#how are you supposed to tag these things...

[zyettemoon1800]

Saja Boys watching you get your hair braided

Since becoming the manager of the Saja Boys, you haven't been able to catch a break. If it wasn't a meet and greet then it was practice, and if it wasn't that then they needed you to do something for them. Just when you thought you were going to crash out, Jinu decided that everyone deserved a break for the next day.

Knowing that you might not get this chance again, you made an appointment to get your hair braided. The following day, as you woke up extremely early to go to your appointment, you were surprised and annoyed to see all the boys up and ready to go with you.

Not wanting to deal with them, you told them that they could tag alone as long as they are on their good behavior.

Baby

He wasn't really interested in going, but since everyone else was going he just tagged along.

For the first five hours he was fine and kept himself entertained, however, after his phone dies and he doesn't have a charger, so he makes it your problem.

While you are sitting in the chair, he will walk up to your chair and look at your hair when the person is braiding it. "Are they supposed to be different sizes?" He'll say and then walk away

Romance

He did really well for the entire 10-hour process.

He most sat over by you and made sure you didn't need anything.

As you are getting your hair braided, he is already showing you pictures of other braid styles that he thinks will look good on you.

Since the place that you are getting your hair done at is in a kind of crowded area, he will go out and get food for you

Mystery

He didn't make it pass the two-hour mark

He is a fidgeter and sitting for hours on end is not something he wants to do.

He will start to read and look at everything in the store and when he is done with that, he will mess with you for a little bit by staring at you or sitting by you and putting his head on your lap.

He would definitely go with Romance whenever he goes out to get food.

Abby

Another one with a short attention span

He will probably join Mystery in reading everything in the store, however he does get bored on that pretty soon, so he will start lifting heavy things and start exercising.

He will start flexing and posing in the mirror and taking pictures with you in the shot

Jinu

Through the entire process, he is asking you a bunch on questions about your hair and why you wanted to spend you day off doing this.

You both had a talk about how your hair does much better when it is left alone.

He is amazed by your braids and keeping touching them

However, after about five hours he does leave because he is bored.

[cinnxmxngxrl]

Imagine Joel taking your virginity

Pairing: Jackson!Joel x f!Reader

Joel’s Masterlist

WC: 5.4k

Tags/Warnings: smut, minors DNI, porn with no plot, unspecified but big age gap, oral (m!receiving), virginity loss, unprotected piv, thigh riding, daddy kink, baby-talking, young and innocent reader, creampie, condescending joel, terms like baby girl, sweet little girl etc.

Even thought this part is a standalone, you might want to read a previous part: Joel teaches you how to go down on him.

Today was just another quiet afternoon in Jackson, you’d been heading back from the greenhouse, you weren’t paying much attention to your surroundings, too focused trying to brush the dirt off your knees, until you saw them…

Joel was outside the stables, half-laughing about something with a woman, gray in her hair, deep lines around her eyes from a life lived outdoors, she looked about the same age as Joel. She was standing close to him, not too close, nothing inappropriate, nothing that would give you the right to get pissed, but the kind of close that felt natural.

You stopped walking without meaning to, and you watched as she touched his arm and laughed. They looked right together, and it hit you like a sucker punch, the breath caught in your lungs and wouldn’t let go. Maybe because you’d never look right with Joel next to you, at least not in the way people expect a couple to look. People didn’t assume you two were together, hell, you’d even been mistaken for father and daughter more than once whenever someone new showed up in Jackson.

You turned away, heading back home before you could watch more. You felt so small, so young, like some little kid playing grown-up. You weren’t enough, not for him, not when he could talk for hours with a woman who remembered the same pre-outbreak songs, who didn’t need Joel to teach her how to shoot, or how to suck him off, a woman who could take all of him, not just the tip.

You didn’t realize how much time had passed after you reached your house until you heard the door open, footsteps crossing the threshold. Joel’s voice followed a second later, light and casual.

“Hey, darlin’. You home already?”

You didn’t answer, couldn’t get the words out of your mouth. You felt so insignificant, who were you trying to fool? There would come a day, because of course there would, when Joel would get tired of playing house with a little girl pretending to be a woman.

Joel walked into the bedroom, you didn’t look up, you were staring hard at the floor, fists clenched in your lap. He paused in the doorway, sensing the shift in the air instantly.

“Hey.” His voice softened. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head.

“C’mon now,” he said gently, stepping closer. “I know when something’s up, sweetheart.”

You finally glanced up, and the moment your eyes met his, everything cracked.

“I saw you,” you said quietly. “With her. That woman.”

Joel blinked, confused. “Who?”

“Her. Outside the stables.”

His brow furrowed. “Oh, you mean Carmen?”

You nodded once, the name sounded even worse spoken aloud.

Joel crouched in front of you. “What about her?”

You let the silence hang for a second too long, he caught it, could see it on your face. What were you supposed to say? He hadn’t done anything wrong, hadn’t cheated or anything like that.

“Goddammit,” he murmured. “My baby’s got herself twisted up, huh?”

“She’s your age,” you whispered. “She laughs with you. She gets your stories. She probably remembers music on the radio. And—and—I feel like a stupid little girl. You’re a man. You’ve lived this whole life. I don’t even… I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, I just pretend, and you’re just—You’re Joel. You don’t need me.”

“You really are just a dumb little thing, huh?” Your breath caught, he wasn’t cruel when he said it, just… exasperated, deeply, lovingly exasperated “Little dumb baby.”

Your breath was shallow, tears stung your eyes, but you didn’t want to cry, not in front of him. Joel didn’t say anything at first, just reached for your hands, gently unclenching them.

“I’m gonna say this once,” he said, voice low. “And I want you to hear me, alright?”

You nodded, barely.

“You’re my baby. You're soft, and sweet, and so fuckin’ easy to wreck I can barely keep my hands off you. You look at me like I’m good, even when I ain’t. And yeah, baby, I like that you need me. I like teachin’ you. I like when you look up at me all scared and excited, askin’ me to show you things no one ever has.”

He pulled your hands to his chest, right over his heart.

“I want you. I choose you. Every single goddamn day.”

Your throat closed, he sounded sincere, and you really wanted to believe him

“You know what I see when I look at you?” he asked. “I see someone who makes me laugh when I forget how. Someone who touches me like I matter. You know how long it’s been since I’ve felt that? I feel alive, baby. I feel like a man again. Not a ghost.”

You looked at him, really looked, and saw how wrecked he was now, how deeply this was hitting him too.

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to yours. “You’re not a phase. You’re not pretendin’. And you’re sure as hell not some kid to me, you’re my girl.”

“I just… I know I’m not what you’re used to. I’m not older. I don’t know how to do stuff. I had to ask you to show me how to… suck you, and then I couldn’t even take you, not really. Just the tip.” your voice cracked on that. “You’ve waited so long already and it’s not fair—”

“Stop.”

You blinked, his voice was quiet, but it had teeth. Joel pushed himself up slowly, sitting beside you on the bed, and looked down at you like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You think I don’t want this?” he asked, voice low and gravel-deep. “You think I’d rather be off with some older, experienced woman who could deep throat me and ride me into the goddamn sunset?”

He shook his head, almost laughing, but there was no humor in it.

“You think I give a single shit that you don’t know what you’re doin’? Sweetheart, I like teachin’ you. I like that you’ve never done this before. I like bein’ the first cock you take. I like that I get to be gentle with you. Take my time. Watch you fall apart under me.” He leaned down, bracing himself over you, hand sliding to your cheek. “You think I’m sufferin’ ‘cause I only had the tip inside you? Baby girl, that was the best fuckin’ orgasm I’ve had in years.”

Your breath caught.

“You were clenchin’ around me so tight, I damn near came the second I pushed in. And you were so sweet—so good—lookin’ up at me all wide-eyed, sayin’ please, Joel, please just the tip, like you didn’t know you were ruinin’ me.”

You looked away, a bit embarrassed by the memory, but is hand gently brought your face back to his.

“You got nothin’ to be sorry for,” he said, softly this time. “You think I want someone who’s had twenty dicks in her mouth and five up her pussy?”

Your eyes widened, Joel was always so blunt, you let out a startled laugh, he grinned, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip.

“I want you, baby. I want this tight, shy little thing that don’t even know how sweet her own mouth feels until I show her. I want the girl who looks up at me while she’s suckin’ and asks, am I doin’ good, Joel? like it don’t drive me fuckin’ insane.”

You nodded against him, voice small. “I just… I want to be enough for you.”

Joel pulled back just enough to tilt your chin up. You were so clueless, Joel thought, how couldn’t you see how much he loved how soft and innocent you were? How you were all he’d ever wanted? Your sweetness made both his heart ache and his cock throb.

“You are enough. You’re fuckin’ perfect for me.”

You searched his face, the lines, the grey at his temples, the quiet sadness behind his eyes, and all you saw there was truth.

“Even if I need you to teach me everything?” You whispered.

“Especially that,” he murmured. “’Cause I’m gonna teach you right. Teach you slow. You’re gonna learn everything from me, and only me."

“Joel... I wanna try again,” you said, and your voice came out soft, but sure. “With my mouth.”

Joel stilled, his eyes darkened slow, oh, the things you did to him, hearing you say those filthy things with that sweet, innocent mouth of yours. He smiled, slow, crooked, filthy.

“You mean suckin’ my cock?” he asked, all teasing drawl and patronizing sweetness.

You nodded. “Yeah. I want to.”

Joel’s hand slid higher on your thigh. “You askin’ real nice, baby girl.”

You leaned closer, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Please, Joel. I wanna make you feel good. Wanna do it right this time.”

He groaned, low and sharp, hand flexing on your skin.

“Alright, then, but only cause you want to, not because you feel like you need to prove somethin’,” he muttered. “Go ahead. Show me what you remember.”

He shifted back on the bed and unzipped his jeans with one hand, tugging them low enough to free his cock, already half-hard, thick, and flushed. You sat up on your knees between his legs, suddenly so aware of how big he looked like this, broad and spread out, just waiting.

Your hand wrapped around the base of him, he twitched in your palm, and you leaned down slowly, licking a soft stripe up the underside like he’d shown you before.

Joel exhaled sharp through his nose. “Thassit. Just like that, baby.”

“Hi there,” you said softly with his cock on your hand.

Joel huffed a laugh, low and almost incredulous. “You talkin’ to my cock now?”

“Maybe,” you said to Joel, before focusing your eyes back to his cock. “Hello again,” you said sweetly, leaning in to kiss the head. “Missed me?”

His breath was already hitching, you took it as a good sign and did it again, this time licking the head in slow, teasing circles, letting your tongue slip under the ridge.

“Look at you. Such a good boy. Getting all big and strong for me.”

Joel groaned softly, dragging a hand down his face. “Jesus. You’re one of a kind, baby girl.”

You batted your lashes up at him. “You like it.”

“I love it,” he muttered, eyes fixed on your mouth as you gave another teasing lick up the underside. “Love my silly baby girl talkin’ nonsense while she plays with her food.”

You giggled and leaned in, rubbing your cheek affectionately against his cock like it was a plush toy. And then you leaned down and kissed it with over-the-top reverence, soft little “muah” sounds, little nose nuzzles. You really liked his cock, sure, it was the only one you’d ever seen in person, so you didn’t exactly have a reference point, but still… if you had to guess? It was the kind of cock a woman would want

He gave you that slow, dangerous smirk. “You gonna make out with him right in front of me, baby?”

You nodded solemnly. “Don’t be jealous, daddy. He deserves love too.”

Joel groaned like he was in pain, throwing his head back on the pillow. “Christ, you’re such a goddamn brat.”

You were driving him absolutely insane, on your knees, looking like a sweet little angel who’d fallen from heaven, your innocent little face nuzzling all over his cock, rubbing your cheek against it, pressing soft kisses… He wanted so badly to grab your hair, shove his cock down your throat and hold you there as he emptied his balls.

You kept flicking your tongue over his tip over and over again, watching as it began to leak more

“I’m your brat.”

“Damn right you are,” he said roughly, running a hand through your hair. “My sweet dumb baby. Givin’ daddy a heart attack every time she opens her mouth.”

“He missed me,” you whispered, tongue tracing around his tip. “He loves my mouth, doesn’t he?”

Joel’s voice dropped, rough and sweet and low. “Yeah, baby. He does. You got the best fuckin’ mouth. He wants you drooling all over him, don’t he?”

“Mhm.” You licked a fat stripe up the underside, then wrapped your lips around the head, making Joel moan, loud and unfiltered.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered. “You been practicin’ in your dreams or somethin’, baby girl?”

You smiled against him. “Just been thinkin’ about it,” you whispered. “Thinkin’ about makin’ you feel good.”

“Better just be that,” Joel groaned, “and not you practicin’ on any of those boys from round town.”

“Jooeeel,” you giggled, sweet and teasing, “you know I don’t want anyone else but daddy.”

He growled, and you let your lips close around the tip and sucked, hollowing your cheeks, going slow, shallow, just the tip, in and out, working your hand at the base to match like he'd taught you last time.

“Atta girl,” Joel groaned. “That’s it. Look at you. My good girl. My perfect little cockslut.” Joel’s hand came to rest on the back of your head, not pushing, just resting.

“Jesus, baby. You’re learnin’. Makin’ daddy feel so good…”

You moaned around him, and he twitched in your mouth, the vibrations were just adding to the intense pleasure you were already giving him.

“Fuck—yeah, do that again. Moan on it. Shit.”

You moaned and took him a little deeper, your throat felt tight, but you were determined, wanting to prove him you were a big girl, one that could take his entire cock in your mouth. You pulled back after you ran out of breath, and sucked softly on the tip, letting spit drip and smear down your fist.

He groaned loud. “Look at you,” he panted. “Look at this fuckin’ mouth, takin’ my cock so sweet. You were made for this, baby girl.”

You got bolder by his compliments, and licked down to the base and back up again. Let the head rest on your tongue and gazed up at him, eyes wide and wet, mouth full.

“Oh fuck, baby—don’t look at me like that, I swear to God—”

“You like that?” You asked, lips glossy with spit. “You like watchin’ me do it?”

“I love watchin’ you do it,” he growled. “You’re so good, baby. S’good for me. This mouth’s made for suckin’ daddy’s cock.”

You whimpered, and he caught your face in both hands, gently guiding you down again, rocking his hips just a little. He needed it, yes, he loved the gentle flicks of your tongue, the toying with his tip, but right now he needed to hit the back of your throat.

“You take what I give you,” he murmured. “Little bit deeper now. That’s it. Just like that. My good girl. Take him all the way. Show him how much you love him.”

You worked him with your mouth and hand together, taking breaks to lick, to suck, to breathe—and each time you paused, he praised you, whispered filth like you were doing him the biggest favor in the world.

“Goddamn, baby, you’re so pretty like this… pretty mouth full of me…”

“Yeah, just like that, take your time… fuck, I ain’t gonna last…”

“You feel how hard I am for you? You know what you do to me, baby girl?”

You sucked him harder, hand twisting at the base, Joel groaned, full-bodied and deep. “Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered. “Ain’t gonna last another minute with you takin’ it like that.”

You whimpered around him, thighs squeezing together. Just his moans and those bold, filthy compliments were enough to get you wet and aching.

“Aw, baby’s gettin’ wet just suckin’ cock, huh? Poor little thing. Gonna need me later?”

You nodded, still bobbing, spit running down your chin. You pulled off just enough to murmur:

“He’s gettin’ twitchy.”

Joel grunted. “Yeah? You feel him startin’ to cum?”

“Warn me, daddy,” you said around him. “But I’m not stoppin’.”

You smiled and sucked him back into your mouth, sucking deep, and you didn’t let go until he was shaking, grunting, hips stuttering.

“F-Fuck… baby—daddy’s cummin’, he’s cummin’—fuck, right now—” Joel groaned, voice rough and desperate, his hips jerking up into you as the pleasure overtook him.

He came down your throat, hot and thick and salty, you liked the taste of it more than you did last time. You swallowed around him, let him ride it out in your mouth, his hands cradling the back of your head, thumbs stroking your cheeks like you were precious.

When you finally pulled off, he was panting, staring down at you like he didn’t know what hit him.

“Holy fuck, baby…”

You smiled, wiped the corner of your mouth. “Did I do good?”

Joel laughed, breathless. “You did perfect.” It was only the second time you’d sucked him, and you’d already outrun every other woman who’d ever been in his life.

He pulled you up onto his lap, arms tight around you. His thigh shifted beneath you, solid and warm, and you didn’t realize you were grinding down against it until he did.

“Ohh,” he said lowly, voice nearly a growl. “There she goes.”

You froze, a little ashamed by the fact that you were so horny you hadn’t even realized you were unconsciously humping his thigh, but Joel leaned in, lips brushing your cheek. “Don’t stop now, sweetheart. Keep ridin' me like that.”

Your eyes fluttered. “On… on your thigh?”

He nodded slowly, letting his hand drag up the curve of your back. “Mhm. That’s it. That’s what a sweet, shy girl like you needs. Nothin’ too scary. Just daddy’s thigh to start.”

“Joel,” you whispered, embarrassed and overwhelmed and aching so bad.

“S’just like dancin’, baby,” he cooed. “You know how to move your hips, don’t you?”

You nodded shyly, lashes still wet from sucking him, clutching at his shoulders. He adjusted your legs so you were straddling one thick, muscled thigh, your knees braced on either side of his, making you feel the corded muscle shift under you.

“Try movin’,” Joel whispered, voice all honeyed patience. “Rock your hips on me. Just a little to begin with. Just rub your sweet lil’ pussy on my thigh. Pretend it’s my cock if you want.”

You hesitated, but then rolled your hips forward, slowly dragging your clothed pussy over the ridge of his thigh, the friction made you gasp and clutch your fingers on his shirt.

“There we go,” Joel cooed. “See? That feel good? That’s what I’m gonna teach you to do all on your own. Go slow at first. Just lil’ rocks, baby.”

“Oh…”

“Atta girl. You’re doin’ so good. S’just like that.”

You moved again, the soft cotton of your panties growing damper with every pass. Joel watched you like a starving man, eyes hooded, hands staying right at your hips, guiding your movements.

Your breath came quicker as your clit caught on the firm pressure beneath you. The friction was perfect through your panties, rough enough to spark pleasure but safe enough not to scare you.

“Feel good, baby?”

You whimpered. “Y-yeah.”

“You ridin’ me now, aren’t you?” he asked softly. “Even if it’s just my thigh. So desperate to be a big girl, you just had to feel it, huh?”

You nodded, moving again, this time more confidently, moaning under your breath as the pressure hit just right.

“Aw, my poor baby,” he whispered, mock sympathy dripping from every word. “Look at you grindin’ all over me like you need it to breathe.”

Your cheeks burned, you buried your face in his neck as your hips rocked faster. “Feels so good, daddy…”

“I know it does. This is what happens when you trust me to teach you. I’ll show you everythin’, baby. Start you slow… get you used to it.”

You moaned into his skin, your clit catching just right on his thigh.

“Bet you’re gettin’ your pretty panties all wet, huh?”

You whimpered again in response.

“Yeah, I can feel it,” he growled. “Soakin’ through. You keep goin’, baby girl. Use me. Rub that little pussy right on me ‘til you cum.”

“God, Joel, it—feels so good—”

He nodded, hand sliding up your back. “I know it does, sweetheart. That’s your little pussy learnin’ how to get off. Keep goin’ for me

“Joel—”

“You need to cum,” he said, gently but firmly. “You need it, don’t you?”

“I—I think so—”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he crooned. “Think real hard. Wanna cum for me, don’t you?”

You nodded desperately, now chasing every movement of your hips, the pressure was building and building, your clit throbbing against the strength of his thigh. He let you do your thing, just watched you unravel slowly, whispering praise like poison in your ear.

“That’s it. Just like that. Look at you—so sweet and dumb, so fuckin’ precious. Bet if I let you cum like this, you’ll be beggin’ me to show you what ridin’ my cock feels like next, huh?”

“I think—I think I’m gonna—Joel—”

You cried out, back arching, your thighs shaking as the orgasm hit. It was hot and dizzying and so much stronger than you expected just from grinding him, but you’d never done anything like this, never been talked through it like this, handled like this. You kept rocking even through it, drawn-out and needy, until Joel’s hands stilled you.

“Shh. That’s it. That’s enough, baby. I got you.”

Joel held you close through it, murmuring praise into your hair, arms wrapped around you like you were something breakable. When your breath finally slowed and your hips stilled, you whispered, “Joel…”

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip. “Yeah, baby?”

You swallowed, voice small. “I think I’m ready.”

He stilled, blinking, breathing harder now.

“Yeah?” he said after a second, thumb still pressed to your mouth. “You sure, sweetheart? Don’t say it if you’re not. I can wait. I’ll fuckin’ wait forever for you.”

You nodded. “I want it to be you.”

Even though that orgasm had been mind-blowing, your body was still craving more. You were a little scared, but you knew Joel loved you, and that he’d take such good care of you in every step of the way.

Joel let out a shaky, wrecked sound and leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, your lips. He kissed you like you’d given him something holy. He felt so honored to be the one, the only one, to take that part of you. To be the first cock to stretch you open, to fill you up completely.

“Alright,” he rasped. “Alright, baby girl. We’ll go slow. Real slow. I got you.”

He laid you spread open on the bed, softly, like you were made out of glass. He kissed down your chest, your stomach, your thighs, murmuring as he went.

“I just…” You swallowed, cheeks burning. “I’m nervous. I don’t know what it’s gonna feel like.”

Joel exhaled softly, his voice dropped low.

“S’a stretch, baby. First time always is. You might hurt some. But I’ll be right here the whole time. I’ll help you through it. You just gotta listen to me, yeah?”

You nodded.

“Gonna be s’good for me,” he breathed. “You’ve been s’good for me already, haven’t you? Lettin’ me teach you. Lettin’ me touch you. And now you’re gonna let me take you all the way. That what you want, baby? Want daddy to take your little virgin pussy?”

Your thighs trembled. “Y-Yeah.”

Joel pulled back just long enough to wrap his hand around himself, hard, and heavy, all over again.

“Look at this cock, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You really think you’re ready for all this?”

Your eyes flicked to his cock, shy but sure, it was all you needed right now. “I want it.”

He groaned, moving between your thighs again. “Alright. Gonna give you just a little first, okay? Gotta stretch you open slow, baby. I ain’t lettin’ you hurt.”

His fingers stroked through your folds, slick and ready, spreading you for him, and then you felt the broad head of his cock, warm and insistent, pressing right at your entrance.

“Deep breath,” Joel said, his voice like velvet. “Just the tip first, like last time. Let daddy in.”

You exhaled, and he took that moment to push forward, just barely, just enough to breach you. You gasped, your whole body tightened around him instinctively, but Joel was already soothing you, already leaning over you with kisses and murmurs and praise.

You gasped—your hands flew to his arms, nails digging in. “Joel—oh—wait—”

“Shh, shh,” he soothed. “I know, baby. I know. It’s a lot. Daddy’s so sorry.”

He leaned down and kissed your forehead. You were shaking, even if he wasn’t moving.

he whispered. “Too much?”

You shook your head quickly. “Just… hurts more than I thought.”

“I know, baby. I know it hurts. Just breathe f’me. You’re doin’ great.”

You tried to breathe through it, feeling the dull burn of being opened by something too big, too thick, but still, you wanted it, you wanted him.

“Shhh, baby, that’s it. You’re doin’ so good. Tight little thing, ain’t you? Gonna suck me in so sweet. I knew you’d be tight, but fuck—you’re squeezin’ me like you never wanna let go.”

You let out a shaky laugh that turned into a cry as he gave another slow push.

“It’s a lot, huh?” he whispered against your ear. “Big cock stretchin’ you for the first time. Feels full, don’t it?”

You nodded, jaw trembling. “So full.”

“Too much?”

“No. Keep going, daddy.”

His breath hitched. “Jesus. You’re so fuckin’ brave, baby girl.”

And then finally—finally—he was all the way in, buried to the hilt, making you gasp again. Joel froze, holding you tightly, his whole body shaking above yours.

“Christ,” he groaned. “You took all of me. First time and you’re takin’ me so goddamn deep. That pussy was made for me. You feel that?”

You could only nod. Tears prickled the corners of your eyes. Joel looked down, utterly wrecked by the sight of your pussy swallowing him whole, of that tight little hole stretched around him.

You could feel everything, every twitch, every throb, every part of him stretching you open in ways you’d never imagined. It hurt, he was so big, and your body was struggling to take it, but you knew the pain would fade, your just needed to give your body a minute to stretch, to get used to him, and once it passed, the good part would come.

Joel rocked gently, barely moving, just letting your body adjust. You whimpered at the pressure, at the fullness, at the intensity of it all.

Joel just babied you. “Such a sweet girl. So fuckin’ brave. You lettin’ me be your first, baby? Makin’ me feel honored.”

“Don’t move yet,” you whispered. “Just… stay.”

“I ain’t movin’,” Joel said. “You tell me when. This pussy belongs to you until you give me permission.”

Your heart ached by how sweet he was, you wrapped your arms around his neck, held on, breathed, and slowly, the pain dulled, the sting turned to heat, the fullness turned to need, you needed more, you desperatly needed friction.

“Okay,” you whispered. “You can move now.”

Joel pulled back, just a little, and then rolled his hips forward, slow and steady. And again, and again. Each stroke made you gasp, made you cling to his shoulders, the feeling of him sliding deep, hot and heavy and perfect, dragging against every tender, untouched nerve inside you.

Every thrust was shallow, slow, careful, but it still made your thighs tremble. The pain was a shadow now, replaced with a tight, delicious ache and something filthy blooming low in your belly.

“Good girl,” he kept whispering. “Takin’ me so fuckin’ good. I knew you would. This sweet little pussy was just waitin’ for me, wasn’t it?”

You moaned so loud your throat felt sore. You would’ve been so embarrassed if you hadn’t been so completely lost in the overwhelming, electric pleasure coursing through your body.

He was trying to hold back, trying to stay gentle, because he knew how important a first time was, and you were his baby, you deserved for it to be nothing but soft and sweet. But in the back of his mind, he was already tasting the future, already imagining how he’d have you in all fours soon, when your body was ready to take more. He’d be rough then, fucking you deep and hard, just like he knew you’d want it once you got a real taste of him. But not now. Not yet.

“You wanted this cock,” he murmured. “You needed it. Wanted daddy to teach you how to take it. Fuck—look at you, baby girl, takin’ every inch. Buryin’ my cock all the way in this perfect fuckin’ pussy.”

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks, not quite from pain anymore, but from how full and overwhelmed you were. Joel kissed them away, he started to move faster, the heat built with every slow thrust, every slick grind of his hips against yours, and then his hand slid between you, thumb circling your clit in time with his thrusts.

You arched under him, sobbing louder now, overwhelmed and shaking from how deep he was. It felt like he was in your stomach, stretching places you didn’t even know could feel pleasure.

“J-Joel, it’s so much,” you whimpered. “I—didn’t know it could feel like this.”

He groaned low, voice thick and wrecked.

“That’s right, baby. That’s me all the way up in there,” he murmured, pressing his palm flat against your lower belly, feeling the bulge where his cock reached so deep it made your eyes roll back.

“That’s it,” he grunted. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock. Want this little pussy to milk me dry. Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Y-Yes—yes—Joel—”

You didn’t even have to try, the tip of his cock found that perfect spot inside you, that sweet, aching place you didn’t even know could feel that good, and the moment he hit it you saw stars, and then he hit it again… and again… and again.

You came hard, it was all so new, so perfect. You clenched around him, voice breaking, and the spasms of your cunt made Joel snap. His thrusts got rougher, deeper, his hips stuttering as he groaned your name over and over again.

“I’m gonna cum—fuck—gonna fill you up, baby girl, give you every fuckin’ drop—mine, you hear me? This pussy’s mine.”

He spilled inside you, grinding deep, holding you to him as you both fell apart. You clung to him, trembling, panting, tears still slipping down your cheeks. It was strange, so strange, a sudden heat blooming inside you, you swore you could feel his thick and warm seed being spilled inside you, and then sliding back out, dripping from your sore, used hole, slick and messy between your thighs. You whimpered at the sensation, so sensitive now that even the slow trickle of it made you twitch.

“You did so good,” he whispered. “So goddamn good. You’re mine now, baby. Every part of you.”

Afterward, Joel gave a few slow, shallow thrusts to push his cum deeper inside you before going completely soft. Even as he pulled out with a low groan, he watched the last of his seed slowly drip from your hole.

“Fuck… look at that, baby,” he rasped, his voice still thick with lust and awe. “Can’t even keep it in. I filled you that good.”

You could barely speak, barely breathe. All you could do was lay there and feel his release leaking out of you in hot waves.

“Daddy made a mess in you,” he murmured, his thumb gently playing with the warm slickness, spreading it over your folds and making you flinch from the sudden sensitivity. “D’you want me to clean you up, baby?”

“Mmm, can I stay like this, daddy?” you whispered. “I wanna feel you inside me.”

It felt… nice. Comforting, even. Being this marked by him. Joel just nodded, he didn’t move away from you, he just stroked your face, your hair, kissed your cheeks and whispered how good you’d done, how proud he was, how much he loved you.

And even though your body ached, your legs were still trembling, and your thighs were sticky with him, you felt safer than you ever had in your life.

He kissed your face, your hair, your lips. You were still crying a little.

“You did so good, baby girl,” he whispered. “So fuckin’ good f’me. I’m so proud of you.”

You held onto him, safe in his arms, and whispered.

“…I love you.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time. “I love you too, sweetheart. More than I ever thought I could.”

A/N: This definitely ended up being much longer than I intended, especially for pure porn without plot, lol

I’m so happy to see how much you liked the previous part I posted🥹 I immediately started writing this other one, and I hope you enjoy it just as much. If you do, please consider showing some support, it would mean the world to me🩷🩷

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

[cea-tide]

I found the thread: r/Drugs Post (original reddit.com frontend)

Post itself was deleted, along with some comments. You may try to view them with Reveddit or undelete.pushpull.io (under maintenance until end of June).

Image descriptions for all images in this thread under the cut.

[Image ID 1: Reddit post on r/drugscirclejerk by u/700SevenHundred700 titled "What drug has zero consequences?" that reads: "What drug can I do every day, feels very euphoric, no tolerance, I can look normal on, not addictive, isn't neurotoxic, is legal, cheap, and a cheat code to life?

Surely there is a a drug that meets those criteria and also overlooked by everyone. Reddit, do your thing." A reply to this post by u/225mgs reads: "Strawberry" /END ID]

[Image ID 2: Tumblr tags that read: "#estrogen! #←prev #reminds kitty of that one Reddit post that was like #“im not trans i just really like the high i get when i take estrogen” #and people were like “what high? estrogen doesn't give you a high” #surprise suprise #the “high” she was talking about was gender dysphoria" /END ID]

[Image ID 3: The aforementioned reddit post on r/Drugs titled "Estrogen as a recreational drug" that reads "Is this something you can do? I say recreational as in for fun and not for transitioning etc. For some reason taking estrogen makes me feel soooooooo good.

Does anyone take estrogen recreationally? What effects do you notice? And any good combos with it?" /END ID] [Image ID 4: Part of the comments under above thread. By u/[deleted] on Oct 26 '22: "You can really fuck up your hormones doing that" Reply to first comment by u/3nderslime on Oct 27 '22: "I have a feeling that's what OP is experiencing that makes them feel good" Reply to first comment by u/CynthiaCyan on Oct 27 '22: "Fuck up how?" The following comments are a chain of replies under the above comment. By u/[deleted] on Oct 27 '22: "Are you brainless ?" By u/CynthiaCyan on Oct 27 '22: "No? I'm just curious what you mean" By u/[deleted] on Oct 28 '22: "If they are a male it can literally promote breast tissue growth aka gyno, it can lead to Erectile dysfunction, mood swings and stuff up your hormonal balance. You can potentially damage your sperm count and even become infertile. This is fine if they are transitioning or something but if they plan on staying a cis male they may really cause some harm. I’m not sure if op is a guy and wouldn’t have a clue what it would do to a female" By u/CynthiaCyan on Oct 28 '22: "wtf that sounds based" /END ID]

[Image ID 5: Part of the comments under above thread.

By u/ReceptionGold9087 on Oct 26 '22: "If your estrogen levels are too high you will get gyno/tits" Deleted reply on Oct 26 '22. Two replies to above deleted comment. Reply by u/[deleted] on Oct 26 '22: "You sure you’re not trans? Lol" Reply by u/[deleted] on Oct 26 '22: "hmm......" /END ID]

[Image ID 6: Part of the comments under above thread. They are all separate replies.

By u/RoyaltyInTraining on Oct 27 '22: "Let me tell you something crazy: Humans are supposed to feel good by default. When something is wrong with your body and you get sudden relief from it, it can feel like a wave of euphoria. Estrogen doesn't have any proven psychoactive effects, it just switches your brain into girl mode."

By u/BubblyInstanceNo1 on Oct 27 '22: "Hun, no cis dude does estrogen for fun. They don’t feel good on it. They feel terrible. This has actually been reported several times by people who have to take it for reasons other than transitioning.

You know who feels great on it? Trans girls."

By u/Sage_Morrison on Oct 27 '22: "Has she figured it out yet?"

By u/blueskin on Oct 27 '22: "/r/egg_irl"

By u/Eternal_Density on Oct 28 '22: "Have you tried wearing a skirt and spinning? This may heighten the euphoria. Make sure the area around you is clear of obstacles, people, and pets.

Also, if you have access to IKEA, look for something called 'Blåhaj'. Its cuddliness and nonjudgemental nature have been reported to be very soothing." /END ID]

[bunnypostsstuff]

HEYYY I HAVE AN IDEA so like hiccup with saying “girlfriend?!?!?! That’s my WIFE” when someone says something along the lines of “tell your girlfriend to get out of my face” after they insult either reader or hiccup or just something like that

She is my wife!

Hiccup x Fem!reader 

Since the words girlfriend and wife were specifically used, I assumed that the reader is feminine.

I had something of a fight with my father, and I had the urge to punch an authority figure, which may or may not have slipped through in this fic.

Warnings: None in particular, there are some curses and the one horny thought from the reader.

You didn’t really get why you were here. No, that was a lie. You understood why you were here. 

One of the tribes allied with Berk had a dragon problem and as the “heralds” of the dragon-human peace and cooperation you and the dragon riders were expected to interfere in order to solve the problem. 

That and Hiccup would use any excuse to get out of Berk for a little while. Plus, it was hard to really entrust that task to anyone else. 

Politically speaking, sending someone other than Hiccup or the dragon riders could be viewed as Berk looking down on the tribe asking for help. On the other hand, someone inexperienced could make matters worse with the dragons in question. 

There was Valka, you supposed, she met all of the criteria as far as experience and status were concerned, but while her dragon skills were unmatched—except for maybe Hiccup— her people skills could still use some work.

So, yes, generally, you understood why you were here instead of someone else. You even understood why Hiccup had insisted you join him. Not that you would have let him go alone. He was prone to getting in trouble when left alone for prolonged periods of time. 

What you didn’t understand was why you were having a strategic meeting with this tribe about the dragon problem. Usually, you would go to wherever you were called to calm down the dragons, inspect the area for what is causing them to act out aggressively and proceed to lecture the villagers about what, why and how the problem occurred in the first place. 

You have been here for what felt like hours listening to the chief go on and on about things you were far too bored and uninterested in to pay attention to. You were sure that you zoned out at some point, only coming back to reality after Hiccup had taken hold of your hand, tagging at it softly. 

“So glad to see that you are back with us.” The sarcastic voice of the man sitting across from you rang in your ears. He was clearly displeased with your lack of attention. 

“Yeah… um, my mind drifted for a moment. I apologise.” You said not really feeling apologetic, but trying to appease the man on the other side of the table nonetheless. 

“It is alright.” His voice sounded rough and aged. “Not everyone can follow along with complex discussions.” He smiled condescendingly. 

The bastard wasn’t even trying to be tactful with his remarks. 

“Must be all the repetitions and dancing around the subject.” You said quickly, stopping Hiccup from answering.

Your hold on his hand tightened as he turned to look at you. He looked confused and a little concerned. Why were you stopping him? There was no reason to indulge this charade if this was how you were gonna be treated. 

You ran your thumb across his arm soothingly, holding his gaze, looking calm, trying to show that it’s okay. 

Hiccup’s lips pressed to a thin line, tightening his own hand around yours. 

“Perhaps you lack your chief’s ability to comprehend difficult words.” The chief’s voice ruined the tender moment.

There was a meaning to be had here. Someone of your station shouldn’t be present in a meeting between chiefs. Other than the obvious insult to your intelligence. Again.

Oh, so that’s how he wants to play it. “Perhaps the problem is that, unlike my chief—” Gods, calling Hiccup by his title felt beyond wrong—“you lack the ability to be concise and to the point.” 

Hiccup watched the exchange with his hand pinching the bridge of his nose. So much for diplomatic relations.

“Watch your words, little girl.” The chief raised his voice, getting up from his chair, wood scraping against wood from the force. 

“Or what?” You get up, placing your hands on the table. Your eyes pinned on his, extending a challenge that, realistically speaking… you… would lose.

Hiccup let out a tiny groan as he also got up, placing a hand in front of each of you, trying to keep you both apart. “Aaaalright. I think we are getting way off subject. How about we take a break and get back after we all have—”

“You need to be more mindful of your people, Hiccup.” The chief turned his attention to Hiccup. “I can understand that love can make you want to be lenient, but even your loved ones are not above your rule.” He spoke with such conviction, like he was trying to teach and reprimand Hiccup at the same time. “You might be new to this, but you need to learn. Don’t insult your father’s legacy, boy.” 

Your mouth dropped open. The entire hut fell silent for a second. 

“I’m gonna wipe the floor with you. You sad old man.” You said as you moved to jump across the table towards certain death.

“NO!” Hiccup yelled quickly, wrapping his arms around your middle. “No, no, no, no.” He kept repeating as he tried to move towards him. 

“Is this how you establish the law, boy? Get your girlfriend out of my face!” The chief yelled again. “And since she is so prone to acting wild, it is best to have her wait outside with the dragons.” He added, just as Hiccup had managed to get you away from the table and to his side. 

“First of all.” Hiccup’s voice rose as well. “She is my wife.” He emphasised. “And let me be clear that in this situation, you are asking us for help. It would be best to remember that every indulgence and goodwill that has been extended towards you that has nothing to do with your dragon problem has been because of my wife.” 

The chief was looking at Hiccup, surprised. You, on the other hand, felt rather smug about this particular turn of events. 

“We have wasted enough time here. We will deal with the actual reason for our visit now.”

He was so hot like this… You are definitely fucking him once you are back on Berk.

…

Damn your brain does not know how timing works.

He moved to leave the hut, taking hold of your hand and leading you outside with him. You threw a pleased look at the chief as you moved and batted your eyes, letting the feeling of victory radiate from you and further the old man’s shock.

Hiccup kept walking after you were both outside, not slowing his pace or letting go of your hand. Once he deemed that good enough, he suddenly stopped and turned to face you. 

He looked like he was about to say something, looking like a storm was held at the edge of his tongue. Instead, he just let out a deep exhale and let his head fall to your shoulder.

“I can’t believe you just did that.” 

“Really? I thought I held back for quite a long time.” You said, running your fingers through his hair. 

Hiccup let out a weak laugh, putting his hands around your waist. “Still though…” 

“Still what? I think I did us both a favour. Now we can get on to doing what we actually came for and then go home.” You said feigning innocence. 

“You will be the end of all of Berk’s diplomatic relations.” He mumbled, giving you a quick peck on the lips. 

“Not all,” you said, giving him another kiss. “Just the annoying ones.”

[hellowoolf]

something, somehow, someday

chapter 4: close to you | prev | next | series masterlist

series summary: you know you will love satoru for the rest of your life, but when you wake with his cursed energy in your navel there is no option but to flee. what future is there for a child of a god? at 18 satoru is without you, and you make off with a piece of him you hoped he'd never meet.

pairing: secret baby daddy!gojo x reader

tags: secret child trope, angst (lots), eventual fluff, eventual smut, hurt/comfort, a lot of yearning :P, chapter specific: SMUT, unprotected piv, creampie (sorry), fingering,

a/n: thank you guys for your responses on the poll! this one is more than double the average length of the other chapters (~8k) and i plan to keep that convention from here on out. i hope you enjoy this one >:)

18+! minors dni <3

~~~~~~~

it is a funny feeling, YOU find, making your life new with a thing so familiar. to open your door so often and find satoru standing there, letting him bring food and splaying himself on your couch, walking with him in the heavy mist at dusk, it fills your lungs like smoke, the nostalgia thick and cloying. you remember all of it, it comes back to you embalmed.  

but the differences between now and your time together in high school demand your attention in equal measure. your son, for one: though it’s impossible to find the sight of him with his father unnatural given how obvious their relation is. with their backs turned they move the same, too, something between them irrevocably tied. you had forgotten the way satoru wrought blades of grass between his fingers when he laid in it until you had to clean both their palms of chlorophyll.

nonetheless your affection for satoru is much more hulking a thing than it ever was, supplanted by the tangible aftermath of the ways you used to love him. when takara lets him pick him up, grips to his collar as satoru balances him on his hip, you are defenseless. the softest parts of you win out. 

still, neither you nor satoru make any attempt to name the arrangement you’ve come upon. he is resolutely your child’s father and has stepped into that role with grace, and there are artifacts of your intimacy—his hand on your lower back, brushing your hair from your shoulder blades, an almost kiss, once—but mostly you let the joy of your child consume your time. 

and it shouldn’t bother you. you remember feeling so certain in high school that letting him fuck you was enough, that to love him quietly was a privilege. you suppose you still mostly believe that. but there are moments when takara is asleep and satoru lingers in your kitchen, and the want flares bright then. you are at a loss watching him leave with that look on his face, like he’s afraid you’ll ask him to stay and terrified you’ll let him leave. you sometimes wait a moment before locking the door behind him.

jujutsu tech stands like a graveyard around you, so full of memory the buildings almost sag. you haven’t been back here since the night takara came to you.

“oi!” satoru bellows from across the courtyard, hand high and wagging. 

takara holds a grip on your pant leg, one blue eye peeking out. you feel him loosen a little when he sees his dad, and then refasten when megumi and tsumiki emerge behind him. 

when satoru first suggested you both come to meet them you had hesitated. you were honest; there was something final about this last introduction. there would be nothing else left for each of you to keep separate from the other, your lives entirely reconnected. satoru had laughed at you in that way that makes your heart turn, and that sound was all it took for you—weak to him—to agree.

satoru comes rushing to takara, scooping him from behind you and holding him to his side. takara screeches, half afraid and half delighted. tsumiki walks to you without hesitation, little hand held out for you to shake. 

“it’s nice to meet you,” she says. her smile is soft, a little secret, but you can tell she is pleased with herself for her manners. you smile back.

“it’s nice to meet you, too.” 

she looks up at takara in satoru’s arms and waves. takara is frozen, too shy to move, so satoru takes his chubby wrist and waves it a little. tsumiki giggles. “they’re like twins.”

you lean in a little conspiratorially. “i know. i carried him for nine months and have nothing to show for it.”

she giggles behind her hand before turning to her brother. “don’t be rude,” she admonishes.

megumi cannot hear her, it seems. he’s watching takara paw at satoru’s shirt, turning in his hold as gojo points to the various buildings to explain what they are. to himself, or maybe to you, megumi whispers: “it’s so freaky.”

tsumiki scoffs lightly and goes to elbow him but you can only laugh again, louder this time. he may not be related to satoru but he was certainly raised by him. “you are exactly as satoru described,” you admit.

megumi furrows his brows and crosses his arms. yes, so furious, satoru had said once. “how exactly did he describe me?”

“as a little shit,” satoru offers, one palm now cupped over takara’s ear. megumi’s mouth falls open a moment before making a fist with each hand and bringing them in front of him. satoru only rolls his eyes and uses his knee to knock his arms out of place. megumi practically growls something about i’m really gonna do it someday and tsumiki taunts back at him: you’re such a liar!

oh, but that look on satoru’s face, he is so pleased. his eyes squint with it, you can almost see the satisfied breathing of his cursed energy, satoru is happy. it makes you beam at him and his breath catches when he sees it. 

takara wriggles out of his grip and stations himself at your legs again, but doesn’t hide this time. tsumiki is completely enamored, cooing again, “hi, takara!”

takara sucks in a little breath. “hello.”

tsumiki claps her hands together and looks up at you and gojo. “can we show him around? please?”

“what is there to show?” satoru asks.

“the training room, our old bedrooms, the koi fish—”

your eyes widen. satoru’s gaze flits to you, frantic, and you smirk, the tiniest thing. the koi fish? you mouth. satoru’s cheeks flush pink as he shakes his head slightly, but the damage is done, he knows. tsumiki is still listing menial places across campus.

you squeeze takara’s shoulder. “what do you think, bubba?” he looks at you, owlish, and then at tsumiki, before nodding. she takes his hand with a pleased squeal and the three putter off together.

satoru stands boyish before you as you straighten again. he tends to keep his blindfold off around takara—whether to keep from frightening him or for a more profound reason you don’t know—but he is bared to you without it. he knows exactly what you’ll say, lifting a hand as he turns and starts towards his office: “don’t.”

you skip to catch up with him. “oh, no, i think i have to.”

“i’m just a friend to nature.”

you howl. “you’re just as dishonest as you always were.”

he doesn’t dignify that with a response, pushing into his office and letting you inside. the walls are a dark wood, mostly bare save for the few bookshelves bloated with old novels and records and manila folders. a handful of pens scatter across the desk, like he’d needed to finish a sentence urgently before standing. there’s a record player on the windowsill, fuzzy with dust but clean in places around the arm. it looks like he’d used it recently for the first time in years. most of all it smells like him, mint and cedar and sugar, and you almost double over sick with it. 

satoru settles into his chair as you trace a finger along the spines of his books, his eyes igniting your back but you refuse to turn, you want him to watch. “you’ve done a great job with them,” you admit.

“you think so?”

you just barely twist your head over your shoulder to show him the sincerity on your face. “of course i do.”

he runs a hand through his hair. “they seem to like takara.”

you turn fully now to lean your back on the shelf. “everyone likes takara.”

he chuckles, fond. “yeah, i guess so.”

the sounds of this place are so startlingly the same, you think. the serenity is strange and charged, but nonetheless campus was always quiet enough to hear the wind through the leaves. you hear it now as you flip through mission files and reports: special grade, special grade, grade one, special grade, suguru geto. you put them down.

“is it weird to be back?”

you nod, gesturing around the room. “i’ll admit i was hoping for more of a welcome. is nobody else here?”

“yeah, i asked them to give us the afternoon so takara wouldn’t be overwhelmed for his first time.”

you pout, mainly to bare your lip to him but there is truth in it, too. “nobody wanted to see me?”

satoru shakes his head. “i wanted you all to myself,” he admits. and it’s teasing, easy, he says it like it doesn’t cost him anything, but you know he is like you: he almost never says something he doesn’t mean.

“how did they react when you told them?”

“that i have a son? kept a secret by his villainous mother?”

your eyes narrow but you’re grinning as you respond: “yeah.”

he cocks his head and kisses his teeth. “yaga said he was disappointed in you.”

“for leaving?”

“no, for letting me…” he smiles, wolfish for a second before it fades into something friendlier, “for giving me the opportunity.” you laugh, a bark of a sound, halfway humiliated. you nod him on. “and shoko was the one who found you, so, there wasn’t anyone else to tell.”

your hand finds your arm and you squeeze your bicep once, twice, swallowing around the tragedy in his confession: that all the people you used to know here are gone somehow. you hadn’t visited haibara’s grave since you left; nanami helped you lug a stone out by the stream and you grew flowers around the base, yellow pansies and red carnations. you remember kento pointing to them in a flower language book so you could conjure them properly, remember the promise you made not to tell a soul what they meant. 

the memory must show on your face, because satoru says then, “i still water those flowers you made by haibara’s grave.”

you smile at him, watery and real. you add on, “and feed my fish,” and he laughs like a surrender. 

you move to the record player just behind him and he swivels his chair to follow you. something seizes in your belly at the feeling of him scrutinizing you, the weight of his looking a leaden thing against your skin. you thumb through the few vinyls resting in the window before stopping on one. the words stick to your teeth like honey but you spit them as best you can: “this is mine.”

you hear satoru stand and look over your shoulder. frank sinatra’s close to you: the sleeve is long stained and yellowed, waterlogged in one corner, but the record inside is pristine. 

you remember the first time your grandmother taught you how to play her gramophone. her hands guided your smaller ones across the pavilion, down to the plateau; it was old and rusted, even then, something she’d bought second hand as a girl. but she had collected hundreds of records, they made piles throughout her home, and every afternoon you selected one to play. close to you was her gift to you when you entered jujutsu tech.

of course, you never had a record player. all three years it sat unused on your desk, a remembrance, still smelling like the tatami from her living room. she had told you once that sinatra taught her how to speak english, which you mostly believed; her english vowels opened with the syrup of the american east-coast, and she held each word a moment too long, like it took a great deal of effort not to sing them. 

you run your knuckles along the sleeve, feeling the still-familiar places where the gloss has faded and the paper catches. you hardly notice how close to your back satoru has drifted until he reaches around you to remove the record and situate it on the player. you freeze, his looming figure warm around you, his arms brushing your shoulders as he fiddles with the tone arm. you hope he can’t feel your heartbeat through your spine, but it rushes so deafening in your ears you cannot discern either way.

it could happen to you crackles to life from the speaker and you feel like you’ve been swallowed by space, on the cusp of a wrinkle. you wonder whether time has really suspended around you or if it’s only this, this song and this man at your back. your breathing is uneven and satoru does not step back, head craned a little to bring his chin closer to your shoulder. 

slowly, almost self-consciously, he braces each hand on the sides of the windowsill, keeping you surrounded. 

“it’s been so long since i’ve heard this song,” you whisper. the melody chimes and swings around the violin and you cannot help but tilt your head back a little into satoru’s chest, overcome with the ghost of the music as it hangs above you. satoru lets your weight lean slightly into him, unmoving.

“i hope it’s okay that i took it.” his voice rumbles through your bones before you hear it. you nod and it scrapes against his sternum. the friction stirs something in him, you think, because then he’s bringing a hand to your stomach, fingers long and splayed across your entire torso, and he rests his cheek fully on the back of your head. it would almost look like you were dancing if you began to move, but neither of you seem willing to risk it.

“do you ever wonder what it would have been like?”

you don’t need him to clarify. “all the time,” you confess. the sun moves behind the clouds outside, and you catch a moment of the both of you in the reflection. 

his hand tightens around your middle, holding you against him. the song threatens to end but he keeps his arm banded around you. “are we friends now?”

you laugh softly. “i honestly don’t know.”

he nods before bringing his other hand to your chin. he spreads the pads of his fingers, feeling the shape of your jaw, looking for something, for you. “would you let me kiss you, if i asked?”

“yes,” you say, but it comes out more breathless than you intend. your thighs press together and you’re sure he notices with how his hips cage you in, but he only hums, removing the hand around your chin. 

“it’s a bad idea,” he breathes, but still his nose brushes at the juncture of your neck and your shoulder. you shudder and nod. it is. 

and despite how badly you want him, you do not turn and demand it. it’s so precarious now, and with satoru in takara’s orbit you cannot run again, a chain fastened from your rib to his. you know fucking him would be a reckless idea now, but god, he presses one, slow kiss to the bared skin of your shoulder and your body remembers him. his hips press just slightly further into your ass as he sighs onto the same spot, his breath cooling the heat of his lips where they branded you, his cock alive and right there. but the both of you know it: you are cowards. he untangles himself, and you let him sit back in his chair before moving.

~~~~~~~

SATORU is certain now; you are going to kill him. his grave will be beautiful, he thinks, flowery and green and alive with your energy, but his autopsy will have your name all over it, your lipstick.

he supposes, for his part, that much of your proximity is his fault. a stronger man wouldn’t have stayed in your apartment past takara’s waking hours, used his hands to guide you on the sidewalk, held your hips to his cock in his office windowsill earlier today. and satoru has lived a life of self restraint, has been a shackled man to his own whipping post, but he has found himself helpless to the feeling of your body on his skin.

he had been so irreparably hurt when he saw you in the park that day, or at least it had felt that way at the time. something grew in him then, a tumor with teeth, and he was certain it could never feel the same with you as it once had, that he would withhold something precious from you forever in some lasting spiteful act of defiance. and nevermind the fact that even hours later he moved to hold you, could barely restrain the instinct to kiss you again, was never even angry: for about 24 hours, satoru was sure that he would never be in love with you again.

but even the sharp canines of that wound have dulled with weeks of your presence. the smell of you on your couch when he lays on it, the afternoon scenery of you playing with takara in the park curtained by your vines, your laugh in his office, by your door, in his head. you are an apparition haunting him, one he can touch, and it’s killing him. 

and he knows he should not pursue anything with you. he knows you know this, too. your nebulous reconnection is unsteady at best—a strange amalgam of your old intimacy and the people you’ve become—and access to takara is too important to him to risk. and neither of you would say this, but the fact of your leaving in high school remains a reminder that at any moment you are capable of disappearing again. it’s something satoru always loved about you, actually. you make your own life wherever you step. what a beautiful thing you are. 

he feels ridiculous for thinking of you as often as he does. but how could he not? he visits at least daily to spend time with his son and you are always there, a vision. he sees you in takara, too, his little love. when he tries to explain how to use limitless, takara bears down into himself, thinking to the point of exhaustion. he has gotten that from you, satoru knows.

but it wasn’t a conscious thought that satoru has begun falling back into love with you—or, really, that he has plummeted into the well of it—until today, seeing you laugh with megumi . tsumiki had pointed at you from behind your back: she’s so pretty! and he had nodded without thought, proud as if you were his to boast for. and then, your teasing voice nipping at his heels as he brought you to his office, he realized that he was yours. he should have known some time in the thousand minutes he’s spent feeding your koi.

the smell of your cooking wafts into your living room as he reads to takara on his lap. you’re humming that song from earlier, it could happen to you, and the domesticity makes him beam like an idiot. yes, he thinks, that’s about the most succinct way to put it; he is an idiot for you. takara points to the page and reads a sentence himself.

“yes!” satoru encourages.

“don’t yell,” takara says, patting satoru’s leg as though he’d worked himself up.

“yessir.”

“come in to eat!” you call from the kitchen. takara scrambles to the sound of your voice and satoru is no better. the three of you settle to the table, takara’s legs dangling in his chair, and satoru knows he shouldn’t but he presses his foot to yours under the table. you give him a look, fleeting and knowing, but you don’t move. takara eats exactly the way you do, and satoru wonders whether you’ve noticed.

“what time do you go into work tomorrow?”

“i’m opening, actually, so i’ll head to the cafe early,” you grumble. “i’ll take my lunch break at 8 to take takara to preschool.” 

satoru shakes his head. “i don’t have any missions until the afternoon. why don’t i take him?”

“i don’t have an extra key for you.”

“he could sleep over,” takara offers, barely looking up from his food. you look startled by the suggestion, at first, and satoru is sure he looks much the same, but when the shock subsides he cannot help the little grin that tugs his lips up. you cock your head minutely, but he’s known you long enough to know you mean: don’t push it. 

“bubba, there isn’t enough space,” you explain. 

you had told satoru early on that you started in a one bedroom, fixed a nursery in most of it and fit yourself on a twin bed in the corner. when the owner of the cafe retired, though, she had let you have the place. you made enough now to scrape by with two bedrooms; satoru remembers how dignified you were to recount the whole thing, how hard it was not to kiss you when you smiled in your own self-satisfaction. 

“why can’t he sleep in your room?” takara asks. satoru smiles bigger, nudges your foot under the table. 

“because he…can’t.” you’re becoming flustered now and it only thrills him more.

“i really would like to take him,” he offers, though the sincerity is cut with the sound of his smirk.

you run your hands over your face, mumble out a little groan that softens into a hum at the end, but still your foot doesn’t move away from the press of satoru’s under the shadow of the kitchen table. 

“don’t you need to get home to megumi and tsumiki?”

satoru is beaming like he’s already won. he has. “they have a sitter.”

your head tips back as you say, mostly to the ceiling, “fine. but you’re sleeping on the couch.”

and truthfully he doesn’t mind much at all. he is voracious for more time with takara, for more time in your space, for benign moments you might take for granted. he wants to brush his son’s teeth at night and fix his hair in the morning. he taps your foot one more time: thank you. and you nod, almost imperceptibly: you’re welcome. 

~~~~~~~

as much as YOU might have resisted it, there really was about an hour or so when letting satoru sleep on your couch seemed like a good idea. it felt, if you can admit it, easy, the both of you moving around one another as the evening twilight overtook the windows. and it was so plain to see on takara’s face that he was pleased, too, to have you both here. sitting on the edge of his bed together as you tucked him in, watching his first few moments of sleep, made space for a new sort of intimacy. when satoru reached for your hand in the dark you did not pull away.

of course, you regret it now. maybe you’ll regret it forever. by the time you’re brushing your teeth you know you have made an error of cosmic proportions. some time between settling blankets on the couch and joining you in the bathroom satoru had unbuttoned most of his shirt and removed his belt, sidling next to you at the sink with the spare toothbrush you gave him like you weren’t a moment from dropping dead on the counter. you’re too afraid to look at yourself in the mirror; you already know your cheeks are red, that he can feel the rush of your blood in your jugular from inches away. 

“you seem uptight,” he says, though it comes out foamy around the toothpaste in his mouth.

“i’m not used to having people over.” you can’t look anywhere but the porcelain of the sink, too petrified of what you’d say if you looked at him in full. you remember this afternoon in his office and shift on your weight a little.

“you don’t have a lot of sleepovers?” he asks through a grin.

you’re so focused on not making eye contact with him in the mirror that you answer him honestly. “i don’t have any.”

you hear his toothbrush stop. he spits in the sink before leaning on it to face you. “what do you mean you don’t have any?”

you take a deep breath before turning. god he’s so pretty, even more stunning like this, a little unspooled. “what do you want me to say? i’ve never had anyone else to take care of takara. it’s not like i can…” you don’t even know how to end that sentence.

the teasing look leaks from satoru’s face slowly. he asks you with more earnestness than you think you can stand: “have you not had sex since high school?”

it’s not even fully out of his mouth before you’re pushing past him and out of the bathroom but he is relentless behind you—he always was—and you feel him an inch from your back as you walk towards your bedroom door.

“wait a second—”

“satoru, i’m not talking about this with you.”

“no, but i’m being serious.”

“so am i!” you turn at your door and try not to shudder at how close he is. his eyes glow in the low light, a man made of comets.

“i just,” he huffs a little, “i feel bad, i guess.”

“what?”

“well you—you’ve been taking care of takara alone all this time and you haven’t gotten…you haven’t gotten to do—”

“satoru, i don’t need your pity about my sex life, okay?”

“but that’s my point! it’s not just about your sex life, it’s—it’s everything.” he ruffles the back of his head, almost embarrassed, you think. “i feel bad that you’ve been alone all this time.”

you kick your heel against the door behind you to ground yourself. “it’s my fault, isn’t it?” and it comes out a little small, more pathetic than you’ve ever heard yourself. satoru buckles with it.

“baby,” he starts, and you think his hand flexes to reach for you, but you put your palm on his chest to keep him in place. he hasn’t meant to call you that, you know, the endearment from years ago clawing back, finding purchase on his tongue. his heart murmurs like a bird behind his shirt.

“listen, i—i don’t need you to pity me for a decision i made. especially because i don’t regret any of it.”

he breathes out quick, almost angry, but you know not at you. before either of you can stop him, he holds your wrist to keep your hand on him, thumbs your pulse on one side. he does this a lot, you think. you wonder if he knows that you can feel his heartbeat, too, through the pads of his fingers. and there’s a moment, among the sounds of your breathing and the creak of the floorboards under his feet, when you think it is all over, that you’ll let him kiss you against your door. earlier today you felt like a coward for denying him, but that self-flagellation has waned. no, it takes a great deal of courage now to press your hand more firmly into him, to not rise onto your toes and suck at the skin under his jaw.

“goodnight, satoru,” you whisper, and shut yourself into your bedroom before you lose your resolve.

the night is cruel to you. it feels very much like sleeping with a black hole in your living room; you cannot ignore the thought of him draped over your sofa, body too long to fit comfortably. even with your eyes closed you can feel him from a room away. 

you toss under the covers, try to at least become entangled enough in your sheets that you cannot rise from your bed to check on him. you hope he’s fallen asleep by now, that you’re the only one left in this apartment awake.

being alone in the dark gives you more time to think, more time to resolve a decision you cannot yet name. you have been so insistent that to become ensnared again by satoru’s pull would be a mistake, let him leave you at the windowsill, stiff armed him at your door. you wonder whether any of it matters in light of the fact that you are utterly in love with him. of how much consequence could the physical distinction be now? in truth, you can’t tell whether you are freeing yourself from an obsolete stipulation or looking for any reason to abandon it.

in the blue midnight streaking through your curtains you can admit to yourself that a part of you, the fleshy part that wants for things, is simply too afraid that you need satoru more than he needs you, and to reconcile that is a task too treacherous to ask of yourself. what of the moment when, slick with sweat and the smell of sex, you move to kiss him again and he turns away? it’s all hypothetical, of course, but still it plagues you like a memory. and you suppose you have no reason to fear it at all; he has made clear enough that he wants you. 

it almost feels ridiculous to pine so excruciatingly over the father of your child. you’ve already done all of this before, no less as a teenager, and somehow now, a self-actualized adult, you hesitate and turn your knees in. you flip onto your other side with a huff. you’re only in a tanktop and shorts but you feel like you’re suffocating, or worse: something from inside of you is threatening to come loose.

you wonder whether he’s waiting for you in your living room. what a horrific thing to wonder. 

you creak open your door slowly and pad out.

it looks like satoru has given up on sleeping already. he’s sat upright, head tipped over the back of the couch and legs spread, an arm hanging over his eyes. you know he can hear you—you think he might have heard the moment you decided to come out—but he waits for you to address him.

“satoru,” you whisper. at last, he lifts his head, eyes sleepy but undeniably pleased to see you. he pats the spot next to him on the couch as he assesses your mild state of undress and you settle there, facing him. “i can’t sleep.”

he shakes his head. “i can’t either.” though he doesn’t look all that displeased, certainly not as he bends over to collect your legs and drape them over his lap. you let him. you let him drag one enormous hand up your bare leg, too, and he stops just below the knee but still you watch as goosebumps follow his fingers. your body is traitorous but you can’t find it in you to mind.

“when did we get so weird, huh?” he asks you.

“how do you mean?” “sometimes it feels like it used to feel,” he thinks about how you may take that a moment longer, “when we used to be friends.” you nod slowly. “sometimes it feels like i don’t know you at all.” 

honesty looks so pretty on his face. his eyes are slightly narrowed but they’re no less auroral, his lips slightly swollen on the bottom as he bites them between breaths. he points at your nose. “and sometimes, you make that face at me, and i—fuck i mean what am i supposed to do with that?”

you scrunch your nose. “what face am i making?”

“i mean you look—jesus, i don’t know.” he runs a hand through his hair, mussing it further, before continuing, “i just wish you wouldn’t keep thinking in your head.”

you can’t help but laugh softly, bumping your foot into his stomach. “where else am i supposed to think?”

he flails at the sound of your giggle but his lips turn up. “i don’t know! i just spend so much more time now wondering what’s going on in your head. i want to know.” and then, to devastate you further, you imagine, he adds: “you used to tell me.”

you slide a little further into the couch, lay more of your legs’ weight on his lap. he lets his hands drift up to your kneecaps now. “okay, satoru,” you relent. “what do you want to know?”

“you’ll tell me anything?”

“i suppose that’s what i’m offering, yeah.”

he grins. “okay…” he taps his finger on his chin and you snort. “are you still afraid of me being in takara’s life?”

“a little. i’m afraid for both of you. but he…he loves you now, i think. ultimately i’m glad he can know you.”

“what about in your life?”

“what about it?”

“are you glad i’m in your life again?”

you smile, wry. “i think so. even though you torment me and make me spill my secrets.”

he puffs his chest and tugs your legs further into him. you’re almost in his lap, a few inches from it, but whether you notice is a question he decides not to ask. “do you still trust me the way you used to?”

“yes.” you do.

“do you still like me as much?”

“in what way?”

“all of them.”

“you’re greedy,” you whisper.

something punches from satoru’s lungs but you cannot discern what comes out. he says only: “yes, i am. answer me.” 

with a defeated breath you shrug. “yes.” 

his hands have both stalled on your knees, each thumb an omen breaching the threshold of your thigh. your skin twitches, you think, but you can’t look away from his face. he looks like he’s released one foot over the edge of some decision, you can see one teetering moment in the air, and then the resolve sets in.

“do you know how much i still want you?”

your heart kicks. “no,” you confess.

his hands remember themselves again, gripping up your legs higher, higher, now with purpose as they swing around his hips and move you to his lap. straddling him you can feel how hard he is already and you’re certain he can feel your wetness through your shorts, the slick is humiliating and so much. you whine a little and it comes out through your nose. his cock twitches.

“not today in my office?” his right hand cups the back of your neck. “not an hour ago?” your chest rises and falls, stumbling over itself. “you don’t know?”

and you have no faith in your voice now so you only shake your head as much as his hold will allow. he presses his hips into you just once, a fleeting indulgence you’re unsure if he even intended, but you whine again and it looks like it hurts him. 

“let me show you, baby,” he coos, but it’s desperate, too, a prayer into your lips as he brushes his nose against yours. “just one more time.”

you haven’t even finished nodding before you’re kissing him, both of you groaning into the other at the sheer relief of the feeling, his hands grabbing for anything he can reach: around your back, your tit, the globes of your ass to grind you down against him. the fabric of your shorts catches on your clit as it swells and you moan something awful in the back of your throat.

he kisses you like all six years apart demand it, like he can feel how long it’s been in the truest sense, like all at once the wanting has frayed his nerves and your lips cauterize the veins. he bites your lip to make you gasp, taking the opportunity to lick into your mouth as it opens.

you grind your clit onto him again, rubbing little circles on his tip through your clothes and he pants with the pressure. 

“satoru,” you whine, and he ruts up, harder.

“oh, say my name like that again,” he pleads, lips trailing down from your lips to your neck. his tongue streaks hot against your skin, sucking and biting and grinding you onto him like his cock is inside you already.

“satoru,” you repeat, and it comes out clearer without his tongue on yours but just barely. 

“fuck.” he rips your tank top off before attaching to you again, leaving hickies in the hollow of your throat, down over each breast, before taking a nipple into his mouth and laving his tongue there.

your moans almost come out like hums, all strung together, and he preens at the sound of them. you can feel the damp spot on his pants growing as you spread your slick, each wet kiss on your chest demanding a new wave from you. 

“i don’t even need to prep you, do i? you’re already so f–fucking wet,” and he punctuates it with a gyration of his hips that would have made you scream had he not clamped a palm over your mouth. 

you’re almost deaf with the rushing sound of blood in your ears but still you crane to hear him, each filthy utterance a precious thing you covet as he ruts up into you. if you were in your right mind you might find it funny that the experience of dry humping him feels so profound but as it is you can think only of the feeling of his veins through two layers of fabric.

despite how he may have goaded at you he brings one hand down your navel and under your shorts, feeling through your folds and spreading the honey of you further. your mouth is fully dropped open but his hand is large enough to cover it.

“oh, baby—yeah, that’s it, grind on it—you’re dripping for me.” he says it in that pleased way that makes him sound like an animal. you roll your hips onto the pads of his fingers and pleasure shoots up your spine at the rub of them on your clit, around your entrance. he circles his middle finger once before sinking it in and you keen. he holds you still with his other arm, nose pressed to your ear now as he whispers in it.

“f—fuck this pussy is so fucking tight.”

your hole flutters and sucks his digit in and he revels in the grip as he fucks you on it slowly. you try to bounce yourself faster but he squeezes your middle again, bites your pulse as it bumps in your neck. he murmurs there: “let it last,” using his hold to swivel your hips on his hand. your nails grip to his shoulders, surely making marks through his shirt but he lets you, frenetic and buzzing like he gains as much from touching you as you do.

the heel of his palm presses up onto your nub and you bow into him further, and he takes the movement to press another finger alongside the first. something searing and hungry licks up your spine, you’re close already, but there’s no indignity in it. you tug on his hair to bring his face to yours again, pulling back from the hand clamped over your mouth to lick behind his teeth, moaning into his mouth. “cum for me baby, come on,” he encourages.

your eyes squeeze shut as you come undone, heat spasming around his fingers as you soak him to the wrist. “fuck, f–fuck, that’s it,” he curses, mainly to himself, you think. you’re only half-lucid as you come down but you feel him pull his fingers from you and lick them clean, groaning softly around them.

“fuck me, satoru, please.”

his hair doesn’t move as he nods, stuck now to his forehead damp with sweat. neither of you have the patience to remove anything else, simply tugging your shorts to the side and his cock from his pants before you’re dripping right over it. his tip catches on your entrance and you both go half-boneless with the feeling.

when you sink onto him you feel a little like you did in his office earlier in the day. like time has stopped, or maybe like it has all arrived at your fingertips, like you’re everywhere. you remember this feeling, a little bit, but it’s also undeniably new. the stretch burns but you hardly feel it, taking no time before sitting on him to the hilt. your head drops to his shoulder, little pants into his neck, and he lets out a shaky breath.

“fuck you’re so fucking tight, baby, this pussy was made for me,” he chokes into your ear. you each have a handful of the other between your fingers, the lines of your palms tattooing him even through his uniform he still has mostly on. you hope his brand you the same.

all it takes is one, slow pull of your hips before he’s rutting up into you again, not so much ruthless as intense, deep and pregnant with meaning and so precise you wonder whether he’s using his six eyes to assess the inside of you. with one hand he holds your face to his ear to consume your moaning that way. you whine and when he shudders, bucking harder, you whine again.

“o–oh, these sounds are mine, this pussy is mine,” he stutters. the squelch of your cunt sucking him in seems to only encourage him, and you make yourself wetter just hearing it.

“it’s so good, satoru,” you whine.

he laughs softly, manic, “yeah?”

and you only wail quietly again. with each snap of his hips you thrust yourself down, clit throbbing and catching on the little white scratch of his pubic hair, and his other hand, still handled on the plush of your ass, rubs you harder as you move. you vaguely hear your little ah! ah! ah! but mostly you can feel the pleasure building again, can feel the vein down the underside of his cock as you wring him harder.

“hah–i won’t–fuck–i won’t last if you keep squeezing me, baby.”

you only feel encouraged, sliding deeper, revelling more in the slip of your slick as it floods out of you.

“ah–-i’m close, i’m close,” you breathe.

“fuck yeah, i wanna feel you cum on my cock, let go for me.”

and you do. have you ever really denied him? your mouth drops open in a silent scream as your hips buck wildly, the pleasure seizing you from the inside out. satoru moans feeling you ride your high, panting into your ear, “tell me to pull out.”

you shake your head, little smile creeping over your face as he fucks you through your high. “isn’t the damage already done?” you ask breathlessly.

and he can only laugh for a second before his hips stutter and still, pulling you into him like he wants to crawl inside of you and live in your stomach

“fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.”

his cum is so hot as it fills you, and so much, your own orgasm jolting you again, exulting in the feeling. 

he drops his forehead to your shoulder now, sweat of your collarbone meeting the beads on his hairline. the sounds of your breathing mix, too; your cum and your hands and your warmth, all of it intertwined with his, maybe forever. he kisses you one more time, sated now, along a hickey he’d left on your neck before. you return one to the corner of his mouth.

he doesn’t say anything when he sits up straight again, supporting the wings of your shoulders with his hands. there is only that look on his face, a cousin to the one you saw the first day he found you and takara, but so recognizably relieved this time: everything is different now.

~~~~~~~

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[beabatoru]

10 things I hate about you 𝜗ৎ hockey player! gojo x reader

pt. 1/2

pairing ⊹ ࣪ ˖ college au - hockey player! gojo x reader

summary : getting accepted into one of the ivy league universities was supposed to be you getting the best education you could get, not the centerpiece of a bet created by none other than the hockey team, the players challenge satoru that he can't make you fall for him in 10 days in which he allows his pride take over to go out of his way to take on the bet thinking it would be easy. what he didn't expect was to fall for you instead, but after you find out his ulterior motives, your trust in him shatters and so does his heart. now with the truth out, he is now more determined than ever to get you back, but this time, he isn't playing games.

warning / tags ⟢ fluff, angst, brief smut, college au, this fic is based on the film '10 things I hate about you', partial angst with readers father regarding sickness, reader is low income.

w.c : 10k

a / n . this is a reupload from my old blog ! and yes this fic was inspired by '10 things I hate about you'

transferring from a community college to one of the top 10 universities was a huge step for you. you weren't even sure how you did it. but those two years of attending your local community college that wasn't even ten minutes away from your house paid off. one that made you feel ashamed in going since it felt like a detour from your actual goals.

growing up, you promised your family members that they'd see you majoring in the best schools and in becoming something they would be proud of to call a daughter. thats why you studied so hard in grade school, getting the best grades not allowing them to go below an 85%. but after your mother left shortly after your father got diagnosed with cancer. your dreams had to take a backseat to allow you to become the backbone of your family that consisted of you, your father, and your two younger brothers.

money came in short with your minimum paying job and it just wasn't enough to pay off any college funds. your brother who just turned sixteen always helped you out with groceries and bills now that your father retired from his job, after you forced him to, making sure he was taken care of at all times. hospital bills were also pricey, sometimes your insurance wouldn't cover all the costs and they had to be paid directly from your personal money.

so after applying to yale and actually receiving an acceptance letter in the mail a week after had you trembling in both excitement and fear. you were happy you could finally get the education you've been longing for, but on the other hand you wouldn't want to leave all the responsibility to your brother. he disagreed and encouraged your dreams instead when you sat him down to talk.

"y/n you've always been wanting to go to university. im sixteen now, im not the ten year old you know anymore, I am more than willing to take care after dad and matt."

you let out a sigh as you averted your gaze back down to the letter in your hands. the bold lettering called out your name and you tried to resist. but you couldn't.

"anything happens, you call me immediately." you firmly ordered. the pink haired boy chuckled, the corner of his lips lifted up as well as the corners of his eyes wrinkled before nodding. "got it."

thats how you found yourself packing the last bit of your shirts. no matter how hard you tried to, you just couldn't help the bit of tears that spilled from your eyes. you paused, letting out a shaky breath before feeling a pair of arms wrap around your waist. you looked down to see the soft face of your brother, Matt.

"sissy dont cry. me papa and yuji will be okay!" he promised.

you knelt down to wrap your arms around him as well, holding onto the warmth you were going to leave behind in a few hours. then, another pair wrapped around you both, a much stronger set of arms, then another, your fathers, who was weaker than before but still full of love. before you knew it, your whole family was cuddling together in the comfort of your own room.

no words were exchanged for a few minutes.

"ill miss those blueberry pancakes you make" your father whispered, making everyone giggle. you raised your head up, propping it on top of matt.

"ill leave the recipe for you guys."

your father placed a small delicate peck on your forehead.

airports were your least favorite method of transportation. you couldn't handle hearing the incoherent voice in the speakers call out the plane that was about to board in twenty minutes, or the panicked looks on peoples faces when they realize they booked the wrong flight, or the people just in general, so many people. the whole process was messy and annoying.

your family walked you to where the escalators headed up to your gate. with a sigh, you turned to face them watching as they held back tears. "ill miss you guys." a beat passed. then another. and you found yourself in another family hug.

it was still weird with the missing pair of warm arms that belonged to your mother. but looking back, maybe they weren't warm at all. they were always cold and empty whenever you hugged her. you reminded yourself that she left willingly. you quickly pushed those negative thoughts behind, not wanting to think about her when you had the next best four years of your life right ahead of you.

"call me if you need anything." you said with your voice more steady.

your father nodded before everyone let go at the sound of the speakers calling out your gate number. with one final look and a last goodbye, you stood on the escalators holding back tears of your own.

if the process of checking into the airport wasn't annoying enough, the next five hours boarding the plane itself would be. the man snoring next to you couldn't be any louder, the baby crying behind you wouldn't shut up, and the women gossiping in front of you was the only source of entertainment you could get.

but it all came to this. yale. the beautiful sight of the university's campus. you took it all in, seeing how students walked in with luggages or boxes of their own with the assistance of their parents or friends.

the sun casted a glow on the building itself making it appear straight out of a movie. you stood there for a moment, continuing to take it all in before your main character moment was interrupted by someone bumping into you.

he had white hair that resembled snow itself. he stumbled a bit before regaining his balance. the boys behind him that you figured were his friends laughed at the sight.

"oh uh sorry." he quickly apologized, glancing your way smiling like he meant the entire opposite of his apology before playfully nudging his friend as they continued making their way into the building. you blinked, continuing to watch as he disappeared. he was oddly.. beautiful.

after picking up a few papers form the directory, you followed the directions on the map to where the dormitories were located. you found out that you would be sharing your dorm with a roommate, you didn't mind as you saw this as an opportunity to make your very first friend.

and you were right because the second you twisted the door knob, not fully getting to turn it around before it swung open on its own, introducing a rather tall girl with the prettiest aesthetic and the sweetest smile plastered on her face that comforted you in ways you didn't know you needed.

"hi! I'm miwa!" the girl said in which you returned her greeting with your name. she moved to the side allowing you to step in. you took in the large room. it looks like she already has claimed her part of the room on the left side. band and show posters plastered all over her walls neatly with stuffed animals lying peacefully on her bed. it reminded you fondly of matt recalling how he has millions of plushies on his bed.

"need some help with that?" she pointed at your suitcases. you hesitated at first not wanting to bother her but it wouldn't hurt, right? "yes please." you chuckled which made her grin.

"great, roommate bonding begins now!"

hours pass by full of cleaning and organizing and chatter between you and the blue haired girl. you found out that she's been here for the past two years and you explained to her that you were a transfer. somewhere in between hanging fairy lights and folding blankets, she let it slip that she's crushing on a boy that is on the hockey team.

"didn't know they had a hockey team here." you said as you placed the last piece of clothing in the closet provided by the school. miwa gasped dramatically. "okay now I need to take you out to watch a game sometime!"

she flopped down onto your bed next to you. "its like an essential yale culture."

"deal. i'd like to see how good looking this boy you claim is the most handsome boy in all of yale to exist really is."

"he is!"

the first day of school wasn't until next week, yet you could already feel the nerves setting in as well as the homesickness. you pulled out your phone, dimming the brightness now that miwa was asleep and all the lights were turned off. pressing on yujis contact you sent him a message.

you || 9:04 P.M

everything alright?

yuji || 9:10 P.M

everything's great

you let out a sigh of relief at his words.

the first day was full of chaos, at least for you. you woke up a bit late after your alarm failed to do its job, you lost your map that showed the entire campus, and on top of that you had no idea what to wear.

after brushing your teeth and washing your face, you quickly slipped on a pair of pants and a cute top before rushing out of your dorm all while brushing your hair. you made it on time thankfully, but you surely learned your lesson to set your alarm to full volume.

your classes finally came to an end and you dragged your tired body that was aching from carrying all the syllabus and textbooks in your bag towards your dorm. miwa was already there scrolling through her phone.

"oh hey!," she flinched as she took a closer look at you. "you look rough"

you placed your bag down on the floor before flopping on your bed. "I am rough" you said with a grumble. she moved from her bed towards yours. "hey lighten up, tomorrow will be better. its the second day of school and the first hockey game"

"already?"

"yeah. since its the same previous team as last year versus some other school. coach said he wanted to kick off this season early for some reason. im not complaining, I get to see kokichi!"

"oh right your man" you teased which made her chubby pale cheeks turn a light pink shade before she bolted towards her closet pulling out two tops. "okay so which one says 'hey cute hockey player over there! wanna go out with me?'"

you burst out laughing before pointing at the one on the right hand. "that one, definitely that one."

you were never the type of person to enjoy sports. your brothers and dad enjoyed them though. they always connected both the couches together and gathered a bunch of blankets and snacks whenever a big game came up. now you are here witnessing one happen right in front of you, not on a screen.

you pulled out your phone to snap a picture to send to the family group chat. one you created after you had to delete the previous one with your mother in it. you angled the phone carefully, snapping a picture of the players already spread out ready to kick off the game.

you stared at your screen for a second before sending the message to the group chat. the second you sent it, the announcer's voice came to the speakers and the crowd erupted.

"there he is!" miwa squealed as she pointed at the dark haired boy, kokichi. he was rather attractive and you could see why she liked him. they definitely would make a cute couple. he was walking with a friend who had white hair. your eyes squinted as you looked a bit closer.

it was the same boy who bumped into you a week ago. his white locks were messy and he had a grin plastered over his face. it seemed that he was popular with the girls because they went wild at the sight of him.

you were interrupted from your thoughts when miwa's elbow made contact with your shoulder. "look, he waved at me!"

your eyes traced back to kokichi. "yeah, I saw." but your eyes kept wandering back to the boy with white hair. number ten. you watched as he placed his helmet on and slid across the rink to get into position.

a buzzer sounded across the arena, putting the game to a start and sending the crowd into a loud roar. you sat a bit straighter as you tried to keep track of the hockey puck. all the players were a blur of white and blue as they slid through the ice rink.

number 10 was sharp.

he was focused and quick, weaving through the other players. he stole the puck clean with a swift movement of his stick, gliding towards the opposite teams net. the air was thick with anticipation and it seemed that the entire arena was holding it's breath, and you didn't realize that you were holding yours as well.

then he hit it straight into the back of the cage with a satisfying clank.

applause echoed and so did the screams of the players' name.

satoru.

he rushed to his teammates doing a small celebration before continuing the game. maybe hockey wasn't too bad.

the game ended as soon as the buzzer could be heard, with your school winning. people made their way towards the exit or down to the rink. the hockey cheerleaders, glittering with their tiny ass skirts, made their way to their boyfriends who were players.

but most of them?

they went to satoru, congratulating him like he had just saved the world itself from an apocalypse. his hands reached to take off his gear, forehead dripping with a thin layer of sweat.

"im gonna go talk to kokichi." miwa said as she stood up from the bleacher already feeling the nerves settling down her stomach. you nodded, following her. she wrapped her arms around the boy, a hug in which he returned as well.

"thanks for coming." he said in a low voice placing his lips on hers practically melting the poor girl setting her rosacea on fire. you stood there a bit awkward not realizing that a pair of eyes was placed on your figure.

"hey, is she new?" a player asked his friends, pointing directly at you.

the other boy shrugged. "I guess, never seen her before." he turned to satoru who was busy untying the shoelaces of his skates, whistling at him. "yo satoru! remember when you were whining about not having any other girl to crack?"

satoru's eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a bit before he approached his friend. "yeah, what about it?" the guy grinned, jerking his chin toward the bleachers.

"what about her?"

he could barely see you due to his poor eyesight now that he had taken off his contacts. he saw you with a girl he knew was in a situationship with kokichi, his friend. "who the hell is that?"

"she's new. go after her."

satoru grumbled. "she looks like a total loner." his friend shrugged, untying his long black hair. "you like a challenge though, don't you?" he tossed his stick into his bag. "ten days. thats the bet"

"woah we're making this a bet?" satoru raised his eyebrow. there was a beat of silence, long enough to make him think this through. it's been a while since he's been laid, not wanting to continue the life of being a frat boy and a 'play boy.' he really just wanted to focus on his studies and hockey as well, if he found a girl somewhere throughout that then he'd settle down.

he grabbed his water bottle, taking a sip from it. "ten days." he repeated, mostly to himself. "suguru I don't know-"

"you backing out?" suguru questioned, wanting to stir something.

no matter how much he wanted to resist, he just couldn't because no matter how much he swore that he stopped doing that shit, he missed it just a bit. "fine, ten days."

his jaw was tightened watching as his friend smirked. the group chuckled a bit, like it was just another 'harmless' game. satoru glanced at you.

pretty.

you and miwa made your way to the exit after the little make-out session with her now new boyfriend. she kept squealing about how she couldn't believe she finally got together with him. you were incredibly happy for the both of them.

"he kissed me! like he actually kissed me! I thought I was going to pass out!"

satoru debated, standing still for a moment. you were a step away from leaving, your arm wrapped around your friends, chattering about whatever. part of him wanted to plan this through, something smoother than just..

"fuck it." he mumbled.

his legs moved before his brain ordered them to. "hey-" he called out, jogging a bit to fully reach you. you turned slowly, miwa did too with her eyebrows furrowed. he realized that maybe this wasn't the best option. his lips parted a bit before continuing.

"uh.." he scratched the back of his neck. "you dropped something."

you stared at him in confusion. "no I didn't.." you looked down to confirm that you in fact, didn't drop any item.

"right uhm, that was supposed to be my opening line" he cursed at himself, but it made you chuckle. satoru was dorky, you thought. he had an uneven smile before he looked back at you.

"im satoru"

"I know" you felt like everyone in this damn school knew who he was. "oh im y/n." you quickly introduced yourself after the small pause. for some reason, satoru didn't feel like this was the beginning of a bet he agreed to, but a beginning for something he wasn't ready for.

"go out with me."

miwa snapped her head so fast towards you, you could have sworn you heard a crack. you blinked at satoru, unsure if you heard him right.

"what?"

"go out with me, please." he repeated confident just like the first time. you weren't entirely convinced. "is this a joke?" satoru froze. of course this was a joke. he always played around with random girls so why did it make him feel guilty this time.

"no. I want you, pretty." he smiled softly, showing off his pearly whites that could have any girl soaking her panties in under 10 seconds.

you could feel miwa vibrating next to you, begging you to say yes, or at least something. "I think i'll pass." you mumbled, not unkindly just firm enough to make your point, staring at him for a bit before turning your heel to leave with miwa who now had a disappointed look on her face.

"whyyy?" she whined.

a grunt left satoru's lips. "I can take you out somewhere, anywhere! real nice places sweetheart!"

"like the 7/11 in broadway?" you shot back. he froze before chuckling a genuine laugh, shaking his head. "even better!"

the corner of your lips tugged up a smile as you giggled with miwa at his advances as you both left.

"well look at you missy, pulling mr captain of the hockey team."

"im just that good." you continued to hold your smile, not letting it drop.

and neither did he.

every night at eight, you'd have a video call with your family, just to make sure everything was alright back at home.

"he had an appointment today." yuji said while he was washing the dirty plates, handing them to matt to dry. you used to always put the dishes away back to their original places, but you were no longer there to do your job and that hurt you a bit.

it stung seeing how they had to adapt to live without you and you recalled how you all had to do the same when your mother left. you watched how matt didn't hand it to anyone, he just placed them down.

"and the results?" you asked, your voice quiet and steady but ready for any news you didn't want to hear. not yet.

"not out yet, but im sure nothing has changed since last time he got checked up."

yuji turned off the sink, handing the smaller kid the last dish before drying his hands with a towel. "how's yale treating you? saw the picture you sent."

you hummed looking back at how the day went. "it's going great I guess. our school won the game by the way, oh and a boy wants to take me out."

"you agreed?" yuji has always been the overprotective type, despite you being older.

you answered by shaking your head. "no, he's sketchy."

"how come?" now he was completely alert. a boy is hitting on his sister hundreds of miles away from home? not on his watch. you shrugged.

"he has a whole fangirl club or something."

matts voice could be heard from afar. "he's a red flag!" his words made you chuckle. "you been teaching him new vocabulary?"

yuji rolled his eyes. "its the kids at his school. but seriously, trust your gut. if you don't feel like something is right about that gut, don't take his offer."

you nodded, pressing the sleeve of your sweater up to your nose taking in the scent of old memories. it hasnt been washed since you left home and that nostalgic smell lingered.

one that you desperately wanted to go back to.

satoru could've sworn he left dissecting frogs back in high school, but here he was again, poking around at the laid back amphibians internal organs. "no way am I doing this shit." with a mutter, he placed the tweezers down gagging, shaking his hands in disgust before pulling out his cigarette box, sliding one out placing it in between his pretty pink lips, far too pretty for a man. "smoking in class? you'll set the smoke alarm off." suguru scooted closer to his friend.

"better than doing a bbl on a frog." satoru grumbled, looking away not being able to stare at the gross mess that was right in front of him. "that girl from yesterday.." he narrowed his eyes in thought, trying to remember your name. "y/n" he mumbled after it finally reached him.

"she didn't want to go out with me." he continued. the black haired boy scoffed, not comprehending the words that were coming out of the school's playboy. " you're satoru fucking gojo, this should be easy as hell for you!"

"look man, I dont do this shit anymore."

suguru rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he looked at the frog's corpse. "I'll pay you." satoru grunted bringing the lighter up to his cigarette, huffing it slowly before blowing it towards suguru, in which he looked down at the smoking boy unimpressed.

"I have enough money, I don't need your pocket change."

suguru paused in deep thought. "you're right, heard she's only into pretty guys anyways." satoru brought a hand up to his chest as if he was truly hurt, because he was.

“are you telling me im not a pretty guy?” he took out the cigarette from his mouth, before crushing it down against the table, which left a nasty dent on the cheap laminate. "why do you want me to play with her?"

suguru brought his pierced tongue out to lick his dry lips. "I guess I just miss the old you. seriously satoru, I'll pay you. 300 bucks if you take her out on a date," he scooted closer to his friend. "500 if you get in her panties. and 1000 if you manage to make her your date to hoco."

as if divine intervention occurred, the door creaked open, pausing the chatter between the two boys. there you were. wearing a well put together outfit that just made satoru's hormones run crazy, as you made your way to your desk. the sight of you made gojo straighten his posture suddenly hyper aware of every detail of himself. quickly running a hand through his hair and gulping, his adams apple bobbing.

he turned to look at suguru who was already giving him a pointed look.

"bet."

another thing that you like about yale's campus is that its not too far away from shopping areas. you found a nearby barnes and noble not even a few blocks away from the school. it soon became your go to stop where you would buy books and cd's. you weren't able to fit any of your beloved music or novels when you were packing, so you started a new collection that was placed neatly back at your dorm.

you entered, the bell placed on top of the door notifying any workers of your entrance quickly making your way to the music disc section, straight shelves full of cd's. you're surprised to see many new arrivals.

some were year old music, and some were rare old ones from the 2000's. you reached out to grab a few, a soft smile plastered on your face as you scanned the labels. so deep into it, you didn't notice the bell chiming again.

'debut' by bjork was being held by your hand right now, having an inner battle with yourself whether to be financially responsible for today. you placed the cd back when you remembered that the hospital bill from your fathers last visit would soon come back. and you were not looking forward to seeing the multiple zeros behind whatever number was in front of it.

"excuse me, have you seen any cd of bjork?" the smooth voice behind you asked. "oh yeah-" you answered, turning to look back at the voice.

halfway through your sentence, you took a good look at who was behind you. satoru. "oh, it's you." your eyes narrowed as they focused on him. the boy slid his glasses on the crown of his head. you didn't know he even wore those. satoru seemed to have noticed your observation.

"lost my contacts."

"are you stalking me?" you asked defensively which just made him laugh. his body got closer to yours as he skimmed through the cd's.

"you not getting that bjork one?" he asked tilting his head as his long pale fingers slid the music disc right out of its place. the plastic creaked the second he held it.

"uh its a bit expensive.." the words came out in a mumble, almost embarrassed to admit you couldn't afford a fifty dollar cd. you shifted your weight onto your right leg, looking anywhere but him.

he looked at you before looking down at the case. "guess I'll get it."

you blinked. "didn't know you liked her."

"I dont. but I like you, so I'll get it for you, baby. anything else you want?"

you head snapped towards him, watching how he didn't even let you answer as he placed the bjork case that contained the disc you've been wanting for a while into a shopping basket. you were so shocked you didn't even realize the term of endearment.

"its fifty.." you reminded him.

"be a sweetheart and dont mention the prices, I dont care one bit about it." your eyes dropped to the basket, lips parting to say anything but nothing came out. nothing but a, "can I get the post one..?"

you couldn't find how much one has ever spent at barnes and nobles, but you were pretty sure you may have broken whatever record there was. satoru didn't mind, just like he said.

when the cashier asked how he'd like his receipt he declined it. when he saw the total on the screen in bold green letters, he ignored it. and when he handed you the bags full of books, cd's, and figures, some that you didn't even ask for. he just noticed you staring at them for a little too long and he'd just grab it and place it in the basket, he had a smile plastered right on those pink lips.

"I think I deserve a kiss for all of this.."

its the least you could do, right? besides he didn't tell you where he wanted the kiss. so you stepped up on your tippy toes a bit to place your lips on his cheek.

"thank you. seriously thank you." his smirk softened to a smile, returning the kiss but on your forehead making your breathing stutter.

"any time," he mumbled kissing your nose before backing up. "oh here, give me your phone"

your hand pulls out your phone from your back pocket, handing it to him. "what for?"

"im putting my number in.." his fingers typed quickly, the dumb smirk on his face not leaving, before slipping it back into your hands.

'my sugar daddy'

you visibly cringed at the name he chose. "you've got to be kidding me." you said with pure disbelief. he nodded, proud of his decision. "I did buy you all this didn't I?" he tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear, leaning down to whisper into it.

"ill send you a picture to set up as my contact photo. perhaps a nude?"

"perhaps not."

miwa's eyes widened when she saw you stumble into the shared dorm with heavy bags on each hand. "woah.. didn't know it was black friday." she half joked, getting up from her bed to help you out. you exhaled in relief when the weight was taken from your poor limp arms. "and I didn't pay a single penny."

she averted her gaze from the bags up to you. "who did pay for them? your sugar daddy?" your face burned at that damn name. "you're not wrong. it was satoru." you held up your phone, opening this contact name you knew would have miwa laughing.

she squinted, looking at it before she burst into giggles.

"hes so extra." you set the bags down on the desk, taking one thing out at a time. miwa wiped the tears that spilled from her eyes. "how'd this happen?"

you dragged a hand down your face, shrugging. "he saw me at the store and offered to buy me whatever. but I swear I didn't ask for all of this."

"he likes you."

you paused for a second. "does he now?"

it was a dumb question. who else would buy a random person they have no interest in hundreds of dollars worth of barnes and noble? no one, except him of course.

you retold the same ridiculous events to yuji, who still wasn't pleased at the idea of you getting hit on not even a month into school. his arms were crossed over his chest as he was lazily sitting on his desk chair, same as you.

"return everything."

you scoffed. "no way! even if I did I wouldn't be able to, he didn't ask for a receipt."

"he shouldn't be buying you shit. didn't you tell me yesterday how your gut was telling you something was off?"you moved from your desk to your bed, sighing as your back hit the mattress. "well maybe I was wrong about him."

satoru felt proud of being able to treat you like a princess, buying you all sorts of things, showering you with everything you wanted. he remembered how you hesitated on buying that cd. it bothered him a bit.

'did she have a problem with money?'

his phone rang with a message from suguru.

'party tonight at the frat, you coming?"

of course he was, he hasn't missed a single function since he joined yale. his fingers typed out, "Omw!" but before he could send it, he stopped, and then deleted it. why was he thinking about you right now?

why is he declining a party?

"im not in the mood tonight."

he stared at the screen for a moment, realizing that he actually sent that. a calloused hand rubbed his cheekbone, exhaling before he received another notification, this time not from any of his friends but from spotify.

'the marias are performing near you! click to see ticket prices and shows available!'

the marias? where had he heard that name.. his mind instantly flashed to you. you were holding the marias disc, the one he bought you along with all the other cd's. it was as if his body was moving without him knowing because a second later, he was buying two tickets.

your first day was an unconfirmed barnes and noble date. but your second day, the concert, would be an actual date.

he clicked the 'pay now' button without hesitation.

you weren't expecting to see a screen showing the digital receipts slip right into your line of sight while you were halfway through placing some textbooks in your locker. the bold blue letters read, 'THE MARIAS'

"hi pretty.. got these for you and me." your eyes widened at the familiar voice. the white haired individual really had a habit of sneaking up behind you didn't he? "you.. you got-" you stammered, blinking at the sight of the tickets, then back at him.

"got these for you and me." he repeated himself, both his voice and gaze softening. not sure to be flattered or continue being suspicious, you slowly reached for his phone, taking it from his pale hand to make sure what you were seeing was real.

not only did he buy you both tickets to a music artist you liked, but he also got the best seats. "you got the marias tickets.." you said mostly to yourself. his smirk was still there, but it showed no sign of being cocky.

"mhm, thought you'd like it."

"satoru.. you already spent so much on me yesterday.." how come a boy you barely knew was dropping a thousand on you each day. "I told you I like you. this can be our first date." he gently grabbed back his phone.

you swallowed, your mind trying to wrap itself around the unexpected layers of satoru you’d been seeing over the last few days. and you wondered if you were the first one to see this version of him.

"one date." you said firmly as you lifted up your finger, finally agreeing to his advances. his charm was different.. it was bold, yes, but real. "don't push your luck, im only accepting because its bjork."

"there will be more than one date, pretty." there was short pauses between his words allowing each syllable to sink in. like he meant it.

you had no idea why you were allowing him to score another point at this game he was forcing you to play. "at least let me pay for the gas.. or for the food." you offered but satoru only scrunched his face up shaking his head.

"don't do that."

he had some extra cash on him. 300. just like suguru promised when he said he'd pay satoru 300 if he managed to take you out on a date.

"just wear something pretty for me, and easy to remove."

you rolled your eyes. "im not sure about that second part, you're pushing your luck here sir."

"mm no not sir baby, its sugar dadd-"

your hand shot out to cover his mouth, cutting him off before he even had the chance to finish. he was shocked for a bit before he licked a long stripe against your hand moaning.

you recoiled immediately, gagging with a mix of shock and disgust. he chuckled at your discomfort and the sight of you wiping your hand on his chest.

"you like that baby?"

"no!" you shot back, closing your locker before rushing to the bathroom to properly clean your hand.

"ill see you later my love!" he called out.

miwa helped you get ready for the concert date after school. she straightened your hair pin straight while you both talked about what could happen later. your phone vibrated with a notification from 'sugar daddy'

"you still wearing something easy to remove right?"

you stared at the message. any past thoughts of him not being that bad quickly vanished. obviously, you weren't going to give him the satisfaction of your reply, so you left him on read. guess that hurt his feelings because a few minutes later he texted again.

"im joking baby :("

"still haven't changed that contact name?" miwa asked, finishing up the last strand for the final section. you grumbled a little 'shut it'

"im kind of nervous.." you admitted. this was going to be your first date after all.

miwa stopped, her hands hovering in mid air, before she turned your chair to face each other. her expression softened, a mix of understanding and excitement. "hey, it’s okay to be nervous. besides you kind of already know him.."

"briefly." you couldn't help but sigh, your eyes following her figure as she chose an outfit from her side of the closet to lend you.

"he wanted something easy to remove right?"

"dont."

you both met up to where you agreed, which was just outside the girls dormitories. the second he saw you, his heart fluttered.

you looked, no, you are gorgeous.

"...hey" a smile crept up on his face. he was dressed casual while you went all out thanks to miwa.

"hi" you smiled softly.

"you're so beautiful.." you'd be lying if you said you weren't flustered. even if you tried lying, the dark tint of pink on your cheeks would say otherwise. "thank you"

with a chuckle, he led you to his car. a model of the year, typical for a rich ass boy like him. being the gentleman he was, he opened the passenger door for you before closing it as you settled yourself down.

he made his way over to the drivers seat. "can't believe I finally landed a date with you" he mumbled before reaching over to hold your hand in his.

why was he acting like this? it was just a bet.. right?

you stared down at your hands that were now intertwined. you'd expect his to be cold from how pale they were and the amount of time he spends playing hockey in the cold rink.

your eyes lifted to his face, he was focused on the road now, a quiet little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, like just having you next to him was enough.

"im going to be honest, i don't know any of this bands songs."

your breath caught in your throat. "you bought the tickets without knowing how they were?"

he shook his head. "I bought the tickets because I knew you knew who they were." his hand squeezed yours, keeping his eyes on the road. "have I told you how absolutely sexy you are? I mean look at this.." his hand moved from yours to tug at your skirt, making you gasp.

"feel good, baby?" he continued squeezing your thigh, biting his lower lip as he felt the warmth of your skin.

he slapped it playfully, moving his hand onto the steering wheel leaving you flustered.

"pervert.."

the concert was beautiful. the music reached your heart it made you tear up, of course some songs hit close to home. gojo couldn't help but admire you from time to time. watching as your pretty mouth sang along to the unknown lyrics.

"lets take a picture pretty." he said out of nowhere. "a picture?" he nodded before pulling out his phone, wrapping his arm around your waist and pressing his cheek against yours, snapping a few pictures of you and him throughout the night, mostly of you. you did the same, filling up your gallery with endless pictures and videos.

he pressed his lips on your temple before pulling away to continue enjoying the performance.

as the night came to an end, he drove you safely back home, both of you discussing the songs you enjoyed being performed the most.

"I think I enjoyed back to me the most"

"no way! paranoia was clearly the most enjoyable."

he rolled his eyes. "yeah well I think what I enjoyed the most was seeing you sing. you're gorgeous baby."

"you already told me that like twenty times."

"and ill continue to tell you for the rest of my life and beyond that." his words made your stomach twist. not in a bad way. definitely not. you watched how the dim light lit up his face making him look even more handsome than he already was.

"want to go to the ice rink?" he asked.

'right now? I dont think im wearing the appropriate clothing for skating.."

satoru grinned, pulling up to the building where the arena was in. "good thing I came prepared then." he reached towards the backseat, pulling out a duffel bag.

"you can thank your friend miwa."

you stared down at the clothes, which belonged to you, now on your lap. light pink thighs and a sweater as well as leg warmers. "you guys planned this?"

"she helped me out. I wanted to make this the best first date."

it was late, so the place was quieter than usual, dimly lit, making the place peaceful. the cold air nipped at your cheeks as you both stepped inside, and you tried your best not to show how nervous you were.

"ive never skated before." you admit.

"good thing your man is a hockey player." he finished tying up his laces before getting down on one knee to tie yours. he said it so casually. 'your man'

satoru looked up at you all while he continued fumbling around with the laces on your skates. "I really hope we have that romcom moment where you slip on the ice and fall right into my arms."

"what type of movies are you watching?" you giggled, feeling the heat creep up to your neck.

he finished the second skate, placing it on the ground before gripping your thighs. "like I said.. romcoms." he murmured, bringing you closer to his face. he darted his tongue out to lick the inside of your thigh.

a gasp left your lips. "h-hey.."

he didn't stop there.

he was starved. his lips traveled all throughout your inner thighs, nipping once in a while. "pretty.."

a shaky hand pushed his head away, watching as a string of saliva connected his lips with you. "so uhm.. you gonna teach me how to skate..?"

the fog of tension shattered the moment you placed your hand on his forehead, pushing him away. he licked his lips before chuckling. "yeah, come on."

the second you stepped onto the ice, you were already struggling. it was more slippery than you'd expect it to be, but satoru's large hands, placed on your waist, kept you steady.

"lean on me."

you held onto his arms, following his step wobbling once in a while.

"I got you doll."

twenty minutes was all you needed to learn how to maintain your balance on the ice. you excitedly followed satoru, holding his hand as you both made rounds around the rink, your skates gliding smoothly. he glanced at you, smiling as he watched you. "look at you... natural born skater" just as he said that, you bumped into his shoulder.

"natural born liar."

he chuckled seeing how your eyes showed signs of being tired. he wrapped his hands around your waist, lifting you up with ease. "lets get you out of here. kind of sad we didn't have that cute moment."

"what cute moment?" you wrapped your arms around him before he placed you down the carpet when he got you both out the ice rink. "the one where you fall right into my arms and we kiss."

you rolled your eyes. "maybe next time."

he raised an eyebrow, kneeling down again to take off your shoes. "so is that a confirmation that we will have another date?"

"mhm." you hummed quietly and before you knew it, you were leaning into a kiss with no control over your body, like it was possessed by a curse or something.

he hesitated for a second, deciding not to kiss you back. it was just a bet.

"lets go."

you stared at him in hurt and betrayal. this is what he wanted wasn't it? you felt your heart sink deeper as the seconds passed. you didn't allow him to put your shoes on, doing it yourself instead.

"baby.."

"dont." your voice wasn't firm, it was soft. barely even a whisper to be honest. "you're just messing with me aren't you?" he looked startled, like he had gotten caught with his hand down the cookie jar, because he did.

"no..no you're not something to play around with."

you were mad. furious even. "feels like it."

opening the door after gathering your clothes, you left without a goodnight. or a kiss. once you were out of view, satoru dragged his hands down his face groaning. he's grown attached to you without knowing it in the span of three days. and he's hurt you by denying your kiss.

he rushed after you.

"let me walk you."

"its fine. my dorm isn't that far."

"damn it y/n." he pressed his lips against yours, cupping your jaw. the kiss was full of frustration and it was desperate. his other hand found your hip, bringing you closer to him. he wanted to deepen the kiss, but he noticed you weren't kissing back.

he pulled away before smashing his lips against yours again, hoping that you'd kiss back this time but you didn't.

"I'll see you later.." you mumbled out.

he watched you walk away quickly in the direction of your dorm. now it was his heart who was sinking. he didn't remember any of his last 'bets' hurting this much.

so why does it feel like you were ripping out his heart right now?

when you reached your dorm, ready to get any call from your brothers, you already planned not to mention anything. not the concert date with satoru and definitely not how yuji was right about him. you couldn't let him have that 'I told you so' moment.

your phone vibrated at the back of your pocket as soon as you dropped your bag onto the floor. miwa was staying over at her boyfriends tonight, giving you and satoru any privacy if things went to a more heated direction.

it did. sorta.

with a sigh, you slid your thumb across the screen, answering the call from yuji.

"took you a while."

you forced a laugh. "sorry, you woke me up." you allowed your body to rest, flopping down on your messy bed with a 'thump', the back of your head sinking into the pillows.

"I'm just calling you to let you know that a hospital bill might reach you."

you quirked an eyebrow, staring at the ceiling. "its going to be sent out to me? all the way to yale?" yuji let out a small 'mhm', casual like he was commenting on the weather.

"yeah, from dad's last check up."

"oh," you rubbed your face, feeling a different kind of tired. "thats right."

"its just from his prescriptions and shit.. I would've paid it myself but.." his voice trailed off.

"no, no dont worry about it. not like i'm already drowning in student loans or whatever"

"of course not." you could hear him chuckle from the other side of the phone.

after the call ended, you let the silence settle. you received your mail usually by the end of the week in your small issued mailbox that was located in the front of the school. most of the time it was just flyers for clubs you had no intention of joining. but soon, a hospital bill that you desperately wanted to leave behind home, where it belongs, will appear right inside the small box.

after dreading to see the ridiculous amount you had to pay for oral chemotherapy medication, your mind circled back to satoru, a finger brushed against your lips, reliving the moment he placed his against yours in a kiss you wanted to return, but didn't.

you felt like it wasn't real.

why would he hesitate in the first place? your hand dropped back down against the mattress, gripping the bed sheets to brace yourself from any tears that might come out.

miwa dragged you to watch kokichi practice in the ice rink. the memories from last night hit you like a wave every other minute you sat on the bleachers. the same spot you were rejected.

you were annoyed.

no. pissed. pissed at how he dodged your kiss like it meant nothing and honestly you have every right to be. because why is he hesitant to kiss you when he’s the one that was so desperate. is this some sort of sick joke?

you didn't want to mention it to miwa or anyone. you were too embarrassed and the poor girl was happy she even had the opportunity to help out satoru with last nights date. you couldn't take that away from her. when she asked how it went you spared the details and just gave a brief summary.

"it was fun, he took me to the concert, we sang. then the ice rink, thanks by the way, and he taught me how to skate."

"thats so cute!" her face lit up.

you both continued to see the hockey players glide across the arena. but someone was missing. number 10. your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a microphone starting.

“can't take my eyes of off you..” a voice murmured into the microphone, a voice you instantly recognized. satoru. you blinked once. and then again-unsure if you were hearing correctly or if the loud ass volume you listen to your music in was finally catching up to you.

you squinted your eyes to see the white haired boy stand right in the middle of the rink, the whole team joining him as well. his body stepped forward, then another, until he broke into a dance. you let out a few chuckles of disbelief as you watched him make a fool of himself.

“i love you baby!” you wanted to crawl into a corner and die from embarrassment. “and if it’s quite alright, i need you baby..” his finger pointed right at you. a few people around you chuckled as well, one yelling, "go verona!"

you brought your hands up to you face covering it in embarrassment as a flush appeared. he was so off key now, yelling out the lyrics as he did little tricks around the ice, nearly slipping but catching himself with a dramatic spin. he made a bee line towards the top of the bleachers. you wanted to escape but he was quick, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“oh pretty baby..” he panted as the chorus died down. he placed the microphone down, grabbing your cheeks without a warning with both hands planting a long and sweet kiss on your plump lips. this time, you kissed back without hesitation from either of you.

"satoru.." you managed to say before he continued his desperate kisses, sliding his tongue into your mouth leaving no room for the words that were swirling in your head. miwa was ecstatic, clapping with others, who were surprised that the ex-playboy was acting straight out of a 2000's movie.

"shut up.. let me just kiss you." his fingers threaded through your hair.

and kisses continued all the way to his dorm, no sign of stopping any time soon as he pushed you down his bed.

"im sorry about yesterday.. let me make it up to you."

"I think you did already with your little performance."

he chuckled, shaking his head. "nah, you need more than a song."

satoru wears everything on his face. like everything. you could tell what he was feeling with just a glimpse at his blushed face that turned from his usual pale color to a deep red. his mouth was open when he sank into you.

he smirked when he watched you struggle to take him. the small moans you let out made him twitch. "you look so fucking good. taking my cock like this." he wrapped your legs around his bare waist before his large hand found your neck, wrapping lightly around it.

"sa..satoru.." you whimpered.

"mmf- yeah that feels good. so.. tight and wet f'me. should've done this yesterday." he rolled his hips against yours gently. satoru has never been this gentle during sex towards anyone. he slid in and out of you slowly, making sure you felt every single one of his veins.

"oh fuck.. not going to last long inside this warm fucking pussy."

he licked your lips before shoving his tongue down your throat. satoru pulled away, forcing your jaw to open to spit right into your mouth.

"swallow."

you obeyed, swallowing his shared spit, opening your mouth to show him.

"good girl."

you screamed, gripping his shoulders when he slipped almost all the way out before slamming all the way in. he was loving this, almost forgetting the amount of money he would receive for getting into your panties.

it wasn't until you both finished, and his arms were wrapped around you in a comfortable position to cuddle, placing loving kisses on your forehead, that he finally remembered that this was all a bet. was.

he was scared that maybe he didn't want this to be just a game. his breath stilled, his fingers still tracing random shapes on your back as he pulled back slightly, taking a close look at your peaceful expression.

he didn't want it to end.

he took a look at his calendar that was placed on his nightstand. he counted the days knowing he didn't have that much left with you.

"love?"

you hummed, opening your eyes, your expression soft, when he called out to you.

"i'm playing tomorrow.. then we're having a sort of 'hoco' type of thing at the frat.. come with me?"

you nodded, placing your head on his chest listening to the way his heart beat at a steady pace. "course.." you murmured, he did tire you out after all. his body relaxed at your answer. there were still so many things left unsaid, so much you both needed to figure out. but he was okay with just having you this close to him right now.

you didn't call your family that night. your phone was put on do not disturb, laying on top of the nightstand. satoru's arms were still wrapped tightly around you.

but across the country, yuji grew worried, because not only were hospital bills going to reach you, but terrible news as well.

he paced back and forth outside the hospital room, the one where your father was currently staying, checking his phone every second to see if you have seen his messages or calls.

nothing from you.

he tried to come up with a reason. you were probably studying, or just busy in general. he wanted to cry because the feeling of being the one now responsible for everything was finally sinking in. he didn't know why your father collapsed. he didn't know if your aunt was on her way to pick up matt from school. and he didn't know when the hell you would answer your phone.

"answer.. please." he prayed.

the next day when you woke up to the sound of shuffling, you were met with several forehead kisses.

"sorry baby, have to go straight to the rink." your eyes fluttered open slowly, eyes adjusting to the morning light. you remembered the game today, and the party as well.

"practice hard.." your morning voice came out groggy, in which he let out a soft laugh.

"ill see you later baby." with that he left.

you looked around, still groggy, seeing the clock on his wall. eleven o clock.

your eyes widened. shit. you were late for class. you threw the blanket off of you, quickly putting on the same clothes from yesterday. when you reached for your panties, you noticed they were ripped. the sudden pain you felt on your stomach was a reminder of your poor decisions from last night.

you slipped on your skirt, praying you wouldn't flash anyone by the time you got to your dorm. after grabbing your bag, you reached for your phone before bolting out of his room.

when you made your way to class, you felt a deep feeling in your gut telling you, no, yelling, that something wasn't okay.

the cold air of the rink hit you the moment you stepped through the doors, crisp and biting against your skin. the faint sound of blades carving across ice echoed through the space, mixed with low shouts and the occasional laughter of teammates mid practice.

miwa was buzzing beside you, excited to see her boyfriend play, and for the party he asked her out to. you caught sight of satoru not that far away talking with a boy with gauges.

"I'll be back: you said to her.

"okay! I'll go grab us some seats then!"

you watched as the blue haired girl quickly made her way up the bleachers, snatching a good spot for the both of you. you approached satoru, ready to scare him as you snuck behind him.

"dude, I'm telling you I fucked her already, pay up." he grumbled.

your entire world stopped for a second. were you hearing correctly? the other boy laughed. "thought you didn't want to take this bet?" his hand reached for his pocket, pulling out his wallet to slip out a few hundred dollar bills.

it all suddenly clicked.

"it's whatever. honestly, she's everything i've wanted in a girl." the boy you thought you could trust accepted the bills into his hand. how could you have thought that this actually meant something. that you actually meant something to satoru.

"are you fucking kidding me?" you stared at him, feeling so many emotions all at once. anger, betrayal, and even denial. your mind was processing what you just heard. you wanted to hear it wasn't real, that he wasn't only after you because of a bet and that he actually likes you. but you knew you were better than that, you couldn't help but connect all the dots. the way he just randomly went up to you? the way he spent so much money on you?

it wasn't fate. it was orchestrated. and you felt stupid for now realizing.

there was horror written all over gojos face. "no baby.. baby listen to me." but you refused, shaking your head. you refused because the following words were going to be the confirmation that you dreaded to hear. without another word, you turned away pushing though the crowd. "y/n!" he shouted, but you didn't turn back. as you made your way down the hall, his hand wrapped around your wrist, "please, PLEASE listen to me!" in which you yanked back.

"it was all a bet huh? and for what? I knew I shouldn't have trusted yo-" you were interrupted by his lips molding against yours. no matter how much you wanted to melt into it, you didn't. your hands landed on his chest, pushing him off you before wiping your lips. the boy stood there, stunned, as his sad blue eyes watched you walk out.

how could he do this to you? after you accepted his dates. after you let him use your body for pleasure. after everything?you felt horrible for leaving miwa alone, but you didn't want to ruin her day. her boyfriend was playing hockey, with satoru.

it was when you pulled out your phone, ready to block him, when you saw the several missed calls from yuji and from your fathers doctor. your heart sank even more. you quickly found a secluded spot.

satoru wanted to follow after you, desperate to fix things. but he couldn't, not with a game he needed to play. but in all honesty he was done playing.

yuji was screaming at you through the phone. his voice was raw. one you haven't heard in years.

"I called you twenty fucking times y/n! all of last night, where the hell were you?!"

you were hyperventilating. the situation sinking in, the one with gojo and the one where your dad was on the brink of death. "with.. with this guy.."

silence.

"with a guy?" he spat. “you were with some guy while dad was- y/n, he’s in critical condition. they had to resuscitate him last night. and im over here wondering that something important was going on with you only to find out you were busy sucking some guy off. was it the guy you told me about?"

"..yeah..but it didn't end well."

"I dont fucking care about that right now. honestly im glad, let this be a lesson. we thought we were gonna lose him. and you were out playing house with some asshole?”

you didn't answer, too busy trying to even breathe. "im sorry... im sorry." yuji didn’t respond right away.

"i already paid half of the shit," his sharp voice continued. "if you could send some money over that would be great. and those bills, have you paid them yet?"

you swallowed hard, tears stinging the backs of your eyes. “o, I… I haven’t had time, yuji,”

“you haven’t had time?” he repeated like the words physically hurt him. there was a long pause. when Yuji spoke again, his voice had softened.

".. just please pay his medication.. my job isn't paying that well."

"I will.." you said quietly. "where is matt?"

"he's with aunt teresa. i'll call you if anything happens again, please answer next time."

you sniffled, wiping your runny nose. "okay. I love you."

click.

the call ended with him not saying those words back. you still had your phone up to your ear, wishing that magically yuji would say it back.

you felt so unwanted

unloved.

you could feel your eyes stinging even more and your throat closing up on you. you felt like you were losing everyone, your father slipping away in a hospital bed miles from here, your brother who had always been your anchor, your voice of reason, now too exhausted to carry you, and satoru.

satoru.

that night your phone was blowing up. call after call, text after text- all from him.

satoru : y/n please.

satoru : call me, return my calls lets talk pretty.

satoru : it was a bet, but believe me when I tell you that I truly love you.

satoru : I love you. say it back baby. please I need you. can't lose you, im sorry love please don't leave..

you remembered when you planned to block him before the call with yuji, your finger hovered over the red block button. but you simply put your phone on dnd and headed to sleep recalling the horrible events of tonight. tear stains were placed on your cheeks, mascara ruined, just like how your life felt.

miwa had tried, she really did. she tried her best to comfort you, but she understood you needed space. the sweet girl provided you with extra blankets as well as water, she even rubbed off the remaining makeup on you.

satoru hasn't felt this horrible since he accidentally flushed down his sisters goldfish back in first grade. but it wasn't the same.

the goldfish didn't hate him. you did.

and he hated himself for how he made you feel. he hated himself for doing this to you. but god was he grateful to have taken on that bet. not for the money, but for you. because of the bet, he met such a wonderful girl who he was completely smitten for. too bad that the girl now hates his guts.

the weather matched how gojo felt. he looked like hell.

his usual outfits was replaced by a simple white t-shirt with sweatpants. the confident boy was now just a regular burnt out college student who looks like he missed out on eight hours of sleep to study for his physics final. he hasn't eaten since yesterday, deciding his body didn't deserve to be rewarded with food.

he made his way to the small mailroom provided for students. his face lit up when he saw you there, not looking so good like him.

"baby."

his voice startled you, making you drop your mail, watching as they scattered all throughout the tile floor.

you crouched down to gather your mail, avoiding his eyes, heart pounding in your chest from too many things at once, his voice, your brother’s call, the reminder of your father, the unbearable guilt, and now him standing here, looking like someone you didn’t know how to love right now.

satoru knelt beside you, brushing your fingers by accident as he helped you collect the envelopes. the moment your skin touched, a sharp breath escaped his lips.

thats when saw it. a bunch of letters from kaiser permamente.

"what's this..?"

you froze, hand curling tighter around the envelope like you could hide it, like you could make it disappear if you just willed it hard enough. but he had already seen.

you stood quickly, clutching the papers to your chest. “it’s nothing.”

“sweetheart…” His tone shifted, serious now. “that’s a hospital.”

"i know, i can read." you shot back.

satoru rose to his feet slowly, eyes still locked on you, his earlier exhaustion now sharpened with concern. “y/n?” His voice cracked. “is everything okay?”

you didn't know how it came to this. but you were hugging him tightly, crying into his chest like he wasn't part of the reason why you were going through it.

.

.

.

[spitefulsatanfics]

“Ain’t Nothing Subtle ‘Bout the Way He Loves Her”

Word Count: 4,631

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Setting: Supernatural, Season 2 (set shortly after “Born Under a Bad Sign”)

Tones: ☑ Fluff ☑ Domestic Love (as domestic as hunters get) ☑ Pre-established Relationship ☑ Found Family Vibes ☑ Lovesick!Dean who tries so hard to be cool ☑ Reader overhears how gone he is for her and melts

Synopsis:

⸻

When Dean brings Y/N to the Roadhouse for the first time, it’s just supposed to be a pitstop. A beer, a burger, maybe a tip on the next hunt. But Ellen’s no fool, and Ash doesn’t miss much either—and neither of them can help but notice the way Dean’s entire world shifts a little when Y/N walks in the room. He’s trying to be cool. Chill. The guy. But when the woman you love knows how to stitch a wound, kill a wendigo, and laugh at your worst jokes? Well, you’re gonna talk about her. A lot. Y/N overhears every soft confession, every bashful brag. And when Dean finds out? Let’s just say… the flustered hunter is real.

⸻

“Ain’t Nothing Subtle ‘Bout the Way He Loves Her”

The sun was dying slow and gold behind the Colorado hills when the Impala pulled up outside the Roadhouse. Dust rose soft around her tires like the place itself was exhaling—welcoming, wary, watching. It was the kind of spot that made your boots feel heavier and your shoulders feel lighter, if you knew what to do with a whiskey and had something worth bleeding for.

Dean popped the driver’s door, stepping out with his usual lean-and-stretch maneuver. The leather jacket creaked, the air smelled like beer, old pine, and maybe a dash of demon stink from some nearby town they’d just cleared out. But for once, his muscles weren’t tight with mission or guilt. Instead, his eyes flicked to the passenger door where she sat, legs tucked under her, hair wild from the wind.

“Y’ready for the madness?” he grinned, cocking a brow.

Y/N stepped out, slamming the heavy door closed behind her. “Please. I’ve seen you try to eat gas station sushi. I think I can handle your friends.”

Dean laughed—full and unguarded, the kind of laugh that made him look five years younger and a little more like the boy his mom remembered.

Inside, the Roadhouse was alive with the usual hum. Darts clinked. Glasses thudded. Ash’s ridiculous hair bobbed behind the bar as he scrolled something on his ancient laptop. Ellen looked up from a rag she was wringing out, sharp eyes landing on Dean. Then on the woman walking in beside him.

And like a switch flipped, her entire face changed.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Ellen said, a grin crawling slow across her face. “Dean Winchester, bringing a date into my bar?”

Dean instantly stiffened. “She’s not a date, she’s—”

Y/N was already giggling. “Don’t worry, Ellen. I know how hopeless he is with labels.”

That got a laugh from Jo, who popped out from the back room like she’d been waiting for the curtain to rise. “He’s definitely hopeless, alright.”

Dean groaned. “Great. A tag team.”

But Ellen wasn’t done. She came around the bar and sized Y/N up like a general inspecting a new recruit. Her eyes were sharp, measuring—but kind beneath it all. “You hunt?”

Y/N nodded. “My dad started me off with salt rounds and silver before I was potty trained.”

That got Ellen’s respect. She reached out to shake her hand.

Dean, behind them, tried so hard to play it cool. Just nods, casual, stoic. But his eyes betrayed him. Every second, he was checking Y/N’s face. Watching her reaction. Smiling like he’d swallowed the goddamn sun.

And Ellen saw it. Oh, she saw it.

⸻

An hour in and Dean had loosened up. The gang had made room at their usual table, drinks flowing, stories flying. Jo was trying to one-up Y/N with old salt-burn tales. Ash was explaining the finer points of demon detection with his “genius-level IQ,” which basically meant “I drink beer and hack things.”

And Dean?

Dean was floating. One arm over the back of Y/N’s chair, one leg half tangled with hers. He wasn’t even subtle. Whenever she laughed at something Jo said, he grinned like he’d won a war. Every time she reached for her beer, he was already sliding it closer.

Ellen stood at the bar, arms folded, watching the whole damn thing like it was a soap opera.

“You ever seen him like this?” she asked quietly to Ash.

Ash didn’t even look up from his screen. “Never. Dude’s whipped.”

⸻

Later, Y/N excused herself to the bathroom, and Dean got up to grab her another drink—leaving her jacket slung over the chair.

That’s when Ellen made her move.

“You got it bad,” she said, flat-out, wiping down the bar in slow circles.

Dean raised a brow. “What?”

She stared him down like a seasoned gunslinger. “Don’t play dumb, sweetheart. You’ve been grinning like an idiot all night. The only time you looked away from her was when you were blinking.”

Dean scoffed, scratched the back of his neck. “She’s cool. That’s all.”

Ellen leaned in. “You called her your girl three times already. And just now? You ordered her drink before she even asked. You don’t do that unless you’ve memorized someone’s whole damn soul.”

Dean blushed.

Actually blushed.

“Oh, man,” Ash mumbled from the end of the bar. “It’s terminal.”

Dean shot him a look. “Bite me.”

But Ellen smiled—soft now, not teasing. Just… knowing.

“She makes you happy, doesn’t she?” she asked.

Dean looked down at the bar top, swirling the condensation off his beer bottle with one finger.

“Yeah,” he said. “She does.”

And like some cheesy fate-orchestrated moment from a movie?

Y/N had walked up just in time to hear that.

⸻

He didn’t notice right away.

Not until she kissed his cheek when he handed her the beer, still warm from the bottle but even warmer from her lips.

He blinked. “What was that for?”

Y/N just smiled, coy. “Just… felt like it.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “What’d I miss?”

Ellen chuckled under her breath.

Y/N leaned closer, her voice low and honey-smooth: “Nothing, baby. Just glad to be here.”

⸻

Outside, later that night, Dean had her pressed against the Impala, arms on either side, breath puffing warm in the chill.

“You heard me, didn’t you?” he muttered.

Y/N tilted her head. “Heard what?”

Dean groaned. “You know what.”

She laughed. “That you memorized my whole damn soul?”

Dean groaned louder, forehead thumping to her shoulder. “God, kill me now.”

But she pulled him in tighter, fingers sliding into the back of his hair.

“Not a chance,” she whispered. “I kinda like lovesick Dean.”

Dean grumbled against her neck. “I’m not lovesick.”

“Mm-hmm,” she teased. “Tell that to the three different people you told I’m the best shot you’ve ever seen."

“I stand by that.”

“And that I make better pie than you.”

“Lies. Slander. I was drunk.”

“And that you’d give up the Impala if it meant keeping me safe.” Dean stilled. Pulled back, looked into her eyes.

“I meant that one,” he said, voice low.

Her breath caught. “Dean…”

He leaned in. Kissed her soft. Then whispered against her lips, “Ain’t nothing subtle about the way I love you, sweetheart.”

⸻

Author’s Note:

Thank you for reading, you sinfully sweet sugar demons! If you ever wondered what it would look like if Dean tried not to be totally whipped in public and failed? This is it. Thank you for loving these soft moments with me, for believing in the kind of peace a hunter might dare to touch. Until next time, keep the pie warm and the Impala fuelled.

Love always, Little Devil 🖤🔥

[nakylvr]

— magnolia ✧ D.A

summary જ⁀➴ after two months of being engaged, there are more unexpected surprises that come in the form of two lines on a pregnancy test

warnings/tags જ⁀➴ fluff, dealer!dani au, f!reader, established relationship, pregnancy announcement

substance masterlist

based on this ask

to say you were panicking would be an understatement, because you were losing your shit, utterly and totally losing it. the past three days you woke up rushing to the bathroom to throw up, and you thought you were just sick. until you realized that you were late for your period. then, the panicking started.

you called megan on the fourth day while dani was out running errands, asking her to come over and make sure dani didn't know. she was confused, but she always listened. so within half an hour, she was sitting outside your bathroom.

when you told megan the reason you wanted her there, and showed the test in your hand, she understood why you were freaking out. it was understandable, it made sense.

she stood outside the bathroom while you did the test. both of you waiting anxiously for the results that would come. and when the results came, your heart dropped.

two lines. you were pregnant.

"meg?" you say loud enough for her to hear through the door, your voice cracking.

megan instantly opens the door, peeking her head through before slowly walking up to you. you don't say anything, instead just holding up the test towards her, and her eyes go wide.

"yn..." is all she can get out.

"what am i going to do?" your lip quivers as tears fill your eyes.

"everything's gonna be fine," megan says quickly. "you're gonna be fine. this is–this is a good thing, right?"

"i-i don't know," you answer honestly. "how am i supposed to tell her?"

"we'll figure it out." megan grabs your hand. "you don't have to tell her right now. just when you're ready."

you slowly nod, a few tears trickling down your cheeks. "i'm scared, megan." you whisper. "i'm so fucking scared."

"i know." megan crouches in front of you, wrapping her arms around you and hugging you. "everything is gonna work out, i swear."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

you were still hesitant on even telling daniela two days after you confirmed you were pregnant. you were terrified of her reaction and how she would go about it. there were hundreds of thoughts running through your head, and you didn't know what to do about it.

sitting on the couch with your hoodie on over your head, a blanket covering you, and multiple tissues around you, you were recovering from crying on the phone with megan. daniela was out on a deal, and you had maybe five more minutes before she would be back.

"it's gonna be fine, yn. seriously."

"i don't know, megan." you say quietly.

daniela unlocks the front door and takes a few steps inside, hearing you talking and assuming you were on the phone. she opens her mouth to say something, but freezes in her place at your next words.

"i mean, what if she doesn't want to keep it?"

daniela swears her heart drops to her stomach, but she tries to play it off. tossing her keys exaggeratedly on the counter and announcing her presence like she didn't hear you. "i'm back!"

you immediately hang up on megan when you hear daniela's voice, putting your phone down as she walks into the living room. she stops abruptly when she sees the state of you along with the tissues scattered around you, her eyebrows furrowed together in concern.

"are you okay?"

you meekly nod your head, fiddling with the sleeve of your hoodie that draped over your hands. daniela walks over and sits down beside you. she can tell you're lying, but she doesn't push it.

"so, what were you talking about me not wanting to keep?" she asks nonchalantly. "you didn't get a dog without asking me, did you?" she jokes.

you don't smile, you're not even looking at her when you quietly say the words. you can see her smile drop the second you say it.

"i'm pregnant."

there's a silence that fills the room. uncomfortable, awkward, the kind that hadn't happened in a while. you contemplate saying something else, play it off as a joke maybe. but daniela speaks first.

"are you serious?" she asks quietly.

you nod, feeling your throat close up. "i-i took a test a few days ago a-and it came out positive." you manage to get out. "i'm sorry for not telling you right away. i-i didn't know what to do."

daniela grabs one of your hands, bringing it up to her lips and pressing small kisses on your knuckles. "this is amazing, mi vida." she says softly. you finally look over at her, and your breath catches in your throat seeing the tears in her eyes. "this is amazing. i can't wait to start a family with you. i love you so much."

"really?" you let out, your voice barely above a whisper.

"of course," daniela says with a nod, grabbing your arm and pulling you onto her lap. she peers up at you with pure adoration and love in her eyes, and it makes tears fill your own. "i'm so happy. this is great. we're gonna have a family, and we're gonna be the best parents ever. i love you so much, so so much. and i'm going to be right here with you every step of the way. i promise." she presses a gentle kiss on your cheek that had a few tears trailing down.

a small smile grows on your face at her words, and you don't know why you were worrying in the first place. "i love you too. you're going to be great." you reply.

"you're gonna be even better." she smiles back at you. "i can't wait."

"yeah, me too." you smile, leaning in and kissing her.

[mikaylathenerd5]

Happy Birthday, Mrs. Reigns | R.R. Smut

Main Masterlist ৹ Join My Taglist

“You married me that night and then let him keep the wedding on the calendar.” - R

A/N: Wanted to post a birthday-themed post ❤️ Hope you enjoy it!!

Summary: It’s Asha’s first birthday as Mrs. Reigns, and nothing about it feels simple. Between complicated feelings, outside opinions, and everything left unsaid, she’s not sure how to celebrate herself—let alone this new chapter. But Roman? He always shows up when it matters most. And tonight, he has no intention of letting her forget exactly who she is… or who she belongs to.

Content Warning: This one-shot contains explicit sexual content (18+), emotionally vulnerable moments, mentions of past infidelity and relationship conflict, language, and themes of emotional tension and healing. Reader discretion is advised.

Word Count: ~5.5k

The first thing Asha noticed was the silence.

Not the soft, morning kind—the one that greeted you with peace and sunbeams. No, this one was loud in its stillness. Empty. Familiar. The kind of silence that reminded you no one was coming.

Her phone screen lit up on the nightstand.

Nothing.

No missed calls. No texts. No “Happy birthday, baby” with a dozen heart emojis like he used to send when they first got engaged.

Just a silent lock screen. A picture of her and Zaire—taken at All-Star weekend. His hand on her waist, his smile perfect, his love polished.

She turned the phone over. Face-down.

Asha laid there for a while, one arm bent over her forehead, staring at the ceiling. The air was too warm. Her throat was dry. Her stomach… hollow.

She hated that feeling—expectation and disappointment getting drunk together in her chest.

But she’d told herself Zaire was the safe choice. The predictable one. The kind of man who looked good on paper and never missed a press appearance—even if he forgot her birthday. It was easier to stay than start over. Easier to pretend polished love was real love.

Her planner was still cracked open beside the bed, clinging to last week’s page.

Wedding Day – April 20th.

She crossed it out with the edge of her nail. Hard. Like that could scratch the whole thing out of her life.

Her phone buzzed again.

She grabbed it too fast—heart lurching—but it wasn’t Zaire.

ESPN.She didn’t bother opening it. Just swiped it away.

Then opened Instagram. Zaire’s story was ten minutes old.

A video. Him walking up the stairs to a plane, hoodie on, headphones over his ears. The caption:

✈️ Roadwork. See y’all tonight.

No tag. No mention. No "Happy birthday to my fiancée."

She closed the app. Locked her phone.

Her throat burned. Not from tears. From holding them in.

She used to love birthdays.

Counted down to them with giddy pride. Practiced her birthday wish like it could fix things. Like it could make people stay.

Birthdays were supposed to feel like magic. Like people waking up with you on their mind. Like candles and laughter and “I couldn’t wait to celebrate you.”

But somewhere between then and now, birthdays stopped being magic.

They just became reminders. Of who shows up. And who doesn’t.

Asha moved through the kitchen like she was underwater. Her birthday cupcakes still sat in a plastic container on the counter—three red velvet, untouched. She’d bought them herself. Stuck her own name on the label just so the cashier wouldn’t ask.

The lavender candle she meant to light was still sealed. The wine unopened.

She set both down gently. Her hand hovered over the lighter, but she didn’t reach for it.

He doesn’t even know today matters.

Asha didn’t realize she was whispering until the words caught in her throat.

Maybe he does know. And that’s worse.

The knock at the door startled her.

She froze.

Nobody just showed up.

She crossed to the door barefoot, tension in every step. One peek through the peephole—

A delivery man. Holding something round and black. Elegant.

She opened the door slowly.

“Delivery for Asha Langston,” he said with a polite nod. “Happy birthday.”

“…Thanks,” she murmured, stepping forward.

The box was heavy. She shut the door with her hip and carried it to the kitchen island.

It looked expensive. Velvet and matte. Her hands hovered over the lid for a second too long.

Then she lifted it.

Dozens of deep red roses. Arranged in a spiral, rich and velvety, full of perfume and color and care.

Tucked into the center was a small black velvet box.

She didn’t move at first.

Then, slowly, she reached for it.

Inside was a delicate gold necklace, warm-toned and fine, the kind of subtle luxury that whispered. One small “R” charm curled next to a soft glint of blue-green—her birthstone. The color of ocean glass.

Her breath caught.

He remembered.

She hadn’t even remembered to wear jewelry today.

And he—

She opened the folded card pressed beneath the flowers.

To my favorite accident.Happy Birthday, Asha.You’re unforgettable.— R

Her fingers trembled.

Not from surprise. From the way it felt to be seen.

To be remembered like this. On purpose.

Zaire once told her birthstones were for horoscope girls. Said he didn’t believe in sentimental jewelry.

“Gold’s gold,” he’d said, when she told him once—quietly—that she loved pieces that felt personal.

She’d never brought it up again.

Now here she was. Holding something that felt like it had been picked just for her. Not for a crowd. Not for a caption. Just… her.

And it hurt.

Because it wasn’t Zaire who gave it to her.

Asha sank onto the couch, necklace in her palm, and stared at the flowers like they might disappear.

A memory flickered. Vegas. The hotel room. Roman’s voice in the dark:

“I notice everything about you.”

Back then, she thought it was just something men said when the lights were off. But now? With this necklace in her hand? She wasn’t so sure.

Her thumb brushed the “R” charm again.

She didn’t know what she felt. Not exactly. But it was sharp. And soft. And terrifying.

Her phone buzzed again on the counter.

This time, the name glowed across the screen:

ZURI 💅🏾 LOUD ASS.

Asha exhaled once.

Then reached for it.

“Hey.”

“Don’t ‘hey’ me. I know that cupcake ain’t talking back to you.”

Asha sniffed quietly, pulling her sleeve over her hand. “I’m fine.”

“Mmhm. Get up. Café Mae. Twenty minutes. You need food, fresh air, and me. In that order.”

Click.

Asha stared at the screen for a second longer. Let herself breathe.

Then the phone buzzed again — same caller.

She picked up without saying anything.

Zuri didn’t miss a beat.

“Another thing—happy birthday, hoe. Love ya. Bye.”

Click.

This time, Asha smiled.

For real.

The café’s front windows breathed soft light onto the sidewalk. Asha leaned against the brick wall just outside the entrance, her phone still warm in her hand from Zuri’s call.

Zuri didn’t give her time to spiral. She never did.

The second Asha stepped inside, she spotted her best friend in the far booth — hair up in a clean, high puff, earrings big and bold, gold rings stacked like she’d been ready for war since sunrise. Zuri didn’t do halfway. And she didn’t pretend either.

Her eyes locked on Asha the moment she walked in, and her expression shifted. Not to pity — Zuri didn’t pity people — but to something gentler. Focused.

“You look like you been listening to Summer Walker and ignoring your vitamins,” she said, sliding a glass of pineapple juice across the table.

Asha let out a short breath that might’ve been a laugh. She sat down, adjusting the sleeves of her hoodie. No makeup. No jewelry—except the one thing she hadn’t been able to take off.

Zuri didn’t notice it at first. She was too busy waving the waitress over and talking about how she was gonna need extra syrup for her pancakes or else she’d flip the damn table. But eventually, as Asha reached for the honey for her tea, Zuri blinked. Then squinted. Then leaned in.

“Wait. What’s that on your neck?”

Asha froze. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb. That’s a gold chain. With an R. Is that your birthstone? Girl—”

“It was a gift.”

“From who? Wait—” Zuri stared at her. And then her voice dropped, quieter now. Sincere. “Did Zaire send that?”

Asha looked away. “No.”

Zuri blinked. Once. Twice. “So he didn’t even send you a text?”

“No call. No post. Just his assistant wishing me a happy birthday in our group chat.”

Zuri sat back, the humor gone now. Her brows were furrowed, her voice low. “And the man who married you drunk in Vegas sent you a necklace and remembered your birthstone?”

Asha nodded once. She didn’t have it in her to explain the roses. The note. The silence he gave her afterward so she wouldn’t feel cornered.

Zuri exhaled and leaned forward again. “So cancel the wedding.”

Asha blinked.

Zuri didn’t flinch. “You keep trying to act like you owe that man your life because he was safe. But what has safe actually done for you, Asha?”

Silence lingered between them. A waitress dropped off their plates and refilled the juice, but neither of them spoke until the clinking faded.

Then Asha finally said it. “Can you cancel the venue?”

Zuri paused, her face softening. “You serious?”

“I just… I can’t see it on my calendar anymore.”

Zuri nodded. Not dramatic. Not smug. Just Zuri. “Say less.”

Asha’s breath escaped her chest like a door had finally opened. She stared down at her plate. The syrup pooled into the corner like it didn’t want to touch anything.

“You want me to also cancel the part where you keep pretending he’s a good man?”

Asha smiled without lifting her head. “Start with the venue.”

They parted just outside the café. Zuri pulled her into a hug, tight and warm and brimming with everything Asha didn’t say out loud.

“Happy birthday, Ash. Go where the love is.”

Asha nodded. She didn’t trust her voice.

She made it halfway down the block before her phone buzzed again.

ROMAN Happy birthday, Asha. I didn’t want to crowd your day… just wanted you to know you deserve to feel held, even when nobody’s watching. Hope today gave you at least a little bit of that. And if not… you know where I’m at.

She didn’t text back. But she read it twice.

And when she slipped the phone back into her coat pocket, her fingers brushed the gold “R” charm resting above her heart.

She was still smiling.

The sun had long dipped beneath the skyline by the time Asha stepped back into her apartment. The air felt heavier than usual—not stifling, but thick with the kind of stillness that came after too many thoughts had been left unspoken.

Warm light glowed from the kitchen, where her favorite candle sat on a warmer, quietly releasing the scent of vanilla and spice into the air. She didn’t light it today. Didn’t need open flame. Just wanted something soft. Something steady.

She slipped off her shoes and coat, toes curling into the floor as she poured herself a glass of wine. The stem felt cool in her hand, the weight familiar. Her gaze wandered—not on purpose—and landed on the bouquet still sitting on the dining table.

A vase of bold red roses sat near the window, fresh and dramatic. Tall black marble. Gold lettering along the base. Expensive without being loud. Thoughtful without needing to explain itself. The kind of arrangement that didn’t whisper affection—it declared it. Like Roman had known exactly what message he wanted to send without ever signing his name.

She hadn’t thrown them out.

She hadn’t even moved them.

She’d rinsed the vase. Refilled it with water. And sat them at the center of her apartment like some unspoken centerpiece to a day she didn’t know how to feel about.

The card was still beside it.

Unopened.

She took another sip of wine just as the knock came—three soft taps, deliberate and steady.

Her spine straightened. She set the glass down.

Checked the peephole.

Roman.

Black hoodie. Gray sweats. One hand in his pocket. The other carrying a matte black takeout bag with a gold emblem stamped on the side—Torenzo’s. The place she used to joke about being overhyped. Until he took her there once and she accidentally moaned over the risotto.

She opened the door slowly.

He didn’t speak.

His eyes flicked up and down, catching her at the edge of tiredness and tension, and then landing right where her collar dipped. Where the delicate gold chain glinted under the low kitchen light. Where the tiny “R” charm lay tucked beside her birthstone, warm against her skin.

“You wore it,” he said, voice low and unreadable.

She didn’t speak. Just nodded, her hand rising almost unconsciously to touch the charm. Her thumb brushed across the letter before she realized she was doing it.

Roman’s jaw flexed. He shifted slightly, the takeout bag rustling in his hand.

“Didn’t know if you’d eaten. Figured you deserved better than cold cupcakes.”

Asha blinked, something tightening in her throat. Zaire would’ve sent a text. Maybe.Roman showed up.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Not until her eyes caught the soft look on his face—restrained, but present.

She stepped aside.

He walked in—brushing past the bouquet without ever glancing at it—and set the food gently on the kitchen counter. She watched him move like he’d done it a hundred times before.

She opened her mouth, hesitated. “You didn’t have to…”

“Yeah, I did.” He paused. His voice dropped, rough at the edges. “Didn’t want you going to sleep thinking nobody showed up.”

A few seconds passed—too long, too quiet.

Then the door clicked shut behind them.

One Week Ago

The room looked like wealth. Gold-rimmed glasses, roses that had never seen a grocery store, a jazz trio tucked in the corner playing notes that didn’t dare interrupt the silence. The lighting was warm and low—not cozy, but curated. Asha sat at a table that felt more like a stage.

Zaire was beside her in a tailored dove-grey suit, quiet and unreadable, his phone face-down next to his water glass. Asha had matched the energy—sleek black dress, heels high enough to hurt, posture perfect. But none of it made the food taste better. None of it softened the knot in her stomach.

His mother had been speaking for ten minutes without a pause. The kind of woman who wielded compliments like warning shots.

“You’ve always been such a… challenge, Asha.” She said it sweetly, like a joke meant to land softer. It didn’t. “But that’s what makes things exciting, right? Keeps Zaire sharp.”

Asha blinked slowly. “Sharp must be exhausted.”

Zaire didn’t laugh. Didn’t correct his mother either. He just reached for his wine and sipped like he hadn’t heard a thing.

His father leaned back. “We’ve spoken to the planners.” Asha’s stomach tightened.

“Everything’s been pushed back. Venue. Catering. PR. It’s handled.”

He didn’t even ask. Just expected her to be thankful for the cleanup crew.

“You should be grateful,” he added, eyes locking on hers.And that was it. The line she couldn’t unhear.He looked straight at Asha. “You should be grateful.”

Her fingers tensed beneath the tablecloth.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“And yet we did. Because we clean up our son’s messes. Even when they’re not entirely his.” “You’re still planning to marry into this family, Asha. Consider what that requires.”

She caught her reflection in the polished silverware—expression still poised, chin lifted. Her silence was a skill now. But her tongue ached from biting it.

Zaire said nothing.

His mother folded her hands, eyes warm and cruel. “And hopefully, this wrestler situation doesn’t spiral. The announcement already embarrassed a few partners. But we’ll move forward.”

Asha tilted her head slightly. “Excuse me?”

His father didn’t pause. “Roman Reigns is a performer. Men like him thrive off chaos. They don’t think about how it reflects on women like you. You’re caught in the smoke of his spectacle. That’s why we stepped in.”

A slow, simmering beat passed.

Then Asha said, quiet but precise: “One of those men happens to be my brother.”

The jazz trio didn’t stop playing—but the tension in the room cut through every note.

His mother blinked. His father’s jaw moved but produced nothing. Even Zaire shifted, but only to adjust the cuff of his jacket. He didn’t say a word.

Asha folded her napkin neatly and placed it beside her plate. “So if we’re handing out gratitude, maybe offer a little back—for how long I’ve held my tongue.”She let the silence sit. “And for how much more I could say.”

Zaire looked down at his wine glass again.

Still. Nothing.

Something wilted in her chest.

“Excuse me,” she said softly, rising from the table.

She walked across the sleek marble, her heels echoing louder than any voice in the room. The bathroom door closed behind her with a soft click that felt like a slammed door.

Inside, she braced both hands on the sink.

Her breath came fast. Her chest tight. The mirror showed her the same face she’d walked in with—lipstick still sharp, lashes still full, bones still high. But her eyes...

Her eyes looked like someone who just watched a house she built burn to the ground—while the man inside refused to leave.

Her phone buzzed in her clutch.

1 Missed Call — Roman Reigns 10:14 PM

She stared at the name. Her thumb hovered.

But she didn’t press it. Didn’t call back.

She just held the phone tighter.

Present Day 

Now, that same hoodie from that night was clinging to Roman’s frame as he stood in her doorway.

Takeout bag in one hand. Silence in the other.

His eyes flicked to the necklace resting on her collarbone. “You wore it.”

She nodded. No words yet.

She felt that in her chest.

Her hand drifted unconsciously toward her ring—his ring—and then stopped.

“It was supposed to be a mistake,” she murmured.

Roman’s jaw flexed once. But his voice didn’t rise.

“You wore my name,” he said. “You’re still wearing it.”

Her throat tightened.

“That boy doesn’t have a chance,” he went on, casual but cutting. “I don’t give a fuck what that boy got to say. Or your lame-ass brother either.”

Her brow rose—but not in protest. It was the truth of it that made it hard to argue.

“He treats you like a PR move,” Roman said. “Like you’re something to bring out when he needs to look a certain way. Then he forgets you the second it’s not convenient.”

Asha looked away.

“I just wanted you to feel like someone showed up,” he finished, voice softening again. “Even if it was just me.”

She didn’t speak right away.

Roman held up the black-and-gold takeout bag. “Torenzo’s.”

Her brows shot up. “You remembered that?”

“You only said it once.” His voice was quiet but steady. “I listen when it’s you.”

Asha turned, lips parting slightly. There wasn’t a good response to that. She moved to the kitchen, pulling two plates from the cabinet. He helped unpack everything—grilled sea bass, truffle risotto, charred broccolini, still warm bread with rosemary butter.

Roman plated hers first. No rush, no instructions. Just care.

They sat down on the couch, not shoulder-to-shoulder but close enough that the tension hung between them like humidity—undeniable, heavy, waiting.

She sipped her wine. He didn’t drink.

They ate quietly at first.

Until Asha caught herself watching the way he cut his food, his shoulders relaxed for once. She swallowed hard and took a breath.

“This feels weird,” she admitted.

Roman didn’t look up. “Eating with your husband?”

Her gaze jerked to his face.

He finally met her eyes and gave the smallest smile. “Still feels real to me.”

She blinked—once, then twice—and looked down at her plate.

He reached for the bread, split it in half, and passed her a piece like it was second nature. Like they’d done it before. Like he’d always be that steady hand.

And suddenly she didn’t want to pretend she didn’t miss that kind of ease.

After dinner, Roman stood up and crossed to the counter again.

She watched him open the bakery box with practiced care, then pull out one cupcake—deep red velvet, piped high with cream cheese frosting, dusted in edible gold flakes.

From his hoodie pocket, he pulled a single candle.

He lit it using the small glass lighter sitting near her wax warmer.

Then he turned and brought the cupcake over slowly, holding it in both hands like something sacred.

“Make a wish,” he said, voice almost a whisper. “And don’t lie about what you really want.”

Asha stared at him. At the way the flame made his eyes softer. At the necklace he gave her resting against her collarbone.

She blew the candle out.

Roman didn’t move.

She reached for him first.

Her fingers curled into the front of his hoodie. She kissed him slow—no rush, no edge, just everything she hadn’t said out loud.

He tasted like dinner and quiet devotion.

When he pulled her in, his hand went to the small of her back and didn’t move. The other braced behind her on the couch—his grip tight, fingers flexing against the cushion like he was barely holding back. Asha gasped into his mouth

“You want something real?” He murmured. 

She nodded.

“Then stop pretending you don’t already have it.”

His mouth found hers again, hungrier this time. The kiss turned from soft to aching in a heartbeat.

The red velvet cupcake sat forgotten. The candle burned down in the kitchen behind them.

His knuckles brushed her bare thigh—slow, reverent. She was still in her lounge shorts and a soft, ribbed tank. Her body was tense beneath the quiet. But not pulling away.

His voice came low, almost inaudible. “Let me see you.”

Asha nodded.

Roman leaned in, mouth grazing hers with a kiss that lingered. Not rushed. Not rough. Just full. He kissed her again. And again. Until her shoulders dropped and her chest rose to meet his. Until her breath hitched and her hand found the curve of his jaw like muscle memory.

Then his hands moved—down her body, gripping the hem of her shorts. He tugged gently, knuckles grazing the underside of her thighs as he drew them down. Her panties came with them, damp from everything he’d already done to her with words alone.

He didn’t break eye contact.

Didn’t ask permission again.

Roman knelt between her legs like he belonged there.

Like she was some divine offering and he was starving on his knees.

His hands wrapped around her thighs, spreading her open with quiet reverence. His breath coasted over her center, warm and steady—teasing her without even touching. Asha felt the way her body pulsed for him, the way her thighs tried to close on instinct. Roman growled low in his throat and gripped tighter.

“Nah,” he murmured. “You been acting like this don’t belong to me.”

Then he licked her.

Long and slow.

One smooth stroke of his tongue up her slit, tasting every drop like he was collecting her on his tongue. Asha let out a trembling breath—but Roman wasn’t satisfied with that.

He flattened his tongue against her clit and held it there, not moving, just applying pressure, just waiting.

It worked.

Her hips lifted, lips parting on a sharp gasp. Roman smiled against her. “There she is…”

Then he got to work.

He licked her with slow, controlled precision, alternating between dragging his tongue up her folds and circling her clit. Every stroke was deliberate. Every motion a study in restraint. He was savoring her, not just going through the motions. Tongue firm. Mouth warm. Beard grazing her thighs just enough to make her squirm.

“Fuck, Roman—” she whispered.

He didn’t respond.

He sucked her clit into his mouth instead. Soft at first. Then harder. Then he let it pop free with a low moan that vibrated straight through her. Asha’s body jolted, fingers digging into the cushion beside her.

Roman didn’t stop.

He tilted her hips up slightly, locking one arm under her thigh while the other hand slid up to her breast. His thumb brushed her nipple, slow circles that made her cry out. At the same time, his tongue flattened again, licking fast, building heat. He alternated between that and teasing flicks over her clit, stopping only to breathe her in, to taste her like he never wanted to forget.

Asha gripped the couch, her body teetering between pleasure and panic. It felt too good—too personal. Like he knew things about her she hadn’t told anyone. She didn’t know whether to run from it or fall apart.

“You shaking already?” he teased, voice hoarse. “And I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

Then he buried his face deeper.

Sucked harder.

His tongue moved with brutal control—slow when she needed fast, fast when she thought she couldn’t take more. He read her like a map, adjusting with every whimper, every arch, every time she whispered his name like a secret.

Her thighs were trembling now.

Her hands slipped down to his head, fingers threading through his thick curls, trying to ground herself. Roman grunted, and the vibration pushed her over the edge.

She came with a soft cry, her body locking up, thighs trying to close around his face. Roman didn’t let her. He held her open and kept licking—softer now, coaxing her through it, letting her ride the aftershocks as his lips ghosted over her sensitive clit.

When he finally pulled back, his mouth and beard were wet.

He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, then sucked the taste off his fingers, eyes locked on hers.

“Better than that sorry-ass birthday text you didn’t get, huh?”

Asha could barely breathe.

Roman stood, reached for the waistband of his sweats, and freed himself with one hand. He stroked slowly, watching her squirm, the “R” charm still resting right over her heartbeat.

“You ready?” he murmured, voice deep, thick with want.

“I’ve been ready,” she breathed.

He smirked.

And that’s when he moved in closer—cock thick, heavy, lined up just right.

Roman dragged the swollen head of his cock through her slick folds—slow, deliberate. Teasing her overstimulated clit just enough to make her gasp again.

“You feel that?” he murmured. “That’s what happens when I taste what’s mine.”

Her thighs parted wider.

And Roman didn’t wait anymore.

He slid in deep.

Asha’s back arched off the couch with a gasp so sharp it knocked the wind out of her. He filled her in one long stroke, thick and pulsing, her walls stretching to take every heavy inch. It wasn’t rushed—just inevitable. Like gravity. Like a promise made flesh.

Roman groaned low in his throat, his forehead dropping to hers.

“Fuck… You’re always so warm,” he whispered, his voice strained. “Always pullin’ me in like you need me.”

He rolled his hips, grinding into her, staying deep. Asha whimpered. Her hands flew to his back, nails raking across tan skin, needing more. Needing him.

“Say it,” he whispered. “Say you missed me.”

She whimpered again, breath stuttering. “I missed you.”

Roman’s lips ghosted across her cheek, his hips slowly pulling back.

Then he thrust again—hard.

Her moan was sharp, raw, swallowed by his mouth as he kissed her. His thrusts picked up, fast and deep, hitting every nerve ending like a punishment wrapped in a prayer.

“You married me,” he panted. “That night… you said I do.”

She didn’t answer—not out loud.

Her legs wrapped around his waist tighter, drawing him in closer, her body giving him her truth.

Roman’s mouth crashed into hers again, rougher this time. Messier. His fingers tangled in her curls as he fucked her through the silence. Sweat formed between them. Her necklace glinted between her breasts like it belonged there.

“You still wearing my name,” he groaned. “Still letting me inside you like this—like you know nobody else can touch you like this.”

Asha cried out, her hands gripping the back of the couch. Roman’s hand slammed against it too, fingers flexing against the cushion, holding himself back by a thread.

He pulled out slightly—just enough to make her whine—and then drove back in, rougher this time.

“That boy,” he said, voice nearly breaking with frustration, “he forgets your birthday. I remember how you breathe when you come.”

His hand slid between their bodies, thumb finding her clit. She jolted. Her thighs clenched. The rhythm faltered—then deepened. She shattered beneath him, crying out his name like it was the only language she knew.

“Say it,” he grunted, lips at her ear. “Say who you belong to.”

“You—fuck—you.”

“That’s right.”

He fucked her harder, the couch creaking under them, her legs locked around his waist now.

Roman’s face hovered just above hers—eyes wild, mouth open, breath harsh. And then he slowed.

Ground his hips deep.

Rolled them.

Until Asha was sobbing beneath him, clutching at his back like she didn’t know where her body ended and his began.

“I’m not letting go of you,” he whispered, forehead pressed to hers. “You hear me?”

She nodded, her voice a shaky whisper. “I hear you.”

And when she came again—body clenching, hips bucking, vision blurring—it was with his name falling from her lips like worship.

Roman followed seconds later, his moan guttural, drawn from the base of his spine as he buried himself inside her one last time.

Then silence.

Just the sound of their breathing, and the quiet weight of what couldn’t be unsaid anymore.

Roman didn’t move right away. Just brushed his thumb over her cheek, then down to the “R” charm resting on her chest.

His voice was quieter now. Still rough. Still sure.

“Happy fucking birthday, Mrs. Reigns.”

The only sounds left in the room were the rise and fall of their breathing and the occasional shift of fabric beneath their bodies. Sweat cooled on Asha’s skin as Roman eased back, chest rising with the weight of what they didn’t say.

He didn’t rush. He never did when it mattered.

Roman’s hand lingered at the dip of her waist, fingers flexing lightly like he didn’t want to lose contact yet. Like if he let go too fast, she might float away.

Without a word, he sat up, slipped off the couch, and disappeared down the hall. She heard the faucet run. When he returned, a damp towel hung from his hand, warm and fresh.

Kneeling beside her, Roman cleaned her with a reverence that didn’t need language. He moved slowly, wiping between her thighs like she was something precious, not something he’d just fucked into breathless silence.

When he looked up, his eyes weren’t clouded with lust anymore. Just clarity.

“You good?” he asked gently.

Asha nodded. But something in her eyes made him pause.

Roman leaned up, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I mean more than that.”

She didn’t answer, and he didn’t push. Instead, he stood, bare still, and crossed to grab the hoodie he’d tossed over the kitchen stool earlier. As he slipped it on, he pulled something small from the pocket—a black envelope, no larger than his palm.

He placed it down beside her. No speech. No drama.

She blinked at it. Then at him.

Roman offered her a look—steady, unreadable, heartbreakingly soft. Like he had one foot out the door, but his heart hadn’t followed.

Asha sat up, the blanket gathering at her waist. Her voice came quietly:

“…You don’t have to go.”

Roman stilled. Then turned.

She lifted her chin, eyes vulnerable but resolute. “Stay.”

There was a beat. A flicker of something fragile in his gaze.

Then, Roman nodded. Not rushed. Not smug. Just real.

He crossed back to her and slipped under the blanket without hesitation, like her body was the only place that made sense. She melted into him, head against his chest, heartbeat syncing with his. One of his arms tucked under her neck. The other wrapped around her waist, grounding her.

“You feel safe?” he asked, voice low in her hair.

“Yeah,” she whispered.

They lay like that for a long time. No noise but the city outside and the soft hum of comfort finally allowed.

A buzz broke the stillness.

Asha’s phone lit up across the table.

Zaire. Calling.

Roman looked at the screen. Then back at her. “You want me to grab it?”

“No,” she said.

He waited.

Then reached for it himself. Answering wasn’t on the table. He just pressed silence, flipped it screen-down, and returned to her.

“He doesn’t get to interrupt this,” Roman murmured. “Not after forgetting the day you were born.”

Asha didn’t reply, but her hand curled into the fabric of his hoodie. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the warmth of him, of this night, of everything she thought she didn’t deserve.

After a while, she reached for the envelope.

Inside was a single card. No gold trim. No extravagant message.

Just ink. Just him.

Let me know when you’re ready to be loved out loud. — R

Her throat tightened.

She looked down at her left hand—where the slim gold wedding band rested against her skin. Still there. Still hers. She’d never taken it off, not even when she should’ve.

The “R” charm on her necklace caught the glow, resting over her pulse like a quiet truth finally speaking.

Roman wasn’t asleep. She could feel his gaze on her even with her back turned.

“You’re not just a wish I made,” she whispered, thumb grazing the card. “You feel like the answer.”

He didn’t say anything.

But the way his arm pulled her closer, the way he kissed her shoulder, said more than words ever could.

She didn’t need to make another wish.

She was already wearing it.

Author’s Note: This one’s soft, a little messy, and full of unspoken feelings. Asha’s not sure how to celebrate herself—but Roman makes sure to always remind Asha what she deserves.

Thank you so much for reading. If you enjoyed this, make sure to check out the masterlist for more stories and join the taglist so you never miss an update. Your support means everything. 🤍

[lucabyte]

lmao oh my god i didnt see this until i was digging in my notifs for something else hi im so late

Favorite color: Hot Pink-Red!! Like my sona and also all my branding. You'd think that would make it obvious but irl all my clothes are cooler tones because if i wear warm tones I look like a corpse lol. <- blue undertone haver

Last Song: I stopped somewhere in the middle of "Cum On Feel The Hitz: The Best Of Slade" while trying to run through and rate the songs in wmp... so it looks like it was "In for a Penny" by Slade.

Currently Reading: Does re-reading Homestuck count? That is currently my primary intake of Words. Last book I opened was "Understanding Comics" by Scott McCloud

Currently Watching: Several things. Better Call Saul & Star Trek TNG for the first time, and then MLP:FiM for a rewatch.

Currently Craving: Red meat . made the mistake of watching an old brutalmoose cooking video and now i want protein

Coffee or Tea: Whenever I make tea i make some kind of evil concoction i don't allow others to witness. 2 tea bags a lot of sugar some milk and then slammed as quickly as possible. this is not how you are supposed to drink tea. i don't drink coffee at all lol

Tags: i have no idea if any of you have already been tagged so uhhh @briarbale @ricecaqes @pearl-crystals @ekiloria @gallantblade have fun

get to know your moots tag game ! ✶ answer the questions, then tag six people

favorite color ꕀ green and brown last song ꕀ tú by maye currently reading ꕀ the luminaries by susan dennard currently watching ꕀ the great british baking show currently craving ꕀ massaman curry. like always. and like. alcohol and a couple cigs HAHA. a break too :P coffee or tea ꕀ always tea! i don't like coffee

ty for the tag @saltcxrcle ! tagging: @lelapine @toadspondofwhimsy @outof-spite @h0neyst4rz @hhoneylemon @our-lady-of-venom

[saltnsugarbear]

I'm gonna stay faithful (to the devil I know) (18+)

summary: After you don't respond how Carmy wants to a compliment, he gets a bit,,,, authoritative

title from: "The Devil I Know" by Suki Waterhouse

word count: 3.9k

content warnings: smut MDNI!!! Carmy's mean (like,,,, like mean), use of derogatory words during sex (bitch, brat,), Claire again :/, what i suppose could classify as subspace, brat tamer Carm :), reader wears a skirt (important for plot), afab reader genitalia, unprotected sex, i lean so heavily into being horny and pathetic, ✨️pull out method✨️, I cant think of anything else?

side note: hey hi everyone say thanks Olive again for helping with dialogue and just,,,,, everything ever. everyone say thank you olive because I should be paying her

series masterlist!

You've been bugging Carmy all day since his morning text. The sunrise from the L tracks.

Carmy had started sending them early in the month, sometimes just the sunrise, sometimes with an added message. This morning, the photo is tagged with a short, "Looks like you."

The text made you scoff, rolling your eyes while you tap out a short, "You're annoying"

For an hour, Carmy leaves you on read. At first, you think he's tied up with the kitchen until Sugar sends you a brief, "Carmen's being annoying again."

Her complaint garners your sympathy and a brief, "Isn't he always annoying?" which gets a heart reaction from her. You switch chats between the Berzattos, going back to Carmy where he's still left you on read.

You: Carmen...

You: I'm messing you, Carmy.

Carmy reads your messages but doesn't respond. You let him keep you on read for another twenty minutes before you message him again.

You: are you pouting rn? really?

Bubbles appear a couple of times before he responds.

C: No.

You: Nat says you're being particularly annoying today

C: She's being annoying today..

You can hear the grumble of his voice, an attempt to redirect your attention.

You: Carmy...

You can practically hear the sigh fall from his lips as you watch the bubbles go. And they stop again. You've seen this pattern with Carmy enough times to cut it short.

You: Need me to make it up to you later?

You: Maybe during lunch?

You: ;)

The last message is a tease, enough to clarify what you could mean. And enough that he stops typing for a minute. Then he starts up again.

C: Can't get away for that long.

You huff, knowing there's an obvious option here.

You: Or....

You: I could come there..

The response is instant.

C: No.

Then.

C: Can you wait til after?

You groan, burying your head in your arms on top of the counter. You're hiding long enough that he messages two more times.

C: You can, can't you?

C: Then I can come take care of you.

The words on the screen make your face flush and it's embarrassing because he's not even there. You keep your face hidden like there's some way he can see you from the restaurant.

You: You're evil, btw

You: I guess I can wait... But I'm not happy about it.

C: Yeah, yeah..

Unfortunately for Carmen, when you want something, you're persistent.

Which, for him, translates into his phone pinging in his pocket. You send him a few things each time he's away, just to tease him and to gift him with a surprise when he comes back to his phone.

It starts as idle chatter, comments as you go about your day. Telling him about the errand you have to go run, mentioning the woman with her cat in a stroller when you get there, telling him about the lingerie set you saw at the store and how you think he'd like the color.

After noon is when he starts getting frustrated. Not at your messages, but rather that he can't just leave.

The tipping point is the picture you sent him. Nothing graphic or noteworthy would make him squirm until he could get his hands on you. Instead, you've attached a selfie, taken at an angle, so it's like he's towering over you. In the photo, you're wearing a sweater over a collared shirt and a plaid-patterned skirt that pools onto the bench you're sitting on.

The picture is bumped up when you send another text.

You: Company lunch :P

You: You know how I feel about free food

Something inside Carmy twinges. His gaze flicks back up to your skirt before he types a response.

C: I thought you had the day off?

You: Apparently they couldn't schedule the lunch for another day

You: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You: They're arriving! See you later ;)

"It's open!" You call over your shoulder and then turn back to your phone. Carmy enters your apartment easily, and you can already hear him grumbling about leaving the door unlocked while he toes off his shoes.

"I don't know why I knock anymore." He tells you, and you brush him off.

"No one is going to come into my apartment, Carmy." You sigh, turning onto your back. "Other than you."

Your reason makes Carmy shake his head as he walks over. You tuck your legs in to make room for him on the couch, sitting up straight.

"How was your lunch?" Carmy lets his head fall back against the couch when he looks at you. You give him a short shrug, laying your head against the cushion as well.

"Lame, but they paid for me, so that's a win." You give him a bright grin. He nods, bringing a hand to fidget with the edge of your skirt. "Just like.. Getting everyone out of the office, talk about something other than emails and deadlines. How's the restaurant?"

Carmy lets out a ragged sigh, turning to face the ceiling. You listen as intently as you can, course correcting when you find yourself getting distracted. At some point, you forget and start tracing his features with your eyes. Then it's easy to remember why you invited him over.

As he continues to tell you about how Richie thinks they should decorate for Halloween, you silently sling one of your legs over his thighs. Carmen pauses briefly, watching while you push yourself onto his lap.

"Are y'serious right now.?" Carmy grumbles, hands raised as you get settled. You give him an exasperated huff, adjusting how you're sat.

"I was being serious all day.." You complain, rocking your hips into his for affect.

"Can't go five fuckin' minutes without it, can ya?" He scoffs, resting his hands on your thighs when you stop moving. He's smirking up at you, blue eyes bright while he teases.

"You said you'd take care of me, Carm.." You whine, rolling your hips again.

"And y'can't wait a little longer?" He taunts, squeezing your thighs.

"I've been waiting all day," You emphasize this by shifting your hips. You try and make it look like you're adjusting how you're sat, like you can't get comfortable. Carmy shakes his head with a huff, watching as you squirm.

"Thought I was annoying.." He says, holding you in place, and you let out a frustrated whine. As if you can't believe he's bringing it up now of all times.

"Told you, I was messing with you," you tell him, hands resting on top of his. He hums at that, tilting his head to one side as he studies you.

"I want an apology," He says, and it catches you off guard.

"What?" Your brow furrows in confusion. Is he serious right now? You're sitting on his lap, and he's thinking about an apology?

"I want an apology." Carmy reiterates, a sternness finding its way into his voice. It makes something in you seize for a moment, and then you can breathe again.

"What are you, twelve?" You scoff, rolling your eyes. He stays quiet, content to squeeze at your thighs while he waits.

"No. I told you I was joking." You sit up straighter, chest puffed with some sort of defiance. Carmy raises an eyebrow at your antics, clearly unamused. When you don't say anything else, a small sigh escapes him.

"Apologize," He lets it sit in the air for a moment. "Or I won't fuck you."

Your stomach twists. There's something in his eyes that almost makes you believe him. But you're not going to give him the satisfaction of folding first.

"Who said I invited you over to fuck?" You're bluffing. He can tell even without the tone in your voice but he thinks it's cute how you're trying to play it off.

"You're kidding me.." Carmy scoffs, hands sliding further up your thighs.

"You lounge around dressed like this? Huh? Even the lace?" He brushes over your clothed clit, making you inhale sharply.

"You're bein' mean," You whine, lifting your hips slightly. You watch as Carmy rolls his eyes, pouting when he pushes you back down onto his lap.

"Oh, don't pout, you started it. Being a brat while I was being nice."

You huff pathetically on top of him. You look down at where your hands rest on his stomach, pinching at his shirt fabric quietly.

"No, stop, look at me-" Carmy grabs your face with both hands, making you look at him. "- Quit it. You did this."

You whine from low in your throat, the sound muddled by the way he's holding your face. You blink at him a few times, trying to ignore the pressure behind your eyes. He sighs heavily, hands leaving your face to find your hips. Carmy moves you easily, pushing you off his lap and back onto the couch.

"Hey!" You squeak, watching wide-eyed as he stands up. You watch him adjust his jeans silently before he starts to head to the door. Your stomach dips watching helplessly as he starts to slip on his boots.

"Wait, wait, wait.." You stumble off the couch quickly. Carmy doesn't get very far before you're standing in front of him, a poor attempt in stopping him from leaving. He stops as you press yourself against him, clinging onto his t-shirt.

"I told you I was joking." You whine, blinking away the pressure of tears.

"I didn't laugh. An apology. Or I leave." He says it firmly, and you know he means it. The huff you let out is pathetic and it makes him raise a brow. He forces you back two steps, bullying his way to the door. It's embarrassing how quickly you're falling to your knees to keep him in place.

You're slightly frantic in your movements, hands flying to his belt. Carmy watches you as you struggle with the buckle, tugging at it impatiently. You have to keep him from leaving.

"No. Hey-" Carmy grabs your chin again, making you look up at him. You sigh miserably, blinking up at him as you feel tears starting to well up.

"I said an apology. You can hear me, can't you?" His tone is condescending as he looks down at you. You whine softly, looking anywhere but him. Carmy lets go of your chin, letting you pout in front of him.

"You really want me to leave, hm?" He hums, shifting just slightly. You're quick to shake your head, moving your hips a little. "Doesn't seem that way. That's too bad. Think I'll go-"

"'M sorry!!" You cry out, shifting on your knees, resting some of your weight on his foot. Your hands clutch at his thigh as you rock softly against his boot.

"Yeah?" He asks you, pressing harder against your core. You whine miserably, grinding against the toe of his boot. "Repeat it for me, baby.."

"Carmyy-" You whine. He hums, taking a step back and watching you scramble at his leg to keep him from leaving. Something about it makes his stomach dip, and makes his head hazy.

"I'm sorry," you get out. "Please, Carm, please-"

"Finally..." He grumbles, taking a step back from you. You're able to glance the tent in his pants before his movements block your view.

You squeal softly as Carmy grabs you under your arms, moving you to the couch. He drapes you over the armrest, a throw pillow nestled against your stomach.

Carmy 'tsks' softly behind you, lifting your skirt and exposing the backs of your thighs to him and the air. He watches as you squeeze your legs together, squirming under his gaze.

"All that beggin' and whinin' got you this worked up?" He asks, pressing his thumb against your underwear, dragging it down to where he knows your clit is. His hands gone as quick as it came before they're gripping the sides of your underwear.

You gasp when you hear the tearing of seams, Carmy moving to the other side and ripping it too. The air's cold on the skin of your ass and cunt, pressing your thighs against the side of the couch like it'll do anything.

"Look at that mess," Carmy grunts before the remnants of your underwear land on the center cushion. "All that cryin' and you still ruined 'em."

The center of your underwear is darker than the rest. It's embarrassing, and it makes your face flush. You tuck your face against the cushion, as if you can find from the blood rushing to your face.

"No," Carmy says from behind you, a hand coming under your face, lifting you away from the cushion. "Look at it."

He grips your jaw and turns you back to the direction of your ruined underwear, making sure you look at it.

"See the mess you were makin', humping my leg?" You whine at his words, clenching around nothing. You inhale sharply as he presses his erection against your ass, rocking his hips slowly.

The feeling of denim against your core makes you moan softly, pressing your hips back into him. He brings a hand to your waist and gives you a firm squeeze.

"Quit that," Carmy shoves his hips against you, pressing you back up against the couch. Once you stop squirming, Carmy lets go of your face and shifts behind you. The sound of him undoing his belt makes your thighs clench. It clinks as he shoves his jeans and boxers off, letting his cock rest against your ass.

You inhale softly as he pulls his hips back, brushing the head over your entrance. You're glad you took in a breath because when he pushes in it feels like the winds been knocked out of you.

"Fuck- Carm-" You groan, clawing at the armrest under you. The stretch still feels like you're being split open even after a few days without him.

He doesn't give you long to adapt before he's starting a steady rhythm. You lose any train of thought you could have had, effectively lost as Carmy picks up the pace. Moans tumble out of your mouth, rocking your hips back to meet Carmy's movements.

Your head is hazy, reeling from the way Carmy's fucking you. In the past, Carmy's been firm and attentive. Nothing like how he is today. Today, Carmy is like you've never seen him, rough thrusts and rougher hands. He presses your hips down against the armrest, you already know there's going to be finger-shaped bruises there.

"So good, Carm-" You groan, panting against the couch cushion. He scoffs behind you, rolling his hips into you.

"Such a fuckin'-" Carmy starts, but cuts himself short. His breathing is ragged behind you and you can't help the whine that escapes you when he gives you a particularly sharp thrust.

"Such a fuckin' bitch.." He grunts out, hand sliding up to hold the back of your neck. "Cryin' t'get fucked."

"Carm-" You choke out, reaching back for him. "Carmen-"

You squeal softly as Carmy grinds his hips against your ass, fingers brushing the side of his thigh. He takes your wrist in a firm grip and presses it against your back. You press your calf against his, rolling your hips back into his. You breathe out heavily against the cushion, an awful attempt to fill your lungs.

"Please-" You choke out, feeling how he twitches inside of you. "Carm- please- give-"

You sob into the cushion as he slams his hips into you again, effectively cutting off your pleading. You don't have time to think before Carmy pulls all the way out, making you sob again.

His hands are heavy on your hips, pulling you back and off the couch. You're panting as he turns you over, picking you up easily. Your mind is foggy as he carries you before setting you down on a mattress. His hands feel like they're everywhere, as he tugs off your skirt and you try to take off your shirt. Carmy tsks softly and lifts the shirt over your head before laying you back down. You watch quietly as he tugs off his own shirt.

"Carm, please," You whine, grabbing for any part you can reach. Your chest heaves as he lines back up against your entrance. The slow stretch of him makes your jaw drop, eyes fluttering shut as you grab at Carmy's shoulders.

Carmy places a hand above you on the bed as he pushes his hips flush against you, making sure you feel everything. Having him over you makes it easier for you to grab at him, digging your fingers into his back as he grinds into you.

"Look at you.." He breathes softly, giving you a shallow thrust. "Just needed my cock and you start behavin', huh?"

Your words are slurred when you whine out and the look on Carmy's face makes you flush. His eyes are dark as they meet yours and you watch as his jaw tightens, breathing out heavily.

"Didn't come over here to hear y'whining.." Carmy grumbles, grabbing at your chin and shutting your mouth. That doesn't stop a noise from escaping your lips, stifled as he tries to keep you quiet.

It's almost natural.

The way his hand slides down to your neck.

The feeling of Carmy's hand around your throat makes your eyes roll back, jaw dropping as he grinds his hips into you. A groan tears from your throat as your back arches off the bed, hands grabbing for Carmy's arm to ground yourself.

You watch as he lowers himself to rest with his forearm against the bed, punctuating the movement with another shallow thrust. Carmy starts a steady rhythm, looking down at where he fucks into you. It's not long before the tensions building low in your stomach again, squeezing your thighs against his hips.

"C- Carmy- gonna- please let me-" You struggle to finish a sentence, fight to find the words past the feeling of Carmy fucking you the way he is. You don't get a response from him, just a few more rough thrusts. That's enough to send you over the edge, back arching off the mattress as your orgasm washes over you.

"Shit," Carmy grunts, pressing his forehead to yours as he feels your walls clamp around him. "Let go, sweetheart. Let me feel ya.."

He sighs against your lips, closing the small distance as he grinds into you. Your hips rut against him without rhythm, making Carmy groan into your mouth. It's a mess of tongue and spit as he moves his kisses to your jaw, nipping at the juncture under your ear.

The sound as Carmy continues to fuck into you is sinful, filling the room along with your heavy breathing.

"Carm- Carmen, need to feel-" You choke on a sigh, being shut up by a soft nip against your collarbone. Carmy picks up his pace, the sound of skin against skin being chased by his heavy breathing. He trails kisses and bites back up your neck, timing his bites with each thrust.

It makes you whimper into Carmy's hair, grabbing at his back and shoulders as you teeter along overstimulation. He makes it to your mouth, tugging on your lower lip gently with his teeth. You whine quietly, "Bear..."

"Fuck-" Is all you get from him before he's smothering the words against your lips. His pace gets sloppy and frantic as he kisses you. You think you might be able to live like this the rest of your life.

Carmy groans into your mouth, hips rutting into you erratically. He's swears quickly before he pulls out, making you whine before you feel his release on your stomach. You sigh when he pushes his hips into the back of your thighs, feeling his cock twitch against your skin.

You wait as he reaches for a kleenex from your nightstand, wiping off your stomach and stepping it on the surface. With your skin mostly clean, Carmy slips an arm around your middle and presses himself against your side. You hum as he presses soft kisses to the side of your face, whispering sweet things against your cheek and hair.

Once he's done holding you, Carmy falls into his aftercare routine. Pressing kisses to your skin while he cleans you up, helps you dress, and tucks you back into bed.

You grumble at him softly when he gives you a parting kiss, leaving the room for longer than you'd like. You can hear him shuffling around the apartment, the sound of cabinets opening and closing and water occasionally running.

Soon, Carmy is back with water and something else in hand. You lift your head to catch a glimpse of whatever he's got and blink slowly.

"Y'didn't have to.." You mumble, eyeing the plate he sets on your nightstand. Carmy makes a noise before he leans over you, grabbing an extra pillow for support.

He waits silently as you sit up, eyes catching how your nose scrunches in discomfort. Carmy quiets you with a quick kiss before you can make a comment at him. Instead, you hum quietly and take the plate when he sets it in your lap, making a noise of complaint when he parts.

Once you're settled, Carmen crawls over your legs before he lays next to you on top of the comforter. He grabs the extra fork from the plate as you collect a bite, eyeing him while he pokes the food.

"That was hot," You say through a mouthful of food. "By the way.."

Your words surprise a laugh from Carmy and make his face flush while he continues to pick over the plate.

"You'd say that about whatever I did.." He mutters, collecting a bite while he avoids looking at you. His words make you huff, nudging him softly.

"Shut up..." You tell him, letting Carmy steal from your plate quietly.

You eat in silence, taking in Carmy's sex-mused appearance. There's angry red lines slopping along his shoulders and the curls around his neck are messy. You quietly admire the fading hickeys along his chest, left by you a few nights ago. He taps your thigh softly, motioning towards the plate when you've been staring for awhile.

"Eat." He tells you. Carmy watches as you take a few more bites before he starts to collect another.

When you're both done, Carmy collects the plate before taking it to the kitchen. He takes awhile to come back to the room but you wait for him contently. Carmy pauses when he sees you waiting for him and you can see the brief surprise in his eyes.

You wriggle deeper into the blankets while Carmy crosses to turn off the lamp before he joins you. He slips under the covers easily, resting to face you when he's settled.

"Look like I got mauled by an animal.." Carmy grumbles beside you. You make a noise of protest, hitting him softly as you gape at him. You know he's giving you shit, but it hits a nerve.

"Just you wait..." You warn him, knowing that tomorrow you'll look worse than he does. He shushes you softly, tugging your hips closer and tangling your legs together. He placates you with kisses when you start to argue, pressing you into the mattress. You make a noise of contentment, letting him smother you until he's pressing kisses to your jaw and your neck.

You're more than happy to let him kiss you to sleep.

Carmy's gone in the morning.

The bed is made on his side.

The only proof he was there at all is the text when you check your phone.

C: Claire came back while we were asleep. Snuck out.

Underneath is a message from Claire after she would have gotten off from work.

Claire: Did you move the couch?

Claire: Missed it putting my bag down, sorry if I woke you

[whumpetywhumpwhump]

Maisie's guide to disguised AI

If you've been anywhere near AO3 recently, you've probably encountered AI writing at some point. As somebody who writes for, primarily, the ER fandom (and occasionally the Pitt, too), I've noticed a concerning trend over the last few days: AI-generated fanfiction clogging the tags.

Firstly, I'd like to say that if you ARE posting fics on AO3 that were AI-generated, and you're passing them off as your own, please stop. I know this is not likely to actually resonate with you if this IS you, but on the off-chance that you do see this- please use tags as intended and make it clear that you're using AI.

Secondly, before I go into some AI tells in detail, I want to preface this with a warning- just because you see one or two of these in a fic, there's no guarantee that it was AI-generated. Please approach the matter of flagging fics with care, because the last thing I want is to incite a witch hunt against innocent people just engaging in fandom.

However, when seen in tandem, these signs should act as a warning to think a little more deeply about what you're reading, and ask the question- was this human written?

1. Em-dashes

I'm getting this one out of the way quickly because it's something easily identifiable, but it should by no means discredit a fic on its own. Real people can use em-dashes, but ChatGPT uses them a LOT. Like, a distracting amount. And they're often used in conjunction with...

2. 'Not' qualifiers

ChatGPT doesn't do 'yes, and'. It seems to work off 'no, but' instead (sorry @pagingdoctorcarter , like an AI, I am stealing your phrase here. But I do have the decency to credit, I suppose!).

Take this sentence I've come up with right now:

Carter was so exhausted he was struggling to stand, legs trembling with the strain of keeping him upright.

AI might write something like this (using my own creative license here because I don't want to feed the beast):

Carter was exhausted— not the regular exhaustion that came with twelve hours on his feet. Something deeper. Heavier.

3. Repetitive phrases.

AI is not original, so it can't come up with anything original, of course. This means that it relies on basic phrases it uses over and over and over again e.g 'the kind of (blank) that (blank)'

4. The classic 'concrete noun' + 'abstract noun' combo

For reasons that I can't quite understand, AI adores this. Some humans include this combo in their work, too, but AI does it even more frequently. Some real phrases I've encountered so far include:

"a story about meatballs and betrayal"

"champagne and anxiety soaked into the upholstery"

5. Anachronisms and inaccuracies

This is especially present in a fandom like ER, where most of the time we're writing about the 90s, and this CAN be attributed to genuine human error... but if Carter is repeatedly 'swiping' on his phone screen to open a call, and everyone's always texting... could be AI.

In a similar vein, if someone is shouting 'code blue!' for things that AREN'T cardiac arrest, or mixing up names and even hallucinating random characters- think 'maybe AI'.

6. Short sentences, short paragraphs, short chapters.

AI doesn't have the ability to understand how paragraphs are structured for ease of reading and flow. So it likes short sentences. Snappy sentences.

And not just when the situation suits it. But always.

If there's a hell of a lot of paragraphs, it could be AI. AI doesn't like including many clauses. At all.

7. Generic similes and phrases that don't mean anything at all

This relates to the 'concrete noun + abstract noun combo' but, more generally, AI produces writing that veers away from specifics. It won't often describe places in too much detail, and when it comes to similes, it uses simple, overused ones OR spouts a series of words that are meaningless. If you see an abstract simile in a fic, take a second. Is it abstract because it's complex and has several layers, or is it utterly meaningless?

8. A crazy update schedule

This one is less reliable because it IS possible to bank chapters and then post a lot in one go, but if an author is posting many thousands of words in the span of a few days, consider this a small red flag- especially in conjunction with the other things mentioned. It could mean they're just pumping out AI-generated writing, and this allows them to move far quicker than any human.

9. Overly mushy dialogue

AI is a thief, but it's a happy-go-lucky thief. Characters speak like they stepped straight off Sesame Street at times, lacking any kind of emotional complexity.

10. Awful, awful jokes

AI cannot write jokes. It simply cannot. If you read a joke in a fic that feels Disney-Channel esque but also doesn't make sense at all? It very well could be AI.

For instance:

Nobody talks like this.

Also, note the 'concrete noun + abstract noun' combo again here! (This actually was an AI fic as confirmed by author before deletion, not naming them here): 'gauze and intuition'.

Conclusion

Be vigilant. Don't fall for AI crap and, if you disagree with the concept of AI work clogging AO3 tags, definitely don't leave kudos.

And if you're posting this stuff, yet again I ask you politely, please STOP.

Thank you.

[silentcaps]

Before you they never…

tags: hurt/comfort, soft, relationship

cast: albedo, venti, noelle, rosaria, xinyan, tartaglia x reader

side b: baizhu, beidou, bennett, diluc, kazuha, mona

ALBEDO

Before your relationship, he never asked anyone to pose for him. Albedo used to paint landscapes, standing on snowy mountain slopes, leaving rough sketches in his notebook next to his lab notes.

But he wants to draw you all the time now. Against a sunset or a night lake, busy or resting on the bed, dressed or not. Albedo admires you like an artist does a muse he's been searching for.

And it’s not about appearance. He catches how you bite your lip when you’re thinking. How you fidget with the hem of your shirt when you’re nervous. How you fix your hair out of habit, even when it’s not in your eyes. He sketches those little things too. In a separate album, carefully, like he’s documenting them.

And sometimes he asks, “I need to draw you again.” But you can see it in his eyes — he doesn’t need to. He just wants to create with you.

VENTI

Before your relationship, he never wanted to stay. And now Venti catches himself thinking that freedom doesn’t feel as easy to breathe in as it used to. Without you, he can’t breathe at all.

He starts staying the night — falling asleep on the hard couch and saying it’s comfortable. Tries to make breakfast. Picks wildflowers and brings them to you. Settles in with you.

At first, it scares him, and Venti disappears into bars. Alcohol always used to help, but now it tastes bitter. He could’ve thought you cast a spell on him, but this wanderer trusts you more than he trusts himself.

Venti doesn’t know if this will work out — he knows his own nature. But for the first time, he’s not afraid to try. And he doesn’t run.

NOELLE

Before your relationship, Noelle only knew love from books. In them, people confessed right away, fights vanished within a chapter, and the characters understood each other without a word.

Real life turned out differently. You argued — sometimes even shouted. Learned to listen, to give in, to forgive. In those moments, Noelle looked away, and it seemed like she wanted to give up. To go back to the fairy tale where love didn’t hurt.

But she still kept your gifts in a neat little box. She even saved small things: a dried flower from the first bouquet, a theater ticket, notes scribbled on scraps of paper.

And in her journal, she wrote:

“I don’t know how it’s supposed to be. In books, it’s different. But if we’re together — I’ll manage.”

ROSARIA

Before your relationship, Rosaria had never prayed for someone else out of her own free will. Her faith had always been hollow — nothing more than a habit drilled into her by elders.

Now, when you set off on a journey, she kneels in the cold temple. In a whisper, almost angrily, she begs Barbatos to keep you safe.

“Let them come back. I won’t ask for anything else.”

She hates how her clenched fists tremble. Hates that there’s someone she’s afraid to lose.

But if she stops praying — there’ll be nothing left but panic.

XINYAN

Before your relationship, Xinyan had never dedicated a song to anyone.

Not because she didn’t write — quite the opposite. She had dozens of drafts and lines scribbled on scraps of paper. But every time, at the last minute, she threw them out. No one was supposed to know who’d made a home in her heart.

But now — she stayed up all night, finishing the chords, wrote the guitar riff herself, poured every feeling into the lyrics. She’d worked on it so hard.

And now she’s looking at you from the stage — finds you instantly in the crowd, just by your eyes and silhouette, could never mistake you for anyone else — and sings, no smile on her face, with raw honesty in her voice:

“Baby, what are you doing? You know you can always come to me.”

TARTAGLIA

Before your relationship, he’d never introduced anyone to his family. Sure, Tartaglia had had girlfriends, but it never got that far. So your arrival in their home is a real event.

His mother sets the table, his father puts on his best clothes, the younger ones calm down. They’re more nervous than you are, and Tartaglia — he’s just happy.

He introduces everyone by name. Wraps an arm around your shoulders, serves you food himself, pointing out the juiciest piece on the plate. Gives a full tour of the childhood bedroom. Offers you a toy he carved from wood.

Then his family pulls you into conversation, and to your surprise, you learn that before your relationship, there were many things Tartaglia “never did.”

He never let anyone talk while fishing. Never wrapped someone in his scarf during a snowstorm. Never taught anyone how to shoot or fence. And never shared so much of himself with anyone.

[cryoculus]

— the ephemeris of us ⟢

you try to divine a future where you’ll stay with him forever, yet the stars refuse to heed your call. but jing yuan doesn’t need forever. all he needs is you.

★ featuring; jing yuan x gn!reader

★ word count; 3.2k words

★ tags; reader works at the divination commission, the woes of mortality, short life species!reader, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

★ notes; as uze, crossposting here is late :p i've been told a lot by people that they like how i write jing yuan, and coincidentally i, too, like how i write jing yuan so here we are!!!! this is a bday fic for a dear friend over on x, but i thought to share with you as well :3c

READ ON AO3

The headache bloomed behind your eyes around midafternoon, but you ignored it like you always do.

You were supposed to log off two hours ago, yet you’re still transcribing the fourth permutation of Fu Xuan’s “minor” revisions to the celestial calibration doctrine. The ink is drying too fast on your sleeves and too slow on the sigils. Your stomach growls—loud enough to make your ears burn from embarrassment, even though no one’s around to hear it. Probably.

But just when glance over to check an astrological aberration in your notes, the light shifts in the doorway.

“You were meant to be home by the sixth chime,” comes a familiar voice, smooth and impossibly calm. “But instead, I find you composing a symphony of stress.”

You glance up to see Jing Yuan leaning against the doorframe, one brow slightly raised like he has all the time in the world. His hands are occupied with a dark-lacquered lunch box, and the scent of the food reaches you in delayed waves. Your stomach growls again, but you ignore it completely.

“I just needed to finish a few edits before the deadline.”

Jing Yuan hums. “You said that four deadlines ago.”

He’s not smiling. There’s an amused flicker behind his eyes, but the rest of his face is composed into something more serious. You press your fingers to your temples and try not to wince when he steps inside.

“Don’t tell me,” he says, now close enough for the warmth of his presence to register across your skin. “No lunch. Medication left at home. And judging by the clumsiness of your sigils—don’t pout at me—you haven’t had any water in hours either.”

You let your arms fall to the desk. “Why are you like this?”

He blinks innocently. “Like what?”

“Too perceptive. Too… annoyingly attentive.”

He sets the lunch box down beside your elbow, brushing aside a curled slip of annotated paper. His fingers glance against yours—light contact, but enough to startle you out of your irritation. 

“I pay attention,” the Arbiter-General says simply. “Especially when the people I care for are trying to quietly ruin themselves under a mountain of work.”

Your breath catches. The words are too soft and direct, even for him. You’d been expecting teasing. Not this.

“I’m not trying to ruin myself,” you mumble. “I’m just… trying to keep up with work.”

“You’ve already proven yourself a hundred times over.” Jing Yuan crouches beside your chair, arms resting on his knees. “You don’t have to keep burning yourself down to ash just to stay visible.”

You look down. Away from the sincerity in his gaze.

“But I don’t want to fall behind,” you tell him stubbornly. “I’m not like you, Jing Yuan. I don’t have centuries to perfect everything. Every mistake feels heavier. Every year feels like it matters more. Like if I waste a single one, it’s already too late.”

He goes still.

You didn’t mean to say it. But once it’s out, it lingers between you like smoke.

A quiet hum vibrates in his throat. “You think I’ve perfected anything?” he says at last. “I’ve just lived long enough to regret more things.”

You glance at him sharply, but his golden eyes are somewhere far away.

“I’ve seen brilliance burn out young. And I’ve seen it slowly dim in silence. Time doesn’t make it easier. It just makes it… Bearable.”

There’s a pause. And then he exhales, like he’s pulling it somewhere deeper than his lungs.

“You always think you’ll have time,” Jing Yuan murmurs. “Until you love someone who doesn’t.”

That lands with more force than anything else. Because it’s not about deadlines or documentation anymore. It’s about the deep unfairness etched into the bones of your lives: that while his story stretches on indefinitely, yours will always have a final chapter.

“That’s your comfort speech?” you ask, a strained laugh escaping before you can stop it. “Outlive the pain, rack up regrets, and call it wisdom? You do realize that felt more like a lance to the chest than reassurance, right?”

“I am only as candid as I am with you because you’ve never needed sugarcoating,” he says softly. “You’ve always been strong enough to hold the truth, even when it hurts.”

Then, quieter: “Especially when it hurts.”

You laugh again, because what else is there to do?

As you rub at your aching forehead, you can’t help but marvel at the absurdity of it all—how a short-life species like you ended up falling for the man who’s occupied the Seat of Divine Foresight for nearly seven centuries. He walks through decades like they’re seasons. You count time in birthdays, deadlines, missed meals, and yet here you are. Tethered to him irrevocably.

But maybe the greater folly is his: loving someone fleeting, when he’s already weathered more losses than most hearts are built to bear. For all his calm and his poise, for all the wars he’s led and years he’s survived, Jing Yuan still chooses you—knowing exactly how little time you have to give.

“Alright, fine. I’ll eat. You win.”

“This is not about winning,” he says. “It’s about keeping you around long enough to make fun of me when my knees start failing.”

You blink. “…You know damn well that mine will go first.”

His grin fades, just a little, and it tugs at your heart more than it should. 

“I know,” he says softly.

Jing Yuan straightens and offers his hand, and you take it without hesitation, fingers twining with his like they’ve always belonged between the spaces. As you stand, the room tilts slightly—your knees stiff, your skull light with fatigue and hunger. He notices, of course, and he slips an arm around your back without a word, steadying you as you find your balance.

There’s nothing overbearing about it—just quiet support, the kind that says he’s done this before and he’ll keep doing it for as long as you let him.

“You always show up when I look like death warmed over,” you grumble as you grab the lunch box he brought.

“On the contrary,” Jing Yuan murmurs, guiding you outside, toward the hustle and bustle of the Exalting Sanctum, “I happen to think you’re at your most captivating when you let yourself be mortal.”

You bury your face in his sleeve, hoping he won’t feel how sharply your heart skips. But you suspect he already knows. He always does.

No one expected it.

Fu Xuan certainly didn’t—though she muttered she should’ve seen it in the stars, if you hadn’t constantly “disrupted the Omniscia’s celestial patterns with your interpretive nonsense”.

You’re a short-life species with a long-life temper. A fast-burning match in a hall of timeless candles. Too sharp-tongued, too stubborn, too hungry.

The youngest diviner in the Commission to ever draft a triple-thread predictive matrix all on their own, and the only one to do it while arguing with a senior archivist mid-simulation. Not quite a formal title, but “the most talented diviner with the worst sense of self-preservation” is what the Cloud Knights have taken to calling you.

You wear it like a badge. The stars have favorites, and so do you.

The first time you were in Jing Yuan’s presence, you didn’t even see him. You were too busy arguing with one of your superiors.

It was supposed to be a routine oversight meeting. You’d been summoned to explain why your astral forecast readings directly contradicted the Omniscia’s predicted trajectory for the Luofu. Which pissed you off beyond belief. Their trajectory calculations were wrong. The math didn’t lie, but the higher-ups refused to acknowledge it. They clung to outdated, comfortable visions of the stars as if they hadn’t already begun to shift.

So you stood there, voice sharp and rising in tempo with every slide projection you slammed into the air. You were sweating through your outer robe and still speaking in clipped, defiant tones that silenced the room like a severed thread.

You didn’t even notice when the most important man in the Luofu entered the hall.

Not until later, when a summons arrived in your quarters: Arbiter-General Jing Yuan requests a private follow-up regarding your methodological deviation. Please prepare a brief report.

You showed up an hour late with a half-eaten peach in one hand, and a stack of annotated star maps in the other. You didn’t bother bowing.

“These are written with love and care and excessive overtime,” you said, dropping the papers on his desk. “So please read them thoroughly.”

He raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing across his handsome face.

The Arbiter-General asked thoughtful questions. You gave him answers laced with just a hint of defiance that would probably get you fired. But he didn’t reprimand you. He just listened. Somewhere in the middle of it, when you were ranting about the inconsistencies in the astral convergence model, he smiled. Faint and brief, like someone recognizing an old constellation in a new sky.

You told yourself it meant nothing.

But when Jing Yuan asked for you back again—and again, and again—you started bringing two peaches instead of one.

Just in case.

Now, you're curled sideways on your couch back home—throat raw, sinuses aching, eyes gritty with exhaustion. Your star charts lie scattered across the floor, victims of an earlier outburst when the numbers stopped making sense and your patience finally snapped. Between the fever clouding your thoughts and everything else quietly unraveling, it’s fair to say the day has not been kind.

Nothing was lining up. Not the timeline on the prophecy Fu Xuan gave you yesterday, not the medication schedule you forgot to follow, and definitely not the part where you were supposed to eat hours ago.

The door to the living room creaks open.

You don’t look up. You just sigh.

“I brought soup,” Jing Yuan greets with a lopsided smile. “And medicine.”

“Fu Xuan’s been tattling again,” you mutter.

“No,” he replies, and you hear the soft clink of ceramic as he begins unpacking something from a bag, “your silence tattled all on its own. You haven’t contacted me in exactly twelve hours.”

You bury your face deeper into the pillow, equal parts mortified and moved. Your apartment smells faintly of incense and dried oranges, and now, of medicinal broth. It’s the scent of care wrapped in routine—something you’ve never been especially good at holding onto. The quiet comfort of being cared for without having to earn it, ask for it, or explain why you need it.

Jing Yuan sets the bowl on the coffee table and crouches beside you.

“You skipped the noon dose,” he says quietly.

“I was working.”

“You also skipped breakfast. And your charting shows signs of mental fatigue.”

You pull the blanket over your face. “Stop reading my patterns like they’re reports.”

“I’d rather read you than any report.”

You hate how fast your heart reacts to that. Because he always says things like this. Soft, steady declarations delivered like promises, like you’ll be around long enough to carry them with you.

But you won’t. And you both know it.

That’s the grief neither of you are brave enough to name. The quiet, inevitable sorrow that lives between your hours. He will still be here when your bones are dust. When your name is nothing more than a footnote in some archival file, tucked away on a shelf he’ll walk past for centuries to come.

You burn bright, and he endures. That’s the curse. The stars never lied. You just kept trying to make them.

Just last week, when the corridors had emptied and the Divination Commission was asleep, you broke protocol. Lit a soul-compass alone and trembling, laid out your personal threads with ink-stained fingers and a desperation that bordered on madness. You tried to divine a timeline—any timeline—where your life ran long enough to match his. Where you didn’t have to leave him so soon.

You whispered Jing Yuan’s name like a prayer. You begged the stars to show you something. A future where you grew old in the shadow of his smile.

But the threads refused to yield.

Or maybe they did. Maybe they answered you in a language you already knew—one written in silence, in absence, in the terrible stillness of a map with no road leading forward. You couldn’t finish the reading, couldn’t bear to see it printed in starlight. Because if you did, you’d have to admit what you already fear most:

That no matter how tightly he holds you now, he was never meant to keep you.

Jing Yuan brushes your hair back from your forehead, startling you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t noticed he’d moved closer.

“I wish you wouldn’t push so hard,” he says, fingers warm and careful. “You are not a dying star. You don’t have to burn out to be brilliant.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” you murmur hoarsely. “You have time.”

His expression doesn’t change, but something flickers behind his eyes—like a candle guttering in a sudden rush of wind.

“That’s exactly why I say it,” he replies. “Because I know what time does. How it stretches. How it hollows.”

Jing Yuan brushes his thumb over your temple, a soothing pass of warmth and worry. “You think I don’t see it? The way you measure your days like rationed light? You’ve convinced yourself that every second has to be earned. That if you rest, you’ll fall behind. That if you slow down, the world will forget you.”

Your breath catches.

“But I won’t,” he says simply. “Even when time pulls you away from everything else, I will still remember.”

You shut your eyes.

Because how do you live with that? How do you carry the knowledge that you’ll fade—and he’ll carry what’s left of you? That long after your name is lost to history, he’ll still be here, meandering through centuries, with your memory folded quietly between each one?

“What if I could find it?” you whisper. “A future where we stay like this. Forever.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just lets the silence stretch between you, gentle and solemn. Then:

“I don’t need forever,” Jing Yuan sighs. “I only need you.”

You go still.

He shifts a little closer, his voice steady in that way that breaks you more than if he were shaking. It’s the kind of calm that comes from someone who has made peace with the things he cannot keep.

“If all I have is one year with you, or ten, or fifty… I’ll take it. And if you leave this world before I do, then I’ll remember you longer than any stars ever could. You’ll live in every breath I take, in the pauses between them. In the quiet where your voice used to be. That will be enough.”

Your throat burns, and this time, the ache comes from deep inside your chest.

“Even if I forget myself,” you murmur, “you’ll still remember me?”

He smiles—tired and fond. “You think I could forget the person who always acted like my summons were a waste of time, yet continued to bring peaches for me anyway?”

You huff a soft laugh, the tears threatening to spill over. He presses the cup of soup into your hands, wrapping his fingers lightly around yours.

“Drink,” he encourages. “Live.”

And you do.

Because even if love like this can’t rewrite the stars, Jing Yuan makes it feel like every moment might still be worth defying them.

You sip the soup slowly. You still feel like hell, but the tightness in your chest has eased—less from the broth, and more from the quiet way he sits beside you, steady and present. Across from you, Jing Yuan watches with an expression that always lingers on his face: a flicker of amusement dancing at the edges of his eyes.

“I should do this more often,” he murmurs. “Show up uninvited, bring food, get you to actually rest. It worked last time, too.”

You narrow your eyes at him over the rim of the cup. “You act like I’m difficult.”

“You’re infamously difficult,” he says smoothly. “Even Lady Fu agrees. I believe her words were, ‘that reckless little star-stain will work themselves into a coma if you don’t bribe them with food or a raise.’”

You snort. “She did not say that.”

“She absolutely did.”

You slump back into your nest of blankets, grumbling. “Bribes, huh.”

Jing Yuan shifts forward slightly, resting his elbow on one knee. His tone turns casual—too casual.

“Well. If bribes work... maybe I’ll make you a deal.”

You eye him warily. “What kind of deal.”

He holds your gaze, voice dipping just a shade lower.

“If you eat your meals. Take your medicine. Sleep when I tell you to…” He pauses, just long enough to let the implication settle. “You get a kiss for each task completed.”

You blink. Then squint at him.

“Is this supposed to be a threat or a reward?”

“Depends,” he says mildly. “Are you planning on misbehaving?”

You toss a pillow at him. He catches it with one hand, laughing, and for a moment, your small living room feels a little bigger—lit not by lamps, but by something gentler.

Something like love. Something like hope.

You don’t get sick anymore. Not like that, anyway.

Since that week, you’ve started taking your breaks when you’re supposed to. Eating proper meals. Sleeping like a semi-responsible adult. Fu Xuan nearly choked on her tea the first time you turned down an overtime simulation with the words “I’ll finish it tomorrow.”

It wasn’t easy—learning to slow down, to stop treating your life like a countdown timer you had to outrun. But it helped. You recovered faster than you expected. Stronger, even. As if your body had simply been waiting for you to stop working against it.

And true to his word, Jing Yuan kissed you for every completed task. Every dose taken. Every empty bowl he found in your sink.

Even when you got better—when you stopped updating him like clockwork, when you went back to managing your schedule without spiraling—he didn’t stop.

He still shows up.

Still kisses you when you hand him a used meal container or let him see your pill sleeve half empty.

Still presses warm, lingering gratitude into your skin for doing something as simple as taking care of yourself.

Which is how you end up outside Fu Xuan’s office, in full view of a handful of baffled attendants, with Jing Yuan leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth like you’re not standing two steps from the Divination Commission’s most sacred archives.

You jerk back, blinking. “Jing Yuan!”

“What?” he says, entirely unrepentant.

You glance around, mortified. “People are going to see! What are you even doing here?”

The Arbiter-General just smiles, slow and absolutely shameless. “I saw you eating your lunch earlier. Very good.”

You smack his arm, half laughing, half scandalized. “You’re unbelievable.”

But you don’t move away when he kisses your cheek again.

And when he slips a peach into your hand before vanishing down the corridor like he hadn’t just committed affection-based misconduct on government property, you can’t help the stupid grin that follows you all the way back to your desk.

You were never meant to last forever, but Jing Yuan seems like he’ll love you that long anyway.

© cryoculus | kaientai ✧ all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my work on other platforms.

[bewitched-hours]

Hehehehe nice food (Walks away with sus angst bluududx fem!child reader shaped throat)

and no i did not kiss the knife that i used to stab yu and bluudud >:3

ok enough angst time to move on-

So err the spectre removed reader memory but forgo to erase her memory of bluudud so reader slowly getting her memory back (if they hang out alot which yes they do)

i dunno if this is the last part or not just based on yu

-Kikiki Anon(i changed cus i don wanna be a kiclown no more)

... now, I'm not about to say I'm against making more of this because it feels eerily similar to Jane and John and those two already deserve happiness so fuck it, I'll turn this into a whole series if you want, Kikiki-

Like part 1 and part 2, reader gets She/Her~

Something must've cracked...

Something happened for your mind to suddenly have these flickers of your old self returning. And it didn't go unnoticed when it happened.

The first time was with 1x1x1x1, who was supposed to simply make sure that you wouldn't do anything stupid to yourself.

But she caught the way you quietly mumbled how cool he looked and her head practically snapped around to look at you in shock, meeting an unfamiliar sparkle in your eyes for mere seconds before it seemed to fizzle out and you were back to 'normal'.

But when he told the others, it caused them to pay a lot more attention to you and see if there was anything they could do to maybe cause these flickers purposefully.

So far it seemed that it was usually things you used to love talking about when you were still a survivor.

Pr3typriincess making you a bow in your favourite colour, C00lkidd asking you to play hide and seek for a change instead of tag, even Bluudud begrudgingly having you watch him play a game you showed interest in even though it felt boring to him and he had a hard time not complaining about it...

But it did bring you back... Somewhat...

You were never there for long but the more they tried, the longer you seemed to stay Lucid. The longer you were back and babbling praises to them for being such good friends to you.

The longer you seemed to remember...

At first it was scary when you remembered for longer than a few seconds, wondering why you were different and why you weren't with the survivors anymore.

But you gradually adjusted and would even begin to tell C00lkidd, Bluudud and Pr3typriincess about how the survivors took care of you. Especially 007n7.

You've mostly reacted to the other killers like C00lkidd would but weren't against just goofing off and going along with whatever was happening.

During rounds though... The Spectre would get a grip on you again and although it felt like all the progress was reset, you still remembered. You just needed time to adjust again.

Not that anyone really cared. You were just another kid in the cabin, usually off with one of the others to play games or gossip over tea.

But most of your time was taken by Bluudud wanting his ego-booster back.... Or so he claimed.

You could tell he was genuinely starting to enjoy his time with you but was too prideful to admit it. Rather lashing out at anyone that pointed it out or just denying it.

It didn't change the fact he would sometimes wake up from nightmares and look for you first to hold onto for comfort...

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[sentient-stove]

I read your response, and it makes me sad— if that makes sense? You mention being told by The Martian fans that you shouldn’t be tagging your crossover under the main tag, to the point of completely removing the tags from all your posts.

It’s just not a very friendly environment, to try to share your creation only to be told that you’re “clogging up” a shared space and made to feel unwelcome. I can see how one might be hurt by that and then in turn want to police what happens in a main tag of a different fandom as retaliation or to make things ‘fair’ for the sake of convenience.

Fandom is supposed to be a space to collaborate and communicate, to find people like us. I’ve always said that it’s up to the individual to cultivate their experience, not to enforce what others post and do. At the end of the day, it’s only you who can choose what you see and interact with online.

You shouldn’t have been told to untag your crossover from the main fandom tag, because it should’ve been up to the discretion of the non crossover fans to block the supplemental crossover tag. And I’m sorry you had to deal with that, it was not kind of them.

In a similar vein, the only result I could see from pushing out dcxdp taggers instead of adding a new supplemental dponly tag would be alienating an entire community of fans whom have found joy in Danny Phantom crossovers. Danny Phantom is one of the few fandoms that I’ve seen that’s so unabashedly welcoming to newcomers, and I would hate for us to turn our back on any part of our community because a small sect wanted dcxdp fans out of the main tag instead of all dp fans adding another clarifying tag to use.

This would be used in addition to the danny phantom tag, turning it into a true umbrella tag for everything related to Danny Phantom, while having a few major sub-tags for people to find exactly what they want.

---

After some more discussion with members of the fandom in the notes of my poll asking about a community and elsewhere, it seems like the better option for everyone might actually be a new tag, so I'm making a new poll here!

Some answers to questions I think people might have are below the readmore:

Q: Why are all of these only one word?

A: For the same reason the dpxdc tag is only one word! Tumblr's tagging implementation is Not Good. Tags with spaces don't play well with it, and especially don't play well with blocked tags. If someone wants to block non-crossover Danny Phantom content, we want to make it as painless as possible for them.

Q: What issues were raised around communities?

A: A few! To name some of them:

Limited interactions with posts: Communities only let you react with emoji and leave comments on posts reblogged into them. Not great, if we want to have long reblog chains riffing on one another

Original Posters aren't notified if someone else reblogs their post into a community, even if it's public. So if someone reblogged your post into the community for you, you wouldn't know about it -- or know to look for people interacting with it.

Communities have mods, and therefore would need trustworthy, engaged mods to make it work. Over a short time frame, we could probably manage it! But over a longer one, a community for an entire fandom would probably have moderator drama. That could lead to fracturing, or people leaving specifically because they don't like the mods, etc. A tag is a lot less active maintenance.

A few people also expressed a general dislike for the feature, even if they were willing to move to one. This seems like a much smaller change that will let those people stay away from a feature they don't like, while interacting with the content they do.

Q: What about less-common crossovers? Won't those get excluded from this tag?

A: They will. I'm asking about this poll first because I figured getting the community to make a decision about the other crossovers would be easier if we'd already decided on the non-crossovers.

The current idea is to move those to their own tag as well, so they can get dedicated attention from the crossover enthusiasts who love them. One of the people I talked to about this runs the niche-dp-crossovers blog, so it's on the radar. If you have concerns or suggestions about that, the notes on this post is as good a place as any to suggest them!