#this would've been done much earlier...

[perfectly-cell-centric]

Alright, fess up Cell and Frieza. How long you two been dating?

"...The audacity of this bitch!" -Frieza probably XD

[superconductivebean]

#1650

what sort of a bullshite fantasy could an author write if they despise magic and think it is not real. it is absolutely real. math is real, and math is magic, as nobody is able to comprehend where has it come from or why. communication at our levels is magic. or lives are, too.

magic is how we explain the existing but inexplicable things.

this silly explanation gets our consciousness a well-deserved rest even if and when it wants to understand why are were not what are we (which it can study but still wont be able to answer, why)

understanding magic as a whoosh at the table in lieu of that, for it to appear a dinner is…

an understanding a fantasy author cannot afford really.

the author of a fantasy book must know realities of life in order to write fantasy—whilst they know whooshes aren't possible, the feel of the perception of magic definitely is present in all of us. denying that very much real, existing, lively feeling is a full equal of denying the existence of the trans folk or the intersex folk or asexual folk— any folk that cannot be comprehended by a small, isolated, poor brain.

a poor brain is prone to delusions. it wants to challenge the universe that somehow created so much forms of life on a single planet for unfathomable number of billions of years. it yells at a cloud that has seen civilisations fall and the birth of this planet for making it see incomprehensible people and to feel something it cant understand.

frankly i do not know why jкr is like this. she is a living rot of a human being: unempathetic twatwaffle who does not deserve a single cent or respect even for being another human. there are things that make people fall so low; to me, it's when they are this senile, and you might already know the next word i want to say about them: you give them a forever rest.

yet i think ignoring her is not a solution. she's a not a small figurine; she's a titan, and titans are fought to death, not left unseen in the dark; it is what i meant by the 'forever rest', however, i do not mean death as the one and only solution. i meant, 'so irrelevant that she is as good as dead'.

how does one achieve this? aggressive economic reforms, i suppose. social policies will follow suit, and as it's economically more viable to have less pointlessly gendered world, jкr and her cronies wouldn't have much of a footing any longer when that inadvertently and inevitably happens.

[lunar-wandering]

my mom: the dog has a grooming appointment at 4.

me, who has a class at 4:30 and has to rely on my mom for transportation: oh, okay, you can head over and drop her off and then drive back here and take me over to the university, and then head back there in time for her appointment to end.

my mom: but they said the appointment would take only ten minutes

me: ....they say that every time. and every time it's been 30 minutes at least. every time. you cannot rely on what the estimated time will be. listen to me. listen to me. drive back here immediately after you drop her off, I'll be ready to go. do not sit and wait in the dog groomer's parking lot.

anyways. one guess as to what the fuck she did and who was late for class.

[carryhatchet]

It's crazy how the incest stuff negates any support system Cathy has. like technically she has someone offering her an out from her abusive husband but choosing that also means choosing this other terrible thing. like. she's trying to get as far away from the past abuse as she can (while still holding onto so much anger) but she's escaping into new abuse (connected to holding onto anger???) and trusting. deciding. believing that it will aid her in achieving her goals, and then she can go from there. this belief of indestructibility bc what does she have if not that??? how could she stand to keep going while stuck between these options if she didn't separate herself entirely from them. the only people offering her escapes are just asking if she'd please come get abused by them instead of the current guy and every option is still better than how she was raised

[fnvbennygecko]

chewing on drywall. what if i thought about mr house and benny.

[vanishintoyou]

"if i finish this i will watch a horror movie" thing kinda backfired it's 9pm lmao

[ct-hardcase]

though my star wars hype is slowly creeping back because holy shit jarek yeager in comics, tempest breaker reveals (that lourna and marchion poster??? what), cover reveal for thr 2025 and general thr excitement all around? let's goooo

[wewringmagicfromtheordinary]

the narrative also just went downhill the writers said that tony wouldn't have had this reaction if he had been told early on basically the writers were saying that Tony would have been on his side if steve had told him earlier they want to put it on steve and make it seem like tony was in the right he wasn't and if he could come to a separate conclusion after sitting down and thinking about it why didn't he pick up the phone and call steve this is a one sided fight it has no emotional impact on the audience because we never thought they were even friends if we saw their friendship devolve an impossible force against and immovable object then maybe it would have made sense but instead we got an emotional fistfight side note: why does nobody extrapolate how howard got the serum how SHIELD would have had to be complicit with experimentation to make it Howard didn't make it and not test it that's SHIELD and the head of SHIELD  via cosmicmechanism

okay but tony making steve out to be the bad guy in the beginning of endgame is LAUGHABLE. “you weren’t there when we needed you” what the fuck!! steve has been a fucking fugitive because he refused to be held under the thumb of a politically driven and potentially corruptable government. steve literally gave tony a phone that would be a direct line to tony whenever he needed steve. and then! tony fucking hesitated and ended up NOT calling steve when he had every fucking reason to! tony trying to blame steve for “not being there” as the avengers is the most laughable and dumb shit that he’s ever done. lmao

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

Every time I try to listen to Big Country's Peace In Our Time album beyond the title track or "Broken Heart (13 Valleys)" I just feel like...god, Big Country really did not help themselves with this. And then it only got worse from there. 🙃

[spearofheaven]

⋆˚࿔ NO ONE NOTICED — rockstar ex! geto suguru

SUM. After a year of breaking up and making multiple songs about you, he starts to forget. Isn’t that what he wanted though?

CONTENTS. 18+ contents, MDNI. 6.9k words. non canon compliant/au. x fem! reader. some angst. hints of desperate suguru. ex sex. jerking him off. nipple play. cunnilingus. unprotected p in v. riding. doggy. unresolved feelings. some aftercare. reader makes questionable decisions. pet names.

inspired by no one noticed—the marías

Out of all the places that Suguru Geto expected himself to be tonight, your apartment would've been dead last on that list. 

In the middle of an ongoing tour.

When he was supposed to be in his hotel room rehearsing the song that he'd promised Ijichi he'd have ready for tonight. A song that a majority of his fans was bound to be expecting.

Though he supposed that maybe Ijichi was the reason that he found himself on your doorstep in the first place. And not the sheer desperation that fueled his actions, that very same desperation that made him get a plane ticket at an absurd price just to see you as soon as possible. To pack up a duffel bag with only a shirt, one pair of pants, and the first pair of shoes he found scattered in his hotel room.

For knocking on your door like a mad man at nearly one in the morning, praying to whatever entity there was above that you wouldn't just shut the door at the first glance of him. Shifting between his feet, waiting to hear for some kind of signal that you were inside. He'd gotten this far, right? That had to count for something.

"Geto, can I talk to you for a second?" Ijichi had waited until all the band members had left, approaching him with an iPad clutched underneath his arm. "Yeah, go ahead," Suguru responded offhandedly, making no effort to stand up just yet, his guitar sitting next to him. All he did was look over at the man with a bored expression on his face, waiting for what he had to say.

Last time Ijichi said he needed to talk to him—he ended up getting called a slut. Well, not precisely in those words. But Ijichi made it a point to get it through Suguru's skull about how hooking up with random groupies on tour wasn't the smartest idea (stuttering over his words when Suguru gave him a sharp glare in response.)

And he had stopped sleeping around with groupies. For the most part, that was. So he wasn't too sure what to expect from this conversation.

Ijichi didn't waste time in getting the iPad from underneath his arm, his fingers frantically typing and swiping across the screen. "I know it's somewhat of a late notice but the fans are somewhat expecting a teaser of a song for the next show," he kept his gaze on the iPad, handing it over to Suguru once he pulled up an array of graphs. An array of graphs that Suguru simply gave a once over to.

"What type of song are they expecting?" Ijichi retracted the iPad once he realized Suguru wouldn't show interest in the same graphs he'd spent hours the night prior coloring, tucking it underneath his arm. "Well, it's been a while since you've written one of those love songs. But please, let me know if you need more time."

"No, it's fine. I'll have it to you by tonight."

Despite how assured Suguru had been in the statement, he found himself prolonging actually having to sit down and work on the song. Cleaning up his space, packing up his bags earlier than usual. Anything that he figured would be the most time consuming. Even going as to cleaning around the hotel room despite that the staff would've done so either way.

It was ridiculous how much effort he took to make sure not an ounce of dust or a food crumb was left by the time he finished. The space was left cleaner than when first stepped foot inside.

Suguru wasn't completely sure why he'd put off the task as long as he did, this type of material came to him naturally. He always used the same muse when it came to writing things like this—you. Even after a year of breaking up, you were the only one he could bring himself to bear his heart out to. He could write another one of these songs, right?

It wasn't like you'd left his mind throughout the past year, anyways. He didn't need to bring himself to lie whenever he composed a new work—everything was a manifestation of what he'd never tell you in person. Choosing instead to express it in his songs. Which he guessed is why his fans ate it up as much as they did. He figured he'd be done before tonight, pulling his notepad out from the depths of his backpack.

But as soon as he went to press his pen down against the notepad, Suguru found himself second guessing every word that he wanted to write down. A feeling that was extremely foreign to him, considering that he'd usually be able to paint a clear picture of you in his head. The last good day you'd had with him before breaking up. But now he was lost. He simply just didn't know.

The color of your eyes? He couldn't remember. The scent of your perfume? Was it cherry? Bergamot? Or neither. What you looked like waking up in the mornings? Suguru could barely decipher your face in his mind, his memory failing to recall the scene that consoled him throughout most nights.

Isn't this what he wanted, though?

To completely forget about you. To just be able to say that the two of you had a failed relationship and move on, like most people probably would've done in his situation. To be able to be with someone else without the constant reminder that they'd never hold a candle to you, that he wouldn't even bother remembering their name by the time the night was over.

To stop having to take shot after shot so that the dull pain in his chest that never seemed to just go away could be replaced with the sharp pounding in his skull.

Except that Suguru didn't want to forget you, he didn't want to ever forget about what the taste of your lips was like after you'd applied a fresh layer of lip gloss was. Suguru didn't want to forget about the person that made him feel safe, that made him feel like he was at home. He didn't ever want to forget just how happy you'd made him, even if it hadn't lasted for long.

He didn't want to find himself missing you so badly was the problem. But no, he didn't want to forget you. At least he realized that now.

After a year, no less.

The more that he looked at the blank piece of paper in front of him, the sheet almost taunting him, the more that Suguru started to realize that this wasn't what he wanted. "Come on," he muttered to himself, the rest of his bandmates next door oblivious to his obvious struggle. He was starting to grow restless, his leg bouncing against the cold granite of the floor. The memory of you was slipping away despite how much he wanted to cling on.

Suguru looked over at the clock, nearly thirty minutes having passed since he'd taken a seat. And all he had on his page were scribbles and a stick figure on the margin of the page. He balled up the sheet of paper after staring down at it for a couple more seconds, a pile of missed paper balls piling just on the edge of the waste bin. Much to Suguru's annoyance. The work that he promised wouldn't be finished by the end of the month at this rate.

Which is what lead him to book a flight without thinking too much of the consequences, Suguru supposed he could deal with those tomorrow. All that he knew was that he needed to see you, to feel you, to remember what it was like being around you again.

And maybe Suguru should've gone with a phone call first, see if you'd even want to have a conversation for more than five seconds. But whatever brain cells that were still alive in that big head of his decided that this was the best idea. Leaving without so much as giving up a heads up to the rest of the band. All he had going for him was some stupid hope that maybe, just maybe, you didn't hate him completely. That you missed him the same way.

Three loud knocks woke you from the nap you were taking on the living room couch, the movie that you'd picked out still droning on in what you had to assume was the climax. You rubbed a hand over your eyes, hoping that you didn't look as tired as you felt before making your way over to the front door. "Who's there?" You'd meant for it to come out more authoritative, though the words came out groggy as you tried to wake yourself up fully.

You made no effort to move, your foot tapping on the wooden floor while you waited for some kind of response. You let out a scoff, rubbing the bridge of your nose before calling out, "Hel-?"

"Don't come out here to hit me with a baseball bat. Just me, I promise," the very same voice that came from trending songs on the radio (that you skipped with a bitter look on your face) was the same one calling out. Sounding almost desperate. Well, the closest thing to desperate. You opened the door to see Suguru standing there, a duffel bag slung on his arm. If you had to guess, you would say that it's all the man was carrying with him.  "Shouldn't you be on tour?"

Suguru shifted awkwardly on your carpet, looking more like a sopping wet dog than the cocky persona you'd grown used to seeing on TV. "I can't explain it, but I just had to see you. Do you mind if I come in?" He threaded carefully, unmoving from his spot. You rubbed your eyes, letting out a sigh before glancing over at the wall clock in the kitchen. "You came here at two in the morning and you can't explain to me why you're here?"

"Exactly."

"And you don't see how that's a little strange?"

Suguru swallowed dryly, looking around before his eyes met yours again. "Please," the word sounded like it was painful to get out, like his pride was getting damaged with every second. Or maybe he wasn't letting his pride come in the way? Whatever the case was, you found yourself getting increasingly curious. "Fine," you relented, moving to the side to let him inside. Suguru almost rushed inside, doing quick work of taking his shoes off.

Before you had the chance to change your mind.

You walked over to the living room, a noticeable gap in between the two of you as you sat on the couch. Blankly staring at the screen, ignoring the obvious elephant. You wanted to approach the situation, you really did, but what exactly were you supposed to say to him? 'How have you been since I broke up with you?' just didn't seem like the perfect conversation starter. If he was as conflicted as you were, you couldn't see it.

From the corner of your eye, you gauged his expression. He almost seemed too composed. Too composed for a man who was just outside your door begging to be let inside. You'd been expecting something more than just having him stare at the anticlimactic movie.

"I missed you, that's why I came here," Suguru spoke up after a couple minutes of sitting in silence, his eyes focused on the screen in front of him. His hands twitched to touch you, to feel your skin underneath his fingertips once more. But he refrained, choosing to stuff them in the pockets of his jeans instead. "Everything feels dull without you around. Music doesn't really feel the same, sleeping isn't that easy for me anymore."

The two of you hadn't exactly ended on bad terms, which only served to make these interactions all the much more painful. You still loved him, he still loved you. But the two of you were at completely different points in your life when you made the decision to end things. While Suguru was out traveling in various different cities, you stayed at home. Occasionally going to some of the local shows nearby.

Your relationship was composed a simple phone call every couple days or a collection of text messages, something that you didn't quite mind at first. Rumors started speculating like wildfire on the shows you didn't go to—pictures taken out of context, falsified interviews. And as much as you didn't want it to get to you, it did. Especially when Suguru didn't want to risk bad publicity by denying these claims.

"You can't just come here every time you feel lonely, though. It's not healthy," you responded, keeping your gaze on him. You could see the way his jaw ticked slightly, the only visible reaction that your words had affected him. "You're not hearing me. I'm telling you that I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. That even after a year, you're still the one that every song is about."

"And you're not hearing me. I'm telling you that you can't just come over every time you decide that you miss me. I'm trying to move on too."

"What are you trying to move on from when you're the one who left me?" Suguru's voice raised as he spoke, desperately running a hand through his hair again, "You left."

The sheer vulnerability in his voice, the way it seemed like he was willing himself to stop it from cracking made whatever remaining pieces of your heart that still belonged to him clench painfully. "I know. But being here isn't exactly doing you any favors, Suguru."

"Tell me to go home. Tell me that you never want to see me again and I'll go," Suguru spoke up after a couple moments of silence, his gaze boring into you. You wanted to say something, say that this the opposite of what you should be doing. Send him on his way back home. But why couldn't you open your mouth to say those things?

Every brain cell practically yelled at you that this was a bad idea. You knew that you had to send him home—that this would only serve to complicate things between the two of you. But what even was there to complicate? And the silence between the two of you spoke louder than any of the other words you'd said to him tonight. "Stay," all you did was just affirm what was already basically implied, "Just for the night."

"Just for the night, I promise," Suguru brought your hand up to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. A silent reassurance between the two of you. Even after all this time, things still felt so.. unfinished. You hadn't been able to move on, either. Even if you'd tried to convince yourself that this was for the best. "But if it's just for the night, then just let me do something stupid."

Every memory that Suguru had been clinging to, trying so desperately to try and remember came rushing to him like a freight train at just having your skin under his fingertips. Every little thing that he'd been having a doubt about came back to the forefront of his mind. And for once, he didn't mind that the only thing in his mind was you. Frankly, he was starting to enjoy it. Wondering why he'd even let you slip away so easily.

Suguru's lips connected with yours in a span of mere seconds, one of his hands coming to rest against your cheek. Holding you as close as he could to himself. "Still taste so good," he whispered against your lips, his teeth gently pulling at your bottom lip. Coaxing you into parting your lips, his tongue slipping inside with little to no resistance. "Just for the night," you said once again, trying to convince yourself.

Trying to convince him in the process. Though you weren't doing a great job at either, your body practically molding into his as his hand went down to your back. Instinctively arching against him as if it were the one place that you belonged. It felt as if Suguru needed to have your lips against his own, needed to engrave the taste of you in his mind again. He didn't dare pull away; your lips seemed more vital than oxygen.

The only time that Suguru pulled away was to have you sit on his lap, your warm cunt resting right against his hardening cock. If the tent in his pants was any indication, anyways. Your hand cupped his cheek, the small contact enough to have him leaning into your touch. Like a man starved. But when you started to shift a little bit too much on his lap, his hands gripped your hips.

"I know I'm the one that put you up here, but we don't have to do anything if you don't want to. I just.. I guess I just wanted to taste you again," Suguru was quick to stop your movements, placing one of his hands above your own. His fingers gently enclosing against your wrist, treating you like a piece of fine china. Treating you the same way he should've done over a year ago.

"I want to, I promise," you assured him, placing your other hand above his own. Amethyst eyes bored into yours, trying to gauge your expression for any trace of uncertainty. For any trace that you didn't want to do this. After finding none, he removed his hand and placed it back on your waist. "Are you sure that you want this?" You questioned. This time it was you analyzing him for any tics or signs he was uncomfortable.

"Yes," he sounded ragged, his fingers drawing small circles against the thin silk material of your nightgown, "More than you know." The last words were spoken as a whisper, almost as if he were thinking out loud. Exposing himself to you in every form. You moved further down, giving yourself enough space to unbutton his jeans. His cock was tenting through his boxers, hitting his stomach when you slipped them down just enough.

The sight was almost pretty to look at. Just like the rest of him. Through the pale moonlight shining in through the window's curtains, you could see a drop of precum dripping along the side of his shaft. The tip an angry shade of red, his cock twitching for whatever attention you would give. "Don't tease me, please. Just want you," Suguru spoke up after you'd been staring at his cock for a couple seconds.

"Don't worry, I won't. But a little patience wouldn't hurt, y'know?" You couldn't help but poke fun at him a bit, a teasing smile on your face as you traced the path of his happy trail. All the way down to where his cock was throbbing to be touched.

"You try being patient when you've been deprived for a yea—"

You wrapped your hand around the base, jerking your fist as you moved up his shaft. "Oh fuck," Suguru let out a huff underneath you, his hips bucking up to meet your hand. "Easy there, let me take care of you," you whispered, keeping one of your hands pressed against his thigh. The muscle flexed with every movement you made, his cheeks flushed as he threw his head back. You started off slow, building up with absolutely no rush.

“So good, so good, don't stop," Suguru all but whined, the man completely unraveling from a couple strokes. Wet sloshes and low groans drowned out the sound of the TV in the background, his cock completely covered in his own precum. "S-Shit, just like that," his words came out as he bit down on his lip, muffling any other moans that threatened to leave him. That was, until an idea came to mind.

Suguru pushed the flimsy straps of your nightgown, your breasts exposed to him in a manner of seconds. He met your gaze when he leaned in, his tongue swirling around your areola before taking it in his mouth. "F-Fuck," a muffled moan escaped from his lips, his other hand going up to your other breast. The combined stimulation of his fingers tweaking your nipple and the small chill in the living room had your nipples hardening in record time.

Suguru dripped like a faucet against your hand, drops of precum helping you glide your hand against his length with ease. Your thumb swirled around his tip, bringing it up to your lips and swirling your tongue around it. The taste of him somewhat salty (presumably from how shitty his diet's gotten through tour), but still bearable. At the sight, Suguru took his hand off your nipple and placed it on your chin.

While the previous kiss had been something out of sheer desperation, this one was much slower. Though just as needy, if not more. His tongue tasting the taste of him and yourself combined, the two of you moving in synchrony. You weren't even sure if his moans were from your hand or the kiss anymore. Probably both. "Missed you, missed you so much," he whispered when you pulled away, holding your face for just a little while longer.

And the moment would've been bittersweet, if he weren't for the slutty moan he let out. "S-Shit, getting close," Suguru let out a louder hiss, his moans starting to become more vocal. You reached down with your other hand, holding his balls in your grasp. You could feel just how heavy they were when you held them in your palm, your fingers rolling over them the way you would dice. "Let go, let go, I'm gonna cum," Suguru all but pleaded, placing his hand on top of yours.

Your hand came to a halt before he came, tapping two of your fingers against his bottom lip. His mind barely registered the action—his cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink and his eyes completely unfocused. His tongue wrapped around your fingers—slick with his precum, before licking them completely clean. "So nasty," you uttered, pulling your fingers away once he was finished.

"Saying that like you don't like it," Suguru clicked his tongue, bringing you into a kiss once more. He really was taking every and opportunity that he could to do it, savoring the taste of you on his tongue. Even if that meant he got a taste of himself in the process. "Let me return the favor, you just sit there and look pretty. Okay?"

Suguru dropped down to his knees in front of you, violet eyes locked on you as he slid his hands across the smooth skin of your legs. His hands were rough, calloused after playing guitar for so long—but his touch still managed to be gentle all the same. "You have no idea how much I've missed you. Missed this," he spoke quietly, his hands coming underneath your silk nightgown. Toying with the hem of your underwear. Teasing you in the same matter you'd done him.

And yet, you did have an idea of how much he missed you. There wasn't a day that had passed by where you hadn't woken up to a drunken ramble from Suguru, where he'd usually express how much he found himself missing you. Voicemails that you deleted right after the first listen—never acknowledging the ever growing collection and pretending as if you'd never received anything in the first place. It was easier.

Suguru started off by your calf, raising up your leg to rest on his shoulder before he started to kiss his way up. His movements were slow, his fingers gently stroking your leg when he did. "So pretty. So perfect. All just for me," he punctuated every sentence with a sloppy open-mouthed kiss, his mouth by your inner thighs. "Just for the night," you reminded, your back already starting to arch into him.

"Yeah, yeah, just for the night," he almost sounded annoyed that you were interrupting him, to say that of all things. Suguru reached your underwear, pressing a kiss on your clothed mound.

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties, sliding them down with relative ease before letting them fall to the floor. And if he still had the same habit he did when the two of you were dating, you knew that you wouldn't see them again after tonight. His head fit perfectly in between your thighs, the one place where he wouldn't mind staying in permanently.

"I didn't tease you this badly," you let out a small huff, your fingers threading through his hair. Almost wanting to pull him where you needed him most. Almost.

"You're lucky I'm feeling nice."

"Lucky? You're the one on your knees in my apartment."

"And I could easily leave."

“Except for the fact that you won't."

Almost as if proving your point (or wanting you to shut up), Suguru's tongue prodded deeper inside of your cunt. "So pretty when you finally shut up," he mumbled against your folds, messily spitting against them. You could only dig your fingers into his scalp, even if your walls clenched at just the simplest contact. And as if it wasn't enough that your pussy didn't get the memo you were annoyed, he simply laughed. Didn't even wince.

"Fucking slut, of course you'd be into that," you muttered, the sound of his laughter only serving to grate on your nerves even more. "If it makes you feel better, I only like it when you do it," he responded, unable to stop himself from laughing further, "You're the only one that does it like they hate me."

"Wonder why that is," your words died in your tongue when you felt two of his fingers penetrating through the thick layer of muscle, pushing inside your cunt. His tongue swirled around your clit, working in tandem with his fingers. "O-Oh s-shit," your body went completely lax, your hips pushing your cunt all the much more into his mouth. "Not bad for a slut, hm?"

"U-Until you have to open up your mouth to say something," even now, with just how needy you were for him to keep going, you refused to let him have the last word. "Thought you liked my mouth," And the shaky breath that you let out when his tongue started to draw circles on your clit definitely wasn't working in your favor. "J-Just oh fuck, just when you use it for everything else."

Suguru was more of a giver rather than receiver— all that much more evident in the way that he relished in your cunt. Tongue lapping up every single drop of your essence, greedily taking everything you had to give. Every single of drop of alcohol that Suguru had taken a sip of paled in comparison to the sweet taste of your cunt; just one taste was enough to have him drunk off you. Completely intoxicated.

Your back arched up against the couch cushion, your head entangled in his thick hair. He didn't even seem to mind the way you pushed your hips to meet his licks, letting you push his head further in your cunt. He'd gladly die in between your legs if it came down to it if only to get the taste of you ingrained in his taste buds. "Gonna cum, aren't you?" All you could do was nod, your grip on his hair tightening.

"F-Fuck, keep going, keep going," you let out a series of babbles, your toes curling against his shoulders as you approached your orgasm. You could hardly register the fact that he was tracing his name on your clit with the tip of his tongue, only making the connection after the 'g.' By the time he'd finished, your walls clenched around his two fingers before coating them in your release. "That's it, there ya go," Suguru let out a muffled praise, lapping up every drop of your cum.

Some of it dribbling down his mouth and chin when he pulled away. Your grip on his hair loosened, your hands falling by your sides. While you were busy trying to get your chest to stop heaving with every shaky breath that left your lips, Suguru wiped away your release with the back of his thumb.

"Just had to trace your name?"

"I had to, yeah. Don't see why you're complaining if I made you cum. Already more than what anyone after me's probably done," Now you know why you hadn't bothered to contact him earlier. If this was him coming to you, you couldn't imagine how damn cocky he'd be if you were the one to break no contact first. "There hasn't been anyone after you," you muttered reluctantly, sitting up on the couch.

Suguru got up from his spot on the carpet, taking a seat on the couch cushion next to you. And before you had the chance to complain about his bare ass on your expensive couch, he was already pulling you up on his lap again. "No one else could compare?" You looked over to see him biting down on his lip, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "Don't laugh at me," you grumbled, smacking the side of his arm. Not hard enough to hurt. Which only led him to start laughing. Loudly.

"Okay, okay, sorry," your glare had him shutting up immediately, his hands running up and down your thighs. "It's kind of cute, really."

You looked down at his cock, looking more intimidating than before now that you were going to ride him. "Don't worry, we'll take our time. There's no rush, okay?" His reassurance was a stark contrast from just a mere seconds before, though it did help you calm down. Somewhat. You hovered above his cock, your hand wrapping around the thick base as you lined it up before slowly starting to sink down.

"There you go, just take it. You've always done it so well," While his words were meant to be reassuring, the sting in between your legs as you tried to take his cock was almost too much to bear. Suguru's fingers came to rest on your hips, the cold silver of his rings a stark sensation to just how warm the rest of his body felt. You sunk down completely, a combination of a hiss and a moan leaving your lips. You felt so full already, the thickness of his cock stretching your walls.

"That's it, that's my girl," you weren't sure if you wanted to smack him or kiss him.

Probably both.

You looked down to see that the man was already staring up at you, one of those fingers reaching to wipe some tears from your waterline. Tears you hadn't even noticed until now. "Don't force yourself if you're not ready. Take your time, it's okay," his fingers rubbed small mindless circles on your hips. Your cunt clenched and unclenched around his shaft, a low groan leaving Suguru's lips.

The sting subsided enough after a while, your movements slow as you tried to move. "So fucking tight," Suguru leaned his head back against the couch, his eyes still boring into yours. Your ass hit his thighs each time you sunk down, the loud squelch of your wet cunt and the sound of skin clapping against one another echoing throughout the room. Drowning out whatever last bits of the movie remained, if it was even playing.

Your hips swiveled as you tried to find a steady rhythm, Suguru's breath hitching at the motion. His fingers gripping onto your hips all the much tighter, holding onto you like a lifeline. "So so fucking good," he let out a groan, his head killing forward to bury his face in your neck. Pressing a couple kisses in whatever skin he could reach, leaving spit trails in his wake. He bit down onto your shoulder, sucking on the skin to leave a hickey behind.

"N-Not so obvious," you let out a mix between a hiss and a moan at the feeling of his teeth nipping at your neck. Your nails dug into his shoulders, using them to keep yourself balanced while you tried to establish some sort of pace. "Got other hoes that mind seeing you with them?" Suguru let out a sharp hiss when your walls tightened around his cock, almost making him swallow his words.

"N-No. A-Already told you there's no one else," you let out a shaky laugh, barely managing to get it out as you impaled yourself on his cock, "Not everyone's a w-whore like you."

And he didn't even give you a chance to regret your words before his hips started moving against yours, his cock filling you up faster and deeper in a span of seconds. (The very same thing you'd been trying to do for the past ten minutes.) Your nails dug into the couch cushion in front of you, your head buried into a decorative pillow. "Ah ah, fuck Suguru," your moans came out muffled, your body jerking forward with each thrust.

Whatever delicacy Suguru had granted you at the beginning of your night together was completely stripped away—his hips snapping into yours. His balls smacked against your ass with every thrust, his fingers digging into the flesh. Sure enough to leave indents for a couple days. Like he just needed you to remember this night as much as he did. "Feel how fucking deep I am?" He pressed down on the bulge prodding through your lower tummy, putting some pressure behind it.

You could start to feel him at your throat in this position. Not that you'd ever admit that, of course. "D-Don't think you're deep enough, really," you babbled, the drool dripping from the corner of your lips and the cockdrunk look on your face completely betraying that statement.

Each thrust had you regretting even opening your mouth, each one getting deeper and deeper than the last. Your cunt practically swallowed him in, your walls clenching around his length like a vice. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you whined out, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Suguru placed a leg up on the couch, the new angle allowing him to go even deeper. "Too deep, too deep," you relented, his thrusts slowing down the slightest bit.

"Thought it was what you wanted," Suguru clicked his tongue, one of his hands going down in between your legs. His pointer finger began to rub small circles against your clit, moving in tandem with his hips. "It's good, it's good, I swear," you practically let out a whine, your hips moving back to meet his. Your ass jiggling with every movement, the sight only serving to entice Suguru even further.

"L-Love you so much. Missed you so bad," And every fiber of your being was telling you to just let his words slide—that it was just a mindless admission made. But you couldn't help the way that both your heart and your pussy clenched afterwards, the latter squeezing around his cock like it never wanted to let go. "Got so tight, you like hearin' me say that?" Suguru whispered by your ear, his chest resting against your sweaty back.

"Like hearing how much I miss you? How much I missed your pussy?" You could practically see the shit eating grin on his face—yet you couldn't exactly bring yourself to care. Not while you were so close to your second orgasm of the night.

All you could do was nod, your whines muffled by the couch cushion underneath. "D-Don't stop, Sugu. Please! Missed your cock!" You babbled, your pussy squelching around his length. Coating it with your arousal, making it slide in with ease. The tip of his cock prodded against your g-spot, your nails digging into the couch. "How much? Come on, tell me."

"So so much," you managed to get out, your chest heaving with every breath that you tried to take. Your walls clenched tighter around him, your cunt snuggling around his cock like a vice. "Gonna c-cum," you managed to get out, the coil in your lower belly tightening and tightening with each of his sloppy thrusts. "That's it, there you go," Suguru continued rubbing at your clit in circles, that coil inside of you snapping. Your walls unclenched, your release coating his length and forming a creamy white ring around his base.

Suguru barely managed to pull out of the tight vice you had his cock in, rope after rope of cum shooting onto your back. "Fuck, fuck," he groaned, the wet sloshing sound of his hand combining his moans as he came all over you. "I'll clean you up in a bit, let me just catch my breath," Suguru laid on top of you, not seeming to mind the fact that his cum was rubbing all on his chest when he did.

The two of you stayed still on the couch for a couple minutes, shaky breaths escaping your lips as you tried to get your breathing under control. A pin dropping could've been heard with how quiet the room was, though it was a comfortable silence this time around. And maybe the two of you still had things to talk about, but you figured that they could be left for another time. Not while the two of you felt so at bliss, at least.

Suguru came back into the living room with one of the hand towels that you kept in the bathroom's bottom right cabinet—walking around your space like he'd never stopped being around. "You did so well for me, so perfect," his voice came out quiet as he swiped the slightly wet towel against your inner thighs, his touch almost as soft. He continued with that gentle touch across your back, wiping away his dry cum off you.

You’d barely registered when he moved the two of you to the bathroom, barely starting to come to your senses. While he was getting a towel, he’d also started up a warm bath for when you were ready.

"Am I finally allowed to ask what you're doing here?" You broke the silence, your back leaning against his chest in a manner that was all too comfortable between the two of you. Like it was the one place where you belonged. "No," Suguru responded almost immediately, squirting some of your body wash onto the washcloth. Moving it slowly across your back, the scent of it combining with whatever candle Suguru raided from your cabinets.

"Am I allowed to ask how long you're planning on staying here, then?" You figured he was bound to break with one of these questions, only to get the same answer. "Turn around for me," was the only thing he said a couple moments later, your back completely lathered up in a mixture of bubbles and soap.

"Do you mind if I stay?" The way that Suguru asked the question reminded you of a sopping wet dog, that same desperation from earlier coming back tenfold. You'd never seen him so compliant in the years that you'd known him—usually he'd just act like he'd owned the place and take up the middle of the bed. "Yeah, just stick to your side of the bed."

After turning off the lights and making sure the doors were locked, you made your way underneath the warm blanket. You hadn't expected for Suguru to take your words so seriously, but at least he'd stuck to the right side of the bed. The sight was almost comical, seeing him comfortable with your collection of stuffed animals scattered around him. You set your phone on your bed stand table, shifting to get comfortable.

And as much as you wanted to fall asleep, your thoughts just didn't seem to shut up. He wouldn't book a flight just to come and see you if all he wanted was pussy, right? No, of course not. If the tabloid articles that came out while he was on tour was anything to go by. And as much as you wanted to bite your tongue, go to sleep as easily as he did, you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. Not without the slightest bit of resolution just yet. "Sugu, you still up?"

You turned to look over at Suguru, almost expecting for him to be still awake. He'd clutched one of your plushies underneath his arm, looking more at peace than he had throughout the night. "Good night," you whispered, pressing a kiss against his cheek before pulling the pumpkin blanket to cover up the two of you. The act almost felt too domestic, much too reminiscent of your past relationship.

Though, you figured you could start worrying about what this all means tomorrow. "Good night," Suguru mumbled, turning to face you. He was more half asleep than anything, the plushie long discarded next to him. It'd probably end up on the floor later in the night. His arm wrapped around your midriff, keeping you pressed against his body. His body intertwined against yours, almost like he had no plans of getting up by any means.

"I love you," was the last thing that you heard before you succumbed to sleep, your body molding against Suguru's almost perfectly.

You'd expected to wake up next to a head full of hair in the pillow next to you, not the same coldness you'd grown accustomed to throughout the last year. Suguru had left without a trace, almost as if he never stepped foot into your place. The only indication that the previous night wasn't a figment of your imagination was the indent of his body left behind on the sheets.

A/N: i was thinkin ab a part two when i originally wrote this but enjoy anotha repost 😓

[agayconcept]

.

[chezzhire]

cw: afab, mentions of (implied) smut, suggestive language (mdni)

body piercer!suguru who's your boyfriend & tonight, you're the one getting your nipples pierced🍒

After hours, no music.

The studio's quiet now, stripped down after the neon sign outside's been flicked off, the last client long gone– some botoxed bimbo who wouldn't stop clawing at your boyfriend even until payment. Your Sugu remained professional with his usual smile –silk over steel–, but any more of that bitch's fake lashes flapping and you're certain you would've jumped at her from behind the counter.

Now, beyond, in the back room where dusk hangs stale, you’re sat where the clients usually lie, reclined half-nervous on that vinyl-padded table. Legs swinging a little, toes brushing against the edge of the stool.

Suguru's busy washing his hands, dark hair tied up and curling loose at the nape of his neck. He turns back fully, back latex snapping against his wrists.

"You’re sure?" He asks, because.

"I said I was," you huff, pulling the hem of your top in a nervous twist. "And you said it wouldn’t hurt that much."

Suguru snorts, reaching for a fresh tray of sterilized instruments. "I said it wouldn’t kill you. That’s different." He turns, eyes dark, soft as wet ink. "I know what I'm doing. You trust me, don't ya?"

He’s always calm when he’s working— methodical.

You swallow. You do, so you nod.

"Okay." He instructs simply. "Top off. Lay down, arms by your side."

You hesitate only for a beat. Stripping without flourish, tits catching the low light, and you lie back, skin prickling with the air-conditioned chill. Suguru moves closer. His head dips forward, studying the soft of your skin, the flush that spreads over the curve of your breast. He adjusts the light overhead, fingers brushing your ribs to angle you. They’re warm, steady. Familiar.

You flinch when he swabs you down, even if his touch is gentle. Cool antiseptic against warm buds.

"Straight bar or curved?"

"Whichever you think," you murmur. You trust him with this. With everything.

He nods once and preps the needle. Hollow, sharp, sterile. You shut your eyes.

"Take a deep breath." A command and a comfort. Said like he’s done this a hundred times. Said like he’s doing this to you. You inhale.

The needle pierces through, and you exhale through clenched teeth, but your hands stay flat on the table. It's done fast. He’s already soothing the skin, moving so carefully it makes your head spin. You’re trembling just a little, more from adrenaline than pain.

He slips the jewellery through with practiced grace. With that, one glint of silver where skin once ruled.

"You’re doing perfect," he says, softer now.

Your lashes flutter, "Feels like I’m on fire."

"Good fire."

Theres a raw, tingling ache gnawing at your chest. You hear the second set-up a few feet away, so you take the moment to let the rush settle down, catch your breath.

With that, your mind wanders off-course, drifting back to the woman earlier: hair sitting in neat, wild waves like she's in some 90s blowout commercial, deafened by an obvious breast implant spilling out her low-cut top. You remember getting there early, the way Suguru clearly greeted you with a kiss yet she still leaned forward to make her big ass boobs hard to miss as Suguru walked her through the aftercare. The thought aggravates you and briefly you wonder if there were many more like her...

In your state of unease, casually— or trying to be:

"Hey," you call, voice thinner than you'd like. Your fingers curl into your palm. "You ever done this for other girls?"

Suguru pauses, glances over his shoulder. "You mean… nipples?"

"Nips. Vajays. Whatever’s under the towel." You dont smile nor blink. Simply hold his gaze, "I mean– you’ve done all that before, right?"

He returns, glides back with the chiar to you, "Yea. Some guys too. Comes with the job."

You hum once, you knew that. But knowing and feeling are two different beasts. "So, like... you seen a lot of girls naked."

"I don’t see girls naked," he retorts plainly. "I see body parts. Areas. I see placement, tension, veins I don't wanna hit."

The clamp tightens on your nipple. "It's not... like this."

"But it's intimate."

He shrugs, though not carelessly. “In a way, maybe." His fingers tighten the clamp a final time, the pressure on your nipple almost agonizing. "This, though..."

"This is different."

Your breath hitches as the needle in his hand nears your left tit, “W-what makes this different?”

"You’re mine." The needle glides smoothly into your nipple, a quick, practised motion. You wince and he takes the chance to look at you properly, "You. I see you, not just any another. Other girls: clients, it’s my job. I pierce, I explain aftercare, they pay, leave. I don’t recall their perfume. Dont memorize the way they breathe through the needle. I don’t see them in my bed afterwards."

You’re already breathless, but he keeps going— cruelly calm.

"I don't kiss them. Don’t touch their hair or call 'em pretty. I don't think of how good they'd sound like you'd moan for me when I fuck you," He squeezes the flesh of your mound. "Dont wanna take them home 'n put my face between their legs just to make them forget the sting."

“That’s you," the needle sinks out. "Only you."

You're stammering at this point. "T–.. that's..."

"Which is why this–... this," he repeats, and he doesn’t laugh but you feel the sound anyway, "Is more personal."

It's old news, but you're laid bare —literally and mentally— and his words hit deeper than the piercing ever could.

"S-so what? You don't–... get off on... big tits? Or women's pussies?"

Suguru's pretty when he frowns, "The only pair of tits and pussy I care about is yours, dumbass."

You shiver, full-body.

With both piercings done now, his eyes track your every move as you ease your elbows first on the table, studying you, his gaze lingering on your chest with a hint of familiarity mixed with something else. His hand comes up to rest and squeeze at your thigh, "How do they feel?"

The table crinkles under you, cool against your bare back. The sting from the fresh metal makes you wince; its quite unpleasant, to be fair.

"Strange? Weird... but like– good weird. My boobs are throbbing tho."

He huffs in amusement, bringing your hand to his lips, "Mm-hm, that's normal. You did good."

Suguru cleans gently around the new piercings; afterwards the echo of the metal trays & the roll of his chair is prominent once again. "You’ll feel pressure for a few days," he says, stepping back to strip off his gloves. "Tenderness is normal. So is sensitivity."

Your eyes follow him going to wipe down his tools at the table, fingers already stained faintly with disinfectant.

You're staring at the silver flicker dangling from his ears. Up the loosely tied bun. Down to the expanse of his rippled back underneath the dark top. Heart caught between your ribs & something less stable.

Suguru always works with a clinical precision. Even now, with the room dim and the city long past golden hour, he moves like it’s just another Tuesday, just another piece of skin, another body.

But it’s yours. And he’s your boyfriend. So it’s different.

The studio feels colder by the night now. Or maybe more real. It warms your insides.

Enough to reel out another bait.

"Then..." You pull your top back halfway up your arms, "have you ever had like, a hard-on while doing it?"

You watch him tilt his head up and sigh, more out of disbelief than annoyance, "For fuck's... are you serious?"

"Sugu', c'mon~"

"—Only once."

"Tonight?"

He doesn't bother to answer.

a/n: bc this specific scene has plagued my mind for DAYS i manned up skdjdjk

chezzhire © 2025. all original writing & concepts from me. Do not copy, modify ⚠

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾✩☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

[mercurial-chuckles]

On the qui vive

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader WC: ~1k Warnings: Fluff | Established relationship | Absolutely-in-love Bucky | Protective Bucky | Bucky painting your toenails | Bucky taking care of some business (mob elements) | Bucky being hot and incorrigible | Allusions to spicy times | Some language | Very much unbeta'd | Let me know if I missed anything! A/N: Sorry, I haven't been on much here. Found a thought in my drafts and put together something haphazardly for Hot Bucky Summer 2025 | Week 02 Prompt: "Did I give you permission?" | @buckybarnesevents Thank you for hosting. 😊✨🥹💞 Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! I do not consent to AI scraping my work. Banner & Divider made by me. Picture credits to Pinterest. Check out my other works: Masterlist Hot Bucky Summer Masterlist

Indulge Away!

Damn it!

You scrambled around the hotel suite.

You were supposed to be on time. You always told yourself you'd have everything sorted and ease into important days with a calm, relaxed start. But nope. That version of you clearly didn't exist. A miserable case of chaos was what you were.

Gawd!

Bucky was to be blamed anyway. He'd flown in late last night, and he didn't let you out of the bed ever since he stepped foot into the hotel room. And he thwarted every attempt of you sneaking out of the bed this morning, dragging you right back into his arms. You couldn't believe sometimes that he could be so insatiable despite being married for more than a decade now.

Your husband was a ridiculously sinful man, indeed! Not that you usually complained about your husband's incorrigible loving ways. But today was an important day, and you should be there on time.

You had a luncheon with the whole team today before your book launch tomorrow, and Jeremy would absolutely have your head if you were late to your own event. You'd already been two minutes late to the dinner meeting last night. To be fair, that wasn't really your fault either. You got held up by a couple of women who somehow recognized you. You hadn't expected anyone to know you, especially not in Venice, so far from home. It was endearing. You'd been so flustered when they asked for your autograph that you walked into the meeting grinning like an idiot, only to get an earful from Jeremy for being late.

Yesterday was a simple team dinner, but today was important, and you couldn't be late by a second.

You heard the loud yawn, followed by a grunt.

Fucking Finally!

"Bucky, hurry up, will ya?" you called out to him.

"I'm almost ready, pretty girl," came his gravelly rasp.

You'd both gotten maybe a couple of hours of sleep between stuff. You turned just in time to see him walking out of the bedroom, phone against his ear, as he said, "Good," before placing the phone down on the kitchen counter.

He wandered over, buttoning up his white shirt at such a seductively slow pace, you grunted annoyedly at him for various reasons.

Jesus Christ! He looked divine.

You sat cross-legged on the ottoman, rushing to paint your toenails because, of course, you didn't get to do them earlier. No thanks to your husband. You figured you could get it done while Bucky got dressed lazily, leisurely.

Whatever was up with him today.

He strolled over, popping a piece of fruit into his mouth that you cut hurriedly for you both a few minutes earlier.

And then he met your eyes.

Shit.

The second he looked at you, you knew. Bucky knew. You didn't know who snitched, but after nearly fifteen years with Bucky Barnes, you shouldn't be so surprised. Your husband always knew when someone so much as breathed your way wrong.

You'd actually been relieved he wasn't at the dinner last night. Because if he had been, things would've gone very differently. Henry, your executive publisher, had cornered you. He was drunk and touchy, and you managed to wiggle out of the situation without making a scene. Mostly because you didn't want to see bloodshed. But the second it happened, you knew it would've been a disaster if Bucky had seen it. So yeah, you were glad he'd been delayed. Even if part of you wished he'd been there to stop it from happening at all.

He sank onto the couch in front of you, dragging your foot into his lap.

You tried to wiggle away, but his grip tightened around your calf.

"Stay still," he warned in a dangerously low voice. Nevertheless, you squirmed.

"We don't have much time," you argued, worry gnawing at you.

"Don't worry, pretty girl. I got you," he said calmly, and he took the little bottle of nail polish from your hand.

"You'll ruin your trousers," you muttered.

"Gotta be still then, Sweetheart," He hummed softly, too jaunty, for your liking. Bucky painted the first toe carefully. It was utterly unbelievable how quickly he unraveled you.

You watched him, waiting for him to ask you, but he didn't, making you groan internally. And the longer he kept painting, the more nervous you got.

"Should I just tell you?" you mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky didn't look up. "Tell me what, beautiful?"

"You know what."

"Do I?" He raised his eyes, and that dark gleam in them made your stomach twist. It was dangerous, that look, especially for your poor heart, always ready to topple you more and more into him.

Your phone rang. Jeremy. You answered quickly.

"Hey! Promise I won't be late. Ten minutes tops…" Jeremy, however, cut you off your babbling, "You didn't hear?" he said urgently.

"Hear what?" you asked confused.

"Henry. He was in some kind of accident this morning. It's serious. We gotta cancel the lunch."

You froze. "Is he…?"

"No idea. It's all over the place. Ronald called and said something about him losing an arm. It's bizarre. I put him in a cab last night, and he was fine." Jeremy sighed before he continued, "I don't know what happened, but I'll update you when I can. The launch is still on for tomorrow though. I'll send over the new schedule soon."

You set your phone aside, mind still trying to process. You went to pull your foot back, but Bucky didn't let go.

"Did I give you permission to move, Mrs. Barnes? You'll mess up all my hard work." he chuckled, casually blowing on your toes.

"Bucky," you hissed, "What the hell did you do?"

He took his time. Capped the polish. Set it down. Then lifted your leg over his shoulder and tugged you onto the couch beneath him.

"Bucky."

He kissed the curve of your neck, then licked a slow path to your ear. You let out a lewd moan, an entirely inappropriate reaction to the feeling of dread settling in your tummy. Bucky pressed himself against you, one hand cupped your face and the other wandered toward your chest, palming your tits.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping him to find your losing sanity, "What. Did. You. Do?"

He finally met your gaze.

"He shouldn't have touched you, doll," he said softly, his breath warm against your lips, his stubble brushing against your skin, and dousing you in his sweet, sinful smell.

"Be grateful he's still breathing."

"Bucky…" His name caught in your gasping breath, and he smiled at you reverently, and gawd, you knew you had to put some sense into your man, but fuck, did you love him so goddamn much.

Well?

Leave your thoughts if you enjoyed reading it. 💞✨

If you'd like to be tagged/removed from my works, please do so here.

[v6quewrlds]

What was the moment that Joe’s parents looked at him and Wifey and realized… “Oh he’s in love.”?

author's note⠀⁎⠀yo this is such a cute concept. used you/your because my head hurt trying to make 'she/her' make sense between both robin and reader.

read more⠀⁎⠀joe burrow masterlist / series masterlist.

Robin Burrow took no issue in taking care of her son—her only child—after a rough game. She knew Joe's moods like the back of her hand, knew the typical routine that followed a loss. It was in his nature to retreat into himself, shutting everyone out. His shoulders would slump downward, heavy with should've, could've, would've. He would bite off his words, each syllable harsh as if forced up from his larynx against his will. It never lasted longer than the night of the loss, but it was always a tough night to get through, nonetheless.

When they spilled into the foyer of Joe's home, Robin had spent the thirty minute drive from Paycor mentally preparing herself to coax words from Joe's clenched jaw. But she was met with something she hadn't expected—those blue eyes, perfectly identical to hers, held a clarity she hadn't seen in them after a loss in a long, long time.

"Do you have much of an appetite?" you questioned softly, your hand curling around Joe's bicep as he leaned over the back of the couch. He had been nodding along to the breakdown of Jimmy's view of a particularly disastrous play, contemplative ease settling over his features.

"I could eat," Joe responded, shrugging slightly as he turned to follow you into the kitchen, his steps lazy but sure. He watched you with a soft gaze that didn't quite match the ache in his bones. You pulled out a Tupperware container filled with his meal prepped dinner from earlier in the week—grilled chicken with a side of roasted vegetables and a quinoa-rice mix.

His parents watched from their spot several feet away. Jimmy gave Robin a look, one she returned with wide eyes and a confused tilt of her head. They had seen Joe like this before—once, when he had scored a game-winning touchdown back in the playoffs during high school, and a few times when he'd had a particularly good game in college. But never, not once, had they seen this side of him after a loss.

They watched his hand reach for you, his eyes track your movements, his feet carry him closer to you when you were just outside of his grasp. They watched his lips press to your temple, his nose nuzzle into your hair. They saw the way you responded to him, the way you turned toward him, allowing him to pull you into him, your arms wrapping around his waist. He melted into you, your breaths syncing up like the two of you had done this a million times before. It was so familiar, so intimate, so loving.

"Look at that," Jimmy hummed fondly. His lips tugged with a smile as he nudged his wife whose eyes hadn’t strayed from their son and his girlfriend. "She's got his head screwed on right."

"I know," Robin said, her voice holding a hint of wonder. "They're good together," she murmured, more to herself than to Jimmy. "She's good for him."

The microwave beeped, jolting Joe back to reality. You pulled out the steaming plate of food and placed it in front of him. "Sit," you insisted, patting the second chair from the left at the island. "I'll get you some water." You turned your head to find Robin and Jimmy hovering nearby, still in a bubble of wonder. "Can I get you guys anything? A drink? Something to eat?"

"Just some water, honey," Robin managed to say, her eyes still glued to her son. The endearment slipped from her mouth without a second thought. Jimmy requested the same, and they both took a seat to Joe's right, leaving one empty on his left.

Joe took his first bite of food, his cheeks rounding slightly as he chewed. He swallowed and spoke just as she set his water down, his voice low, "Thank you, baby."

"It's not too hot?" you questioned, moving to claim the open seat beside him. You didn't quite get there, your trajectory interrupted by Joe's hand snaking around your waist and tugging you onto his lap instead. You rolled your eyes, a small snort escaping your nose, but made no move to resist, allowing him the satisfaction of cuddling into you. Your left arm fell over his shoulders as you leaned into him, his right hand resting warm and firm on your thigh.

"It's perfect," Joe said, his mouth full.

"Chew," you scolded firmly though your tone lacked any bite to it. You couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips as you watched Joe obey, swallowing the mouthful with an exaggerated motion. You leaned further into him, dropping a fleeting peck to his cheek. "Better."

It was Robin's turn to look at Jimmy with a knowing smile. "It's about time," she whispered, and he nodded in quiet agreement.

"You're on your way to being replaced," he joked with a whisper, his voice too quiet for his words to be heard by anyone but Robin.

"You know what," Robin began, finding her husband's hand with a gentle squeeze. "If being replaced looks like this, I'm all for it."

[lyrefromthesea]

You’re absolutely one of my favourite writers 💙 Please could I request hashira x reader, where the reader looks after the hashira’s family/ those they care for when they are on a long mission 💙💙

Male pillars x reader - family matters

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: none

Tengen:

who would've expected nearly the entirety of the Uzui family to fall sick? it luckily didn't hit him, but Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma all fell ill.

you would've done it without his pleading, but when he asked you so kindly to take care of his wives, you couldn't say no.

you were in a relationship with them too, it was only right to take care of your loved ones, right?

so when Tengen came home and saw you put wet towels on all their head with the outmost patience, he felt his heart swell with pride.

"i'm back, are you all feeling better?" he asked, looking down at the three sick women. they were cuddled up in their shared bed, not wanting to be alone.

he was glad when he watched them slowly nod and tell him how good you've taken care of them.

"thank you, beautiful.." he said to you, glad that there was someone he could trust. "let me help now."

Obanai:

when Obanai left for a mission and left Kaburamaru with you, he knew you would take care of his friend. however, he didn't expect finding you like this.

you have fallen asleep in the kitchen, your cheek squished against the counter. Kaburamaru had found his place around your neck, as if he wanted to keep you warm.

Iguro looked around, seeing Kaburamaru's food bowl. it was empty, but he knew the snake had eaten today. he could tell by the way Kaburamaru was sleeping with you, having filled his stomach.

furthermore, there was a plate full of food placed near you. he could see another empty plate in the sink, indicating that you've already eaten.

he had told you when he would come back from his mission, figuring that you've prepared the second plate for him.

he looked at you with a gentle gaze, not wanting to wake you up, but knowing you shouldn't sleep in the kitchen. with a quick and careful movement, he had picked you up and carried you to the bedroom.

you had taken care of him and his snake, it was time to take care of you now.

Rengoku:

multiple bottles of liquor stood in front of his family's estate. they were all empty.

he knew those were the bottles his father used to buy, but the man would never place them here.

knowing that you had been staying in his house for the past few days, he figured it would have something to do with you.

"i'm home, dear!" he greeted, happy when he saw you run up to him. perhaps you had been spoiling him too much, but he was used to a kiss on the lips whenever he returned to you.

"first you take my sake away and now this? i'll puke!" Shinjuro scolded you, but you just smiled back at him.

Kyojuro was confused at first, quickly remembering the empty liquor bottles in front the family estate.

"don't pretend like you didn't like the past days! you even played board games with me and Senjuro." you countered, sticking your tongue out.

perhaps it was because you weren't a demon slayer, but Shinjuro could speak to you much more calmly than with others. or maybe it was because you reminded him of the peace of earlier days.

"you did? let's celebrate my return with another board game!" Kyojuro enthusiastically offered, earning a happy nod from you.

"you're going to play as well, right?" you ask Shinjuro, not surprised by him rolling his eyes, knowing he would join you two and Senjuro.

Sanemi:

"is he okay?" Sanemi asked, his fists clenching hard. he was desperate to know about his little brother's state.

when he heard that Genya had been hurt during his fight with a demon, he had wanted to see his brother right away, but he couldn't look him in the eyes anymore.

he knew that Genya hated him for what he had done, he had no right to worry over him now.

naturally, his eyes lit up when he saw you take over the role of a nurse, watching over Genya properly.

"he's doing better." you answered, seeing him quiet down and nod. he felt relief settle in his heart, coming closer to hug you.

his head rested on your shoulder, his arms hanging by his side. his heart was trapped in a mix of guilt and relief.

"you know, he told me that he missed you. you should see him.." you told him, knowing the story the two brothers shared was a sad one.

"no.." he simply said, but you could hear the sorrow in his voice. he probably wanted his brother back as much as Genya wanted him.

"thank you for looking after him.."

Giyuu:

he had trouble revealing his feelings to other people, but when he heard Tanjiro being hurt once again, you noticed the look on his face.

when you told him that you'd temporarily look after the young demon slayer, you saw the man relax slightly. he trusted you and he knew you'd do your best.

he wanted to do his best for you as well, deciding it would only be fair to visit you and Tanjiro now and then.

"Tomioka-san!" Tanjiro beamed, nearly making his way out of the bed, but you held him back, letting him remember that he needed to rest as much as possible.

"Tanjirou, are you feeling better..?" he asked, stepping into the room Tanjirou got assigned. he glanced up at you, seeing a soft smile form on your face.

he made his way towards you while he listened to the boy talk.

"i'm feeling so much better already! [name]-san took great care of me!" Tanjirou said, enthusiastically fiddling with his hands. Giyuu moved to your side, placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

"thank you for taking care of him." Giyuu whispered against your ear, turning your head to face him. "i have another mission now, wish me luck, love."

you nodded, knowing that you would pray for his return every day, you just didn't know Tanjirou would speak up again. "Tomioka-san! Tomioka-san!"

naturally, Giyuu hurried out of the room.

Gyomei:

"namu, cat cute.." he mumbled, pressing the small animal against his body in a squeezing hug.

you chuckled quietly, seeing the cat meow and wiggle in an attempt to get out.

you had found it a few days ago, the cat couldn't walk due to it's injured paw. when Gyomei came back that day, he was fine with you keeping the cat until it was healthy.

truthfully, he was more than fine with the addition to his home, especially when he found the cat sitting on one of his shirts a few days later.

he took it as a sign that the cat liked him, first feeding it and then trapping it in his arms.

"was this really a good idea? i feel like the cat is getting more attention than me." you teased, not expecting his strong arm to wrap around you as well, now trapping you in the same hold as the cat.

"you're cute too, don't worry."

[loves4ge]

celebrity!au cw: swearing, gojo is disgustingly in love

gojo satoru is thoroughly and utterly fucked. there are only ten minutes left until he has to go live for an interview—promotional material for his new movie. the only problem is you, his sweet costar; you had him wrapped around your finger.

despite being each other's on-screen love interests, your schedules hadn't matched until now to do an interview together. and gojo fucking satoru, one of the biggest celebrities to ever set foot in the hall of fame, is nervous. because he knows when gets out there, you'll be waiting for him. you've always been early to places (not really, he's just late).

it's not just the thought of you that has his stomach twisting in knots, it's his obsessive—and frankly, scary—fangirls who hang onto his every look, every glance, every word. even if no one finds out about his itsy bitsy crush, they will. and they will ruin you.

and he can't do that to you! this is your big break after slaving away in minor roles with a no-name cast. you're in the spotlight too much after only have seen the light being shone on other people, there's already too much pressure on you. the sudden onslaught of fans can be overwhelming, but the critics? they're so much harsher than what you expected.

"gojo, get out." it's his manager. deep breaths, he advises himself as he lifts out of the chair and to the set. where you are. god.

"so, i hear the set can get pretty crazy?" the interviewer smiles as he says it. he has that mall santa vibe; a little bit jolly and just slightly discomfort inducing.

your laugh slips out and gojo swears he almost died there. but he makes a conscious effort to not look at your lips. he sneaks a glance anyway.

"that's right! you should see the mess this man makes," you say, nodding your head towards the white-blond man. he should've worn his sunglasses, at least that way he could've stared at you in peace.

"hey! i'm not at fault here," gojo defends himself, guffawed. he crosses his arms as if he was trying to protect his chastity. or defend his honor, i suppose.

"mm, that's what they all say." your playful tone has him weak in the knees and he's thanking the gods that he's sitting down otherwise he would've folded right then and there.

"so geto suguru was here earlier and he mentioned that there was some steam in the movie, eh?"

stay professional, stay professional, stay professional.

"oh yeah. there are a couple of scenes for sure. it wouldn't have turned out as well as they did if it wasn't for satoru. i've never done an intimate scene before and he was just so comforting and really, a strong source of support for me."

fuck.

gojo breaks into a grin, his hand platonically (he hopes) pats your shoulder.

"it actually wouldn't have gone so well if it wasn't for our earth shattering chemistry. and our intimacy coordinator. yep, you heard it here first guys. bridgerton isn't the only show that gets one!" he's not entirely sure if the comedic route was the one to take after your heartfelt confession but he can't seem to respond as sincerely as he wants on television.

your giggle makes up for it though. and the light slap against his thigh. god. he has to resist the urge to ask you to do it again.

---

10 MINUTE COMPILATION OF GOJO BEING DOWN BAD FOR HIS COSTAR (ft. geto)