#EP 24 HE LIVING UP TO THAT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghoulphile · 5 months

Text

sticky fingers | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; mildly dubious consent, dirty talk, degradation kink, fingering, squirting, rough sex, size kink, standing doggystyle, overstimulation, teasing, choking, dacryphilia, cooper howard is his own warning (he nasty y'all), canon compliant - takes place around ep 7, a grab bag mix of the show and the games ➥ summary | “Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal.” ➥ notes | i love my men like i love my beef jerky 🫠 i wrote this over 16 fevered hours after finishing the finale. hope you enjoy~ minor edits 4/22/24 | x posted to ao3 | masterlist | feedback is always appreciated ❤️ feel free to send in thots, questions, requests!

It begins, as most things in the Southwest Commonwealth do, with a fight for survival.

City life is tough to be sure, but here on the outskirts of pocket civilizations where there’s nothing but long stretches of desolate wasteland - arid, sunbaked earth and scorched shrubbery - for miles around?

Well, if the ferals, fiends, and super mutants don’t get you in the night, then the desert itself will. During the day the sun burns overhead so nuclear hot, heat glimmers on the horizon in dancing waves.

Unforgiving, relentless as blink-and-you-miss-it mirages are swallowed by ever shifting sands.

It’s easy to get lost.

Even easier to boil alive in your armor if you’re unprepared.

Far too many travelers from the Eastern Commonwealths have met their demise here, where shade is sparse, and water even moreso. The rain - if it does blow in over the mountains - brings rad sickness.

If you’re lucky enough to still be alive, the only reprieve from the heat is in the stooped bones of bombed buildings and ramshackle shacks... where you're just as likely to catch a knife in the back from a chem fried addict as you are relief.

Because here, in the Wastes, danger lurks in sand and shadow alike.

You don’t trek out into the flats half-cocked: a fact all locals know. And if you do decide to? Well, you learn one way or another.

No, only the truly ignorant - or the desperate - dare to tempt man and nature.

Consequently, as you dust off the crumbs from the last half of a Fancy Lads Snack Cake and suck a melted smear of icing from your thumb, you're of the latter half.

You tried holding off for as long as you could. But once the shakes started, you knew you couldn’t put off eating lest you pass out and wake up in a slaver camp.

Well, shit, you think as you rattle a dented canister of purified water. This fucking sucks.

Almost going cross-eyed, your tongue hovers under the rim as you watch the last lazy drop fall free. You catch it with a grimace, smacking your lips. The water tastes metal warm in your sour mouth, barely enough to wet your whistle - let alone your thirst.

You began rationing the last of your supplies days ago, and it’s been a battle against light-headedness ever since. Pretty soon you won’t have the strength to defend yourself, scavving be damned.

Come on. Think - gotta think. What can I scrap for caps?

Not only is Filly more than half a day away, Ma June isn’t one for charity cases. The fact she offered twenty extra caps last time for some burnt books and bent bobby pins was as close as you were ever going to get to a Wasteland miracle.

Sunken cheeks and pleading eyes can only get you so far; everyone’s gotta eat.

"Fuck..." The palms of your hands grind into your eye sockets until you see stars. "FUCK!"

There are two unspoken laws in this otherwise lawless land: steal or starve, live or die. A grim reminder that surrounds you in old bleached bones, empty bullet casings, and scraps of cloth fluttering in the breeze.

Someone always has to be top dog. If you’re lucky, they might be willing to share their spoils.

It’s as you’re considering what pieces of yourself you’re willing to barter that you see them. On the horizon, coming from the west, are two dark blobs.

Stark against the flat plains - a shining beacon of salvation - is a man in a ratty duster and cowboy hat. The saddlebag tossed over his shoulder bounces with his steps while a dog trots beside him, its sable coat rippling with muscle.

Pay dirt.

Making sure to keep low and distant, you stalk them. Watching, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

When the sun dips low, the sky a swath of pale pink and gold, they make camp at a blown-out Drumlin Diner. Off in the distance, thunder rumbles and sickly clouds gather.

Dark and roiling, acid green; a Radstorm brewing.

Electricity cracks at your skin, stands your hair on end. You scrub your hands over your arms, huddling into yourself for warmth. Meanwhile, the stranger seems to luxuriate in the budding promise of rad rain.

He lounges under an awning, his back pressed against a defunct Nuka Cola fridge. He gazes in the direction of the oncoming weather while mindlessly running his fingers through the dog’s fur as it curls up against his legs.

Occasionally, its ears twitch, and its eyes crack open.

Whenever it glances in your direction, you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut but it never gives any other indication that it notices your presence.

A small mercy you’re thankful for.

While you’re a pretty good shot, your body is weak with hunger. Besides, you have quick hands and light feet. There’s no doubt you can stealth your way in and out before he realizes his pack is lighter than he left it.

You’ll only take what you need - not interested in causing any more trouble than is necessary. Some food, maybe something to drink if he can spare it, and something to pawn. Just enough supplies to get you sorted in Filly.

Anyway, he certainly isn’t hurting for it by the look of things.

Any guilt you felt was short-lived when he settled down after dropping his pack inside, walking out with an inhaler of Jet in one hand and a can of Cram in the other.

Watched, greedy, as he cracked it open and picked at the tin of meat with lazy fingers. Salivated as he sucked them clean in between deep pulls of chem.

Soon, you decide, licking your lips as he chews, swallows. Soon.

However when push comes to shove, the stranger proves far more keen than you give him credit for.

The world spins like a hit of Daytripper, a kaleidoscope of color as your skull bounces off the wall with a loud crack. Air rushes from your lungs as something huge - hot and heavy - slams into you from behind.

Pins you against the wall with ease as your ears ring.

Something rattles loose; your teeth too large and your tongue too thick. Warm metal floods your mouth as the side of your face throbs in time with the rabbit fast stutter of your heartbeat.

Pain sparks and your stomach rolls.

"Wha's?" you slur, thoughts dripping like wax. "Wh-at's..."

Meanwhile, a gloved hand lassos around your throat like a collar. Brute fingers squeeze the tender flesh of your jugular until you hear your pulse in your ears. Senses struggling - sluggish to adjust in the encroaching night - as tiny cavities eat at your vision, little pockets of darkness.

“Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal," a gruff voice mocks. “Betcha thought you was real slick, huh? Tch. You ask me, you’re dumber than shit, Darlin'.”

Trying to regain your bearings, you shake your head only to groan. “I don’t - ‘m not -” It’s difficult to concentrate, a throbbing tempo taking up residence in your temples. The words come slow. “Wha’d you mean?”

He whistles, long and low-pitched, "D’ya have any idea who you're fucking with?"

“N-No…”

“How’s about I show you, then?”

Warm breath puffs over the shell of your ear, a tongue sliding out to trace along the lobe. You jolt, squirming in discomfort as he crowds closer.

“Tasty lil thing like you, wrapped up all nice and pretty just for me." He chuckles. "Why, it must be Christmas.”

What the hell is he talking about?

It’s hard to breathe with his heavy weight suffocating you; the scent of gunpowder and bitter smoke clogging your nostrils with every labored inhale. His lips - ragged - scrape over the nape of your neck.

The grip on your throat squeezes once, twice; leather sticks to your sweaty skin.

You squint your sore eyes, taking in the faint flickers of firelight that spill through the open doorway. The desert chill of night has settled in, creeping through the busted out windows to dig beneath your padded armor.

Thunder rumbles directly overhead as lightning follows in flashes of acid green. It’s only a matter of time before sheets of rain come pouring down; the air sticky with humidity, trembling with energy.

The Radstorm has finally arrived.

You’ll undoubtedly get sick if you leave the shelter of the diner - might even die from it if you can’t afford or find any RadAway. But as the stranger’s chest digs into your shoulders, and the dog curls up in the corner - uncaring of your plight as its nose tucks into the whip-thin tail - you think you’ll take your chances.

Tilting back to glance at him from over your shoulder through damp eyes, you say, “Look--”

Only his hand moves, viper quick, as it slides from the front of your neck to the nape. Strong fingers clamp down like a vice, like scuffing an unruly dog.

He grinds your face into the wall, rough metal shredding your cheek.

You cry out, a soft, pained little thing that echoes through the empty diner.

“Now why’d you gotta go an' make me do that?”

A phantom glimpse told you all you needed to know; broad jaw, thin lips, a hollow nasal ridge, creeping radiation burns and cracked skin. Ghoul.

“Let’s try this again, Sugar.”

His free hand - sans glove - creeps over the curve of your hip to splay along the swell of your belly, fingers tucking up under the hem of your shirt. You shiver at the stroke of roughened skin.

“Don’t take another peep or I might jus' have ta pluck out those pretty eyes of yours.”

Dread pools low in your gut, a leaden ball.

Everything in you screams: RUN, RUN, RUN.

Alarms blare but you freeze. Stare straight ahead at the featureless wall, eyes wide and unseeing. Through the foggy mire of your thoughts - half formed and shapeless - you have enough presence to understand the precarious nature of your position.

Heart hammering, you plead for mercy, “Please, I’m - I’m sorry.”

"Aw, ain't that real sweet?" He remains impassive, unmoved. "The little thief does got some manners after all."

Without warning, the sharp toe of his cowboy boot kicks apart your feet. In the ensuing empty space between your thighs, his leg slots into place. Spurs dig into the tender meat of your ankle, little kisses of pain, as his hips rut forward against your ass.

You choke on your spit, pulse jumping in your throat.

"H-Hey, that's..." You attempt to shove at any part of him you can reach to no avail. Built and broad with compact muscle, it's like trying to move a brick wall. "I said I was sorry, okay!"

He ignores you, burying his face into the space behind your ear. A deep inhale sounds next to your head, the expansion of his chest against your back so firm you're not sure you won't fuse together.

The whiskey rough groan he releases does wicked things, makes your mind wander to places it shouldn't. Full of grit and gravel as his cock twitches against your backside, a burning line of heat.

A shiver ricochets down your spine.

He grunts, says, "Mm, you smell good enough ta eat."

The cap of his knee nudges up against your clit with a sudden jolt, shocks of pleasure electrifying your body. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and a sob threatens to scrape its way up from the depths of your throat.

You swallow, mouth desert dry. "Come on, let's just forget all about this, yeah?" you reason. "No harm done. I'll even give you whatever I've got left so - so..."

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, the vibration rattling through your chest. "So?" he prompts, plucking at the waistband of your trousers.

"So let me go?"

"Now why would I go an' do an asinine thing like that?" he replies. "If you think you can buy your freedom, think again, Sweetheart."

Rain pings off the metal roof, the smell of pungent ozone and rusting metal wafting in through busted windows and open doors.

“'Sides,” he pauses to turn your attention outside, “I’d hate ta have you yakin’ before the fun’s even started.”

There’s no way to misconstrue his meaning when he punctuates the statement with a teasing rut of his hips. Those rugged fingers tug open the clasp of your trousers, yank until the material goes slack and pools around your ankles.

“Hey, wait--!”

You jolt, hands scrambling for purchase as he slides his leg against your core. The friction of his pants through your thin cotton underwear makes you ache.

Ripping through your bottom lip, blood beading to the surface, you choke on a high-pitched whimper. "I..."

There's no way he can't feel your reaction.

How quickly you're getting wet as he drags you along the length of his thigh while yanking your hips back into the cradle of his pelvis. You meet him in a slow grind that boils your blood and steals the breath from your lungs.

It’s been - shit - far too long since you’ve felt anything other than hunger, thirst; the animal drive to keep pushing forward.

"You like this, don'tcha?"

You hear the dagger-sharp smile hidden in his words.

He croons, "What would your fellow smoothies think, huh? Here you are lettin’ a ghoul get you all hot n bothered - and you’re lovin’ it. Ain't you?"

You throb in response, heat stealing its way into your cheeks as you turn your head away in shame. His dark chuckle lets you know he felt the squeeze of your thighs, the rock and dip of your hips against his knee.

"I - I don't..." you stutter, struggling for a retort. “I’m not--”

A tremble works its way through your body, crushed as you are between the rad warm burn of his body and the wall. Completely at his mercy as you try to figure out where it all went wrong and what you can do to worm your way out of this one.

Terrified of what'll happen if you stay, terrified of what'll happen if you go; stuck in limbo as what was meant to be a simple grab-and-dash devolved into this confusing cluster of shame and lust.

You loathe the embers of desire kindling to life low in your belly.

"You really outta start bein' more honest, Sweetheart."

A large hand dips beneath the worn band of your underwear, and you wait with baited breath. Helpless as calloused fingertips brush over the swell of your mond.

Your inner thighs are uncomfortably sticky with slick, and your eyes burn in humiliation. Your throat trembles around all the words you want to say.

"Didn't anyone teach you lyin' was bad?" he asks rhetorically as his fingers slip down to play with the swollen bud of your clit, tapping lightly.

You keen, low and wounded.

Short nails dig into your palms as you flex your hands for want of something to grab onto.

“I am being honest,” you bite out through grit teeth. Sweat dapples your furrowed brow. “Just lemme go, please.”

"I find that hard ta believe," he replies. "Sorry to say, but you're shit at lyin'. Just look how hungry your lil cunt is for me."

It’s the only warning you get before those long digits plunge deep inside, two becoming three as they stretch you wide. Hollow you out; knuckles massaging your entrance as the tips prod along the sensitive front wall of your cunt.

You clamp down with a strangled moan. “Shit!”

This is a horrible idea - but it’s been forever and a day since you’ve felt anything other than your own touch.

Whether it be the bone-deep loneliness you’ve been shoving down for months or the sudden, inexplicable need for contact, you long for a reminder that you’re still alive.

That you’re not some wrath of the Wasteland filled with sand and blood, doing whatever it takes to survive in a place that would rather see you fail.

“I - I’m not sure.”

He snorts but offers no council or reassurances, using his free hand to yank at the back of your head in impatience. While it might’ve been a fairer fight if you weren’t in such bad shape, there’s no denying that he’s proven himself to be more adept.

Stronger, quicker.

This is going to happen either way.

And that turns you on - even though you feel like it shouldn’t.

If you give in, if he forces you to give in, it’s not really your fault then, is it? You can enjoy it because you have no choice.

Fuck it, you think, closing your eyes and tilting your head to the side in submission.

Like a doll with cut strings, all the fight drains from your body and you’re left sharing space. The ghoul is a furnace of heat behind you, barely any space to breathe he’s crowded so close.

His cock thickens where it digs into the soft fat of your ass, as large and intimidating as the man himself. “Now stay still for me.”

The or else goes unspoken.

Then he’s stepping away, a rush of cold air filling the empty space at your back.

You shiver, tempted to turn around. Maybe make a run for it. The only thing stopping you is the awareness that his threats aren’t so idle. In your experience, it’s far better to befriend the monster than to anger it.

So you comply, waiting an eternity as your senses strain to pick up on anything other than the murmuring hush of rain, the rumble of thunder, as the Radstorm continues to blow its way through.

Though just when you think he might’ve left, ready to chance moving, you hear the clink of a belt buckle clicking open. The scuff of boots across the linoleum before broad hands shove up under your shirt, scarred palms bare as they settle on your hips.

You tense before forcing yourself to relax.

“You ain’t as stupid as I thought,” he says. “Good girl.”

A test.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I can listen,” you mumble, keeping calm as his hands explore the plains of your stomach, pluck at the waistband of your panties. “Promise ‘m not gonna do anything else.”

Learned my lesson the first time. Got my skull cracked open for it.

“That’s what I like ta hear.”

Without warning, your panties are being ripped from you, scraps of fabric fluttering useless to the floor. You squawk in indignation but then a heavy hand settles between your shoulder blades.

He presses down, and you follow without complaint, finding yourself bent in half.

And then the fat head of his cock is right there, teasing at your entrance. He plays with your cunt, slipping the shaft between your wet folds. Dragging up the length of you to tap at your swollen clit.

Jerking in his hold, you whine and try to bear down with all your weight. “Please,” you squirm. “Please, c’mon…”

His grip remains firm, bruising as he exhales next to your ear, a pleased little grumble. “Thatta girl. Now tell me, who’s my pretty lil thief?”

Every hard ridge of his body bites into the softness of yours, your stiff nipples dragging against the rough material of your shirt. Zings of pleasure shoot through you; bursting in your bloodstream, fizzy like warm Nuka Cola.

“I-”

“Go on now, Sweetheart: say it.” Fingers dig into your hips so hard your bones ache. “Or I jus' might be tempted ta take a bite outta your pretty lil backside instead.”

He’s bluffing, you think, half delirious, … Right? He wouldn’t--

You swallow, throat clicking, and squirm against him.

Is that a chance you’re willing to take?

No, no it’s not.

“Y-Yours - I’m - I’m your little thief.”

The unexpected flare of satisfaction in his voice is almost your undoing. A hand pets down your flank, swatting the outside of your thigh playfully.

“Good girl.” He demands, “Say it again.”

Sharp hip bones kick forward against your ass as he lines himself up and starts to bully his way inside.

“I’m - YOURS!”

Your soft, gummy walls flutter, squeeze until giving in with a pop under the hard pressure of the fat head. His cock stretches you out, thick and girthy.

Ridges of scar tissue and patches of rough friction pockmark his shaft, massaging tender places as he fills you up, fucking you open.

He feeds you inch after inch… until he can’t.

“Wait!”

Accommodating his girth is a struggle, your cunt filled to the brim by the time he’s halfway inside. No amount of slick could make him fit, so he makes do with harsh little jerks of his hips. Forces himself deeper and deeper until he glides home nice and smooth, sheathing himself to the base with a sigh of satisfaction.

You clamp down hard with a hiccupy whine, walls furtively trying to push him out. “A-Ah!”

“Goddamn,” he huffs, hands kneading your ass, “You’re a tight fit.”

Tears prick your lash line, your hips shifting as you try to stop him from moving. Begging for a moment of reprieve. You’ve never taken something so big and thick, so textured before.

Coupled with the minimal foreplay, it feels like he’s punched his way through your body. Hollowed you out to make a home for himself.

Pussy aching, a low burning tightness creeps over your lower belly as tender flesh pulses uncomfortably around the unforgiving heft of his cock seated deep inside. You swear you feel him poking your belly button.

“Please,” you pant, heat settling into your cheeks. “J-Just wait a sec-ond! I can’t - oh shit.”

“Aw, look at you.” Fingers reach around to brush over your cheeks, gather the tears that’ve slipped free. “Didn’t mean ta make you cry,” he lies.

The sound of him sucking his fingers clean reaches your ears. Your stomach swoops, and your clit throbs. Dazed as you wonder what his mouth would feel like on your pussy.

"Hah - too much, you're - fuck - you're too big."

He snickers. ��Can’t be helped, I guess.” Body rippling in a shrug, his hands re-settling on your hips. “But that’s all right - I like it better when they cry.”

Before you can retort, he pulls his hips back.

Your toes curl in your boots, feet squeaking across the linoleum floor as your sweaty forehead grinds into the cool metal of the wall. The texture of his shaft burns as it slides through your swollen folds, dragging against sensitive spots you didn’t even know existed.

You can’t tell if it’s the best you’ve ever felt or the worst, but you nearly sob all the same, nerves alight with liquid fire. Want him as deep inside as he can go; a frenzy of desperation that needs him to stuff you so full you choke.

“See for all your whining, you’re takin’ me so well. What did I say about bein' honest?”

You sniffle, blurry eyes creaking open to stare out the window.

Your body throbs in time with your pulse, your pussy so stretched out you can’t clench down when he thrusts in deep. The fat mushroom head teases your cervix, a faint whisper, before he’s drawing back again.

“T-Too fast,” you stutter, head rolling back to rest on his shoulder. Your thighs tremble, knees going soft. “Slow down, slow down.”

“Sh, you can take it. I know you can.”

With a grunt, he surges forward. Wasting no time in starting up a brutal pace that rattles your bones. He drives you hard into the side of the diner; tits crushed and face smashed, a disgusting mixture of tears and drool wetting your cheek.

“Just like that, Sweetheart.”

You do little more than hold on, all thoughts driven from your mind as he fucks you swollen and bruised. Cunt a sticky mess as your slick eases the way, clinging to your inner thighs and dripping down his heavy balls.

Every thrust punches little sounds from you, and he grunts. “Fuck!”

Your hands cling to the sides of his hips, focusing on the shift of muscle beneath heavy fabric. “I can’t,” you slur, eyes cloudy as you glance up into his, gazes meeting for the first time. “Please, I - ah!”

His thrusts turn punishing, even more so than they already were, hips meet your ass with enough force to leave bruises. “What did I say about sneakin' a peek?”

While the words sound threatening, his voice is heated and breathy. For all his talk, he doesn’t look away. In fact, his hips slow into languid rolls, grinding close. When your eyes slide from his, he reaches down to pinch your clit between his fingers.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides. “You keep those eyes on me.”

Pretty, you think, dazed.

Glinting in the slants of firelight like wet sand or a Nuka Cola bottle in the sun; bourbon warm as they peer at you from beneath a heavy brow bone.

“That’s it, there’s my good girl."

Eyes fluttering when he flexes his hips in reward, the tip massaging along your g-spot, your mouth drops open on a whine.

“O-Oh! Right there, I - fuck, please don’t stop. ‘m so close.” F-Feels s'good.

His bare hand reaches up to curl around your jaw, gnarled fingers pushing their way past the open circle of your swollen lips. They compress your tongue as they gather saliva, stroking along your tastebuds.

Gritty, rough; he tastes of dirt, blood, and gunpowder.

You sneak a kiss to his scarred knuckle when he pulls free.

“Shit, I’ll be damned. You’re just a nasty lil freak, ain't you?”

You moan in response, stretching up on your tip-toes and arching your hips to change the angle. Your palms rest beside your head, docile.

A crazed grin cracks the corners of his lips, his teeth bared like an animal. “I like that,” he husks. “Now be a peach…”

Then those soaked digits are finding their way between your thighs, ghosting over your skin to smear spit onto your abused clit. The tender bud throbs beneath his fingertips, swollen and begging for attention.

He hitches his hips forward to feel you jerk, pulsing beneath his touch as he resumes a fast, jolting pace that has you smacking into the wall.

“And cum for me.”

A deep rumble escapes his throat, the sloppy, wet sounds of him fucking you ringing loud in your ears. Your hips roll, unsure if you want to press forward into the swirl of his fingers or back into the rut of his cock.

Tears stream down your cheeks, your chest heaving with weak sobs.

“Please,” you whine, his shaft pinching your walls uncomfortably. You feel swollen, rubbed raw. “A-Almost there.”

A nip to the ear is all it takes.

“Hhaah, I’m--!”

The liquid heat that’s been pooling low in your belly - building and building - finally bursts in a gush of slick that soaks his hand. Darkens the crotch of his pants as it drips down your thighs to splash against the tile.

You sob, a full body tremor zipping through you like bottled lightening.

In the aftermath, your cunt twitches in time with your heartbeat. Hands numb and head full of cotton as cramps bloom between your hips. Sharp little stabs shoot up behind your navel.

“Shit, I’ve got myself a gusher,” he laughs, a nasty little smirk tugging at his lips. “Look at the mess you made. Now if you ask real sweet-like, maybe I’ll let you clean it up with your tongue.”

You sag, too boneless to be ashamed as electric aftershocks tingle along your nerves. All the while, his pace never falters, quickly fucking you into overstimulation.

Your clit twitches pathetically when the fat head of his cock drags along your g-spot. "No more," you mumble weakly, letting him maneuver your body how he likes. "Please."

“Heh, let’s see if you can do that again.”

You whimper, “Oh, oh, please n-no. I - I can’t. You’ll break me.”

“That’s real cute,” his lips, harsh and rasping, drag over the shell of your ear, “but I wasn’t askin’.”

The grip on your hips tightens to the point of pain, digging in and marking you up.

“Now, why don’ we have some real fun, Darlin'?”

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout smut #the ghoul x you #cooper howard x you #the ghoul #cooper howard #fallout #fallout fanfic

3K notes · View notes

heyimkana · 1 year

Text

24 Hours with You (Satoru Ver.) - Ep. 1

Series Masterlist Chapter Summary: The first episode of a mini-series where you’ll live through the hours you spend together with your husband, Gojo Satoru. Pairings: Gojo Satoru x Female Reader Genre: Domestic AU, Fluff, Romance, Smut, Humor Word Count: 8K Warnings: whipped, clingy husband!Satoru, sassy!Y/N, shoujo manga inspired backstory, endless sex jokes, and overall cavity-inducing fluff with a little bit of smut at the end (no actual sex scenes...yet)

Episode 1: Morning

06.02 AM

Your very much-needed sleep abruptly comes to an end the moment your husband’s alarm—not yours—begins to ring, his phone vibrating on the nightstand next to his side. You try to ignore it. You really do. After all, he just let you go to sleep three hours ago.

Granted, yesterday was Valentine’s Day and there was no way someone as insatiable as Gojo Satoru was going to end it with just one or two rounds of normal sex, especially not after he went out of his way, spending hundreds of bucks to buy you a set of lingerie that he’d been dying to see. He made sure to dress you up (you’re his favorite doll after all), his grin plastered ever so cheekily on his face. He held his phone steady in one hand, recording the way you not-so-gracefully stepped outside the bathroom in your new lingerie, dying out of shame because—“What the hell did you buy me?!” Which he casually replied with, “A bunny suit. Now turn around and let me see your tail.” To be honest, that wasn’t even the worst part.

(The worst part was when he said, “Now is my little bunny hungry for some carrots? ‘Cause I got a real nice and big carrot for you right over he—” He didn’t get to finish his line. You punched him.)

The alarm continues to ring, playing a song that you grow to hate more and more each day. “Ugh, turn it off.”

Satoru doesn’t even stir in his sleep, which comes as no surprise. He’s still lying flat on his stomach, facing you with his cheek drowning in the comfort of his pillow. He looks peaceful. Innocent. Even when his parted lips are still somewhat smeared with the color of your lipstick. And he’s drooling—in an adorable way, of course.

“Satoru.” You nudge his shoulder. “Sa. To. Ru.”

No reaction. It’s like talking to a dead cow. You groan, your upper body pressing against his backside as you reach out to snatch his phone from the nightstand. With bleary eyes, you turn off his alarm before returning it to the table. You fall back to the side of your bed, flinching as your body still feels sore from last night.

A smile forms on your face. Finally, it’s quiet again.

You still have two more hours before you have to leave for work. I can still sleep for one hou—

The alarm starts again, playing the same damn song.

Of course. How could you forget? Satoru’s the type who sets his alarm every ten minutes just because he’ll totally ignore the first fifteen times. Are you really this tired to not remember this? Yeah, probably.

You pull your blanket over your head. Maybe you can just pay no attention to it like your husband.

Just ignore it, ignore it, ignore it.

Yeah, you can’t.

You toss away your blanket, frustrated. “Satoru, turn it off!”

Finally, the devil wakes up. He moans, his voice husky and heavy with sleep, sounding so effortlessly sexy but you’re just too irritated to acknowledge it that way. “What’s up with the loud noise..?” Sinking back into his pillow and tugging his bedcover up until it reaches his ear, he mumbles, “Honey, I’m still sleepy… Let’s fuck some other time…”

“Oh, we’ll fuck never if you don’t wake up and turn that damn thing off.”

“It’s your alarm.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes.”

“Toru, it’s literally Hatsune Miku playing.”

He giggles, still with his eyes closed. “I love Hatsune Miku.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” You repeat your motions, basically throwing yourself over him so you can reach his nightstand. Satoru lets out a little oof under your weight, groaning. “Babe, what—” You turn a deaf ear to him, making sure to sink your elbow into his back because he deserves it. Once you get his phone in your hand, you switch it off—the phone, not the alarm. “There. Done.” You slap back his device to the table. “Now let’s go back to sleep.”

You’re about to jump back to your side when a pair of strong arms tangle themselves around your waist, pulling you down until you land face-first on his bare chest. “I don’t think so, pumpkin,” he simpers, nuzzling the tip of his nose against the crook of your neck. Suddenly, he’s as bright as daylight. “I can’t believe you’re being so aggressive this morning. Did we not do it enough last night?” He puckers his lips, baby-talking you when he says, “Is my little baby bunny still hungry for her carrot?”

“Satoru, I’ll say this as nicely as I can. Release me now or there will be blood.”

“How is that nice?” He pouts, jutting out his lower lip. He’s hitting thirty and he still thinks he’s adorable when he does that (he is, actually, but let’s not tell him that).

Now, boyfriend Satoru would have insisted on holding you close, but husband Satoru? Oh, husband Satoru has gone through some pain. He knows better not to test you. He releases you with a sigh, his eyes drooping like a sad puppy as he watches you crawl back to your spot. “You’re so mean.”

“You love me that way.”

The corners of his lips twitch up again. “That I do.”

Satoru turns around to his side, gazing at you with the bottom half of his face concealed by the blanket he shared with you. He doesn’t really tell this often, but he loves seeing you in the morning like this. That silky nightgown. Those kiss marks on your neck and shoulders. The way your hair is so messy from all the tugging and pulling he did last night. You’re his masterpiece.

“What?” You ask, unable to sleep with how he glues his eyes on you.

“Nothing,” he smiles to himself. “You’re so pretty.”

At this hour? “That’s bullshit.”

“It’s true!”

“Well, thank you for the praise, my dear husband, but complimenting me isn’t going to make me give you a blow job at six in the morning, so can you stop staring and let me sleep? I have work in two hours. One hour and a half now ‘cause you keep on yapping at me.”

To anyone else, you would sound vicious, but like you said so yourself, this is why he loves you. To Satoru, you look the prettiest when you’re annoyed, especially when you’re annoyed because of him. It makes him feel special in such a weird way. Having spent all his life being objectified by women—and men—for his looks, and treated with endless flattery because he came from a prestigious family, you, with your feisty attitude, appeared in his world like a breath of fresh air.

(Or maybe he’s just a masochist.)

With lips curving in joy, he pokes your cheek. “Babe, babe.”

“Go to sleep, damn it.”

“I will after you answer my question.”

“Just one?”

“Just one. Promise.”

“Fine. What?”

“Do you remember when we first met?”

You open your lids, staring flatly at the ceiling above you. This dumbass is really trying to play his nostalgia card at six in the morning. You take a glance at him from the corner of your eye. He has stars in his eyes. Great. You know he’s expecting a long answer but it’s too fucking early for this. “Yes.”

“You do?” He props himself up on his elbows, his voice a pitch higher. He’s basically sparkling, giddy with excitement. “What was it like for you? What did you think about me? Did you like me from the very first start? Did the world freeze when your eyes met mine? Hehe, I bet you had a massive crush on me~ I see you’re not saying anything so is it true? You totally did, didn’t you? Oh my God, baby, that’s so cute!”

You just lie there on the bed, half-dead, half-deaf, zero energy and he keeps prattling in your ear. “You’re really not gonna let me go back to sleep, huh?”

“Nope,” Satoru replies, making sure to smack his lips in case he wasn’t irritating enough. “Hey, hey, answer me, answer me.”

Somebody kill me, please. “Okay, fine, you wanna know the truth? I used to hate your guts.”

“Eeeeeeeeh?”

“Don’t eeeeeeh me.” You pinch his cheek, ruining his pretty pout. “We couldn’t stand each other during high school, remember?”

“I never hated you, though?” He’s sliding his arms under his pillow, hugging it close as he peers at you with a twinkle in his eyes. “I’ve always found you cute,” he confesses, followed by a girly squeal. Satoru buries his face in the pillow, his legs flapping against the bed. “Aaaaah~ Saying it out loud like that is so embarrassing~”

“I’m gonna punch you.”

“No, seriously. You’ve never heard me saying I hated you, have you? And you know me. I hold my grudges. If I hated you, I would’ve made your life a living hell. But I didn’t, right?” He takes your hand, his thumb gliding across your knuckles before he replaces it with his lips. “I made you the happiest woman in the world instead.”

“With your money.”

“With my love,” he corrects you, flicking your nose. “Do me a favor and try to remember the first time we met. Didn’t I show you enough how much I liked you?”

The first time we met?

Okay, a little flashback.The first time you met him, it felt like you were living the life of a shoujo manga protagonist. Remember all those corny stories you read back in middle school? When character A—a female lead who was so clumsy, it was a wonder she survived the whole trip to school—met character B—the handsome male lead who seemed aloof and mysterious but turned out to be nothing but a warmhearted kid with a traumatizing backstory—in front of the school’s gate where they exchanged long stares filled with yearning and affection even though they just met? It always happened in the spring, for some reason, at the beginning of a new term. There were cherry blossom petals fluttering in the background, the words thump thump and syalala~ scattered all over the page among her inner monologue that went something like, “What a handsome boy… He looks like Prince Charming… And he has such long eyelashes too… Oh no, what is this feeling? Calm down, my heart! At this rate, he’s going to hear it!” Remember those corny lines? Yeah, well, your story went down just about the same.

“What are you panicking about? Just climb up and jump.”

“I can’t climb—I’m wearing a skirt!”

“You’re worried that I’ll see your panties? Honey, please, I’m a gentleman. I won’t stare. Plus, polka-dot panties aren’t my thing.”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW I’M WEARING POLKA-DOT PANTIES?!”

Okay, maybe your story didn’t go exactly the same. But it’s true that you first met him in the spring, at the beginning of the school’s term. There were no cherry blossom trees swaying in the background because God hated you and He wasn’t that fond of adding pretty things into your life. Gojo Satoru was pretty, sure, but only until he started yapping. And knowing Satoru, he’s always yapping.

You had promised yourself earlier that day that you’d do better. Be better. No more running late to school, no more procrastinating on your homework, and maybe even try to socialize more with people (you shuddered at the thought). You didn’t wake up late that morning, and you went to school just on time but there was a car accident on your way there, forcing you to take a detour, so—

“I hate my life,” you grumbled to yourself, staring tiredly at your high school’s gate in your fresh uniform that was no longer as crisp and tidy as it was from all the running you did. The huge wrought iron gate was closed and locked. The students were already sitting in rows inside the hall, sleeping through your principal’s morning greeting. You had your bag slinging on one shoulder, your short, pleated skirt swaying as it was kissed by the wind. Your hair was sticking uncomfortably to your skin, glued by your sweat. So much for wanting to keep perfect attendance, you thought. This is the worst.

Little did you know that God in heaven was like, “Worst? Oh, honey, I’m just getting started.”

Because there he was, a devil sent from the deepest pit of hell. Your ‘Prince Charming’, walking out of a fancy black car and kicking the door closed without even thanking the poor driver. Gorgeous silver hair. Electric blue eyes. Piercing in his right ear and a bubblegum lollipop in his mouth.

Gojo Satoru.

He was a second-year student just like you but that was all you had in common. He was popular, so popular, and you didn’t have to think long to figure out why. He was a prodigy, excelling in both sports and academics, never failing to rank first in every exam, and it was so exasperating because he never seemed to pay attention to any of his classes. He was just born smart. And rich. Always carrying the new iPhone, never wearing the same outfit when he traveled outside. His Instagram was filled with photos of him taking trips to Greece and outer space (not true). His socks were made of rare breed silkworm’s saliva and his shirts were ironed by a dozen crying maidens (also not true). Apparently, his father was this big CEO who worked really closely with the government so you often heard his family name mentioned on TV. And, to top it all, he was handsome. Like unbelievably handsome. Even you had to admit that. Ridiculously tall, naughty smirk, pretty voice. He was the boy that Taylor Swift would make a whole album about.

Lucky bitch.

“I know,” Satoru said, noticing the way you were staring at him as he walked closer to your spot. He pulled the lollipop out of his mouth, gazing down at you (because, again, he was as tall as a tree) with one corner of his lips raised higher than the other. “I’m handsome.”

You weren’t exactly staring at him because he was handsome—okay, yeah, maybe you did. A little. “You’re late too?”

You had never interacted with him before and you were 99.9% sure he didn’t know your name, so maybe you should’ve started by introducing yourself to him. Or telling him not to be so cocky ‘cause who the hell started a conversation like that?

“Yep.” He plopped his lollipop back into his mouth, coloring his tongue blue. “But unlike you, I chose to be late. Needed my beauty sleep, you see, but you get that.” He stretched out both hands in the air, cracking his neck. A little strip of perfect fair skin was shown above his belt but you looked away, clearing your throat.

“So,” he yawned. “Are you going to climb first or should I?”

“What?”

“The gate, genius.”

“You want me to climb up the gate?”

“How else are you planning to go inside?”

“Well, true, but…” You looked around. Your usual school guard was nowhere in sight. Yes, the gate was quite high and you could hurt yourself making your way down but he could lend you a hand, right? It would be easy. You could stealthily slip yourself into the student’s hall after that. No one would notice. There would be no problem.

Well, aside from one thing.

“What are you panicking about? Just climb up and jump.”

“I can’t climb—I’m wearing a skirt.”

Satoru arched an eyebrow before he chuckled. “You’re worried that I’ll see your panties? Honey, please, I’m a gentleman. I won’t stare. Plus, polka-dot panties aren’t my thing.”

You blanched. “How do you know I’m wearing polka-dot panties?!”

“Oh, I got it right?” He rolled his lollipop to the side of his mouth for the sake of putting his annoying smile on display. “I must be a psychic or something. On top of my good-looking face? God really does have His favorite, huh?”

“Probably 'cause He feels sorry for giving you such a shitty personality.”

His jaw dropped. He knew he had a shitty personality but he thought girls loved that about him. “Well, aren’t you feisty,” he muttered, and you were worried for a split second that you might have upset him—not that you cared about his feelings specifically, you just didn’t want to jeopardize your connection with him (He was rich, okay? It would be great for your future career if you were friends with someone like him). But then, Satoru stuck his hands inside the pockets of his pants, leaning close with his lips pulled back in a cheeky grin. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met. Wanna go on a date?”

Oh, that did it. Those little chances of you having a crush on him? Gone. “Gross.”

“Ouch, okay, that actually hurts,” he pouted, rubbing the center of his chest where you just shoved him. After taking a moment to examine your face—you really did look like you wanted to kill him—Satoru gave up with a sigh, shrugging. “Well, whatever. I’m going in.” He pivoted on his heels, making his way toward the gate. “I’ll see you never, Polky.”

“Wait!”

He clicked on his tongue, turning around to say, “Yell louder, will ya? Our school’s guard is practically deaf but I’m sure people in China would love to hear what you have to say.”

“You’re annoyingly talkative.”

“Part of my charm,” he replied. “I feel bad for you for not seeing it, honestly. Now, what is it? First period’s about to start.”

You thought about it, your eyes flying back toward the double-door gate that was attached to the compound wall. It looked sturdy enough to maintain both of your weights. If you made the jump, you’d still have the chance of being the perfect student for the rest of the semester. But did you really want to ask for his help? He was definitely not going to let it go if that was the case. Oh, you knew he was going to be so annoying about it.

“Any day now, cupcake.”

Yeah, I’m not doing it. You weren’t the type who was so against swallowing your pride if the circumstances demanded you to, but if it involved him? You’d rather die. “You know what, it’s fine. I’ll just go home.”

“What?” He knitted his eyebrows, watching you spin around on your heels. You were truly a piece of work, huh? So stubborn to admit that you needed his help. Throwing back his head and groaning dramatically, he exclaimed, “Ugh, fine. Just give me your bag.”

“What—Hey!”

With nimble hands, Satoru managed to snatch it away before you could let the thought sink through. He carried it with one hand, not stopping under your command. You chased after him, and you were so close to getting it back before he flung your bag to the other side of the gate—and so carelessly, mind you.

You watched it land on the ground in horror. “Are you crazy?! I got my iPad in there!”

“Whoops,” he grinned, clearly didn’t feel sorry in the slightest. “Okay, your turn, Princess. Come on, I’ll give you a lift.”

Ugh, why is this happening to me? Left with no choice, you made your way to him. “Don’t call me that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He bent his body forward, exaggerating a bow. “I meant, it is now your turn, oh her Royal Highness of the Democratic Republic of Polkaland—”

You pushed him down by the shoulders. “Shut up and get down on your knees.”

“Oooh, so demanding~” he cooed, but his flirty tone vanished instantly the moment he felt your foot stepping on his shoulder. “Whoa, wait—dude, your shoes!”

Okay, that was your bad. Should’ve taken them off before you did that. Now his black blazer was painted with soil. “Sorry,” you winced. “I’ll help you clean later.”

“Yeah, yeah. You weigh like a ton, by the way.” Oh, you know what? He deserved it. Actually, he deserved more dirt. “Are you rubbing your soles on me?” He gasped.

“You wanted clean shoes, right?”

“Not by using me!”

You ignore him, curling your fingers around the iron bars. “I’m going up. Promise me you won’t look.”

Satoru sighed. “Like I said, I’m not interested in seeing your—aw, aw, aw, aw!” Tears emerged in his eyes. Not only were you stepping on him, you were also using his head to maintain your balance, gripping his strands a little too tightly when you felt that you were seconds away from slipping. “Fuck—Stop pulling on my hair!”

“I’m trying not to fall!” You regained your balance. Feeling a bit sorry, you placed both hands on the bars, gripping them firmly as you stood on his shoulders. You stretched out one arm, fingers clawing against the iron as you tried to reach the top. You got it. Now, all you needed to do was pull yourself up.

On the count of three. One… Two… Three… Pull!

Eh?

“What now?” Gojo asked, his patience wearing thin. His shoulders were throbbing in pain. You weren’t actually that heavy for him. It was the way you were stepping on him, treating him like mud that’s the issue.

You felt your cheeks growing hot, your voice reduced to whispers when you answered, “I can’t do it.”

“What?”

“I can’t pull myself up, okay?!” You yelled in shame. You had calculated everything except for the part where you barely had any muscles in your arms to carry your own weight. “I’m too weak!”

“And you couldn’t have thought about that before you used me as your doormat?!”

“See, this is why I told you I was going home!”

“But your bag is over there—”

“WHOSE FAULT DO YOU THINK THAT IS?!”

Oh, both of you were giving each other headaches for sure. “Okay, let’s try another plan,” Satoru said. “I’ll go first and I’ll pull you up.”

“Can you? You’re built like a twig and you said I weighed a ton.”

“It was a joke, Polky, lighten up. And excuse me, I have muscles, all right? You just can’t tell underneath all these clothes I’m wearing.”

“It was a joke, Twiggy, lighten up.”

“Oh, you little—”

“Enough, we don’t have much time.” You climbed down his shoulders, exhaling in relief once you were back on the ground. “Want me to give you a push?”

“As much as I would loveto use you as my doormat, I got this.” He brushed the dirt off his shoulder and tossed his lollipop to the nearest bin. “You just stand there and look pretty,” he winked. “And try not to fall in love with me too fast.”

Before you could land a kick to his shin, Satoru made his leap, making it look so easy that it almost convinced you to give it another go. He sat down on the top rail—thank God, this gate didn’t have any finials—with his legs settled on both sides to maintain his balance. He took a quick scan of his surroundings to make sure you were alone before he tossed his own bag to the ground. “Okay, I think we’re safe.”

Satoru returned his attention to you, and for a moment, you exchanged stares. “What?” You narrowed your eyes, suspicious. He just grinned, flashing his teeth and you knew he was up to something again. “No,” you mumbled out as realization dawned on you. “You’re going to leave me here?!”

“Abandoning my princess? Of course not.” His eyes glinted with mischief. “Say that you’ll go on a date with me and I’ll pull you up.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Am not.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“Well, this is your chance to get to know me,” he smirked. “Come on, just one date. I’ll take you somewhere fancy.”

“Not interested.”

His smile slowly began to fade the more you rejected him. “You’re seriously saying no?”

“Want to hear it in German? Nee.”

“That’s Dutch.”

“Whatever.”

Satoru took a moment to himself, both confused and baffled (and a bit amused, actually). But surely, no one would reject the Gojo Satoru, right? Yet, there you were, glaring at him as you said so. “Huh,” he poked his tongue against his cheek. You weren’t sure whether he found you vexing or even more… interesting. He accepted his defeat with a heavy exhale, just for now. “Fine. Call me Your Majesty then. If you do it cutely, maybe I’ll pull you up.”

“Oh my God, why are you suchan ass, Satoru?”

“Oh, the princess knows my name!” He claimed in delight, already forgetting the shame from your rejection. “It’s about time you tell me yours.”

“Yes, it’s Miss Fuck Off from Class B. Now, give me your hand and pull me up!”

“Say the magic word then.”

Oh, this isn’t worth it. This is so not worth it. “Fine,” you said, and to his surprise, you whirled around and walked away.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” His smirk faltered. “What about your bag, Sweetheart?”

You didn’t bother to look back. “I don’t care. I’ll get it tomorrow.”

“That’s stupid!”

“I’d feel stupider if I had to kiss your ass.”

“Would you prefer to kiss my lips instead?”

“Goodbye!”

You stomped away. For a couple of seconds, there was silence, and you thought, oh, I actually managed to shut him up. You mentally gave yourself a pat on the back. You might not have your bag with you. Or your wallet. Or your phone. And if you were really planning to go home like this then you’d have to walk for five blocks, but! At least you got to leave him speechless. That was quite an achievement, wasn’t it?

“If you come with me I’ll pay for your iPad!”

You’re back at the gate. “Would you be so kind as to lend me a hand, your majesty?”

Satoru laughed. A genuine laugh actually came out from the devil’s mouth. It almost felt strange. Somewhere deep down, you imagined that he’d have a creepy laugh, or maybe even maniacal. But no. His laugh was so, so adorable. So boyish. So…heartwarming. It was the kind of laughter that would make you smile even when you were clueless of what he was laughing about.

“You’re funny, I like you,” he said, sending tingles to your cheeks which turned you completely into the typical shoujo manga protagonist.

Eew, what the fuck, did my heart just skip a beat? Gross.

Congratulations. You just had your first shoujo manga-worthy inner monologue.

Satoru extended his hand. “You better hold tight, Princess.”

“If you let go, I’ll kill you.”

“I’ll keep you safe, I promise.” Another smile, and there it was again. Your heart doing things inside your chest. You tried to find some excuse, blaming all of this on his looks.

Satoru pulled you up, holding you securely yet so gently by the waist once you reached the top rail. He held you close, noticing how you were shaking a little bit when you felt the fence rattle underneath your weight. This is strong enough to hold us both, right? You couldn’t help but worry. When you were finally sure you were fine, you began to notice the pleasant, intoxicating smell lingering on the little space between you. His scent… It was wonderful—sumptuous and warm, and you figured, that described him perfectly as a person. A mix of cedar woods and cypress, with a bit of sweetness to it. It almost reminded you of—

“The Last Day of Summer.”

You blinked twice. “Huh?”

“My perfume,” he smirked. “The Last Day of Summer by Gucci. You like it?”

“What—no,” you scoffed. “I didn’t even notice it. You smell like sweat.”

“Is that so?” He was definitely not buying your bluff, but he played along, just for a moment. Satoru leaned in, his right hand moving from the dip of your waist to your wrist, his fingers covering yours. You could feel the tips of his strands tickling your cheek, your body freezing up the moment his breath grazed your neck. You found yourself holding your own, your eyes closing shut when he took a sniff at you.

Wait. Sniff?

Satoru pulled away, scrunching up his nose. “I think that’s you, Polky. Did you miss your shower this morning or what?”

“I will push you.”

“Aaw, but then who’ll help you get back down?” He tugged you toward him, his face hovering just a few inches above yours. He tapped his finger against your nose, matching the words he said, “Not. So. Smart. Are you, baby?”

“You—”

“HEY! YOU TWO!”

The thundering voice of a man caused you both to flinch. Your gym teacher—Yaga Masamichi—was there, probably glaring from behind his sunglasses and fuming in his sweaty track pants. “What are you doing?! It’s your first day and you’re sneaking out already?!”

“Interesting point,” Satoru answered, unbothered. “We’re actually planning to sneak in.”

“Teacher’s office. Now.” He didn’t have the patience—or maybe the time?—to stay and lecture you both. He walked away, grousing under his breath.

You let out a heavy sigh. It was only ten in the morning and you already felt so tired. Unlike you, Satoru was still brimming with energy. If anything, he seemed even cheerier than before. “Well, it sucks that we got caught but we had fun, right?”

“Let’s just get this over with.”

“Okay, Miss Grumpy.” He so casually ruffled your hair as if you had been friends for years. “I’ll go first.” He hopped off the fence, landing back on earth almost as gracefully as a cat. You wished you could follow his lead but from that height? You weren’t so confident. “It’s all right, Princess,” he said, noticing your worry. “I’ll be here to catch you.”

That was actually one of your concerns. Not because he didn’t seem like he’d be capable of doing so, but more of what would come after he caught you.

You’d be… in his arms, right? And then what?

Fuck, it’s just Satoru. You didn’t even care about him until now. Just jump.

So, you did. Without thinking too much about it, you removed your hands from the railing, but you didn’t jump toward him as you were too stubborn—and embarrassed—to do so. The chance of killing yourself over this was close to zero, right? You’d be fine.

You could feel your feet touching the ground. You were okay. Or at least, you thought you were. Your shoes, unfortunately, weren’t made to do such a reckless stunt. Your soles were too slippery, and like stepping on ice, you lost your footing, your eyes burned by the blazing sunlight as you felt gravity pull you down.

Until a pair of arms wrapped themselves around your waist.

“For God’s sake,” Satoru said, and you felt his words reverberating from his chest since you had your face pressed against it. He sighed, removing one hand from your hips to cup the back of your head. “You should’ve jumped towards me, you idiot.” You could feel his long fingers slipping between your locks, forgetting to breathe air into your lungs when he pulled away, gazing at you solemnly. “Look, it’s cute to be stubborn and not want to ask for my help, but what would you do if you got hurt?”

It’s corny to say this (actually, everything that had happened in the last fifteen minutes was corny. You weren’t sure why your life—and yourself—had turned into this state. You were doing okay before he showed up in your life.) but you were lost in his gaze. The sky above you was brilliant blue, so breathtaking as it was painted by God Himself, and yet… When you compared that to his eyes...

They’re so pretty… He has such long eyelashes too…

(You have got to stop reading shoujo manga. Seriously. Maybe head over to shounen. Blood, death, and eternal suffering—that would stop you from thinking about his lashes.)

Satoru was close. So, so close, that a butterfly awakened in your chest.And was it just your imagination or was he leaning even closer to you?

“Huh…” he mumbled out. Locking your eyes together, he gazed deep into yours, not romantically—though you were too consumed by his stare to tell the difference. It was more like… He was in awe.

You fidgeted. “W-what?”

“Your eye color changes a little under the sun,” he smiled, sweet and youthful. “Pretty.”

Mush. There was only mush in your head. And Satoru. “You—You’re too close! Get off me!”

He giggled, easily catching your hand before you could shove him away. “You’re blushing? So cute~”

“Why are you two still here?!” Yaga, the same teacher from before, returned with a volleyball in hand. Apparently, he left earlier to get his equipment. “Didn’t I tell you to go already?!”

“We’re going!” Satoru released you, clicking his tongue in annoyance—maybe a habit? “I swear to God, that man needs to get laid.”

“I heard that, Satoru!”

“I wanted you to hear that, Sensei!”

“Are you crazy?!” You slapped his chest. “That’s a teacher you’re talking to!”

“Relax, my grandpa owns this school. He can’t touch me.”

Why am I not surprised? Biting back your sigh, you took a step back, only to realize, great, I bruised my ankle.

He noticed, even when you were trying your best to hide it. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” you said, doing as best as you could to walk without limping. “Thanks for the help. I’ll see you never.”

He matched your steps. “Did you sprain your ankle?”

“Just a bruise.”

“We should visit the infirmary first, just in case.”

“We?”

“I can’t possibly let you go alone.” He sounded like you were asking a dumb question. “Half of this was my fault anyway.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you threw my bag—”

“Because I’m so handsome that you felt too shy to just jump into my arms,” he spoke over you. His lips curving. “Wouldn’t have injured yourself if you just did what I said. But don’t worry. I’m sure there will be another chance.”

I hope not, you shuddered.

“Seems like you’re in pain, Sweetheart.”

“I’m fine.”

“Want me to carry you?” He beamed at you. “Piggyback ride? I can do it bridal style too, if you want. It will be so cute, we can head toward the sunset together after school.”

“I’d rather die. And stop following me. I’m heading to the restroom.”

“Running away from me? Coward.”

“You want me to pee on you? ‘Cause I’ll do it.”

“Kinky, but maybe some other time.”

Thankfully though, he listened to you this time, returning back the privacy you’d been craving since the moment he opened his mouth. He watched you walk away, his lips slowly curving back up as a new sense of excitement and joy filled his chest. “Hey, Princess!” He shouted, making sure that you’d hear his next words even with the distance between you. “I’ll see you on Sunday!”

“For what?!”

“Our date!”

“Oh, fuck off!”

And that was it. That was how you met your husband. To sum up, he had no sense of delicacy, he talked too much, had no respect for your personal space, and the way he snickered every time he saw you? Ugh. Yes, he was pretty. Yes, he made your heart race. But you’re not that shallow of a woman to be with someone just because of their looks so nothing ever happened. Not right away, at least.

These childish banters and unfortunate meetings kept occurring during your years in high school. And as if that wasn’t enough, God reunited you once again in college. You thought you were cursed. He thought it was destiny. You still remember how you used to hold yourself back from ripping out his hair whenever he walked up to you, grinning from ear to ear while singing—not calling—out your name. But then you had this one class with him during your final year and your professor put you two on the same project together. You started getting to know him better, and you found out that Satoru had more sides to him, more complex than just a little brat who craved your attention. You got closer. You stopped rejecting his calls. You missed his cheeky grins when he wasn’t around. And when he kissed you when you were crying because your dog just died? It wasn’t that bad. It was comforting. It was warm. And sweet. It was wonderful.

(Yes, out of all the times he could’ve picked, he kissed you after you buried the precious family member who’d wiggled his tail for you for seven years)

And before you know it, he asked you to be his forever and you said yes. Immediately. Undoubtedly. Wholeheartedly.

“Earth to wifey~” Your husband Satoru pops his head back into your vision. The ceiling that you’ve been staring at for the last few minutes turns blurry behind him. You blink, placing your focus back on him. “You suddenly turned quiet. Is it really that hard to answer my question? Babe, if you tell me you forgot about our first meeting, I’m actually going to shed some real manly tears.”

You heaved out a sigh. “Actually, it’s the opposite. I remember it all too well.”

“Aaaw, baby~” He reaches over to kiss you, only to have you slap a palm over his face.

“Now that I think about it,” you say. “You were so annoying when we first met. And disrespectful.”

He blinks, sweating. “B-babe?”

“Not to mention narcissistic, selfish, impolite—”

“Wait, hold up—What’s going on?!”

“You called me Polky. You called me fat—”

“Wait, this is not the reaction I wanted—You’re supposed to fall deeper in love with me!”

“You threw my bag without permission. You never paid back for what you did to my iPad. You kissed me on my dog’s funeral—oh wow, you were a little piece of—”

“Okay, forget the past, forget the past! Remember that you love me!”

“I think you should go back to your side of the bed.”

“Babeeeeeeee, I’m sorryyyyyyyyy!” He whines, tackling you in a hug, and rubbing his face on your stomach. “You can have my credit card for today. Buy anything you want, okay? No limit.”

“Okay, deal.”

You shake his hand, and the deal is done. Mission accomplished.

“Why do I feel like I just got tricked?” Satoru pouts.

You gently pat his cheek, smiling. “Remember that you love me, honey.”

You can’t help but think that if cupids were real, your cupid must have worked overtime cause damn, what tough work it was to make you fall in love with his insufferable ass.

“Ah! You just thought I’m insufferable, didn’t you?” Satoru asks, squinting his eyes.

You plant a brief kiss on his lips. “I think about you that way every day, my love.”

“You are so in love with me,” he giggles, snuggling closer to you. “Baby, baby, I’m cold.” He circles his arms around your waist again, landing a cute kiss on your shoulder. You can tell he’s smiling like a child, hugging you like a child, and as much as you want to go back to sleep, you can never find the strength to push him away when he’s like this.

“Fine, we can cuddle. But keep your mouth shut. I’m going to sleep.”

“Okay~”

“I’m serious.”

He pretends to zip up his mouth.

“Okay, good. Stay like that.”

Satoru nods. He holds onto his promise. He keeps his mouth shut.

Can’t say the same about his other body parts though.

Because your husband is now grinding his hips against your behind, not too much, not too hard, just enough to make you notice that yup, he’s hard. His hands slip underneath your nightgown, skimming over your thighs before they press flat against your stomach. He’s so warm—he’s always warm—and every touch he paints on your skin is both comforting and provoking.

“Satoru,” you warn him.

He makes humming noises in response, basically telling you, “I’m keeping my mouth shut, just like you asked.” He’s bratty that way.

You sigh. You decide to let him be. It will take more energy to push him away anyway. Besides, even if he’s insatiable when it comes to sex, Satoru will never force you to do anything you don’t want to. You just have to ignore him.

Which is not an easy feat, unfortunately, because before long, his hands find their way to your breasts, cupping each one fully with his palms. He makes another noise, which you easily translate to “Good morning, girls~” (You know this because he said that almost every other morning). Giddy, Satoru finds himself giggling again, squeezing them from behind but in a way that is so not sexy. It’s like a kid trying out his new squeeze toy in Toys-R-Us.

You roll your eyes. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm.” He starts playing with your nipples this time. Again, in a totally not sexy way. He’s tweaking, pinching, poking your buds inside with his point fingers, and watching them pop back out again. He’s tittering near your ear and you should really find him annoying but you can’t help but giggle too. He’s so dumb for even finding this entertaining.

“You are unbelievable,” you say, turning your head around just enough to kiss him. You hope for dear God, you don’t smell like your usual morning breath, but seeing how he doesn’t smell like one and still tastes like the whipped cream he had eaten (off your body) three hours ago, you figure you’ll be okay.

You don’t plan to take this further than a playful kiss but when you feel your husband groan against your mouth, pleased by the way you close your lips around his so perfectly, you know you’re losing your battle, and you don’t care. Who cares if you only had three hours of sleep and eight hours of stressful work ahead of you? Satoru tastes so sweet on your tongue. He always does. And you’re addicted to him.

With a little push, you have him lying back on the bed. He has one hand resting on your nape, holding your head firmly as he kisses you deeper. “Satoru,” you sigh against his mouth, his tongue rubbing against yours before he moves down to pepper kisses down your neck. He stays mute, but only because you told him to before (though if you knew it would lead to this, you wouldn’t have said so). Your husband may have the habit of spouting out stupid jokes one after another in his wake, but he always says the right thing during sex. The things you want to hear. The things you love to hear.

You can feel him smiling against your ear, your body shivering at the sensation of his breath caressing your skin. You can’t help but expect him to whisper something, something that you know will make you curl your toes in excitement. Last night he had you begging to turn every filthy word he spoke into action. Today, he just takes your earlobe between his lips, his breathing steady but heavy. The sound of his lips parting… The little mmm when he sucks on the sensitive spot… You're losing your mind.

His touch no longer feels light on your skin, drawing out hushed moans from your lips when he kneads your breasts, his thumb gliding against your nipple from over your gown. A soft chuckle brushes your ear. He knows how much you want to hear his voice. It doesn’t feel right to you, feels like something’s missing. But he won’t do that. Not until you start pleading.

But two can play at this game.

You sit down on his lap, the strap of your nightgown sliding down your shoulder just enough to tease. The sight of the purple bruises he left on your cleavage the night before entices him. You’re so pretty. So pretty when you’re marked and bruised.

With both hands on his chest, you nibble on your lower lip, rubbing your against his hardness. “I need you inside me.”

“Fuck,” he groans, losing his battle. He starts whining when he sees you giggling. “Baby, that’s not fair. You never said that to me before.”

“Really?” You roll your hips, rubbing him at the right spot, the right pace. The way you move is obscene. The thin fabrics separating your body from his only add more excitement to your already burning skin. “And does Daddy like it?”

His face nearly explodes. “Oh my God, stop. You’re torturing me.” He sits up only to grab you by the waist before he throws you back to bed with one arm.

You find yourself laughing when he blows against your stomach, treating you like a child. “Stop, that tickles!”

“I asked you to call me Daddy in the last three years we’ve been married and you always kicked me in the face, and now you’re saying it just like that?”

“What, did you want it to be special? Should I go make you a bath filled with roses, put Hatsune Miku on speakers—”

“Oh, that’s it, come here!”

You’re laughing until you can’t breathe, your leg pulled and your arm pinned behind your back. He tickles your sides, his smile playful and bright, filled with mirth. This joy you both have, you’ve never shared it with anyone else. And maybe he feels that too. Because when he flips you around, pressing your bodies together, Satoru’s gaze turns soft. He leans close, gathering your face in his hand. There’s no laughter, no giggle, no mischief in his eyes, only honesty. His voice sounds deep yet gentle when he speaks, “I love you.”

No matter how often he’s said it in the past, how much he’s said it yesterday, it always feels like it’s the first time you hear the words. And it’s rare for you to say it back to him, but he doesn’t mind. He understands that you often struggle to portray your feelings with words, too shy to say it under his overwhelming gaze, and if you ask him, it’s one of the reasons why he cherishes you so dearly. Because he knows whenever those words do come out of your mouth, you truly mean them.

Like now.

Cupping the back of his hand, you press your cheek further against his palm. “I love you more,” you whisper. “Every part of you.” And there’s so much more you wish you could say, but will your words ever be enough to describe them all? It wasn’t obvious to his eyes before as you were good at masking your emotions with sarcastic remarks and mean retorts, but reminiscing those old days you shared with him… It really made you realize just how much you’re in love with the man you’ve shared the last seven years with. You’ve grown so attached that even the thought of spending some days alone without him scares you to your bones. And with the way he’s gazing at you right now, ocean eyes filled with the same amount of passion and affection as they were on the day he confessed his feelings to you for the first time, it’s only right for you to be overwhelmed by your emotions.

Sometimes it scares me because I never thought I’d feel this way about someone.

Even the simplest thought of losing you, of not having you wake up beside me in the morning, is enough to haunt me for days.

Stay with me. Don’t ever leave me.

I love you.

Satoru.

“I just… I love you so much…” And you hate that it’s all you could say.

But it’s enough. It’s more than enough. Because Satoru is blushing, his eyes turning round, his lips parted but no words can be found. He just looks at you, astonished by the vulnerability you display on your face. The honesty. The purity of each gesture. How beautiful you are…

“Satoru?”

He pulls you into his embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Hugging you so tightly, he barely gives you a chance to breathe and yet, you only wish for him to hold you tighter. You can’t tell just how much your words paint vibrant colors to his world—and bold red to his cheeks. “Are you planning to give me a heart attack?” He murmurs near your ear, a hint of shiver in his voice. “What the hell was that?”

You can’t help but chuckle. Embarrassed Satoru is the best kind of Satoru. “Sorry.”

“You kidding me? Say it again.” He returns the space between you, but only for an inch or two because that’s all he can bear. He strokes your face, his heart beating hard enough that you can almost feel it on your skin. “I think this is the cutest you’ve ever been.”

“I’m maxed out for today, though,” you say, wincing. “You’re gonna have to wait another ten years before I say that again.”

“I’ll wait forever if that’s what it takes,” he smiles, gliding his thumb across your cheekbone before he kisses you. “My sweet, sweet wife. I’m so happy I kissed you that day. Sorry your dog died, though.”

You chortle. “Honestly, you couldn’t have picked some other time?”

“You looked super cute when you cried, okay? Sue me.”

“You’re so ridiculous.” But you press his lips against his anyway, both of you smiling into the kiss.

“Babe.”

“Hmm?”

“Can I have your tits back in my mouth?”

“Sure, why not.”

“Can I… also bring my carrot back to my bunny’s mouth?”

“Aaaaand we’re done.” With a little shove to his chest, you send him back to the bed.

“Wha—” He sputters, mouth opening and closing like fish out of water. “Babe—”

“I’m gonna go make some coffee.”

“No, wait!” He shuffles quickly to his knees, holding onto your wrist. “Honey, I was kidding!”

“Moment’s gone, Toru.”

“But I’m still haaaard,” he cries, and whines, pleading at you with his pretty eyes. “Baby, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll behave so come back to me? Please?”

You already have one foot off the bed, tossing him a look over your shoulder. “You have hands.” Tying up your hair in a messy bun, you step down, smirking. “Use them.”

“Babeeeeee~”

You lean in to kiss him on the nose, patting his cheek when you say, “Take your time.”

As you walk away, you hear him mumble sadly behind you, “But your carrot…”

Yeah, your husband is insufferable.

And that’s why you love him.

***

Next Chapter

Shoutout to @justasketch and @princess-okkotsu for being my first readers and for not throwing up from the excessive amount of cringe in this fic. Love you, babes ❤️

#gojo fluff #gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru smut #satoru fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fics #gojou x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen #fics.24HourswithYou

1K notes · View notes

imaginesig · 2 months

Text

A Bear and a Gorgeous Girl

Ollie Bearman x singer!reader

with a new wave of fame, how does her hard rock aesthetic hold up when Y/n's fans find her boyfriends account? More specifically how she appears on that account.

ynln

Liked by user1, louis91, olliebearman, and 833 others

Ynln: You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain

tagged: no one

olliebearman i wanna support the arts 🙋🏻‍♂️

User1 I’ve been living for the on tour posts

User2 fr let’s all say thank you Louis!!

user3 that’s an odd caption—are you teasing song lyrics??

user4 Bear cameo

user7 the day we learn who bear is, is the day I die

user5 I want to know who her man is so bad

user6 Y/N LET ME IN

olliebearman

liked by paularon_, kimi.antonelli, user2, and 732,927 others

ollliebearman: i spent my free time following my gf on her tour

tagged ynln

ynln forever grateful Bear ❤️

olliebearman 🧸❤️

kimi.antonelli simp

user1 it upsets me everytime im reminded they're both off the market

user2 ugh shes so pretty

user3 im a new fan, who is she?

user4 Y/n is a small artist who recently started touring with Louis Tomlinson (fron One Direction) and gained followers

user5 They're been together for about a year, but from what ive noticed, her newer fans havent connected that Ollie is her bf (understandable because she hasnt posted/tagged him in awhile)

user6 oh to have a supportive bf like ollie

ynln

liked by louis91, ynln_hq, olliebearman, and 1,982 others

ynln: thank you Louis for an increable experience!! To everyone who learned my songs and cheered me on I love you ❤️❤️

tagged louis91, ynln_hq

olliebearman gorgeous girl

user4 you can say that again

louis91 you are a meance and it was an honor to be your first tour!

ynln 1D was also my first concert

louis91 so you've meantioned several hundred times

user1 best opener ever!!!

user2 im so glad ive discovered you

user3 og fans tap in!!

ynln

liked by louis91, use54, user9, and 2,938 others

ynln: "Mom, I'm Goin' Out" dropping 7/24!! Enjoy my new single "Too Sweet" while you wait 💋💋

tagged ynln_hq

louis91 its gonna be fucking amazing

thesnuts you're smashing it

oliviarodrigo on repeat!!

user1 AHHHH BABE WAKE UP Y/N IS DROPPING A NEW ALBUM

user2 "its ten o clock before i say a word... you wake up for the sunrise" ok miss ma'am

user3 she found herself a good boy

user4 we've known Bear is the golden retriver to her black cat

user5 ok so she posted a soft launch-esc post with a lyrics from too sweet. The rest of that stanza is "You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain. Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. If you can sit in a barrel, maybe I'll wait until that day"

user6 so?

user5 so its pr its about depsite the song suggesing otherwise

user7 noooo she's off the market

user8 i swear she laced the lines "i take my whiskey neat, my coffee black, and my bed at three" with crack

olliebearman posted a story!

caption: gorgeous girl is releasing an EP stream it 7/24

ynln

liked by mmataband, user54, kimi.antonelli, and 2,930 others

ynln: "Mom I'm Goin' Out" has dropped!! Thank you to my family, fellow musicians, and my muse for the endless support! Now stop reading and learn the songs, we got gigs to attend

tagged: ynln_hq, olliebearman

user1 ok hard launch

mmataband we make a killer track

louis91 so proud!

kimi.antonelli adding to the Prema playlist now

ynln if Ollie hasnt already beaten you to it

kimi.antonelli yk he has 😔

user2 Y/n: tags her bf in her EP release, me: stalks him while streaming said EP

user3 UGH MAROON IS TOO GOOD

user4 there is no reason why "The Chain" is so hot

user5 WE FINALLY FOUND HIM

user6 BEAR IS OLLIE -BEAR-MAN

user7 are we all stupid orrr

olliebearman

liked by ynln, paularon_, user32, and 721, 291 others

olliebearman: "Mom I'm Goin' Out" to celebrate love's new EP

tagged ynln

ynln you're so cheesy

olliebearman but you love me

ynln forever and always

kimi.antonelli please tell me she didn't let you actually touch that soundboard

olliebearman 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️

user1 I cannot wait to blast Y/n while waiting for race to start

user2 this is the same Y/n???

user3 who are you girl

user4 I would have never pinned her to love pastel flowers and a pink heart cake

user5 I've stalked this mans whole account and we need to have a meeting

user6 the new Y/n fans have found Ollie ive seen...

ynln

liked by user3, olliebearman, ynln_hq, and 293,293 others

ynln: HELLO?? YOU GUYS HAVE BLOWN THIS EP UP!! I'm so so lucky to say that my childhood dream has become a reality, thank you for everyone who have supported me and helped me on my musical journey!!

tagged: ynln_hq

louis91 stoked to see you're finally getting the attention you deserve

mmataband 🤘🏻🎸❤️🖤

user1 so so deserved!!!

user2 its been on repeat since it dropped

user3 ugh I swear this album was laced bc I CANNOT STOP LISTENING

user4 I can't wait for the live shows to start

user5 same!! I need to hear these songs live

olliebearman

liked by kimi.antolli, paularon_, user54, and 273,393 others

olliebearman: I'm so in awe of your accomplishments gorgeous girl ❤️ Congrats on 1 million streams

tagged ynln

ynln couldnt have done it without my muse ❤️ love you bear

olliebearman love you too❤️

user1 theyre so cute but everytime he posts her its a jumpscare

user3 right its so far off from her aesthetic

user2 too cute!!

user4 God its me again

user5 when is it my turn

ynln

liked by olliebearman, user43, paularon_, and 232,938 others

ynln: Bear has officially ruined my aesthetic but its ok because he's cute

tagged: olliebearman

user1 her hard rock aesthetic might be over but this post is still so put together within itself

olliebearman 😶

kimi.antonelli no its not ok, I dont wanna see you being all lovey dovey on my instragram

ynln something tells me you'll survive

ynln_hq you're still a kick ass rockstar in our eyes 🤩

user1 now that the shock is over im in love with them

user2 the second pic is literally so boyfriend coded

user3 lets all thank Y/n for her service

olliebearman

liked by kimi.antonelli, user4, ynln, and 838,393 others

olliebearman: you heard the girl im cute!!

tagged: ynln

ynln this post is so Pinterest, ive trained you well 🥹

olliebearman best teacher ever!!

user1 ok aesthetic

user2 that second pic is gonna own pintrest

user3 looks like im sleeping in traffic tonight

user4 the matching captions make me sick I NEED IT

ynln

liked by ynln_hq, olliebearman, louis91, and 233,939 others

ynln: guys its time I come clean... im a giant softie who likes my coffee in the form of an ice latte

tagged: olliebearman

olliebearman the lies!!! The deception!! cancel y/n 2024

ynln shut up 🙄

olliebearman 🎸❤️

ynln 🧸❤️

user1 not them having special emoji combos 😭

user2 the coffee drawing is so cute what

user3 well this was not what I was expecting from Y/n but im into it

user4 she's just a girl, no ones above an iced latte

#f2 #formula 2 #f2 x reader #formula 2 imagine #ollie bearman smau #ollie bearman imagine #ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman #oliver bearman #formula 2 x reader #formula 2 smau

291 notes · View notes

hellfire-state-of-mind · 3 months

Text

it’s hell on earth to be heavenly

pairing: security guard!Frankie x band leader!fem!reader

rating: E for Explicit

word count: 5.2k

warnings: 18+ content, reader has no physical description besides female anatomy and clothing, Frankie is able to lift reader, aggressive music festival crowds, mental health scare, Frankie is our pussy eating king, unprotected piv sex, creampie

a/n: my contribution to the Summer Lovin' challenge hosted by @pedgito, @chaotic-mystery, and @amanitacowboy!! i'm so excited to share this one, the story came to me immediately when i got the moodboard. i'm a huge concert girlie so i may have nerded out just a bit 😅 anyway, happy Frankie Friday, enjoy some filth 😘

You knew your lives were about to change the moment the festival was confirmed. You just weren’t prepared for how much.

The band had solidified by the end of your first year of college. You met Madison, the bassist, in your orientation group the week before classes began. She learned how to play in high school out of spite when an ex-boyfriend made a comment about how “girl bassists aren’t real” – her major was in English Lit. Tyler, the rhythm guitarist, was your biology lab partner in the second semester. He was a couple years older, already in his third year and still undecided on his major but like any other former teenage wannabe-fuckboi, he only learned how to play guitar as a party trick to pick up girls. Over Spring Break, he threw a party at the apartment he shared with his sister, Kate, who’d decided not to take the college route despite being the same age as you and Madison. You learned that she was on the drumline in her high school’s marching band, so you didn’t hesitate to snatch her up and round out the group as your drummer.

You had a bit more classical background. Your mom had put you in piano lessons almost as soon as you were tall enough to reach the keys. She tacked on voice lessons when you were in middle school. By the time you were 12, you had your heart set on being a composer and performing at concert halls around the country. Your uncle was the one to teach you how to play guitar; he had a side gig at a local sports bar playing crowd-requested covers and pulled some strings to book the restaurant for your 16th birthday. You were mesmerized by the way everyone would join in and sing along, would-be strangers bound by nothing but an invisible string of words and chords. You ached to know that feeling and suddenly your path was even clearer than before.

The four of you hadn’t intended to form a band. Your bond as friends came first, the music just came from goofing off at a frat party and earning some cheers from drunk bystanders. From there, you did campus events and open-mic nights at dive bars, all just for fun and a little extra pocket money. You even played a wedding for your roommate’s cousin. Your first original song was a by-product of a final poetry assignment for one of Madison’s classes. The four of you recorded yourselves, put it up on YouTube, and it went viral within 24 hours. So you spent that summer just writing music. Pooling together your money allowed you to rent out the campus music department’s recording studio and your first EP was born.

That’s also where you met Frankie.

He had just taken a job as overnight campus security, and it was his first graveyard shift. It had been expectedly uneventful, sweeping through each building and making sure they were empty. Until one wasn’t as empty as it was supposed to be.

He saw the light at the end of the hallway and his Army training kicked in. Soft, slow steps carried him to the occupied practice room. There you sat at the piano, plunking out experimental chords and scratching out notations on the sheet music in front of you. You were so focused that you didn’t even hear the very audible creak of the door as Frankie pushed his way in. He waited a moment for you to respond, assuming he had just caught you mid-thought but when you still didn’t acknowledge his presence, he cleared his throat a bit more aggressively than he intended. “Excuse me.”

You jumped and swiveled around the bench. Your eyes were wide and tinged red with fatigue. You’d been there for hours, insistent on getting the song right.

“Miss, this building is closed.”

You blinked, digesting his words. “Right. Sorry, um,” you squeezed your eyes shut and inhaled at the sting of their dryness, “what time is it?”

“Nearly 1am.” Frankie softened, sure you weren’t any threat, but still maintained his authoritative stance. “You’re not supposed to be here. Could I see some ID?”

After digging through your bag and showing him your driver’s license and student badge, the situation cleared itself up pretty quickly. You’d explained what you were doing there and even showed him the official email from the department head giving your band permission to access the building over the summer. This sparked Frankie’s interest and the two of you probably would’ve spent hours talking if it hadn’t already been so late.

Despite your band’s clear potential, you all agreed to finish out your degrees before pursuing the industry for real. While you were afraid of missing your opportunity, having achieved such a bright spotlight so early on, a part of you was grateful. For time. For structure. For Frankie.

The two of you grew close over those last three years of your undergrad. You exchanged numbers with the veiled excuse of being able to contact him if you needed to get in or out of a building late at night. This eventually became if you needed him for anything. And one night at the end of senior year, you needed him bad.

The university had a tradition of throwing an exclusive off-campus party for the seniors the night after final grades were due. Being the only two band members in school, it was just you and Madison. Classic story, she was invited out afterwards by a bunch of other English majors, leaving you with no ride. So you called Frankie, and he pulled up in the parking lot within minutes. Fueled by the sadness of leaving him behind post-graduation and a little bit of alcohol, you seized your moment as soon as he parked behind your dorm building. The two of you showed just how badly you were going to miss each other in the back of his pickup.

You’re pulled from your memories by the hotel room door opening. Madison and Kate come spilling in, all dressed for the festival. Kate bangs on the adjoining room door, signaling Tyler to come over, and flops onto the bed opposite from Madison. You do one last look over your hair and makeup and emerge from the bathroom to get dressed.

Madison ooh’s in admiration while Kate whistles. “Okay, baddie.”

You roll your eyes and start to strip. Your concert outfit is laid out across the armchair by the window. “Do you guys wanna go over the set one last time?”

“Yeah, as soon as Tyler gets his ass over here!” Kate raises her voice to be heard in the room next door.

“Is everyone decent?” Tyler’s muffled voice comes from behind the door just as you finish buttoning your jeans.

“Yeah,” you yell back and bunch up your top, pulling it over your head as the door opens. You adjust the hem of the cropped tank and sit on the armrest, and the final band meeting is in session.

Right on time 20 minutes later, there’s another knock on the door. Being the closest, Madison hops up to open it and returns with Frankie in tow. “Y’all ready?”

The four of you share nervous and excited glances and you turn to him. “Fuck yeah.”

You and Frankie had kept in close contact after the band moved to LA in pursuit of a record label. He became your security detail shortly after your first tour as an opening act two years ago, fitting into the position perfectly with his military background. You’ve never run into any real issues, still being a relatively obscure group, but you were certainly on the rise.

This music festival was proof. The first single from your second album had just dropped when you got the call: opening the third largest stage on the first day of the event. You were billed third on the promotional fliers. For a band so comparatively unknown, this opportunity would either make or break you.

Frankie drops you off backstage for soundcheck exactly on time. You’re all immediately swarmed by operators and technicians and Frankie disappears off to the sidelines. He listens intently as you all tune your instruments and warm up your fingers and voices. He even catches himself humming along as you play bits and pieces of your setlist to confirm everything is in order.

Frankie’s attention is yanked away by the growing sound of the crowd in front of the stage. The four of you catch on to it as well, Madison and Tyler giddy with excitement and Kate twirling her drumsticks to ground herself. Frankie watches as you fiddle with your hair for the hundredth time, tapping your guitar pick against your thigh. Squeezed perfectly into those jeans you know he loves. Cupping the roundness of your ass just right. The hem of your tank top ends just high enough to give a peek at your midsection that he knows will be on full display once you settle into yourself and start jumping around the stage.

He doesn’t realize he’s staring until you’re right in front of him. You laugh when he still gets flustered at being caught, despite being a confirmed couple ever since he joined your team. You hook your fingers into his belt loops and tug him closer, careful to maneuver around the instrument strung across your front.

Frankie tucks a stray hair behind your ear, brushing your cheek with his knuckle as he does. “You ready, rockstar?”

You take a deep breath and nod. “As I’ll ever be.”

On cue, a voice crackles in your in-ear monitor calling everyone to places. Frankie cups your face, pulling you in for a confident kiss. You flash him a wink as you pull away and line up to climb the stage.

Frankie finds a vantage point off to the side of the crowd, their cries echoing across the fairgrounds as you strike the first chords. He knows your pattern: you’ll linger behind the mic stand for the first song and a half or so, only venturing out to interact with Madison and Tyler during the instrumental breaks. Finally, you’ll walk out to the edge of the stage, playing directly to the fans but just out of their reach. By the third song, you’ve got the microphone in your hand and you’re frolicking around the stage unburdened.

He holds his breath as you approach one particular guitar solo that challenges your playing ability, then cheers along as you nail it with a dazzling smile, the crowd going wild at your fingertips.

The air is hazy with smoke as your set comes to a close, both from the festivalgoers and the machines blowing onto the stage. Tyler, Madison, and Kate play an extended outro of your last song as you address the crowd, thanking them for watching and introducing the band one last time before ending with a final flourish of chords and drumrolls. Frankie makes his way backstage once more as you take your bows, picking up your setlists taped to the stage and tossing them into the crowd as souvenirs. He watches the other three descend the stairs as you blow one last kiss to the fans and follow behind. The area springs to life as the workers hustle to prepare for the next band. Once unburdened from your instruments and in-ear monitors, the four of you flock to Frankie, as practiced. You surge ahead slightly faster than the others to fling your arms around his neck and plant an ecstatic kiss on his cheek, right in the bare patch of his beard, breathing him in as you ride your high from performing. Frankie sets you down and shares a smile and laugh before switching back to business and the five of you come up with a gameplan for the rest of the day.

Everything goes smoothly right up until the end. You all stick together for the most part, migrating to different stages together but not too worried about being attached at the hip. Unlike you and Frankie. You know he prefers to linger behind where he can see everyone and you have no problem staying with him. Every once in a while, people will recognize you and get a group photo.

Frankie should’ve never let you go off alone. He got complacent. Sloppy. Even though you weren’t entirely alone, Kate and Madison accompanying you to the bar booth, Frankie can’t help but feel like he failed you.

He thought he had you in view enough. He and Tyler were talking but it shouldn’t have been enough to pull his attention completely. It’s only when Kate’s yell breaks through the back of the crowd in front of them that they realize the situation. The two of them launch forward, Tyler throwing his arm around his sister and Frankie shouldering through the mass of people, his deep voice and broad stature parting the way.

He finds you towards the center. The three of you had been on the way back with your drinks when a group of overly excited and intoxicated fans crowded you. Their volume attracted the attention of other attendees around and pulled them in, everyone suddenly scrambling for pictures and autographs. Being the lead guitarist and vocalist, you were slammed with the brunt of the energy, Madison losing her grip on your arm and Kate being pushed out to the back entirely, where she managed to call Tyler and Frankie.

When he finally reaches you, Frankie doesn’t hesitate to throw his arm around you and secure you against his body, shielding you from any more prying fingers. He quickly scans and spots Madison not far off, veering to her rescue as well. He tucks her under his other arm and rushes back towards Tyler and Kate. Frankie passes Madison off to them as he feels you slipping from his grasp and fully lifts you into his arms, ensuring no one can take you from him. You just bury your face in his neck, gripping his black t-shirt for dear life, and let him carry you away.

Festival security arrives as your group emerges from the crowd and escorts all of you to the security tent. You detach from Frankie briefly so that the on-site medic can check for injuries, but you resume your position in his lap as soon as you’re given the all-clear.

The drive back to the hotel is a blur. You know Tyler takes over as driver so that Frankie can sit with you. He holds your hand the entire way up to your rooms and only lets go to unlock the door to yours. Kate, Madison, and Tyler collectively decide to hide out in the adjoining room to give you time to recover.

You feel yourself coming down from the adrenaline, the chaos starting to settle in your mind. You go through the motions of your post-show ritual. Take your clothes off. Gather your pajamas. Pull your hair back. Take your makeup off. Shower. Bedtime.

Frankie monitors from the corner by the door, watching with a tightly creased brow that he’s definitely going to get a headache from later. You don’t acknowledge him as you move around the room on autopilot. He does his best to stay out of sight of the bathroom mirror as you scrub your makeup off with a wipe.

You open your eyes as Frankie slips back around the corner, caught in the reflection. “I can still see you, you know?” you mutter. You toss the makeup wipe in the trash and splash some water on your face.

You hear him sigh as he gingerly steps back into view, staying half hidden by the edge of the mirror. His eyes are full of guilt and concern, and you feel bad for snapping at him. “I know.” He leans against the wall, face angled down and away from you as he takes off his trademark cap, runs his fingers through his curls, and replaces the cap on his head. “I don’t mean to hover, I know you need your space. I just…” He pauses to take a shaky breath. “What happened was really scary. I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

You massage your face wash into your skin as you listen, letting it set for a minute before rinsing it off. “I’m fine. Promise.”

It all happens so fast. You hear the girls gasp, not unlike others had throughout the day. You’re more than happy to interact with them, just grateful to even be at the festival and be recognized by fans in the first place. Their squeals grate your ears as more people gather around. You’re suddenly blinded by a phone flashlight being shoved in your face and Madison’s hand leaves your elbow, her fingernails scratching slightly as she tries to hold on. You can hear her calling your name and Kate’s as the three of you are separated by pressing bodies. The roar is suffocating as you’re bombarded with phones and pens and papers and hands everywhere, screams everywhere, you can’t see, you can’t hear, you can't –

“Hey.” Frankie’s voice snaps you back into your body as you stare back at your reflection, tight and sticky as your face wash dries. You sniffle, shaking your head a little to loosen the memory’s grip, and bend down into the sink to rinse your face.

“I gotta shower, Frankie.” You turn and twist the knob in the shower, holding a hand under the spray until it reaches your preferred temperature. When you move to close the door and undress, Frankie is still there watching. Not just watching – observing. Taking in every minute detail and analyzing to determine the best approach. You start to slowly push the door closed, never breaking eye contact with your boyfriend. Just before the wood makes contact with his foot in the doorway, Frankie nods.

“Call if you need anything.” He disappears around the corner, and you hear his tired grunt as he sits in the armchair.

You try not to think. Try to focus on the steps. Shampoo. Lather. Rinse. Conditioner. Rinse. Feel the scratch of the washcloth on your skin. The burn of the hot water as it washes away any evidence of the madness.

But then it’s too hot, like the air as they all crushed you. It’s too scratchy, like their fingernails as they all tried to tear away pieces of you to keep as souvenirs. You’re blinded by soap in your eyes and you see spots that look too much like the endless sea of faces. You can’t see, you can’t breathe, and all you want is Frankie. Frankie can help. Frankie will save you.

Strong arms wrap around you and you snap, pushing and screaming and clawing to get away. You’re lifted out of the shower and collapse onto the cold tile, a familiar body under you.

“Alright, baby, I got you. It’s okay, just let it out.”

You let out a final cry of defeat and go limp in Frankie’s arms, letting him fill your senses. His smell, dirt and sweat and smoke with a hint of his cologne still underneath. His lips in your hair, the scratch of his beard against your temple. His chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm as he holds you in his lap, a warm hand encompassing your thigh and the other tracing feather-light circles on your bicep.

“How did you know?” you manage to choke out in between gasps, fighting to fill your lungs.

“You called me.”

“I did?”

Frankie just nods and sits with you in silence, the static of the running water underscoring the stillness. He doesn’t care that his clothes are now soaked from plucking you straight from the shower. He didn’t think when he heard your choking, he just acted. Like he should’ve done before.

You’re starting to regain control over your breathing when you feel Frankie’s chest stutter. You look up to see his eyes closed, silent tears streaking his face.

“Hey,” you whisper, reaching up to swipe them away. “I’m okay, Frankie. I’m okay now. You’re here-”

“But I wasn’t then.” He fights to keep his voice level as his heart threatens to force its way up his throat. “I was supposed to protect you and I didn’t- I-I couldn’t-”

You trace his lips with your fingertips, interrupting his words as you calm him with a hush. “This was not your fault, Frankie. It all just happened so fast, it could’ve happened to anyone.”

“But it didn’t happen to anyone. It happened to you.” Frankie’s voice has an edge to it now. Angry. “I failed you.”

You twist in his arms, moving to straddle his thighs. Cupping his jaw with both hands, forcing him to look at you, “You have never failed me.” Then, you press your lips to his and it feels like your first breath of fresh air through the smoke.

Frankie reacts immediately. His lips move against yours, hungry, as his hands pull you closer. He needs to know you’re there in his arms and no one will ever rip you away from him.

A shiver runs down your spine and you’re not sure if it’s the contrast of his heat and the cold bathroom floor, or the way his tongue expertly works its way into your mouth, exploring and claiming. You grind down against his hardening length and he detaches your lips, arms tightening to support you.

Frankie shifts and rises from the floor, never once letting you out of his grip as he moves into the bedroom. He groans as you nip at his neck, crawling up the bed with you clinging to his front.

You feel the cool sheets press against your damp bare back and you gasp. Frankie immediately flips the two of you over so you’re on top. His eyes are wild, scanning your face for any hint of distress. You nod, letting him know you’re okay, and slowly slip his cap off his head, dropping it to the floor and clutching fistfuls of his curls with both hands. Frankie moans in relief and turns his head to pepper your inner forearm with kisses.

His mouth works up your arm to your shoulder, across your collarbone. He pauses to nip at your pulse point and fill his lungs with your fresh scent and you rake your nails down his neck to his chest, then his belly. You tug his t-shirt up, forcing him to break contact to pull it over his head.

As soon as it’s off, Frankie scoots forward slightly down the bed and lays back, his curls splayed out on the pillow as he shifts into position. Once settled, he cups the backs of your thighs, nudging you forward. He turns his head to nip at your soft skin as you nestle your knees on the pillow, caging his head between them.

He gazes up at you, a haze growing in his eyes. Stroking your leg with one hand, he traces his fingers up the other before reaching your dripping center. He cups your core in his palm, heat surging through your veins, then travels down. Fingers forming a V, he spreads your lips and a growl vibrates through his body, resonating through you as well.

Your head falls back with a moan and you grip the headboard with both hands. “Fuck, please, Frankie.”

He continues tracing your folds with his calloused fingertips, catching at your leaking entrance. “Please what, baby?”

You look down to see him staring up at you, pupils blown with desire. “Taste me.”

The hand on your thigh slides up to your hip and Frankie practically shoves you down onto his eager mouth. Your head falls back once more and you lace your fingers through his hair, your other hand still gripping the headboard for dear life.

Frankie’s thumb plays with your clit with practiced precision as his tongue explores every inch of your pussy. You lose yourself in the sensation of his digit applying just the right amount of pressure while he eats away at you like it’s his last meal, the scratch of his beard as his jaw works supplying extra friction against your thighs.

You gasp when Frankie finally plunges his tongue into your hole, twisting and sucking down your sweet juices. You can’t help but move your hips in tandem with his strokes and your moans rise in pitch whenever the tip of his nose brushes your bundle of nerves. Frankie removes his thumb, cupping your cheeks with both hands and pulling them apart. You bite back a squeal as his tongue ventures back to your asshole and prods at the tight ring.

He retreats before exploring any further, thirsty again for your arousal. You’re fully riding his tongue as your pleasure reaches its peak. You look down at him between your thighs and find his eyes wide open, drinking in your euphoria, like he’s intent on never letting you out of his sight again. His piercing stare is enough to send you over the edge and you lose your grip on the headboard. Searching blindly for a hold as your back arches, Frankie reaches for your arm, fingers wrapping around your elbow and holding you down on his face. His groans ripple through you, prolonging your high, as his hips rut up into the air, begging for relief.

Frankie releases you as you come down from your orgasm, immediately sliding down his body, placing kisses along his skin until you reach his jeans. Your hands shake as you rush to unbutton them and pull down the zipper. He lifts and shimmies his hips to help you yank them down his thighs, flinging them behind you without looking.

You lean forward to kiss along the waistband of his boxers, licking and nipping at the skin and nuzzling your nose in the coarse hairs trailing below the undergarment. Frankie’s hips buck and he almost whines as he grabs at you. You finally free his cock from the tightening fabric, mouth watering as if in a Pavlovian response. He’s thick and heavy, twitching from the lack of contact. You move to take his leaking head into your mouth as he took you into his, but Frankie’s hands are too fast, too desperate.

He sits up and positions you above his lap, fingers massaging your hips as you grind your still dripping pussy along his length. “So wet for me, baby. I need to be inside you. Please,” he pants in your ear. He’s been apart from you for too long already. He needs to be close, as close as possible.

You nod and breathe out an “okay” and Frankie shifts up the bed to rest his back against the headboard. You lift up and reach behind you to grip his cock, taking a moment to massage his balls. Frankie lets out a strained moan and you guide him inside you, sinking down onto him.

You breathe deep and controlled as his tip parts your walls, practically sucking him in. You pause when your pelvises meet, his hair tickling your clit deliciously. He’s buried deep in your cunt, perfectly molded around him, warm and wet. Frankie mouths at your neck, leaving his mark, and massages your breasts with both hands as he gives you time to adjust. He rolls your nipples in his fingers and you clench around him, signaling that you’re ready.

You start slow, rocking your hips against his and feeling his tip nudge that perfect spot inside you. You start a slow pace, rising off his cock and dropping down. Inch by inch until only his tip is inside, then you speed up. Before long, you’re bouncing in Frankie’s lap with his hands on your hips guiding you. He loves to watch the way your tits move with each impact. Hypnotized, he leans forward and captures a nipple in his mouth, circling it with his tongue. You cry out unrestrained as he lightly bites down and your second orgasm of the night washes over you.

Frankie detaches when he feels your walls clamp down on him. He leans back and bends his knees, planting his feet on the bed. Grasping your arms as he did earlier, he braces you and begins thrusting at a fierce pace. You cry out again as his hips slam up into you, the clapping of skin on skin and his throaty groans filling the room.

You know he’s getting close by the way the veins in his neck pop with exertion. Frankie sucks air in through his teeth and drops one hand down to your clit, your freed hand flying down to latch onto his meaty stomach. Frankie chokes out a moan at the prick of your fingernails. “Come on. Come on, baby. One more. You can do it, give me one more.”

You mindlessly chant prayers of “yes” and “please” at the altar of his hips as you gush around him, soaking his cock and leaking out across his thighs and onto the bed.

“That’s it. Good fucking girl. That- fuck, that’s-” A subdued roar erupts from Frankie’s chest as he pulses inside you, coating your greedy walls with rope after rope of cum. The sensation triggers you to squeeze around him, milking him for all that he’s worth.

Frankie sits up and slides his hands up your back, gripping your shoulders from behind and locking you onto him. You seal your lips on his as your shared aftershocks subside.

Still holding you to him, Frankie leans back to rest against the headboard. He rubs your back with his palm as you both breathe heavily, heartbeats syncing and slowing.

“Frankie?” You murmur against his chest, peeking up through fluttering, sated eyelids. He looks down at you, humming in acknowledgement. “Tonight was not your fault.”

Frankie breaks eye contact, sighing and staring out at the hotel room. You reach up and pull his face back down to you.

“Don’t run away from me. Look at me.” You kiss him deeply again, then whisper against his lips. “I love you. I trust you. I-”

“I got you.”

You laugh softly. “You got me. But I got you too.”

The two of you stay curled into each other for a while. You’re just about to drift off when a knock on the adjoining room door startles you awake.

Frankie feels you jerk and squeezes his arms around you. “Yeah?” he calls.

Kate responds from the other side. “Hate to interrupt you guys but…can Mads and I just come grab our stuff real quick and we can camp out over here tonight?”

You bury your face in Frankie’s chest, still plugged with his cock and his cum, and chuckle. You move to get up and make yourself decent but Frankie keeps holding you. Raising an eyebrow at him, he flashes a mischievous smirk, untucks the sheets with one hand, and covers the two of you with a flourish.

“Make it quick!”

Kate and Madison fly through the room, grabbing their clothes and toiletries while dramatically shielding their eyes from you and Frankie. You can’t help but giggle against Frankie’s skin as you listen to their flurry of activity. Finally, you hear one of them exit the room and Kate calls from the bathroom.

“You guys know you left the shower running?”

#SummerLovin24 #the hellfire texts #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

333 notes · View notes

clairedaring · 4 months

Text

if you're hoping for joe 2.0 to get his 'revenge' in the second half of the series...

warning: mild novel spoilers (but also not really because i'm just discussing things that have been shown in the trailer)

i really think you should either drop the series or give up the hopes of a satisfying makjang revenge storyline in my stand-in instead of setting yourself up for disappointment. because that simply isn't the story that my stand-in is trying to tell.

so what is my stand-in about really?

well, for me i think its a romance tragicomedy drama about an idiotic scum male lead losing the person he loves most because of his own arrogance and refusal to listen to his heart and the series of unfortunate events that happened consequently for our protagonist who was living a peaceful and quiet life as a stunt actor before the scum male lead entered his life.

joe 2.0 and his approach to life

i've mentioned it twice now that one of my favorite traits of joe/zhou xiang is that kindness in his strength where even if he can be choose to be mean or cruel, he simply doesn't because he has such a soft heart and he's weak to see others in pain (joe is my fellow enfp people pleaser okay) (⁠っ⁠˘̩⁠╭⁠╮⁠˘̩⁠)⁠っ which is why even in his 2.0 life, you won't get to see joe turning 180 degree and going around to hurt everyone who's ever hurt him like it's some makjang kdrama.

and while that seems like it could be fun, i think the reason why i loved professional body double (my stand-in novel) so much in the first place is because that very distinction between joe and other rebirth/second chance at life protagonists that you often see in revenge kdramas/cdramas/thai lakorns.

logically, if my stand-in was a 24-episode one31 lakorn/thai soap opera, joe would be full of hatred and burning rage after his rebirth and started his intricated revenge plot while still falling in love with ming whom he should hate the most.

and yet he isn't (or at least it seems to me so far).

if you read the lyrics 'Die For You' - the opening ost of my stand-in, i think you can have a good guess of what the second half of the story will be like.

Even running away to death can't help. If my heart had chosen to stop at you I'll have to surrender with the confusion I feel. To come back to the same old place. Even if I have to die, disappear and then be reborn But the love is still buried deep inside, even if it's been shattered into pieces Even if my life ends, I can't stop my heart from calling out to you Because this whole body, life, spirit It is yours only, for all eternity.

and even from the trailer of my stand-in, you can tell that joe 2.0 has a lot of internal conflicting feelings about whether he could trust ming again after the betrayal he faced in his 1.0 life. and i feel like essentially the journey of ming proving to joe 2.0 that he really does love joe is very much the central plot in the second half part of the story.

so i'd like to take this part to note how well the series has done to adapt the novel so far. i think a good adapted change they've made is this early realization of feelings for ming in the joe 1.0 timeline. i do think the novel made him realized his feelings a little bit later but my stand-in did well to show within ep.3 what happiness could have looked like for joe 1.0 and ming and i think it rationalizes a bit more more for why joe 2.0 would still have feelings for ming 'buried deep inside' even when he's been badly hurt the first time around. and reading the story i've always found it interesting that they took this route to focus on the re-entangled complex relationship between mingjoe rather than going for a joe-centric revenge makjang plot (i swear if this was your typical thai lakorn, joe would seduce ming while planning to take down his whole family or something).

of course, that's not to dismiss that there's a lot of character growth for joe in the second half of the story, especially in his building of self-confidence, self-worth, the ability to put himself first and the fight for his own happiness above all. but like i've mentioned above, his growth journey is not at the expense of a drastic personality change in regards to the kind hearted joe we saw in his 1.0 life. instead, we get kind hearted joe 2.0 who quickly adapts to his new life and attempts to start anew while conflicted feelings resurface for him as he is pulled back into the relationships he once had.

all in all, my stand-in is still at the heart of it, a love story. perhaps, a dark romance as my friend @dragonsandphoenix would call it, but a romance nonetheless. i think that is what also makes professional body double such a compelling read too, because the progression in the feelings and complex emotions of these characters are so tightly written that it's convincing enough for me (maybe not for others though) to believe that yan ming xiu has/will always love zhou xiang (to the point ymx would probably eliminate anyone else who dared to steal zx from him). obsessive love? yes. do they both need therapy? probably. yet i still believe in their happy ending? of course.

final note/disclaimer: then again, this is just my PERSONAL opinions based on the novel and up til 3 episodes of my stand-in (which seems to be very faithful to the novel so far), who knows maybe they can anger novel fans and adapt it completely differently later on (something i sure hope they don't but we'll seeeee) ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

#my stand in #my stand in the series #my stand-in #professional body double #my stand in novel spoilers #msi thoughts #poom phuripan #up poompat #claire opens up her goddamn mouth

248 notes · View notes

zeroslashsix · 3 months

Text

Following my Gambit post, I love love love the way Rogue's powers are handled in X-Men Evolution. Like Gambit, Rogue tends to have a certain set of 'roles' when she's in a show/movie: she's focused on inner torment about her powers, on being a Spicy Southern Belle, or her romantic connections. Which is to say, her stories are usually about emotions and relationships, which is fine, I love those parts of her as much the rest. But if she's not fighting, her powers are only really viewed through a lens of how she feels about them, and how they impact her ability to connect with others.

And here's X-Men Evolution, fully leaning into the fact that Rogue’s power is one of the most dangerous in the entire show. I love the s3 ep "Self-Possessed" so much because it takes the brakes off her, and really commits to the idea that stacking powers is catastrophic when you consider she can wield multiple omega-level powersets at the same time. Her main limitation is that she doesn't want other personalities in her head, she limits her power usage because she just doesn't like it, and yeah, totally fair, but Rogue could absolutely wake up one day, go through the mansion and decide to be an omega squared. X-Men Evolution is about teenagers who are still figuring out their abilities, even at the end of the series when they're a year (two years?) older. By the finale, they have more control and training, but they are absolutely still growing into adulthood and have not reached full potential.

Which is why I think "Self-Possessed" is such a fascinating look at Rogue's powers. Every iteration of Rogue imposes a time limit on her absorption, meaning that any powers she absorbs will only stay with her for a short time. But in that episode, when she's succumbing to all those personalities in her head, her time limit stops existing. She can access powers for months, maybe even years after the initial absorption. Mystique's powers couldn't have given Rogue that ability; the only way Rogue could do such a thing is if that potential already exists inside of her. This implies that when she absorbs a power, that power stays inside her as long as the personality does, and her "time limit" is just a matter of control, or lack thereof.

This seems to be backed up by the s3 finale, where Mesmero and Mystique mind control Rogue to gather powers, and Rogue proceeds to SWEEP the X-Men, Brotherhood, Acolytes, and Magneto in less than 24 hours. By the end of it, she seems fully capable of using any and all their powers at will, ignoring any sort of time limit. Mesmero can mind control others, but he can't enhance them. He cannot give someone powers they don't already possess. The only reason Rogue could do all that is because she was already capable of it, and the fact Mesmero could mind control this out of her seems to imply that Rogue's limitations are entirely self-imposed, mostly mental/emotional, or maybe a lack of experience. (Similar to the season four finale where Rogue seems to use Leech’s power better than he does, probably just because he’s a little kid and she’s an adolescent so has a better grasp on powers in general)

Like, no wonder Mystique and Destiny wanted her powers. No wonder Magneto was so thrilled to have her in the ranks in the first season. No wonder so many people in the world want to use her; she is the all-mutant, the living multi tool that can gather multitudes of power in one place and then combine them. The only reason she isn't considered omega-level is pure technicality; in terms of destruction she could actually lay down, Rogue is absolutely as dangerous as plenty of omegas. The requirements for an omega are 1) infinite power, and 2) limitless power. Rogue has the first one; she can stack an infinite number of powers. But she lacks the second; all her powers must come from the outside, and she cannot generate them herself. But if she has access to multiple omega powersets like she does in Self-Possessed, that technicality kind of stops mattering once the punches actually start flying.

Which all leads into Rogue's main emotional journey through X-Men Evolution, which is perhaps my favorite she's ever had: being used. That's why she was adopted. That's why she was raised being unable to touch, being lied to by both her moms. That's why she was taken into the Brotherhood, and it's why Mystique will never leave her alone. Extra fascinating because after the reveal in season one that Mystique is Kurt's mother, Mystique leaves Kurt completely alone for the rest of the series, while simultaneously stalking and manipulating Rogue. Why the difference? Because Kurt is not a useful tool. Not compared to Rogue. And I think Rogue sees that difference, which makes for such a juicy dynamic when Kurt is so interested in actually loving Mystique, for insisting that Rogue should forgive their mother and 'let hatred go,' because he genuinely thinks that anyone can be saved with enough love. Whereas Rogue, who has seen Mystique's 'love' up close for her whole life, is desperately trying to get away from that, with good reason.

One of the reasons I wish we’d had more seasons, or at least more episodes in the last season, is how seamlessly Rogue’s feelings about her powers flowed into her feelings around being used, her feelings around family, and being dehumanized to the point of mind-wipe by her own mother. Yes she’s sad about the no-touching thing, but that’s nothing compared to being seen as a literal object in the eyes of others, because her powers are utterly perfect—for someone else to use. Which flows into questions of bodily autonomy, of who her powers “belong to” vs. who they “should belong to.” Especially considering that Rogue is only at full power when she loses control/is under someone else’s control, which could lead someone to conclude, “Well of course Rogue should be under someone’s control, preferably mine. She’s so powerful when someone else is controlling her, and so weak when she controls herself. It’s honestly such a waste for Rogue to be her own person when she could be so much more. She needs to be used to reach her full potential.”

In a perfect world, we’d have way more X-Men Evo than we got. More seasons, more episodes, more time to explore whatever the hell Rogue had going on. And if I was allowed to pick, I would have loved to see Rogue with a character arc of self-ownership. In particular, it would be so cool to see her powers develop to the point she can have a “Self-Possessed” crisis and control it, fully aware of herself and all the powers she holds. I’d love to see her use those powers for her own benefit, on purpose, independent of both her mother and the X-Men. I’d love to see a self-serving Rogue in the XMenEvo. Not necessarily evil (though it would be a fascinating villain arc) but a Rogue who chooses selfishness as an act of rebellion. Who can use all those powers simultaneously, consciously, and disobediently. Vengeance, maybe? Or something that heightens humans’ fear of mutants? I’d love to see Rogue become inconvenient to the X-Men, at the very least, either physically or philosophically. Certainly nothing so dire as the Phoenix saga, but something that uses her powers to their fullest extent. (Damn could you imagine Rogue as the Horseman of Death if this went in the opposite direction. How fucking overpowered would Death!Rogue be, how the hell would the X-Men deal with that)

Anyways. Fanfiction is the folklore of the now or whatever. And XMenEvo was already a crazy high school AU anyway.

#x-men evolution #rogue #anna marie darkholme #fanfic #mystique #nightcrawler #kurt wagner

129 notes · View notes

will80sbyers · 2 months

Text

STRANGER THINGS 5 PRODUCTION MASTERPOST / part 004

Go back to part 001 / 002 / 003

May 24 / 2024

We find out they are filming something in this church (in the UD)

From an update of the IG channel for the day 100 of filming - we get this little video of something happening in the season but it's not easily understandable because it's blurry

May 25 / 2024

Karen was filming something, not sure if it's related to the church, unlikely at this point but she was on set

A video drone of the Church and more pictures

They built a cemetery near the church and put the UD vines on it (not in these pics but we find out later)

May 29 / 2024

The IG channel posts pictures from inside the mansion where the Turnbow family should be living, it's speculation that Derek is their youngest son but it's not confirmed yet... This may be his room thoug, it has lots of games and nerdy stuff

Confirmation that it's the mansion

May 30 /2024

The Creel house is getting prepared so they can film in it

Someone literally broke in the set lmao here are close ups of the radio station set

June 1 / 2024

There's UD vines in the Church set (note! The filming at the church set was set to start before but allegedly they had to reschedule because Noah aka Will had a problem at his eye so Will should be involved in the scenes there probably, they should start in August)

More pictures of the church set

June 4 / 2024

FIRST LOOK AT HENRY CREEL IN COSTUME AND ALSO HOLLY WHEELER - my idea is that Vecna is targeting Holly and making her have a vision or he has her in his mind space already after she gets kidnapped by him

More pictures of Holly looking at something she received in the mail it's the same scene with Henry

More pics of Henry and Holly

There's now a graveyard on the church set

Video and pictures of it

June 5 / 2024

Video of Holly and Henry Creel interacting, someone filmed the scene with a drone

June 8 / 2024

They are filming at the Creel house and at the Creel playground and there seem too be other children with Holly, she is dressed like Henry is using her as his doll in a dollhouse so I think this is inside the mind space, she has a different outfit because it's playing dress up and the other children may be those who he killed before... He may think she's similar to his sister Alice

June 9 / 2024

We sort of get it confirmed that Mike and Lucas have bonding moments in S5 from the actors at a convention

Better quality pictures of Mike and El on the roof in probably ep. 1

June 10 / 2024

This may be a young Joyce flashback (?) there's someone on set at the playground that looks like could be possibly her

Video and pictures of Holly with the new outfit, always on the Creel playground/house set - the playground is in front of the Creel house

June 11 / 2024

New pics from the Church set with the UD vines and all

Video

The set designer of stranger things answer some questions

June 15 / 2024

People go inside the Hawkins school and find random stuff left out there from the sets: 1 / 2 / 3

June 16 / 2024

A new actor in costume is seen on set at the playground, it's a girl with brown hair

June 17 / 2024

Pics and video from the military sets

June 19 / 2024

They film something at stone mountain cemetery

More pics, it seems it could be a cemetery in a vision because the names look weird, not sure if the McKinney grave was already there for a coincidence or was added by production... But actually it could be the UD maybe, I'm not 100% sure on this.

June 21 /2024

This is now basically confirmed... We'll get some type of flashback of Jonathan, Will and Mike when they were younger, Will and Mike were 8 and Jonathan 13... They are looking to cast the actors

June 22 / 2024

Steve's car is seen going around the cemetery

June 23 / 2024

Pics from the downtown Hawkins set, they may be filming in the library

New set in a field that has something to do with the military probably and also random pictures from downtown Hawkins, shops etc

June 24 / 2024

Military scenes are being filmed in downtown Hawkins

They are looking for photo doubles and military stuff is being filmed, someone sneaked in

June 25 / 2024

Pics of Downtown Hawkins, Holly, Will and Mike are seen in their bikes going around town, Jonathan's double can be seen, he did NOT lose an arm lmfao we found out they make a version of the costumes without sleeves because it's too hot for the actors to wear the winter clothes in the summer all day... Jonathan was spared... For now.......

Holly going on her bike

FIRST LOOK AT MIKE AND WILL (and Holly) going together somewhere with their bikes

Again

Blurry pictures of it

A video / again

My speculation: Will and Mike are riding with Holly for a bit until they leave her to go to the radio station, this happens in ep. 1

June 26 / 2024

More pictures of the military in Hawkins downtown, the blue van and there's a car chase scene apparently

Military + Jonathan's double

Night scenes with the blue van and the truck going somewhere

Soldiers

June 27 / 2024

New location, field or the woods in the UD

June 28 / 2024

Various new/old pics church set, cemetery etc

June 30 / 2024

A video of the actors for Will, Mike and Holly... Same scene with the bikes I think

Main cast took a break in for a few weeks in July

Videos of the filming in the fields/woods but from a very far away distance lol

July 3 / 2024

Ross posts a picture with the crew and cast, there's Mike, Will, and Jonathan and Nancy's doubles + blurry people and a video of Finn on set - week 24 of filming

July 7 / 2024

Derek is seen on set in Hawkins with the military

July 10 / 2024

Caleb posts a video getting ready on set

They are filming something in the Hawkins laboratory set, it seems it may be from the UD because the cars seem to be the 1983 models and there's the white van that was used in S1 to spy on the Byers

Rumor is that El is involved but it's not confirmed...

July 11 / 2024

The IG channel posts a video of Erica getting ready to film at school

July 12 / 2024

New pictures of the WSQK Radio station with the sign lit up! Super cool 😎

July 13 / 2024

These posters from the stranger things the first shadow play may have hints about storylines in season 5

July 15 / 2024

FIRST OFFICIAL TEASER OF STRANGER THINGS 5 !!!!

Screenshots from the teaser part 1

Screenshots from the teaser part 2

My analysis of the scenes and my speculation

The new actors of Stranger things 5: Nell Fisher plays Holly, Alex Breaux plays someone in the military probably, Jake Connelly is playing Derek

Pics of the Duffers with the military on set

Pics of Mike and Robin together in the same scene, Mike has a bruise/scar on his face (like I THEORIZED BEFORE 🤭)

Again

The outfits make me think it's from ep. 3 or 4

My speculation about this locker at school

Last update from me : 16 of July - if you don't find something, I have probably not updated the post, but you should find it in the " st5 production " tag in my blog!!

For my personal speculation about stuff you can search St5 speculation ( warning ⚠️ there's lots of byler lmao)

Go back to 001 / 002 / 003

to be continued...

#st5 spoilers #st5 #stranger things #st5 production #byler #stranger things 5 production masterpost #stranger things 5

92 notes · View notes

absolutebl · 4 months

Text

This Week in BL - Well... at lease we have Wandee & Stand-in?

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

May 2024 Wk 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

Wandee Godday (Sat YT) ep 4 of 12 - The geept is strong with this one AKA Yak CAN flirt. Wandee now knows he isn’t the only one with a crush on someone else. AND YET they are SO DAMN CUTE together. I do wonder sometime if Yak is running a counter con with Dee pretending to have a crush on Taem. Meanwhile, mad props on the HPV vax public service! Good for them!!! Now that's my kind of product placement. I do have a feeling the sad bit with these two is gonna be VERY sad and last longer than we like.

My Stand-In (Thai Fri iQIYI) ep 5 of 12 eps - It’s a riveting show. Pleasant? No. Riveting? Yes. Tiny crumbs for Ming’s assistant. Joe is best boy. That is all. I LOVE this show.

We Are (Weds iQIYI) ep 8 of 16 - TOO MANY SOUND EFFECTS. Omg get your fingers off those buttons you computer wanking sound dude (you know it’s a dude) what tf do you think this is? Lovely Writer? Also, they left ALL their drinks! Can you not walk and drink at the same time in a BL? Meanwhile not much happened that hadn’t already happened AKA bit of a filler ep. That said, the friendship group stuff is glorious!!! Also this brand of super gentle flirting suits PondPhuwin better than any of their prior rolls. It reminds me of how much I think they suit a historical. There is a gentle dignity to these two.

Only Boo! (Sun YouTube) ep 7 of 12 - I love how kindly the turn down was. But most of the dancing stuff was dull. I don’t know I just find the actor playing Kang pretty vacant of appeal I guess.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

At 25:00 in Akasaka AKA 25 Ji Akasaka de (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 6 of 10 - As is not uncommon with JBL I’m being to get frustrated with Yuki the Uke. Sigh. I’m probably gonna stay that way for several episodes given the pacing of this show.

Living With Him AKA Kare no Iru Seikatsu (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 7 of 10 - Also frustrating. Willful misunderstanding. We got us some running of the gays but boy is this drawn out.

Blossom Campus (Korea Thurs Gaga & iQIYI) ep 3-4 of 6 - The puppy is a bit too much sunshine innocent for me. And the professor is a bit creepy. I don't know, I'm not loving this one like I want to.

It's airing but...

You Made My Day (Thai YT) ep 1 of 5 - mini series staring the I Will Knock You couple Tar & Bom, started but I couldn't find it. I also didn't try very hard.

The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer released to Korean theaters 5/25. HoTae & DongHee, side couple from Unintentional Love Story are back! Same actors, same character names. I love them. I NEED TO SEE THIS. How?

OMG Vampire (Thai Sun ????) ep 2 of 10 - yeah I can't find it.

In case you missed it

Crossing my fandoms moment, major Kpop blog ran the following: OMEGA X Hangyeom Talks Jazz For Two, Brotherhood, And More With KpopStarz

Tis the season of remakes? Both Addicted Heroin (August, my love!) and My Love Mix-Up (G4!) are coming from Thailand. I am very excited to see both. I love a Thai remake, often more than the original.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

May Releases

VBL (Taiwan) is releasing 4 'Special Episode' epilogues to their 4 2023 shows every Friday this month on Gagaoolala, Viki & Viu. Not sure on search terms or how to find these. (Or, frankly, if we need them.)

5/10 – You Are Mine

5/17 – VIP Only

5/24 – Stay By My Side

5/31 – Anti Reset

5/28 My Biker 2 (Thai movie YT?) - trailer

5/30 Knock Knock Boys (Thai Thurs WeTV & Gaga) - I do love Best and I'm interested in seeing him in a new pairing. That said, I'm not wild about Seng. Still, this looks like a chaotic pulpy mess, I'm looking forward to wallowing in it one way or another.

5/31 The Time of Huannan (Taiwan movie) - May not be BL

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

All Wandee Gooday.

Icky no longer allows screen shots or there would have been a bunch from Stand-in.

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity

@rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in it's infinate wisdom doesn't like too many tags.

There's these tricks, remember:

111 notes · View notes

thatgenericwriter · 11 days

Text

When Time Stops || Gregory House

Paring: Gregory House x gn!reader

Summary: reader is at home when they get a surprise visit

Warnings: angst, cussing, mentions of blood, guns/gunshots, wounds

Word Count: 1K

P.s. based off of season 2 ep 24 also requested by anonymous

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The frantic pounding on the door to your apartment woke you from a blissful slumber. Groggily leaving your's and House's shared bed, you clumsily walk to the door. You let out a small swear as you slam your knee into the small table by the door before opening it.

You are met with the flushed face of one of House's ducklings, Chase. You and Chase had a pretty good relationship almost like siblings in a way. You had seen him with almost every expression on his chiseled face, but you had never seen him with this much worry, fear, or anxiety.

His face softened slightly at the sight of your messy hair and skewed pajamas before returning to his worry filled expression. "House has...he's been...he...House was shot."

It felt as if time itself had stopped. Chase was still talking, probably trying to calm you down, but all you could hear was the rapid heartbeat in your ears.

'How is this possible? Shot? Shot! How could he get shot in a hospital!? Is he okay? What if...what if it's fatal?'

Your spiraling thoughts distracted you from Chase grabbing your shoes and a bag of essentials. You only noticed you were walking when Chase opened the passenger door of his car for you.

He gently guides you into his car and clicks your seatbelt in place before jogging around to the other side. You blankly stare out of the window, your leg constantly bouncing anxiously.

Time passed so slowly. It feels like an eternity had gone by before you finally pull into the hospital parking lot. Before the car even fully stops, you are jumping out and practically sprinting through the hospital to the OR where you know House will be.

Just as your about to sprint through the doors leading to the OR, you feel a pair of strong arms hold you back. They pull you towards their chest, holding you close in their arms you hear them start to whisper in your ear.

"House is going to be okay. The bullet missed anything serious. He will live." Willson's reassuring whispers cause you to finally accept your reality.

Your knees buckle underneath you and James slowly lowers both of you to the ground. You turn in his arms and sob into his chest. He comfortingly rubs his hand up and down you back, whispering reassuring thoughts into your ear.

……

It’s been almost an hour since you arrived at the hospital. You're currently sitting in House’s chair watching as the cleaning crew cuts out the patch of carpet with House’s blood splattered on it. Bouncing his iconic ball between your hands trying desperately to stay calm as you wait to hear when and if House makes it out of surgery alive.

Although the bullet missed anything important, it still shattered inside of him causing the surgery to go longer than expected. You hear the door to the office open and you turn to look at who came through.

Cuddy stands there with a smile on her face. You feel your shoulders instantly relax and you stand up and walk into her expecting arms.

“Can I see him?” The momment Cuddy told you what floor he was on, you were sprinting out of the room. Frantically pressing the elevator button, you prayed that he was truely okay.

Standing in front of the doors that lead to his floor, you take a few deep breaths before opening the doors. There he is, looking annoyed even in a drug induced sleep. You slowly walk up to his bed, looking him over seeing the bloody bandage across his upper stomach. You were crying again.

You feel the tears streaming down your face. Tears of relief but also tears of anger. You were beyond furious. ‘How could someone do this to House? Your House? Why would they do this? Don’t they know he has a family here at work? That he has you?’ Your thoughts are interrupted by a series of ragged coughs.

You look over at the man who is lying in the bed next to House’s. He looks over at your tear stained face, then his eyes trail down and stop where your hands are attached to House’s hand.

“That bastard had someone waiting for him?” The confused look on your face made him let out a pitiiful laugh. “I shot House.” The world stoped once again. This time instead of feeling like you were drowning, all you could see was red.

Anger fueled you as you rushed over to the other bed. Before you can kill the man who shot your precious House, you're being restrained by large arms around you.

"You know, we have to stop meeting like this." Wilson slowly pulls you back over to House's bed.

The man in the other bed softly chuckles at you before going into another coughing fit. All you can do is glare at him and hold House's hand once again.

"Shouldn't he be awake by now? That bastard over there is! Why isn't House?" All Wilson could give you was a shrug, explaining that the anesthesia lasts differently for everyone.

.......

So you waited and waited and waited some more until you felt a slight twitch in his fingers. You look up at his face waiting for his eyes to finally open. And when they did, and he locked eyes with you, you started crying once more.

You feel his hand stroking your cheek wiping away the tears as they fall. You nuzzle your face into his hand, having a hard time believing that he's actually okay.

"Hey idiot, why are you crying? I'm obviously okay." All you could do was laugh at him. Even in the most serious of times he's still managed to be an ass. But he's your ass, and he's alive, and that's all that matters to you.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Author's Note: hey so I know it's been a while and this request is from a very long time ago and that's my bad but I'm trying to get through these request and I'm trying really hard to not give in to the writer's block but I will be writing more I will be getting through these requests even if it kills me

#x reader #gender neutral reader #x gn reader #greg house x reader #gregory house #gregory house x reader #hate crimes md #house md

91 notes · View notes

factorygirlsstuff · 8 months

Text

Currently watching: Queen of Tears, The Midnight Studio, Lovely Runner, Into The Ring, Flower of Evil, & Link: Eat, Love, Kill

I started watching kdramas in May 2023 (updated 4/17/24)

My personal top 10:

It’s Okay to not be Okay (top fav) ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

A road to emotional healing opens up for an antisocial children's book author and an employee in a psychiatric hospital. (amazing chemistry & found family)

Crash Landing on You ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

A paragliding mishap drops a South Korean heiress in North Korea - and into the life of an army officer, who decides he will help her hide. (lots of crying but worth it)

Hometown Cha Cha Cha ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

At a crossroads, a dentist moves to a seaside village where she meets a handyman intent on helping his neighbours. (my most rewatched)

Her Private Life ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Dedicated art gallery curator Sung Deok Mi is a fanatic fan girl of White Ocean's Cha Shi-an, a dark secret she hides from everyone. (really supportive relationship, weird last couple of eps)

Business Proposal ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

In disguise as her friend, Ha-ri shows up on a blind date to scare away her friend's prospective suitor. However, plans go awry when he turns out to be Ha-ri's CEO and he makes a proposal. (my first kdrama! Super cute & funny)

Touch Your Heart ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

A famous actress, gets caught in a scandal with a son of a rich family; with her career declining quickly, she looks for one last hope to get back on the screen. She lands a role playing a secretary in a drama & then becomes a real secretary in order to play the part. (Healthy relationship, office romance)

Welcome to Samdalri ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

After suffering a fall from grace, a photographer returns to her hometown and bumps into her childhood friend, rekindling an unfinished romance. (childhood friends to lovers & slice of life/healing)

Happiness ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The residents of a high-rise apartment fight for their lives against a deadly infectious disease while Sae-bom and Yi-hyun try to find the person because of whom the virus spread. (I think I really love friends to lovers)

Something in the Rain ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

When a single career woman reunites with her best friend's younger brother after he returns from three years of working abroad, their efforts to reconnect grow into romance. (they just felt so real to me, the romance was 🤌🏼, worst mom)

Cheer Up ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

A working-class girl joins her college's down-and-out cheerleading team, where she finds friendship, love, and an old-school campus mystery. (idk they felt real too, worst SML though)

Other kdramas I finished:

Healer ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (binged in 2 days)

What’s Wrong With Secretary Kim ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (love PMY)

Love to Hate You ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (Maybe I binged it too fast, but I don’t remember it lol)

Our Beloved Summer ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ (too slow for me & I usually don’t mind slow)

True To Love ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (main leads romance was everything)

Forecasting Love & Weather ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (something was off/missing)

Vincenzo ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (🫰🏼)

When the Weather is Fine ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (kinda slow but I binged it fast lol)

Squid Game ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

All of Us are Dead ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (I like zombie shows)

Alchemy of Souls ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆

Alchemy of Souls: Light & Shadow ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (the romance 🫰🏼)

Suspicious Partner ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (dragged in the middle but loved this couple)

Save Me ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (so good, just hard subject matter)

Shooting Stars ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (loved the main couple so much & so many other cute couples!)

Doona! ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (omg her visual, binged so fast)

Itaewon Class ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (binged so fast)

Descendants of the Sun ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (binged in 2 days)

Castaway Diva ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (first kdrama to watch while airing)

The Matchmakers ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (first sageuk, thought they were adorable)

Crazy Love ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (it was good, but didn’t do it for me 🤷🏻‍♀️)

Moving ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (I didn’t like all the flashbacks, but it was good overall)

Backstreet Rookie ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (for some reason I loved this couple so much, problematic SML & annoying SFL)

School 2017 ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (just perfect)

Dalie and the Cocky Prince ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (the pet names 🥰)

Soundtrack #1 ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (another friends to lovers)

Behind Your Touch ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (idk why but I loved it, it was so funny to me lol)

Thirty But Seventeen ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (great romance & cutest found family)

Kiss Sixth Sense ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (really liked it, last 20 minutes idk 🤷🏻‍♀️)

I Am Not A Robot ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (loved this, dragged a little in the middle)

My Man is Cupid ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (SML annoyed me, the cutest ending 🥰)

Gyensong Creature ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (I liked it, but it didn’t end I guess. So I’m waiting for season 2)

Cafe Minamdang ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (loved it so much! It made me laugh & loved the FL!)

My Man is Cupid ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (it was cute)

Marry My Husband ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (it was a lot of fun & loved watching it weekly with everyone)

My Holo Love ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ (it was fine, only 12 eps so it was quick & slow burn romance.)

Queen of Divorce ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ (it started off really interesting, but some things were never explained & I wanted more romance between the leads)

Doom at Your Service ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (I really liked it, the romance was SO good, but I was a little confused about how the contract worked.)

Doctor Slump ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (loved it SO much! Everything was so cute & loved the romance)

Flex x Cop ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (really loved it, gave me Castle vibes. #1 drama I was looking forward to every week. No romance, although we are getting a 2nd season so fingers crossed.)

Chicken Nugget ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ (it was definitely weird, but I laughed a lot)

Wedding Impossible ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (really liked it, cute romcom)

Fight For My Way ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (loved it so much, binged it in a day! I could not stop watching, friends to lovers really is the best.)

Rookie Cops ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ (really liked it at first, put on hold for a month, then the last few episodes were good again.)

Parasyte: The Grey ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ (it was really good)

Mad for Each Other ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ (so good! Loved everything about it, especially the couple)

Dropped: (I might try again 🤷🏻‍♀️)

Run On

Goblin

Hotel De Luna

Weight Lifting Fairy, Kim Bok-joo

King the Land

My Demon

True Beauty

The K2

Destined With You

The Story of Park’s Marriage Contract

Perfect Marriage Revenge

Moon in the Day

A Good Day to be a Dog

Open to recommendations!

#kdrama #kdrama recommendations #welcome to samdalri #it’s okay to not be okay #hometown cha cha cha #crash landing on you #kdrama newbie #something in the rain #business proposal #her private life #touch your heart #happiness #cheer up #park min young #Bianca watches kdramas #kdrama review #currently watching

148 notes · View notes

0rchidm4ntis · 3 months

Text

[What if we just hadn't said goodbye?]

Some design notes below the cut

-both of their expressions are meant to represent the way they felt about the outcome of ep 24. shinji has his eyes on kaworu with an expression of hurt and betrayal meanwhile kaworu is at peace with his decision, eyes closed and unable to see how shinji may feel now

-i know the pilots are never seen wielding weapons themselves in the show and that evas haven't been shown using a sword at any point either however i kind of live for the fact that swords held blade down look like crosses. i couldn't help myself with that one it was too good an opportunity to pass

-hard to tell bc I couldn't put much effort into them but the flowers making up kaworu's bouquet are blue roses, often recognised as a symbol for secret or unattainable love

-whether the way kaworu holds a bouquet makes him look like a bride ready to walk down the aisle or a corpse laying in their casket. well. ill leave the choice up to you

-i also wanted the items they're holding to parallel one another. shinji holds a red sword dripping with blue blood meanwhile kaworu holds blue roses ever so slightly stained by fresh blood. shinji is the only one holding a weapon because he's the only one causing physical harm in the end, and kaworu doesn't have any because he's given up on fighting for his life

#micas art #nge #neon genesis evangelion #kaworu nagisa #shinji ikari #kawoshin #guess who binged nge in the span of a few days and lost their mind over it. im only 29 years late to the party lmao #anyways i developed an unhealthy attachment to these two so even though im in the midst of art fight+cramming for two diff ship weeks #i needed to doodle something quick at least to get them out of my head for a bit #lets play a fun game now called 'how much symbolism can i squeeze into a singular art piece'!! the answer is: a lot #i might revisit this later and redraw it with more care but thats the best ive got for now o7 #also i almost forgot but #nge spoilers #< just in case

86 notes · View notes

simply-whump · 5 months

Text

Live Surgery Room (手术直播间) - Whump List

Whumpees : Su Yun played by Dai Xu and Zheng Ren played by Vin Zhang

Synopsis : Zhen Ren is a surgeon who succeeded in achieving his father's dying wish. With the help of ER director Pan, he joined Haicheng Hospital. Zheng Ren devoted everything to being a doctor, and his skills caught the attention of genius doctor Su Yun, who began to study Zheng Ren's methods. Su Yun comes to accept and admire Zheng Ren as a colleague. In order to treat a case of conjoined twins with arrhythmia, Zheng Ren and Su Yun join hands to form a team formed by a group of medical professionals (MDL)

Genres : Medical, Drama, Bromance

Warning! Possible spoilers below!

Su Yun

Ep 1-2 : None

Ep 3 : (26:20) Hand shaking

Ep 4 (36:40) Hand shaking, recalling painful memories

Ep 5 : None

Ep 6 : (32:15) Passes out drunk — (34:30) Brought to the hospital in an ambulance because he drank too much

Ep 7-8 : None

Ep 9 : (49:35) Hands shaking

Ep 10 : None

Ep 11 : (31:25) Talking with Zheng Ren about his shaky hand and the fact that he can’t operate anymore, teary-eyed

Ep 12 : (40:25) Passed out (off screen) after working a lot, unconscious on a couch, concern for him, given medicine by Zheng, talking in his sleep

Ep 13 : (05:30) Watching a video of himself fainting (from the previous episode) (semi-comedic)

Ep 14 : None

Ep 15 : (Flashback) (27:10) Worried for his mentor — (Present) (27:30) Crying, hand shaking

Ep 16 : None

Ep 17 : (42:15) Hand shaking

Ep 18 : (04:00) Teary-eyed, crying

Ep 19 : None

Ep 20 : (07:13) Teary-eyed (Just two bros stargazing together with background music)

Ep 21 : (33:20) Caught in the aftershock of an earthquake, running away, building collapses on him, concern for him — (34:35) Unconscious under some rubbles, wakes up coughing (Gif Set), slowly moving, crawling through the rubbles

Ep 22 : (02:55) Forced to operate even though his hand is still shaking (due to PTSD), drops the scalpel, panicking, crying, hand finally stops shaking — (13:11) Worried for someone, crying, shaky breathing, blaming himself, sobbing — (20:45) Depressed

Ep 23 : (02:25) Faints due to exhaustion — (28:42) Faints due to exhaustion, sleeping on the couch next to Zheng

Ep 24 : (25:10) Scratches on his arm — (28:15) Teary-eyed, crying

Ep 25-28 : None

Zheng Ren

Ep 1-4 : None

Ep 5 : (19:37) Getting tired during a very long operation, sweating, concern for him, passes out at the end of the operation — (21:33) Wakes up after a nightmare, in a hospital bed with an IV

Ep 6 : None

Ep 7 : (31:40) Emotional, raising his voice, teary-eyed, crying

Ep 8 : (13:41) Sitting on the ground, crying, laying down while holding a picture of his dead father — (19:45) Crying in front of the grave of his parents — (39:35) Teary-eyed

Ep 9 : (12:00) Heart beating fast during a difficult operation, sweating, vision blurry — (25:53) Crying while dreaming

Ep 10-20 : None

Ep 21 : (33:45) Running away from a collapsing building, very worried about Su Yun (You have to hear him scream his name) — (41:00) Digging through the rubbles with his bare hands (super worried for Su Yun) (Gif Set)

Ep 22 : (07:23) Lifting heavy rubbles, worried for Su Yun, wants to jumps down the building to save him, stopped — (10:40) Relieved to see Su Yun alive, teary-eyed (Gif Set) — (16:18) Crying — (37:55) Fell asleep because of exhaustion, brought into the hospital tent on a stretcher, overworked

Ep 23 : (10:12) Bruises on his back — (27:52) Almost faints due to exhaustion, concern for him, sleeping

Ep 24 : (28:25) Tear-eyed

Ep 25 : (34:00) Missing, friends looking for him, concern for him, shown on camera that he was knocked out and kidnapped — (35:34) Tied up and gagged, wakes up, threatened — (42:00) Sweating after doing cpr for a long time, exhausted, about to faint but caught by Su Yun, concern for him

Ep 26-28 : None

>> More Whump Lists

#live surgery room #whump list #asian whump #whump #cdrama #chinese drama #dai xu #vin zhang #bromance

96 notes · View notes

heyimkana · 1 year

Text

24 Hours with You (Satoru Ver.) - Ep. 2

Series Masterlist Chapter Summary: The second episode of a mini-series where you’ll live through the hours you spend together with your husband, Gojo Satoru. Pairings: Gojo Satoru x Female Reader Genre: Domestic AU, Fluff, Romance, Humor Word Count: 9K Warnings: no plot, just a compilation of fluffy scenes that you share with your whipped, super annoying husband, Satoru. there's a bit of a smutty scene but it's not explicitly written.

Episode 2: Daylight

07.04 AM

The morning sunray seeps through your windows, kissing your skin with familiar warmth. The red roses Satoru bought you yesterday greet you with their sweet scent as they sit prettily in a glass vase that glimmers like crystal underneath the light. You take a quick scan around, expecting the worst but surprisingly, besides the bedroom, your place is still recognizable despite the drunk antics that you and your husband did last night after finishing a whole bottle of wine to yourselves.

Your work doesn’t start until nine, and although usually, you would leave at 8.15 to avoid the risk of turning up late, after noticing what day it is, you reckon that traffic won’t be so bad. Plus, your home is only around ten minutes away from your office anyway. It’s the main reason why Satoru insisted on buying this condominium in the first place—to give you more time to yourself (and for him to cuddle with you on the sofa because you always look so snuggly in the morning). Maybe you can take it easy today. Brushing your teeth and changing your nightgown into an oversized hoodie (Satoru’s) and a pair of comfy sweatpants, you get yourself to work.

Among the clutters on the floor are your cocktail dress and Satoru’s expensive suit and tie, scattered all over the carpet, giving you a quick flashback of what happened after you arrived home from the fancy restaurant he took you last night. The exchange of heavy, scorching kisses in the elevator… Your spine pressed flat against the wall with his head between your thighs the second the front door was shut close… A bottle of red wine tasted directly from each other’s tongue… And…

You glance down at your hands, feeling heat flaring in your cheeks as your eyes land on the thin, but quite noticeable, purple bruises that circle your wrists like dark bracelets.

Last night was… wild.

“God, we’re not young anymore,” you mumble to yourself, shamefaced, as you head toward the kitchen. There are empty plates and half-filled glasses left abandoned on the aisle, and a pizza box that you ordered at two in the morning for an emergency snack (Satoru always gets hungry after sex), but it will only take you a few minutes to clean everything up, so everything’s fine.

Today’s start isn’t so bad.

The condo that you and Satoru bought together felt too spacious and grand at first. The neat white walls somehow screamed lonely, desperate for human touch. But after living here for three years, three whole years of a happy marriage with occasional fights that never lasted a night, it felt truly like home—the kind that you’ve never had the joy to experience before.

Silly Polaroid photos of the two of you are plastered all over the fridge. A collection of your favorite novels sits on the bookcase among healthy pileas that tumble elegantly over the shelves. Satoru’s favorite Hatsune Miku figures are there too, despite your constant begging to just throw them away, but that’s marriage, isn’t it? You just have to compromise on every single thing. Even when the color of Hatsune’s stupid hair—why does it have to be turquoise of all shades?—ruins your aesthetic.

A huge, beautiful mural showcasing the map of the world can be found painted on one side of the wall. In some countries, there are words written by colorful markers, telling a story of the memorable journeys you’ve had together. Satoru’s messy handwriting used to be there but you scrapped them all because drawing a bunch of arrows pointing at different cities and writing down the words “We did it here” or “We also did it here” and “We toooootally did it here” with wink faces on the sidedon’t exactly seem appropriate, especially since Megumi’s son often comes by to visit his favorite uncle. (The word ‘favorite’ here is self-proclaimed. Megumi never said that. His son also never said that. Satoru is just delusional.)

You catch a whiff of your husband’s perfume, still somewhat lingering close, a sweet reminder of your chaotic days in high school and the moment your romance bloomed during your college days. Oh, also, coffee. You’re gonna need a lot of that if you want to get through all of your work meetings today. The smell of freshly brewed coffee is one of your favorite scents in the world and you smile to yourself as you pour it into your mug.

“Someone looks happy,” Satoru sniffles as he places his chin on your shoulder, long arms winding themselves around the dip of your waist. And cuddly, he adds in his head. Though he always finds himself swooning seeing you in your cocktail dress or work attire, he adores this look the most. Messy bun, bare face with acne patches on your chin and nose, his hoodie covering your body to the middle of your thighs. You're precious.

He won’t say this to you though, not today.

“Someone sounds a bit grumpy.” You tilt your head just enough to peck him on the cheek. “Took you long enough to finish.”

“Well, it would’ve only taken me ten minutes if somebody was kind enough to lend me a hand.”

“What, your two hands aren’t enough?”

“They don’t feel as good as yours.” He’s pouting. Even if you can’t see it, you can tell he is. “I didn’t finish, by the way. Thank you for asking.”

A chuckle escapes you. “Honey, you finished, like, four times last night.”

“You’re missing the point,” he sighs. “I don’t think I’ve told you this but…” He turns your body around, making you face him with your cup between your hands and your back leaning against the kitchen counter. He’s still in his boxer shorts, you notice, but he’s made the effort of throwing on a green pastel shirt, hanging loose on his body and unbuttoned to his chest. Satoru rests his palms on the surface, trapping you between his arms. “I think I’m getting so dependent on you now that I can’t even cum on my own.”

“You can’t do anything without me these days, actually,” you comment, running your mouth without realizing that he’s desperate for your sympathy. He gives you a look, staring flatly at you. “And I can’t do anything without you, my love,” you add with a smile, tapping his cheek. “There. Happy now?”

“Wouldn’t kill you to say it once in a while,” he answers, and you roll your eyes. “I’m just saying, I used to do it so easily, you know? I didn’t even need to look at actual porn to jerk off. I was so in control of my body. Just had to picture you naked on your knees with my di—”

“Careful.”

He cuts himself short. “—and I’d be done in, like, two minutes.”

“I see. And here I thought today was going to be boring,” you reply, sarcasm running thick in each word.

“But these days…” His eyes droop. “It hasn’t been that easy. Sometimes I couldn’t even, umm… get it hard,” he admits, blushing. It’s a bit of a confession that he’s been trying to keep to himself for a while.

“What, really? Like, at all?”

He sheepishly nods. “There’s this one time when you were away on a business trip and it had been so long since we had sex so I wanna… You know…”

“Play with your carrot?” You suggest, taking a sip of your coffee. “Rub the eggplant? Stroke the banana?”

There’s a momentary silence where he just looks at you, unamused.

You, also, stay hushed.

Then, “Caress the fresh zucchini—”

“I think that’s enough, babe.”

“Oh, so when I say it, you don’t like it. But when you say it—”

“You’re not saying it at the right time—You know what? Forget it.” Satoru pushes himself away from the counter, fuming and you laugh.

Catching him by the wrist, you whirl him back to you. “I’m sorry. You’re just so cute. I think this is the first time I’ve seen you act like this.”

“Can you be serious, please? This is actually very important to me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” You stand on your toes, kissing his pout away. “I’ll pay attention, I promise. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I’m a bit scared,” he says, his shoulders sagging. He looks like a sad puppy. A giant, 193cm tall sad puppy. Even your puppy didn’t look as depressed as him now when she was on the verge of death. “What am I going to do when you’re away for two weeks and I can’t even jerk off once?”

You know you don’t have to jerk off, right? Your mouth is itching to say the words. “Two weeks aren’t even that long.”

“Of course, they are!”

“Okay, so you can’t jerk off for two weeks. What is the big deal—”

“What’s the big deal?!” He gasps, as dramatically as ever, one hand slapped against his chest. “You’re asking me what’s the big deal?! What if this is a sign of early erectile dysfunction?!”

Hereeee we go. “From someone who came four times last night, what are you saying?!”

“Excuse me, are you a doctor?” His voice drops, his face solemn. “Are you an urologist?”

You sigh. “No.”

“Do you have a penis?”

“Satoru—”

“Do you?”

You’re rubbing your head, headaches incoming. “You wouldn’t have married me if I had one now, would you?”

“Not true but okay. Anyway—”

“Wait, hold up, what does that mean—”

“The point is,” he puts pressure on his words, pinching your nose so you’ll stop talking. “No penis, no opinion. Also, multiple studies by Chinese researchers have shown that in order to avoid getting prostate cancer, men should release their sperm around two to four times a week. And—” He holds up a finger in the air, shutting you down before you even begin to open your mouth. “When you orgasm, your brain releases a surge of dopamine, right? I need that, especially when you’re not around to help me manage my stress.”

You press your lips together, as tightly as you can, afraid that you’ll break into another bout of laughter if you don’t. “I see.” It’s so hard to keep your voice away from shaking. He’s so serious, it’s almost out of character for him to be this serious. “So you’re, uhh… You’re stressed, huh?”

“Oh, I am, baby. I’m so stressed out.” He swats his bangs out of his eyes, pushing back his hair. “Look at me. I just woke up and I look like this. You think it’s not stressful to look this handsome every day? I have to work twice as hard as anyone else in my building just to be taken seriously. Especially by the CEO.”

“You mean your daddy.”

“My CEO.”

“Who’s your daddy.” Right after you hear yourself saying the line, you snort, failing to contain your laughter. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. I just had a flashback of the time when you said those words to me in bed and—” You wipe a tear away, your body shaking from your titters. “God, that was cringe.”

Satoru narrows his eyes. “So you are laughing at me.”

“Yeah, but not because of the things you’re saying right now.” The more you try to explain, the more he seems insulted. “Sorry. Continue.”

His nose flares. He would’ve been vexed if you didn’t look so adorable holding back your giggles. “All the other workers think I’m not fit to be next in line—to lead the company. They think I get everything I want just because I have a pretty face and I’m his only son.”

Well, I mean, they’re not wrong, you ponder to yourself, though you know if you mention it out loud, he’s going to cry. “They’re jealous of you.”

“And then of course there’s that guy, Kenjaku, who clearly wants to take my place so he’s been trying to get close to my dad,” Satoru clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Can you believe they went golfing together? Gol. Fing. My dad never even let me touch his golf club!”

Oh, he’s ranting. He’s so upset, he’s ranting like a tired housewife and it’s hilarious. “I’m sorry, sweetie.” You spread your arms, offering him a smile. “Do you want a hug?”

“Okay,” he mumbles cutely, moving toward your embrace with his lower lip jutted out. He goes down to his knees, tangles his arms around your waist, and nuzzles his face against your belly.

“I think they just feel intimidated by you.” You land a hand on his head. For some reason, his hair is always extra fluffy in the morning. “Smart, charismatic, and sexy? They don’t stand a chance against my husband.”

Usually, you would have him go back to his feet (figuratively and literally) right away after hearing such words, but Satoru only lets out a small hum—responding but not quite agreeing—as he buries his nose deeper in your fabric. Seems like this one is serious. “Toru, you’ll be okay.”

“I can’t do it without you, babe,” he says, his voice muffled by your hoodie.

“What, getting that promotion without people judging?”

“No. Cumming.”

“Oh, we’re going back to that.” You chortle lightly, stroking his strands. “Okay, listen.” Cupping his cheek, you lift his face to meet your gaze. “You don’t have erectile dysfunction.” You return the small space between you, your lips curving up beautifully as you bend down and give him a light kiss on his forehead. “And next time, I’ll take care of your needs. Promise.” Noticing how his eyes take a quick look at the kitchen counter, you add, “Not right now, Satoru.”

“Meanie.” Your husband groans, playfully biting your hand. “And how are you planning to take care of me the next time we’re separated from each other?”

“I’ll do something to help you, uhh… do whatever it is you need to do.”

His eyes light up. “Will you FaceTime me and give me a strip dance with Closer by Nine Inch Nails playing in the background?”

That’s… oddly specific… “And why does it have to be that song, if I may ask?”

“No reason, really…” He averts his gaze. “Just… You know, it makes me think about you…” He seems a bit shy.

Wait. Shy? Satoru is?

How does the song go again?

You tear down my reason It's your sex I can smell You make me perfect Become somebody else I wanna fuck you like an animal

You send your husband a blank stare. Look at him. This pervert is asking you this while acting like an embarrassed schoolgirl standing in front of her crush. “If it’s not too much to ask,” he says, so cutely as if he was asking you to make him his favorite dish for dinner.

Of course, it’s too much to ask, are you insane? “Or,” you suggest calmly with a forced smile. “We can do slightly more romantic stuff like calling each other on the phone and—”

“DO PHONE SEX?” Stars in his eyes. There are stars in his eyes.

“Uhh…”

“Please say yes, please say yes!”

That isn’t exactly what you have in mind, but can you even decline when he’s like this? Telling him no right now would feel just as awful as when you (because of Satoru, of course) accidentally revealed the truth about Santa to your nephew, giving Megumi a hard time feeding his son who started a hunger strike as he went into depression mode for three days. (This is a horrible comparison, by the way. One child was asking about Santa while this one is asking for the opportunity to whisper “I wanna fuck you like an animal” in your ear when you’re a hundred miles away from home. Two totally different cases, but you know Satoru will behave the same way as your nephew if you reject his wish. Probably even worse.)

With your head throbbing, you murmur, “Maybe just a little…”

“Promise?” He holds up his pinky, grinning from ear to ear.

All that positive energy you had this morning? Drained. “Promise…”

“Yaay~”

As you break into a cold sweat thinking about the unfortunate event that will soon befall you (aka the phone sex), Satoru, is already back to his giddy and frisky self. Well, as long as he’s happy, I guess.

“What are you having?” He asks, jumping back to his feet. “Coffee?”

“Mm. You want some?”

“Nah. I’m craving hot chocolate.” He reaches a hand toward the high drawer to get hold of his favorite mug, looming above you and intentionally knocking his chest against your face as he traps you in between. He giggles when you glare. He’s childish that way.

“How very girly of you.”

“It’s to relieve my stress.” He pokes you in the stomach. “Also, liking hot chocolate doesn’t make me look girly.”

“Sure, but trying on my skirt does.”

“Babe, come on,” Satoru whines, his earlobes turning scarlet. “How many times are you going to hold me on this? I was just messing around!”

“Honey, you were alone in our bedroom, wearing my maxi skirt and checking yourself in the mirror.”

“It was a dare from Suguru.”

“And taking selfies.”

“So I can send some proof to Suguru.”

“Not the point, Satoru.”

“That is the point! Babe, can’t you see? Saying no to the stupid dare would’ve made me seem less manly than he is.”

“So you’d rather put yourself in a skirt?”

“Well, duh!”

You can’t find the logic in his excuse, you really can’t. “In my defense, though,” he adds. “I thought you were gonna be out for a little longer.”

“What would’ve happened if I were? Gonna put on my thong next?”

“No,” he scoffs, trying to regain whatever amount of dignity he has left. “Also, it’s not like you’ve never done something embarrassing before. Remember that time when we went to Megumi’s birthday dinner and you ended up telling his nana a dick joke?”

“That was also you.”

“No, no. I meant, that one with the salaryman meeting a guy in a horse costume—” His realization falls upon him. “Oh my God, it was me.”

You shake your head, amused. “It’s okay.” You turn to face the counter once again, placing your mug on the surface before you reach forward to grab a bit more cream. “After being married to you for three years, the only thing that will surprise me is if you grow another head. Anything else, I can manage.”

“Why does this sound comforting and insulting at the same time?”

“Because it’s both.”

With his lower lip protruding, Satoru hugs you again from behind, his chin settled on the top of your head this time. This is why he claims to be all stressed out whenever you’re away. He’s so keen on physical touch that he can’t bear even a few inches of distance between you when you’re around. He reaches up to open the counter, grabbing a jar filled with cocoa powder. His chest is pressing against your spine, his other arm never leaving your waist. “I think we run out of sugar,” he says. “Wanna drop by the mart after work? I’m gonna have meetings all day today, but I can ditch the dinner party.”

“You’re not coming?”

“Hell no. Suguru’s hosting. He makes the worst parties.”

“Isn’t he the guy who’s rumored to be in love with you? I heard about it from Shoko.”

“Yeah,” Satoru snickers, very childishly. “I was the one who started the rumor by putting a note on his desk that said ‘I wish one day you’ll look at me the way you look at your wife. Your silver hair and pretty blue eyes have captivated me from the moment I laid my eyes on you. I dream of tasting your soft lips every night.’ It was so easy to copy his handwriting, I just couldn’t help it. Yuki found out about it and she started gossiping and by the end of the day, everyone knew. I took the note away before he noticed. Suguru never found out I did that, didn’t even know what was going on. He was so confused when people tried to cheer him up. I saw Choso giving him a pat on his shoulder, saying ‘We all love you for who you are, never change.’ And Suguru was like, ‘Uuuh, thanks, but I don’t want to be a salesman forever.’ And so both of them were confused.”

Your mouth twists into a grimace. “You are evil.”

“I prefer the term genius,” he corrects you, seemingly proud of his deed.

“Also, soft lips?”

“Aren’t they?” He seductively raises an eyebrow. To be fair, yes, they are. Even on the coldest night, they’re still as soft as a butterfly’s wing. He has claimed many times that he only used a lip balm if necessary but you don’t buy it. There must be witchcraft involved. He puckers his lips, ready to kiss you and make you experience the thick jealousy you have of his pretty mouth—because, really, all these lip balms you have and your lips are still chapped during winter. You dodge, pushing your palm against his face instead. The big puppy that he is, he licks it.

“I think I’ll be out of the office around seven today,” he informs as you scrunch up your nose in disgust, wiping his saliva away.

“Okay. Pick me up first?”

“Like you need to ask,” Satoru smiles, granting a cute kiss on your forehead. He dabs his thumb on the corner of your lips, rubbing off a little bit of sugar from the leftover doughnut that you enjoyed with your coffee. He cleans it off his digit with his tongue, randomly ruffling your hair as he makes his way to the living room.

“Oh, wait, almost forgot,” he says, retracing his steps.

“Hmm?”

Satoru snatches a jar from the counter—the one that you just used, filled with cream—and puts it in the highest drawer, the closest one to the ceiling. “Just a little payback,” he sniggers. “For giving me blue balls this morning.”

With him being 193 cm tall, he simply needs to stand on his toes for a little bit to reach it, but you? “I think you’re gonna need a ladder.” His teeth flash in an irritating grin. “Enjoy your creamless coffee for the next few weeks, Sweetcheeks—OUCH—BABY, THAT’S MY KNEE!”

“Grab the jar.”

“Fine.” He retrieves it with a grumble, handing it back to you. “But I’m reporting you for domestic abuse.”

You raise your wrist, showing the actual bruises he left on your skin. “I’ll see you at court then.”

“Babeeeeeee~”

***

07.21 AM

“Satoru.”

Your dear husband has been lying down on the couch for the past ten minutes, a head of velvety hair—which somehow still smells pleasantly like your favorite shampoo—resting on your lap. With a pair of round glasses perched on his nose, he turns deaf ears to everything that’s going on, focusing on nothing but moving his thumbs to win the next round of Momotetsu. As his eyebrows wrinkle in deep concentration, Satoru punches the buttons on his Nintendo Switch, glaring at the screen and swearing under his breath.

“Satoru.”

“Wait, babe, I just need to choose this card and—NOOOOOOOO!” He launches himself forward, sitting up with his mouth gaping, his eyes shaking in horror. “Did I just—yep, lost a million yen. Fuck this game. A Martha card?! A fucking Martha card?! Oh, I’m gonna—” He slams his console against the cushion. Repeatedly. He’s 29, and he throws a bigger tantrum than Megumi’s three-year-old son.

“Watch your blood pressure, Honey.”

“Who even invented this game?! Stupid as shit. Babe, do me a favor and don’t ever let me play—” His phone rings before he can finish. Throwing one glance at his screen, Satoru mutters, “Oh, great. Here we go.”

The name Dumbass Monk is written on his phone. You wonder who it is.

Satoru answers through gritted teeth. “Fuck you, Suguru.”

Ah, yes, of course.

“No, how the fuck should I know that the card was gonna choose me?!” he barks, his voice bouncing off the walls. “I wanted it to choose you—oh fuck off, asshole, you’re broke as hell, you smell like wet socks, and your wife hates you. Wait, what was that?” He suddenly switches his voice, doing his best impersonation of a nosy old lady talking about the latest gossip. “You don’t have a wife? Not even a girlfriend?” He maniacally cackles. “I don’t know, man, I don’t think I’m the loser here. Unlike you, I’ve got a super hot wife who loves me unconditionally.”

You flip a page of the book you have sitting on your lap. “Only ‘cause you’re rich.”

“And—” Satoru continues yapping on his phone but he makes sure to poke you on your side for your unnecessary comment. “She’s not just hot. She’s a complete package. She smells like daffodils, she makes me breakfast every morning and she looks so fucking gorgeous when she fucks—”

You slap a pillow against his head.

“—feeds me cookies,” Satoru finishes lamely, wincing, one hand raised in the air as a form of surrender before he takes another hit. “No, I’m not gonna pay you, idiot, you won purely by luck!” He then gasps, his jaw dropping low. “Did you just call me a monkey? Oh, that’s it—”

Satoru is on his feet, shouting, growling, fingers jabbing and clenching as his mouth runs wild. You can somewhat hear the other man’s voice, giving you enough idea of what they’re arguing about although you can’t make out every word. Suguru’s tone is always soft and melodious when he speaks, but his insults are truly on another level. Chuckling to yourself at the strings of expletives that tumble out of their mouths, you watch your husband yell until blood pools on his face, “Fine! Don’t come crying to me when you have erectile dysfunction, which, based on all the non-existent sex you’ve been having, I know you will! Good day!” Suguru is still calling him names when Satoru ends the call with, “I SAID GOOD DAY!”

You flip another page of the novel you've been trying—and failing due to someone’s endless shouting—to immerse yourself in. “Seems like you two are close.”

“Oh, he can die, I don’t care.” Angrily, he tosses his device away, landing his head back on your lap with the loudest groan he can muster. “Whatever. I’m still a better player than he is.”

“Of course, you are, honey,” you respond, your hand naturally falls back to his hair, caressing it like you’re stroking a cat’s fur.

It only takes a few seconds before your husband stops shaking in vexation, even looking a bit sleepy from your comforting touches. “Were you talking to me before?”

“Mm. There’s something I wanted to ask you.” Placing a bookmark in between the pages, you close your book and set it down on the coffee table next to you. “About before, when you told me about your co-workers. How did you know that they’ve been thinking about you that way?”

He blinks, not expecting you to return to your previous conversation. “Aaaw, honey, are you worried about me?” From wishing someone to suffer crucially from impotence to wiggling in joy like a thirteen-year-old girl at the slightest sign of affection, your husband really does have an emotional range of a teaspoon.

“Of course, I do. You’re my husband.”

His mouth curves upside-down, his eyes glimmering, “Babeee, that’s so sweeeet.”

Though you're not so sure why he’s so happy when you just stated a fact, you let him be. “So what happened?”

“I heard them chatting when I passed by the smoking room one afternoon. I don’t smoke—you know I quit a long time ago—so I didn’t know they were ganging up on me and talking shit about me behind my back. Isn’t it gross for a bunch of thirty-year-old men to gossip?” His face scrunches up in disgust. He, the same man who spent two hours on the phone talking to the Dumbass Monk about the recently hired secretary, Maki Zenin (who’s apparently so strict and vicious that, in Satoru’s words, “Almost made me cry in fear when I arrived late at my lunch meeting last week.”), actually had the audacity to ask that question.

"What did they say?” You ask him.

“They said if it wasn’t because of my family name, I would’ve never gotten promoted to C-level.”

“But that’s not true!”You catch him off guard with your sudden fervor after spending the last conversation acting so dull. “I’ve seen how much you worked for this! Satoru, you earned that position fair and square!” Your husband might act frivolous almost every hour of the day, but there were times that he missed his sleep trying to come up with a new marketing strategy to promote their upcoming products. There were hours spent with him taking one conference call after another with his clients, even at two in the morning from the comfort of your living room due to the difference in their time zones. He’s the CEO’s son, true, but he worked just as hard, if not more, as everyone else in the company.

The more it sinks into your brain, the more irked you become. “Who said this?” You snap. “Huh? Who talked shit about you behind your back? I want names.”

Satoru lets out a chuckle, his eyes thinning into a line. It’s been a while since he last saw you being this protective of him. It reminds him of the old days in high school when you, despite acknowledging yourself as being his archenemy, were always quick to defend him when someone threw shade at him. “Honey, relax—”

“Was it Naoya? Or was it Toji? It was Toji, wasn’t it? Oh, that bitch—”

“It wasn’t Toji,” Satoru says, holding you by the hand in a futile attempt to calm you down. “Though you could still punch him if you want.”

“Why, did he do something to you?”

“I just hate his face.”

That’s very Satoru behavior of him that you don’t even bother to comment. “Nobody talks shit about my husband. If they think you get things done easy for you, it’s because you’re so smart, you make things look easy.”

He sits up, turning around to face you with warm, round eyes. “You think I’m smart?”

“Are you kidding me? You’re the smartest man I know.” You give him a light punch on his chest. “If I were your dad, I would’ve still given you that promotion, regardless of our relationship. You’re just that good at your job.”

“That’s…” He swallows. “This is the first time you’ve complimented me like this.” It’s a surprise to him, a very pleasant one, causing contentment to fill his heart.

You feel awful once you notice that even though you constantly thought of him this way, you never spoke your appreciation out loud. “Satoru, I’ve always admired you.” You rest your fingers on his knuckles, apologizing. “I know you complain about having to wake up early to go to work every morning, but despite your flippant attitude, you bear a deep sense of responsibility. You always manage to surpass people’s expectations—surpass mine and I already thought highly of you.” You give him a squeeze, smiling more with your eyes than your lips. “You make me proud. Every day you make me proud.”

Satoru mirrors your expression, a soft blush painting his cheeks as his joy engulfs him whole. He wraps his arms around you, sinking his nose in your hair as he pulls you close. “You’re not throwing compliments at me just to cheer me up, are you?” He whispers and it’s only during times like this that he lets his vulnerability show. Satoru always shines like the brightest star, his eyes brimming with confidence, but there’s still a part of him—part that he conceals from everyone else except you—that needs to be consoled. He’s still a little boy who wishes for a gentle pat on the head and you always give the warmest one.

“I’m not complimenting you, I’m telling the truth. But yes, I am trying to cheer you up.” You return his embrace, your hand sliding up and down his back. “I wouldn’t have said this if you were okay ‘cause I know it’s gonna boost up your ego even more. You’re already annoying the way you are, so…”

He titters. “Can we stick to you being nice to me?”

You echo the noises he made, returning the space between you just wide enough to kiss his cheek. You cup his face with your fingers, your thumb caressing his cheekbone. “I’m sorry people said mean stuff about you… Are you okay?”

“I am now.” His smile is softer than the clouds. He leans close, cutely nuzzles the tip of his nose against yours. “This is why I need you in my life. You act aloof around me but you always think about me more than you think about yourself. You pretend to be ignorant, but you never fail to notice all these efforts I made. You care about me more than anyone else.”

Watching him put your feelings into words makes you feel flustered but you don't deny it. Not when he speaks only the truth. “I can also kick everyone’s butt for you.”

“As someone who has witnessed your heroic tales in high school, yes, you can, one hundred percent.” You feel his smile forming on your skin as he kisses your temple. “But just having you around me right now is enough. And it’s fine. I don’t care what anyone else thinks about me, at least not anymore. As long as you’re proud of me.”

“I am,” you say without missing a beat. “I’m proud of you, Toru.”

He takes away your hand that’s been warming his face, kissing your wrist while he maintains eye contact with you. “That’s all that matters to me.”

Your stomach swirls at the intensity of his gaze, his voice—just above a whisper—bears the same kind of tenderness and affection he portrayed on the day he asked you to marry him. His lips rub against your veins, the softest kiss against the softest skin. Your hand seems tiny in his grip but it’s a perfect fit. Every part of you is when it comes to him.

“So, uhh…” You clear your throat. “What are you going to do now?”

“I guess I’ll just have to keep doing my best so I can prove them wrong.” His grin returns. “I’ll make my wife feel even prouder of me.”

He replies to your little chuckles with a kiss, light but sweet. Despite your heart wanting more of his touch, of the heat of his lips against your own, you focus on the matter. “Why have you never told me about this before?”

“Because I never cared about it too much,” he replies with a shrug. “Work only feels overwhelming when you’re not around. When you’re with me, no matter how stressful my workplace is, I’ll feel at ease instantly.” He lays his forehead on your shoulder, rubbing his face against the fabric. “So, don’t leave me, okay? If I have to go out of town, I’ll have you hide inside my suitcase so I can carry you around.”

You chortle lightly. “And if I have to go?”

“Well…” He pulls away, his eyes fixated on the shape of your lips as he caresses them with his thumb. He looks back at you, his fingertips resting on your nape, holding you still. You find your breathing stalled as his own fanned your lips. “I guess I’ll just have to convince you to stay.”

And when he kisses you again, you know that he doesn’t mean with his words.

***

07.34 AM

“Bunny!” Satoru calls from the bathroom, his voice reverberating loudly through the hall. “Baby, come over here!”

Standing in your apron with your hands moving to fetch your chopped onions from your kitchen aisle, you try your best to focus on your cooking while answering him at the same time. “For the last time, Satoru, I’m not interested in taking a shower together with you!” You sprinkle some pepper into the dish, wiping your sweat away from your temple with the back of your hand. You take a glance at the digital clock nearby. “Not when we have to leave in an hour!”

“But I’ll let you shape my hair!”

“Not interested!”

“I’ll even let you give me a mohawk!”

“Not intere—oh shit—” It’s a given, really, that you’d accidentally pour too much salt into your cream soup from all this diversion. Taking a deep breath, you start to glare at your ceiling as you chant don’t get angry, don’t get angry inside your head. This is the reason why you try to keep him off the kitchen floor as far away as possible whenever you’re making food but even when he’s meters away from you, he still manages to annoy you somehow.

“Babe, I couldn’t hear you. Was that a yes?”

“NO!”

***

07.41 AM

“Oooh~ Something smells good~” Satoru chirps, popping back into the living room with a toothy grin and a white towel wrapped around his hips. It’s hanging low on his body, showcasing very distracting V-lines that you (secretly) adore. You look away. No good can come from staring at your husband’s lean, perfectly shaped stomach at this time of the day.

But then you catch a glimpse of the scratch marks you left on his back from last night, your face aflame since you can barely remember how hard you dug your nails into his skin. Satoru always likes it when you’re not careful with him—just like how you love it when he’s rough with you—but were you really that… desperate to keep him close, clutching onto him like that?

You shake your thoughts away. “Dry your hair properly,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on the plates you’re currently setting on the dining table. “I just mopped the floor.”

“Okay, Mom.” Dabbing a smaller towel against his hair, Satoru walks closer to your spot and pulls back a chair.

You eye him cautiously. “What are you doing?”

“Taking a seat, what do you think I’m doing?”

“You’re not gonna wear your clothes first?”

“Do I have to?” He takes a sip of your half-finished coffee, smacking his lips before he throws a naughty grin. “I mean, I fucked you right here last night. Surely you won’t mind eating breakfast with me only in my towel?” Before you can say a word—and you have lots to say—Satoru adds, “I’m just giving you a chance to ogle at my body as much as you want as you enjoy your food. I know you’re too embarrassed to ask, so you’re welcome. And if you’re willing to take a day off, I can be your dessert too.”

You make a face. “Gross.”

“And yet, you don’t deny the fact that you’re planning to stare.” Peering into your eyes, he places his chin on his hand, resting his elbow on the table. The haughty look he displays on his face is supposed to irritate you, but what it does is make your heart pound harder. “You’ve seen and touched these babies for years, and you still can’t get enough? Babe, come on.”

“You seriously calling your abs your babies?”

“Yep.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “But if you play nice, I’ll let you call them—”

“Just eat your breakfast.”

***

07.46 AM

“Babe?”

“What?”

“I have something to say but promise me you won’t kill me after I said it.”

“Okay…” You look up from your plate, feeling a bit concerned. “What is it?”

Satoru has never looked this serious in his entire life (because face it, Satoru and the word serious don’t really belong together now, do they?).

Taking hold of your hand, he gently squeezes it, providing the comfort that you might need.

“This soup is salty as hell.”

***

07.58 AM

With the taste of salt still lingering thickly on his tongue (and a bump on his head, a masterpiece done by your fist), Satoru steps inside the bedroom with a yawn, his fingers scratching his undercut. He unwraps the towel from his waist, tossing it onto the sheets without care.

Your husband smiles the second he notices the way you’ve prepared his clothes so neatly on the desk, all the way from his tie, his belt even down to his socks. His dress pants are ironed to a crisp seam, and his phone is fully charged (after being married to him for three years, you’ve learned all of his little habits). You’ve selected a matching dark tie to go with his suit, one that he recalled was given to him as a gift during last year’s anniversary. He loves it. He loves how you always buy the things he needs instead of what he wants, even when he, himself, didn’t realize how essential they were. But what makes him the happiest is when he sees the way it makes you smile so warmly every time he wears it, like a painter landing a final stroke on her masterpiece. For someone who doesn’t speak romantic words so often, your little gesture never fails to portray what’s on your mind. You love him and it shows.

“I’m being spoiled, huh?” Satoru mumbles to himself, nothing but elation in his chest. He spots the little notes you left him on the same table, your handwriting scribbled on a piece of paper. “Ooooh~ A love note?”

Dear husband, If you leave your wet towel on the bed again I’ll kill you.

“Not a love note.” Wincing, he immediately retrieves the towel from the bed, his mind playing a traumatic flashback of you scolding him about it for two hours straight (because suddenly it wasn’t just about the wet towel, was it? The forgotten toilet seat. The countless jackets hanging on the coat rack because he kept grabbing a new one. The pile of hentai doujinshi piling up on the coffee table. All of them.)

With the thought of skipping today’s work lingering in his head, Satoru forces himself to dress. As he turns around to face the mirror, he captures a brief look at the kiss marks blooming on his neck, ones that you painted on him last night. They’re faint because, unlike someone in this condo, you make sure to always be considerate of his appearance (though Satoru wishes you weren’t), but even the lightest shade of red seems vibrant on his fair skin.

Although he acts nonchalant most of the time, your husband is quite the possessive type, so it’s a given that he likes the idea of having his marks on you. He gets a kick out of watching you struggle to hide the love bites he left on your neck, even more so when someone notices it. But, of course, nothing beats the feeling of having your marks on him. If you allowed him to, he would’ve worn every bite and bruise like a medal. Proudly. Contentedly. The same way he exhibited every present you’ve given him. Satoru just loves the idea of having a wife—of having you as his wife—and he would showcase that to the world in every second of his life if he could.

He traces the bruises with his fingertips, drowning himself in the thoughts of you gasping against his ear, your teeth grinding against his neck as he pushed your knees further against your stomach with every thrust of his hips. He wasn’t lying when he said you looked absolutely gorgeous during sex. The way you parted your lips. The way your eyebrows stitched together in pleasure. The little noises you made when you breathed out his name as you bounced on his lap—

Satoru looks down. There it is again, the ache between his legs. Funny how you’re already so distracting even without doing anything—or being in the same room for that matter. Sighing, he grouses, “Guess she’s right. No signs of erectile dysfunction.” Willing his indecent thoughts to go away, he tucks his hands into the sleeves, buttoning up his shirt before he circles his tie around his neck.

“Satoru!” He hears your voice resonating from the bathroom. “Toru, can you come here for a sec? I need your help!”

“Oh, now she’s calling me to have sex with her.” He rolls his eyes. “After I finish taking a shower. So much for playing hard to get,” he scoffs. It’s ironic that he says this because right now he’s the one who’sacting that way. With giddy hands, he unfastens his tie, rushing to take off his pants again and almost tripping on his way out. He dashes toward the bathroom, opening the door while he strives to keep his excitement in check.

“WHOA!” You yelp in surprise, your body nude and drenched, hiding behind the door with only your head peeking out. “Why are you naked?!”

He frowns, confused. “Cause we’re about to have sex?”

Now you’re confused. “Uhh, no?”

“Why did you call me then?”

“I forgot my towel.”

“You’re asking me to get you your towel?” He sounds so appalled as if that thought never occurred to him when it’s supposed to be the first thing that should pop out in his head. Before you can respond, however, his mind, delusional as always, answers the question for him. “Oh, I see,” he smirks. “You’re using codes.”

“What?”

“‘I forgot my towel’—isn’t that, like, our code for ‘let’s have sex in the shower?’”

“Satoru.” You hold yourself back from ripping the silver strands out of his head. He’s testing your patience. Again. “We don't have any secret code.”

“We don’t?”

“Nope.”

“Oh…” It almost feels a bit cartoonish the way his shoulders sag upon hearing your words. There he is, a 29-year-old male standing in front of you in all his naked glory, saddened to his core over the fact of not having a cipher for sex. Well, for three seconds anyway. “So… You wanna make this our secret code, effective immediately, or—”

“Get the damn towel.”

With a stomp, Satoru leaves the bathroom only to return with your towel in one hand and his eyes squinting in a glare. Being the brat that he is, instead of handing it directly to you, he lets the thick cloth fall to the floor just a few inches away from where you’re standing.

“Oh, you’re so annoying.”

“Isn’t that your secret code for saying you love me?”

You throw a jab to his stomach.

***

08.24 AM

Pushing your hair out of your coat, you call out your husband’s name. You examine your appearance one more time in the mirror, tidying your strands until they frame your face perfectly. The condo is fairly clean. Your stomach is full though you can’t seem to wash away the saltiness of your soup just yet. You’re only seven minutes late from your original plan, which isn’t bad. You’re all set.

“Toru, you’re ready to go?”

Your husband is still yawning when he meets you in the foyer, carrying his handbag with his shoulders sagging forward. He’s dressed sharply in a white button-up shirt, combined with a black suit that accentuates the broadness of his shoulders. He looks handsome. He always does.

“Well, well, well, hello, Mr. CMO,” you snicker, pulling him by the tie while seductively batting your eyelashes at him. “Do you have time to spare? I would like to have a private meeting with you.”

He’s so tired, he doesn’t have the strength to keep up with your flirting, which says something since it’s usually the other way around. He spreads his arms wide open, his pout turning more prominent by the second. “Come here.”

“What?”

“I need my twenty-second hug.”

So, apparently, Satoru believes in this theory he found recently on the internet that said when you hug someone for, at least, twenty seconds, your body begins secreting the hormone oxytocin which is known to boost the immune system and reduce stress. He said that but you know that he’s just doing it so he can squeeze your ass, and that’s a fact, not a theory.

“Fine, but don’t grope my ass.”

“As long as you don’t grope mine.”

“I literally never did that.” You bury your face in his chest, tangling your arm around his waist. Satoru’s warmth is really one of a kind, or maybe he’s just as warm as a normal human being and you’re just too intoxicated by his scent that you stop making sense. No matter what the reason is, it’s comforting to be in his arms and if he doesn’t make a big deal out of it every time (acting like you’re the one who desperately wants to embrace him), you’d probably spend hours of your day just hugging him like this.

He buries his nose in your strands. “Your hair smells different.”

“I used your shampoo.”

“Yeah? That’s hot.”

You close your eyes, basking in his warmth and enjoying the smell of his perfume. He’s wearing a different brand today, just for a change, and although it’s not as sweet as his other one, this somehow feels much more comforting. Soft and fresh, reminding you less of summer and more of spring this time. “You smell different.”

“I used your perfume. And your bra.”

You’re not sure if you’re laughing over his terrible joke or his deadpan delivery, maybe a bit of both. Nuzzling your face against his chest, you titter, “Yeah? That’s hot.”

And he’s not sure if he’s smiling over your reply or the way you just sounded so cute giggling like that—no, definitely both. He tightens his arms around your shoulders, squeezing your body against him until you start pounding your fist against his chest, begging for a time-out before he steals all the air in your lungs. “I think we should just skip work today,” he mutters as he releases you. “We can watch a wildlife documentary and count on how many times Benedict Cumberbatch mispronounced the word “Penguin” as ‘Pengwings.’”

“That sounds productive. If you want Maki to kill you.”

He shudders in fear, pulling you back to him. “Just for that, I’m gonna need another twenty.”

Though you feel the urge the roll your eyes, you let him tug you back into his arms and rest his chin on your head. After all, he’s your personal teddy bear. You can spend your eternity just sinking into his embrace like this.

“Satoru?”

“Hmm?”

“Your hands are on my ass.”

“Yeah, but I’m not groping them.”

“You are now.”

“Well now that you mentioned it, I just have to, don’t I?”

You break away, giving a playful slap on the chest. “Enough, we’re running late.”

“Where do you find the energy to go to work every morning?” He asks with weariness in his eyes. “I am this close to throwing myself back to the bed.”

Funny how literally an hour ago, he promised you that he’d work harder to make you feel even prouder of him. “Well, I guess, it all started when I turned into a fully grown woman.” You smiled at him, fixing his tie before you dealt with his collar. He might be the youngest person to enter C-level in his company, but he still dresses as clumsily as a five-year-old if it wasn’t for you to keep his appearance in check all the time.

“I’m a fully grown man too and I still wish I could lay around all day,” he sulks.

“You’re a man-child.” Tugging on his tie, you pull him down until your lips meet his in a chaste kiss. “But I love you. Body, mind, and soul.” You beam at him with your widest grin. “How’s that for your energy booster, Gojo-san?”

To your surprise, Satoru answers you by tossing his handbag to the side and dipping his head down once more to re-attach your lips together. He kisses you with the same fervor he had last night, tongue sneaking inside to taste the minty scent of your toothpaste. You gasp against his mouth, fingers fisting the fabric of his suit as you struggle to maintain your balance. Can’t help but take a couple of steps back from how hard he’s kissing you, you stop only when your spine meets the wall. “Satoru—” You attempt to push him away by placing your hand on his chest but he clamps his fingers around your wrist, bringing it over your head.

With his body pressed against yours, you wonder if he can feel your palpitating heartbeat beating against his own. There’s no stopping him when he gets this aggressive with his kiss and it’s not like you can find any willpower within you to stop him. Fortunately for you, he breaks away, wetting his bottom lip once as his eyes still glaze over your bruised ones.

“Spirits lifted,” he smiles against your lips, sending blood to pool in your cheeks. “Thanks, babe.”

When he lets you go, you find it almost impossible to stay composed. Three years… Three damn years you’ve been married to him and he still knows how to make your knees buckle with a single kiss.

“Babe?”

You push yourself away from the wall, your fingers tangled in your hair when you try to fix it. “W-what?”

Putting on his sunglasses, he casts a smirk, “You might want to fix your lipstick.”

“Oh, I hate you.”

He pecks your cheek. “I love you too, baby girl.”

***

08.32 AM

Despite you being the better driver—better as in I’m not gonna try and bribe an officer with a brand new iPhone whenever I get pulled over or threaten him with my family name when things don’t work out my way—Satoru always insists on having his hands on the steering wheel every time you’re with him. “A gentleman wouldn’t let his lady drive, especially when she looks this pretty in that skirt,” he always says, and yes, maybe this is his gentleman sidetalking—even when the said gentleman had put on the same skirt and caressed his own butt in front of the mirror a few days back. But honestly? You know this is just a part of his master plan to control the music playlist for the next ten to fifteen minutes.

“We’re not listening to Hatsune Miku again,” you say, putting on your seatbelt.

“Oh, we totally are,” Satoru cackles, his fingers sliding up and down the touchscreen. He has seventeen different playlists consisting of more than a hundred songs in total, all taken from his favorite albums. Which is not much, really, considering Hatsune Miku is featured in around two thousand songs by now (a fact that you, honest to God, don’t care but he keeps reminding you of).

“Satoru, if you play one more Hatsune Miku song, I swear I won't put out tonight.”

“Well, if I have to listen to cookbook again—”

“Jungkook.”

“If I have to listen to cookbook one more time then I won’t put out tonight.”

“That's fine with me,” you shrug.

“Fuck,” he clicks his tongue, desperately jumping to the next option. “Okay, uhh… Oh, I know! You’re not getting my credit card ever again.”

You have one finger hovering above the screen. “So which Hatsune album are we listening to today?”

He sends you a dead stare. “Do you only love me for my money?”

“Oh, honey…” You rest your palm gently on his face, cupping and stroking his cheek. “Of course, I do.” You give him a tap that goes a little too hard than you intended but then again, he kind of deserves it. “Now, drive.”

Satoru doesn’t even have the energy to come up with a retort. Exhaling in defeat, he kicks in the gear while you, with your face crumpled in repulsion, try to pick the least insufferable Hatsune Miku song. Unfortunately for you, Satoru catches a title that steals his attention.

“OOOH go back, go back! I want to listen to that one!”

You sigh, selecting his song choice. “It’s too early to listen to—” Beaming with joy and oblivious to the hatred you have for that one song, Satoru sweeps in and cranks up the volume until you feel your ears ringing from the inside.

“Oh my God—” You flinch. If his loud nagging didn’t bust your eardrum, this definitely will. “Does it have to be this loud?!”

“Of course, my goddess is singing!” He shouts, grinning from ear to ear. He starts singing along, just as loudly, if not more. At this point, you swear there are people jogging on the sidetracks looking at your car with their faces contorting into frowns.

“I’m the number one princess in the world, so that's how you'll treat me,” he sings, slamming his hands against the wheel, head bobbing to the beat. “Oh my God, this is the soundtrack of my life!”

Still scowling, you have no choice but to listen further to the lyrics.

It's not like I'm acting selfish, I'm not asking for much I just want you to think from the bottom of your heart that I'm adorable I'm the number one princess in the world Notice me! Hey! Heeey! Keeping me waiting is out of the question Just who do you think I am? Whatever, I think I could go for some dessert! Yes, right now!

You grimace. “It really is.”

***

10.54 AM