#and i listened ‘His Resolution’ and MAN

[alphaketoglutaricacid]

when toshiro got on laios ass for being inconsiderate and never thinking about how his actions affect others like he was mean abt it but hes not wrong. Thats a pretty major character flaw and a pattern of behavior for laios — w not choosing jobs that made money for namari who is in a pretty dire financial situation where she cant even get off the island and has to go adventuring in the dungeon to get out of debt, who even explicitly brought this up, eating marcilles familiar immediately even tho she was attached to it, kidnapping shuro into his party and putting him in life threatening situations without like really checking he wanted to be there…?, wanting to see if izutsumi has more than one set of nipples when dehumanization is a HUGE huge issue for her the list goes on and on and on. Like when a friend does this to you its just kinda annoying but when ur the leader u really should be checking if everyones needs r met without them telling u. Like the autism plays a factor for sure, his cultural upbringing plays a factor for sure, but as ppl regardless I think u gotta step up to meet the needs of ppl in the moment or realize u shouldnt be calling the shots. just bc its influenced by factors out of ur control does not make it not a serious character flaw. And its written as such in the story.

[boatemboys]

hmm. wolf joel who docked his own tail so people can't see it wagging or tucking between his legs etc

[chososcutie]

⟡ ݁₊˚⊹ SWEETHEART, SORRY IM LATE, I WAS LOOKING EVERYWHERE FOR YOU ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

—𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ synopsis♡: when one fateful day leads to you being cursed, you go on a mission to find the infamous satoru gojo and his castle, but little do you know you’d find yourself in his bed later that night..

—𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ featuring♡: satoru gojo x reader

—𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ tags♡: unprotected sex, riding, oral (fem!recieving), mating press, praise, making out, p in v, cervix kissing, big dick gojo!

—𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ a/n♡: howl’s moving castle is my favorite studio ghibli film ever, so you already know i had to write a fanfic about it!

—𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ w/c♡: 4.5k

"oh, darling won't you come out of that hat shop with us, you're truly overworking yourself!"

you smile softly, eyes flickering over to where your expectant sisters stood watching you, before looking back at the vibrant purple hat you had been working on, threading through with flowers. "oh no, i couldn't. you all go ahead, though."

they giggle softly at your reply, already well-acquainted with your firm work ethics and habits of almost never leaving the shop, tossing a, "suit yourself!" over their shoulders.

and as the door closes behind them, leaving you to stare at all of the colorful creations of caps littering your desk, you sigh, leaning back to take them all in.

maybe you had been working too hard..

being the eldest daughter of your family, you had been entrusted with the shop from a young age, making and sewing up hats for a living. it had been your father's, though now had been passed down to your mother, who had appointed you as an apprentice, although you were practically the only one who crafted and fabricated everything, and though the work was quiet and calming, it did tend to get rather boring at times.

the interior of the shop was tiny and just a bit cramped, every available surface being taken by assortments of feathery, patterned hats in almost every color. brown, old, and creaking rows of shelves surrounded your working area along with coatracks dipping under the weight of all the caps resting on them.

and though it wasn't much, it was yours.

you continued working for another hour, listening to the rickety clock on your wall tick tick tick away, with an impending sense of dull weariness.

was this all you were ever meant to do?

finally, you push back in your chair with a squeak! decidedly grabbing your hat and plucking it on your head, locking and closing the shop door with a resolute slam.

you would get out and see the town to clear your head. it wasn’t good to lock yourself away in the shop for too long, so you needed to breathe some fresh air before you started working again, and find some inspiration.

and so, you venture out through the hustle and bustle of crowded markets, trains whistling and blowing gray smoke as they chuff along, and the bumping of carriages along stoney paths.

the air grows thick with the amount of people thronging around you, spilling heedlessly in countless directions, and after more than one person gets in your way and abruptly stops, you huff, veering off toward a side alleyway.

it wasn't ideal but it would just have to..

bump!

“hey, what’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone? you lost, sweetheart?”

a slightly heavier set, blonde man leaned in front of you on a wall, blocking your path. he smiled down at you condescendingly, but it lacked any actual warmth, all teeth instead.

“n-no sir, i’m not lost.” you manage to stammer out, trying to duck past him, but seemingly out of nowhere his companion sidles up next to him, bumping his hip and peering down at you, his mean brown eyes and thick mustache seeming menacing in the dim lighting.

“you sure?” his friend snickers, one gloved hand reaching for your side and spinning you around to press against his chest, a sinisterly unfamiliar cologne surrounding and practically suffocating you with its intensity. “why don’t we show you the way home?”

“leave me alone!” you gasp out, trying to break free from their suddenly too-tight grip on you.

“there you are sweetheart, sorry i’m late, i was looking everywhere for you.”

your body stiffens as a large, warm hand comes to grasp gently at your wrist, tugging you away from the two men, and spinning you around to lay eyes on the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

his eyes were azure colored and half-lidded, his voice low and resonant throughout the empty alleyway. he was dressed extravagantly with a poofy white button-up and red and black pattered overcoat flowing loosely behind him, and as his eyes meet yours, something warm twinges in your stomach, the feeling spreading all down your body hotly.

his gaze flickers away to the men still stood there, as if noticing them for the first time, and something about him sharpens, voice noticeably colder. “oh? and what are you two doing?”

"hey, we were just.." the blonde one's voice raises indignantly, trying to pull you back to them with a hasty tug.

"leaving." the blue-eyed man behind you finishes, his other hand lifting to raise his pointer finger and slice it to the side, causing the two men to immediately break into a march, boots landing heavily as they stomp away in sync.

"wha.. how did you?" you stare up at him in wonder, his own flicking down to your face with a small little smirk tugging at his lips.

"magic. now hang on!"

before you can even reply, he's grabbing you by the hand, and lifting you effortlessly up, up, up, into the sky, floating alongside him high above the town, all the people below you seemingly tiny dots scattered around the vibrant landscaping.

"oh!" you exclaim, fearfully clinging onto him as you feel weightless, the air whooshing below and around you.

"straighten your legs, it's okay.." the white-haired man whispers to you playfully, hands curling protectively around you. "now, start walking andd.. see! you're a natural!" he laughs softly at your hesitant steps into the air, growing more confident as he holds you up with ease.

the ground becomes a blur as you match each other's steps, airily floating as if it were any other day, coasting in sync as colors whirl below you in a mess of banners and flags.

"so, where ya headed?" the man's sultry, honeyed tone interrupts you as you quickly turn to glance at him, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

"oh, i.. uh.. just the hat shop."

so much for your day out.

"hmm, a hat maker you are?" you follow his eyes to where they linger on your simple little sun hat adorned with red ribbon.

"something like that.."

he smiles as he glides over to the small overlooking balcony outside your workshop, helping you down easily, your wide eyes gazing up at him as he prepares to leave again.

"make sure to be more careful next time you're out, mmkay? not everyone around here is quite as gentlemanly as me." his tousled, snowy white hair billows around him as he grins down at you teasingly.

" 'kay.." you nod shyly, and he begins to back up, smile widening.

"good girl."

and blowing a kiss to you, he jumps back off the balcony, eliciting a small gasp from you as you instantly rush over to press yourself against it, straining for a better look.

but he's already gone, practically dissipated into thin air.

with a tired sigh, and a combing of your fingers through messy hair, you lock the door to your shop with a click! before slumping down to the floor.

it had been a long day, and just as you're starting to relax, you hear a small, telltale tinkling of the bell that hangs above your door, alerting you when new customers arrive.

"hello? sorry ma'am we're closed right now." you start to stand up, noticing the woman in front of you, her face slightly flushed and eyebrows scrunched, as if in anger.

her figure is awfully plump, with a round, chubbed neck and doughy arms that hang out of her dress like deflated balloons.

her makeup is done rather sharply, as if made to look intimidating with hooked eyeliner and boldly colored eyeshadow, all accompanied by rouge red lipstick and a mole on the side of her mouth.

"why, you!" she stops right in front of you, lifting her���many─chins to stare down the bridge of her flat nose at you. "it was you he was floating around with this afternoon?"

you stiffen. she couldn't possibly mean..

"that wretch!" she hisses angrily. "eleven miserable years of my life spent chasing him! and this is what he does?" she slams her hand down on the counter loudly, causing you to flinch.

"please leave now! we're closed!" you say, your voice taking on a more firm tone as you try not to tremble, straightening yourself up.

she wheels around at you then, as if having forgotten you were there, still rambling on with passion. "oh? standing up to the most powerful witch, are we?"

her overdone, puckered lips draw up into a sinister little grin as you start to back up, unsure of yourself now.

witch?

"since he likes you so much, let's see if you can win over my precious, when i haven't been able to in more than a decade!"

black oozing spirits erupt from her flabby form, rushing over to you as you stand agape, horrified.

"and if you don't manage to fully capture his fleeting heart, you will die!"

all of a sudden, a cloying murky fog drifts in the homey space of the shop, invading your every sense, and clogging your nose tightly.

"what..?" you gasp, but all at once, it surges over to you, enveloping you in its tepid humidity, your mouth gulping in thick heaves of it, pouring into your throat, mouth, eyes, and nose with tendrils extending out of you, like a possession of your very body.

and then.. all is silent as darkness settles upon you, save for the fading echoes of the evil witch's deep, resounding laugh booming throughout the night.

when you open your eyes again, peeking out through your fingers carefully, you don’t feel different, with the exception of a vague, lingering sense of fear.

you were still plain ol' regular you, the you that stayed in working all day and turned down invitations to go out, opting to sew hats instead.

but something was.. off.

what had happened last night to make you so dazed, and memories so jumbled up?

and then, as quickly as it had been evading you, it all comes rushing back─ the man who had floated you into the air as if in a dream, the witch appearing, the sound of her cackle as she cursed you..

when you think back on the specifics of the spell she had cast however, you feel yourself pale, hands falling to your sides limply.

you were supposed to make the mysteriously magical guy that you had met yesterday fall in love with you? when you didn’t even know his name, or who he was?

that was practically impossible.

taking a deep breath, you desperately begin to wrack your brain for ideas as you try not to panic or think about the cruel ways the witch would kill you if you didn’t end up being capable of it.

one way you knew however that would be worth a shot to undo the curse, would be to find a well-practiced witch or wizard, and have them lift the curse from you, saving you a lot of time having to look for the elusive man and making him love you.

but.. there was no guarantee it would work.

you sigh heavily, trying to calm yourself down. that would mean leaving your town behind to move toward the wastelands where the witches resided, and in turn, leaving your faithful little shop, the only place you’d ever known to travel in the hopes for a remedy.

and so, it was with great strength that you straightened yourself up, huffing determinedly, and placing your hat firmly upon your head before heading out, intent on finding a way to break the curse before it was too late..

to the far west of the town, where weeds ran wild and the flowers never bloomed, muddy trails streaked across the land in brown stripes, was where you found it.

a creaking thing, four-legged and made of rotting wood with rusty pipes haphazardly sticking out of it, emitting black curling smoke to twine through the air, its agape, timber mouth and chipping, corroded eyes bringing a shiver to your spine.

gojo’s castle.

you had heard of it many times from your sisters, stories varying from grossly evil reenactments of how he devoured the hearts of beautiful women in search of his own, to tales of his haunting beauty, with glowing, cerulean eyes that were the last thing you'd ever see of the world, never being able to tell a soul.

and then it occurs to you.

of course! gojo was the most powerful wizard of them all, wielding magic that left no trace, going along with his cold reputation and secretive identity.

he could easily remedy the curse placed upon you with a snap! of his deadly fingers, but with the consequence that you still might not leave alive.

you look back up at the faltering, tarnished castle beginning to build up speed as it strode along.

it was now or never.

and so, with a running start and a leap of faith, you manage to clamber aboard the quickly taking-off oxidized clunker, clutching on to the door handle tightly before the wind practically shoves you inside, falling to the floor in a heap with a little, “oof!”

and when you look back up, rubbing your head with a wince, the enormity of the castle stretches before you, all glittering details that suggest riches, and antique, aged wooden furniture, cobwebs crowding near the top of the roof from the impossible vastness of it all.

slowly, you make it to your feet again, looking down all of the many stretching hallways for a sign of life, your steps clicking on the tiled floor ominously.

“hello? anyone here?” you call out, but to no avail.

eventually, your steps lead you to a small, tucked away room, filled with heaps of glinting trinkets and worn carpet that suggested someone had been here many times before.

there are bookshelves with dusty paperbacks piled atop them and shiny frames, but your interest was in the hefty bed shoved in the center, dipping under the weight of quilted blankets thrown lazily across it, and antique floral pillows that looked alike to a grandmother’s.

from the hours of walking that it had taken you to get here, your feet ached and your eyelids were already starting to droop from exhaustion.

all you needed was a nice sleep, and after evaluating your choices, your fatigue eventually wins as with a soft sigh, you shed your slightly muddied clothes into a pool on the floor, and trudge to the edge of the bed, lifting the heavy covers to slide in, your breathing slowing as you drift off, blissfully unaware of the warmth radiating from someone next to you.

darkness covers the room, so you don’t notice when you turn over on your side and press your soft tits against a moving, breathing body next to you, slinging your leg across him and drifting back off.

but he does, stirring awake with a sleepy murmur and tired, blue eyes blinking open only to freeze on your face, his cock hardening painfully in his pants instantly.

it couldn’t be..

you yawn sleepily, shifting closer only for your hand to drape itself directly across his lap,

fuck.

his eyes squeeze shut, breathing coming in soft, short pants as he tries to control himself.

this was so wrong, you were sleeping, completely unaware of..

your eyes flutter, and you groan as your hand curls around something hot, heavy, and pulsing, twitching beneath your touch frantically.

immediately, his face flushes a tinge pinker, eyes growing half-lidded and his breaths coming faster. wake up, wake up, wake up.

and then with a small yawn, your eyes blearily open to blink drowsily at your surroundings, startling only when they land on the pleading, blue eyed man next to you, hips unintentionally pushing up into your hand for more.

you scramble backward as your eyes land on where you’re tightly gripping him, gasping with surprise and already stumbling over an apology.

“i-i’m so sorry, i swear i didn’t know there was someone in here or i would’ve..”

but before you can stutter out another word, his mouth is on yours, and he’s kissing you hard, lips crashing onto yours a little uncertainly, as if he was lacking the experience, only making up for it in eagerness as he quickly finds the softness of your hip, pulling you closer and tugging your leg over him so the heat of your core is against him.

and then, as suddenly as he had been on you, he pulls back, face still shadowed and lined with the darkness of night as you gasp for breath from the intensity of it all.

you lean closer to him, causing your plushy tits to press up against his arm as your eyes struggle to adjust to the dark, only being able to see a faint outline of the man before you.

“i’m trying to control myself, but you’re making it a bit hard, sweetheart.” his voice is deep, slightly hoarse, and familiar all at once though you can’t quite place where you know him from.

you feel warmth pooling between your legs and lean forward, your hair tickling his face as you prop yourself up atop him.

“are you gojo? the wizard who eats the hearts of pretty girls?” you breathe out, rubbing your thighs together subtly.

he swallows thickly, lips parting slightly as his hand slowly makes its way to squeeze the soft, supple skin of your thighs as if grounding himself, his body feverish beneath yours as you feel his raging bulge poking into you with every small movement you make.

"s-something like that, although right now i'm thinking of eating something else.." his large hands skim slightly over your inner thighs, grazing the hot, gushing flood of wetness that had already begun to seep from your panties generously, one long thick finger curling slightly to press on your throbbing lil' clit like a button, your pink lips parting in a gasp as your eyes roll back immediately.

“y-you..” but your words immediately die in your throat as the bed dips and creaks as he rolls you over so he’s on top of you before pressing soft kisses all the way down your body, breathing out a soft, “s’this okay?” to which you quickly nod, already breathless for more.

and then he’s tugging your panties down in one swift motion, and exhaling sharply at the sight of your dripping cunt all laid bare before him, the feeling of the cool air grazing you making you squirm slightly.

two warm, large palms spanning across your waist hold you down as he nuzzles his head between your thighs, placing a chaste kiss to your pussy before pulling back, strings of arousal already attached to his lips.

“mmh.. so sweet.” he quickly buries himself between your legs, busying his mouth with lapping at you like a man starved, his tongue dipping into your honeyed cunt for more as the tip of his pert, button nose nudges against your clit.

“g-gojo!” you gasp out, your head falling back onto the pillows and back arching up helplessly as he uses hot, calculated sweeps of his tongue to stroke against you perfectly, slippery drool stringing sloppily between your legs.

“please..” he grunts, sucking your sensitive, twitchy bundle of nerves into his mouth before releasing with a sticky pop! “call me satoru.”

“satoru.. fuck!” you moan softly, body desperately curving up as you grind against his face for more friction which he lets out a pleased groan at, hands coming to your hips to rock you back and forth, suffocating himself in your warmth.

he quickly throws your legs over his broad shoulders, his head shaking side to side as he sticks out his tongue, gathering all of your honeyed slick with eagerness while you can only writhe and cling onto the snowy locks of his tousled hair tightly, tossing your head back with every loud moan he draws out of you.

it's only when you glance down that you notice the way his hips are desperately rutting against the creaking mattress, humping his throbbing, raging boner into the cushy bed for some form of relief as he eats you out vigorously, parting your sappy folds with his lengthy, dextrous tongue.

“castle gets lonely..” he mumbles into your pussy, the vibrations rocketing up your spine and causing a whine to get stuck in your throat as your stomach knots achingly tighter, the tang of your release on your tongue. “so m’so glad you decided to stop by..”

your eyes glassily cross, barely able to think or hear what he’s saying above the roar of blood crashing in your ears and your heavy breathing, hips twitching up into his mouth and thighs trembling as your stomach aches with the intensity of it all.

and then his whole mouth is covering your core, hot strings of spit mingling with your own sultry mess to streak down your thighs obscenely, and the stimulation turns out to be too much, as all at once your vision turns spotty and you're cumming hard, saturated shimmery squirt just gushing out of you as your body turns into a trembling, whining mess beneath him, sensitivity making your thighs clamp hard around his head.

and as he laps up every drop of your candied cunt, lips glossy and splotches of your sticky wetness pooling across his face, you can only shudder as he continues to suck and slurp at you, until you're desperately pushing him away, the tingling of overstimulation starting to settle over you in pulsing waves.

he sits back, out of breath and you see the slippery sheen of your essence dripping off his glistening chin in droplets, as he eyes you hungrily, like he hasn't had enough until he devours you whole.

he slowly makes his way back up to your face, your back hitting the plush mattress with a thump! as he pins you down, head lazing in a downward angle to draw your attention to the achingly painful, twitching bulge in his pants, sexy half-lidded blue eyes opening just wide enough for you to lock eye-contact.

blue? why did that remind you of someone..

but all of your thoughts are lost the second he's sliiiding his pants down and revealing the neatly trimmed, tufted white happy trail leading all the way to a massive, blushing pink cock, veiny and girthy with milky precum frosting out his tip so prettily.

his lip catches between his teeth as he wraps around himself with one hand, and begins to pull upward in rough-paced tugs, as his head lolls back, more stringy precum coming to gloss over his thickened mushroom head.

"you just gonna watch, or are ya gonna help me out here, doll?" he huskily drawls out, shuddering as you immediately spring to action, coming to straddle his lap in one fluid movement, desperately aligning yourself flush with his heavy cock and sinking down just on the chubbed, rounded tip with a grimace at how enormously big he was.

he makes a gruff noise, leaning back as he helps you to slowly work your way down onto his length, taking every thumping! veiny inch of him to meld into your hot, clenching walls, jaw falling slack at the pure effort it is just to fit him halfway.

"oh g-god, sweetheart.." he chokes out and you feel him pulsating and twitching faintly inside you as if he's fighting back the urge to cum right then and there, his hair flopping into his eyes as he rocks forward slightly.

and then, one thick finger is finding itself on your clit, gliding across the wetness just pouring out of you in sultry sheens as he guides you to take him, and almost instantly, your cunt greedily swallows him to the hilt, a faint bulge outlining his cock stretching all the way up past your belly button generously.

"good.. hah.. girl, taking me so well." he breathes out, and then his jittery lap is already bouncing you slowly, unable to wait another second as you feel his hefty length tracing sweltering hot strokes deep inside you, rolling his hips upward as he pants feverishly, a hand draping its way around your waist and pulling you closer.

drool pours down the side of your mouth helplessly as he moves you up and down on him, your pussy so stuffed and overspilling, it's almost obscene, though he seems to like it, cooing soft praises to you in encouragement.

"i betcha like this, yeah?" quickly grabbing ahold of your hips to get a better angle, he begins hitting into the cushy, soft spot of yours that always makes your legs weaken, smearing gooey precum from his bludgeony tip into you roughly, while the squelching between your legs grows louder, and more lewd with every thrust, the plap plap plap! of your sticky thighs ricocheting off his echoing throughout the vast castle.

he jolts his swollen head allll the way into your cervix, jackhammering with an urgency that leaves your mouth agape and tongue lolling as you feel your abdominals tighten, a familiar tautness creeping its way into your mind.

your pussy flutters around his length as his thrusts grow sloppy, and uncalculated, soft hair tickling you as he leans closer, his musky cinnamon-y scent infiltrating your every sense. "m' s'close my girl, i n-never.. hah.. thought this day would come." he shudders under your touch as you pause, bringing his face closer to truly examine it for the first time that night.

"wait- satoru?" and then, all the pieces come clicking together.

the magical man who had flown and twirled you around in the air was nothing other than the satoru gojo, owner of the infamous moving castle and the most powerful wizard of all time.

and it's then that he cums, spurting heaps n' heaps of creamy bucketloads of ribbony white. so much of it is pouring out, in fact, you swear your tummy swells up with it all, beginning to drip down your thighs in messy rivulets as gojo groans, unable to stop emptying himself heftily inside you.

your release follows just seconds later, as you soak his abdominals in your honeyed essence, slippery sheens coating him generously as he moans softly, still huffing from the effects of his own climax.

as you both come to, stars still blinking hazily behind your vision, you turn to him urgently. "g-gojo, the real reason i came here was 'cause.."

but he quickly shushes you, placing a finger on your pouty lips with a smirk curving up his features. "shh, baby i know, i know. you got a curse on ya, hm?"

you pause, taken aback. "how did you-"

he shakes his head. "in all truth, i was the one who sent her. i wanted to see you." he shifts himself to lean over you, bending your knees up to poke into your soft tits, grinning lazily down at you as he folds you into a mean, mating press. "and sweetheart, even if that love curse was real.. let's just say i already broke it, heh."

© 2025 CHOSOSCUTIE. please don't copy or translate any of my works. all rights reserved.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

tagslist: @brownied0ll @iluvgogurt445 @loafteaw @satoruswifeyyyyy @lunar-harts @springismss @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @luvvcho

[angelicangelz]

simon ghost riley ewb.

you read that right. enemies with benefits. enemies in public, lovers in private. constant arguing and bickering when everyone else is around, until you’re both so pent up and frustrated you have no choice but to take it out on each other.

it’s the best torture you’ve ever experienced. he makes you cum at least three times on his fingers and tongue before even considering giving in to your pleas. and don’t you dare expect him to be nice to you. once he’s in, he might not come out for a good three to four rounds. this man is a beast, he’s got stamina for days. if you can’t hold yourself up, he’ll just do it for you. his little birdie!

ughhh and he’s so teasing you whenever you two are out in public. it’s subtle. you don’t want anyone to know you’re fucking the guy you claim to hate the most. he loves seeing you get riled up so he can’t help himself. and it starts out small.

eye fucking. his hand brushing against you. maybe whispering some naughty things into your ear when no one is listening. or just plain grabbing your ass when no one is looking. just because he knows you can’t do anything.

he prefers it when you two are alone though. i mean that’s when the party really gets started right?? when he finally gets to sink his cock into you and ram into you like there’s no time. because usually there isn’t. these hookups take place in the storage closet of bathroom most of the time.

he’s got a pretty picture of you sucking his cock to jerk off to when you’re away. 4k resolution. it’s hidden in his private album, of course. not just for secrecy, but because he believes no one else is allowed to see you like that.

but aren’t you two enemies?? ghost shouldn’t care about what you do with other guys. he doesn’t. not necessarily. maybe a little. not too much. just sometimes. only the times where there’s an actual other guy near you.

it’s a good thing he knows how to get rid of a dead body.

—

this is so bad but it came to me and i wrote it so please enjoy what i created.

advice: don’t go on holiday the week before your exams it’s killing ok bye love u all!!!

[mywritersmind]

CHOICES - LN4

new year’s eve edition

summary : Stumbling into an occupied restroom isn’t the way Lando planned to spend his last night of 2024. The woman playing with her lighter and wondering why she’s at this godforsaken party, thinks the same. It just so happens that the last five minutes of 2024 might just shape their whole 2025.

or : they hang out in a bathtub

listen up : no warnings!! happy new years loves!

words: 1540

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Fucking hell.” The man mumbles, stumbling into the occupied bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

I realize as he stands over the sink, bracing himself on either side and looking at himself in the mirror, that he doesn’t know I'm there. I clear my throat, not really knowing what else to do.

He spins around, swearing as I play with the lighter in my hand, “Sorry… I didn’t know anyone was in here.” He eyes my position, my heels tapping against the toilet seat and my ass promptly sat on the tank.

“Uh huh…” I run my fingers over the lighter again, the flame lighting up my face as he leans against the sink. He’s cute but not familiar. He’s wearing black slacks and a half unbuttoned linen shirt, a sparkly decoration around his neck and glitter in his curly mullet.

The colorful lights in the bathroom bounce off his face, a new freckle appearing everytime a new color lands on him.

“Can I just…?” I raise a brow as he points to the bathtub, not waiting for my answer before slumping down in the tub that only has a beer bottle and a sparkler in it. “I’m Lando.”

He sighs as I eye his unusual manner. I can’t tell if he’s drunk or just overstimulated. “I’m Y/n…”

“Why are you hiding, Y/n?” My name rolls off his tongue, his knee pulling up against his chest.

“Why are you?” I bring a cigarette to my lips, lighting it and watch his hand push through his hair.

He licks his lips, looking up at me with his pretty green eyes. This bathroom is lit up by shitty streamers and LED lights. I blow out smoke, motioning to him to take it.

He declines, “I don’t smoke.”

My eyes narrow as the cigarette comes back to my lips, “Yeah okay…” It comes out a bit more sarcastic than I was hoping.

“What?”

“I don’t think anyone else at this party would turn a cig down.” I shrug, my hand resting on my knee.

“I’m an athlete.”

I let out a snort, “Right, and I'm Hannah Montana.”

The corner of Lando’s lip tugs upward, “That would be far cooler than an athlete. But I doubt she smokes.”

I tilt my head, giving up and just putting the cigarette out. “I hate everyone here.” I say as his eyes run down my body.

They catch on my patterned tights before returning to my eyes.

“Looks like we’ve got one thing in common.” He smirks, leaning his head against the tile wall as I hop off the toilet.

I pop a few mints in my mouth and look at myself in the mirror, my hair messy and making me wonder if I should change it for my new era in the new year. I catch a glance of Lando in the mirror, “Why are you here then?”

I think he’s about to ask me the same thing, but he just shrugs, “I think my new year’s resolution needs to be, stop saying yes to so many people.”

I rifle through the draws and the shelves behind the mirror, just looking around as someone bangs on the door.

“Occupied!” I yell back as the woman groans and stomps away. “Ah!” I find a tiny perfume bottle and spray myself without smelling it.

When I look at Lando in the mirror, he’s looking up at me, smiling. I match his expression, shrugging. “I hate everyone here too. Just had nowhere else to go… shit saying it out loud makes it a bit sad.”

He shakes his head as I cross my arms and lean against the sink, “We’re hiding in a bathroom five minutes before the new year, you think that’s sad?”

This makes me laugh and when I do, Lando seems to perk up. I come and sit next to him, not caring that my skirt is riding up or the tie of my top is coming loose.

I sigh, “Okay quick, tell me everything about yourself.”

He raises a brow, “Why?”

“You don’t want to spend the last minutes of 2024 talking about yourself?” There’s a small frown on his face now, he’s got a good face.

“I want to hear you talk.”

I roll my eyes. What is with this man and being strangely attractive? “Favorite color? Green.”

“Same.”

I frown, “Lando you can’t just copy me.”

“I’m not!” He laughs, “How about Hobby? Golfing.”

I physically recoil, “I don’t know if we can be friends after that answer, Lando.”

He smirks, “You’ll get over it. Golfing and photography.” He pulls out a tiny digital camera to show me.

I take it from him as I answer, “Writing.” I snap a photo of him, there’s two left now. “What color is your underwear?”

“Trying to get in my pants, Y/n?” He takes the camera back, taking a photo of me laughing.

“Can’t a girl be curious?” Someone jiggles the door handle, “Red.”

“Black.” I cross my ankles over the side of the tub and tilt my head towards him, “You gonna fact check it?”

I laugh, “Seems like you want me to.” He just looks at me, no real expression except for his eyes flicking down my body.

“What do you do for work?”

“I write.”

He groans, shaking his head, “Your hobby cannot be your work!”

“Thank god you’re not a golfer.” He scoffs at this as I smile, “Fine, I junk journal.” His brow goes up with intrigue.

His eyes flash to his watch, “Three minutes.”

I sigh, “Favorite movie.”

“Notting hill.” I actually laugh out loud at this.

“Fuck off.”

Lando’s smile is so bright it’s making me feel happy just by looking at him, “I’m serious! What’s yours?”

“I- Luca.”

“Luca!?” He says loudly, “Like the animated film?” I nod, my cheeks getting a bit hot as he laughs, “I watched it with my niece the other day.”

I smile at the thought of Lando and a baby watching my favorite movie. I’m thinking of another question when he checks his watch and speaks again, “Thoughts on Mince Pies?”

“Disgusting.”

“Disgusting!?” He spits, “Get out of my face.”

I laugh, “They’re actually terrible! Something about them freaks me out.”

“You freak me out.” He mumbles, looking away as my jaw drops.

We go back and forth for a minute about bloody mince pies but are sucked back into reality when someone slams into the door.

“Fuck!” The man yells as Lando and I blink, then burst out laughing.

I look at Lando and run my hand through his curls, He doesn’t even look surprised. “I like your hair.”

There’s something so soft about the way he looks at me, “I like your tights.” His hand drifts to my knee, tugging at the thin fabric just as I get distracted by his arms…

He snaps the fabric back to my skin as I straighten my leg and smile, “It’s men repellent.” Usually, the bright colors or patterns turn men away.

“It’s not doing a very good job. I think it’s hot.” He’s smirking when he says it, but the way he looks at me makes me feel sick. Sick in a hot way.

He glances down at his watch once again, “Time’s running out, love. What book would you have me read?”

I raise a brow, “You want me to prescribe you a book?”

He taps his watch face, “Tick Tock, Y/n!”

“Okay! Uh… Atomic Habits.” He tilts his head, wanting me to go on, “It’s about sticking to your goals. You want a better year, right?”

He bites his lip as the sound outside gets louder, “Yeah I do…What’s your new year’s resolution?”

I hum, “Make better choices.”

I hear everyone counting down outside.

“Five… four!” Lando starts counting.

He nudges my arm, “Three… two!” I laugh and count with him. He grabs the disposable camera and points it at us.

“One!” Everyone screams, probably hugging and kissing people around them as the new year sets in.

I watch his thumb twist the camera, his finger pressing the button as I make my first choice of 2025.

I turn his face towards me, and kiss him.

The second the flash goes off, the camera gets instantly dropped onto the bath mat outside the tub, having served it’s purpose. I pull back, my hands still on his face and neck.

“Happy new year, Y/n.” Is all he says as my hands slip down his chest and catch on the flimsy necklace he’s got on.

“Happy new year, Lando.” I’m smiling big now as he kisses my cheek gently. My lipgloss is on his lips, cherry flavored.“One thing…”

I frown a bit, “Yeah?”

“So are we gonna tell people we met in 2024 or 2025…?” I laugh and look up at the ceiling. “I’m being serious!”

I close my eyes, shaking my head and wanting to shut him up with another kiss.

“We met on new years.” I look back to him, he’s smiling still.

Kissing a stranger might not have been on my 2025 bingo card… But It might’ve been the best choice to start off my year.

[lcriedlastnight]

five times lando takes the lead + the one time you do | lando norris

○ tw: swearing, lando being cute, someone might find this a little toxic but i don’t so shh○

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : w/c: 5k of me projecting. it was my birthday today so here’s a present!

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

1.correcting your posture.

you had told lando way back at the start of the year that your new years resolution was to fix your posture. you didn't expect him to really take in what you were saying because he was swamped with work emails and all the other shit he had to do to get ready for pre-season. it was a simple passing comment, hell you guys weren't even official when you had told him about it. why would he remember something so insignificant about someone he was casually seeing?

well you just assumed that he wouldn't, maybe that was just because you can't really remember anything small thing he had said to you in the very early days of your relationship so it made you feel bad if he did.

it was safe to say you did not do well with your resolution and had almost completely forgotten that you had even made it a resolution in the first place but it seemed like lando hadn't.

it was a race week this week and you had the privilege of joining lando this. before jetting off halfway across the world both lando and oscar had been asked to join zak and andrea at mtc just to go over some things about the car and the upcoming race. to be honest you didn't really know why but lando had asked if you wanted to come and you didn't even think before you accepted.

it was very busy as lando drove you in towards the the car park in his flashy car, it always made you feel like a pop star when lando drove you around and lando did it because he knew you loved pretending the paps were following after you after they discovered you with your new man (lando). he found it cute.

"c'mon then, sweetheart. let's get this over and done so we can get on the plane." lando says as he holds a hand out to help you out of the car. you and lando were heading straight to the airport after this 'meeting' so you were both in clothes more on the comfortable side. both repping some sort of mclaren merch of course. yours was most likey stolen from the driver himself.

you both meet oscar as you walk in. he's by himself so you ask about his own girlfriend and if she was attending the race. oscar shakes his head sadly, telling you she's focusing on her studies and you can't help admire her for that. you have always had a soft spot for lily, just like lando has for oscar you're sure.

a member of staff heards the three of you into a meeting room where zak and andrea are already waiting. seeing them both next to each other always makes you a little nervous for some reason, you never know why and lando loves to make fun of you for it. they both greet the three of you with smiles and you feel lando move himself closer to you, not wanting to show basically any pda in front of his bosses but wanting you to know he was here and still thinking of you. he ends up so close to you that your arms are grazing against each other.

zak starts the meeting off and you can't lie, you aren't listening one bit but you hope to god lando is because oscar is asking questions and nodding his head like it's important. you worry though when his hand comes to the small of your back to rub there slowly. oh there is no way that boy is listening to a word that's being said. god help him.

you try to listen in for lando because he clearly cannot be trusted to do it himself. it's difficult to understand but you have a whole flight to ask your boyfriend what it all means as you catch him up.

you actually feel like you're on a roll and actually taking in what both men are talking about when lando throws you off completely. his hand that was resting on the small of your back comes to lay in the middle of your shoulder blades, ultimately straightening your posture. you already feel it at the bottom of your back and you feel the urge to sag back down again but lando's other hand is forcing you to stay in the position that he wants. it makes you feel warm but you try to push it to the back of your mind as you mentally take notes for the incapable boy.

the meeting wasn't too long, which now made sense in your mind as to why they didn't ask you all to take a seat but lando made you stand like that for the rest of the meeting. zak and andrea wish you both a safe flight before bidding everyone goodbye. oscar turning in his spot to exit the room and lando's hands forcing you to do the same. halfway down the corridor he removes both his hands and grabs your hand with one of his, now free ones. every time you drop your shoulders down you feel a little nudge and you are straightening up right away. lando squeezes your hand every time you do what he silently asks.

once you both are back in the car and lando is driving you both to the airport, that is when you ask him about it.

"what was all of that about?" you ponder, eyes flitting all over his pretty face as he drives like it's his second nature (it one hundred percent is).

"didn't you say you wanted to straighten your posture up?" lando questions, like he actually looks confused on why you would ask him that. he's acting like it was a common occurance but it doesn't piss you off, no instead you just smile. you just can't believe he remembered something so small and boring about you and tried to make it happen when you forgot about it.

the flight was filled with you trying to explain what it was exactly that zak and andrea had told you and oscar in the meeting room at mtc.

2. he keeps you feeling safe.

it was a really good race for lando today, he had begged you to come out clubbing with him which had made no sense to you whatsoever because wasn't going out clubbing a way to de-stress without your girlfriend? well it didn't matter what you thought because lando was literally on his knees in front of you in your hotel begging you to come. of course it was a joke and he was doing it get a laugh out of you so you would accept his offer but it really set you off balance seeing lando like that.

he was supposed to be the one that made you feel like getting to your knees and begging for something, joke or not. getting a taste of the roles being reversed made you wish for the way it usually was with the two of you. you didn't do too well with change.

"okay, okay, if i agree will you get up?" you ask him, the change clearly sends waves of discomfort through your body and because lando knows you too well, he knows this.

lando smirks up and you and replies with a simple, "yeah."

that's how you end up jumping into a quick shower to get yourself ready for the night ahead. lando is also in the hotel bathroom while you're showering. he makes sure to make his presence known as he clatters about, searching through his toiletry bag for his (your) favourite cologne. you love the homely feeling that rushes through you as lando makes conversation with you as a way of staying close to you when you're getting ready. he never fails to make you feel wanted.

you don't know how this is the first time since you had started dating lando that you were both going clubbing together because you were sure it was known worldwide that he loved a good night out. it made you feel special that he wanted you to come with him tonight. and to celebrate an amazing weekend, not just for lando but for the whole team. you hoped oscar and lily would be making an appearance, you had missed spending time the girl and you were both a little more introverted than some of the other wags, so you knew that if she was there you would have someone the entire night. not that you were expecting lando to leave you alone - you were just planning for a worst case senario.

lando walks over to you as you're standing in the bathroom trying to slip in a pair of earrings he had actually gotten you before you had even started dating, in front of the vanity mirror. you were struggling, you couldn't remember the last time you had a reason to wear earrings, never mind ones this fancy.

the brunette's arms snake around your waist as his chin sits on your shoulder, admiring you from the mirror. you looked beautiful to him everyday but in this dress? he remembers picking it out for you when he was at a boutique in japan earlier this year and just imagining you in it made his heart race. this had been the first time you had worn it besides the time you tried it on for him after he brought it home for you.

"look at you. don't know how i'm going to keep my hands off of you tonight, love." lando speaks into your shoulder, leaving soft, gentle kisses in his wake. his words make you flustered but you have no time to respond because lando is talking again.

"osc and lily are outside in a car waiting for us. i'm pretty sure max is coming out too." lando murmurs, a subtle demand for you to hurry up and get downstairs, which you blindly follow.

your eyes light up at the mention of your fellow mclaren wag tagging along. lily, like you, was never one for clubbing and to be honest neither was oscar but you knew how great of a weekend this was for mclaren and weren't too surprised the young australian wanted to join you and your boyfriend in the celebrations. you were surprised that his girlfriend was coming though. surprised and elated.

lando just smiles at the delight in your eyes before giving the back of your dress a light tug to get you moving. minutes later you're clinging to his arm as you are both exiting the fancy hotel lobby and out into the mild evening. you see the car waiting for you as soon as you leave the spinning doors.

the ride to the fancy club was filled with you chatting away to lily, the poor girl couldn't get a word in edgeways but she didn't seem to mind much, just listening to your work stories with a grin on her face, nodding when it was polite to do so. if you didn't know someone you were proper shy and never mustered up more than a simple sentence or two, but if you knew the person? god, let's just hope they brought earplugs because it was almost impossible to shut you up.

the night had been going perfectly and to your knowledge it still was. you were stood up at the bar with lando while you waited on your drinks and lando was talking to some guy, you didn't listen to his name because to be quite frank, you didn't really care what it was.

as much as lando was one for showing you off and wanting to constantly have his hands on you, he was never one for doing it in public, where he couldn't control who see what. it just never sat right with him so he just kept it as minimal as possible with hand holding. you knew this so of course you didn't try and force him to do anymore, even though you were a very clingy drunk.

so when lando comes to stand directly behind you and wrap his arms around you, just like back at the hotel in front of the mirror, it shocks you. you knew lando was barely drunk so you had no clue why he was getting so touchy with you, especially when he was mid conversation with someone. you don't want to interrupt his conversation by asking him why so you just lean into his touch and continue waiting. it isn't long before the bartender slides your drinks across the table, apologising for the wait. you shrug it off and spin in lando's hold to give him his drink.

"thank you, love." lando smiles and presses a quick kiss to the corner of your lips. in your intoxicated state it makes you all blushy and giggly. you're sure you hear lando make up some excuse about having to leave before he's leaving the man at the bar and moving you back to the booth, back to all your friends. as you sit down at the edge, lando stands in between your legs, looking down at you with what can only be described as heart eyes.

"what was all that about?" you ask him, gentle eyes peering up at his. lando's gaze darkens just as touch as you question him about his sudden urge to touch you and hold you close. he shrugs before putting your drink onto the table and pulling your head close to his stomach.

"he was staring at your arse." lando answers simply, voice filled with possessiveness. you don't even respond, just smile into his loose fitting t-shirt. you notice your makeup stains it but lando wears it proudly, wanting everyone to know you are his.

3. he tells you what to do (in a sweet way)

a lot of people thought that lando telling you what to do and basically bossing you about was weird. you didn't think so but apparently almost all of your friends thought so. it wasn't like lando was mean about it, he was so fucking sweet to you all the time it literally made you melt sometimes. the way that anyone thought that lando wasn't head over heels in love with you baffled you to no end.

to explain, lando knew you better than you knew yourself. he knew what you wanted to eat before you had even realised you were hungry. you were so easy to read to him, but that meant that the driver also knew how indecisive you were and how anytime you were faced with a decision that was even mildly difficult your brain, quite literally, short circuited. it was something that up until you met lando and he had gotten to know you, that had caused you major problems. but now with lando here, he made the decisions for you because he knew what you wanted even when you didn't.

neither of you really stopped to think about how it would look to someone outside of your relationship because, well why would you? to you and lando, anyone else's opinion on your relationship didn't matter. at the end of the day it was what made you and your boyfriend happy. and this way just worked for you both.

the first time you noticed other people maybe gave a second thought to what you and lando had was when you were invited to a close friend of your sister's baby shower. you both had grown up together and since your older sister couldn't make it due to being on holiday at the time, she had invited you and told you to bring someone along with you. you didn't really know that men weren't really that common at a baby shower so you, of course, asked lando to accompany you.

you had to ask nicely for lando to take the most normal looking car he had so you two didn't stand out too much, not wanting to be the talk of someone else's baby shower. that would make you feel horrible.

your sister's friend cheers your name as she opens the door after you give a few polite knocks. you stand hand in hand with lando and you will never forget the look on her face when she saw him standing with you. you knew it wasn't because she recognised lando, but because there was a literal man at her baby shower. a man she didn't even know, nonetheless.

"hi. uh come on in?" it's phrased as a question, it's how you know the poor girl is still puzzled. you feel a little bad no matter how funny it is.

she leads both you and lando to a beautifully decorated gazebo, filled with baby pink banners. well at least you now know she's having a girl. you feel bad for lando more and more as you sit down on the free seats by the entrance and realise there are no other males here at all. you had to make it up to him later, you supposed. you told him as much but he shook his head and said he was going to have fun. you doubted that but let him believe it anyway.

a few drinks in and the previous tension that was lingering from not really knowing anyone here had disappeared and you were now chatting away now you had some of that liquid courage.

just as you finish up your conversation with the girl on your right (you know it's horrible but for the life of you, you can't remember her name) lando turns to you and says, "go and get a glass of water." and if that didn't raise a few eyebrows then you doing so without any hesitation whatsoever, would've.

what everyone didn't know though, was that you didn't want to get drunk at a baby shower and although you felt just the appropriate amount of drunk for an event like this, lando knew that anymore would tip you over the edge, hence his instructions. and you follow because why would lando tell you to do something if it wasn't in your best interest? you did have to admit though it was funny watching everyone silently lose their shit when you two did this. you both agreed it would never get old.

4. he helps you through a crisis

it was clear to anyone who knew the both of you that in your relationship, although you were both prone to worrying and panicking, you trumped lando. he had even begun to suspect you had some sort of unknown anxiety disorder from the silly little things you worried about.

the thing that shocked him most though was that you thought it was normal to feel like that, normal to worry about silly little things that don't really matter that much in your day to day life. ever since you had started waking up on your own you had set at least ten alarms on your phone and it annoys the fuck out of lando but he has never mentioned it to you because he knows the reasons behind it and yelling at you will do nothing but make you worry more. why do you set so many alarms for the next morning? well, because you may sleep in of course! lando understands that, of course he does, even though he doesn't really get the whole being worried about being late thing, he understands. it's when you set ten alarms when you both don't have any plans the next day. and when you sleep through every single one of them because he tired you out the night before. it killed him.

so it was safe to say you were a worrier, much more than your other half. even though you worry an abnormal amount, lando knew how to keep a level head and even learned how to talk some sense into your more sillier worries. this one wasn't one of those though.

you were due to start your brand new college course and god if you hadn't gone through every single situation that could go wrong in your mind about a million times until you had made yourself mentally sick. lando, obviously, noticed this and took you out for a day of buying new clothes and supplies that you would need for your course. bless his heart for trying to distract your horrible mind.

"what about here? does this do cute clothes? i liked that outfit they had at the window." lando mentions as he gestures to some store you had never set foot in before.

"not sure." is all you reply with. lando's not quite sure exacly where you are in your mind but he knows your travelling down that horrible, panicking road quite quickly and he needs to find a way to get your mind off of it and onto something else.

unfortunately, he isn't quick enough and you're halfway to a panic attack and right in the middle of the shopping square is the last place you want to have it. lando's thumb is swiping across your hand trying to ground you but it's not enough, you can feel the heavy pressing on your chest, like cement is filling it up.

lando can always tell when you're about to go into a panic attack. you either get quite and shut him out, trying to push him away (for some reason unbeknown to him) or you get mean and say a lot of stuff that you don't meant at all and regret almost as soon as you say it. this time you were quiet so lando tries to lead you somewhere less busy, wanting you away from everyone's eyes.

almost as soon as you're alone your breathing picks up and you just let yourself panic. you sink to the floor as you heave in breaths but lando is quick to follow you down to hold your hands and try and will you back to him.

"hey, c'mon now love. you know what to do. give me five things you can see." lando says, voice all warm and syrupy. it makes your insides melt and weirdly makes you feel better already.

although this way is a lot less demanding and raises a lot less eyebrows it's one you appreciate a ton, maybe even more than the others. it made you feel seen, like he actually knew you and wanted to help you even when you were at your most vulnerable and needed a helping hand into getting back to your normal, bubbly self again.

5. he distracts you without even knowing (he knows)

it's been said by many people many different times throughout the course of yours and lando's realtionship that you both know each other inside and out. it's so easy for people, like his fans who only get a glimpse into your time spent together, to see that you know each other like the back of your hand.

there is one specific moment that goes very viral on tiktok that you have to admit, anytime one comes up on your for you page you give save it to your favourites to watch during those times when you miss lando just a little more than usual.

lando can tell when your mind isn't one hundred per cent focused on something, just like you can tell when he is letting his mind wander to what film he was going to force you to watch later on that evening. the tiktok that had went viral was a prime example of this. lando's best friend, max had went live at the flat you and lando shared. you were supposed to be studying for an assignment you had to complete at the end of the week but instead both boys had ended up distracting you from your studies. it didn't bother you at all, or else you wouldn't have sat in the same room as them. okay maybe you would've but it wasn't your fault you were obsessed with your boyfriend.

max was answering some of the questions that were popping up in the chat as lando sat alongside him, chiming in whenever he felt it necessary. his eyes were focused more on you and what you weren't doing. you could tell by the stern look in his eyes that he was trying to tell you to get back to studying or else he would kick you out of the room so you would actually work, and you didn't want that so you put your head back down and try to focus.

it doesn't last longer than five minutes because max is then making a funny joke about the amount of times lando had tried to fix his toaster and failed and it kept you fairly distracted, much to lando's chagrin.

a few more stern looks were thrown your way and every time you focus back on your work, only to get distracted again minutes later. lando had never seen you so easily distracted before, it was actually quite amusing if he wasn't so bothered about you actually studying so you could pass the class and the assignment.

the next time lando sends you a look over the camera you aren't even watching him, eyes pretending to read whatever was on your own computer as you smile and try to hold a laugh in at whatever max was saying. this pissed lando off to an extreme he knew he shouldn't be at. he was just worried for you, you had told him the night before about how tonight was the only night you could pack this much studying in. he knew he shouldn't have let max stream here tonight. he knew his friend would serve as a great distraction from something you didn't even want to do in the first place.

once max quietens to read the stream you hear three firm taps on the table and although you have never heard anything of the sort before in your life, you just know it's lando telling you silently to get on with your work without saying it in front of the stream and making you both look bad. you wanted to keep some parts of your relationship out of the limelight and this one was one of them.

you shuffle around in your college bag and find your headphones, slipping them on to let yourself fully concentrate. the sight pleases lando and not just because you picked up on his silent gesture and actually listened to him but because you were doing what you said you had to get done today. lando was a firm believer in setting small goals, like studying for an hour, and achieving them. you knew for a fact that once max left, lando would be showering you with praise and kisses.

+1 you tell him what to do

you knew the dynamic in the relationship and you were not big on change at all nor were your instincts anything like your boyfriends. you always wanted to listen and never tell others what to do. you used to do that and you were called bossy, so you vowed never again.

you were quite happy with lando and how your relationship was but there was some times where you had to put a foot down and actually make a decision because this was something that lando maybe had no clue about.

you had just gotten home from what seemed like one of the most gruelling shifts at work and all you wanted was to come home and crash in lando's arms. all the way home your brain kept repeating, thank fuck it's friday and i don't have to anything tomorrow.

once you finally arrive home, it feels like entering the gates of heaven. that is until you notice that lando isn't in any of his usual places when you return home and instead is in front of your vanity mirror, applying some moisturiser on his face. he only does that when he's going out. the thought of him leaving right now makes you want to flip out but instead you keep calm and enter the room.

"hi, love." lando greets as soon as you slump into the room and trape towards him. you quite easily fall into his embrace. it's then that you notice he's wearing his going out clothes and that he was almost definitely going to be leaving you tonight. you nearly tear up just thinking about laying alone in your bed tonight because were you fuck in the mood for joining him tonight, not after the shift you just had.

you mumble back something you're sure can be considered a greeting and you rest your head in the crook of his neck. lando's arms move around your back as he hums all soft and gentle like. it's almost like he's trying to lull you to sleep while you're standing with him. you also catch a whiff of his aftershave and it makes you want to cry, he smells so good and exactly like how lando is supposed to smell. you need him to stay with you tonight.

"you goin' out?" you mumble once more, it's a miracle he can even hear you, but he does as he responds just as nicely as he did before. it almost makes you forget that he is planning on leaving you.

"yeah, it won't be a late one." he tells you.

you don't respond just let yourself rest in his embrace and cling on tighter every time he tries to pull away, telling you that he's going to be late if he doesn't leave right now. as if you actually cared. once it gets to the point where lando is desperately trying to get you off of him, that's when you finally speak up.

"you're not leaving me tonight. i need you here." you don't ask, you demand it. if he left you right now you were so sure that you would cry so hard and not stop until he came home. you were also in no state of mind or just state in general to be taking care or a drunk or even a tipsy lando. as much as you loved that version of your boyfriend, all you wanted tonight was to fall asleep in his arms to some dumb film that was on comedy central.

"i'm not?" lando questions, amused. before he can even say anything more your hands are gripping him harder and in turn that pulls him closer to you.

as it turns out lando isn't too keen on leaving tonight either and you both end up ordering a takeout and getting some snacks to have a cute night in with one another. it was exactly what you needed after this hell of a week. you didn't think you were even being demanding but lando always joked that this night was the most demanding he had ever seen you and he knew for a fact he loved it and wanted to see more of it. one thing lando loved more than anything was learning knew things about you.

[skzdarlings]

Chan with ❛ that really does make you hard. i can feel you pulsing inside me. ❜

summary: your husband is a university professor. when you sit in on one of his lectures, it gives both of you an idea...

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: husband!chan, kinky professor/student roleplay, though reader is his wife and not actually a student. dom!chan, sub!reader, degrading language (stupid, dumb, slut). corruption kink, power dynamics kink. explicit sexual content. word count: 2380 words.

part of the valentine's day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy! <3

-

Chan is giving a lecture when you reach the university.   You kill some time and grab a coffee, ambling around campus and idling in corridors until your wandering leads you to his hall.  The main doors are propped open, likely for air circulation with the spring heat, and you smile at his voice spilling into the hallway. 

It is a big lecture hall.  He is teaching a beginner level so the class is substantially large, a couple hundred freshman packed inside.  No one will notice an extra presence.  There are a few empty seats scattered across the back row so you slip inside and quietly take one. 

You like seeing Chan in his element.  Your husband is something of a chameleon, spending his down time in hoodies and baseball caps, listening to music and giggling at his own goofy jokes.  You almost forget his professional side, his prestigious and academic character.  He loves his research and his work and his students and it shows in every remark and gesticulation.  

You adore him.  His passion and intelligence never cease to amaze you.

Though right now your loving attention strays to his appearance.  You must admit: your husband is a hottie.  You suspect the tittering co-eds in the first few rows are not as interested in statistical analysis as their rapt attention might suggest.

Professor Bang Chan stands at the front of the hall, dressed down to his shirtsleeves.  His suit jacket has been tossed over the desk.  His pants are pressed, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, but his neat black hair is just this side of dishevelled, like he has been running his fingers through it. 

You slouch in your seat and smile a cheesy smile as you watch him work. 

He looks around the hall as he lectures, attentive to every student.   In his perusal, his eyes skim the back row.  They stop on you.   

“And that’s why we, uh, ah…” He stumbles so noticeably that a few heads turn to see what caught his eye.   He laughs and waves, drawing their attention again.  “Sorry, sorry, as I was saying…”    

Your smile only widens.  There is a little flutter in your heart as your husband looks at you with a glimmer in his eye.  You rest your head on your fist and watch the rest of the lecture without any interruption.  

You stay seated when it ends and the students file out.  Chan lingers by his desk to sort his papers.  You just admire him for a moment, then you make your way down the aisle.  He lifts his head, smiling at you.

“Hey, stranger,” he says, shrugging on his jacket.  “You’re early.” 

“Yeah, I thought traffic would be worse.”  

“Hungry?”

“Definitely, Professor,” you say.  Your original plans were dinner, but you lift an eyebrow while smirking, suggesting a different kind of hunger entirely. 

It makes him laugh, a nervous sort of laugh.  You are charmed by the tips of his ears turning red, a testament to your ability to fluster your man well into your marriage. 

“What’s wrong, Professor?” you ask, reaching up to touch his face.   “Aren’t you hungry too?”

He stares back at you for a moment.  His gaze is resolute despite his faint blush.  You cannot help your delight. 

“Ooh,” you say.  “Do you like it when I call you Professor, Professor?”

He finally takes your hand and lowers it. 

“I’m a professional,” is what he says, which is definitely not an answer to the question you asked.  He kisses your cheek before you can protest his reply, then he winks and grabs his bag.  “Come on,” he says, “I just have to put some stuff in my office.  Then we’ll go grab dinner.” 

You suspend your teasing for the time being, talking about your day as you cross campus in the sunshine.  You take the stairs up to the office floor, winding around the labyrinthine assembly of empty offices.  It is quite late in the afternoon, plenty of people seemingly packed up and gone for the day. 

He unlocks his office and lets you both in.  While he goes to his desk to sort his stuff, you close and lock the door.  He does not notice your deliberate movements, still talking about mundane nothings.  You do love your endless conversations, whether casual or important, but right now you are less preoccupied with Channie than Professor Chan.  There is something about seeing your husband like this, smart, competent, confident, and so in charge of his space. 

“Baby girl?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow at your slow, slinky approach.  “What’s up?” 

You circle the desk and lay a hand on his chest, smoothing your palm down his lapel.  You swear his eyes somehow darken, narrowing in focus, his whole expression coloured differently than before. 

“What are you doing?” he asks. 

“I know you’re married, Professor,” you say, blinking oh-so innocently at him.  “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable… it’s just that I… I need…”

He lets you nudge him back onto the desk chair behind him.  He gazes up as you lean over him. 

“Baby,” he says, warningly, but does not move or push your hands away. 

“We’re all alone, Professor,” you say.  “The door is locked.  No one will ever find out.” 

“Ah. Is that right?” he asks, looking like he is on the verge of giggles.  He sighs instead, dropping his chin and shaking his head, playfully disappointed.  With another breath, he lifts his head, and your sweet husband dons a more predatory air.   

He does not even have to say anything, does not even have to touch you.  He just has to look at you with all that desire in his eyes, turning your insides molten.  Every dirty thought is plain in how he checks you out.

“I saw you looking at me in class today,” you say, breathless already.  “Did you think I looked pretty, Professor?”                                         

“I think,” he says, “I was impressed you were sitting there, actually listening for once.”

You open your mouth to retort, but he touches a shushing finger to your lips.  He shakes his head. 

“Nuh-uh,” he says.  “Tell me what you want before I throw you out of my office.”  He cups your jaw, his gaze so clearly centred on your lips. 

“Oh, please, don’t do that,” you say.  “I need you, Professor.  I mean, I need your help.”

“I think you’re beyond help, baby girl,” he says.  He momentarily breaks character to glance at the wall, then he looks at you with a quirked brow.  “We are at my work, maybe we should—”

“I know you,” you reply.  

Because you do.  You and your husband are no strangers to roleplay or kinky fun, your desires and boundaries and safewords known.  Your backside is still tender from a good spanking the night before, just enough to leave you squirming today.  You were pent-up before you even saw Professor Chan administering his lecture.  But now that you have, now that you are here, you cannot let it go.  And given the way he is looking at you, he feels the same way.

“You’ve been hard since I called you Professor in the lecture hall,” you say. 

“Since I saw you sitting in my classroom, actually,” he corrects.  “I could fill in the rest with my own imagination.  Just… looking at you…”  He takes another breath and looks you over.  His gaze is heady.  “God, you just get me going every time, you know that?” 

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” you say with another smirk.  Then you pout, batting your eyelashes, as you sink to your knees in front of him.  “Please, Professor,” you say.  “I’m begging you.  I need a good grade or else.  I’ll do anything.” 

“Anything,” he says.  “That’s, ah… that’s a bold statement.  Are you sure about that?”

“Of course I am,” you say.  You clasp your hands.  “Anything at all.” 

“You know, a man who is not as nice me could do bad things to you, baby.   A pretty girl like you.  It’s like you want someone to take advantage of you, yeah?”  He cups your jaw and tilts your face up, looking at your mouth thoughtfully, smiling as he circles his thumb over your lips.  “They could be really mean to you,” he says.  “Make you do things you don’t like.  Maybe even hurt you, baby.”

“But you wouldn’t do those things,” you say with a watery sniffle.  “You’re a good professor. I can trust you.”

“Of course you can,” he says.  With his thumb, he tugs your bottom lip down.  It flips back up with a bounce.  “I’ll help you then, if you do what I say.”

“Oh yes, of course, Professor, anything,” you say. You start to stand when he puts a hand on your shoulder. 

“Naw, naw,” he says.  “You stay there for me.”

“On my knees?”  You blink up at him.  “What for?” 

“Tsk.  Baby.  You know what for.”  He pats your head like he would an especially dumb puppy.  “You’re just a pretty face,” he says, “but you’re not that stupid.  You know what you’re good for at least, don’t you?”   

He cups your chin.  Before you can reply, his thumb is forcing its way into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. You wrap your lips around it, staring up at him while sucking diligently. 

“That’s it,” he says, and slides free with a wet little pop.  “Good job.  See?”  He speaks with saccharine sweetness, completely condescending as he pats your cheek.  “You are good at something.”  He unbuttons your shirt with deft swiftness, your breasts already heaving in your low-cut bra when he pushes the material off your shoulders.  He laughs to himself as he says, “It’s just the only thing you’re good at is being a dumb slut, but that’s okay, yeah?” 

“I… I guess…”

“Shh, it’s okay.”  He covers you whole mouth with his hand, tugging you close while he undoes his belt with the other.  “You don’t need to talk,” he says.  “No one needs to hear what you think.  Open your mouth for me.   That’s a good girl.  Come on.  You can take it.” 

With a shuffle, he gets his pants open and partially down, enough to get himself out.  He is already rock hard as he guides you forward, sliding into your waiting mouth.  He grunts with deep, obvious pleasure. 

He lets you take over, sitting back while you suck his cock with expert knowledge of exactly what he likes, when to take him deep, when to lick and suck and swallow.  You stop for a breath and his cock smacks your cheek.  Then suddenly he is standing and taking you with him, wasting no time bending you over his desk. 

“Professor!” you say, pushing your ass out with your theatrically scandalized cry.  “Oh no, sir, I’ve never done this before, please, ahh—”   

He lifts your skirt and tugs your panties to the side, sliding his fingers through all the wet arousal there.  He slides two fingers into you easily, with no resistance at all.  He leans down and laughs against the nape of your neck.

“I find that hard to believe,” he says, fucking you steadily with his hand.  “I think I’m not the only professor you’ve done this for, am I, baby?” 

“Ohh,” is all you manage, out of character and genuinely moaning as he works you towards a quick orgasm.  “Channie, you’re gonna make me come,” you warn, wriggling. 

Your moans turn to pathetic little whimpers when he wraps a strong arm around you, locking you in place as he lines up behind you. 

“What’s that?” he asks, holding you tight.  It stops you from writhing while he pushes his wet dick inside you, inch by slow inch.  “I’m not Channie, am I?” he says.  “What do you call me?  Huh?  Dumb little girl.”  He swats your ass and you yelp, clenching around him.  “Try again,” he says. 

“Oh, Professor,” you say.  Then you cannot help but giggle, recalling his evasion when you teased him in the lecture hall.  The evidence of his desire says it all.  “That really does make you hard,” you laugh, breathlessly, “I can feel you pulsing inside me.”

You squeak when he pushes you down onto the desk, holding your hips as he thrusts into you with more vigour.  Then you are not saying anything, just moaning and riding out every quick snap of his hips.  You are not sure how he manages to find the softest, squishiest, more sensitive place inside you, every time, no matter the place or position, sending you hurtling towards to an orgasm at breakneck speed. 

“Oh, help, Professor, I’m gonna—”

“Me too, baby,” he says.  “All inside you.”

“Ohh, fuck—”  You come with a shuddering convulsion, twitching and clenching, your eyes closed as you pant into the wooden surface of his desk.  Your orgasm ends and he is still fucking you, drawing it out.  Your voice is guttural, low and breathy as you say, “Professor, be careful, we have no protection…”

He lifts you up, arches your back, and covers your mouth.

“I… told… you…”  He punctuates each sound with a hard thrust.  “To… be… quiet…” 

Then he drives into you and stays there, groaning into your neck as he comes and comes.   When his hand drops, you take in a gulp of air, shivering from the aftershocks of pleasure.  You are spilling out of your bra from all the jostling, your skirt in disarray.  You whimper when he pulls out of you, then again when he just covers you back up with your panties.  They are soaked in a second. 

“Maybe, uh,” he says with one of his funny, embarrassed, little giggles.  “Maybe we should stop by home and clean up before we go for dinner.” 

You giggle too, turning around to face him.  You fix your shirt while he tucks himself back into his pants.  He is already blushing and smiling that dimpled smile, looking all sweet and goofy as if he didn’t just fuck your brains out on his desk. 

“Good idea,” you say.  “That’s why you’re the professor.” 

He laughs.  Looking at you fondly, he cups your cheek and pulls you in for a long, tender kiss.    

[malewifesband]

i see it often that people do not see laios liking kabru, but in reality laios does like kabru! quite a lot for a guy that (from his perspective) he just met! laios forgetting kabrus exact name is not evidence of disinterest in any way--hes only heard it a couple of times, he struggles with small details (unless you want to argue laios also doesnt give a shit about marcille, chilchuck and senshi, he also forgets small details about them. if you do think this, i think dungeon meshi may be too advanced for you. stick to bluey.), and the man has autism. like near explicitly.

laios offers food from their limited supplies because kabru showed an interest in eating monsters, and makes him an omelette so he can have something to eat even though other food was already being prepared. he listens to kabrus criticism of his behavior and mindset in trying to protect falin even though she was straight up killing people, and tries to drag kabru to safety. he watches kabru defuse the situation between himself and toshiro masterfully, and confides in him how hurt he is that toshiro is so angry and how he mustve done something truly awful to upset him like that. when kabru tells him that meeting him was the best part of his time in the dungeon, laios agrees and says its the same for him (remember: laios doesnt do empty platitudes well--if he said it, he meant it).

when kabru leaves, we get three fucking panels in a row of laios staring after him, flexing the hand kabru was just holding, and reflecting on kabrus words ("next time..?")

when kabru shows up again deep in the dungeon, chilchuck is suspicious, but laios is so excited to see him that he throws caution to the wind and lets kabru hold his hand again despite seconds later crossing succubus off his list of shapeshifters that could be appearing as kabru--a carelessness around monsters and danger laios rarely exhibits. when kabru gives his warning about the canaries, laios is grateful. he notices how often kabru saves his skin

when lycion reveals that kabru lied about wanting to eat the omelette laios made, it breaks his heart because he made that with love! he made it for kabru, and kabru didnt like it, and now he knows kabru was just playing at friendship to use him. that breaks his heart, hes distraught, but he doesnt have time to be hurt about it when marcille needs his help urgently so he turns to run to her. he apologizes to kabru and tries to leave again. he isnt listening to what kabru is saying here because kabru was just revealed as a liar and because it doesnt really cohere (kabru is stuttering and speaking in broken sentences as he tries to explain about the dungeons power) and he needs to save marcille

he doesnt believe kabru wanted to be his friend, because who would? why would laios be special enough, loveable enough, to go through the pains kabru went through, just to be his friend? but when kabru makes the intensity of his desire known, laios promises to feed him again, at a proper restaurant --and again, food is care for laios, to feed someone is to love them. marcille is still his priority bc she is in real danger but he means what he says, he really does want to start over with kabru and be real friends with him

once we hit the resolution of the story, kabru near glues himself to laios, helping him and trying to cement himself as a right-hand man, and making known his intent to support laios no matter what. in the medieval manuscript style epilogue, kabru is one of two friends that stick by laios as he becomes king. both marcille and kabru become the people closest to him (besides falin of course), two friends who will always support him, always let him know when hes fucked up and theyre mad at him, two friends who he can rely on. laios did not have to accept kabru as an advisor, he did not have to ask him to stay with him. he did that because after everything, he trusts kabru now, and knows he can count on him

while laios doesnt give any big monologues about what he likes about kabru, its very clear he does, and we know what things laios values in other people. he appreciates kabrus social skills (very clear in the post canon comic in the adventurers bible), his intelligence, that kabru WANTS to be around him and understand him even though its difficult, his strength, and frankly he does appreciate his charm (three fucking panels straight of staring after him). laios really values people with specialized skillsets who are willing to tell him frankly what they think and advise him in areas he is weak in (something we see in his relationship with... i was gonna say namari but its everyone. he does this with everyone he likes. and in the resolution kabru does this CONSTANTLY he does not go a panel without giving laios his professional opinion on how to deal with people).

in conclusion: arent you hungry, kabru? let laios make something for you

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

WE CAN DIP IF YOU’RE READY ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; your dreams of a peaceful summer are rudely shattered by the presence of your best friend’s older brother; the same brother who rejected you five years ago. the same brother you’re still hopelessly, uselessly in love with.

word count; 7.4k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, best friend’s brother!gojo (he’s the hottest man in the stratosphere imo), mild age gap (five years!), unrequited love, but with a hopeful ending kind of, bittersweet fluff, mostly summer shenanigans and pining, riko is satoru’s younger sister and i would give her the stars, sugu makes a guest appearance, (they’re both just there to bully gojo), he’s fairly mature in this i think, reader is very stubborn and very down bad, [name] is used exactly once

a/n; personally i would let him use me as workout gear (tagging @teddybeartoji @dollsuguru @hayakawalove @stellamancer @vagabond-umlaut !! tysm for the help and encouragement ily 🥺🥺)

one mellow summer morning, over a breakfast of pancake and toast, the puppy-love you’ve nurtured for the past three years finally reaches its conclusion.

you’re seventeen years old. in three months you’ll be eighteen, standing on your own two feet, headed in a new direction — the whole world within your reach.

but right now you’re still only seventeen, and lovesick, and sleeping on a mattress in your best friend’s room; listening to the sound of the nearby sea. you’re seventeen, and dreaming about things you can’t have. you’re seventeen, and foolishly wearing your heart on your sleeve. 

you’re seventeen, and hopelessly, uselessly in love with a certain satoru gojo.

it’s early. your veins are sleepy and your heart is heavy, and you wake up at the crack of dawn just to catch a glimpse of him before he leaves for work. he’s leaning against the kitchen island when you trot down the stairs, and the smell of syrupy pancakes hangs heavy in the air; his bare chest is exposed, pajama pants clinging to the curve of his hips, and he rejects you with an easygoing kindness you wish he wouldn’t grant you.

”you’re more like a younger sibling to me. you understand, right?”

(suddenly, without mercy; a finality to his voice.)

he ruffles your hair, and you’re still sleepy, and you wish you could grasp the strings of your heartbeat to stop it from fluttering like this. wish you could pull yourself out of whatever trance he put you in, all those years ago, when you stumbled over the threshold to your best friend’s house and crashed headfirst into his chest.

”you’re a good kid,” he says, and his smile teeters on the edge of something apologetic. mostly, it’s pitying. ”there are lots of people out there for you.”

he ruffles your hair, as affectionate as ever, the same as it’s always been. not a trace of any romantic intent. the weight of his palm on your head is usually a comfort, but like this?

it’s a specific kind of torture. 

(i know, you want to tell him, but your voice is raspy and your throat feels sort of dry. i know.

but i want you.)

“don’t get hung up on a schoolgirl crush, hm?”

when you finally raise your head, satoru is looking at you, looking through you. kindly, patiently, like a benevolent god; his blue eyes flecked with dots of white, fluffy clouds on a summer sky. tilting his head to the right, as if searching for confirmation, waiting for your response. you muster up the will to nod, smiling in a way that must seem pitiful.

but he just pinches your cheek, throws a backpack over his broad shoulders, and asks you to let his sister know he’ll be home later than usual today.

then he leaves. he leaves you alone with two plates of pancakes on the kitchen table, sugary and sweet, one for you and one for riko. he put whipped cream on top, and chocolate chips in the batter. it smells good. it smells like an apology.

and that’s how it ends. 

there’s no great climax, no real resolution. you bite down on your lip, and spend about an hour pitifully sniffling into a fluffy pillow, even though none of it comes as a surprise. it still hurts, though. your best friend comforts you, tells you that at least you have some kind of closure now — an absolute rejection to make your feelings go away. about time, she thinks, though she’s far too kind to say it outloud.

… except they don’t.

the moral of the story is: satoru gojo doesn’t love you back. he’s known you since you were fourteen, since he was nineteen, and he could never see you as anything more than a naive little kid. you’re his sister’s best friend, and he loves you, but not in the way you love him. it’s not surprising, or shocking. it’s exactly how it should be.

satoru gojo doesn’t love you back. he never will.

(you really, really wish your stupid heartbeat cared.)

five years later, on a breezy summer evening, you step onto a bustling train platform with your luggage in tow — breathing in the scent of a familiar seaside.

above you, seagulls chatter and cry. you look up at them, and then back down; everything feels familiar, despite the time that’s passed since the last summer you visited. the same flowers, peach blossoms and hydrangeas and tulips in all kinds of shades, the same street vendors and aroma of freshly grilled fish. the same cute and quaint port town, quiet during winter and autumn, pleasantly noisy during the warmer seasons. right now, on the cusp of june, there are enough tourists around to make finding the right face in the crowd a difficult task.

luckily, she’s quick to find you. 

there she is. with her long, dark locks of hair, neatly braided, a yellow sundress and matching headband; sunflowers embroidered into the fabric. barreling towards you with a speed that would scare you a little if you weren’t so used to it, so used to her.

riko. your one and only best friend.

she’s nestled into your embrace before you can get any greetings out, and squeezing you so tightly that you have no choice but to let her beat you to it. she’s warm, like a bundle of sunshine. the same as always.

with a low whine of your name, she nuzzles into your chest. “i missed youuuu…”

a chuckle bubbles up in your throat. and even though it hasn’t been very long at all, even though you talk on the phone almost every day and saw each other just a month ago — you indulge her.

“i missed you too, riko…”

another whine, and then she’s pulling back. squishing your cheeks together and pouting petulantly. “you better have! don’t ever make me spend summer all alone again, okay?”

”you’re still mad about that?” you match her expression, sulking. “it’s not my fault i got sick.”

“too sick to see your best friend? too sick to continue our most important tradition?” she shakes her head, letting go of you. struggling not to smile. “awful. just awful!”

“drama queen.” her lips break out into a grin, and yours follow. “i’m here now, aren’t i?”

“you are,” she agrees, quick to link her arm with yours. you follow her steps, leading you towards a familiar house, resting in the distance. you can see it from here, a roof burdened with morning glories, those expensive white walls. “no, but seriously. i’m really happy to see you.” her voice drips with joy, giddy and sweet. “i don’t think i’d survive two months alone with that old man.” 

(… ah. right.)

the girl on your right chatters on and on, clinging to you, gradually melting away your skittish nerves. she tells you about her morning, what she ate for breakfast, the new show she’s been binging — it’s just as familiar as the house that soon comes fully into view. big and expensive, but still cozy, overgrown with flora. you don’t think either of the siblings really bother to take care of it, but it’s a pretty kind of neglect. a cute veranda, a beautiful garden. the apple tree you used to climb.

from within an opened window, translucent curtains swaying with the breeze, the buzz of an old radio spills out. when you strain your ears, you think you hear humming — gentle and sweet.

riko grins, dragging you with her through the opened gate. the yellow paint on the fence is starting to peel, and someone from inside has started pushing the door open, and the butterflies in your stomach can do nothing but sputter and squirm.

it’s summer, and you're back. back in that cute, quaint port town.

(and so is he.)

“why, hello there! if it isn’t my cute little [name].”

time stills, for just a single moment.

he looks the same as you remember. a little taller, you think, but he was always tall enough to tower over you; broad shoulders and long legs, sharp blue eyes gazing down at you. he’s wearing black shades, but you can still feel the weight of his pupils, crumble under the knowledge that his attention is entirely on you. wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tight black shirt, showing off every dip and ridge of his chest.

a pleasantly cool breeze ruffles his white hair, short and trimmed, healthy locks to match his bright and sunny grin.

he looks happy to see you.

“don’t be weird,” comes riko’s voice, breaking you out of your little spell. all while she’s ushering you both towards the door, beyond the threshold, into the hallway. satoru clicks his tongue.

“so hostile today. shouldn't you be in a good mood?”

then he’s turning towards you, tilting his head just enough for his eyes to peek out. they’re crinkled at the edges, and his smile is fond. “how was your trip?”

more butterflies. his voice flows from his glossy lips, smooth and melted, pleasantly deep. you can only hang on to riko’s arm, mustering a small smile of your own. “good,” you chirp. a little stiff, but polite, like you’re greeting an old friend; it’s been so long since you last spoke to him. ”… i’m tired, though.”

your reply is met with a chuckle, a raspy tremor of his vocal cords. it sends a shiver down your spine. the weight on your arm disappears, as riko stumbles forward and kicks her sandals off, muttering something about gum getting stuck on the sole. you’re left standing right across from satoru, suddenly very aware of how much space he takes up all on his own — leaning against the wall, making himself comfortable. and chuckling, with that stupidly sexy voice.

”i bet,” he hums. ”take a nap if you need to, yeah?”

a moment of silence. riko curses in the background, and you shift from foot to foot, unable to properly look into his eyes. for a second, his smile drops — eyes obscured by the black glass of his frames, betraying no emotion. it only lasts a second.

then he’s moving forward.

one large stride towards you, as sudden as a lightning bolt, before he leans down to wrap his arms around you. squeezing your waist, with his biceps, not quite as tight as you remember his hugs being; you wonder if he’s holding back.

(his touch burns your skin, all the same.)

one of his palms finds solace on the top of your head, ruffling your hair. you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks, terribly sincere.

“i missed you, kiddo.”

a quiet squeak tumbles from your lips, and you pray to every god you can think of that he doesn’t hear it. his chest is pressed right against you, firm, radiating body heat. his limbs wrap you up in it, a cocoon of warmth that makes it hard to breathe. you can smell his cologne from where your cheek meets his collarbone; sandalwood invading your senses.

“i m-missed you too,” is all you can croak out, voice breaking pitifully. at this rate you might actually faint.

just out of view, riko narrows her eyes. before you can plead for help, she’s tugging you away from the embrace, pushing her brother away, and you inhale as much of the fresh summer air as you can. 

“alright, that’s enough,” she huffs, pulling you closer. “c’mon! we should unpack your stuff right away!”

“want me to carry it?” satoru asks, already eyeing your luggage like a predator about to lunge at his prey. even if you say no, you know he’s not going to listen. 

so you let him. and within the next few minutes, you’re seated on riko’s bed, suitcase on the floor, a glass of lemonade in your hand. blinking sluggishly. 

“are you sure you’ll be alright?”

you raise your head. your best friend is looking at you with a questioning glance, head tilted and brows furrowed. now you’re all alone, and it’s quiet, peaceful. her brother went out to buy snacks for you. all you can hear is the low buzz of the radio downstairs, and faraway waves. 

“huh?”

“i mean, with, y’know…” she moves her hands haphazardly, making some kind of gesture you don’t understand. “with my brother. and your… condition.”

you blink.

“… did you just refer to my crush as a condition?”

“well, it might as well be!” she groans, muffled, faceplanting onto the mattress. “don’t think i didn’t see you checking out his biceps just now. you’re so obvious.” 

heat rushes to your cheeks. you try to shoo it away with a furrow of your brows and a too-loud exhale, but it lingers underneath your skin. “look — i —“ you scramble for the right words, brain tied up into fatigued knots. “did you see that shirt? is he buying them a size too small, or what?”

“oh, come on! that’s all it takes?”

another pair of exhales. you cross your legs, and she rolls onto her back. the silence is comfortable, grounding, and all you can do is gnaw at your bottom lip until she speaks up again.

“… you could really, really do better, you know?”

her voice is quiet, now. soft and sincere, delicate as a sheet of glass. you know she’s just looking out for you, that she doesn’t want you pining for a guy who’ll never return those feelings — she’s kind like that, always has been. you love her for it.

but…

“… i just like him.”

you take a tentative sip of your lemonade. sour and sweet. the cubes of ice clink against the glass, fresh condensation cooling down the tips of your fingers. her gaze lingers on your skin. it’s heavy, just like his.

you meet it with a sheepish smile, a little self-deprecating — but not embarrassed. she already knows all about your predicament. 

(you just like him. that’s all there is to it.)

and she pulls herself into a sitting position.

“i know, i know,” she finally sighs, slumping against you, cheek smushed over your shoulder. “just don’t give him more attention than me, ‘kay?”

you let out giggle. “well, duh.”

she gives you a sunny grin.

“okay, good.” 

you put the glass down on the windowsill beside you. just so you can stretch your arms out, falling backwards; a mountain of pillows cushioning your fall. a yawn spills past your lips, and riko sits up.

“wanna take a nap?” she tilts her head, dark locks framing her pretty blue eyes, deep as the sea. “that’s probably good. we’re going straight to the beach tomorrow, you know!”

“mm…” your eyes flutter shut, and you focus on that faraway sound. waves crashing against sand, the whistling of seagulls, the salty scent of the ocean. “that sounds nice.”

despite your exhaustion, you end up tossing and turning that night. not because of your best friend’s snores, or the feeling of a mattress you haven’t slept on in two years — but from the quiet sounds downstairs. glasses clinking, a chuckle here and there. the tv being turned on. tossing and turning from the knowledge that your childhood heartthrob, current heartthrob, is in the same house as you. a little older, a little less childish, even more charming than you remember him being.

you’re older, too. more mature, you like to think, even if the gain is small.

(maybe there’s a chance?)

shaking the thoughts from your head, mind still spinning along to the tune of his humming, you squeeze your eyes shut and try to fall asleep.

you’ll be okay.

okay, nevermind. you’re completely screwed.

“oh, there you are!”

satoru is already waiting up ahead when you step onto the beach, feeling the sand between your toes, a pleasantly cool breeze giving you respite from the sweltering heat.

the sun beats down on you, fervent sunlight warming the water up ahead, calm waves and a sparkling blue to match the hue of the sky; cobalts and ceruleans, melting together like watercolour on a canvas. people crowd around the food stands, shaved ice and churros and grilled fish, scents mingling together with the joyous chatter all around you. vibrant sensations, enough to excite but not to overwhelm. 

a picture-perfect summer day.

your heart tingles with something giddy, skipping happily as you follow riko’s lead; she’s wearing a cute bikini set, frilly and floral, hair styled into a pair of braided pigtails, kept together by her favorite scrunchies. leading you towards her older brother, waiting patiently, having already grabbed a nice spot for you. a parasol, a blanket, a picnic basket. you see bottles of pink lemonade, wrapped sandwiches, strawberries in a plastic container.

more than anything, you see him. you see him, and realize just how screwed you are.

he’s smiling, when you approach. as always. hair tousled by the ocean breeze, blue eyes gleaming with mirth, exposed by the sunglasses close to slipping down the bridge of his nose. he’s wearing a hawaiian shirt, black in colour, white floral patterns to tie it all together. just unbuttoned enough to show off his collarbone, a sliver of his chest, the short sleeves exposing his biceps; patches of pale skin, shining with the beginnings of sweat. 

(you’re about to fucking explode.)

as soon as you’re in sight, satoru lights up, aiming the flash of his phone in your direction. his other hand stays tucked into the pocket of his shorts. “aw, look at you two!” he coos, grinning brightly, teasing and sweet. “pose for the camera, okay?”

you’re still too hypnotized to react, but riko scurries ahead, ready to steal it from his grasp.

“no pictures!”

“oh, don’t be like that!” he takes a step back, dodging her attack by a hair, still wearing the same grin. “you’re gonna thank me ten years from now, trust me. it’s for the memories!”

a new voice spills into the air, suddenly, and you’re brought back into reality. it’s silky and low, smooth and nice, honeysuckle nectar turned into sound. interrupting the siblings.

“it’s been ten seconds. how are you already bickering?” 

you turn towards its source, and spot a familiar face — right next to satoru. were you seriously too mesmerized to notice him? black hair, another hawaiian shirt, slightly lidded eyes… 

suguru. 

he meets your surprised stare with a relaxed smile, and takes a step forward; meeting you for a quick hug. he looks the same as he did when you were younger, odd bangs, hair tied up into a bun.

“hi there,” he hums, right by your ear, a light squeeze before he lets go. “it’s been a while.”

you part your lips, smiling through your words. a little stunned. “i didn’t know you’d be here too!”

he chuckles, a light shrug of his shoulders. “me neither. satoru called me last night and asked me to drop by... i had time to kill.”

“you missed me.”

a dubious look. suguru gives a lazy roll of his eyes, avoiding the smug voice to his right. “i saw you last week,” he tuts, an unimpressed expression on his face. “how could i miss you?”

“do you need a reason to miss your best friend?” he shakes his head, slowly, side to side. white locks swaying back and forth. “awful. just awful.”

you stifle a smile, completely unsuccessful. the sun feels nice on your skin, and the scent of the sea is nostalgic, and they’re all the same as ever. it’s like you can feel your nerves melting away, slowly but surely, like grains of sand slipping through the gaps between your fingers. 

“the matching shirts are cute,” you point out, wanting to partake in the conversation, only to be met with a pair of furrowed brows.

suguru sighs. “that…” he mutters, massaging his temple, not before shooting satoru a dirty glance. “wasn't planned.”

said man only grins, unperturbed, tucking his phone back into his pocket. thoroughly amused. “he’s mad that i stole his fit,” he chirps, stretching his arms idly. it makes his shirt ride up, ever so slightly, and you swallow a gulp.

“well… you look good in it.”

at that, satoru stills. gazing at you, silently, before breaking out into another grin. self-satisfied, a smooth curve, sunlight against the white of his teeth. you glance away, suddenly a little shy.

“does he?” the other two deadpan, completely in sync. it shoos away the smile on his lips, making way for a displeased frown.

“oh, come on. would it kill you to call me handsome now and then?”

“handsome?” riko places her hands on her hips, raising an unimpressed brow, a sassy lilt to her voice. “you look like a single father down on his luck.”

“seconded,” suguru quips, hiding the beginnings of a smirk. picking at a piece of lint on his shirt. “honestly, i’m surprised you’re wearing any layers at all. not gonna flaunt your abs this time?”

satoru brightens, suddenly. wiggling his brows, a sweet coo on the tip of his tongue. “oh? want me to loosen up a couple buttons?” he purrs, and you hate yourself a little for the instant yes that resounds through your mind. “you know you can always just ask, suguru.”

his teasing goes ignored, but you don’t miss the amusement that flits through the scope of suguru’s eyes, even as he tries to maintain that deadpan expression.

finally, he exhales. “well, see you later,” he hums, directed to you and riko, checking the time on his wristwatch. “i should probably get going.”

“you’re not staying?” you ask, lashes fluttering with a confused blink. he smiles.

“i am,” he reassures you. “just gonna go fishing for a while. i thought i’d give it a try.”

“fishing?” riko exclaims, covering her amused grin with the palm of her hand. stifling laughter, you can tell, a bout of giggles begging to push past her lips. “what are you, fifty?”

satoru lets out a snort. to his left, suguru goes eerily silent — ominous, staring into your best friend’s eyes with no visible emotion. enough to make her smile fall. you feel a sense of deja vu.

“wait, i’m just kidding!” she suddenly squeaks, clinging to your arm and hiding behind you. she’s always had good survival instincts. ”don’t put me in a headlock!”

(they’re so stupid. 

gosh, you missed them.)

“oh, by the way — do you want some shaved ice?” she turns to you, eyes crinkled at the edges, voice syrupy and sweet. “i can go get us some. what flavour do you want?”

“ah, great idea!” satoru matches her tone, tongue flitting out to lick his lips, glossy with chapstick. “i was just craving something sweet.”

“you’re paying, by the way.”

“…”

“so? any preference?” she tilts her head, waiting patiently for your reply. smiling once she gets it. “alright, got it. you, suguru?”

“i’m good. thanks, though.”

“okie-dokie,” she puts her palm out, facing satoru. “money, please.”

he only tuts, digging through his pocket and pulling out a black wallet. you think you spot a photocard, but he’s pulled out a credit card and tucked it back into his pocket before you can get a closer look. 

“get me watermelon, okay? strawberry is fine too. if push comes to shove, go for anything other than lemon.” he hands her the card with a click of his tongue. “and watch out for creeps. if anyone hits on you, you know where to aim.”

she pockets it with a huff, exasperation on her features. “i’m twenty-three, toru. i can take care of myself.”

“aww, don’t be like that,” he coos, hands reaching out to squish her cheeks. she tries to squirm away, to no avail. “you’ll always be my little baby sister, you know. and, as your dependable big bro, i —“

“ugh, whatever.” she shoots him an unimpressed glance, finally escaping his hold. ”are you gonna go all men are wolves on us, or something?”

”they are! just look at suguru.”

”hey.”

you hide a growing smile behind your hand, watching them bicker and banter, feeling that sense of peace again. the summer day feels a little like a hazy daydream, a heavy nostalgia that sticks to your bones like gum on the sole of your shoe. 

and, once again — you end up alone with a certain someone. suguru walks towards the faraway pier, riko strolls up to the stand selling shaved ice, and satoru lingers behind. you think he looks relaxed, at ease, but you can’t really look at him for too long without feeling nervous. without feeling as if you’re both ignoring the elephant in the room. 

it still feels a little like there’s an invisible wall between you.

he’s the first to speak up, craning his neck and stretching like a big cat, a tiny groan flowing from his throat. “well, there they go,” he hums. “what do you feel like doing first?”

“ummm…” you rack your brain for ideas, coming up empty. a little fried by his presence. you could go into the water, and escape the heat — sunbathing with him doesn’t sound so bad, though…

lost deep in thought, you barely notice him inching closer. still weighing your options, water or land, a relaxing nap or a splash war. you don’t notice until you feel his arm sneaking around your waist, pulling you closer, just by a hair. stealing all the oxygen from your lungs.

(you think your brain shuts down a little.)

his touch burns, as always. bare skin on bare skin. electric, a trail of sparks rushing through your veins. he’s warm, and solid, effortlessly composed — guiding you right where he wants you, which is by his chest, where you can practically hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat —

and then he’s pulling away.

you raise your head to meet his gaze, completely flushed, unsure if you were hallucinating or not. he’s looking somewhere behind you, with a distinctly cold gaze, one you aren’t accustomed to seeing. you crane your neck, catching a glimpse of a man turning his back on you both before walking away.

… was he staring at you, or what?

when you search for satoru’s eyes again, they’re already on you. he’s smiling, a little sheepish, scratching at the back of his neck.

“sorry,” he chuckles. “i got paranoid.”

oh.

your skin still feels like it’s on fire. a lingering heat, blossoming where his skin touched yours, rendering you speechless. embarrassing, embarrassing, embarrassing. he was just looking out for you.

finally, you gain control over your vocal chords, dry and charred. just enough to croak out a response.

“i — it’s fine.”

your eyes stay glued to the sand beneath you, staring at a crushed seashell, unable to look him in the eye. feeling the back of your neck grow hotter. you miss the dirty glance riko sends his way, having just returned with the shaved ice, and the way satoru mouths out a silent what?

it’s easier after that. she grounds you, a little, leading you out into the sea. the water is pleasantly mild, licking at your ankles, coaxing you further, until it’s reaching up to your waist. it cools you down considerably, and before you know it you’re splashing her with all you’ve got, giggles filling the salty air — seagull cries above you and wet sand beneath your feet, a glimmer or two of tiny fish, loud laughter. sensations all around you. satoru watches you with a smile, munching on a sandwich, not joining you both until riko beckons him over.

the day stretches on, melting away into evening. people leave the beach behind them, suguru heads back to the house with a bucket of fish and a smug smile, riko dries herself off with a towel and rushes to a nearby convenience store when she notices that it’s about to close. murmuring something about dinner, shooting you an anxious glance, a silent will you be alright on your own? with him? 

you wave her off with a smile. hoping it’ll come off as convincing, even though you’re anything but.

one way or another, you end up under a parasol with a certain satoru gojo; putting empty bottles of lemonade back into the picnic basket, rolling up the blanket, stuck with cleaning duty. satoru carries it all, unwilling to let you help, the basket hanging off his arm. you walk away from the beach, stepping onto solid asphalt again, beginning your trekk up towards the main street — not too long of a walk, but you’re tired, even though satoru doesn’t seem tuckered out in the slightest. walking a step or two ahead of you.

the sun is beginning to set, melting like a sundae on the boundary of the horizon, rays of golden sunshine dripping down your wrist. satoru looks good in it, the pink and orange; peaceful, somehow. when the breeze licks a stripe across his cheek, he closes his eyes and exhales. there’s a smile on those lips, a smile of contentment.

he turns towards you and waits until you catch up.

“tired?” he coos, tilting his head, absently tucking his shades into the breast pocket of his shirt. blinking slowly, eyes shimmering in the summery hue of evening. 

“kinda,” you smile, trying to muster a pep in your step. another hum buzzes in his throat, and then he’s facing forward again.

“c’mon. let’s get you something from the vending machine, okay? ‘s just up ahead.” he pats your head, once, twice. “that’ll give you some energy.”

you can only nod, following his lead. hydrangeas bloom all around you, a thick syrupy scent, paired with apple blossoms from the backyards you pass. then you spot the vending machine. satoru takes out his wallet, finding his card — it’s not the same one as before. riko still has it.

and this time, you’re close enough to see it. in his wallet is a photocard, clearly visible; of a baby, sleeping soundly, with short tufts of hair. a dark colour unlike his own.

(your heart melts, a little.)

“cola or sprite?”

you raise your head, looking through the barrier of glass in front of you. then you’re stepping forward, fingertip pressing against it, pointing towards a green can of sprite. not looking at him, as you make your choice. ”this one.”

— suddenly, you feel his skin on yours.

you’re sleepy, and pliant, jaw caught between his fingers. he lifts it up, turns it towards him, just so that you’ll meet his gaze. two seas of blue, flecks of pure white, summer skies and summer clouds.

“there,” he exhales, pleased. giving you a reassuring smile before pulling away. “you’ve barely looked me in the eye today. ‘s gonna break my heart, y’know.”

a pause. you gulp, on instinct, shying away from his unbridled attention — eyes moving from those summer skies down to the curve of his glossy lips, and then back up again. a mistake, because when you glance down once more — unable to help yourself — you see it.

that apologetic smile.

(you really are obvious, aren’t you?

how embarrassing.)

silence splits the scene in half, only the faraway sounds of seagulls as background noise. they sound a little like they’re laughing, mocking you.

satoru presses a button on the vending machine, followed by a quiet beep. he doesn’t look at you when he broaches the subject, and you wonder if it’s out of respect or discomfort.

“still not over that schoolgirl crush, huh?”

…

something twists inside your gut. a little ugly, a little sentimental. now that he’s made the first move, it’s easier to move the pieces.

“… it’s not a crush,” you murmur, kicking at a pebble on the ground. surprised by how clear your voice comes out. “i’m in love with you.”

a sigh. another beep, and the sound of a sodacan falling against metal flooring. he crouches down.

“… you could really, really do better.”

you watch as he fumbles with the pick-up box, eyes trained on the back of his neck, the buzzed hair of his undercut. letting out a quiet breath. “riko said the same thing.”

a snort pushes past his lips, ripe with fondness. he pulls himself up from the ground, shifting his weight from one foot to another, reaching for his wallet again. “oh, i’m sure.” he tucks the card back, slipping it into his pocket. a stray cat strolls by you, unburdened, waving its tail in the air. “really, though. you should listen to her.”

something cold meets your cheek. metal, condensation, a pleasant shiver down your spine. he presses the aluminium can against you, and you receive it with a murmur of thanks.

“i’m too old for you, for one.” he continues, and suddenly you feel a little like you’re being lectured. you break open the lid of the sprite can.

“you’re five years older.” a fizzy sound crackles like static in your ears, carbonation bubbling up, sticking to your fingertips. “and we’re both adults.”

he huffs out a breath, only mildly amused. “i’m pushing thirty, y’know?”

you take a sip, lips against cold aluminum, melting sunrays lapping at your skin. it tastes sweet. 

“i know.” a pause, your bottom lip trapped between two sharp teeth. gnawing at the flesh. ”i can’t control how i feel, though.”

…

“yeah,” he sighs, leaning back against the glass. crossing one leg over the other, fiddling with something in his pocket. “i know.”

a moment passes. then he parts his lips, again.

“hey, how about you join me on a mixer someday?” he searches for your gaze, smiling, another one of those charming tilts of his head. “i know some cute guys. and girls, if that’s your thing.”

your answer is instantaneous.

“i’ll pass.”

…

another exhale, breathed out into the summer air. it’s dripping with exasperation, ripe with fatigue, but there’s still something fond there. unmistakable.

“fine, fine. just… think about it, okay?” his palm finds its way to your head, ruffling your hair with a gentle caress. that comforting weight. “c’mon, let’s go back. riri’s making dinner tonight.”

and then he’s taking a step forward. you watch his back for only a moment, still deep in thought. a fizzy, syrupy sweetness sticking to your teeth, a sense of nostalgia invading all your senses. and, as always, that silent adoration.

deep down, you know it’s true. there’s no changing this, whatever this is. in the same way riko will always be his baby sister, you’ll always just be the brat that sniffled into his chest after your first fight with her. 

he’ll never quite see you the way you’d like him to.

(but, then again, isn’t that a part of it? that subtle, subtle kindness of his. the sense of maturity that asks for nothing in return.)

satoru is a good guy. that’s why you can’t help but adore him, despite everything. can’t help but watch his back as he leaves you behind, wishing you could catch up. that your legs were long enough.

it feels nice, to open yourself up like this. crack the lid of your heart, and have him wade through the carbonation. it feels nice to have your feelings be acknowledged, even if they aren’t reciprocated, even if you’re completely delusional and high on summer joy. it feels nice just to watch him shine.

you gulp down the rest of your sprite, toss it into a trash can across the street, and stumble after him. veins sleepy, heart heavy, overwhelmed by adoration. you’ve already cracked the lid open; everything else comes easy. you just want to make a move, any move. want to see how he’ll react.

“satoru,” you call, and he comes to a standstill. when he turns around your arms are outstretched. “can i have a piggyback ride?”

the man before you blinks. once, then twice, fluttering like angel wings, or pretty clouds. 

and then his smile grows. you catch a glimpse of his dimples, for just a moment, and then he’s beckoning you closer with a chuckle.

“yeah? now you’re suddenly all brave?” he shakes his head, no real discontentment behind it. “or are you really that exhausted?”

he studies you intently, ripe with fondness, and you think your sluggish blinks must be enough to convince him. because he crouches down, back facing you, and chirps out a hop on. a little teasing, of course, but still nice. his arms underneath your thighs, lifting you up like it’s nothing. making sure you’re comfortable. he’s strong. very strong.

the butterflies in your stomach flutter around again.

and, honestly, you really are very exhausted. bones buzzing with something sleepy and fatigued, sore after all the running around you did in the water. completely tuckered out, resting your cheek against his back. like this, you can feel his muscles, the solidity of his body. it’s a little bit distracting.

“— remember?”

a series of blinks. you grasp onto his shoulders, holding back a yawn. “huh?”

“you falling asleep on me?” he chuckles, walking forward. one step after another, the soles of his sandals hitting the asphalt. “i was saying — how i remember doing this back then.”

you tilt your head.

“when you fell and twisted your ankle. i think it was nearby, actually… some park?”

“... oh.” when you really concentrate, you think you do recall it; the feeling of his back against your chest, a dull ache in your foot. “yeah, i remember.”

satoru hums, a little buzz of amusement. “after that, you and riri would ask me for it all the time. carry us, big bro!” his imitation makes you smile, voice high and squeaky. “so childish, i swear. i could barely carry one of you.”

a chuckle tumbles from your lips, and it seems to spur him on; because he continues. nostalgia pouring out his throat.

“don’t tell her, okay? but, see — i started going to the gym after that. lifting weights. training, and stuff,” he huffs out an amused exhale, grinning softly. “suguru made me carry boulders on the beach. it was kind of our thing.”

…

“we almost got arrested once.”

you can’t help but laugh, hiding in the smooth fabric of his shirt, in between those printed white flowers. shoulders shaking slightly, giddy and amused. “you did that just ‘cause you were embarrassed?”

“no,” he murmurs, softly, the slightest shake of his head. ”because i wanted to be prepared. in case the two of you ever happened to fall over at the same time, or something…” a sheepish little chuckle. ”i wanted to be able to carry you both back.”

satoru continues to walk, facing away from you. always smiling, you’re sure. even if you can’t see it.

“you’re both precious to me,” he says, making sure to keep a steady hold around your legs. “that’s why i don’t want either of you wasting yourselves on some random guy. i hope you can understand that.”

silence. then, a displeased huff.

“… you’re not some random guy, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“well, of course not. i’m the guy,” he stands a little straighter, and you can practically see the smug smirk on his lips. “but i’m not a very good person.”

you blink.

silence fills the open air.

he says it so casually that you almost don't catch it. matter-of-factly, like it’s just another obvious realization, something so deeply ingrained that it isn’t even worthy of a tonal shift. satoru, who makes pancakes for the people he loves, who carries your bags and buys you soda and keeps a picture of his baby sister in his wallet. satoru, your first love.

that satoru isn’t a good person?

(how could he ever, ever think that?)

“you are.”

a low hum buzzes in his throat. you’re not sure he heard you. if he did, he simply doesn’t care enough to respond. the scene flickers by, the moment comes and goes — you want to protest again, but something about this silence makes you hesitate.

the only thing you can do is —

“satoru.”

another little hum. acknowledging, this time. 

“do you… i mean,” you choke down a bundle of words, replacing them with new ones. gnawing at the flesh of your bottom lip. “is there really no chance… you’ll ever feel the same? none at all?”

…

a mirthless chuckle. he sounds a little tired, you think, more than a little exasperated. but the amusement is still there, laced into his voice, and you drink it in the same way you’ve always done. a little root, soaking in the light of the sun.

“after all that,” he mutters, “you’re still asking?”

a moment’s pause. you listen intently, as if you could hear the gears of his mind shift if you focus enough. as if just being stubborn enough could coax him into opening up the way you have. 

finally, he parts his lips.

“well,” comes a sigh, a click of his tongue. he breathes in the summer breeze. “maybe in a couple decades or so.”

you stare. those white tufts of hair sway with every step he takes, and his voice has a finality to it that isn’t lost on you. solemn, steady, a pillar of salt.

“… okay.”

a pause. then he’s barking out a short laugh, shoulders shaking with the sound. you tighten your grip around them. “okay?” he repeats, pinching the skin of your thigh. “can’t you read between the lines, you little troublemaker?”

a huff. you kick your legs, a little, just stretching them contentedly. wet hair sticking to his skin, your cheek still smushed against him, enveloped in his neverending warmth. “i don’t mind,” you whisper, choking down a yawn. “i’ve already waited eight years. a couple decades more isn’t too bad.”

silence, again. you wonder what he’s thinking, if you’ll ever come close to cracking open the lid of his heart. he parts his lips, and oxygen spills out.

(you think it’s a start.)

“… has anyone ever told you that you’re awfully stubborn?”

you’re quick to nod, nuzzling into his undercut. wearing a satisfied smile. “riko tells me all the time.”

“does she?” there’s silent laughter hiding between his teeth, eager to spill out. “that’s good. listen to her, alright? you might learn a thing or two.”

now he’s just teasing you. the sun is setting, and the air smells like saltwater, and satoru’s back is warm; his voice set to a melodic lilt, as if tempting you to close your eyes. it’s summer, in a quiet port town.

and you adore him again. 

that’s right, you muse, belatedly. loving him was never a choice, and waiting wasn’t ever an issue. getting over him is the tall hurdle, the root of the problem, a root you intend you trip over as many times as it takes for this something to bloom.

because he’s beautiful, and comfortable, and kind. because it’s his back you always end up clinging to. because he knows how you like your pancakes, how you take your coffee, what you look like when you cry. because you like this feeling, the swarm of butterflies in your stomach. even if they’re completely meaningless in the long run.

satoru is right, and so is riko. you’re stubborn, terribly so. if only you could see that as a bad thing.

if only you were physically capable of giving this something up.

unlike the siblings and their overgrown yard, you just can’t seem to look away from an ugly bud yet to bloom — just in case it ends up blossoming, this summer, or the next. just in case it turns into something worth plucking from the ground. it’s fine if it withers away; at least it’ll give way to better soil.

you just like him. you just want to see where it leads you. that’s all, that’s it. that was always it.

“but promise you’ll go with me to that mixer, okay?” his voice calls, breaking you out of your thoughts, unrelenting. ”i’ll find you someone who’ll get your mind off little ol’ me.”

ah. that’s right. 

(you’re terribly, horribly stubborn —

and satoru is too.)

you grin, soft and giddy, thinking of the years ahead of you both. what they’ll be like. where’s the fun in a certain future?

“fine,” you hum, wrapping your arms around his neck. inhaling that familiar scent of sandalwood. “do your worst.”

[satoruxx]

pairing: gojo satoru x reader summary: bestfriend!satoru has returned, fluff, pining, slightly angsty bc of pining, simp satoru hehe, oblivious reader is back again, satoru loves you !! rheya's note: continuation to this drabble bc bestfriend!satoru is everything to me !!

bestfriend!satoru who insists that you have him on speed dial because "he's the most important person in your life" but really it just satisfies him to know that he's the first one you'd call if you needed anything.

bestfriend!satoru who started off being a bit of an ass when you first met. not because he was trying to be but because he's got an ego and doesn't know how to control it, until you call him out for his shit and it sends his heartbeat all out of wack.

bestfriend!satoru who doesn't trust anyone else around you. it's not out of concern or anything, oh no. but in his expert opinion only him and the people he trusts (like suguru, shoko, or nanami) should ever get within six feet of you.

bestfriend!satoru who waits outside every class for you, leaning against the wall with a bag of your favorite snacks in his hand, glasses perched low on his nose. the smile that crawls onto his face as you walk out of the classroom and join him is practically blinding.

bestfriend!satoru who grows older thinking of nothing but you. the person most important to him, the person he would move galaxies for. and no, it's not romantic or anything. he's just your best friend.

bestfriend!satoru who realizes that he's not the only one in the world who knows that you're attractive, and has to clench his fists with a scowl as he sees other men noticing you. then he has to stop and check himself because, why on earth is he mad about it?

bestfriend!satoru who starts openly staring at you because he can't even control it anymore, eyes soft and overflowing affection as he watches you indulge in silly mundane tasks. and when you turn and catch him looking all he can do is give you a dreamy little smile. he's got no excuses but he's gonna play it off like it's something you shouldn't worry about anyway.

bestfriend!satoru who makes you his number one priority, who doesn't care about anyone else when you're in front of him. and even if you aren't around, he can't bring himself to look at anyone else. if someone comes up to him on the street, mumbling something about how he's their type and they'd like his contact info, all he does is give them a breezy wave, saying "sorry. i got someone waiting for me."

bestfriend!satoru who, when you're trying to explain something and someone speaks over you, gives you a resolute "no i'm listening." and doesn't take his eyes away from you until you've said all that you needed to. don't ever think that nobody is listening to you because you always have his attention.

bestfriend!satoru who grits his teeth as you tell him about another unsuccessful date with a man who didn't even know how to treat you right. and how could they, when they don't even know how you like your coffee or what side of the bed you prefer to sleep on? they don't know what your favorite movie snack is or about your obsession with plants or your most precious pair of fluffy socks. not the way he does.

bestfriend!satoru who has to hold himself back during your ranting, who has to keep himself from just letting go and spilling that you weren't going to find someone who loved you more than he did. to stop himself from leaning down and kissing you so hard it takes your breath away, because he's wanted to do it since he was sixteen. he was just too stupid to understand it back then.

bestfriend!satoru who chooses to wait instead, knowing that he'll be stuck with these feelings for the rest of his life, so he'd rather wait for you. because he'd hate himself if he made you uncomfortable, and if he lost the relationship he had with you now over his silly little heart. no instead, he'll keep proving himself, staying by your side and showing you even just of fraction of the devotion he knows he has for you, if it means that you'll be by his side. and hoping that one day, maybe, you'd tell him you feel the same.

[jedi-starbird]

APLAP (Assigned Pathetic Lifeform at Padawanship)

New padawan Obi-Wan trying to figure out how the FUCK to make his master listen and not abandon him to go running off following "the will of the force" when it hits him. Qui-Gon is perfectly happy stopping and taking care of pathetic life forms, but not Obi-Wan. That's it. He's always been prepared, always been dutiful, strong, self-sufficient.

He's cracked the code. He needs to be more pathetic.

The next time he senses Qui-Gon's about to run off he coordinates a scene of utmost pathetic-ness, that is, he throws himself into the nearest fountain. He trudges up to his master sopping wet, water-logged robes swallowing him, with hair sticking to his face and containing bits of algae from the fountain. He mumbles out an apology for being clumsy before looking up at Qui-Gon with the biggest, most woeful eyes possible to ask if he happened to bring any spare robes (he didn't, Obi-Wan knows this because he is usually the one to pack spare robes for them both). His wet hair is dripping water into his eyes that's beginning to turn them an irritated red, and there's algae sliding down the side of his face, it really is masterful work.

"Oh...I'm sure I'll be able to find something by myself, it's okay Master, I know you had important work to do."

Qui-Gon visibly hesitates. Obi-Wan starts shivering. He turns to walk away. He's stopped by his Master's hand on his shoulder. His Master, who walks back with him, who gets clean clothes from their hosts, who has folded like wet flimsi and even explains his stupid, stupid plan before choosing to hotwire a hoverbike with a passenger seat! Oh, Obi-Wan really has cracked the code!

Afterwards, Obi-Wan stages an increasingly pitiful accident for himself every time his patented 'Qui-Gon Jinn Bullshit' detector goes off. Eventually, his Master stops leaving him behind at all, even giving him funny looks when he turns around and Obi-Wan isn’t next to him. It never fails to make Obi-Wan grin and run to catch up. Sure, his reputation as a perfect padawan is in tatters, alongside his dignity, but it’s a small price to pay for a place at his Master’s side, for him to remember there’s a place for Obi-Wan there.

When the ray shields come up on Naboo, Qui-Gon doesn't charge ahead and leave his padawan behind, he hasn't for years. He waits for Obi-Wan because it feels wrong to do otherwise, his padawan belongs at his side.

Much, much later, when Obi-Wan is drinking to the end of the war with friends, Commander Cress will ask him how he kept General Jinn from running off for entire decade. Obi-Wan laughs, informs him, and resolutely ignores the scene Quinlan is making as the man cackles and pulls up a book to shove at them both, titled Classical Conditioning 101: A guide to subtle psychological manipulation.

[moomuzan]

— 𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖕𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖎𝖊𝖘

you two had a fight… :( , chuuya , akutagawa , dazai , kunikida x gn! reader , angst with happy end , req.

The fight began in silence. It was always that way with AKUTAGAWA—his sharpness spoken not with words but in the jagged edges of his movements. You had been arguing for what felt like hours, though in truth it had been minutes, the air thick with unspoken things. He stood near the window, his back to you, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he tried to contain himself.

“You never listen,” you muttered, your voice trembling as you forced the words past the lump in your throat.

At that, Akutagawa’s head snapped toward you, his eyes like shards of glass. “And you never understand,” he bit out, voice low and dangerous, yet quivering with something beneath the anger. He didn’t raise his voice—he never had to. The quiet violence in him was enough.

Though the weight of his words dug in deep, you didn’t flinch. Instead, you turned away, shoulders slumping. “Maybe I don’t,” you murmured. “But it doesn’t feel like you want me to.”

Those words hung heavy in the air, more final than either of you realized. Akutagawa’s breath caught—briefly, sharply—but he said nothing. He couldn’t. He watched as you walked past him, your form fading down the hallway, your steps too slow, too heavy, and the sound of the door closing behind you hit him like a gunshot.

Then there was silence.

Your voice echoed in his mind, repeating itself like a haunting refrain. He thought of the way you looked at him—tired, unsure, something fragile about you that he hadn’t noticed until it was too late. His hands, once trembling with frustration, fell limp at his sides as the truth settled into him like a blade.

All this time he had been pushing you away. For weeks. Months, maybe. And now, the distance he had been creating out of habit—the wall he had built to keep himself safe—threatened to swallow you both whole.

When Akutagawa finally moved, it was sudden. He grabbed his coat and left without thinking, his steps quick and uneven as he navigated the streets. He didn’t know where you had gone, but that didn’t matter. His mind screamed at him that he had to find you—not to fix everything, because he didn’t know how, but to try.

He found you hours later, sitting on a bench in a quiet park, your head bowed and hands folded tightly in your lap as though you were holding yourself together. Akutagawa paused, watching you from a distance, unsure how to approach. He wasn’t good at this. He wasn’t good at people, at love, at softness. But you… you were his, even if he didn’t know how to show it.

Slowly, he stepped forward, the gravel crunching under his boots. You glanced up at the sound, and your expression—tired, tear-streaked—knocked the wind from his lungs.

As he sat down beside you he didn’t speak. There were no words in him that could fit, no perfect apology, so he let the silence settle between you instead. It was the same silence you had both been drowning in for so long, but this time, it felt different.

Akutagawa reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his handkerchief—neatly folded and immaculate. Without a word, he handed it to you. You stared at it for a moment, confused, before you took it with trembling fingers, pressing the fabric to your face to wipe the tears you hadn’t realized were still falling.

Similar to a man trying to learn something foreign and unfamiliar, he stayed still, hands on his knees, his posture stiff and uncomfortable but resolute. You noticed the faintest tremor in his breathing—too shallow, too quick.

“I…” He swallowed hard, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “I don’t want you to go.”

Clipped words, barely there, landed with the weight of a confession. You turned toward him, searching his face, and saw the unspoken things in his expression—the desperation, the regret, the quiet fear of losing you.

“You’re always pushing me away,” you whispered. “I thought maybe you wanted me to leave.”

Akutagawa’s jaw tightened, his fists curling against his knees. “I don’t.”

“Then why—”

“Because I don’t know how,” he snapped, his voice cracking just slightly before falling into a harsh whisper. “I don’t know how to keep you close. I don’t know how to be… what you need.”

Ultimately, the honesty in his words shocked you. Akutagawa, who had always hidden himself behind barbed wires of anger and distance, looked broken now—cracks forming in the mask he had worn for so long.

The mafia executive turned to look at you, for the first time in a long time, there was no anger in his gaze, only vulnerability. “But I’ll learn,” he said, his voice so soft you barely heard it. “If you let me.”

Letting out a shaky breath, your chest tight with the weight of his words, you believed him—not because his words were perfect, but because they weren’t. They were raw and uneven and full of the effort he didn’t know how to put into love but was trying to find anyway.

Tentatively, you reached for his hand, your fingers brushing his knuckles before settling into the spaces between them. He stiffened slightly at the touch, as though it startled him, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let your hand rest in his, holding it as though he was afraid of squeezing too hard, of breaking something precious. In the quiet weight of his touch, you felt his intent—steady, unsure, but determined.

,

The fight was inevitable. A slow-burning thing that began weeks ago, ignited by small moments—the unanswered questions, the quiet neglect, the way he seemed farther away even when he stood right beside you. KUNIKIDA was always consumed by purpose, always looking ahead to the next task, the next step, the next ideal, but you were slipping through the cracks of his perfection.

Like a chasm neither of you knew how to cross, you stood in the middle of the living room, the space between you vast.

“You’re never here, Kunikida,” you said softly, your voice strained, though you fought to keep it steady. “You’re with your notebook, with your plans, with your work—but you’re not with me.”

Kunikida, standing stiffly by the desk, lifted his gaze toward you, his brows furrowed in irritation—or maybe confusion. “Do you think I’m not trying?” he said, his voice calm but cold, too sharp. “Everything I do, everything I plan, is for the future. For us.”

You flinched—not at the volume but at the way he sounded like he’d already lost you.

“I don’t want plans,” you whispered, your hands clenching at your sides. “I want you.”

Those words cut deeper than you realized. Kunikida stood there, silent, his expression unreadable, though you could see the faintest tension in his shoulders. You waited for him to say something, to move, to do anything. But he stayed where he was, his silence stretching like a weight across the room.

So you turned away. You grabbed your coat, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t say goodbye.

Feeling heavier without you in it, the apartment seemingly collapsed. Kunikida remained frozen where he stood, his gaze fixed on the space you had occupied moments before. It wasn’t until the sound of the ticking clock broke through the silence that he moved, sinking down to the edge of the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, his head in his hands.

“I want you.”

As the words replayed in his mind, like a record skipping back to the same refrain, he could see it now—the weariness in your eyes, the way you had been pulling away, not because you wanted to, but because he had left you no choice.

By the time you returned, the apartment was dark except for the soft glow of a lamp. You stepped in cautiously, expecting more silence, but what you found made you pause. Kunikida was sitting at the dining table, his glasses pushed to the bridge of his nose, papers scattered in front of him.

But these weren’t work documents. They were lists—half-scribbled, messy things that you’d never seen from him before. You squinted, your eyes catching glimpses of his handwriting.

“Dinner together—at least three nights a week.”

“Put work away by 9 PM.”

“Ask her about her day. Listen.”

Painfully, your throat tightened as you stepped closer. Kunikida looked up, his expression soft and open, uncharacteristically uncertain. He held the notebook in his hands as though it might break.

“I stayed up thinking,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with something you couldn’t place—regret, maybe, or guilt. “You were right. I’ve been… absent. I thought I was doing what was best, but I was leaving you behind.”

You swallowed hard, words escaping you as he stood, stepping carefully toward you. His movements were deliberate, as though he was afraid of scaring you away.

“I don’t want you to feel alone,” he continued, his voice low, steady—different now, like he was peeling himself back just for you. “I’ve been so focused on building a future that I forgot to be present with you, here, in this moment. And I swear to you, I’ll fix that. I’ll fix us.”

Looking down, your eyes stinging with tears as his words settled over you like a balm to an old wound. When you didn’t respond right away, Kunikida exhaled a shaky breath and reached out—tentatively, carefully—until his hand cupped your cheek.

“Please,” he said, his thumb brushing against your skin, gentler than you thought him capable of. “Let me try again.”

For once, Kunikida let go of everything else. His ideals, his plans, his need to control every outcome—none of it mattered now. He held you like you were the most fragile thing in the world, his hand cradling the back of your head, his lips pressing softly to your hair.

,

The fight began with fire, as it always did with CHUUYA. It started with sharp words, thrown back and forth like daggers. You were yelling, your voice hoarse with frustration, while Chuuya paced the living room like a caged animal, his boots heavy against the floor, his anger a storm threatening to break.

“You never listen,” you shouted, your chest heaving as tears burned behind your eyes. “All you do is shut me out. Every time I try to talk to you, you shut me out like I don’t matter!”

In a matter of seconds Chuuya’s eyes snapped toward you, his temper flaring, his fists clenching at his sides. “I don’t shut you out!” he barked, his voice rough, defensive. “I’m trying to keep you safe! You don’t understand what it’s like to have—”

“To have what?” you cut in, your voice cracking. “To care about someone who won’t let you in? You think I don’t know what that’s like? I’m right here, Chuuya! I’ve been here, and you’re the one who keeps pushing me away!”

The silence that followed was deafening. Chuuya froze, the words sinking in like stones, and you could see the flicker of something breaking in his expression. His anger, once so loud, melted into something quieter—something heavier.

“I’m done,” you said finally, the words trembling as you turned toward the door. “If you don’t want me here, I won’t stay.”

Chuuya didn’t stop you. He couldn’t. He stood there, his hands trembling, his breathing uneven as the door slammed shut behind you. The echo of it hit him like a physical blow, a hollow ache spreading through his chest.

And then the silence swallowed him whole.

“You’re the one who keeps pushing me away.”

You were right. He knew it. He had spent so long building walls—walls made of iron and pride and fear—that he hadn’t realized how much it was hurting you. How much it was pushing you out of reach. Chuuya thought keeping you away from the darkest parts of himself was the only way to protect you, to keep you safe in a world that had always been cruel to the people he loved.

But instead, he was losing you.

The thought made something snap inside him. Chuuya was not a man who sat still when something he cared about was on the line. His love was not quiet or patient—it was fierce, reckless, and alive, and he couldn’t let you walk away believing he didn’t care.

He grabbed his coat and left, the door slamming behind him.

It was raining when he found you. The sky had opened up, and the streets were slick with water that pooled along the curbs. You sat on a bench under the dim glow of a streetlamp, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as you stared at nothing. The rain soaked through your clothes, your hair plastered to your face, but you didn’t move.

Slowing as he approached, Chuuya‘s boots splashed through puddles. His chest ached at the sight of you—so small, so still, like the fight had drained every last bit of you.

“You’ll get sick sitting out here,” he said quietly, his voice soft in a way it rarely was.

You didn’t look up. “What do you care?”

The words cut him, sharper than any knife. He swallowed hard, stepping closer. “I care,” he said, kneeling down in front of you, his gloved hands hovering near your knees like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you. “I care more than I know how to say, and that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

Finally, you looked at him, your eyes glassy, tears mixing with the rain on your cheeks. “Then why do you keep shutting me out?”

As Chuuya’s jaw tightened, he stared at you, the words tangled on his tongue. He hated this—hated how raw he felt under your gaze, how exposed he was now that he couldn’t hide behind his anger. But you deserved the truth, even if it was ugly.

“Because I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice low, unsteady. “I’m scared of what happens when I let you in, when you see all the things I’ve been trying to hide. I don’t want to lose you, and I thought… I thought pushing you away would keep you safe. But all I did was hurt you.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the crack in his voice, by the way his shoulders slumped as though he was finally letting himself break.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his head lowering. “I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I swear to you, I’ll try. I’ll try to let you in—to be the person you need me to be. Just… don’t leave. Please don’t leave.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the rain falling steadily around you, cold and endless. And then, slowly, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his soaked coat before curling into the fabric.

Melting into him, your tears finally fell freely, though the rain washed them away before they could linger. Chuuya held you as though he could hold the pieces of you back together, his warmth seeping into you despite the cold.

,

Pacing the apartment, your frustration swirled in your chest like smoke. Dazai sat in the armchair near the window, his coat draped lazily over the back, his posture slouched in that same infuriating way—as though nothing could touch him, as though nothing mattered.

And that’s what broke you.

“Do you even care?” you asked, voice trembling as you stopped mid-step.

Dazai’s eyes flicked to you, dark and unreadable, the faintest quirk of his brow betraying his surprise. “What do you mean?”

The casual tone of his voice—the utter detachment—sent something sharp through you. “This,” you said, gesturing to the space between you, to the invisible walls you couldn’t tear down. “Us. Me. Do you even care, or am I just another distraction to you?”

Something flickered across his expression then—gone too quickly for you to name it. He stood slowly, his movements calculated, measured. “That’s unfair,” he said quietly, though there was an edge to his words now.

“Unfair?” you echoed bitterly, your chest tightening. “You shut me out, Dazai. Every time I try to get close, you laugh it off, or you disappear, or you pretend like none of it matters. I can’t keep reaching for someone who’s not even there.”

Instead of answering, he stared at you, his silence louder than any scream. And just maybe it was the silence that hurt most of all.

Letting out a shaky breath, your hands trembled as you wiped angrily at the tears spilling over your cheeks. “I can’t keep doing this. If you won’t let me in, then… then maybe I shouldn’t be here at all.”

Dazai’s eyes widened just slightly, but his lips pressed into a thin line, his mask sliding perfectly back into place. “Maybe you shouldn’t,” he said softly.

It was meant to be a shield—to protect you from him, to protect himself from the possibility of losing you. But the words struck like a knife, and you staggered back as though he’d hit you.

You grabbed your coat, ignoring the way your breath came in broken gasps, and you left without another word.

But he didn’t stop you. He couldn’t. As he stood there, staring at the closed door, the silence of your absence rang in his ears.

All this time Dazai had been good at pretending—at wearing masks so convincing that no one could tell where the act ended and the man began. He could laugh, charm, and lie his way through anything, weaving a persona that fit any moment, any room. But when the door closed behind you, the mask cracked, and the emptiness that lived in his chest reared its head, gnawing at him like it always did.

The mafia executive found you a few hours later, standing alone at the edge of the park, your figure small under the dark sky. He hesitated for a moment, guilt settling in his chest, but he couldn't stay away. Slowly, he approached, his footsteps quiet against the pavement, unsure of what to say. When you turned, your eyes red but calm, his heart sank. He knew this was his last chance.

“I’m sorry. I… I pushed you away because I didn’t know how to keep you close. I thought I could keep pretending that I didn’t need anyone, but that’s not true. It’s you. It’s always been you.” His words were raw, unguarded in a way he had never allowed himself to be, and the vulnerability in his eyes mirrored the openness in his heart. He took a step toward you, his voice thick with sincerity.

In the quiet of the night, under the gaze of a thousand stars, you closed the distance, your hands gently cupping his face, soft and warm. “I won’t leave you,” you whispered back. “But you need to let me in. You have to trust me, Dazai.”

Nodding, his eyes brimming with a kind of quiet desperation, as if you were the last thing that made sense in a world that had always been confusing to him. “I will,” he promised, his voice rough, but certain now. “I will.”

And for the first time in a long while, Dazai felt like he wasn’t alone.

<3

[writingsonsaturn]

mad woman

{ masterlist } { the 'taylor swift' series }

🪐- I was a bit passionate with this one lowkey, need more Tim's in this cruel world

wc - 2.2k

content warning - workplace sexual harassment, protective!tim, misogyny, fem!reader, hurt/comfort

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Your eyes were heavy as you drove home from work, tears stinging them as you recounted everything that had happened within the last two hours. 

All you wanted was to see Tim, to have him hold you and tell you everything would be okay and that he would handle it. You pulled into your driveway, hands still shaking with fear as you shifted the car into park. 

You worked so fucking hard for your job, countless hours spent studying in college to sleepless nights making sure every deadline was met and everyone was happy. Heart aching for that optimistic young woman you once were as you were slapped with the harsh reality that women always have to work ten times harder, and run a hundred times harder to be taken seriously. 

Although it sucked, you got used to it. You dreamed of being in this place and you’d be damned if crude comments got in the way of your future. 

Until today.

After finally hyping yourself up to go inside, you walked through the front door, being greeted by your obliviously happy dog, Kojo. “Hello, baby boy” your voice croaked over the sounds of his paws jumping up and down on the wooden floor, Kojo responded with an excited grunt and led you to where Tim had been preparing dinner.

“How was your day, hon-” Tim started his usual question, but almost choked on the letters as he looked up to see your streaky, tear ridden face. 

“What happened?” his demeanor immediately shifted, his eyes searching your face for resolution only to be met with your face crumbling into exhaustion. 

Tim ran around the counter to catch you before you fell to the floor, holding you close in his arms - wishing more than anything he could take the weight of your body and throw it at the asshole who put it on you to begin with. 

“Baby, you gotta breathe for me, and tell me what happened, okay?” Tim pleaded with you to slow your pumping lungs and listen to the sound of his voice. It took a while to get your breathing back to normal, or atleast normal enough to allow you to explain what happened today to cause you to break down like this.

You recount the last two hours back to Tim, how your boss completely humiliated you in front of your co-workers during a meeting- saying stuff like “sweetheart, I mean no offense but this idea is flat out stupid,” or when he called you “nothin’ but a pretty face, doll.” All of that had been tame, nothing you hadn’t dealt with before. 

As you moved throughout the motions you were called back into your bosses office, being told it was urgent. You walked in with a forced polite smile, 

“Y/n, honey, please sit down!” 

“Sir, what can I help you with”

“Listen, I know you’re in the running for the new promotion, and I am your best bet at getting it” he smugly explained “all you need to do, is get on those pretty knees and give me a good time, and I will ensure you’re the top pick”

Your heart just about fell all the way down onto the building's first floor, for reference you were up on the sixteenth. 

“E-excuse me?” The crack in your voice was prevalent, the shock weaning into fear as you realized you were alone in a room with no one exit, and a powerful man. A man who was much taller, stronger, and bigger than you were. This was your biggest fear, being in a position like this could only get worse if you couldn’t leave fast enough. 

Always being told to keep your head low and your smile kind, and this is where it got you. 

Your hands began to sweat with anxiety as you excused yourself, you heard your name being called but you didn’t care. 

You needed to get out of there. So you did, you packed your work bag up quickly and ran out of the building giving no mind to what you were doing, only that you were in danger and needed to get to safety. 

Now you were here re-telling the whole situation in tears while Tim held you against him, “Oh baby, I am so sorry” his words were soft for you but the rage that was boiling his blood was present. He imagined every horrific, disturbing way he could kill the man who said those things to you. Then, you whispered something so quiet he had to ask you to repeat what you said, “this isn’t the first time.”

Those five words crushed Tim, he knew you worked in a toxic environment; had begged you to leave the first time you came home crying. He just didn’t know how bad it was. Tim would take care of this, but first he needed to take care of you.

“Alright honey, let's get you out of these clothes and into the bath” Tim whispered as he picked you up from the floor, your body had gone dead-weight in his arms; the feeling of being safe and warm never felt so good. Tim walked the both of you into the master bathroom and sat you down on the toilet seat, assuring you dinner would be perfectly fine to warm up afterwards. 

Tim helped you strip out of your stuffy clothes and then stripped himself, “what are you doing?” you asked genuinely confused why Tim was also getting naked. “I'm getting in with you so you don’t have to move a muscle, nothing else baby,” the reassurance eased your mind greatly. You knew Tim wasn’t the type to take advantage of your vulnerability, but there was always that tug of insecurity. 

He got in the tub first so you would be as comfortable as possible against his skin as opposed to the hardness of the ceramic tub, your body was cold on his. The world moved slower as your muscles relaxed into the weightless feeling of the water, and it only made you start to cry more. The realization of what happens next hitting you - knowing you would never be able to go back to the job you worked years on building up. Everything you knew yesterday had been turned inside out, flipped on its back, and burnt to a crisp.

The man you loved held you so tightly, never once judging you for the utter discouragement you felt at that moment. He let you cry as he washed your hair, letting all the pain wash down the drain, “I've got you, baby, I've got you,” Tim reassured. 

Once you had been taken care of and he set you up in bed he warmed the food he made for dinner up in the oven, making your plate and bringing it to you on a tray. Tim made sure you ate all that you could, he also had you drink at least a cup of water, telling you that you’d get dehydrated from all the crying you had done today.

Mentally and physically you had been drained, falling asleep shortly after eating. You and Tim tried to watch a movie to ease your mind off what happened, you barely made it 20 minutes. 

Tim, however, stayed up looking into anything and everything that could put your now old boss in prison. He found a couple unpaid speeding tickets, but nothing substantial, so he told himself he would convince you to file a sexual harassment report at the station tomorrow. He shut his laptop and pulled you into him - safe and sound from all the harm of the outside world.

Waking up had been the worst, your eyes were puffy and dry. 

Tim talked to you during breakfast, “now, if you do not want to we don’t have to, it’s just the best option to get him behind bars,” Tim explained while holding your hand - thumb gliding across your knuckles in an attempt to calm you. “I don’t want the other women at the office to have to deal with this” you agreed, and Tim would never show it but he was relieved. 

He helped you email your resignation letter, and texted your friend Jen asking her if she would be able to pack your desk stuff up and drop it off at the house after her shift, thankfully she agreed and sent best wishes to you. 

The process was long, having to write down the words that were said to you and recount every last detail had nearly killed you. You just wanted to forget all of it and move on, but you couldn’t. 

Once things were said and done Tim was able to drop you off at home, you didn’t want to let go of him. He promised he’d be home as soon as he could, so you sent him off and sat quietly in your home making yourself busy, it was the only way to keep your thoughts gone.

While you were safe at home, Tim was having a field day. Angela had been able to find dirt on the man, his name was Matt Graves - and he was a grade A douchebag. This wouldn’t be the first time someone filed a sexual harassment report against him, he was a repeat offender, and of course corporate couldn’t give a rats ass. Grey gave Tim the go-ahead to give Matt a visit.

Tim walked into your office building with steam practically spewing out of his ears, he wanted to beat this man to a bloody pulp, but he decided it wouldn’t be good for a civil case if you decide to move forward with one. 

Booming echoed throughout the sixteenth floor, Tim’s hand heavier than usual as he pounded on the door of Matt’s office. 

“Can I fucking help yo- Oh! Hello officer” Matt opened the door nice and wide, ready to yell at whatever poor employee he expected to be behind the door. To his surprise he was met with a pissed off looking cop who towered over him. “What can I do ya for?” he continued, inviting him in but Tim didn’t move forward to accept the invite. 

“I am here to escort you off the premises” Tim explained, this morning Tim was able to do some digging before you got up. Finding that the company you worked for was very, very strict about their sexual harassment policies, proceeded to find the HR number and reported Matt for his misconduct. 

Apparently, he had been under parole, Tim just about giggled on the phone when hearing this new information. 

“I’m sorry?” the sad excuse of a man expressed, “you, sir, have been fired by this establishment for continuous sexual harassment against female co-workers.” Tim said this with as much professionalism as he could muster, which was cut short the moment Matt opened his mouth again, “is this about that bitch? Listen man to man, she's fucking crazy dude” that was the final straw for Tim. 

“Crazy? Only a man would drive someone to tears and call them crazy for it” Tim exclaimed, malice dripping from his voice, almost daring Matt to give him a reason to arrest him. “Pack your shit up and get out of this building, you’re being trespassed.”

Every nerve in Tim’s body was begging him to punch Matt in the throat, but he was being smart, for you. You were the only thing keeping his hands away from Matt’s very accessible throat, he didn’t want to be the reason for any possible defense it could give Matt or his lawyer. Tim was given the pleasure of walking Matt right out the building and to his car, Tim couldn’t bite his tongue long enough before the sentence was already bleeding out of his mouth,

“Man to man, Matt, if I ever have to look at your face again, you’ll need more plastic surgery.”

Tim felt vindicated enough to walk back to his squad car, ensuring Matt’s car left the parking lot Tim was able to breathe a sigh of relief. Even though you weren’t returning he knew that everyone else was now out of arm's reach of this man.

The smile Tim wore on his face as he walked into your shared home was that of a child who just got a new gaming console, he was thrilled to be able to share the news to you. His arms wrapped around you while you stirred the cupcake mix, “he got fired” Tim rushed out, no longer able to keep it in. 

Your body paused as you took in the words that left Tim’s mouth, “Seriously? They actually cared?” you turned yourself around in his arms questioning if this was a cruel joke. There’s not any rough percentages of how many men keep their jobs after harassment complaints get filed but it’s enough for it to shock someone when something is done about it.

“Nope, he was on probation in some way, so they terminated him” the explanation gave you ease, but you were still pissed that it had happened before and instead of keeping women safe they gave him more chances. “Good, I hope he never finds another job in this field ever again.” Your sadness shifted to anger at around noon. 

Tim told you what Matt had said about you, to which you huffed out a laugh. Most people aren’t born “crazy” usually they are pushed to be, if men were told half the things women get told from childhood, they’d be “crazy” too. 

[mariasont]

We Reap What I Sow - S.R

you fight, you burn, you break apart, and then you pull him back in — again and again, as if love is something that can't exist without wreckage

pairings: s6!spencer reid x reader warnings: reader is a villain (sorry yall), toxic relationship, emotional manipulation & gaslighting, obsession, codependency, unreliable (heavy on this) narrator, angst, toxic sexual dynamics mentioned?, sex and violence closely linked, mentions of rough handlings? (nothing crazy), alcohol use, no clear resolution wc: 2.3k request: here

Your fingers move faster than your conscience, like an invocation. You text without thinking, apologize without meaning it. You're sure if you type hard enough, fast enough, maybe you can summon him from the ether, resurrect him from silence. Silence is worse than anger.

Spencer, please. Send.

Spence, I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean it. Send.

Are you seriously ignoring me right now? Send.

Don’t be an asshole. Send

Your drink is half-melted and too sweet now, but you drink it anyway. The bar lights bleed across the counter, flickering in and out like dying fireflies. Your friend is saying something, was saying something, but you weren’t listening. Work gossip, maybe. A guy. You nod when it feels right, laugh when you think you should.

Your phone vibrates — Spencer. No. Just your banking app reminding you how much you’ve spent tonight. 

You down the rest of your drink, tongue flicking out to catch the last traces of whatever the hell this was supposed to taste like before firing off another text. 

I know you’re mad. I just need to talk to you. Please. Send.

“Hello? Earth to psycho girlfriend?”

The bar sways, or that might just be your stomach catching up to the alcohol. Okay. Maybe you’re drunker than you thought. You close your phone, pushing it under your clutch as if that’ll erase the texts you’ve already sent.

“I’m fine.”

Your friend snorts, swirling what’s left of her own drink. “You’re, like, four seconds away from showing up at his apartment.”

“I am not. God. I’m not that desperate.”

“Babe.”

“I’m not,” you insist, crossing your arms. “I’m just… considering all my options.”

“Right. And one of those options isn’t showing up at his apartment?”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Okay, but why is it always on me? Like, why do I have to be the mature one and not do the thing I want to do?”

“Because you’ll regret it?”

You scoff. “Yeah, well. I’ll also regret not doing it.”

“So I think what I’ve gathered is you both enable each other’s worst behaviors?”

You blink at her for a second before smiling. “I mean, we have fun though.”

That's a lie by omission. It’s not fun by normal standards. Not in the way people mean when they say it. It’s just… habitual self-destruction. The way you press your palm against a hot stove, just to see how long you can hold it there. The way you drink on an empty stomach, knowing you’ll feel it sooner, harder, faster.

It’s last summer, a nameless hotel hallway that smelled like bleach, his hand bruising your wrist, voice a slow-burn — you want me to lose my temper? And something inside you thrilled at threat because yes, yes, let’s stop pretending, let’s make this hurt, make me matter enough to break you.

It’s that fight in the car, rain slashing sideways, nails biting into your palms as you threw the words like glass — why don’t you just leave me, then? And his hands slammed the wheel, voice breaking apart when he begged you to shut up.

It’s the night you deleted his number, not because you were done, but because you wanted to see if he’d crawl for you. If he’d go mad wondering where you were, what you were doing, who you were with.

And he did.

It’s tonight, when you let another man lean in too close, let his lips brush your ear, let him say something forgettable, disposable, background noise. You didn’t hear him. You didn’t care. Because it wasn’t about him. It was about Spencer. It’s always about Spencer. About pressing on the bruise until he flinches, making sure he sees.

And Spencer did.

Right before he turned, before he walked away, before you could decide if you wanted to chase after him or let the wound fester.

You’re good at this. You’re an artist. A sculptor of narratives. A surgeon of half-truths.

You don’t lie, not really. You just bend the story with careful hands, carve the angles sharp enough to dismantle, tilt the light until Spencer’s face is shadowed as the villain. Until he is the one who obsesses, who picks and picks until he draws blood. Until he is the one who turns love into madness.

And sometimes, sure. That’s true of him. 

But what you never say, what you never let yourself say, is that you planted the seeds yourself. That you fed them. Watered them. Built a trellis for them to climb. You created the house, laid the foundation, furnished every corner with suspicion and longing, and then stood outside and called it a prison.

And now, tonight, you’re rolling your eyes, laughing too loud, shaking your head as you tell your friend he always does this. You make him sound crazy, childish. Like his anger isn’t justified. Like his absence wasn’t the only thing that ever made sense. 

But deep down, beyond the haze of liquor and the comfortable show of self-righteousness, you know the truth. 

Spencer didn’t lose his mind on his own. You put it in his hands and asked him to break it.

You don’t remember making the choice to leave. Not really. One second, you’re laughing at something dumb, and then, your lips graze your friend’s cheek, a murmured get home safe, and you’re already moving, barely hearing her say your name, barely acknowledging the question in her voice.

Then it’s Spencer’s address, burned into your brain. The driver nods. The city twists and sways outside the window, yellow blurs, red smears, streetlights flickering across your hands. Your eyes close, and for just a second —

Then, oh. You’re there.

You barely hear the door slam behind you. You barely thank the driver. You don’t even think before your feet hit the pavement, before you’re walking up the steps.

And then there’s the door. His door. The one that’s been thrown open with a scowl, slammed shut mid-sentence, locked just long enough to make a point. The one that never stays closed for long. Not when it’s you on the other side. 

You knock, giggling as you wobble, nearly toppling over while yanking off your heels. They hit the ground haphazardly somewhere behind you, forgotten the second they leave your hands.

The knocking turns into pounding, palm smacking against the door between raps of your knuckles. It’s almost funny, the way impatience surges through you like a second heartbeat, the way you know he’s there, standing just beyond the wood, watching, hesitating, chewing over whether to let you in.

The door swings open and you’re already falling. Already tipping forward like your body knew he’d be there to catch you. Your limbs have learned that Spencer Reid is your safety net, your buffer, your inevitable landing.

“Whoops,” you murmur, the alcohol humming pleasantly beneath your tongue, making everything feel slower. “My bad.”

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t roll his eyes. Doesn’t sigh, doesn’t scold, doesn’t react at all. He just steadies you, brief and impersonal, fingers curling at your waist for less than a second before he looks away.

He bends, picks up your heels from where you left them, places them neatly on the entryway table. Cold air fills the space where his hands were. He shuts the door.

“Did you not see my texts?”

Nothing.

“I said sorry.” Sharper now, words clipped, fingers drumming against your arms where they’re folded tight across your chest. “Jesus, Spencer, you’re being —”

Ridiculous.

You almost say it, the word a loaded bullet in the chamber. But then his jaw tightens, his throat works through a swallow and you bite down, tasting blood instead.

“You said sorry?” He spits it back like it burns, like he wants it out of his mouth as fast as possible. “You said sorry, and that’s supposed to mean what, exactly? That I don’t get to be mad? That I don’t get to be upset when you spent the whole night deliberately pissing me off?”

You sway slightly. “Oh, right,” you say, words dripping bitter sarcasm. “Because you never do anything to piss me off, right? You’re so fucking perfect. You don’t overthink, you don’t obsess, you never turn nothing —”

“Tell you what,” he cuts in, voice flat and final. “You’re right. I do overthink. And apparently, I was stupid enough to think you gave a shit about what that does to me.” His gaze sears into you. “But tell me,” he continues, “when have I ever overthought something you did and reached the wrong conclusion?”

God, you know he gets off on this. On delivering those carefully crafted sentences, watching you flinch without raising a finger, precise enough that he never appears anything but calm and rational. 

And he knows you have nowhere to go. Silence damns you just as much as fighting back. He knows you’ll open your mouth anyway. You don’t have any other options.

“Maybe if you didn’t dig into every goddamn thing I do, I wouldn’t have to keep explaining myself.”

Spencer barks out a laugh, the kind that sounds more like an exhale than anything amused. He looks like he might punch the wall. Like he might slam his fist straight through the drywall, let his frustration exist somewhere outside his body. But he doesn’t, just shakes his head, jaw screwed so tight you can practically hear his teeth grind.

“Oh, that’s good,” he mutters, thick with disbelief, bordering on disgust. “That’s actually — wow.” He looks at you then, really looks at you, like he’s seeing you for the first time. Or maybe the last. “You really just said that with a straight face, huh?”

It wasn’t always like this. You used to be good. Really good. The kind of good that made people jealous, the kind where he’d brush a hand over your back in a crowded room, where he’d wait up for you even if it was stupid late because he wanted to hear about your day. 

Then there was that party. The one you dragged him to, the one he didn’t want to go to because he hated loud music and small talk and watching you drink yourself into bad decisions.

You had rolled your eyes at him, called him uptight, and he’d muttered something about how you were just looking for an excuse to start a fight. And maybe you were.

It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. It started over something small, maybe the way you kept refilling your drink, maybe the way he kept checking his watch like he was timing how long he had to tolerate you.

You scoffed, rolled your eyes. “Jesus, Spencer, if you don’t want to be here, just go.”

And he had shrugged. “Maybe I will.”

And that pissed you off. More than it should have. Because you wanted him to fight you on it. You wanted him to care, to stay because of you, not out of obligation. 

So you pushed a little harder. Tipped your drink back, let the alcohol scrape down your throat, and smirked when you said it. “God, you are so boring sometimes.”

That had done it. Spencer, who usually let things slide, who usually held his temper like a clenched fist, finally let something slip through his teeth.

“Yeah?” he had said, just this side of cruel. “At least I don’t get drunk and make an idiot of myself for attention.”

The words hit like a slap, sharper than the sting of vodka on your tongue. You should’ve been mad, should’ve stormed off, should’ve let the hurt take over. But instead, you smiled. Because there it was, finally, a reaction. The thing you’d been pulling at all night was finally splintered at your feet.

And it didn’t stop there. It followed you home, back at your apartment, where the anger snapped into something hotter. The fight spilled into the walls, into hands grabbing too tight, into gasps swallowed by teeth and tongue. You remember the way he shoved you onto the bed, the way you laughed through it, drunk on the fight and feeling, gasping when he pinned you down, when his hands pushed your wrists into the mattress. You don’t remember what you said, only how it ended — with your back arching, his name breaking off in your throat, pleasure slamming into you so hard you thought you almost mistook it for pain.

“Fuck off, Spencer."

You need him to press you into the doorframe until it bites. To swallow the venom straight from your tongue. To lace your skin with fingerprints, because nothing else sinks deep enough to matter. That’s how this works. That’s how you two translate love.

But he doesn’t move.

Just stands there, chest rising fast like he’s been winded, fingers curled, crushing the impulse in his palm, the impulse to fix this the only way you both know how.

“Jesus. You really think this ends your way?”

He’s bluffing. That’s what you tell yourself. That’s what you have to tell yourself.

“You can stand there and act all righteous, but we both know you like it,” you sneer, chin tilting up. “You like chasing me. You like losing your fucking mind over me.”

He stares.

“Get out.”

No shouting. No shoving. No hands in your hair. No bruising grip on your wrist to make you stay — just two flat, empty words and a door that suddenly feels like a death sentence. 

Your fingers close around your shoes and you barely notice how steady they are. How clear everything feels. No alcohol to blame it on now. Just you.

You don’t look at him. Not when you knock your shoulder against his, not when you open the door like you don’t actually care if he stops you. 

You’re halfway down the hallway when you hear him move. 

You turn. He looks at you like he’s already buried you. And you stand there waiting to be exhumed.

The door doesn’t slam. It just closes. Not locked. Not deadbolted.

You walk away.

A week. Two. Three, if you’re feeling patient.

Then you’ll send the first text. You’ll plant the next seed.

And he’ll let it grow.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[luciaintheskyainthi]

I just realized that May never got the chance to show Peter's baby photos to Jason... and now I need some shenanigans where Peter is turned into a child and Jason needs to take care of him.

I've had this sitting in my inbox for TOO LONG but I wanted to write a little drabble for it and needed the spoons for it!!! I'm finally forcing myself tho because this is getting embarrassing.

"Okay, so don't be mad."

"Says the guy I'm about to be real mad at," Jason predicted, not even bothering to look up from his favourite grappling gun. The trigger felt sticky on the last swing and Jason wasn't dumb enough to take any chances.

"It's Peter."

That got Jason's attention. His head snapped up and Dick took a step back, hands up like he expected Jason to shoot him with the grappling gun.

"What about Peter," Jason said, choosing to be the bigger man. He didn't set the grappling gun down, though. Dick eyed it nervously.

"So... you know how there was that rumour about a new magic user kicking around Burnley?"

"You're right, I am about to be mad."

"I didn't even-- I told you not to be -- crap, doesn't matter. So Peter and--"

Jason held up his hand. The one with the gun. Dick's mouth snapped shut.

"Start from the beginning," he commanded, "and maybe I won't be earning my way to the tippy-top of the sibling food chain."

"I mean, technically, Cass is older than you--"

Jason tilted his head and cocked a brow. Dick caved.

"Okay, so Peter and Steph were patrolling Burnley when they came across the magic user--"

"They're calling themselves Wild Child," piped up a Tim who had up to then been doing a very poor job of pretending not to be listening in.

"Yes, thank-you Timmy. So they tried to apprehend Wild Child while they were attempting to rob a bank."

Jason frowned. Stopping the robbery of a bank at night wasn't especially Peter's style. Victimless crimes and all that. But he allowed Dick to carry on. He was feeling temporarily magnanimous.

"Pretty sure Steph just wanted to mock them about their choice of name," Tim explained, catching Jason's disbelief.

And -- yep. Yep, that made a whole lot more sense. Seriously, who thought pairing Peter and Steph together was remotely a good idea? Granted, they had excellent results -- most crooks turned right back around the moment word got out that Spider-Man and Spoiler were on the hunt together -- but Gotham was just as likely to end up embroiled in chaos as it was a resolution with those two in cahoots.

"So they came across Wild Child turning an ATM into a cow. " Dick grimaced. "Engaged before they could take a knife to it."

"Cash cow. Seriously?"

"They took the name Wild Child. Do you expect any better?"

"If you're about to tell me that Peter and Steph got--"

"Jason!"

The high-pitched voice -- a child's voice -- stopped Jason in his tracks. He'd shoved the grappling gun away before he'd even located the origin of the speaker.

Alfred had emerged in the cave, carrying a tray of -- milk and cookies? Didn't matter. What mattered was the pair of tiny children -- what the fuck, when were kids allowed to be that small? -- skipping along beside him, as cool as you please despite the fuckass dinosaur and the giant coin and that stupid fucking jester card that by all rights should have stolen their attention.

A blonde and a brunette. The latter had big brown eyes and a grin that was far too familiar.

Jason turned on Dick with dread. The metal stairs thundered as the kids flew down. T-minus ten seconds.

"Tell me they fucking didn't," he begged.

Dick's grin was wincing. "They absolutely fucking did. Sorry?"

"Language," said Tim, smug enough Jason would have thrown hands then and there were it not for the children.

[pandoraspurgatory]

seeing your hc of katsuki being into vanilla homemade porn has me dazy eyed 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫….. i’m so curious now if there were any specific porn creators you thought of when envisioning what he liked? or any who you think would fuck like katsuki? goodness… 😵‍💫

Turbulent

Truthfully I am not a porn watcher as I am a porn reader, so that question is far beyond my knowledge lol. Though I’ve written an in depth version of Katsuki watching porn, hope you enjoy<3

Katsuki Bakugo can’t get off on mainstream porn, though something changes when he finds a couples homemade video

Katsuki Bakugo likes vanilla porn, masturbation, cum, pretty vanilla here, mentions of facefucking + cuckholding, Denki and Mineta are bitchless

Katsuki never cared enough nor paid much attention to porn, stroking himself in his bedroom wasn’t worth the effort when he could spend his time training and honing his skills as a 3rd year student close to graduating.

Either it was that, or the fact that he just couldn’t cum from it.

He first gave it watching porn a go when Denki and Mineta spent the afternoon yapping about different genres of porn. He wasn’t an eavesdropper, though he listened in on the conversation, taking notes for a later date.

Bakugo only ever found himself rubbing one out when he woke up with a painful hard on, or got so worked up over some fantasy that he couldn’t get his dick back down.

That same night Katsuki sat infront of his laptop, legs open and pants discarded on the carpeted floor, a bottle of lotion splayed out on the bed next to him. He opened up the first website that appeared after typing ‘porn’ in his browser, incognito mode on of course, he had double checked. Hastily typing what he had overheard in the orange and black search bar.

‘Face fucking’

He grimaced as he clicked on the first video of some Internet whore with a fat cock stuffed down her throat. Mascara running down her face as she started her assault of sucking on the comically large dick. He could somewhat imagine himself doing it, though the drool and mess was a massive turnoff that made him feel sticky just watching it. Next

‘Cuckholding’

The moment it appeared on his screen after searching a lot made sense regarding Denki and Mineta. Of course they were into this shit, why the fuck did he even decide to listen on to those morons conversation. He was confident he could never be into this. Next

The next hour was filled off him stroking his half erect cock to mediocre videos with no luck. He’d even watched the top most recommended on the site, the drum beat before each video posing as a reminder that this wasn’t working. At this point it wasn’t even to get himself off, but rather to prove to himself he could find a video to do it for him.

None of this shit on his laptop could even remotely turn him on, there was no love or intimacy, just videos of devoid eyes and lacklustre movements that screamed ‘I want to get home and get my paycheck!’.

He hated to admit it, though he couldn’t ever imagine himself having a one night stand or watching these emotionless videos again. Despite his rough and calloused nature, he craved intimacy just as much as he craved to be the best in his class. Katsukis cock lay limp in his hand as he scrolls through the videos, more and more loading after each roll of the laptop mouse.

That was until a certain video caught his eye.

‘Our first video - couple homemade’ 12 views, posted 2 hours ago

He clicked on it, something felt different about this one. The thumbnail displaying what seemed to be a couple in their mid twenties, kissing in the frame of the video. The women had long black hair and sexy curves that made Katsukis dick twitch. The man she was with cupping her face gently with deep admiration for her in his eyes.

As the video slowly played out on his screen, he paid no mind to the humming background noise of their bedroom fan and the shitty resolution. What struck him was the way they kindly talked to each other, pressing small yet passionate kisses on each others faces, how their soft hands rubbed and stroked at one another with care and love.

Katsukis hand roughly gripped around his dick before he could even think to do it. Feeling himself desperately stroke faster each time the couple said sentences of care and sweet nothings to each other. Low moans he didn’t anticipate escaping his mouth as the man slowly inserted himself into the curvy brunette. He wasn’t even attracted to the couple in the video, though he couldn’t help but feel the coil in his stomach build as the intimacy of their love making displayed itself before him.

He wanted to be the one to do it, to bury his cock into his hypothetical girlfriend and dick her down with all the love in his heart. Apart of him felt weird for not being turned on by the professionally made studio porn instead of the homemade couple video with a total of 500 pixels. He tried not to think about it too hard, and focus on how hard his shaft throbbed in his hands.

He felt blissed out as he slowly edged himself, determined to cum at the same time as the couple, a desperately attempt at feeling included. Squeezing his tip harder every time pretty moans escaped their mouths, fuck he wanted to be in their position so badly.

“F-fuck babe… mmmnggg… gonna cum”

“That’s it, come for me pretty girl”

“Cum with me! I wanna feel you cum inside me”

Katsukis stomach felt hot, he was so turned on by the way they spoke to each other, the way they both quickened their movements desperate to make each other cum.

The moment the couple on the screen cried out in pleasure, Katsuki gave a few quick tugs, finishing himself off.

He gave out an embarrassingly loud groan as he released himself, ropes of his cum shooting onto his laptop screen. Panting as he laid back on his bed, he needs someone to do this with as soon as fucking possible