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wintrwinchestr · 6 months

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obedience | part 1

summary: you decide to act out after feeling neglected by joel for over a week. it doesn’t go quite according to plan, but his punishment does help you unlock a new kink or two.

warnings: 18+, smut, no outbreak au, daddy kink, d/s and ddlg relationship dynamics, brat tamer joel, degradation/humiliation (use of slut, whore, 1 use of bitch), orgasm denial/edging, boot riding, pet names (baby, babygirl, darlin’, sugar, sweetheart, honey, puppy), entering petplay territory??, finger sucking, one face slap but she likes it (and so do i), taking/sending nudes at work, subspace, hair pulling, joel cums on reader’s face, cum eating, two idiots who finally communicate and apologize to each other, gets soft at the end bc i’m a woman of many interests, reader can be carried by joel but no other physical descriptions, winter’s limited knowledge of what contractors do, pic of girl in the moodboard is for bra imagery only, reader looks just like you!! :)

word count: 4.1k

a/n: this is extremely self indulgent so please don’t look at me!!! lil shoutout to @pascalisbaby for inspiring me to write something just so i can use “puppy” bc their love’s gonna get you killed series has fucked me up extremely bad.

divider by @saradika

(read part 2 here)

It’s coming up on nearly a week and a half of Joel working long days and late nights at the latest suburban McMansion he’s been contracted out to. Each and every time he creeps into his side of the bed after you’ve already gone to sleep, never failing to wake you up in the process, he always has a different excuse. “My concrete guy was out sick today”, “the vendor gave us the wrong size rebar”, “the landscapers were in our way all damn day”, and other similar eye roll-inducing anecdotes that were followed up with sleepy apologies.

Tonight, you’re almost certain, will be just the same.

Slogging through yet another slow and uneventful day at your corporate nine-to-five, you’re practically counting down the seconds until you’ll be able to escape your drab little cubicle for the day. You aren’t exactly looking forward to going home, though, either. You know that all you have waiting for you will be another lonely night of heating up a frozen dinner, watching reality TV reruns until the ten o’clock news comes on, and then tucking yourself into a cold bed.

While you’re waiting around for a coworker to message you back about something painfully unimportant, you decide to get up to kill some time in the bathroom on your phone and stretch your legs a bit. You stand up from your rolling chair, grabbing your phone in the process, and head down the hall to the one single-person bathroom in the building that you know of.

You step inside and click the lock shut behind you, looking forward to having a rare few minutes to yourself without the threat of your manager lurking over your shoulder. You inspect your makeup in the mirror and address some flyaway hairs before leaning back against the sink and swiping your home screen into view. Your heart soars at the discovery of a text notification from Joel, but settles just as quickly when you read the words across your screen.

A couple of my dumbass guys fucked up some measurements again. Gonna be another late one. Sorry baby.

You let out an exasperated sigh and turn around to face your reflection again, bracing yourself on the edge of the sink and trying not to cry. How much fucking longer are you going to have to put up with this? You'd been getting through it alright so far, but his sterile text had ignited a raging fire deep in your stomach that made a scorching heat climb its way up the back of your neck.

You’re determined to get his attention tonight, one way or another. Even if it means pushing some of his buttons, riling him up, making him feel a few licks of that very same inferno. You’re feeling fucking bratty.

You undo the top few buttons of your blouse and shimmy it off your shoulders, exposing the blushing lace of the bra you had chosen when you were getting dressed this morning. Using one arm to hold your phone up to the mirror with the camera app open, you use the other one to prop yourself up against the sink and assist in pushing your tits together. As a final touch, you pull down one of the delicate cups along with its accompanying strap, exposing an already peaked nipple. Meeting your own eyes in the reflection and forming your glossy lips into a faux pout, you snap the picture and attach it to your text conversation with Joel. You type out a coy little message to go along with it and send it off.

that’s okay daddy. just sad i wore a rly cute bra today for nothing :(

While you anxiously wait for his response, you take a few more lewd photos to tease him with later, and make your way back to your desk after you button yourself up again and smooth out your skirt.

Sitting back down at your cubicle, you check your notifications to find a response from Joel, sent just a few seconds ago.

What’d I tell you about sendin me shit like that when I’m at work? Put your fuckin tits away babygirl. Not in the mood today.

Despite his harsh words, you know your plan is already working in your favor. You can’t help but giggle to yourself as you attach another one of the photos you had taken in the bathroom, this one of your matching lace panties pulled aside to expose your bare pussy to the front camera. You type out another flirtatious message and tap the button to send it.

idk what u mean daddy :( just miss u is all. she misses u too :((

You promptly turn off your phone and place it screen-down next to your mousepad, resigning yourself to a mere ten minutes of work before you can’t resist temptation anymore and pick it back up again to check for a reply.

Last warning babygirl. I got enough shit to deal with today, don’t need your slutty pictures distractin me. I’ll see ya tonight.

whatever. u don’t pay attention to me anymore anyway :/

You begin to regret your message as soon as you send it, worrying you might have taken things too far. But it was true; you’re upset, in a bratty mood, and feeling neglected. And, maybe you did want to work him up enough for him to take it all out on you, to fuck the attitude out of you the way you know he likes to do every so often.

A few seconds after you power off your screen to do a few more minutes of work, it illuminates again.

Oh I don't? When I get home tonight you better be kneelin in front of the door waitin for me undressed like a good girl. Not like the fuckin brat you’re actin like. And we’ll see about payin you some attention. Now pull your fuckin panties up and get back to work.

Your heart jumps into your throat as you read his text, now feeling exhilarated that your plan is officially in motion. After you’ve read his words through a couple of times, squeezing your thighs together and stifling a whimper as you did so, your trembling fingers type out a simple reply:

yes daddy <3

The remainder of your work day seems to pass by in slow motion, every minute feeling more like five. You can hardly bring yourself to focus on any of your mundane tasks, your mind constantly drifting to what you might be in for tonight. Will he spank you and leave red handprints on your ass for days? Will he fuck your face while you sputter and gasp around him? Will he work you over with his tongue until all you know how to say is “I’m sorry, Daddy”? As you shake yourself from your trance and try to focus your eyes again, you wonder why you hadn’t thought to act up like this earlier in the week. You keep your eye on the little digital clock in the corner of your monitor for the last five consecutive minutes of your work day, and as soon as 4:59 flashes to 5:00, you practically sprint out to your car in your hurry to get home.

–

You’re cuddled up on the couch underneath your favorite fleece blanket, already stripped down to your peony-colored underwear set like Joel had requested. The past couple of hours have been spent cycling between all of your streaming services and social media apps, trying desperately to find something to occupy yourself with until he gets home. You’re half-tempted to get up and walk some laps around the house, but around 10:30, you finally see the scanning headlights of Joel’s pickup as it turns into the driveway.

You immediately spring up from your little nest on the couch and prance over to the front door, kneeling a few feet in front of it just like he ordered.

In your excited anticipation to see him, you tune your ears to pick up every little sound you hear as he makes his way to you: the slam of the truck’s driver’s side door, the dull thud of his work boots heading up the walkway, the prolonged jingling of his keys as he fumbles with them to unlock the door. You’re sure he’s fidgeting with them for a few seconds longer than usual, just to tease you and keep you waiting. A shiver runs up your spine and you can feel your heart pounding against the walls of your chest as he finally turns the lock.

He calmly steps inside and closes the door behind him, dropping his dusty work bag onto the floor and stripping himself of his canvas tool belt. He stalks over to where you’re knelt on the hardwood, wrapped in your dainty lace for him like a little doll. There’s something arousing about the contrast between your barely-there feminine attire and his dark, practical clothing.

“Well, whaddya know, she can be good after all… Waitin’ for me all nice and pretty just like I asked. All it takes is an order from your Daddy to get you actin’ right again, ain’t that right, babygirl? Obedient lil’ thing…” He takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger as he speaks, keeping your eyes trained on his. You nod up at him, doe-eyed and dazed, already feeling yourself beginning to slip into that familiar saccharine headspace.

Every time you had previously tried your hand at bratting, it never lasted very long, and tonight was already proving to be no different. He was right, after all, it doesn’t take more than a command, a look, a gentle grasp of your chin, to remind you of your desire to be good for him.

“What, Daddy doesn’t get a proper greetin’ after a long day o’ work? You already that far gone f’ me, can’t use your words proper like a big girl?”

“H-hi, Daddy… Missed you today,” you half-whisper, your voice sounding a little higher and further away than it did earlier in the day.

“Yeah, I know y’ did… I’ll bet your lil’ panties are ‘bout soaked through already, bet you left a wet spot on your fuckin’ desk chair just from daydreamin’ about what I was gonna do to you tonight, hm?”

Another silent nod accompanied by a pitiful little whimper. The blazing fire in your gut from this afternoon is quickly being replaced by something much more easily tamed, something more akin to a flickering candle flame than a wildfire. You struggle to keep your eyelids open as they begin to feel heavier with submission.

A stern look and a ticked jaw is enough for you to correct your wordless response.

“Y-yes, Daddy…”

“And what is it that you think I’m gonna do with you tonight, babygirl? Speak up, now…”

You rack your brain for a moment, suddenly unable to remember any of the depraved fantasies you had been conjuring up all day instead of replying to emails. You eventually land on a relatively straightforward answer.

“I th-think you’re gonna… gonna fuck the attitude outta me, t-teach me a lesson… right, Daddy?”

He lets out a dark chuckle, releasing your chin from his hold to give your cheek a couple of condescending pats instead.

“Aww, dumb lil’ thing… you thought Daddy was gonna touch you at all tonight, make that pathetic lil’ pussy cum after the stunts you were pullin’ today? Nah, I don’t think so… Open that slutty fuckin’ mouth.”

You’re reeling, taken aback by his harsh words, words that were certainly not in any of the countless scenarios you had been imagining at work. There’s a long beat of silence as you struggle to process his command.

You hear the smack across your face before you feel the heated sting of it, and it prompts a debauched mewl to spill from your parted lips.

“I said open your fuckin’ mouth…”

Your jaw falls slack in an instant, your pulsing cunt releasing an ashamed wave of wetness at the degrading slap. Joel shoves his thumb inside your waiting mouth, and you wrap your lips around it obediently as you swirl your tongue along its calloused landscape. It tastes salty, a little dirty, and you like it.

“Good girl, suck on Daddy’s thumb, tha’s it… dumb whore’ll suck on anything Daddy puts in her mouth, won’t she? Desperate lil’ thing… Bet you wish it was this fat cock instead, don’t you baby?”

You whine and nod around him, your hole squeezing around nothing as you look up at him with pleading eyes.

“Well… that’s just too fuckin’ bad, ain’t it? Tonight’s not about what you want, you can gimme that sad puppy look all you like, sugar, not gonna change anythin’...”

He pulls his thumb out of your mouth, and your slick lips try to chase after it until he wipes it clean on the side of your face. His hands make quick work of opening his stained work jeans and freeing his stiff cock from his briefs, taking it into one hand and beginning to pump it with languid strokes. He grabs a fistful of hair at the base of your skull with his free hand and taps the leaking head of his length against your cheek, adding to the dampness there from your own saliva.

“This what you want?” Tap tap tap. “You want Daddy’s cock? Hm? This what you been thinkin’ about all day, dirty girl?” He rocks his hips back and forth as he speaks, smearing his arousal along your skin.

You can’t help but squirm as a humiliated heat begins to pool in your tummy.

“Yes, Daddy, please let me have it, wan’ it so bad…” you beg.

He releases your hair and pulls his cock away from your face, making a show of massaging it and taunting you with what he won’t let you have.

“Nah, you ain’t gettin’ any of Daddy’s cock tonight, baby… In fact, I’m gonna stand right here and take care of m’self, and you’re gonna find somethin’ to rub that soakin’ cunt on while I watch…”

As the last of his words leave his lips, he steps one foot forward and nudges it between your thighs, looking at you expectantly. You lower your head to face his steel-toed work boot, covered in dust and dirt from his day at the construction site. Your mind still too deep in the clouds to understand what he’s asking of you, you lift your eyes back up to him for guidance. He juts his chin out in a silent “go on, then”, and you return your confused gaze back to his boot, the toe of which is positioned just in front of your aching heat. Your breath hitches and your eyes go wide as you finally realize: he wants to pleasure himself to the sight of you getting yourself off on his boot.

All at once, it falls into place how he wants the night to unfold. He wants to deny you. Deny you of his touch, his cock, even the privilege of making him feel good yourself… all because you acted out, disobeyed him, tested his limits.

“We understand each other, darlin’?”

“Y-yes, Daddy…” You meet his eyes as you speak, voice coming out a little unsteady. Any confidence you had while you were teasing him this afternoon is long gone, fully submitting to him now and completely at his mercy. He didn’t need to fuck you in order to put you in your place, he knew plenty of other much more degrading ways to rid you of your bratty attitude, to remind you of who you belong to.

You position your cunt over the filthy toe of his boot, the gusset of your lacy panties now completely saturated with your wetness. Your hands planted on either side of his leg, you try an experimental grind onto the leather-covered steel. A bolt of electricity shoots from your swollen clit to your fevered cheeks, burning with the eroticism of being made to humiliate yourself like this. He allows you to wrap your arms around his calf, using his sturdy form as leverage to rub yourself harder and faster against the solid material.

“Look at you, humpin’ my boot like a fuckin’ dog… that’s just what y’ are, ain’t it? Daddy’s lil’ puppy…” he teases, spurring you on with his words and the indecent sounds of his wet fist working along his thick cock.

You let out an involuntary yelp at the new pet name, which he’s quick to catch with a huff through his nose.

“Oh, she likes that, don’t she? Y’ like that, sweetheart, bein’ Daddy’s good girl, his obedient lil’ puppy? Yeah, I know y’ do… I got you trained good, don’t I? Do just about anything I want, won’t you? Got you rubbin’ that slutty pussy on my fuckin’ boot, for Christ’s sake, barely even had to ask… fuckin’ pathetic.”

The degradation makes your stomach swirl with a cocktail of embarrassment and pleasure. Your cunt flutters as you continue your frantic movements, releasing broken whimpers that sound something like uh huh and yes, Daddy. You’re sure that your slick has to be dripping down his boot by now, soaking straight through the leather and pooling onto the hardwood. You wonder if he might punish you for that, too, for making a mess of him and your freshly mopped floors. Just the thought of it has your hips picking up the pace, desperate to reach your high.

Your eyes are shut tightly as you pursue your orgasm, but you can still hear the shallow pumps of Joel’s fist and his stuttering breaths that indicate he’s close to his own release.

“Yeah, grind that sloppy fuckin’ puppy cunt on Daddy’s boot, there ya go… lookin’ like a goddamn bitch in heat… desperate whore… c’mon, puppy, make a fuckin’ mess for me…”

“I’m gonna cum, Daddy, gonna–”

Just as you feel yourself about to crest the wave of your climax, he pulls his foot out from under you and yanks your head back by another fistful of hair.

“Open up, puppy,” he groans as he splashes his hot release all over your face, aiming most of it around your mouth as you cry out from the denial of your own pleasure.

“Look at you, filthy girl… So pretty for Daddy, all covered in me,” he coos as the last few milky drops land on your cheek. Before any of it can start to drip, he scoops it up with his thumb and feeds it to you a bit at a time, and you continue to suck his finger into your eager mouth once again.

When your face is fully cleaned of his spend, he pulls his thumb from between your lips for a final time with a pop, and you stick out your tongue to show him you’ve swallowed everything he’s given you.

“Good girl,” he praises, petting the side of your hair in soothing strokes. “What do you say to Daddy, hm?”

“Th-thank you…” you choke out, still trying to steady your voice.

“And what else?” he asks.

You take a deep breath. “And… I’m sorry, Daddy,” you relent.

“For what, sweet girl?”

This was always your least favorite part, the part you struggled with the most: admitting that you were wrong.

“For being a brat today, for not listening and disrespecting you…” Your posture deflates, wondering if you should continue your confession. You remember one of the ground rules that was laid out when you first entered this dynamic with him, the one about how important communication is, and decide to keep going. “I jus’ feel like you’ve hardly paid any attention to me the past few days…” You start to sniffle as you speak, the overwhelm of it all finally catching up with you.

“Oh…” he breathes sympathetically. “Here, can you stand up, babygirl? C’mon, come sit on Daddy’s lap for a minute.”

He offers you his hands, and you use them to push yourself up onto shaky legs, feeling like a newborn foal. You wrap your arms around his neck and he scoops you up, carrying you bridal-style back to your cozy spot on the couch. He situates you in his lap, wrapping you up in your blanket again, and you bury your face in the warm expanse of skin between his shoulder and neck. You inhale through your nose, smiling to yourself and sighing contentedly when your senses are flooded with his natural comforting smell.

“I know I’ve been workin’ some real late nights recently… I’m sorry about that, honey,” he apologizes, rubbing comforting circles around your upper back.

“‘S okay, Daddy, ‘s not your fault,” you say into his skin.

“But I shoulda made more of an effort to give you some lovin’ anyway, I shouldn’t have had to wait for you to brat on me… Look at me, baby.” You lift your head and meet his sincere gaze, his eyes flicking back and forth between yours. “I’m sorry, darlin’.”

“I’m sorry too, Daddy.”

“I know y’ are, sweet girl, I know…”

You exchange warm smiles, and he curls his pointer finger under your chin to pull your face toward his, placing a delicate kiss to your lips. He settles both of his large hands on either side of your face before breaking the kiss to press your foreheads together. You close your eyes and try to match his breathing, enjoying this moment with him.

After a minute or so, you break the silence. “So… puppy, huh? That’s a new one,” you giggle.

He laughs and releases your face from his hold, meeting your eyes again. “Jus’ wanted to try somethin’ new, I guess…” He snakes a hand under the blanket, thumbing over the damp crotch of your panties. “And judgin’ by this lil’ mess down here, I take it you liked it. Hm, pretty girl?”

Still sensitive from your earlier denial, you let out a high pitched little whine and an involuntary buck of your hips into his hand.

“See? Even sound like a lil’ puppy… Daddy’s good girl. You want Daddy to train you, babygirl, you wanna be his pretty lil’ pet?”

“Uh huh, yes, Daddy, please…” Your face is buried in his chest as you rut into his hand, squeezing it between your thighs, back to the same place you were just before he pulled his boot out from underneath you.

“Daddy was so mean earlier, wasn’t he? Not lettin’ you cum, punishin’ you for actin’ up… But I think you’ve learned your lesson now, huh puppy? C’mon, sweet girl, let go, soak Daddy’s hand…”

And you do. With his permission, you cry out, muscles spasming and cunt twitching as you finally ride out the climax you’ve been chasing all night. You’re panting by the time you start to come down after what feels like several minutes, exhaustion hitting you hard all at once. When some of your awareness has come back to you, you realize that Joel is gently rocking you back and forth on his lap, petting the back of your head and gently shushing in your ear.

“Shh, shh, you’re alright, babygirl, I gotcha, Daddy’s gotcha… So good for me, baby, my precious girl…”

When your breathing evens out once more, you muster the strength to lift your head from its place against his heart, and he chuckles at the sleepy and sated look on your face as you blink slowly at him.

“My lil’ puppy’s all tuckered out, huh? Let’s get you up to bed, darlin’, Daddy’ll tuck you in.”

He stands up with a groan, cradling you in his muscled arms, and carries you into the bedroom. You’re already drifting off to sleep when he sits you on the bed, carefully stripping you of your ruined underwear and helping you into a clean, sensible pair of cotton undies. He retrieves one of his oversized “Miller Contracting” shirts from his drawer and slips it over your head, helping your weak arms through the sleeves. Brushing your hair away from your face, he places a scruffy kiss to your hairline and helps you lay down onto the cool sheets. He pulls the covers up all the way over your shoulders, the way he knows you like, and smiles to himself when you burrow yourself into the sheets.

He takes a quick shower to rid himself of the grime and grit he collected on his skin during the day, and slips into bed beside you. Another private smile and a small shake of his head when you instinctually turn to face him and snuggle into his warm body, wrapping your arms around the breadth of his upper arm and inhaling the masculine cologne of his body wash.

He reaches across his chest to gently scratch at the top of your head, prompting a dreamy little noise from you. “Just like I said,” he whispers to himself, “a lil’ puppy.”

He wouldn’t have you any other way.

not really sure who to tag for this one, gonna use the same list from my last fic if that's okay!! anyone else please let me know if you'd like to be tagged on my future fics!!

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @gracieispunk @iamasaddie @rebel-held

#my writing #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #daddy!joel miller #joel miller smut

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many-shades-of-violence · 9 months

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getting drunk with them I Corazon, Law, Doflamingo, Smoker, Ace, Sabo

✢ content: fluff, suggestive themes, alcohol consumption

✢ characters: Corazon, Law, Doflamingo, Smoker, Ace, Sabo

Corazon is a light-hearted and affectionate drunk. He becomes even more talkative and open when he's had a few drinks.

He's the type to get lost in nostalgic stories of his marine days, or talk about his dreams and aspirations with you and little Law.

He might start singing or humming, and if you join in, he'd be absolutely delighted.

As a caring drunk, he's prone to giving you lots and lots of compliments, reminding you how much you mean to him. He might pull you into his lap or snuggle up to you, searching for the warmth of your body while he rests his head on your shoulder.

Corazon is also likely to pull you into slow, clumsy dances, and you'd both end up laughing as you navigate his tipsy waltz, being careful, so he doesn't trip over his long legs.

Law's usual stoic demeanor takes a backseat when he's drunk. He becomes surprisingly expressive, much more relaxed, and most surprisingly, a lot more handsy.

He tends to lean into his playful and mischievous side, making witty comments and teasing you in a way that only a drunk Law can. If there's strong booze involved, he might even slip a hand along your thighs, giving them a firm yet loving grip.

Law might get a bit sentimental as well, sharing his deeper thoughts and feelings with you, which is a rare sight.

He'd challenge you to drinking games, displaying his competitive streak while still maintaining his cool facade.

If you get too drunk, Law would take on a protective role, ensuring you're safe, comfortable, and well-hydrated.

Doflamingo's already flamboyant and unpredictable personality becomes even more amplified when he's had a few drinks.

He's likely to be the life of the party, engaging you with his charismatic way of talking and flashy dance moves.

Doflamingo's sense of humor gets a bit eccentric and twisted, often sharing dark jokes or anecdotes with a cheeky grin on his lips.

He enjoys being the center of attention, but he'd also make sure to dote on you and show you off to everyone around.

Doffy's already "horny on main," but a drunk Flamingo might be another challenge. He'd never overstep your boundaries, but you might have to reprimand him more than once when you find slim fingers cupping your ass.

Smoker is a quiet and introspective drunk. He tends to sit back and observe the surroundings, lost in thought.

He becomes a bit more sentimental when you're around, often expressing his genuine affection for you and how much he appreciates you in his life.

Smoker might share stories from his past that he normally keeps to himself, allowing you a glimpse into his life before the Marines.

He's not one for grand gestures, but he'll subtly make sure you're comfortable and have everything you need for the night-out.

Smoker's tough exterior softens a bit when he's had a few drinks, and he might even crack a small, rare smile from time to time, especially when you're also a bit tipsy, inviting you to stay over at his place to know you're safe.

Ace is a fun-loving and energetic drunk. He's constantly moving and looking for the next adventure.

He'd likely challenge you to various games or dares, trying to see who can handle their liquor better.

Ace's laugh becomes even more contagious, and he'll find just about anything hilarious, ensuring a good time for the two of you.

He might get a bit touchy-feely, always looking for excuses to wrap his arm around you or hold your hand.

When the night winds down, Ace would be the type to suggest stargazing or a late-night walk, wanting to make the most of your time together.

Sabo is a sweet and affectionate drunk. He becomes incredibly attentive to you, making sure you're comfortable and enjoying yourself.

He's likely to initiate deep conversations, discussing everything from dreams and ambitions to the meaning of life.

Sabo's protective nature might become more pronounced, and he'd keep a watchful eye on you when you've had one glass too many.

He's a lightweight when it comes to alcohol, so he might get tipsy quickly, leading to a lot of adorable behavior.

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mylonelylittlestar · 3 months

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My little star

Characters: Xavier Summary: random relationship headcanons with Xavier Warnings: None A/N: I've completely fallen in love with Love and Deepspace, especially with Xavier. It's truly hopeless

the type of boyfriend to get you matching pyjamas

he gets you so many that they slowly start to replace all of your own

likes to match with you even if you don't live together, so sometimes he just texts you to ask which pyjamas you're wearing so he can change into the matching one after he showered

if you ever gift him slippers, blankets, or pillows, he will keep them forever (even if it's something goofy like those big fluffy bunny slippers)

the best person to ask for good midnight snacks. He can recommend fantastic instant noodles, chips, crackers, or other snacks that are light and won't give you stomach aches late at night or negatively impact your sleep in any other way

very interested in your skincare routine (if you have one) and will try out any mask or cream that you give him

if you come up with a routine for him (a simple one, maybe, like the basic cleanser > toner > moisturizer), he will follow it diligently, dragging himself out of bed before he sleeps every day to do it because you were the one to pick those products for him and he doesn't want to waste that

he feels like it connects you to him, even if your routine is completely different and a bit more complicated

never cries during movies, no matter how sad they might be, but he does (on very rare occasions) get a bit teary-eyed

he will hold you if you cry during a movie, and he would never even think about making fun of you for it

he does secretly think that it's cute that you get so worked up about a movie

can sleep through anything. a bomb could go off in his house and he wouldn't know that it happened until he woke up

has seen every single episode of any shitty sitcom you can think of at least three times because he occasionally watches them while he sleeps

sometimes he quotes them but because he knows each of these shows so well now he always quotes the lesser known scenes and no one gets what he's talking about

you start to understand his references after a while, so sometimes he will quote some obscure scene from a super unpopular sitcom that got cancelled after one season and you're the only one laughing

secretly sneaks to the arcade sometimes to practice the claw machine game because he wants to get you the plushies you don't have yet (and to impress you)

he ends up getting dozens of repeats of plushies that you already own. he collects in a small storage room in his apartment that used to be empty

he ends up giving them away when the collection gets out of control, donating them to a children's hospital nearby

gets all shy when you find out about it, blushing bright red like a tomato (or a wasabi octopus)

knows about every single 24 hour store in the city because of his odd sleeping habits and always knows what to do no matter what time it is

you can't sleep and want to go on a date at 3:27 am? he knows a place

if someone is mean to you he will try his hardest to deescalate the situation, but he's also fully willing to fight the person if that doesn't work

I mean have you read his Anecdotes 2? He doesn't give a fuck. He'd prefer not to fight, sure, but if it's unavoidable? What is he gonna do? Not fight and defend you? Ridiculous.

The fandom has already started turning him into this soft uwu stereotype, but the thing is that that's... just not him? He's sweet and kind, yes, but that's not all he is. He's complicated! He has layers!

if he ever falls asleep during a date he would feel awful about it for days, even if you reassure him that it's fine and that you're glad that he feels safe enough around you to fall asleep

he tries to make it up to you with a different date and he falls asleep again, which starts a vicious, endless cycle

when he finally does get over his guilt it's only because you fall asleep during a date after you had a long day at work

knows when you cheat in kitty cards, but sometimes he just lets you get away with it, especially if he knows you had a stressful day at work. He hopes that the win will cheer you up

his good night kisses are forehead kisses while his good morning kisses are on top of your head if you didn't sleep over or on the cheek if you did

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace fluff #xavier x reader #xavier fluff

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moonknightsonata · 4 months

Text

Book Dilemna

pairing: Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader

summary: You’re moving in with the boys, and Marc greatly underestimated how many books you were bringing into their already full of books apartment.

cw: What’s a little bickering between lovers, Marc suggests something blasphemous about books several times. Mostly fluff.

wc: 1413

a/n: Is this a little anecdotal of when I moved in with my boyfriend and he thought I had too many books? Yes. I can only imagine how many books Steven and I could have if we combined our libraries and we would both be in heaven but Marc hates it.

Here’s something a little sweet while I work on something heartbreaking with Marc.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Marc thought Steven had a lot of books. He had naively assumed Steven had the biggest personal collection of books that someone could have in one apartment, and that only libraries or bookstores would have more than him.

That thought left his brain immediately when he was lugging up the tenth box of books from the moving van into his - now shared with you - apartment.

He unceremoniously dropped the box on the table and rolled his shoulders as he gave you an unimpressed look. “Please tell me that was the last box of books.”

You looked at him from the kitchen where you were unpacking your favorite mugs into the cabinets. “Um… how many have you brought up?”

“I think that was ten.”

The grimace on your face let Marc know it was not, in fact, the last box of books. How many books could you even have? Marc wondered if you had even read them all, or if you hoarded them like a dragon. He groaned as he sat at the dining table, leaning his head back on the rest of the chair. “How many more?”

You gave a little shrug, apologizing. “Maybe a few more?”

Marc’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you suspiciously. “A few, like 3 more or a few like another 10?”

“… 5? I’m not sure honestly…. I didn’t keep track when I packed them up!” You defended yourself, putting the last mug away. You made your way towards the door, slipping shoes on. “I’ll go get the rest of them, you sit for a few minutes, you’ve been going up and down for the past hour and a half.” You really did feel bad, Marc was being such a trooper after all, lugging your stuff from the van.

Marc shook his head, already standing up and wrapping his arms around you to stop you from going downstairs to get the boxes. “No, no, I can do it. C’mon, I was Moon Knight - I’ve dealt with ancient Egyptian gods, you think I can’t handle boxes of books?” he teased.

“You’re the one complaining -“ You started, before Marc interrupted you with a kiss. As he pulled away with a grin on his face, you rolled your eyes. He started it.

“Where do you and Steven plan on putting all these books, huh? Steven’s books already have most of the real estate in here.” Marc gestured to the stacks of unorganized books that already claimed every available surface of the apartment sans the kitchen counters and dining table.

“We just have to organize them a bit, we’ll fit them!” Marc raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms with an incredulous look on his face. Your confidence wavered a bit under his look and as you took in the inventory of just how many books were around you. But really, you were sure that with a bit of organizing you could fit them all.

“Maybe you’ll have to get rid of some -“ Marc started before he heard two interruptions.

Are you out of your mind? Steven.

“Are you out of your mind?” and you.

If it wasn’t so annoying how you had both screeched at the mere suggestion of losing a couple of books, Marc would’ve found it hilarious that the two of you had been so in sync. He raised his hands in mock surrender, he at least knew when he’d lose a battle. “Okay, okay, forget I said it. Geez, you and Steven hated that idea.”

You smiled triumphantly, both for getting your way of keeping all of your books, and the fact that at least one of your boyfriends understood. Two against one worked in favor, after all. “Good. At least one of you has some sense! Getting rid of books… unbelievable!”

She’s right, Marc. Getting rid of books, that’s just mental. Steven agreed with you, and Marc could see him shaking his head from the corner of his eye in the mirror hanging nearby.

“At what point do you two have too many books?”

There’s no such thing as too many books!

“There’s no such thing as too many books!”

“You two have to stop doing that.” Marc deadpanned, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Let’s just finish getting all of them into the apartment, before we decide what to do with them. I will honestly be shocked if you and Steven can fit all of them on these shelves.” Marc said, opening the front door to go back downstairs.

You trailed behind him, at least to help finish unloading the van so that he wasn’t the only one doing the heavy lifting. “We’ll fit them all, you’ll see!”

You definitely were not going to fit all these books.

You and Steven had waited for the next weekend to tackle organizing and shelving both his and your collections.

The day started with the two of you bickering over the proper way to organize the books.

“Definitely by title.”

“Title? But then you could end up mixing the subjects! We should do it by subject and genre.”

“That might work for all of your history books, Steven, but what about my novels? Some are romance, some are fantasy, and some are both! What if one of my romantic fantasies get misplaced into the ‘just fantasy’ section?”

Oh my god, you two are making this so much more complicated. Just put them on the shelves!

Steven’s gaze shot over to the mirror hanging on the wall so quickly, you thought he might have gotten whiplash. “We certainly will not “just put them on the shelves”, Marc! They have to be organized.

Do it by color then.

Steven knew if you had just heard the blasphemous words that Marc just suggested, you would lose your marbles. “Absolutely not.”

“What? What’d Marc suggest?” you asked curiously.

“Organizing them by color.” Steven snorted, even adding an overdramatic touch of shuddering his shoulders. “Can you imagine, love? By color?”

You paused and Steven’s bemused expression fell. “You can’t be serious.”

”I’ve seen pictures online where people have done it, it did look kind of pretty.” You shrugged, nonchalantly. You couldn’t say you would actually humor the idea of organizing books by color, but the absolute conniption it put Steven in almost made you reconsider.

”How would you even find anything?”

“I know what color my books are! Not my fault that most of your history books are all brown and yellow.”

Steven couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His own partner, suggesting organizing books by color. If he wasn’t so in love with you (and if he didn’t think it would be a case of the pot calling the kettle) he would’ve called you mad.

After about ten more minutes of bickering, discussing how to organize the books, you and Steven had agreed that first by genre, and then by title would be the simplest way. It would most likely be the quickest way to find books when they were needed.

It took another three hours just to organize the books into stacks, spread out around the apartment and labeled with sticky notes on what genre they were (which also lead to a few more interesting debates on whether you would sort ‘general mythology’ books with his Egyptology books, or should it Steven just have a ‘mythology’ genre - or should your romance books be separated by ‘young adult’ and ‘adult’).

But by dinner time, you and Steven had managed to get many of the books onto shelves around the apartment.

You were washing the dishes after dinner, when Marc approached you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your neck. “I’m surprised you two got as far as you did.” Marc had honestly suspected he would come to front and find the apartment overrun with books.

You turned your head towards him, beaming with a prideful gleam that Marc could practically hear ‘I told you so’ coming. “You doubted us?”

”When I could hear you two arguing practically all day? Yes.” Marc chuckled, rolling his eyes.

You returned the eye roll and handed Marc a towel to start drying the dishes you were washing. He took it from you, diligently drying and putting the dishes away. “We weren’t arguing, we were discussing.”

”Mhm. If you say so.” Marc says, a teasing grin on his face.

“Although… I hate to say you were right about one thing.”

Marc’s face lit up and he grinned like a cheshire cat.

“Oh? Do tell.”

”We’re going to have to buy more bookshelves.”

#marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #moon knight x reader #moonknight #moon knight

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galedekarios · 5 months

Text

gale as a professor at blackstaff academy

i have to say that at first i wasn't too sold on the (then still fanon) idea of a professor ending because of gale's own prior anecdote about being irked by his previous students and their inadequacies.

i thought it might not be a good fit for him as far as professions go.

but reading the epilogue files, i have come around on it.

i think it's just one more way in which he's really grown into himself, become content with who he was in the past, the mistakes he made and what he has learned from them, and the person he wants to be in the future:

Player: You? A teacher? I'd hardly say you set the best example for impressionable young wizards... Gale: I think it makes perfect sense. devnote: Surprised you wouldn't recognise this, a tiny bit offended you don't trust him to do this Gale: Who better to warn of the perils of misusing magic than someone who was once only a wayward sneeze away from destroying a mid-sized settlement? devnote: playing up to his past a bit, you can imagine this is how he acts with his students Tara the Tressym: Don't remind me of those terrible times, Mr Dekarios. My blood pressure has only just recovered.

a few more cute banters & things we learn about gale and his new teaching position:

tara swipes at students who fall asleep in gale's classes, which he himself doesn't mind. he, too, slept through some of them (like his calishite lessons):

Player: Perhaps that's a good thing. I'm sure they're far better students than I was... Gale: Ah, so you still remember our little lesson? devnote: A little bit bashful, it was a vulnerable moment for him Gale: 'Teaching' you was hardly an effort at all. Not like my present cohort of apprentices. devnote: Complimentary, pulling the thought back to the teaching element after getting lost in the memory of the moment Gale: They try their best, of course - when they can manage to stay awake. devnote: Not upset by this - he slept through his fair share of classes as a student Tara the Tressym: The cheek of them! Nothing a well-placed swipe from Tara can't fix, though.

2. gale offered to teach more subjects than illusion via simulacra:

Player: Only a professor? With your expertise, I'd have thought you could teach every kind of magic going... Gale: I did offer, as a matter of fact. devnote: Secretly glad the player thinks so highly of him Gale: However, the Blackstaff insisted I couldn't teach every subject, nor could the simulacra of myself I offered to create for that purpose. devnote: Reluctantly accepts that this was the right decision Gale: So, I've settled for teaching the art of illusion. Magic to confound the senses, to render the impossible into reality, and to allow expression of that most magical attribute of all - imagination. devnote: Selling it a bit - he wants to make sure you appreciate how cool this is

3. gale has told his students about the player's adventures and will invite a player to be a guest lecturer:

Player: I found the love of my life. I'd say I'm pretty happy. Gale: And I couldn't be happier for you. A fitting reward for the sacrifices you made in getting here. Gale: I've told my students plenty of tales about our escapades. You're something of a hero to them, you know. Gale: I'd be delighted to introduce you to my current cohort - as a guest lecturer, perhaps? I'm sure they'd have plenty of questions for you. Player: It would be my pleasure. Gale: Excellent. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist the allure of sharing your expertise. Gale: Of course you'll be most welcome to stay with me in my tower- Tara the Tressym: Ahem. Gale: My apologies, Tara. That would be our tower.

4. his students find him somewhat intimidating due to his backstory with mystra and the orb:

Gale: Well, that was quite lovely. I'm glad you're as pleased to see me as I am you. Gale: I have to say, I'm quite grateful to just be 'Gale' for the evening. Gale: I fear my students find me somewhat intimidating, due to my erm, explosive former reputation. I seem to put the fear of the gods into them. devnote: He plays up to his reputations a bit, so he isn't overly surprised Gale: Or the fear of Mystra, to be more specific. Gale: I surrendered the Crown of Karsus to her, as I told you I would. And in return, she cured me of the orb at last. Gale: Even now, I struggle to put the feeling into words. It was like exhaling for the first time, after holding my breath for so very long. Gale: Of course, I haven't clarified with my students that the orb is no longer a threat. The legend of my explosive capabilities is an excellent means of controlling a classroom. Too good, if anything.

5. he wants to teach his students that there is fun in studying magic:

Gale: I spend most of my time trying to convince them how much fun the study of magic can be, but it'd be easier to crack a smile on an intellect devourer than some of my pupils... devnote: Despairing a little, doesn't understand why they aren't all as passionate as he was Player: Or on a mind flayer, perhaps... Gale: Smiling may no longer come easy to you, but I've seen how your tentacles twitch at my jokes. Even the ones I'm not entirely certain I was trying to make... devnote: Last sentence a tiny bit self-conscious, aware that people sometimes find him ridiculous. Gale: Still, I hoped my students might be a little more open to the playful side of such magic.

anyhow, i hope this was insightful to someone! 🖤

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 patch 5 spoilers #bg3 meta #ch: gale dekarios #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3

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strawberrystepmom · 21 days

Text

gojo x f!reader. cw food (they’re eating ice cream and reader enjoys *glass shatters* mint chocolate chip). fluff, established relationship, feelings etc. | wc 901, divider thanks to cafekitsune!

Sitting thigh to thigh with Satoru on a park bench not far from your home, the two of you decided to take a bit of leisure time to yourselves. The sweets in your hands were a must according to him and now that you’re sitting to enjoy them, you have to admit that he was correct.

“When I was eight, I told my mom I wanted to marry ice cream someday,” you sigh after scooping a spoonful in your mouth.

The anecdote makes you feel a little embarrassed to share though you recall it easily. Sitting next to her in her car, merrily enjoying the mint chocolate chip scoop topped cone in your little hand, on a day not entirely unlike the mid-spring one you’re enjoying now. You meant every word of it, as big of a lover back then as you are now, even for the inanimate and edible.

“You treat me like I’m ice cream sometimes so maybe you were right.”

He wiggles his eyebrows salaciously, the motion visible over the tops of his sunglasses. You giggle and playfully swat at him, careful to keep your cup and spoon steady. The reference to your pension for enjoying licking every inch of him (as if he doesn’t have the same proclivities...) you possibly can warms your cheeks and you scoop a bite from your cup and into your mouth to cool yourself down, a pleased hum further grabbing his attention.

The two of you aren’t married, not quite yet, but he has told you for years that you will be. It’s you or no one as far as he’s concerned, well aware he’s going to live an easy lifetime listening to that same pleased sigh on repeat for years to come.

“Do that again?”

You scoff and roll your eyes although there is no bite to it. The ability to roll with the punches is one of the things he has always enjoyed the most about you. There is an innate playfulness to you that perfectly compliments his own even though you may pretend to be Miss Serious when the mood strikes you.

Like right now.

“Stop being gross and enjoy this beautiful day, Satoru.

He plays off your displeased warning with a laugh, tossing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him. It really is a treat to get to spend this time with him during the daylight hours considering how busy both of your schedules tend to be thanks to, well, the whole sorcery thing and the sun illuminates him enough you can almost see a halo around the top of his head.

This world is beautiful because he’s in it, you think to yourself.

Dreamily, you sigh and glance down at your thighs instead of looking at him which would only further your lovesick feeling. Your heart is so full it feels it may pop like a balloon, a sign you need to let out what you’re thinking about.

“You know, sometimes I think about anything I loved before you and that love feels so shallow.”

That is not what he was expecting you to say. Satoru’s eyes widen and he tilts his head, puffing out air loudly.

“You loved something before you met me? What a betrayal.”

The smile on your face dims and your posture tightens while you turn your face away from him. He has seen you in every vulnerable state a person can be in - naked and clothed, sick and well, broken and whole. Even if you withdraw, he will always bring you back. This time is no different.

Gojo reaches for you, turning your face toward him with his free hand.

“No no no, come back here. I was just kidding.”

His fingers rest against your jaw and his thumb runs over the round of your cheek and your sour look fades in an instant. There are many things you loved before him, people too, and though it stings to know your feelings weren’t preserved until the day he landed in your life he smiles at you softly. From the day he admitted his feelings to you years ago, you were his and his alone. There’s no use in being jealous now and whatever remains of the bitter taste dies within him when he looks at your face and leans over to glance into your cup.

“So are you saying you love me more than ice cream?”

Giggling, you tap his nose with the handle of the wooden spoon in your hand.

“I’m saying that I love you more than anything that has come before or after you at the very least.”

“Then I’ll take this as a sign you don’t want that then.” Reaching for your ice cream, he wiggles his fingers and you hold it out of his grasp with a laugh. “No,” you feign annoyance and sigh loudly. “But I’ll share it with you.”

Reaching into your cup you pull out a scoop and feed it into his open, waiting mouth. He dramatically hums his pleasure, bundling his hands against his chest and shaking slightly. It’s a ridiculous move but you can’t help but laugh at him, reaching for another scoop in to feed him again.

“I love you too, by the way.” He adds after accepting the second bite, mouth still half full and cold. Nodding with a soft smile, you know he always will.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #kendall writes #satoken #he’s the loml………..thank u for understanding me during this difficult time

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sovietpostcards · 7 months

Text

Russian State Library

The biggest library in Russia and one of the biggest in the world. It was designed in late 1920s, soon after the birth of the new Soviet state, and fully finished in the 1950s. In includes 4 buildings and one 19-floor book repository. There are several reading halls, a cafe, and a whole bunch of book-filled nooks and crannies.

I'm writing this post sitting in the library's biggest reading hall - Reading Hall No. 3. It was opened in 1957 and still retains most of the original furniture and design (only there are now individual power sockets in every desk). Most of the tables are occupied by people with books and laptops. It's very quiet.

The book depository is a huge building that rises high above everything else in this historical area. It had 10 floors originally, each 5m high, but later it was divided into 19 smaller floors. We visited one of the floors. I was impressed to see that the windows are made out of Falconnier glass blocks (made specially for the library in Gus Khrustalny).

There are two automated delivery systems in the library: one delivers readers' orders into the depository (pneumatic tubes) and the other delivers books back to the reader (monorail). We had a chance to see both of them in action, very impressive! They also kept a bit of the old book delivery system that worked from 1953 until 2015. I saw it on pictures before, and it was great to see the granny in real life. :) There are a lot of "grannies" in the library, from the green lamps to rotary phones to wall clocks. The pneumatic tube system has been in place since 1975. People whose job is to preserve books are very likely to preserve everything else.

I loved this anecdote. In one of the reading halls, there's a big painting of Lenin (pictured below). Apparently it was put in place in mid-1950s to cover the bas-relief that was there originally. On the bas-relief there are Karl Marx, Friedrich Engels, Vladimir Lenin and Joseph Stalin. After Stalin's death in 1953 and debunking the cult of personality, images of him were quickly removed from everywhere. The library, being true preservers of history, kept theirs but covered it up. It just shows what kind of people librarians are. :)

Although the library is working on running a full digital catalogue of all their 48 million items, if you want access to older editions you'll probably need to use the old paper card catalogue. The room gave me major nostalgy - I remember using this kind of catalogue in my local library when I was a kid. The sound of pulling out a narrow box, then the little built-in table, going through the cards one by one, writing down what you need on library cards. It was a whole process! Of course, the local library's catalogue was WAY smaller.

A few more shots of interiors. Although the building itself was designed in 1920s (during the era of avantgarde and art deco), the interiors were mostly done in 1950s when the main design style was neo classicism.

I enjoyed this tour immensely, so much so that I had to go back and get a library card so I can see more of it, sit in every reading hall and drink a cup of tea in the marble hall cafeteria. Also, the idea of 48 million books at the tip of my fingers makes me giddy. Thank you to my followers for the monetary support and making this real for me: K. T., H. W., T. B., m., @depetium, @transarkadydzyubin, S. R.

#it's a great place to work #i wrote this post finally #libraries #russia

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irndad · 2 months

Note

Flower prompt request for Spencer Reid please!!!

Arbutus combined with Freesia.

And if you wanna add in something suggestive or downright filthy, there will be no complaints! (Or just a heartfelt fluff fest)

Thank youuuuu! (Will totally understand if you aren’t interested though!)

-🌕

hi!! this is sfw but here u go!! i hope you enjoy!! requests r open <3 flower prompts

Something’s wrong with her.

Not wrong, of course. Quite the opposite, really. She looks beautiful, a swipe of a purplish red on her pretty lips, a cowl neck dress wrapped around her form like a well-made glove. She’s a vision, and he adores looking at her- he doesn’t get the chance as often as tonight. While they get the chance to talk on the plane (when no one else is sleeping) or at the bar after cases, but this- this is an entire night she’s spent by his side.

He normally doesn’t like when the FBI does these galas, but they’re fundraising, and now his beautiful coworker who’s a little more than that is drinking rosé out of a thin stemmed wine glass. He adores the sight of her.

“You okay?” He hears himself say, and there’s a beat of silence before she looks up from her beverage, and smiles a false grin at him.

“Right as rain, Spencer.” She grins back at him, leaning back on the table they were standing by.

“You’re acting different,” he says, “You’ve been quiet, and you seem distant from the team. You didn’t have any of the cupcakes Penelope brought in, either.”

“I didn’t want too much sugar in the morning!”

“Now, that is a lie.” He finds himself smiling at her when he says it. Things move naturally with her, have a flow of conversation that takes no effort, only gentle enjoyment.

She really does look so pretty. This is a factual thing Spencer has noticed- a fact of her that he would be blind not to see. It’s evolutionarily advantageous to want to look at beautiful things. It doesn’t mean anything.

She sighs fondly down into her glass, her breath causing ripples in the wine.

“Can I tell you something?” She says, and it shocks him. He feels a bit like an insider, and adores the feeling of being on the inside of a secret of hers. He’d like to be someone she tells things to.

He nods, awaiting with baited breath.

“I went out with this guy who’s here tonight.

Suddenly he doesn’t feel so warm.

Except, it shouldn’t bother him- they’re not dating. She’s beautiful, all soft lines and curve, lovely blooming smiles and kind-heartedness, and he’s a pipe cleaner with eyes. It’s not a thought he’s entertained-

But still, in this moment, Spencer’s not blind to the image they’re projecting. Hanging back at a party, low lighting and hushed conversation, her in a beautiful dress and him in a rented tux- he could see how someone could mistake the two of them for- for something.

Did he want that?

“Spence?” She shakes him out of his thoughts, warm tone punctuated by her adorable head tipping to the side. Had she always been that adorable?

“Sorry, sorry,” he rambles, “You went out with an FBI agent?” His tone is incredulous. She jokingly slaps his arm, and he fills with affection.

“Don’t be mean! It was literally one date, it was before I knew how obnoxious Agent Bennet was. Believe me, he made me realize about ten minutes in.”

She tells him the story of their first and only date, and while he is sure it’s full of anecdotes that are effervescent and hilarious, all he can think about is date with her, date with her, date with her.

He’d be on time, if they went out. He’d be well-dressed, put together and polite. She’s so lovely, so kind and so sweet and it’s only now he realizes that this is something he can want.

“So you’d go out with another federal agent?” It’s clumsy and awkward of a question, but it seems the only time it would ever be appropriate to ask it.

She shrugs, smiling at him.

“If it was the right person, sure.”

“And Bennett wasn’t?”

“No, I don’t think so. I like a different type of guy, you know. Kinda nerdy."

Even despite this, when Spencer spills his coffee on Bennett's legal pad the following week, he can't drum up even a little bit of remorse.

#spencer reid #spencer Reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic

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tojiwrd · 9 months

Text

the consequences of the voice in your head ; toji fushiguro

pairing toji fushiguro x fem!reader

summary it was easy to love toji but, sometimes, it was difficult to make peace with loving toji.

word count 4k

content warnings angstyyy, hurt/no comfort kind of, open ending kind of, grieving, self-loathing, comparing, lots of overthinking. toji's a good good dad, megumi's a lil ice hockey kid, naoya and toji r civil and almost friendly cousins in this

Breaking habits was difficult. Waking up on a Monday at seven in the morning was difficult. Love was difficult. These were all things you knew, and they always lingered in the back of your mind ready to put their claws into any thought that questioned why? Daybreak came and went everyday, sunlight got chased away by silver streams of moonlight, and these thoughts—no, facts—remained asleep, waiting for the moment to pounce onto the occasional question that flitted across your mind: why was love difficult?

You knew there was no true answer; there was no prose you could read written by a qualified doctor on WebMD that told you exactly why love was difficult. It just was. You could ask friends, family, and even strangers on the street and they could give you an answer that, in their own circumstance, ranging from calm to increasingly tumultuous, was true. But you could never get an answer for yourself from anybody but yourself. Perhaps breaking habit was difficult for Toji Fushiguro because he had learned that love—not the fleeting kind that you have when you meet a one-night-stand and immediately feel like the stars had aligned that night for the two of you, only to feel near to nothing for them until they turn into a silly anecdote—could only happen once, with one person.

For you, breaking habits was difficult because when you were thirteen, your friend handed you a cigarette and said once you get used to it, it’s akin to the feeling of laying on your bed and the duvet is warm to the bone on a chilly day.

Waking up on a Monday at seven in the morning was difficult for you probably because as soon as your eyes flickered open, you would see Toji staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows with a rueful look on his features. The first time you’d seen this image was the morning after you, Toji, and little Megumi Fushiguro moved into your new place. It brought a smile to your face, the kind of smile that is only worn by a person when they admire somebody when they aren’t looking. That was until he opened his palms and stared down at his fingers, right hand coming up to softly brush the empty ring finger. He’d bit his lip slightly, and you just about missed him from seeing you awake, before he reached down to the pocket of his plaid blue sleep shorts you’d gifted him and pulled out a ring—the ring, you’d realized—and placed it on the empty finger he was focused on.

You had beat yourself up over witnessing him having a moment as private as that for the next week without his knowledge, but there was truly no way to bring it up to him afterwards organically.

You could say, “Hey! I actually saw you put on your ring from your last marriage on your finger that morning when you thought I was asleep.” But that would, in nearly every case, not go down well.

Toji had told you, though, why this had grown into a Monday morning ritual. Well, he didn’t exactly tell you that he woke up a few minutes before you to reminisce about his late wife and their marriage, but you’d put the pieces together like you always did. Apparently, Toji’s late wife would always wake up early on Monday mornings and prepare an otherworldly breakfast for herself, Toji, and Megumi; she claimed it started off the week right, and it always made four-year-old Megumi more inclined to wake up on Mondays. In hindsight, perhaps it was silly that you clung onto that little tidbit Toji had told you in passing when Megumi brought it up, but when you saw him wake up on Monday mornings and start his day off by playing a video reel encased in his mind of Megumi’s mother, Megumi, and himself, it was difficult for you to feel comfortable by your presence around him on Mondays. Still, it was hardly Toji’s fault for missing somebody he’d spent years with who got taken away from his life so suddenly.

You were just overthinking like you always did.

A Thursday in late June marked one year since you had been living with Toji. A year of going to sleep next to him and waking up with him there. It was a silly anniversary, and you weren’t going to mention it for it would most likely garner confused looks from the Fushiguro’s, but you still decided to cover the dining table with a variety of well-enjoyed foods between the three of you.

There was a small photo-frame that stood in an arbitrary corner of the table where nobody sat. It was a small, old digital camera picture of you, Toji, and Megumi on a lake and camping trip your friends had dragged the three of you to. It was simple; Toji was sitting on a log, five-year-old Megumi between his legs who grinned wildly with a s’more in his hand, and you sat next to Toji with your head leaning on his shoulder. Your friend had gifted it to you on a random Tuesday, and when you smiled so wide at her, she embarrassedly brushed you off and said, “The person who printed this said there’s a discount if I get two pictures printed for the price of one. I just thought the picture of me and my husband would look good with you and your… Toji.”

Neither Toji nor Megumi had seen the picture. Well, not until the moment Toji walked in with a sweaty Megumi wearing his junior league hockey uniform. Megumi was babbling about the delicious smell until he saw the new addition to the table (after cooing at the takoyaki from his favorite restaurant and telling his father he knew he could smell it while they pulled into the driveway) and picked up the frame with his growing, stubby fingers.

“Is this from Lake Ashi?” he asked excitedly, eyes tracing every corner of the picture as if he was recounting the exact moment it was taken. When you nodded, he said, “I had such a good time there!”

You smiled, and ruffled his dark locks before retracting your hand and saying, “Go shower!”

He stuck out his tongue at you before he ran upstairs, saying something about how nobody can start eating until he’s back.

You walked to Toji who was watching the scene play out from the other end of the table and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Hey, how was your day?” You grinned slightly as your body melted against his frame, a strange sense of euphoria enveloping you even though you’d only been apart for a day.

His arms wrapped around your waist and he bent down slightly to peck your lips. “Thrilling. I watched a bunch of seven-year-olds run around ice with sticks longer than them.”

“Sounds like a fun time,” you replied, nuzzling into his chest, right against the soft thumping of his heartbeats.

“What’s the good food for today?” he asked, stepping away from your hold and scanning the dishes on the table with a puzzled expression.

You smiled teasingly. “Why? Do I not make good food everyday?”

He snorted, and you concluded that the way he looked at you then was with love. The usual deep set of his brows were relaxed as he reached over to you and flicked you on the forehead. Lovingly. “I cook all the meals because the last time you tried, there was a fire alarm and the entire building had to evacuate.” He paused, staring at you while you opened your mouth to stop him from continuing. He beat you to it, though, by saying, “At four in the morning, too.”

“Me and Megs wanted a late-night-snack,” you argued playfully, slapping his bicep.

“That you ended up getting in a 24 hour convenience store after running the entirety of the fire department and residents wild.”

“Semantics,” you brushed him off. Walking over to the plates, you started scooping portions and placing it on the plate until you remembered Megumi’s demand.

Your body unconsciously carried you to the photo frame and you picked it up, smiling slightly. Toji walked to stand beside you, his eyes uncharacteristically focused on the slightly overexposed picture. His fingers reached to pull it out of your hands and you didn’t stop him when he walked to the small ledge above the (fake) fireplace to place it between the small collection of Megumi photographs. It was a small gesture, but it was more than you could ever ask for.

Your mind skipped over the fact that all the other photos on the ledge were either taken by Megumi’s mother (five of them were) or had her in them holding Megumi (two of them did). Although whenever your friends had come over to your place, they’d cautiously asked you if you truly are OK with keeping pictures of his late wife in your living room and you’d always said that you were perfectly fine with it. Honestly, it was never your intention to erase her from their lives because, after all, she was Toji’s wife and Megumi’s mother. There was no erasing her, and that was fine whether or not you had a place in their lives.

When you came home from work the next evening, the house was relatively quiet.

You walked into the living room, feet aching from having to wear short-stump heels but, still, heels all day. Every single day at your job as an editor for a magazine made you question whether or not you truly had the skill to walk around heels, even short-stump ones. But once again, the feeling of taking them off with delicacy because you were afraid the rough insides would scrape the parts of your skin your sock didn’t cover gave you a feeling of triumph. You were convinced that the day you come home without the visceral urge to shred the dark pieces of footwear into pieces would be the day you could claim you were invincible.

You didn’t call out to Toji because you figured he was probably with Megumi, shopping and whatnot, doing simple father-son activities. He hadn’t texted you all day, and the little demon slithering through your thoughts wanted you to overthink (like you always did) and go berserk. But you had learned to tame that little demon (severely distracting yourself by doing anything and everything).

When you had changed out of your work clothes, showered under a moderately warm stream of water, and thoroughly washed your face to stave away the office particles, you sat down on the couch expecting a text from Toji. It was nine in the evening, and it was dark outside. He had never gone this long in a day without dropping you a text, even if it was just a word, and you weren’t wrong for expecting it. Breaking habits was difficult.

When you scrolled through your missed notifications and scrolled past your friends’ messages, making a mental compartment in your mind to reply to them later, you were surprised to find that Toji had, in fact, not texted you but Naoya Zen’in had. Toji’s cousin. It was simple, short, lighthearted, and it read:

missed you today!

It could have been Naoya texting the wrong person (it wouldn’t be the first time) but an itch in your mind told you it wasn’t.

It was simple, short, and lighthearted. You were surprised at how quickly the bubbles appeared on his side of the chat; you barely had time to exit the screen before he’d replied:

the stupid zen’in dinner is boring without you there to annoy toji

he said you were feeling sick tho. feel better

It was rude not to reply, but it was ruder for you to find out this way. Find out what, exactly? That Toji had simply not wanted you to go to the once-in-a-while Zen’in family dinner you had been to a grand total of one time. That was one incident you always pushed to the back of your mind—something you couldn’t do with the Monday morning incident(s) because they always played out in front of you, never missing a week—because if you thought about it too much, you would end up shattering your entire heart and it would all be your own, unstoppable mind’s doing.

Toji wasn’t the one to invite you to dinner last year. Surprisingly, the callous cousin who had manifested in the form of a breaker of peace today was the one to invite you. Your boyfriend had his jaw clenched throughout the entire interaction, and you were sure it was because Naoya wasn’t meant to meet you. You had been at his apartment while Megumi was in school to spend time with him when Naoya burst into his cousin’s home through the spare emergency key Toji had hesitantly given him. It started with Toji yelling at his cousin that it is actually rude to barge into someone’s house without knocking and that the rule applied even if they were cousins and yes, it still applied after they had come closer after being distant and despising each other their entire childhoods. It progressed to you making tea for Naoya that burnt his tongue and Toji telling him that you are no good with anything that heats up. It ended with Naoya bringing up the dinner and how he, too, was introducing his girlfriend (now his wife) to the family and it would be lovely for you to be there, too. He’d said something about divided fire.

The dinner itself was what you could call pleasant. You met his family and they were as civil as they could be surrounded by many people who are related to them. The entire time, though, Toji was bouncing his leg up and down and brushed off your hand when you tried to stop him.

You do remember his mother had said something to you that ticked Toji off, and it wouldn’t take a mastermind to figure out why.

“You’re the perfect girl to have as a daughter-in-law, dear.”

Truthfully, you hadn’t realized that Toji would see her words and level its severity higher than you would. That was why after the longest hand of the clock ticked thrice and his chair scraped against the floor when he stood up and walked away wordlessly, you were shocked.

You assumed that, today, Naoya had taken his wife to the Zen’in dinner. You could have texted her to confirm, but you knew. And you weren’t sure if you had any right to be mad at Toji over this.

When you walked over to the television next to the (fake) fireplace, you noticed something missing. You knew it was missing because despite it only having been a day, you had looked at the picture of the three of you on that ledge for so long the night before when Megumi was fast asleep and Toji was immersed in a book and the image of the scene had been ingrained into your mind. It was somewhere beside the habits, Mondays, and love compartment.

The picture wasn’t there.

And the only trace in the living room of you being a part of Toji and Megumi’s life had vanished as soon as it materialized. It was just a picture, but it was the first one that you had brought out in the house. Toji was the one to keep it between the other pictures, and he was the one who took it off, too. You understood second-thoughts, and you knew he probably had strong feelings about it but it still hurt. It was akin to being handed candy as a kid then having it taken away from you after the first bite.

You had been heartbroken before, but the way your heart sank into a cold abyss was a feeling you had never experienced before. You weren’t sure if this was your heart breaking or the tendrils of a boyfriend-girlfriend argument sowing its way into the universe and you were just the first to realize it. It had been a year and a day in this apartment you were convinced turned into a home over that time. A year and a day since you and Megumi began collecting stickers from the different stores you went to and stuck to the corners of his whiteboard. A year and a day since you and Toji woke up with each other in the same room after a night of you tossing and turning, coming to almost-there consciousness when Toji would steal the blanket back from you and pull you into his warm embrace because you had a tendency to hog it.

The door clicked and you weren’t sure when you had gone back to the couch and began wordlessly staring at the ledge. You weren’t sure when this house stopped feeling like home for you, despite your best efforts to make it one. You weren’t sure if it ever was because there were no pictures of you, Toji, and Megumi in the living room.

You barely noticed Megumi coming towards you, pressing a slobbering kiss against your cheek and mumbling, “So tired. Gonna go to bed now. Goodnight.”

When Toji was the only presence you could feel—not see, because you were sure that seeing him would ruin you when you were in this state—in the room, you continued questioning whether or not you could get upset at him over this.

So, you said simply, “I haven’t had dinner yet.”

You heard him sigh softly. When he came to sit next to you and say, “Sorry, love. ‘Gumi’s practice ran late.” You knew Toji, so you knew he probably thought it was overkill to use his son for this lie.

It was like a time bomb was ticking, and you were the time bomb.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and he was sweet. It made you think, for a hitch of a moment, that he cared. And you knew he did. Care, you mean. Just not in the way you had convinced yourself he did. It might’ve been your fault because you always saw Toji as your boyfriend when, in harsh, world-turning reality, Toji was just your boyfriend.

You have had many boyfriends over your lifetime, so what prompted you to believe Toji was anything more serious? Just because Toji came with a past baggage that weighed just about what you could help him carry and an adorable, hockey-loving seven-year-old kid? Because he moved in with you? People move in together all the time. Hell, you lived with a girl you only spoke to when you had to make a cleaning schedule for the room back in university for a year.

“No,” you replied truthfully.

In that moment, you were scared of how this interaction would end but you were more scared of how the words you carefully locked away in your mouth had been tampered with by some universal force and were just about to come out.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. You finally turned around to look at him, and you didn’t realize you had stared over every inch of his face, as though memorizing it to a tee. He seemed to realize that, too, because his fingers fished for your hands and suddenly your hands were warm. Under his touch.

“I haven’t had dinner.” You were sure the words would come rampaging out of your mouth, ready to strike blows at Toji where it hurt, but you were reduced to a mere shell within now and the minute you saw Naoya’s text.

“Baby?” he asked and it hurt. “D’you want me to make you something? I can. Whatever you want.”

“How was dinner?” you asked, and you wanted to make yourself believe you weren’t waiting for a ‘ha, got you!’ moment, but you weren’t perfect.

“We just stopped by the convenience store to get some food.” You hated that he was lying because if you didn’t know the truth, you’d believe him. Toji, you realized, was good at lying.

“Naoya texted me,” you said, shaking your head as if you were trying to get rid of any thoughts.

“What?”

“Naoya texted me. Said he missed me at dinner.” At this point, you knew Toji could see the cracks in your facade.

Toji didn’t reply for a moment, and you felt like you both were blessed with the silence you needed for a moment. You weren’t prepared, you didn’t have a set of bullet points you wanted to discuss with him like you usually did when you were at odds. No, this time you were discussing everything you always omitted from those bullet point lists; they were off-the-table because you knew they would do more harm than good. They would break the cycle of a comfortable relationship.

“I didn’t think you wanted to go,” he said, sighing as he squeezed your hands lightly.

You exhaled sharply. “Please don’t lie, Toji.”

“I mean it—”

“Please don’t lie.” If you weren’t aware of Megumi upstairs, you probably would’ve raised your voice an octave higher. Just because you felt like you had to. But as you pleaded with him, your words came out soft, delicate, and a complete contrast to the red, hot, fiery anger taking space through your veins.

“I didn’t want you to go,” he admitted.

You had never been stabbed, but you were sure this is close to what it would feel like. “Why?” you croaked out.

“My family, they’d start asking about when we’ll get married and… yeah. Jus’ didn’t want the hassle.”

“Will we?” You didn’t think before you spoke.

“What?”

“Get married.”

“What?”

You changed the topic swiftly because truly, you didn’t care about getting married to Toji. As long as you had him and he had you. “Where’s the picture, Toji?”

“What picture?” Surprisingly, he sounded almost OK with talking to you and didn’t curl into himself like he usually did whenever topics such as this almost arose. Almost, because they never completely did.

You felt like you were breaking an unwritten rule.

“You know what picture.”

“I kept it in the room, Y/N,” he said, sounding as though he was treading carefully. As though you were a hibernating bear, ready to pounce.

This shouldn’t be hard. Love shouldn’t—

“Why?” you whispered, closing your eyes as you felt the salty wetness build up.

He didn’t respond, and you weren’t patient.

“Why, Toji?—”

“Because it didn’t belong there.”

You wanted to laugh. He might as well have kicked you and knocked the air out of your lungs because the latter did happen. You found it hard to breathe under his stare, his nostrils flaring in annoyance the way they did.

You didn’t want to ask why, because you knew why. You understood why, and you wished you could be blind to human emotion, to human flaws and errors because it would be a lot easier to walk away from this with the feeling that he was wrong and you were right.

When you stood up, your joined hands pulled away, too. If you weren’t as cynical as you were in that moment, you probably would’ve thought it was symbolic. Because a part of you was slowly pulling away from him, too. And love can be hard, you realized and accepted once again, but it doesn’t have to be dealt with all the time.

You weren’t sure if you could continue fighting constantly with the thoughts inside your head just so you could feel that Toji is here because he wants to be, and he’s not doing it while comparing you to his late wife. It was difficult to feel you being pushed away from him and his son’s life, even though it happened in the form of a photo frame from a small printing store. But maybe, just maybe, love shouldn’t be harder than you can handle.

“Do I belong here, Toji?” you asked, a sad smile forming on your lips.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #toji angst #toji fushiguro angst #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk toji #toji x you #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro #toji fluff #naoya zenin loml

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withleeknow · 1 month

Note

Can I req something for the milestone event with lee know using this prompt „time passes slower without you.”? ✨

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

patience is a virtue, everybody knows that.

you know it too. the only issue? patience is a virtue that you don't have.

you're an impatient person by nature, born with an inherent restlessness within your bones that keys you up more often than you'd like to admit. in school, you were always thinking about your next degree. with work, you're always thinking about the next big thing, the future position you'll hopefully land once you gain enough experience. you're always waiting for something else, constantly looking forward to the days ahead instead of living in the now. it's a personal flaw, you're well aware of this.

it happens when it comes to even the most mundane things. what cafe should you try next weekend, even if you're not even half done with the caramel macchiato you're holding in your hands? what movie should you watch next, even if the one playing on your tv screen hasn't gone into its second act yet?

your impatience already flares up on a daily basis, but it's even more amplified and unbearable whenever minho is away. it doesn't help that he's often gone for weeks, if not months on end. you're always counting down the days until he's back before he's even out the door.

"just one more week, yeah?"

his words hang heavy in the silence of your bedroom. your phone is on speaker, set against the pillow next to yours so you could pretend like he's here with you when you close your eyes. you try to facetime every day even if it's only for fifteen, twenty minutes. just to catch up on each other's day and at least see each other for a while before you go to sleep. it's bittersweet, being able to look at him and hear him talk but only from the digital void of your phone.

even though you tend to hide from him how you really feel, how much you actually miss him and wish for him to be back by your side, you think it must still bleed through from time to time. be it the subtle way your voice drops during conversation or how your eyes glaze over with sadness just a little bit when you stare at his handsome face for too long on video call.

you know minho is trying to comfort you. he wouldn't be a very good partner if he can't tell that his own girlfriend is having a hard time without him, would he? and it's not like you bitch and moan any chance you get. no, you always try to hide it from him because it's not his fault that he has to be away sometimes, not like he's choosing to leave you just for the fun of it.

you know his gentle reminder is meant to mitigate your ache, but it only makes you be more aware of how time doesn't seem to pass when he's not here. the clock stops ticking the second he's gone, and you feel like you have to drag yourself through every minute of every hour and repeat the process for days and weeks and months.

"one week is too long," you say quietly. "time passes slower without you."

seven days. one hundred and sixty eight hours. ten thousand and eighty minutes. it's practically nothing compared to the time that has already passed, but that doesn't mean that you get to miss him any less even though it's only a two-hour flight away.

minho doesn't really reply directly to what you said. instead, he tries to distract you with anecdotes of his day - like a funny looking pigeon he saw on the street earlier or a cute photo of soonie that his mom sent him. it works a little. he considers it a success when you crack a smile and giggle at his theatrics.

he keeps the conversation light until you're biting back a yawn and he knows it's time to let you get some rest. even when you're saying your goodnights, neither of you mention what day it'll be tomorrow. you're sure that in the morning you'll wake up to messages from him - not entirely poetic because it's not his specialty, but they'll still be infinitely and wonderfully sincere. you don't bring it up in case he feels guilty, and you think he doesn't bring it up because the reminder that he won't be here might make you sleep restlessly tonight.

you fall asleep with a little bit of a heavy heart, and wake up when the sound of your doorbell ringing fills your apartment at precisely 7:06am. the other side of the bed still cold and devoid of your minho, but it's not the first thing that you notice like you do every morning.

no, the first thing that you register today is the vivid discomfort of having your peace disturbed so early on when it should be a day that you get to spend feeling nothing but comfort and contentment. or at least, as content as you can get without minho here. you carry that irritation with you all the way to the front door, wild bedhead and all.

the door swings open.

you're a deer in the headlights and suddenly your displeasure is vanished, gone in a second like it was never there to begin with.

"surpriseee!"

a sheepish greeting.

you rub your eyes, then pinch yourself on the arm.

you're not really sure what happens next. it's all just a blur of tears and ugly sobbing as you launch yourself into his arms, almost making him knock into the suitcase that's still perched right beside him. the bouquet of peonies in his hand becomes an unfortunate victim as it falls to the floor after the impact, but minho leaves it be, in favor of holding you as tightly as you're holding onto him.

his fingers tangled in your hair, your arms wound around his neck securely like you're afraid you're still dreaming and he'll disappear if you let go. you don't question why he's here; you just accept that he is.

minho peppers warm kisses to your cheeks, your jawline, your forehead and your lips. it's graceless and it's damp from your tears but neither of you could bring yourself to care. he murmurs with an upward quirk of his mouth where he's pressing his smile to your lips, all affection, all love. "happy birthday, baby."

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#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know fluff #lee know angst #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #stray kids #lee know #lee minho

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doobea · 8 months

Text

BEHIND CLOSED QUARTERS - SAE ITOSHI

synopsis: Sae decides to find a roommate when he moves to Spain. Being physical with said roommate is the last thing he would expect to happen.

contents: in which he moves to Spain much later on, afab!reader, fem!reader is sexually active and extroverted, sae is just there vibing until he's not, explicit content (mentions of voyeurism, m!masturbation, f!masturbation, fingering, he calls u a slut once :( , vaginal penetration, unprotected whoops), strangers to fwb, kinda narration heavy, word vomity, mdni word count: 2.5K a/n: bro this is literally just pure smut and for my sae brain rot so look away >:(( @saeshimii i hope u enjoy this happy meal

Sae decides to move to Spain when he receives an exclusive club offer.

And since Madrid isn't exactly an affordable city, he decides to look for a roommate. He spends about a week looking for something within his price range and a place with a reasonable distance from his training grounds. Sae had set his preferences looking for someone who's neat, easy to communicate with, and has a similar schedule since he wakes up early. So, when he looks within those parameters, he stumbles upon your listing and sends you a message.

Sae had no issue with having a female roommate, not that it really matters, since he plans to spend most of his free time either out of the apartment or in his room. The two of you seem to stay cordial over emails, not overly creeped out by each other, and you promise that his room will be cleaned and ready to move into as soon as Sae lands in the country.

One thing that you did warn is that you often have hookups over, but you assure him that the bedrooms are far apart enough, with added insulation, that he shouldn't worry about the volume. Sae didn't care, you have every right to do whatever you wanted, just as long it didn't interrupt his own plans.

You're a lot more chatty in person, he thinks. Warm, welcoming, and likes to overshare a tad bit for his liking, but he doesn't stop you. You two spend the first night out in the streets of Madrid, out of your hospitality. Apparently, you are also temporarily living in Spain as part of a work transfer and have been living in the country for a little bit over a year now. So, for the first month, he approaches you for transit tips and local stops.

Afterward, Sae doesn't spend a lot of time with you through the following months because he's either training, playing for his team, or sleeping. As the new season approaches, the two of you will occasionally catch up through small talk over the dinner table, though it would mainly be you talking about the latest gossip at your work. Sae will soon take notice that you keep your intimate life rather private. Sometimes he'll catch a glance of an extra pair of shoes by the doorway when he gets up in the morning and, occasionally, he'll bump into your hookups in the hallway asking for directions to the bathroom. But, nevertheless, you keep the conversation rather PG and stick with anecdotes about your day.

It isn't until the second week of Spring that he accidentally catches you with one of your one-night stands. Sae would wake up on the living room couch in the middle of the night, oversleeping his daily one-hour nap due to fatigue from his recent matches, and try to retreat to his room located down the hallway past yours.

He freezes when he hears a loud, wet sound from your bedroom. Sae isn't the type to eavesdrop when not needed, especially when it comes to people outside of his very limited social circle. But he finds himself standing there and listens for a moment until he hears you moaning something to your latest partner.

"Slow down, not too hard. My roommate might hear us."

Sae wasn't sure why, but hearing you say that made him more flustered than he's ever gotten in his life. He's half debating whether or not to stay and listen, hands hovering over his awakening heat. Another stifled moan from you and Sae decides to throw the rest of his morals out the window. He's overheated, now fully aware that his length is coming to life alarmingly fast, his boxers now uncomfortably tight, and the hot mess of arousal churning in his stomach.

He shuts his eyes as another round of your moans emit behind the door, his hands immediately flying to his sweats, exposing his raging head to the cool air. Your moans are similar to the way you talk and laugh, loud and honest. They're not the overdone type of moans that he's heard from the few erotica videos he's seen — they're raw and real, which in itself makes it all more enjoyable than any sexual act he's ever witnessed.

He fists his length to the sounds of sloppy, wet thrusts and bites down his t-shirt to compress back his low groans. His mind wanders to the image of your naked body, head thrown back against the pillows, and legs spread for him and not the guy you were currently fucking. Sae might not have a high body count compared to the rest of his teammates, but he knows he can make your vocals twice as loud.

"—I'm close! So close!" Your sweet mewls make him physically shudder under his own touch as he pumps faster, trying to imagine the lewd expression you're currently making.

Sae finishes after what felt like an eternity when you finally succumb to your own end and he makes sure to not leave a mess right outside your door. He quickly wipes up the white slick on his stomach with his shirt and finally retreats to his room when he hears you asking the guy for a wet towel. Funny enough, Sae would've prepared everything beforehand to make sure that you didn't even need to ask.

Sae rolls onto his back in bed, hands coming up to cover his eyes as he heaves a heavy sigh at the action he's just committed. Guilty is what he should be feeling right now. But he's feeling everything but guilt. Maybe this is just what he needed.

The night slips into morning and, for some reason, catching you in the act helps loosen Sae's tongue. He brings it up over breakfast, as if he was announcing the weather, and watches your face go from bliss to embarrassment and to unashamed. Your shamelessness makes Sae feel a bit more comfortable.

"Care to repeat that again?"

Sae sips nonchalantly on his coffee and repeats, "Your one-night stand seemed threatened by me this morning." He replies cooly. Sae had bumped into him as he was getting ready for his daily jog. Apparently, your one-night stand was taken aback that you were living with a male. Let alone an athlete.

"Ah," You make it seem like it was expected and stir your own cup of coffee around. "He needs a lot of reassurance." You answer honestly.

"Maybe pick a better choice in partners." Sae lazily suggests and you merely laugh in response.

"And what about you? Have you been seeing anyone since moving here?"

Sae shakes his head. "Don't have the time or energy to."

Your eyes sparkle as you wave a playful finger in the air. "People always say to watch out for the quiet ones."

A half scoff escapes his lips, though the thought does run true in his case. "How about you watch out for the type of people you bring back here?"

You laugh heartily, "I'll keep it in mind."

Another month creeps by and Sae has gotten your sleeping pattern down to the bone. At least twice a week, you'll bring home someone around the time when you think he's asleep. After ten minutes, Sae would show up, back slack against your doorframe, with his throbbing arousal tightly wrapped around his grasp. He always makes sure to cum at the same time as you, which ranges from anywhere between fifteen minutes to almost thirty. Each time he's gotten better at timing his little escape before you notice that he was even there in the first place.

During some nights, when you didn't bring home a partner, he catches glimpses of you masturbating with your one of many vibrators. It appears that you become rather forgetful of locking your doors whenever you perform a solo act, but Sae doesn't mind it one bit. Not when he has the pleasure to catch you playing with yourself mindlessly through the slightest of cracks from the door.

He has gotten a loose general idea of where you like being touched, what names you like being called, and what positions you love being fucked in. All this information and imagery is stored deeply in his brain all while he loves pretending to be the aloof, innocent roommate the very next morning.

That is until you catch him one night.

Sae had been too caught up in his own little built-up pleasure that he didn't hear your footsteps until it was too late. You swing the door open, poised in a tank top and pair of white cotton panties, and almost shriek at the sight of him pumping his arousal away. Keyword: almost.

"I knew it was you."

Again, Sae believes he should be feeling guilty, now caught red-handed, that he's shamelessly jacking off to you, his roommate, but he doesn't. Because the sultry look that you flash him tells him all that he needs to know.

He lets you take a step forward. Your expression looks more beautiful and vulnerable than he could ever imagine from behind the walls. One tug at his collar and Sae finds himself bending easily at your beck and call, crashing into your lips in a suffocating kiss as if you've also been wanting this to happen. Instinctively, Sae's hands find their way to the curve of your hips and squeeze at your flesh down to the plump of your ass, all while pulling you roughly against his needy body.

You make a low sound of approval and rub your bare thighs against his probing length that's now wet with pre. Sae takes this sign to hoist you up in his arms, your legs automatically wrapping around his firm waist, and he smirks against your lips as you try and catch your breath. The journey to your bed is a short one. Once settled down, Sae discards his sweats fully and swipes off his shirt in a single motion before towering over your flushed figure. He feels like he could cum on the spot at just the sight of you, but where would the fun in that be?

"You're so fucking loud, you know that?" He practically purrs right against your ears, teeth grazing against your neck and hands wandering to your clothed chest.

You try and squeeze your legs together in return but Sae keeps them propped open. "Maybe I was putting on a show for you, ever thought about that?" You only wince in response as Sae nips playfully at your ear before marring your flesh with hickey after hickey along the line of your neck.

His hands leave your chest and tug your soaked panties down to your ankles. A sigh of relief rushes out of you as your dripping heat is exposed to the air. His mouth leaves contact with your neck. Sae wants to see your face, wants to desperately watch your face contort in pleasure as his fingers enter you for the first time. And you didn't disappoint.

"You're fucking soaked down there." Sae marvels at the sight of your entrance sucking his digits in with ease. "What a slut."

He flattens his palm against your throbbing clit with each thrust of his calloused fingers as they stretch out your twitching heat. The moans you make are incomparable to the muffled versions he's used to. They're broken, uncontrolled, intense, and undoubtedly louder than what your previous partners could do. To say he enjoys this sight is an understatement.

Sae might just become addicted to the way you squirm against his touch and how you leave bright, red crescent marks against his thighs. He loves feeling the muscles deep within you contracting around his digits at each probing motion. And, the best part? You crying out his name.

"Sae—Sae, please!"

His voice is unforgiving as he pulls out, almost grinning at the lewd, wet sounds from your slit. "Not yet."

A desperate whimper slips from your parted lips as Sae slowly and deliberately rolls his erection forward, just barely brushing across the heat of your entrance, hands now finding solitude on your thighs.

"Ask me nicely," Sae whispers. "I'll make sure to take care of you."

You lose your last remaining composure under him, tears pool at the ends of your eyes, and you throw your arms around his neck in a frantic motion. "Please make me cum. Fuck me like you hate me."

A dark glint flutters across his eyes. "That's it." Sae holds the back of your head to keep your mouth planted against his, muffling your loud cry when he slides into you, stretching your heat slowly. "I'm going to take care of you and make sure you only think about me."

Your legs wrap around his hips, ankles crossing at the bottom of his back and tightening ever so slightly to keep him as deep as possible. You manage to mumble out his name like a prayer, "You make me feel so full."

A single snap from his hips knocks the air out of you. Soon, the only sounds filling the bedroom are of your wet slick masked with the hoarse rasps from your throat. He presses his lips against your collarbone, then up your neck until your mouths are crushed together in a desperate attempt of thrashing tongues and lips.

Sae feels one of your hands tug at his locks and the other claws at his back. He can tell that you're close. Sae pulls away from the kiss and removes the hand behind your head and lets it slip between your bodies, thumb immediately finding solitude on your swollen nerve. He presses down gently and rubs it in circles until your whole body is arching under him.

"Go on ahead," Sae coos and traces a free hand across the curves of your cheeks. "Go and cum for me. Make a mess."

Your entire body tightens as you give out a final cry of his name into his shoulder, nails sinking deep into his skin that he's almost positive that it broke skin. With your arousal pulsing around his length, Sae's thrusts soon become erratic, throwing away his calculative motions and judgments as his final movements are nothing but punishment into your dripping entrance and he spills, painting your fleshy insides in strips of white.

You're a mess. Hair in disarray, drool seeping out of the corner of your gaping lips, eyes half-lidded, and tears of pleasure streaming down your flushed face. Sae thinks it's beautiful that he can make you like this.

He pulls out almost immediately, watching as his seed pours from your slick folds and spills down your thighs and onto the bedding. Sae doesn't give you a chance to talk, because he knows exactly what you're going to say next. Within a few seconds, Sae returns from the bathroom with a warm, damp towel and gently starts cleaning up the combined mess at your entrance.

He thinks if he's going to spend his next few years in Spain, he might as well spend it like this.

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