#right now he's still an arrogant rich boy

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: THINK I NEED SOMEONE OLDER

✩ ‧ ˚. synopsis: what do you do when your boyfriend cheats? you go to his house and look for revenge, and you get it by fucking his dad! NSFW

contents: fem!reader. age gap, blowjob, praise, degradation, use of slut, slight dumbification, dirty talk, and possibly more. 2.6K words.

you should've known that dating a rich boy came with more than just the money—it came with a shitty boyfriend too. 

as you walk to his house, rain falling in your eyes, you curse every time he had you do his homework, his bills, even his fucking laundry. that's what you get for dating the spoiled heir to the massive gojo fortune.

you step onto the gojo estate's porch, wondering what possessed you to come all the way here in the middle of the night without an umbrella. thank god you still had the key your ex had given you, since he was too stupid to remember to take it back after he dumped you.

hands shaking from the cold, you slip the key into the lock and turn, a small smile dancing across your lips when it opens as easily as your ex's legs. he was probably out fucking another girl right now, if the pictures on his instagram story were any hint of his whereabouts.

you push the door open with your shoulder and dry your feet on the doormat. his parents are never home, and it's late enough for the staff to have all gone back to their quarters. besides, even if one or two were still here, they probably didn't know you weren't their spoiled brat's girlfriend anymore.

humming the post-breakup revenge song you'd been listening to for the past hour, you tie up your hair and look around. the only reason you walked all the way here in the middle of a dark, stormy night was for revenge, and you weren't leaving without it.

on the way to your ex's room, you stop in one of the bathrooms to dry off. rainwater slides off your body as you wring out your hair in the sink, water dripping down your wrist as you do so.

you walk the familiar path to your ex's room, rolling your eyes when you see a bra on the floor that definitely isn't yours. funnily enough, you aren't surprised. there's no hurt, no sadness, just disgust. your suspicions were right—he was fucking other girls while the two of you dated. 

a sigh slips through your lips as you look around his room. it's messy, even with the help from the gojo estate's numerous staff. they say bigger rooms naturally look cleaner, and yet your ex's room still manages to mirror his mind—filthy.

you're so immersed in the thousand ideas you have to ruin your ex's life that when a deep, sleep-ridden voice asks you what the fuck you're doing in his house, you nearly jump out of your skin.

you spin around, words caught in your throat when you come face-to-face with satoru gojo, your ex-boyfriend's dad and the infamous head of the gojo family.

it's more than shameful that the first thought you have is that shit, he's hot. you've met before, but it was only in passing. satoru's never around, and the extent of your relationship was a brief nod as he passed you in one of the many passageways in the gojo estate. in fact, you aren't entirely sure if he even knows who you are.

satoru gojo's well-known in japan—not only is he the reason the gojo family has its reputation, but he's made quite a name for himself by being the most affluent and handsome of them all. 

you've heard stories about him back in his prime. most sound too far-fetched to be true, but the photos of him in his twenties that resurface from time-to-time make good material for your late-night fantasies. 

and satoru's even more intimidating in person. he's easily over six feet tall with well-defined muscles, and he's the definition of a dilf. he's probably twice your age, but the glint in his eyes and casual arrogance in his stance makes him all the more attractive.

it's a shame his son is such a dickhead.

"are you one of my son's whores?" satoru asks dryly, eying the bra on the floor. you scowl and kick it away, a soft huff slipping through your lips.

"no, i'm— wait, he never told you?" you cut yourself off with the question, a hint of incredulous disbelief in your tone. 

satoru shrugs, reaching up to ruffle his hair. his shirt slides up just enough to expose his abs, which are really fucking hot by any standards. "if you're asking about my son, he thankfully leaves me out of his sex life," he says amusedly. "so, who are you? and what the hell are you doing in my house this late?"

"i—" well, you couldn't just say you were here to ruin his son's life. "uh, i'm his... girlfriend."

satoru barks out a laugh, looking down at you through his long, white eyelashes. "really? you sure you're dating my son?"

you narrow your eyes and nod. satoru shakes his head, slipping one of his hands in his pocket and gesturing to the bra on the floor with the other. "either you aren't his girlfriend or you just found out he's cheating. which is it?"

well, you tried. "both." satoru raises his eyebrows at that and takes a seat on the chair across from his son's bed, exhaling as he does so. 

"so, sweetheart, what's the story?" he asks, a bored expression on his face. he leans back and spreads his legs enough for you to wonder what it'd be like to be in between them. 

not sensing that you really have a choice, you sit on the corner of his son's bed and start explaining. at first, you sugarcoat his son's actions, not wanting to sound like a whiny brat, but at one point he interjects with a sigh.

"i know my son," he says dryly, brushing his floppy white hair out of his eyes. "and i also know a liar when i see one."

"s' that so?" you mutter under your breath, ignoring the way satoru's eyes narrow at your side comment. from then on, you list every detail of just how shitty your ex was to you. you tell satoru how his son made you fold his clothes, how he dragged you to parties even when you swore you had homework, how he'd make you fu—

you stop there, not wanting to divulge every detail of your sex life. sure, your ex forced you to fuck him every night in every way he knew existed from watching porn, but that wasn't for his dad to know.

satoru, who's been listening intently for the last five minutes, studies your irritated expression thoughtfully. rather than comment on the way you suddenly stopped ranting, he asks, "so you're here for revenge?"

you nod, crossing your legs. satoru eyes you for another second before placing his hands on his knees and standing up with a soft grunt. "do whatever you want, but i want you out of my house in fifteen minutes. and whatever you do stays in this room. no fire."

satoru looks down at you and raises an eyebrow. "is that clear?"

it would be easier to agree if satoru wasn't looking down at you with an expression like that on his face. it's somewhere between mild irritation and disgust—whether it's directed at you or his son, you're not sure, but he probably has better things to do than listen to some girl's breakup story. so you nod, and satoru starts to leave.

just before he steps out the door, you think of a really fucking insane idea—one that would absolutely shatter your ex. and for some reason, you say it out loud.

"you should fuck me."

oh my god.

satoru turns around slowly, hand clenched around his phone. "the fuck?"

you swallow, eyes wide and a stupid grin plastered on your face. "shit, i—" you were ready to apologize for just about every word you've ever said, but satoru holds up his hand before you can start, cutting you off.

he scoffs, blue eyes glimmering with either amusement or annoyance. "you really are a piece of work, aren't ya?" satoru narrows his eyes, surveying you critically. his gaze settles on the way your shaky hands, and you hide them behind your back self consciously.

"you want me to fuck you on my son's bed?" he says dryly, stifling a laugh. when you force yourself to nod, he grins. "not bad, sweetheart. not bad at all."

"i-is that a yes?" you hate yourself for stuttering, but it makes satoru laugh.

"sure, why not?" he says, walking over to where you're still sitting on his son's bed and resting a hand on your shoulder. satoru rubs the side of your neck with his thumb, cerulean eyes fixed on your lips. "might be about time to teach my son a lesson anyways."

satoru's agreement surprises you enough to make your mouth fall open, and soon enough, his dick replaces the empty space between your lips.

"shit, you're takin' me so good, baby," satoru groans, hand tangled in your hair as he pushes his dick deeper into your throat. "yeah, that's it, jus' like tha— fuck," he cuts himself off with a breathy laugh as you nearly choke.

he's big, way bigger than your ex, and you wonder how his dad's big dick gene skipped him. and even better, satoru's skilled too. he knows how to fuck you good, and you can tell that it's from experience, not from watching porn—unlike his lame excuse of a son.

"tell me, sweetheart," satoru drawls, looking down at you with a cheeky smile. "was my son half as good as i am in bed?"

when you shake your head no, satoru clicks his tongue in disapproval. "shit, now y're gonna expect every guy you fuck with to be as good as me. well, sorry 'bout that, because they aren't."

at least you know where his son gets his arrogance from. 

it's getting a little hard to breathe, especially since you have ten inches of dick shoved down your throat. despite all satoru's talk, you can tell that he's getting close to cumming down your throat—his eyes are twitching and his breaths are starting to become more and more shaky as you suck him off. soon enough, the coil in his stomach snaps and he cums, cursing and praising you as he does. satoru's grip on your hair tightens, and it's borderline painful as he tugs you deeper by the hair.

"shit, that was the best head i've had in a while," he groans after his breathing starts to go back to normal. satoru grins at you, shaking his head and pinning you on your back on the bed.

"you've already been fucked by a gojo here, haven't you?" satoru cooes, tracing your jawline with one of his fingers. "tch, i'll fuck you better than my shithead son ever could. show ya the reason we gojos have a reputation for our dicks."

and fuck, he does. after quickly making you cum on his fingers with the excuse of loosening you up, he roughly shoves his dick in your already-throbbing pussy with a grin. he's so fucking big that you've convinced he's gonna rip you in half.

"g-gojo, i can't—"

"sure y'can," he cuts you off, jaw tightening as you tighten around him. "fuckin' hell, you're just tight as a virgin. my son must be shit in bed, yeah?"

"mhm," you hum, tilting back your head and gasping for air as you feel your body heat up. "shit— right there—"

satoru grins, dipping his head and meeting your tear-lidded eyes. he's far from gentle—it's barely been a couple minutes and your back is already in the highest arch of your life, and it's hard to form coherent thoughts as satoru continues bullying his cock into your pussy.

you lose track of time easily—fuck, you forget there's even a world outside of whatever this is. at some point your tongue falls out of your mouth, lolling to the side as your eyes roll back—just a dumb slut for satoru; or at least that's what he calls you.

as you approach what must be the hundredth orgasm of the night, satoru asks you to say his name. it's almost embarrassing how much effort it is to say—he's fucked you dumb enough to the point where you're a babbling mess.

"shit, you can't even talk," satoru says with a grin, flicking your forehead playfully. "cute." he rests his elbow by your head and shoves his hand over your mouth, amusement dancing in his eyes. "you talk too much anyways, princess. take a break."

you whine against his hand and satoru shakes his head, a faux pout on his face. "c'mon, it's not like you can talk anyways," he tsks. his next thrust is particularly rough, and you can't seem to remember who the name of the dickhead who got you in this situation—what was your ex's name again? does it matter?

"yeah i can" you mumble, voice muffled by satoru's hand. when his pout deepens, you can't help but giggle, a sound that soon turns to a squeal when he pushes the side of your face into the mattress.

"what's so funny?" satoru grumbles, dipping his head and pressing his lips against the hand seperating your mouth from his. satoru's glimmering eyes are fixed on yours as a cheeky smile spreads across his face. "fine then."

he pulls out, cursing under his breath as he presses his back to the headboard. satoru ignores the hm? that slips out of your lips and removes his hand from your mouth, resting it on his dick instead and stroking it with a smirk. "what is it, princess?"

"wha— why'd you stop?"

satoru lifts his other wrist, studying the watch on it and turning his hand so you can see too. your vision is still so fucked up that the numbers look like swimming otters, but you can vaguely make out the time.

"it's been fifteen minutes, kid. time to go."

your mouth falls open and you sit up, still breathing heavily. one second you're having the best sex of your life, and the next your ex's dad is calling you kid and telling you it's time to go?

"not fair," you mumble, pulling your legs into your chest and resting your head on your knees. "that was a stupid time limit," you huff, chest heaving. "i couldn't have done anything to him in fifteen minutes anyways."

satoru snorts, stretching his arms and resting his hands behind his head. "i'd say we did something in those fifteen minutes," he says dryly, white hair falling into his eyes. 

"hmph."

satoru raises his eyebrows, biting the inside of his lip as he continues stroking himself. you notice the way his abs flex and tense the closer he gets; something that shouldn't be as attractive as it is.

"can't believe my dumbass son fucked up so badly with a girl like you," he groans after a minute, back resting against the headboard as he continues stroking his dick. "won't be seein' you around here again, huh?"

you blink, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as satoru eyes you intently. "what d'you mean?"

before satoru can answer, the two of you hear footsteps, and before either of you can do anything, standing in the doorway to his own room is your ex, a giggling girl on his arm. the faint scent of alcohol floods through your nose as they stumble in, and it's all you can do to stop yourself from laughing when your ex sees that his bed is already occupied.

"why the hell is my dad in bed with my ex-girlfriend?!"

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[whore-ibly-hot]

Yan!Farm-boy x Reader

'City Boys ain't worth nothin'

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Smut, NON-CON, mentions of exs, p-in-v sex, mentions of religon, mentions of conservatives, bondage, mentions of marriage, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of divorce, female and male genitalia, female reader, pet names, sub-par writing of southern accent.

(AN: Had fun with this one!)

Sitting on your porch, you sip from a cup of sweet tea provided by your lovely Aunt May, when you hear the sound of a truck approaching. A cloud of dust can be seen flying up from the dirt road as the beaten-up yellow pick up from the McCall farm rolls up the edge of your aunt's driveway. A freckle faced, redheaded boy parks the car, and hops out, his face and arms already red from having been working in the sun all day. You huff, but call out to your aunt. "Aunt May! That McCall boy's here!" You yell, a twinge of annoyance in your voice.

Ever since your parents split up, you moved from the city to live with your aunt May in this godforsaken hick town. You've always seen yourself as a city-girl, and just the thought of spending even a month on some dusty farm in the middle of nowhere made you want to gag. Despite the fact you've been here for several months now, the feeling has not gone away. Aunt May is nice, but you miss your friends, and you would rather die than go to another country-bumpkin harvest festival or Sunday service. Your predicament isn't helped by Joey McCall, the youngest son of the McCall family. From what you've gathered, the McCall's have been the largest family in this county for years. While not necessarily rich, they are well-known as salt-of-the-earth people, always willing to help. The McCall family has six kids, with the oldest four already married and starting their own families in the county. It seems that's Joey's goal too.

Everyday, even before you arrived in town, Joey was hired as a farmhand for your aunt, tending to animals and mucking the horses. He took pride in his work, and it only furthered his position as a town darling. When you arrived, despite your arrogance and clear disgust at your new life, he feels that you just need to see how great it is to live in a community like this. Joey hadn't really ever felt anything serious for the girls from town, and some would even say he didn't seem like the romantic type. This was far from the truth, as it was plain as day what he wanted when he would go doe-eyed at the preachers sermons on marriage, and god's purpose for it. He hasn't relented since he met you. Flowers, offering you baked goods, offering to do your chores, whatever you need to get him on your good side. Frankly, you can't stand him. It's not that you hate him persay, but you want nothing to do with this community of red-necks, and you would NEVER sink so low as kissing one of these country bumpkins sons.

Joey hops up the porch with a grin, adjusting the strap of his overalls as he approaches you. 'Aunt May, please hurry up and give him his chores already!' You think, trying to suppress rolling your eyes. "Mornin', stranger!" He teases. "It's a nice morning, sun's not too hot neither..." You nod, trying to simply wait out the conversation. He waits for you to speak, and when you don't, he sighs, but is happy to do the talking. "I'm glad I ran into you, I hadn't seen ya the last few times I visited. I-I sure hope you're not avoidin' me!" He laughs awkwardly, his grin faltering a little when you don't deny that this was your intention. He clears his throat, and quickly turns around, grabbing something from his back pocket. He thrusts his hand out, and a bundle of mixed flowers and weeds rests in it, still covered in dirt. You look disgusted at the half-dead bouquet.

"I don't want that." You say. His hand shakes a little, and he rubs the back of his neck with his free-hand. "Yeah, I understand. I was actually riding Maisie this morning, and by the time I saw these out in the field, she'd trampled right over em' with her hooves." He tosses the bouquet away over the porch, and it falls apart immediately upon impact with the ground. "It was stupid a' me to think ya'd like em'. Worth a shot though!" You open your mouth to retort, but before you can your aunt finally comes to the porch.

"Mornin' Ma'am!" Joey greets, and she responds sweetly, before pointing out a few things round the farm from her spot on the porch she'd like him to get done. He nods, and after grabbing the toolbox he'd always leave by the stairs, he sets off. You decide you've had enough off outside for today, and head back inside, placing your now empty glass on the counter.

Several hours go by, and as you flick through the channels on the tv, (most of which are static due to the terrible signal out here), you hear your aunt call you from the kitchen. As you enter, you can see she's finishing preparing lunch, a salad bowl to her left and a knife in her hand. Her free hands steadies some lettuce on the cutting board. "Hiya kiddo', how's your day been so far?" She asks. You don't hate your aunt, and lie to protect her feelings. "Fine. Just fine." You lean against the counter. "That poor McCall boy has been out there all mornin', hasn't even come in to ask for a glass of water." She sighs. You roll your eyes. "Be a dear and bring him this sandwich, would ya?" You want to say no more than anything, but when your aunt raises her brow and gives you that look, you quickly take the plate and scurry out to the barn.

As you approach, the sound of hammering and heavy breathing can be heard. As you enter, you see Joey trying to patch the gate on one of the horse-stalls. It seems he sent the horses out into the field, as the barn is empty save for you and him. "My aunt wanted you to have some lunch." You say coldly, placing the plate on top of a turned-over bucket which you considered to be the only place clean enough for it. Joey looks up, eyes wide in appreciation. "Well, thank ya' very much! I'll admit, I've been getting might hungry sittin' out here tryna' fix this darned gate." He huffs. He thinks it's a problem with the hinge. You let out a 'hmm', in response, and begin to leave, when Joey abruptly hops up and grabs your wrist. As soon as he sees your face change to one of disgust and shock, he recoils.

"Sorry to spook ya', I just wanted to ask you something before ya' ran of like ya' always do..." He places the hammer down, and his hands come to fidget at his side. "There's a party being held soon, outside the church. It's a picnic on the lawn sorta' thing, we have one every year. It's a real big deal." You raise an eyebrow. "I guess what I'm tryna' ask is if you'd considering going with me? I could show ya' around, help you meet some of the other townsfolk. Hell' ya' could even meet my sisters! I bet ya'd get along swell." His smile become shy, his freckle disappearing into his skin as a bright red blush covers his face. He hopes you think it's just a sunburn. You sigh, and shake your head. "I'm sorry, Joey. I don't think so..." You say. He frowns, but quickly nods. "Nah, I get it. It's kind of a big event. Maybe we could start with something smaller, maybe just the two of us? Say- I know a real nice spot north of the creek, I could take ya down there, a-and we could-" You let out a loud groan, and stomp your foot.

"No, Joey! It's not that I don't want trampled flowers, or I don't want to go to some big event with all you hick's, it's that I don't want you!" You exclaim. His face falls immediately, that light in his eyes extinguished like squashing one of the fire flies you'd see in the fields on a hot evening. "What..." He mumbles, shaking his head a little. "I don't want to date some small-town guy, okay! I don't even want to be in this town. I have a life back in the city, where I belong. Shit, I've got a BOYFRIEND!" You yell. His sadness at your rejection falls for a minute, and he seems to freeze his panicked breaths. "Ya- Ya' gotta' beau already?" He asks, his voice trembling as he swallows heavily. "A beau? What the hell does that mean, some kind of country talk? Yes, I have a boyfriend, and a very handsome one from the city at that." You sneer, turning your nose up at the boy.

"He pretty?" Joey mumbles, licking his lips as his gaze falls to the floor. You raise an eyebrow at the odd question. "Yes, he's very handsome." You respond. "S' got a lotta' money?" He asks. You nod again, not bringing yourself to be able to speak at Joeys sudden change in demeanor. When Joey does finally look up again, his face is no longer blushing red, but red with shame and embarrassment. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes. "W-well, it ain't gonna work out. I know how boys from the city are. They only want one thing from girls... that's what the preacher says." He points out the barn door. "You know Peggy, from the grocery store? She went and ran off with a boy from the city once. H-he knocked her up and left her alone, no where else to go. She came back to town, and she eventually married my brother Samuel. She always says he's the best thing that happened to her. He saved her..." Joey whimpers, his fist trembling at his side. You scoff. "Please, boys from the city have plenty to offer-" He cuts you off. "MORE THAN ME?!" He yells, a sob cracking his voice. "Have you done it with your pretty beau? Has he made you feel good?" You gasp, shocked at his vulgar question. "I don't have to tell you that..." You exclaim. "I'm not asking, I'm tellin' you to tell me." His voice is now filled with an equal tone of contempt, though you don't think it's direct at you, but rather the image of your boyfriend he's conjured up in his head. "He has. We've had sex before, he was my first." You say, swallowing nervously as you try to stand your ground.

"Then lemme ask you one more thing..." Joey huffs. "Is he gonna' marry you? Get ya' a nice house, some pretty dresses, keep ya' safe?" You shrug. "Uh, we're only twenty, we don't need to think about that." Joey shakes his head. "Cause'... Cause' that's what I'd do for ya'. Get you a nice ring, somethin' to match all your pretty dresses and clothes from the city. I'd build ya' a house right on my ma and pa's land, make sure we're still close to the family, but still give us some privacy..." He swallows harshly, taking a few steps towards you. "But most of all, I'd make sure you were safe, safe from any city boy who'd try to get off in ya' and then leave." He's now only a few inches from you. "And I intend to do that." He whispers.

You gasp as his calloused hands grab your wrists, turning you around to face the barn wall. He frees one of his hands up and moves to the stall door he was working on, bumping it open with his hips and shutting it behind the two of you. "L-Let go you brute! Get off of me!" You yell. He rips the red patterned bandanna he usually wears around his neck to keep the sun off, and quickly shoves the cloth in between your pretty, soft lips. As you try to kick, your feet only seem to bounce off the boys firm chest. "That's one thing about us farm boys, we're pretty strong. Firm, ya' know?" He whispers. He forces you to turn over, and you sit on the floor of the stall with your back to the wooden wall of the barn. Joey fumbles around, looking for something. His hand brushes across a rough rope for leading the horses mixed into the hay of the stall, and in just a few moments your hands are bound up to a horse feeder, just above your head. You whine through the gag, tears beginning to fall down your face. He shakes his head.

"Nah, c'mon now... don't cry. It's gonna be okay, I promise ya'." He whispers, brushing away one of your tears with the pad of his thumb. "Don't be scared, I'm not gonna do anything that hurts ya', I just wanna prove to you how good I can be. I realise, I can give you all the things that I said earlier, but... but I know the one thing that city boys have given you." Your eyes widen when you understand his words. He smiles softly. "I know the pastor says we should wait till' marriage, but I kinda need to convince ya' to marry me, and I know now to do that I have to prove that I can give everything some city boy can, and more." His hand comes to rest on your knee, before he uses the palm of his hand to bunch up the fabric of your pink skirt, now smudged with dirt. "Sorry about the location, didn't want anyone to see us. I-I'll buy ya' another dress after this, one even prettier, okay?" He says. Hiking up your skirt, your trembling thighs are visible to him, and the sheer lace of your panties allows him to see you without even taking them off. "Wow, I've never seen something as pretty as this..." His fingers trace the top of the lace, brushing your outer lips slightly. Despite your fear, the contact with a sensitive spot makes you whimper through the makeshift gag. "Maybe I don't wanna get ya' a new dress, maybe I want to see ya' in more of these." He laughs a little, rubbing the back of his neck.

His rough hands try to pull down the fabric around your womanhood, though your resistance makes it hard. Eventually, he groans and simply rips the lace in two, tucking it into the pocket of his overalls. "Surely, since this is damaged now, ya' won't need it." He mumbles. He toys with just the fabric in his hands for a moment, his curiosity evident, before he turns back to you. "I'm gonna get a look at ya', okay? See what exactly a pretty girl like you is workin' with." He roughly slots himself in between your knees, making closing them impossible. His large fingers part your folds, giving him a full view of your moist, aroused pussy. He bites his lip, letting out what can only be described as whimper. "G-geez, darlin'. This is definently better than them' health videos they used to show us in the schoolhouse..." He sighs. Joey's face falls for a moment, suddenly insecure.

"I guess you'll be wanting to see me now, too." He removes one hand from your inner thigh, and unclasps the shoulder straps of his overalls. "I-I'll admit, I know there's a little more to all this, but I only really know the basics, so I'm gonna show ya' what I know how to do. Rest assured though, I'm a quick learner." He stammers. His hand is shaking, and it takes several seconds for him to even undo one button on his overalls. Eventually, they fall, resting just below his wait. He lifts his button up shirt slightly, revealing a pair of briefs, and a very prominent bulge. He blushes as he looks down at it, and your eyes widen at the size. "Y'know, I've never had to deal with these before I met ya'. But, sometimes I go home and thinkin' of you is the only way to get em' to go away." His face is even redder with shame. He pulls the briefs down, allowing his cock to spring free. It's thick, and veiny. Somehow, it's freckled, much like his face. He spits into his hand, shivering as he rubs it down his length. "Sorry I don't have something better than my spit. I know it's kinda' gross, but, we are doin' it in a barn." He pulls his hips forward a little, rubbing the tip of his cock against your entrance, which against your will is now soaked with arousal. "See, I've already got you wet, I can do whatever that boyfriend back home can do for ya'." He says.

"Listen, I know ya'd said you've had sex with him, but I know it can still hurt a little. So, I promise to be real gentle with ya'." He stroke your face with his free hand, and presses his chapped lips to your forehead in a tender kiss. "I'll never get over how much softer you are than me..." He whispers. He begins to hump his manhood against your entrance, biting his lips each time he angles away from you instead of penetrating. "Huh, this is a lil' harder than I thought..." He seems upset at the idea he is under-performing. He takes his hand, and with a solid grip on his member, he pushes the tip just past your hymen, making you squeak into the gag. Before he's even fully got the tip in, his legs are shaking at the feeling. "Oh... Oh lord..." He stammers, fighting the urge to put himself in you all at once. He musters all his strength to pull out, then go back in, just a touch deeper this time. After a few thrusts, he's almost bottomed out in you. Despite your shaking head, your pleas for him to stop, muffled by the gag, soon turn to wanton moans. He places his hands against your hips, allowing him to work himself in and out of you. "God, you're so wet, a-and it's tight... God, didn't know you'd be this tight." He shakes his head though, and leans forward. "Not bad though, not a bad thing, darlin'. You feel so good around me, do I make you feel good too?" In a moment of weakness you nod, prompting him to grin widely. He's so overwhelmed in the moment, from the pleasure and happiness, that his eyes begin to swell with tears. He quickens his pace, almost sobbing now. "My pretty darlin', taking me so well. Making me feel so good, such a good girl. Not city boy could give you what ya' need, not like me..." He huffs. He angles his hips up just a bit, so his tip smacks against a spot deep inside you.

At this, you practically convulse, making him continue once he notices your reaction. "I'll make you finish, don't worry. That's what a good beau does, makes you finish..." He groans, his pace now rapid as he hammers at that spot. Both you can him feel a coil forming in your stomachs, ready to burst. "Hah, I think I'm gonna cum to, you wanna' come together?" His minds fills with thoughts as he thinks more on this while chasing his high. "I already said I-I would marry ya', build ya' a house. We could add on an extra room, for a baby." Your eyes widen in panic at the thought. "Don't worry, I wouldn't leave ya' if you got pregnant from this. That's what that city boy did to Peggy, remember?" He moans. "I'd help ya' the whole way. Build our little one a crib, get them clothes, and I'll bet you'd still be beautiful, if your worried about that." He assures you. You can feel his cock twitching inside you, as as the coil inside you bursts, you feel yourself cumming around him. He gags, inhaling a breath at the feeling. Soon, you feel him convulsing to, a warm liquid filling your caverns as he groans. "God, you're milking me, taking all my seed. So good for me... C'mon baby, just let me stay in a little more, fill ya' up." He groans. After a few seconds, he finally pulls out, and pants, wiping some sweat from his brow. He makes sure to close your legs, wanting to keep in all the seed. He chuckles a little. "Y'know, I'm sure that seed'll take pretty quick... my dad says all the McCall boys are fertile..." He pauses .

"That's why I've got so many siblings."

#reader insert #tw.dark content #tw.yandere #x reader #yandere #yandere content #yandere fanfiction #yandere oc #yandere boy #yandere farmer #tw.religion #tw.breeding #tw.noncon #oc Joey #yandere farmboy

[double-aa-batteries]

things about about TSC I can't stop thinking about

"hindsight was a backstabbing bitch"

curtains symbolizing jeans healing journey, how he keeps them closed at Abby's in a effort to recreate the nest in search of some normalcy, how he opens them and looks out the window his new apartment, seeking calm in his overwhelm

"I want to go home" (13) meaning evermore vs. "I want to go home" (329) meaning to his apartment with Laila, Cat and jeremy

the fact that jean's phone is probably still in Abby's freezer

Kevin "their kindness matters" Day

Neil's smile is as unsettling to everyone else as it is to him and he has so much more Nathaniel in him than he recognizes in his own pov

Jean is so similar to neil in that they're both petty, dramatic bitches who care deeply about their teammates' safety

riko and the ravens quite literally took jean's name from him (Jean-Yves, Jonny, Paris)

"[Renee's] love was so tender it looked like grief as it curled her mouth and made her eyes shine"

jean gets forehead kisses from Renee and Cat

"that creepy little goalkeeper Andrew Minyard"

jean's many nicknames for neil: tiny bastard, tedious malcontent, abominable cockroach, wretched little runaway, ignorant child, etc.

Neil took the bandage off of jeans 3 and promptly stuck it over Kevin's chess peice

"I should have let him kill you," Jean said. "Probably," Neil agreed, "but you didn't, so here we all are."

"...aside from his outstanding murder charge, there was nothing interesting about that fox"

the fact that the point of tfc was to show characters who couldn't/wouldn't/ or were unable to heal from the trauma they had faced and yet from the very beginning and without question, TSC is about jean clawing his way forward and toward healing no matter what

the cheese drawer

dadmack dialed up to 1,000 See: "i will burn this house down before I let them touch you"

bisexual jean Moreau panicking over his teammates in swimsuits and Jeremy's long legs

"He's earned the right to be arrogant"

riko couldn't bring himself to hurt wymack because he was Kevin's father and Kevin was like a brother to riko and riko has always yearned for a father's recognition

Alvarez has a motorcycle and jean didn't say no to learning how to ride it

we know next to nothing about Jeremy Knox despite having chapters in his pov (why was he in therapy? why was his dad in France? what the hell did he do at the Fall banquet his freshman year to tear his family in half?)

that being said: Jeremy Knox is a rich boy with a butler

everything about Catalina Alverez

the fact that Jeremy knox has two brothers and one of them is probably dead

"rather than force the Trojans underground for that part, they simply built steps up and over it inside the stadium" the JUXTAPOSITION

Alvarez cooks and so now does jean

we know for a fact riko subjected Kevin to "subtler cruelties" while he was in the nest

"they never should have said yes when you asked" and "I didn't ask"

"as if you can tell a girl apart from a cow on a good day"

"permission to break his face, coach?" jean asked. "denied," white said.

all of thanksgiving pt. II

"alarm looked wrong on a face born for smiling"

jean casually saying "your apologies are as useful as perfume on a frog" to Lucas

Neil's whole relationship with Jean

David "I believe we all have the choice to be better than the hands that shaped us" Wymack

Neil generally being a menace to society but especially "Neil, being the person he was, pointed at the fire hydrant adjacent to it's front bumper and said, 'thats illegal, just so you know.'"

"the cracking heat in his chest could have been his ribs snapping or his heart breaking"

#tsc #tsc spoilers #the sunshine court #aftg #all for the game #jean moreau #neil josten #andrew minyard #kevin day #jeremy knox #cat alvarez #laila dermott

[redcoralpot]

Stu!! I love seeing ppl love him. Would I be able to request some roleswap ish au, where reader is a slasher, and stu is the "final girl". He gets caught ofc, and reader unmasks, smut ensues (maybe stu had a crush or smth, maybe dubcon if u accept it).

Unrelated: Loved seeing Matthew lillard as william Afton, he did so good.

Ruined Man - Stu Macher X M!Reader

Summary: Stu Macher was a classic rich boy; arrogant, eccentric, and an asshole. He was known for playing cruel pranks on others, and earlier in the weak, he pranked Sidney by scaring her as the infamous Ghostface Killer. Maybe, just maybe, he deserved a taste of his own medicine. Trick or treat, right?

Warnings: NSFW, non-fatal violence, weapons.

Word Count: 2K

A/N: I don't write anything with SA, CNC, or dub-con; Stu plainly consents to the activities described. He has implied feelings for the Reader, and other implied activities as well... but I'll let you discover that part.

-

-

Crickets chirped in the grass, the crescent moon high in the sky. Finally, the noise from the Macher’s Halloween party had died down, and most people had left already, causing a blanket of peace to float down on the street. Any stragglers were drunkenly slumped against the curb, blacked out or calling for a sober ride. Your mask stuck out from the shadows, exaggerated and white, as you watched the property slowly become empty. Well, empty except for the host, of course. Stu Macher.

You could see him through one of the many windows, lounging on the first floor’s living room couch, still moving. Your fingers fumbled against the phone’s dial– god, how do killers run in this shit– pulling the black fabric further up your arm to position the voice changer closer to your mouth. Now, you patiently waited for the other man to pick up, seeing him jolt out of his position. Stu rubbed his eyes, and stumbled to the kitchen.

“Yo?”

Your lips curled into a nasty sneer, “Do you like scary movies, Stu?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Don’t make me choose, you know I’ve watched too many good ones!”

…

Huh? There was no way he knew your identity already. You’ll give him credit, he’s smart, but most definitely not that smart. Stu always visits the rental store Randy works at, and he always rented horror movies with Sidney’s boyfriend, Billy Loomis; that much you knew. He could not have seen you through the window before he ran into the kitchen, and even if he managed to, your mask was still securely strapped on.

“You still there? I haven’t dropped off Hellraiser yet, you could've just asked if you wanna watch it again.”

You hung up, breath quickening. Stu wasn’t scared, even though you were using the same voice changer as the loose, prank-calling murderer running around the streets of Woodsboro. You dumped the phone on the ground, hidden behind a bush. If he wasn’t scared by a little sound-a-like, that was fine, you came prepared. Stu’s garage door had been left open, and you jogged over. Frankly, it didn’t matter how much the rich boy had it coming, you were never doing this again. The costume’s long fringes caught on your feet, almost causing you to trip as you avoided the windows; less silent than you had hoped. Your shoes shuffled against the concrete, and you jiggled the handle of the only door, praying it would open. It creaked as you slipped inside, your shoes surely creasing when you tiptoed into the living room. From behind the couch, you could see that Stu was still in his kitchen, but he was looking around.

He grinned, cupping his hands around his mouth, “Nobody else’s here, Billy. You don’t gotta sneak into my house, you know that!”

 Sighing, you watch him leave the room to wander about the hallways, stopping by the door you had snuck through– and forgot to close. He squinted, looking at the mistake, and back at the living room. Your cheeks burned, adrenaline starting to pump in your veins as he took a few steps closer. 

“C’mon, you wanna have a movie marathon? It’s kinda late for that, but whatever. I have plenty of snacks left from the party, and a whole lot more puke!”

Stu turned away at the last second, choosing instead to sprint down into the bathroom. You could hear a muffled, “Gotcha… nope,” over rustling cloth as you crawled on your hands and knees into the kitchen. The freezing tile shocked any distraction from your system, and you stood up, settling into the darkest part of the kitchen. One of your hands held a dull knife, while the other held the little voice changer machine. However, your position left you without visuals on your victim. You were tempted to pull down your hood, but that would be too reckless, especially since he seemed to think you were his dearest friend. Oh, man, he didn’t know what was coming. 

“Y’know I love pranks, man, but time’s up,” He probed, leaning on the marbled island, just out of reach.

Stu visibly flinched as he turned around and found you staring at him, the mask’s empty eyes giving nothing away. It took him but a second to recover, yet, and a smile accompanied his wild eyes, “Billy!”

You tilted your head, slowly raising your left hand, “Incorrect.”

He didn’t have time to respond; you lunged. You gripped his collar in a fist and slammed him into the countertop– he winced. Stu tried pushing you back, but it was in vain, your knife already threatening to pierce his throat.

Your full weight was on the man, and he raised his hands in defeat. Stu’s chest rose and fell in hefty patterns; you snickered at his obedience. His head slumped back as you released his shirt, in favor of wrenching your mask off to face him.

“Surprise, Macher.”

Stu chuckled, chewing on his bottom lip, “Didn’t know you were in on it too.”

“In on what– aren’t you scared?” You growled, pressing the knife into the flesh of his neck, but not enough to draw blood.

“Dunno,” his back arched, causing a drop of blood to drip down his shirt, “I think you could’ve done better!”

You flipped him over, slicing a fringe off of your costume to tie his hands with. Your hips were in between his thighs, leaving him trapped, and the robe itself fell on the floor beside its mask. Stu giggled, hoisting up his torso with his elbows.

“It’s payback; you could use some.”

He winced as you pulled his hair, “Hngh, it was Billy’s idea.”

“Don’t act innocent.”

“And what’re you gonna do about it, tough guy?”

You rasped, moving to step back, “Nothing you don’t want; I think the prank’s done enough.”

Stu seemed to freeze, albeit briefly, but he wrapped his ankles around your hips– preventing you from running. Your hands brushed against them, tense, as his shoulders shook.

“I wanna.” A smile laced his tone.

“You sure?”

“I’m pose-itive,” he joked, “get it?”

You wrenched his mouth open, pressing down on his tongue with your thumb, “Shut it.”

He nodded, trying his best to close his lips around your finger. Your other hand trailed down his side, taking its sweet time, before landing on his waist. Saliva still connected your fingers to his mouth as you removed them, all in favor of lifting his hips. Underneath, you unzipped his jeans, taking extra care to avoid giving any friction. When you stepped back to slide them off of Stu, he whined, his hips still chasing your touch. His jeans were thrown aside, and you slid back in your place. You knew he could feel your breath on his neck.

Your crotch ground against his ass, a shiver spreading across his spine. Stu was audibly panting; his head was hanging low and he pushed his hips to meet your thrusts. You hummed, choosing to drag the knife in soft strokes down his back, the cool metal only just piercing his skin. Red oozed in thick droplets out of the wounds, some getting big enough to trickle down his back. The pain seemed to follow it down, as Stu made quite the pathetic noise. 

“We’ve barely even gotten started, Macher, and you’re this desperate already?” You teased.

“Mm, show me what ‘cha got!”

You chuckle and suck a bruise onto the back of his neck. From that position, you could hear a groan rumble in his throat, but it wasn’t strong enough to escape. Hm, you could change that. You sunk the edge of your teeth into a different spot, holding on for a second before soothing the bite with your tongue. If the bruise didn’t make what happened obvious, well, this would. Stu would just have to deal with it. Though, you doubt he’d mind.

The knife clattered onto the marble counter after you dropped it, Stu’s thighs twitching, “Where’s the lube?”

Stu didn’t answer, but only whined.

“Use your words, pretty boy.”

His voice shook, trying to form words past used lips, “Bathroom.”

“Louder, I didn’t hear you the first time.”

Stu wiggled against your weight, “C’mon, man– f-fuck, it’s in the bathroom, please!”

You tutted, a cruel grin on your face, “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You didn’t need directions, and as soon as you were out of his view, you practically ran there. Hell, you weren’t gonna miss out on this chance, were you? Stu, the eccentric boy that played downright evil pranks on anybody that breathed around him, reduced to a perverted degenerate. Perhaps he was already like that, and you wouldn’t be surprised. 

The lube was in a small, portable bottle that was half empty when you found it. Back in the kitchen, you poured the majority of what was left in your palm and fingers. Using just two, for the moment, you spread it over his hole; a finger may have dipped in every once and a while, in the process. 

“I wanna, I wanna do it already,” Stu shuddered, his fidgeting acting up again.

A finger eased its way inside, a little too easily, much to your surprise, “Not yet.”

“I really wanna.” Another, just as simply.

“That’s too bad;” you mused, “have you been fingering yourself?”

He bit down on his bottom lip, the taste of iron filling his mouth, “Uhuh, uhuh.”

“To what?”

“Y-you, and me.” 

You spread the final bit over your dick, before pressing your hand into the sides of his neck, “You little pervert. Bet you loved getting a glimpse of me in the locker room, yeah?”

“Yeah, yes, yes– oh, shit.” Stu’s little tangent was interrupted by you slamming inside; the sting melted in with pleasure as you brushed his prostate.

Only for a moment did you stop to let him adjust, before pulling out and thrusting again. You found a rhythm, and the counter rubbed against his cock as you continued, smearing precum over the wood. His hands, still bound, scrabbled for anything to hold onto, but in vain. His nails just slid off of the smooth stone, his drool making it even slippier. Stu squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a knot grow in his gut. 

He clenched around you, causing you to grunt, “‘M gonna cum, please let me cum, please, please… ah!”

“We’re not done yet,” you hissed, firmly slapping his thigh.

“I can’t hold it, man, I really can’t,” he sobbed out, eyelashes wet from unreleased tears.

A sharp pain on his shoulder burned through any restraint the guy had, the knot unraveling as quickly as it had formed. Stu thrashed, the fringe snapping, and his vision whited out. His brain was all fuzzy; the only thing he could focus on was gripping the edge of the counter. Stu’s face was smushed against the counter, crimson mixing with the white surface. He shivered, eyes heavy, feeling a little floaty when a thick liquid dripped down his thighs. You pulled out of him, rubbing his waist as you did so.

“Good job, Macher. That was one hell of a show you put on, ” you sighed.

“Hhn.”

His body was limp as you turned him over, using the oven towel to start to clean him up, “How’re you feeling?”

Stu finally opened his eyes, using all of his strength to grin up at you, “Dude… that was like, awesome.”

“Pfft, you sound out of it.”

“Eh, what makes you say that? I want a big glass of water!”

You cackled, leaving his side to shuffle through a cabinet full of fancy cups, finally choosing a sturdy looking mug. He grabbed it as soon as it was in arms reach, taking huge gulps from it, like he had been starved. Or, more so dying of thirst. 

When he finished, you softly said, “Do you need help getting into bed?”

Stu shrugged, so you took that as a yes. You heaved him over your shoulder, supporting him up the stairs as he giggled the whole way. As you tucked him in, you swore you could hear something from down in the kitchen.

A phone’s ring.

-

Taglist: @jaspeywasy89 , @cannabrisano , @fandomz-brainrot

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#x male reader #male reader #lgbtq #male y/n #gay #x dom male reader #dom male reader #top male reader #x reader #x top male reader #stu macher x male reader #stu macher x you #stu macher x reader #stu macher x y/n #scream franchise #scream 1996 #scream #scream movie #stu macher

[seeingivy]

pls do "the story of us" for ur gojo x taylor swift series 🙏🙏

the story of us

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: gojo is ur roommates best friend, he is annoying (more teen gojo I am arrogant bastard vibes then sweetie teacher baby gojo), hoes are fighting, hoes are in the most complicated situationship on the planet earth, mistletoe, ice skating, sukuna as an annoying ex, mysterious evil dad figure for gojo

an: proof im the most annoying writer ever. made a poll for taylor as gojo to, for a second time now, ignore those options and write a completely different songs. sincerest apologies but gojo as taylor fans come get yall juice.

--

“Good morning, you hag.” Satoru states, in a fell swoop, crashing any hopes you had of having a good morning. 

“Good morning, you garden troll.” you respond. 

You rub the sleep out of your eyes, rummaging through the cabinets for a bowl, as he jumps up off the couch and joins you in the kitchen, keen and eager to annoy you bright and early in the morning. 

He’s leaning on the granite countertops at your side, his blue eyes peering over those god awful sunglasses he’s always intent on wearing - despite the fact that it’s quite literally raining outside - and gives you a jeering smile. 

“So, do all girls wear granny nightgowns or is it just you?” he asks, twisting the end of your pigtail braids in his hair. You immediately smack his hand off and glare, turning around to reach for the milk. 

“Do all boys have tiny dicks and overcompensate with a shitty personality or is it just you?” you iterate back, earning a satisfying glare back from him. 

With his snow white hair and annoyingly glimmering blue eyes, your roommate's best friend, Satoru Gojo, is quite literally the biggest nuisance you’ve ever met in your life. Clearly a rich kid, trust fund type, you can tell that Satoru, in earnest, has never worked a day in his life. And his lack of tact and self awareness truly reflects that. 

It’s embedded deep in the way that he acts. Because Satoru saunters from place to place, showing up at your apartment with no consideration or respect for you and Suguru, bats his pretty eyes at his professors when he’s failing, flirts with girls before he cheats off of their tests, and the list goes on and on. 

 One thing is clear. That he’s a spineless, pathetic little manchild. 

And you’re not sure why, what it is specifically about you, but he’s clearly made it his personal mission in life to antagonize and irritate you.Maybe it’s the fact that you yelled at him the first time he ever showed up in this apartment, that you couldn’t help but disagree with every word that came out of his mouth, that at his core he just agitated you - but it led you to this horrible predicament that you’re in now. 

That you ended up having to room with Suguru, when Sukuna dumped you and kicked you out. And that, of course, the universe was always in your favor, and you ended up at the one place Satoru was when he wasn’t shamelessly flirting with any living organism, which was right outside your room. 

Right on cue, the front door slams open and Suguru’s barging in, wildly out of breath and panting. His usual fixed, pristine bun is in a mess, his pupils wide and dilated as he looks at the two of you. 

“Fucking perfect!” he pants, leaning down on his knees and trying to catch his breath. 

“G’morning Suguru. You okay, there?” you ask, giving him a strange look. 

“Okay, okay. You guys are dating.” 

“Huh?” you both ask, eyes boggling out of your heads. 

“You’re dating. Be-be in love, I don’t know, be in love!” he shouts, immediately running back out of the door and slamming the door shut. 

You and Satoru give each other a look before shrugging, returning back to your bowl of cereal and Gojo to his phone. And on cue, Suguru strolls back into the apartment, more calmly and with a girl at his side. His cheeks are still flushed in pink, the panting subsided but still present in his voice.

“Y/N, Satoru, this is Hiromi. Hiromi, this is my roommate Y/N and her boyfriend, Satoru.” 

You swallow hard, realizing quickly what’s happening here. And out of the kindness of your heart, groan at the fact that you’re going to have to oblige. 

Three months ago, you got dumped by Sukuna. Because as much as you and the two of you had moved past, he had finally exhausted all ends and had enough of you.

Quite literally, enough of you, because he went as far as packing your things and taking your key, fully intent on never letting you back in. And out of the kindness of his heart, one of your only friends - who was free of any attachments to Sukuna - had an empty room in his apartment that he offered to lease to you. 

Suguru, naturally, was the perfect roommate. Always cleaned up after himself, offered to listen whenever you needed him, saved leftovers for you when you had a long day. Except for the stupid white haired plus one that came with him, it was perfect. 

For you. Because while Suguru was all but willing to offer you the spot in the room, insisting that it never caused an issue, he might have been fibbing the truth to save your feelings. Something you found out from Satoru, who is naturally a loudmouth. 

That since Suguru has a female roommate, you’ve put a damper on his…..romantic endeavors. Because they’re increasingly enthusiastic, so into him, until the shit hits the fan. 

They find out that you’re his roommate. And you think it’s a little ridiculous, but they all cite the same reason for not talking to him past the second or third date. Because to them, there’s no way in hell that he isn’t crushing on you, that you don't cuddle at night, and that you definitely coddle each other in a way no one else does. 

Because nothing is more ironic than losing a guy to the girl he lives with and they’d rather cut their losses before getting involved. 

Which proves that Suguru must really like this girl. Because if he’s going this far, lying to her the second before she walks in, it must mean that he really wants her to stick around. 

Is it moral? No. Is Suguru lonely? Yes. 

“Hiromi. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.” you respond, setting your bowl down and extending a hand to her. 

She gives you a warm smile back, laughing at Satoru flaunting some stupid line about chivalry before he presses a kiss on top of her knuckles. Satoru must be enjoying himself too much, because he’s now snaking his hand around your waist, leaning down to press his temple against yours. 

“Would you like to stay for breakfast? Poor Suguru has third wheeled with us far enough.” he asks, as she politely nods in response. 

You and Satoru lead Hiromi to the breakfast table - Satoru now eating your bowl of cereal - as Suguru starts setting out to make breakfast for all of you. You and Satoru sit side by side, sparing each other an awkward glance, as Hiromi shamelessly ogles you. 

“So how long have you guys been dating?” Hiromi asks, politely folding her hands flat on the table. 

“Well. Um, I moved here right after I broke up with my ex-boyfriend. He kind of left me with no place to live and I kind of met Satoru here. And then it just happened.” you mumble, cheeks turning pink. 

Satoru, again, has no concept of personal boundaries. He slings his hand around your shoulders, planting a wet kiss on your cheeks, before responding to her. 

“Don’t mind her, she just gets really shy when she talks about her feelings for me.” 

“Satoru.” 

“But rest assured, I promise you that you don’t have to worry about Suguru and Y/N, if that’s what you’re trying to pry about.” 

Her face immediately goes pink, as you look over at Satoru, who flashes you a knowing smile and squeezes your shoulder. 

“I-I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to pry, I hope you understand. It’s just that…it’s kind of a weird situation. And I know that probably says more about my insecurities than anything but-” 

You reach over, placing your hand over her folded ones. 

“It’s a normal thing to be concerned about. If I was you, I probably would have asked a hundred berating questions already.” 

“Yeah. She gets really possessive.” Gojo unhelpfully adds. 

You shoot him a glare, before returning to look at her and smiling. 

“But I promise, you have nothing to worry about. I-I don’t even think about Suguru like that. And we’re never here alone, Satoru’s always here with me.” 

“Like you, I too am possessive over my girl. Despite the fact that she quite literally makes it so easy for us by wearing the most unflattering pajamas, I’ll be here to stamp out any budding feelings, if that makes you feel better.” 

“Yeah. Satoru really knows how to take the romance out of a room. I know better than anyone.” you respond, earning a laugh from Hiromi as she releases that awkward tension in her shoulders. 

 

You kick the tiny divots on the floor, patiently waiting for your matcha latte at the bar. Your anxiety is growing by the second, the unexpected morning rush and the heavy foot traffic outside indicating that you were going to be late to your morning class if your drink wasn’t made in the next few minutes. 

You’re thrown out of your thoughts by a tapping on your shoulder, only to find a boy, with blonde hair and brown eyes smiling at you. 

“I like your shirt.” 

You look down, at your boygenius the record shirt, and look up to smile at him. 

“Thank you! What’s your favorite song?”

“We’re In Love.” he responds, giving you a warm smile. 

You’re not sure why, but hearing him say the words has the blood rushing to your cheeks. You hold your hand out to him, swallowing that deep warm pit in your throat. 

“Y/N.” 

“Kento. It’s nice to meet you.” 

And really, the moment - your stupid coffee shop meet cute - comes crashing down when you hear that agitating, grating voice at your side. 

“And I’m Satoru!” Satoru states, standing at your side and too blissfully happy for seven in the morning. You glare at him, as he gives you an annoyingly irritating smile. 

“Your drink is here, babe.” Satoru states, holding your dark green matcha latte in his nimble hands. From the way it’s half full, you can tell he already downed half of it in the few seconds you were talking to Kento. 

“Thank you.” you grate out, giving Kento an awkward smile. 

“Well, Kento. It was nice meeting you but we have a class to get to.”  Satoru adds. 

He cocks his head to the side, blue eyes peeking over his sunglasses, as he looks at you. 

“Ready to go?” 

You groan, knowing internally that whatever shred of a moment you just had was gone, as you sigh. 

“Yes. Bye Kento.” 

You glare at him as you walk out of the store, Satoru reaching over to pull the hood of your rain jacket up, as the two of you start marching through the downpour. He’s walking at your side, sporting some very light clothes for the way it’s raining down. 

“I don’t like matcha. We should start getting iced vanilla lattes.” 

“I didn’t realize we were sharing. And that was really rude, Satoru.“

“Everything that’s yours is mine, sweetheart.” 

“Really? What are the three numbers on the back of your credit card, boo boo bear?” 

“666.” he responds, flicking the side of your cheek. 

“That’s fitting.” you murmur back, as he slides the drink out of your hand, again. 

You and Satoru march in silence, trudging through the puddles collecting in the holes of pavement, the silence enveloping the two of you. 

And really, for what seems like the hundredth time, you’re racking your brain trying to figure Satoru Gojo out. You’re not sure what it is about him, what drives him to act the way he does, but every answer you find leaves you with a hundred more questions you want to answer. 

In the few months you’ve been living with Suguru, you’ve been able to ascertain a few things. 

First and foremost, there is no one Satoru Gojo loves more than his friends. From the way he affectionately talks about Suguru, and their hometown friend Shoko, it’s evident enough that whatever friendship he has with the two of them means the world to him. 

Second, Satoru Gojo is extremely comfortable in his sense of self. From the way he carries himself, enthusiastically chats with strangers on the train and feels so comfortable stealing your lattes after the bar, you can tell that no one has tried to stomp that spirit out of him. Other people, more meek and timid like you perhaps, get that childlike wonder stamped out of them. But here Satoru Gojo is, at the ripe age of twenty-one, still sporting it like a proud badge he wears. 

And third, Satoru Gojo loves to irritate you. You’re not sure what it is about you exactly, whether it’s the fact that you’re Suguru’s roommate so it leaves you off limits to any of his usual charming compliments he leaves for other girls, but Satoru treats you like no one else. Always pulling at the ends of your hair, “lovingly” making fun of your clothes, and obviously, stamping any chance you have of romantic endeavors. 

Satoru swings the door open for you, walking all the way to the front of your class. He holds out a five dollar bill and gives you a cheeky grin.

“What for?” 

“Thanks for the latte, princess.” 

You glare, snatching the bill out of his hands. 

“You’re welcome.” 

Right on cue, a girl all but appears out of thin air at your side, giving you and Satoru sickly sweet smiles. 

“Hi Satoru.” 

Satoru’s leaning against the frame now, an irritating move you’ve seen him do countless times - one to show off his stupidly toned arms - as he leans down and smiles at her. 

“Hi Sammy. How are you?” 

“Pretty good, now that you’re here.” she responds, twisting the ends of her hair in between her fingers. 

You fight the urge to gag as Satoru laughs, leaning forward to tuck the stray hairs by the side of her ear. 

“Right, so. I’ll see you later, babe?” you ask Satoru, giving him a smile. 

He looks over, glaring with his bright, angry blue eyes. 

“Y/N.” he responds, tone warning. 

“And Satoru, sweetheart? Do remember to grab toilet paper on the way home. Suguru is getting really tired of cleaning up your skid marks.” you respond, reaching forward to pinch his cheek and settling into your seat at the front, watching him seethe at the front door. 

--

When you walk into the apartment, Satoru’s incessant comments are the final nail in the coffin on what might be the worst day ever. 

“Ouch. I think I just went temporarily blind. You look horrible.” Satoru asks, momentarily taking his eyes off of the movie he was watching with Suguru and Hiromi. 

And the comment - so pathetically hitting you the last place you needed it - is enough to send you crying in a fit of your tears, as you lock the door behind you. 

Satoru looks over to find Suguru and Hiromi glaring at him, Suguru more angry and Hiromi more disappointed. He can’t pick which one is worse. Well actually, you crying in his face is the worst thing that happened in the past few minutes, but their reaction is right up there with them. 

“What?” Satoru asks, shrugging. 

“Satoru.” Suguru berates.

“What? I was just joking.” 

“I don’t understand how you and Y/N are dating. I mean, you can hardly even call it that.” Hiromi states, looking at him rather unhelpfully. 

Suguru’s eyes go wide at her side and Satoru swallows hard, thinking of his collateral. Because in earnest, Satoru’s not really sure what Suguru sees in Hiromi, why he would ever think this would be the best solution to his issue. 

But when you followed Suguru’s lead, all Satoru could really do was oblige. 

“That’s just how Y/N and I communicate. It’s our love language.” Satoru says, giving her a halfhearted smile. 

“You know she hates it right?” Hiromi asks. 

“Well, I don’t know about-” 

“Who would want to wake up every morning and have someone just constantly berating them? Just teasing them, making fun of every little thing you say. And sure, it’s fun sometimes to banter with your partner but…it can’t really be easy for her. She doesn’t have many friends. And the one person who's supposed to like her being…rude can’t help either.” Hiromi adds. 

“Well, I just…tease her because that’s how I know to talk to her. That’s just how I am. And she has plenty of friends.” Satoru responds. 

“Not anymore. They’re all friends with Sukuna, who I’m positive she wants nothing to do with. It’s probably why she even tolerates you in the first place. Granted, I’m not trying to speak on your relationship but from what I’ve seen, it’s….you kind of have to make adjustments for her.” Hiromi states. 

“I don’t know if that will-” 

“Just be there with her. It’ll help her. I think deep down, she just wants someone to be there with her. At her side to support her.” 

Satoru gives Suguru a glare, before obliging and knocking on your door. He takes a deep breath as he walks in, finding you slumped on the floor next to your vinyl player. The gray vinyl is scratching on the table, soft guitar music emanating from it as you lay on your side. Satoru follows suit, lying flat on the ground next to you until the two of you are face to face. And in earnest, Satoru feels horrible. At your pink eyes, flushed cheeks, and puffy skin. Because for god knows whatever reason, what he had said was enough to make you cry. 

Satoru never understood it. Why people assign him so much importance when anything he’s ever had to say has been discarded all together. It’s why he’s unsure of what to say to you right now, when he’s never had to say anything at all. 

“Hi Y/N.” 

You stare back at him blankly, his blue eyes void of any of their usual excitement as he stares back at you. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

You divert your attention, the question so…agitating, that all you can do is watch your vinyl spin around on the table, at the little pin digging into the plate. 

“Is um….I don’t really know how to do this whole…comforting thing. It’s kind of awkward. Is this that band you like?”

You give him a meek nod, which he smiles at, before squinting at the small print on the vinyl. 

“Ah. I get it. You’re trying to be Cool About It. Whatever it is that’s bothering you.” 

“That was lame. Even for you, Satoru.” you respond, wiping the snot off of your nose. 

“Well, I personally think you’re hot. Being Cool About It was never going to be your thing either.” he responds. 

He’s not sure what it is about what he said, but suddenly your face is falling and you’re kind of…glaring at him. You pull your hood up and turn away from him, because the embarrassment of having Satoru Gojo in your room pitying you right now would be the actual nail in the coffin before you went full on off your rocker crazy. 

Satoru’s quick to move, now sitting crisscrossed near your head and looking down at you. 

“Are you playing hard to get so I’ll call you hot again?” 

“No. I’m trying to get you to stop pitying me.” you murmur back, pulling the hood over your face. 

“I don’t pity you.” 

You stand up, crossing your legs on the floor, as you turn to face him. And you know that Satoru in no way deserves any shape of the wrath that’s coming out of your mouth, but you can’t help it. 

“You don’t?” 

“Well, of course I-” 

“Yes, Satoru, you do. Because really, you’re only here because Suguru or Hiromi asked you to be. They asked you to put whatever the fuck it is that you have going on inside your head and think for one fucking second how it is that you make me feel. When you make fun of me constantly, do every last thing to agitate me, quite literally flirt with every living microorganism on this goddamn planet but me. I know that you really, truly do not care. You’re just here because they asked you to be but god, please spare me of whatever shitty response you’re trying to muster up to make me feel better because there’s no point. I just feel horrible when I’m around you.” you shout. 

You lean back against the back of your bed, your chest heaving, as you knot your fingers together and groan. Because if the day couldn’t get any worse, you just yelled at Satoru. 

For no reason. After he tried to comfort you, in his own weird way. 

He scoots up at your side, sliding his hand around your shoulder once again, and leaning your head against his shoulder. Your stupid tears are falling again as he rubs into your skin, the touch soft. 

“All that because you’re mad I won’t flirt with you?” he murmurs. 

“Of course that’s what you got out of it.” 

He laughs, the lack of anger in his tone at your words soothing down the bouts of guilt in your chest. 

“You’re not the type of girl I can flirt with.” 

“Jeez. Thanks Satoru. You really know how to make a girl feel special.” 

He reaches forward to pinch your nose, before continuing. 

“I mean, I’m obviously a guy who lacks self-awareness or tact, in quite literally any conversation.” 

“Naturally.” you respond. 

He gives you a pointed glare, before continuing. 

“But I have self awareness when it comes to these types of things. I know I shouldn’t flirt with you.” he responds. 

“And why’s that? I’m too ugly of a hag for you?” you spit. 

“No. You’re the type of girl who could take my heart and run off with it if I let you.” 

You shrug his hand off your shoulder, rolling your eyes. 

“You’re full of shit, Satoru Gojo. And corny as hell.” 

“You know you’re no good for me, right?” 

You look at him, at his deep, ocean blue eyes for the first time, filled with an emotion you can’t quite place. 

“You’d put me in my place too fast. Maybe too eager, too curious to figure out what it is I’ve got going on up and here. And I don’t know the answers to that either, but you’d want to make me figure it out. Whatever mess of things going on, I-I’d want to fix it for you. And as nice as that sounds, you’d probably break any semblance of structure I’d have left the second you go running. Which is something even I can’t handle.” he responds, lifting his hand to take yours in it. 

You cross link your fingers with his, linking your hands together. And try to place the emotion, that dragging sound in his voice. 

It’s desperation. 

“Why do you think I would leave?” you ask, looking down at your intertwined hands.

Satoru smiles in response, reaching forward to trace his fingers along the edge of your lips. 

“You’ve just proved my point.” 

And when he pads out of your room, you realize that once again, he’s left you with a hundred questions left to answer. But the one you’re sure of is this. 

That the emotion that was welling in his deep, crystal blue eyes was impassioned. That it was real. 

--

In the following weeks, things change between you and Satoru, but not too drastically. You’re not required to keep your show up for Hiromi too often, because she’s quite literally too enamored with Suguru to even think about the two of you, and Satoru Gojo stays the same way he is. 

He steals your lattes, pulls your hair, lovingly calls you an old hag, and stamps out any hopes you have for romantic endeavors. But somewhere around the grayness of November, he doesn’t stop by your apartment for three days. 

“Hey. Where’s Gojo?” 

Suguru looks up from his phone, giving you the most obscene look you’ve ever seen him muster. 

“Huh?” 

“Gojo? Satoru Gojo? That gangly idiot that’s always hanging around here?” 

“Yes. I’m well aware who he is, Y/N. Why are you asking?” 

“Dunno. He’s always around and now he’s not. Are you sure he’s not dead in a ditch somewhere?” you ask. 

“He might as well be. His dad is in town. Spending time with him.” he responds, turning back to his phone and looking away from you. 

You frown, leaning against the counter, as you reach for your phone. And you’re not sure why you do it but you slide into your chat with him and start typing. 

you: are you enjoying your father daughter time? 

satoru: are you missing me?

you: missing the free lattes that come from going to the coffee shop with you :/ 

you: come hit on the girl at the paper lantern. im craving a matcha latte. 

satoru: i would never waste a free drink on a matcha latte. 

satoru: and quit trying to whore me out for free drinks. 

you: then buy me one. 

satoru: well played. 

satoru: the ice skating rink, on sixteenth and rockfield. i’ll be there in an hour. 

You smile gleefully, wrapping your scarf carefully around you, as you head out into the cold to the ice skating rink Satoru had picked out. And you catch the back of his snow white hair, leaning against the railing as you eye the big, bright Christmas tree at the center. 

You walk up to his side, lacing your hand through his, as you turn and give him a smile. He returns the gesture, some part of his demeanor muted today, as he turns to you. 

“Hi Y/N.” 

“Satoru. Where’s my drink?” 

Satoru rolls his eyes, before reaching for the two cups on the ground and handing you one. 

“Your shitty matcha latte. As requested.” 

You smile, wrapping your arms around the drink, as he leads you to the stand to get your skates. His hand is soft on the small of your back as you walk up to the girl giving out the shoes. 

“Sizes?” she asks. 

“Eight.” you respond. 

“Eleven and a half.” Satoru provides, as the girl whisks off to grab your shoes. 

“Eleven and a half? What are you, Bigfoot?” you respond. 

“You know what they say. Big feet, big…” 

“Ego. But we knew that already.” you respond. 

The two of you take the skates and head over to the bench, Satoru too quick with his own skates that he’s suddenly tying yours and dragging you onto your feet. The two of you stand at the front of the tiny little opening, the sudden awkwardness of the situation dawning on you. 

That you don’t know how to ice skate. 

“What are we waiting for?” Satoru asks, hands on both of your shoulders as he stands behind you. He rests his chin on the top of your head, his breath tickling the hair on your scalp. 

“The rink to open up. There’s a bunch of people, I don’t want to crash into them the second we get on.” 

Satoru frowns, bringing his hands around your chin and lightly moving your face to his. 

“Are the people in the room with us? There’s like nine people here. And four of them are under the age of seven.” he deadpans. 

“I don’t want to knock over a kid.” you whine. 

“Yeah, that would be goblin on troll crime.” Satoru responds. 

“Am I the goblin or the troll?” you ask. 

“Troll. Obviously.” he responds, bringing his hands around your waist as he lifts you onto the ice with him. 

You’re suddenly wobbling too hard on your feet and holding onto his extended arms with a deathlike grip, the cold air biting your skin as your legs turn to noodles. 

“Okay, Raggedy Anne. Face me.” he states, voice soft as he turns you towards him. His hands are locked in with yours, the hold firm as he smiles. 

“Satoru.” you whine. 

“Just try to glide with me, okay? Our goal is to get to that side of the rink, by the end of our game.” 

“What’s our game?” you ask. 

“We’re going to play twenty questions.” Satoru states, mimicking the gliding motion as he instructs you.

You follow his suit, clutching hard on his arm every time you wobble, as Satoru starts to distract you with the stupid game he’s intent on playing. 

“Me first. Why did you text me?” Satoru asks. 

“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t dead in a ditch somewhere. It was surprisingly peaceful for the past few days, so I knew you had to be in some type of mortal peril somewhere.” you respond. 

Gojo hums in response, as you try hard to pick the hundreds of questions you have to ask Gojo. 

“Where were you the past few days?” you ask. 

“Did you want me there?” Satoru asks, tone hopeful. 

“You’re supposed to answer before you ask again. And I’m not sure if want is the word. But…I don’t know. It’s weird not having you around. All quiet.” you respond. 

“My dad’s in town. Was kind of busy.” 

You hum in response, rolling over the words in your head. 

“I did want you around.” you add, earning a smile from him. 

The two of you skate in silence, the wobbling minimal now as you try to reach the railing at the end of the rink that Satoru had pointed out, right near the small, brightly decorated Christmas tree at the end of the rink. 

“It’s your turn, Y/N.” Satoru reminds. 

“Right. Do you like your dad?” 

“No. What happened with Sukuna?” 

You swallow hard, so caught off guard by the question that you fall straight into the ice. You must have been holding onto Satoru too hard because he goes tumbling down with you, lightly rubbing the spot on his head that made contact with the ice. You reach forward, cradling his head in your hands. 

“Fuck. Sorry, Gojo. That caught me off guard.” 

“That’s my bad, princess. It came out of nowhere.” he responds, standing up on his knees as he holds his hand out for you. He’s wiping the excess ice off the sides of your clothes and you mimic his motions. 

The two of you start silently skating towards the end of the rink again, hands linked together, as you figure out the right words to say. 

“I live with Suguru because of him. He wasn’t the best.” 

“I know that much, Y/N.” 

“He…kicked me out. Like, put all my things in a box, put them outside, and kept my key.” 

His hand tighets in yours as you swallow hard and continue. 

“Dunno. I guess he just kind of sucked. I was trying to convince myself I liked him, that we were in love for a really long time. I’d write him all these really long love letters, that he basically read days after the fact that I wrote them. He’d compliment me once in a while, but then I realized when it was only when he wanted something.” you respond, sighing. 

Satoru doesn’t respond, only squeezes your hand in response to the entire bout of word vomit you just gave him. 

“Why don’t you like your dad?” you ask. 

“He thinks I’m perfect.” Satoru responds, sighing. 

“Boo hoo.” you respond, joking. 

He smiles in response, his hand lightly loosening in yours. You tighten your grip against his again, giving him your best smile. 

“I’m joking, ‘Toru. What did you mean by that?” 

“I just mean. He expects so much from me, because I’m his only son. And when I was a kid, he was really hard on me for it. Made me attend all these shitty classes by myself, isolated me from other kids because I was meant to be something great. And I obviously pulled away from him because of it. But then, he kind of…shifted. He was vying so hard for my attention now, that suddenly I became free of all blame, all faults.” 

“Well, we both know that’s not true.” 

He snorts, dragging you to the end of the railing by the Christmas tree, as you both lean against the little glass panes. 

“I just wanted him to be real with me. Tell me when I was good, tell me when I was bad. Not where he was criticizing every move I made but not when he was praising all of them either.” 

You nod, turning to your side to hold both of his hands in yours. 

“Well, you’re shitty when you’re mean to me. But you’re nice when you’re like this.” you state. 

He smiles, that stupid lopsided grin, as he brings his hands around your neck and pulls you in against him. His lips are soft and warm, though you’re not sure how, against your almost frostbitten, cold blue ones. But the warmth that’s blooming in your chest, under your skin, from his hands, from his lips on yours is enough to bring you down. 

He pulls back, resting his forehead against yours as he places a light kiss to the tip of your pink nose. 

“What was that for?” you ask, breathless. 

“Mistletoe.” Satoru responds, pushing off the little railing and slowly skating away, waiting for him to join you. 

You look up, fighting the urge to smile at the small little bundle of leaves and berries above you, as you skate out and join his hand to go around the rink. 

--

There’s an incessant pounding on your door that wakes you up, as you pull on the closest jacket and your glasses as you pad to the door. You open up to find him there, half bored on his phone, as he looks up at you. 

“Oh. Hey. Was the spare not under-” 

He all but lurches forward, wrapping his hands around your neck as he presses his lips to yours. He’s all too eager, because he’s walking into you so fast that he’s all but pushed you up against the wall behind you, his lips hanging off yours as he smiles into your mouth. 

“Y/N.” he hums, smiling into your face. 

“Good morning to you too.” 

He smiles, wrapping his hands around your wrist, as he leads you back to your bed, quickly peeling your hoodie off your frame as he tucks you into the bed with him. And instead of doing what you thought he was going to do, he’s tucking you tight against his frame, your face tucked into his clavicle, as he brings his arms around yours and holds you tight. 

“Did you come all this way to cuddle?” 

“I came all this way to kiss you. This is just a bonus.” 

You burrow yourself into his skin, leaning your head against his, as your thousand questions swim around in your mind. On what you’re doing, on why he’s here, on if you can even ask. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” 

“You have a weird, pinched up look on your pretty face. What is it?” he asks. 

“Oh. I was just thinking.” you respond. 

“About?” 

“Um, what we’re doing.” 

“We’re cuddling, silly.” Satoru responds, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your forehead. 

“I know. But what does that mean?” 

Satoru brings his hands up around your face, cupping your cheeks in his hands as he smiles. 

“It means that I just had a really annoying fight with my dad. And I just want to hold you and not think about it.” he responds. 

“Oh. Okay, yeah.” 

You burrow yourself back into his arms, the two of you a mess of tangled limbs as you hold onto each other. And you’re not sure why you start talking, but you’re filling the silent space with your voice. 

“I saw Sukuna the other day.” you murmur. 

Satoru brings his hands down, rubbing into the side of your arm as he hums in response. 

“Was it okay?” 

“Kind of stupid.” you murmur. 

“Why?” he asks. 

“He came up to me to ask if I was going to go to the end of year banquet that they hold for the seniors going into the masters program.” 

“And?” 

“I mean, I was planning on it. And then he just felt the need to warn me that he’s bringing his new girlfriend and it was really awkward. He asked me if I was bringing anyone and I said no, just for him to smile in response and then walk away.” 

“You should have said you were bringing me.” 

“I wasn’t aware that I was bringing you.” 

“Well, now you are. Plus, my dad…he always gets on my back to go to shit like that since he’s one of the donors. At least now I’ll have something to do there.” 

“And what’s that?” 

“Annoy you!” he responds. 

You reach forward to flick the side of his cheek, before reaching forward to push the hair off of his forehead. The touch must be somewhat soothing to him, because it coaxes him to talk, in the slightest. 

“When I was a kid, my dad forced me to go to events like that. All the time. And when I was there…he’d always yell at me for all these different things. My hair was too messy, I wasn’t standing right, I was too loud.” 

You brush your thumb on the skin of his cheek, before reaching forward to press a kiss to his skin. 

“And after I kind of figured it all out, I was so…irritated that I ever listened. And I’ve tried to stamp it out, that voice telling me to be quiet all the time. But sometimes when I see him…I don’t know. It just comes flooding back.” 

You prop your hands up against his chest, resting your head on top of your hands as you look down at him. His eyes are shut as he faces your ceiling, a hand resting behind his head while the other one is secured, firmly around you. In the ray of sunlight peering out of your window, you notice that Satoru has the smallest patch of freckles around his nose. 

“I always wondered why you were like that. But somehow, this makes it better.” 

“Huh?” 

“You were always so…you that sometimes it made me jealous. That you had this unstoppable, vibrant spirit, that you probably had life so easy that no one had stamped it out of you.” 

You reach forward, tracing the skin on his cheek, as you continue to talk. 

“But this is better. Someone tried to do that to you and you didn’t let them. You’re not weak or timid like me, you don’t let people like that shut you up like I do.” 

“You’re not weak or timid.” he responds, cupping the side of your face. 

“Satoru.” 

“You’ve always stood your ground. Especially when it comes to me.” 

“Well, you’re you. Sukuna is…” 

“Nothing. You can handle an idiot like Sukuna. And I’ll be there, if he tries to say anything to you and you need me.” 

You halfheartedly nod. 

“And I’ll be there. If you want to annoy me instead of talking to your dad.” 

“I’ll take you up on that offer. Always.” 

--

Satoru presses a kiss to your cheek before running out the door, late for his class. And when you turn on your heel, you find Suguru giving you a wide smile, with an almost teasing look on his face. You glare in response, moving past him to do the dishes. 

“Do you need something, Suguru?” 

“Are you guys dating?” he asks, resting his chin in his hands as he gives you a jeering smile. 

“What’s it to you?” you ask. 

“My best friend…my roommate…seems like a very big deal to me.” 

“Well, we’re just talking. I don’t know if it’s official, but I think it’s exclusive.” you respond. 

“It’s definitely exclusive. He’s liked you for a while.” 

You snort, as he comes up at your side and starts drying the dishes. 

“No, I’m serious! I promise, he’s not coming around this much just to see me. And I’m sure you’ll make him very happy. Keep him in his place.” 

“That’s what he said.” you murmur, smiling. 

“Just, don’t get too heated if you guys get into an argument. You’re both the most stubborn people I know, but don’t let that get in the way of anything.” 

“Okay, I’ll definitely take relationship advice from someone who pathologically lies to his girlfriend everyday.” 

Suguru yanks on the edge of ear and you splash a good amount of dishwater at him in response as you both laugh. 

“I’ll have you know, that I told her almost like two days afterwards because I couldn’t stomach it.” 

“Huh? Why didn’t you tell us?” 

“It was just funny watching you guys try to be nice to each other. And then Hiromi was dead set on matchmaking the second she figured out Gojo was all but in love with you.” 

You roll your eyes at him in response, as you turn out to walk to the coffee shop before your next class. And as you march to the coffee shop, music blaring in your headphones, you feel a tugging on your elbow as you almost walk in. 

You turn around to find an older man, with blue eyes and light hair, smiling at you. And as you tug your headphones off and hear him talk, you know without a doubt that this has to be Satoru’s father. 

“Are you Y/N L/N?” he asks, his hands folded perfectly against the crisp pressing off his suit. 

“Sure. Who are you?” you ask, yanking your headphones off so they're resting around your ears. 

“I’m Satoru’s father.” 

“Oh, okay. Can I help you?” you asked, running through your thoughts as you think of what Satoru would want you to do most. 

Walk away? Be polite? Insult him? 

Insulting him is surely what you want to do. But knowing him, he wouldn’t even want you to talk to him for a second, so you should try your best to abort the conversation in its tracks. 

“I’d like to talk to you about your intentions. With my son.” he responds. 

“I'd love to do that. But I have to run to class, so I’ll have to go now.” 

“Class? What’s your major?” 

“Education.” 

That must not be the answer he wanted, because he stiffens his jaw before talking again, which just builds onto another reason that this man irritates you. 

“Right, well. I’ll be off then.” you respond, trying to move past him. 

“Are you dating my son?” 

“Not yet. But I think it’s headed that way.” you respond. 

“Well, if you’re so intent on attending your class, here’s my phone number. I’d like for you to call me the second you’re out of your class so we can discuss more.” he states, handing you a shiny piece of cardstock. 

You begrudgingly take it, shaking his hand as you all but sprint off to your class. But unbeknownst to you, Satoru was watching the entire thing play out from the window, with an ice matcha latte in hand just for you. 

He trashes the cup as he walks out. He’s always thought matcha was disgusting anyways. 

And three days later, you find Satoru in the library. In what might possibly, the most compromising of situations. 

You’re a few weeks out from finals, the banquet at the end of the week, and buried with term papers that you need to write. Hence the need to procure your matcha latte, lock yourself in the library for the rest of the week, until you can go to the event with Satoru and let loose before you go home for break. 

Except when you’re trekking through the library looking for a place to study, you find that a really large group is populating your usual prime spot near the window, with the big white board that you like to use. 

But even more jarring than the stupid white board and spot you’re comfortable in, it’s who is taking up the spot. Because Sukuna and his friends are taking up the entire face and there’s a certain white haired idiot sitting all the way at the end, headphones over his ears as he types away on his laptop. 

And you can hear your blood rushing in your ears as you walk up to him, all but yanking the headphones off your ears. 

“Hi Satoru.” 

“Hi Y/N.” he seethes back, matching the anger in your voice. 

“I got you a drink, asshole.” 

He looks down at your matcha latte, before looking back up at you and rolling his eyes. 

“Always intent on not listening to me, aren’t you?” 

“I learned from the best, asswipe.” you respond, marching off to the apartment and fighting down the angry tears that are falling out of your eyes. 

--

With the load of finals behind you and the quietness that populates your apartment, you find yourself begrudgingly dragging yourself to the banquet. And curse yourself for letting Satoru convince you, for already putting in an RSVP so early that now you can’t take it away. 

The room’s uncomfortably warm, the masses of people moving around each other, cheeks blushed pink from the drinks and flutes in all of their hands. You swipe one off of the tray as someone walks past, intent on filling that cold, awkward feeling in your chest with whatever warmth it can give you. 

You take a spot near the corner of the room, a nice vantage point from where you can spot, eye who you can talk to first. Your partner from your English class is stuck talking to your professor, which is frankly a bleak option. 

There’s the group of girls from your cohort, but they’re all talking to Sukuna and his girlfriend, which is a big no for you. And you’d love to talk to your advisor, but you’re positive occupying the solo spot on the wall is better than talking to the one professor that everyone hates. 

And you spot Satoru, his white hair stark against the crowd, as he talks to Hiromi and Suguru. He’s all dressed up, his tie loose around his neck and the top buttons are undone. You suppose that’s as well as Satoru can present for an event like this anyways, and your heart stings at the premise.

Because there's nothing you want to do more than point it out. That everyone’s dressed up, but he can’t even be bothered to put himself together for this. And you want him to argue back, to sport that stupid shit eating grin he always uses when he argues with you. 

It’s irritating. How much it’s killing you to not be with him. 

You pull down the edges of your dress, trying to soothe through the creases that are lining on your green dress, as you try your best to stop that tense, uncomfortable feeling from settling in your skin. 

On the most annoying cue ever, Sukuna walks up to stand by your side, two drinks in his hand. He gestures for you to take one, which you oblige, as you swallow the irritation on your tongue as he starts talking. 

“Y/N.” 

“Sukuna.” 

“Did you poison my drink? Or are you morally above attempted murder?” 

“I believe I am.” 

“Shocking, given your track record.” 

“Are you here alone?” he asks. 

“What’s it to you?” 

“It’s just that you RSVP'd for two people. Yet you’re the only one standing here.” 

“Are you stalking me now?" you ask, eyeing him.

“Maybe a little bit. I was just curious to see who it was you were seeing now.” 

“What’s it to you?” 

“Just have to make sure that they take care of you. That’s all.” he states, shrugging

You roll your eyes, putting a sizable amount of distance between you two. 

“That’s rich coming from you. Leaving me without a place to live is a real gesture of compassion, Sukuna.” 

“Well, I think that-” 

A girl, with short brown hair cuts the two of you off, as she excitedly points to the wallpaper above you. 

“You’re both standing under the mistletoe!” 

You look up, to find a small lock of the plant above the two of you, as you fight the urge to internally groan. 

“Right, well. That’s my cue to leave.” you respond, setting the glass down on the table. 

Sukuna wraps his fingers around your wrist, pulling you into him as you stumble on the edge of your heels. 

“It’s just mistletoe. You have to honor it or that’s like…really shitty luck.” he states, giving you a smile.

“I’ll take my chances. It couldn't possibly be worse than this.” 

“Look. I really hate being on bad terms. You were really important to me and I hate to think that you’re out there being mad at me.” 

“Right, well. Get used to being disappointed then because I’m clear on where I stand.” you respond. 

You make the motions to move again, as Sukuna yanks you back again. Except this time, Satoru’s at your side, nearly shoving him into the wall. He gives you a look, devoid of any emotion, as he adjusts his tie around his neck. 

“You’re not going to kiss her.” he states, teetering on the edges of his heels. Like he’s almost bored, so disinterested in the conversation that he’s having with Sukuna right now. 

“I was just joking. It wasn’t that serious, I wouldn’t even consider it honestly.” he states, as the words sting your ears. You don’t know whether to be relieved, offended, or extremely agitated by the premise of his comment. 

“You’d be so lucky.” he snorts, as you swallow hard. 

“Right. We are talking about the same girl, right?” he sneers. 

Satoru groans, looking up to the sky, before taking his jacket off and handing it to you. You give him a confused look, to which he smiles, before turning back to Sukuna. 

“Rather unfortunate that you chose to mess with the wrong girl. That and the fact that I have no semblance of manners when it comes to these types of things.” 

And then Satoru swings straight for his nose, wincing and shaking his knuckles in the air as Sukuna slams into the wall behind him. There’s a loud gasp, head turning to look at the three of you as you swallow hard. There’s a small amount of bright, red blood falling out of his nose as Satoru gives him a shit eating grin. 

“Thanks for holding it.” Satoru states, taking the jacket from your hands as the two of you watch Sukuna walk off into the side. 

“Right, well-” 

“Satoru.” 

The two of you turn around to find his father, nose flaring and undoubtedly mad, as he appears at your side. Satoru storms out of the room, agitated, as you follow and run behind him. The air outside is significantly colder, snow sticking to the concrete. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, the air so cold that you can see your breath in the air. 

“Yes. Are you?” he asks back, turning around to look at you. He’s kicking the tiny flakes of snow in the ground, averting eye contact with you as he talks. 

“Yeah. Now, I can yell at you.” you respond, shoving him. 

“What’s your problem?” 

“What’s yours?” he asks back, seething. 

“You. You ignored me for like two days and then I found you in the library being all buddy buddy with Sukuna. And then you punch him in the face for no reason?”

“It wasn’t for no reason.” 

“Right. Your hand just jerked through the air and just happened to hit his face.” 

“What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry?” 

You groan, bringing your hands up through your temples, as your frustration comes to a head. 

“Why are you pretending this is nothing? Like we're nothing?” you scream, tears burning your eyes at you look at him. 

“When did I say this was nothing?” 

“’m fucking dying over here to be the person standing next to you, because there’s nowhere else I want to be, and instead I’m standing in the corner trying to avoid you like the plague.” 

His eyes twitch, his hands almost fidgeting at your sides as you angrily wipe your tears off your cheeks and smudge the makeup pressed to your face. 

“You…you’re so fucking aggravating. You’re mean to me, then you’re nice. You act like you love me, but then you don’t. Your best friend tells me that I basically mean the world to you and then your stupid dad ambushes me outside a coffee shop and basically insults me but-” 

“What?” he states. 

“What? I just like…don’t know what page you’re on. You make no fucking sense, you’re so..so hot and cold with me instead of just telling me what’s going on. If you didn’t like me anymore, you should have just said that instead of hurting my feelings.” you state, crossing your arms as you turn back from him. 

He comes up at your side, eyes wide as he looks down at you. He quickly takes his jacket off, wrapping it around your shoulders as the tears stream down your eyes. 

“What did my dad say to you? Was it at the coffee shop?” he whispers, hands braced on your shoulders. 

“Huh? How’d you know that?” 

“Just, tell me.”

“Well, I was going to get my latte. He kind of pulled me aside. Asked me what my intentions were with you. Made some weird backhanded comment about me being an education major and-” 

“And?”

“Gave me his business card. Told me to call him because I kept trying to leave. I think I threw it in a trash can or something.” 

Satoru groans, leaning his forehead against your shoulder, as he curses. 

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.” he murmurs, eyes pinched in regret as he lifts his head back up. 

“What?” 

“Shit. I-I got mad at you. For talking to my dad, behind my back and not telling me. I thought…he was asking you for information about me and you were obliging. That you took his card so you could call him.” 

“You watched that entire thing?” 

“Yeah. And I saw you shove the card into your pocket as you walked away and I just got so angry that I-” 

“That you what?” 

“Hung out with Sukuna. To make you mad.” 

You glare at him, shoving him again for good measure. 

“You did what?” 

“I was upset! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to it was just that-” 

“You didn’t even think to ask me? You just had to be petty?” you scream, your frustration building. 

His eyes go wide, as he swallows hard. He burrows his hands into his pockets, lifting them from your shoulders as he casts his head down. You can tell that his skin is burning, it’s turning slightly pink, as you realize that the reason the two of you weren’t here together, stupidly laughing at everyone, was because of a simple miscommunication. 

“Satoru.” you groan, lifting your hand to your forehead. 

“Y/N. I’m so sorry.” 

“In what world was that fair to me? You didn’t even think to ask?” 

Satoru takes both of your hands in his, lifting them up to cover his eyes with. Your knuckles are flat against his forehead, the ends of his hair tickling your skin. 

“Y/N. I’m so shit at this type of stuff. You’re far too put together for me.” 

“I’m not expecting you to be put together. Just to kind of…work with me here.” you murmur, as he rests his head against your frame again. You’re wrapping your arms around his torso, deflating into his touch. 

“Yeah, well. All I know how to do is fight and-” 

“If you say you’ll love me rather than fight with me, I’ll forgive you.” 

“Huh?” 

“Just promise. That you’ll try to love me. And forgive me before you turn to fighting.” you murmur, cupping his face in your hands. 

“Y/N. I-” 

“You have so many walls that I’m trying to break through. Just try to work with me here when I’m trying to do it.” you whisper. 

“There you go. Doing that thing again.” 

“Doing what?” 

“Seeing the best in me. Making me want to be better.” 

You smile, leaning your head to the side. 

“Is that so bad?” 

“No. No, just. Try to be patient with me? I know I’m really shitty at this type of thing but-” 

“As long as you stick around. And don’t ignore me for five days like a fucking asshole, I promise I will.” 

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to the palms of your hands still secured around his face, as he leans his own forehead against yours. 

“Okay. Just, give it to me straight when…when I do stuff like this.” 

“Okay. I hate it when you’re stupid as fuck and jump to conclusions. Like genuinely, it’s really irritating that I spent all of finals week sleeping in my bed alone when it was obscenely cold and you weren’t there. And you just had to assume shit when you didn’t-” 

“Okay, I get it. Get to the good parts now.” 

“Ego-maniac.” 

“Cmon. I’m wounded here.” he states, holding his bruised hand up to you. You take it in yours, pressing a kiss to the red skin before continuing. 

“I like when you talk to me. And when we get to keep moving forward, past this type of stuff. It’s like…the best part of a story. You get to see the conflict be resolved and then keep going.” 

He smiles hard, nodding at your words. 

“You have to kiss me.” he states. 

“Why?” 

“I’m going to pretend I’m not offended by that heinous look on your face at the thought of kissing me. But, mistletoe.” 

You look up, to find a set of tiny Christmas lights with little embellishments in them, one of which is mistletoe. 

“That doesn’t count.” 

“Yes, it does.” 

“That’s not real mistletoe.” 

He pouts, rolling his eyes at you. 

“Fine. Don’t kiss me then.” 

You wrap your hand around his wrist, yanking him down by the tie to press a kiss to his soft, warm lips. They’re enough to warm up your frozen, nearly frostbitten blue ones, as he shakes his arms around your waist, pulling you closer and smiling into the kiss. 

And you take solace in the fact that at least for that night, the conflict is over. And the story continues.

--

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist:

@porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg

lmk if you would like to be added to the taylor as gojo taglist or my general taglist <3

#seeingivywrites! #taylor as gojo #satoru #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x y/n #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #satoru fluff #gojo fluff #jjk fluff

[les-lestappen]

“I couldn't sleep.” With mason mount pls!!

authors' note: here it is, hope you like it, it's supposed to be set right before euros quali, so right now lmao.

MASON MOUNT X READER:

You opened one eye and the other and saw Mason already awake, sat up and scrolling on his phone, with netflix in the background.

"Good morning" you said, cuddling up to him.

"Did I wake you up? Sorry I didn't think the tv was that loud."

"Don't worry about it. What time is it?"

"Almost five."

"Which means you have a flight in less than four hours."

"I guess"

"What are you doing?"

"Couldn't sleep" he mumbles, then quickly changes topic "What do you think of those long distance touch bracelets?"

"The ones that light up? I guess they're cute." you said, confused.

"You want one? I mean, two but I would have the other."

"If you feel like buying it, sure, but you'd have to take it off everytime you play anyway and knowing me I would probably lose it, I don't know if it's practical."

"Yeah you're right…" he says, looking a little lost. Then he takes his phone in his hands again and starts searching for something.

"What about a necklace then?"

"What is this about?"

"I want to get you a gift?"

"Is that a question?"

"No, I want to get you a gift."

"Why?"

"Cause I want to be a good boyfriend."

"You already are and you know I don't like you spending money on me."

"It's nothing I can't afford."

You smile "I know, you arrogant pretty rich boy."

He smiles back, kissing your forehead "At least I'm pretty."

"But seriously, I wanna give you something."

"Give me a kiss" you say and he gives you a quick kiss, still looking unsure.

"I feel like I should give you something, since I'm leaving today and all, you know to apologize…"

"Mase this is your job we're talking about. I don't want you to apologize cause you're playing for England, this is a good thing!"

"Yeah I know." he sighs "But everything is going to be more intense as the Euros start. Seeing each other is going to be more difficult and I already know I'll be stressed. I think it's unfair to you."

You smile and tell him "Come here." so that he's laying in your arms instead of sitting up.

You gently starts running a hand through his hair. "Mase look at me, I knew what I was getting into when I started dating you, and I have to say it's kind of worth it."

"Just kind of?" he laughs

"We'll see. There's one thing I want from you: I want you focusing on the game, giving it your all as you always do and I'll be there, waiting and proud. Always."

He looks up at you with the biggest smile and slightly wet eyes.

"I love you Y/n." he says.

"I love you too Mason, now sleep." you answer, kissing his temple as he hugs you tighter, already yawning.

#mason mount x reader #mason mount #chelsea fc #chelsea #christian pulisic #mason mount x you #mason mount x y/n #mason mount fic #mason mount imagine #euros 2024 #footballer x reader #football fic #request

[kangmoon27]

CAN'T CHANGE || JUNGKOOK FF ONESHOT

Pairing: gangster Jungkook × Y/n

Summary: When you tried to change your gangster boyfriend just so that your arrogant parents can accept him.

When you introduce your gangster boyfriend to your parents

It's wrong.

It's wrong to be Inlove with someone like him. Your parents will be so disappointed in you if they ever finds out what kind of man their daughter wants.

He's totally disappointment to your parents, he's far from a perfect man that suits for you.

You need a guy who's rich, elegant looking, handsome and educated while the man that you admired is far from the guy that your parents wants for you.

Just like I said he's a disappoinment. He's like a total opposite of an ideal guy that you should be dating right now.

He's a gangster and from the word gangster you already knew how they actually look like. They're dirty, tattooed, piercing, muscles and all.

You can also include them as criminal and more. And yes he's totally opposite from what your parents imagined you dating with.

Right now you're sitting Infront of your parents while waiting for someone patiently. You're scared, nervous, terrified.

You don't know how to reaction not how your parents will reach after seeing your boyfriend. I mean you're gangster boyfriend.

You just hope they won't be as mad as you've imagine them to be cause right now all you wanted to do is to be true to them and tell the world that you love this man even tho you can be calling dumb for chosing a disaster  rather then a perfect man.

Your phone sounded notification. You look upon it as you saw his messages saying he's already here. Your hand begin to shake. You just keeps looking at your phone prying that your parents won't be as mad as they can be.

A strong arms wrapped around your shoulder. It's him, you know his touch. You look up and saw him smirking at your parents while he's caressing your shoulder.

He has a long curly hair, his bangs is almost covering his eyes, he's wearing a black tights shirt, denim pants with a black belt.

Fuck it, I told him to dress at least a little formal but he came here looking all like that. You're so sure that your parents will literally hate you for being with him.

Yes he looks hot, he always do but at least he could just gave you a consideration. You've prepared everything that he should wear and even remind him that you've already prepared everything but yet he came here wearing all those.

"I think you got the wrong table little boy" You mother said while talking to Jungkook. The man cocked his one eyebrow up and chuckles. He pulled you up as he kissed you Infront of your parents.

You hear them gasping. He's such a jerk how can you fall for someone like him. You tried pushing him away put instead he deepen the kiss as h spank your butt.

All that Infront of your parents.

Soon he finally pulled away. You looked at your parents as you can see the disappointment in their eyes. They're still shocked so you took the chance to walk away while pulling Jungkook along with you.

As you both walk out of the restauran you turn around as you faced him, he pin you on the wall and start kissing you aggressively. You tried pushing him away but he didn't even move Abit.

Soon you successfully pushed him and slap him. He was stunned, you're shocked as well but immediately bring yourself together and glance at him.

You can see his eyes burning once he turned his head on you. You gulped, he has an anger issues and it's not safe to say that even you can't even control it but even tho you knew he's already burning inside you didn't care at all. You made everything just do the meeting with your parents and him will be perfect but he ruined everything. He ruined the chance to prove your parents that he's deserving to have you.

"How can you be soo asshøle. I told you everything that you should do so why do you have to came here looking like that, acting like that and ruined everything!!" You shouted at him.

You're so mad. He just stared at you, your anger begin to raise seeing like like that, he acted like he actually never cared about anything, he just stood up there while you're in down on the wall and staring right Infront of your eyes.

"Speak, do you really want me? Do you love me? Maybe you don't because you just literally wasted the chance of you proving my parents that you're actually deserving of having me. Yes you don't love me."

"You can never change me Yn. Yes I ruined it but I didn't ruined everything. I can't just pretend Infront of them and keep on pretending everytime I'm Infront of them. This is me and I thought you love me but seems like you don't cause if you do you won't try to change me just so I can fit inside your perfect family. If you love me you would accept me by me not change me.

Jungkook let go on you, you stared at him with tears on your eyes. At that moment he made you realized you're actually the one who ruined everything and right now you're actually the man who's ruining your relationship with him by trying to change who he is.

You watched him walking towards his bike while putting his helmet on, before he could even jump in his motorcycle you immediately run towards him while hugging him from the back.

He stopped. You heard him sighing while you're crying behind him. He pulled your hand away from him and faced you. Wiping your tears away and pulled you inside his embrace.

"I'll come with you, you're right I shouldn't be changing you, I should be accepting because I love you. I'm sorry" you crys while Jungkook is trying to calm you down.

"I understand baby, I love you." He pulled you into a kiss before pulling away and made you wore your helmet.

Getting on his bike while he did the same. You wrapped you arms around his waist as he drove away.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkookff #bts yandere #jungkook yandere #darkoneshot #jungkook drabble #jungkook cute #jungkook vogue

[expectopatronum81]

Unpopular opinion but......

Am I the only one who misses the og marauders? The marauders fandom isn't even about the marauders now, 99% of their canon personality traits hv been replaced with cliqued behaviour. For some reason there's a massive obsession with their sexuality and I just don't get it? Lyk can't u have a character with any sexual orientation with personality traits outside it anymore? Does there really need to be a complete erasure of their most defining traits? I just wish we could get the actual marauders era characters back

James Potter: Pureblood, rich, intelligent, arrogant, a bully, but extremely loyal; took Sirius in and turned into an animagus for his werewolf bestie when the whole world would have shunned him; he could have led a life of utmost comfort but chose to risk his life and fight for those he loved in a war that didn't even concern him personally. His last words were asking his wife and child to escape while he tried to hold voldy off without a wand

Sirius Black: Haughty, a bully, extremely good looking, cool, rich, blood traitor by 16, comes from a family of literal death eaters, very intelligent, loyal, will do anything for those he loves( especially james and later Harry), thick as hell (my boy really survived in a depression prison for 12yrs, tht too after all the horror he'd seen before that), dark, very traumatized and broken

Remus Lupin: Gentle (yup u read that right), kind, mischievous (ppl really overlook this), very insecure, let james and Sirius bully Snape coz he was too thankful for their acceptance and affection to tell them off, considered himself undeserving of love, his self loathing prevents him from being a responsible adult/ parent for Harry, lowkey manipulative. Very compassionate and empathetic even after everything he's been thru tho

Peter Pettigrew: Considered slow and stupid, insecure, tags along with the others for protection, but obviously cunning and manipulative, a disgusting rat tho

Regulus Black: Teenage Reggie worshipped death eaters, he had newspaper clippings of them on his wall, completely believed in those racist ideologies until he realised what the reality of being a death eater was. He tried to bring voldy down but there's no evidence of him completely changing his beliefs about everything else like muggle borns, muggles, werewolves etc. Very cunning and intelligent tho, he discovered voldemort's secret before Dumbledore did. Liked kreacher but kreacher was also brainwashed with pureblood ideology, so I ll only give him half the credit. Bravely sacrificed his life in the end, but he still chose to protect his racist family.

Lily Evans: muggleborn, good at portions, described as popular and vivacious, pretty, the favourite sibling, isn't afraid of standing up to ppl (tht smirk in swm tho?), very brave, and most importantly (ppl really choose to forget this nowadays) a mother who stood in front of her baby boy in hopes of saving him from the darkest wizard alive even tho she herself was only 21 at the time, tht too right after losing her husband. Tho I'd still say that lily is a badly written character

It's fun to explore characters but not one of these core characteristics r even present. They're turned into one dimensional social justice warriors who r always right in everything they do

Now I get it, ppl want them to fit with current day ideals, but y not just create different/new characters then? What's the point of holding on to that nostalgia if most of their character isn't even there anymore? Where's all the toxicity coming from? And anyone who doesn't agree is homophobic and whatever other -phobic u choose to employ in the most irrelevant context ever. It's all so stupid smh🙄

#harry potter #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #regulus black #lily evens #marauders era #mauraders #anti fanon #anti marauders #pro james potter #pro sirius black #pro remus lupin #pro lily evans #pro regulus black #pro sirius

[pizzaqueen]

I've had this scene in my mind of Eddie encountering Steve’s dad at the hospital post S4 for a while but I didn't know what to do with it. I've written it up, anyway, and I'm posting it here instead of letting it languish. Maybe I'll do something else with it one day?

Just over 800 words, warnings for being in the hospital, I guess and maybe being a little angsty

The first time Eddie meets Steve’s dad, it’s at the hospital, after everything. He’s seen Steve’s dad before, of course he has, everyone knows the Harringtons. But it's always been from a distance, and Mr. Harrington has always seemed arrogant and out of touch.

Eddie waits until Wayne is asleep in the chair beside his bed to get up. Between the shit he's hooked up to and the tightly bandaged wounds, it's not easy, but he needs to do this.

He pulls back the edge of the curtain dividing his bed from Steve’s, then pauses. Steve is lying there, dark circles under his eyes, unconscious and pale and looking less like one of the heroes from Eddie's stories and more like a boy who's seen too many awful things, given too much of himself to them.

Guilt wells up beneath the cotton wool feeling of the painkillers that have been pumped into him. It’s not because it’s Eddie’s fault, but Eddie’s here, on his feet, and Steve isn’t. He will be, though. He has to be.

There’s a vague memory playing in Eddie's mind of Steve carrying him out of that fucking place, Steve's breathing labored, his arms strong but trembling. He'd barely made it out of there before he'd collapsed to the ground with Eddie still in his arms. Everything goes kind of dark after that.

Eddie’s about to step forward, say something—thank you, would be a start—even if Steve can’t hear him, but then he notices that Steve isn’t alone. There’s a man sitting by his side, in the twin of the crappy plastic chair Eddie’s uncle is hunched over in on Eddie’s side of the curtain. He’s wearing a gray sweater and he’s got a sweep of dark hair that looks like he’s been running his hands through it and his nose is the same sharp line as Steve’s.

"Jesus Christ, Steve," he says, voice small and broken, "what the hell did you get yourself into?" His hand rests by Steve’s on the stark white hospital sheet, his pinkie finger hooked over Steve’s.

Steve’s breathing is deep and steady and Mr. Harrington chews on his lip, watching Steve so intently he doesn’t seem to have noticed Eddie standing at the corner of Steve’s bed.

After a few minutes, Mr. Harrington sucks in a deep, shuddering breath and says, "C'mon, slugger, you gotta wake up before your mom gets back from terrorizing the doctors, okay? You know how much she worries…” He trails off, looks away, puts his head in his hands.

And Eddie knows he shouldn't be watching this, but he's frozen. If he ever spared a thought for Mr. Harrington, it was just to think of him as some rich asshole Eddie didn't give a shit about. He has no idea if he's a good dad or even a good person but, right now, Eddie feels bad for him. It makes him miss his own dad and then he feels guilty about that, too. Wayne is right there, sleeping by Eddie's bed because he didn't want to leave him alone and he's a better dad than Eddie's father ever was.

Mr. Harrington makes a small frustrated noise and Eddie finally comes back to himself. He goes to turn away, but, as he does, his foot catches on something and the sound is small but it's loud in the hush of the hospital room.

Steve’s dad looks over, brow furrowing.

“Sorry,” Eddie says, “I wanted to… Sorry.” He shakes his head, which makes it spin. Or maybe it’s the whole room that’s spinning. “I’m Eddie,” he says, and he doesn’t know why. “Munson.”

“The boy wanted for murder?”

“No, I— I hope not.” Eddie breathes out and it feels harder than it should be. “That wasn’t… I didn’t…” His legs feel weak and he should just turn around and go back to bed but he keeps talking: “Steve, he— Saved me.” And it’s only part of what happened and it’s more complicated than that but it’s the truth.

“He—” It looks like Steve’s dad doesn’t know what to do with that and then Eddie’s legs give way and the only thing stopping him from falling is Steve’s hospital bed. “Whoa, hey,” Steve’s dad says, pushing himself to his feet, “you should, um…”

“Dad?” Steve’s voice is croaky and confused. His unfocused gaze slowly moves from his dad to where Eddie’s slumped by his bed. “Eddie? You’re—” He coughs, then winces, and his dad forgets all about Eddie.

“Steve,” is all he says, leaning over his son, hand hovering.

And then there’s a hand at Eddie’s elbow, guiding him away. "C'mon, kiddo," Wayne says, "you shouldn't be up," and he gently helps Eddie up onto the bed.

On the other side of the curtain, there are voices—Steve’s dad, a woman that’s probably Steve’s mom, doctors—but it’s quiet on Eddie’s side. Wayne is there, awake now, watching as Eddie finally lets himself fall asleep again. At least he knows Steve’s awake now. And he’s not alone.

#steddie #Eddie munson #steve harrington’s parents #Steddie fic #I wrote this up in <an hour to get it out of my head finally #I feel like I should add a warning for Steve’s dad being not an asshole🤣 #not a great time to post but I’m going to talk myself out of it if I don’t hit post now lol #also idk if I should tag this Steddie but if I ever did anything with it it would be Steddie so… #pizzaqueenfic #seriously though this scene has been in my mind since almost just after S4

[sadisticsongbird]

stargazing ~ tom holland

summary: request given by anonymous - ““Frat Tom Holland is super cocky and arrogant and y/n can't stand him. Over the summer, they're at the same beach, so in swimsuits of course, and Tom is wearing a short suit that leaves little to the imagination, especially when wet. And his muscles are glistening and all that. He keeps flirting with y/n and she resists as much as she can, even though she is definitely getting turned on. He eventually finally wins her over, and then goes fully dominant and cocky. He commands her to her knees and makes her beg to suck him off, and while she's choking and gagging on him, he's talking dirty and and boasting non-stop. :D”

warnings: smut (oral m & f, unprotected sex) 18+, a decent amount of swearing

word count: 9.7k

You absolutely hated the beach. More importantly the certain attire recommended for it. If you were able to, you would keep your fuzzy pajamas slipped on and your favorite hoodie and curl up in a blanket with a book in hand. Alas, the sun and heat made that near impossible. Every year, your family ventured on a vacation to your grandparents' beach house. You rarely saw your grandparents and weren’t sure why they even owned the beach house in the first place. Even in their old age, they enjoyed traveling, seeing the world. They were home once a year, if that and this was the way that they apologized to your parents for not being around more. Hey, you weren’t complaining. 

Because they traveled often, that meant they didn’t have to pay a mortgage. And that meant money. The beach house was nothing like your own home. While your parents weren’t poor, per say, they weren’t rich either. You lived in a decent home and once a year, on this vacation, you were allowed to live in the riches your grandparents provided for you. 

Your mother had announced that your family would be spending the day on the beach or the water this morning at breakfast. Despite your complaints, your mother demanded everyone be there as the one ‘family activity.’ Right now, your brother and parents were on the boat, sipping drinks on the water. You kept yourself on the beach, laying on a towel on your stomach. While you weren’t fond of sticking a bathing suit on, you still loved sitting outside and soaking up the sun. Maybe you could take a nap. The flight here had been long and you were running low on sleep as it was. 

Sleep had about caught up to you when you heard a group of people cheering a few hundred meters down the shore. Keeping one eye closed, you peered at the group across the beach. Sure enough, he was among them. Tom Holland. The cockiest frat-boy that ever lived. God, he got on your nerves. You don’t think you’d ever had a conversation with him that didn’t end in him hyping himself up. There were only spare conversations, but still. At first, you didn’t think he was that bad. 

You guys met three summers ago. He and a bunch of his friends and family had crashed at one of the houses a few down from yours. You were walking down the beach one evening and he was sitting out on a guard chair near the surfing area. Something had happened that day and you needed some time alone to clear your mind with your bare feet in the sand. You had almost missed him, and you would’ve if you didn’t notice the small splashes in the shallow water. He had been throwing stones from up in the chair with a sour look on his face. You were going to ignore him, letting him mope in his own little world, but he had a different idea. 

“It’s late, you know. Shouldn’t be walking on the beach alone.”

You stopped to look up at the chair, getting a better look at the boy. He was in swim trunks and a red unbuttoned shirt with a beer in hand. Sunglasses took a place on top of his mop of brown curls. They obviously had been wet only a little while ago as his hair laid messily. 

“You’re on the beach alone,” you remarked. 

“Yeah,” he said, sitting up to rest his elbows on his knees and keeping his hands folded. “But I’m not a young girl.” 

“I am not young,” you bit back. “And I can take care of myself.”

“I’m sure you can.” There was a glint in his eyes as he took a swig of his beer. “What’s your name?”

“I’m not so sure I should be telling that to a stranger.”

He chuckled before pausing. Tom hadn’t seen you here before even though he had been crashing houses here every summer since he was a kid. Moving himself down the chair, he waited for the bottom step to jump into the sand in front of you. 

“Tom,” he said, holding his hand out.

“What?” 

“Tom. That’s my name. You said you wouldn’t tell your name to a stranger.”

God, he just had an answer for everything didn’t he. 

“Y/N,” you said, grabbing his hand. 

“What’re you doing out here anyways…Y/N?”

“I’m taking a walk, clearing my mind.”

“Sure,” you said, walking away from him. He followed shortly behind you, but close enough so that you could still see his face. Tom didn’t want to invade, even though you agreed to let him come. He wasn’t sure why he wanted company either. He had left his rented house to get AWAY from people. 

“Dare I ask why your mind needs clearing?” You didn’t say anything. You weren’t sure if you wanted to get this stranger involved in your drama. “Not telling. Got it.” He was silent for a moment. “Well, would you mind if I tag along? Throwing stones is getting boring.”

You laughed quietly, trying to conceal it, but Tom noticed. He found it adorable how your nose crinkled like a bunny’s and how you looked down shyly trying to hide your smile. 

You both walked in silence, listening to the seagulls calling from far out in the water and for the waves to crash up on the shore. The sun was going down now, leaving the beach almost dark and quiet. There were few houses with porch lights on and couples sitting out, enjoying the sunset. You hoped that you and Tom didn’t look too strange walking the shoreline, but to any bystanders, you two just looked like a couple out for a stroll. 

“So, might you tell me why YOU’RE out here?”

“My brother’s are driving me up a wall,” he said flat out. “We’ve only been here for two days and I already want to pull my hair out.”

“My brother’s the same way! He does certain things that he KNOWS annoy me. Like yesterday, we were out on the lake. And, for the love, when I am dry and trying to enjoy some time out on the water, he HAS to jump in and splash me when I’m not looking.”

Tom didn’t stop you as you continued on your rant about your brother. He knew what it was liked, constantly being picked on, even though he was the oldest. Tom wasn’t the brightest of the bunch and his twin brother’s loved to point that out for him. He probably wasn’t defending himself on that front either, though, choosing to join a frat either. All he did was nod along, knowing EXACTLY how you felt. You were cute when you were passionate about something. 

Both of you were surprised with how dark it had gotten on your walk. The sun had disappeared completely and now the moon was the only thing lighting up the calm waters. You had no idea how far the two of you had walked. It wasn’t an island, however, the shore seemed to stretch forever in both directions. Neither of you had brought a cellphone to call someone or a flashlight to light up a path, so when you stumbled upon a few palm trees, Tom suggested you both find rest there. He took the last sip of beer and pondered what to do with it. It wasn’t like there were recycling bins just lying around. The two of you had walked far beyond where the houses were now, so it was just the beach and you. Tapping the empty bottle against his thigh, he came up with a fun idea for the both of you to do. 

“You don’t happen to have any paper on you…”

“Yes, just let me grab some paper, along with my jar of pencils and pens that you’ve seen me carrying around.”

“Sarcasm. Got it, no paper.” Abandoning his idea, he threw the empty bottle towards the water as hard as he could. There was a faint splash in the distance as his empty bottle floated away. 

You had already found a spot up against a tree, your arms wrapped around your knees as you leaned your head up to look at the stars. Tom came to sit next to you, mimicking your position. The stars were really pretty tonight, not being drowned out by the moon all the way. They were faint, almost appearing as if they were sparkling. 

“I love it when the stars are out.” It was true. Living in a busy city, you often forgot about stargazing because city lights made it hard to do. “The moon’s not bright enough to drown them out and they can finally be appreciated by those that see them.”

Tom understood the underlying metaphor, even if you didn’t yourself. He moved his gaze from the stars down to you. You were still looking up at the sky, lost in your own world. There had never been a person that Tom was so curious of before. You were so different from the girls that he was surrounded with. You weren’t shy, but you weren’t outgoing either, from what he could tell. The stories that you told him on your short stroll told him that you liked to keep to yourself, but part of that was just the way that you were conditioned. Your parents weren’t ones’ to recognize your accomplishments, keeping themselves occupied within their own lives and only paying attention when you were ‘causing problems for your brother.’ But you didn’t seem to be aware of just how bright you shined to him. 

A shiver brought you out of your thoughts. Not planning on being out this long nor this late, you had only put on a small tank top and pair of shorts. The night winds were starting to breeze through the beach and you weren’t sure if you could last being out here all night if that was what was going to happen. 

“You want my shirt?”

You looked over to Tom, already pulling off the red beach shirt, leaving him shirtless as he held the piece of clothing out for you to grab. 

“Won’t you get cold?”

He would. “I’m a warm person by nature. Trust me.” 

With hesitation, you took the shirt from him, wrapping it around your shoulders and pulling it close to your chest. He was right. Despite the cooling temperatures, it was warm as a blanket fresh out of the dryer. 

“Thanks,” you finally mumbled, leaning back against the tree.

Tom stayed sitting upright, keeping his eyes on you. You looked at him and smiled, but he kept staring at you, small flickers from your eyes to your lips. Before you knew it, you pressed your lips against his. You had no idea what you were doing, and not just because this was your first kiss. Tom seemed to guide you, though, keeping his hand on your chin and disconnecting when you needed to breathe. But then, you were pushing yourself off of him as quickly as you had pounced on him. 

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry. I had no ide-”

“Hey,” he assured. “Don’t worry about it.” His hand still hadn’t moved from your face. Your faces were still close and even under the moonlight, you could pick apart his features. Freckles littered his nose and under his eyes. There was a certain sparkle to his brown irises, one that flashed unclear emotions. 

“It’s late,” you muttered, pulling your head back so as not to make the situation any more awkward than it already was. “We should maybe head back.”

“Can’t we stay a little while longer. We’re probably gonna get in trouble anyways. Why not enjoy our last moments of peace?” he joked. 

“Okay,” you agreed. Sitting back against the tree, Tom followed suit. Before you knew it, your head was placed on his shoulder and you had fallen asleep. 

The next morning, you had woken up in the lifeguard chair you had found Tom in earlier that night. You figured that he carried you that entire way and felt bad, especially since you still wore his shirt over top of your own clothes. You were going to return it when you found him and your brother chatting it up on the docks in a few houses down. 

Your brother turned around when he heard someone else on the docks. 

“Y/N/N, how’s it going? Someone may have let it slip that you were out late on the beach last night. Oops, my bad. Mom says you aren’t allowed out after dark the rest of the trip or she pulls your phone for a month.”

“Devon, what the fuck?”

Your sibling only laughed, raising his beer to Tom, who also had a bottle in his hand. Tom raised his beer before taking a long swig and finishing the bottle. 

“Mate, you got another one?” Tom asked. 

“Tom, Y/N. Y/N, Tom. This is my little sister, the champion complainer.”

“Plenty more where that came from.” Your brother reached beside himself and grabbed a beer out of a cooler, handing one to Tom and setting one down for himself. “Don’t believe you guys have met,” your brother started.

“Actual-” you began, but your brother interrupted. 

You expected Tom to correct your brother, but instead he looked up at you and raised his beer. “Nice to meet you,” he said slurred. 

You had no idea how long he had been on the dock with your brother, but if the five empty beer bottles between the two were any context, you’d say too long. 

“Tom, you shouldn’t be drinking so much in the morning,” you scolded. 

He just scoffed. “You weren’t kidding about the complaining. Get your sister off my back.” 

What was going on? You and Tom had just talked about your siblings last night. You confided in a complete stranger about the way you felt in your own home, but that was your first mistake. Storming away from the dock, tears threatening to spill, you wanted to curl up into a ball. That was not the boy you had spent time with last night. 

You never gave him his shirt back, kept it around your body until you fell asleep later that night. That was your second mistake. You couldn’t bear to take it home with you, but a part of you also wanted to return it to him. So you left it in your closet at the beach house, only to return and spot it hanging in your closet every summer. 

It was common knowledge to you that Tom returned every summer. The year you met, you vowed to not talk to him at all the rest of your trip. He had come up to you a couple times, trying to talk to you, but you ignored him. You didn’t want to listen to a word he said after what he did. The years after that, you both would run into each other on the beach. He would arrogantly flirt and attempt to make conversation, but you didn’t want to hear it, dismissing him rudely any chance you could get. 

You sat up on your elbows, still laying down, trying to get a better look at the group of guys he was with this year. There were only a few guys out with him and you recognized a couple as his brothers. They almost all had girls hanging on their shoulders and had a fire started in the center even though the sun had just started to go down. You wouldn’t have had the urge to walk over there until they started pounding loud music through a set of speakers, one of which was aimed at you. It obviously wasn’t on purpose, but it pissed you off none the less. You didn’t own the beach, but you definitely weren’t the only one annoyed. You saw a woman on her porch yelling at the group, but they didn’t notice her. She finally waved them off, going back inside her home. Getting up from your somewhat relaxing spot, you groaned internally and wiped the sand off of your front. You had been laying on a towel, but this was the beach. And sand gets everywhere. 

The trek to Tom’s beach house wasn’t that far from yours, but your feet still felt heavy as you dreaded having to talk to Tom. This was the third day of your trip and so far, you had managed to avoid him. But you guessed it was inevitable. Even though your relationship wasn’t as friendly as it once was, there was still something pulling you to one another. 

“Could you guys maybe turn it down a little? Some people are trying to relax.”

Harry, one of Tom’s brothers that you didn’t have a strong aversion to and actually treated you like a human being, greeted you with a side hug. 

“Y/N, how’s it going?” he asked. 

At the sound of your name, Tom turned his head away from the girl that had her lips latched onto his neck. She pulled away, giving him a look, but his gaze was only on you. With a smirk appearing on his face, he jumped off of the rock he had been sitting on and made his way over to where you and Harry were standing. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the lone wolf. What, did your family leave you behind again?”

“No,” you shot back. “I chose not to go.”

“I forgot how considerate you are. Choosing not to spoil people’s time with your sour mood.”

“It’s only sour around you, Holland.”

“OKAY!” Harry interrupted. “We can turn it down a little, Y/N. Can’t we, Tom?”

“Sure,” he said, taking a sip of his beer. “Guess, I’ll see you around.” He smirked as he walked off. God, he was such a dick. 

You watched the way he walked back to the girl, swinging his arm around her shoulder and pressing a kiss to her cheek, though you ignored the way it made you bubble up with jealousy. And you didn’t miss the glance over to you after, either.

“You’re turning green.” You looked at Harry, not exactly understanding what he meant. “‘M just saying. You two throw around all this talk. Maybe if you did a little less of that, you’d actually enjoy each other’s presence more.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “The day that Tom Holland and I act cordial with one another is the day civilization has fallen. See ya, Harry.” You turned around to go, but decided to leave one last comment. “Oh, maybe consider telling him that the music melts his brain down already more than it is. I know he hates being pointed out as the idiot he is.”

With that, you made your way back to your spot on the beach. The boat was yet to be docked and the sun was starting to set. You had no idea when your family would return, but you weren’t going to wait up. Picking up your towel, you shook off the sand before gathering the rest of your things and heading over to the back door. Before you got yourself inside all the way, you heard a yelp from one of the guys back at Tom’s party quickly followed by the music being turned down. You smiled to yourself before shutting the sliding door and relaxing yourself inside for the rest of the evening. 

It felt like you had barely been asleep for more than an hour when you heard the clicking of pebbles on your window. Looking over at the clock, it read about two a.m. You had watched a short movie before sleeping, unsure when your family would come home from the boat or if they were planning to stay out all night like they often did without you. No text message from them wasn’t a shocker either. 

You had given it a minute, thinking you had imagined the sharp sound at first. But when another hit your window, you got out of bed to walk to your window. You were on the main floor, tucked into the corner of the house in the room that used to be a library. Your mother had made you move out all the shelves of books, but you had taken it upon yourself to dig through them and keep the best reads for your own bookshelves at home. When you looked out into the night, there seemed to be no one there, so you opened it to stick your head out. You hadn’t even opened it all the way before a figure pushed you out of the way and hopped into your room. 

“What the fuck are you doing?!?” you whisper screamed. It was the middle of the night and a visit from Tom was the last thing that you wanted. 

You could smell the beer on his breath, but you said nothing. Seeing him without a drink in hand was a rare occurrence. 

“Love the room. Very…you.”

“Tom, get out.”

He made his way over to your bed, plopping down on the edge. “You really got this whole…beach vibe going on. The seashells and starfish.”

“Tom, what are you doing? If my parents-”

“Your parents aren’t here. They won’t know.” How did he know? If they were gone, the boat probably wasn’t there, but still. Had he been watching for them? Tom obviously took your confused silence as an invite to keep talking when he spoke up again. “Harry made me.”

“Harry made you what?”

“Come and apologize,” he slurred. “Says I was dick to you and I should say sorry. But I told him that I’m only mean because you are.”

“Really? Cuz that’s not how I remember it.”

He stood up from his spot on the bed, making his way over to you, still by the open window. “I said it’s because you’re just. So. Damn. Aggravating.” With every word, he inched closer until he was chest to chest with you. Suddenly you were self conscious about everything. Why had you gone to bed in only a shirt? Did you smell? Was your hair a mess? Shit, why did you care what Tom thought? Had he been shirtless this whole time? “What, got nothing to say now?”

Fuck, you hated how he was affecting you. It took everything in you not to comb your fingers through his curls, not to reach up and touch his chest, not to kiss the lips that were mere inches from yours and recreate a memory from three summers ago. 

“I-” you mumbled quietly. 

“Yes?” he asked, lifting his fingers under your chin, to raise them to meet his gaze better. 

“I-” You cleared your throat, finally getting a grip. “Y-you need to go.” Well, a partial grip.

“If you say so.” He backed away from you. “So what do I tell Harry? Since I, you know, apologized and all.”

“I don’t remember hearing an apology.”

“How’s this for one?” he asked, inching closer to the open window. “There’s a group bonfire happening tomorrow night. You can come if you want, so you’re not alone in the house if your parents go on a trip without you again.” You opened your mouth for a quick rejection, but it was like he read your mind. “If you say no, you’ll just be proving me right to Harry. It’s rude to reject an apology.”

He got under your skin like a painful sliver, a constant pain until it was plucked out. But every time it seemed to disappear, another one would worm its way back in. “Fine. I’ll go, but the invitation is closed to Devon.”

Tom seemed happy with your agreement and barely had to ponder your terms. “Deal.” He held his hand out for you to shake. There was little hesitation on your part, meeting his hand in the middle to seal the deal. Once he had his hand wrapped around yours, he pulled you closer to him. You collided briefly, hands placed on his chest and he bent down to whisper into your ear. “Oh, and wear that little bathing suit you had on today. Was a good look on you, Y/N/N.” 

He let you go, slightly shoving you off of him. You were left there standing, watching him climb back out the window and leaving your heart pounding. He had you wrapped around his finger. And he knew it too. 

You only let yourself wear the swimsuit to please him if you were allowed to wear something to please yourself. At first, you thought it would be stupid, not sure if he would even remember, but you got more comfortable with the idea as soon as you slipped the red shirt over your shoulders. It hadn’t seen the light of day since that morning on the docks and you weren’t sure if you were trying to prove a point with this. You hoped people at the party wouldn’t recognize the shirt. Of course, it had been years since he had worn it, but if someone were to point out that it was his, you would curl up into a ball and die. What message would it send to Tom by wearing this tonight? That he couldn’t touch you and this was your way to fight back? Or would it enforce what he already knew? That you belonged to him?

The closer you got to the fire on the beach, the more you worried. You shouldn’t have agreed to this, but you didn’t want Tom to get the satisfaction of knowing that he was right. You sometimes did start it, and you weren’t sure if it was to protect yourself or just for the sake of picking on him. 

Harry was the first to find you. He had two beers in hand and offered one to you. You took it and sipped on it while he showed you around. There were games set up on the back deck and a volleyball net set up a few meters from the fire. The crowd was bigger now then it was yesterday on the beach. While it wasn’t forgotten to you that Tom belonged to a frat, you didn’t know how one person could have this many friends, especially over the summer. Other rich families crashed this beach front property during the summer, but there were tons of people you didn’t recognize as common vacationers. Those that were greeted you briefly, recognizing you from being acquaintances or hooking up with Devon. 

You were yet to see Tom and you were surprisingly thankful when you spotted him playing beer pong at one of the tables. Harry wandered off on his own, leaving you to find your way among the crowd of people. He was in a shirt similar to the one you were wearing, unbuttoned to show off his bare chest, and the swim trunks he was wearing earlier last night. Or this morning. You didn’t know. However, you could feel the heat from the fire radiating onto your skin as you walked by, making your way to the steps that led to the back deck. The small group of people surrounding the game made a small cheer as Tom had sunk a ball into his opponents second to last cup. With a string of curses, the other boy brought the red solo cup to his mouth, finishing it in one swallow. You watched from a distance as the opponent wound up to throw the ball into Tom’s last remaining cup. Everybody seemed to exhale in sync as the ball bounced off the rim of the cup. Tom was about ready to throw his last ball when he spotted you watching him. 

“Y/N/N, you made it.” He waved you over to the table as everyone turned to see where Tom’s attention had redirected. With your feet delaying slightly, you inserted yourself into the group right next to Tom. He yanked your wrist toward him and placed the ball into your empty palm.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

He laughed at your response. “Throw it,” he said, gesturing to the other side of the table. 

“You sure you wanna do that?” the guy questioned from across the table. “We got money on this, Holland…”

“Shut it, Haz. She’s got this.” 

He stepped back, leaving his previous spot empty. You slowly moved into place, not exactly sure how to do it. You raised your hand awkwardly, preparing to throw when you heard giggles coming from the girls on the side of the table. 

“Here,” he started. Placing one hand on your waist and the other over the hand holding the ball, he guided your throw. But you couldn’t think straight with his hands on you. It was last night all over again. Your wrist flicked wrong, leaving the ball bouncing on the table not even close to the cup. 

Haz let out a sigh of relief at your failure, grabbing your ball as it bounced toward his hand. As swiftly as he caught it, he threw it, sinking right into your cup. Everyone let out a loud cheer, leaving you, pausing on what was actually happening right now. 

“That’ll be two hundred bucks. Shouldn’t have put your money on the girl, Holland.” He moved over to you and Tom. The red solo cup laying in front of you was picked up and shoved in your face. “Drink up,” he said. 

You took the cup from him and hesitantly brought the drink up to your lips. The beer was stronger than you would have liked, but you drank every last drop, setting the empty plastic down on the table. Tom watched you with careful eyes while he reached into his back pocket for his wallet, taking out two large bills. Your eyes followed the cash as Tom set it into the palm of Haz’s hand. 

“You owe me money, Y/N/N. But don’t worry, I know how you can make it up to me.” Tom pulled you back towards the fire. Haz let out a whistle as he watched the two of you run away from the game. 

You could barely keep up with him as your feet hit the hot sand. Weaving through people, you kept muttering apologies as Tom whisked his way towards the giant bonfire happening by the shore. There were only a few people sitting there, however a guitar player was sitting playing songs to keep those sitting occupied. When Tom sat down on a log, he picked up a blanket and offered it to you. You took it, sitting down next to him. 

“You’re wearing my shirt.”

You should’ve known he’d remember. Embarrassment flooded your face, wrapping yourself tighter in the material and looking down at your feet. “Yeah,” you muttered almost silently. 

“Surprised you haven’t given it back by now. I’ve been wondering where you stuck it.” 

There seemed to be a permanent smile stuck on Tom’s face, one that hadn’t left since he’d first seen you at the party, wrapped up in the fabric he’d given your years ago. You probably figured you were being smart about this whole situation, but it only made Tom warm inside. 

“Honestly, I haven’t touched it since…since, well, that night,” you admitted.

Tom was quiet. You thought maybe he would say something about it. Neither of you had addressed the elephant in the room about what happened that morning. It wasn’t exactly a happy memory for either of you, but it seemed to be the center of your problems. 

“Well, it looks better on you than me,” he finally said. Tearing his gaze away from you, he glanced at the other couples across the way, some cuddled with one another and some making out. Realizing that you two were the only ones not participating, he wondered if he should do something. The conversation was already awkward as it was. You hadn’t REALLY talked to one another besides that night on the beach, but he didn’t know what else to say. “Why’d you wear it? You know, if you hadn’t worn it since…” he cut himself off. 

“I don’t know.” You let out a heavy sigh. “I thought maybe, I don’t know, it’d piss you off. That sounds ridiculous, though now that I’m saying it out loud,” you revealed, laughing to yourself. 

Tom laughed along with you. “Well, it did the exact opposite of that, darling. Made me actually quite happy to see you in my clothes.” He nudged you on the side with his arm, making you curl your side over and away from him. 

“Do you want it back?” you asked, beginning to take it off. “You probably miss it,” you joked. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I got plenty more shirts.”

“You know, I think this is the first civil conversation we’ve been able to have in a LONG time.”

“And why do you think that is, Y/N/N?”

“First off, don’t call me that. Second, you always cause problems. I can’t even have a conversation with someone else without you barging in and making a scene.”

“Well excuse me, Y/N/N, if you interrupt my party, I have a right to kick you out. Especially if you’re talking to my brother.”

“I could say the same.” You were starting to get pissed off now and you could hear it slightly in the tone of Tom’s voice too. “Maybe if you weren’t too busy drinking it up with my brother, we wouldn’t be in this position in the first place.”

“Maybe if you actually tried to have a relationship with your family, your brother wouldn’t hate you so much,” he yelled, causing you to fall away from him. 

You were ready to cry. That was twice now where you trusted Tom and twice where he had used your family problems against you. Standing up abruptly, you practically ripped the beach shirt off and threw it into Tom’s face. 

“Here,” you said, voice threatening to fail you. “You can have it back, you prick.” 

Not bothering to look back, you took the blanket and ran off down the beach, away from your home, away from the fire, away from Tom. You could hear him yelling for you as you ran, but you wanted nothing to do with him. The both of you had caused a scene, making everyone at the fire look at the two of you as you ran down the beach. 

“Y/N, wait!” he screamed. “I’m sorry!”

As sincere as he sounded, you didn’t think that there was anything that could get you to stop or turn around. You had managed to keep your tears at bay, but they would spill if you looked at him again. You glanced behind you briefly, seeing that he was catching up with you. Between the fact that he was fast and your legs were getting tired, you didn’t know how much longer you’d make it. When you spotted a structure in the distance, you pushed yourself as much as you could to out run Tom. But the closer that you got, the more you recognized it. The lifeguard chair, sitting empty with the umbrella closed where you two had met. You practically broke down in front of it, your legs collapsing underneath you and making your knees dig into the sand. 

“Y/N!” Tom screamed as he saw you fall. He pumped his legs to try and catch you, but you were already on the ground. He set a hand on the small of your back, trying to see if you were alright. “Are you okay?” 

You flew away from him the moment you felt his skin connect to yours. “GET OFF!!!” you yelled. There was no attempting to push it down anymore, letting yourself cry and whine. You backed up until you were leaning against one of the legs of the chair. Tom didn’t move, staying in the same position, kneeling in the sand next to where you were moments ago. He looked hurt, you pushing yourself away from him when he only wanted to help. He let you be on your own, cry until you were done, scream at him if you needed to. You heard him get up but you didn’t dare look. The sound of his footsteps were getting closer and you half expected him to grab you and pull you up. But when nothing happened, you moved your head to see him holding a hand out to you with the newly sand covered blanket in the other. 

“Come on. We should talk.”

You just stared at his hand, unmoving. But Tom didn’t falter. He kept his hand out for you to grab and he would stand there all night until you took it. You slowly reached up and laced your fingers with his. He pulled you up from your place in the sand, hand not leaving yours even when you were on your feet. He opened his mouth to say something to you, but closed it shortly after. You half expected him to spew out some half-assed apology, but he said nothing. Only turning to the water and beginning to walk down the shoreline. You weren’t sure why your feet didn’t move, but when you two got too far apart, Tom squeezed your hand, signaling you to move. 

The two of you walked along the beach in silence. Maybe it was better this way. You got to spend some time together, but couldn’t say anything to mess it up. Tom’s strides were wider than yours, however, he didn’t let you drag behind, not wanting to lose you in his peripherals. He began to rub his thumb on the surface of your hand, sending goosebumps up your arm. You tried to move your hand out of his at the sensation, but Tom didn’t want to let go. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

You pulled your hands into your body, crossing your arms in front of your chest. There was the urge to rub your hands on your arms to get some sort of heat in your body, but Tom was quick to notice. He slung the blanket that he had been holding around your body and wrapped it towards your front. You both said nothing as he uncrossed your arms to search for your hand again. There was silent agreement between the two of you as you returned to walking down the beach. 

The scene was familiar and you could vaguely see the small collection of palm trees up a small hill  in the distance. “Is that…” you trailed off. 

Tom shook his head before taking off running. His hand slightly slipped from yours, but it didn’t matter you were right behind him, curiosity getting the best of you. It didn’t look any different other than the new collection of plants forming a small circle around the area, but you remembered it. The spitting image from three summers ago. Tom was standing in the middle with his back turned to you, looking up at the stars. 

“I come back here every summer, you know. It’s my favorite place on the beach.” He could feel you walking up behind him, but continued to look at the sky, admiring the stars that you loved to gaze at. “I’m really sorry…about everything. I shouldn’t’ve said what I did on the docks. You had just confided in me and I took it and used it against you. You have every right to hate me.” There was hurt and regret in his voice. It’s what made you finally look at him closer. If you weren’t standing in the spot you were, you would’ve missed the small drop falling out of the corner of his eye. “When I brought you back to the lifeguard chair earlier in the morning, Devon saw me out there. I was gonna come back after grabbing a small snack so I could wake you up, but he offered me a beer and I…couldn't say no. He took me out to the docks and my drunken mind forgot about you. But,” he said, finally looking back down at you and turning to face your body, “there is absolutely no excuse for what I did. I tried talking to you, but you would avoid me.” Taking your hand from your side, he laced it with his again. “You wouldn’t even let me get within a few feet of you and, fuck, that hurt. I know we had just met but I swore to myself that you were it. There’s just something about you, Y/N/N…”

God, you hated it when he called you that. 

He was flickering between our lips and your eyes, dying to kiss you again. You wanted to beg him for it, beg him to just lean in, but he didn’t move a muscle. Tom wasn’t going to cross that bridge without knowing that you two were okay again. So you moved in first. Standing on your tippy toes, you kissed him again. It was quick and sweet, but you had to make sure he knew. “I forgive you.”

A smile panned across his features, the biggest one you’d ever seen on him and a change from the normal smirk he used to wear. He let go of your hand and grabbed onto your waist. In his actions, the blanket fell off your shoulders, leaving it to fall back into the sand. He leaned down toward you and you happily met him in the middle. His lips were slightly cracked from the heat, but they were a nice contrast to your soft ones. There was a gentleness finding its way into the kiss as you both tried to get into the perfect rhythm. But before you could settle in, you pulled away to catch your breath, a small giggle leaving you. 

“What are you laughing at?” he asked, unsure whether to be offended or laugh along with you. 

“I just can’t believe this is actually happening,” you breathed, leaning your forehead against his. 

“Me neither. Fuck, Y/N/N, I forgot how good it feels to kiss you.”

“Oh yeah?” you teased. He began to lean in again as you turned your head, making him miss your lips and instead kiss your cheek. “Well, you’re going to have to earn those kisses.”

Replacing his gentle smile, a smirk grew on his face. The next thing you know, you were up in the air, legs wrapped around his waist and your back up against a tree. 

“I’ll do whatever it takes. Just want you.”

Fuck. His forehead was still up against yours and he was letting out shallow breaths. You could feel his dick hardening in his thin swim shorts, rubbing up against your core. You were trying to keep quiet, not get yourself worked up so quickly, but it didn’t seem to be working as you wanted to egg him on, pushing your heels into his back and shoving him closer. Little moans snuck out as you threw your head back to the bark of the tree. His head followed, burying it in the crook of your neck, beginning to mark the skin below your jawline.

“Tommy,” you whimpered out.

Fisting the shirt he currently had on, you had the urge to rip it off of him. You took one sleeve off of his shoulder, trying to push it down his arm as he remained buried in your skin. When you got it down to his elbow and began struggling, Tom stopped. 

“We can stop,” he finally settled on. 

“Need help, darling?” You nodded as you unhooked your legs from around him and he set you down. Taking the rest of his shirt off, he noticed you watching. You didn’t move, only watching as he reached for the waistband of his swim trunks. “Y/N/N, I can’t be the only one getting undressed…” He stopped with himself, reaching up behind your neck and grabbing the ends of your swimsuit tie. Your eyes trailed his fingers as they began to pull and you could feel the fabric loosening around your chest. Before it could fall, you reached up to catch it, keeping yourself concealed. He quit pulling at your suit and put his hands on your arms. “Are you nervous? Have you ever…”

Of course you hadn’t. Tom was your first kiss, your only kiss. Too shy to say anything, you just nodded your head. Shock filled his face at your response. You were so confident only seconds ago. Being siblings with Devon, he assumed that maybe you had experienced a thing or two. Little did he know that he had stolen a lot of your firsts. First kiss, first enemy, first…love. If you could even say that. 

“No!” you shouted, way too eagerly. Clearing your throat, you spoke up again, quieter. “No, we can keep going. I just…may need a little help.”

Your shyness was cute, but made Tom more nervous. This was your first time and you were doing it on the beach. You didn’t have any expectations for it, however he felt the pressure to give you a good time. You watched as he knelt to the ground to pick up the blanket yet again. He shook it out, letting the loose sand fall, before laying it out on the ground as smoothly as he could. Taking a few steps around it, he came back towards you, still with your arms crossed. Hesitantly, he let his hands find your arms and fall to your elbows. There was a squeeze of reassurance as he began to walk backwards towards the blanket. In silence, Tom sat down on the blanket, pulling you down into his lap. Your swimsuit top finally fell, but you couldn’t care in the least anymore. Your core collided with his again, making your arousal grow. You let your arms find a place around his neck, pulling at the small baby hairs as he began to settle in. Did he know the effect he had on you? When his hands settled to your hips and began to move them over his lap, you knew the answer. You let out a sharp inhale at the sensation while he kept a slow speed, letting you get used to the feeling. One hand moved to your breast, slowly massaging the skin. Silent encouragements left his lips as you began to move on your own, growing used to the pleasure of his body rocking against yours. 

“You’re doing so good for me, love. Fuck, that feels amazing…” Warmth bubbled in your chest as his praise, self consciously moving your body slightly fast over his. He let out a loud groan before tightening his grip on your hips, forcing you to stop. “Stop, stop, stop,” he hurried out. You were worried for a moment. Had your confidence taken you too far? But Tom seemed to sense your unease. “I just don’t wanna cum yet. Want your mouth first.” There was a sparkle in your eyes at his suggestion. You’d never done it before. All of this was uncharted territory, but you wanted to try. “Is that okay?” he asked. 

“Y-yeah. What do I do?” 

He smiled, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Just kneel on the blanket.” Getting off of him, you moved onto your knees and watched him stand up. Slowly, he got out of his swim shorts, letting his cock spring out from the fabric. His hand encircled his length, pumping it a few times before spreading his thumb over the tip. You could hear little moans and his breath quickening every second of his movements, making yourself eager to be the one causing those noises. Tom must have noticed, making his way closer to your kneeled figure, cock still in his hand. 

“Ready, darling?” You nodded. “Open up for me. Stick your tongue out.” You did as he said when he leaned over and spit into your mouth. This was really happening. He tapped his tip a few times on your tongue before encouraging you to close. When you began to move up and down his head, his hand moved toward the back of your skull, grasping at the hair. “Oh my God…” he moaned.

 Every stroke, you would gain confidence to take more of him in your mouth. Soon enough, you could feel his dick prod the back of your throat. At that, Tom jolted his hips forward, making you gag. He pulled out, not letting go of the back of your head, but releasing his tough grip. Once you could breathe again, you let out a few short coughs while he made sure you were okay. He was apologizing, worried he had hurt you, but you only reassured him. 

“I’m okay. Just need a second.”

Within a few moments, his dick was back in your mouth. You let him take control slightly, moving your head up and down to his pleasure while keeping your hands on his thighs for support. You could tell he was close, his grip on your hair tightening and little movements of his hips that he was attempting to hold back. 

“That’s it,” he dragged out. “Atta girl, taking me, shit, so fucking well.” 

Groaning once, he pulled out, pumping himself before cumming all over your chest. You were so worked up over the sounds he was making, but the second you swiped your fingers across your chest and stuck them in your mouth, you couldn’t help it. You let yourself sneak your hand down to rub small circles on your clit over your swim bottoms. 

The sight of you sucking on his cum and touching yourself made Tom throb all over again. But he needed to take care of you first. When you closed your eyes, distracted by your own ministrations, he took his chance to kneel down on the blanket and flip you onto your back. He was quick to pull your swim bottoms off while you were still trying to regain your breath. You could feel his fingers tickling your sides as he dragged them down your legs, slow as ever. But the second his lips attached to your clit, you couldn’t have given a care in the world how slow it took. Writhing under him, you didn’t think there was a place better than this. He was giving you more pleasure than you had ever experienced in your entire life, pleasure you didn’t know was possible. In no time, his tongue began to dive in and out of your fold, making you reach down to grasp on his brown curls. When he moaned in reaction, the vibrations traveled through your body. 

“T-tom, p-please,” you whimpered. 

He wasn’t sure what exactly you were asking from him, but he hoisted your legs on top of his shoulders. When you pulled on his hair tighter, he got the hint he guessed correctly. Now from a different position, it made it easier to keep your jolting hips down on the ground, wrapping his arms around your legs and pressing down on your lower stomach. He couldn’t have you moving away from him. Now that he had a taste of you, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to stop. But when he felt you clenching around his tongue, he knew that you were close. Pulling away from you, keeping you from tipping over the edge, you gasped at the sudden movement, both angry and thankful he had stopped. 

“What was that for?” you asked, attempting to sit up on your elbows. 

The only response you received was his lips on yours, pushing you back down into the soft fabric below. You could feel his hard cock, rubbing through your wet folds as he ground against your lower half. 

“If you're gonna cum, you're gonna do it while I’m inside you,” he growled. 

He leaned over you again, supporting himself with one arm, hand next to your face, and using his other to help prod his tip at your entrance. It was like your heart was ready to jump out of your chest when you grabbed his wrist. 

“It’s gonna hurt, isn’t it?”

Giving you a sweet smile, he laid his forehead against yours. “Yeah, but I promise I’ll be gentle. We can take our time.”

He took a moment to breathe, but you were comforted when you felt his hand rub circles on the inside of your thigh. “Okay.”

At your readiness, he looked back down in between the two of you and began to push in. This pain hurt terribly and your tenseness made it worse. “Love, you have to relax. I promise, only as much as you can take.” 

He let himself brush a piece of your hair back that had fallen in front of your face in your squirming. With that distracting, he pushed in the rest of the way before staying still and letting you adjust. After a few moments, you let him know he could move, but the pain still wouldn’t go away. Every time he pulled out, as much as you hated to admit it, you were relieved at the feeling of being empty, but when he pushed back in, the hurt repeated all over again. Tom felt a tear slip from your eye and onto the hand that was still cupping your face. Too distracted by the feeling of you around him and your nails dragging down his back, he finally noticed the pain you were in. He knew that it was going to hurt for you, but he couldn’t help wanting to stop. He didn’t want to see you in as much pain as you were in. 

“Y/N/N, do you want me to stop?”

“N-no,” you said, voice cracking. “Just…C-can you rub my clit?”

“Yeah,” he said, pressing a short kiss to your lips. “Just promise me we’ll stop if it’s too much.”

You nodded as he began to move again, placing his thumb on your clit and making slow circle motions. When he felt you relax a little more, his thrusts sped up. As he built up a slow but steady pace, one hand remained fisted next to your head and the other, grabbed your leg to wrap it around himself. Subconsciously, the other followed, pushing him in closer. With time you could feel the burn dissipate, letting warmth fill its place. He finally kissed you again, longer this time, letting yourself get lost in the taste and feel of him. It was almost hungry, the way that he was clinging to you and you to him. This was finally happening. Although you would never admit it to him, you dreamed of having a better relationship with the boy. Arguing was growing tiring and you just wanted to be friends with him, if that was all he would offer. But you had never thought it would go this far. 

As Tom tucked his head into your neck, moaning close to every movement of his hips. You let yourself watch the sun setting, just peeking over the top of the waves in front of you. This was perfect. The moment couldn’t have occurred better. Just you and Tom under the night sky, just where you had started. 

It hadn’t taken long for you to get worked up again and Tom was still sensitive. Clinging to his shoulders and digging your heels into his lower back, you were chasing your high, trying to help him as much as you could. His thrusts were growing sporadic, telling you he was close, but that was the last thing on his mind. 

“Come on, Y/N/N, I know you’re close. Just let go….Let go.”

And you did. Nearly screaming into the night, you clenched down on his cock and you felt euphoric, your body shaking to the tips of your toes. Every nudge of his hips lengthened the feeling until you felt him stop, biting your shoulder slightly as he roughly pushed himself into you further. He groaned with every jolt, relaxing with each one. You both stayed in that position, sweaty bodies cuddled into one another for a few more seconds. 

You must’ve fallen asleep briefly because when you next opened your eyes, Tom was using his shirt to help clean you up. You were sore, no doubt, but he was sure to be soft, not wanting to cause more pain. When he was sure everything was taken care of, he tossed the shirt off to the side and laid next to you. Moving onto your sides, he encircled you in his arms, lying naked on the blanket. 

You let yourself lie with him, but you knew that it wouldn’t last. “Tom, we’ll need to move soon,” you said, rubbing your hands on his arms. 

“I know, let’s just lay here for a while longer. Stargaze for a little.”

You didn’t say anything, letting out a short hum of tiredness. You brought your eyes to the sky again, watching how each star seemed to pulsate and sparkle at a different time. They were beautiful in their own way. Tom started to pepper kisses on the side of your neck, sending shivers through your body. 

“That’s not stargazing, Tom.”

You could feel his breath as he laughed against your skin before returning to what he was doing. He trailed up behind your ear, whispering to you as you stared at the stars. “The moon may be bigger, but the stars shine brighter, Y/N. Just like you.”

#tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland smut #tom holland #tom holland x you #tom holland au

[oh-surprise-its-me]

Roy/Jamie prompt: Pirate AU. Jamie is being shipped to a loveless arranged marriage to Rupert or some other awful jerk. En route his ship is attacked by the dreaded pirate Captain Roy Kent and his crew. Roy's expecting a whiny, arrogant little rich kid to hold for ransom. Instead Jamie is fearless and doesn't give Roy an inch no matter what Roy threatens him with. At one point, Roy bluffs that he's whip Jamie proper, only for Jamie to tear his shirt off and reveal that his father's already left plenty of marks. Jamie eventually earns his place as part of Roy's crew, and more importantly, as husband to the dread Captain Kent himself.

If there’s something I love more then vampires it’s pirates. I absolutely can do this.

*Jamie’s mom is dead in this au because there’s no way she would ever let her baby be sold*

Jamie is furious. He’s worth so much more then just 500 gold pieces. At the very least 2000, he’s hot. He knows it.

He slams his fists on the locked door. It still doesn’t give. Jamie collapses back onto the cot they tossed at him. He figures he’ll catch a few more hours of sleep.

Jamie is just about to drift off when there’s screaming. He hears a new voice. A deep voice.

Jamie can hear it through the wood of the door so he must be close. “Unlock this now.”

The door swings open. Jamie stares up.

The man is gorgeous. The captain of their ship is standing behind him. A cruel laugh escapes the caption’s lips, “you’re in for it now Tartt.”

Jamie glares at him. The dark haired man gestures and he is dragged away. Jamie blinks. Oh. The man bends down to look at Jamie. He glances around the small room and sees all the clothing Rupert had sent.

“Pretty rich boy here should get us a nice ransom. Take him. I’m your new owner for the time being.” The man stands and gives a fake bow, “Roy Kent. At your service.”

Jamie shrieks. He’s heard stories. He knows who this is. He’ll not move unless he wants to thank you. Two men come toward him. They try to grab him but he bites them. He gets smacked by Roy. He’s been hit harder many times but it was unexpected. “Stop it boy. Be good. Let them carry you or I will.”

Jamie lightly struggles once again but let’s the two men carry him this time. As they leave the ship he looks at the bodies. Jamie can’t honestly say he feels bad for them, they all said horrid things they wanted to do to him. What Rupert would allow them to do.

He shudders without meaning to. The man on his right laughs, “cold princess?” Jamie slams his head into the man’s nose. Blood starts pouring out.

“Oi!” Jamie freezes. Fuck.

“Sink their ship then we need to teach princess here a lesson in manners.”

Jamie sighs. He looks at the man he head butted, his nose is probably broken. He feels a bit bad because the man was just following orders. But oh well.

They toss him into a cell. It’s going to be a long trip.

-

They’ve yell at him, dump cold water on him. Roy has threatened to take away his clothing. To shave his head. Jamie refuses to break.

He won’t do it.

He thinks the captain is slowing getting a bit of respect for Jamie.

Until that night.

It’s just the two of them again, Roy has a whip in his hand, he taps it against the bars. “I’ll make you talk with this. Final chance Tartt.”

Jamie laughs. He can’t help it.

He strips off his shirt and turns around. There’s an inhale of air. “You can’t do worse then what my old man did. Go ahead and try if you can find space.”

Theres utter silence from Roy.

Jamie spins around. He knows the front isn’t as bad but there’s still marks. Mostly from cigar burns.

“I’m sorry.”

Jamie thinks maybe he hit his head. “You’re what?”

Roy tosses the whip across the ship. “Sorry. I shouldn’t of made assumptions. They never get people places. Never got me anywhere.”

Jamie nods. He can understand that. Roy reaches forward and unlocks the cage. “Let’s talk. Come to my cabin. You can have clean clothes.”

Now Jamie knows it might be dumb but he’s exhausted, wet, and starving. He shrugs and picks up his shirt. He doesn’t care who sees his scars.

As they make their way up to the cabin they pass people, Colin, the man who’s nose Jamie broke, gasps when he sees his back.

It makes Jamie smile. He’s always loved shocking people.

Roy gestures for him to go into the cabin. It’s warmer. Jamie picks up a loaf of bread and bites into it.

Roy stares at him for a second before getting clothing. He passes it over. “It’ll be big it’s mine. We’ll try and find some in your size.” Jamie nods. Seems like the captain might like him. Interesting.

Jamie could start to like the captain.

10 months later it’s not just Roy who is feared, the blond who is now constantly seen at his side is always spoke of along with Roy’s name.

They say his name is Jamie Kent. He rescues people in trouble or from abusive marriages. They say he gutted his owner once Roy freed him. Those are just rumors though. The man who was supposed to marry Jamie actually went missing months before.

What no one really knows though is Rupert’s head made a lovely proposal gift. How could Jamie ever say no to that.

#ted lasso #jamie tartt #roy kent #jamie x roy #royjamie #jamie tartt x roy kent #pirate au #thanks for the ask !! #I hope you like it!

[cinnamonest]

I loved your student x teacher posts for Childe ❤️❤️ could you possibly write one for Ayato? Rich boi might be one of those private school honor students who gets anything he wants or maybe he’s home schooled with a personal tutor? thank you 🫶

omg he would be the biggest overachiever kid but also I am loving the idea of rich kid!Ayato, I love rich boys with an subtle arrogant flair and he's the perfect candidate

For reference, the past Teacher X Student posts can be found here:

Childe (Part One)

Childe (Part Two)

Xiao

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Working in a private school environment has its ups and downs. There's a lot of benefits, sure, but the thing is that those benefits can often be downsides in and of themselves.

For example, the most elite of private schools tend to bring a lot of very strict parents, and thereby kids who have been raised with high expectations and rigid enforcement of behavior. Consequently, they're usually very well behaved, making life easier in that regard for faculty.

On the other hand, such kids also have a tendency to be perhaps a bit too prideful with themselves, see themselves as above certain rules or having to listen to authorities, are showoffs, or simply suck up to the teachers a bit too much (and yes, even as the teacher yourself, those types still can be a little irritating). These kids come in surplus, higher amounts than you would find in "normal" schools, and thus, this presents both a higher amount of both the positives and negatives that come with that.

Not that you're really complaining or anything. For the most part, they're all very pleasant students to teach. You get plenty of wonderful students that are a delight to have, even if some have their moments every now and then. The few truly not-so-great ones are the minority, and even then, the fulfillment you get from enriching lives and all that makes it worth whatever inconveniences you have.

There's also another element that can be even more of a challenge to deal with than the students themselves: the parents. In this environment, it's a well-known, terribly-kept secret that administration chooses which students are to be taken into higher degrees of consideration, given more leeway and assistance, and so on, based on their parents' donation history to the school. There seems to be a trend in which those students from the absolute wealthiest of families always seem to get the highest degree of special treatment and favoritism in several areas of the student experience.

Not that those kids are necessarily bad themselves, no, plenty of them are still great students. And some of the elite families have very pleasant parents and children alike, very wonderful families all-around.

You're actually familiar with two students exactly like that -- a pair, actually, siblings. Parents are involved in politics or something like that.

Their daughter is more or less the ideal student, successful in everything she does, and notably, has inherited the social prowess befitting someone of her status. Their son, likewise, is a high achiever, but focused particularly on academic and scholastic achievements rather than social status.

You've seen Ayato's records on file a few times before. The type that excels in everything. Every academic subject. Whereas some kids might say they're more of a "math and sciences" person while some say they're more of a "fine arts person" and others still a "humanities person," he is all of them. No one area is better or worse than the other beyond maybe a single point or two in his grade average, which are all borderline flawless, very close to if not right at a perfect score.

To your knowledge, he's involved in some sport or another, and excels in that too. A few extracurricular activities, too. He takes part in each one of those scholarly national and regional competitions they have for maths and essays and the like, and has come back with some sort of recognized finalist award each and every time. He's in the nation's respective honors student chapter at your institution. He's on the student council, too. You heard another teacher say that with his current standing, he's more or less guaranteed to be his class's valedictorian.

And you... well, actually, you feel a little pity for him when you think about it. Sure, you're certain he enjoys a lot of those things, but you also can't help but think that some of that probably isn't really his own choosing, but rather expectations that have been set for him that he has been conditioned into meeting at all costs. You see it a lot with the students at these types of schools.

You're certain it does have its costs. The one thing you haven't seen him doing a whole lot of is talking to other students. He eats lunch in the classroom while he works, since he takes so many of those special, higher-level classes. He seems to always be working on something school-related, even during otherwise free time where others are socializing.

Not that he isn't well-liked or socially apt, because he certainly is -- capable of winning over anyone, charismatic and persuasive. He just doesn't seem to have enough time to really socialize too much. He's the sort of student who is popular with everyone and well-liked by everyone, but has never had the time to form any particularly close relationships. Everyone is an acquaintance, he's on everyone's good side, but no one is truly close to him.

You're somewhat surprised he comes to talk to you, one day at complete random, walking into your room with a soft smile and a hand held up in a greeting gesture. Surely he doesn't need any help. He's always done very well in your class without needing anything.

And you're right. As it turns out, he wanted to ask you to write recommendation letters for him to turn in for various universities. You're unsurprised when, after you ask as casually as you can, he gives the names of some of the institutions he's considering: all incredibly prestigious, renowned, and notoriously low-acceptance ones, the sorts of places most kids don't apply to simply because they know they stand no chance. But for him, of course, it doesn't really surprise you, and you honestly doubt he'll have much trouble. If there's anyone set to land themselves a spot there, it would be him.

Still, it puts quite a bit of pressure on you to write the best letter you can.

You do wonder to yourself why you were his choice of teacher to go to. Sure, you like him plenty, but who doesn't? All the teachers are fond of him. You've never really had any one-on-one conversations or anything. Perhaps he's looking to study a field related to your subject. There's also plenty of that happening in these elite environments -- many kids with business or politically involved parents are already set to inherit said business or enter directly under their parents' career, and will be accepted into a high position as soon as they are ready. Some actually study for the field, but a lot of them simply go to a university for the "college experience," and simply study something they find interesting, even if it's completely unrelated to their future career. Still, you'd imagine someone like him to intend to study in a way that's dedicated to his career... well, whatever, it's not something worth pondering over too much.

So you go through with it. Normally, writing these letters doesn't take very long, honestly you just kind of write one very generalized letter, then replace the name and a few descriptors here and there for each student you write one for. For him in particular, though, you make sure to add a lot of attention-catching words that you know admissions people like to see, fluff it up to make him sound like the best student to ever walk the face of the earth and all that, then send it off to the front office to be organized and sent out.

He drops by again to thank you for it, after school a few days later. Common courtesy, nothing out of the ordinary, a lot of students do that sort of thing where they always come to thank you in-person, especially here where they're all raised under a strict concept of manners and customary practices. He shows up at your door, pleasant in expression and voice, I just wanted to stop by and thank you for... and so on. The usual. You smile and nod, and likewise give the standard response -- oh, you're so sweet, I'm happy to help... A set-in-stone sort of dialogue, as if the lines are predetermined by the social norms.

And then he adds something else.

I'm incredibly grateful. If you'll allow it, I'd like to repay you. Are you busy this coming weekend?

That part catches you off-guard, though. You sit still for a moment, blinking, hands still resting on your keyboard.

...Huh? Well, no, I don't... have anything...?

He doesn't seemed to be fazed by your clear bewilderment. He keeps that same soft smile, says that's perfect. He was a bit worried you'd end up being busy... making reservations before asking probably wasn't the best idea, but he just got ahead of himself, you know? Anyway, your address is already on the school's directory, so no need to give it to him. Just be ready by eleven-thirty in the morning or so. We'll just come to your door.

You're still rather puzzled, he's moving so fast into whatever he's referring to, but you gather the jist, that he wants to take you somewhere, which, of course, strikes you as rather odd and somewhat inappropriate.

But before you can try to find the words to voice that thought, he adds that his sister also wanted to come, she likes you plenty too and all. The two of them just wanted to show their appreciation.

Anyway, dress formal, but not too formal, you know? Somewhere in the middle. Will that work for you?

I... well, I... I guess I...

Great. Everything works out well, then. See you then. He nods, turns and gestures a goodbye, makes his way out the door while you're still blinking and sputtering and trying to process the interaction that just happened, not even close to being able to formulate a response.

...

Well. That was... a bit strange. It's a bit burdensome, really, you'd be much happier just spending your day at home at rest, you don't need to be shown appreciation in this way. And isn't it a bit odd to do something like this, considering your relationship to each other? It just seems like such an unusual proposal under the circumstances that you don't really know what to think of the matter.

Still, he means well. And besides, his sister being there makes a huge difference in terms of appropriateness. If she wasn't, well, maybe then you'd have to have a brief discussion about how it's probably not very acceptable, but since she'll be there, it's alright, you suppose.

It's probably just yet another one of those things where these wealthy young students go above and beyond on everything they do. You once had a student give you a rather pricey gift card as thanks for tutoring, and there was that other one that went on a trip abroad and brought back fancy souvenirs for every teacher, even. To these kids, expensive or time-consuming gestures have far less significance than they would to a normal person. So sure, it's odd, but you can rationalize how he would think it was something that he was supposed to do. Still, you have no idea where you're even going, and, well, you don't know him well enough that having an extended one-on-one conversation will be anything short of horribly awkward and uncomfortable.

You don't see him again for the remainder of the week, except in-class, where he doesn't stop to talk or anything, merely comes and leaves with the bell as everyone else does. You almost forget, until you get the reminder from your phone on Friday night, and begrudgingly go to find something you can wear. You're still rather bewildered by the whole thing.

But no matter how bad you thought it could be, that could never compare to how bad the awkwardness actually is, the day of. It's so, so, so unbearably awkward, coming out to meet this boy you really don't know that well, forcing yourself to return the smile and wave he gives you as you walk up to him as you talk, oh, you're so nice to be doing this...

...And then, you turn your head to look from side to side and...

...Didn't you say Ayaka was coming?

Oh, her? Well, it turns out she had something come up. She hates to miss this, but turns out she had a previous commitment that she forgot about. Such a busy girl, she's always doing something, haha. Anyway.

He just sort of immediately moves on, switching the conversation to the present moment -- it's a really nice place you're going to, his parents go there quite often, you'll like it for sure... he just sort of goes off on that, leaving you no opportunity to speak, sort of quietly shifting you over to the car... which does have someone else in it...?

Oh, yes, that's the family's driver. Don't mind him, his job is to just drive without saying anything.

Anyway.

He's fond of that word. Conversational navigation is a skill he's become rather good at over the years, largely out of necessity, considering his prospective future. When someone is starting down a path of conversation that they probably shouldn't, all one has to do is distract them, change the subject, engage them with another matter and steer them away from matters that will only go down an unwanted path of dialogue.

Yes, anyway, what a quaint little area you live in. Although these buildings are dreadfully close to each other... and there's no gates around the whole area... how unsafe. He thought that a private institution would pay teachers a little better than that. Maybe you're just frugal.

He keeps talking. You wouldn't deny he has a certain charm about him, he's an easygoing person to talk to, even if it is still quite awkward. He mostly focuses on questions about you and your work. You in turn ask him a few questions -- has he heard back from any universities yet, does he have any idea of what he wants to study, so on and so on... for someone who you've always perceived as quite the perfectionist, it turns out he's actually quite indecisive in that regard. Says he doesn't know yet, doesn't really have a place or a major in mind. Plenty of time to think on that.

You want to get this over with, nonetheless. It only gets worse when you arrive at your destination -- one of those places you would never even think about going to yourself, where everything in the building looks like it costs a fortune, down to the tablecloths and curtains. It makes you uncomfortable. And oh, oh no, the menu doesn't even have prices listed next to the options, one of those places. You're tense.

You almost feel kind of guilty, even. All you did was write a copy-paste sort of letter. Was that really worth this...?

In contrast to your unease, he's very calm and relaxed. You're pretty sure there's no way he doesn't notice how tense and uneasy you are, but he doesn't say anything about it, just keeps talking. He knows the owner of this place, actually. You see, he and his father met a decade ago in the such-and-such region (a word you could never hope to pronounce) of such-and-such country (one you've only heard of a few times in your life) at a resort his father was at on a work-related trip and... are you alright?

He finally seems to acknowledge your tension. You give a wavering, forced smile. I'm just not used to something so nice, haha...

He just chuckles. Don't worry about it. I wanted to do something nice for you, after all.

The words themselves are perfectly innocent, kind even, but there's something in his tone of voice, the way he says it, that makes you hold back a shudder. It's just so, so unbearably uncomfortable. You force another smile.

You get the cheapest-sounding thing you can think of, but of course he notices that -- really, don't worry about it, get whatever you want -- and after a bit more pressuring (almost like he wants you to get something expensive or something), you go a step up and get something that sounds like middle-ground. You're just grateful he can't have them bring out expensive wine or something, since he's not quite old enough for your region.

He talks like someone far beyond his years, in the sense that he's like one of those (usually, they'd be middle-aged, not a high schooler) men that seem to know everything about everything, are well-versed in knowledge of this or that place and the quality and make or origin place of everything in the room. You just try to listen, let him do the talking, hope it'll be over soon. You hope no one you know sees this, that you don't get spotted in some horrible coincidence that someone else happened to be here at the same time... people might think this was something... weird.

You keep up the same casual conversing as you leave, as you get back in the car (was that poor guy just waiting in the parking lot this entire time? He hasn't moved from the space he let you out in...), about this or that. Little things about the school, classes, the future. All the way back, until you see your place in sight, a quite welcome relief.

...But you feel like you need to say... something, before you leave. There's a lingering thought in the back of your mind.

As per norms, the conversation begins to close as the car slows. That sort of conclusive tone, well, it's been wonderful, that sort of thing. You get out, he gets out, walks you to your door, saying something about how he's sure you have a lot to do before Monday, so he'll leave you to it, thanks you for your time, hopes you enjoyed yourself, all the usual... But you voice your concern, slightly cutting him off, feeling it necessary.

Hey, ah, by the way... um...

He pauses. Tilts his head, raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to speak. You swallow.

Ah, don't take this the wrong way, but... don't mention this to anyone, alright? I just... I wouldn't want people to get the wrong idea.

He doesn't get offended, nor does he seem amused or anything. He just smiles and nods. Of course. No worries.

You're glad he understands. You bid him goodbye, say you'll see him next week, go inside and practically collapse on your bed. Ugh. The whole ordeal was exhausting.

It feels sort of relieving, but odd at the same time that he just sort of... leaves it at that. Doesn't mention it again aside from once, a very basic 'it was great seeing you' the next Monday, and then just sort of... returns to normal, for the rest of the week. Doesn't say a thing. Though, you do find yourself making eye contact with him more in class, he always seems to be looking directly at you. He always gives you one of those warm, closed-eye smiles when you gazes meet.

It's not until the following Thursday that something happens that's a bit... off-putting.

School let out for the day twenty minutes ago, most of the kids have left, and you also intend to leave as soon as you print a few things off. You make your way to the printer they have towards the front office, get what you need, head back to your room.

As you approach your door, you catch a familiar face coming down the hall. She raises a hand up as she sees you. Hello, Ms ____. Gives you a warm smile.

You haven't really spent that much time around Ayaka, you only ever had her in one class, but she's much like her brother in the fact that she's generally well-liked by everyone, on account of having a very pleasant, kind nature.

You smile back, unable to really wave since your hands are full. Oh, you're still here?

She says yes, that she merely forgot something and went back to go get it before leaving. A casual exchange like any other. But you figure it would be odd if you didn't mention the other day, you should probably acknowledge it, for the sake of social norms if nothing else.

Oh, and by the way, sorry you couldn't be there the other day. It's fine, I know you had other stuff going on. Tell your brother thanks again for me!

She's silent for a moment. She blinks, still smiling, but she tilts her head.

Hm? Sorry, what do you...?

A moment ticks by. A second. A third.

You shake your head, giving an awkward chuckle. Oh, nothing, sorry, I got something mixed up for a second there... A-anyway, ah, well, you have a great day, okay?

Oh, okay, ah, you too...

You walk off before she can say any more.

....

You don't like the feeling the interaction gives you. You can't get any work done, the rest of the afternoon. Your mind is far too distracted, sorting out all of your thoughts.

He wouldn't outright lie to you, would he? And if so, why?

...Well, you can think of one reason. You're not stupid. But he doesn't seem like the type of kid to be... like that. And besides, there was a valid reason to do something nice, it wasn't as if it was out of the blue. It would be horribly embarrassing, and you'd feel quite guilty, if you accused him of something that wasn't his intention regarding the whole thing. You decide not to say anything at the moment.

And neither does he. She must not have said anything to him, as he doesn't mention anything about his sister, merely greeting you as normal the next day.

Nor does he seem overly attached. You do start to notice that he lingers, after the class is over, will stop by for just a few moments to speak with you just for a moment, a very basic how's your day going sort of thing, before leaving in time to get to his next class. It's a bit odd, but it's not overstepping any boundaries or anything that would be unacceptable. You've formed close, pleasant relationships with students before, those students who just seemed to like you, in a purely normal way. They just particularly like you, and it's nothing more than that. There's no reason to think any differently of him.

He's not trailing you all the time, not smothering you, he's not overbearing. The only other thing you notice is that he often catches you on the way out when you leave for the day. Naturally, he's involved in so many extracurricular activities, that he doesn't leave school at the same time as everyone else, often staying behind for various reasons -- he's the president of some club or another, he's in the student council, so on and so on. Often times, as you're leaving for the day, you hear him call out to you, smiling and making his way over. Says he was just about to leave too. What good timing. He walks you to your car, but he never gets pushy, always bidding you farewell without any trouble or clinginess.

See, if he were acting only on impulse, he certainly would, but he's a very self-controlled, calculated person. He knows not to go overboard, to ensure he doesn't smother you. That would only irritate you, and he can't have that.

And even if he doesn't show it outwardly, he's very, acutely aware of the signals you give off, the subtle messages of the things you say and do. He could tell how uncomfortable you were that day, how awkward you seem to talk to him. But at the same time, it's the kind of discomfort caused not by you disliking him or anything, it's more situational, he can tell that much. Likewise, he can tell it's getting better, you're much more comfortable around him now, whenever he speaks to you.

Although sometimes, he prefers to just watch you from a distance. You're so cute. He's memorized the time of day you eat lunch -- most unfortunately, you were assigned a different lunch period than his classes -- and often he can see you out the window, always eating at the same spot. He enjoys just watching you go about your day, doing all your little tasks and the like.

You do feel odd, as if being watched, sometimes, but a quick glance around shows nothing, so you assume you're just overthinking things, being paranoid. You've been trying to ignore it.

And things just sort of stay like that. There's no gradual increase in the intensity or frequency of his interactions with you. He doesn't get too close, neither physically nor in the social sense. He's always polite, never pushy, always seems to exit conversations just when it's about to cross over the line of being normal for a student who is just very fond of one particular teacher.

He does get you gifts. His family went on a trip for a week, he brings you back some sort of fancy champagne and chocolate made in that country from the trip. But to be fair, Ayaka also brought a little trinket back for every teacher, she's done so more than once in the past in fact, so you figure it's just normal for them... you tell yourself so again when he gets you one of those super expensive watches, around the winter break. How generous. Still, it's no big deal (and you're not sure if you even have much use for it anyway...).

The only other thing you can't shake is the feeling of staring, how you can feel his eyes on you as you stand at the front of the classroom. That odd feeling you get sometimes when he's not around. The way his eyes fixate on you when you're talking with each other. It's all so... odd.

But he never escalates, never does anything inappropriate. So, you don't see any reason to confront him or try to stop him.

Sure, maybe he does have a teacher crush. That seems obvious to you, as time goes on. He does let something slip every now and then. Things that aren't necessarily inappropriate, per se, but the occasional compliment that is obviously not normal for a student to say, things like telling you you look nice that day, that you have such a pleasant voice, that you're just so enjoyable to talk to, with such a sincerity in his voice it goes beyond a casual, normal interaction between two people of your sort of relationship. But even so, if he does, he's self-controlled about it, never goes too far, never does anything warranting having to say something to him about it.

In truth, he realizes that it would never work, that it's not a realistic fantasy, that it's unwise to even consider actually pursuing it. Thus, he's resolved to just enjoy the time with you that he has. He knows better than to let it go too far, to get carried away, and thus never takes things any further. You think that's a very mature way to handle it, if that is in fact the case.

And thus, you just... say nothing. You imagine he knows you know. You're polite and pleasant to him, neither encouraging anything more nor discouraging him in any way. You think it's a good balance.

The months pass. It always teeters on the edge, coming just barely short of the line where, if crossed, you'd feel something needed to be said, but it never is crossed.

About three-fourths of the year passes in total. For those in their final year, as he is, a lot of them are getting anxious, excited, lots of feelings all at once, as they draw nearer to closure on their current "chapter of life", as some call it. Still, they have a while longer to go, but nonetheless a lot are already thinking about the future.

You were anticipating NOT having to handle the year-end events. They rotate which teacher gets assigned to it each year. Some gathering they host at an off-campus venue that goes on all night, a teacher is assigned to essentially stay a while just in case something bad happens needing an ambulance to be called or the like (the requirement for a teacher to be there for a while was implemented after there was such an incident when a kid fell off the side of a staircase a few years back), but the general practice is that said teacher leaves after a while and the kids are left unsupervised... probably for the best, or else said teachers would probably be under legal obligation to report the sheer amount of underage drinking, among other questionable substances being passed around. Besides, it's off-campus and not official, so they don't have to have someone there the whole time.

And you, well, you did it last year. It's a high-energy social event, it's always loud and annoying and you end up leaving with a massive headache, so you were hoping to be spared this year.

He asks you out of the blue one day. You were expecting that maybe, towards the end of the year, he'd try to come spend time with you in some way or another, but you were not anticipating him to ask you to meet outside of school once again... especially not for this.

He comes into your room after classes have ended for the day. Comes straight to you, rather quickly rushing over, visibly excited -- it's endearing, really, whenever he gets excited like that. He's normally essentially forced into an unusual degree of maturity and seriousness, it's cute that even he can have moments where that very energetic, typical teenage-boy type of excitement shines through even still. He smiles and says that he has something to ask you. You’re aware of the event, right?

You say yes, of course, you’ve been to some in the past before… why?

Well...

He smiles. It just so happens that he and his sister volunteered to host the venue, since they have a suitably sized estate and all. His parents agreed to it.

Would you happen to be willing to volunteer as the designated chaperone? It would really make her quite happy.

It's almost like that day, months ago now, that he asked you to go out to eat as thanks; you sort of stare and blink, caught a bit off-guard by it. You try to formulate a response.

Oh, well, ah...

She'd love for you to be there, he adds. Oh, and of course, he would want you there too. But you know, forget him, he wouldn't want to be demanding or anything, he just knows how much she really likes you, and she wanted you to come, so...

It's a bit odd. You really don't know her all that well, you've never really spoken to the girl very much. And considering last time... well, you're not sure what happened there, maybe it was all a mutual misunderstanding. You can give him the benefit of the doubt. You'll be aware and cautious about it, so it's not like you're naively walking into it unaware.

You agree to it. Lots of people will be there, so it's not like he's got you one-on-one, and hey, maybe they'll spare you for several more years after this.

You insist, in the coming days, that you really don't need to be picked up by a driver, you can get there yourself... eventually, he relents and gives up trying to get you to agree to be picked up again. You're not really dreading it, per se, but you're not exactly looking forward to it either. It's a matter of the fact that you'd really enjoy just staying home... but, these two have been good kids over the years, so at least you can feel good knowing you're doing something for them.

You still have to more or less force yourself to get out of bed that day, make your way over there... you were given the passcode to get past the gate. There's a lot more people than you expected... did they bring the entire high school...? It's also very unpleasantly loud. Really loud, the kind of loud where you can physically feel the music vibrate against your chest, can't hear yourself think over how loudly they're talking and yelling as they move around. Sigh. Kids these days.

You don't have to go looking for Ayato. He's already striding up to your the moment you walk up, asks if you had any trouble getting in, more or less immediately starts talking about... well, you're not certain. You can barely hear a word he's saying, both the music and the kids themselves are so loud. And most of them fairly intoxicated too, you're pretty sure he's the only one that isn't... you suppose you'll just have to turn a blind eye and pretend you didn't witness that part, or any of the filled coolers laying around.

He notices your discomfort more or less immediately. Ah, too loud for you? There's a quieter room inside, if you would prefer to go in.

You nod. If it's not too much trouble.

Hm?

I said, if it's not too much... You end up trailing off, shaking your head and not bothering to even try to speak over the noise, just gesturing and letting him take you in. At least the house is a ways away from all their neighbors, the people here all have a lot of land surrounding each house.

It's immediately quieter inside. You're led into a foyer area, then into a hallway... all very empty and quiet. You pass by various rooms, each of which have some purpose or another, additional rooms for various purposes the average house would not include. You reach a staircase headed down. He doesn't say much. You follow behind. You realize you didn't actually run into Ayaka at all... you suppose you'll have to talk to her later.

You end up in a... room. Not a bedroom or a living room or any sort of standard, definable room that the average person has in their home, but rather, some sort of extra lounge room in the basement. It's not the sort of average damp, cold, grey sort of basement, no, they have the whole thing furnished, there's a huge TV, a fridge, carpet, and so on... and it's completely devoid of people. Empty. When he said there was a quieter place inside, you were still assuming that meant that there would be other people, not an empty room... at least it is quiet. You can still sort of hear the noise outside, but it's all muffled.

He doesn’t seem bothered by it. So loud out there, it's much better in here right? Nice and quiet. Do you want something to drink? Hang on, there’s bottled water over there in the fridge, he’ll get you one. He’s moving and talking rather fast, you can barely get a word in – you can’t help but wonder if it’s intentional, to prevent you from saying anything, and if likewise he’s moving around so much to prevent you from speaking to you directly.

Go ahead, sit down wherever you like…

…You know it’s too much. You shouldn’t be doing this, allowing it. But it’s peaceful in here, whereas out there… and you only have to stay here a short while, right? That’s how it always goes, the teachers are just there arbitrarily to ensure it doesn’t seem completely without supervision, no one actually needs you to be out there. He probably just wants to talk to you some more.

You sit, but very tensely, body rigid and ready to stand back up at any moment. It would also, of course, be rather bad if anyone walked in here. You wouldn’t get in too much trouble just by being in the same room alone, but it wouldn’t look good, for sure.

But you also can’t just tell him you want to leave. Not when he comes over smiling as he does, extending his hand to give you your water, that soft, endearing expression.

He’s not doing anything wrong. You would feel awful if you hurt his feelings in some way.

You can just stay a while. Yes, that will work. Just stay another hour or so, entertain conversation with him, excuse yourself and say you have to head home. You can even get up every few ten minutes or so to go check on the crowd of kids, right? Better in here than out there. You trust him not to actually do anything bad.

So you sit there. Stiff and uncomfortable. You’re on a sort of sofa, with you pressed right up against the arm of it, trying not to make it too obvious you’re leaning away, and with him sitting more towards the middle. You try to break the tension. So, have you decided on what you’re doing after graduation yet…?

It’s a good transitional question, it helps get a conversation going. Ah, yes, he’s planning to go to this institution… it wasn’t his first choice on its own, but he decided he wanted to stay somewhat close to home, you know? Still undecided on a field of study, but he has a few things he’s been considering…

You talk for a few more minutes. It goes back and forth, back and forth. He finishes answering one question, but before you can ask another, he asks you one of his own.

What about you?

You tilt your head, give a soft hm?

Oh, he just meant… what are your plans for the future? Didn’t know if you intended to stay here or not, is all.

You shrug. You haven’t really thought about anything other than staying right where you are, really, and unless circumstances pull you elsewhere, you were more or less intending to stay at this school until retirement.

I see.

There’s something off about the tone of his voice. As if that answer was somehow incorrect, as if he has thoughts on it. His expression is rather flat and neutral. You pause. You ask him if something is wrong.

And just like that, he returns to that soft, more pleasant sort of resting smiling expression. Ah, well, no, it’s just, I can’t help but think you must be under a great deal of stress here, you know?

You give a sheepish laugh. Well, it certainly is often sometimes stressful, but you like what you do.

There's a pause.

Do you have any other passions and hobbies, outside of work? I was just thinking, you probably don't get a great deal of time to work on them.

To be fair, he's right about that part. You sigh, say yes you do, you list off some of the things you enjoy doing. Haven't had any time to work on them recently though, you add, just too busy. But it's alright, you'll get around to it eventua--

Have you ever considered early retirement?

The question seems to pop up out of nowhere. You raise your eyebrows. Huh?

He doesn't seem deterred by your confusion. In fact, he seems like he really wants to bring up the matter, almost as if he's been waiting to do so. Leans forward, elbows on his thighs, interlacing his fingers.

It would be ideal if you had the financial support, right? Perhaps you should consider it. You're so very busy, it must be incredibly stressful, it's really not good for you. It leaves you with no time to go out and do things for yourself, no time to meet anyone. If you were able to quiet your job, think about all the things you could do! Surely you have hobbies and passions you'd rather be pursuing, yes? And you probably want a family, no? You'd need to have far more free time for that. Besides, you're really at the age where you should be thinking of settling down and marrying and having children, don't you think?

...He seems to catch himself. His mouth opens again, like he had more to say, but he stops short, goes quiet. Ah... well, never mind that. Uh...

You can see a sheepish unease on his face. He realizes he stepped over that boundary, the line he's been so perfectly teetering on the edge of all these months. For just a moment, it breaks his composure, you see a slight sense of panic in the way his eyebrows furrow, the way he leans back just ever so slightly.

And you, well, it catches you off-guard, almost shocked at the boldness of such a thing to say. Struggling to think of the right words, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

That's not appropriate.

Maybe you could have worded it differently, but the audacity of saying something so out of line does take you by surprise.

He doesn't react poorly, though. As quickly as his composure broke, so he regains it in the same few seconds.

Ah... my bad. Apologies.

But he pauses. There's a hesitation in his body language, the way his lips part like he's going to speak. Like he knows he shouldn't keep going, but has to, a sort question refrained from asking for so long that the urge is unbearable.

..Just... out of curiosity... would you not want that opportunity if it were extended to you? Because... It's just that...

You stand up. An abrupt motion, it causes him to go silent.

You take a deep breath in, sigh. You shake your head, hold a hand up to your head, rub at your temples.

This has gone too far.

You don't explicitly say out loud what you mean by "this". You don't have to. There's a mutual understanding. You both keep pretending to not know, keep ignoring it and refusing to acknowledge it, but you know it comes as no surprise to him either that you're aware.

There's a silence that follows. He doesn't seem angry or distraught. His eyes go wide for a moment, he looks startled by the suddenness, but his expression goes cold, neutral, eyes slightly narrowing, face otherwise expressionless. But he doesn't say anything.

It's my fault, you add. I allowed this to go on too long.

And you do mean it -- you think back now, you feel guilty. You should have nipped it in the bud sooner. And finally, you finish --

I'm sorry. Really. You're a good kid, you really are. I just... this isn't right of me to be down here. I should go.

You grab the bag you brought with you. You take a step back. The silence is so horribly uncomfortable.

His eyes close. There's an obvious disappointment on his features. He takes a deep breath in and out, but nods.

...I understand. Do you need any help getting to your...?

No, I'm fine. You start to turn away. Thank you, really. I'm... grateful for everything. I just... sorry. This is just how things have to be.

And you leave. You turn, you walk as fast as you can without breaking out into a jog, footsteps rapidly clacking against the hard floors.

You make a beeline back out, ignoring the volume, keeping your head down. Don't stop to talk to anyone -- most of the kids themselves are too intoxicated to notice your presence anyway. You make a straight path for home. You realize you never did get to go see his sister... but you get the sense she probably didn't even know you were there in the first place, much less was the one that wanted you there.

You feel ridiculous for shedding tears over the matter, but you can't help it, as you lie there in bed after getting home. You don't bother to eat or shower, merely crawling under your covers as you feel your eyes water. It's all so uncomfortable and unfortunate, and frankly, you feel horribly guilty. You had opportunities to stop it, you probably should have. Now you probably hurt the poor thing. And how are you going to handle seeing him again from now on? It's all so much, it's overwhelming... you wipe your eyes, trying to blink the accumulated water away before it actually starts to run down your face. You resolve to try and rest now... you can handle everything when the morning comes. You can't take anymore tonight.

...

...Well, that certainly did not go over well.

He normally doesn't like to be particularly dramatic, but it would be a lie to say he didn't more or less feel like he's been stabbed in the chest. Ugh. He ends up slouching back, laying down and staring at the ceiling... now that racket from outside is starting to sound even more annoying.

He wasn't expecting much, granted. Knowing it was unrealistic, he tried to push away indulgent fantasies where it went perfectly, like some sort of cheesy pornography plot... although maybe he should have gone with the original plan to give you alcohol, that would have worked better... he wasn't dumb enough to take you to a bedroom, but still, this couch is very wide, it would have worked just fine... ugh. No, no, this is the exact type of unrealistic fantasy he was referring to. Never mind that.

He really, really, really didn't want to have to do this. To do something that hurts you. But you're being so difficult. He's been so nice to you, and he's been so careful to hold himself back, to not be overbearing. And yet, this is what he gets in return for all that time and effort spent. Did you not even comprehend what you're being offered?

No, of course you didn't, now that he thinks about it. You were so caught up in recognizing and reacting to any acknowledgement of whatever... thing you have between you is, that you didn't actually stop and think about what he was actually saying. Maybe you will, now. You'll go home, think back over his words, understand exactly what you're turning down. There's no way you would actually reject it, if you're in your right mind and in a steady, stable emotional state. Maybe you'll come back tomorrow and apologize. Surely you won't wait until Monday to speak to him again.

He can forgive that. Yes, even though you were incredibly hurtful, he understands you're just concerned about your perception of social norms and doing the right thing and all. 'This is just how things have to be.' That was what you said. Yes, so you do want it, even if you don't realize it, you're just allowing yourself to be held back by all these... unnecessary outside forces, getting into your mind. He understands how that happens. It's forgivable.

He'll give you one day, then. Rather than acting on the backup plan now. You have twenty-four hours before he actually starts going down that path.

If not, though, well... he can't afford to have this take too long. He's already considered, too, the possibility that you may try to get him in some sort of trouble, too, and he can't have that... so he has to be proactive, and take care of you before you can get him in trouble.

He's already told his parents it may be necessary for them to speak with the school, that he was having some issues with a particular teacher... if he says nothing, they'll just forget about it, but if he brings it up again, adds in some... fabrications, well, they'll surely want a word with administration on his behalf.

In fact, maybe he wouldn't even have to come up with something to accuse you of. Pretty sure his parents donate more money to the school annually than your salary, even. They can afford to lose you easily, might not even take convincing. Blacklist you from the entire region of institutions. And what will you do then? Come crawling back and apologizing? That would be quite nice, actually... but he's not so cruel as to wish that on you.

Regardless, he's sure you're going to come around, once you're convinced to reconsider. Maybe an opportunity isn't quite enough. What you need is a little push.

#.ay #lena's asks

[herharmonyenemy]

ACOTAR Headcanons

Rhys: 

Has had a skincare routine since he was a teenager. His mother taught him. 

And hair care (gels n everything)

Has like 15 university diplomas. 

Waxes. 

Has the highest bodycount. Everyone wanted to sleep with the crown prince (then highlord), and being as arrogant as he was, knew he had the females (and males) head over heels for him.

Plays piano because he’s a rich spoiled old money kid

To this day he sometimes blurts out some unchecked spoiled comment without realizing it. Cassian punches him as part of the deal. Once the archerons caught on, they also take turns. 

He once got a face piercing (nose/lips) just to spite his father. He got punished but kept it until he became highlord. 

Did a lot of things to spite his father actually. Including but not limited to: growing his hair out, dying his hair, getting a diploma in something not very legacy/bloodline like (sports medicine?), painted his nails (black ofc), got drunk in poor people bars like Nesta (when she learns about this…), and started wearing his shirts open to show his chest (which stuck until present day). 

Does in fact read smut. The best way for him to learn is by reading, so teenage rhys decided to read about sex to be better. It worked, but he got an interest in smut and still reads from time to time. Nesta never lets him live it down for the rest of their lives. 

Is the kind of person to correct your spelling and grammar. However, someone once did it to feyre and he responded that as the person to teach her to read, he is the one to correct her. 

Gift giving is his love language. 

Would watch game of thrones in modern and criticize every move. 

Doesn’t know how to do any chores. Feyre forces him to learn 

Doesn’t like animals only because he formed a bond with a dog when he was younger and when something happened (died/ran away) he cried and his dad told him to man up and it’s only a dog 

Out of all the highlords, he’s the worst at controlling his beast once it’s out but he’s the best at keeping it in 

Knows other languages (as hofas proved)

Is actually religious. 

Is a clean freak. Doesn’t even sit on the bed with his everyday work clothes unless sheet are already going to be changed. 

Had a stuffed animals that he brought to the Illyrian camps when he was 8. Cas learned and threw it off a cliff. Cas gave another stuffie for rhys’s 18 birthday, which was put on a shelf for the next 5 centuries. Nyx now plays with it. 

Picky about food. Feyre jokes that it’s a red flag. Once Rhys learn human slang and what a red flag is, he fixes it. Although Feyre laughs when he makes a face at the brussels sprouts.

Gets his fashion sense from his father, who also likes high quality pieces. 

Also gets his eyes from his father. 

Has toxic dating history that az and cas disapprove and hate 

He was like Simon from Bridgerton as a child: He learned to speak very late, which is why his father was borderline abusive and didn’t pay attention to him. He didn’t learn to speak until right before he went to the camps. Only amren knows, but rhys told feyre after nyx was born. 

Actually the nerd of the group but he hides it 

Wins the prize for best mouth action

Insecure about his ears since he grew up around Illyrians 

The first to learn how to tie shoes, so he was the designated shoe tie-er. Many jokes were made about the crown prince on his knees, mainly through Cas.

Az:

least body count - but he could actually hold a relationship for longer then one night.

As we already know, the kindest bat boy

Trims. 

Also got piercings with rhys so he wouldn’t be alone. 

Writes in all caps 

Doodles when he’s doing something on autopilot 

Knows hand placement 

Drinks way too much coffee

Had the most pimples as a teenager. 

He was the most romantic out of the three. While cas and rhys were going through their “never getting married, forever the bachelor life” phase, az was still after romance. 

Loves bread 

Loves loves loves traveling 

Is good at gymnastics 

Very good at winged eyeliner. When it’s eyeliner time, everyone goes to either az or feyre

Wins the price for best downstairs action

Likes watching the sunset

Always wins the scavenger hunts cas organizes 

Cas: 

once had a buzz cut. Happened because of a dare but he ended up being fine with it. 

Au natural

Has worst handwriting but doesn’t care. Rhys complains that it’s so bad he can’t read it (he can) 

Wears a chain necklace from time to time. After mating, he doesn’t take it off. (Nesta likes when it swings in her face) 

Out of the three, has the highest rice purity score. Az is kinky, and rhys is up for anything. 

Makes the most dad jokes 

LOVES fruits. And veggies. Eats the healthiest out of the three. 

Morning person. He used to wake up rhys and az at the crack of dawn to go hiking. 

He has a hair care routine - more complicated than rhys. Those locks aren’t just magically there. He oils his hair at least once a week. 

Wins the prize for best hand action 

Insecure about his nose 

Best at making scavenger hunts 

Has slow metabolism so whenever he eats really fast he falls asleep right after the energy high

Once used az’s toothbrush to annoy him, ended up using rhys’s. Being the clean freak he is, this started a war among them. 

100% takes dramatic showers like those scenes in movies

All three: 

on the camp, there was another trio that was everything they weren’t (pure blood illyrians from a noble line, got favored). The day comes when those three meet the archerons and the girls think they just want to be friends and the boys get jealoussss

Rhys takes them shopping. He’s up on the mini stage getting measured and tailored and cas is drinking on a couch. This is their gossip and complain time. 

They all speak Illyrian when they want to speak secretly. They never taught mor no matter how many times she asked because “it is a boys club” thing 

The archerons catch on and they eventually learn with help from bat boys, who then momentarily regret it because they don’t have a secret language anymore, but it’s the archerons who know crack the dirtiest jokes in Illyrian. 

When they were younger, they would share notes via this charmed journal that would winnow to whichever one wanted to write in it. Centuries later one of the archerons finds it and the boys jump over each other to get it from the girls cause it’s filled with teenaged thoughts (another headcanon)

They have a synchronized dance 

They used to have beach days but gradually stopped. They started again once the sisters said they have never been to the beach

They used to share a bed when they were younger. It was a hard fit, but rhys slept in the middle since he can disappear his wings. 

Cas and az didn’t leave rhys alone the first week he was highlord. Even in moments of silence. One of them was always within arms reach

They slap each others butt. At first it was a joke, but it became a competition of who could surprise slap the hardest. 

Once, az’s ex made moves on rhys, and rhys took the chance. This lead to the biggest fight between the two (up until the elain situation) until cas asked if they were going to let a girl get in between them. They made up and the next day rhys found out she was only with him for the power. Az comforted him when he cried. 

Engaged in locker room talk. Shared tips on sex. 

Rhys and az wear eyeliner/kohl on special but informal parties. Cas always smudges it so he’s quit. 

#acotar #feysand #elriel #nessian #batboys #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand #azriel #cassian

[allycat75]

That ASP discussion, just like the site itself, was absolutely useless, Boston Dumb Fuck!

You know why? BECAUSE YOU ARE PART OF THE FUCKING PROBLEM!!!!

You just had to flash that awful piece of metal that binds you to the same evil that was being discussed. Know that all of the fears and violence that Secretary Cardona was expressing from Muslim and Jewish students around the country, it's on you, too. As he said, antisemtism is becoming normalized and your "marriage" is tacit approval of her beliefs and behavior. You have no right to sit and listen and look concerned when you know you have blood on your hands.

I happen to be one of those people who is afraid to show my faith, or mention I am Jewish. Just today, I drove past the location of a violent act that left a man dead, all because of his religion. I have seen too many Swastikas graffitied on walls near my market and coffee shop. This is my home town. My safe place, and I am not protected.

So live in that fairy tale world you have created for yourself- pick your apples, carve your damn pumpkins and crunch your fucking leaves, but don't forget to collect your partipation trophy for being a good rich white boy. While the rest of us shrink in our beds, afraid to roam the streets we call "home".

Have you no compassion to at least stay out of the discussion knowing what you have done? Was it necessary to pour salt and lemon juice over the multiple cuts you have given over the past year or so?

Everytime you shoved that hideous ring in the camera, you may as well have been saying, "You know who knows a lot about this subject? My little wifey. She sure hates the Jews, probably Muslims, too. She is an equal opportunity deplorable. Golly gee, such a peach!".

You looked like shit, by the way. Not sure if you wanted to look serious and concerned, or if that is just a sign your soul continues atrophy. Tell me, does it hurt as your soul is leaking away? Is it a sharp, stabbing pain? Or is it more of a dull ache? Or does it not hurt at all, more like a tickle? Oh well, no matter. After one or two more stunts like this and it will be gone and you won't feel anything at all.

We know there is something we are missing. We know you were forced to do this. We know you don't even like her. But I am beginning to not give a shit when you pull insensitive stunts like this. It makes me sad we will probably never know why you decided to self destruct this way. But what makes me the most sad, is that, one day, you will tell us everything, lay bare every gory detail, plead for forgiveness and for your soul to return, with heavy tears in your eyes, and I won't believe a word of it. You may be a bad liar, but you are a liar just the same.

Do you have the stamina to climb the cliffs of insanity it would take to earn that trust back? Not based on how you looked today, and not based on how much weed you seem to be smoking.

Please, for your sake and ours, stay away for awhile. If this is the "you" you have decided to be, no one wants to see or hear it. You are becoming as cruel, arrogant and lifeless as that little wifey so maybe you should just let the rest of that soul slip away and give in. I don't know who else would have you at this point. Like the Secretary said, you need to be unapologetically yourself. And right now you are an asshole!

When Miguel thanked you and your clout chasing partner at the end for all you are doing, did you feel a pang of guilt? I almost sensed you were about to cry because you know what a phony you are. I really hope you were because that means you are still with us. But it may have just been my misplaced wish you still cared for humanity.

#coward #You are the company you keep #liars suck! #i hate hypocrites #boston antisemite #boston racist #brian wilson vibes #ai in human form

[sunflwryu]

warning: yandere, kidnapping | requested by: anon

price

the only stories that would have happily ever afters were the stories where at least one of the leads was filthy rich. after all, money’s the key factor to surviving, and if you have enough of it, you can do so, so many wonderful things and never have to worry about starving or working to the bone again. you just get to live life without a single care in the world.

that’s why sunghoon couldn’t understand why you handed back the expensive flower bouquet he had bought for you, a sheepish apologetic smile on your face.

what didn’t you like about him?

and why did you seem to like heeseung instead? that boy works multiple part time jobs just to get by, but somehow you still go and talk to him everyday, laughing so brightly as you always do, showering him with compliments, wasting your days away with him, with a loser like him rather than being happy with someone who’s actually worth your time. why did you always hang out with him, someone who wouldn’t be able to keep you happy for long? someone who didn’t deserve you? someone who couldn’t provide for you?

“i’m sorry, i don’t like you that way...” sunghoon hates the pity shining in your eyes as you look at him, hates how his shoulders instinctively deflate before he can stop them, hates the pain that takes hold of his heart.

he bites back his initial rage. “why...?”

“i just don’t think of you that way,” you reply simply, as if this whole ordeal’s nothing to you, like you’re taking his feelings lightly. “we’re just classmates and we don’t even talk that much.” even if that’s true, even if you’re just acquaintances right now, he feels an insatiable anger fizzing in his stomach at your matter-of-fact reasoning, his fists clenching at his sides. he likes you; no, he loves you so, so much and you’re just...not even giving him a chance? not even hearing him out after confessing, not even anything...?

you’re so arrogant, and for what? are you playing with his feelings? or is it because of heeseung? he wouldn’t let that best friend of yours get in his way, no way.

sunghoon takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. maybe you just want him to prove himself, that he wants you, that he can take care of you. you deserve the best after all, and what kind of boyfriend would he be if he couldn’t show you that? maybe you think he’s like heeseung, poor and incapable?

“okay...” he says carefully, fingers tightening around the bottom of the bouquet so much that his knuckles turn white, “...then, how much money do you need for me to your boyfriend?”

as soon as the words leave his mouth, your eyes narrow into a sharp glare, fire burning in your eyes. “what the hell?! are you insinuating i’m someone to be bought with your stupid money? park sunghoon, i’m telling you right now, i’m not easy like all the other people you may have chased after. how fucking dare you insult me like that!” you shout at him before spinning on your heel and storming off, your voice full of disdain for the boy.

who does he think he is, acting like that towards you? you thought he was sincere at first from the way he took the time to buy you the flowers and arrange the dinner reservation stated in the card that went with the bouquet, and even the look in his eyes was quite soft and genuine. seemingly.

did he say all that just because you told him the truth? that you don’t see him like that?

you feel a hand on your wrist, but before you can wrench it off, you’re yanked back like you weigh nothing, like you’re just an object rather than a person. “so, you’re saying no to me? are you sure about that answer?” sunghoon’s voice is dark and threatening next to your ear, and something about it sets you on edge, shivers running down your spine as you gulp nervously, uncomfortably shifting in his grip.

“you can’t be serious, who in their right mind would say yes to you after hearing something like that?” you snap, exasperated, your eyes boring knives into his as you meet his unreadable gaze.

he shakes his head mockingly, disappointment clear in his features. he doesn’t say anything, only dragging the powerless you along with him to his car despite your incessant protests for him to unhand you. something about his silence scares you, and badly. there’s this unnerving feeling in your throat that you can’t get rid of, and all you can do is struggle away from him as much as you can, but alas, he’s strong, much stronger than you anticipate.

he leads you to the trunk, opening it with the press of a hidden button to reveal your best friend, heeseung, ankles and wrists tied by rough rope, his mouth taped shut, puffy eyes widening as he meets yours.

“heeseung! what—” you scream, but you’re interrupted by a hand clamping over your mouth. you turn around to look at the rich boy you rejected with tears in your eyes, the gravity of the situation, the responsibility for your friend’s capture finally sinking into your bones as a sinister smile crosses his lips.

“i was going to let him free if you accepted my confession, you know? such a shame,” sunghoon clicks his tongue as he rolls his eyes at heeseung’s pathetic muffled pleas to let him go, “such a shame, really.” he mercilessly slams the trunk shut, earning a muted screech from your best friend, before turning to you, holding back from laughing at your amusingly bitter expression, filled with rage and eyes full of hot tears. “i bet you’re probably thinking in that pretty little head of yours why i did this. well...” he opens the car door to the backseat and roughly shoves you inside before you can interrupt him, buckling you in with the seatbelts and enabling some sort of child lock on them so you can’t free yourself from them, grinning madly at you.

“...you should know there’s always a price to pay for rejecting me, doll.”

anon said: Hey! I had a Request! Rich!Yandere!sunghoon liking you but you don't like him back. He sees you talking with Heeseung and being best friends with him but he's a broke guy and isn't as rich as sunghoon so it angers him. He then asks you that how much money you will need to be his girlfriend to which you ofcource get angry and decline. Then after another rejecting from you sunghoon decides to just kidnap you.

note: hey anon! i made this more gender neutral, that’s the only change i made to this. thanks for sending in the request, i hope you liked it! i wrote this pretty quickly after you sent it in cuz yandere! sunghoon brainrot is real for me rn lol. there’s a request i’ve been working on for a while now (i’m so sorry T_T) that i can’t come up with anything good for rn so this was a good way to take a break from it. anyway thanks for reading everyone, i hope you all enjoyed it too! poor heeseung in this story tho :((

enhypen masterlist | main masterlist | by @sunflwryu

#yandere enhypen #enhypen yandere #enha yandere #yandere enha #enha #enhypen #sunghoon #park sunghoon #yandere sunghoon #enha sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enha fanfic #enha imagines #yandere kpop

[luciusbetterwife69]

Hate (Vasili x fem!reader)

Pairing: Vasili (Hotel Mumbai) x fem!reader

Attention!! Porn without plot! / Straight to porn!

_______________________

Author's note:

NEW FANFICTION!! Vasili X Reader this time :^ I hope you are fine with me being a little offline- I swear to god I have so much stuff to do...but still: Jason >>>

Also we need to appreciate Vasili more. That boy gets too less attention.. oh, btw..requests are open!! Feel free to ask anything! ^^ <33

_______________________

Yn and Vasili. God, how they hated each other…Vasili was one of the most famous man in the Hotel. His bad luck however, got him to share his room with a very special woman. Arrogant. Egoistic. Rich. Spoiled.

It was yn.

They hated each other with passion…so much passion, that they would let all the hate out in a very rough night together. And well, let's just say that “rough nights” happened very often..since Vasili and her got on each other's throats almost every day.

“Vasili, dear~” she called him to her. Never ever would Vasili call her like that- that's what he thought at least. Sometimes he would eventually give in to her even if he absolutely hated that.

Vasili got up from his chair, where he read his magazine earlier. As he walked towards from where the voice came, Vasili found yn laying on the bed of their shared room. Of course she was grinning. Of course it was pissing him off. Of course she knew exactly that.

“Shut up.” Vasili answered, only giving her a pissed look. Even if his face showed an annoyed expression, he perhaps might just wanted to jump on her and ravish that stupid woman who called herself his roommate.

“Make me, bastard.”

Vasili rolled his eyes. How could a woman be so fucking annoying as yn? And what the hell did he do to deserve her as his roommate??

Without spending any more time on listening to her insults or orders, the Russian man got up, sat down on the bed and grabbed both of her legs with his hands. “Shut the hell up now, bratty whore” he said in the usual cold tone that he always had with her.

Then he got rid of his shirt and put both of her legs on each side of his shoulder. The man looked good, that was out of question, but if only there was a little love in the room right now and they wouldn't hate each other that much.

“I hate you, Russian.” Yn said.

Vasili raised an eyebrow, not caring much anyways.

“Say it.”

“No, bastard.”

“Say it.” He said again.

Yn only remained stubborn, not reacting to his order at all. She didnt care what he said anyways, did she?

Vasili rolled his eyes at her stubbornness. He hated that as well. Her incredible stubbornness…how could someone be that annoying and stubborn?

“мудак” She whispered as Vasili unbuckled his belt, still sitting between her legs while they rested on his shoulders.

As he heard the insult she just threw at him, their eyes met for a brief moment. Enough said.

“Oh? So you wanna get it rough, hmm?” It was a whole different thing if she called him any name that meant something bad..or if she called him a russian name. He was a Russian himself. Otherwise than her.

With another swift move he had her legs off his shoulders, now wrapping them around his own waist as he finished unbuckling his belt. Yn responded with a gasp. A reaction that made the Russian grin slightly. He leaned over her and positioned himself.

Vasili was ready. So was she.

With one big thrust and a precise hip move- Vasili managed to push his whole length in, not caring about what the woman beneath him felt like right now.

Before she could dig her fingers in his back and scratch him, Vasili had already pinned her hands down to prevent exactly that.

Yn squeezed Vasilis bigger hand, feeling how his thickness stretched her insides like nothing else did. She hated to love it:

“Shhh, be quiet now, bratty.” The russian accent was practically dripping from his voice.

Vasili knew that she loved it. It turned her on. That was a game they played every single night.

“Hhh….h..hhh” The only reaction coming from the woman was her heavy breathing.

Vasili began to thrust his hips forward. He wasn't going slow, no, not today. Not when he hated her so much. Not when she told him how much she hated him during it. Vasili loved it.

“I hate you, Russian.” Yn brought out, fighing hard to hold the ragging of her breath back as the russian man set a rough pace.

“Well then…hate me harder, bratty. Come on now~” He answered. “You can do better.”

Despite all the slutty, hate-filled cries she gave him, Vasili kept pounding her in that rentlessless, vigorous pace. One hand pressed her hands down, making her squeeze his hand, making yn hate him further. “Now come on…cant you hate me further? Don't you hate me harder, hm? Cmon let it all out~”

“God damn it, I really hate y-...mmmh…hhh” Yn tried to say, failing as her own voice turned a little more hoarse. Vasili was good.

In all the months where they had been on each other's throats, he had found it most enticing when she was at the point where she couldn't speak. When she could say no more words. When she was at his mercy.

Vasili groaned and his hips snapped forward with such force yn could feel his thickness going inside and hitting her wall.

The Russian wanted to hear that he was the most hated person in her world, and still he was getting yn, in bed and willing to have wild and rough sex every single night.

“You know I love when you say that…so tell…tell me how much you hate me bratty.”

“Oh..fuck you, Russian~” Yn cried out, already struggling to keep her eyes open to look at her roommate leaning above her.

Vasili let go of her hand, allowing the woman to wrap her arm around his neck and even reach his shoulder blades with her hands. One hand of hers dug into his hair, causing the man to breathe out for a moment to get used to her grip. With his now free hand, Vasili gripped the bedsheets while still pounding her at a brutal pace.

Everytime he snapped his hips forward, she moaned louder and louder, her voice echoing off the walls. Vasili loved this so much.

“Tell me again~” He hissed slowly, approaching her neck with his mouth.

“God, I-...I hate you so m-much…~” It was a pure struggle to streak for yn at this point. “Hhh…Ngh~” She simply closed her eyes, letting Vasili mark her neck with a bite on her neck. He had marked her.

“That's it bratty…keep moaning. You caught the spirit.”

Vasili moaned as well, snapping his hips forward and not giving any sign to slow down orgo softer. Thrusting. Pounding. Snapping. The russian man really gave no sign of mercy.

They would keep this toxic relationship. It would not work somewhere else, but it did work in this hotel room.

“I hate you…I fucking hate you…I hate your beautiful, sexy body…I hate your smooth skin…I just hate you.”

With every single ‘I hate you’ Vasili thrusted deep into her, certainly hitting the woman’s cervix. He would watch how yn’s eyes rolled back slightly whenever he did that. It was pure satisfaction for him. “I hate you…I hate you so much…my bratty little princess…my slutty, bratty little princess…”

Yn tho, felt herself losing slowly. Not only did she feel herself slowly getting tighter, but Vasili as well. Yn was close. Terribly close.

“God damn you're so tight…” His Russian accent made it so much sweeter.

The woman couldn't answer, her breath hitched and her fingernails surely left marks in the man's skin.“Oh my lord, fuckkk…~” Yn moaned again. Her voice was hoarse and desperate. “Please…I-..ha-”

“Mmh~” Vasili groaned in response, not letting her finish her sentence. “Say my name, bratty. Say my name.”

That was the point where she lost it.

Yn closed her eyes, narrowing her eyebrows and opening her mouth again- only to say nothing and let her breath rag in her throat. She was gasping for air, digging her nails into Vasilis shoulder blades.

The womans hips buckled, lifting her back up from the matress as Vasili gave her one last deep thrust to feel a wave of pleasure.

Before she could moan anything, Vasili had pushed his lips against hers and kept her quiet. In betweeen that deep and angry kiss, yn still moaned a quiet “Vasili~” into his mouth.

After the russian had pulled away, he still remained leaning over her to let his climax run its course. His strong, heavy body covered hers, he panted against yn’s neck as their hearts beat furiously against their both chests.

With a depp breath and a finaly move Vasili pulled out, letting his fluids run out of yn’s still wet cunt. He rolled off her body and laid next to her.

“I hate you, russian bastard…fuck you…” Yn breathed, panting just as much he russian roommate did.

Vasili chuckled. His breath slowly came back to normal. With a still slightly flushed face and a necks covered in sweat, he gave her a sly grin.

“Bratty…” He smirked.

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