actually make yourself look even somewhat presentable in such a short amount of time.

“You’ll help me pick out my dress, right?” you ask.

The light immediately comes back to his eyes, and he beams at you with the very same smile that won your heart the night you met him.

“Of course! Fashion show time!”

Lando ends up picking the teal colored sundress, something that suits your taste and simultaneously compliments some of your key features. It fits well, with no need for you to suck in your stomach to make it look nicer or more appealing, and hides some of your less than desirable attributes (the rolls, god, the rolls) with ease.

You feel comfortable enough, with only a light amount of makeup on your face, and your feet are settled into white flats instead of the heels you had originally picked out. Lando liked them as well, but urged you to go for something more comfortable and carefree.

You genuinely do feel okay, but the bitter taste of anxiety still stirs the acid of your stomach as you think about the amount of eyes that will be on you and Lando in a few moments.

“Hey beautiful,” Lando says, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. On instinct, you suck in your stomach to try and lessen the circumference of your belly. Lando tenses, but he doesn’t push the issue, keeping you nestled safely in his arms as he presses a kiss to the back of your neck. “You just about ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” you reply softly, leaning only a portion of your weight back against him. He doesn’t let go for a few moments, and you can feel the warmth of his breath against the shell of your ear.

“I’m proud of you. I know you’re scared, and I know you’re only doing this for me, but I hope you can manage to enjoy it as well. You may not want the world to know you’re mine, but I do.” Lando explains, nipping at your ear with gentle teeth. It sends a shiver down your spine, and you cannot help but smile at his antics.

“Well, we’ll see what all the news sources are saying in the morning. You know for a fact my issue isn’t being seen with you, it’s you being seen with me.”

“Who cares what they say? How I feel about you is what matters, not what the public thinks about a relationship they know nothing about.” Lando’s voice is firm and leaves no room for argument - likely because this IS an argument the two of you have had time and time again.

You open your mouth to respond, but Lando’s PR Agent gestures a bit frantically at you both and all of a sudden, Lando is no longer behind you but at your side, lacing your fingers together.

“Deep breath, babe. It’s go time.”

Oh.

You take a deep breath and hold it in your lungs, fearful that if you breathe at all, you might mess this up entirely. Lando’s hand is warm and firm in your own, steady while your mentality feels anything but. There’s no time to prepare yourself for the walk - Lando is moving and on instinct, you move fluidly alongside him. Your heart is racing impossibly hard in your chest and somehow only gets faster as you step out onto the grass and the sun shines down upon you and Lando like a blinding spotlight.

You hear the clicking of cameras before you see the media snapping shots of you and Lando as you walk hand-in-hand towards the McLaren garage. You can already hear the shouts of fans at home, screaming about how Lando could possibly be dating someone so fat and unattractive when he’s literally a celebrity and could have anyone he wanted. You can see the offensive articles, wondering what’s gone wrong in Lando’s head to be dating someone so average and so unathletic when all of the other drivers are dating what could be (and in some cases ARE) models.

So many eyes are on you both, and you still haven’t been able to take a breath just yet. You feel Lando’s hand squeeze yours, but you are unable to squeeze back. You just want to be at the garage and tucked back away from the eyes of the media so you can regain your bearings.

And then finally, after what feels like a marathon of a walk, you feel the grass turn to solid ground beneath your feet and the smells of the garage hit your senses like a brick wall. Everything slowly comes back into focus and you realize you’ve finally made it to the other side. Your gut is churning, but you let out the breath you have been holding since you took your first step out and it eases some of the bubbling tension in your chest.

Lando’s hand leaves yours fairly suddenly, but he immediately pops up in your line of sight, beaming at you like you’ve just handed him the sun, the moon, and all the stars. You swallow thickly, hoping to keep down the nausea that threatens you, and offer up a tight smile of your own.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He asks, pulling you in by your waist and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You are still within sight of the media cameras and you hear a few clicking somewhere off to your right, which does little to help quell the nausea.

“It was fine, yeah.” You say, and it’s incredible just how weak your own voice sounds. “Can we, uh - can we go someplace in the back for a minute? Away from the cameras?”

“Of course,” Lando says, and concern begins to blossom on his features. His eyebrows furrow, gaze focused solely on you as you still try your best to smile at him. “I have to get changed into my kit anyway.”

Lando’s hand is back in yours instantly, and he gently guides you through crew members and winding hallways until you’re far enough away from all of the commotion that you can barely hear it anymore. Your breath is shaky as you inhale, but the relief is almost immediate now that you are out of the public eye.

“Are you okay?” Lando asks after a few seconds of studying your face. “I’m sorry, that was too much, wasn’t it?”

“No, no, no.” you interrupt him, taking another deep breath and letting it out slowly. “It’s just a lot. I’m not used to these kinds of things, not like you are. And there were so many cameras…”

“You learn to ignore the cameras.” He says, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Try not to worry about them, they’re just an annoyance anyway. You’re here to watch me race, and I promise you the McLaren crew will take great care of you while you do.”

Your smile feels a bit more genuine now as the nerves begin to drift off. You know you’ll have cameras in your face likely the entire time Lando is racing, but knowing that you have the support of McLaren while you’re here helps a bit. Lando has been with these people for years now, you can only imagine they’ve grown quite close in that time.

“I’m sure they will. I - uh - is there a bathroom back here somewhere?” You look around a bit frantically, overcome by the sudden intense nausea that hits you now that the worst of the nerves have tapered off. Sweat builds on your forehead and you begin to feel a bit clammy and lightheaded, but Lando either doesn’t notice, or you’ve managed to keep yourself steady enough as to not rouse suspicion.

“Oh, yeah, I’ll take you there,” he says, looking around to gain his bearings. He circles his fingers around your wrist and leads you back towards the heart of the garage, but stops before you get to the more heavily trafficked areas. It’s a small, unassuming restroom meant for one person at a time, but it will do. “Here you are. I actually need to change, so I’ll come back for you once I’m set up, okay?”

“Sounds good.” You confirm, leaning in to kiss him when you see him do the same. He offers you a comforting smile and then takes off into the clamor of the garage to get himself ready for the race. You watch him weave through crowds of crew and media personnel, and once he’s no longer within your sight, you turn around and rush into the bathroom without a moment to spare.

The nausea is almost overpowering, and you can’t even make it to the toilet before you feel your stomach rolling. You grasp desperately at the vanity, emptying your nerves into the sink with a violent heave and a shudder. Panic is starting to claw its way up your throat now that you’ve been sick, and you grip the sides of the vanity so tightly that your knuckles turn white. The nausea, thankfully, goes away now that you’ve emptied your stomach into the sink, but a much worse feeling creeps up to take its place.

You reach forward with trembling hands and turn on the sink, cleaning out the mess you’ve just made. Thankfully, a few splashes of water around the sink (and a few swishes in your mouth) manage to clean out everything so there’s no evidence left of your struggle.

You back yourself against the wall now, feeling your heart beating faster all over again, and the sweat begins to feel cold on your forehead. Panic is no new sensation, but you can’t help but curse the timing of this attack. It makes sense - given the overstimulation and the nervousness you just fought your way through, but you had hoped deep in your heart that you would be able to handle this without a breakdown.

You could not have been more wrong.

You begin to take deep, shuddering breaths at far too rapid a pace. You know you have to get your breathing under control, or this will spiral until you’re pathetically hyperventilating alone in a McLaren bathroom. You rush forward to turn the water back on, hoping that splashing some on your face might help snap you out of it, when you hear the handle of the restroom door jiggle.

Your stomach lurches again when you realize in your haste, you forgot to lock the door.

“Yeah, mate. I’ll be back in a few.” You hear a familiar voice say, muffled slightly by the noise buzzing around the garage.

As soon as the person steps inside the restroom and your eyes meet, you feel like you could be sick again. It’s none other than Oscar Piastri, Lando’s teammate and friend at McLaren, and he’s staring at you with wide, concerned eyes.

“Hey,” he greets, and it’s so incredibly soft - as if he might be speaking to a cornered, wounded animal. “Hey, are you alright?”

You can’t reply to him just yet - your breathing is out of control and nausea is hitting you again from the depths of absolute hell. As if this day couldn’t have possibly gotten any worse, you WOULD have a mental breakdown in front of Lando’s teammate.

You simply stare back at him in shock, like he’s the most terrifying thing you could possibly see, and you finally manage to choke out a weak and pitiful, “No.”

You watch as Oscar gently locks the door behind you both - a blessing, really, to keep anyone else from walking in on you in such an embarrassing state. He keeps his expression neutral, only taking one step into the bathroom with his hands palm-up to show he means no harm.

“You need to breathe, okay? Think you can breathe with me?” Oscar asks, his voice echoing in the small space. He swallows thickly, another sound that’s easy to pick up in the confined space, but he patiently waits for you to respond.

“I don’t - I don’t know -” you reply, hands slapping against the wall as you try to find something to grip onto for balance. “I don’t know.”

“Why don’t we give it a try, at least?” Oscar tries again, looking far more concerned than you think he has any right to be. He hardly knows you, after all.

“I - I can -” but the words die on your lips as your legs give out beneath you. You fall to your knees on the tile floor and that’s when Oscar jumps quickly into action. You feel unfamiliar arms wrap around your shoulders, a cushion to keep your head from smashing against the floor, and the last thing you see are Oscar’s frightened eyes above you, the echo of your name frantically erupting from the back of his throat as your vision fades out.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #x reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #x reader fanfic #f1 x reader #plus sized reader #driver x reader #hides my face under all these tags #this is my first ever x reader so be kind thanks

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starsofang · 1 day

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simon riley x blind!reader requested by @wareagleofthemountain <3 tw: none!

Simon never expected to meet you, nor was he remotely looking for somebody to enter his life and completely flip it around. He didn’t attach himself to people, and interactions with strangers with the intent of becoming more than that was a far-fetched idea for somebody like him. Being on his own was something he greatly preferred, and his task force were the only people he ever needed.

That was what he thought, anyway, up until you.

Even when you had accidentally bumped into him in the middle of a rundown convenience store late at night, you didn’t cower away from him. The sight of his mask didn’t cause you to turn away and mumble out a half-assed apology in order to leave his vicinity as quickly as possible, and at first, he didn’t understand.

That was until he noticed the furball standing next to you, staring up at him as if scolding him for getting in the way. The harness was glaringly obvious now that he looked at it, and he felt a bit stupid for not noticing it in the first place. You had a guide dog, with words boldly lettered indicating that you were blind.

“I’m so sorry!” you said, and he caught himself staring at you as you began rambling out genuine, sweet apologies, explaining that you didn’t mean to bump into him, that you hoped you didn’t hurt him by accident.

Simon didn’t get attached to people, no. But that didn’t mean he didn’t notice cute people who had hearts of gold that made his look rotten in comparison.

“S’alright,” he assured you, fighting so hard to push back the smile that threatened to curl up under his mask. Smiling meant he felt amused, and amusement meant he saw something in you that intrigued him. “What’s his name?”

When he asked about your guide dog, you practically lit up like a damn Christmas tree and oh, he was fucked. That smile wasn’t fair.

“Peanut,” you introduced affectionately, and when he glanced down at your dog, Peanut, the little thing looked almost prideful at that.

“Hm,” he hummed in acknowledgement, and before he could detach himself from the conversation, before he could bid you farewell and leave you behind for good, he found himself speaking once more. “And yours?”

Simon never expected to meet you, nor was he remotely looking for somebody to enter his life and completely flip it around. But you did, and he found himself so engrossed in you, he couldn’t ever imagine life without you.

He thinks fondly of the day you two met, where he was in a mindset of pushing everybody around him away. He’d never given himself an opportunity to live a normal life, then you came around and had him seeking out the future.

The future was never a possibility until you, nor was it a possibility without you in it.

Simon never made you feel incapable just because you were blind. You had worked your way around the world just fine before him, and you’d continue to do it during him.

That didn’t mean he never tried his best, though. In fact, Simon took pride in helping you out with things as his way of showing his undying love for you. He may not have been the most affectionate person physically, but doing things for you was his favorite form of care.

Cooking was one of many. Simon was naturally a lover of cooking, so teaching you how to do it was something he took to almost immediately.

When it came to chopping vegetables, he’d gently guide your hands with his own, closed around the kitchen knife and showing you how to chop away without nicking yourself. If it was an excuse to hold your hand and watch your joyful smile light up your face, he’d never admit it.

He’d explain every step of a recipe to you, wanting to give you your independence of cooking on your own while also involving himself enough to be useful. He’d explain in soft ways how to properly cook meat, how to make sure it’s not undercooked or overcooked, guiding you through every part of the meal and watching with pride when you’d figure it out after a few trial errors.

Simon had never thought a meal could taste so good until it was cooked by the one you adore.

Reading was something you could do on your own. Your entire collection were books geared towards your blindness to help make it more accessible to you, but Simon quickly found out that he specifically liked reading for you.

It became routine in your apartment, the one that he was staying in so much that it might as well had been his as well, for the two of you to snuggle up close on the couch with a book you mentioned hearing about in those silly videos you listen to on your phone. His arm would tuck you into his side while the other held the book he’d gone out for, venturing to find (even if it took going to multiple stores), while Peanut laid content at your feet.

The books might not have been his personal favorite, but he’d spend every night reading them to you, his voice soft and quiet as they executed every page. You’d listen with a smile on your face, head resting in the pit of his shoulder, allowing the warmness of his voice send you into a peaceful serenity that almost always had you falling asleep twenty pages in.

Simon never minded that you’d fall asleep, and with a sweet kiss on your head, he’d string you along to bed, bookmarking the book for the next night when he’d read to you once again.

Being blind had never bothered you, and it was something you were never embarrassed or ashamed of.

Simon aided you in whatever you needed, but never made you feel an inkling of being broken or unable. He was passionate in the way he cared for you, while remaining stern in letting you be your own person.

The one thing that did bother you was that you’d never be able to see Simon’s face for all the true glory it was. The man you’d come to love over the time spent together was so close to you, yet felt so far when your brain would remind you that you didn’t know what he looked like.

The more time went on, the more you failed to grasp on to those strings, enough for Simon to take notice. When you finally had the gall to express this concern of yours, he understood completely why you’d upset yourself over it.

Thankfully for you, Simon had an easy fix for that.

“No need to worry yourself over that, sweetheart. Here.”

You may not have been able to see him, but you could feel him. Simon took your soft hands into his own, gently guiding them to cup his face. He bore himself naked to you, adorning no mask, all scars and rugged skin on display.

Your fingers traced along every feature of his, taking it in and mapping them out. You felt the thickness of his brows, trailing down to the flutter of his eyelashes, gently swiping your thumbs across them. You felt every bump of old, healed scars that indented his skin, every prickly stubble of his unshaven face.

You may not have been able to see him, but you knew he was beautiful.

Simon didn’t rush you. He remained patient and willing, face relaxed as you felt every crevice and divot. Your fingers were so careful in the way you handled him, like dealing with fragile glass, that he could’ve easily fallen in love with you a second time.

“You’re pretty,” you breathed out, hands halting their movements to lay flat on his cheeks. You were holding the world in your hands, and after getting a feel of what lay beyond it, you never wanted to let go.

Your words had dazed him, and he felt his mouth go dry as he stared at you, sinking in your own lovely features just as you did his own.

Simon had no words to speak back to you, but you knew what he was thinking without him having to say it – he loved you, more than any word could express.

Simon might not have been the type of person to get attached. You were the last thing he’d been looking for in life, but you came rushing into him like a flood, engulfing him in a forever calmness.

His body was permanently sinking in a sea of passion, and you were the life vest keeping him afloat.

i promise i didn't forget about u lovie! work was a bit crazy and my brain was a bit fried but it's here and i sincerely hope u enjoy it! thank u for the request, i love soft simon sm

#cod #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod mw3 #cod x reader #cod mwii #ghost simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #blind!reader #cod requests

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roosterforme · 1 day

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Covering the Classics Part 11 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: When Anna hits rock bottom, she knows she needs to figure out how to put herself back together. But she also knows that leaving Kevin behind once and for all will require her to give up the only thing she wants from him. Maybe a shot at happiness with Bob would have been worth it.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, 18+

Length: 4400 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

If this wasn't rock bottom, Anna didn't want to know what was. She spent Sunday night laying on the floor next to her bed alternating between crying and hyperventilating. Apparently she couldn't do both at the same time, because her body kept giving each activity its full attention before switching again. When she finally started to fall asleep around three o'clock, her ribs were aching so much, she didn't see how she would be able to teach in a few hours. But it didn't matter. She wouldn't be going to campus anyway.

When she woke up at six, she crawled to her computer and emailed everyone in her classes, informing them that she would not be in today and to work through the syllabus independently until their next class with her. All of the other professors pulled this kind of thing all the time, but she still felt guilty which triggered more tears. If Kevin somehow cost her a full time tenure position along with her happiness, she didn't know what else she had that he could possibly take from her.

When she thought about Bob, it hurt so badly she had to run to the toilet. And when she thought about Advanced Calculus and Advanced Physics, it hurt almost just as much. She was in love with so many things in San Diego, but she'd dragged her past here along with her even if she didn't want to acknowledge that fact. She'd brought this dark shadow along that tainted everything and left her wondering if she could fix any of it at this point. If she could even figure out how to start.

As she hiccupped alone in her bathroom, she knew she needed to mentally backtrack to New Jersey for the first time in a long time before she could focus on San Diego. When she crawled back toward her bed, she located her phone and found the contact information for her lawyer's office. It was late enough on the east coast that someone answered after one ring, and soon Anna had to use her scratchy, raw voice to try to communicate.

"When will my divorce be final?" she managed to ask as she propped herself against the wall. She left herself hungry every day, and she was living in this tiny room simply so she could pay these people to help her sort out her life, but the response she got was not ideal.

"Ms. Webber... your husband still has three days left to comply, but he has not done so yet."

Anna wanted to scream, but her throat felt like it was constricting. Why wouldn't he just let her have the one thing she wanted? She wasn't asking for anything extra, just the thing she worked so hard to make her own. She didn't even care about all of the money. But he wouldn't let her have it. Even though she didn't want to fight for anything else in the house, he still wouldn't comply. He was making hundreds of thousands of dollars now, and she wanted none of it back, but he knew that her manuscript was the one thing meant something to her. He would happily drag this out until she had nothing left.

She knew she needed to wait it out. It was her fault she hadn't filed sooner. She let Kevin's words destroy her even when she knew he was sleeping with Alyssa. She let him convince her that she needed him for way too long. "What happens in three days?" she finally asked.

"If he doesn't comply, then you can restructure your end of the divorce agreement, and we can try again."

Anna knew what that meant for her, but she didn't know if she could pull the trigger. Restructure it? There was only one thing she could remove. Kevin would come out clean as a whistle, and she would lose everything she hadn't already.

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When Bob knocked on the door at seven in the morning after barely sleeping at all, Jessica looked concerned when she opened it, and Jake looked annoyed. "What's wrong?" she asked, reaching out and running her hand along his stubbled cheek. "Why haven't you shaved? Why do you look so upset?"

"Why are you even here?" Jake called from the kitchen where he was cooking breakfast in his uniform.

"I need to talk to you," Bob croaked, and Jessica pulled him inside and gently guided him toward the couch. She rubbed his back and didn't rush him as he sat there, and Jake even stopped turning to glare from in front of the waffle iron.

"Did you know Anna's married?"

Bob could tell by the sharp intake of breath and the way Jessica's hand came to a screeching halt on his back that she had no idea.

"She's what?"

"Married," he repeated without any feeling whatsoever. The handful of hours he'd spent around her were some of the best of his life, but he would have never let his friends try to push them together if he'd know. He should have let her keep him in the friend zone when she tried to let him know that's what she wanted. Mutual attraction be damned, she'd made marriage vows to someone else. He just wished he would have known.

"No," Jessica said adamantly. "How? She's got no rings, and she said she lives alone. She mentioned an ex before, but I'm virtually certain he's still in New Jersey. She... struggles with certain things, and if she was married, someone would be helping her make ends meet. I don't know where you came up with this, but no."

Bob took his glasses off and set them down on the arm of the couch while he ran his hands over his exhausted eyes. "Jessica. She told me she was."

"Well," his friend said as she wrapped her arm around his shoulders, "I'll ask her about it at lunchtime today. There must be some sort of miscommunication."

"I don't think so," he groaned softly. "We... slept together, and those were her parting words as she ran out of my house."

"You slept together?!" Jessica practically shrieked.

"It's about damn time!" Jake called from the kitchen, clanging his spatulas together and whooping loudly.

But Bob was shaking his head and staring at the floor through his slightly fuzzy vision. He had his phone in his hand all night, trying to decide if he should call or text her, wondering if she went home to climb into bed with her husband. Scared that this was the reason why she squeezed herself into her apartment door before closing it abruptly when he drove her home.

"I should have backed off when she friend zoned me the first time. I should have never believed that I could be with a woman like her." A woman that inspired the best poetry he'd ever written in his life. A woman who made him want everything.

It finally dawned on Bob that there might be an irate husband in his future, and he would just have to take whatever came his way. Because there wasn't a chance that Anna didn't have her spouse wrapped around her fingers. Even if she had a lapse of judgement when it came to Bob, Anna's husband would know how good he had it and want to fight for her. Bob would just have to take it on the chin.

When Jessica kissed his cheek and whispered, "I'll try to sort this out," he just nodded with his shoulders slumped and his elbows digging into his thighs. But there was nothing to sort out. Anna would never be his, and now he would have to pay the price for the way she told him she was married about an hour too late to take it all back. Honestly, he never thought accidentally sleeping with a married woman was something he would ever have to deal with in his wildest dreams, and now that he was forced to do it, he was getting pretty mad.

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Anna managed to give her Classics lecture on Tuesday morning with a sore throat after screaming into her pillow off and on for most of Monday afternoon. She hadn't eaten in days, and if anyone noticed her puffy, red eyes, they didn't mention it to her. She had quizzes to grade and reports to read, but when she went back to her office, the overwhelming scent of bread from the cafeteria made her gag.

There was a pack of peanuts in her desk along with a room temperature can of ginger ale, but she had no appetite yet. She was just in survival mode until she decided what to do when Kevin's time was up. Until she worked up the courage to talk to Bob and apologize.

He was the sweetest man she had ever known, and her lapse of judgement was going to cost her any chance with him in the future as well as her friendships. In fact, none of them were ever going to want to speak to her again, and that's what she deserved. If she would have just been honest with Bob, she wouldn't be in this mess. But San Diego was like a balm for her senses, making her feel normal where she knew she wasn't. Maybe Bob would have been willing to wait a few more months until she figured out her next steps. Maybe he would have accepted that she was legally separated from Kevin if her husband would just sign the fucking paperwork.

Tears were burning her eyes again just as someone knocked on her office door. She sat perfectly still, silently begging them to go away, praying that everyone would leave her alone until she could sneak out and go home later.

"Anna?"

She knew that voice so well, and she was shocked to find that it sounded more concerned than angry.

"It's just us," came the second voice, and without another thought, Anna was on her feet, wrenching the door open as she started to sob. "Oh, Anna," whispered Jessica as she collected her into her arms.

Anna stood in the middle of her tiny office and cried and cried in Jessica's arms while her other friend studiously locked the door and dimmed the lights before reaching for the box of tissues on the shelf. "Here," she whispered, and Anna accepted a wad of tissues from her.

She tried to mop at her face, but it was a lost cause. Jessica pushed the loose strands of her red hair back from her eyes as she said, "Anna, we're here for you, but I think we need to talk. For real."

"We have some... concerns."

Anna tried to take huge gulps of air into her burning lungs as she gasped, "I'm really not okay. I hurt Bob."

Her friends looked at each other before Jessica said, "I think it's time you backtracked a little bit. Maybe all the way back to New Jersey."

"I hated it there," she told them immediately, wiping at her eyes as she sat on the edge of her desk, bracing herself for the interrogation to come.

Advanced Calculus eyed her sympathetically before a look of steel locked in her gaze. "Are you married?"

Anna nodded slightly, cringing as she pictured Kevin's face. "Technically, yes."

"Anna!" Jessica exclaimed. "You slept with Bob!"

They knew. They knew everything. Bob told them, and they knew what she'd done. She cradled her forehead in her hands and said, "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I hate Kevin. I don't think we were even married two years before he started cheating on me. I'm trying my best to divorce him, but he just won't fucking let me."

"What do you mean he won't let you?" Advanced Calculus asked, cutting off Jessica before she could screech again.

"He is ruining my life," Anna whispered, finally starting to feel more anger than anything else. "Like an idiot, I've let him ruin my life. I put him through medical school. I dropped out of Princeton to work two jobs to put my husband through medical school." Her voice faded into a soft yet harsh whisper. "Kevin promised he'd take care of me after that so I could finish my Ivy League PhD. But then he started cheating on me because I was always tired and boring and no fun. Because all I was doing was working to pay his tuition for four years straight while he fucked another medical student between classes. I caught them having sex in my car."

"No," both women gasped at the same time. But she just nodded as the memories she had tried so hard to keep at bay since she moved to California came roaring back.

"That's not a marriage," Jessica practically growled, reaching out for Anna's hand that she hadn't even been aware was shaking. "Not really."

"You're right," Anna agreed. "I'm a joke." She honestly felt like one. Images of Bob's face and the memory of his kind voice flooded her system. The way he looked at her and touched her felt like love. The things he wrote about her had her almost convinced he could love her back.

"You're not a joke, Anna," her friend told her. "You're a smart, capable woman who should have come to her friends months ago with all of this information."

"I hate Kevin!" Jessica shrieked before biting down on her own fingertips, and it was so comical, Anna might have laughed if she was in a better frame of mind.

"Yes," Advanced Calculus agreed. "Kevin sounds like an asshole. But you know who isn't an asshole? Bob. But right now, he kind of feels like one."

Anna closed her eyes as the tears started welling up faster. "I tried so hard. You have to believe me. But Bob is perfect. And he didn't think I was boring. But I wasn't planning on falling in love ever again."

"You love him?" Jessica snapped loudly. "You love him? Because Bob thinks you are in a loving marriage with your spouse!"

"Jessica, go sit in the desk chair and calm down," the other woman commanded, and Anna watched the petite, bespectacled blonde stomp around her desk. "Now, Anna, why didn't you explain this all to Bob before you rocked the man's whole world and then ran off into the night like Cinderella?"

"I freaked out," Anna whispered, swallowing hard. "He's the perfect man. He did everything exactly right, and he was exquisite." She looked down at the floor as she said, "I haven't been touched like that in years. Like I was worth something. I'm not even thirty yet, and my husband ditched me for someone else while actively bankrupting me." She was mortified by what she was telling them, but she couldn't stop herself now. "Kevin always said I should dye my hair, and he loved it when I wore makeup. But Bob... he likes my hair and my freckles. He likes the books I read. He thinks I'm smart." She felt her face warm up as she thought about his poems. "We had sex, and then he was looking at me, and he started talking about us. I can't be an us with someone when I can't shake Kevin."

Anna could practically feel Jessica freaking out in the chair behind her, but she kept her eyes on the floor. "If you need help with Kevin or money for a lawyer or something-" Jessica said, but Anna cut her off.

"No. I'm fine. But he's going to force me to decide if I'd rather have my freedom or my self worth. And right now, I can't decide what I want to let him get away with when he already took so much."

"Hey," her much calmer friend said softly, and Anna finally met her eyes. "We're here for you. Anything you need, okay? But I need you to promise you'll talk to Bob. The sooner the better." Then Anna watched her reach for her tie dye lunch box which she apparently brought in with her and pulled out one of her fancy containers. "Bradley made you some hummus, and I packed you crackers and veggies to go with it. Please make sure you're eating. And please talk to Bob. I need to go teach Differential Equations, but I'll text you later. Jess, you have Physics III in fifteen minutes."

Anna received two hugs that she barely returned, and when the two women were gone, she sank into her chair and managed to eat some of the hummus without gagging. Then she texted Bob, because if nothing else, she needed him to know how sorry she was for running out on him. How sorry she was for all of it.

---------------------------

Anna wanted to talk to him on Thursday evening. Bob had to fight the urge to offer to pick her up on campus and save her from having to take an Uber to his house, especially after the few details that Jessica told him about her finances. She confirmed that Anna was married. She also promised him that there was no angry spouse waiting to jump him in the In 'N Out parking lot. She also told him that he needed to give Anna a chance to clear the air. So he agreed. He was free on Thursday. It wasn't like he'd been doing anything except going to work and coming straight home all week, even avoiding Suzanne as much as he could. And he wasn't going to break his promise to Jessica, even though Nat told him to delete Anna's number.

Bob sat in his living room, staring at his new bookshelf in disgust. He'd let himself fall into a fantasy where he imagined someday Anna's books would get mixed up with his on the shelves. Where all of her dog eared novels would live alongside his pristine ones. He'd been subconsciously thinking about it since he met her.

His insides were churning with anxiety. Part of him wanted to scream at her that none of this was fair to him, but the other part knew that no matter what, he still didn't want to see tears in her brown eyes. He couldn't let her take all of the blame for this anyway. He'd even told Jessica that she pushed a little too hard and that she shouldn't do that again in the future.

When there was a knock on his door, it was hard for him to stand up. How was he supposed to do this? He dragged himself across his living room to his front door and carefully opened it to find Anna with the saddest expression imaginable on her face. She looked somehow smaller and paler than she should. She looked like she hadn't slept. And that's when Bob realized he must look the same way to her.

"Hi," she whispered, brown eyes darting around his face nervously. She held out a small bouquet of blue flowers and the books she had borrowed in his direction, and Bob noticed her hands were shaking. "Um, I got these for you. They look like the flowers on the cover of the Whitman poems, and I thought of you when I saw them at the store."

"Anna," Bob groaned as he took them from her along with the books. He moved out of the doorway so she could come inside, and somehow he still couldn't decide if he was angry at her or not.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, turning to look at him once she was halfway across the room. There were several feet of space between them, but he could smell her hair. She was wearing the jeans she wore last time she went to the Hard Deck. He knew what that shirt felt like between his fingers. He could tell she was trying not to cry as she said, "I'm just really sorry."

"Why didn't you tell me you're married?" he snapped, unable to hold back. He knew his tone was harsh as he added, "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Because I should have been divorced by now!" she practically shouted, and Bob was instantly more soothed by that sentence than he should have been. "You think I want to be married to the worst man I know?" He had so many questions already, but something told him to just let her keep going. "That's why I'm here. In San Diego. He was supposed to sign the papers so I could get on with my ridiculous life, but he won't!" She sucked in a deep breath before she said, "And it's eating me alive knowing what I kept settling for when you exist! Knowing that I could have been with a man like you."

Her lips were moving like she was shivering, and her eyes were wide and watery. Red blotches covered her freckled cheeks, and Bob just knew she was going to panic again. She made a helpless noise and rushed forward, ready to run, but this time he caught her in his arms, the books and flowers falling to the floor. He let her struggle for a few seconds as she cried, but he held on tight.

"Anna," he said softly. "You can't keep running."

Her body slumped against his. She looked up at him as he held her, and a few seconds later, she let her cheek come to rest against his chest. She nodded against him as she whispered, "I don't really have anywhere to go anyway."

-------------------------

Bob kept his distance while also somehow always being nearby. Anna knew he was probably expecting her to vanish again if he turned his back for too long, but she was too mentally and physically exhausted to move from his living room couch while he fixed some tea. It was getting dark outside, and it was nearly impossible to try to think about anything other than Sunday night when she felt truly free for the first time in years.

Similar thoughts must have been on Bob's mind, because he was still occasionally looking at her like he used to. Then his cheeks would turn pink, and he'd duck his head before showing her a completely neutral expression. She took the mug of tea he handed her and whispered, "Thank you," as he sat down as far away from her as he could. She cleared her throat as she looked into her drink and said, "You're one of the kindest, most generous people I've ever met." She forced her gaze to his face. "I'm sorry I took that for granted. And I'm sorry I wasn't honest with you and the ladies."

Bob nodded but didn't speak for a minute. His voice was as gentle as always as he eventually said, "I'd like it if we could talk."

"Yeah," she agreed softly now that she felt like the fight inside her was gone and the tears had finally dried up.

"Where's your husband?"

She pictured Kevin standing in the perfect kitchen in the beautiful house on the cul-de-sac. "In New Jersey."

"Right," Bob replied in a reassuring tone. "You said you should have been divorced by now, so does that mean you don't want to be married to him?"

"I hate him," she whispered, back to staring into her mug. "And I'm sure he hates me, too. No, I don't want to be married to him any longer."

"You're separated?" he asked softly.

Anna shrugged, wishing more than anything that she could scoot a little closer to Bob and feel his hand on hers. "Not legally. He won't sign anything."

"Right," Bob repeated again. "Would it be too much for me to ask what happened? Because I really don't understand. I'm trying, but I'm still so confused, Anna."

Her brain was screaming at her to start crying again, begging her to fall apart or hyperventilate, but she didn't even have the energy for it. She took one long sip of her perfect cup of tea before setting it aside and turning to look at him. Even now, he had sympathy in his eyes. Whether that was because he now knew she and Kevin weren't really together or because he was always this sweet, she couldn't say. But he was everything she wanted and would never have again.

"The short version is that I put him through medical school while he cheated on me. The long version is that he used up every bit of my money, let me work myself ragged, prevented me from finishing my PhD at Princeton, belittled me, and flaunted his extramarital relationship in my face. It was humiliating knowing he was cheating. It's humiliating eating sandwiches and peanuts for every meal now. But the worst thing is that he is holding my manuscript hostage, and no matter what I do, he won't let me have it back."

"Jesus, Anna," he gasped, making the slightest move like he wanted to reach for her before pulling back.

She slowly stood, and he looked up at her, trying to gauge what she was going to do, but she just looked down at him as she tucked her shaking hands behind her back. "You're perfect," she whispered. "You're Sky Writing. You're the handsome man from the bookstore who smells like tea and soap. You're Bob, the guy my friends knew I would fall in love with as soon as I met them." She took a step back, barely able to handle how he was looking at her like she still mattered. "But I don't know how to be an us with you. I know that's what you want, but I never wanted to fall like this again. I tried my best not to. I can't do this with Kevin's shadow behind me all the time. And I'm just really sorry I let it go as far as it did. Because now that I know so much about you...."

That's when the tears arrived, and that's also when Bob stood up. "Anna, I feel like-"

When he cut himself off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air for a few seconds, she took one long, last look at him and whispered, "I'm going to go." He didn't stop her from stepping over the flowers, walking out the door, and heading to the end of his street where she waited for a ride as the night air made her shiver, and her tear streaked cheeks finally started to dry again.

----------------------------------

Oh, they both fell for each other. I'm not sure if Bob feels better or worse now. Kevin is an absolute dick, and we will hear from him in the next chapter. Keep fighting, Anna. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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battlekidx2 · 1 day

Text

“Do you like girls?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you like boys?”

“I don’t know. I think I like TV shows.”

I remember when I was in middle school all the other girls were talking about the guys they liked and I said I didn’t like anyone. I just wanted to do my own thing.

I didn’t really get why I would want to date anyone. I understood friendship, companionship— having someone to share my interests and mutually info dump to sounded cool— but I struggled to understand the appeal of spending every day and every night with someone else. Of holding hands and going on dates.

This led to a lot of homophobic bullying and a few of them would act disgusted that I might be into them. Constantly acting like I was looking at their boobs and sexualizing them (I never made eye contact with anyone and would frequently look at the wall or space out while looking in their general direction). Or make a big show of not being interested and many other things.

I didn’t get this either. I didn’t know why I would be interested in any of them. They treated me poorly and I thought attraction was something people made up and simply just claimed to feel towards other people.

Just like I never understood celebrity crushes. You don’t know the person so how could you possibly know you liked them? And I never understood how people “chose” who they dated. Did they just choose whoever they liked hanging out with the most?

But any time I voiced this it was always met with worse and worse reactions. It led to isolation among peers and my family. My parents made it pretty clear I wasn’t who they wanted me to be. That I wasn’t normal.

I soon learned to fake it. Pretend I understood it.

The idea of not being attracted to anyone seemed like a foreign idea to most people I met. Even when I branched out and moved away, I met a few people in the lgbt community who couldn’t grasp it either and reacted poorly and it made me feel stupid. Like maybe I wasn’t just screwed up to people who fit in the neat little box society wants you to fit in, but to everyone else as well.

Maybe I was wrong. If it’s an impossibility even in this community that champions diversity and acceptance then can that really be my reality?

I kept trying to force it. To date, but every time I did I always felt that same skin crawling discomfort and it always petered out. It didn’t matter who it was or what gender. It always felt wrong. It was suffocating.

I don’t think there’s a movie that better portrays that all consuming, suffocating stagnation of feeling so out of place– knowing you’re out of place compared to those around you– and in response forcing yourself to fit what other people expect of you than I Saw the TV Glow.

Whenever I think back to growing up or whenever I return home that same feeling this movie is centered around always drenches my experiences.

And even now it’s hard to put into words when I talk to other people what I’ve felt when it comes to this aspect of my life.

That comment from Owen about knowing there’s nothing there when talking about romance and attraction, but being too afraid to look and knowing that his parents know something is wrong with him hit harder than any other scene from a movie I’ve watched this year.

It’s that absence of something that is at the heart of asexuality that makes me always question what I choose to identify as when I have to explain it to someone. Because for the most part my explanation boils down to (in broad oversimplified terms): I’ve never felt attraction, I’m more interested in watching a Spider-Man movie than I’ve ever been into even just the idea of dating, every time I’ve attempted to date it’s been uncomfortable and I’ve actively dodged anything beyond friendship while in the “relationship”.

And when I try to voice that to another person it always feels like those experiences don’t hold water. That’s describing the absence of something. There’s no real proof of the identity.

With being bi or gay or lesbian there’s something you can I don’t know—point to?— that can help you know your identity.

And that’s the fact that you’ve experienced attraction towards one or more people of one or more genders.

It’s defined not by the lack of something but the presence of an experience.

And so every time I try and explain it I end up feeling stupid. Like I just haven’t tried hard enough to find someone compatible. That I need to get back into the proverbial saddle and try again. I always in some way feel ashamed and backtrack as a result.

This is in no way to say that it’s harder or easier to be one identity or the another. Everyone’s experiences are different and everyone experiences are valid. This is just a struggle I’ve found that’s unique to asexuality that many people I’ve talked to have also experienced.

I haven’t felt that part of my experience be seen in media until I saw this movie. Maybe I’m latching onto what I can get or maybe that was an intrinsic part of the movie. That’s not important. What’s important is that it’s something I felt seen in even if it was literally just one scene.

This is my really long winded and roundabout way of saying that I really think this movie is going to stick with me much longer than any other thing I’ve seen this year.

Things can be hard to put into words and as a result I tend to keep things inside. I’m fairly certain I’m ace but it might turn out I’m on a different romantic spectrum then I thought or I fall somewhere different than I thought on the ace spectrum. I don’t know what I’ll discover in the future.

I’m likely not going to express my label out loud to anyone but a select few. I still can’t express this particular label out loud to many people. My family is definitely never going to hear it. A friend or two might.

It’s something I struggle with on a regular basis. I’m fine with identifying with the label in my head—in a lot of ways it makes me feel comfortable and happy— but any time I try to voice it the words die in my throat and I can’t help but feel ashamed. It’s easier to just tell people I don’t want to date right now. That there are all these factors in the way (finances, time, jobs, etc) than it is to try and explain what I’ve just rambled about above.

I know many people have felt and understood that experience and I hope people know they’re valid. You can express your identity with your full chest, shout it from the rooftops and let people know, or you can keep it to yourself, identifying as your label solely in your head. Both experiences are valid. And if your label changes at some point in your life that doesn’t make what you chose to identify as at this point any less valid too. People are always learning and growing. You can gain a new understanding of yourself as time move forward.

Sorry for the way too long ramble. This movie made me feel things.

#i saw the tv glow #a24 #aroace #asexuality #asexual #ace experience #this is my overly long #thoughts on my own experiences #and how labels can shift #and that your experiences #aren’t more or less valid #if you choose to say it out loud #or identify as it solely in your head #life’s complicated

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agentmarvel · 2 days

Text

center image by @/ave661

hitman!ghost x fat!reader (afab, fem) w/ arranged marriage

mdni - 18+; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

rating: explicit

word count: 2,992

summary: in which contract killer simon "ghost" riley has to marry by a deadline, and of all the women to pick from, he chose you - without your knowledgen against your own stubborn will, and without much hesitation. your entire life, what you thought you knew, is flipped on its head while you try to navigate your new worldview and the complications therein.

cw: toxic parenting

♡

Simon stares at the photos before him, eyes flittering across the array wordlessly as he contemplates the question at hand. As migrant as his gaze has been, he keeps circling back to the same photo in his grid. Something about it draws him in, calling to him like a siren song. There’s no inclination that this path could lead him to his death, leave his bloated corpse floating just below the surface like seaweed, equally as limp and lifeless, nor can he be bothered to mind the possibility of rocky shores ahead, nearly certain to run his ship aground if he’s not exercising the utmost caution. His sails have never flown higher, and this? This feels like the right rigging for his needs.

It’s not that Simon wants a wife. Truthfully, he wants for nothing - he fucks when he feels like it, does as he pleases, and has hired hands to handle his household; anything he desires is placed at his feet with the snap of his fingers. He’s earned the life he has now, paid for it in blood, sweat, and tears - the likes of which belonging both to him and the piles of bodies he prefers to think of as stepping stones rather than people. But Simon Riley is nothing if not a man of his word, and the bill has come due.

Twenty years, he promised. Twenty years, and not a day more. It seems like an eternity to an eager, naïve teenager.

John Price, the master of hired guns, trained Simon. He put years of his life into molding Simon into the perfect weapon while instilling a moral compass impossible to sway. It did not come without cost, though. When he agreed to teach a driven, persistent, gifted fifteen year old Simon the ins and outs of the business, they made a deal. In exchange for John’s knowledge, Simon would be given time to build his empire before being required to take a wife.

“A mountain can’t rest upon a single pebble,” Price had told him. “Strength is in numbers, my boy. Earn loyalty where you can and buy it where you can’t.”

He’s been on his own for just over a decade, John becoming his equal, and he still takes those words to heart; hence the spread of pictures. Word travels fast, and when it gets out that the Simon Riley is seeking a bride, every magnate - respectable or otherwise - with a daughter to spare is throwing their hat into the ring. Conceited, perhaps, but having connections with Simon gives a man the kind of power they’d be foolish to reject.

His right-hand, Johnny, has already weeded out those with seedier dealings - those who cater to terrorism or are even suspected of having connections to human trafficking. While Simon is merciless in his kills, he does not kill without compunction. He’s swift and silent and doesn’t believe in leaving them to suffer. Death itself is punishment enough. There’s no purpose in his life for those who inflict undue dolor for their own gain, and he will not be associated with the uncouth.

The process limits his options, though not by nearly enough. Still, nigh on two dozen remained. He culled the field down to a mere nine by adding stricter constraints: age, employment history, education, and the like. He has no interest in the barely legal, the spoiled socialites, the vapid, shallow, or vain. As hollow as this state of matrimony may ring under the circumstances, he’d prefer not to be one of those men who feels disdain for his partner.

That’s the thought that keeps him circling back to one specific photo - a grayscale surveillance-style photo. The subject is undoubtedly stunning, appears to be precisely his preference in every physical aspect, but the devil is in the details. A delicate necklace that appears to be well-worn but treasured enough to stay polished, a purse that bears no distinguishable designer but shows no sign of detrition, neat, complimentary nails, but he can see a thin sliver of dried glue at the cuticle of the thumb; all signs of frugality without sacrificing sophistication...

Even the tiniest observations sing a haunting, operatic tune that keeps Simon hypnotized with little regard for what could lie within the treacherous depths below. Instinct drives interest, and if there’s anything Simon’s learned in his line of work, it’s to trust his instincts.

Not another beat passes before his fingertips finally close around the edge of the picture. He hands it to Johnny.

“Dig up everything you can on this one, yeah?”

♡

Fascination seems to be the weakest word to describe the rabbit hole Simon finds himself in when Johnny slides a file across his desk. He thumbs the manila tab that peeks out beneath the slew of staggered papers, taking caution to remember the name printed neatly across it - your name. It tastes sweet when he says it out loud. Pretty name for a pretty girl, he muses with a nearly imperceptible smirk.

The surname strikes him with a notch of recognition. Your father, if memory serves correct, is one of the largest arms dealers in the world. A pleasant man by reputation, though Simon has never met him directly. Sans the obvious, he keeps his nose clean. Nothing iniquitous or unscrupulous. There aren’t many American families that Simon has ties to, and forging a bond of this sort with a weapons tycoon would certainly be beneficial.

He digs into the contents of the folder, the pages feeling almost like silk between his heavily calloused fingers. A vague eagerness settles into his bones. Simon feigns disinterest outwardly, expression masked in stoicism, but he can’t lie to himself - he’s undoubtedly curious.

Each barely-cooled sheet turned only draws him further into a spiral. Your basic documents - driver’s license, birth certificate, passport - fill in a few blanks. The additional knowledge of your height, weight, and eye color offer insights not clear from the photo. He knows your middle name, birth date, that you’re an organ donor. You’re not living off your father’s money, as evidenced by the consistent bi-weekly paycheck deposits in your bank records. Educated, obviously, as your student loan payments are automatically drafted monthly.

On paper, it’s almost as if you were made for him, and what a thought that is. Optimism isn't in his nature; a heavy dose of skepticism hangs like a dark cloud, brewing a storm of adversarial rationale. But the pinch of hope that hovers like the sun in the back of his mind tells him to digest before coming back for seconds, and he concedes.

In the days that follow, Simon notices himself spending every spare moment revisiting your file. He placates Johnny’s lingering nosiness with the assurance that he’s merely trying to make a prudent choice under the circumstances, but that’s not quite honest. Truth be told, you’ve become a bit of an obsession of his over the last week. He often notes that his mind is wandering to the things he didn’t learn from the dossier - how you take your tea, what perfume you use, where you’ve always wanted to go but have never been. It’s a dangerous admission, one best kept to himself.

He toys with the notion of conducting the same research on a couple of the other candidates, just to be sure, but his decision is made final when Kyle sends over the links to your social media accounts. None of them are private - an issue Simon will have to address quite thoroughly at a later date - so he has no trouble combing through the last several years of your life.

Admittedly, it leaves an adequate mark. You’re witty and smart while remaining a bit sardonic. Thoughtful and warm, but not without your sharp edges. You’re ambitious and driven, a bit of a firecracker. Color him impressed; he quite likes that.

Demeanor aside, he also finds that you really, genuinely are an absolute beauty. The few photos from your file don’t hold a candle to the selfies you’ve posted. Something about seeing you when you feel most confident, when you’re exuding that effervescent glow of aplomb, it sparks a sensation in Simon’s stomach that he can’t quite describe.

That all but seals the deal.

He snaps up his phone and sends a text to Johnny before placing it face-down and turning back to his laptop.

>>> Set up the meeting

♡

As his jet touches down in Bogotá, Simon is reminded of what a nasty beast jetlag can be. It’s an animal he’s not had to contend with since his younger years, a fact for which he’s grateful. Call it a perk of his constant travel over the years and the more… unconventional hours he entertains on jobs. They’re approaching hour fourteen of their flight, though, so he supposes he can’t fault his men for falling asleep.

(He did, however, take a picture of them sleeping on each other before the turbulence awoke them; you know, for the sake of posterity and potential future blackmail.)

Simon’s mind had been far too occupied to allow him the opulence of rest. Upon his lap sits a dossier on his next target, a relatively high profile subversive at that, and all he can think about is the pretty little thing that’s been haunting his subconscious for the last two weeks.

By all accounts, it’s baffling. He understands that this sudden onset of infatuation is irrational, illogical, and quite frankly, irresponsible. It distracts him from things he ought not be distracted from, and that irritates him to no end.

The whirring of the engines slows to a dull hum, and Simon, with a grunt of discontentment, stuffs the file into his briefcase. He’ll accomplish nothing as long as he’s preoccupied. Hopefully, focus will be far less elusive on the flight back.

A loud thunk from the cockpit draws him from his spiral of ire, and Nikolai emerges. He greets Simon only with a curt nod before disengaging the door and deploying the stairs. Once they’ve kissed the asphalt, he ventures back a step, creating room for the men to disembark.

“Welcome to Colombia, gentlemen,” he announces. “We leave in six hours; gives me time to refuel the bird and grab some fuel myself. Enjoy your time, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, okay?” He tacks on a wink for good measure, which draws a bark of laughter from Kyle. Nik’s been with them long enough for them to know that’s a very short list, a fact Johnny is very quick to point out.

Simon claps a hand on Nikolai’s shoulder and hands him an envelope before stepping out - a hefty cash sum for his time and efforts. He may have also snuck in a sizable bonus as an anniversary present, but that will stay between the two of them.

“Get some rest, too, yeah? You’ve earned it.”

The air outside is crisp and pleasant. Underneath the standard airfield smells, Simon detects a pinch of coffee and cocoa. He wouldn’t be surprised; there’s a manufacturing plant not too terribly far from here, and if the wind blows just so, it may carry on the current. It’s refreshing, especially after being trapped for hours in an aluminum tube with three men who, today in particular, seem to be having a war over who can wear the strongest cologne.

Kyle and Johnny flank him on either side as they stroll off the tarmac. They’re both covertly armed to the teeth as a general precaution, but he trusts there will be no sinister intent behind a simple lunch. Surely, his appointment won’t mind. He likely won’t be attending alone either.

At the far end of the strip, a hired car is waiting. It’s relatively inconspicuous for the part of the city housing the restaurant, according to Simon’s research - a sleek, black SUV with windows tinted dark enough to hide any passengers, but passable enough to not draw attention.

Once in the city, it’s inherently obvious that there’s plenty of time to kill before the agreed upon hour. Place and time re-confirmed, the boys are turned loose to occupy themselves however they see fit, and Simon delves into the rows of local shops.

He finds things here and there; a pair of stunning leather boots, a box of cigars for Price, trinkets and treats he can share with his staff or gifts he can bring to gatherings so that he never greets his gracious hosts empty-handed. Even a little something for you, should all go according to plan. He smiles inwardly as he tucks the velvet box into the pocket of his slacks. It won’t replace the necklace you clearly adore, but he hopes you’ll wear it regardless.

After a quick trip back to their driver to leave their finds, the trio makes their way to the restaurant. Johnny and Kyle lag behind, keeping a respectable distance from Simon, whose eyes are immediately combing the patio for your father.

He spots him closer to the corner, sitting with his back to the wall. Two tables over, a pair of rather conspicuous men sit, cliché aviators perched in place while positioned to have a clear view of the upcoming interactions. Simon makes a mental note to wait until closer to the wedding to offer suggestions for higher quality detail. Assassinations are easier when you can gauge your obstacles so easily; trust him, he’d know.

In his periphery, he sees his companions select an empty table four over from the rent-a-cops. Kyle sits with his back to the table, glasses off. Johnny sits across from him, keeping his on to supply a reflective overview. Simon can’t help but crack the tiniest grin. He’s taught them well. They move as a singular unit when needed and rely on instinct over protocol. It’s the perfect display of how safe you’ll be with him. If he seems a little arrogant about it, that’s because he is.

Your father looks up from his phone and meets Simon’s eyes with an unspoken question. Simon tips his chin just once before the man stands, greeting him with a gracious smile.

“Ah, Mr. Riley… Pleasure to finally meet you.” He’s sincere in tone and offers his hand. Simon takes it without hesitation, giving it a firm shake while he shares the sentiment.

“You as well, sir.”

His smile widens a bit at that, and he gestures to the open chair, saying, “Please, sit.”

Simon takes the invitation, settling into the seat and the subsequent relatively meaningless small talk. They cycle through the basics before ordering their food and get a pinch more personal while they wait, discussing their respective hometowns and places their work has taken them. It isn’t until they’re digging into their plates that your father finally broaches the subject they’re both most anxious to discuss.

“As much as I’m enjoying getting to know you,” he begins, gaze not rising from his fork as it prods a pile of coconut rice. “I’m sure you didn’t fly halfway across the world just for that.”

“No, sir,” Simon responds. “I’m here to talk about your daughter.”

That draws the man’s attention, eyes finally meeting Simon’s with a subtle grin. It’s almost somewhat unsettling, like a cat finally catching that damn canary, though he’s unsure whether it’s him or you that owns the role of prey.

“But you already knew that, didn't you?”

“That I did,” he confirms, dabbing the corner of his mouth with his napkin. “Tell me, Simon, what exactly is it about my daughter that calls to the infamous Ghost?”

Simon pauses a moment, unsure of quite how to approach the response. He'd rather not tip his hand until he determines what sinisterity lies behind that predatory gaze. The mask your father is wearing at the moment is approaching uncanny, and a faint alarm bell sounds in the back of Simon’s mind.

“I only ask because, well, I never would’ve expected that a man of your stature would choose someone so… plain, shall we say? Don’t get me wrong, she’s a good girl, but she’s certainly not without her flaws. Stubborn, opinionated, talks too much, certainly far from the ideal housewife. And don’t get me started on how she takes care of herself. Really makes me wonder, Mr. Riley, what ulterior motives might you be hiding?”

“None, sir. Nothin’ I need from you that I can’t get myself.” Simon’s voice is flat as he tamps down the anger crawling beneath his skin. How does a real man speak ill of his own daughter so flagrantly? Does he really have no regard for you? He has half a mind to remove your father’s tongue after the wedding, if only for your sake.

“Pray tell, then.”

Simon scrubs a hand over his jaw before he answers, “Pretty girl. Smart from the sound of it. Doesn’t rely on attention from the public or ‘er daddy’s money. Ain’t lookin’ for a sweet little housewife; I like it when they bite back.”

“And you understand that she’s… How do I put this delicately?” He pauses. “She’s a bit bigger than what you'd consider a trophy wife."

Simon scoffs, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Of course, he's aware of that. That's part of what drew him to you.

“Quite like a fuller figure. Don’t want a woman who’ll fuss over calories when I cook for ‘er.”

Your father mulls it over, chewing thoughtfully as he considers the words before him. Simon watches as the muscles in his jaw flex and reflex, and he swears he can hear the scales tipping back and forth as they try to find some balance.

Finally, he wipes his face with his napkin. His expression cracks into something adjacent to genuine, and that alarm gets just a little bit louder.

“I suppose this little meeting has reached its end.” He snaps his fingers twice as the waiter, gesturing for the check. Rude, in Simon’s opinion, but he bites his tongue.

“Sir?”

“I’ve got business to attend to back in the States, and by the sounds of it, a wedding to start planning.”

♡

part two - coming soon!

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod x reader #cod x you #fat reader #plus size reader #jj writes

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slayfics · 2 days

Note

ive been thinking about a comfort story but instead of katsuki comforting the reader, she comforts him after a long day or struggling with something ❤️

You comfort Katsuki.

1k words

You prepared for an angry Katsuki to burst through the door any moment now. The new hero rankings had come out this afternoon and he had dropped rank, again.

It didn’t take much for you to imagine why. The week before the rankings Katsuki got rushed by reporters. Fresh out of a fight with a villain, adrenaline pumping, they spat out questions pushing for answers.

All the questions they knew would push The Great Lord Explosion Murder God Dynamite’s buttons.

“Dynamite, did you know it was the anniversary of the day you were attacked by the sludge villain?”

“Dynamite, how does it feel being behind Endeavor’s son in the hero charts?”

“Dynamite, can you make a statement about the damage you did to the city in your last fight?”

The list of draining questions went on, all captured on video, as Katsuki quickly lost his cool. Blurting out some colorful words for the reports to, not so politely fuck off.

You heard the keys in the latch and braced yourself for the sight of the angry blond. Yet, such a sight never came, instead, you met with a sight that was much more concerning.

Slumped shoulders, flat affect, vacant gaze. Katsuki sat on the couch silently working at taking off his boots. Not a word spoken to you. No sign of anger.

“Hey,” you greeted, testing the waters with him.

“Hey,” he mumbled without looking up as he tossed his boots aside. Head leaned back against the couch he closed his eyes.

"You want to talk about it?" you asked softly.

Katsuki inhaled sharply and shook his head no without opening his eyes. It was unusual to see him so defeated. Typical fiery ambition completely extinguished, lacking the energy to even be upset, he just sat.

You knew all too well how to extinguish the burning rage inside him, but this? This was new ground.

Your momentary paralysis gave Katsuki exactly what he needed. Space and quiet to just be. Slowly he opened up.

"You think it's because of how I responded to those damn reporters?" He asked.

"Possibly," you hummed. "You're human though Katsuki, all those pestering questions would have got under anyone's skin.

"Yeah but," he sighed before continuing. "You saw all the articles and viral edits. They didn't show the whole video, just the part of me losing my shit. A big majority of people think I blew up at some civilian reporters for no fucking reason," Katsuki huffed. "I don't give a damn about that though; people can think whatever the fuck they want... I'm I don't know," Katsuki paused and you gave him the air to finish processing his thought. "I'm fucking disappointed. All that damn therapy I went through- to still get so pissed at some dumb reporters, I should be way past that now. I'm still losing my temper like a goddamn child," he groaned, the displeasure in his voice weighing heavy.

"Katsuki," you cooed and moved closer to him bringing him into an embrace. Katsuki didn't fight you he welcomed your affection, finding solace from leaning into you. Head resting on your chest you combed your fingers through his hair. "Success isn't linear, and one mistake doesn't erase everything you've accomplished and worked for. It's a minor setback. It's tough but, it's nothing you can't come back on top of," you comforted him squeezing him with one arm and messaging his scalp with the other. Katsuki hummed into your chest taking in your words. You always knew what to say.

"I just fucking hate that I gave those reporters exactly what they wanted. They wanted me to blow up, gives them a good damn news story. Fucking vultures," he scowled.

"Mhm," you nodded. "You did, and you can't change that, but you can change how you're going to react moving forward because we know they aren't going to stop. Especially now that they've seen the effect they've had," you spoke problem-solving with him.

"Tch- yeah. I don't know what the fuck to do though. Walking away has been my go-to when I feel myself about to explode, but- in situations like that I'm rushed and cornered. Can't let out an explosion to fly away either because I'll hurt the fuckers. What's worse is I'm still workin' and trying to get back to the cops and agency to report what the fuck happened with the villain," he replied.

"Maybe you could say that... I'm working please move... or I'm working and cannot accept questions...," You suggested.

"Ha- I don't know about the please but... that's not such a bad idea... I'm goddamn working can't talk idiots," Katsuki huffed then relaxed more into your chest.

You giggled, "That does sound more authentic to Dynamite."

Katsuki nuzzled into your chest, his breaths becoming deeper, and the tension in his shoulders he had been carrying around all day finally easing up. "I shoulda called you right when I found out," he murmured.

"You know I'm always here whenever you're ready to talk... about anything," you answered. "I'm sorry I didn't call right away... sometimes I'm not sure when you need your space to process."

"You ain't got to apologize... I know my temperament isn't the easiest to read," he noted.

"I wouldn't have you any other way," you teased, pulling him up to press a kiss on his nose.

Katsuki clicked his tongue, "Cut that cheesy crap out," he complained the tips of his ears burning hot. "Besides, I still got dirt and shit all over me."

"I don't care," you remarked, giving him another kiss on his cheek.

Katsuki shifted in one swift motion pinning you down on the couch, "I said cut it out brat," he smirked, taking in the sight of you beneath him. "Why don't you come get cleaned up with me instead," he offered.

An offer you happily accepted.

sinners: @queenpiranhadon @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango @matchat3a @bakugouswaif @reneinii @zanarkandskylines @pastelbakugou @abadbitchblogs @deluluforcarlos55 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @pinkpurpledreams @that-one-fangirl69

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anothermansjeans · 2 days

Note

Heyy Idk if this is how you request but we'll see......

Could you maybe do like a singer!reader who writes like dirty af songs abt Spencer and then Penelope shows the song to the rest of the team and they all start low-key bullying him and continue making comments abt it while on a case or something like that??

<33

XOXO-

~W~

okay i don't know any DIRTY DIRTY songs so i apologize if this isn't that great 😭 let me know if you want another one that shows different songs! ALSO I IMAGINE THE READER SINGING A DIFFERENT OUTRO TO NONSENSE EVERY NIGHT JUST LIKE MS SABRINA CARPENTER

cw: implied sex, reader talks sings about getting head and being handcuffed

wc: 610

masterlist

“Oh, hey pretty boy.”

Spencer walked into the bullpen to see the majority of the team huddled around Derek’s desk with amused looks on their faces. He tentatively continued his walk, but immediately froze in place when he heard the video playing from the computer.

“This song’s catchier than chickenpox is.

I bet your house is where my other sock is.

Woke up this morning, thought I’d write a pop hit.

How quickly can you take your clothes off, pop quiz?

My man’s IQ is one-eighty-seven.

When he’s going down on me I’m in Heaven.

Handcuff me to the bed like I’m a felon.”

Her laughs could be heard from the video, and Spencer’s face immediately turned fifty shades of red.

“So, where were you last night, Reid? You know, when you said you couldn't join us for drinks.”

He rolled his lips into his mouth at Emily’s question. Everyone had an expecting look except for Penelope… She seemed guilty. “I uh, I was at a concert…”

“What concert?” JJ’s question was presented as innocent, but it was everything but that.

“My girlfriend’s,” he mumbled lowly, barely loud enough for them to hear.

“Could you repeat that?”

Spencer glared at Derek, he knew exactly what he was doing. “My girlfriend’s.”

“Well hot damn, you finally admitted it!”

“I wasn't keeping it a secret. I'm just not as open about my love life as the rest of you are.” He huffed and brought himself over to his desk.

“Well, Garcia was kind enough to show us a video she found online and we didn't know what to expect… who else has an IQ of one-eighty-seven?”

Spencer whipped his head over to Penelope with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry!” Her hands went up in her defense. “I just– I love her music and I couldn't make it to the concert in D.C last night so I was watching videos that people took and it doesn't take a genius to know who she's talking about when we know you so well.” Her words were quick, and she was huffing to breathe when she finished her sentence.

Spencer groaned and put his head in his hands.

“I think my favorite song of hers is Nasty.”

Spencer winced at Emily’s words as everyone else laughed. They definitely are going to have a field day with him.

“I love Espresso.” The humor in JJ’s voice was evident.

“So It Goes… and Guilty as Sin? might be the top contenders for me,” and Derek just has to add on. “Tell us, Reid, are scratches down your back?”

Spencer stood up and went towards the coffee machine, ignoring the laughs and references they were making. He was allowed about three minutes of solace before Penelope hesitantly tapped his shoulder with a shy look on her face. “We got a case. Everyone’s at the round table.” He gave a nod at her words and followed her, ears perking up when he heard her singing under her breath, “don't want to wait on it. Tonight, I wanna get nasty.”

He suppressed the groan waiting to come out, and sat down at the table when he felt a buzz in his pocket.

Y/N: made it to philly!! love you, be safe today. text me whenever you're free 🫶

He was about to message back before Hotch walked in, “We’re going to brief as quickly as possible. We're headed to Philadelphia.”

He knew Penelope knew the next stop on Y/N’s tour, and could feel her eyes boring into the side of his face. He was mentally preparing for the jokes as soon as they stepped out of the conference room.

songs that i imagined reader wrote about spencer:

nonsense by sabrina carpenter

nasty by ariana grande

espresso by sabrina carpenter

so it goes... by taylor swift

guilty as sin? by taylor swift

dress by taylor swift

#spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds

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hiraethwrote · 7 hours

Text

i am telling you i love you

✧ including [seperate]: s. gojo, s. geto, k. nanami, t. fushiguro, r. sukuna, c. kamo ✧ summary: the first time saying 'i love you' to each other ✧ cw: [MDNI] f!reader, afab!reader, FLUFF, hint of angst, crack ig?, arguing, swearing, unprotected sex (p in v), insinuation of being drunk, maybe a hint of toxicity in sukunas, insecure!choso (sorry), no use of y/n, established relationships ✧ wordcount: 4.7k (700-900 each)

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

satoru gojo

From the start, he had always admired you for your craftiness. You’d think a restless person like Satoru would hate just watching you do whatever hobby you were pursuing this month, but it had quickly become his favourite part of the day. His day was hectic enough as it was, so it gave him a domestic sense of comfort watching your precision.

“You know, you don’t have to keep me company while I’m doing this,” you said with that kind smile of yours, the smile that was reserved for him only.

“No, I don’t mind,” he breathed softly.

He sat opposite you, leaned forward on the table with his arms crossed under his chin, having his loving stare glued on you. Letting it travel from your eyebrows that were pinched together in concentration, to the slight scrunch of your nose when you messed up, to your tongue peaking out between your tight lips.

“Isn’t it boring? I’m sure you have better things to do.” Quickly flicking your eyes to look at him, the faintest curve on his lips, barely noticing the small shake of his head. “Suit yourself,” you shrugged before turning your focus back to your work.

How had he gotten so lucky? You hadn’t been together for all that long, but it had been the most delightful four months of his life. He found himself falling harder for you every day that passed.

Unlike most of the people in his life, you’d taken the time to get to know him, truly know him. He saw it in the small things you did for him, like always bringing him his favourite sweets when you came to stay with him during the weekends, calling him just to ask how his day was going during lunch, and how you never failed to kiss him goodbye when leaving the room because you knew he’d get whiny otherwise.

The smile on his face never wavered, watching you quietly mumbling along to the music you’d put on. Every once in a while, you shot him a quick glance just to see if he was doing okay, and his heart fluttered every time you smiled at him. He just thought you were perfect it every way possible.

“I love you,” he blurted out.

“What?”

Satoru had sat up straight, both looking at each other with big eyes as you tried to comprehend what had just slipped out of him.

“Did you just-“

“Pfft, no!” He interrupted, never breaking the eye contact. “You’re hearing things.”

Your cheeks flushed red and you swallowed the lump in your throat. “No, you definitely said that.”

“What are you going to do about it?” He asked defensively, folding his arms over his chest as he kept fidgeting in his seat.

Rapidly blinking away the worst of the shock. “Satoru,” you spoke softly, but it did nothing to calm the pounding of his heart.

Had he messed up by letting it slip out too soon? The thought of actually having fallen in love with you had crossed his mind on several occasions. He had just been scared to come on too strong and screw things up before you’d even have the time to start properly.

“Let’s just forget it happened. What do you want for dinner?” He rambled on, standing up from the chair and darted for the kitchen.

“Satoru,” you repeated yourself, just as soft as the first time. Something about seeing him in his anxious haze, that had landed him staring vacantly into the refrigerator, had made you calm down.

“We have some beef we could use.”

“Satoru,” you said once again, placing a gentle hand on his back. His entire body tensed up, not turning to look at you. Satoru was sure his heart would beat out of his chest when you touched him. “Will you look at me?”

Even though his embarrassment was still running rampant inside him, he didn’t have it in him to not look at you when you talked to him with so much consideration. Slowly he turned to look at you, a sweet smile greeting him before your soft hand cupped his cheek.

“I love you, too.” Instantly his shoulders dropped and it was as one could literally see his nerves relaxing.

“Oh thank god,” he said as he released a deep breath. Without hesitation, he cupped your face with both hands and placed a deep kiss on your lips, causing you giggle.

“I love you,” kiss “I love you,” kiss “I love you,” kiss.

His eyes sparkled, more than they usually did. They told you, that even though it had been an intrusive thought that had taken control of his mouth, it hadn’t been a spur of the moment realisation. He truly meant it, and had for a while. It was more than just a confession, it was a promise.

suguru geto

“Please remind me we need to buy toilet paper,” you caught his attention as you exited the bathroom, a towel wrapped around your head. Lifting his focus from his book, Suguru fawned at the sight of you strutting casually to the kitchen, happily humming to yourself. “You want toast for breakfast?”

He quietly lifted himself off the couch and followed you to see you already assembling your own toast. How was it even possible, having barely started the day, to look as irresistible as you did? Wearing his t-shirt that nearly reached you mid thigh, fluffy slippers on your feet, unwrapping the towel on your head, making you damp hair frame your face.

“You want ketchup on yours?” You asked before you took your thumb in your mouth to lick of some of the access ketchup you’d got on it. With a weak smile, he shook his head no to which you simply shrugged before turning back to the toast. “You meeting Satoru today, right?”

Suguru kept clenching and unclenching his fists at his side. He hadn’t been this nervous around you since before you got together. He’d spent weeks and weeks, mustering up the courage to even introduce himself to you.

Which was something he hadn’t done on his own accord; Satoru had more or less pushed him in your direction after after he had gotten tired of hearing Suguru’s constant doting of you from afar.

But that was months ago now, and you’d gotten so far since then. You practically lived together at this point, and he’d tried so many times to confess how he truly felt about you. So many times, but his nerves made him run blank every time.

Every evening when you were watching late night tv together, when you had your head resting on his lap, carefully stroking your hair— the words popped into his head.

When you were standing in the bathroom, getting ready for bed, how often you fell into a fit of laughter while brushing your teeth. Toothpaste running down your chin— the words popped into his hand.

And mornings like these. He’d already had the privilege of waking up next to you, and now you just walked around his home, wearing his clothes, making him breakfast— the words popped into his head.

“Suguru? You alright?” The sound of your soft chuckle brought his attention back to you.

“I love you.”

Unable to peer his eyes off you, he held his breath while impatiently waiting if you’d say the words back to him. The raging throbbing of his heart started to settle down when a genuine, caring smile met him.

“I love you, too.” You said it so casually, as it was as normal as breathing to you.

You knew Suguru. Overall, he was a harmonious person who rarely let the stress and worry of a situation take over him. So when a situation was stressful enough to even make Suguru jitter with nerves, you wanted to be the person to help him ground himself again.

And he was forever thankful. This was the best possible response, that actually loving each other was nothing to wonder about. “So, are you meeting Satoru?” Changing the subject completely, turning back to the food in front of you.

Just as you were about to yet again request an answer, you felt his arms wrap around your waist as he hugged you into him as tight as he could. Nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, he placed a sweet kiss which sent shivers throughout your body.

“Thank you,” he mumbled into your skin, his voice just tickling you ever so slightly. His breath had gone back to a normal pace.

“Always, baby,” lifting you hand up to stroke his cheek. “But really, are you hanging out with Satoru today or not?”

It earned you a muffled chuckle before he lifted his head, resting his chin on your shoulder. “No, not anymore, I’m not.” He let out a relaxed breath before closing his eyes in content. “Staying in with you today.”

kento nanami

You would love it if you had a boyfriend who worked less and stayed home more, but then you wouldn’t be with Kento. It seemed like a small price to pay to be with the most perfect man to ever exist.

Too perfect almost, to the point it had made you wary in the start. When you had started out, he had been nothing short of a gentleman. You’d wondered when the facade would crack, proving to you that the handsome man that had pursued you was too good to be true. How would he disappoint you? Would he turn out to be a slob, would he only feed you a constant string of lies, or god forbid, would he cheat?

However, you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, which you did not regret for a single second. Never had you met a man like Kento, someone who showed you nothing but respect and compassion. Someone who managed to cherish you like no one had ever done before, from the moment he woke up until the second he fell asleep. The guy didn’t even let the toilet seat stay up, if you could believe it.

The only downside was how demanding his job was, but even so, he did his very best to make up for his long hours. If he wasn’t at work, he went out of his way to spend his time with you. So on evenings he worked late, you could always expect him to call, his tired voice on the other side of the line.

“Hello, darling,” he’d sighed deeply. “Can I stay at your place tonight?” It never failed, always calling to make sure, even though the answer was always the same.

“Of course, baby. Can’t wait to see you.” The man even had his own key so he could come and go as he pleased. Initially, you’d given it to him so he could enter your apartment on the nights you had already gone to bed, without you having to come and unlock the door for him. Yet, he called every time.

But this time, you wanted to meet him when he came shuffling into your home. And twenty minutes later, while you were casually sitting on your couch watching tv, you heard the front door open. The familiar steps of your boyfriend came closer until a tired Kento appeared.

“Hi there,” you spoke softly, tilting your head at him.

“Hello,” he whispered before he leaned forward and placed a light peck on your lips.

“You okay?”

“Just tired.” He gave you a forced smile before he laid down on the couch, placing his head in your lap. Automatically, you started massaging his scalp which earned you a satisfied hum as you spotted how the corner of his lips curved upward just the tiniest bit.

“Wanna talk about it?” You barely noticed the weak shake of his head, because he was already about to fall asleep to the sound of your voice that sounded even more angelic now that he was exhausted. “Okay,” you whispered in response, letting your hand stroke his hair as you turned back to the tv.

A few minutes went by, just listening to how his breathing fell into a steady rhythm before he captured your attention by calling your name softly.

“I love you.”

Reactively, you drew a sharp breath out of pure shock, while Kento stayed perfectly still, his breathing just as calm as before.

Despite the fact that you’d been with him for quite some time now, and things were going really well, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t scared. When getting into this relationship, you’d known it would be a seriously committed one pretty much from the start, thinking of how established he was in all aspects of his life.

But that was your logic speaking, and love wasn’t supposed to be logical. If you only thought about how you felt, it was easy. Nothing had ever been easier than loving the man that made you feel so safe, in every way imaginable.

“I love you,” you whispered in response, before leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. A satisfied smile painted his already gorgeous features, before you sensed he finally drifted asleep.

toji fushiguro

Physical intimacy had never been an issue in your relationship. That’s where it all started after all; meaningless sex. Somewhere along the line the relationship just sort of happened.

After yet another eventful night, Toji had spent the night for the first time. You’d laid in silence for half an hour after finishing before he had dared to snake his arm around your waist to pull you into a tight embrace, and that without a single ounce of struggle. The second you’d felt his body pressed up against yours, you’d felt an unfamiliar tingle fill you from top to toe. You were sure he could feel your heart beat with immense force against your chest, but he just chose not to say anything about it.

The next morning, you’d felt a slight twinge in your heart when you’d woken up to an empty bed. That was until you could smell bacon. Tiredly, you’d taken small steps into the kitchen, surprised to see Toji already up, cooking you breakfast.

“Morning,” he’d said, not looking at you, like it this was all a normal occurrence.

“Morning.” The word had barely made its way passed your lips, so in shock by the scene taking place in front of you. Without saying much more, he’d set the table and served the food. Neither of you mentioned the cuddling that had taken place, but that was the start of it all.

From that day, spending the night happened regularly. Not just that, but you started sharing pretty much every meal together, and just hanging out doing everyday, mundane stuff. It wasn’t just sex anymore. However, despite the fact that you introduced each other as boyfriend and girlfriend, you felt like something was missing.

Toji wasn’t an emotional guy, and you struggled to get him to open up. What was worse, was how you could tell he had a past that troubled him, and you’d grown so desperately fond of him to the point where you wanted to be of help to him. Still, six months deep in the relationship, you hadn’t cracked the exterior yet but you stayed patient.

To make up for the lack of emotional depth, he definitely knew how to satisfy you physically. As right now, when he was snuggly placed deep between your legs, burying his dick deep into you with each thrust.

Nobody had known your body better than Toji, as he was well aware of how to pleasure every inch of you. It was also proven by how he hit just the right spot with every movement, rubbing against your sensitive clit on impact. With a need to have him as close to you as possible, feeling his warm skin against yours, you had your arms clung around him, nails digging into his back.

“Toji-“ you moaned like a plead for him, to which he easily obeyed. The sound of his name coming from your delicious lips, so desperate for him, is all he needed to go deeper and faster into your wet pussy.

“That’s right, baby,” his husky voice spoke as he pressed sloppy kisses on your neck in between his rhythmic thrusts. “Taking it so good.”

One of your hands slide to the back of his head, your fingers running through his dark hair. Just as he thrusts into you one more time, hitting that sweet, sweet spot, you can’t help but tug at his hair causing a groan of pleasure to escape him. Biting back the whines bubbling up inside you, you knew you were close.

Suddenly, he lifts his head from the crook of your neck, still not breaking his steady pace of shoving his dick between your tight walls.

“Hngh— I love you,” he breathed, making you open your eyes to meet his intense, but loving gaze. Had he just said that?

The hand that was previously in his hair, found its way to his flushed cheek, bringing his head to rest his forehead against yours. “I love you, too,” you force out in between your moans, grazing your lips against his.

He doesn’t hold back, crashing his lips into yours in a rich and passionate kiss. He began to rock his hips in a slower pace, but it felt different. Every thrust, every movement, every touch was so much deeper now— emotional. Quietly, he muffled those three words into the kiss once again, you hand still on his face in order to keep him as close as possible.

So many times you’d wanted to utter the words, too scared that it wouldn’t have been reciprocated. But finally, he had been the one to confess first and it had been nothing less than beautiful.

ryomen sukuna

“No, fuck you, Sukuna!” You shouted at him before storming down the dimly lit street. You wanted to get as far away from that party, from that atmosphere, and him as humanly possible.

“Come on, baby. Don’t be like that,” he groaned in frustration. He stayed a safe, but consistent, six feet behind you.

“Like what, exactly?” You waved your hands around, needing to put your anger somewhere that wasn't a fist to his face.

“Like a-“ you snap around immediately, shutting him up before he could finish the statement.

“Say ‘like a bitch’ and I swear, you’ll regret it!” He stifled the amused grin about to form on his face at the sight of you, practically having smoke blow out of your ears. Even he knew it wasn’t the time to joke around.

You hated how he stood so casually. Unlike you, his shoulders were rested, hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket and his head slightly tilted, looking down on you with just the tiniest frown on his eyebrows.

“You humiliated me.” Your voice is low now, finally letting the disappointment shine through the anger.

“I couldn’t just let him flirt with you like that. You're my girl.”

“Not for long if you keep it up like this.” He instantly rolled his eyes at you, his own frustration starting to build up as the memories of that asshole hitting on you came flooding back.

“This is ridiculous,” he sighed, taking a few steps forward to get closer to you.

“No, I have every reason to be upset! You pounced on the guy. I’m pretty sure you damn near broke his jaw!”

Rolling his neck, he tried to remain calm. The face of the random guy flashed behind his closed eyes, lust in his eyes as he was looking down on you with a satisfied grin.

“What was I supposed to do? Huh? Let him have his way with you? Take you to bed? Fuck you?” He was slipping, his voice raising to match yours.

“You’re not serious right now?” You huffed the hypothetical question. “How about you trust me, your girlfriend, that I'm able to defend herself against sleazes like him!” The anger was taking control of your body, making you take a few steps closer to Sukuna as well, in hopes it might get your point across.

“He didn’t even back off when I tried to be civil at first!”

“Civil? You call threatening his life civil?”

You felt like tearing your hair out in nuisance. Just the fact that you had to argue with your boyfriend on the matter that he was so clearly in the wrong had you seeing red.

“When that didn’t work, I had no other choice!” You couldn’t care less by the fact that you were having a very public shouting match just a stone’s throw away from the party you’d just left.

“No other choice?! Are you hearing yourself?”

“Are you? You’re really expecting me to stand by when I see that shit?” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You know what,” you breathed as you slowly began to back away from him, holding your hands up in defence. “You can stay at your own place tonight.”

Before you managed to turn around, he grabbed your arm to keep you looking at him. “Like hell I am!” He snapped.

“Let go off me,” you said through gritted teeth.

The look in his eyes told you he knew better than to keep his clutch on you. But he didn’t keep his mouth shut. “I won’t apologise for stopping that fucker from even thinking of you in that way.”

“Why not? Because I genuinely believe I deserve one?” You shouted at him.

“Because I love you,” he shouted back just as loud.

You couldn’t help but to scoff at him, a sad expression falling on your face. “That’s not funny, ‘Kuna.” Your voice was quiet now, doing your very best not to let it crack, but you could already feel your chin had started to quiver.

“I’m not,” he spoke calmly with a slight raise of his eyebrows in an attempt to make you believe his words were genuine.

You liked your lips, still using all the power in you not to break in front of him. At some point during your relationship, you’d both become achingly aware of your feelings for him despite not having said those three little words.

It always appeared, both to you and to everyone looking from the outside, that the relationship was a lot more intense and real for you than it was for him. So if he said those words just to shut you up and win the argument, you could never forgive him.

You took a deep breath in through the nose before exhaling in a desperate attempt to calm your uncontrollable emotions before talking. “If this is one of your sick jokes, we’re done!”

He sported one of his idiotic smirks and you wanted to wipe it off immediately as he slowly walked up to you so he could reach you. The throbbing of your heart could probably be heard from blocks away as your willpower finally broke, letting the tears fall.

A sob slipped out of you when he spoke your name softly, making you believe his words. His usually rough hands, snuck their way to capture your jaw with a tender grip. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you whispered in return.

choso kamo

I’ll never be good enough for her.

Choso had lost count of how many times that damned thought ran through his mind, but he just couldn’t help it. Looking at you, no one would ever think you could even settle for someone like him.

Your heart was pure and kind, always looking out for those around you whether you knew them or not. Where he fell short in sense of socialising, you always managed to step up and make the most out of every situation. But despite a gentle soul, you were firm in what you believed in, which meant you did not tolerate bullshit, to which he admired greatly.

And to top it all off, you were drop dead gorgeous. Absolutely breathtaking, blessed by all the mightier powers that might exist. There was no doubt you could have absolutely anyone you wanted, so why were you with him? He wasn’t anything special.

“Cho?” Your voice snapped him out of his spiral, staring at your kind face which flashed him a small smile of worry. “You okay? You barely touched your food.”

With a small shake of the head, he tried to shudder his insecurities off and be with you in the present. “Yeah, no, just not very hungry, I guess,” he stumbled over his words, picking at the food in front of him with his fork.

“You wanna go somewhere else?” You shrugged casually, before taking your own bite of your food.

Just as he was about to answer, you were disturbed by a tall person approaching the table. Both of you turning to look at the guy standing at the table, gawking down on you with a confident grin spreading from ear to ear.

“Hey,” it chimed deeply from the handsome guy, laced with seduction. Looking back at you, Choso could already see the irritation build up. “You looked all disappointed from where I was sitting. How about I save you from this miserable date?”

Choso’s defense got repressed in his throat at the sheer disbelief of the situation. He’d been unfortunate enough to witness people flirting with you, but no one had ever been so shameless to interrupt like this when he was sitting right there.

With a polite, but very clearly forced chuckle, you opened your mouth to speak. “Uhm, no thanks, this is my boyfriend.” The stranger turned to look at Choso, who pressed his lips together in a thin line.

“Please,” he dragged on. “I can make you happier than this guy.”

“I don’t think you could.” Your words were clearly getting more and more aggressive, but your tone stayed polite— for now.

Under the table, Choso felt you stretch out your leg so you’d be able to touch him in one way or another. It always brought you comfort, even if just the tiniest inch of him was in contact with you.

“Why don’t you just give me your number?” He still had that insufferable grin smeared on his face. Choso wished so deeply he could be able to just knock him out, or anything, but he was frozen in his seat.

“Look, I’m not interested.” You were slipping, Choso noticed.

“Come on. Pretty thing like you deserves-“

“Hey,” you shot in, shutting the stranger up immediately. Your voice was strong and steady, but there was a new sensation to it, as if was laced with venom “I am here with my boyfriend, who I’m in love with, okay?” What? “No no-good loser, who didn’t get enough attention as a child so they have to harass strangers in public, could even stand a chance. So walk along!” You shooed him off.

With a displeased scoff, he turned to walk away, reluctantly accepting his defeat. Turning back to look at Choso, your anger immediately evaporated at the sight of your loving boyfriend. Who, by the way, was staring at you like a deer caught in headlights.

“Can you believe that guy? Let’s go somewhere else,” you said unconcerned as you started to pack your things. You stopped in your rushed tracks when Choso spoke your name in utter surprise.

“The thing that you said-“ was all he had to say for the heat to rush to your face, immediately starting to avoid his eyes. Oh, his gorgeous eyes that were staring holes into you right now.

“Picked up on that, did you?” you said with an awkward laugh. There hadn’t been many instances where Choso had seen you speechless like now, fidgeting with the sleeve of your sweater.

Choso could have died right there and then, and he would have died truly happy. It was like the confirmation he had needed.

He blinked away the shock to reach his hand across the table to intertwine his fingers with yours. “I love you, too.” Finally finding the courage within you again, you locked eyes with him, letting out a deep breath of relief.

“Would have been kind of awkward if you didn’t,” you joked off, earning you the most wonderful sound of his laugh. “I love you,” you said for real this time.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

a/n so this is a little different but i was listening to an instrumental version of cigarettes after sex's apocolypse and so many of these scenarios just came popping into my head. might do a pt. 2. going away for five days now so probably wont be writing ALSO, i am not a smut writer so sorry for the bad writing there lol

reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated

plagiarism not authorized

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peachybella444 · 2 days

Text

Pairings: connie x black reader

Warnings: smut 18+ Connie's a lil toxic, mentions of a gun, pretty angsty

pt.2 to birthday girl but can be read as a standalone

Miss you

Constance Springer. The man who was once the source of your happiness though recently the source of your frustration and headaches.

“I just don't get it, Con. You take me on these amazing dates, buy me anything that catches my attention, and say you wanna spend the rest of your life with me, yet when I ask to publicly announce we’re together, which I shouldn't have to, you always brush it aside.” You spoke as calmly as possible. Though considering this was the 4th time this week you were having this conversation your calm tone resembled shouting.

It had been five months since your birthday. Five months since Connie gave you the best gift you could ever think of. Himself.

The first four months felt as if you were on cloud nine. The entire duration it was as if you were conjoined at the hip. Connie had to make a couple of drops? There you were in his passenger seat watching a movie or using his card to pay for the large quantity of your cart.

You needed to go make up a missed exam? Connie was waiting in his car with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. The only time you weren't seen together was if he was doing something he didn't want you involved in or if he was out buying you secret lavish gifts such as the car he got you a week after your birthday. Life was great.

It wasn't til you were at your nail appointment with Mika where she nearly cut you with her clippers from shock the moment you brought up your relationship with Connie, that you realized no one knew about it.

At first, you were confused. How could no one know? You were always together but the more you thought about it you started to understand. Whenever you were out he wasn't as affectionate as when it was just the two of you, just a few touches that could easily be considered friendly, but you just brushed it off as him not being comfortable with PDA.

Even when you went on dates he'd buy the entire venue or restaurant out so it'd be just you two or would plan the nicest dates at the house, either way, no one saw you on dates as a couple.

You thought about it for a while before it finally ate you up and you just had to ask. His response was the reason shit went left.

“Whatchu mean let people know we’re together? Ion want people in our business. I'm yours and you're mine, that's all that matters” He brushed it off with a kiss on your forehead before running to go get some eggs around the corner. He was only gone for ten minutes yet in that time frame you went through hundreds of different reasons as to why he responded that way.

At first, you were confused. Then, you were trying to reassure yourself he's right as long as we know then we straight. But immediately after that thought came anger why the fuck doesn't he want people to know? Am I the fuckin side chick?

By the time Connie came back you were fuming. You trusted Connie, the night he asked you to be his he promised you he'd never do anything to hurt you yet you couldn't deny how suspicious this was. He barely had time to lock the door behind him before you started with your questions.

“You cheating on me Constance?”

“What?” He almost gave himself whiplash with how fast he turned, looking at you as if you had said the stupidest shit ever which in his mind you did.

“You heard me. Are you cheating?” You followed him into the kitchen of his apartment.

“No [☆] I'm not cheating. I needa take you to the ER? Cause it sounds like you hit your head while I was gone”

“Then why don't you wanna tell anyone?”

“About us?”

“Duh”

“I already told you, mami, I don't want people all up in our business”

That was two weeks ago and you guys were nowhere near in a better place. By no means were you insecure. You knew Connie loved you and only you but you wanted others to know as well. It's not like you wanted to leak one of your many sex tapes on IG. You just wanted at least your friend group to know you were together. Connie wasn't having it though.

“Mama lower your tone” He groaned. Inked hands rubbing his face from frustration.

“Just tell me, Con. Why don't you want anyone to know?”

“Is it wrong to wanna keep our relationship private? I love you princess but you buggin’ for real. Drop it”

“You know what. Fuck this, nd fuck you too. There's a big fucking difference between private and secret.” You slammed his bedroom door. This was too much. You couldn't take it anymore; it was as if he was ashamed of you. You loved Connie, you really, really loved him but this hurt, the constant drop of your heart whenever he let go of your hand the moment you stepped out of his apartment complex or whenever a girl flirted with him in front of the group but there was nothing you could do. You were done. No amount of love could make you settle for anything less than you knew you deserved.

Despite your teary eyes you managed to pull yourself together. Grabbing your bag, you packed as much as possible before finally exiting the room.

Connie was in the middle of rolling a blunt when he saw you walk out, he would have been convinced that his heart was lying on the couch when he stood up if it wasn't for the loud thumping in his ears.

“Where are you going?” He stood in your way

“Connie please move” You sniffled

“No, not until you tell me where you're going. Please [☆] lo siento, mami, por favor, no te vayas please don't go” His voice cracked as reality hit him. Dropping to his knees, his hands gripped the soft flesh of your hips.

“I promise to be better, I promise. I will call everyone on my phone and tell them about us right now, please don't go” At this point, you had to look away. His tear-stricken face and Spanish almost had you fold.

“We'll work this out ma, estaré mejor, lo prometo I'll be better, I promise”

“No, we can't Connie. Not right now” And with that, you left.

A month had passed so far. It was rough in the beginning. He blew your phone up 24/7 to the point where you had to block him. You couldn't eat, and whenever you did have the energy to stay awake you did nothing but scroll on your phone, your thumb always finding the photo album where you stored all pictures of Connie.

Sasha and Mikasa finally had enough, while Mika was the only one you told Sasha had a pretty good idea after she went to visit Connie only to find him in the same state as you, maybe even worse. Deciding you needed to leave the walls of your apartment and have fun, they finally convinced you to go out. Taking a couple of pregame shots while shaking ass in the mirror, your outfit leaving nothing to the imagination as you finally felt ready to face reality.

By the time you had arrived at the party, the drinks started to kick in and you grabbed the first sexy guy you saw and dragged him to the dance floor.

Unknown to you Connie was also at the party, standing in the corner as he made a few deals. He looked tired, and he was. The moment the door closed behind you he broke down. Ignoring all of the calls and texts he got from clients as he sat there. He was angry. Angry at you for leaving him but mostly angry at himself for fucking up.

When Connie finally caught sight of you it was as if someone had finally flipped the switch on throughout his body. His heart sped up, his posture straightened and his dick twitched at the sight of your body in the dress.

His dick wasn't the only thing twitching. When it finally registered to Connie that you were letting some random guy touch you as you whined on him, his eye twitched and his hand immediately went to his gun.

He was furious. With zero fucks he approached you, the barrel of his gun pressed against the guy who you were currently throwing it back on.

When you no longer felt the swaying of the man behind you, you turned to be met with the fear-frozen stranger and Connie whispering something in his ear. You didn't have time to ask what was going on before the guy scurried off and Connie roughly grabbed your arm, dragging you out of the house party.

Despite the fact you were no longer together and he had no right to drag you away, you stayed quiet. Connie rarely got angry but when he did you knew it was best to just stay quiet.

“Get in the fucking car [☆]” He threw open the door. You were convinced the thong you had on was completely drenched after those six words. His voice was low and threatening and you almost felt disgusting from how turned on you were. Almost. With one look into his rage-filled eyes, you got in the car, the door slamming behind you when he was sure you were safely in.

He quickly got in, tire tracks marking the ground as he sped off. It was silent for a minute before you decided to speak, once his grip on the steering wheel loosened and the color returned to his knuckles.

“Connie?” You faced him, eyes burning into the side of his head as he kept his dark stare on the road.

“Connie, come on. You can't just kidnap me and then not speak. Pull over and talk to me now” You huffed.

With a roll of his eyes, he pulled into a deserted parking lot.

“Hello? Either you get to talking or I'm getting out nd calling an Uber”

“No the fuck you're not” He groaned loudly, eyes meeting yours.

“Then talk” You borderline yelled

If Connie's hair was long enough to grip he'd have a couple bald spots from how frustrated he was. He gave you both time to cool down before he spoke.

“Look I'm sorry for dragging you away, and for threatening your lil boyfriend-”

“He's not my boyfriend”

“He's not?”

“No. Continue your apology” You rolled your eyes.

Your response had a smirk forming on his face. He missed you so much, even your attitude.

“I missed you ma. I'm sorry for dragging you away. I'm also sorry for how things ended.” He grabbed your hand.

“I now understand your feelings and your concerns and I'm sorry I ever made you feel like I was ashamed of you or if there was another woman. You're the love of my life ma, this past month has been pure hell. I need you baby. Please take me back.” His hands were shaking as they held yours securely. It was rare to see Connie cry, and the sight of his tear-streaked face made your heart ache. He really did love you.

Swallowing the lump in your throat you asked the one question that started it all.

“Be real Con. Why didn't you want anyone to know?”

With a sigh, he rubbed his facial hair.

“I was afraid you'd realize you could do better”

“What? What made you think that Con?”

“I sell drugs for a living, mami, I'm involved with a shit ton of dangerous people. I was afraid when others found out they'd start telling you things about me and you'd realize you can do so much better”

“Oh, Connie” You could no longer resist the need to be close to him. Maneuvering yourself so you sat in his lap you cupped his face as your eyes searched his.

“Papa there is no one better. I love you so much, Connie. There is nothing anyone could ever say to make me want or love you less because I know you. I know how much you care and love those around you. There is no one better, Connie.”

For some time, the two of you were wrapped in each other's arms as you faced your emotions.

When you both were calm, you finally dared to look into his eyes. The energy shift resembling the one from your birthday.

“Con” You slowly inched your face closer to his

“I'm sorry for all the hurt I put us through mami” His hand wrapped around your neck

“Déjame compensarte let me make it up to you” He closed the space between you.

It felt like the first breath taken after being underwater for a long time. You felt alive, felt loved. The once slow kiss grew into something more passionate. Both of you needy, as you fiend for dominance in the heated exchange.

Ultimately you lost the battle when his hands gripped your hips tightly as if to assure himself you weren't leaving again. It wasn't soon after that you found yourself in the back of his car with your legs resting on his shoulder as he drilled into you.

He littered kisses on your ankle as his grip on your hips tightened. His thick cock stretching you out had your eyes rolling back and moans of ecstasy coming out of your agape mouth.

“Yeah? You doing so good fa me ma. You miss this? Miss how good I fuck you?” His thumb found its way to your clit.

“Fuck, Connie” You whined. Attempting to push his hand away from the sensitive bud.

“Answer me princesa or ima stop” He warned

“Yes, Connie- mhmph I miss it so bad papi oh my god” Your velvety walls squeezed him tight.

"Fuuuck. Don't ever leave me again, you hear me? I can't take it, baby, I love you too much. T-try that shit again nd Imma make you watch while I put a bullet in between his eyes. Understand?” His pace increased.

God that shouldn't have turned you on as much as it did. You were convinced you could have come on the spot, the added pressure on your carotids when you didn't answer immediately wasn't any help.

“Y-yes Con, I promise it won't happen again” You managed to say in between the moans and whimpers that you no longer had the energy to contain.

“Keep squeezing me, mami. I'm so fuckin close” He groaned, hand no longer on your neck as it rested against the steamy windows to stable himself.

The atmosphere of the car was pure filth. Your moans bounced off the windows, the sloshing sound of your wet pussy and slapping skin that created the creamy ring around the base of cock topping it all off.

His thrusts were slowly getting sloppy, you were just squeezing him so tight.

“C-Con” You managed to gasp out, the marks he littered on your neck to suppress his whimpers, having the coil in your belly tighten.

“I know mama, let go fa me” He groaned.

That instant you came, eyes rolling to the back of your head for a quick second as your cream and small spurts of squirt leaked from your pussy.

“Shit mama” He panted, dick twitching as he painted your walls with his cum.

Connie being the lover boy he was despite repeatedly denying it whispered apologies, and sweet promises into your ear as you came down from your high.

“I'm sorry mami, I promise to be better” He kissed you softly as if you were in a fairytale before whispering in your ear.

“But don't think just cus we're good now, that I'm not gon tear that ass up when we get home for giving that loser a taste of what's mine.”

I dont know how i feel about this one buuutttt all thanks to @masterofthepp for giving me this idea. Hopefully it meets your standards babes. As always any feedback is welcome. mwah

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7777vie · 1 day

Text

as inexperienced as spencer was, he knew what went on behind the door of a relationship. he knew exactly what was released during intimacy that made people love each other.

"dopamine, serotonin, and norepinephrine play a role in determining your initial attraction to someone, while oxytocin and other chemicals aid in bond formation and in reshaping your brain when you're in love."

"when we're stimulated by our sexual partner or experiencing love, our bodies generate oxytocin, earning it the moniker "love hormone" and "cuddle hormone."

he could explain every aspect of love — but the doctor found it hard to recognize these feelings when he's approached by them himself.

he knows why people's cheeks flush when they talk to others they are attracted to. when you're attracted to someone, blood flows to your face, an emotional reaction triggering the release of adrenaline, which causes your veins to widen or dilate. but that can't possibly be why his face flushes when he sees you focused on his rambling. there simply had to be another explanation.

"mhm, what about why people kiss?" a simple question he could answer in a second, but the delirious look on your face, as you asked him, made him stumble through his words. he cursed himself for starting this topic during your debrief of the profile which was left vacant a while ago.

"i-it could be interpreted as a type of 'attachment behaviour,' like— akin to hugging or holding hands. These actions alleviate stress and enhance relationship trust, contentment, and intimacy."

he took your hum as a sign of satisfaction as he cleared his throat. he loved talking about what he knew — he took pride in filling his brain with knowledge yet he felt a twinge of embarrassment talking to you about this topic. he wondered why. this was an unshameful topic and you expressed interest in what he said, why were his cheeks flushed red?

lost in thought with a pen around his fingers, he hadn't noticed the numerous times he was called by his older colleague by the door.

"spencer?" "yes?" "gideons calling you."

you would have thought that if he turned any faster his head would have unscrewed, or that if he had gotten up any faster his legs would have fallen through the floor — but that was just the way the genius was.

gideon was nothing but aware of exactly spencer was feeling at the moment. the profiler in him was aware of every thought going through his head at every glance he took at you and every glance of yours he caught. but he could do nothing but sigh at his unawareness.

"deep in thought?" just by the sound of the younger feet shuffling next to him and the sight of his hands in an awkward position in front of him, he knew he was nervous. something that even a non-profiler could tell.

"the unsub is showing obvious signs of delusions— but we have no concrete links to what could have caus—"

"not those thoughts," gideon chuckled at the lost expression on the genius as he resembled a child who lost his mother in a crowd. "you're thinking of something else. it's distracting you."

it didn't take spencer long to track back to what he was thinking of before gideon called him. his eyes ran through the room and he didn't know how to answer, "i am a bit distracted, but i am still thinking about the case."

"i know."

the older man stifled a grin as he turned to the younger, "we have a few names you need to go by, you two are going to the first victims house. I'm going to the crime scene with hotch. got it? garcia's already sent you the information."

the younger nodded eagerly and slipped his hands into his pockets. "yes, sir," he responded promptly, showing his readiness to share with you. he felt a reassuring pat on his shoulder, and he heard the older agent say, "she likes you too, don't be so nervous." As soon as he regained composure to what he had said, he turned his head to respond, only to find the older person already walking away towards their destination.

what? 'she liked you too.' it took the genius only a second to understand what he had hinted at — but an eternity to realize something else.

he liked you too.

#bau #spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #bau team #criminal minds #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #fluff #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader

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hqbaby · 3 days

Text

three — have to be

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 2.5k content. profanity, college kids being stupid, some angsty feels

Contrary to popular belief, college isn’t that different from high school. No one magically matures overnight and goes from being a snot-nosed brat to a sophisticated adult. Try as you might, it just isn’t the way things go.

College is essentially just high school on steroids. The cliques are more exclusive, padded with unwritten rules and covert acts of initiation. Bullies are more subtle, if not more vicious. And the gossip? Well, the gossip is just as venomous, and news spreads just as fast.

Today’s item of interest is one for the books: The big breakup between the campus crush and the golden boy who bagged her. How they ended things rather abruptly. And how they’re both already dating different people only three weeks later.

“Apparently, you cheated on him,” Nobara tells you, pulling out the lollipop she has in her mouth. “Or you cheated on him. It depends on who you ask.”

“I heard that you were sleeping with a professor,” Maki says.

You frown at her, adjusting your bag on your shoulders. “Yaga?”

“No.” She grins. “Gakuganji.”

You gag at the thought. Which sicko came up with that? Probably Kento, you think. The prick.

The three of you are on your way to a meeting for a pre-law society you joined back in your first year. You’re not quite sure you want to be a lawyer and Maki’s made it clear that she’s just in it for the parties, but as Nobara says, it’s for the connections.

A lot of college has felt like a complete scam to you, if you’re being honest. The classes are fine enough and you occasionally meet interesting people, but for the most part, you’re well-aware that everyone here’s either just coasting or trying to one-up one another. You can’t complain though. In the end, you’re a part of it all.

“I heard something interesting though,” Nobara says, and there’s a dangerous tone in her voice that has you crawling out of your skin. “More than a few people are saying that you’re dating someone new.”

Maki nods, looking at you with a raised brow. “I heard that too.”

“Someone from the business department apparently,” Nobara adds. “Someone you’re incredibly close with.”

You swallow as your two friends turn to you for an answer to their accusations. You and Sukuna made your sham relationship “official” just a few days ago and you haven’t had the time to tell either of them about it. If you’re being honest, you’ve been avoiding the topic for as long as humanly possible because you already know what they’re going to say about the whole thing.

It’s one thing for you to be friends with him despite their clear dislike of him, it’s an entirely different thing to be dating him. To the public’s knowledge at least.

“I was going to tell you guys about that,” you say quietly.

Nobara gapes, dropping her lollipop on the ground. “You’re fucking with us.”

“Before you say anything—”

“Holy shit!” Maki exclaims. She stops in her tracks and grabs your shoulders, shaking you as if to shock some sense into your system. “No. You’re not doing this.”

“I know Satoru fucked you up, but this is not the way to deal,” Nobara tells you. Her arms are flailing around as she tries to get her point across. She probably thinks you’re in too deep, madly in love with the asshole she’s done nothing but warn you about. “Where’s your phone? You’re breaking up with him right now.”

You can’t help but laugh at your friends’ hysterics. Much to their horror.

Maki’s grip on your tightens. “This is serious, babe. It’s not happening.”

“Will you just let me speak?” you say, the laughter shaking your voice. “I’m not dating Sukuna.”

They both let out a sigh of relief.

“But I am pretending to.”

“What kind of fucked up game are you playing?” Maki demands. She’s let go of you now at least. That’s something. “Explain, bitch.”

You roll your eyes and continue walking straight ahead, forcing the two of them to hurry along after you. “It’s just a thing we’re doing,” you say. “It’s basically a joke.”

Nobara groans. “Well, it’s not funny,” she says. “Why are you doing this?”

“I dunno,” you tell her. “I’m petty, I guess.”

They’re clearly displeased with your non-answer. You realize that it was more than ridiculous trying to hide it from them in the first place. There’s really nothing to hide.

“We went to a party over the weekend,” you say. “And Satoru was there… with Kimi.”

Maki purses her lips, but you can tell that she understands. She understands you more than she wants to. She was there with you before the breakup, she saw how much the whole thing had been weighing on you, and she was there immediately after it happened. She saw just how badly the whole thing wrecked you. She knows that you’re being stupid, but she also knows you.

It’s Nobara who scowls and shakes her head. It’ll take more than that to convince her.

“So?” she says. “Then date one of the many guys who throw themselves at your feet. Or get a girl! You’re due for a girl. Pick literally anyone else but him.”

You chuckle at her insistence, draping your arm over her shoulder and squeezing her against you. “I don’t want anything real right now,” you tell her. “All those people want a real relationship that I’m just not ready for, and they don’t deserve to be led on. Besides, Sukuna’s the only one I trust to do something this stupid with.”

“See, that’s how I know you’re fucked in the head,” she says. “You cannot trust a guy like Sukuna. He’s an ass.”

“He’s also my best friend.”

Nobara hangs her head at that. “You know, I wish I’d met you sooner,” she tells you. “Then, I would’ve gotten you away from that asshole before he got his fangs in.”

“I know him,” you say, leaning your head against her. “You gotta trust me on this.”

She wraps her arm around your waist and holds you tight for a moment, then sighs. “If he tries anything stupid though, I will kill him.”

“I’ll help,” Maki says. She goes in front of you, walking backwards so she can keep her eyes on yours. “You’re sure about this?”

You nod, reaching your hand out to grab hers. “I’m sure,” you say. “And it’s only for a month. I’ll probably be ready to move onto something real by then.”

The meeting has been going on for hours. They’re not usually this bad when all you have to talk about is a fundraiser or a seminar or a statement against the school administration or something menial like that. But the agenda today is loaded.

The trip.

The big trip that everyone in the society always gets worked up over. It’s the big event of the year, a weekend where the whole group goes somewhere new and gets completely wasted.

It isn’t enough that you do charity work or contribute to the campus life like any other club would. It isn’t enough that you all see each other on a weekly basis to party at someone’s house or head to a bar together. To truly make the “connections” that Nobara speaks of, you have to relocate everyone to a beach or camp in the mountains or get locked together in a cabin in the woods.

It’s for bonding, they say. But with how everyone’s arguing right now, you’re almost worried that the whole group is just going to end up hating each other. Just another part of the college experience as they say.

“We are not going to an active volcano for our trip,” Utahime says. “It’s stupid and, honestly, not fun at all.”

Mahito huffs at that. “What’s more fun than knowing that we could die at any moment?” he asks like it’s a completely normal thing to say. “You guys just want to go to the beach again and that’s boring.”

“Where would we even sleep?” Aoi points out.

Utahime nods and looks at Mahito with venom in her eyes. “Exactly.”

“As if anyone sleeps on these trips anyway.”

You raise your hand. “I vote against the volcano.”

“So where would you have us go?” Mahito asks. “Kento’s house?”

The man in question scoffs. “As if I would ever let you in my house.”

“I think the beach is fine,” Nobara says. “We always have fun there anyway.”

“We went there last year though,” you say against your better judgment. When Nobara looks at you like, How are you not siding with me on this? You mouth a quick “sorry.” Then, “Camping’s fun.”

“Bugs,” Mahito.

“Oh, and you think there isn’t anything gross on a volcano?” Utahime.

“What about Aoi’s cabin?” Kento.

“My dad just sold it.” Aoi.

“I vote beach.” Maki.

“Thank you!” Nobara.

The conversation goes round and round. Everyone has an opinion, everyone has something to say, everyone has something they don’t like or don’t want to do. It seems like the whole thing will never end.

“Ski trip,” you say suddenly. The room goes silent. “We’ve never been before, and it’s doable. The budget’s pretty good this year. I think we could swing it.”

Everyone looks at Kento, the keeper of the books, as he turns to his laptop to crunch the numbers. After a moment of typing, he looks up and nods.

“It’ll have to be after the children’s rights fundraiser though,” he says. “We have to make sure we can make the downpayment on the hall for the kids, but after that…”

Everyone looks at Utahime now, the club president who has the final word on everything. “Fine,” she says eventually. “Ski trip it is.”

There’s a round of “finally”s and “fuck yeah”s and patting each other on the back for a job well-done.

“Now, about the children’s rights fundraiser,” Utahime says. “We should really start planning that.”

Everyone groans and there’s eventually a call for a five-minute break.

“We should really kick Mahito out at this point,” Nobara whispers to you as she rests her head on the table. “He doesn’t even do his job half of the time.”

You pat her head and laugh. “He’s harmless,” you tell her, getting up from your seat. “I’m gonna go pee.”

“I’ll come,” Maki says, following you out the door.

The two of you link your hands together and swing them wildly as you make your way to the restroom, a habit you two formed in freshman year when you refused to be suffocated by the crowds of people going from classroom to classroom. Despite seeming like two completely different kinds of people on the surface, the two of you are just menaces at heart. It’s why you’re such good friends.

As you approach the restroom, you can hear a group of girls talking loudly inside.

“Locker room talk,” Maki says, wiggling her eyebrows at you with a smirk on her lips.

You snort, the voices becoming clearer now.

“You’re so lucky.”

“Is he good in bed?”

“He’s lucky to have you.”

“You guys are so embarrassing.”

You stop in your tracks. The last voice is so familiar, terrifyingly so. It’s a voice you’ve heard from a few feet away. In front of you in a line. In the back of a classroom. On the court, counting out the timing for the next steps of the cheerdance.

“He’s really sweet though,” the voice says. “Just this morning, he showed up at my dorm with a bunch of flowers. He said he got them ‘just because.’”

Maki is watching you with concern, confused by why you’ve suddenly stopped moving, why your breath has seemed to hitch in your throat.

Just because.

A bouquet of now-wilted flowers on your kitchen counter. A teddy bear from a carnival tucked beneath your bed. A tennis racket you made him swear not to buy that showed up in your locker one morning before practice. Just because.

The restroom door swings open and four girls walk out. One of them—

“Kimi.”

The name slips from your mouth before you even realize it. You want the earth to swallow you whole at this moment. For the current to drag you under. For the heavens to crack open.

The girl looks at you with wide eyes. Guilt, you can tell. Pity.

She says your name this time. “Hi,” she says a little nervously. “How are you?”

Just like Maki, her friends watch the situation unfold from a careful distance. Will one of you lunge at the other? Will you pretend to be the best of friends? Should they come closer? Should they stay back?

“I’m doing well,” you tell her. The voice that comes out of you doesn’t feel like your own. You only realize now that you’re smiling. There’s a hint of smugness to it, a hint of callousness, cruelty. “I take it you and Satoru are going strong.”

She seems to catch your tone. Unintentional of course, but she doesn’t know that. All trepidation seems to leave her body, replaced by a similar coldness. “Yeah, we are,” she says. “I hear you and Sukuna are an item now.”

You try not to cringe at the implication. You’ve traded Satoru, the golden boy, for Sukuna, the bad idea. No point regretting it now.

“Yeah,” you say. End this now, you think. “Well, Maki and I have a meeting to get back to.”

“Oh, sure,” she says sweetly, stepping out of your way. Her friends follow suit. “See you around.”

You take Maki’s hand and wave at the girl as she passes by. “See you.”

The two of you walk into the restroom and let the door close behind you. You’re looking at each other now, breathing deeply as you hear the girls outside walk away.

“That was fucking insane,” Maki finally says.

“Tell me about it.”

You both burst out laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation. It’s not a big deal, if you’re thinking logically, seeing your ex’s new girlfriend in a restroom. You all go to the same school, it’s not like you can avoid each other. Still, the whole thing brings out a viciousness in you that you can’t quite control, one that’s always ridiculous in hindsight.

You go into the bathroom stalls, still laughing.

“You were so cold,” Maki tells you from the stall beside you. “I was so proud, you wouldn’t believe it.”

“I was mean!” you exclaim. You groan as you reach for the toilet paper. “She’s so telling him about that.”

“No way. It’d be embarrassing.”

You pull your pants up and head out to wash your hands in the sink, waiting for Maki to finish. “She knows about Sukuna.”

“Yeah,” she says. “How do you feel about that?”

“Humiliated.”

She steps out of the stall and washes her hands in the sink beside yours. “You still think the whole pretend-dating thing is worth it?”

You shrug, crossing your arms over your chest. “What’s done is done,” you tell her. “Sunk cost, baby.”

Maki dries her hand and looks at you seriously now. “Are you okay?”

Just because.

The words echo in your head. Words that have only ever been spoken to you now tainted by her voice.

“No,” you tell her. When she looks at you with furrowed brows, all you can do is shrug. “But I’ll have to be.”

notes. a little insight into reader's student life and bit of her bitchy side 👀 these chapters are getting longer than i'm used to lmao i fear the plot is getting away from me and just dragging me along for the ride at this point

#hqbaby.miu #hqbaby #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo #gojo x reader #sukuna #sukuna x reader

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thealexandriaarchives · 2 days

Text

If you're one of the people who haven't read the Dune novels or haven't read them since the Villeneuve adaptation brainrot set in, just a couple friendly reminders I haven't seen yet!

The scar on Gurney Halleck's face is from an Inkvine Whip, the same type used by (and possibly the same one as) Glossu Rabban when he was a slave on Giedi Prime.

Despite this killer backstory we don't get Gurney vs. Rabban in the book! Rabban dies offscreen in the battle and both we and Gurney are denied catharsis. Frank loves that.

But almost Not! Because you see, Muad'Dib was in full 'IDGAF about War Crimes' mode at the end of the book, and he'd promised his boy a present of equal or lesser value with the same name. Wrote him a little coupon. 'One Harkonnen to Kill in a Brutal and Humiliating Fashion, exchange for one Nuclear Warhead'

Which leads us to the final scene, where it turns out the only Harkonnen left alive is Feyd-Rautha and Gurney is really eager to remind Paul of what their deal was.

But as we know, Paul is the Duke, the Boy-Messiah, The Emperor to be, and he can absolutely take backsies on promised Good-Boy Points atrocities.

I'm not going to get into all the ways Feyd-Rautha is differently portrayed in the book and movies, but in what is either a 'cowardly move' or the Harkonnen thought process of' 'oh hell no this guy has a serious grudge against my family, I just got free of my uncle for 20 seconds, now I'm about to spend my whole Barony getting tortured-raped to death that ain't how I wanna go out', Feyd-Rautha invokes the ancient vendetta between the Atredies & Harkonnen clans that the Harkonnens put forward a claim to call off (in bad faith but on the record) while Leto on the Record sent back a reply saying 'suck my balls you snakes it's been 10,000 years, it's on sight', which means Paul has to fight him instead in 1:1 combat.

Of course in the Villeneuve adaptation there are many many minor and larger changes that alter Feyd's character for the better, but removing a lot of his more explicit sexual abuse and manipulative pleasing behaviors to survive means we lose a lot of his internal dialogue and his best actions. He is no longer the one to have the slave not be drugged at the fight, he doesn't get to try to kill his uncle with a harem boy that looks just like Paul Atredies and have it backfire miserably. But he does get to stand up and announce himself as the Emperor's champion when he doesn't need to, simply because he wants to and he has things to gain.

It may, with the rewrites, be the only time this version of Feyd-Rautha gets to make a meaningful choice about his destiny.

Plus, Gurney got to kill Rabban, so everyone got something!

#Villeneuve really does love these characters #he wants the best for them but they're all in competition #duneposting #dune meta #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #gurney halleck #Feyd-Rautha #dune 2 #dune #dune part 2 #dune part two

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strawberry-daiquiris · 2 days

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i just need you to know that all of these ~water adventure oscar~ photos have me thirsting for a salt skin part 2. maybe he and lando decide to take to the sea ? i don’t know. i’m just spit balling. and this is ZERO pressure! i just wanted you to know im thinking of you and your boys! (plus my fave photo from the set!!)

this photo was intense immediate salt skin vibes for me! the concerned look on his face, the clutching hand on the towel, the person captivating him off camera.

i haven't done much meta around them because that fic still feels a bit sacred - i wrote it all in one sitting, more or less, and felt a bit like i'd been drowned in the ocean/dehydrated on a rock when i finally stood up off the sofa.

i've always thought that afterwards, lando would become oscar's very curious, slightly violent wag, flitting all ethereal around the paddock charming people then threatening to rip their throats out if they so much as hinted a threat at oscar. everyone would know there was something weird about him, they could just never really guess what. except for maybe zak brown lol still don't ask me what i was getting at with that weird hint of a side plot.

anyway here's a little 900 word snapshot of their morning before this picture would have been taken in the saltskin universe!

tw for them being bloodthirsty sirens and also displaying slightly coercive behaviour!!!

_________________________

“Are you going to put SPF on?”

Oscar hangs back against the bathroom door, rubbing a stubborn patch of lotion into the dry skin at the side of his nose. On the floor, Lando is rooting under the bed for something, his naked arse pointing Oscar’s direction. It still gets him, even now, how weirdly Lando moves his human body, whipping around slightly too fast, fixing Oscar with a stare that’s a little ethereal.

“I’m a merman, Oscar. I don’t need frickin’ SPF.”

”Were.” Oscar emphasises with his hands, chucking the tube onto the floor next to Lando. He flinches from it like Oscar’s thrown a grenade, or a fishing line. “You were a merman, and now you’re not, so…”

He points out the window to the baking hot sun. It’s a free weekend in Monaco, time to take the boat out into the furthest reaches of the bay so Lando can dive under the water for longer than it should be possible to hold his breath.

“SPF.”

Lando grimaces, poking at the tube with his foot, trying to roll it under the bed to its final resting place next to whatever he’d been looking for. He treats the underneath of the bed like a cave, hoarding things there. It’s fine, and Oscar doesn’t mind, until it’s something important, like his passport, or the car keys.

”Lando, don’t make me do it.”

Oscar turns back to the bathroom mirror, sighing when he realises he’s still got a glob of white on his nose. He pauses, listening for the squelch of cream on soft skin, but it doesn’t come.

”Lando,” he starts, and he hears a groan as his voice curls out of the bathroom, tantalisingly soft as it creeps away from him. Oscar has learnt how to control it, how to target the power towards a person, or an object. It’s not the only reason there’s trophies on his shelves and a different coloured team wear in his wardrobe, but it’s one of the biggest. “Put on the sunscreen.”

He hears the cap pop, the heavy weight of Lando’s footsteps as he comes closer, standing naked in the doorway squirting it on his chest. It’d be hot, if it weren’t for the scowl.

”I hate you,” Lando spits, tongue more pointed than usual, the tops of his ears going red like they want to spike, fighting the siren rage.

Maybe it’s hot because of the scowl.

Oscar only smiles, wrapping an arm around his stomach and holding him against the door frame, fingers working some of the cream into the scarred skin that used to be gills, shiny silvery purple like stretch marks. When he comes to a stop, he looks at his hand, pale against the tan of Lando’s skin. Ever since he came out of the ocean, he’s had webbing at the base of his fingers. Not enough to be noticeable unless you really look. Take it in alongside his slightly lighter eyes, and his sharper fingernails. Surface changes to the eye, but rooted far deeper than that, somewhere in Oscar’s DNA.

”No, you don’t,” Oscar whispers, and he doesn’t need to use his powers for this, needs nothing more than the press of his lips against the side of Lando’s face, where he’s finally starting to grow something that looks like facial hair. “You love me.”

Lando squirms, but Oscar has the upper hand. More strength in his thighs, more defined muscles in his chest. He’s not fighting a monster now. He is one.

”Don’t.”

Oscar smiles, twisting Lando so their faces are pressed so close he can smell the salt on Lando’s breath. Strong like he’s been swilling sea water, even after he’s brushed his teeth.

”You do, you love me,” Oscar insists, and Lando shakes his head. Oscar rests his fingers along Lando’s scars again, scraping the pointy bits of his nails along the soft, new skin until Lando shivers, whimpering, pleading. Tame. “You wished for me.”

Lando grabs Oscar’s arm, wraps his strong, long fingers around his wrist and tugs, heaving breaths like he’s just gulped down a lungful of water.

“You did,” Oscar insists, the hand Lando didn’t grab scratching deeper, until the scars start to pinken. It turns Lando on, every time, still sensitive with an erogenous zone unique only to him. “Say it.”

”I wished for you,” Lando blurts, and Oscar lets go, stepping back out of his space triumphantly. Still, Lando reaches for him, sliding his hands under Oscar’s t-shirt, feeling the muscles, pulling him close. His voice is softer, when he speaks again, more like the boy who dazzled him in the water, tempted him close to death. “You know I wished for you.”

Oscar kisses Lando’s forehead, holds him as he rests against his chest, so much skin on display, so much vulnerability. He can tell the moment it takes them both, remembering how lonely they were, how much they loathed the absence of this, even when they didn’t know what this was.

“I know,” Oscar whispers, letting his hand fall to the curve of Lando’s waist, and the small ridge where his tail used to start, the one you can feel if you know where to touch. Eczema, Oscar has taught Lando to claim, if anyone asks why his skin looks like the surface of a rock, weathered by a storm. “I know.”

They stay that way until the SPF starts to dry, tacky, on Lando’s skin and Oscar has to push him away before they’re bound by more than just the sea.

”Put some clothes on, Lando,” Oscar says, brushing past him to leave for the kitchen, pack a cool box with raw meat they don’t eat anywhere but home, the boat and any restaurant with carpaccio on the menu. “The boat’s not going to sail itself.”

#GOD I LOVE THE BLOODTHIRSTY LITTLE MONSTERS!!!!#Both changed in different ways #Weirdly nervous about this because that fic sometimes feels like it was written by someone Not Me lmao #my fic #salt skin #landoscar #strawberry.ask

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songsofadelaide · 3 days

Text

"These fatal fantasies giving way to labored breath— Taking all of me. We've already done it in my head. If it's make-believe, why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow?"

Author's Note: Reader is 19. Gojo is three years older.

You know how you have people you call aunt and uncle but you aren't actually related to them? And they're just really good friends with your parents? That's what Satoru's parents were to you. Your mothers were close since they were children and they both pursued modelling as they grew older. While your mom eventually retired from the game and chose a more quiet life with a kind lawyer for a husband, your Aunt Arisu became a famous supermodel and married into a family of old money— the Gojos.

And though your mom got married much earlier since she retired from modelling first, your Aunt Arisu got pregnant right off the bat after her wedding. She was a spoiled little thing, too, always calling for your mom and not so much her husband when her cravings and hormones reared their ugly heads. She often chided your mom to give her child a playmate, but not too late. She hoped to have a pretty daughter so they could wear fancy matching clothes.

Aunt Arisu's son Satoru was three years old when you were born. And while he wasn't the daughter she pined for, she loved him so, so much because he was just as pretty as she always hoped for. He was present when you were born, locked in his mother's arms as she held him out to take a peek at you.

...The story never gets old. Your mother and Aunt Arisu would always be laughing as they got drunk on their sweet wine every two weeks or so, and your family's kitchen was still a mess after hosting dinner for the Gojos again. Your fathers were drinking whiskey and smoking their expensive cigars on the front porch, talking about current affairs and stocks if you knew. And Satoru...

Well...

He was always welcome in your room. He always brought his own toys to play with and sometimes played with yours, too. Satoru was like the older brother you never had, and he was always so sweet to you... That is until you turned sixteen and suddenly, he was way too good for you to hang out with.

You didn't see much of him in the last three years, but you always knew where he was— on the cover of your favourite teen magazine, that soda commercial on TV, fronting promotional material for high-end clothing and expensive mobile phones on social media... All of that made sense. He's the son of modelling royalty, after all. Your childhood friend was the nation's sweetheart now and you're probably just a girl in his boyhood memories.

You didn't bother showing yourself downstairs when the Gojos arrived for your usual dinner date. You couldn't stomach seeing Satoru sitting across from you at the table, his silvery hair and feathery lashes framing his blue, blue eyes, his slender fingers curling around the wine glass that was usually just your mother's and her best friend's... His eyes twinkling in mischief as he calls your name with that voice of his, both so sweet and so sultry...

Why did he push you away back then when he was the one to embrace you first?

That embrace was etched so in your head since you were sixteen, and it was something you always remembered whenever you saw his posts on Instagram, whenever your mother watched his commercials on TV, whenever you've been struggling at high school... And whenever you were alone in your room in your bed— the walls the only thing that could hear you and your thoughts, possibly— as you dove deeper into your inane imagination.

"Toru..."

He wanted you just as much.

...So much that you were crying to yourself, too, thinking of how stupid you were to believe your Aunt Arisu's silly little joke that you were born for her lonely little son to have someone—

The soft knock on your bedroom door was enough to snap you out of your deluded solo flight. You jumped out of your bed without a second thought about how flushed you looked. "I'll be there in a second, mom... Just... a sec!"

Perhaps you should have thought about it first.

"Hey there. Are you... feeling okay?"

Gojo Satoru. As though he stepped right out of your fantasies mere moments ago.

"Uh..."

He wedged his foot on your door as you tried to shut him out in panic. What the hell was he doing here? "Wait a moment. I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

And what could he possibly want to talk about now?

When you turned sixteen, Satoru's father sat him down for a conversation. He was told that you weren't just some girl anymore. That you weren't children anymore and that he needed to be more careful around you. Because you were growing into a woman— And because of that, there were certain things you couldn't do together anymore.

"What are you saying, dear? If Toru likes her, then I'm all for it. That girl is my best friend's daughter and a fine young lady! I wouldn't want anyone else for my boy!"

...And it bothered him. A lot. Because it meant he couldn't hold you anymore. And when he did so once out of habit— because your laughter delighted him so much— he pushed you away so hard that you held back tears. He didn't know what came over him back then, but he stopped coming over to your room afterwards.

Satoru couldn't handle the way you avoided his gaze whenever he was around for your family's shared dinner. He realised you must have been finally done with him tonight when you didn't bother showing up at all even though you were just upstairs in your room.

"...ask Toru to call her downstairs! I haven't seen that girl for quite some time now! Has she been..."

"...with university lately. There's this boy, too. Her classmate, I think..."

The older women's conversation faded in his head the moment your mother mentioned a boy— a classmate— and just how close the two of you have grown while you were in university. Good grief. He couldn't handle it. He couldn't.

You were supposed to be his.

He made his way to your room upstairs, his footsteps as soft and quiet as a cat's, and he was ready to talk to you. About everything. About why the last three years were torment for him. About why his father was right to remind him that you weren't children anymore because children wouldn't think the way he did. About why you shouldn't go out with that guy from your uni—

Satoru heard them. The faintest of whimpers from your bedroom. And if he was right in his head, he seemed to have heard his name, too.

He wasn't going to let go of this.

You opened the door with your face still flushed and your clothes all rumpled and you nearly shut him out if didn't think fast enough. You let go of the door and allowed him inside your room, the sound of the locks unheard because of the rush of blood in your ears.

He's going to take what's his. Without so much of an effort, too, by the way you willingly walked into his arms the moment he opened them to receive you.

#songsofadelaidewrites💛#mari's prompts 🎠#jujutsu kaisen #jjk au #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #i wrote this while listening to ttpd #guilty as sin?#starry divider by @/cafekitsune

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