#Which sucks because it’s supposed to be a celebration

[leatherbookmark]

ootd features the words "black dress" in its lyrics and people are like oh! this is a reference to another group's song, "black dress"!

i'm unwell.

[doverstar]

I wish I liked Wednesday more but she's actually kind of a butt

[headofhelios]

when i was a kid the idea of like surprise birthday parties was so like. idk i wanted it and it never happened but now its actually like. gonna happen to me but at a really really bad time when i am going to be very stressed and whatever the surprise thing is will probably make it worse so its like. hmm. early birthday gift of being nauseous with anxiety a month in advance

[tiza0925]

His Jersey | 18+

Warnings/Tags: nsfw, needy!bokuto, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, squirting, lap sex, female/afab reader, pet names, praise kink, SET IN A TIMELINE WHERE ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED-UP AND OVER 18

Pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x Female Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Your eyes widen as Bokuto pushes you harshly onto the bed, his body hovering over yours as he kisses you senselessly. 

“Ko—?”

But he’s so lost in his own world, effectively shutting you up as he licks his tongue inside your mouth, groaning against you as he palms your tit over the jersey you’re wearing. 

His jersey. 

He played a game tonight, and you just had to go and support him. 

Which Boktuo always loved—just being able to see in the crowd and grinning at you so widely after their team wins another point because of him. 

It’s just—this time, he didn’t expect to see you wearing his jersey to the game. 

And that sort of threw him off for a moment but also—

It’s all he could think about for the rest of his game. 

Just how good you looked wearing his shirt. 

With his number on it. 

And his name. 

It’s why he could barely wait to get his hands on you the moment you two ended back up in his hotel room—leaving the rest of the team back at the restaurant where Bokuto was supposed to be celebrating alongside them.

But he’s got other priorities right now. 

“Do you know,” Bokuto pulls on your lower lip with a rough kiss, his voice hoarse and low as he kisses your mouth. 

Jaw. 

Neck. 

Giving the crook of your neck a small nip as he pulls down your pants, “How much I just couldn’t stop thinking about you during the game?” 

He sounds almost pained like him having to wait a second longer to be inside you will physically pain him. 

“God—you look so good in my jersey,” Bokuto groans, licking the length of your neck, making you whimper. “I can’t help it.” 

He’s so fucking needy and impatient that he doesn’t even bother to take your panties off.

He just pulls them to the side, and while holding them there—he uses his middle finger to slide it through your pussy folds, collecting your juices and getting his finger soaked—and he grunts at how sopping wet you are already. “Goddamn, baby, you’re already drooling.” 

You whine, your arms that are around his neck pull him closer to you, and you search for his mouth to kiss him sloppily as your mind goes blank from his finger toying with your pussy. 

He teases your hole, hearing the wet squelch every time the tip of his finger taps your cunt, making you flush in the cheeks at the obscene sound of it.

“I need to be inside you baby—shit—“ Your eyes are unfocused as Boktuo pushes his shorts and boxers down to let his thick cock slap your thigh, feeling the weight and heat of it on your skin before he’s fisting it until it’s swollen and pink with pre-cum leaking from the fat tip. 

He doesn’t bother to tease you with his dick like he usually does—because god knows he’s notorious for teasing you in bed when he has the patience and time for it. 

But he doesn’t right now. 

He needs to sink his cock inside you so badly that the moment the head pops through—Bokuto shakes with a guttural groan, his eyes rolling back as he pushes his entire length inside you, hitting you so deep that you practically choke. 

“So tight—it’s so good, baby,” Bokuto kisses you again, both hands on your waist, and his fingers dig into your flesh as he drags his cock out—only for him to push it right back in, feeling your greedy pussy suck it in like it needs it there. 

“You take me so well,” His pace is merciless after that. 

Plunging his dick into your cute little cunt, losing himself in the liquid heat that your walls hug him with, making you cry and moan as your hands hold onto him for dear life. 

And he babbles any dirty thought that comes to mind, continuously gliding his cock in and out of you—feeling impossibly thick inside you—and your nails drag down his back as you feel that tightness in your clit and lower belly ready to explode. 

“Shit, my baby is so messy,” Bokuto manages to look down as he fucks you, mesmerized by the way his girth stretches your pretty pussy.

He watches how his length is shiny with your creamy juices every time he pulls out—making him tremble and whimper because fuck, he’s already so close to cumming. 

“I want to feel you cum,” Bokuto looks at you again, and he leans down to wrap his lips around a sensitive spot on the side of your neck while one of his hands comes down to touch your clit. “Can you do that for me, baby?” 

He doesn’t even need to ask because god—you’re already so close. 

That buzzing ache just growing stronger and needier—all you need is some friction against your clit—

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—Ko—!” 

And Bokuto gives you just what you need as he suddenly rubs your puffy clit with his thumb—moving it in slow circles that drive you mad as your lower back snaps up, and your muscles tense while your orgasm ripples through you. 

“There you go, such a good girl,” Bokuto purrs, voice throaty, as he continues to lick and suck at your neck, and your nails dig into his back as you cry—tears threatening to spill from your eyes—as he fucks you through your orgasm, feeling yourself gush out fluids as you squirt. 

“You’re so tight around me, baby,” Bokuto pulls back, and he’s quick with his movements as he sits up and on his knees—bringing you with him as he guides you to sit on his lap, and he grins, eyes half-lidded. “You look so pretty when you cum for me, too.”

And then he plunges his cock inside you, holding you by your ass and giving it a harsh squeeze as he bounces you on his lap, hitting you even deeper in this position that you feel dizzy and numb and electrified. 

“That feel good, baby?” His voice is deceptively calm despite him fucking up into you like a madman, seemingly determined to make you feel his dick in your throat. “You like it when I fuck you like this?”

You nod, mouth open and drool spilling from how dazed you are, and he gives your cheek a gentle kiss as he twitches inside you—so close to cumming. 

He watches you with determination as you bounce on his cock, how his jersey on you rides up to show your pussy taking him all in like the good girl that you are for him.

And he’s breathless as he wets his lips, his balls slapping your abused folds and ass—creating the sound of skin smacking on wet skin—and he clenches his teeth. “I’m gonna cum, baby.” 

You whimper, holding onto his broad shoulders as he pistons inside you, causing your fluids to gush out with every thrust. 

“Can I fill you with my cum?” You find it silly that he even asks that because not once have you ever said no. 

You bob your head as best as you can, hugging him and resting your chin on his shoulder as he fucks into your soul in this position—being dragged up and down by his strength since you lost any energy to move on your own. 

“God—“ You hear Bokuto let out a sharp exhale, his grip like iron on your body, and wet moans spill past your lips as you feel yourself let out another gushing orgasm, screaming as you spasm around his dick—squelching noises mix with your moan to show how soaked and wrecked you are. “Shit—baby, you’re getting me all messy, too.”

You don’t have it in you to reply. 

You just let out small whimpers and gasps as he gets greedy with you—seemingly uncaring of his strength and size as he abuses your swollen and dripping pussy until Bokuto cums, and you’re full with his load to the point it starts leaking with how much he’s pumping inside you. 

But he doesn’t stop there. 

He doesn’t want to leave your sweet cunt so soon—it feels too warm and plush for him to pull out. 

So he carefully lays you down—dick still inside you—and hooks one hand under the bend of your knee to lift one of your legs and—

And he continues to fuck you. 

Deep and slow, mixing your fluids as he pushes his cum further inside you, hearing the slickness of it with every glide of his cock along your walls. 

And when Bokuto slowly brings you back up to another orgasm that night—your poor pussy throbbing around him as your entire body goes limp—

He captures your lips with his, kissing you so achingly soft and lovingly, murmuring against your mouth, “I’m sorry, baby, you just look so good with my stuff on you.” 

At least now you know exactly how to rile Bokuto whenever you need him to fuck you like this again. 

End.

> Masterpost

[gatheringbones]

[“It was only after I came out as a dyke that, for the first time in my life, I felt ready to celebrate being a girl, and I did. Actually, I overdid. Armed with Esther Newton’s Mother Camp, Judith Butler’s Gender Trouble, and Joan Nestle’s A Restricted Country, I embraced femme. I dressed up in short flowery dresses, pushup bras, satin panties, and lacy stockings. I paid great attention to my long, curly, perfectly-coiffed hair, my glamorous makeup, and especially my pouty lips. I spritzed Lola’s smell on my skin—Estee Lauder’s Private Collection—and painted my nails. I wore all of it with black combat boots and a brilliant sense of irony. I reveled in my girliness, went over the top, learned how to tweeze my eyebrows and line my lips with a lip pencil.

My gender presentation was unmistakable: blatant female sexuality. I was a proud, in-your-face, take-no-prisoners, uppity, don’t-assume-I’m-straight-because-I-wear-lipstick-and-dresses femme dyke. Because femmes are always assumed to be straight or sleeping with men, and I do sleep with men, I made sure to always have a butch on my arm so I’d be read as femme. Even though I was sure I’d be mistaken for straight, the boys took one look at me and steered clear. It was as if I was too much of a woman for them to handle, like I was a handful, and I was. But butch girls love a handful—a handful of tits, a handful of ass, a girl who needs to be handled, a girl who can handle herself.

How I figured out I was a femme had a lot to do with the women I was attracted to and the dynamic between us. When I was in junior high, I used to mess around with a friend of mine named Angela. Angela was one of those girls who developed early; I remember she had big breasts in like sixth grade. We mostly kissed and touched over clothes, and we played out various boy-girl scenarios. I was always the girl—my early femme roots. My favorite of all our little scenes was the one where she was my male boss and I was the secretary. The boss made me have sex with him and told me if I didn’t I would get fired. Now this was all before Clarence Thomas, Anita Hill and the media awareness/obsession with sexual harassment. I remember she’d tell me to suck her dick and push my face unmercifully into her crotch, which smelled amazing,. The drama of it all—the force, the degradation, the power games—really got me off. After that, there was no going back to simplicity. I was hooked on the power.

Jen really epitomized all the girls I was attracted to then and still am. Being with a butch girl, I was valued for my combination of strength and vulnerability, for dressing up, for wanting an arm to hold onto, hips to wrap my legs around, being able to give my body over to her and say, I trust you, I’m yours. My butch loved me in low-cut dresses, appreciated my sexual voraciousness, worshipped my inner slut. I reveled in the fact that I could be strong and submissive all at once. Surrender and still be a feminist. Being a dyke is not just about who I fuck and love, it’s about being a girl who doesn’t play by the rules.

Butch girls don’t play by the rules either, and I love butch girls. Girls with hair so short you can barely slide it between two fingers to hold on. Girls with slick, shiny, barbershop haircuts and shirts that button the other way. Girls that swagger. Girls who have dicks made of flesh and silicone and latex and magic. Girls who get stared at in the ladies room, girls who shop in the boy’s department, girls who live every moment looking like they weren’t supposed to. Girls with hands that touch me like they have been touching my body their entire lives. Girls who have big cocks, love blow-jobs, and like to fuck girls hard. Every day, it is the girls that get called Sir that make me catch my breath, the girls with strong jaws that buckle my knees, the girls who are a different gender that make me want to lie down for them.

Someone else said it about me recently and it’s right on target: “She gets off on all different sorts of people sexually, but she falls for butches.” Like the poet who bought her first strap-on with me and then wanted to sleep with it on. The shrink-in-training who got harassed every time she drove down South. She did look so much like a fifteen-year-old boy: blue button-down shirts, neatly-combed blond hair. The ad exec who had names for her dildos and used to love for me to spit-shine her wingtips. The photographer whose face was so mannish she could pass almost anywhere. The writer who wanted a body like Loren Cameron’s. The telephone repairwoman who drove a truck. The cook who had a boy’s name. The academic who got cruised by gay men on Castro Street. The cornfed farmboy from the Heartland with arms so hard and strong you swear they’ve been working the land, not the iron at the gym.

And there’s the one who’s got the James Dean stare down, and dresses like a clean-cut fag, and looks at me like she could look at me forever and never blink or grow tired or move from the spot she’s in. She’s a girl who loves girls like me—girls in velvet bras, girls who want to surrender to her mouth. She’s a girl who isn’t afraid to throw a femme down on the bed and fuck her. Possess her. My kind of girl. This girl is different.”]

tristan taormino, from this girl is different, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000

[writers-hes]

tell me you need me (1 of 2) | c. berzatto x reader

It was good when you started but Carmen Berzatto had the ability to make anyone fall in love with him no matter how much you tried not to. (friends with benefits!carmen, smut, mndi!!!, unprotected p in v, smut! smut!, angst!! fluff, maybe some bad words, blood, unedited) MASTER LISTS

TAGLIST

I need you tonight. Want to go?

You sighed at the message that Carmy sent you. “Want to go” was a code for “I want to have sex.” and it’s been working pretty well for these past few months. You both needed some sort of release for the pent-up stress that you both have. Carmy, with the Bear and you, with art. You were a full-time artist; creating art inspired by food using oil paint and other forms of media. You’ve been stressed with your upcoming gallery opening next month. Would they love it? It’s quite hard to meet the expectations after winning the Herb Alpert Award in the Arts last year. It was close to Carmy’s James Beard Foundation award, if not the same. In a way, at the end of the day, you were two people excelling in your jobs except for everything else. You sucked at relationships, friendships, connection…what wasn’t artistic; you sucked at. Carmy was the same. Without thinking, you typed your response, a four letter word. Maybe you’ll see him tonight.

-

Carmy enters your home like he lived in it. He had his own set of keys, it was easier that way. He’s been so stressed with the Bear and the only thing that he needs is to blow off some of that steam before he can be functional again. There was supposed to be a celebrity who was wishing for a whole fucking kitchen tour tomorrow and he had to stay behind to make sure that everything was perfect. 

“Hey,” he greets you when he sees you perched on your couch. He liked your apartment much better; at least you had multiple rooms and your own space. It’s not like his; there was work everywhere while yours felt homey. Except your studio down the hall—damn, how much do artists earn today?

“Hey,” you replied. “Did you have dinner yet? I can heat up some of the Chinese food I ordered earlier.”

“No, no. It’s alright,” he says, removing his shoes in the doorway. You were always so tidy and meticulous. No outside clothes on the bed; he had to learn that the hard way. “Actually, um, can-can I take a shower first? I want to wash the day away and I-I smell like the kitchen.”

“And you took the L,”

“Ubered here, actually.”

“Surge rates?”

“I was in a rush.”

“Oh,” you gulped. “Well, you still have your clothes in my wardrobe and your toiletries in my bathroom.”

“Which one?” he asked. “Which-which bathroom?”

“The one in my bedroom,” you replied. “You know where the fresh towels are. So…”

“Uh, yeah-yeah,” he says. “Thanks.” You only smiled at him. Conversation before your engagements are usually awkward because you both knew what the two of you were there for. It’s more comfortable afterwards; when he talks about the Bear or asks you about your art.

You and Carmy met from a friend of a friend. You were looking for chefs that could serve you inspiration for your paintings when she mentioned Carmen Berzatto. You reached out to him and he replied three months later, telling you that he can show you some of the recipes that he’s been working on. He’s an artist himself—Sistine Chapel art kind of stuff. He explained the components of his dish over dinner in your hotel apartment in New York. You mentioned that you were from Chicago and he mentioned that he’s from Chicago too…you drank too much wine and the rest was history. 

You both stopped communicating when he met Claire but he reached out again, asking if you wanted to meet. He told you all about her and how he fucked up. You drank too much wine again. History has the habit of repeating itself.

You swore to never fall in love with Carmen Berzatto and you didn’t…not until recently. He used to leave immediately once you’re both done. Lately, he’s been staying over. He talks to you about everything. He stays over and wakes you up with coffee and some Michelin Star quality pancakes or French toast. He watches you take your first bite before he takes his, likes to watch your reaction and likes hearing your praise.

You were too lost in your reviere to notice Carmen walking to you, all fresh and clean. He lays a hand on your shoulder and kisses your neck.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, voice deep and sultry. 

“You,” you replied, reaching up to massage his curls. 

“Good,” he says, removing himself from you and sitting on the opposite side of the couch. “Needed you today…but I want to talk first before…before…”

“That’s fine with me,” you replied, inching closer to him. “What’s wrong?” He puts his hand on your knee, squeezing it lightly. Since when was he so comfortable around you?

“I…I just… Mikey,” The name lingers heavy in the air. Anytime Carmen feels the crushing weight of the pressure, he says Mikey. Whenever he feels inadequate, not enough, never enough—he says Mikey.

“He’ll be proud of you, Carm,” you said, smiling at him. “Like everyone else is.”

“I’m sorry for not inviting you to the opening…Claire was-was there and…”

“I understand,” You put your hand over his to reassure him that everything’s okay. “I understand.”

“You wouldn’t have seen me,” he chuckled. “I was locked inside the walk-in the whole time and well, everything was great. What if I’m not needed?”

Is it too late for me to love you? 

“Carm…” you trailed off, trying to find the words. “Of course, you’re needed. The Bear wouldn’t be The Bear without you, you know? Your family must be so proud of you because I know that-that I am. I’m so proud of you and I-I need you so much,” you told him. “I need you, Carmen. More than you could ever know.”

Is it too late for me to love you? 

Maybe it was the words that you said, maybe it was the long forgotten show on the T.V., maybe it was because the T.V. screen illuminated your face in a way that was so, so beautiful. Maybe it was just him.

“Let’s go to bed,” he rasps, taking your hand and dragging you to the bedroom. Once he closes the door behind him, Carmy presses you against it, taking your chin and kissing you. It was slow and needy; this kiss was needy. You trail your hand underneath the white shirt that hugged his figure. You caress his sides up and down; softly; slowly and Carmen releases a whimper into your mouth. I need you. I need you. I need you. 

“Baby,” he whispers, pulling away from you to remove his shirt. “Baby, baby, baby.”

“I need you, Carmen,” you muster the courage to kiss his neck now, sucking and nipping right under his collarbone. He lets you do it, he lets you mark him like you own him. He tugs on the roots of your hair lightly. You lick the purple bruise, nipping it again just so it could last one more week. Carmen was sighing above you, letting you take him like he wanted to be taken. His hands itch, slipping right under the waistband of your panties to cup your heated cunt. “Carmy,”

“I know, baby. Let’s get you to bed, hm?” he asks, pushing you slightly. “Lay down for me. I missed you so much. Let me show you,”

You obey his commands, opening your legs widely like he likes. He crawls until his face is right in front and removes your underwear, tossing it to the side. He’ll take care of that later.

“You’re so wet,” he groans, when he lets his index finger trail along your slit. You buckle in need; silently begging him to do more. “So, fucking wet,” he repeats, parting your folds until he sees your glistening cunt. 

“Carm…” you whine. He spits on your clit and you whimper. 

“Let me taste you, hm?” you heard him say, his wandering fingers rubbing all sorts of shapes on your folds. You could only nod and he takes that, licking a bold stripe. You press your cunt against his tongue and he just takes it. He licks a few more stripes before sucking your clit softly. 

“Carmy,” you moan. Your hands trail down underneath your shirt, thumbs softly flicking your sensitive nipples. Carmy could just come at the sight of you playing with them but he holds back, sucking your clit harsher before plunging his thick middle finger inside you. “Oh, fuck,” 

He pumps the finger slowly…in, out, in, out while he licks your sensitive bud. 

“Fuck, Carmy,” you whimper. “Fuck me,”

“Later,” was his nonchalant reply; enjoying the sweet nectar that dripped from your sloppy pussy. It was better than any dessert he’s ever had before. If it was um to him, he’d have his head buried in between your legs, eating you out forever. You buckle again, pinching your nipples hard and tugging them. 

“Carm…”

“I know, I know,” he says, sucking your clit harshly for one last time before crawling on top of you. “Taste,” he orders. You obliged, opening your mouth and putting on a show with the way you licked your juices off of his finger. “Fuck,” he groans. He palms himself through his boxers while you sucked on his finger. You released it with one last suck before putting your hand on top of Carmy’s to feel his hardening cock underneath. You push his hand away while you squeeze his member lightly. Just enough for him to rut his hips against your hand. Just enough for him to toss his boxers to the side.

You tried to sit up to see him pump a few strokes, moaning your name while he did. He gets off the bed, looking at the way your body moved while you breathed. 

“Beautiful,” he whispers to himself before dragging your body to the end of the bed. He pries your legs open and puts one of them over his shoulder. He liked it like this, it fills you up in ways you cannot describe. “Need you to play with your tits while I fuck you, hm?”

He taps his cock against your pussy.

“Can you hear how wet you are?” he asked, sliding his cock in between your folds. You could feel the protruding vein run along your nub and you moan, massaging your breasts to show him your obedience. “Fuck,”

“Carmy…” you whimpered. “Please.”

He hums, grabbing his member and teasing your wet entrance with his pink tip. “You’re so…”

With no warning, Carmy plunges deep into you and you both groan. You were waiting for this. He’s been wanting this the whole day. He stays there for a few seconds before he thrusts in and out of you slowly. 

“Fuck,” 

The slopping noises inside your room reverberated in your walls and for a few moments, the sounds of your groans and skin slapping against skin heightens your arousal. Carmy thumbs your clit and he feels your walls clench around him.

“Don’t do that, petal,” he rasps, sweat dripping on his forehead. “I’ll cum fast if you do.”

“Sorry,” you choked out. He only grunts as he adjusts his pace. He was faster now and you could hear he ragged breathing. “Carmy, I need you.”

“Y-you need me,” he repeats to himself. “You need me.”

“I do,” you told him, moaning when he plunges his cock deep inside you. “Need you, need you,” 

“Oh, fuck,” he groans. “Tell me that you need me. Tell me,”

“I need you, Carmy,” you whine. “I need you to cum inside me,” 

Carmy’s eyes widened. You’ve never let him do that before. He always had to pull out or use a condom. 

“Want me to fill you up?” he asks, his voice strained. “I’ll fill you —oh, fuck,” 

“Yes, please,” you sobbed, breath hitching at the feeling of his cock twitch inside of you. “Fuck, Carmy.”

Sex has never felt this good. 

You could feel the breaking point come nearer and he does too. His movements were sloppier, his breathing even more ragged that it was. Your walls were clenching around him but that seemed to arouse him even more. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he grunted. “I’ll fill you up, hm?” 

“Yes, please, Carmy,” you whine. He could only nod, doing his best to keep his orgasm at bay. He wanted to prolong this feeling; this emotion but he couldn’t. “Fuck, Carmy, I’m cumming, I’m cumming. Carm—oh!”

He follows soon after, moaning your name as he shoots ropes of cum inside your pussy. He could feel your walls clench around him and he thrusts in slowly, to ride both of your orgasms away. 

“You-you liked that?” he asked. He doesn’t pull out. Instead he takes your other leg and hangs in on his shoulder. “We have to make sure that not a drop goes to waste.”

You nodded and felt his hands caress your legs slowly. He slowly lays your legs back down on the bed and crawls on top of you, kissing your torso, neck, and your chest while he did. 

“Stay there,” he ordered and you nodded in assent. You just let him cum inside you. He walks over to the carafe on your bedside, filling the glass with water and then, taking a hand towel from your cabinet. He pours a little bit of the liquid onto the towel. You sit up when he wordlessly gives you the glass of water. He watches you finish it and kisses your head when you gave him the glass back. He sets it on the floor carefully before opening your legs so he could clean you up.

“No,” you shook your head and he stops, alert because you told him no. “I’m…I’m still sensitive,”

“Okay, petal,” he nods, taking the glass and the towel away. He picks up the tossed articles of clothing puts it in the laundry basket. He was quiet when he takes a fresh set of pyjamas and underwear from your wardrobe. “Raise your arms,” he says and you do. He puts a new shirt on you. “Lay down.” You followed him. He puts a new pair of panties on you. “Thank you,”

You were so tired now but you were still so aware of Carmy’s actions. He stands up from the bed to wear new clothes and sits down on the bed. He carefully places your head on his lap and plays with your hair.

“Thank you,” he says, bowing down to kiss your forehead. “Why don’t you sleep for me, hm?”

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

“Waffles or pancakes?”

“Waffles with whipped cream.”

-

Why won’t you let me love you?

There were times when you’d fight with Carmen. A disagreement over something so, so, so small. This time, it was big. It was the opening of your gallery and he promised to be there. It was a big night—multiple art collectors and mongers from all over America came to see your latest pieces. They were all inspired by the food you grew up eating in Chicago; a collection of how culture, identities, and personalities affect eating. Your paintings were in vibrant colors—cup ramen with cheese, cannoli, food that you grew up eating whenever your mom was away. There were small details on the significance of the new collection to your life and he wasn’t there. You were on the stage, telling everyone how grateful you were to the audience but you were preoccupied, looking for a familiar mop of curls in the crowd. He didn’t come. He didn’t go. 

You smiled at them half-heartedly before leaving the stage, ready to be whisked away by some art dealer. You were whisked away by multiple guests, asking you for more details on the painting. You all told them everything they needed to know, what they should do if they’d like to make a purchase…

It would have been alright if he texted you…but he promised he’d be there. He promised he’d take you home. He promised.

-

Carmy was sitting alone in his apartment. He left The Bear earlier than usual and went straight home. He did it all, shower, put a nice suit, and fix his hair. He did it all, he even ran to the nearest florist to buy you flowers but he didn’t go. 

Isn’t this what lovers do? 

He wasn’t your lover. He couldn’t let himself be distracted again. He had to focus; he couldn’t fail the people that relied on him. He looked at the bag of groceries he got from the store; he was supposed to cook you something special tonight. Have you eaten yet? Fuck the suit that he paid for dry cleaning; fuck the flowers; fuck him. It must have hurt you—he knows that. Tonight was a big night and you were so excited to show him a painting that you’ve been working on. 

“I won’t sell it,” you told him. “I’ll have it shipped to you first thing in the morning.”

Would you still send it to him?

-

By the end of the night, you were exhausted. Happy, but exhausted. It was normal; talking to everyone and being scintillating the whole night was work but it was worth it. Your paintings all had their new owners, except for the painting that you promised to Carmy. Would he still want it? You were alone in the studio, wrapping the 4 by 3 foot canvas with the best quality glassine. You were giving this to him tomorrow. If he doesn't want to have it, you’ll probably just donate it somewhere else. 

You laid awake in your bed all night long, waiting for his text. It was funny, just last week he was begging you to tell him that you needed him but when you needed him most, he wasn’t there. 

You arrive at The Bear just before it opens, the big canvas tucked under your arm. He was sure to be there and had always told you to use the back door if you weren’t dining. You always obliged, of course, opening the backdoor to reveal everyone. You’ve met Sydney and Richie before but you haven’t met the others yet. You were an alien in an unknown world; Carmy’s employees looking at you, as if wondering who this girl was. 

“Hey,” Sydney greeted, looking at the glassine covered thing that you were carrying. “Didn’t know you were coming in today. Congratulations on your exhbit,”

“Yeah, Congrats. What’s that, sweetheart?” Richie asked. 

“Oh,” you just nodded. Carmy couldn’t even look at you. “I just came here to give this to…uh, Carmy,” you cleared your throat. “Carm…?”

“Uh, yeah-yeah,” he stuttered. “Can we go to the office?” 

“Sure.”

You followed him into the office while Richie tells everyone to go back to what they were doing. Your heart was hammering inside your chest, afraid that this was going to be another one of those petty fights that you’ve had with him. 

You were wrong. So, so wrong. 

“You didn’t come last night,” you told him, shielding yourself from him with the painting. “I…I waited.”

“Sorry,” was his laconic reply. You nodded, chuckling. 

“That’s all?” you asked. “Just…sorry? No explanation, no nothing?” you asked. “I was looking for you the whole night, Carm. You promised you were coming,”

“I don’t know what-what you want me to say,” he says, looking everywhere but at you. “I-I-I’m sorry, okay? I had other plans.”

“You promised months ago that you were coming,” you repeated. “I called Sydney last night because you weren’t answering and she told me that you left early.”

“You’re spying on me now?” he asks, suddenly defensive. “I had things to do that night. I can’t-can’t just put everything on hold for-for you.” He spits his words like venom, voice getting louder with every word.

You frowned, not recognizing who the boy was in front of you. It’s not like you asked him to put his life on hold. Your heart was beating so fast in anger, ears ringing. 

“I see. So you just need me around and you-you just I don’t know, call me because you need to get your dick wet?” you asked, matching his volume. “You just need me around when no one else is there to fuck you? Is that it?” you asked. “What the fuck?” 

Carmy blinks, tries to think of the words he’s about to say but he couldn’t stop himself. He could never seem to stop himself. 

“You’re the only one desperate enough to do so,” he shrugs. It breaks your heart in pieces, really. The nights Carmen spent nuzzling his head in your shoulder before you slept probably meant nothing to him. Your face falls, contorting in hurt at what he just said. Fuck Carmen Berzatto. Fuck him. “I’m not your fucking boyfriend. I don’t know why you expect me to just-just-just do something!”

“Maybe I wanted you there as my friend!” you shouted over. Your voices could be heard from outside but everyone else pretended like they weren’t listening to anything that you both were saying. You were shouting over each other now, the fuse just breaks. “If you didn’t have any fucking plans to actually go, then don’t give me your good for nothing fucking promises!”

“I don’t need a girl leeching on me when I’m opening a fucking restaurant. Do you want me to put everything on you just because you asked me to? I’m not your fucking boyfriend. You know that right? And maybe-maybe I don’t want to be your fucking friend either!”

“Why would I want you to be my boyfriend, Carmy? You’re-you’re fucking unreliable! You have issues that need fixing. You think Claire could fix that? You think I could fix that? You think the girls you get wrapped around your fucking finger can fix your fucked up fucking head? Huh? Is that what you think? You’re so fucking miserable you make everyone around you miserable! Grow up!” He’s hurt. That’s what you thought of him? That he was miserable? Did he make you miserable?

“I don’t need to go to your fucking art exhibition when they’re all fucking shit.”

You closed your mouth before you could protest. The pain of his words felt like a slap on the face. If he regretted it, he didn’t show it. You turned away, nodding. 

“Fuck you, Carmen. Don’t fucking call me. Don’t fucking knock on my door. Don’t…don’t fucking think of me. I’m fucking done with you,”

“Yeah? You’re done with me, huh? Fuck you,” he spits back. He heard the waver in your voice; heard how you tried to steady everything. He wanted to say sorry but you were already leaving. Richie and Sydney couldn’t even ask you what happened because you were rushing out, throwing the painting you worked hard on for days at the back. Fuck Carmen Berzatto. Fuck him. 

-

“Fuck!” his chefs could hear from outside the office. Everyone heard the vile things you both screamed at each other; everyone heard why you were so angry. Everyone fucking heard. Nobody dared to move, they didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Carmy’s anger; not when The Bear was about to open. Continuous loud bangs and sounds of some object being thrown were heard too. Sugar sighed. 

“Carm?” she called from the door. “It’s almost opening,”

“I-I-I know, Sug.” he replied, blinking. “Uh, can-can you guys go ahead? I’ll be there, I just-just need to you know, calm down?”

“Okay, Bear,” she smiles, tapping the door frame before leaving Carmen in his own thoughts. He gets out of the restaurant through the back door, about to light a cigarette, when he sees the canvas wrapped with glassine. 

“Fuck,” was the only thing he could mutter before taking it and sitting where the staff usually stayed at when they wanted a break. He lights up a stick and lets it hang loose on his lips while he opens your gift with shaky hands. He was so immersed in the experience, gently removing the tape and making sure that nothing was ruined that he didn’t notice Sydney. 

The glassine reveals a painting of a plate of cannolis. He remembered that he told you the story about cannolis during Christmas and how he wanted to recreate that—take it for himself. He traces over the precise brushstrokes shakily. 

“That’s a good painting,” Sydney spoke, her hands behind her back. “Would be a waste to just throw it out.”

“I know,” Carmy nods. “I’m sorry you had to uh, hear all of that.”

“It’s…something,” Sydney replied, making Carmy chuckle. 

“I always…always seem to uh, fuck up everything,” he muttered. “I was on the way there, you know? Last night?”

“Yeah. You were so excited,”

“I was,” he coughed. “But I didn’t go because…” Words died down in his mouth. Why didn’t he go? “I’ve said some things and she-she doesn’t want me to call her anymore and I-I understand but like, I don’t know, Syd.”

Don’t know why I could never seem to just let myself enjoy things. I don’t belong anywhere else but in the fucking kitchen. It’s the only thing I was good at.

“I didn’t really want to to, uh, fuck this up.”

-

I want to talk to you.

Come to my apartment after your shift. Or whenever.

Carmen feels his palms sweat when he reads  texts you sent him days ago. He decided to go today, finally—he was never good at confronting things; always so explosive, so defensive. He didn’t know what he’d feel like today. He knocks on your door and hears the shuffling from the other side. He just got out of The Bear; he was tired but he forced himself to go. He had to go. 

“Hey,” you smiled tightly when you opened the door. “Come in.”

He nods, wordlessly entering your apartment like how henused to. Bag and shoes on the side. Somehow, this made him more nervous than usual. This was a prelude to something else entirely; he believed that.

“How are you? he asked, voice small and looking down. 

“I’m…good,” you replied, looking away. “You?”

“Busy,” he replied. The air felt heavy and his palms were sweating. “I’m…I’m sorry for not being there when I promised you that I would,”

“Why weren’t you there, Carm?” you asked and he could hear the sadness in your voice. He knew that your exhibit meant a lot to you. “You…you told me you will and well, you were…the-the person I want to be there the most.”

“I didn’t know that. I’m- I’m sorry,” he shrugged. “But why? I mean, I-I don’t know art. I like my shit but I-I’m not cool or understand—“

“Because I like you, Carmy.” you told him, looking at him now and trying to go nearer. He stepped back and you stopped your tracks.

“You—what?” he asked, shaking his head furiously; like your confession offended him. “You…like me.”

“I do,” you nodded. “But…it doesn’t matter.”

“Fuck. How many times do we have to go back to this very same place for you to understand?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. He told you before that he didn’t want to date. You told him you understood. You told him he was being egotistic when he told you not to get attached. He wanted to leave. He didn’t expect this to happen—he didn’t want this to happen. “I don’t—I don’t—“

“Carmy,” you cautioned him, trying to ease your beating heart. “Can you listen to me? I-I-I like you, okay and I’ve been thinking about it too. I’m—you’re always staying behind after sex and well, I just maybe thought that you liked me too.” You replied, swallowing his rejection for now.

“I don’t,” he snaps, tone sharp. “We’ll both be miserable in a relationship. I’ll never make-make you happy. You’re right, you know? I’m unreliable and-and-and issues that I need to fix…and I’m not the one you’re looking for,”

“I’m sorry for saying that. It wasn’t my place to do so,” was your meek reply. How does he feel so far away when he feels so, so, so close?

“No, uh,” Carmen blinks, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I-I-I needed to hear those things, you know? I’m sorry too…for everything.”

“Thank you.”

“That’s it then?” he asked. He was distressed. How could he fuck this up after telling Sydney that he didn’t want to fuck things up with you? “I…I had fun,” You were the only one who kept me afloat when everything else turned to shit. I missed you when we stopped talking. I should have fought harder. What else could I have done?

“Fun,” you chuckled bitterly. “Fun…that’s the only thing you’re going to say to me?”

Carmy frowned. 

“What else did you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, Carmy!” you exclaimed, pacing back and forth but never towards him. “God! Tell me that I’m important to you. Tell me that I’ll still be your friend…tell me that you—that you—that I mean more than a fuck!”

Silence. Carmy couldn’t find the words to tell you what you truly meant to him…that he wanted what you wanted too but he was too scared to fuck it all up again like he did with Claire.

You nodded, looking away. You breathed in deeply, as if trying to relieve yourself of the hurt. That’s all you’ve ever meant to him. 

“You lead me along and it’s fine. I know that it’s my fault for wanting other things but at least…at least tell me that I’ll still be your friend; that I still matter to you even if I dug myself a hole by feeling things. Tell me that you still need me to put everything on hold for you because I’ve been waiting you to call me all day…”

“I don’t want you to do that. I don’t want you putting your life on hold for me,” he rasps. “I don’t…”

“But what if I wanted to?” you asked, face slightly contorted because you didn’t want to be so vulnerable in front of him. Not when he hasn’t told you what you wanted yet. Carmy was just looking at you, tapping his foot on the floor. It was a nervous habit that he developed. Fuck, he needed a cigarette.

“Can you, uh, leave?” you asked, voice low. “I…” 

“No, no, no,” he begs, rushing towards you. He grabs a hold of your elbows to remind you that he was there. Would it mean anything? Would his touch convey all of the words he wanted to say? 

“Carm…” your voice breaks. “Carm…”

“No, no. You’re not just that to me,” he reassures “But you have to understand that-that I can’t love you like that.”

“Carmen, please…” you beg, tears brimming in your eyes. “Please…just, just leave,”

You’ve never asked him to leave before but it seemed like it was what you really wanted—like it was what you really needed. He nods, kissing your head softly before detaching himself from you. 

“I’m sorry,” Carmy said. “For-for not saying the right, uh, things.”

“Yeah,” you nod, hiding yourself from him. He hated that you had to do that when you’ve cried on his shoulders multiple times. He never liked seeing you cry; he just didn’t know that one day, he’ll be on the receiving end of your sadness. He watches you rub your forehead, biting your lip to stop yourself from crying. If you started crying, would he stay?

-

It’s been months since Carmy left. He’s been in his best form in the kitchen. He was making things easier for his staff; he was working twenty four hours a day. Going to The Bear early to help with prep; staying late to help them clean after a long shift of cooking and cooking and kitchen tours. He’s been getting acclaim—more acclaim, really. There was a waiting list on his restaurant and positive reviews from left and right flooded in. The Bear was dubbed as “The Restaurant of the Year” in Chicago despite being less than a year old. 

He’s been doing good—perfect. 

It was like he was a hamster in a fucking wheel with no other way to escape. He likes putting himself in gear, like driving fast because it makes him believe that nothing really hurts him. He didn’t like being at home; it reminded him too much of you. It reminded him of when you’d lean on the kitchen counter, a small smile on your lips while you watched him cook you something. He didn’t like sitting on the couch because it reminded him of when he slept with his head on your lap. He didn’t like it in his bedroom because he’s reminded of that night when you pulled him closer in your sleep. He didn’t like The Bear because the painting that you gave him hung so proudly by the dining area. It was marvellous—they said. How was he able to get a painting that you did when your art was so valuable and in demand? 

He was moving so fast so you wouldn’t cross his mind but it seemed like no matter what he did, he'd end up thinking about you anyway. 

It didn’t matter, how come a fall like that made him feel like flying? Maybe he’s waiting for it to hit him but he was feeling alright. 

He was alright. 

“Chef!” Sydney called, looking at Carmen who was chopping the vegetables like a madman. “Carmen!”

“Fuck, what, Sydney?!” he asked, slamming his knife on the counter. 

“You’re bleeding,” Marcus told him and Carmen looked down, blood was all over the chopping board. “You’ve been bleeding for a few seconds now…we’ve all been calling your name, Chef.” 

“Fuck, I-I-I’m…” Carmen was a blubbering mess, just watching his hand bleed like it didn’t matter. “I’m-I’m,”

“Take a break, Carm,” Sydney says but her partner just shakes his head. “Carm—“

“Sydney, don’t—don’t make me take a fucking break, please.”

“You’ll need to clean up and make sure there’s no more blood,” Sydney told him. “I’m not fucking around,”

“Yeah,” he nods, putting his fist over his heart and drawing circles. Sydney nods and Carmy fixes his station. 

He couldn’t stop shaking, though. Even Tina saw how his hand trembled. What the fuck?

“Carmen,” 

“Yeah…just…just give me a second, please.” he nods, picking his knife again and doing everything perfectly. Like clockwork. He’s back. He’s back. He’s fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m alright. 

PART 2

AN: Thank you for the love! This is going to be a two-part fic because I love how everything is right now… Don’t forget to comment / reblog if you like it! I read every single little thing you guys type…even the hashtags.

TAGLIST: @kpopgirlbtssvt @morgthemagpie @hal3ynicol3 @1800-queen-trash

[gabseyoo]

HELP — SAKUSA KIYOOMI

content: female reader, established relationship, public indecency, car sex, blowjob, handjob, ball sucking. word count: 1,3k.

“So… are you feeling better?” You asked your boyfriend—who was resting his chin on his palm looking out the car window—after several minutes in silence.

Kiyoomi shook his head and replied without even looking at you, “Give me another minute.” You couldn’t help but giggle, and that apparently didn’t please your grumpy boyfriend. “Stop giggling. This isn’t funny.”

“It absolutely is.” You said with a smile and decided to tease him a little more by poking his arm as you added, “You like me that much, baby?”

“Stop.” Kiyoomi finally turned to see you though still with his elbow leaning against the window. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

The accusation almost makes you burst out laughing, “I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I won’t kiss you anymore if you don’t want me to. But apparently you like my kisses too much for that to even be an option.” You noticed how a chuckle almost escaped his lips before he playfully rolled his eyes and looked back at the window. 

No matter what Kiyoomi said, this was funny.

You were supposed to have a dinner date to celebrate your anniversary, and in fact, you were already parked in the restaurant’s parking lot. 

The thing is that you decided to give your boyfriend a small kiss just before you got out of the car, well, if a ‘small kiss’ means sticking your tongue in his mouth for more than three minutes— but you just couldn’t help it! You were happy and excited for tonight. 

Anyway… the result was that he got hard, and now you’ve been in the car for for who knows how long waiting for him to ‘feel better’. 

Honestly, you found the situation as funny as you found it sexy— your handsome, big, tall boyfriend getting rock hard just because you gave him a kiss. That also had an effect on you, which obviously wasn’t as noticeable as the big bulge in his pants, but you still couldn’t stop those not-so-decent thoughts that had you rubbing your thighs together. And well, it’s not like you have a lot of self-control. 

“I can help you, you know?”

That apparently caught his attention, because he turned to look at you curiously. “Huh?” 

“I can help you feel better.” You said innocently, leaning your elbow on the middle console to rest your chin on your hand. 

Kiyoomi was quick to understand what you meant.

“We’re in a parking lot, baby.” Despite his words and the dim lighting, you could see that hint of excitement in his eyes as he looked around, perhaps analyzing how empty the parking lot was. 

“And? It’s not like we haven’t done this before.” 

“I know, but—” At  that moment he looked back at you and his words got stuck in his throat when he realized that you were already looking at him with those doe eyes you knew he loved and couldn’t resit even if he tried. “Doll, don’t give me that look.” 

“What look?” You tilted your head slightly to one side as if you really had no idea what he was talking about.

Kiyoomi didn’t respond, but his actions spoke for him, maybe it was on purpose, or he did it by reflex, but when his hand that rested on his thigh went to cup his bulge—perhaps in an attempt to soothe himself—it turned you on. Fuck, you wanted his dick in your mouth now. 

“So, Kiyoomi?” Your other hand went over his, forcing him to put a little pressure on his erection that made him moan. “I’ll be quick. After all, judging by the way you look right now—” You leaned close to his ear to whisper, “I don’t think you’ll last long.”

A second later, his lips were on yours, kissing you as desperately as if it was the last time he would ever taste your lips. 

He moved your hand to hastily unbutton his pants and pull them and his boxers down, just enough to release his throbbing erection. Immediately, you wrapped your palm around his dick and began to stroke it up and down slowly before breaking the kiss to see his face and the pleasure reflected on it. 

Kiyoomi tried to maintain eye contact, but when your thumb circled his tip while your other hand moved to fondle his balls, he couldn’t help but close his eyes in pure pleasure. He already seemed to be in heaven, and you hadn’t even used your mouth yet. But that will change soon. 

You lowered your head down until your face was close to his cock and spat on it to lubricate the rest of his length with your palm before taking the tip into your mouth.

Kiyoomi cursed under his breath as you made circles with your tongue, tasting his precum, and without waiting any longer, you slipped the rest into your mouth to start bobbing your head up and down, not taking long to find your rhythm. 

Your hand kept massaging his balls while with the other you kept stimulating what couldn’t fit in your mouth, and you knew that now you had your boyfriend in actual heaven by the moans coming out of his mouth. 

Although many wouldn’t expect it, Kiyoomi was a vocal, and you loved it. That’s why you shoved his entire length down your throat until you gagged, knowing how much he loved that. He sighed your name as he pushed his hips up and his hand settled on your head, holding you there for a few seconds until you couldn’t take it anymore and had to pull away to catch your breath.

Kiyoomi used this moment to recline the seat and spread his legs further apart, “You have no idea how sexy you look right now.” His words were accompanied by his hand caressing your back before moving it down to your ass, where he squeezed the flesh over the fabric tightly before slipping his hand under your dress and doing the same but now with direct contact with your skin. “So fucking perfect, I— fuck!” He couldn’t finish his praise because at that moment you put one of his heavy balls in your mouth, sucking it a little and then doing the same with the other one while you kept pumping him with your hand. 

Kiyoomi threw his head back when you took his length back into your mouth, resuming your previous rhythm. He was practically panting now, completely immersed in the pleasure you were giving him. 

“Baby, I’m going to cum.” He mumbled after a minute, and without resisting any longer, he brought both of his hands to your head to now guide your movements, making you go faster and deeper each time you lowered your head. 

More tears came out of your eyes every time you choked on his cock on every downstroke as you tried your best to breathe through your nose. It was hard, but you managed to hold on until he came in your throat with your name leaving his lips.

You swallowed what you could as Kiyoomi continued to move your head now more slowly until he emptied himself. Seconds later, he released his grip and you licked the cum that had oozed from the edges of your mouth as you sat up straight.

A smile appeared on your face when you saw that he was still panting, trying to recover from his climax. You watched him with lust in your eyes as he pulled up his underwear to cover himself, without even bothering to fasten his pants. 

“Well, problem solved.” You said, breaking the silence and Kiyoomi snorted as he turned to look at you with a smirk. 

“Still want to have dinner?” He asked with a suggestive tone, “Or should we go home?” He added before leaning toward you to kiss you again. Slower, but no less eager. 

“Dinner was the plan, wasn’t it?” You answered playfully, still with your lips on his, and you deepened the kiss a little more before speaking again. “But you know? Now I’m the one who needs to feel better.”

He smiled against your lips, “And I’m more than willing to help.”

+ note: happy anniversary i guess <3

[joonsmagicshop]

Needy

Summary: Your mother asks why you haven't given her grandbabies. You tell her you are not ready for that yet but it turns out Yoongi likes the idea very much

Paring: Yoongi/Reader

Word Count: 5K

Rating: M/18+

Tags: Boyfriend Yoongi, Mother daughter relationship that kind of sucks, needy subby Yoongi, soft Dom reader, dirty talk, reader calls him kitten and baby boy, jerking off, sucking off, pregnancy kink, flirting, second hand embarrassment, Yoongi can't get his erection to go down so reader helps, deep throating, face fucking.

Authors Note: The horny demon possessed me again.

Also this picture 🔥🔥🔥

“Yoongi there is a spot right there!” You say

“Can’t park in front of a fire hydrant babe.” He replies, eyes scanning the street

“Okay, what about there!”

“Park next to a Tesla? Absolutely no way.” He says, turning down a side street, eyes still focused trying to find the right parking spot.

“Yoongi please can we just pick a spot?” You ask balancing the meat and cheese tray you brought on your lap and scanning the street.

He smiles at you and turns the car down another street and you see you are getting further away from your parent’s house.

“Or are you being picky because you don’t want to go?” You ask with a teasing tilt to your voice which has Yoongi placing a hand over his heart in mock hurt.

“How dare you Y/N. You know I love going to these extravagant giant parties your mom holds.” He jokes as he turns down another street and begins to search for more parking.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that appears on your face.

“Not sure why you are complaining Yoongs my mom looooves you.” You tease as he scowls and finally finds a spot that seems good enough for him to park his sleek black car into

You can’t help but laugh at his reaction.

But what you said was true.

You had been dating Yoongi for a year now and your mom absolutely adored him. She doted on him whenever he came over and always reminded him how he was her favorite son-in-law (he was her only son-in-law as it was just you and your brother as her kids)

Her relationship with you was much more…complex.

She was a perfectionist in everything she did and while it was impressive it could also be annoying when she expected everyone to be just like her.

You, being the only daughter meant she often criticized you, wanting you to be as perfect and ladylike as her.

This perfectionism shone during her parties. Your mom loved to host parties. Every small gathering got blown out of proportion so she could throw a massive get-together. She would go all out with decor and found herself happiest when she was planning something.

Your grade eight graduation was supposed to be a small gathering of family and it turned into a block party.

Your high school grad was worse as she tried to invite your whole class which you shut down real quick.

You took out your phone and frowned to see your brother finally respond to your text about the party.

“Michael is out. Says his wife and kid have food poisoning.” You say to Yoongi as he finally gets the car in the spot and throws it into park.

You grumble and type back a message as Yoongi chuckles beside you.

“Can’t we tell your mom we have it too?” He jokes as you lightly smack his arm and undo your seatbelt to step out of the car.

Yoongi follows suit and comes around to your side of the car, ever the gentleman holding out his hand so he can help you over the grass which is still slightly damp from yesterday’s rain storm.

It didn’t help you were wearing three-inch heels and a flowy pale blue sundress with small flowers embroidered on it.

You struggled to balance the huge tray of food as Yoongi grabbed your elbow to help steady you over the grass.

“So who are we celebrating again? Alessa and Jonathan right?” He asks pushing his soft brown hair away from his face and smiling down at you.

“Yeah it’s their second child so my mom thought to throw a small gathering.” You say snickering as you walk past the parade of cars that have taken over the whole subdivision.

“Ah, so a small gathering with your cousin’s closest friends got it!” Yoongi teases.

You finally make your way to the driveway and look up in time to see the door being thrown open by your mother who is standing there in a soft white sundress, her hair was curled in her signature style and she had her hands on her hips as you approached.

“Hey, mom.” You say leaning in for a sideways hug as you don’t want to knock the tray in your hands.

“Oh honey, what is with the hair up hmm?” She says signaling to your ponytail which was hanging down your back.

“This is a party I thought you’d wear your hair down for once.” She says with a frown as you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

Before you can respond her eyes land on Yoongi.

“Oh let me take a look at my handsome son-in-law!” She squeals as she wraps Yoongi in a hug and you bite back your laugh as she grabs his arm and brings him into the house.

You head to the kitchen and set the tray down amongst all the food as you hear your mom talking Yoongi’s ear off in the dining room.

You pull out your phone to respond to your brother’s text as you let your mom talk to Yoongi.

Once you decide Yoongi has suffered enough you slip your phone back into your purse and walk to the dining room to loop your arm through his.

He shoots you a grateful look as your mom is still chatting, oblivious to the whole thing.

“Mom, where is Alessa? I have a small gift for her.” You ask cutting your mom off her tangent as her eyes finally lock on yours.

“Oh I didn’t even see you come over dear Yoongi and I were just chatting oh… well of course let's get you to the party girl!” Your mom giggles as she leads you out the sliding door and to the expansive backyard.

Yesterday’s rain luckily blew through in time for today to be beautiful. The sky was bright blue with small whispy white clouds scattered throughout. The air was warm with a slight breeze that ruffled your dress as you walked over to the gazebo where the party was being held.

The party girl in question was your cousin Alessa who was lounging on a chair by the pool which your parents opened early for the party.

It was heated anyway so it didn’t matter that it wasn’t blistering hot outside people were enjoying it regardless.

Luckily for you (and Yoongi) someone grabbed your mom’s attention and she was off before you even had a chance to say another word to her.

“We could leave right now and no one would know,” Yoongi mutters in your ear as you shake your head and head over to Alessa.

“Hey!” You greet her as you take in her appearance. She is wearing a flowy red dress and her hands are wrapped around her stomach instinctively, her husband Jonathan waves from the pool where he is teaching their four-year-old daughter how to swim.

“Hi! Oh, I’m so sorry I seriously can’t get up right now your mom had me greeting like fifty different people and I’m exhausted.” She tells you as she swings her legs over the side of the lounge chair to side sideways and you wrap her in a hug.

Your cousin Alessa is three years older than you and absolutely glowing. Her first pregnancy was rough on her so when she announced she was pregnant again the family worried about her. Luckily this time around she seemed to have a much easier time and you were happy about that.

Yoongi shot her a small wave as you dug through your purse to pull out the card you got her. She beamed when you handed it over and patted the seat beside her so you could sit down.

Yoongi took the small folding chair next to her and the three of you chatted.

Party music filled the air and the atmosphere was warm and welcoming. You took your time catching up with your favorite cousin as Yoongi listened on nodding occasionally.

Jonathan got out of the pool with Millie on his shoulders and plopped her down right next to her mom. Alessa laughed when Millie climbed on her lap and got her dress soaked with pool water, you scooted over to give the four-year-old some room

“Yoongi good to see you, man.” Jonathan greeted as he patted Yoongi’s back.

“So your mom said this was going to be a small party?” Jonathan said with a grin as his arm swept the area to show how many people turned up.

“I don’t know if they even know it’s for me!” Alessa said with a laugh.

“I don’t mind though good food and good company. I don’t want to be the center of attention anyway. Remember your high school graduation?” She teases as you cover your face with your hands and groan.

Your mom made you wear a bright pink sash that said High School Grad on it and paraded you around the whole party. You were so embarrassed.

“Don’t remind me!” You groaned as Yoongi laughed.

Her ears must have been ringing because suddenly your mom appeared at Jonathan’s side holding a platter of watermelon. She put it down in front of Alessa and smiled at your small group.

“There’s tons of food inside if anyone wants any. Yoongi made a beautiful meat and cheese tray.” Your mom gushes as you fight the urge to once again roll your eyes.

“Actually Y/N made that. I was working late last night so didn’t have a chance to help.” He corrects as you look up at him with a small smile on your face.

“Yoongi you work too hard! Always these late nights! Make sure you take care of yourself too. Don’t want to overwork.” Your mom comments as you reach for a piece of watermelon ignoring the way she didn’t say anything about you making the tray.

It doesn’t matter anyway, you stopped trying to get recognition from her years ago.

“And how’s the baby?” Your mom asks turning to Alessa who is sipping a drink and jostling Millie in her arms to get her more comfortable.

“Good! Kicking a lot today but I think it’s just because of the food. I ate that spicy nacho dip.” She says patting her swollen belly.

“Ah yes, when I was pregnant the first time I craved all spicy food all the time. Her brother was a menace with the kicks.” Your mom responds with a teasing smile as she shoots you a look you know all too well.

You brace yourself knowing the words that will come out of her mouth next

The question she has been asking ever since you brought Yoongi home for the first time.

“So Y/N when are you giving me grandbabies?” She asks turning to face you and staring between you and Yoongi.

Poor Yoongi had never experienced her questioning firsthand and nearly choked on his drink at her words.

You sighed.

“Mom I told you we aren’t ready yet.” You say as you reach for another piece of watermelon hoping she will drop the subject.

“Yes, but honey your father and I aren’t getting younger you know. We want to be grandparents before we pass away!” She says loudly drawing the attention of the crowds standing close by.

Shit.

“I know Mom just not right now okay? I promise you will have grandkids…someday.” You say keeping your answer vague.

“Come on you would look adorable pregnant and we could go shopping and pick out clothes oh! It would be so fun to be a grandmother!” Your mom continues to gush oblivious to your embarrassment and the way Yoongi’s cheeks are stained bright pink and how he won’t stop staring at the floor as if it is the most interesting thing in the world.

“Mom stop! You’re embarrassing Yoongi and I.” You respond trying to cut off her tangent.

“Think of all the money you will save!” Your mom continued, not bothering to listen to what you were saying.

Embarrassment floods your veins as you are stuck in your spot next to your cousin who looks just as horrified as you feel waiting for your mom to stop talking so loud and attracting so much attention.

“Mom stop! Kids are expensive we won’t be saving money.” You hiss standing up trying to get her to stop talking.

Your eyes flick to Yoongi who looks mortified.

“Well yes, but you will be saving money. Protection is so expensive nowadays not having to buy condoms anymore will save you so much money! Plus it will give me grandbabies.” She coos.

You stare at Yoongi in shock as he closes his eyes and buries his hands over his face. You close your eyes and try to think of a way to tell your mom to shut the hell up without sounding so rude.

Your saving grace comes in the form of your father who enters the scene and whispers something in your mom’s ear shutting her up instantly.

“Oh, my friend Melanie is here! Oh, I must go say hi I haven’t seen her in over two months!” She exclaims as she quickly turns and hurries to the front door to greet her friend.

You are still frozen in shock not daring to look around at the group of people who you feel are staring you down.

“Um wow,” Alessa says breaking the uncomfortable silence as you finally lift your head to see everyone has pretty much moved on and is talking amongst themselves again.

You stare at Yoongi who is a brilliant shade of red and still staring at the floor.

“I have no words. Please tell me that didn’t actually happen. My mom told me not to use protection in front of a crowd.” You whine out as Alessa rubs your back.

“I am so sorry but it did happen. And it was wild.” Jonathan says as you look at Yoongi who is still not saying anything but is squirming in his seat.

“Yoongs you okay?” You ask as he slowly sips his drink and nods at you, still looking super uncomfortable.

Millie decides to wake up at that moment and wants to play so Jonathan takes her out to the grass beyond the patio and pool where lawn games are set up.

Another cousin shows up and the conversation switches to girl talk as you try to push down your embarrassment from earlier.

After five minutes Yoongi stands and squeezes your shoulder telling you he is going to use the washroom and will be right back.

You stand to give him a peck on the cheek as you sit back down to continue your chat, slowly sipping your drink and people-watching.

You get so lost in the conversation you hardly notice Yoongi isn’t back yet but when Jonathan comes back with Millie you look around to realize Yoongi is nowhere to be seen.

“I’m gonna go inside and grab some food.” You tell your cousins as you push yourself up from the chair and walk over to the sliding door cracking it open and entering the quiet house, the noise from the party instantly muted.

You walk to the bathroom on the first floor to see it is free which means Yoongi must be using the upstairs one.

You kick off your heels as you make your way up the hardwood steps, bare feet silent on the floor.

You see the door is closed and you snicker before lightly knocking.

“Occupied!” Yoongi’s voice rings out as you smile.

“Yoongs it’s me.” You reply and you hear him rush to the door and throw it open. He grabs your arm and drags you inside the bathroom shutting the door with his foot and pinning you up against the vanity.

“Yoongi!” You exclaim as his lips find yours and he kisses you with such passion it steals your breath from your lungs.

His hands are holding your hips steady as he ruts into you, his body pushing against yours with such force the countertop bites into your skin.

“Yoongi baby. What’s going on?” You ask breathless as his lips move down to your neck and begin to suck and bite at the skin. His hands frantically rub your sides as he continues to grind his crotch into you.

“Need you. Fuck need you so bad.” He begs as he pulls the straps of your dress down to get more access to your skin and you throw your head back and moan.

His lips are hot against your skin and he is rutting into you in a way where you can feel the full length of his bulge pressing into your core. His hands grip your hips as he fucks into you with force which has your back arching and moans falling from your mouth.

You are in a lust-filled haze as Yoongi’s fingers trail up the slit in your dress, his fingers teasing the inside of your thighs you are about to open your legs and give him what he wants when you hear the sliding door open downstairs and you freeze.

Someone is in the house.

Yoongi doesn’t seem to hear it as he sucks a harsh mark on your neck and you put your hands on his chest to push him back as you hear footsteps downstairs.

“Yoongs we have to stop so-someone is in the house.” You say breathless as he finally looks up at you and you gasp.

His eyes are blown wide and so dark they are almost black. His tongue darts out to wet his swollen lips and his hair is a mess atop his head.

Yoongi lets out a whine and steps forward as you strain to hear if someone is still in the kitchen downstairs. He brings his head to your shoulder and begins to nuzzle your skin, small moans leaving his mouth.

“Yoongs baby what has gotten into you?” You ask softly petting his hair and trying to flatten it as his tongue darts out to lick at your skin.

“I got hard. So fucking hard so I came up here to see if I could make it go away and it won’t fucking go away.” He whines as he rolls his hips into yours giving you delicious friction against your core.

“And you thought furiously making out with me would make it go away?” You tease as he whines loudly against your skin and continues to rut against you desperately. His body still caging you in as he looks up at you through thick lashes and sticks his bottom lip out in a pout.

“I’m so horny and I tried everything to get it to go down but I’m so fucking hard. I didn’t jerk off because…well it’s weird to jerk off in my girlfriend’s parents’ bathroom but baby I’m so fucking horny. It won’t go away.” He whines softly still pouting as his lips come to find your neck once again and he delivers you soft kisses.

You hear the screen door close and you let out a sigh as you push him back from you once more.

“Yoongs baby what got you so horny? You fucked me last night remember?” You say blushing at the memory of you riding him and how good he felt stuffed inside of you.

“Don’t remind me, please. We want this to go away not get harder.” He begs as he buries his head into your chest and lets out a frustrated sigh.

You let out a soft laugh and rub his back affectionately.

You can still feel his cock pressing against your core and you reach a hand down between your bodies to stroke him. He closes his eyes and bites his lip to keep from moaning.

“What got you so horny Yoongs hmmm? My baby boy usually isn’t so desperate.” You say taking on the dominant role as Yoongi’s body seems to soften into yours.

Even though he likes being dominant you find he equally likes being subby and being your baby boy.

“Please don’t freak out.” He says in a small voice as you remove your hand from his cock to stroke at his hair.

The sliding door opens again downstairs and you continue to comfort him.

“Tell me, baby boy. What has my kitten all worked up?” You ask as he flutters his eyes closed and buries his face into your shoulder whining.

“Talking about you being pregnant. At first, I was horrified your mom would bring it up. But then. Thinking of you. Dripping with my seed. Pregnant with my child. All swollen and big… all because we fucked. And fucking you without a condom. God Y/N.” He whispers out as he starts to rut his hips into you again, pushing his cock into your hip and making you bite back a moan.

He ruts against you as you stroke his hair and give him soft kisses to his temple.

“I need to cum so bad, I don’t think my cock is ever going to go down.” He whimpers as he holds you steady and continues to grind against you. His greedy hands rubbing at the bare skin of your arms.

“So you have a pregnancy kink?” You question as he stills his movements to look up at you with lust-blown eyes.

“Yes? No? I don’t know I just know the thought of fucking you, filling you with my cum is making me painfully hard. Help. God, please touch me. Please do something. I can’t go back to the party like this.” He whines desperately as he captures your lips in a heated kiss.

His body is flushed against yours and his hands trail up and down your arms. You feel your core throb at his words as he continues to grind his hips into yours harder, desperate to seek some relief for his aching hard-on that is still trapped in his tight pants.

You part your legs to give him some room and he slots his bulge perfectly against your core. You let out a whine against his lips when he grinds into you frantically, practically humping your leg in the process.

“Want me to jerk you off baby boy? Make you cum around my fist?” You ask as he nods and bites his lip.

You pull away to reach between your bodies to undo the button of his jeans. When you slide the zipper down and open his pants his swollen cock quickly fills up the space and you tease the head of his cock with the tip of your finger.

“Wanna fuck you. God, please let me fuck you.” He begs out as his eyes start to water with desperate tears.

“Do you have a condom? We both aren’t ready for kids yet.” You remind him as you pull his pants down to his ankles and see his cock straining against the dark material of his tight boxers.

You let your fingers dance against his hard shaft and he whines.

“No, I forgot to replace the one in my wallet. I wanna fuck you so bad.” he almost cries.

You’ve seen Yoongi desperate before, usually when you are edging him or having him tied up but you have never seen him desperate like this.

His eyes are wide and tearful and his teeth are biting into his lip. His hands are still grabbing at your arms tightly and he looks on the verge of insanity.

“I know baby boy. I know you want to fuck me but we don’t have a condom so we can’t.”

He lets out a whine as tears slip from his eyes.

“How about I suck you off yeah? Get some of that tension out then when we get home I’ll let you fuck me however you want. With a condom on though. Okay, kitten?” You coo as he nods and you finally pull down his underwear.

What a sight his cock is.

Hard and leaking precum the head is red from the lack of attention and his shaft is twitching slightly.

He groans when you finally wrap a hand around it and you shush him with a giggle.

“You have to be a good Kitten and not make a sound okay? The whole party doesn’t need to know how desperate my baby boy is and how hard his cock is. God Yoongs your so fucking hard for me.” You whisper as you circle his cock and he buries his face on your shoulder to muffle his noises.

You jerk him slowly focusing on the head of his cock as Yoongi moans and whines into your shoulder. He is steadily leaking pre cum and you can feel how pent up he is by how his cock is throbbing in your hand.

“You have to be good now and don’t make noise. I’m gonna suck you off okay kitten. Be good for me yeah?” You ask as Yoongi nods and you sink to the floor sucking at the tip and making his eyes roll in the back of his head and his hips shoot forward.

You jerk his cock in tandem with your mouth and Yoongi is doing everything in his power to stay quiet. Your mouth feels so good against his aching shaft and he can’t help but curl his toes against the tile floor when you take him deep.

Your nose presses against his pubes and he lets a filthy moan slip from his lips. You pull back immediately and look up at him, stilling your movements and driving him to insanity.

“Please don’t stop, please. Y/N I’m so hard it hurts I need to cum please.” He begs out as tears slip down his cheeks.

You lap at the tip of his cock again making him shove his fist in his mouth to keep from screaming. His hands come to tangle in your hair as he forces himself to breathe through his nose and not wildly fuck your throat.

Your hand leaves his shaft to play with his balls which are swollen and begging to be touched. Your hand comes up to fondle them and Yoongi throws his head back as a stifled moan leaves his mouth.

You can feel your own arousal slick on your thighs as you watch Yoongi inch toward orgasm as you work him harder.

You grin against his cock and wrap your fingers around his shaft again. You deep-throat him down and Yoongi lets out a choked moan as he shoves his fingers in his mouth.

“Tell me Yoongs what do you want baby boy?” You ask pulling off from him and resting your head on his shaky thigh.

“Wanna fuck your throat. Please Y/N, please. I’m so close. It hurts. Please I wanna cum” He begs as you obey and suck him back into your mouth and keep your head steady.

His hands come to brace your head and he begins to fuck into your mouth. Softly at first to get you used to the feeling and then he starts to pick up the pace.

He fucks into your mouth harshly as his hands grasp at your hair making your scalp sting. He is trying his best to stay quiet above you as you open your throat wider and tears cloud your vision as he chokes you with his cock.

“Please Y/N, please. I’m gonna cum. Please let me cum. Ohmygod please.” he cries out as he continues to harshly fuck your mouth and you open it wider.

He wails and cums down your throat as you swallow all he gives you.

You keep your nose pressed against his pubes as you swallow him down and soak in the noises he is making above you, somewhere between a groan and a sob as he slows his thrusts.

You take your time pulling off his softening cock and you lick his cockhead clean before standing up on shaky legs to stare at Yoongi.

His hair is a sweaty mess and his eyes are still blown wide. His lips are bruised from all the biting and he looks blissfully fucked out.

“Thank you thank you thank you.” He praises you as he brings his hands up to cup your cheeks and kisses you softly. You can feel the relief radiating off of him.

“Feel better Kitten?” You mutter against his lips as he pulls back and nods suddenly looking shy.

“You are so good to me. God how did I get so lucky.” He praises you as he strokes your hair and continues to pepper kisses on your lips and cheeks.

“I’m the lucky one Yoongs.” You respond as he pulls away and fixes his wild hair.

Your arousal is leaking down your thighs and you grimace when you feel it.

“What’s wrong baby?” He asks as you reach for some toilet paper to get yourself cleaned up.

“Seeing you like that got me all wet. Just gotta get cleaned up kitten.” You say slowly cleaning between your legs.

“I can take care of that you know.” He reminds you with a smirk as you softly smile at him.

“I know you can Kitten but we have been gone from the party long enough because my baby boy was a needy little thing and needed to fuck my throat to feel better.” You remind him as he buries his face in your neck and whines.

“Don’t. Y/N please dont we just got my cock to soften.” He begs as you let out a small chuckle.

“Sorry, Yoongi. I’ll save it for later. Now come on we gotta go back or people will get suspicious.” You say grabbing his hand and exiting the bathroom.

“We could just leave… you know. Take care of things now?” He teases you with a lift of an eyebrow and wink as you smack his arm softly and lead your boy back out to the sunshine and the party.

[luv4fushi]

omfg i litr read everything uve written off ur masterlist I NEED MOREEEE. i love the way u write megumi especially, i couldn’t get enough of it. i hope you write more of him, my heart aches for more tbh 🥹 tysm for being such a good writer and feeding us starved readers well

tysm! i'm sooo glad i can be a good source of megumi content for you >_< i looove writing megumi so you'll be seeing sooo much more of him, dw! happy holidays!

this december

jjk fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

it’s always colder on your own, especially around this time of year. you should be at home, bundled up with a warm cup of hot chocolate, but here you are in shinjuku, exorcizing curses with your ex boyfriend two weeks after your breakup with him. great.

content: post break up, aged up megumi (19/20), megumi is terrible at feelings, getting back together, fluff if you squint, a bit of angst, miscommunication, one bed (but it isn’t the main plot point sorry), megumi calls you baby like once, gojo is the best wingman, SHIBUYA ARC NEVER HAPPENED AND LIFE IS GOOD, not proofread im very sorry guys pls forgive me, kinda a word dump sry

word count: 5.8k (sigh this was supposed to be 2k words max)

click on my masterlist for more & merry christmas to those who celebrate!

it’s december 19th when satoru gojo tells you that he has a mission just for you. you’re less than ecstatic about it to say the least. the last thing you want to do is be sent to your death just shy of christmas day. you just want to rest your sore muscles and bask in the presence of your best friends. you’re not in the mood to kill any curses, mainly because you’ve just recovered from a previous mission.

“why me?” you groan.

gone are the days where you used to be a goody two shoes for satoru. you’re old enough to talk back now, not like when you had been a shy fifteen-year-old girl. besides, you’ve been around the silver-haired sorcerer long enough to know that he doesn’t mind the bite.

“sorry, kid,” satoru says with a shrug. at least he sounds genuine about it. “the higher ups requested for you specifically. they say you’ll get the job done in the cleanest way. we can’t have things getting messy before the holidays, right?”

“and you wouldn’t be the best choice?” you quip.

satoru only laughs. he ruffles your hair. even with your growth spurt and merciless training, he still towers over you. in a way, he’ll always be your mentor. “hey, i’m going out of town that weekend. give me a break.”

you huff petulantly. something about this mission seems fishy to you. you’re not nearly the strongest sorcerer out of the bunch of kids under satoru’s wings (not that you guys are kids anymore, but sometimes it’s hard to feel otherwise). hell, there’s the kyoto students. it feels like they never have to do anything. you wish that you were rebellious enough to chew utahime out for it.

“why couldn’t they just make yuta or megumi go?” you mutter under your breath. you stammer out megumi’s name and hope satoru doesn’t catch on to the way you can barely say it.

satoru knows about the breakup. why wouldn’t he? he’s basically megumi’s dad, even if the raven haired boy refuses to admit it. satoru’s six eyes mean you can’t hide anything from him (he’d been the first to know that megumi was head over heels for you).

satoru raises a brow. “oh, right. megumi’s coming along too.”

your face twists and you immediately whip around to glare at him. “you’re lying.”

“i wish,” he jokes. “i was really hoping i’d get a wedding invitation one day, you little rascal. i can’t believe you two broke up. maybe this’ll be a good thing!”

“i appreciate your honesty, but—”

“but megumi’s an emotionally constipated kid, yeah, that i know,” satoru laughs. he makes his way to the exit of his office which has you furrowing your brows. is your former teacher actually gonna just leave after making you come all the way here? how rude and so very in character of him.

“please, gojo,” you call out after him, “i don’t wanna go with him.”

“sucks for you,” satoru responds halfheartedly. “merry christmas. try not to take more than a week on this. you’ll have to pay the rest of the fee for accommodations if you do.”

“gojo!” you whine.

“it’s not a hard mission!” satoru insists like it’ll make your life any easier. “y’know, this time of year is when things get ugly. think of it as saving as many people as you can while putting in the least amount of effort!”

and then he teleports. your former teacher teleports away rather than being normal and walking out of the door. you roll your eyes and hope that he can sense it (you know he can’t).

so that’s why you’re here now. with your ex. on the elevator to your assigned room on the tenth floor. you’re so glad that it’s a normal hotel and not a love hotel. lord knows what you’d do if you had checked into a love hotel.

megumi hasn’t spoken a word to you since he broke up with you two weeks ago. it had been in the doorway to your apartment a few days after a particularly rough mission assigned to the both of you—the one you’re still recovering from. he’d pulled you in for a hug, whispering sweet words into your ear. he gave you a look, one of those looks that made him soften his usually sharp eyes.

“i think we should break up.”

and then came the pathetic whimper of yours. he had wiped your tears, even kissed them tenderly, before telling you that it wasn’t your fault—it was his. how cliche.

now as you stand next to him, you want to beat yourself up for not asking for closure. neither of you had explicitly stated that you two were going to be no-contact, but it hurts a lot less to push the idea of forever with megumi away to the back of your mind. besides, you two aren’t confrontational like that. not with each other, anyway.

“need help?” his tone is soft, tender—the tone he reserves specifically for you, the one that tells you he still cares.

you stare down at the luggage at your feet. you’ve always been a chronic overpacker, a habit that megumi knows of by now. he watches you curiously, hands itching at his sides. you can tell that he wants to reach out and grab your suitcase like he always does. he thinks he isn’t obvious, but you can always read through the lines, especially when it’s megumi.

“i’m okay,” you croak out, clearing your throat awkwardly.

the elevator dings and you make your way to your room. as much as you hate to admit it, you’re sort of glad that you and your ex boyfriend are sharing a room. perhaps his’ll be a good way to get closure, though you’re not really sure what closure entails.

what you don’t expect is to unlock the door and be met with a singular bed.

if satoru gojo didn’t have a layer of infinity coating his body (and if he wasn’t the strongest sorcerer alive), you would’ve wrung out his neck.

megumi simply walks into the room, setting his duffel bag down on one of the dressers opposite from the foot of the bed. he doesn’t comment on the lack of double beds, seemingly already aware of the set up.all he does is puff out a weary sigh. you suck in a breath and follow him inside, slipping your shoes off at the entrance.

you lug your suitcase in after you along with your duffel bag and backpack. you stumble forward and megumi’s arm snakes around your waist, steadying you.

“careful,” he mutters, nonchalantly taking your bag off our your shoulders.

it’s a quick series of movements; he swings your bag over his shoulders and places it on the dresser next to the one he’s claimed while guiding you softly to the side of the bed so that you’re not standing in the middle of the doorway.

you scrunch your face, feeling your heart thump against your ribcage. it’s stupid how he still has such a hold on you, even after two weeks of not seeing or talking to him. he’s just so caring, so gentle. it stings, like little the little cuts you get when fighting curses, when you realize that this is something you’ll have to learn how to lose.

“thanks,” you manage to mutter. you don’t trust yourself to say anything else. you know from the way your throat tightens that you’ll be crying soon if you force yourself to talk any more.

“i can take the couch,” megumi says.

it’s that easy with him; he’s a gentleman, so of course he’d take the couch. that’s the way megumi fushiguro is—he offers a solution before you even have the chance to complain. in your year and a half long relationship, that skill of his had been a saving grace.

“no, don’t bother,” you croak. “i’ll book another room.”

“really?” he asks. he stands up a little straighter, awkwardly reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “i mean, i don’t mind sharing a room with you… we’ve..”

we’ve shared a room countless of times before.

megumi doesn’t have to continue his sentence for you to understand what he’s implying. you part your lips to speak, but nothing comes out except for a long, heavy sigh. your shoulders drop as you let the exhaustion seep into your bones. there’s no use arguing about it, not when you don't’ mind sharing a room with megumi, either.

“we’ve broken up,” you remind him in a quiet voice, like you’re afraid saying it out loud will make it truer than it already is.

megumi pauses. you see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly. “i know that, but … it’ll be fine. we’ve shared a room as friends before.”

he’s right, like he usually is. you two have shared a room before as just friends, but that had been as teenagers—back when you both harbored such hardcore crushes on each other that you two somehow didn’t notice.

“right,” you find yourself agreeing with a small nod.

“you should go get ready for bed.” megumi begins grabbing a few or the decorative pillow off of the bed. he places them gingerly on the brown couch tucked in the corner of the hotel room. “we’ll be getting up pretty early to deal with the brunt of the mission.”

to finish this mission as quickly as possible, you think.

and so you oblige and head to the bathroom. it’s december 19th, just a few days shy of christmas day, and you’re in bed with your ex boyfriend on the couch just a few feet away.

december 20th greets you with megumi hovering over you. he peers down at you with his messy bangs covering his eyes. they’re piercingly blue as he blinks. his lashes flutter perfectly, even in the early morning. your eyes meet his and you jolt awake.

“good morning,” he says. “your alarm has been ringing for a bit now, so i turned it off.”

you blink rapidly, getting the tiredness out of your eyes. “oh.”

he chuckles softly, just enough for you to catch it with your ears. he rises from his crouched position and heads to the front door. he spares you a glance over his shoulder before he heads out, presumably giving you the privacy you need. you let out a strangled breath before you swing your legs over the bed and head to the bathroom.

by the time you’re finished putting on your uniform, you swing the door to your hotel room open and see megumi leaned up against the wall, tapping away on his phone. his dark blue eyes flicker up to you and he turns away to head down the hall.

you furrow your brows. you can’t help but think that he’s being a little cold to you. it isn’t like you initiated the breakup. despite your frustration with his behavior, you can sort of understand why he wouldn’t want to be sweet around you; you two aren’t dating anymore and so it makes sense that he’d go back to being aloof in your presence, the usual way he acts around everyone else. losing that position in his life makes your stomach churn for reasons you’re less than willing to uncover.

your mission is a vague one; all you know is that it’s a clean-up mission. rather than a level 1 curse (or even a special grade), the mission consists of an acclimation of weak curses surrounding shinjuku. these missions are normally given to younger, more inexperienced sorcerers with the help of a senior sorcerer, but for an odd reason, it’s been given to you and megumi this year. megumi could’ve probably handled it himself. actually, you could’ve handled it yourself.

you bite your tongue to hold back on your complaints as you walk just a step behind megumi. he pauses regularly, waiting for you to catch up to his side. you roll your eyes in secret. does he not realize that you don’t want to walk next to him?

“it’s all just bars,” you mutter.

with that, you earn a tiny laugh from megumi. “well, yeah. this is the red-light district of shinjuku.”

you pale. “this sucks.”

“why do you think i wanted to come out here in the morning rather than at night?” he says, his tone strangely light.

“to deal with the brunt of the mission,” you repeat his words from last night sarcastically. you’re unsure as to what he’s talking about, so you think that it’s okay to give him a little bit of attitude.

he raises his brow but doesn’t comment on your sarcasm. instead, he says softly, “no, stupid. it’s because this is the red-light district. it’s unsafe for anyone, especially a pretty, young girl alone at night.”

your first thought is to coo and tease him. you think i’m pretty? it takes you half a second to remember that you two are broken up. you scoff, “i’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”

“i never said you weren’t,” megumi shoots back. “it would just be annoying explaining to the higher ups why you were fighting people and not curses.”

“i’m sure they’d understand,” you retort, frowning. you cross your arms.

“don’t be so pouty,” he says in that stupid, gentle tone he uses with you when you’re acting bratty.

you both decide to split up. well, it’s more like you demand the two of you to split up. you say it under the pretense that it’ll get the job done faster. besides, you both want to be home before christmas day, right?

there’s about two curses you cross paths with every hour. you’re starting to lose your mind. shouldn’t the streets be infested with them? you don’t even need a veil! all you have to do is give the weak curses just one punch and they vaporize on the spot. your head is running with hundreds of thoughts.

that’s when it hits you: the first years at the tokyo jujutsu school did come out here a week prior! maybe they did a bad job? but you remember nobara had been the one to lead the group. she may half-ass almost everything in her life, but she wouldn’t jeopardize her underclassmen for the sake of her freetime.

so why on earth are you here? it’s not like there are enough harmful curses for a mission to be assigned to you right before christmas, and to you and megumi of all sorcerers. you’re both strong enough to the point of having some kind of importance in the jujutsu world. the higher ups wouldn’t send the two of you on some stupid mission for the sake of it unless they’re planning some sort of secret execution. but even then, satoru gojo should’ve known through their lies to not send you or megumi. unless…he wants you two dead…?

you shake your head and bite your nails. the sun begins to set and you realize that you’ve been out here for longer than you expected. you’re starting to feel a chill in your bones—you had argued petulantly with megumi earlier about not wanting to wear your jacket despite it being the dead of winter; “it’s gonna get in the way!”

you always seem to forget the the sun sets earlier in the winter. it’s stupid how bright all the lights are in shinjuku. there isn’t a square foot of anything that isn’t lit up with neon signs reading out the names of clubs and bars. you see couples and large groups of people walking along the streets.

it’s lonely, you realize. it would’ve been less lonely with megumi.

you make your way to the meeting spot with megumi. you both share a few small words before retiring for the night. megumi says he wants to go sightseeing, even though there’s really nothing much to see. he doesn’t return to the hotel room until late at night.

when he slips into the only bed that the room offers, you chalk it up to the slight alcohol you smell on his lips. it feels so natural that you don’t push him away even though you should. his body is warm and you fit so perfectly against his broad chest that you think it’ll be okay for you to be a little selfish tonight.

“g’night,” megumi mumbles in his sleep.

you smile and nuzzle closer.

it’s december 21st as you realize how late it is in the day. megumi is back on the couch. you feel a tinge of disappointment in the bottom of your stomach.

to no one’s surprise, the sun is barely peeking over the buildings when you’re finally back in the red-light district. you’re doing the last bit of cleanup, but there’s really nothing much for you to clean.

tomorrow, you’ll be heading to a shopping mall, so you suppose you should do your best to sniff out the rest of the curses littering the place unless you want to stay here an extra day. the day is, yet again, slow.

it’s nearing 8 PM and you're finally sure that you’ve gotten rid of all the curses in the general area. you’ve been done for quite a while now, but you just haven’t found the courage to let megumi know that you’re ready to go back to the hotel room. a little sightseeing on your end wouldn’t hurt, right?

“hi, pretty.” a gravelly voice, battered by cigarettes, whispers in your ear.

you jump in surprise. you need to remember not to get too far into your head. you should’ve felt his presence coming from a mile away. it’s a terrible habit and satoru has scolded you for years about it.

“hi,” you mutter, pushing past his larger frame.

the man isn’t as nicely built as the men you know (but then again, your friends are jujutsu sorcerers, so it’s kind of hard to beat that), but he still towers over you. he’s got a squad of rough-looking guys behind him, smirking down at you.

“why’s someone like you alone?” he says, shoving his arm to loop around your waist.

you roll your eyes, getting ready to punch the man square in the nose. will you get in trouble? probably yes. will it be a funny story to tell? also probably yes.

“don’t touch my wife.”

the group of men turn their heads along with you to see megumi. his expression is shrouded with a mixture of anger and frustration. you blink in confusion—megumi usually looks pretty pissed off, but this is the most angry you’ve seen him in a while. and ‘wife’? what’s up with that?

“oh, my bad,” the man chuckles. “didn’t know this pretty thing was married.”

“this ‘pretty thing’ wants you to let her go,” you say with an overly sweet smile. your teeth clench and you hiss, “right now.”

the guy scurries down the sidewalk with his buddies trailing along, making fun of him for hitting on a married woman. nobody mentions the lack of a ring on your finger. nobody mentions the lack of a relationship, either.

“wife?” you scowl. “we’re broken up.”

“guys tend to back up when they know a woman is married. it’s the only way you can really, uh, get them to go away around here.”

you glare at him. “and how would you know? you come here often with girls?”

“...no?” he blinks, unable to comprehend your sudden burst of jealousy. “i sometimes get missions around here, though. pretending to be married was the easiest way—”

“we aren’t, though. we’re not even in a relationship.” you seem to be throwing that into his face a lot more than you should. you can’t help it, though. you still feel a little bitter about not getting a real reason as to why megumi wanted to break up.

“i was trying to help you.” he’s calm and collected, as heard through his voice. he walks up to you and takes your freezing hand into his much warmer ones. “let’s go home.”

“i don’t want to,” you argue.

“stop being a brat,” he says, but there’s no bite to his words. “you’re cold and you’ve been out here all day. if i hadn’t stopped those guys, you probably would’ve beat them up pretty badly.”

“i’m not a fucking brat!” you try to retract your hand, but megumi’s grip only tightens.

“baby, stop,” the pet name rolls off his tongue with ease. megumi sighs softly and pulls you to his chest. “why are you so worked up, hm?”

from the way he speaks, you can tell that he already has an inkling. the breakup. cuddling last night. hugging you now. everything.

you don’t realize you’re crying until he gently wipes his thumb under your eye. he has the audacity to have an amused grin plastered on his stupidly pretty lips. your vision is blurry but if it hadn’t been, you would’ve thrown a punch.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers into your hair. “it’s all my fault.”

“it is,” you whimper pathetically. all the tears and the emotions you’ve been holding back bubble up to the surface.

“don’t be upset,” he almost pleads. “let’s go back, okay?”

the night ends with megumi on the couch. neither of you bring up the argument or the fact that he had slept in your bed with you last night. you two don’t talk about the usage of pet names, either.

when you open your eyes on december 22nd, you’re surprised to see that megumi has already headed out for the day. you click your tongue in annoyance—he’s always been good at avoiding his problems when it comes to dealing with them, especially problems involving his emotions. you already know where you’re supposed to be headed, so you suppose that it’s for the best that he’d left before you.

the shopping mall is a long line of vendors and stores among other things. the snow on the ground is fresh—it must’ve snowed late last night after you’d fallen asleep. it crunches underneath your beat-up sneakers with each step you take. you’re not shocked when you end up wandering aimlessly, dipping in and out of stores with no real urgency to finish your mission.

there’s nothing to do anyway.

you’ve killed about 3 curses total and it’s really starting to look like you’ve been sent out here for busy work. you really should’ve figured that out the first day of the mission when you had to practically beg the curses to come out and fight you.

you find yourself in the front of a jewelry store, eyeing a pretty bracelet that you know would look stunning around megumi’s wrist. it’s one of those bracelets that clasp tightly. there’s a thicker band in the center with pretty carvings that seem to resemble some sort of swirly heart. it’s pretty, you have to admit.

without much thought, you buy the gift.

the seller has to clear her throat to get your attention when you don’t answer her question. “um, would you like this to be wrapped?”

you nod absentmindedly. “oh, yes. sorry. please wrap it.”

she nods in return and proceeds to wrap the bracelet in a tiny box, adorning it with a festive bow. you ask her to change it out for a different color, explaining that it isn’t a christmas gift and instead, it’s for someone’s birthday. she offers you a warm smile before switching it with a muted blue ribbon.

you return to the hotel, having to take an expensive taxi. you don’t mind—the bracelet has already made a decent-sized dent in your wallet. why not spend an extra amount on getting home? it’s not like jujutsu sorcerers are paid poorly.

reality hits you when you finally get back to the hotel room. you want to punch yourself for being so stupid. did you really just buy a birthday present for your ex-boyfriend?

you’re thankful that megumi hasn’t arrived yet. he seems to be determined to avoid you for as long as he can. you can’t blame him, either. you did give him quite a hard time yesterday.

you toss the box on to the dresser and head to the bathroom to splash some much needed cold water on to your face. maybe that’ll wake you up enough to clear your mind. you’ve acted out once during this trip already and you’re not really looking forward to any other possible outbursts.

you rinse your face and pat yourself dry with one of the face towels provided to you by the hotel staff. you hang it over the rack again and tiredly make your way to your bed. you halt your movements when you see megumi standing by the dresser, admiring your gift.

he looks up at you in surprise with the smallest grin on his face. it’s so subtle that you would’ve missed it had you not been dating him for nearly two years.

“is this for me?”

“no,” you quickly deny. his face falls and you cough out, “um, i mean.. yeah. i-i didn’t… i… happy birthday.”

he brightens, lips pulling up into a real, genuine smile. “you remembered?”

“why wouldn’t i?” you blurt gently. you bite your inner cheek to stop yourself from saying anything more.

“i dunno.” his voice is distant and low, like he’s trying to hold back his tears. “i just…i didn’t think i was deserving of a gift from you. thank you. i like it.”

you stand awkwardly, shifting your weight onto your other foot. “yeah, well…”

“can you help me put it on?” he asks, sitting at the edge of your unmade bed.

you feel your body heat up. part of you screams for you to stop. you shouldn’t do that. it’s far too intimate and you two are broken up. you’ve never been good at making decisions, though, so you sit next to him and feel the mattress dip.

he gives you a grateful look, one that you willfully ignore, and gives you his wrist. you clasp the bracelet on, fingertips just barely grazing his skin. your heart skips a beat and you have to inhale sharply before pulling away.

“thank you,” he whispers.

december 23rd is a sore reminder that life goes on. you had half-expected something to spark between you and megumi. perhaps he’d beg for you back, or maybe with less wishful thinking, he’d give you his real reason as to why he doesn’t want you anymore.

“i don’t think we need to go anymore,” megumi says when you come out of the bathroom after freshening up.

“huh? why not?”

“there’s nothing out there.” megumi’s voice is flat.

“i know, but we’ll get in trouble if we…”

“gojo probably sent us out here for fun.”

your lips part. megumi turns to you with a slight frown.

“don’t you think so too?” he asks, but you know it isn’t a question he’s looking to find an answer to. “why would the higher-ups assign a mission like this to a special grade sorcerer and a grade 1 sorcerer? if they needed that much manpower, this mission would’ve been deadlier. instead, we’re playing cleanup crew.”

“yeah, but..” you trail off, unable to think of a statement to refute his words. “if we go back now, we’ll get chewed out.”

“it’s just a scolding. you’ll be fine.” megumi stands up and stretches his arms.

you watch him cautiously as he begins to fold his clothes and throw them into his duffel bag. he doesn’t say anything else, letting the silence overtake the room.

“...are we leaving, then?” you ask meekly, not bothering to hide the slight quiver in your voice.

he pauses slightly. “do you want to stay here until christmas? this mission is stupid and you know it. there’s no point.”

why is his tone so cold all of the sudden? it’s as if you two hadn’t shared a moment last night before bed. does your gift not mean anything to him now that he’s cleared his mind with a good rest?

your eyes flicker to his wrist. the gold glimmers underneath the light and you realize that megumi doesn’t seem to hate wearing it. so why is he acting so … unpleasant?

you feel a lump in your throat. it’s embarrassing how quickly he’s able to upset you from just the tone of his voice. even his body language, usually fluid and smooth, is rigid with your presence. you want to tell him that you’ve enjoyed your time with him. you want to shake his shoulders and tell him that if you two cut your mission short, you might not get another chance to be near him again.

“do you still care about me?” you whisper instead.

he stills completely. “what?”

“this entire time,” you begin shakily, “you’ve been nice to me. you treat me like you always do. you’re always hovering over me even though you pretend you aren’t! you obviously still care, megumi.”

his adam's apple bobs as swallows. a beat of silence. then two. then three.

“i do care,” he admits sorely.

“then why did you break up with me?” you blurt. there it is, the question you’ve been meaning to ask. you both had seen it coming.

“because…” megumi winces as if he’s the one getting hurt from the ordeal. “because you deserve someone that’s normal. someone that isn’t a sorcerer. i can’t give you that life.”

you feel your chest swarm with anger. why does he always think he needs to sabotage himself to make others happy? this is something you’ve tried working with him on, but it seems like old habits are hard to kill off, just like your habit of loving him.

“why the hell would you decide that for me? when did i ever say i wanted a normal life?” you snap. your hands clench at your sides.

“it’s too early for this,” he says, his voice straining as he finally musters up the strength to look at you in your eyes.

“tell me, megumi. if that’s the real reason, then that is the most pathetic excuse for a breakup i've ever heard.” your voice cracks and you gulp down the oncoming sob that’s threatening to explode from your throat.

he inhales slowly and makes his way to you, holding you close against his chest. you should push him away, but you would rather let him hug you. you know that you can’t fight him, anyway.

“you…once said you wanted a regular relationship. when you got hurt a few weeks ago, i realized i couldn’t be that for you,” he confesses lowly. “i knew that you’d never find it in yourself to leave, so i figured i should just let you go for your sa–”

“are you kidding me?” you shout incredulously. “i said that when i was fifteen, megumi! before i even knew what being in love was like!”

he flinches against you. “but i…”

“you and your damn savior complex! i don’t need to be in a regular, normal relationship! i don’t need any of that, megumi! i’m a sorcerer, I won't ever get to be normal! in fact, it’s even better that i’m with you because you at least know what this life is like, you idiot! you’re always ruining the good things in your life because you—”

he takes his fingers to grab your chin and he pulls you in for a kiss. if the kiss is a ploy to shut you up, you hate to admit that it’s working. his tongue slips into your mouth and you melt against him. your arms loop around his neck as you desperately drag him down closer to your body. his hand grip your waist while the other clings to the small of your back.

you whimper out of instinct and he pulls away, lips bruised and breathless. it’s been so long since you’ve tasted him and you frown, tiptoeing to capture his lips again. you need to savor him, to feel him lips against yours again.

“baby, wait.” his chest heaves as he looks down at you. “don’t…don’t do this to me.”

“do what?” you ask, an edge to your voice. did he just reject you? even after all that?

“w-we gotta report back to—”

“we’re supposed to leave tomorrow,” you interrupt.

the gears shift in his head. “fine, but—”

“i’m still really fucking mad, but i just need you to kiss me right now,” you whine impatiently.

all megumi does is laugh when he swoops down to press his lips against yours.

it’s december 24th when you two find yourselves in satoru’s office. steam is practically rising from your ears as you try to compose yourself in front of your former teacher.

“... i wanted a wedding invitation.” satoru shrugs.

“you set us up!” you whine angrily. “gojo, are you serious?! isn’t this a little immature?”

megumi stays silent, averting his gaze. he suddenly finds the succulents on satoru’s desk very interesting. he’s never noticed that they’re all nearly dead! how cool.

your eyes shoot daggers at megumi's silence.

"we aren't gonna get married any time soon..." megumi mutters when he feels your pointy glare on him.

satoru raises his hands in mock surrender. “you two can’t blame me! it worked out! you two are back together now, right?”

“but did you have to make us look like fools out there?” you groan.

“you should’ve figured it out on the first day that the mission was a sham!” satoru exclaims, offense taking over his features.

“but still!” you’re borderline hysterical at this point, unable to believe that your former teacher of all people had to set up an entire fake mission so that you and your ex could talk your feelings out. “we would’ve figured ourselves out sooner or later!”

megumi nods. he feels like he should at least give you a little support even if he’s embarrassed out of his mind.

“oh really?” satoru’s voice drips with sarcasm. “you guys should be thanking me—”

“you’re so not getting an invitation to our wedding!” you grumble.

“wha—hey! i’m the one that got you two back together! besides, i’m megumi’s guardian! you can’t just not invite me.”

“watch me!”

“megumi, tell her that she can’t do that—hey! where are you guys going? invite me, you rascals—why are you guys leaving? we aren’t done discussing this! megumi, don’t you dare take her side! she isn’t even your wife yet—don’t slam my door!”

[aviscarrentals]

why i believe alex replacing logan is the worst possible decision williams could make

#1: logan’s confidence

we saw this exact thing happen with checo last year. after his brief stint of trading wins with max, max continued to consistently wipe the floor with him via the gap in their performances. this continued to eat away at checo’s confidence until, by the end of the season, he was t-boning alex albon in singapore for no reason and somehow retiring twice in suzuka. now that there has been an extended break and he has had the chance to grind and truly work on himself nonstop, he has returned with incredible form. but who knows how long this will last? as soon as there’s a race that isn’t a red bull 1-2, he will be completely torn into and i believe the downward trajectory of last year will repeat itself.

this is very similar to what logan went through last year. once he was announced, there was so much hope for an incredible debut season, but that never came his way. i think the first big nail in the coffin was getting his first p20 at his home race and i think the biggest hit was qatar. even though he should never ever be ashamed of putting his safety first, i understand why, from an athlete’s perspective, he would look at that race as a failure.

fortunately for him, he has had a team with incredibly strong leadership backing him up. giving him the opportunities he needed, never giving up on him, celebrating the single point he scored last year like he lassoed the fucking moon, and re-signing him because he has such incredible potential as a formula 1 driver. everything went wrong for logan, except for williams, who did everything right.

except now, williams has publicly stated that they have no faith in him to score points. now the only support logan has is random fans at races, strangers on the internet, and his own friends and family. that must feel fucking awful. logan has been so positive throughout the struggles of this year and last, but he has to be hurting right now. there’s no way he isn’t.

logan sargeant is not a bad driver. you can disagree with me as loud as you want to, but i won’t hear a word of it.

absolutely stunning junior career aside, logan showed incredible improvement towards the end of the season. not only did he score a point in austin, but he came unbearably close in mexico, and if it weren’t for a hydraulics failure, he very easily could have had two points finishes in a row.

this year may seem like it has gotten off to a bad start for him, but i heavily disagree. in bahrain he had great pace and was steadily climbing closer and closer to the points when he had a brake failure. the car switched his balance completely on its own and made it literally impossible for him to turn. even max couldn’t recover from that.

in jeddah his pace was wonderful again. i think his biggest struggle currently is qualifying, but he was overtaking beautifully and making his way up the field. while 15th isn’t a spectacular finish, he was matching alex quite well throughout the whole race. (also jeddah sucks so he gets a pass 👎)

george russell did not score a SINGLE point during his rookie season for williams and he is now a race-winning future championship contender and beating his 7x wdc teammate in the standings at p4. logan has already beaten that AND he has an experienced driver that he seems to get on with quite well as a teammate to mentor him, which george didn’t have; he was william’s number one driver from day one. logan has so much potential that is only being hindered by his lack of confidence, unpreparedness (reminder he was brought to f1 an entire year earlier than he was originally supposed to be; they planned for him to be a 2024 rookie), and a shitty car.

#2: alex albon

now poor alex is in the worst position of his life. brother already probably feels like shit for putting logan through this (even though it is NOT his fault and he has absolutely zero say in this decision) and if he doesn’t score any points this weekend, he will be torn to shreds by the media.

i have already seen multiple posts including alex in their list of fuck yous. this will do incredible damage to him pr-wise and will also make him feel even worse if he doesn’t somehow pull off a miracle performance.

#3: albert park

alex is an incredible driver, constantly pulling a back marker car into the points. however, this is a track that he has historically struggled at (in the exact same turn might i add!!) for multiple years in a row. who’s to say this mistake could not be made tomorrow or sunday as well? that will make everyone involved look and feel horrible.

not to mention that the fw46 is NOT SUITED for albert park. AT ALL. vcarb’s official website describes it as a ‘medium-high’ downforce track, which is exactly what the car is suited to struggle with, making it nearly impossible for albono to score points (which, like stated before, will be terrible for him) as well as making this gp a likely inconsequential race! meaning this is the perfect opportunity to let logan drive on the limit and really showcase his true talent and capabilities as a driver.

but now williams has chosen to do the complete opposite and ruined logan’s trust in his team as well as any other offers from rival teams for him for the 2025 season. if logan’s own team would bench him for his teammate, why should they take him over a talented upcoming rookie? (this is a rhetorical question; i truly believe he has the potential to, with a good enough car and team behind him, become a race-winning driver in the future.)

#4: james vowles and the future of williams

james has justified this decision by mentioning how every race counts and that a single point can make a world’s difference in the midfield. while this is true, james has also been on the record multiple times saying that he doesn’t give two shits about this season (as well as the next few). he has stated that his goal is long-term, to rebuild the team and return it to its former success of the 90s and early 2000s. so why ruin the reputation of your driver who you have been supporting since his junior career over the possibility of a single point or two? that is a short-term solution, not a long-term one. james is usually a wonderfully eloquent speaker, however, he has completely contradicted himself here.

in my opinion, the best decision would be to race logan. while i love alex to death, he’s the one who crashed his car, completely on his own with no fellow drivers or failures on the car’s side to blame. logically, he should be the one to sit out the race, no?

like i briefly touched on before, i also think this is a golden opportunity to put logan in a race where they will most likely come away with nothing anyways and give him the opportunity to pull off something incredible (which he absolutely can under the right circumstances). if he was able to have a good drive on sunday, he would be a star and williams would look like geniuses. with this decision, everyone just looks like an asshole.

final thoughts

to conclude, i am no certified expert, but this decision makes zero sense to me, as it also does to many others from what i’ve seen. i usually wholeheartedly agree with all of james’ decisions, but this one beats me. i cannot for the life of me figure out why williams would choose this.

there is a part of me that hopes williams will reverse this decision before sunday in order to save themselves from all of the pr backlash they are facing, but i understand that that is very much wishful thinking. the only good thing that can come from this is williams finally learning how to be prepared and/or logan being able to channel his frustration into motivation (although i don’t think there’s any way for him to possibly work harder than he already has).

if anyone disagrees with me and thinks this is the right decision for williams to make, i would love to hear why. no one has to agree with me, these are just my personal thoughts on the situation.

-avis 🏎️💨

[fabulouslygaybean]

ughh. my little sister and i have our job orientation tomorrow (technically today ig) at like, 8:30am, but it's 1am and i can't sleep

[siribaes]

WHO’S BETTER THAN ME?

RIO x blackfem!reader (oc - Angel)

“After their breakup a decade ago, Rio reunites with high school sweetheart making up for lost time—”

PARING: Exes to Lovers / Past High School Sweethearts

SUGGESTED TUNES 💿: Tu Principe by Daddy Yankee, What You Want by Ma$e & Total, Throwback by Usher & Jadakiss, Thugman by Tweet & Missy Elliott, Only U by Ashanti

CONTENTS: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, or*l (fem receiving), f*ngering, praise k*nk, slight possessive k*nk, Rio being a bedroom bully lol, some light use of Spanish, makeup s*x, cursing, etc. (UNEDITED/ NOT PROOF READ) / GIF CREDIT: @blackisblackisblack

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this was supposed to be a drabble but turned into a full-blown fic, but anyway LOL. so i did a lil AU for rio, essentially he pulled a griselda blanco moved operations to Long Beach (Rio is so west coast coded to me) but yeah, the backstory of these two is that they were childhood friends turned high school sweethearts (class of 2005 in my AU lore of these two, hints at the music choices, etc.) before they went separate ways yada yada, the oc’s face claim is danielle brooks 💖 as always enjoy y'all

Makeup sex shouldn’t be this good. Like this was too good, like ultimate dream-fantasy level type of makeup sex. It felt unreal, except this was very real. Very, very, real.

Angel never imagined that her night would've ended up like this, in the arms of her high school sweet-heart, or rather sitting on top of a very expensive, entry way console, as her high school-sweetheart-turned-ex, used his nimble hands to fondle at her luscious curves, and pillowy-soft lips to suck on the sensitive part of her neck. From how hard Rio sucked and kissed on her neck it was surely going to leave a hickey, which might've been on purpose on Rio's part.

Since they were young, Rio always had a slight possessiveness towards Angel, nothing that was too domineering or chauvinistic, but still a possessiveness that was rooted in a love and a true appreciation of her. This of course was expressed in a way that only a sixteen-year-old Rio could, buying Angel's favorite snacks for school, littering her neck with hickeys during make-out sessions, and even saving what little he had to buy a gold necklace with an angel shaped pendant. It was the subtle ways Rio showed how he felt. That in addition to the verbal ways, in true young-Rio, braggadocious fashion. Even then Angel knew, deep, deep, down, that there would be no one who could measure up, or as Rio so accurately foretold the night of their break-up, "Who else is like me, hm? Who's better than me?"

Angel of course buried that fact deep into her subconscious, well, not deep enough, because in each of her relationships since, it managed to rear its ugly head every single time. Most recently, with her ex-fiancé, Nathan. Nathan was great at first, good conversation, amazing dates, lavish gifts, he treated her like princess. But slowly, over time, Nathan stopped trying, it especially became bad after their engagement. They rarely talked, unless it was about work, or wedding plans, he neglected her, especially in the bedroom. Angel soon realized that despite Nathan's neglectfulness, she made no effort to confront him about it. She didn't care, not a single bit. In the end, Angel had to accept that her heart belonged to someone else. That Rio was the only man for her.

Which brings her too tonight, Angel's high school class's reunion. It was a big one, celebrating 20 years, and Angel thought it would be the perfect remedy to cheer her up. She could let loose, reunite with some old classmates, and celebrate with her friends she's had since then. Something that could put her mind at ease, pull her focus away from the abysmal ending to her engagement.

She was having a good time, truly, cutting up on the dance floor to a killer set of music from 04' and 05', with her besties, Clarissa, Benny, Keke, and Dre. Angel was having the time of her life, dancing to Lose My Breath by Destiny's Child, when her friends froze, their eyes all staring at the bar of the ballroom. Clarissa leaned and whispered.

"Rio's, here."

Angel's mind and heart went to full overdrive, as memories of their relationship flooded her mind. Apparently, while Angel and her friends were having the time of their lives, Rio showed up and instantly became the talk of the town. He had a few breezy conversations with old classmates, charming them of course, and when asked about what does for a living, he smoothly responded that he was an entrepreneur, that he's always been good with numbers. Which wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the truth either. Of course, none of their classmates were aware of Rio's true dealings, only Angel and her close circle were privy to that info.

Despite the nerves that bubbled in her stomach, Angel, knew that she had to face Rio at some point. She marched over and sat at the bar next to him. After some awkward pretense, more on Angel's part than Rio's, and shot of whiskey later, they talked. The conversation flowed and soon before they knew, it was like old times. They caught up and laughed about old memories. More and more Angel felt her heart swell in her chest, her latent feelings for Rio were bubbling to surface. But Rio surprised her, after sharing a couple dances to slow jams, a proposition slipped freely from his lips.

"Come home with me?"

From a safe distance, her friends watched the exchange, seeing the chemistry they still had after all this time, and despite some reservations, they encouraged to follow her heart, or as Keke put it, her pussy. When they were parting ways, Clarissa hugged her tight and encouraged her, whispering in her ear, "Just go with him, girl. Have some fun, we both now you deserve it after the shit you've been through."

So, here she was, whimpering and writhing underneath Rio's touch, while simultaneously admiring the backyard view. An ink-colored sky served as a gorgeous back drop, for the glowy lit infinity pool, in the distance was twinkling lights from buildings near the coastal beach. It was truly a sight to see. Angel snapped back to reality when she felt a firm hand, cradle her chin.

"Where'd you go?" Rio asked. His Coca-Cola colored eyes stared back at her. His head tipped to side, long eye lashes fluttering against the tops of cheeks as he blinked.

His gaze was heavy was lust, completely unrelenting. Its intensity caused Angel to squirm in her seated position. A warmth bloomed underneath her skin as she rubbed at the part of her neck Rio just was. It was still wet from his kisses.

"N-nowhere, baby," Angel stammered.

Slowly, Rio lips curled into a half smile.

"Good," Rio nodded his head as his gaze traveled down to Angel's chest, zeroing in on the exposed skin the peeked through her top, "now take this shit off. I wanna see them titties, Nena."

Completely under his spell, Angel quickly took of her top, leaving her in a lacy, cerulean colored bra, her mini skirt, and a pair of thoroughly soaked panties. Immediately Rio, hand's palmed at Angel's breasts, rubbing and squeezing them. A soft moan escaped her lips, as Rio's lips latched onto one of nipples.

"Yes, baby," Angel sighed, her hands cradled Rio's head close to her. His tongue alternated between soft flicks and harsh sucks at her left nipple. He released her nipple with a pop and went to the right nipple, repeating the same thing, "Fuck, baby, just like that. Shit!"

Angel could feel the wetness pool inside of her panties, as her clit began to throb. She needed Rio, real bad.

"Damn," Rio breathed out. He pulled away from Angel's chest, while his large hands rubbed at her ample thighs. His lips curled into a wicked smile as he admired his handywork. Angel's boobs glistened with sweat, as her hardened nipples stood at full attention, with spit dripping from them, "I missed them titties, girl. Fuck, I need to that pussy too. Lift up for me."

Angel obliged. Rio supported her with one hand, while with the other, slipping off her mini skirt and panties. He tossed the skirt to the floor, while he pocketed her panties. A storm swirled in his eyes, a thick haze of lust, as he admired Angel's, wet, glistening, pussy.

"I dunno if I can wait, mama," Rio rasped. He brought a finger to Angel's core, swiping at her wetness, and brought it back to his lips, sucking on it, "You taste good, mama. All this shit for me?"

Angel nodded. "Yes, it's all for you baby,"

Wordlessly, Rio plunged his fingers inside of Angel, who let out a yelp in response. He quickly fell back into old habits, fucking Angel with his fingers, just the way she liked it.

"Yeaaahhh, just like that," Rio rasped, he bent down and licked at her lips, "Be a good girl and fuck my fingers back," Angel whined loudly, following his instructions, lifting her hips slight and fucked his thick, fingers.

"Fuck! I'm close baby!"

"I gotchu, mama. Fuck, I feel you on my fingers. You gonna let me take care of you, huh? I'll give you anything you want mama, fuck, you being so good for me. Cum for me, darlin',"

And she did. Angel's eyes squeezed shut as she gushed over his fingers. A string of curses and pleases slipped from Angel's lips as Rio continued to fuck her through her orgasm. She could feel the cum slipping down her thighs.

"Mi alma, you look so good cummin' for me," Rio praised her. He captured her lips and kissed her sweetly. His tongue swirled around in her mouth as mimicking the move with his fingers. Angel pulled away from him, mewling.

"Riooooo, fuck, slow down baby,"

Rio landed a firm smack on Angel's ass. He cradled Angel's chin bringing her eyes towards him. His eyes hardened a bit, still holding its lustful haze, now a bit possessiveness broke through. Rio crooked his fingers, slowing down his pace just a tad, but driving into Angel's pussy much harsher and deeper.

"Fuck, I say about that shit," He growled.

"Shit! Baby, I-I'm s-sorry," Angel whimpered. Her mind flickered back to them making out in the car, he only to wanted to her his name, his real one, "Christopher, 's too much,"

A look of pure satisfaction bloomed across Rio's face. Got her.

"Just one more, mama. Be a good girl for me," Rio sunk down to knees, he slowly placed small kisses at Angel's inner thighs. He worshiped the plushness of her thighs, while Angel writhed and whined. He inched closer, spreading Angel's thighs further apart. He admired how she dripped around his fingers. "Fuck, mama I want you to cum on my tongue, 'k?"

Rio kept his eyes on Angel as he licked at her entrance, swirling his tongue around his fingers, continuing on until he reached her clit. Rio pressed a soft kiss to Angel's clit.

"Christopher!" Angel shouted.

Rio worked in tandem, his long fingers plunged in and out of Angel's, while his tongue swirled around her clit, flicking at the sensitive bud. Angel's hands rubbed at the soft hair of Rio's buzzcut, while the familiar thrumming of her orgasm quickly approached.

"Christopher, fuck, I'm soooo close,"

Rio pulled back, "Say it again,"

"Christopher,”

“Again,”

“Christopher, Christopher, Christopherrrrr, keep fuckin’ me, I’m so close,”

Rio grinned as he returned to her pussy. He latched onto her clit, sucking so harshly, Angel for sure believe that it was going to be bruised. His fingers fucked her even faster, as she clenched around them, as Rio French-kissed her pussy. He was completely relentless, wanting to see her cum, again, again, and again. With one last, harsh suck at her clit, Angel, exploded. She screamed in pleasure as she rode out her orgasm. Rio rose up, slowly pumping his fingers, before pulling out.

"Did so good for me," He mumbled against her cheek, holding her close as Angel rode out the aftershocks.

“I love you so much, baby,” Angel whispered in his ear.

Rio captured her lips again, kissing Angel. He licked at her mouth, allowing Angel to taste herself. Rio arms snaked around Angel's torso, and with ease, managed to throw her over his shoulder. Angel giggled and kicked her feet and Rio moved to the stairs.

"Baby! What are you doing?"

"It's time for the real show to start, Nena," Rio teased, he playfully smacked her ass, "You ready for me?"

"Always."

[daisynik7]

Since its summer aka sundresses season can I get a little bit of Nanami being absolutely obsessed with his SO wearing cute dresses which somehow leads into cock warming? His brain probably short circuits when he realizes that she is not wearing underwear under those floral dresses

Pairing: husband!Nanami x f!reader

cw: established relationship, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl position), cunnilingus, fingering, Nanami is a horndog for his pretty wife, cockwarming

Author’s Note: Anon! Absolutely LOVE this request! Perfect timing too! I hope you like this one. Short, sweet, and smutty. Happy birthday to our most precious hubby!

Nanami doesn’t like celebrating his birthday. 

He understands that it’s standard for people to observe one year of getting older, or in Nanami’s case, one year closer to sweet, beautiful retirement. Still, he’s got a couple more decades left before he’s even near unemployed bliss, so he doesn’t see what the big deal is. However, you, his precious wife, loves honoring this day. So, of course, he has to play along with whatever festivities you have planned. 

The weather is particularly ideal today, the sun shining brightly in a clear blue sky. You plan to take Nanami wine tasting during the day, and later, you have dinner reservations at his favorite restaurant. You’re keeping it simple with just the two of you because you know that’s what he prefers. 

Since it is a lovely day, you decide to wear a new sundress you bought for this special occasion. You already predict that Nanami will react well to it, but what you don’t expect is how absolutely obsessed he is once he sees you in it. When you step out of the bedroom, his eyes widen at the sight. He removes his spectacles, as if to get a better look at you. “Honey.”

You smirk, performing a flirtatious twirl for him. “Do you like it? It’s part of your birthday present.”

He smiles, eyes following your physique up and down. “You’re a vision. Truly. How did I get so lucky?”

You wrap your arms around his neck, nuzzling your nose to his. “I’m the lucky one, Kento. Happy birthday, sweetie.” His lips meet yours in a passionate kiss, his graceful hands sliding across your waist. His palms surround your bottom, feeling you up through the fabric. He pulls away to ask, “Are you wearing underwear?”

You bite your lip, shaking your head. There’s a guttural moan that develops in his throat, something primal and animalistic. You giggle at his reaction, pulling him in for another kiss. He slips into your mouth, flicking his tongue against yours, hungry for you. Before you get carried away, you break apart, catching your breath. “Sweetie, we’re supposed to leave soon.”

“Not yet,” he growls, tugging you back into his arms. “Not until I christen this dress.” 

Within minutes, you’re back inside the room, laid out on the bed with your thighs spread wide, dress bunched up and hoisted up past your stomach. Nanami sucks on your clit relentlessly, slurping and flicking his tongue on it until you’re whining into another orgasm. His fingers pump inside your wet cunt, coated with your slick and his saliva. He doesn’t stop until he makes you come a third time, bud swollen and sensitive against his lips now, pussy clenched tightly around his digits. When he’s satisfied, he pulls out of you, licking his fingers like a popsicle, indulging in your arousal. 

He crawls up on the bed to lean back on the headboard, beckoning you to sit on his lap. He’s naked from the waist down, cock stiff against his abdomen, shiny bead of precum glistening at the tip. He still has his dress shirt on, tie hastily loosened with only half the buttons removed. 

You straddle him, letting the floral fabric cover your bodies as you sink down onto him until you’re pressed to his groin, bottomed out. “Fuck,” he moans, gripping your hips, rocking you back and forth. “Ride me, honey. Ride me until I come.”

And you do, bouncing on his cock until he shoots his load inside you, filling you up. When you attempt to hop off him, he holds you in place, embracing you. “I want to stay inside you, sweetheart. Please.” 

You smile, relaxing into his arms, face nestled into his chest. “Whatever you want, birthday boy.”

[edenfenixblogs]

I don’t think most non-Jews understand how disappointed we are in the left right now. How completely abandoned we’ve become. How our contributions to progress for other groups have been erased or disavowed or hidden. How the actual tangible things that Jews have contributed to black rights and civil rights are being ignored. How we’re being told we contribute and have contributed nothing.

How we are being told that the world has been kind to us when it never has. As if my mom didn’t grow up getting called a Kike and getting beat up for being Jewish. How I thought I had friends until I caught them saying “xyz was beautiful until Jews showed up.” How people told me I was pretty “for a Jew.” How I grew up hearing stories about bombs being set off in Israel in buses and markets. How I couldn’t even go two weeks without hearing that and how nobody cared and somehow, every time that happened, the whole world became more hostile to me for some reason.

I just don’t understand. I don’t understand what leftists are doing. Or why. I hate that I have to say—of course, I support a free and self determined Palestine (which I truly do)—in order for you to decide I’m worthy of care and support.

We showed up for you. All of you. And the entire movement is abandoning us at best or targeting us at worst. Celebrating our deaths. Saying we deserved it. How are we supposed to trust you ever again? How are we supposed to feel safe ever again?

A very few select people who are in my life have taken the chance to actually learn about and dismantle their own unconscious antisemitism during this time. And I’m eternally grateful for them. But most people haven’t reached out at all. Most people are still sharing hateful things that could get me hurt and they don’t care. Most people Reblogging my posts are still Jews. Because we are alone. And it sucks. You need to be as loud about antisemitism as you are about Palestine or you’re an antisemite (unless you’re Arab/Muslim/Palestinian—I totally get that these groups are also doing damage control in their own communities just like Jews are).

But we are all in tremendous pain right now.

This moment will pass. And when it does, I will remember how many people let me down. I will remember that when I needed support more than I’ve ever needed it in my life, people fucking vanished. They pretended violence against my people wasn’t happening. They ignored and rewrote the history of Israel to suit their own narratives.

You don’t know what it feels like to be hated this much for opposite things. PoC hate us for being too white. White supremacists hate us for not being white enough. Europeans hate us for being middle eastern. Middle easterners hate us for being western/European. Everyone hates us for being settlers but continually kicks us out of their countries so that we have to settle somewhere else.

I saw a post going around from a Black person who said that the reason he and his fellow black activists go protest for Palestinians instead of fighting antisemitism (as if it’s a binary, which it’s not) is that Jews don’t show up. Muslims and Palestinians do. And honestly? Fuck that guy. Heather Heyer died standing shoulder to shoulder against racism in 2017. [CORRECTION: When I first wrote this post I was under the impression that Heather Heyer was Jewish. I want to correct to avoid spreading misinfo. She was just the first (and incorrect) Jewish civil rights activist I thought of. However there are plenty of other actual Jewish civil rights activists to choose from. If you have reblogged this post from me, please feel free to add a link to the permalink version of this post with my correction to your reblog.]I have devoted substantial time and effort and money that I don’t even get paid a lot of because I don’t get paid a living wage. I have continually reached out to PoC people in my life of all religions to ask how they are doing and what I could be doing to help more—both for them personally and how they would best like me to help their community. I have elevated their voices at every opportunity. And not one person I checked in with has done the same for me or for my community.

And it’s bone chilling. It’s awful. And it’s even worse knowing that when it’s over, people will want to go back to normal. They won’t apologize. They won’t self reflect. They’ll just live their lives, maybe a little more aware of how much they hate us and completely indifferent to the harm they’ve caused us. How disposable they made us feel. And the thing is…it’s not hard for you to know. You just have to ask.

Too many people are cowards. Too many people care about looking good than actually learning something or making the world better. And to those people: you should be ashamed of yourself.

I don’t have any hate in my heart. Truly. Not a drop for any group of people. But I have a tremendous lack of trust that anyone would actually lift a finger to keep me safe.

[birdy-bat-writes]

Coffee for Mrs. Seresin?

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader

Content warnings: Pining, fluff, and uh.... caffeine? Mild swears, Maybe some banter. I have no clue what qualifies as a warning anymore, I'm so sorry, y'all:') Also, sorry for the spelling, grammar, and punctuation errors.

A/n: Should I be doing math right now? Should I actually be sleeping right now? Yes and yes, BUT no one can blame me. I was reading an adorable Jake Seresin Fanfic by @roosterbruiser (everyone go read Millie's work, it's gold) and I got an idea and I had to write it somewhere so here:D

You were pretty used to people assuming you and Jake were an item. When an attractive guy and an attractive girl have been friends since college and spend as much time together as you both do, you suppose it's a fair conclusion for people to draw, but an incorrect one, nonetheless. And you really wish people would stop asking because every time you had to explain to someone how you were "just friends," it ate you a little more inside.

The fact of the matter was this: you were in love with your best friend. And it sucked.

You stepped out of your car and strode along the stone walkway amidst the grass up to Rooster's door and rang the bell. It was a cute little townhouse with a blue exterior and you often poked fun at him for how much it resembled a little wooden birdhouse with its colorful walls and white wood-rimmed windows. You suppose it's fitting since Rooster lives there and yes, he hates that gag. It also serves as your group's prime hang-out spot, which is why you're here now.

The door opened to reveal Natasha, wrapped up in an oversized sweatshirt with her hair thrown up in a claw clip. "Yes, you brought chips!"

"Yeah, you didn't really specify which flavor so I just got them all." You said, walking in. "Guests should start coming in an hour, right?"

"Mmm-hmm." The 7 of you were throwing a casual party to celebrate Jake's promotion to Lieutenant-Commander. You saw Nat lift her eyes and smirk. "And there he is, the man of the hour." You turned around to see Jake at the end of the staircase.

"Well, hello, Mr. Man-of-the-hour," you teased, setting down the numerous bags of chips you were holding.

"Glad you're finally here, N/N. I was starting to think you were going to leave me here to fend for myself against Rooster's ABBA medley." Jake wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side. It was always like this. Him giving you butterflies you had to ignore because there was inevitably some other girl.

"Oh please, I would never leave you to fend for yourself against Rooster. I would join him and together, we'd overpower you and make you listen to ABBA forever." You grinned up at him and he narrowed his eyes, lips quirking up at the corners.

"Betrayal never comes from an enemy, I see," he shook his head at you. "I will leave you, lovely ladies, to yourselves. If you need me, I'll be in the kitchen." You watched Jake walk away and disappear around the corner. When you turned back, Natasha was still wearing that smug smile she always did when she saw you two. You knew it was coming.

"Nix, I'm telling you, if you say it, I'm salting your coffee." She knew you were messing with her but one of these days, you might just do it.

"All I'm saying is, shoot your shot! Come on, just once before you go settle for this rando."

"Mark is not a rando. We know him from accounting!"

"Exactly, Y/N, we know him from accounting. You don't even like the guy, heck you hardly know him."

"Exactly. That's why we're going to get to know each other at this party. I need to get over this crush, now. I can't keep pining for a guy who has no interest in me," you saw Natasha's mouth open as if to say something and you quickly jumped in, "And don't say he's interested. He's been with other girls multiple times and never once looked at me like that."

"True, I won't argue there. He's never looked at any of those girls the way he was just looking at you either." She took her hair out of her claw clip and it fell onto her shoulders in soft waves. "And ever since we all got back from that mission 3 months ago, he hasn't been with anyone. I really think he's got a thing for you but you're right. You should give this Mark guy a shot if you think he'd be good for you."

You smiled softly. You met Jake's friends when you were in San Diego a few years back. About a year ago, you were permanently stationed here and luckily for you, Jake was too. He settled here about 4 months before you. All his friends became your friends, and you've truly never known a better group of people. And they'd never known someone who could wrangle Hangman, so you were quite quickly welcomed to the group.

You and Pheonix tossed your sweatshirts upstairs and fixed up the last bits of your outfits just in time for guests to start arriving. You even managed to slip in a game of cards with Fanboy, Bob, and Payback before you joined a crowd in the living room. You barely felt the tap on your shoulder. If it wasn't followed by your name, you surely would have missed it. You turned on your heel to see Mark from accounting, facing you with a hand in his pocket.

"Mark, hi!"

"Hey. How are you?" His voice was almost monotone. His eyes roamed the room rather than meeting yours. He had just gotten here and he already sounded like he wanted to be somewhere else. You could have sworn he sounded more lively when you met.

"I'm good. I thought you weren't coming till later."

"I got off work early."

"Ah, well that's great." This guy really wasn't giving you much to work with. "Can I get you something to drink? There are drinks and food in the kitchen." That actually went somewhere. You headed to the kitchen where the conversation just barely picked up.

In the distance, Jake noticed your prolonged absence. As silly as it was, Jake liked knowing you were near him. You didn't have to be attached at the hip but he liked knowing he could saunter over to you and escape into your laugh when you came up in his mind. Which was a lot.

He scanned the room for you and stopped when he caught your frame in the kitchen...with some guy? Who the hell was that?

"Damn, if looks could kill...," Rooster muttered. "Do you not like that dude or something?"

"I don't even know who he is," Jake said through gritted teeth. "What's his name?"

"No clue. Pheonix?"

As if on cue, Natasha spoke up. "That, my friends, is Mark from accounting." Both the boys looked at her with questioning eyes.

"Okay, but who is he?" Something in Jake's voice was different now. Both of them looked at him.

"Careful there, Bagman, you almost sound jealous. He's some guy Y/N knows and I think she likes him." Phoenix was searching Jake's face for any sign that she was right about his feelings for you, and he never noticed because his eyes were trained on you like a hawk.

"I'm not jealous, Pheonix."

"You kinda sound jealous, Hangman," Rooster added, earning a glare from Jake.

"Okay, when we first met and you told me about her, you sounded so lovesick, I thought she was your wife. Cut to, you introduce us all and it turns out you're not married, or dating, but friends? I'm sorry, I do not believe that you two don't have feelings for each other." Natasha's remark sparked something in Jake. She watched the corners of his mouth twitch into a smirk so small, she almost missed it.

"I'll be right back." Jake stated, already pacing away. Rooster and Pheonix watched Jake make his way into the kitchen.

"She likes him too right?" Rooster asked.

"Oh, absolutely," Pheonix responded.

"You know, Fanboy has a betting pool on them."

"What? Get me on this, I have a feeling we'll make some money tonight."

Jake entered the kitchen to see you sitting alone at the table. "Got room for one more?"

"I don't see why not. Shouldn't you be mingling with everyone out there?"

"Well, the person I want to mingle with is in here." You smiled at him. There it was again, that smile that always left him utterly defenseless. "Who's the guy?"

You don't know why you felt your cheeks heat up when Jake asked about him. "His name's Mark. I met him when I was sorting reports last week."

"Okay. So, why do you sound so upset?"

"Because he said he was going to get us drinks 5 minutes ago and I just saw him leave with Commander Reeves' daughter." Honestly, you weren't upset because he left. You were upset because you were glad he did. He was boring you out of your mind and you two absolutely did not click, but it was still disheartening to know that this is what it was going to be like. No guy was going to measure up to the one you wished you were with. The one who was at this table with you now.

Jake was seething. What kind of idiot comes to a party and leaves you for some other girl? "You wanna get out of here?"

"What?"

"Let's leave. I'm bored."

"It's your party, you dork, you can't just leave!" You were giggling at a feeling somewhere in between confusion and disbelief.

"Yeah, it is my party so I say, you and I get out of here." He took you by the hand and walked you out through the back door to his car. And you let him. The chilly air swept you both up.

The drive was pretty calm. You didn't know where Jake was going but you didn't care either. This reminded you of when you two were younger. The long quiet rides in the car with no one but each other for company. He'd put on some cheesy 80's power ballad and you'd both laugh at it until you'd give in and belt it out at the top of your lungs.

"If you don't mind my asking, what did you see in him?"

"I don't really even remember. I think I just wanted to try and get myself out there. I haven't been on a date in literally years."

Jake hesitated before he asked. "So... what made you want to start now?" You felt the words catch in your throat.

"I'm not sure." you lied. You. I'm in love with you and I can't take it.

You felt the car slow down. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even see where Jake parked. A cute little coffee shop and patisserie. Jake got out of his car and rounded the front to open the door for you. He already had you head over heels for him and he didn't even know it. Did he have to be such a gentleman? You weren't sure that you could fall even harder for this man but you really didn't want to find out.

"Why don't you get us a table and I'll get us something to drink. Don't worry, I remember what you like." You nodded and found a two-seat table by the french windows overlooking the city. On the left, in the distance, the last light of sunset was hitting the water and the top of the sky had started to go dark. Little stars twinkled above you. You wondered what it would be like to always be like this? Evenings with you and Jake, running off alone together from places and people you didn't really want to see. Taking comfort in each other's presence because it felt like home. Just then, Jake sat down in front of you. It almost hurt knowing he was right in front of you and you couldn't have him.

"Screw stupid Mark from accounting. He was not worth your time."

"Thanks. It's fine really, I'll find someone else. Someone less boring." When you met Jake's eyes, he looked as if he had something to say. Something he was holding back. "What is it?"

"Don't find someone else."

Did he just- Did you hear him right?

"What? Why?"

"Because-"

"I have a coffee and a latte for Mr. and Mrs. Seresin?" The barista called. You actually felt your heart skip a beat. Your eyebrows scrunched together and you looked to Jake for answers.

"Well, I think that's us." He blurted like it answered all your questions, a smile heard in his voice.

"Mr. and Mrs. Seresin?" You queried, rising out of your seat in tandem with him. "Why'd you tell her we were 'Mr. and Mrs. Seresin?!'"

"Because you looked so down and I thought I'd get a reaction from you! And it's not all my fault, Pheonix gave me the idea." Jake stated, matter-of-factly. How could he say that so casually?! "And you're still looking red so I guess it worked."

You both grabbed your coffees and sat down once again. It was dark out now. Once your laughs and giggles over your reaction were out, you remembered where your last conversation left off.

"Jake, why'd you tell me not to find someone?" You didn't force the question too hard into the conversation. You asked softly, not knowing how or if he would answer. He sighed before he spoke like he was preparing himself.

"Because...because I can't ask you out if you're dating someone else." The emotions hit you like a bombshell.

"You want to ask me out?" You weren't sure this was real. You were really about to pinch yourself before he stopped you in your tracks.

"I've been meaning to for months. Y/N, we've been friends forever, and I didn't want to ruin what we have. I know I should have told you before because I've liked you for as long as- Why are you smiling?"

"Because, you big dummy, I like you too." You couldn't hold it back. You were beaming. You felt butterflies and fireworks all at once just because the man of your dreams just made it all a reality. Jake held your eyes in his and smiled ear-to-ear. You swore you saw his ears go red but if you asked him, you doubt he’d admit it. "I'm really happy right now but I have no clue what to do next."

"I've got it from here," Jake reaches out and takes your hand in both of his. It feels like electricity is coursing through your veins. "Y/N L/N, would you do me the honor of going on a date with me?"

It took everything in you not to squeal in this coffee shop. "Yes, I will do you that honor, Bagman." You responded. He chuckled at you.

"Every now and again, I feel like introducing you to Pheonix was a mistake."

"Speaking of which, I really want to tell her about this but she'll get all smug because she was right."

"You're right. As far as people we don't have to tell yet go, Fanboy and Rooster have been betting on us. We can just keep it from them for now too."

"Deal." A laugh bubbled out of you as you thought about how the squad would react. And then a knock sounded directly next to you on the french window.

"Aww, cute," Rooster noted, his voice muffled by the glass, but still clear enough for you to hear his teasing tone.

"Left your own party so soon?" There stood Pheonix. Along with the rest of the squad leaning against Bradley's bronco.

"Shit." you commented.

"So much for keeping it secret."

———————————————————————

Tag list:

@glorified-red

[izels-writing]

s. black — how you get the girl [1/2]

*idea was given to me by @sunny-prongs !! <3

Pairing: sirius black x fem!reader

Summary: sirius has no idea how to get the girl this time.

Warnings: i actually suck at writing flirting, slightly ooc sirius?, i accidentally keep making all these gryffindor!readers so i apologize,

PART ONE, PART TWO (coming soon!)

you weren't quite sure someone had made you feel so many emotions at once the way sirius black did. even when he'd enter the room, the ínstense emotions you'd experience being in his general vicinity was absolutely mind-boggling. not that you'd ever admit it.

sirius black was the one boy at school that everyone wanted, even if they didn't admit it. he was funny, he was unbelievably handsome, and he was admittedly smarter than he gave himself credit for. and dear god, did he know it...

the boy didn't exactly lack confidence—matter of fact, he may have too much of it. but that didn't matter, because everyone believed that yes, he deserved that confidence in himself. he earned it. he could breathe in someone's direction and they're instantly melt—he was inconceivably charismatic and likeable. even the professors admitted it so.

yet, the only person who didn't seem to think so was you.

not because you desired to be different from everyone else—because, unfortunately, you found him handsome as well and you found yourself day dreaming what it would be like to be loved by him. but because you saw the way he treated the girls he had flings with. you saw the way he'd be so indifferent to their attachment and infatuation with him. more noticeably, you noticed the way he never bothered to keep a consistent relationship with any girl he managed to seduce—if that was even the right word for it.

you didn't want that. you had seen so much of it growing up. you couldn't bare it in a potential romantic partner. so, you didn't. you didn't allow him to see the way you found yourself glancing at him, you didn't allow him to see the way you'd quickly walk away when he did something gentlemanly like hold the door for you, and you certainly didn't let yourself react to his many compliments.

and unfortunately for you, though you didn't know it, you were the one person he wanted that he couldn't have. not for lack of trying, but because you wouldn't allow yourself.

he watched you from afar, mischievous grey eyes following your every move—in a curious, desirable way. nonetheless, you looked at him for a split second before turning to resume your conversation with daniel mckinnon, marlene's older brother.

"anyway, you should talk to her, i'm sure she'll understand," you told daniel. he chuckled and sighed.

"i suppose so, thanks y/n," daniel smiled. he went to say something else, but he glanced behind you and bid you a kind goodbye—all before walking off.

you were left confused, until you felt a presence by your ear, likely because of the loud music booming around you. it was difficult to hear in the common room which held a celebration for the gryffindor quidditch team.

"he's always been good at taking hints," a silky voice whispered in your ear. immediately recognizing it, you turned around and raised an eyebrow at the eldest black brother.

"yeah, he is—something you lack apparently," you replied, glaring at sirius challengingly.

sirius grinned. "oh come on, princess, you can't be that way with me. you look great, by the way, is that a new dress?"

you glanced down, smiling slightly at the fact that he noticed. then you came to your senses and rolled your eyes, "i bought it last week, thanks," you replied monotonously.

"of course, doll," he smiled. you rolled your eyes, but he never faltered. you supposed there was an admirable aspect to it.

you took a sip of your drink, before looking up at him. "what do you want, black?" you demanded.

sirius laughed. "what makes you think i want something? what if i just wanted to ask how you were doing?"

"but you don't," you corrected. "which raises the question, as per usual..."

"fine, how about you let me dance with you...and if things go well, let me take you on a date next weekend?" sirius suggested, brushing loose hair from your face behind your ear.

you had to admit to yourself, he made you incredibly nervous. he was suave and handsome, and just the perfect amount of flirty without being uncomfortable to be around. he had a thing with calling you pet names that normally you'd cringe at the mention of, but when he said it, they didn't sound so bad. and dear god, when he subtly touched you, you felt like melting into the ground. nonetheless, you knew this was just part of his strategy to sleep with you. you'd seen it with other girls he interacted it, perhaps not to the extent he did it with you, but he certainly did it. you had to keep reeling in your common sense.

"in your dreams, sirius," you scoffed. quickly, before the other part of you could take it back, you walked off and immersed yourself into the party.

sirius watched you walk away, smirking like he had actually gotten you to say yes.

——

you waited patiently for your friend marlene mckinnon to return from quidditch practice before heading up to your shared dorm. normally, you preferred to be in your own room and on your own bed—but marlene hated being alone in the common room, as she was easily scared despite the tough facade she put on in front of dorcas.

a quick patter of footsteps rushed over to you, before they finally sat beside you. the boy, who you quickly and unfortunately recognized, kicked his feet up on the coffee table and put an arm on the couch, so that it was almost around you. you sat back and turned to him, narrowing your eyes at him. sirius grinned happily at you.

“you’re like a lovesick puppy, you know that?” you scoffed, crossing your arms. you knew it was all an act, but you could help the feeling of happiness it gave you knowing that he only really showed you this type of attention.

“only you bring out this side of me, did you know that?” he attempted, but you rolled your eyes and looked away momentarily. unfortunately for you, you turned to look at him again and your (e/c) eyes met his grey ones. and dear god, they were easy to get lost in.

“where’s your boy band? usually you four are attached at the hip,” you asked, genuinely curious despite your nonchalant tone. he smiled at you before replying, counting off the three in his fingers.

“remus is doing his prefect duties, james has quidditch practice, and peter is on a date,” he replied. “leaving me, all on my lonesome…with you, of course,” his smile brightened the room and it seemed like he knew it.

“surely you have something interesting to do,” you commented, liking the fact that you could at the very least have a conversation with him.

“none as interesting as you,” he grinned.

you chuckled. “okay, that was smooth, i’ll give you that one,”

“what’re you doing down here anyway?” sirius then asked, looking curiously at the book in your lap. you closed it, finding that perhaps a genuine conversation with him was worth having even despite the flirtations.

“waiting for marls, she hates coming into an empty common room,” you replied. “creeps her out,”

he smiled. “you’re a good friend, you know that?”

you turned to him curtly, smiling back at him—genuinely smiling back him. “thank you,” you replied.

your faces were inches away from each other, if even, and you couldn’t help but feel the slight tension. you wanted to pull away, you really really did. at the very least, he hadn’t tried anything.

he brought a tattooed hand to your face, pushing a hair behind your ear. he almost leaned in—or maybe you were imagining it. but then, common sense kicked you in the head and you cleared your throat.

quickly, you stood up and gathered your things. every nonsensical part of you wanted to stay and see where it would lead, and the other logical part of you knew better than to be so naïve. sirius was only interested because you had been so difficult to get, after he got with you—you’d just be another girl to him. you and any other girl at this school did not deserve that.

“yeah, i can’t do this,” you mumbled. without another word, you rushed up to your dorm. in your wake, you left a confused, mildly hurt sirius black on the couch. he could still smell your perfume and your bright smile was burned into the back of his brain like a prayer.

and for a moment, he thought what it would be like if he actually got to kiss you.

——

“i don’t understand,” marlene mumbled, stroking your head as you laid on her lap. you were feeling very dejected and upset after the whole sirius situation. “if you like him, and he more than obviously seems to like you, what’s stopping you?”

you sat up, situating yourself to look at marlene with a dejected look. “the principle, marls! you’ve seen how he treats every other girl here, these are nice girls who he would be lucky to have as his girlfriend! how do we know he won’t treat me the same? how do we know he actually likes me the way i like him?”

marlene sighed. “yeah, you have a point—i just hate seeing you so conflicted and upset, boys are so dumb,” she shook her head. you laughed, nodding in agreement.

“what if i talk to james?” marlene suggested. “if there’s anyone who knows him better than himself, it’s james,”

you groaned. “but then he’ll know i have a crush on sirius! and then he’ll tell sirius, and then sirius’ll know i have a crush on him!”

“true,” marlene huffed. “straight relationships are impossible,”

you laughed, shoving marlene. “shut up,”

——

“pads, maybe you should actually sit down and tell her how you feel,” james said offhandedly as he tinkered with a music box that lily gave him to fix. the two had only been dating for a few months, if that, and already it seemed like they have been together forever—in a good way, of course.

sirius, who had dramatically sprawled himself on the bed, lifted his head up to look at james. “what?! are you crazy?!” he exclaimed.

remus scoffed. “what’s so crazy about that? james did it and now he and lily are great together,” he closed his book, looking at sirius and waiting for his response.

“because…those are real feelings! i mean i’d have to explain everything to her, how i feel around her, everything and i just…no, it’s too gross,” sirius sighed. “of course i like her, i’m in love with her actually! but i can’t just tell her!”

peter and remus exchanged a look before peter quipped up, “so you’re afraid of rejection and vulnerability and commitment?”

sirius looked up and glared at him. “what? nuh uh!”

“yuh huh,” peter replied.

“nuh uh!”

“yuh huh!”

“nuh uh!”

“yuh huh!”

“face it pads, you have issues with commitment, rejection, and being emotionally vulnerable,” james shrugged, continuing to tinker with the music box.

“james and peter are right, that’s why you’ve never had a girlfriend—well, that and you’ve been in love with y/n since our second year,” remus added, raising an eyebrow at sirius.

“shut up,” sirius grumbled.

“you’re going to have to get over that if you want to be with her, marlene’s told me why she won’t go out with you—and frankly i don’t blame y/n,” james said.

sirius scrambled up from his bed, practically jumping onto james’ to sit in front of him. “they talk about me? what did y/n say? what did she exactly say?”

james shook his head. “you’re going to have to figure it out for yourself, i won’t betray marlene’s trust,”

“prongs, please! you’re my only hope!” sirius exclaimed.

“no, marlene told me in confidence,” james replied. “ask her yourself,”

sirius grumbled. “fine…”

“you are the most dramatic person i’ve ever met,” remus chuckled, “and mary once cried over breaking her nail, granted it had taken her a long time to grow out—“

sirius glared at remus, making the werewolf quickly shut his mouth.