#anyways even if you didn’t get ANY of that which is perfectly fine

[qvert]

Oh you’re brilliant thank you!

And I know that she gives up the seat in the end and I love that for her

But I really think there’s this fundamental shift in her character the moment she lets jinx and her mindless revenge go and sets her sights on what’s actually important to her - I had to tie that moment to Cassandra somehow

It also has this weird note of ‘I’m not sure if you’d be proud of me mum but here I am’

(smth about fighting to protect what she cares for - in the way she always wanted but was never supposed to)

There was a whole bunch of deep thoughts about this one but it’s late and I just want it off my pile so I don’t keep adding more contrast to the gold bits

I’ll elaborate tomorrow - speculation in the meantime is encouraged :*

[sailforvalinor]

.

[ja3yun]

On the Roof || S.JY

stranger!jake x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (f.rec), cream pie, fingering, marking and biting, sex with a stranger, weirdly fluffy, petnames (princess, baby), mentions of bad relationships with parents, alcohol, comforting, do not have sex with strangers you meet on a roof, not proofread, anything else lmk! w.c: 9.7k synopsis: when you stumble across a boy on your apartment rooftop, you can't help but invite him to stay. a/n: hi! it's me. this is my first work back and honestly, it's not great but i just needed to get back in the swing of things so please be kind. I missed you guys a lot and the time away was exactly what i needed. thank you all for understanding, and i love you unconditionally!

The winter air tickles your senses as you push open the large, unfairly heavy door to your complex’s rooftop. It might be bitter, but it’s welcomed - your body creating unnecessary heat from both the walk up the three flights of stairs and the discomfort of your day. 

Your shift was hard, too hard. Considering it’s a brand new year, you had stupidly thought that people would be a lot nicer to public service workers, yet you were proven wrong. With countless patients’ loved ones screaming down the phone to you, doctors barking demands at you because they see you as lesser than them, and not to mention the one man who decided that spitting in your face was a rational reaction to you politely telling him that he can’t see his grandmother who was in the middle of an operation.

Safe to say, you’ve had better shifts as a hospital receptionist. 

But there was always one place you could count on to take a deep breath and reset. The rooftop. It’s quiet, overlooks the city, and helps you put into perspective that murder is not the answer to your life problems. But sometimes, God, you wish it was…

Gravel crunches beneath your feet as you make your way to the chairs you so perfectly placed underneath the solar-charged fairy lights, which hang half-arsed off the unused 1990 aerials. It’s not really how you would like to decorate the place, if you had it your way, you would have it looking reminiscent of the rooftop from Wish You, the same one you committed to memory as Lee Sang kissed In Soo for the first time. But since you’re not even supposed to have access to this part of the building, you’ll count the pathetic attempt at creating sanctuary as a win. 

The lights guide you to your seat when you see a figure hunched over, one hand holding a beer and the other holding his head. This is not what you were expecting to see. No one comes up here, not past 10pm anyway. There is one neighbour who occupies the premises when he needs a smoke without his wife knowing, but he works the night shift. So this person is new.

“Um,” you begin, clearing your throat ever so softly to alert them of your presence without giving them an acute heart attack. “Hi?”

Their head jolts up from their hand, eyes wide and face shocked. Clearly, they didn’t expect to have company tonight either. 

You focus on the figure in front of you – a boy, no older than yourself – scrutinising his features with a careful eye. As a woman, being vigilant around unfamiliar men has become second nature, an unfortunately ingrained habit of self-preservation you have mastered since before you can remember. So, your mind ticks through the usual checklist: is there a need to run? Are your shoulders getting that deep tingle that crawls up to your jaw? Is your gut making you want to vomit? None of those alarm bells ring. Instead, you’re met with something else entirely - uncertainty, maybe even sympathy.

The boy seems…fine, at least on the surface. No initial gut-wrenching unease claws at your insides. Emboldened by the absence of any red flags, you take another ginger step closer, studying him in detail.

His large, tired brown eyes peer out from behind thick-rimmed glasses, the weight of exhaustion evident. The glasses sit securely on his pretty thick nose. His lips, naturally full and a muted pink, are set in a neutral line, though the light could be softening their actual colour - it’s hard to tell beneath the hood’s shadow. Greasy, near-black hair clings to his forehead, unkempt but thick. 

His outfit doesn’t fare much better to be honest; a mishmash of layers that hints at desperation more than deliberation. Faded grey jeans hang loose and crinkled, clearly worn more than once without a wash. Over a white t-shirt sits a black hoodie, topped off with a jacket far too big for him, the kind of size that suggests it doesn’t belong to him at all. The entire image strikes you in a way that leaves concern pricking all over your chest.

Steeling yourself, you step closer again, your voice soft but firm. “Are you okay?” The question is sincere, meant to come across as a kind gesture - like when you let a cat sniff around your hand before you just go in for the pet. Your eyes meet his, offering as much warmth as you can muster. There’s something about the way he sits, cold and crumpled, that pulls at your humanity.

At first, his expression flickers, betraying something fragile beneath the surface. But it doesn’t last. In an instant, his jaw sets, and his shoulders square in a defensive shift. His cheeks hollow as his tongue presses against them, words unspoken but clearly brewing. The moment hangs in the air, heavy and awkward. 

It’s as if your simple question has poked at a bruise, tender and raw. You’ve touched something buried, and for reasons you can’t yet work out, his reaction irks you. Of all things to take issue with, why this? What on earth had he expected - for you not to ask a very valid question? Perhaps it’s the day you’ve had that’s caused the unnecessary offence on your behalf.

He averts his gaze, the connection between you severed. Instead, he tips back the beer bottle in his hand, his focus shifting to the cityscape below. The quiet glug of liquid slipping down his throat is the only response you get, and it grates against the care you offered.

A flicker of irritation sparks within you. Perhaps it’s the brush-off, or maybe it’s the contradiction in his actions. He’s sitting here in your space, looking like the embodiment of a cry for help, yet recoils at the smallest act of kindness. Still, you don’t back down. Instead, you shift your weight and tilt your head, keeping your tone neutral but unwavering.

“Fine, If you don’t want to talk, that’s sound,” you say, folding your arms against the cold. “But sitting out here, looking like the world’s chewed you up and spat you out…people are going to ask questions like ‘are you okay’ or ‘what’s the matter’. Just saying.” You huff out and follow his gaze to the city. People are having a much better day than you out there, and envy jabs at you.

For a moment, you think he’ll continue ignoring you; his shoulders remain tense, his grip on the bottle firm. But then he sighs, the sound long and weary, like air escaping a deflating balloon, one being pinched and controlled. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, a surprising Australian accent whistling through the wind.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, though the words lack conviction. His eyes remain fixed on the horizon, steadfastly avoiding yours.

“You’re a terrible liar,” you counter, letting a small, dry smile tug at your lips. “And you’re also not allowed up here.”

A tense silence follows, broken only by the chug of a train in the far distance. It’s not exactly comfortable, but neither is it unbearable. You find yourself wondering who he is and what’s brought him to this specific rooftop. 

“You can’t get up here unless you’re a tenant,” you blurt out, trying to get any morsel of information from him. You figure the quicker you find out what he’s doing here, the quicker you can find a solution for him to leave and then have your safe space back to yourself. You might have sympathy for him, clearly having a hard time of life, but so are you - and your comfort outweighs a total stranger who can’t even bother to look your way.

“Okay,” he says bored, sipping his beer again. 

“That’s your invitation to either tell me that you moved in recently, or, your queue to leave because you’re trespassing.” 

“Invitation declined.”

He is so rude, you think to yourself, though you wonder whether you should just call him out for it and at least gain some reaction for him. 

Instead, you park yourself in the seat next to him, huffing as you drop down. “Well I’m not leaving until you do,” you state matter-of-factly, attempting to not let his presence ruin your mood even further. You suppose, if he sits and shuts up, you can at least pretend he isn’t here invading your space.

Though technically, you’re invading his, but you get the idea.

The boy side-eyes you, a small, angry smirk etching onto his cold rosey face. “Yeah? Well, you’re gonna be here for a long fucking time.” He spits his words out, frustration laced within each syllable, though you can tell it’s not directed towards you. The boy is so far in his own head that you begin to realise that any discontentment he might have has less to do with you and your presence, and more to do with the reason he’s hibernating on your rooftop.

So, you sit back, and leave him be. To be honest, you’ve dealt with far worse and crabbier people today, in comparison, this boy is like rainbows and kittens.

Closing your eyes, you let the white noise of the night take over you, infiltrating all your tension and disdain towards the day, and settling you into a comfortable silence. The fairy lights above add a serene atmosphere that you crave after work, the faint lights providing some fake warmth. They were not easy to get up there, but a few falls and tangles later, you realised that all the scrapes and twirls were worth it.

The hooded boy beside you peaks over, finally taking you in as more than an inconvenience. He notices how you breathe in deep, exhaling with a sigh of relief and a cloud of warmth that combats the freezing air. 

It doesn’t take him a minute to realise that you’ve had a bad day too, and a pang of guilt hits him. He’s being unfair to you when you probably just want to relax under the night sky and here he is taking up space. 

He takes up too much space.

Reaching down at his feet, he picks up a bottle of beer from his case, the clinking not even disturbing your quest for serenity. He pokes your thigh with the bottom of the bottle, gaining your attention. When your eyes meet once again, there’s a sorrowful look on his face, the alcohol a form of apology for being an arsehole. It’s an apology you’ll gladly accept. 

“You look like you could use it,” he murmurs, offering a tight smile as he waits for you to take the brown glass bottle.

You wrap your hand around the base and lift it up in thanks. “I could use ten sambucas and a pint of tequila to wash them down,” you snort out a sarcastic chuckle, beginning to unscrew the cap. You need to thank whatever genius decided that bottle openers were too much hassle and gave people a much easier and more practical way to open a bottle of beer. You hope they’re having a good night.

The boy lets out a laugh, short but genuine, raising his own bottle to his lips. “That bad, huh?” he asks, voice muffled slightly by the glass.

“It gets like that,” you shrug, taking a long pull from the bottle, barely savouring the taste, routing around for the effects of calmness that it will bring rather than its pallet. “Comes with working in a hospital.”

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity momentarily overriding his gloom “Nurse?”

“Receptionist.” You correct him, hissing out as you absorb the alcohol. Beer is not your favourite taste, a Sex on the Beach is much more appealing, but you would down a tank of gasoline if it meant you could get rid of this stress.

He sucks in an empathetic breath, whistling low as he leans back against the seat. “Yeah, you need a gun, not alcohol.”

The comment catches you off guard, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, you laugh - really laugh. It bursts out of you, raw and unrestrained, carrying away the weight of the day. Life isn’t inherently awful, but it’s lonely sometimes. Working back shift in the hospital makes it hard to keep friends or any semblance of a social life. The most interaction you get that isn’t disgruntled patients or angry phone calls is on twitter with your online friends, but even then, it’s a rise-and-repeat conversation cycle of ‘for real’ and ‘same’ replies to posts you make about Jang Kyungho when no one is looking. 

Not exactly the deep human connection that people need.

So this, being able to laugh and have a bit of understanding for even a second, is comforting. It almost makes you feel bad for cursing the boy out in your head.

Smiling, you extend a hand to him, “Y/N.”

He hesitates for a fraction of a second before taking it. “Jaeyun,” he replies, offering you a smile in return. It’s faint but sincere, a crack in the armour he’s wearing so tightly.

As he grips your hand in his, you feel the ice-coldness on his skin, a clear indicator that he has been up here for quite some time. Or at least out in the open air. It only makes you more intrigued - and with him being a little slither more open with you, you decide to take the nugget and run with it.

So you talk, and talk, and talk. It feels like forever but it’s actually only two hours. Not a lot is said, but you learn some things about him; hobbies, interests, friends, his favourite TV shows and Films. All surface-level stuff, yet it feels like you’re speaking to an old friend. He learns about you too - the same stuff, with added anecdotes about working in a hospital.

But there is one thing that you are dying to know.

“So,” you begin, twisting your patio chair to face him fully, the legs scraping along the asphalt of the roof. “You can guess I’m here after a bad shift…why are you here?” Your face is expectant, waiting for an answer while you drink your beer.

But Jaeyun’s face is overcome with a flash of rage, partly due to your question, but more the fact that your question made him think about the reason he is here. Though, as quickly as his face shows agitation, it dissipates just as fast. Instead, he opts for an obtuse response. “Just wanted to enjoy the view. That’s all.”

“Couldn’t do that from your own building, no?” you tease lightly, humour softening the prodding tone. But your persistence nudges too close to something real. “Oh... did your girlfriend kick you out?” The words tumble out before you can stop them, too sharp and intrusive.

Unfortunately, it’s a habit of yours to be so nosey that it comes off inconsiderate or produces ill-timed questions. In this instance, it’s both.

His grip tightens on the neck of the bottle. The knuckles whiten, the tension visible. For a moment, he studies the label, reading the same ingredients over and over as if they hold the secret to life's greatest mystery - what happened on that fishing trip in Gavin and Stacey.

“My parents did. Yeah.” His confession is sharp, devoid of emotion

Your stomach drops. “Oh...” It’s all you manage, guilt prickling at the edges of your thoughts. You’re so stupid for poking Y/N! You inwardly scold yourself. Obviously, this issue is so much bigger than you can process. Still, your mouth will continue to flap around. 

“Yep.” He pops the p with bitter precision, his tone teetering on the edge of sarcasm. “Apparently, I need to ‘get my act together.’” He says with accompanying quotation marks from his fingers.

“As in?”

“As in I need to be their perfect little boy and follow in my brother’s footsteps - be a lawyer.” The words fall flat, heavy with resentment.

Nodding along, the pieces form enough for you to make your own solid conclusions. “And I guess you don’t want that?”

“Fuck no.” Jaeyun scoffs out a bitter laugh. “I’m more likely to need a lawyer than be one.”

“Ohhh a bad boy huh?” you wiggle your brows, trying to interject some semblance of humour into the moment while sussing him out, to lighten his load even just a smidge. You can’t begin to imagine what his parents said or did to him once he rejected their concept of a perfect life, and you don’t really want him to dwell on it right now either.

He laughs despite himself, a quiet sound that momentarily lightens his expression. “Maybe.” It’s a noncommittal answer, but he seems content to let you spin your own version of events.

Honestly, he is not bad in any shape or form. But when he says he would need a lawyer rather than being one, he means that that career is so absurd that even a goody too shoes like him is more likely to get in trouble before he stands in a suit.

He just wants to live his life without this great expectation, without people demanding he ‘do better’ when he knows he is doing just fine; he’s in a great University, studying music and production, and has a decent part-time job at the record store, which isn’t loads of money, but enough for him to pay his mum and dad digs and still have a life outside their constraints. He’s doing fine, or so he believes.

But fine isn’t enough for his parents. Their love towards their own son is tied to the weight of their expectations, ones he can’t - or won’t - carry.

“So they just…kicked you out?” you ask carefully, noting the sorrow in his features as he turns the events of the past few months in his head. Sympathy creeps back into your chest, any lingering annoyance dissipating along with the last sips of your beer.

“Yeah,” he confirms, sighing and shrugging. “It’s fine.”

“Are you staying with friends or…” You don’t finish the question because you’re scared of the answer; the dishevelled clothes and hair are enough to semi-confirm.

Jaeyun looks up, his gaze catching the glimmer of the fairy lights, their soft glow reflected in his dark irises. “I was, until a few days ago. You can only couch-hop for so long before people start to feel like you’re intruding.”

He holds no malice towards his friends, no bitterness in his tone, and honestly, his best friend Sunghoon said he could stay for as long as it took him to save up for an apartment of his own. But he doesn’t want to take advantage of his kindness, the boy already doing more for him than most would have. Even Jay, his other friend, offered to loan him the money for the first month's rent on a flat uptown. 

But Jaeyun’s pride wouldn’t allow him to take advantage of their kindness. He would manage on his own, no matter how hard it got.

Seeing the pity in your eyes, he waves his hand to brush off your concern. “It’s fine, I’ve scraped up enough money to get rent now. I just need to find a place,” he smiles softly, appreciative of your sympathy even if he doesn’t want it. “I’ll be fine. I’m going looking tomorrow.”

There’s a sense of relief that his words bring you. Although his predicament isn’t ideal right now, it looks like it could be on the turnaround, and for that, you’re thankful.

“If it’s only for one night, do you want my couch?” The offer spills out before you can stop it, surprising even yourself.

Jaeyun laughs heartedly, eyebrows knitting in disbelief and amusement. “You’re fucking stupid.”

“Huh?!” you exclaim in shock. It’s not really the response you were expecting. A yes? Sure. A no? Absolutely. But an insult to punctuate your act of kindness was a curveball.

Sitting up straight, he places his beer on the ground, an amused smile softening his features. “I’m a random man you’ve known for a couple of hours. I could do anything to you in your own home, and you don’t seem the slightest bit worried about that.”

Okay, maybe he has a massive point. You don’t know him and he could literally attack you at any moment. And considering earlier you had to assess him before approaching, it shows that you do have the common sense not to let him stay with you.

But he poses no threat, none whatsoever. He’s just a boy in a fucked up situation, and your kind heart can’t see him freeze; god knows how many nights he’s been out. He’s already reminiscent of Jack Dawson turning into a block of iced body parts.

“Well, you won’t right?” You throw the question back to him. “I mean, to be honest, I’ve let men in my bed for a lot less than a tiny conversation and a beer.” 

As soon as the words tumble out of your mouth, your cheeks flush to match his cold ones, neck tingling in embarrassment. You’ve just confessed that your standards are abysmally low - you’ve slept with men who didn’t even have the decency to buy you a drink nevermind learn your name.

Jaeyun stifles a laugh, rubbing at his eye. “For your pride, I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.” The smile on his face is so beautiful that you’re caught off guard a little. Now you wish he was one of the men you let roll around on top of you for a compliment and a ride home.

His expression shifts, returning to a more serious note, though the smile lingers. “Seriously, Y/N. Thank you for the offer, but I only have” - he glances at his watch - “six hours before sunrise anyway.”

“Seriously, it’s no trouble-”

“I’m serious too,” he interrupts gently, slouching back into his seat. “You should go in. It’s cold, and after the day you’ve had, you need sleep.”

“I-”

“Y/N.” His tone is firm but not unkind. “I’m fine. Go. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

His refusal stings in a strange way, the rejection of your kindness more personal than it should feel. But you know better than to argue with someone so resolute. It never ends well. So, with a resigned nod, you down the last of your beer and stand.

“Okay,” you reply, setting the empty bottle aside. “I’m in 4A if you change your mind. I can grab some blankets? Pillows?”

Jaeyun places a hand over his heart, a soft smile gracing his lips. “Thank you, Y/N. Truly. But I promise I’ll survive.”

And so, you leave him there, your heart tugging at you to insist, to argue, to make him take shelter in your tiny flat. But your feet keep moving, respecting his wishes.

As you reach the door, you glance back one last time, the words caught in your throat. You just hope he’ll be okay.

_____

The rain lashes, jolting you awake. It’s not the pretty white noise rain that you enjoy, it sounds like hundreds of tiny little pebbles being pelted at your window. Strange. It was forecast as clear skies until at least Tuesday. 

You blink groggily, groaning at the interruption. You can’t have been asleep for more than two hours - if that. Begrudged, you turn your back to the outside, shielding yourself from the rain that cannot attack you. Yet, an unsettling feeling stews in the bottom of your stomach, the kind that makes your heart beat faster and your mouth gain moisture.

It’s not uncommon for you to have random spouts of anxiety, all your life you’ve suffered from it, but this isn’t your typical ‘my brain is going to bring up that one time I peed myself in primary 2 and had to be sent home’ anxiety. This is something more.

Fuck.

Jaeyun.

The thought hits you like a bolt of lightning and your body moves before your mind can catch up. You fling off your pastel pink duvet, slide your feet into your beloved fuzzy slippers, and throw on a housecoat to cover your half-naked form. If you had the right mindset and not half asleep and half in panic, you would have grabbed a rain jacket and some trainers instead.

Thought, without thinking about your own state, the chilly air cuts at your skin as you make your way to the roof. The rain, now mixed with hail, pelts down hard, each sting enhancing your concern. Your eyes roam around near the seated area, one of your hands shielding your eyes from the brutal hailstones, each one nipping your hand in anger. 

"Jaeyun?" you shout, your voice cutting through the storm, only to be drowned out by the constant rain. You get closer to the seats and see nothing. Panic overwhelms you, hot and stifling. "Are you still here?"

As you spin around, your eyes finally land on him. He’s slumped up against the rooftop enclosure which acts as a headboard to an uncomfortable concrete bed. His jacket and hoodie are doing as much to protect him as a candyfloss blanket, each soaked through and clinging to his skin. How can he sleep like this? It makes you wonder if he lied about just how long he had stopped couch-crashing and living out in the open.

Quickly, you drop to your knees beside him, ignoring the puddle that entrenchs your legs, and place your hand on his shoulder as you shake him awake. “Jaeyun?” you bellow, loud enough for him to startle awake and instantly put a guard up.

“Huh?” he mumbles, voice thick with confusion.

“Come on, I’m not leaving you up here,” you inform. This time, it isn’t a question but a demand. You have too much compassion to willingly leave him up here any longer.

Jaeyun’s eyes squint through his water-splattered glasses as he takes in your figure. “Y/N? What the fuck are you doing? You’re soaked,” he states the obvious, yet oblivious to his own state. “Go back inside.”

“Not without you,” you fire back. “Grab your things.”

“But-”

“Either that or I stay up here with you,” you cut him off, voice firm though only kindness shines through.

You can see the conflict in his face, his concern for your drenched state outweighing his stubbornness. He sighs, defeated, and finally nods. “Fine.”

If there is one thing Jaeyun hates to be is a burden, but it seems no matter what happens, he will inconvenience you in some way - might as well choose the drier option.

Standing upright, you extend a hand, offering him some help up, but he refuses. Instead, he grabs the duffle beside him and clumsily gets up, following you down and into your apartment.

As soon as he walks into the warmth, his bones leap with excitement and his shoulders relax in contentment. You flick on the lights which allows him a better view of your personal space. And it is exactly how he imagined it.

Your walls are covered in art and photos of you and your friends, lyric posters from bands he has never even heard of, and a shrine to TO1 in the corner. It’s cosy, lived in, and he feels a massive pang of envy. 

“You can use my shower,” you say while subconsciously tidying up, removing the cups and wine glasses that have piled on the coffee table. “Luckily for you, I like wearing guy’s clothes on my period so I’ll see what I can find to fit you.”

“Seriously, Y/N. I’ll just, dry off with a towel or something, No Stress.” He doesn’t like the fuss but he can’t deny he doesn’t feel a little fuzzy as you make space for him. 

Scoffing, you turn around with a perplexed look on your face. “A towel? Jaeyun, you’re soaked to the bone. You need a shower and then you can have a towel, okay?” 

A grateful grin adorns the boy’s face as he takes his shoes off. “Okay. Thank you, Y/N. Seriously.” Jaeyun nods, clutching his damp duffle as he trudges towards the bathroom. 

You point out the way, adding a quick, “Towels are on the rack, and there’s shampoo, soap, and more in there. Just use whatever you need, okay?” 

With another muttered thank you, he waddles to your bathroom, suddenly enthralled with how the night has panned out. It’s been a while since he had a decent shower, and the ones in the Uni’s lockeroom are made more for a quick wash down than a deep cleanse.

As he disappears into the bathroom, you let out a sigh, glancing around your apartment. It isn’t a mess by your standards, but you suddenly feel self-conscious about the clutter. Usually, when people are up, it’s those who are either only making their way to your bedroom or those who do not care and have known you long enough to understand that you like a bit of mess.

A messy home is a home loved.

The sound of running water echoes from the bathroom, and you take the moment to rummage through your wardrobe. You pull out a pair of joggies and an oversized hoodie that has seen you coming every cycle for the past three years. You can’t get much more comfort than these. They’ll be a bit loose on his slim frame, but they’re warm and dry.

Speaking of which, you glance down at your own rain-soaked state, grimacing. The slippers squelch faintly with each step, and the damp housecoat clings unpleasantly to your skin. Without hesitation, you pull out a baggy t-shirt and some old pyjama shorts, slipping into them after quickly drying off your hair with a towel that’s close by. It’s not inherently clean, but it serves its purpose, so that’s good for now.

Satisfied, you place the clothes Jaeyun will borrow on the sofa before heading to the kitchen. The kettle hums to life as the storm outside continues its symphony, the hail getting more dangerous and cutthroat. A hot cup of tea feels like just the thing to chase away the chill, after all, there’s little problems in life that a good cuppa can’t fix.

Just as you reach for the tea bags, the creak of the bathroom door pulls your attention.

Jaeyun steps out, his damp hair falling messily over his forehead, droplets of water glistening on his skin. A towel sits promiscuously low on his hips, and despite yourself, your gaze trails downward. The delicate silver chain around his neck catches the light, the cross pendant resting at eye level with his pretty brown nipples. Your eyes wander further, taking in the faint definition of his toned abs, the subtle dip hinting at a v-line. And his cock is outlined perfectly to give you an idea of his size and width but you can tell it still doesn’t do him justice. 

You realise with a jolt that your mouth is slightly open, and the train of your thoughts is taking a decidedly inappropriate detour. Heat rushes to your cheeks as your mind conjures up scenarios you’d never admit aloud. A pang of guilt follows swiftly - this boy has been through hell, and he’s come to you for solace, not to be gawked at.

“Sorry,” Jaeyun says, breaking the spell. His voice is soft, a mix of embarrassment and strange pride, as he catches your lingering stare. “I’ll get dressed. I just…didn’t know where the clothes were.”

“Oh!” You clear your throat and nod toward the sofa, purposefully keeping your gaze above his shoulders. “Yep, just there. Help yourself. I think they’ll fit.”

As he moves to retrieve the clothes, you busy yourself with literally anything else - studying the ceiling, adjusting the kettle, anything to avoid the moment and stop trying to catch glimpses of his cock. 

You don’t hear the rustling of clothes though, instead, you just hear yourself breathing, which piques your interest. Why isn’t he changing?

Subtly, your eyes glance over to him and then you see it, the look on his face as he stares at the clothes. You’ve had that look before too, the one that comes with the mixed feelings of disbelief, shame, sadness, hope, and every other conflicting emotion that arises when you’re down and out.

“Thanks,” he whispers, “For all of this.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you reply, taking a few small steps forward. But Jaeyun shakes his head, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“No, really,” he insists. “I…I don’t think I’ve met someone as kind as you in a long time.” His voice breaks on the last word, and he quickly looks away, ashamed of the vulnerability slipping through. 

He has his friends, they are kind and generous much like yourself, but being kicked out of his own family has also shown him the darkest parts of humanity, the ones that he doesn’t let others know that he’s experienced. Truthfully, he’s just a scared boy who needs his family. 

The admission punches through your chest, leaving no room for hesitation. You glide over to him as your arms wrap gently around his shoulders. 

If a cuppa can fix most things, a hug can fix them all.

At first, he stiffens, unsure how to respond, but then he relaxes, his head lowering slightly against you.

“It’s okay,” you murmur softly. “You’re going to be okay. Maybe not right now, but soon.”

Jaeyun’s arms tentatively come up to return the embrace, and for a moment, the storm outside fades into irrelevance. His eyes close and for a change, he believes that it will be fine. This moment isn’t going to last forever, once the morning blooms, he’ll be out of your life and trying to get back on his feet, but he’s thankful for the reassurance and hope right now.

Pulling back slightly, his arms still lingering around you. His eyes, uncertain and yearning, flicker between your face and your lips. Then, without a second thought, he leans in and presses his lips to yours - a fleeting, hesitant kiss that seems to catch even him off guard. 

His lips retract from yours as he draws back, his face flushed with embarrassment and horror. “Sorry,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. Why the fuck would he kiss you without consent when you’ve been so kind towards him? He thinks. His hand twitches at his side, as though unsure whether to retreat or reach out again. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Would it make you feel better?” you interrupt gently, your voice soft but steady.

His brows furrow, confusion flickering across his features. “What?”

“Would it make you feel better?” you repeat, tilting your head slightly. There’s no judgment in your tone, no hesitation. “To kiss me?”

“Really, no, it’s okay-”

This time, you close the distance, your lips capturing his before he can finish the sentence. It’s slow, deliberate, a kiss that tells him you’re here for him despite still being strangers. His initial surprise melts into something deeper, something warmer, as he responds cautiously at first, then with more certainty.

It actually is making him feel better, the human connection, it’s nature's balm.

So he follows your lead, his arms tightening around your waist, holding you impossibly close as his hands splay over your back, covering most of the surface. The way his plump lips move against yours is magnetic, sucking and pulling you into his world. You’ve been kissed more times than you can count - shamelessly to say - but his mouth feels a little different; a little less icky than the others and a lot more like they’re meant to be on yours.

With that feeling charging your bloodstream, your hands fly up to his damp hair, craving to have him on each of your senses. You can’t get enough of him, his taste of beer from the numerous bottles he downed on the roof, the touch of his silky locks that are in need of a haircut, his scent of your strawberry milk body wash mixing in with his own musk, how he sounds when he growls into your mouth, showcasing that he’s just as desperate as you are for this. 

You need him…

Swiftly, your hands trail from his head, down his neck, your nails lightly scratching down his collarbones until you reach the veins just above where you were unabashedly looking not 10 minutes ago. 

Jaeyun pushes your ass against the sofa, bucking up into you, hips deliciously working to place your hand on his cock. God, it feels beautiful, even with the fluffy barrier. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he moans deeply into your mouth, passing the need from himself into you. Your hand grips his covered shaft as you palm him teasingly. “Don’t do this if you don’t want to.” 

Honestly, he doesn’t want to say anything that will make this stop, his body pulsing with the desire to have you wrapped around him. But he also believes in consent, and while you both might be horny-induced 22-year-olds, you’re also strangers. 

Shaking your head adamantly, you grip his dick harder, smiling at the whimper it draws from him. “I want this, Jaeyun.”

“I suppose, men have been in your bed for a lot less, right?” he chuckles into your mouth. And while it could come across as an insult to some -  that he’s essentially throwing back your own slut-shaming dialogue from earlier -  you feel no degradation or malice behind his words. You can tell he’s playful, under all the dreary circumstances. He’s a boy who has light and laughter built into his DNA. 

Maybe it’s delusion, maybe it’s a soul connection, or maybe it’s the fact that you need to bounce on his cock within the next five minutes or you’ll perish that’s clouding your judgment. 

Either one, you let it slide.

So, playfully, you slap his chest and break the kiss. “Keep talking and you won’t get the chance to see my bedroom.”

“That’s okay, I can fuck you here,” he replies quick-witted, suddenly hoisting you up on the back of the couch, the wood and material digging into your ass not uncomfortably. 

You laugh and so does he, looking into each other’s eyes, and it all feels so right. 

Bringing your hand up to his face, you push his hair off of his forehead and reveal his eyes - the light from your living room dancing in his pupils, much like how they had been on the rooftop, but this time, there is an abundance of happiness that adds to the shine. 

“You’re so pretty,” you confess, that no-filter brain coming into full effect once again. Granted, a much better consequence of it. 

A faint, rose blush crawls across the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose, a bashful grin on his mouth. “Thank you. Personally, I think you’re prettier so…”

“Guess we can be pretty together, huh?”

“Pretty good together you mean?” 

Another laugh jumps out of you and you cup both his cheeks, the warmth of them comforting and worth cherishing. You peck his nose. “I should have known a pretty boy like you would be a charmer.”

He shrugs, kissing your nose back, not bothering to rebut. Instead, his hands guide your legs to wrap around him, hands finding your ass, and he lifts you up. You can’t ignore his cock now semi-hard pressing into you as he bounces you into a comfortable position.

Securing yourself, you circle your arms across his shoulders and kiss him once again, letting him lead you down your hallway, anticipation and greed passing through your breaths and tongues. 

“Which one?” he pants out, squeezing your ass as he does so.

“This one on the right,” you point half-arsed, too lost in the moment to give it a full thought. 

Awkwardly due to your wriggling body, Jaeyun opens the door, trying to view a path to which he can reach your bed without falling over your clutter. Shoes and more lay abandoned over your carpet, creating an obstacle, but one he refuses to lose. 

Jaeyun finally reaches your queen-sized bed and gently places you down, his cock pressing into you even more. 

It’s only then that he realises that along the way from your living room to your bedroom, his towel has fallen down, leaving his exposed cock rubbing against the fabric of shorts. “Jesus fucking christ.”

You look at him and see the pleasure on his face, biting his lips as his eyebrows knit together, rubbing against you again. It makes you giggle, you don’t know why, but he just brings it out of you.

The sound from your lips draws his attention back. “What?” he breathes out heavily, cock thumping with need as he humps you again.

“Maybe you should be inside of me while you thrust - kinda how this whole sex thing works,” you playfully jab, biting your lips together to stop from laughing. But he laughs for you, resting his forehead on your chest and shaking his head in amusement.

“Shut up, I’m just excited.”

“I can see that, yeah.”

It’s easy with him, you’re noticing, like you’ve somehow been in a relationship for years and you’ve just come home from a couples date with your married friends, two bottles of red wine consumed, and adoration palpable in the air. You have two dogs, maybe three if you can get your way, and you are the annoying pair that people hate to hang out with because your love for one another never dwindled, not even after all those years.

Maybe you shouldn’t be fantasising about a life with this random man you met on a roof, but that’s where your brain immediately goes each time you banter or giggle with one another.

He’s different.

Jaeyun stands up, letting you see his cock as he pumps it gently, getting it to full mass. The fact that it’s standing at 5 inches already and still growing causes an ache in your stomach. Fuck, it’s going to feel so good inside of you, your walls are already leaking out for it, staining your pyjama shorts. 

His hands grip your shorts and peel them off, hurriedly throwing them on the floor, only adding to the chaos. Your legs instinctively spread and the juices from your excitement gleam in the moonlight, looking like a ripe fruit just ready to be devoured.

And devoured it will be.

Hoisting you down, Jaeyun positions you at the end of the bed until your ass is almost hanging off, kneeling down between your thighs. Not exactly how you thought the turn of events was going, but you are the furthest from mad at it.

“You look so fucking delicious, Y/N.” Jaeyun’s comment makes you feel exposed but not in a bad way, yet, you still want to hide from him. As your legs try to close, he places his large hands on your thighs, shaking his head. “No, princess, the only way you're shutting your legs right now is if you’re clamping my head between them.”

“Jaeyun…” you whine, both at the petname and his breath ghosting over your hardened clit, making it weep again - much to Jaeyun’s delight.

“I know, princess. You need it, huh?” Jaeyun whispers, kissing up your inner thigh and around the area you crave him most. 

The heat in the room is electric, any cold you both felt from the rain now disappeared from your bones and replaced with scorching intensity. Your hips follow the blow of his breath in search of connection but he simply places a chaste kiss on your clit before pulling away, a smirk on his face as he sees you whimper and squeak.

“You make the prettiest noises when you’re desperate, Y/N,” he gloats, though it’s prideful and not arrogant. He means it, and that’s why he keeps teasing you softly, puckering at your folds and giving you just enough to have you humping the air and arching into him.

“I’m never letting you use my shower again,” you laugh in discontentment, your arm flying across your face as you hide in the comfort of your bicep. 

Jaeyun huffs a laugh, echoing your own amusement before he speaks. “I know, I’m being so mean considering you’ve been so kind, huh? You’re just so cute when you’re like this.”

“I’m about to become a bitch if you don’t do something,” you warn lightly, peaking down to look at him under your arm.

“Well, I better get to it then right?”

And with that, his thick tongue stripes up your folds, gathering and savouring your wetness. Your back arches off the bed and pushes just enough onto him that his nose catches your clit. “Fuck!” you bellow. 

The tip of his tongue searches for your nub, and once it hits the spot and your hands fly to his hair, his lips suction around it, almost making out with it. 

He’s not real you think to yourself. You can’t help the jealousy that rises inside of you as your brain works overtime to imagine just how many girls he has had to go down on for him to be this good at eating you out. If there was ever such a thing as a pussy eating contest, you know he would win hands down because he’s already got you chanting his name, punctuated by profanities. 

“Right there, Jaeyun…fuck…” 

His pride swells and he grows more confident, tongue flicking quickly over your button as he drools over your cunt. It’s safe to say that Jaeyun loves pussy. If he could have it morning, noon, and night, and elevensies, he would without hesitation. Especially yours. The taste of your tang and sweetness is enough to put him in a frenzy, long forgetting about his aching cock and focusing solely on drinking you up.  

He humps the air though, as he always does, resembling a dog in heat as he slabbers and grunts into your cunt. He nibbles at your clit and soothes it with his wet muscle, a smile plastered on his face with each movement - your noises urging him on.

He brings his middle and ring finger to your pulsating hole as it clenches around nothing, deciding to give you some more relief. As he plunges in, you scream out in joy, an open-mouthed smile on your face as coherent words get lost in your throat. You clearly don’t get eaten out as often as you deserve, and that just spurs Jaeyun on more to be the best you’ve ever had.

“So wet for me, princess. Taste so fucking good I want to be here for hours.”

And while that sounds nice in theory, you need him inside of you now. His fingers, thick and beautiful, are nice for now, but that 6-inch, throbbing cock is calling your name. So, you pull him away much to your pussy’s weeping plea for him to keep going, his mouth covered in your slick which is perhaps the most beautiful sight you have ever seen -  and you’ve seen the Northern Lights on a crisp autumn morning. 

His fingers never stop though, just curling inside of you slowly, beckoning your climax still. “What’s wrong?” he asks, concern weaving in his tone.

Sitting up on your elbows, you smile and pant, trying to maintain a steady voice while the tip of his fingers presses against your soft spot inside, jaw slacking each time he holds it for a little longer. “I need your cock so back, Jaeyun. I’m so serious.” The words are desperate and real, shamelessly desperate. 

“You sure you don’t want to cum right now? I can do it.” It’s not like he can’t make you cum over and over again anyway. 

Shaking your head, you sit up, hunching over to cup his face. “Please. I really need you to fuck me.”

A primal desire flickers past Jaeyun’s eyes and a quick nod tells you that he needs it too. His cock jumping for joy at the thought of being enveloped in your tight cunt. So, he withdraws his fingers and licks them clean, pulling on a show as his tongue weaves through his digits, wide eyes looking up at you with sheer longing. It stirs something inside of you, something that suddenly makes you want to grow a cock and have him choke on it. 

But you quickly shake those thoughts, pulling him up by his hair and kissing him deeply. His tongue now tastes of you and you are so glad you love sweet juices and decided that for the past three weeks, cranberry spritz has been your favourite. 

Jaeyun makes quick hands of stripping you of your t-shirt, leaving you both naked and clawing at one another. 

“You got condoms?” he asks between kisses, trailing down your neck as his hands grip your hips so tightly that the skin turns white. 

But you don’t want that. You want to feel him. Raw and unfiltered. Is it stupid? Of course, it is. But some would say letting him inside your home never mind inside your body is already wreckless, so, what’s another reckless abandonment on your list tonight?

“No. No condom, please,” you mumble against his hair as you kiss the top of his head, your conditioner filling your senses.

Jaeyun freezes his mouth and darts up, eyes seeking yours to make sure he heard you right. “Huh?”

“No condom. I’m on the pill,” you stroke his cheek tenderly, “Please, Jaeyun. Do this with me just once, yeah?”

For some reason, that ‘just once’ pangs in the boy’s chest and he hates the feeling more than anything. He doesn’t want this to be once, he wants this to be again, and again, and then some more. Jaeyun isn’t one to believe in fate but considering he chose your flat complex rooftop out of all the others in the city, and it decided to pour down - even though it’s been dry for the past two weeks - which led to you coming to get him and practically drag him into your home; he would say that doesn’t happen by chance. 

Although, instead of getting in his head, he agrees, lust overpowering his responsibility to be safe. “I want it too, so fucking badly,” he leans down, rubbing his leaking cock on your slit, mouth moving to your ear. “I can’t wait to cum inside you, fill you up and make you suck me in.”

Does he know where this confidence came from? Perhaps it was the way you whispered into the air his name over and over again how good you felt while he ate your pretty little cunt, or maybe it's the fact that if this is your only time under him, he will damn make sure you’re thinking about him for the rest of your life.

The heels of your feet move with his ass as he gyrates his hips, allowing his cock to snag on your clit and elicit a hiss from both of you. Your lips messily leave open-mouth kisses over any skin that you can reach; his neck, cheek, lips, forehead, all of it, the feeling of his glistening skin on your lips addicting.

“Please, Jaeyun. Fuck me. Right. Now.”

Your pleading snaps him into full throttle, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance, his bell expanding and contracting as he slips inside of you. Your groans of pleasure harmonise in the winter night, both your bodies connecting fully as he bottoms out slowly, balls meeting your ass as he pushes in to the hilt.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, burying his face in your neck, and you lock him in there, fisting his hair and bucking your hips for friction. He fills you up so good you wonder why humans are born empty and not with a permanent cock up their pussy. 

You never want him to leave.

“Move, Yunnie, please.” The tone of your voice doesn’t carry much conviction but portrays your desperation for him. The nickname falling off your cock-drunk tongue much to his happiness. If anyone ever calls him Yunnie again, and it overtakes the way you whimper it out, he will commit murder. Only you can call him that, call him whatever you want, call him by his name, ever again.

Obeying your wishes, he begins to pull back his hips and move them painfully slow back into you, feeling each bump of your walls and how they meld perfectly with the veins of his fat cock. 

While he loves savouring the moment of you taking him in, feeling how your hole adapts to his girth and length, creating way just for him. “Faster, Yunnie. God, please.”

“Asking God to help get what you want is crazy considering it’s me you should be begging,” he chuckles, never increasing his pace. 

“Shut up, please,” you whine out, grabbing his ass and trying to physically move him to speed up.  

“You can ask me to shut up but not beg me to move faster?” he tuts, going even slower, “C’mon, princess. Ask me nicely.”

You want to slap him, a dry laugh coming from your throat as you fight between your pride - telling you never to do as a man says - and your need for him to start jackhammering into you. 

Well, you suppose you can let your pride have a night off for a chance.

“Jaeyun, please, move faster. I’m begging you. Fuck me faster and harder.”

Those sweet yet filthy words send Jaeyun into orbit, and he grants your prayers. With his hands pushing down your hips, he begins to thrust with ferocity, the tip of his cock not punching into your cervix. It’s much more delicious than you ever could have imagined, the way he snaps into your cunt with no restraint, your pussy taking a beating in the best way possible. 

This is heaven.

“Yes, Jaeyun! Yes! Don’t fucking stop, please.” 

And stop he does not. In fact, he lifts your legs over his shoulders and folds you in half, the new angle somehow reaching so deep you can feel him poking your stomach. You have never felt this good in your life. A cock has never made your brain turn to mush or made your hands literally peel the skin from your partner’s back before, yet here you are, chanting incoherent words into his ear and clawing up his shoulder blades.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, princess. Taking my cock so well.” Jaeyun breathes into your neck, nipping at your skin and he marks you right back. His praise makes you smile, kissing all over his face in appreciation for the pleasure he is giving you right now. “Such a good girl, Y/N.”

You could cum that minute, and he feels how you clench around him, sucking him in further, making him tip his head back and move even faster. He wants you to cum together, and with how good your pussy feels, he isn’t far from it.

“You sure you want me to cum inside?” he asks again, trying to gauge whether you could have changed your mind. But you grip his hair and stare into his eyes. 

“If you don’t, I’ll kick you out back into the rain.”

Jaeyun laughs. Hard. Your threat is meaningless because you clearly would never leave him out there again to drown in the winter hail, but it does get your point across. You don’t just want his cum, you need it. And luckily for you, he is happy to oblige. 

So, with your consent, he works on getting you both to the edge, his right hand coming down to your clit and rubbing it in smooth circles, a juxtaposition to his harsh thrusts. And you begin to see stars, constellations, as you arch your back and wriggle under him. The coil in your tummy burns with the insatiable pull. 

“I’m cumming! Yunnie, I’m cumming,” you warn, happiness filtering the air as you buck your hips and match the rhythm of his shaft penetrating you. “Cum with me. Please, baby.”

Baby

His balls tighten at the petname and groans loudly. “Call me that again.”

“Baby, cum inside me,” you repeat within a moan, forcing your eyes open to lock onto his. “Cum with me.”

And just like that, with the final clench of your walls around him, he spurts his white seed inside of you, a primal roar escaping his lips as each rope coats your canal. You cum with him, his name falling from your lips over and over again as you chant out in hymn. 

“Squeeze it, princess. Take it all like you want.” He validates you without ridicule, a grin of glee etching onto his face as his body shakes with the euphoria he feels. You were right, cumming inside of you is much better than a condom.

After a while, both your hearts begin to slow down and his body collapses onto yours. His lips lazily kiss your sweaty skin on the top of your breast, your fingers threading through his now dry hair, the only wetness coming from persperation. Its intimate, despite the newness of the situation, and you can’t help but plaster a smile on your face.

It feels so right.

And you’re not the only one who believes so.

Jaeyun gathers some strength to lean on his arm, cupping your face as he strokes your cheek. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.” His voice is wavering due to exhaustion, but it’s overshadowed by sincerity. 

Placing your hand over his, you titter slightly, the sound making Jaeyun’s stomach knot and cock pulse inside you once again. “You mean having sex or staying in my house and abusing my shower privileges?”

“Both.” He murmurs earnestly, pinching your cheek. “I also want you to abuse my shower…when I get one.” The last part of that sentence falters slightly, his voice dipping as if suddenly comping back into his reality.

But you won’t let him dwell in it. Instead, you reach up to kiss him gently, lips expressing the reassurance you worry your words might not. And it seems to do the trick because, in an instant, he’s kissing you back with passion, taking each swipe of your tongue against his as confirmation that you want to have this again and see where it goes. 

It could lead to nothing but it could lead to everything.

And he needs to find out.

[un-lawliet]

“Overheard.”

— in which you practice your confession to him, and he hears.

“Satoru... I like you.”

Falling in love is hard.

You throw your head back in exasperation, a sigh pushing past your lips and into the emptiness of your room.

“Satoru,” You begin again, glaring at your reflection, “I think if the Earth exploded tommorow I would- No that’s pathetic!”

But falling in love with an enigma such as Satoru Gojo is harder.

Especially when he was your Co-Worker and friend, and not one for blind vulnerability in any capacity.

Something you were devastated by perfectly ok with!

You place your thumb in your mouth and chew on the nail, frustrated at your lack of articulation.

Your lingering stares, and pathetic attempts to subtly flirt with him, appeared to backfire in a mirage of deflection from the sorcerer.

Leading you to the bitter conclusion that your feelings were entirely unrequited.

And that’s fine.

Everything is fine.

You would be fine.

…

You turn back to the mirror, lifting your head up and throwing on a smile.

“Gojo- No- Satoru, me and you? What about it? You in?”

God. You sound insane.

Even worse you sound desperate.

You thought your feelings for Gojo would dissipate with time, that you would realise that they stemmed purely from admiration and would vanish as fast as they first appeared.

But as you grew closer to Gojo, your feelings grew too.

Culminating into him, holding your hand to reassure you after a mission went askew.

Holding it.

With no barriers. No infinity.

His hand was warm, the palm soft with years of fighting without touch.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it ‘kay?” He had said, cooing at you as you furiously wiped frustrated tears from your eyes.

“Just focus on getting stronger, yea? You’ll be fine.”

And now you were fantasising your confession to the man, like you were 16 years old again, pouting about an unreturned crush.

One touch and you’re helpless to your own feelings, your own heart.

How childish…

You shake your head.

What did it matter anyway? You were never going to say it to him, you can let yourself have your own, embarrassing fun.

You grin, and resume your position before the mirror.

“Satoru, I really, really like you.”

You tilt your head.

“No that sounds wrong..uh…Gojo I like you..like a lot- But you don’t need to say anything I just wanted you to know.”

Placing your hands on your hips, you assess out loud; “I wonder which one would sound better..”

“I liked the first one best.”

You nod, lost in thought, “Me too, sounds more person-”

.

.

.

Oh God.

Oh please God no.

Slowly, you move your eyes from your face in the reflection to the door, where Gojo stands, leaning against the frame, a smug look on his face.

Your face flushes and you almost trip over your heel as you spin to face him, eyes wide and mouth parted.

“G-Gojo!” You force out, your heart racing in your chest, your hands trembling against your sides.

He gestures, his sunglasses sliding down his nose ever so slightly with his movements.

“You not gonna continue?” He asks, like he didn’t almost just cause you heart palpitations, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

Your words fail you, and you’re left gaping at him, wishing the building would collapse and crush you beneath it, away from his stupidly pretty eyes.

He laughs, his face lighting up as he watches you flounder for a response, a reason, anything to justify your absurdism.

When you resort to turning back around, unable to face him, hoping he would just vanish from the room, he shakes his head and walks towards you.

“Hey.” Gojo says gently, pinching the skin of your shoulder lightly, trying to coax you into turning around.

“Y/N c’mon, Iook at me.”

You want to die.

You actually think you might just drop dead.

This was never the plan- You were never supposed to-

Gojo isn’t patient.

You remember this when you’re spun around to face him, nearly jumping at how close he is to you.

You find your voice amongst your apologies, and they fall out of you like water collecting rain.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to say any of that, I was being stupid- Oh my God I’m so sorry.”

You hang your head in childish shame, refusing to meet his eyes.

Gojo finds himself frowning.

And your chin is raised back to his gaze by his fingers, an usually serious look in his eyes as he observes you.

“What are you apologising for hm?” He sticks out his tongue, “For falling for me?”

You push his chest, your face burning.

“Don’t say it like that.”

“What? It’s not true?”

“It’s not.”

Gojo blinks at you from over the top of his sunglasses, before taking his hand and patting your head.

“So if I ask you to join me for lunch…You’d say no?”

“What? No of course not!”

Your response is too fast, too desperate, and you freeze as he laughs, humiliated.

“I thought as much.” Gojo replies, leaning down to look you in your eyes.

And he’s so pretty up close, so earnestly perfect that you can barely stand it.

“Say it again yea?” He all but whispers, his voice devoid of cockiness, you’re almost certain he sounds as desperate as you.

You refuse to think too much.

“What?” You reply, dumbly.

“Your practice, I want to hear it again.”

“Gojo I-”

“Satoru.” He corrects, his eyes crinkling with his grin, you can feel his breath on your face and you hold yourself back from leaning towards him.

You’re silent for a moment, before he tilts his head, nodding at you to continue.

It’s ok.

“Satoru,” You start, breaking eye contact with him as you look down at your fidgeting hands, “I like you.”

And you feel so unbelievably childish, at your nerves.

You feel weak to his never failing gaze.

Until he pokes your nose softly with his finger, and leans down to reply, too close, he’s far too close.

“Yea?” He echoes, “You like me?”

You nod, helpless, “So much Satoru.”

And then you feel it.

His lips on yours.

Oh.

And it’s wonderful, it’s all consuming and it’s him.

And you kiss back, feeling his hands on your face, and encasing you, holding you.

Gojo tilts your head up, and you can’t help but gasp, letting him devour you.

He tastes of cherries and sugar, his mouth as warm as his grasp, as he brings you closer.

“God baby.” He mumbles into your mouth, “You have no idea.”

He sounds frantic you think.

You pull away to look at him, and giggle when he follows you, trying to recapture your lips with his, pouting, tracing the sides of your temples with a finger.

You’re both breathless.

And you take the opportunity to be bold.

You press a kiss to his jaw, ignoring the racing of your poor heart.

Gojo smirks, a dumb elated expression on his face as he pulls you into his chest, resting his chin on the top of yours. Blocking your view of his face as he whispers.

“Think it goes without saying.” You hear him say, slowly, “But I like you too Y/N.” He mocks, his voice soft.

And you cling to his shirt, and press your fingers into his back as a response, trying to mark him as yours instantaneously.

He laughs again, before pulling away to hold you at an arms length, looking down at you, his face beautiful, and yours.

“Lunch then? So we can talk about this properly?”

“I’d like that.” You say, your eyes in hearts.

He winks at you, and pulls you to walk with him, leading you out of the room.

You lean against him allowing yourself a moment of vindicated clarity.

He’s warm.

So, so warm.

Feel free to leave a request <3

Masterlist <3

A/N- i hate my life. i’m trying not to spoil anything for anyone, but chapter 261 has ruined my life! i wrote this just to make myself better and because a lovely anon asked me to write something comforting and fluffy <3 thank u for reading i love u i love u i love u and i hope everyone is ok <3

[justslightlymental]

"All of them Goddamn" Saja Boys x Reader Part 2

ill be so honest guys I feel like I butchered the start but oh well! I don't know for sure how long in the actual movie it took for them to defeat them yada yada. But in this AU i'll just say it took like a few months. Anyway, this doesn't have smut in it, IM SORRY BRO OKAY. im lowkey thinking of making a part 3 cuz this shit ended weird ok. ALSO reader is pregnant, if u dont like that LEAVE. its not my fault bro had unsafe smeggs in part 1

also yes im working on my other requests about them, those will be full on smut trust :33333 -

IT had been weeks since our last encounter. And oh boy… I’ve had these terrible headaches, these terrible stomach aches. The many times I’ve had to dip out of rehearsals just to empty my stomach. My energy levels have gone down the drain. I thought about reasons for a very long time, I was perfectly fine before the “Saja Boys” fiasco at the bathhouse, and a week or so after I was fine. But the more I thought about that night the more I realised how irresponsible and lust driven all of us were. Literally all of them splattered my insides white and NONE of us had any kind of protection, oh my fucking god. “What if I'm pregnant. What if im carrying the child of a fucking demon.” I spoke to myself quietly, sitting in my bed, stressing the fuck out. It all made sense, and I honestly wish it didn’t. How am I supposed to bring this up to THEM? How am I supposed to explain my predicament to my bandmates?? To our manager?? I can’t just fucking go up to them like ‘Oh yeah.. By the way, I'M pregnant and the father must be one of the Saja boys. Hell no. We had enough trouble overall with losing our fans day by day to them, and figuring out a song to completely wipe the demons out and strengthen the Honmoon up for good. Wait… If we defeat the saja boys and actually succeed, what about this possible child I might be carrying?? I mean maybe I’m not pregnant- But with everything happening there is a 98% chance I am. If we kill them- my child- or well their child too will forever be fatherless OH GOD what if the baby dies too?? I have to take a test, like badly. “Hey, I'm going out!” I said to the girls after emerging from my room, dressed very casually. “Alright, be safe okay?” Rumi said back, before turning back to her movie.

“Oh! Can you bring back chicken noodles?? I’ve been craving them!” Zoey yelled out from the kitchen. “Will do, bye bye!” “Byeeee!” Mira said, not looking away from her book.

The evening breeze was chilly, the hoodie I wore could only do so much. Feeling the cold sweeping through the tiniest openings. I walked faster, wanting to get to the sweet warmth of the pharmacy, which shouldn’t be too far now. As I finally reached the store, immediately feeling relieved and speed walking to the intimacy section, looking through all the different tests. I kept my hood up, trying to stay as hidden as possible not wanting any scandals to happen.

”Would you like some help?” A kind pharmacist said from next to me, a smile on her face. ”Uhmm… Well, anything that's trustworthy..?” I answered awkwardly.

We had a lovely conversation, she was really easy to talk to. The average auntie, well at least she looked the age… Thankfully she did not recognize me, internally sighing in relief. As I finished shopping and walked out. I was immediately met with the cold and once again began my walk back home.

Though as I was walking it felt like I was being watched, the hairs on the back of my neck rising like I was spiderman. I tried to walk faster, taking different routes but in the end a sudden smoke appeared out of nowhere, scaring the ever living shit out of me. Currently I was in an alley too so his shit truly was not ideal.

”Well well well, look who it is.” A deep voice called out and I immediately recognized it.

”Jinu??!” I said shocked, clutching the bag into my chest.

”And don’t forget about us!” Another voice said and four more men appeared right next to Jinu.

Oh for fucks sake.

”I'm not in the mood.” I scoffed. 

Okay well between you and me I was very much in the mood but I also did not want them knowing about my… predicament.

”C'mon doll we all know that’s a lie.” Abby said, walking closer to me, throwing his arm around my shoulders.

”No really, please.. Just let me go.” I sighed, my emotions in overdrive. “What’s the matter?” Mystery asked, seemingly the only one with the social skills to actually pick up on my mood. “It’s nothing, just a bad day.” I quickly said, wanting to get out of this situation before my ‘possible’ secret gets revealed. “Why do you smell so good right now?” Romance spoke up, suddenly appearing right beside me, literally inhaling my scent. “Now that you mention I smell it too.” Baby said, eyeing me up and down. Oh shit, I literally forgot they are demons. Does this basically confirm my suspicions and fears? Can they smell the change in my hormones or some shit? That's lowkey creepy, but whatever. “Just let me go.” I said once again, walking past them. Obviously they wouldn’t let me go that easily, hearing their footsteps behind me. I was seriously fed up. “You’re hiding something aren’t you? Maybe in that bag of yours?” Jinu caught up with me, tilting his head in a mocking way. “Did you pick up some toys to use incase we all met up again?” Abby joked, others giggling with him.

I chose to ignore them, as much as I honestly wanted to get down on the floor and get absolutely ravished by all of them. Getting home and doing this test and then crying my eyes out was much more favorable.  Though I don’t think they took me ignoring them very well, the next thing I knew they had stopped in their tracks, making me turn around, their faces rid of any humor or smiles. “Fine if you’re going to act like a brat. Don’t bother crawling back to us begging for more.” Jinu scoffed, all of them agreeing with him. “The entitlement is crazy!! See if i fucking care!” I yelled out, baffled at how these men… No these DEMONS were acting. No other words were exchanged as I turned on my heel and practically ran off, holding in the tears. This is how everything was supposed to go. Obviously they wouldn’t hold any emotional attachment to me, what was I expecting? A nice dinner date in the city's most luxurious 5 star restaurant?? They are demons for fucks sake, their whole thing is to just lure people in and then eat their souls. But why did it hurt so much? It’s not like they actually took advantage of me or anything, I gave them my full consent and was reckless. And now I'm paying the price for one night of pleasure. I thought, staring at the 3 positive tests in my hand. Makeup already ruined, eyeliner mushed around my cheeks, tears still flowing down freely. My emotions were all over the place, It wasn’t on my plans to become a young mother to a fucking half demon baby. Yet despite all of that I couldn’t help but already feel attached. This child was innocent, who am I to blame it for being conceived by my own foolish desires and actions. I had decided, no matter how foolish or bad, I was keeping this baby and that’s final. The next few weeks were awful, between the writing, composing of songs and rehearsals not to mention rivaling against Saja boys. AND struggling with the amazing side effects of pregnancy, thankfully I wasn’t showing yet, so I could still use our performance outfits no matter how flashy or tight they were. Things had been going south though. The Honmoon was weakening due to our lack of progress, demons appearing left and right. Fans leaving and going for Saja boys. They were practically everywhere, we were being overthrown quickly.

“Alright girls! I know everythings all ‘saja’ ‘saja’. But we are going to turn it into ‘Huntrix!’ ‘Huntrix!’ alright?” Bobby said with a smile placing a bunch of posters in front of us at our table. “There’s a bunch of fans outside who literally SLEPT on the sidewalk just to see you. “Happy fans… Happy Honmoon!” We all looked at each other and clicked our pens together, sitting at our fan event table. And so the fans bursted in and so did 5 random… sleeping bag things..? “And who do I owe this to?” Rumi asked with a smile, going to pick up a poster to sign it. “To your biggest fans…” The male said, they all revealed themselves as Saja boys. Oh for FUCKS sake. All of the attendees went crazy yelling out their band name. “Oh Saja boys It’s an honor! Table please!” Bobby said, as they brought a table down for the boys. “Joint meeting??” Half of the people lined up for us moved to the boys table. We looked at each other baffled, Rumi staying silent for a moment before standing up and announcing the boys would be seated with us and the people immediately lined back up. “WHAT?!” All of us whisper yelled.

“We need all the fans we can get…” Rumi said, sitting back down in her seat. I was now forced to sit between Baby and Jinu. Neither of them didn’t seem to pay attention to me, but I could feel glances my way ever so often. Forced to listen to them shamelessly flirting with my bandmates, forced to sit in absolute misery and worst of all.. Forced to suffer my raging hormones, oh god they smelled so good. The fan event started off good, signing posters and albums, having short chats with the fans, doing cute stuff yada yada. I was doing a pretty good job with ignoring the boys, no matter how much I wanted to oogle at them. Jinu made it very clear they don’t want anything to do with me anymore. “Hello! I hope you’re doing alright!” I smiled sweetly at the next fan in front of me, a guy my age I assumed. “Oh my god!! I can’t believe I’m finally meeting you!” He beamed with happiness, taking my hands in his. Oookayy.. could’ve asked for permission first but i’ll let it slide… Happy fans.. Happy Honmoon I reminded myself. “I can’t believe I'm meeting you! Thank you for supporting us!” I smiled back, a little forced. “I’ve been a fan since the first day, you’re my favorite! I love you so much!” He continued, moving closer to me. “I appreciate that!” I cringed internally at how close he was getting. “Would you like me to sign anything?” The fanboy gasped letting go of my hands to dig into his bag, probably for an album. I couldn’t help but notice from the corner of my eye how Jinu had turned his head towards us both, watching the interaction clearly not amused. It was then when I felt a hand land on my thigh, inching ever so closer to my core. My eyes widened for a moment before I calmed myself down, acting normal for the fan. “Please sign my album!” He asked, handing it to me and so I did.

“You’re so amazing!!! Pleaseee marry me!” The guy said, lowkey freaking me out now. This also caught the attention of my bandmates but also all of the Saja Boys. And if looks could kill this fellow would be buried deep within the earth's core. I forced an awkward smile, trying not to yell at this guy, not wanting to scare any of the other fans who might I add also started watching the interaction. “Hahaha- Thank you- umm I’m sorry but-” Before I could continue a hand slammed in front of me, making me flinch. “I think it’s time you move on.” It was Jinu and he was pissed, in fact they all were pissed I could feel the atmosphere changing. Everyone was dead quiet, the guy looked like he would piss his pants at any moment, before quickly snatching the poster and fleeing the whole event. It was pretty fucking awkward after that but it wasn’t long until things seemed to return to normal. “Thank you…” I muttered to Jinu, not sparing a glance. He didn’t reply but he didn’t need to, another squeeze to my thigh was all I needed. Maybe everything was not lost between us after all, maybe he did care, maybe they all did. They just didn’t know how to express themselves… I don’t know, maybe I’m just delusional holding onto the smallest thread of hope. One thing is for sure though, I need to let them know.  After the fan event fiasco I was sitting in my dressing room, just staring into the mirror. The frown on my face was evident as a hand rested on my stomach. The thoughts in my head racing, I was so conflicted. Everytime I saw one of the guys I felt weak in my legs, my heart thumped against my chest, and I just felt… weird. Was I really falling in love?

And how would that end huh…

I was suddenly pulled away by my thoughts due to my door opening, in walked all of them. Without an invitation of course!! We just stared at each other without saying a word, the air heavy around us. I don’t know for how long we just stood there in silence, but it felt like our eyes were having the conversation for us entirely.

“Why did you come here.” I asked bluntly.

“To check up on you, are we not allowed to care?” Jinu asked with a frown, hands folded in front of his chest. I let out an amused scoff, looking away from them, gathering my words. “That’s rich coming from you. From all of you.” I said a hint of venom in my tone. “From what I gathered last time we happened to bump into each other you all were only after ONE thing. Sex. It’s very funny suddenly seeing you ‘care’, or being interested in how I'm doing. Hey it’s okay though! It was a really nice one night stand, I can't believe I expected more.” It felt relieving to finally get my feelings out, really it did. “What? Got nothing to say? Because I was right?” I asked, staring at their faces, all of them seemed to avoid eye contact, nervous almost. “It’s.. not that… I just- We’ll we just… The truth is-” Jinu tried but couldn’t get the words out of his mouth. “We all like you!” Baby Saja yelled out. “We didn’t know how to tell you, or how to find you..” Romance continued, scratching the back of his head. “I guess the moment we saw you again.. Asking for that was like.. a way to try and forget..” Abby said, his face red. “We thought you would never like us back.. Since you know… we are demons.” Mystery quietly said Honestly their confession shocked me, you mean there’s actually hope?? They actually have feelings?? No fucking way. It almost brought me to tears, fucking hormones. “I- I’m shocked… Truth is after our ‘thing’ I couldn’t stop thinking about you all…” I mumbled, all of their heads snapped towards me. “It was torture trying to sleep that night…” I giggled quietly, remembering. “You drive us crazy… And today seeing that boy touch you… It made us mad, it's weird.. It feels like an instinct, to protect you from everything and anything…” Jinu said, others agreeing. “I feel like I need to be close to you… at all times, something is pulling me in.” Baby said, walking closer to me. All of them followed, I backed towards the counter where all my makeup was laid. I stared up at them, all of a sudden remembering the last time and immediately felt like my panties had just been dipped into water.  “I want to be close to you all too…” I said, eyes never leaving theirs. Suddenly nothing else mattered, all I wanted was to have a taste of them again, to feel them touch me, mark me, claim me. Jinu’s hands landed on my shoulders, he leaned in slowly, our lips connecting in a sweet kiss. It wasn’t messy like before, but instead a passionate one. As we separated he looked me deep in the eyes, his hand caressing my cheek. “I’m sorry about that day.” He said. “It’s okay…” None of us shared another word, but that was okay. Though I still felt terrible, as they all got close to me. I was keeping this secret from them, but I was afraid, so afraid. What would they think? What would everyone think? I didn’t want this moment to end in more unnecessary fighting and drama, I just wanted everyone to be happy. If it meant keeping and going through this by myself I would do it. 

Romance pressed his lips against my neck, his teeth just slightly gracing my skin. Baby on my other side, his hand caressing my arm, leaning against me, enjoying the warmth of my skin. Abby took Jinu’s place in front of me, kissing me deeply, pressing himself up against me. Softly moaning into his kiss, playfully fighting his tongue with my own. Mystery had taken Romance's side and was now running his fingers through my hair, kissing my cheek and neck. After a little bit more making out with them and touching each other up we separated, even if we didn’t want to. But time was not on our side, soon the girls would come looking for me and we would be busted big time. “We’ll see each other more right?” I asked hopefully, the fact is I felt myself not wanting to leave their side for even a moment. “Yes, definitely. It hurts us to be away from you darling.” Jinu said. “Let us mark you… be ours forever..” Abby asked, almost desperate. “Please, I need everyone to know you are mine and theirs.” Mystery said, his voice whiny. The rest agreed, and how could I say no to them? Even if my mind tried telling me no. For deep down in my heart I was afraid of all these feelings, what happens if we truly seal the Honmoon up for good? My heart would be broken beyond repair. “Yes.” In a flash their human forms disappeared, replaced by their demon counterparts. I used to loathe them, to hate them but now I feel like I preferred seeing their true selves. I felt even more connected to them. They placed their hands on my chest one by one, each time a mark flashed over my chest, a purple hue traveling along my veins down my arms before disappearing. Each time I felt a surge of emotions, feelings like a piece of their lost souls merged with mine. I'm sure they felt more alive, I could see this light in their eyes I had never seen before. “You are ours now and we.. are yours.” - YEA ILL MAKE A PART 3 MAYBE YEAH (i will)

[immisscellaneous]

JJ and John B have shared everything since they were 8

~~~

this is just a lil something i was thinking about this morning and figured i could write to ring in the new year. it’s kinda short sorry😭

Smut!!! MDNI

they’d figured it out very quickly - how to share things. john b shared with jj because he could, jj shared with john b because he had to. they both knew this and were perfectly fine with it.

the first time jj slept over at the chateau they shared the bed. jj was supposed to sleep on the couch but there was a thunderstorm roaring outside, and the noise terrified him. jj poked his head into john b’s room seeking comfort and before he knew it he was waking up, cuddled so closely to john b in his small twin bed that it was hard for them to decipher where one ended and the other began. it became instinct at that point. every morning that they woke up together (which was almost every morning, as long as jj snuck back into his home before his dad awoke) john b would give jj his clothes to wear, and jj would give john b a hat to borrow. they shared a plate at breakfast when food was low, shared toothpaste, and of course all of john bs toys were jjs as well. and as they grew older they shared bigger things, such as their vehicles, beers, their surf boards, girls.

so it should come as no surprise that they had to share you. john b never understood how jj bagged a girl as pretty as you, but he couldn’t think too much on it right now. couldn’t think at all really. your back was pressed against his chest, arm reached behind you to jerk him off. your legs were spread wide, jj’s strong hands pinning your thighs to the bed as he ate you like a man starved. you didn’t think he could get any deeper, but john b reached out anyways, placing a firm hand on the back of jjs head and pushing, forcing jj to press even further into you. you wanted to pull away, worried that the blonde couldn’t breathe, but by the time you could grasp a coherent thought you were cumming. your juices spilled all over jjs face, meanwhile john bs hand kept him pressed into you, giving the blonde no where to go, not that he would’ve pulled away if he could. your hand kept stroking john bs thick cock even as your orgasm rushed through you, and he soon was cumming too, release spilling over your back. it was lucky your long hair was pulled up into an updo, otherwise it would’ve been ruined by john bs massive load.

you were still awake, fighting the aftershocks of your orgasm, but your eyes were fluttering shut. jj took note of this once he was able to pull back from your center, reaching a hand up to swiftly but gently tap the side of your face. “hey,” he mumbled, “don’t forget about me sweet girl. papa j needs some loving too.” he sealed the deal with a kiss, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue before he pulled away. you giggled at his words, body going lax as he picked you up, laying you back onto the bed on your stomach beside john b. jj spread your legs, squeezing your thighs as a silent way of saying keep them open. john b laid down beside you, hand gently caressing your cheek and murmuring words of praise as jj stripped out of his shorts. your eyes had closed once more, relaxing under john bs gentle touch and kind words, but abruptly snapped right back open. jj has his thick cock in his hand, smacking the heavy tip against your clit. you moaned out, making the blonde chuckle. “oh baby,” he began, “i haven’t even done anything yet.” but it didn’t matter. because then he was reaching up with his other hand to grab your hip, the hand on his cock pushing it forward, forcing his way into your gummy walls. “fuck mama,” jj panted out, clearly wanting to say more but being unable to after feeling your wetness around him. the blonde began moving immediately, heavy sack smacking against your clit with every thrust. you were soaked, arousal spilling out all over jjs cock. his eyes rolled back into his head, hips slamming harder into yours. john b reached out, grabbing onto jjs hand to pull the boy back into reality. the blonde smiled gratefully, looking at his best friend, before his head turned towards yours. “‘m gonna fucking ruin you.”

[lemonlover1110]

𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 1] The Grand Proposal

Story Masterlist

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Chapter Summary: Toji has been stressing about this for the past week. He needs it to be perfect. He wants to tell his grandchildren about how grandpa was romantic and thoughtful once upon a time- He wants to set the standard high for them. Grandpa loves grandma like no other.

Chapter Warnings: Fluff

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“Does my tie look okay?” Toji feels ridiculous asking the question to his four-year-old but today is a very special occasion. It’s one of the most important days in Toji’s life, and he can trust that his son will tell him the truth.

“You’re too tall.” Megumi can’t reach all the way up to the tie, so Toji picks the little guy up and puts him on the bed. Megumi gets his grubby little hands on the tie and fixes it. He crooks his father’s tie, even though it was perfectly fine before– In Megumi’s eyes it looks perfect, which is what matters. Toji’s too nervous to even notice it, blindly accepting the judgment from Megumi.

“I think I’m ready.” Toji says, until Megumi’s hand rubs against the stubble on his face. Toji sighs, feeling pathetic for the way he acts tonight. “Okay, I have to shave.”

“Yeah, you don’t want her to say no.” Megumi responds, sitting down on the bed as his father walks away.

Toji is taking deep breaths, trying his best to calm down. He’s nervous, a feeling that rarely comes to Toji but when it does, it’s bad; it consumes him as a whole. He’s proposing to you tonight. After a year of dating, Toji decided that it’s time. 

A year is not a long time by any means, but Toji just knows that you’re the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with. It’s undeniable, after all, it’s destiny. He just knows that you’re the woman he’s supposed to be with, and he doesn’t want to waste another minute.

Maybe it’s too soon, and he should hold off on the question. You’ve barely talked about marriage anyway, you’ve just talked about the fact that you do want to get married eventually. He can’t back down now, he already spent money on the proposal so he’ll try at the very least. 

His hands are shaky as he puts the shaving cream on his face… He’s done this before, why does he feel so nervous? Granted, last time he proposed to a woman it was a spur of the moment decision, not a very detailed plan. He didn’t have time to think about it and back down like he does now.

“Am I coming with you?” Megumi barges into the bathroom, and Toji nearly cuts himself, startled by the little one.

“You’re staying with a friend.” Toji answers, and Megumi pouts. He wants to be included, not stay behind and hear about the spectacular night you and his father had. Why can’t he be included?

“I’m more fun than you.” Megumi says, and Toji laughs. There’s no doubt in Toji’s mind, but this doesn’t require Megumi and his way of providing entertainment. “I’m not going to bother you.”

“You still have to stay behind, Megumi.” Toji responds, and the child pouts. Megumi stomps away, and Toji rolls his eyes. What a dramatic child. “You’re going to have fun! Don’t throw a tantrum.”

Megumi somewhat helps Toji calm down his nerves. At least he gets a laugh out of the child’s attitude. Toji swears the child doesn’t get the attitude from him.

“Are you ready to go, Megumi?” Toji yells as he pats his face dry. He shouldn’t be asking the question when he’s not even close to being ready, but it’s easier to focus on someone else when you’re in Toji’s shoes. There’s no response which can only be one thing: Megumi’s too mad at Toji to care.

Toji walks out of the bathroom to get the rest of his shit together. He’s running behind, he promised he’d be at your door at seven but he’s going to be at least ten minutes late. He feels like he’s lost his head– Oh, he’s praying you accept because there’s no way he can propose again. He absolutely hates this feeling, he has no idea where to go and which step he should take next.

“I promise I’ll behave.” Megumi is following behind Toji, trying to convince his father to let him go. He just wants to be a part of this very special night, not be left behind with some loser. Toji ignores the child that follows behind like a lost puppy. 

“Where’s my cologne?” Toji mutters, running around trying to find it. He’s lost his head. It’s not where it usually is which leads him to believe that the little bug that keeps pestering him is hiding items. He could go without it, but you often mention how he smells so good that you could just eat him. He’s trying to get everything in his favor tonight, so he can’t go off without the cologne. “Where did you put it, Megumi?”

“I don’t have it.” He claims, but one swift look at the child tells Toji all he needs to know. Toji begins to walk to the child’s bedroom, and the moment he steps into the room he notices a plushie that’s out of place. He moves it to the side to find his cologne and as well as the ring box.

“Megumi, what did I tell you about lying?” Toji sternly speaks, looking at the child that’s less than half his size. Megumi looks at his feet in shame, not because he feels bad but because he’s been caught.

“To only do it when it helps you.” Megumi responds, barely audible for the man. Toji doesn’t care to discipline the child too much, he’s running out of time. He’ll deal with Megumi later.

“I have to get going.” Toji looks at his watch, realizing that he should be out the door by this time. But he can’t leave Megumi alone at home, and Megumi isn’t ready yet. “Megumi, if you aren’t ready within the next five minutes, I’m leaving you home alone.”

“Okay…” He hates the hint of attitude that’s in Megumi’s voice. The child couldn’t care less. He doesn’t take Toji seriously, and Toji can’t stand it. 

“You know what happens when a child your age is left home alone?” Instilling fear will surely work. Toji is fighting back a smirk when Megumi shakes his head. “A big ugly monster comes and takes them.”

“Uglier than you?” Megumi says, which makes Toji sigh. Perhaps he should be offended, but he’s used to Megumi’s mouthiness at this point. It’s just another night for Toji. 

“Yeah, uglier than me and meaner as well. Now get ready.” Toji responds, though his tactic is not working. Megumi is unbothered, and Toji can’t afford to waste another second. It’s fine, Megumi isn’t really doing much, so he’ll be fine in pajamas.

“We’re leaving.” Toji picks the child up and carries him to the car. Megumi is kicking his feet, trying to break free from his father’s grip– To no avail, Toji is much stronger than Megumi. “Any chance you had of coming with me perished.”

“What does that mean?” Megumi asks while kicking his feet in the air. “Let me get my toys!”

“No, you made your choice. You wanted to be a brat, and now you’re going to Gojo’s place in your pajamas, with no shoes and no toys.” Toji feels a twinge of empathy for the child but he’s too irritated to let Megumi go back inside. Toji is running late, and tonight he wants you to have no doubts about him. He’s the perfect man for you, he has to showcase that in every possible way.

“I’m gonna run away!” Megumi yells, though he can’t do much when Toji holds him. Toji rolls his eyes. He knows that the neighbors hear how his child yells from the top of his lungs, but they know Megumi is a tad bit overdramatic. 

“Right before your fifth birthday? Please do me the favor so I can sell your gift.” Toji responds which instantly calms Megumi down. That threat works like a charm, perhaps he should’ve led with that. “Gojo better tell me that you were an angel or else.”

“I’ll behave!” Megumi claims, needing his birthday gifts to be safe. 

That was all it took for Megumi to behave for the rest of the night.

Toji’s hands are sweaty as he knocks on your door. His heart is about to beat out of his chest… All for what, a marriage proposal? Toji, a man that’s conquered many hearts because of how charming (and manipulative) he can be when he sets his heart on something. This shouldn’t be hard, he shouldn’t be nervous.

“Toji!” You exclaim as you open the door, looking as beautiful as ever tonight. He’s about to crap himself, he can’t propose. Your hands meet behind his neck before bringing him down to peck his lips. Your nose goes to the crook of his neck, and just as he expected, you tell him, “You smell so good, I could eat you.”

“I’m not opposed to that.” Toji chuckles as you press a subtle kiss on his neck. He pulls you into his embrace, hands resting on the small of your back. “You’re looking stunning tonight.”

“When am I not?” You reply with a laugh. You close the door behind you, and intertwine your arm with his before walking out. “Where are you taking me tonight, big boy?”

“It’s a surprise.” He tells you, and you squint as you look at him. Something is up with him, Toji doesn’t do surprises. “You’re looking at me funny.”

“What’s up with you?” You question, and you swear you see his cheeks turn pink. But Toji? That’s unlikely, your eyes must be deceiving you. You look away, knowing there’s no possibility that your boyfriend is blushing.

“There’s nothing up with me. Jumping to conclusions already?” He tries to play it off, which gives it away. There’s something up with him, and you’re going to figure it out.

“How’s Megumi?” You ask him, and Toji can say a lot but he decides on sighing. That’s all he needs to say, you know that the little guy can be stubborn. “What did he do this time?”

“Wanted to join our date.” He chuckles, and you can’t help but laugh as well. You’d let the child join, you’re always happy to have Megumi with you… But Toji knows best. And you do appreciate not having to watch your mouth and being able to be as affectionate as you want to be with Toji.

“Poor little guy, you should’ve let him join.” You’re clearly joking, but Toji can’t help but roll his eyes. Megumi is such a cockblock that he should be studied by scientists, it should be impossible. Luckily he got rid of the child for the night. 

“Can’t thank Satoru enough for taking him off my hands tonight.” Toji says, and you’re fighting back on smiling as you think about what tonight has in store for you. It’s going to be fun, that’s what you can gather from this.

“I’ll thank Satoru if you make tonight worth it.” You wink at him, and he should make some sort of remark that’ll make you chuckle, but he feels as if his heart is about to beat out of his chest. He’s going to do it. He’s going to propose…

“Yeah…” He lets out an awkward laugh. You get to his car, and he opens the passenger door for you. You kiss his cheek, muttering a thank you before getting into his car. He takes a deep breath as he shuts the car door, muttering, “Tonight is going to be unforgettable.”

“Woah… This place is…” You’re sitting across from Toji, holding the menu in your hands and staring at the high prices. Toji has never taken you to a place this expensive before, and it makes you wonder what he has up his sleeve. “Nice.” 

“Yeah, I want tonight to be spec– Nice.” He corrects himself before he gives it away. And then it hits you. Perhaps you should’ve known the moment he took you to a place where there is valet parking, but what matters is that now you know.

You thought it was next month, but apparently it’s tonight since Toji is going above and beyond. Your second year anniversary with Toji. Many questions pop into your head as you try to figure out how you’ve forgotten this very special night… And how did Toji even remember?

“Happy anniversary.” You smile, trying to play it off. It totally hadn’t slipped your mind. Toji looks puzzled as if he’s trying to figure something out. Your mind lands on his gift. A non-existent gift that you very obviously do not carry with you. You decide to lie, “I do have a gift for you, but it’s back at my place.”

“Happy anniversary.” He’s forcing himself to smile. He forgot that? How did he forget it? He had it marked on his calendar but guesses with being in a rush about a proposal and whatnot made it slip his mind. “I do have a gift for you as well.”

“What is it?” Your interest is piqued, and you really don’t want to wait till later to find out. You’re not as patient as you claim to be.

“What’s your gift?” Toji responds, and you roll your eyes. You haven’t figured it out yet, therefore you can’t give him a response.

“Fine, leave me guessing.” There’s a hint of attitude in your tone, something that Toji doesn’t care enough to fix. He has bigger issues right now. “What can I order? I know you’re not made of money.”

“That’s kind of rude.” Toji points out, holding back on laughing. You aren’t wrong though, but tonight is special. He wouldn’t take you to a place he couldn’t afford. “I brought you here because I can afford it. Order the whole menu if you want.”

“Really?” You raise a brow his way, and Toji clicks his tongue. He puts his hands up defensively before saying,

“You got me. Don’t order the whole menu, I don’t have that kind of money.” He laughs, and you chuckle. 

“Thank you for bringing me here, dear. This is a very lovely place.” You reach over, and take his hands into yours. You feel just how sweaty his palms are, and you wonder why. It’s definitely not hot for him to be sweaty. “Toji, are you nervous?”

“Why would I– You know, I think we should celebrate.” Toji has to do it now, he might die if he waits till dessert. He’ll call over the waiter, and proceed with the plan that he had. He got the idea from some article on the internet, putting the ring in your drink and whatever follows. It’s not particularly romantic but for Toji it’s perfect. Toji’s charming, not romantic.

“Celebrate?” You question before remembering your anniversary. You feel bad for forgetting when he’s clearly put effort into tonight. You can fake it though. “Of course, let’s celebrate.”

Toji flags down the waiter, telling him to bring out champagne. Toji doesn’t drink, but tonight he'll make an exception. You also know he doesn’t drink, which makes you suspicious. Tonight is not an ordinary night.

“Two years already, huh? When are you proposing?” You tease him, and he nearly chokes on his own saliva. His eyes are wide and you feel the need to clarify. “I’m joking, babe. You don’t have to react like that.”

“React like what? I’m fine.” He says, and you’re having a hard time believing him. He’s nervous about something, it’s written all over his face. “You have to stop reading into things.”

“I’m not.” You respond, knowing that there’s something up with Toji. A man that’s usually stoic looks almost nervous. You won’t push him to give you an answer though, that surely won’t work with Toji.

“Finally.” Toji’s eyes glimmer at the sight of the glasses on the table. He takes a deep breath, preparing himself to speak. To give the small speech that he wrote down with Megumi’s crayon. A small speech that he lost because Megumi poured a glass of water on it– But it’s fine, he memorized it. 

“Cheers.” You grab the glass in front of you, and clink it with Toji’s. You furrow your brows, noticing that the liquid in Toji’s is shaking. He’s shaking. “Toji, are you okay? Are you cold?”

“They keep the place chilly.” He tries to laugh it off. He’s giving it away. Though he says it’s chilly, he’s sweating. But before you can question it, Toji chugs down his drink. There’s something wrong with him. He prompts you to drink as well, “It’s gonna get warm.”

“I’m not in a rush.” You look at him inquisitively. You love Toji, and you’ve gotten to know him pretty well. But you can’t know what’s going through his mind by merely looking at him. You grab your drink slowly, and bring the glass to your lips before taking a long sip of the champagne. Drinking from a glass has never been as awkward as it is now, feeling Toji’s eyes watching your every move.

“Toji, this is the last time I ask, what the fuck is up with you?” You ask, getting frustrated with him. He’s acting odd, and you wonder if you did something wrong. 

“Look at the bottom of the glass.” He instructs you and you frown, grabbing the glass and inspecting the bottom of it. There’s nothing. Perhaps it’s because there’s some liquid, but apart from bubbles you spot nothing. 

“What?” You question, and Toji loosens his tie. “Did you see something weird?”

“Is there nothing at the bottom?” Toji asks, and he almost loses his shit when you shake your head. His eyes are wider than you’ve ever seen, and suddenly the man stands up from his chair. He bites down his tongue before saying one simple word, “Bathroom.”

Before you can utter a word, Toji’s gone. What an odd man he is tonight.

Toji looks around the place, trying to find the dumb waiter that he tasked this with. The instructions are very clear, how could he mess that up? Toji’s eyes land on the waiter, and the poor man begins to tremble when he sees Toji’s terrifying glare. A predator has spotted its prey, and the prey is too slow to run away.

Toji grabs the waiter by his collar, dragging him from the kitchen to the back of the restaurant in a matter of seconds. Toji is pinning this twenty-something-year-old against the wall, making the poor man almost cry out to his mommy. Toji feels like he’s doing some shady business again.

“Where the fuck is that ring, boy? You know how much that cost me?! I’ll sell your intestines to make you pay.” Toji threatens; a threat that holds no weight, but sounds so natural as it rolls off Toji’s tongue. 

“I-I don’t know, s-sir. I promise I put it in.” The waiter stumbles over his words, absolutely terrified of Toji. It’s a scary scene, specifically with how ravenous Toji looks. Toji’s hungry for blood, and he’s staring at the perfect target. 

“Where the fuck is it? That damn ring cost me an arm and a leg.” Toji’s anger couldn’t be more clear than now. It’s absolutely terrifying for any bystander, and of course, the poor man that is pinned against the wall. 

“Whose?” The young man is closing his eyes, scared that these moments might be his last. The grip on the collar tightens, Toji getting angrier by the second.

“You want to joke around with me? Is this funny to you?” Toji spits out, and the poor boy frantically shakes his head. Toji finally let’s go, letting out an annoyed sigh. “Get me your fucking manager.”

“Yessir.” The young man responds, body nearly falling to the ground as he struggles to find balance. At least Toji let him go. He’s alive, and he should be grateful.

“That took you long enough.” You chuckle, watching as Toji sits across from you once again. You want to ask if the reason why he was acting weird was because of a stomach bug, but Toji looks mad. 

“Must’ve eaten something bad.” Toji mutters, as if upset. Though you understand having a stomach bug is not enjoyable, you don’t particularly understand why he looks mad. 

“Do we have to go? Our celebration can wait.” You reassure him, but Toji shakes his head. He sighs. 

“We have to celebrate our anniversary.” He responds, but you don’t want him to put his well being at risk to celebrate the date. Your celebration can wait until he gets better. Your hands reach over to grab his own, giving them a squeeze.

“I don’t want you to sit through a celebration while you’re feeling ill.” You watch him avert his gaze. You know he’s upset about this, and you think of how to make him feel better. You chuckle before confessing, “I forgot about our anniversary… I thought this was just going to be one of our usual dates but here you go, going above and beyond. So don’t feel bad if you want to cancel all of our plans, and call it a night. We can just go home, and I’ll make you tea to help your upset stomach.”

“I guess…” Toji is a fool. Putting a ring that expensive in a glass of champagne? For you? That man should’ve carved out your name on a mountain and asked you to marry him at the bare minimum. This place– The proposal and the restaurant is too trashy for what you deserve.

“I have to talk to the manager, will you give me a second?” Toji asks, and you furrow your brows. Was the incident in the bathroom that bad? You won’t question it. You don’t want to embarrass the man. 

Toji comes back within five minutes, extending his hand for you to take. Without a doubt, you take it and leave with him. You’ll go anywhere that Toji wants to take you.

“You know–” You begin before shoving a fry into your mouth. Toji decided to take you to eat fast food before going home. Though he’s supposed to be sick, you’re both eating fast food in his car. Luckily he’s parked outside of the place, so in case an emergency does come up, he can run inside. “I’m surprised you remembered our anniversary but I didn’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Toji questions, reaching over and taking one of your fries since he already ate all of his. He eats fast– One thing about Toji, he’ll make sure he doesn’t have to share. You glare at his hand, and almost slap it away.

“That I’m the one that’s usually great at remembering dates.” You answer, and Toji tries to recall today’s date. Tonight he just got extremely lucky… In that sense at least. He’s calling it quits on tonight’s plan. He’ll perfect the proposal over the coming weeks. “But you know what they say: a broken clock is right twice a day.”

“Did you just compare me to a broken block?” He’s slightly offended by the question, but the glimmer of mischief in your eyes makes him chuckle. As revenge, he reaches over and takes a couple more of your fries.

“Hey! Stop eating all of my food!” You scold him, and he fights back a smirk. He puts on a show of eating your food in front of you, showing off that he’s taken your fries and you can’t do anything about it. “You shouldn’t even be eating this with your stomach.”

“My stomach is fine.” He assures you, but you can’t take him seriously. Toji could be dying on a hospital bed, and he’d still reassure you that he’s completely fine. With how long it took him to come back from the bathroom, you doubt he’s okay.

“Are you sure? Because–”

“What do you think about getting married?” Toji cuts you off, not wanting to talk about an upset stomach or his shitting habits. You can’t help but giggle at the way he changes the conversation, especially from something so ridiculous to a serious matter.

“Why? Are you proposing?” You tease, and Toji rolls his eyes at your reaction. You chuckle before answering truthfully, “I’d love to get married to you someday. Anywhere, any time.”

“Good, because you’re stuck with me for life.” Toji tries to joke, but it sounds very serious. He’s joking but at the same time he isn't. Not that you mind being stuck with him for life.

“Hmm… How about we go to the courthouse tomorrow and get married?” You propose and Toji begins to choke on the fry that he stole from you. He quickly grabs the soda and drinks like a wild man, while hitting his chest. You’re worried for a millisecond before you burst out laughing.

Toji coughs up his fry while the sound of your laughter fills up the car. Your hand goes to his back, caressing it as he calms down.

“Glad– That my– Near death experience is funny to you.” He’s still coughing. When he calms down, he’s glaring at you. A glare that many find intimidating. But you find it amusing, knowing Toji isn’t going to do anything.

“Could you imagine? Death by fry? I can’t decide if that’s an amazing or a pathetic way to go.” You say, and Toji rolls his eyes again.

“Fine, let’s go to the courthouse tomorrow and get married.” Toji agrees. It definitely takes the weight of proposing off his shoulders. 

You shake your head. “I was joking.”

“Like hell you were. I know how you women are. You’re joking, but you’re actually dropping hints.” He does air quotes, and you glare at him. The difference between you glaring at him, and him glaring at you is that he actually feels a twinge of fear when you look at him badly. He begins to laugh, putting his hands up defensively, “I was just messing around.”

“Like hell you were, punk.” You sound so serious that it scares him. Before he can even defend himself, your hand goes to his bicep and you proceed to lightly pinch him. He cries in pain, and you let go before leaning over to kiss the same spot. 

You proceed to apologize in a high pitched voice, “Sowwy for hurting you, baby.”

“Okay, say it again but in a normal voice.” Toji replies, and you roll your eyes.

“I’m only apologizing with the baby voice. Take it or leave it.” You cross your arms, acting as if you have the upper hand in this situation.

“Leave it. I have enough with Megumi.” Toji responds, making you click your tongue.

“Are we picking up the little guy before going home?” You ask, and Toji hums in response. He almost forgot that his offspring is with your best friend for the night. 

“Yeah. He’ll kill me if we don’t.”

You hum along to the tune of one of your favorite songs as Toji drives back to Gojo’s place. You tried to joke around with Toji some more, but after the drive started, he stopped paying attention. He looks pensive, and you wonder if it’s the same thoughts that were affecting him earlier.

“Oh, look, it’s raining.” You point out as if Toji hadn’t turned on the windshield wipers. You just want Toji to say something, but he’s suddenly gone mute.

Toji’s thoughts are about Megumi. The little cockblocker is going to spoil his plan. Megumi has kept his mouth shut for a whole week after finding out the plan, Toji knows the little guy isn’t going to hold it for much longer. 

“Are you hot?” You ask as Toji lowers the air conditioning. He takes off his suit jacket at the red light, unable to contain the heat. It’s pretty cold out, but he’s acting a little odd tonight.

Before you know it, you’re outside of Satoru’s apartment complex. Your hand goes to the door handle, but before you open it, Toji speaks up, “Stay here. It’s raining.”

“I want to say hi to my little guy.” You say, but Toji shakes his head. He’ll refuse to let you out of the car.

“You’re sleeping over tonight anyway. I can’t protect both of you from the rain, and the last thing I need is you both being whiny babies because of a cold.” Toji responds, and you pout. Toji will let you figure out your own feelings while he goes to pick up Megumi. 

“Stupid Toji.” You mutter when the car door shuts. At least he’s doing this to keep you well, but you can’t help but think this has something to do with his weird behavior. You begin to mock him, “You’re sleeping over anyway. Dumbass.”

You begin to turn up the temperature, freezing with the air conditioning on. But you feel a twinge of remorse while you do it, knowing that he’s going to be hot when he gets to the car. You turn the air conditioning down again, opting to take his jacket instead. 

You put it on, and begin to feel his pockets. Maybe you’ll find some change… It’s not like Toji is going to notice a few coins missing. What’s his is yours, and what’s yours is yours. However the saying goes. A smirk comes to your lips when you feel something cold, “Bingo.”

“Huh?” Your expression quickly changes, your eyes becoming wide when you see that it’s not a coin. It’s something much more expensive. Something that answers everything. Why he took you to an expensive restaurant, why he was acting so weird, why he suddenly remembered your anniversary (though it hits you that it’s not the date, you assumed wrong).

You stare at it for what feels like forever. It looks like it’ll fit perfectly. You exit the car, not caring that it is drizzling out. You can withstand some water, what you can’t stand is sitting in the car alone with your own thoughts for another second. He’s coming out of the building, holding an umbrella over Megumi’s head. 

“What are you doing out?!” Toji yells when he sees you outside of the car, wearing his jacket. He frowns, until he sees you hold something up. He doesn’t have to squint to see what it is, and he begins to freak out immediately. “Snoopy! Why were you going through that?!”

“Megumi, get in the car.” Toji hands the umbrella to the child, a task that Megumi is happy to take over. Toji walks over to you, attempting to snatch the ring out of your hands.

“What is this?” You ask, and Toji refuses to answer, focusing on getting the ring from your hands but you begin to move around. You can’t help but giggle as you watch a very frustrated Toji try to take a ring from you. “You won’t get it back until you answer.”

“Then…” Toji restrains you, grabbing both of your wrists. It’s an awkward position, one arm over your head while you hold the other in front of you. “We won’t move.”

“So much for not getting me sick.” You mention, and you know that he fights back a smile. You look into his eyes, seeing the uncertainty that consumes them. Toji was hoping tonight he’d have the perfect proposal, and when he realized that everything was going south, he backed out. Your heart melts at the thought of your big intimidating boyfriend getting worried because of this. 

“Will you give it back?” He’s talking to you as if you were Megumi. 

“I do–” You begin. “I’ll hold that for the ceremony.”

“Huh?” Toji lets go of your wrists, and you proceed to place the ring in the palm of his hand. You kiss the tip of his nose before pressing your forehead against his. Toji laughs, relief washing over him. “I didn’t even ask the question.”

“What are you waiting for?” You ask, and Toji pulls away. 

He gets on one knee on the wet asphalt, holding the ring that nearly cost him his intestines, with the most genuine smile on his face. His eyes are brimming with love. He had a long sappy speech that he copied off the internet. Something overly romantic. Something disingenuous to his character.

“Will you marry me?” 

“Yes.” You nod excitedly, and Toji slips the ring on your finger before getting up from the ground and picking you up. He kisses you once. Then again. And again, and again. 

“Eugh!” You both hear that makes the kissing stop. Megumi is waiting for you two to finish to properly greet you– One thing you notice, the umbrella is gone.

Toji sighs. Great, everyone is going to be sick for at least a week.

At least he’s getting married soon.

[ambrosiagoldfish]

I've never sent a request before, but I'm fiending for more adam, like anything, anything at all

Benefit of the doubt

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Viewer discretion is advised

Warnings: Angst(?), Not exactly fluff at the end but it gets better, typical Adam TW’s, reader low-key high-key has a complex about being loved, this is set way before the show, and Gn! Reader. (Also Y/n isn’t used, which also surprised me, the author, LMAO)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Request Box: Open

Word count: 1760

A/N: Hi! Thanks for the request! I haven’t had a chance to write something that was originally my own idea in a while, so this was very refreshing! I’ve had this idea since I’ve watched the show so I hope you enjoy it!

I’m entirely up for making a small series from this oneshot, but I would need to know y’all’s opinion on it! (So don’t feel scared to let me know if you want some more of this idea in my Request box/the replies on this post!!)

Also Adam may be slightly OOC but please just chalk it up to him not yet getting his ego’s dick sucked 24/7

Anyways, I hope you all enjoy, let me know if you do!

Proofread but of course could have left mistakes!

You’ve existed for almost all of human existence, Almost.

You were the 4th being to be created during the time of Eden. But unlike the other 3, you weren’t human. In fact, you technically never lived before. An honestly hopeless existence, yet it was so beautiful in every way. But for what purpose? Well…

You were created shortly after Eve ate the apple, before she and eventually Adam committed the first act of sin that caused evil to latch onto humanity like a leech.

The reason for your existence was simple. To be Adam’s new spouse, except for when after he died. From the very moment Eve bit the fruit of temptation, it was already decided she would hold no place in heaven. Adam was given mercy due to him not possessing any knowledge of the fruit Eve had shared with him, he trusted her wholeheartedly. Which is exactly why heaven gave him mercy… no, pity would be a better choice of words.

Upon your creation you learned immediately of the happenings before your existence. About Lilith and Eve, and about Lucifer

And so, after Adam and Eve were casted away from the Garden, they continued to live their lives, fostering the existence of mankind for the rest of time. And when they eventually died, Adam was given pity while Eve was thrown to the wayside, the vast unknown.

You thought it was finally your time to experience existence with the one you loved, the one you were made for. Of course you never would know life as he did but surely your life never-after life could be just as meaningful as his.

How excited you were, how completely enamored by the thought of it. But there was a problem with that, Adam had grown into a new person, he was meant to of course, he was human. But he had grown selfish, abhorrent… insecure.

You understood why, to be betrayed by not one but two of his wives for the same person. You couldn’t possibly imagine what he could be feeling. Before you were to meet your future husband, Sera informed you that he had asked for a mask, and once on, he has refused to take it off.

That didn’t bother you, it’s irrelevant to your love for him. You've only heard descriptions of his features. Short Brown hair, gold eyes, bushy eyebrows, some scruff on his chin. All in all, he sounded perfectly fine, ordinary even. But even then it’s his choice to wear the mask, so you’ll respect it.

Finally, the time he arrived in heaven, and when Sera finally introduced you, his new spouse, the one to whom would be by his side for the rest of forever.

He rejected you outright.

“What?” Your breath hitched as you stuttered over the word, the sharp inhale of your lungs through your mouth flicked through the air.

Sera looked just as shocked as you but she quickly regained her composure “What is the meaning of this Adam?”

“If you think I’m going to let my life get fucked over by another one of your “gifts” well, you’ve got another thing coming!” He crossed his arms and shook his head defyingly. “I’ve already learned my lesson with those last 2 bitches.”

“Adam I’m sorry that happened to you but I would never-“ almost like lightning his finger shot to your mouth, shushing you.

“Save it, Sweetcheeks, I really don’t care what you have to say, so just stay there and look pretty, k?” His hand fell and grabbed the sides of your face, squishing your cheeks together, his LED mask flashing a sharp smile.

You saddeningly looked down at the clouds below you.

“Adam!” Sera’s voice sounded through the air, still soft but firm, she continued, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Divine judgment allowed you to be the first human soul in heaven, so I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I expect you to give your new spouse that same grace.”

Slowly your eyes looked up at Sera with a soft smile. Adam only groaned “Ugh, Fine but don’t be fuxking annoying, capiche?” You nod your head quickly.

“Very good, glad we have it settled.” Sera gives a quick smile, “now, I have some business to take care of so I’ll leave you two alone to get to know one another” With that, Sera flew away leaving the both of you alone.

The silence was thick in the air, the only sound being the occasional wind breeze blowing past. The sunlight creeps in through the clouds painting an orange sky above you both. In every sense of the word, it was perfect.

It was almost funny. You had waited so long to finally meet him, your true love, the one you were made for. All the things you dreamed about, the laughs you’d have together, the warm embrace of the person who you loved. But now… you didn’t know what to say…

“I’m… happy to finally meet you.” Your voice is quiet, almost non-audible. “I’ve been waiting for you since… well, forever…”

He doesn’t respond. He seems to be transfixed on something below you both. You train your eyes on whatever he’s watching only to see the dark cavernous abyss below you. Finally he breaks his silence.

“The fuck is that?” He asked pointing down, a sound of genuine intrigue hidden behind his abrasive voice

“That’s hell?” You stated confused “where would-be sinners will go to be punished, didnt you k-“ you suddenly realized that perhaps Adam really didn’t know what hell was. It was only created relatively recently, after Eve and Him ate the apple, of course he wouldn’t know. “it’s also where Lucifer-“

“Don’t fucking say his name.” Adam spoke, his voice rough in his speech. LED mask putting a harsh frown on his face. “Let’s get one thing straight M”Kay babe, if you’re my “new spouse” that’s something you should remember.” The “new spouse” was said with a tone clearly meant to mock you.

“Sorry…”

“Ugh, It’s fine, just don’t do it again.” He groaned before a wicked smile crept onto his mask “Sooo, that means he’s going to be stuck with all the wasteful beings of existence, HA fuxkin’ hilarious. Guess that makes them the losers and us the Winners!”

His laugh filled the air, the sound was like music to your ears, sure maybe it wasn’t really what you’d hoped he’d fine funny, but you loved it all the same but eventually his laugh died down

Silence again… in admits of all of it you suddenly was sparked with a thought “oh!” Adam looked confused at the random exclamation. “I had almost forgotten… I brought you something, as a welcome gift or was it a nice to meet you gift? Both? Eh, it doesn’t matter but the point is-“ you suddenly snap your fingers.

Golden light began shining, the light seemed like liquid hot magma as it moved and molded slowly into a shape. Light seemed to be overlapping and churning into itself, forming your desired outcome. With one final snap of your fingers, the gleaming gold liquid took hold, and quickly hardened to a solid.

The object that had formed quickly fell down, landing in your arms with a light thud.

“I’m still learning this creation stuff, so I’m sorry if it’s not perfect but-“ you hold out the object in your arms as an invitation to grab it “I learned from Sera that you liked to play guitar when you were alive, so I thought you might like to have one here…”

Adam looked at the instrument in your hands. The base color was gold, the neck was pearly white with gold strings. To be honest it looked more like a harp then anything, like if a guitar and a harp had a baby.

Silence again. Did he not like it? Did he hate it? You go to pull it back to you and apologize when suddenly it’s ripped out from your hands.

“Holyshit, this is sick as Fuck!” Adam immediately started playing some rifts on the new guitar. The sound wasn’t what you were expecting but you guess Sera was right about his talent with the instrument. The whole time his mask had a wide and sharp smile as he mimicked guitar sounds with his voice, the occasional laugh leaving his mouth.

“I’m really glad you like it” you say, a sigh of relief leaving your body.

Adam looked at you, one you missed. He saw how relieved you were, how nice you were being. No person who supposedly loved him ever gifted him something, well, one other did. Someone he trusted and loved more than everyone, anyone. But look how that ended, with them being removed from the garden, away from an eternity of happiness until he died. All from someone giving him what he thought was nothing but love, a gift.

But he could see that this was different, you were different. When Eve gave him the apple, she didn’t explain what it was or why she wanted him to eat it, even when he asked her she didn’t explain. But with you, you had not only given him something you knew he liked but also expressed the reason behind it. Yes, you were different, even Adam could see it.

“Anyways, thanks for the axe, I guess…” Adam for the first time was stunned, but quickly he continued “What was the thing that Sera chick said about me and “divine judgment” or whatever the fuck? That she gave me the “benefit of the doubt…”

You were a bit confused but continued listening, “I guess I should at least try to give you a chance, since you got me this sick ass guitar an’ shit.” Your face lit up, you about began to speak before you were, once again, shushed “B-B-But-” his finger tapped your lips with each repeated syllable ”-only a chance. If you betray me like those last 2 bitches then you’re done, got it?”

To say you were overjoyed would be an understatement, a smile quickly plastered across your face as you quickly nodded your head

“Alright good, so uh, what do ya say about showing me the best places to get a bite to eat around here, I could really go for some ribs right about now.”

“ I’d… love to, thank you Adam”

“Yeah don’t mention it Sweetcheeks” Adam quickly wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you two began walking.

Maybe you will get your eternity of happiness.you can only pray you do.

[stevenose]

better in the dark (18+)

part of the august writing challenge

word of the day: flute

contents: reader with a vagina and breasts; gender unspecified reader; high!steve and high!reader; oral (reader receiving); steve cums in his pants :/ classic

Steve’s so high. Eyelids practically closed, all blissed out, cheeks pink. He’s giggling at everything, and perpetually confused.

“And it sucks, because Vickie plays clarinet, and I play, you know, trumpet, and I’m first chair, so I don’t even always get to sit next to her at concerts, and I really really want to.”

Steve blinks slowly. “Huh? I thought Vickie played flute?”

“Steve!” Robin sighs, exasperated, throwing her hands up. “Do you ever listen to anything I say?!”

She looks at you, just as high as Steve. You’re not quite in the room, even though you’re sitting across from her. Spaced out, ditzy.

“Can you please keep him in check?”

“No,” you answer honestly.

Steve giggles and covers his face with his hands. “We’re so screwed.”

Robin throws a pillow at him. “Bedtime, dingus. You too,” she adds, glancing at you. “You need to get it together before he makes me lose my mind.”

“Sorry,” you say weakly, forcing yourself upright. “Eddie didn’t say this shit was so strong.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waves you off.

You step over to Steve, taking his hands and hauling him up. He stumbles into you, then wraps his arms around you and buries his face into your neck.

“Tell Robin she’s bein’ mean.”

She groans and throws another pillow at him. “Don’t be gross in there either, okay? My mom will kill me if you mess up the bedsheets.” She shudders, like she can’t imagine anything worse.

Steve immediately forgets what she’s said the moment the guest room door is closed. He’s on you in an instant, pressing you gently into the door, catching your lips in his.

And it feels good. So good to be brainless and mindless and enveloped in him.

“Hi,” he breathes, hands finding your ass.

“Hi.” You feel shy, his hooded eyes locked on you. Instantly horny.

“Robin said we can’t mess up the sheets,” he says.

You tug on his t-shirt pitifully. “I know.”

But then he kneels and looks up at you, hands on your knees. “Then we won’t use the bed.”

Your breath hitches, but you try to remain cool. Casual, even. “Who says I wanna fuck you, anyway?”

He scrunches his nose, smiling. “Aren’t you cute.”

You’re dangerously close to falling when he pulls your shorts down, knees already weak. And you’re definitely close to falling when he uses his thumbs to spread you open, admiring you.

Your legs shake when his mouth is on you. He’s sloppy with it, not as precise as usual, which you’re perfectly fine with. You like feeling the heat of his mouth everywhere, his tongue feverishly trying to taste every inch of you.

You need to hold onto the door, or something sturdy, but your hands instead wrap into Steve’s hair. He grunts, flicking his red eyes up at you.

“You’re beautiful,” you whimper, trying hard to not make any noise. “So — oh, so pretty, honey.”

He moans and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in, bringing your leg up to rest on his shoulder. Now he’s really working his tongue, surely making his jaw ache, but he’s relentless.

You coax him on through strangled whimpers. “Good boy, Steve, y-you’re so good at that.”

He’s all you can think about. His tongue, the softness of his hair, the little whimpers and moans he’s letting out. Thank god he’s buried in your cunt - he can get so loud.

You come undone quickly and easily. Just takes Steve sucking on your clit for a few seconds before you’re coming, shaking over him, bringing a hand up to your mouth to stifle yourself. It hardly works.

Steve grunts and groans while he works you through it. When you look down, you see him humping the air desperately.

“Shit, Steve,” you whine. “Fuckin’ desperate.”

He pulls away from your pussy to gasp, resting his forehead on your stomach and panting.

“Oh my god,” he groans. “I - oh my god. I just came in my pants.”

You gasp loudly. “No way.”

He looks up at you pitifully. It seems to have sobered him up. “Way.”

You shake your head and pet his hair, giggling. “Y’get so pathetic when you’re high, huh?”

He hisses, still gripping on to you. “Don’t say that shit. Gonna get me hard again.”

[ne0mile]

team leader!mark x assistant!reader

Mark's known as the youngest ever team leader in the entire story of the firm. And seeing how hard he works, it's no wonder he got to this place in such a short amount of time. He's always helping everyone with their tasks, and 5 steps ahead on his own. Except lately, he's burning out. So when Chenle insists that he hire an assistant, he agrees.

warnings: smut, !MDNI!, pwp, fem!reader, inappropriate work relationship, sub!mark, office sex, oral (m!receiving), mentioned exhibitionism, unprotected sex (DON'T, I just always forget to write condoms), tw: job interview

wordcount: 6k

Mark Lee was five steps ahead. Always.

That’s what everyone said about him, anyway. The youngest team lead in the firm’s history, the guy who could solve any problem before anyone else even knew it existed. He was the one arriving early, the one staying late, the one double-checking reports, the one who always had an extra pen when someone needed it...

Which was why it was so embarrassing when Chenle found him face-down on his desk, drooling on a stack of quarterly reports.

A sharp knock jolted him awake—or it would have, if he hadn’t already been in that hazy space between sleep and consciousness. The door creaked open before he could even lift his head.

“Man, you cannot be sleeping at work,” Chenle’s voice cut through the fog, equal parts amused and exasperated.

Mark groaned, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. A crumpled Post-it note stuck to his cheek. “I swear it won’t happen again.”

Chenle snorted, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. “That’s what you said last week. And the week before.”

Mark grimaced. He couldn’t even argue. He’d been running on fumes for months now, pushing himself harder and harder until even his infamous efficiency was starting to crack.

Chenle sighed, stepping fully into the office and dropping into the chair across from Mark’s desk. “Look, I get it. You’re ‘five steps ahead’ or whatever. But even you can’t do everything alone.”

Mark opened his mouth to protest, but Chenle held up a hand. “Nope. No arguments. You’re hiring an assistant.”

Mark blinked. “An assistant?”

“Yeah. Someone to handle the little stuff so you don’t... I don’t know, pass out at your desk.” Chenle’s grin was teasing, but his tone left no room for negotiation.

Mark hesitated. He’d always prided himself on handling everything himself, but the exhaustion weighing down his bones was hard to ignore.

“…Fine,” he relented.

Chenle’s smirk turned victorious. “Great. HR’s already got candidates lined up. Interviews start tomorrow."

Mark groaned again. Chenle was already heading for the door. “Oh, and Mark?” He glanced back over his shoulder, mischief glinting in his eyes. “Try not to fall asleep on them during the interviews.”

Mark flipped him off, but as the door clicked shut, he couldn’t help the small, relieved smile tugging at his lips.

Maybe an assistant wasn’t the worst idea.

By the next week, Mark had interviewed seven candidates already.

Seven perfectly competent, perfectly professional applicants who all blurred together in his sleep-deprived brain. 

None of them had been bad, just… not quite right. Not someone he could imagine working alongside every day, someone who could keep up with his chaotic energy and relentless pace.

And then you walked in.

From the moment you stepped into his office, Mark knew you were different.

You didn’t fidget under his gaze. You didn’t rattle off rehearsed answers like a corporate robot. Instead, you met his eyes with an easy confidence, your lips quirking into a small smile when he asked the unexpected questions.

“So,” he leaned back in his chair, tilting his head. “What would you do if I handed you a last-minute project due in an hour, but you already had three other deadlines to meet?”

Most candidates had given textbook responses about prioritization and time management. You, however, raised an eyebrow. “I’d ask why you waited until the last minute to give it to me.”

Mark blinked. Then, he laughed, loud and surprised.

Chenle, eavesdropping from the hallway, nearly dropped his coffee.

The rest of the interview flew by. It was effortless, natural. You matched his wit, challenged his assumptions, and when he mentioned his infamous "five steps ahead" reputation, you smirked.

“Sounds like you need someone who can keep up.”

Mark’s pulse jumped.  He really did.

By the time you stood to leave, he was already dreading the moment you’d walk out the door.

“So,” you paused in the doorway, glancing back at him. “When do I start?”

Mark should’ve waited. Should’ve reviewed the other candidates, slept on it, and been professional. But the way you looked at him like you already knew him, like you weren’t intimidated, like you were the boss… made his usual caution evaporate.

“Tomorrow,” he said, voice lower than he intended. “Nine sharp.”

Your smile was slow, knowing. “Looking forward to it.”

And as the door closed behind you, Mark realized two things:

1: He was definitely hiring you.

2: This was going to be a problem.

The office was quiet at 8:45 AM, the early morning light casting long shadows across Mark’s desk. He was already buried in paperwork, because of course he was. Chenle had long since accepted that Mark’s version of "taking it easy" was merely working at a slightly less inhuman pace.

Leaning against the doorframe, he smirked, sipping his coffee. "So," he drawled, "you actually hired someone."

Mark didn’t look up. "I interviewed people. That was the plan."

"Uh-huh." Chenle pushed off the door and strolled in, dropping into the chair across from Mark with a knowing glint in his eye. "And yet, mysteriously, the only candidate you hired was the one who basically called you out on your bullshit in the first five minutes. Are you into that kind of stuff?"

Mark’s pen stilled. He finally lifted his gaze, narrowing his eyes. "She was the most qualified."

"Sure, sure." Chenle grinned. "And it had nothing to do with the fact that she’s—"

A sharp knock at the door cut him off.

9:00 AM on the dot.

Mark’s spine straightened almost imperceptibly, but Chenle didn’t miss it. His smirk widened.

"Come in," Mark called, voice carefully neutral.

The door opened, and there you were: dressed sharp, posture confident, looking every bit like you belonged there. Your eyes flicked between them, lingering on Mark just a beat longer than they did on Chenle.

"Morning," you said, tone smooth. "Ready to get started?"

Chenle opened his mouth, no doubt to make some obnoxious comment, but Mark cut him off without even looking away from you.

"Chenle," he said, voice low. "You can go."

Chenle’s eyebrows shot up. He glanced between the two of you, then slowly stood, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Wow. Wow. I see how it is." He clapped Mark on the shoulder as he passed, leaning in to whisper, "You’re so screwed."

The door clicked shut behind Chenle, leaving the two of you in charged silence.

Mark exhaled, leaning back in his chair. "Ignore him. He thinks he’s funnier than he is."

You tilted your head, lips curving. "I don’t know. I think he might be onto something."

Mark’s pulse jumped. Again.

This was definitely going to be a problem.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut, until you suddenly laughed, shaking your head. "I’m just kidding." The playful glint in your eyes melted into something warmer, more relaxed, and just like that, the charged atmosphere dissipated. Mark blinked, caught off guard, before exhaling a chuckle.

"You and Chenle are gonna be insufferable together." He muttered.

You grinned, dropping into the chair across from him. "Probably. But I promise I’m here to work."

And the work you did.

Within the first few days, Mark realized hiring you might’ve been the smartest decision he’d ever made.

You didn’t just keep up, you anticipated.

When he reached for a file, you’d already pulled it. When he muttered about needing to reschedule a meeting, you’d already drafted the email. And when he came in one morning to find his coffee waiting on his desk—exactly how he liked it—he nearly groaned in relief.

"You’re terrifying," he admitted one afternoon, watching as you effortlessly reorganized a project timeline that had been giving him a headache for days.

You smirked, not looking up from your computer. "I prefer efficient."

Mark leaned back in his chair, studying you. "How’d you even know I needed this done?"

You finally glanced up, meeting his gaze. "Because you kept sighing at your screen like it personally offended you. Figured I’d step in."

Mark opened his mouth to protest, then shut it. "...Okay, fair."

You laughed, and Mark found himself smiling in return. For the first time in months, the weight on his shoulders felt a little lighter.

Weeks passed, and Mark Lee—perpetually five steps ahead of everyone else—found himself constantly two steps behind you.

Where you initially made his job easier, he was finding himself having more and more difficulty focusing on his tasks. 

His mind was just elsewhere.

It was the way you absentmindedly tucked your hair behind your ear when concentrating. The way you’d hum under your breath when sorting through files. The way your lips quirked when you caught him in a rare mistake, like you were savoring the moment.

It was maddening.

And the worst part? You gave nothing away. 

Mark had nothing to complain about. It was all completely his fault.

You were the perfect assistant: attentive, efficient, just the right amount of friendly. No lingering touches, no suggestive comments, nothing that could be construed as unprofessional.

Meanwhile, Mark was losing his damn mind.

At first, it was harmless.

She has a nice smile. He thought. 

A simple observation, really. The kind anyone might make. The way your lips curved when you solved a problem before he did, the flash of triumph in your eyes… it was endearing, that’s all.

Then it became: She smells good.

Something subtle, vanilla, maybe, or amber. He only noticed because you leaned over his shoulder to point out an error on his screen, your hair brushing his cheek. He held his breath for three seconds too long.

But then it wasn’t just your smile or your perfume. It was the way your throat moved when you swallowed your coffee too fast, the way your fingers drummed against the desk when you were thinking, the way your skirt hugged the curve of your hips when you walked away from him.

Mark was a disciplined man. At work, he focused on work. That’s what got him so far in the company. But in the last days or weeks, his thoughts have been slipping, spiraling into territory that made his collar feel too tight.

What if I tugged that pencil skirt up just a little higher?

The thought struck him mid-meeting, so vivid he nearly choked on his water. 

Across the table, you glanced up, eyebrows raised in silent question. He waved you off, but the damage was done.

Because now he couldn’t stop.

What if I bent her over the printer?

What if she gasped my name?

What if—

“Mark?”

Your voice snapped him back to reality. You were standing in front of his desk, holding out a report, expression perfectly composed. But there was something in your eyes—a flicker of amusement, maybe, or worse, knowing.

Like you could see right through him.

Like you knew exactly what he was thinking.

He took the file, careful not to let his fingers brush yours. “Thanks.”

You smiled, politely, as you always did, before turning away.

And Mark, gentleman that he was, waited until you were out of sight before dropping his head into his hands with a silent groan.

He stayed late again that day. The office was quiet, with the hum of the fluorescent lights somehow soothing his overproductive mind. Realising that the sun had already gone down, Mark shut down his computer with an exhausted sigh. 

There was a reason why Mark worked that hard and always stayed way longer than he was supposed to in the office. The place was professional, controlled. Whereas, the moment he stepped out into the cool evening air, the facade cracked. 

The city buzzed around him. Neon lights flickered, taxis honked, and the overwhelming sound of people laughing as they spilled out of bars filled Mark’s ears. 

It was always like this, and in that dark ocean of people, he struggled to find a comfortable enough place. 

But that night, as he engulfed himself in the subway station, instead of distracting him with thoughts of ongoing files and upcoming meetings, his mind was trapped in a loop of images he had no business entertaining. 

Your fingers tapping impatiently on the edge of your desk.

The way your blouse dipped just slightly when you leaned forward. 

And your smile–the one you gave him every time you caught him staring at you for a while too long. 

He gritted his teeth, shoving one hand into his coat pocket and the other one’s knuckles turning white as he gripped the subway bar tighter. 

Mark’s apartment was dark when he unlocked the door. He flicked on the lights, dropped his keys into the dish by the entryway, and shrugged off his jacket with a sigh. Every gesture was part of a meticulous routine.

The silence here was heavier than the office’s. No distraction, no flickering lights. No buffer between him and the growing storm in his head. 

He poured himself a drink, which he didn’t drink, and turned on the TV but wouldn’t watch it. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling as he finally sank onto the couch, the weight of the day and all the others pressing down on him. 

Pathetic. 

He was better than this. He should be better than this. Smarter than this.

Mark had built his entire career on discipline, on precision, on always being in control. And yet here he was, unraveling over a silly crush on his assistant. 

You were distracting him from his career. You and the way his pulse jumped when you walked into the room. You and the way his skin burned when your fingers brushed his. You and the way he caught himself imagining things he had no right to imagine–

Your nails digging into his shoulders. 

Your breath hot against his ear. 

Your voice low and sultry–

Mark groaned, pressing the heels of his hands against his closed eyes. 

Stop. 

Dragging his hands down his face, he let them fall limp at his sides as he stared up at the ceiling. He should eat. He should shower. He should do anything other than lie here and torture himself with thoughts of you. 

But for probably the first time in his life, Mark Lee didn’t move. 

He just let the images come. 

And hated himself for how much he liked it. 

The drink sat untouched on the coffee table, the liquid catching the dim light as Mark eventually dragged himself to bed. He told himself he would sleep it off–this foolish preoccupation, this lapse in discipline. 

He would sleep it off and in the morning, he would be sharper, more focused, more like himself. 

But the moment he closed his eyes, it was worse. 

At first it was just flashes of your laugh echoing in the quiet of his office. It was harmless, manageable. Then the dreams grew bolder. 

Your palm pressed against his chest, pushing him back onto his desk chair. 

Your teeth grazing his bottom lip. 

The roll of your hips–

Mark jolted awake, sheets tangled around his waist, his pulse hammering in his temples. The clock on his nightstand read 2:17 AM. 

God.

The next morning, the office was too bright. Mark had fought his sinful fantasies all night, but they kept returning, relentlessly. By dawn, he had given up on sleep entirely. 

He squinted against the fluorescent glare, his cup of coffee clutched like a lifeline. He had showered, dressed, even remembered his damn tie, but the exhaustion clung to him, a heavy fog he couldn’t shake. 

And then you walked in. Fresh, unaffected, and gorgeous as ever. 

“Morning,” you said, setting a stack of files on his desk. “Wow, you look like hell.”

“Rough night,” he muttered, his grip tightening around his mug. You have no idea. 

You hummed, studying him for a second before nodding towards the files. “Well, try not to pass out on these. They’re due by noon.” 

He should’ve fired back with something clever. He should've matched your tone, your ease. Instead, he miserably missed the worry in your tone, because all he could think about was those dreams–the way your hips had fit against his, the way you’d–

Focus.

Mark cleared his throat, reaching for the files. “Got it.”

You lingered for a moment, head tilted, as if waiting for him to say more. When he didn’t, you shrugged and turned away, leaving him with the ghost of your perfume and a fresh wave of self-loathing. 

Chenle appeared in the doorway only seconds away from the moment you stepped out. He walked in with his eyebrows raised, always as comfortable as if at home. “My God. You look like you got hit by a bus.”

Ignoring the long sigh his friend let out, Chenle sat on the edge of his desk, studying his face closely with a smirk on his face. “Let me guess. Couldn’t sleep?”

Mark shot him a glare. “Ah.” His grin widened. “So it’s that kind of insomnia.”

Mark considered throwing his coffee at him, but he didn’t want to damage his reputation any more than he already was. Instead, he took a long sip and pointed at the door. “Out.”

Chenle left on cue, laughing, and Mark slumped back in his chair, rubbing his temples. 

This was going to be a long damn day. 

By lunch, the lack of sleep had settled into his bones, a dull ache behind his eyes. He’d told himself he just needed to power through, finish these reports, review the client notes, and stay sharp until the end of the day. 

But the exhaustion from his sleepless night clung to him like a second skin, weighing down his limbs and blurring his vision. 

One moment, he was staring at his computer screen, the words swimming before his eyes. The next–

Darkness. 

You knocked twice before entering, balancing a coffee in one hand and a sandwich in the other. Mark has skipped lunch–again– and you’d figured he could use some fuel. 

You came in and here he was: Mark Lee, the infamous workaholic, the man who never stopped moving–fast asleep at his desk. 

His cheek was pressed against a stack of files, his glasses slightly askew. The tension that usually lined his features had melted away, leaving him looking younger, softer. Vulnerable in a way you’d never seen before. 

You hesitated, torn between letting him rest and waking him before someone else walked in and saw him like this. 

The decision was made for you when the door clicked louder than intended behind you. 

Mark jerked awake, blinking rapidly as his surroundings came into focus. His gaze landed on you, and for a split second, he looked genuinely disoriented, like he wasn’t sure if he was still dreaming. 

Then reality snapped back into place. He straightened so fast his glasses nearly slid off his nose. “Shit. I–how long was I out?”

Mark's fingers fumbled to straighten his glasses, his usual composure shattered. The warmth of sleep still clung to his skin, but the sharp awareness of you standing there, catching him in that embarrassing position, sent a jolt of electricity down his spine.

You didn’t move. Just held his gaze, the ghost of a smile playing at your lips. Then, without a word, you turned and locked the door.

The click of the latch echoed in the sudden silence. Mark’s breath hitched.

You crossed the room in slow, deliberate steps, your hips swaying just slightly, the way they always did when you walked. Mark watched your every move, unable to speak a word. 

Maybe he was still fast asleep on his desk and you were another mirage created by his sinful, restless mind. 

The blinds came next. One by one, you shut them, plunging the office into dim, intimate shadows.

You turned back to him, tilting your head. “You’ve been working too hard.” It wasn’t a question.

Mark swallowed, his heart hammering so loud there was no doubt for him that you could hear it. “It’s fine,” he sighed.

“No.” You stepped closer, your fingers trailing along the edge of his desk. “It’s not.”

You faced him, the desk the only barrier between you, and held his gaze like you owned the room, throwing every remnant of hierarchy through the window. 

Hypnotized. That was the only suited word to describe how he felt.

You tilted your head, studying him. “What’s wrong, Mark?” Your voice was soft, soothing—a dangerous contrast to the way your eyes pinned him in place.

He should’ve lied. Should’ve brushed it off with a joke, a deflection, anything.

But he was too tired. Too weak.

The truth slipped out before he could stop it. “Haven’t been able to sleep.”

A beat of silence. Then you asked: “Why?” The question was innocent, but the way you asked it was anything but.

Mark’s throat worked. He could feel the words clawing their way up, desperate to be free.

“Been thinking about you too much.” The admission hung in the air between you, raw and unfiltered.

You smirked. The kind of smile that sent a shiver down his spine.

The air between you crackled, thick with everything left unsaid. The hum of the air conditioning faded into white noise as Mark watched your lips part. 

"Have you now?" You rounded the desk with predatory grace, the click of your heels echoing in the dimmed office. 

He should stand. Should put space between you. But his body refused to obey, limbs heavy with exhaustion and something far more treacherous.

You stopped just shy of touching him, the heat of your body radiating through his rumpled dress shirt. When you reached out, he flinched—but all you did was adjust his crooked glasses with agonizing slowness.

"Tell me," you murmured, fingertips brushing his temple. "What exactly keeps you up at night?"

"Your mouth," he rasped. "The way you bite your lip when you're concentrating. The—" His breath hitched as your thumb traced his lower lip. "The sounds you'd make if I—"

Your fingernails scraped lightly down his tie. "If you what, Mark?"

A shudder ran through him. Every coherent thought dissolved into static. "Christ," he choked out, hands fisting in his slacks. 

Your fingers tightened around his tie, silk sliding between your knuckles as you pulled him closer. Mark didn’t resist—couldn’t resist—his breath already ragged, his body thrumming with the kind of tension that bordered on pain.

"You’re exhausted," you murmured, your lips a hair’s breadth from his. The words were sweet, almost sympathetic, but the way you said them, like you were savoring his unraveling, sent a fresh wave of heat through him.

Mark swallowed hard. "Yeah."

"And whose fault is that?" His pulse stuttered. You knew. Of course, you knew.

The situation should have humiliated him. Instead, it only made the ache worse.

Your free hand slid up his chest, fingertips tracing the line of his collarbone through his shirt. "All those late nights,"you mused, "all those thoughts you couldn’t shake..." Your thumb brushed the hollow of his throat, and he shuddered. "Poor Mark."

He was drowning. Drowning in the scent of your perfume, in the warmth of your fingertips, in the way your voice dripped like honey. Sweet and suffocating.

"Tell me," you whispered, tilting his chin up with the edge of your nail. "What do you want?"

Mark’s restraint snapped. His hands shot up, gripping your waist demandingly, and for one terrifying, exhilarating moment, he thought he might actually beg.

Then your mouth crashed into his.

The kiss was hot and deep, your teeth catching his lip just hard enough to make him groan, like you were claiming him. Only he had been yours from the moment you stepped into his office for that interview.

Mark’s fingers dug into your hips, pulling you flush against him, his entire body alight with the kind of desperate, clawing need he’d spent weeks trying to suppress.

When you broke the kiss, Mark chased after your lips. In vain, since you lowered yourself to your knees before him. 

The floor was cold against your legs, but you couldn’t care less when you had Mark looking down at you like this, his pupils blown wide, his breath already ragged.

"Is this what you’ve been thinking about?" you murmured, your fingers tracing the outline of his cock through the fabric of his slacks.

Mark's jaw clenched. His hands, which had been gripping the arms of his chair like a lifeline, twitched as if fighting the urge to reach for you. "Fuck—"

You smirked, popping the first button open with a practiced flick of your fingers. "That's not an answer."

His hips jerked involuntarily, and you could see the way his throat worked as he swallowed hard. "Yes," he admitted, voice rough. "A-among other stuff..."

You took your time, dragging the zipper down with painful slowness, watching the way his chest rose and fell with each uneven breath. "You're shaking," you observed, running your palm over the hard length of him through his boxers.

Mark let out a strangled noise, his head falling back against the chair. "You—fuck—you have no idea what you do to me."

"Oh, I think I do." You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down just enough to free his cock. He was already leaking, the tip flushed and glistening, and you couldn't resist swiping your thumb over it, smearing the precum in a slow circle.

Mark's entire body tensed, a broken sound tearing from his throat. "Please—"

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. "Please what?"

His fingers flexed, his knuckles white. "Don't—don't tease."

You laughed, low and throaty, before leaning in to press a kiss to the inside of his thigh. "But teasing you is so much fun, Mark."

He groaned, his hips bucking up helplessly. "You're going to kill me."

You hummed, dragging your tongue along the length of him in one long, slow stroke. "Maybe." Then, not wasting any more time, you took him into your mouth, and Mark shattered.

His fingers tangled in your hair, holding on, like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. "You—fuck—you feel—" His words dissolved into a moan as you hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper.

Mark’s grip on your hair tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to make his desperation clear. His thighs trembled under your hands, his breath coming in ragged gasps as you took him deeper, savoring the way his cock twitched against your tongue.

All that professionalism, all that careful composure—gone. Reduced to nothing but trembling limbs and bitten-off moans.

You pulled back just enough to swirl your tongue around the head, relishing the way his hips jerked. “Please, please—”His voice was wrecked already, rough with sleep deprivation and need. 

You hummed around him, the vibration wringing another broken sound from his throat. With a deliberate drag of your lips, you took him to the back of your throat and swallowed.

Mark’s back arched off the chair, a strangled cry tearing from his lips. “Jesus—” His hips stuttered, his cock pulsing as he spilled down your throat, his entire body shaking with the force of it.

You milked him through it until he was gasping, oversensitive, his hands falling limp at his sides.

When you finally pulled away, Mark looked ruined. His glasses were askew, his lips parted, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run a marathon.

You wiped the corner of your mouth with your thumb, smirking up at him. “Feel better?”

Mark blinked at you, dazed, like he wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened. 

"Is this—" His voice cracked. He swallowed hard, his fingers twitching against the arms of his chair. "Is this another dream?"

You laughed as you climbed into his lap, your knees bracketing his hips. The fabric of your pencil skirt rode up your thighs, the heat of you pressing against him even through your underwear.

"A dream?" You tilted your head, your fingers trailing along his jaw. "Do you dream about me often, Mark?"

His throat worked. His hands hovered at your waist, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch.

You leaned in, your lips brushing his ear. "Tell me," you murmured. "What do I do in these dreams of yours?"

Mark shuddered. His fingers finally settled on your hips, gripping hard. "You—" His voice was rough but hesitant. "You ride me."

You hummed, nipping at his earlobe. "Like this?" You ground down against him, the friction drawing a choked groan from his throat.

Mark’s head fell back against the chair, his eyes squeezing shut. "God—"

You pulled back just enough to unbutton your blouse slowly, watching the way his gaze darkened with every inch of skin revealed. "Look at me," you ordered, your voice dripping with faux sweetness. "I want you to remember this isn’t a dream."

And he wouldn’t look away for anything, staring as you peel off your blouse and toss it aside. His hands flexed at your waist, his breathing uneven. You smirked, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. The fabric slid away, and Mark made a sound like he’d been punched.

His gaze raked over you hungrily before his hands shot up, cupping your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. "Christ," he breathed. "You’re so pretty."

You rolled your hips, relishing the way his breath hitched. "And you," you murmured, "are overdressed."

Mark didn’t need to be told twice. His hands flew to his tie, yanking it loose before fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. You watched, amused, as he struggled, his fingers clumsy with desperation.

"Need help?" you teased. 

Mark glared up at you. Raw, unfiltered want in his eyes. "You’re enjoying this."

You leaned in, your lips brushing his. "Watching you fall apart?" You asked with a wicked smile on your lips. "Absolutely."

His shirt joined yours on the floor, and then there was nothing between you but the thin fabric of your panties. You rocked against him again, the friction drawing a ragged moan from his lips.

"Mark," you murmured. "Tell me what you want."

His hands tightened on your hips. "You. Please." 

You chuckled before sliding off his lap just long enough to push your skirt up and your panties aside. Mark’s gaze burned into you, and when you sank back onto him, taking him in one smooth stroke, his head tipped back with a groan, his fingers digging into your thighs.

"Fuck," he gasped. "You feel—"

You rolled your hips, cutting him off. "I know."

And then you started moving. Slow at first, savoring the way his breath hitched with every drag of his cock inside you. Then faster, harder, until the only sounds in the room were the slapping of your skin against his, ragged breathing, and the creak of the chair beneath you.

Mark’s hands slid up your body, mapping every curve, like he was still trying to make sure you were the real thing. "You’re—" 

Knock knock knock

The sound at the door froze Mark's breath in his lungs. His greedy hands suddenly went rigid.

"Mr. Lee?" A muffled voice called through the wood. "The Henderson files are ready for review."

You clenched around him deliberately, drawing a strangled gasp from Mark's throat. His eyes, wide with panic, locked onto yours.

In one swift motion, you pressed your palm over his mouth, your other hand braced against the back of his chair. Your hips never stopped moving, rolling in slow, torturous circles that made his cock twitch inside you.

"Shhh," you breathed against his ear, feeling the way his pulse hammered beneath your fingers. "Wouldn't want anyone to hear you, would we?"

Mark's nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply through his nose. His fingers dug into your thighs, but he didn't push you away. The conflicting emotions played across his face -panic warring with pleasure, propriety battling against the overwhelming need to thrust up into you.

The doorknob rattled. "Sir?"

You increased your pace just slightly, watching with dark satisfaction as Mark's eyes rolled back. A thin sheen of sweat broke out across his forehead, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard against your palm.

"Maybe he stepped out," another voice said. Chenle. Unmistakably.

You leaned in, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. "Imagine if they walked in right now," you whispered. "Seeing their perfect, hardworking team leader like this–cock deep in his assistant, while he should be working."

Mark's breath came in ragged bursts through his nose, his cock pulsing inside you at your words. The papers sat on his desk, completely forgotten, and the leather chair creaked dangerously beneath your combined weight.

Footsteps retreated outside. "Let's check the break room."

The moment the voices faded, you removed your hand from Mark's mouth. He gasped like a drowning man breaking the surface, his chest heaving.

"You're insane," he panted, but his hands pulled you harder against him, his hips meeting your next downward stroke with a snap that made you both groan.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, tilting his head back to expose the long line of his throat. "But you love it," you murmured before licking up.

Mark's control shattered. With a growl, he stood up and pushed you onto the desk, sending papers fluttering to the floor. 

His mouth crashed into yours as he drove into you with renewed intensity, each thrust punctuated by the slap of skin and the muffled sounds of your pleasure.

The intercom on his desk crackled to life. "Mark, you in there? We've got—"

He reached out blindly and slammed the button with his palm, cutting off the voice mid-sentence. His other hand gripped your hip harder as he fucked into you with single-minded focus, his breath hot against your neck.

"Look at you, Mark Lee," you dared him, arching up to meet each thrust. "Ignoring a call while you defy every company's rules."

"This," you gasped, nails raking down his sweat-slicked back, "is hardly appropriate workplace behavior, Sir."

Mark groaned, the honorific sending a visible shudder through him. His rhythm faltered for just a second before he redoubled his efforts. "You—fuck—you started this," he gritted out.

You arched beneath him, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist to pull him closer. "This all started the moment you let yourself think about me that way," you purred. "So unprofessional."

Mark choked out something between a groan and a curse, his hips stuttering. His cock twitched inside you, betraying just how close he was and how thoroughly you'd unraveled him. 

The veneer of control was completely shattered, and all that was left of him was trembling limbs and desperate thrusts, his cock twitching inside you with every filthy word you said.

His lips found yours in a kiss that was more teeth than tenderness, and you could feel the moment he tipped over the edge. His hips stuttered, and his fingers dug into your skin hard enough to bruise as he spilled inside you with a broken groan. 

His forehead dropped to your shoulder, his breath coming in ragged bursts against your neck. But he didn’t stop. 

Even as ecstasy still pulsed through him, even as his muscles trembled with oversensitivity, he kept moving. His thrusts slower now, but persistent, his cock still hard enough to drag against every sensitive spot inside you.

You dragged your nails down his back as he angled his hips just right, the head of his cock rubbing against your sweet spot with every shallow thrust. 

Mark shuddered under the trail of your nails, his hands tightening on your hips as he fucked you through his ownoversensitivity, his movements growing more urgent as he chased your pleasure.

And when you finally came, clenching around him with a breathless cry, Mark didn’t pull away. He held you there, his cock still buried deep inside you, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered: “Fuck.”

His breathing was slowly evening out. You carded your fingers through his sweat-damp hair. "Still think hiring me was a bad idea?" You murmured.

Mark lifted his head, his glasses crooked, his lips swollen. The look he gave you was equal parts exasperation and awe. "Worst decision of my life," he lied.

꩜ business casual masterlist!

[stxary]

Touch || 01

❤︎‬ pairing : jungkook x fem!reader

‪‪❤︎‬ genre : non idol au, college au, brothers best friend au, childhood enemies to lovers, love triangle, smut / angst / fluff

‪‪❤︎‬ word count : 2k

‪‪❤︎‬ warnings : reader is 20, jk is 22. reader n jk are both health majors ( reader- nursing, jk- medicine ) jk is an asshole, reader hates him. bickering (lots more to come..) umm that's it for this chapter lmk if I missed anything !

❤︎‬ a/n : hi :) im back after almost two months.. wow.. i hope this series im starting helps make up for inactivity !! ive had this idea on my mind for a while tbh, i just didnt know how to execute it but i finally had motivation yay ! i think ill probably keep this short, maximum 10 chapters just in case i disappear again.. ill probably keep the word count on the lower side just so its not a hassle to read too. anyways enough of my yapping, i hope you enjoy !! ^_^

“I’d like you to be my teacher’s aide.”

See, now those weren’t the words you were expecting to hear when your professor told you he wanted to speak with you after class.

You thought that he was going to speak to you about your grades. Maybe you didn’t do well on the last research paper you turned in. Or maybe he found out you helped that girl cheat on her test that one at the beginning of the year.

So hearing your professor ask you to be his teacher’s aide caught you off guard.

You weren’t completely opposed to the idea. God knew you could use the money.

You just weren’t sure you wanted to deal with the students that would come up to you blaming you for their bad grades, when they didn’t even do the work. But then again, the money was nice. You didn’t have time for a real job, and your lifestyle was rather expensive. Your brother Namjoon was getting fed up with paying for almost all of your stuff.

That’s the only reason you accepted the job, because you thought about how said brother Namjoon would be on your ass and give you one of his lectures about how he wasn’t your father and you were perfectly capable of providing for yourself.

When you accepted the job though, you thought you would just have to grade papers, maybe help make lesson plans and PowerPoints. You didn’t know you would have actually to tutor students.

Right now, you wanted to hit your professor for not telling you who you had to tutor. Not just once, like with the other kids. No, he said you would probably have to tutor this guy for the whole semester.

It would’ve been fine, if it was literally any other person. But no, of course the person you had to tutor was Jeon fucking Jungkook.

You really didn’t like Jungkook. You haven’t since you were kids. You guys were complete opposites. As a kid, you were more on the quiet side. You only focused on school, the thing you were interested in the moment, and your few friends. While Jungkook was everything you hated. He was loud, arrogant. He was the type of kid you would beg your teacher to move if you got sat next to him.

You tried to like him, but he made it near impossible. From the fights you had in elementary school, to the pranks he would play in middle school, to the way he would bicker with you just to get a rise out of you in high school. He was one of the most insufferable people you knew.

The only reason why you dealt with Jungkook for so long is because he was Namjoon’s best friend. For the longest time you wondered how Namjoon could even tolerate him. Yet, they were inseparable. Two peas in a pod.

As you got older, Jungkook (mostly) grew out of his antics. Now that you were in college, you barely talked. You tried to avoid him as much as you could. But in the few times you did interact with him, he would just make teasing remarks and small comments about little things.

Which is exactly what he was doing right now.

“And there.. Jungkook, can you please focus so we can get this over with?” you huffed out, setting your pen down.

He was slouched in his chair, paying attention to everything but what you were trying to teach him. He was impossible. It was like trying to teach Algebra to a baby.

He groaned, sitting up to finally look at the page. He skims over the picture, which was an x-ray of a body highlighting the skeletal system. “Fine.” he said reluctantly.

You pointed back at the page, hoping that when you spoke your irritation wasn’t evident. You knew he was acting dumb just to get a rise out of you, and fuck him, because it was working.

“Okay, what are the different types of bone cells and what do they do?” you asked, glancing at his face. His eyes were squinted, as if he was deep in thought. If you didn’t know better, you would think he was actually in thought. Before he gave the stupid ass answer he did.

“…are all cells in your body not the same? I thought animal cells were the same.”

You had to run a hand over your face and take a deep breath to prevent yourself from screaming at him in this quiet library. “Why do you have to be so fucking difficult?” you asked.

The thing is, Jungkook wasn’t dumb. No, he was actually really smart. It was just the fact that he never did work. Or even attended the classes. He skipped his classes often, going to do god knows what. (Most of the time it was to meet up with and sleep with girls.)

He smiled at you, that damn cocky smile that always made you want to strangle him. “Because I like seeing how angry you get. You’re cute when you’re mad, angel.”

You glared at him. You were used to his flirty comments, because you knew he never meant them. He only said them to get a rise out of you, so you never showed a reaction.

“I told you not to call me that.” you muttered, your voice snappier than before.

He tilted his head, his smile growing bigger. “I know. But I’m still gonna call you it.”

The nickname probably wouldn’t bug you so much if it wasn’t for the fact that he only used it in a teasing way. Ever since middle school, he would jab at the fact that you were this perfect child. He would call you angel, mary, probably ten other nicknames that you couldn’t even remember.

You took a deep breath, trying not to cause a scene. You did not want to get kicked out of the library just because Jungkook was acting like a baby.

“Let’s try this again.” you spoke, your voice calculated, slow. “What do osteoblasts do?”

He ran a hand through his hair, blinking at you. “I have no idea what those are.”

Your eye twitched. You knew you shouldn’t have been expecting more from him, considering he never went to class, but this was just outrageous.

“Do you not.. ask people what happens in class after the fact? Jungkook, how the hell do you expect to pass this class when you don’t even show up?”

He leaned back in his chair, rolling his eyes. “Hey, I don’t need a lecture from you, missy.”

“No, you need to get your shit together. You wanna get your degree and get the hell up out of here, don’t you?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

He hesitated, letting out a hum. “Hm, I dunno. I kinda like being able to have all the girls I want. You know, most of them aren’t uptight bitches like you-“

“Okay, you know what? We’re done here. Bye.” you said abruptly, having enough of him for the day. Right about then you were remembering why you hated him so much when you were younger.

He sat his chair down on all four legs and whined. “Oh, come on, angel. Don’t be like that. Don’t you get paid per session?”

You ignored him, continuing to pack your things before storming out of the private study room. You seriously could not deal with that man. And you had to tutor him for the rest of the semester. Yeah, fuck your life.

“Jungkook told me you’re his new tutor, said that you flipped out and ran away earlier.”

Namjoon’s voice came from the front door as he brought in the bags of food you ordered.

“Whatever. I didn’t flip out, I left because I think I would have punched him in the face if I listened to him talk for one more minute.” you corrected, getting up from the couch to help him bring in the bags.

He snorted, starting to take boxes out of the bags. The smell of the food, both sweet and savory filled the kitchen, making your stomach growl.

“I can’t believe I have to tutor him for the rest of the damn semester. Can you believe he’s already failed the class once? What an idiot!!” you ranted, shaking your head as you slammed your hand down on the counter.

“He can be smart. When he wants to be. And when he actually goes to class.” Namjoon replies.

“I know. That’s what pisses me off. How is he always skipping class to meet girls? Then he acts clueless, and he only does it because he wants to see me angry. He said it’s cute!! He doesn’t even take me seriously!” you grumbled, snatching your box of food before plopping back onto the couch. Namjoon followed, watching your outburst in slight amusement. He had always thought you and Jungkook’s rivalry was funny.

“You know you’ve gotta get along with him to get the money. I already told you-“

“I know.” you groaned, shutting him up. “Ugh, but can’t you just keep buying me everything? I liked it when it was like that?” you whined.

“No. Because you ask me for stupid shit.”

“What? No I don’t!”

“Yes you do.”

“Name one stupid thing I’ve made you buy.”

Namjoon pauses, staring at you, before beginning to list things. “Those birria bombs off Tiktok shop, that skincare off of Temu that you never even got, a pair of headphones when you already had one-“

“Okay, that’s enough! I can justify all of those!!” you lift your hands up in a defensive gesture. Namjoon narrows his eyes at you, urging you to continue.”

“Cmon, I really couldn’t turn down the birria bombs. They were on sale! You can’t even deny that dinner was good for 3 nights when we got them.” you pointed at him, and he just stared back at you.

“Then the skincare.. it was a full set. I really had to get it. It was supposed to come with pimple patches and all! Fuck Temu. And-and the headphones.. I needed a backup. Then a backup for the backup.”

“You have a spending addiction.” Namjoon said, after just blankly staring at you for a few long moments.

“No I don’t.” you denied, taking a bite of your chicken.

“Please get yourself a boyfriend. Preferably a really rich one, so he can waste his money on buying you pointless shit instead of me. I can’t remember the last time my wallet hasn’t been crying for a break.” he says, fake sorrow in his voice.

“Ugh, fuck you.” you pout.

Namjoon laughed, reverting the conversation back to the original topic. “Seriously ___, you’ve gotta get along with him. You can’t back out of it. The semester only goes by faster when you don’t completely hate him.”

You sighed heavily. He was right. You were never going to get through this semester if you didn’t find a way to get on good terms with Jungkook.

“Really, he’s nice-“

“No he’s not!!” you interrupt, sitting up straight on the couch. “He’s an asshole!”

“Because you’ve been an asshole to him.” Namjoon deadpans. You furrow your brows. Of course you’ve been an asshole to him! He’s been one to you since you were kids!

“Because he’s been one to me!!” you say defensively, and Namjoon just gives you a look.

“So do you see the cycle?” he asks, calmly. A complete contrast to your tone. But you were always like this when you complained about Jungkook. He irked a nerve in you that nobody else could. It honestly was a talent.

Namjoon did have a point. If you continued down this road, you were just going to go in circles with Jungkook like you’ve been doing your whole life. You slouched down, not even responding to Namjoon’s question. He knew you were defeated when you just took another bite of your chicken.

He took a sip of his drink, before speaking again. In that same, calm tone. It always amazed you how calm he could be when you were on the verge of going insane.

“Talk to him. Have a normal conversation with him. He can be nice if you can be nice.” You turned your head to look at him, giving him a pleading look. When he just stared back at you, you let out a big sigh.

“Fine.”

Fuck Jungkook. You were getting through this semester. Whether he wanted to cooperate or not. You were tutoring him, and you were getting that damn money. So if that meant attempting to be nice to him, you could do that. Even if it felt like it would be the death of you.

© stxary 2025 , all rights reserved .

[lcriedlastnight]

Enemies to lovers with Lando. Someone says something bad / criticises Lando in front of reader and she immediately defends him without knowing he’s behind her and can hear everything. And maybe as she’s defending him she’s also unknowingly/ without realizing / accidentally admitting her feelings for him

i love this idea! thank you so much anon, love!

tw: fem!reader, swears, logan hate (do not support!), little lando hate, not spellchecked or proof read, lmk if you want me to add anything else.

w/c: 2k

you and lando had never gotten along. you’d never gotten along and you’d never tried to. it was just one of those things, you supposed. you didn’t make a big deal out of it as the two of you shared a friend group and didn’t want to cause any issues between the group. lando however, well it seemed like he had a serious issue with you.

at first you did try to get along with him, his ego was massive and that really did put you off wanting to be friends with him but you could be fake a friendship with him. a friendship out of convenience was perfectly fine with you. lando was just having none of it. he’d ignore any conversation you would try to have with him - even in a group setting. you had tried just not talking to him but even that left you on the receiving end of dirty looks and mean comments. you’d had enough with it so you stopped caring about him entirely.

well that’s what you told your friends. in reality; you cared what he thought, you looked for his reaction to any story that was told in the room and you looked to see if he laughed at your jokes. every single time you were left with blank stares and bored expressions.

your friends noticed this and tried their best to ease the tension between the two of you but because of lando’s stubbornness, there was nothing they could really do. he really did make things difficult sometimes.

you had all gathered around the drivers house to celebrate a mutual close friend’s birthday. you and you close girl friends had gotten ready for the get together at your house and headed to the party together.

“so is the vibe for tonight party or chilled?” your friend asks as you jump out of the taxi outside lando’s apartment complex. your other friend snorts in amusement before she replies.

“girl, we’re at lando’s what do you think the vibe is?”. you frown. the party vibe wasn’t really what the birthday boy enjoyed so you hoped for his sake it was more a chilled, hanging with friends vibe. you also didn’t really dress for a party, your favourite pair of jeans on as well as one of those cute baby tee’s you found on tiktok.

“i hope not. fin doesn’t really like parties.” you remind them as you press the buzzer for lando’s. it rings for a second then you hear his crackly voice through the speaker. “hello?”. he sounded sober. good start.

“can you let us in please?” you ask into the intercom. there is a pause before lando replies.

“no. we’re full.”

your friend rolls her eyes at his words, knowing all this is was because he was talking to you. if he would just stop acting like a dickhead for more than two seconds people could maybe get things done. meanwhile, you huff at lando’s words opening your mouth to complain to him but your friend cuts in. “just let us in, norris.”.

she sounds fed up enough already that lando immediately tells them to “head on up, then.” she storms ahead of you and your other friend. you look at each other with annoyed looks.

“to be fair it’s a good thing she did that because you haven’t fell into his traps in months.” she reminds you as you reach his door which was open waiting on you and your friend. you nod. it was true, ignoring lando was really going well for you… from your friends point of view anyways. your mind was still plagued with thoughts of him.

your friend walks in before you so make sure to close the door behind you.

“so i guess we were wrong. looks like it is a chill night.” you friend says as she sees your friends dotted around the place, conversing. it looked very adult. weird for something lando was in charge of planning. you didn’t know he was capable of being anything except snide and rude. maybe he could be thoughtful and caring to the people he loved. the thought makes you frown but before you can linger on it for too long your friend grabs you both a drink and you take seats on his couch.

you notice you’re the last ones to arrive and try to find your friend that stormed off earlier. your eyes rake around the room until they land on her sitting with fin, the birthday boy. they looked cosy. ‘good for them’ you think as you take a sip of your drink. you notice lando sitting with his friend, max, on the couch next to you. you glance in his direction then redirect your eyes.

after maybe half an hour of socialising and drinking, fin announces (with your other friend hanging off his arm) that he wants to play a game of truth or dare. you thought it was a bit childish but everyone agreed so you did too. you all sit in a circle and decide to place a bottle in the middle.

“this is so high school.” you say to your friend, who just laughs in agreement. you had ended up sitting next to max on one side and your friend on the other. you quite liked max, he was nothing like lando, which helped you like him a lot more.

“since it’s my birthday, i’ll go first!” fin says as he spins the bottle. it lands on max. fin grins before asking the question you know you’re going to be tired of hearing after tonight.

after a couple of rounds a few of you disperse to get drinks and use the toilet. you were pretty sure some went for a smoke break. you didn’t even know anyone where smoked. lando was one of the people that had left, he went to the kitchen to get a drink for him and max. the good thing about not being able to let anyone know you were staring at lando was that you got good at lip reading and hearing things from a distance. you also got good at seeing things out of the corner of your eye. it was during your turn when lando asked max if he wanted another drink. you felt like you were keeping tabs on the boy, you were starting to feel a bit creepy as you answered your question.

the game continues as people (lando) leave. it was your friend turn but she was a bit more than drunk and would only accept a question from fin, the man she was clinging to all night.

you can all see the wheels turning in fin’s mind as he thinks up a question. “how good of a driver do you think lando actually is?” he finally asks.

everyone perks up at the question, wanting to see if your friend had any unpopular opinions on lando’s driving skills.

“he’s shit. like- that’s him just won his first race? after racing for like five years? that doesn’t really scream future world champion does it?” she criticised, words slurred. your face is screwed up in disagreement. you bite your tongue though, knowing she was drunk and probably just wanted to start something. you’re sure you heard someone gasp.

“you don’t really mean that?” another one of your friends asks in shock. your drunk friend only nods.

“i do. he’s bad. like he’s not logan sargent bad but he’s mid at best and i don’t understand the hype. i never have and i don’t think i ever will.” she smiles a little and that’s what gets you.

“i’m sorry are you being serious right now? firstly the audacity you have to sit there, shitfaced, bashing on the person who’s house you’re inside and who bought you the drinks in the first place is absurd,” you start, bring her down a peg. you hear footsteps behind you but you’re too pent up to acknowledge them right now.

“secondly, have you even watched a race? ever? or even recently? because if you had then you would know just how good he actually is. you’re sitting there talking about him like you know exactly how hard he worked to get to where he is and to achieve that win. millions of people - who actually watch the races, by the way - have said how difficult it is to end verstappen’s win streak and lando was the first person to do so this season.” you rant, enraged that she spoke about lando like that.

her mouth opens and closes a few times before she says, almost cockily. “carlos sainz won before lando did, in australia. you act like i don’t know shit about f1.”

“lando’s win means way more than carlos’ because max was still in the race in miami. he had the chance to actually win it, whereas in australia he dnf’d. so do you actually know what you’re talking about? i, along with like a million other people like lando and think he’s going to go very far the rest of the season.” you educate her. she should really know all of this seeing as you always told her every detail about the races on the mondays following.

“bitch.” she has nothing to retaliate with so she chooses to resort to name calling. you don’t even give her a reply and stand up to go outside to get some air. you stand up so quickly you don’t see the feet standing directly behind you or the hard chest you smash into. you could tell it was lando from the scent. was it weird? maybe but you didn’t care much. you’re embarrassed that he probably heard your rant defending him and that you just smashed right into his chest so you step backwards and head to lando’s balcony to sit outside with the smokers.

you rush outside and sit down in the far corner next to the railing. you watch the streets below for a few minutes, trying to forget what you had just done and who you had done it in front of. you feel lando looming over you a few minutes later.

“y’alright?” he asks as he takes a seat next to you. you feel uncomfortable a little, you’ve never been this close to him, even though that’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted for the past three years. and he’s being nice to you. lando have never been nice to you. ever. you’d seen him be nice to others, hundreds of times before so you knew what it was like, but you could only have dreamed of being on the receiving end of it.

“yeah.” you reply. you move your head from watching the cars pass on the road to rest your forehead on your tucked up knees.

“thank you for what you did… well said i guess. it was really nice of you.” lando starts, his hand sits awfully close to the edge of your shoe. it’s not touching but if you shuffled your foot a few times towards him, it would be.

“i know i don’t really deserve it. not from you anyways. you’ve always been so sweet to me and i’ve kinda been- well a dick.” you let out a breathy giggle at his choice of words.

“yeah. you have been a dick.” lando grins as you agree with him.

“what if i said i didn’t wanna be a dick to you anymore?” he said, you’re sure you heard a hint of shyness in his voice.

you move you’re head from it’s resting place to look at him in confusion. “you don’t? how do you want to treat me then?” you ask.

lando smiles. “like i should’ve been for the past god knows how long.” you give him your own smile back.

“for the record i like you too.” lando teases, his hand coming to clutch at your thigh. you groan.

“i hate you.” he laughs that laugh.

“no you don’t.” you rest your head on your shoulder and listen to the traffic. lando’s thumb rubs across your skin. his touch is soothing. this is the first nice memory you have with lando.

[karver518]

SOOO guess who had another dream about Shadow Milk Cookie and Dreamweavers!! It’s SUPER long this time because I had a super long nap, so be prepared for that. 

So, Shadow Milk Cookie accidentally introduced Dreamweaver Y/N to Pure Vanilla Cookie a while ago due to Y/N falling out of Shadow Milk’s hair when he and PV were talking to each other, and Shadow Milk was not happy about it whatsoever, since he was really hoping that Y/N would never meet Pure Vanilla at all. He started to become especially unhappy about PV and Y/N meeting because Y/N was slowly spending more time with PV than him, and to him, that meant that Y/N was eventually going to abandon him.

Instead of talking to Y/N about that, though, Shadow Milk decided to sulk in his spire and think all of the worst thoughts he could about himself and Y/N hanging out with Pure Vanilla while watching them spend time with each other, and Y/N isn’t talking to Shadow Milk about hanging out with Pure Vanilla more because Shadow Milk hasn’t said anything about it yet so they think everything is perfectly fine (small confession here I hate the miscommunication trope so bad. Why was it in my dream, then? I don’t know. I love making myself suffer, I guess. ;◅;)

At some point, Y/N comes back from hanging out with PV, and Shadow Milk is just. Absolutely suffering. That’s the best way I can put it. Y/N wants to know what’s wrong, but before they can do anything, Shadow Milk decides to lash out at them and tell them that if he knew they would replace him with a worse version of himself the first chance they got, then he wishes he never met them at all. Y/N tries to explain themself so that Shadow Milk understands he’s not being replaced, but Shadow Milk wants them out of his spire completely, so they leave. 

Shadow Milk and Y/N don’t talk to each other for several days, and Shadow Milk is starting to regret saying what he did, because he misses Y/N’s company a lot. But he’ll never admit that at all, ‘cause man who likes having emotions amirite?? At least he doesn’t admit that until Pure Vanilla eventually comes over to his spire and tells him that Y/N has been very, very upset about him not wanting them around anymore. But Shadow Milk acts like that’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard, because why would Y/N care about him anymore? They’ve got Pure Vanilla now, and they obviously like him much more. But Pure Vanilla explains that that’s not true, because the reason they wanted to hang out with Pure Vanilla so much is because Y/N needed his help to make gifts for Shadow Milk to thank them for his hospitality toward them, but they couldn’t do it themselves because they’re much too small to make the gifts they wanted to. 

And while Shadow Milk is feeling even worse about what he said to Y/N because he realized that he essentially kicked out someone who genuinely cared about him, Pure Vanilla is giving him some of the gifts he and Y/N were making for him, which were a thank you letter and a plush of Y/N. Pure Vanilla then starts talking about a bouquet that he and Y/N didn’t get to finish because Shadow Milk kicked them out, but as he’s talking about it, Y/N is behind him, dragging the bouquet across the floor (because like the other gifts, it’s huge and they’re really, really small) PV sees this and picks them up along with the bouquet, and hands them to Shadow Milk, who is now deeply apologizing for everything he said. Y/N accepts the apology and gives him a lil smooch on the hand. I don’t remember much else after that but I remember Shadow Milk saying something like “you’re so tiny, how am I going to give you a kiss too?” and Y/N was blushing quite a lot because he was apparently looking at their lips.

ANYWAY I’m so sorry this was so long but I really hope you enjoyed this!! As I said before, I’ll definitely let you know if I have any more dreams regarding your au!

I just woke up and holy shit, woah even

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Ceswest behind the cut; “love is being stupid together”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Superman sighs fondly again. Cat stares blankly at him and has the entirely unprecedented experience of being speechless in a man's presence.

“Uh,” she says. “Congratulations . . .?” 

Superman smiles warmly at her. She wonders if maybe this is an alternate reality and she just, she doesn’t know, somehow didn’t notice? Or maybe she’s hallucinating for some reason. Maybe there’s a gas leak or a psychic supervillain is mind-controlling Superman or maybe Lex Luthor had Superman’s baby. 

“Thank you,” Superman says. Cat pinches herself without bothering to pretend to be discreet about it. She still seems to be conscious, yes. “But I really do have to get going, Ms. Grant. You have a good evening, get home safe.” 

“Sure,” Cat says, as someone who is about five seconds out from doing the exact opposite of going home. “Uh, you too, Superman. Say hi to, uh . . . ‘Kon-El’ for me?” 

“Oh, he won’t care if it comes from me, but I will,” Superman agrees cheerfully, then gives her a little wave and flies off. Cat attempts a little wave of her own as she stares after him and doesn’t even check out his ass as he flies away for . . . possibly the first time ever, actually? Possibly the first time ever, yeah. 

Cat looks down at her phone. Checks her voice recorder app; holds it up to her ear and plays the past three minutes back for herself. 

Then she bolts back into the Daily Planet building and starts repeatedly jabbing the elevator button until the damn thing comes already, because she is not running up all those flights of stairs in stiletto heels. Except then the elevator takes longer than five seconds, so actually she just kicks off her shoes, snatches them up the floor, and tears off for the stairs in her stocking feet without even shoving them in her purse. It’s fine, she’s just going to put them back on in a minute anyway, whenever she gets back to the office and remembers to care about things like shoes. 

Admittedly they are her favorite Jimmy Choos, but even now she’s pretty sure she’s not going to manage to keep them in mind for long. 

Several flights of stairs and the entire distance of the newsroom later, she’s bashing open Perry’s office door and standing in his doorway with her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath, Jimmy Choos in hand and purse hanging off her elbow and expression maybe a little bit manic, possibly. Just maybe. Possibly. 

“Perry,” Cat says as calmly as any human being ever possibly could while sweating off half their foundation and gasping for air. “I need space on the front page. Immediately, please.” 

“Grant, we’ve been over this, the Planet is not a gossip rag,” Perry says in exasperation, leaning back in his desk chair. “Whatever you heard this time, we are damn well not putting it on–” 

Cat possibly teleports across his office or something, she doesn’t really know, but she’s already slamming both hands down on his desk hard enough to shake it before he even finishes his sentence and leaning in maybe just a bit too close. But, well–she thinks that’s understandable, personally? She thinks that’s understandable, yeah. 

“Superman just told me that Lex Luthor is his baby mama,” she tells him. 

Perry stares blankly at her. 

Cat pulls her phone back out and hits “play” on the recording. 

Perry stares at her some more. 

“. . . yeah, we’ll move that train derailment to page three,” he says. “Get me the article by eight.” 

“I can do that, yeah,” Cat agrees breathlessly, going to rake her slightly-disarrayed hair back into order and nearly smacking herself in the face with her Jimmy Choos when she tries. Just–it’s fine. She’s fine. Entirely, perfectly fine! 

“. . . be right back, chief,” Lois says, which is when Cat finally notices her standing to the side of the desk with Jimmy, where they were probably talking to Perry about a story and is a testament to exactly how much tunnel vision she is currently experiencing, just as a person. There’s a very strange expression on both of their faces, though Cat is still feeling a bit manic about this story and might be projecting a bit. “I just need to go . . . text somebody real quick.” 

“Yeah, me too, chief,” Jimmy says, wrapping a hand around his watch with a little wince, for some reason. “Uh. Be right back, yeah.” 

“Who in Sam Hill do either of you have to text after hearing that?” Perry demands incredulously. 

“Oh, nobody in particular,” Lois replies dismissively as she pulls out her phone. “By the way, any of you seen Smallville lately?”

“Clark? Isn’t he still on sabbatical?” Cat asks in bewilderment, because she cannot think of a single thing less interesting to think about right now than the most boring and mild-mannered human being who has ever worked in his newsroom. “Why are you worried about your situationship right now?” 

“No reason in particular,” Lois says, already typing something into her phone. Jimmy just winces again. 

Cat does not understand her coworkers’ priorities, but hell with it: she has a story to write. 

elsewhere: Lex: . . . why did the specific horrible chill I get when I didn't get ahead of a story just go up my spine.  Konnox: ‘unno but I drew you a robot. he's red an’ has a cape an’ he flies.  Lex: well that's an incredibly impractical design choice but I do appreciate the dedication to an aesthetic, Lennox. let's see if we can't produce it in a nice stylish emeraude, though, everyone who thinks they're making a statement uses red. Konnox: I wanna put a tornado in ‘im.  Lex: . . . . . . I'm listening. 

[chilliradio]

Carlos didn’t see him after the race. Even waited around in the paddock, dodging all the ecstatic Mclaren staff rushing past him to the garage as he waited for Oscar to show. Carlos wasn’t brave enough to venture into a celebrating sea of papaya to find him, so he tugged his phone out of his pocket and pulled up Oscar’s messages thread as he slinked away, unnoticed, rain-damp jacket blending in against the dark blue pavement.

Carlos hesitates with the words for too long, wondering what to say, what Oscar might want to hear. He dodges more people making their way past him and accidently hits the send button too soon, realises he doesn’t know how to fix it, so he just leaves it as is anyway.

Still at the same hotel tonight. If you need

Oscar doesn’t reply. 

Carlos is half expecting an immediate response. A few simple words at the least, a cryptic sentence at the most. He’s also half expecting to not hear from Oscar again until next week, once he’s cooled off and pushed everything back down into the bottle of his seemingly endless emotional storage. Could swing either way. Carlos has spent long enough trying to decode Oscar’s silences that he would like to think he’s getting better at it, but all he has right now to gauge Oscar’s mood by is his race, the movements of his car reading like an extension of Oscar’s own physical tells. 

There was anger, a firm set to his mouth, wheels spinning in the grass. Frustration, the cold set of his eyes, water spraying off the edges of the racing line. Determination, the furrow between his brows, getting too close to barriers and breaking late into every corner.

Carlos doesn’t hang around the paddock any longer than he has to. He briefly entertains the idea of storming into the gaudy orange motorhome as he walks past it, eyes downcast to watch the puddles ripple under his shoes. But he doesn’t know what he would even do if he did find Oscar hiding in his driver's room, rightfully licking his wounds. Besides, he’s got family around this weekend to help him. He’s got support if he wants it. He doesn’t need Carlos.

But the traitorous, longing part in the back of Carlos’s mind likes to think that maybe Oscar does need him. Maybe he needs someone that isn’t disappointed in him. Someone who understands what it’s like to make one mistake and get stuck in a mental loop of reliving that moment, wondering how to fix it, how to restart the race and make sure that never happens. Someone who can feel the steering wheel snapping too hard. The helpless, uncontrollable slide of the car going sideways.

Carlos’s phone stays silent on the way back to the hotel. He gets a text from Alex when he’s in the lobby, which he replies to by re-congratulating and politely declining the invitation out in favour of sitting on the floor of his room with back against the bed, waiting. 

He sends Lando a congratulating message too, knowing he’ll be too busy to reply anyway.

Carlos has almost managed to convince himself that he won’t get to see Oscar in this hotel room again and that he’s perfectly fine with that, right when there’s a short knock on the door. Carlos stops tapping his fingers against his ribcage and pushes himself to his knees at the end of the bed. He looks over the neatly made sheets and lets the memory of Oscar’s hands push him against them. He thinks of the incessant rain, wearing a headset instead of a helmet.

Another quiet knock on the door. Carlos scrambles to his feet and yanks it open. 

Oscar stares at him, unmoving. He’s wearing a black cap, orange symbol front and centre, and a plain black hoodie. Carlos can’t even see any sign of the rain on his shoulders. The material is too dark.

Oscar opens his mouth and struggles to fill it with words, instead just gesturing vaguely to the room behind Carlos. He clears his throat.

“Can I…?”

“Of course, sorry. Come in.” Carlos steps back, leaving plenty of room for Oscar to go past him, but he brushes close as he walks into the room. The sensation of his shoulder brushing against Carlos’s chest sends shivers running out his limbs, down to the tips of his fingers and toes. He wonders if the sharp feeling that being around Oscar brings out in him will ever dull. He isn’t sure if it would be a relief for it to lose its edge, or if it would just be yet another thing to miss. Crave.

Oscar stands in the middle of the room with his hands in his hoodie pocket. There’s a dejected slope to his shoulders that has Carlos’s chest aching. He steps closer, hands already reaching out, and Oscar. Oscar folds. 

Carlos has always loved the fact that they’re pretty much the same height. It has always made hugging Oscar feel so right, like they just fit. When Oscar steps into his arms this time, it’s different. He crumples. Wraps his arms around Carlos’s waist and rests his head on his shoulder, curling over to rest his weight against him. 

Carlos holds him as tightly as he dares, wary of making Oscar feel too trapped, overwhelmed.

Carlos counts four heartbeats in the silence before Oscar murmurs something into his shoulder. 

“Huh? I cannot hear you.”

Oscar shifts so his face isn’t stuffed into the material of Carlos’s hoodie. He leans back, hiding his face under the brim of his cap as he says, “Sorry ‘bout your race.”

Carlos feels the urge to cry and laugh at the same time. The abrupt end to his race feels like a lifetime ago already. He lets his hands slip to Oscar’s shoulders, digs his fingers in for a moment like a mini massage.

“Thank you. And I am sorry about yours.”

Oscar pulls back from Carlos’s touch, eyes downcast, and steps over towards the window. The sun has already set, but there’s patches of murky purple sky beyond the city skyline. The orange glow of lights reflecting off the clouds creates a halo around Oscar's silhouette.

Oscar hums noncommittally. Carlos pulls the drawstring of his hoodie between his fingers and rolls it back and forth. 

“Are you going to…” Carlos starts to ask, then realises he doesn’t know quite what he’s trying to ask. He quickly swerves around the idea of celebrating a home race being lost. “Your family, they are expecting you, no?”

Oscar shakes his head and finally turns around so Carlos can see his face, his nose scrunched up briefly. 

“Nah. Told them I just needed… time.” 

Oscar shrugs like it means nothing and glances over at the abstract art hanging on the walls. A splatter of what looks like black ink on white background, nestled in a sleek frame. Carlos can’t make heads or tails of it. It looks like a mistake, a mess to be cleaned up, yet it sits behind sparkling clean glass. 

Carlos nods absently and sits on the edge of the bed. His fingers continue fiddling with the drawstring of his jumper, wanting to feed it between his teeth so he has something to focus on, other than imagining walking across the room and physically picking Oscar up and squeezing him. He’s got all kinds of strange energy coiling up in his stomach and shapeless thoughts flitting through his mind, unable to pin any of it down. 

He feels a bit like the splatter of ink at the moment. He can't make anything he feels make sense. Can't wipe the slate clean either, forced to see it all behind a cold shield of glass.

The mattress shifts, sinking slightly to Carlos’s side. Oscar mirrors Carlos’s position, sitting on the edge of bed an arm’s length away, then Carlos watches as he folds himself in half so he can lay on the creased sheets, perfectly aligned so his head comes to rest in Carlos lap. 

Carlos blinks. “Oh.” 

His fingers stop pulling at the loose thread poking out from his hoodie string. Another heartbeat and Oscar shifts, knocking his own hat off his head with a flick of his hand so it falls to the floor and he settles in properly, letting all his weight rest on Carlos’s thighs. 

It feels like Carlos can’t breathe around the swell of emotion that rises in the back of his throat, but he takes the obvious invitation and settles his fingers over the nape of Oscar’s neck, gently scratching through his hair, from the base of his skull to the crown of his head.

Oscar sighs, and Carlos can feel the warmth of it through the material of his sweatpants. He tries to think of something to say, anything that would sit well with them in the quiet of the room, but his mind is coming up blank. Instead, he focuses instead on the unwinding coils of his stomach as they relax, breathing in time with the rhythmic rise and fall of Oscar’s chest.

He doesn’t know how long they stay there. Carlos cards his hand through Oscar's hair in soothing, repetitive motions. It's soft against his skin. Clean from a shower after the race. Then it slips through his fingers entirely and out of reach when Oscar sits up again and looks at Carlos. 

His hair is flopping down in his eyes now without a hat or Carlos’s hand to hold it. Carlos doesn't dare move. He feels a bit like he’s trying to not to scare Oscar off, like he is a stray cat who’s trust needs to be earned with stillness and patience. Carlos is more than willing to wait. 

He watches Carlos with heavy eyes for a moment before he moves, digging his knees into the mattress and crawling closer so he can hitch a leg over and settle in Carlos’s lap. 

Carlos’s hands hover uncertainly for a moment, fiddling with the edge of Oscar’s hoodie as he smiles up at him. “Hey.”

Oscar offers a half smile, eyes going soft and crinkly around the edges. One of Carlos’s favourite looks. “Hi.”

He doesn’t give Carlos a chance to say any more before he dips his head and captures his lips in a slow kiss. Oscar cradles Carlos’s jaw, threads his fingers through the back of Carlos’s hair as he presses close, mouth moving with a kind of calm reverence that feels more like he’s reciting prayers, whispering secrets against the sharp edge of Carlos’s teeth where he knows they will be kept safe.

Carlos holds Oscar’s hips firmly now, trying to ground himself more than anything, and he can feel his mind going floaty, body going lax under the comforting weight of Oscar on top of him. He flexes his hands and grips the edges of Oscar’s hoodie to bring himself back into focus and reluctantly breaks off. Brain buzzing with distant questions, Carlos rests a hand on the small of Oscar’s back as he pulls away so he knows he doesn’t want him going anywhere.

“Oscar.” 

The soft light from the window casts Oscar’s face into gentle shadows. He nudges forward, bumping their noses together. Carlos stares at the flutter of Oscar’s eyelashes, knowing he’s looking at Carlos’s lips and feeling like a messy splatter of ink about it.

“Hmm?”

I just needed… time.

Oscar could have gone anywhere tonight. Been with anyone. There’s a whole city out there, a place that cradled a younger Oscar, a place that now cheers for him. He could be anywhere he wants to be. But he’s here.

“What do you want?” Carlos murmurs the question quietly. He runs a hand up along Oscar’s spine as he speaks, marveling at the way he arches under his touch. His breathing is uneven, choppy. Carlos isn’t doing much better.

“Uhm.” Oscar gently pulls Carlos’s hair, twisting it between his fingers. “A fuckin’ time machine, maybe.”

Carlos snorts. His hand reaches the back of Oscar’s neck where he holds him firm. Oscar somehow presses his body even closer.

“Yeah? Like the one from- what is it? Back To The Future?”

“Exactly like that. Just drive right on back into the past. That'd be perfect.”

He’s smiling, a gentle thing. Carlos mirrors that smile without thinking. He’s just happy to have got a reaction out of Oscar at all.

“And how far back would you go?” Carlos asks, a bit selfishly. Always wanting to know what is going on in Oscar’s mind is a kind of hunger that Carlos has become accustomed to by now. He lets it sit in his gut like a stomach ache, feeds it whenever he can.

Carlos tries to guess his reply before he says it. He thinks of the race, the rain, sitting at the pitwall in jeans and a jacket. Watching the screens. Watching Oscar.

Oscar hums and squints one eye closed, then smiles, mischievous, before he answers. “Reckon I’d go back to… Wednesday. Tuesday, even.” 

Carlos sighs and closes his eyes, knowing exactly what Oscar means. The last time Oscar was in this room. In this very bed.

Carlos makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, going for indignant and failing miserably. He didn’t expect Oscar to pick the best moments to relive, instead of the worst moments to fix. 

“Well, then you must take me with you, Oscar.”

“Well, of course,” Oscar says through another achingly soft smile. 

Carlos leans forward to hide his grin against the line of Oscar’s jaw, pressing kisses against the moles dotting his skin.

“And what else do you want?”

Carlos feels like he is fishing for a specific answer, but even as he asks the same question again, he still doesn’t know what it is he wants to hear. His stomach growls with hunger for more of Oscar and scraping his teeth against the taunt muscle of his neck does little to sedate it.

“Ah, um…” Oscar shifts in his lap, a tremor running through his body. “Been craving churros lately.”

Carlos can’t help but laugh a bit wetly into the collar of his hoodie.

Oscar’s hand still cradles his head, holding him gently, running a thumb over the shell of Carlos’s ear. The delicate touch opens a pit of a yearning somewhere deep inside Carlos, and for an embarrassing moment he feels the urge to cry until he bites down on the inside of his cheek, hard, and the tidal wave subsides, roiling around his ribcage instead.

“Churros, eh? We could have room service if you want.”

Oscar’s eyes are shining when he tugs Carlos’ head back, searching his face.

“Not yet. I also want-” Oscar cuts himself off, worrying his teeth against his bottom lip. Carlos is so close, he can see the shudder of Oscar’s jaw as he forces the words out.

“I want you.” The words land like a shove to the chest. Carlos tries not to gape but he cannot keep his mouth closed, apparently. “I always want you, actually.”

And there it is. Carlos realises this is what he wanted to hear. Why Oscar chose to find safety in Carlos’s room instead of anywhere else tonight.

Carlos’s voice is tellingly thick when he speaks but he doesn’t care. The unexpected moment of vulnerability, Oscar showing him his soft underbelly without flinching has Carlos’s heart clenching in his chest. He cracks a smile anyway and jokes, “Say it one more time? I do not think I heard you.”

Oscar rolls his eyes. He’s still smiling. “Oh, fuck off. You heard me alright.”

Oscar’s hands land square on Carlos’s chest and he pushes him back against the mattress, holding himself up with hands on either side of his head. Carlos stares up at him, slack jaw and wanting eyes. The yearning in his chest twists violently.

“Say it again,” Carlos whispers. Greedy to hear it. Selfish, to make Oscar repeat himself.

Oscar cradles Carlos’s jaw and brushes his thumb over his bottom lip. The gentleness, overwhelming, is what slices Carlos open. 

“I want you, Carlos."

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Hey! Could you write a Tony Stark x daughter!reader fic where she’s been struggling with depression, and kind of isolating herself? Tony starts to notice the little things—missed classes, forced smiles, exhaustion and comforts/ helps her in the end

If this subject is too sensitive feel free to decline or tweak it in any way :)

I Can’t Carry This Anymore

main masterlist | marvel masterlist

summary: tony notices his daughter is struggling with her mental health

pairing: tony stark x daughter!reader

rating: R for language, heavy topics

word count: 0.7k

warnings: reader struggles with her mental health, blink and you’ll miss it mention of self-harming tendancies, reader takes medication, reader smokes weed

pairing note: the reader can be adopted by or blood related to tony, up to you <3. also, the reader is in college but she can be as old or as young as you want. tony graduated early so i assume his daughter would do the same.

author’s note: thank you for the request, nonnie! since this is a pretty heavy topic, i decided to focus on the comforting part of the request. sorry it’s so short!

music: I Can’t Carry This Anymore by Anson Seabra

The sun rose over the beautiful hills of Malibu California yet you couldn’t be bothered to get out of bed. Classes had started two weeks ago yet you were nowhere near Boston. 

Like a brick on your chest, your breathing was labored and heavy. Like a gloomy, cloudy afternoon, your mood was sullied and sunken. Your feet felt like a thousand pounds and even though you needed to pee, you couldn’t bring yourself to walk to the bathroom.

It had been days since you showered or brushed your teeth or had a sip of water. You’d been surviving off of weed and the munchies you’d get at midnight. Other than that your appetite was gone.

The Office played on the TV on the wall across from your bed but you weren’t even facing it. You weren’t sure which episode was playing; something about a snowball fight between Jim and Dwight. 

“Y/n?” your dad called. 

Shit. He was supposed to be in upstate New York still, he wasn’t supposed to be back home for at least another week.

“I got a call from MIT, hun,” he said, now just outside your bedroom door. “Wanna tell me why you’re still on Spring Break?”

You didn’t answer so he knocked on the door, calling out your name once again before asking if he could come in. 

You again didn’t answer, the simple act of opening your mouth to speak seemed as hard as pushing a boulder up a mountain. Besides, you knew he’d come in anyway, though he’d do so with caution.

He continued knocking as he opened the door, his eyes closed; “I’m coming in, hope that’s okay.”

“Fine,” was all you could muster. 

He walked into your room, closing the door behind him.

“How bad is it?” he asked.

“Bad,” you replied.

“Did you call the doctor?”

You shook your head.

“Do you want me to call the doctor?” he asked.

You nodded your head.

**

After you promised not to do anything stupid, your dad left you alone in your room so he could call your psychiatrist. 

When he came back he brought in chips, chocolate, and a bottle of water.

“Here kiddo,” he said, tossing the snacks onto your bed. “You gotta eat something.”

“Not hungry,” you mumbled.

“Don’t care, you still need to eat.”

He sat at the foot of your bed and opened the bag of chips. Taking one for himself, he chewed obnoxiously loud and with his mouth open.

“I’m gonna keep doing this until you agree to eat.”

You sighed, unable to stop the small smile from forming on your chapped lips as you sat up in bed.

“Fine,” you said, holding your hand out and Tony handed you the bag. You ate a singular chip. “Happy?” you asked.

“Yep.” Tony smiled. There was a beat of silence as you took another chip. “Talk to me, what happened?”

“Nothing, that’s whats fuckin’ annoying, pardon my French,” you said. “I was doing perfectly fine; going out with friends on the weekends, but not letting my grades slip, eating healthy and exercising well, and I was taking my meds.”

“So nothing happened to bring this on?”

You shook your head, “It just… happened.”

“Come here.” He motioned you toward him and you crawled over to sit next to him. He hugged you tightly, placing a kiss on your temple before resting his head on yours. “I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you too, Dad.”

**

Tony didn’t leave the house once while he was trying to lift your spirits. He first made you a proper meal that you ate with a smile even though you didn’t really want to. He then made some popcorn, and the two of you watched your favorite movie in your home’s theater. Afterward, the two of you baked cookies and while they were in the oven, you felt enough energy to go and take a shower and brush your teeth. 

You were thankful as fuck to have a dad like Tony. A dad that would drop everything and come running to you the moment he knew you were struggling. A dad that loved you so deeply and so unconditionally.