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loserlvrss · 6 months

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꒰ 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓! ꒱ 김동현

summary : you’ve been bored of your boyfriends calm demeanor, so you decided to prank him just to see if he’d start a fight—however, it gave you something much better

genre : kinda angsty, suggestive, leehan x afab!reader tws : language, kinda toxic behavior, suggestive content author notes : sorry this took a while i’ve been supah swamped but i hope you enjoyed the direction i took your request in !! word count : 1.4k

you don’t know why you were doing this. even as you applied the black, green and blue makeup, you couldn’t think of a valid reason. yet, here you were, sat on your couch scrolling through your phone, just awaiting the opportunity to prank your sweet, unsuspecting boyfriend.

maybe he’d gotten too comfortable in your relationship. hell, you used whatever excuse to try and justify it. but, the truth is, you wanted to see if he had it in him to get mad at you. he was so damn peaceful all the time—you loved that about him, really—nonetheless, deep down, your heart raced with the thought; the anticipation when he’d finally catch a glimpse of your artwork that he’d deem someone else’s.

this was fun.

you knew it’d work. you’ve never let leehan purposefully leave marks on your skin, not because it didn’t feel good to have him kiss you, but simply because you’ve always found them tacky and a hassle to cover up. you’d wasted so much makeup in the past trying to do so, so whenever he’d come close to leaving purple patches, you’d tell him to stop. he’d even bargained with leaving them in places only he could see, but you still refused. especially if you couldn’t return the favor.

you knew this was an evil way to push his buttons, that you oh-so-desperately wanted to see pushed. it was selfish, really, however at this moment in time the plan was already set into action. you wanted to start a fight, just to see if he could.

he’s never gotten mad at you. he’s never yelled at you. he’s never dared put a hand on you. and that was a dream, but somewhere deep down, you knew it was also just as boring as it was desirable. you wanted him to yell at you. at least once. manhandle you— consensually, of course. you wanted so much, and maybe this wasn’t the right way to bring it up, but it didn’t matter anymore as his voice broke through the silenced air.

“what’s that?”

“what’s what?” you asked, acting obliviously as you scrolled through twitter and instagram in turns.

he shrugged, and you don’t know if it was the fact that he seemingly didn’t care, or if it was that maybe he just brushed it under the rug as anything else, that began to piss you off.

nonetheless, you decided you were in it for the long run. after all, you wanted to see if he’d start the fight.

and throughout the rest of the afternoon you’d catch leehan staring in your direction, shifting his gaze when you’d make eye-contact. he kept a calm demeanor, never asking again what the purple marks on your neck were. he’d even hugged you before he left for practice, getting all up close and personal with the artwork.

you were finding it hard to believe he hadn’t noticed.

maybe he was gathering his thoughts. maybe he was trying to decided why you didn’t smell like another man—why he knew you wouldn’t do that to him. maybe as much as his buttons were pushed, this was it for his stemmed anger. maybe dance practice was his way to relieve the stress you caused from time-to-time. maybe the cool, calm and collected leehan was the only version of your otherwise, smiley, boyfriend.

maybe you were beginning to feel bad because you had no idea the feelings he had towards this prank. did it upset him? you wouldn’t be none-the-wiser to it if it had. he was good at shielding emotions, and maybe that’s where you needed to draw the line. maybe that’s where your conversation should’ve began, instead of whatever the hell tiktok had inspired you to do.

you kept looking at the clock on your home screen, counting down the minutes until he’d come back to you. and just as you had decided to end the prank, opting for a civil—adult-ish—conversation, a text illuminated your dark screen.

it read: we need to talk.

yet you couldn’t decipher the hidden meaning. of course you knew what it was about, that’s the only thing that’s been wrong throughout the last few months between you two. what else could it be? and why, now that you were finally getting what you wanted, didn’t it feel good?

you didn’t answer him, partially because you didn’t know what to say; it was a prank. i just wanted to see if you’d get mad at me. i’m so bored of this. nothing seemed correct, or frankly, truthful.

you also knew that he wasn’t far. he wouldn’t have texted you otherwise, just to torcher you—though it would’ve been deserved. so, you waited by the door for your boyfriend to get back, the thought of washing away the eyeshadow long gone.

then, it finally opened with the pattern of your key code. the air became thick and you found it hard to swallow with a lump in your throat. were you sorry? yes. did you feel bad for being immature? yes. was a tiny part of you still curious to see how this would play out?

yes.

"y/n," was the first, and only, thing he muttered for a couple of excruciatingly long minutes. you watched as he put his bag down, eyed him as he took his shoes off, and almost burst when he ran a hand through his hair. maybe leehan was able to torcher you, even if unintended.

his eyes finally met yours, but then they drifted to your neck, and further to your collar bone. he knew. he's known since the first question left his lips hours and hours ago.

"what's that?" his arms snaked between each other, and you found it wrong to think it was hot, but you very much did.

almost like deja vu, the same feeling crept up from down within you. "what's what?" you reenacted. although this time, he didn't let it go. he approached you quickly, too fast to get away before you were sandwiched between the plaster and his body.

his hands were slow with movements. those oh-so-stupid-fucking-hands that had you, literally, at his fingertips. one forcing your head by your jaw to expose your neck, while the other brushed away the hair that disguised the marks from his view.

you fronted being indifferent, but truth be told, if he wasn't holding you up your knees would have buckled already, leaving you as a mess on the floor in front of him.

"you must think i don't know you," he voiced, holding eye-contact as he pushed his thumb between your lips, gathering just enough saliva to then press the digit to your neck and swipe. and it smudged with enough force, despite being labeled as waterproof. "tell me why you felt the need to paint these on. i couldn't think of one good reason all day, princess."

and the nickname he always called you—innocently and less than—had your heart in absolute shambles; the anticipation was just as good as if he'd raised his voice, you thought.

maybe your vanilla-scented boyfriend had finally gotten the hint that you wanted more, despite going about it in a less than thoughtful way. and maybe you realized that you didn't hate that he was always nice, no you loved that about him, but sometimes it was okay if he wanted to be a little bit meaner with you. after all, he could always say my... anything he wanted, and that would still mean that he saw you as his forever only.

"i-i," you couldn't think straight when he attached his lips over the previously (fakely) marked spots. his breath was hot, lips gentle then firm as he sucked against the spots he knew you'd rarely let him have his way with. "i—uh, fuck. leehan,"

his voice was low against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and a whimper up your throat. "if you wanted something, you could've just asked me, baby. i'd give you anything."

the eyes that you've grown comfortable with always seemed to be there despite the firm placement he had you in. you knew he loved you more than anything, so you knew his words were true. and his demeanor broke when he kissed your lips, almost giving you whiplash.

his palms laid flat against your cheeks, thumbs rubbing sweetly. "if you wanted everyone to know that you're mine, let me do it myself."

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themuseofbaroque · 2 months

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astro obvs. & notes #1 - general

author’s note - this is for entertainment purposes only, none of this is fact. these are simply my own opinions!

- neptune 1H 🤝 pisces rising, noticing their eyes first. the water influence to these placements adds something that draws you in like a current, no pun intended. i used to work with a pisces rising, and she literally looked like a pretty fish (lmfao) big, shiny eyes. either of these placements can find it incredibly easy to appear sensual or seductive.

- speaking of water placements! i’ve also noticed pisces placements tend to take a lot of pictures around water. beaches, hot tubs, rivers.

- this can also be said for air signs (esp. libra) but with things they enjoy! i’m always seeing personal interest posts from libras, aquarians and geminis. music, video games, political causes, shows they’re watching, food, celebrities, etc. anything they like, they post. anything.

- i’ve never laughed harder than when i’m with people who have heavy gemini, capricorn, sagittarius and leo placements

- in my personal opinion and experience, capricorn risings are what people think scorpio rising is. i’ve only met one scorpio rising irl (that i know of) and she did not fit martian/plutonian ruling at all. celebrity examples ⬇️

kim hongjoong of ateez. the intimidation factor, the style, sex appeal, the interest in piercings/tattoos. he’s a capricorn rising, with his chart ruler, saturn, in the sign of aries so we see a lot of red/martian influence from him as well.

megan fox. she’s been a little fuckin weird ever since she dated mgk (that man makes me physically ill to look at much less read about) but! she had her bad bitch moments! being known primarily for her sex appeal + starring in jennifer’s body (a gothic treasure btw) i feel is very scorpio coded however she herself is a capricorn rising, with a sagittarius saturn in the 11h, more fire influence from her as well just like with hongjoong.

joan jett. THEE female guitarist of the 80s. her whole career was surrounded by sex, scandals, drugs, all the darker themes of rock n roll in general. she’s another fire ruled capricorn rising and a sagittarius saturn in the 11h like megan. her style and even her personality has an edge to it, much more fitting for scorpio/plutonian stereotypes rather the capricorn ones. imo.

- actors who’ve done major/recognizable roles in horror usually have a capricorn neptune. neptune is imagination and capricorn is ruled by the devil card in tarot. combine the two and you have quite literally = dark imagination. celebrity examples ⬇️

mia goth staring in the X series as the main face of the trilogy

bill skarsgard being the main face of the IT remake as pennywise

evan peters as tate langdon in AHS, he also played jeffery dahmer recently for netflix.

- capricorn actually shows up quite a bit in the horror genre, esp. gore and paranormal. both actors and writers.

- sagittarius too, oddly enough. a lot of well known faces of horror have major sagittarius placements/stelliums/jupiter dominance.

- underdeveloped cancer placements are more manipulative and two faced than geminis. i see so much gem slander on here, and don’t get me wrong, i love both cancer and gemini placements! however i’ve met and befriended quite a few of both, and cancers by far have been the common denominator in issues around them more than once. stirring the pot then turning around and playing the victim when people are frustrated, lying, playing both sides to better their own situation, and even playing people against each other. i’ve never seen such hateful behaviors from the geminis i know irl.

- aries men are much shyer compared to the women

- taurus women i’ve met irl get pregnant very easily. venus? good coochie? idk

- grand trines are some of the most beautiful people i’ve ever seen (a grand trine is when someone’s big 3, so sun/moon/rising, are in the same element but in all 3 different signs. ex: virgo sun, taurus moon, capricorn rising)

- queer individuals with pisces placements can pass as straight pretty easily if they wanted to. most of them are chameleons

- aries risings i’m so sorry for the household you had growing up. i see martian childhoods usually being the ones who dealt with screaming matches, toxic parents, poverty and underlying issues with siblings that last into adulthood

- i’m not surprised at all when libra placements tell me they’re in college for a general studies degree because they can’t figure out what they wanna do yet

- a lot of fan favorite female characters in video games are canonically cancers

- if you think your rising sign doesn’t suit you very well, try looking at whatever planet correlates with your gender identity. masculine: sun and mars, feminine: venus and moon. the houses and signs of these should help you out a little bit

- libra placements absolutely get favoritism at least once in their life, jobs/family dynamics especially

- sagittarius women usually have rough love lives, at least in the beginning. a lot of them try to save and help partners who don’t deserve it and they get hurt badly in the process. same goes with pisces women

- virgo venus is not that bad of a placement as stereotypes make it out to be. clean freaks? yes. perfectionists? usually, yes. loyal? yes. remember the small things? yes. romantic? no. at least not in a cheesy way. sensual? yes.

- lilith aspects to any of the big 3 is a bad bitch placement. honorable mention is venus/lilith aspects as well

- air signs like spicy food just as much as fire signs

- a lot of rappers have heavy mercurial placements (virgo and gemini) (3h and 6h)

- mc aspecting venus in anyway is usually the person who fools around with coworkers/may even cheat on a partner with someone they work with. most people with this placement have definitely had a partner at one point or another worried about someone they work with. may be the type to have a “work wife”/“work husband”

- 6h chiron is the person who’s life has been majorly impacted by their own or someone else’s health. disabilities, chronic illnesses, stds, limb amputation, skin grafts, etc.

- aries moon and mercury combo = bad potty mouth, cursing is an almost unbreakable habit

- speaking of aries! aries and aquarius placements together in any of these ➡️ moon, venus, mars, lilith, pluto ➡️ usually have a tendency to jump around from partner to partner very quickly, including falling back into exes. their thoughts and opinions on people and things change SO quickly that they usually are the kind of people who have rosters (unintentionally). they are upfront, they don’t lie or drag anyone along but they do seem to be restless when it comes to romance. even if they don’t physically date a lot, they may often THINK of it, their minds going a million miles a minute

- geminis do not get the rep they deserve for being freaks. not only does the sign traditionally rule the throat/lungs/hands/nervous system, (choking, breath play, hickies, hand fetish/fingering, blindfolding and sub/dom dynamics) but it’s also ruled by the lovers card in tarot 👁️👁️

- fixed signs 🤝 tattoos

- sagittarius/capricorn/pisces/libra placements usually have issues with religion/spirituality growing up. either they were forced into one as kids and they have an unhealthy relationship with their god now as an adult or they simply struggle to find something that feels true to them. this is just my experience but every single friend i’ve had who’s left the christian church, had an interest in paganism/buddhism, joined the satanic temple, grew up as strict catholics, etc, have had these placements. religion is a revolving door for them and it’s a common subject of struggle in their life

- women with pisces placements tend fall into unhealthy relationships very easily, especially if they’re heterosexual and dating men. they fall in love with the idea of love before the actual person presenting it. they are bossed around very easy and usually don’t like confrontation. honorable mentions for this as well: pisces stellium, cancer stellium/mercury/saturn, 7h saturn

- cheesy hallmark movies make me think of taurus/libra venus placements, 7h venus as well

- 5h cancer/moon/venus, cancer rising/moon dom, 5h/8h synastry aspects please be wary of accidental pregnancies! wrap it before you tap it cause y’all extra fertile 💀

- most well known streamers/youtubers have 10h stelliums, including their venus. a lot of them will end up dating another social media presence/someone who shares a platform/job with them

yay first post! pardon any spelling errors i’m proof reading this half asleep ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

#astrology #astrology observations #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aqaurius #pisces #stellium #capricornneptune #10hstellium #7h saturn

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 1 year

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Infected

Miguel O'Hara X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Summary: An accident at one of Alchemax’s labs has led to Miguel being briefly contaminated with cA1m - a prototype drug that is meant to calm animals. However it seems to have a very different effect in humans.

A/N: A massive thank you to @midgardian-witch for reading the beginning of this (catching a hilarious typo), making some excellent suggestions, and reassuring me that I hadn’t just lost my mind completely (yet).

Reader doesn’t know Miguel’s spiderman.

Warnings: dubious consent - it’s basically a sex pollen fic, blood, hair pulling (can I write a fic without an Oscar Isaac character getting their hair pulled?), so much cum, hand job, oral (both m and f receiving), things get a little rough, face fucking, cum eating, biting, scratching, p in v sex, typos, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 5433

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“It’s mainly preliminary.” You said with a smile. “You weren’t in the room, but the filtration system links four of the labs.”

You check over Miguel’s notes, so far, he didn’t have any symptoms.

There had been an ‘accident’ in Lab B2, an accident that was being rapidly looked into. Lab B1, and B4 had been empty, but Miguel had been in B3.

Miguel was currently in a rapidly repurposed testing room, sitting on the bed with his shirt rolled up his forearms. His specific request for somewhere with reinforced walls, doors and windows had been… unusual. But he was a big guy, couldn’t hurt to be too careful.

“How are the others doing?” He asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“Okay,” you nodded. There had been eight people in Lab B2 when the container had broken. Two people, like Miguel, weren’t showing any symptoms.

The chemical compound, nicknamed cA1m, while liquid in its storage unit, turned to a gas at above zero degrees. Luckily it also denatured quickly, and there was a good chance that those who still weren’t showing symptoms were unaffected.

The chemical’s intention was for a more humane way to calm wild animals and livestock during veterinary checks. That way the animal in question didn’t need potentially dangerous anaesthetic for basic to mild level medical care.

It also wore off in 24 hours.

However, it still needed some work. And while early tests had gone well, apparently it did not have the desired effect in humans.

Four of the six infected had gone feral, absolutely crazy with rage, trying to kill and destroy everything and everyone within their reach.

Luckily no one had been severely injured before they had been tranquilised.

The other two were different, they had… other urges.

“Have you found any links as to why Doctor Guerrero and Doctor Vaughan didn’t react like the others?” Miguel asks. His voice was calm and controlled, like it always was. Politely interested, like he was listening to a presentation about your latest control data.

“Well, I have an idea. Though I haven’t fully proven it yet.”

He tilted his head to the side in a silent question. The action was endearing, it made your heart flutter and heat rise to your skin. And you hated it so, so much.

You smiled quickly and looked down, trying to cover the fact you’d been staring at him for a second too long.

“So,” you continued, drawing the word out a little to give you a pause of breathing room. “Both Guerrero and Vaughan are in relationships, both of them wanted to,” you pause for a moment, trying to find the most professional way to phrase it. “get to their partners. Unlike the others they also had a massively increased level of oxytocin.”

“Your theory is that that cA1m causes a berserk level of rage unless the subject is in love?” There was the smallest smirk on his lips.

It sounded stupid when he put it like that.

“Well… yes.” You fold your arms. “Look, Miguel,” he grinned when you said his name and you fought, and lost, the urge to smile back. “I’ve had fourteen hours and six people to base this off, plus three who are showing no symptoms. Give me a break, yeah?”

He held up his hands playfully. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You gave me a look.”

“What look?” He teased.

“I know you want to be trying to figure this out yourself, but you’re the one who insisted on not being allowed any breakable, or expensive, equipment while you’re in here.”

He smiled. “It’s true.” His gaze was heavy, crushing almost.

You shook your head and turned to the side table. “Anyway, are you gonna let me draw some blood or what?”

He nodded and held his arm out to you.

You know why you had been ‘nominated’ (begged) to be the one to see Miguel. He wasn’t the easiest CEO to work for in the sense that he was both physically and mentally intimidating, but what usually threw most people was that he was quiet, tended to watch and listen.

And he had a bit of resting bitch face.

But he was actually pretty pleasant to talk to when you got to know him.

You brushed your arm against his as you moved to get your equipment. Miguel audibly gasped.

A flash of worry pinched at your mind, you turned to look at him. “You okay?”

Miguel nodded; he was staring straight ahead at the wall. Obviously in distress.

“Miguel?” This wasn’t the same as those who had suddenly developed into a full-blown rage, but still you couldn’t help the sense of apprehension that crawled along your skin. You glanced at the sedative on the side table and shook your head.

“Miguel?” You spoke again, a little softer and moved a step closer towards him.

He shuddered at your voice, screwing his eyes up tightly. Sweat was beading on his forehead, heat rolling off him in waves.

“Miguel, I’m gonna-”

He moved faster than you could comprehend, one second he was sitting on the bed and the next he was looming over you, his hands clenched tightly around your biceps, and forcing you back.

You yelped as he pressed you into the wall, grabbing hold of his forearms.

His eyes were dark and wild, brimming with a terrifying energy.

“Miguel, wh-”

He crashed his lips into yours, swallowing down your words and slipping his tongue into your mouth frantically. It took you a fragment of a second to react, surprise freezing your limbs solid.

Miguel took your delay to his advantage, pushing his knee between your legs and pressing close. Not leaving a fraction of space between you as he devoured your mouth. Stealing your breath and igniting heat along your veins.

“Miguel,” you managed to push him back, the heels of your hands in his chest. This was the cA1m affecting him, it was the only explanation. Maybe the filtration system had diluted the chemical and caused a delayed reaction. “You need to-”

He snarled, his eyes pinpoint focused on you as he leaned forward and kissed you, hard. All tongue and sharp teeth as he wrapped his fingers around the back of your neck and gripped your thigh bruisingly tight, hitching it high on his hip.

You’d had dreams like this, fantasies, where he pinned you to the wall and kissed you until you couldn’t breathe. But you couldn’t do this, you couldn’t take advantage of him like this-

There was a sharp pinch of pain as Miguel sank his teeth into your bottom lip. You let out a small squeak of surprise, pulling away from him. And raised your hand to your mouth, your fingers coming back red.

Miguel, however, seemed unphased as he trailed kisses along your neck, smearing your blood along your skin. He ground his hips into yours, rocking back and forth and- oh god, he was big, just like the rest of him.

“Miguel, you need to,” you swallowed down a whimper as he sucked at your pulse point, just managing to resist the urge to hold him closer, to run your hands through his hair. “It’s the cA1m, you’re not thinking straight.”

He murmured something into your neck, his mouth not leaving your skin far enough for the words to be intelligible.

“Miguel-” You gasped as he nipped at your throat, not enough to break the skin this time.

Heat was burning from his skin, scorching into your body like you were too close to a flame.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back a fraction too forcefully. You thought the brief pain might snap him out of it, give him a second of clarity. But as his chin tilted upwards, exposing his neck, he let out a long groan, his eyes squeezed shut.

It went straight to your core, your thighs clenching at the sound.

“Need you so bad, shit,” he rocked against you harder, pressing his length right up against your centre. “Always need you, you don’t understand,” he moaned and buried his head back into your neck, despite your grip on his hair, and sucked a love bite into your skin.

This time you couldn’t resist the urge. You sunk your fingers deeper, scratching your nails along his scalp and pulled him closer, pushing his face in your neck.

Miguel groaned appreciatively, digging his sharp nails into your shoulders. He nipped just below your ear, the keen, yet sweet little sting of pain blended with the slow and steady roll of his hips was simply tortuous. Almost enough to make you lose all common sense.

Almost.

You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t do this, you just couldn’t do this.

“Miguel-”

He whined as you said his name.

And you had to bite your lips together in order to hold onto your fading self respect.

“On the table,” you swallowed, trying to get your words out quickly, “there’s a sedative. It’ll help, it’ll-”

“You’ll help, being near you helps.” He mumbles, the words barely audible. He snakes his fingers along your ribs, just teasing the hem of your shirt.

“We just need to-oh!”

Miguel grabs hold of your shirt and pulls, ripping it open, buttons pinging off and going flying. Honestly, there’s less resistance from the material than you expected.

And then he's everywhere, his face buried in your chest, kissing the tops of your breasts as his fingers pinch at your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra.

You can't stop the moan of surprise that escapes your lips as you arch into his touch.

You had to stop this, now. Before he did something you'd very much enjoy and he'd very much regret.

"Fuck," you hiss under your breath and act quickly, trying not to overthink and get yourself caught up.

Maybe if he… had some relief you could grab the sedative in the afterglow. Hell, maybe he wouldn't even need the sedative if he came once.

Before you can lose your nerve you quickly unbuckled his trousers and managed to squeeze your hand under the material despite Miguel's frenzied mind trying to keep the physical space separating you both to a minimum.

He gasps as you touch him, letting out a choked sob that your brain was already committing to memory and filing under 'for use later'.

The velvety soft skin was rock hard and burning hot against your hand. So big that you couldn't even get your fingers fully round his girth.

"Please." He muttered, pressing his forehead against yours, his hands resting tightly on your waist.

His eyes were screwed shut, his mouth slightly open and when you moved your hand, the smallest upwards movement. He let out the sweetest sigh.

You bite your lip and wince as you catch the broken skin, but it doesn’t stop you from tracing your thumb over the tip of him, smearing precome along the head. You were trying to be quick, methodical, clinical, as you began to stroke him, setting an even pace. This was just a problem to solve. You should not be enjoying this.

But every glide of your hand, every touch, made Miguel gasp and moan as if it was the first time he’d ever experienced such sensations, made him bite his lip with his sharp (had they always been that sharp?) teeth, and it was intoxicating.

He pistoned his hips into your touch, thrusting faster and faster, and practically growling as he grew closer to his release.

You couldn’t help but watch him, enraptured, as heat pooled in your lower stomach, your own need growing. But this wasn’t about you.

Still, you couldn’t help yourself rocking back and forth against his leg ever so slightly to just take the edge off.

Miguel grunted, his eyes rolling back in his head, and there was a sharp pinch of pain as he tightened his grip on your waist, his nails digging in much harder than they surely should have been able to.

He swore under his breath as he cums, twitching under your touch, and coating your hand and stomach with his release.

There’s so much of it, far more than there should be as he cums and cums, gasping for air. Another side effect of the cA1m - perhaps you’d be annoyed as his release soaks into your ruined shirt if the sight of him reaching his peak wasn’t exhilarating.

You let go of him quickly, managing to disentangle yourself from him, despite Miguel low, exhausted whine of protest.

God, how were you going to get a new shirt without running into someone? And, you realised, probably a new pair of trousers too. Miguel’s spend had run down and soaked into the left side.

You grabbed the sedative from the side table. Your mind already racing, it wasn’t Miguel’s fault but would he remember? Would he be awkward with you now? Would your little chats and jokes stop? You swallowed down a pang of fear and turned. Now wasn’t the time for what ifs you-

Miguel grabbed your arms and you squeaked in surprise. How could he move so silently? His eyes were dark, hooded with lust, his trousers just hanging from his hips and… well, obviously so much for the idea that him cumming once would be enough.

“I need you.” He growled, his voice so low that you almost felt light headed. “I know you want me too, I can smell it.” He leaned forward scraping his teeth over your pulse point, and for a shameful moment you let yourself get caught up again, allowed yourself to revel in the sensation for the smallest second.

While he was distracted you pushed the needle into his upper arm, through his shirt, and injected the sedative.

It shouldn't take long.

He growled, pulling his mouth away from your neck to stare dangerously into your eyes.

You swallowed. A spike of fear dug into the base of your skull, some ancient urge telling you to run.

“It’s okay,” you said soothingly, unsure if you were really talking to Miguel or yourself. “It’s just the sedative.” You pulled the needle out of his arm. “You’ll be fine, let’s lay you down so-”

He kissed you hungrily, harsh and demanding as he forced his tongue into your mouth.

You allowed yourself to kiss him back the smallest amount as you waited for the sedative to work.

And waited… And waited…

Oh, no, just no, this wasn’t right, this couldn’t be right. There was more than enough in the injection to knock him out and yet he didn’t show any signs of slowing down.

Okay, so, this definitely wasn’t how it went with the others.

You side step, trying to twist past him and break his hold all in one movement. Maybe you could get to the door, maybe you could do… something. Your mind raced, there had to be a way to fix this, to help him, to be useful.

The side step didn’t work, Miguel’s grip was too tight, and you stumbled, skidding around and to your knees. The edge of the bed thumped into your back.

You gasp, gulp and stare up at him. That spike of fear dragging itself down your spine.

He growls and moves closer, his length bobbing and perfectly at your eye level. His gaze is dark and desperate, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth. You could see his pulse thundering in his neck, echoing along the length of his dick.

Rapid heartbeat was one of the side effects all the others had experienced, the sedative being the only thing that had managed to return it to a normaler level.

Maybe there was only one way you could be useful.

Miguel shifts his weight, preparing to move, but you lean forward first and run your tongue along the length of him.

A deep moan rumbles in his chest as you touch him, a gasp of breath. The sound floods heat to your core.

You wrap your lips around the tip, grabbing hold of his hips to pull him closer as you swallow as much of him as you can. You bob your head, encouraging him to move with you and there is a moment where you can feel the tension in his muscles, the strain in his thighs as he tries to hold back, to keep himself in check.

It doesn’t last long.

He snarls and thrusts forward, snapping his hips and nearly choking you. You splutter, trying to breathe through your nose but Miguel doesn’t give you a second to recover. He pushes forward, the back of your head slamming against the edge of the bed as he plunges deeper and deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with ease and still not even half way in.

Your grip on his hips tightens and you don’t know if you’re trying to pull him away or urging him on.

It burns, the size of him makes your jaw ache, tears roll down the sides of your cheeks from the force of his relentless thrusts.

His hands dig into the mattress by the side of you head, tearing into the fabric as he pounds into you, fucking your mouth with everything he’s got.

He groans, “yes, baby, yes,” his voice low and barely distinguishable as words.

You do your best to just hold on, to breathe and take as much as you can. The sounds of his moans filling your ears and mind, and god, how you wished you didn’t have a gag reflex and could take him deeper.

He keeps ramming into your mouth, snapping his hips against you with a frenzied energy and you push against his lower back, silently begging him to keep going.

Your neck throbs from discomfort, bruising forming where the skin is repeatedly hitting against the hard outline of the bed frame. Your knees burn from where they continuously rub against the floor with every buck and thrust.

Miguel lets out a short, animalistic cry as he cums down your throat suddenly. You moan against him, trying to swallow all of it but there’s just so, so much. It spills out of the side of your mouth and down your chin despite your best efforts.

He leans forward, breathing hard, his cock still in your mouth. And for a second you think this is it, the sedative will take hold or maybe this mindless lust has come to an end.

But he’s still hard when he pulls himself out of your mouth, his eyes still glazed over with the same madness when he looks down at you. He runs his hand over your chin, the pads of his fingers slightly sharp, and collects some of his spend that hasn’t trickled down your neck and onto your torn shirt and bra. Another item of clothing you’d need to change.

He smears his cum along your cheek, the movement possessive, like he was marking his territory.

There’s a pause, the lull in the eye of the storm before he pulls you up from the ground with a shocking display of strength, moving as if you were no heavier than a glass of water he was eager to drink down.

You can’t help the little yelp of surprise that escapes you as he practically throws you onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress and momentarily knocking the air out of your lungs.

But then he’s on top of you, pressing himself firmly between your legs as he growls and snaps his teeth close to your neck. He bites at your throat, hard enough to break the skin and you cry out as the pain quickly disappears into pleasure.

Your mewls only make his actions more frenzied as he tears your clothes completely off you with a speed that makes your head spin, before removing his own. The material rips so easily, as if he used a blade.

He runs his tongue along your chest, messily cleaning up the cum he’d spilt along you just moments before.

“Miguel-” You try to start, but then his mouth is back on yours, tasting like salt and iron as he drinks down your words to leave you breathless.

You gasp as he breaks away, trailing sloppy kisses down your body, his fingers running over your skin and leaving scratches. He bites your hip partially deeply and you keen, arching up into him as he moans.

“Your so fucking sweet.” He mutters before kissing lower and lower and, oh god. You nearly scream as his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks hard. Pleasure coils tight in your belly as a new wave of wetness leaks out and soaks into the torn up sheets beneath you.

His fingers dig into your thighs as he pushes his face into you, only breaking away so that he can lick through your folds hungrily, devouring you like a starving animal.

“Miguel!” You whine, letting out a series of high pitch moans that sound alien even to your own ears.

He sucks your clit once more, his teeth just grazing across it before he snarls and pulls away, pushing the back of your thighs and pressing them against your chest with a crushing strength.

You struggle to take a breath, barely filling your lungs before he’s thrusting into you with a guttural groan and a sharp snap of his hips.

The size of him hurts, it’s too much, too fast and you gasp in pain. You clench your jaw, your eyes screwing up as your hands fly to his shoulders, trying to push him back even though you know it’s no use against his strength.

But he stops instantly, stilling his movements.

You stare up at him in surprise. His eyes are still dark but there’s something else there, something pushing through that lust haze.

“Pain?” He whispers, sounding the most like his old self that he has since this ordeal began.

You swallow and nod, tears building at the corners of your eyes.

He slowly loosens his grip around your thighs, letting go shakily as if it is taking a lot of self control to do so. And while he doesn’t pull out, he doesn’t thrust in deeper either.

Carefully, he manoeuvres your legs down onto the bed either side of him, watching your face for any sign of increased discomfort. It’s only then that he looks down to where you’re joined, completely split open with only a quarter of his length inside.

He groans lows and you brace yourself for a brutal thrust that never comes. Instead he keeps his hips still as he slowly trails his sharp nails down your stomach, teasing the very edge of your clit before pressing his thumb against it fully.

A small moan escapes you and you clench down instinctively. Miguel hums in approval and starts to slowly circle the bundle of nerves, the touch light and soft as he just borders on the edge of losing control.

The pain starts to dissipate quickly, replaced with a steady continuous build of that deep need from before. You start to squirm. The pressure of his thumb isn’t enough and you rock your hips ever so slightly, your breathing hitching in your throat.

"More?" He whispers.

You nod your head rapidly.

“Thank god.” Miguel sighs, the words mumbled like a prayer almost too quietly for you to hear, and lets some of his weakening control slip.

Slowly he pushes further in, the tension shaking in his thighs as he fights with every instinct to pound you into the mattress and turn you into a crying mess beneath him.

He keeps circling your clit, groaning as feels a fresh wave of wetness leaking out of you.

You moan, grabbing hold of his shoulders. But this time you pull him towards you, urging him deeper. God, he’s big. Already it’s like you can feel him in your throat.

The stretch burns, but it’s good, it feels right. Like he is going to reach a whole new devastating part of you. Make you cum so hard that he’ll ruin any other sexual partner for good.

You hook your left leg on his hip and squeeze your calf over his lower back, encouraging him closer, deeper. While you plant your right foot firmly against the bed to rock up against him.

Miguel groans, his eyes closed. His movements on your clit falter as he slides further in.

There’s a sharp pain in your hip where his left hand holds you tight, his nails (it had to be his nails) dug in so deep that they broke your skin.

You let out a soft whine, clenching around his girth as he presses up against you perfectly and still pushes further in. The pleasure in your stomach tightening and starting to completely overwhelm all other thoughts, urging you to just chase your release.

Tears prick again at the corners of your eyes, a soft emotion beating hard in your chest. And you can’t help yourself, you grab hold of the back of Miguel’s neck, pulling him down towards you and arching up at the same time to kiss him hungrily.

He moans into your mouth, pushing back against you and forcing you into the mattress. His hips snap forward, finally sheathing himself completely in your tight, wet heat.

For a moment it’s like you can’t breathe, so completely full that not even air can enter.

Miguel stills, giving you a moment to adjust as he licks into your mouth and groans as your walls squeeze around his length. His pubis bone presses firmly against your clit, and you can feel the echo of his racing heart beat along his skin.

He breaks the kiss to breathe hard, his eyes closed and forehead pressed against yours. “I can’t… I need to…”

“Please,” you answer desperately, kissing him softly as you start to rock your hips ever so slightly.

Miguel lets out a whine, his eyebrows pinched together in bliss and the expression alone is nearly enough to make you cum on the spot.

“Can’t stop,” he mutters and you're not even sure if he’s aware of what he’s saying anymore as he grabs your wrists in either of his hands and pins them to the bed. “Feels so…” He ruts into you, pulling out so that just the tip of his cock stays inside before slamming back into you. “Fuck. So. Fucking. Tight.”

You wail under him as pleasure runs up your spine and down your legs as he punctuates every thrust with an upwards rock of his hips, continuously rubbing against your clit and pressing the head of his length to that perfect spot inside.

“So. Fucking. Wet.” He growls. His nails are slicing into your wrists, but you don’t care. Can’t care, you’ve lost all ability to feel anything but the glide of his cock and the heady build of your orgasm.

“So. Mine.” He growls and bites down hard on your neck. You cry out, the brutal pace of his hips only increasing, bringing you closer and closer and-

You gasp, his name catching in your throat as you finally cum. Every muscle shaking as it crashes over you in waves.

Miguel tears his mouth away from your neck, blood shining on his lips as he watches you come undone. He moans, his thrusts not faltering for a second.

“That’s it, cum all over me,” he glances down for a moment watching himself disappearing into you, amazed at how well you’re taking him, how tightly your walls are griping him, trying to milk him for all he’s worth. “Squeezing me so tight, oh shit-”

He cums loudly, still pistoning in and out of you as he fills you up with his release. There’s still so much of it, some leaks out, spilling out of your abused hole and sticking to your thighs.

You breathe deeply, your mind foggy from how hard you came. Your legs ache from being stretched so wide, your pussy throbs from overstimulation.

Miguel doesn’t stop, still rock hard and trusting. Pushing his cum deeper into you.

“Miguel,” you whine, your throat raw.

“I can’t-” he bites his lip, “I can’t stop, I need to, fuck, please, I need to-”

You kiss his neck, biting harder than you normally would at his jugular. He whines, the sound going straight to your core. Heat starts to build again.

“Keep going,” you mutter against his skin. “Keep going as long as you need to.”

You wake up sore and sticky. Aching and in pain. Even the slightest movement brings out an array of discomfort. Every muscle throbs, like you had done a year's worth of exercise in one day, and all the bites and scratches sting as you shift, the scrapes making you feel like someone had tossed you naked into a bush of brambles and thorns.

It takes you a moment to remember where you are, the tiredness in your bones trying to coax you back to sleep.

“I’m sorry.”

Miguel’s voice makes you jump. He’s still close to you, laying on his side with his chest pressed up against your back. One arm around your waist. There’s tension there, you know he wants to move away but is scared to move at the same time.

His cock is pressed against your backside, soft and sated.

You turn to look at him, too tired to worry about your nakedness. Besides, he had seen plenty of it anyway.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

He scoffs. His mouth pressed into a thin line as he looks down.

It’s only then as you turn around completely to look at him that you see tears in his eyes. “Miguel?”

You softly touch his cheek but he flinches away from you. The action spikes through your heart. He can’t even look at you now.

“I’ve got everything to be sorry for, I, I took advantage of you, I rap-”

“No, no, no, no,” you can’t help but touch him again, putting your hand back on his cheek and rubbing your thumb soothingly across his skin.

This time he leans into it, letting out the smallest, shaky breath.

“You were infected, Miguel, you couldn’t control yourself. I don’t know how much you remember but the sedative didn’t work, and your heart rate was just, I mean, it was crazy high. And, if anything, I was the one that took advantage of you and-”

His eyes snap open. “You? You took advantage of me?” He says disbelievingly. “Look at you.” He touches the bite marks on your neck gently.

You give him a little smile. “I don’t mind.”

He breathes out another shaky breath, but there’s a hint of a smile. “You don’t mind?”

You shake your head. “Happy to help.”

He chuckles a little at that and nods as he runs a hand through his hair.

There’s a pause, a silence that you can’t stand.

“I guess I was wrong.”

Miguel frowns a little, confused.

“My theory, about people having that reaction if they’re in love, I mean.”

There’s a pause, the only sound a little gulp as Miguel swallows. Something passes over his face for a second, a faint trace of heat rising to his skin.

Oh. Maybe you weren’t wrong.

“Miguel?”

He breathes deeply, looking down. “I-”

You don’t give him a chance to finish, letting your adrenaline overwhelm you as you quickly lean forward and press your lips to his. Hoping against hope that you weren’t misreading the situation.

He’s caught by surprise for a moment, but moans happily and softly kisses you back as his arm wraps around you and pulls you close.

The kiss is slow and gentle, languid and sweet. It makes your stomach drop like you were falling from a great height. His embrace the only thing keeping you safe.

He runs his tongue over your bottom lip lightly, careful of the cuts, but licks into your mouth hungrily the second you part your lips. It’s not the same lustful need from before, this is deeper, sharper and desperate in a different way. As if after devouring your body he now needed to devour your soul.

He kisses you again, lightly before you both pull back for a second. He grins at you, a little shyly and you smile as you stroke his cheek.

“You weren’t wrong.” He muttered.

You frown and shake your head, confused.

He chuckles and kisses you again. “Your theory about love.”

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @solobagginses @romanarose @saturn-rings-writes

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crushmeeren · 10 months

Text

♡ Master List Link

♡ Choso / Fem Reader Drabble

❥ Warnings; cursing, mentions of male masturbation, vaginal sex, dirty talking, cream pie ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

❥ Authors Note; I..think I’m becoming a Choso girlie — I needed to write this.

God — fuck, just imagining Choso who becomes unbearably obsessed with your pussy after he gets his dick wet for the first time. Choso’s never been so horny in his entire goddamn cursed existence.

Sure, he’s had sex once, but it was meaningless. Yeah, he jerks off, but it’s not the same.

It’s just, his slim fingers don’t wrap the right way around his cock. Every time he’s pushing into the tight fist of his hand he wishes he was inside you instead.

Because with you, it’s all new, different. Now he thinks about your pussy 24/7, the phantom sensation really scrambles his brain. He longs to be close to you, to be intimate with you. Choso loves you.

Choso’s adamant that nothing, fucking nothing, compares to the scorching pleasure that washes over him when your slick pussy hugs his cock.

Case in point — a warm shiver is currently slithering up his spine and making his brain fuzzy as he fucks you. He wants to drool like a dog.

He leisurely sits back on his calves, spreading you open with a brutal grip on your thighs. He doesn’t even realize the tips of his fingers are digging dark purple bruises into your skin.

Choso whimpers as he stares, sharp eyes admiring the way the lips of your pussy stretch with his cock when he pulls out. He licks his lips when he notices how shiny his shaft is because of you.

It’s funny, because the man isn’t even aware of how thick his cock is. He’s oblivious to the fact that you’re about to cum until your voice is edging on a sob, or a squeal — or both.

“Choso!” You gasp. “I’m gonna cum!” Your head tilts back into the pillow, nails digging viciously into his biceps. His eyelids flutter briefly before snapping open to admire your face as you cum.

Choso’s jaw drops, his hips faltering in their pace as you fall over the edge.

He gives you a high pitched whine before leaning down to lick the hollow of your neck, moaning at the taste of salt on your skin. He works you through it, eager to draw out your pleasure as long as he’s able.

Sweat drips down his temples, dragging over his jaw and falling onto your chest. He hasn’t stopped rolling his hips, doesn’t think he could stop if he tried.

“I, oh god, I want to cum inside you. Fuck! Baby please, please let me,” Choso begs, muffling the sounds of his needy whining into the side of your neck.

“Let go baby, I’ve got you. You can cum inside of me,” you murmur encouragingly, huffing softly and gripping his hair.

He’s cumming before he even knows what’s happening.

Choso thrusts in quick snaps of his hips. He claws at the sheets beside your head, sinking his teeth into your shoulder as he presses in all the way.

His orgasm rips him apart, making him squeeze his eyes shut as he shivers from the intensity.

With a groan he relaxes his weight onto your chest, limbs loose and pliable as you both catch your breath.

You wiggle underneath him when you start to become uncomfortable. You’re sticky and sweaty and your hips ache. When you clench around him involuntarily you’re abruptly met with the fact he’s still rock hard.

“Seriously Choso?” You tease, baffled that he’s able to stay consistently ready to go. Choso raises his head from your chest and looks at you sheepishly.

“Can we go again princess? You’re addictive and I don’t want to stop yet.” He pushes out his lower lip, leaning down to lick along the seam of your lips playfully.

And in all honest, you don’t wanna stop either. The way he moves his hips is unholy. You never should have taught him how to have sex.

Choso’s blood blisters when you agree, his sexual appetite not even close to satiated. This time however, Choso wants your face in the sheets and ass in the air. The angle allows him to see his cock disappear inside you even better this way.

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stsgluver · 8 months

Text

𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐓.𝟓 — gojo satoru

synopsis. there's nothing more romantic than travelling halfway across the world for the girl you love... even if it is two years late.

wc. 3.4k

tags. none really, yn is described as shorter than megumi, possible ooc for EVERYONE, lowkey forgot how to write halfway through, possible spelling mistakes and plotholes (pls still like my writing i beg)

a/n. im sorry i never really got round to answering the comments on the last post but i have added everyone to the taglist who asked. so i did write two endings but one was bad SO i stuck to this one only <3 i hope this is the right end to the series and thank you sm for the support over the last few months!! i will have a 'spin-off-ish' series focused on the students making the videos in the first place which i will add the link to on this chapter once it's up. this is for @ilovejugs69 ly pookie

previous part / series masterlist

“this is such a bad plan.”

megumi let out a small sigh, resting his head back on the leather of the plane’s seat. an economy seat – much to gojo’s dismay – but there hadn’t been much time to consider other options, bar gojo buying himself a personal private jet and hiring a pilot all in the space of less than an hour.

the dark-haired student clutched the arm rests as he felt his stomach churn in knots as the reality of their decision sunk in. it was a very last minute and muddled plan but gojo was desperate to see you again and megumi wanted nothing more than to have his family back – so when gojo offered to take them both to the other side of the world to find you, he agreed a little too quickly. spontaneity was not his thing and with each passing second he was remembering why.

gojo shuffled himself back in his seat, nose scrunching up in annoyance as he struggled with the small gap for his longer-than-average legs. if his height wasn’t drawing the pair any attention (which it certainly was), the uniforms and the sorcerer’s blindfold definitely were. he didn’t need his six eyes to feel the stares of strangers.

“i’ve never had a bad plan in my life.”

megumi scoffed at the declaration, rolling his eyes at the white haired sorcerer’s misplaced confidence. like it wasn’t gojo’s idea to send megumi on that mission alone that ultimately resulted in yuuji swallowing sukuna’s finger or his idea to prank nanami on his birthday that got both himself and the first years all detention.

“don’t roll your eyes at me, young man,” gojo lightly swatted megumi’s arm, wiggling one of his fingers in front of the younger boy’s face. “your mother will think i’m a shit dad and won’t come back.” megumi ignored the tightening in his chest at the casualness of gojo’s words.

“you are a shit dad,” he retorted, closing his eyes and willing the next seven hours to go by faster than they were. he didn’t hate flying, but he wasn’t the biggest fan, and the nerves that were building up alongside the nonstop chatter from the man beside him were definitely not helping.

gojo gasped and megumi felt him jostling in the seat next to him, he could only imagine the dramatics his teacher was pulling in public. it was best he kept his eyes closed.

“that wasn’t very nice. god, teenagers and their angst these days.”

megumi heard gojo mumbling loudly under his breath and there was no doubt in his mind that there was a cheshire grin on gojo’s face, daring him to take the bait and bicker like the mature adult he was.

however annoying he may have found him, megumi knew that gojo was just as nervous as he was. the two, however, were just polar opposites in all aspects. so while megumi just wanted to spend the next few hours trying to sleep and hope he’d have the courage to face you when he woke up, gojo wanted to play avoidance by teasing him as if they weren’t travelling halfway across the world for you.

when megumi didn’t respond, to gojo’s disappointment, a silence settled between the two. with his hands now stuffed in the pockets of his uniform and head almost on gojo’s shoulder, the dark haired sorcerer attempted to finally fall asleep.

“do you think she’s mad at me?” megumi asked quietly after about five minutes.

gojo hummed thoughtfully, looking down at the teenager almost asleep on his shoulder. “she has no reason to be mad at you,” he said in the most reassuring tone he could muster.

“she’s never messaged me back,” megumi countered.

“at least yours still go through.” gojo huffed lightly, an attempt at brightening megumi’s mood at the expense of himself but it only left both more unsettled at their predicament. he knocked his knee into the younger boy’s gently. “get some sleep, this is going to be a long flight.”

“if you just take a seat here, i will go see if ma’am is available. it’s so lovely to meet her family finally.” a woman dressed in formal attire gestured towards a small lobby waiting room with a bright smile.

there was no one else in there apart from one middle-aged guy with a briefcase, newspaper in hand. gojo thanked the woman, hand on megumi’s shoulder as he led him into the back corner of the white minimalist room.

the sun had set by the time they’d landed and found your office building – something that gojo had forced shoko to send him. he hadn’t even had a chance to tell her what they were doing before he’d gotten on the plane so after she had a go at him for leaving her out of the loop and not bringing her too, she sent across the necessary details with demands for regular updates.

“i bet she’s going to call security,” megumi sighed as he dropped himself down into the black leather seat, resting his head back against the wall behind him. between school and the plane journey, he’d been awake for nearly twenty hours and the stiff seat he was on felt like a pile of feathers. he was going to fall asleep before he’d even had the chance to see you.

gojo crossed one leg over the other, hands crossed behind his head. the teenager wanted to elbow him for his calm posture – he could have as well, he’d dropped his infinity the second the two had entered the building. the second the older sorcerer had stepped into the building he knew you were here, recognising the cursed energy that brought him a familiar comfort he’d missed. “why would she?”

megumi snapped his head in his direction, eyes opening to give him an incredulous look, “why would you say you’re her husband?”

gojo waved a hand dismissively, “i basically am–”

“was. several years ago.” megumi countered and gojo’s mouth dropped open at the audacity of his pupil to point out the obvious facts.

rolling up the sleeves of his jacket, gojo began to stand up and megumi was close to cracking a smile at his behaviour. the delirium of not sleeping was beginning to sink in. “okay, kid–”

“you’re here.”

gojo’s sleeves dropped just as fast as megumi stood up from his seat, both more alert than they had been all day. suddenly, the uneasy feeling megumi had had on the plane didn’t seem so bad, this was so much worse.

you’d barely changed since you’d left, bar your hair being a few inches longer. if the two looked closely enough at you, they’d realise you were just as wrecked with nerves as they were as you struggled to stop your hands from shaking.

when the receptionist had first come up to tell you that your husband and son were here to see you, your initial reaction had been to say she’d made a mistake… until the cryptic message shoko had sent you thirty minutes earlier started to make a lot more sense.

she was the only one you’d maintained regular contact with after you’d left. initially you had gone on a complete no contact with everyone, refusing to even acknowledge that you had a life and a family in japan. you were scared and you’d chosen the coward's way out by running. it felt wrong to still have strings binding you to a life that was no longer yours.

but you missed her and you worried constantly about gojo and megumi, so you’d slowly built up messaging her once a month to every few days just to know everyone was still alive.

you had desperately wanted to take megumi with you but you didn’t have it in you take him away from his sister and, despite how you’d laid into him about how even he had limitations, you knew megumi was safer with gojo than you. in america, you were vulnerable to curse users and curses alike without the protection of any other sorcerers or specialist schools to help you.

the three of you probably looked like idiots to the other man in the room, all staring at each other too afraid to make the first room. it felt surreal to all be together again. you were afraid your longing to see them again had reached a point of insanity, and they were afraid of spooking you if they got too close too quickly.

megumi was the first one to make a move, stepping around the rows of seats and the centre coffee table till he stood a metre from you. “hi.”

your hand covered your mouth as you had to tilt your head up slightly to keep eye contact with the boy you’d raised since he was only a fraction of your height. you may not have changed but megumi had – both his height and voice – and the guilt of leaving him behind was overwhelming.

“oh my god, you’re so much taller than me.” you moved closer to him to gently grab ahold of his arms as you took in how much he had grown. there wasn’t a day that had gone by that you didn’t regret and feel guilt for leaving megumi and you only hoped he understood why you left him so suddenly. taking a step back, you gestured to his uniform, “what’s jujutsu high like?”

the words were bittersweet. what had leaving achieved apart from heartache? megumi was still a jujutsu student and gojo was still japan’s lifeline. maybe you would live a longer life in america, but was the life you had now worth the one you’d left behind?

“it’s…” megumi hesitated before clearing his throat, “it’s okay. there’s two other first years, yuuji and nobara. they’re alright.” you smiled at his words, flashbacks of your own childhood crossing your mind as you remembered the innocence of your first year. it was fun being in a class with two prodigies, you were mini celebrities in a world of rich and powerful sorcerers.

“i’m glad you’ve made some friends, megs,” the nickname rolled off your tongue too naturally and if megumi closed his eyes, maybe he could pretend that you were all still in japan and you were just catching up after being away on a prolonged mission. you glanced to the other sorcerer in the room who had remained silent up until this point – although he had silently made his way over. “i’m going to go speak with satoru in my office and then can i take you out for dinner? to talk properly?”

megumi nodded a little too eagerly, “yeah, please. i’ll just wait here.”

“perfect. satoru?” the acknowledgement was all the strongest sorcerer needed to be following behind you, keeping a distance of several paces as you led him inside your office.

gojo rested his forearm against one of the large ceiling height windows in your office that overlooked the city. you had to be at least twenty stories up and the blaring of car horns was simply a hum, vehicles appearing as mini red and yellow dots on the busy roads below.

“nice view.”

it was the first words he’d uttered in your presence and despite him being the one to initiate the venture to you, he had no idea what to say. this was likely his only chance to convince you to come back and he may have already screwed up by waiting as long as he had.

“what are you doing here?” you asked as you pushed your door shut, leaving the two of you in the privacy of your small office. it was nothing special; a chair, a desk with paperwork piling up and no photos whatsoever. there was no trace that you even existed beyond these four walls.

“don’t i at least get an ‘i miss you’? i just travelled over ten hours for you,” he said lightly, trying to ease the tension in the room but your voice was no longer as soft as it was when you spoke with megumi. the teenager had done nothing wrong – he was part of the reason you left.

“it’s been two years.” he didn’t have to turn around to know that your arms were probably crossed in front of your chest, your head tilted to the side as you waited for him to explain himself. except he thinks his past offences of stealing all of the sweets before halloween were a little more forgivable than letting you leave.

his hand turned to a fist as he dropped it from the window, turning around to look at you properly. “i know.”

both of you stared at one another, neither of you speaking as you took the other in.

“you chose them over me,” you accused. them being both the higher-ups and the whole of jujutsu itself. you’d given him a chance to have a normal life – a natural life in which you’d grow old together and die of old age – and he’d chosen the short life where he’d likely die before he turned thirty.

“you knew what you were signing up for,” he said and there was no malice behind the words though they still frustrated you. he was right to an extent, he’d sat you down after you’d finished school, just before he’d taken in megumi and given you an out. you chose to stay, fully believing that the two of you had already gone through your worst.

“i didn’t realise i’d always be on the losing side.”

“we weren’t always losing–”

you stepped closer to gojo as you held out your hand, counting each disaster after the other with your fingers, “haibara died, we almost died, geto defected, we took in megumi and the tensions between your clan and the zen’ins got ten times worse. you said you wanted to change jujutsu society and what had we done? i never knew if you’d come home to me after missions, it made me feel sick.”

“how do you think i felt coming home to a note?” you could count on your hands the amount of times you had seen gojo angry – and while he wasn’t all the way there he was teetering on the edge as he frustratedly lifted off his blindfold, throwing it onto your desk. in the same way you’d been desperate for him to hear what you were saying before you’d left, he was equally as desperate for you to hear him now. to see that he was here. “megumi? at least geto left for a purpose, you just left.”

it was an unfair dig – geto had committed mass murder, after all – but similar to the one that you’d pulled on him two years ago.

you clicked your tongue as you tried not to make it obvious how badly that made you want to cry, holding your hands up in surrender. “was it so wrong to want a life where i didn’t go to work thinking i would die? to want a future?”

“you were my future.” he sounded sad as he uttered them, and it looked foreign to see the gojo satoru look so dejected. there were only inches between the two of you now and despite the fact he towered over you, he appeared so small as he continued, “was i ever yours?”

memories of your late teenage years and early adulthood play out as a montage: from your first meeting when you’d both gotten lost on the train to school, to the tears you spilled as you finished writing your note and closed the door to his apartment for the last time.

“of course you were.” your voice was shaky, no longer holding any bite. until the day you’d left, since you were sixteen, you’d never envisioned a life without him.

gojo’s hand reached out to push your hair back from your neck, the little white scars still tarnishing your flawless skin. it was taking all of your resolve to not collapse into his arms and have him hold you like you knew he would. you were sure you’d believe him this time if he told you he could protect everyone, that he was in fact able to be in six places at once and still come out on top. “come back with us please.”

“satoru…” you dragged off, looking away as you fought between listening to your rationale that reminded you that nothing had really changed and your heart that missed being in love.

“just come back,” he repeated, “are you going to tell me you’ve found someone else? that you enjoy your life here?” it was wrong and selfish, he knew it, to be convincing you the way he was – to even be here full stop – but he missed you and he wasn’t ready to let you walk away again.

“i can’t lose you.” hesitantly you pressed your hands to his chest. for a second he was scared you were going to push him away, but you didn’t, fingers tightening around the material of his uniform.

“don’t be silly and travel halfway across the country then.” his voice was just above a whisper now as he brushed his nose against yours. “hey, look at me properly.”

you complied without any hesitation – you always did when it came to him. two years of no contact but your body still reacted on muscle memory to the sound of his voice. never in your life had you ever seen eyes like his, of course you hadn’t, and you were still taken aback by the full blue colour as he gazed down at you.

“tell me you don’t want me to kiss you.” you did want him to. “tell me you want me to walk out of this room and not turn back and i’ll do it.” he wouldn’t have left without you.

“i missed you,” you whispered, and that was all he needed to duck his head down to let your lips meet. gojo’s hand slipped round to the back of your neck, tugging you impossibly closer as his tongue swiped across your bottom lip. you missed this, you missed him, and you were going to find it impossible to let go of him again.

only when your lungs ached to breathe did you force yourself to pull back from your ex boyfriend. gojo’s eyes were still focused on your lips and you didn’t doubt that if it were up to him, he’d be leaning to kiss you again. it was only the light push against his chest that held him back.

“what are we doing?” you asked, voice wavering from both the kiss and nerves. whilst there was no doubt in your mind that gojo was who you wanted, you had many reservations about reentering jujutsu society.

“about to ditch this place and go back to japan on a plane. all three of us.”

you brows furrowed together, “but–”

gojo held a finger up your lips, his other hand slipping into his back pocket, pulling out three plane tickets. “i already got your ticket, you don’t want it to go to waste do you?”

you lightly hit his arm and smiled up at him. he was grinning now and it didn’t need to be said aloud – he was yours again (though he’d never really stopped being such) and you were coming home. “that confident?”

“surprised you were able to resist me this long.” he pecked your cheek this time, a hint of tease in his tone like he hadn’t needed megumi to convince him to even enter your office building in the first place.

you let his joke slide with no rebuttal. “are you coming to dinner?” you hoped you hadn’t been keeping megumi too long.

“do you want me at dinner?” gojo asked.

you reached across to your desk to grab ahold of his blindfold and passed it to him. as much as you loved being able to see his eyes, you’d rather not be spending your first twenty four hours with him in bed complaining about a splitting headache. “i’m sure megs won’t mind. plus you can pay,” you added with a wink.

gojo raised an eyebrow, lips tugging up at the corners into a slight smirk, “oh so that’s the real reason why you missed me?”

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super sorry if ive missed anyone!

#snapshot !#gojo #gojo satoru #satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x yn #gojo series #gojo fic #jjk #gojo fluff #gojo drabbles #gojo imagines

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writa-anon · 6 months

Text

"is that.. supposed to be me?"

francis mosses (the milkman) x artist!reader

a / n ~ boom! first fanfic :3 i was a little inspired by uh.. myself LOL when i started playing tnmn i realized i was horrible at memorizing faces so i started drawing the characters to help me remember and it works sooo much. but anyway, super cute oneshot where they first meet, hope u enjoy :D

content included ~ isaack mauss, francis mosses, reader is an artist and doorman, no pronouns mentioned for reader, use of (y/n), shy n wholesome first encounter

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 4.10.24 | 1.6k words

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Another slow day at work, huh?”

A enthusiatic-ridden voice boomed, instinctively making me look up to meet the gaze of a strong-jawlined man. I cleared my throat and placed my pencil on the scratchy sheet of paper, sitting up in my chair.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Gauss.” I greeted, grinning that customer-service smile.

“Good afternoon, (y/n). I assume work is treating you well?” He said before sliding both his ID and request form through the letter hole. “Only your third day and you’re occupying yourself with side hobbies!” He exclaimed, squinting a little to see my doodle through the glass screen. I chuckled a little as I examined his ID.

“Eh, yeah..” I sighed. “But this actually helps with my job, believe it or not!” I said proudly, pulling out the floor 2 folder to compare his ID number. “I’ve been drawing neighbors in order to remember their features better. It’s especially helpful because of my terrible memory.” I said, shaking my head. Isaack simply chuckled as I placed the folder to the side as I went through his request form.

“That’s pretty smart.” He commented. “Who have you drawn so far?” He asked, curiously tilting his head. As I went through the checklist as I idly thought to myself.

“Umm..” I hummed. “The Schmitts and the Mikaelys are definitely in here.” I finished up the last check before rolling back to my sketchbook, using my finger to thumb through the pages.

“Unfortunate. I haven’t been drawn yet.” He faked pouted. I rolled my eyes before flipping one or two pages before presenting the portrait to him.

“I’m not necessarily finish. Your face is pretty hard to encapture.” I sighed, looking at the smears of led blended together. Isaack was something of a character: a big prominent smile that is not hard to catch a glimpse of in a room full of people. His hair perfectly styled each morning that still manages to maintain its shape by the end of the day. His voice had depth to it, almost like he was born to be the daily news reporter for radios and TVs of all kind. He stared at the drawing in satisfied awe before leaning back.

“Wow, it surely is accurate!” He beamed. I smiled proudly before placing my sketchbook down.

“Thank you,” I politely nodded. I slid his ID back through the letter box. “Everything seems to be good to go. You’re allowed in, Mr. Gauss.” He nodded in his head in gratitude, but however, did not my window just yet. He took a minute to ponder, as if contemplating his next move, before beaming his teeth once again.

“Ah, before I go,” he quickly inputed. “is there by chance Francis Mosses is on today’s list? He’s the local milkman around here.”

I raised my eyebrow a little, not exactly sure as to why Isaack chose to bring up this person’s name. I shook my head gently before folding my arms in front of me. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gauss, but I’m afraid I cannot disclose that information for you.”

“—Ah, of course.” Isaack quickly fixed himself, putting his hands up a little in defense. “I understand. I was just curious is all. I’m sure you know him though, no?” Thinking for a minute, I’ve realized that this is a neighbor I have not encountered yet.

“No, actually..” I pondered out loud. “Huh, that’s interesting. I guess he works a morning or night shift because the name doesn’t really ring a bell.” I noted out loud.

“Interesting.” He muttered. “Well, keep the name in mind. He’s a rather interesting person, and I think you would find him just as interesting.” Before I could say anything else, he gestured a quick wink before walking through the unlocked door. I quickly snapped out my thoughts before locking the door back up again.

Isaack never really mentioned other names— it wasn’t necessarily out of character, but it felt a little outlandish. I looked down to see my pencil in hand again and blank surface of paper. My eyes trailed over to the paper taped on to the wall next to my window, realizing that Frances was in fact on today’s check-in list. Out of curiousity, I located his room number before surfing through the folders. After locating folder 3 and apartment 02, I was able to find more about him.

He was a slim, tall man with a crooked nose and ruffled brown hair. His eye bags were prominent from what I assume to be lack of sleep. As I stared at his picture, my hand moved by itself across my sketchbook, forming a circle to start defining out the headshape. I squinted slightly, trying to feel for each detail in his face. From the way his eyebrows were rotated a little outward, defining more of his tired expression, to the bump in his nose bridge, making it a bit more interesting to draw. It was mesmerizing, almost wishing I could sit here and draw his face in perso—

tap, tap!

I nearly jumped out of my seat. The pencil flung out of my hand, rolling off of the desk. My eyes flickered up—

and there he was.

My breath near caught in my throat as I stared up in shock. The man behind the glass was barely shocked to see my reaction. His white “milkman” hat rested perfectly on top of his brown hair with small curls slightly peaking out. I was swift to regain my composure in my head as I folded my hands in front of me with my legs crossed under the desk.

“Good afternoon, sir.” I smiled. “I haven’t seen you before. ID and entry request?”

He let out a small hum, barricaded by his pink lips, as he took out his paper and ID. He politely slid them through the letter slot before I took the items to examine.

“Mr. Francis Mosses.. Lives on floor 03.. Room 02.. Coming from work as a milkman.” I glanced up to look at him, comparing the photo ID to his face. His expression was exactly alike: tired eyes, slight frown on the lips, crooked nose, and a clean shaven face. I double checked with his file already on my desk, making sure that the ID numbers and the description aligned with his ID. “Everything looks good.” I confirmed as I slid his ID back to him.

“Mmm.. Thank you.” He hummed. I turned around to place his request form in a folder, but once I sat back up, I realized he was still standing at the window, curiously staring through the glass. I raised my eyebrow a little, confused as to why he was still lingering.

“I’m sorry, did I forget something?” I asked. Francis shook his head before pointing down at my desk.

“Is that.. Supposed to be me?” He asked. A tiny bit of emotion seeped into his voice, dripping in interest and curiousity.

“I— oh—” I looked down to see the rough drawing of Francis sitting at my desk, drawn with sketch lines still lightly defining his features, while the harder drawn areas sculpted his prominent details. “Yeah..” I mumbled. “I-I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable!” I exclaimed. “It’s just a way to help me remember faces and I was going through the files and I realized I haven’t met you before so I—”

“You make me look so pretty.” He mumbled, almost breathlessly. A faint pink color brushed his cheeks as he was unable to take his gaze away from the paper.

“W-Well.. I do aim for accuracy.” I chuckled, complimenting the man right back. My nerves had calmed down after noticing his calm demeanor. “You could keep it, if you’d like that is.” I offered. It would be awkward if I kept the drawing rather than give it to him— I mean— this is his first time ever seeing me and it was an awkward first interaction right off the bat. It was the least I could do for him. Francis nodded his head and in response, I tore the piece of paper out of the scrapbook before sliding it through the letter slot.

“There you go.” I smiled.

“Thank you..” He replied, graciously taking the piece of paper and admiring it once again. “Oh— um,” He quickly looked up to me. “What is your name? I’m sorry, I’m not really good with.. Introductions.” He trailed off, but something about his shyness and reluctant voice made me grin even harder.

“My name is (y/n). I’m the doorman in training for this building.” I greeted.

“Ah, of course. I’m Francis— Mmm..Though you already know that.” He said, shaking his head a little by the end of his sentence.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Francis. I’ll be seeing you around, I assume?” I said, sitting at the edge of my chair as I looked up at him.

“More often than before.” He smiled. It was the widest he’d grin throughout our whole conversation. Something inside me told me that he doesn’t pass around smiles like that easily. It made me feel accomplished in some sort of way. But with that, he departed from my window. I made sure to unlock the door and listen for the door closing behind him before locking it again.

Francis Mosses.

I think I have someone to look forward to on tomorrow’s entry list.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

really hoped you enjoyed! replies, reblogs, and even likes are super appreciated! thank you so much for reading :]

#thats not my neighbour milkman #thats not my neighbor #milkman #tnmn #tnmn milkman #francis mosses x you #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses #isaack gauss #oneshot #fanfiction #milkman x reader

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misspygmypie · 21 days

Text

Beyond Biology

Part of the "Meet & Greet... and more?" Universe Pairing: Lando Norris x Noah, Lando Norris x reader, Lando Norris x Baby Maebry Words: 1701 Request: I absolutely love the meet and greet series, can you please write one like Noah felt left out and thinks Lando is not going to love him anymore because he is not his (biological) but his sister is? With a happy ending please. Sorry for my bad English I'm from Argentina Masterlist

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

Despite the loving environment in the Norris household there was an undercurrent of tension that Lando and Y/N had been trying to address. Over the past few weeks Noah had become increasingly withdrawn, refusing invitations to play with Lando and preferring to stay in his room over family activities. It wasn’t lost on Y/N that this change coincided with Maebry’s milestones like her first crawling and first mumbled words, moments that seemed to draw Lando’s attention.

One evening Y/N suggested it was time for the children’s bath. Lando, eager to contribute to the evening routine, volunteered to handle Maebry, knowing how much she enjoyed splashing around in the tub.

When Lando filled the bath with warm water and playful bath toys Noah wandered into the bathroom, hoping to join in. He had been excited to help with Maebry’s bath, thinking it might be a fun way to spend time with Lando.

However, when Noah entered the room, he saw Lando completely absorbed in the task of making his daughter giggle. The young man was making silly faces, floating bath toys in front of her and engaging in playful water splashes that elicited adorable squeals from the baby. Noah watched quietly from the doorway, his enthusiasm waning as he felt like an outsider to this moment.

When Noah slowly approached asking if he could help with anything, Lando just smiled. “Just a few more minutes, Noah. I’m almost done here with Maebry. How about you go pick out a bedtime story for us to read later?”

Noah, feeling disappointed, nodded silently and retreated to the living room. The attention Lando gave to Maebry during bath time seemed to highlight Noah’s sense of being left out.

One morning a few days later when they all gathered for breakfast Lando couldn’t help but notice Noah’s distant demeanor. The boy barely ate any of his cereal, his usual cheerfulness absent. Lando tried to engage him.

“Hey, Noah,” Lando said, slightly concerned, “How about we build something with the Legos later? Maybe a new spaceship or a cool castle?”

Noah shrugged, not meeting Lando’s eyes. “Maybe,” he mumbled, his tone flat.

Y/N, who had been quietly observing, decided it was time for a deeper conversation. After breakfast she took Noah by the hand and led him to a cozy corner of the living room where a soft blanket was draped over a bean bag. She sat down and patted the spot next to her.

“Noah, can we have a chat?” she asked softly.

Noah hesitated, looking slightly uneasy. “Okay,” he said, finally sitting beside his mother.

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart heavy with concern. “I’ve noticed you’ve been a bit quiet and distant lately. You haven’t been as excited to spend time with Lando or join in with the family activities. Is there something on your mind?”

Noah stared at his fidgeting fingers, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I feel like dad loves Maebry more than me. She’s his real daughter and I’m not. Maybe that’s why he’s been spending more time with her.”

Y/N’s heart sank at her son’s words. She took his hand in hers trying to be reassuring. “Noah, love isn’t about who’s biologically related to whom. It’s about the connection we build, the care we give and the moments we share together.”

Noah kept looking at the floor, the doubt still evident in his eyes. “But lately, it feels like dad has been so focused on Maebry, playing with her, taking care of her and I’ve been left out. I don’t know if he still wants to spend time with me.”

Y/N sighed, understanding the weight of Noah’s feelings. “Sometimes, when a new baby comes into the family, it’s easy to feel like the older child is left out. But that’s not because you’re loved any less. Dad’s attention on Maebry right now is because she needs a lot of care as a baby but that doesn’t mean he loves you any less.”

“So, you’re saying it’s just because Maebry is a baby?” Noah asked quietly, his eyes welling up with tears.

“Exactly,” Y/N nodded, brushing a tear from Noah’s cheek. “It’s not about how much love there is, it’s about how we balance our time and attention and sometimes we need to make an extra effort to show that love to everyone in different ways.”

“But what if Lando doesn’t really want to play with me anymore?” the boy asked, still a bit sad.

Y/N squeezed his hand gently. “Lando loves you deeply, Noah. Just because he has to care for Maebry doesn’t mean he’s forgotten about you. It’s important for us to talk about our feelings and not let misunderstandings grow. If you ever feel left out, you need to tell us. We want to make sure you always feel loved and included.”

Noah looked up, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “Do you think we could talk to dad about this?”

“Of course,” Y/N smiled softly, relieved that Noah was open to communicating. “It’s important that you share your thoughts with him.”

After sharing a long - and much needed - hug Y/N led Noah back out to the balcony where Lando was setting up a huge pile of Legos. Lando looked up, his face lighting up with a smile.

Noah still looked a bit unsure but Y/N gently nudged him forward. “Why don’t you talk to Dad for a moment before you start?”

Lando noticed the serious undertone in his wife’s voice. “What’s up, buddy?” he asked gently and guided Noah to the seating area while Y/N went back inside to entertain her daughter with a snack and a book.

Noah fidgeted with the hem of his shirt before speaking. “I was talking to Mom, and… I’m worried that maybe you don’t love me as much as Maebry because she’s your real daughter and I’m not.”

Lando’s heart ached hearing those words. For a second he wasn’t sure how to respond, he never thought Noah would even think of such a possibility. He gently placed a hand on Noah’s shoulder and looked into his eyes. “Noah, I want you to know something very important. Being a parent isn’t just about biology, it’s about how we love and care for each other.”

Noah nodded, his eyes still unsure.

Lando took a deep breath. “When I married your mom and adopted you I made a choice. I chose to be your dad. I chose to love you, protect you and be there for you and that choice is something I will never, ever regret. You mean the world to me, just like Maebry does.”

Noah’s eyes widened and he looked down at the floor, his emotions swirling. “But sometimes it feels like Maebry gets more attention.”

Lando placed a comforting hand on Noah’s back. “Maebry is younger and she needs a lot of care right now. But that doesn’t mean you’re any less important, it just means we have to balance our attention. I promise you, I love you and your sister both so very much and that love grows bigger every day.”

“Really?” Noah’s lip quivered and he looked up at his dad with a hopeful smile.

Lando smiled gently at the boy, trying to put as much love into it as possible. “Really.”

Noah’s worry began to fade as he listened to Lando’s words. He threw his arms around his dad in a tight hug, feeling the reassurance he so desperately needed.

“Thanks, Dad,” Noah whispered, his voice muffled against Lando’s shoulder.

Lando hugged him back, his heart swelling. “Anytime, buddy. Whenever you need to talk or if you’re ever unsure, remember that you’re my first child, Noah, and that means you hold a special place in my heart. Every moment we spend together is precious to me. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

A few days later Y/N was out with some of her girlfriends, leaving Lando in charge of bedtime for Noah and Maebry. Lando decided to make it special by setting up a cozy spot in the living room with pillows and blankets, preparing for an evening of storytelling.

He began by reading to Maebry, choosing a vibrant picture book full of colorful illustrations. Lando’s animated voice and playful expressions made Maebry giggle and reach for the pictures. Noah, holding his favorite bedtime story, watched from the edge of the blanket fort, feeling increasingly left out as Lando’s attention again was entirely on Maebry.

After finishing with Maebry, he gently lifted her from the blankets and placed her in her crib. He then turned to Noah with a warm smile. “How about we turn your favorite story into a special adventure tonight?”

Noah looked up, curiosity piqued. “What do you mean, Dad?”

Lando’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “We’ll use the blanket fort as our magic castle. I’ll be the storyteller and you’ll help me make the adventure come alive. What do you think?”

Noah’s face brightened, his sadness fading. “That sounds fun!”

Lando helped Noah into the blanket fort, arranging the pillows and turning on a small flashlight to create some extra magic. He began reading Noah’s favorite story about a brave knight and a dragon. He asked Noah to help with sound effects like the dragon’s roar and the knight’s sword clashing.

The longer they read, the more of Noah’s initial shyness melted away. He joined in, making the story come to life together with his dad. At the end of the story, Lando wrapped up with a triumphant finale where the knight saved the kingdom. He looked at Noah and said, “You were an amazing knight tonight.”

“Thanks, Dad. I had a lot of fun!” Noah smiled brightly at his father who pulled him into a tight hug.

“I love you, Noah and even though Maebry needs extra care right now, that doesn’t change how important you are to me. We’ll always have these special moments.”

With their special bedtime adventure complete, Lando helped Noah get tucked into bed, promising more adventures in the future and Noah drifted off to sleep feeling loved and cherished.

________

AN: First of all Anon, your English is amazing!!! Sending so much love to Argentina. I hope you like it and if not let me know and I can rewrite 😊🫶

Taglist: @eloriis @pacifierbby @landossainz @littlegrapejuice @barcelonaloverf1life @poppyflower-22 @itsjustfranzi @vickykazuya @sltwins

#lando imagine #lando norris imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #lando angst #lando x noah #lando norris x reader #ln4 x reader #lando x reader #lando x maebry

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raysrays · 7 months

Text

I’ve Got you

Kyojuro Rengoku X GN! Reader

CW: injury,blood, angst-ish to fluff

Scenario: Just because you are a Tsuguko doesn’t mean you get out of going on missions yourself. But what If you don’t return on time? What if you are injured?

Completing missions was never difficult for you, a perk of being a Tsuguko. Personal training by a Hashira has honed your skills. Your technique appears flawless, ensuring success on most tasks. As long as you didn’t run into any upper moons you’d be perfectly fine. Right?

That was your assumption until you reached your destination: a clearing tucked in the heart of a forest. Surrounded by miles of wilderness in every direction. You’d already spent too long traveling a different route due to the weather so you were technically a few days behind.

Upon your arrival, you immediately spotted the clearing, but to your surprise, a demon stood at its center—your target, it has to be.

You drew your sword slowly, cautious not to draw immediate attention to yourself as you approached. Upon getting a clearer view, you studied the demon's appearance intently.

It stood tall, with long white hair and a bluish tint to its skin.

But it must have noticed you staring, as it whipped its head around in seconds.

Its bright red eyes looked terrifying, and its long, claw like nails only added to its unsettling appearance.

You assumed your stance and charged at the demon, employing the breathing technique Kyojuro had tirelessly trained you to master.

However, as you closed the distance, an odd sensation crept over your body, causing everything to seem to move in slow motion.

Looking up, you noticed the demon sporting a creepy grin on its face. With a deliberate motion, it slowly raised its hand, dragging its disgusting claws down your left side.

The sudden surge of pain was intense.

Suddenly, time seemed to unfreeze as you plummeted to the ground in an instant. Looking around, you realized the demon had vanished without a trace.

Not a single hit landed, and it had slipped away.

Despite the searing pain, you attempted to stand, but the agony was overwhelming. Glancing down at your blood-soaked uniform and the wound beneath it, the fight wasn't over.

You couldn't stop now, not with the demon's still alive. That's what you tried to convince yourself.

You attempted to push yourself off the ground, but the pain held you back, causing your vision to blur and your eyelids to grow heavy.

"Am I bleeding out?" The thought flashed through your mind as your head connected with the ground.

It felt like mere seconds had passed when you were abruptly pulled out of unconsciousness by the sounds of yelling and talking.

"Y/N? Y/N?" The voice sounded oddly familiar.

"If you bleed out like this, you'll die in literally the most un-flashy way possible," the voice continued.

Ah, Tengen.

Through the small slit of your eyes, you saw him crouched down in front of you.

"There you are. Glad you're finally awake. I was worried you'd be dead for sure," he chuckled.

As you fully opened your eyes, I noticed that your side had been somewhat bandaged up, though it wasn't exactly top-tier first aid.

He frowned. "Look, I'm aware I'm not Shinobu, but it'll do until we get back."

You nod slowly and manage to push yourself back to your feet.

"How... how long was I out for?" You ask him nervously.

"Well, considering Rengoku paced around HQ to the point where the master sent him off on some pointless mission, I'd say quite a while," he rolled his eyes.

"I'm serious. How long has it been?" You ask again.

He stops and thinks for a second. "You've probably only been out for a day and a half, but technically, you should have been back two days ago."

Your heart begins to race. You've been out far too long, undoubtedly causing Kyo worry. What if he's angry? Did the master really have to send him off on a mission to calm down?

Your mind races a mile a minute before you finally acknowledge Tengen again.

"Let's head back now. When will Kyojuro return?" Your voice sounds desperate. You want to see him. You need to see him.

He crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Rengoku is probably almost back by now. Like I said, it was just a lame mission to get him to mellow out for a second."

Suddenly, his hard, sarcastic gaze softens with a hint of concern. "Hey, come on, I'll help you back. I know you're probably in a lot of pain right now."

As he extended his hand to you, you finally accepted it. You liked Tengen; he was a good friend to Kyojuro, and really, that's all you cared about. He could be a complete asshole or a genuinely kind person, but you just got lucky today.

It took a while, but he was fast. Together, you both made it back to headquarters in half the time it would have taken alone.

When you finally arrived, he guided you straight to the Butterfly Mansion to get your injury taken care of.

Shinobu took you in and started to properly disinfect and re-bandage your wound.

You stare at her silently as she patches you up. Shinobu always wears that lifeless smile, yet she still looks remarkably beautiful. You know her story and admire her persistence and her invaluable contributions to the demon slayer corps.

"Y/N, you need to rest. I'll have Tengen inform the master about the demon that got away," her voice maintains its usual tone, neither angry nor particularly happy.

"I wasn't able to kill it. I'm sorry," you confess, feeling the weight of failure on your shoulders. That demon may not have been an upper moon, but it was undeniably strong. You almost feel embarrassed. Did you underestimate the demon, or were you too overconfident in your abilities?

Your thoughts are interrupted when Shinobu tilts your chin to look at her. "I assume you aren't used to failure, are you?" Her expression changes; instead of her usual painted smile, this time it seems genuinely sympathetic.

You feel embarrassment wash over you; she read you like a book.

"Y/N, not every mission will end in victory. It's enough that you didn't bleed out on the ground. I think that alone will make Rengoku very happy," Shinobu reassures you.

Shinobu could be extremely harsh, maybe even downright mean sometimes, but right now, she's comforting you. It feels good.

"Thank you, I really needed to hear that—"

You are interrupted by the sound of a crow flying around the mansion.

"Master Rengoku has returned from his mission!" it caws loudly.

Suddenly, the stress floods back over you. You've never been injured like this before. How will he react?

Shinobu notices your reaction and steps back from you.

"I'll be going now. Try to rest up while your injuries heal. I'll check back on you in a few hours."

You watch her leave, wondering if she's going to tell Kyojuro you're here. Does she already know how he'll react to the situation? Is it really even that big of a deal?

Maybe you're just overthinking this. As a Tsuguko, it's understandable that you'd sustain injuries every now and then. As a partner though…it's different.

What was only minutes felt like hours, but eventually, you heard the sounds of the doors to the mansion open.

You recognized those footsteps; you had heard them every day of your life.

Once the doors finally opened, you saw Kyojuro. His eyes scanned you up and down, taking you in before he officially entered the room.

He looked so relieved but also worried as he walked over next to you, sitting in a chair beside the bed.

Before you could say anything, he took both your hands in his and rested his head on top of them.

"Thank goodness you're safe. I was so worried," his voice was quiet and gentle.

You didn't know what reaction to expect, but it wasn't this one.

A couple of moments of silence passed, and he finally lifted his head to look at you again. This time, his face seemed more serious.

"What happened out there? What demon did this to you?" His serious tone wasn't one you ever got used to.

"I'm not sure," you admit.

"If I'm being completely honest with you, I didn't get the chance to learn much about it at all. All I know is that it has the ability to slow down its surroundings, allowing it to attack at a normal rate, and that's how I got here." It felt embarrassing to admit your failure, but his face showed understanding.

Kyojuro knew how hard you had worked and trained, and every solo mission you went on had been a complete success up until this point. So honestly, he seemed just as shocked as you were.

Once he noticed your bandaged wound his serious face changed into a worried and sympathetic one.

"I'm so sorry, sunflower. I should've looked into the mission more before agreeing to let you go. I would never want you to be put in such a position," he said, pushing a piece of your hair behind your ear and staring into your eyes.

The embarrassment you tried to shut out just came rushing back in that moment.

"Please don't pity me. I failed my mission. It's all my fault. I understand if you are disappointed, but once I heal, I will make sure to find that demon and take it down."

He looked surprised for a moment, then a small smile appeared on his face.

"Little flame, there is no doubt in my mind that you are a skilled swordsman. I'm grateful not only to have you as my Tsuguko but also as my partner," he said, reaching up and planting a small kiss on your forehead.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, my love. You did your best! As long as you return home to me at the end of the day, I will never be disappointed in you."

Your heart melted at his words. Kyo would never be angry with you. He loved you. All he ever wanted was for you to be safe and happy.

His bright, happy smile made everything in the world seem good again. You wanted to just wrap your arms around him and hold on tight.

Then he stood up, wrapping his arms around your shoulders gently.

You finally felt the weight of the situation being lifted off your shoulders. The demon, the fear of bleeding out on the ground, the idea of disappointing Kyojuro, all of it gone.

Tears escaped the corners of your eyes. You hadn't let yourself cry this entire time, but his arms felt safe. As long as Kyojuro was there to support you, you finally felt vulnerable.

Kyojuro's arms felt so protective around you as you cried into him. He knew the stress you had been put through was probably overwhelming.

And even though he'd never show it, his anger made him vow to find this demon and ensure it would never hurt you again.

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typicalopposite · 1 month

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For @bucktommypositivityweek day TWO! :) prompt: nicknames and terms of endearment

🫶🫶🫶🫶

If you were to ask Tommy what his nicknames for Evan were, he might laugh and answer that it was ‘Evan’. Regardless of it being his actual name, Tommy is one of the only people who uses it, which makes it feel unique and his own. However it wasn’t long into their relationship that ‘baby’ slipped past Tommy’s lips. It just came so natural and felt so right— not to mention how it caused Evan’s eyes to go wide and his cheeks to turn pink. So ‘baby’ is typically how Evan is addressed.

For Tommy, on the other hand, he has been called pretty much everything under the sun. Babe is often used, almost like Evan’s version of Tommy’s Baby, but he sometimes goes with honey, or sweetheart… sunshine—that's mostly sarcasm used when Tommy’s in a mood after a trying day. Tommy doesn’t mind, he loves all the names: the cutesy ones, the sweet ones, the silly ones.

“Hey Beautiful,” Evan says, looking down at him from the 118’s loft.

That one… is new.

It catches Tommy off guard enough he actually turns and checks around him for someone else Evan might have been talking to. “Give me one second, I’ll be right down,” Evan continues, not catching Tommy’s confusion, then he disappears from the railing.

Tommy stares at the spot he was standing, and can feel his cheeks heating up.

He knows Evan is attracted to him. Hell, he hates to give himself the confidence boost, but he’d go as far as to say he knows he’s an attractive man. Attractive… handsome… hot even—(okay maybe he’s not that confident)—but beautiful?

And the thing is he has called Evan beautiful plenty of times. He is. He’s beautiful in so many ways Tommy could list them all day and never reach the end.

“Hey, are you okay?” Evan asks, coming off the last step, making a beeline to where Tommy’s still cemented to the floor. “Your cheeks are really red.” He lays the back of his hand against Tommy’s forehead, then his cheeks and looks confused. “Ok you don’t have a fever, wait…” He dips his head to meet Tommy’s eyes. “Are you blushing?”

“No…” Tommy quickly retorts. “Maybe…” he says right after. He shifts on his feet and breaks his eyes from Evan’s. Embarrassed at himself for being so affected by a silly pet name Evan probably didn’t even fully mean.

“Why… be— because I called you beautiful?” Tommy sighs; he decides to avoid drawing it out by lying and nods. Evan steps forward and grabs Tommy’s face, pulling him into a kiss. “Well you are,” another kiss, “Inside and out.” Tommy rolls his eyes, but Evan doesn’t let up. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Even on your worst days, when your hair is a mess and you have awful morning breath; still beautiful.”

Tommy is pretty sure his face is a degree off of catching on fire. “Ok, fine… I— I believe you.”

“Mmm, I don’t think you do,” Evan says teasingly. “So I guess I’ll just have to keep reminding you.”

Which he does, everyday. Soon beautiful becomes Evan’s baby, and he uses it everytime he sees Tommy.

And even if Tommy still struggles to view himself as such, he knows Evan thinks he is, and that’s enough.

#bucktommy #bucktommy ficlet #tommy kinard #evan buckley #bucktommypositivityweek #not me making soft Tommy my entire personality as of late

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haikyu-mp4 · 27 days

Text

Of herbivores and miscommunication

word count; 746 – gn!reader, deaf!reader

Being deaf wasn’t something that troubled you too much anymore. You had been deaf for as long as you could remember, and you were used to most of the challenges it presented in day-to-day life.

However, some places made you lower your shoulders properly. One of those places was the Sendai City Museum. It mainly had historical departments, and sometimes they would put up temporary art galleries. You liked admiring paintings because no one else staring at them could hear anything more than you. The paintings were silent, yet gave you an unfamiliar sense of… loudness.

Most of all, you enjoyed the dinosaur department, where you could spend hours reading the different boards and learning new things whenever they released new features or exhibitions. Sometimes they would borrow things from other museums to draw more people in, and those could be particularly interesting.

Tsukishima Kei noticed you the first time he saw you and remembered you well the second time. You were quite pretty, and he liked the way you smiled and nodded while reading to yourself, always in your own company and seemingly enjoying the peace of that. He could relate.

He was responsible for the dinosaur department, usually stationed there as a guide to anyone who wanted extra information or needed to ask for directions. One particular evening, just about two hours before he could go home and as the museum-goers slowly became fewer and fewer, he caught himself smiling when you walked into the room.

You met his eyes and smiled back, before making your way to the herbivores. Part of him wondered why you were there so often yet hadn’t asked him anything before, while the other part wondered if it would be too obvious if he approached you himself.

But when he saw your brows furrow at something you read, he took his chance to walk over. He thought his footsteps had been pretty clear with the dressy shoes he was required to wear with the uniform, but you seemed to startle anyway, holding a hand over your heart and turning towards him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he asked, but you had already turned back to the skeleton of a stegosaurus as if you couldn’t hear him.

Tsukishima cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow in question. He tapped your shoulder and you turned to him with the most calm yet interested look he had ever seen, it made him stutter over his words for a weak moment before gathering himself.

“I’ve seen you come here often, are you particularly interested in this department?” he asked, trying to look professional with his hands clasped behind his back. But it wasn’t easy when you seemed to be staring at his lips instead of his eyes.

You turned your body more and lifted a hand to tap your ear, smiling just the same. I can’t hear you. Then you tapped your finger on the word herbivore on the plaque in front of you and nodded, correctly assuming he didn’t know sign language anyway.

Tsukki drew a sharp breath, alarmingly embarrassed that he hadn’t realised and just assumed you were rude or weird. He looked to the side and was about to say something more when he realised that if he looked away, you definitely wouldn’t know what he said. “Sorry, I don’t know sign language. I’ll leave you to it.” So he bowed politely and swiftly turned away, too embarrassed to stay around while you looked after him with a pouted lip.

He was kind of cute.

About a month later was the next time you came back, when they announced the herbivore department had received a revamp with more plants to make you feel like you were more immersed in the dinosaur experience. You practically skipped all the way to your favourite area, taking the time to admire everything you hadn’t seen before.

Until a hand tapped you on the shoulder, making you jump slightly before turning around to the familiar face of Tsukishima. You perked up happily when he greeted you with a proper sign language hello, and returned the same gesture.

Then you noticed that his other hand held a small notepad and a pen, notepad flipped over to a page with something written on it. He noticed your gaze and held it up, slightly hiding behind the notepad and keeping a straight face.

My name is Tsukishima. I could write you some interesting facts if you want.

masterlist

a/n: I am not deaf and tried not to write anything too specific for the sake of executing this idea, but please kindly let me know if you see a problem with this

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koocycle · 1 year

Text

screw up; over wine | drabble i.

synopsis; jungkook wants to make your first date special and unlike any other night you’ve had before. while determined to win your heart over with a fancy, romantic dinner that includes sweet, tasty chardonnay and medium rare steaks, not everything goes according to his plan.

pairing; boyfriend! jungkook x model! female reader

word count; 4.1k

genre; fluff, baby angst probably

warnings; none

timeline; this drabble is set 7 years ago, at the very start of the over wine couple’s relationship where jungkook is a finance major and oc is still active in the modelling industry. they’re both in their early 20s here!

author’s note; a thank you drabble for all the support and encouragement i’ve been receiving the past two weeks!! also a lil drabble for the people who aren’t a fan of angst and still punched through that 38k last chapter :) enjoy this little tidbit of the start their relationship before it all became messy and went downhill

series masterlist | over wine universe

The sound of the lively chatter at the tables surrounding you had gone over your head before. The clinking of cutlery amplifies and bubbles of laughter fill the air the moment Jungkook excuses himself to the bathroom and all of a sudden, you watch yourself become a nerve-wrecking mess, unsure what to do the minute you’re left alone and forced to listen to the couples at the tables on your sides. You can feel their eyes on you, noticing the way they keep glancing at you with some sort of pity in their eyes. The bustling restaurant suddenly feels much more crowded and you can’t help but feel exposed with him now gone, the bill at your table staring back at you like it tells you everything Jungkook didn’t have the balls to say.

It’s only when the waitress comes back a second time around when you finally search your handbag for your card and hand it to her, plastering a smile on your face that is supposed to copy the one you were previously wearing. You could tell she was getting impatient before, her hair tied into a bun so slick, you were sure she was unable to move the brows at her forehead.

She’s been eyeing you and Jungkook ever since you came in and sat down, it was hard not to notice, seeing the way her lips pursed as she tongued the front of her teeth when Jungkook ordered you the most expensive Chardonnay on the menu. And at the end, when he left for the bathroom about five seconds after he read the price at the bottom of the receipt, you could swear you saw a vein pop at her forehead. It was funny back then. Though now that he’s been gone for nearly ten minutes, each and every bit of humor has left your body just like you watched it happen to that woman before. The inkling feeling at your chest enlarges each time somebody locks eyes with you and shares that sorrowful, pitiful smile, and you lose it.

You had a good time tonight, that much you can’t deny, and you refuse to be pitied. Especg not by a bunch of strangers. You know everyone at the restaurant had seen it at this point. Seen the way Jungkook had leaned over the table with crossed arms supporting him while that charming, boyish smile painted his face, resulting in a flush to your cheeks as you tried to hide it and blame it on the wine that must have gotten to your head. You felt luckier than anyone else in the room only half an hour ago, where you thought the dates around you couldn’t compare. Like they couldn’t have gotten better than yours by the end of the night.

Yes, embarrassment fills your chest when the waitress hands you back your card and flashes you a knowing smile. However, you refuse to let it bring you down. Humiliation draws over you as you stand up from your seat and make your way over to the corner Jungkook disappeared behind, each step of your stiletto heels to the restaurant’s floor tiles accentuating the flow of your mini dress against your ass. You know eyes are on you, but you ignore it and keep your head high. If you had driven here yourself, you probably would have let the guy rot in the men’s restroom until they had found him, though for now, you still need him for that twenty-minute ride back home.

And it’s not like you mind paying for tonight’s dinner. As a matter of fact, if Jungkook had simply asked you to cover the bill, you know you would’ve reached out for your wallet without a second thought. He made you feel at ease from the start on; ensuring your beef was cooked to perfection, sitting you down on the booth while he did so on the chair. Even double checking whether or not your glass of Chardonnay was sweet enough to your liking, if you needed another napkin at your neck so you wouldn’t stain that pretty little dress, and if you weren’t getting cold right beneath that airconditioning screwed to the ceiling–ready to run back to the car to get your jack from the backseat.

That’s right, you wouldn’t have minded, because Jungkook has been perfect all night. And no matter how many times you thought to yourself “God damn, you’re having a blast and so is he,” you wouldn’t have minded if at the end of the night he’d be like, “hey, this probably isn’t working out and we should never do this again.” Because, sure, then it is what it is. But at least you’ve got more class than him if you think it’s a shitty thing to hide in the men’s restroom the moment the bill is served instead of growing a pair and telling you exactly that in your face.

‘‘Hyung, please, I need you right now.’’ It is the first thing you hear once you round the corner and you come face to face with his back, his phone is held to his ear and it appears his fingers are pinching the bridge at his nose. ‘‘It’s just that I’m really into this girl, and I can swear she feels the same way. I can’t afford fucking it up now. I promise I’ll pay you back by the end of the month, okay?’’

It stings more than you’d like to admit. You lean against the wall, crossing your arms over your chest as you try to process the situation. Part of you wants to confront him right there, tell him the bill has been taken care of and ask him why he brought you here if he knew he couldn’t even pay for it. He could at least tell you to stay within a reasonable budget, where the wine bottle didn’t have to cost 400 bucks and each additional sauce wouldn’t have to cost another 15 on top.

Would he be scared you’d judge him if he brought you some place else?

‘‘I know, I know,’’ he mumbles into his phone, throwing his head back. ‘‘I didn’t want to bring her somewhere downtown and disappoint her, that’s all. How was I supposed to know the prices were that high if they don’t write it down the menu?’’

You have to bite your lip to hold the laughter from escaping. It’s cute, the way he thinks, because the moment you’d see a menu without its prices mentioned, one thing most people would do is run out the building before they charge you for the lukewarm water that’s already served on the table. You can’t help but find his reasoning cute and endearing, his sincerity shining through and you can tell he truly wanted to make tonight special for you. The fact that he was worried about disappointing you speaks volumes about how much he cares. Although, next time around, you’d find him a little cuter if he were honest with you. You really wouldn’t think much less of him if he asked you to pay the bill.

‘‘Thanks, hyung. So much.’’ He breathes out, and you can only figure the person on the other end of the line is transferring the money to his bank account as you stand there. ‘‘I’m dodging a bullet here.’’

It is only when he hangs up the phone that he turns around, halting in his tracks at the sight of you standing there. With his phone still in hand, Min Yoongi’s contact number still displayed on the screen, his expression changes from shock to worry as he sees you standing there, arms folded over another as you’re leaned up against the wall.

‘‘Hi.’’ You smile.

And you have the prettiest smile. Even though it’s closed lipped and seems a little ironic, he thinks you own the most beautiful smile in the room. ‘‘Hey,’’ he says, his eyes faltering even though he’s quick to cover up. Sauntering over, he places a hand at your hip to guide you the other way, over to the cashier. ‘‘I’m sorry that took so long, you know how moms can be.’’ He snickers quietly, ‘‘you’re already two years into college and she still calls every night to ask if you’ve eaten.’’

You stand there, amused by his poor attempt to brush off the situation, His hand on your hip feels warm, and you find yourself swayed by his touch. ‘‘Oh, I see,’’ You play along, unable to suppress the playful glint in your eyes. ‘‘So it was your mom who kept you on the phone for so long? For a hot minute I thought you were bailing on me back here.’’

Jungkook laughs softly, shaking his head. ‘‘With the way you look tonight? I’d be crazy to.’’ His eyes linger on you, shamelessly sneaking down your figure in a long, exposed glance, appreciating the white mini dress that cuts right beneath your ass, accentuating your every curve. He doesn’t even try to hide the boyish grin that works its way up his lips, the hand at your hip instead traveling to the small of your back.

Your cheeks flush a little at the compliment, and you turn to face him completely, a flat hand to his chest. ‘‘Smooth talker,’’ you tease, head tilting sweetly as a rush of warmth flows through you.

He grins, his eyes sparkling mischievously. ‘‘Just speaking the truth,’’ he replies, loving the way your eyes grow so big the moment he holds you close and you start looking up at him. He is still running his hand at your back in small circles as he subtly pulls you closer to him, loving the way you just let him. ‘‘Let’s take care of the bill and get you home safely. Are we all set?’’

You nod cutely, ‘‘I am,’’ you say, and Jungkook guides you around by the waist, his free hand digging into the back pocket of his dress pants before you interrupt him, intertwining your arm with his as you lead the both of you out the door instead. ‘‘And I already took care of it.’’ You teasingly whisper in his ear, the smile that you wear on your face undeniable.

Jungkook’s grin falters, halting in his tracks once you’re outside. His brows furrowed together, clearly taken aback. ‘‘Wait, you paid?’’ He asks softly, seeming a little deflated even as you stand before him with that pretty smile on your face. He usually can’t resist to bring one out himself when your lips break into one, though it comes a little more difficult this time. ‘‘You know you didn’t have to do that, right? I had everything planned out,’’ his hands come to cup your cheeks. ‘‘It was me who asked you out. That means that I’m supposed to treat you tonight.’’

You can see the sincerity in his eyes, and your heart softens at the genuine concern. It is only for a moment that you consider telling him you overheard his phone call with his roommate, and no matter how comfortable Jungkook made you feel tonight alone, you remember it’s only your first date, and you’d hate for things to get sappy so quickly. ‘‘Well, you basically left me all alone with that piece of paper. How could I control myself?’’ It’s supposed to be a lighthearted joke, he can see it in the way you smile at him, but he can’t help but think there’s some truth to it. ‘‘Come on, bring me home,’’ even with the heels you’re wearing, you have to stand on your tippy toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. ‘‘These heels aren’t doing me justice anymore.’’

Jungkook chuckles softly, the tension not yet easing between you even as you drag him to the car by intertwining your hands together. As he opens the door for you to get in, he can’t help but feel like he’s somehow failed today’s date. Looking back at how it must’ve looked like when he ran off to call Min Yoongi for help like he’s still in highschool with a silly little school crush, he feels a pang of embarrassment at the thought of appearing so immature and unprepared in front of you. He wanted everything to be perfect, bring you someplace nice to impress you and show you he could treat you well. Instead, he just looks like a little boy who tried to trick you into paying for the first date.

Even as Jungkook is seated in the drivers’ seat and takes the route back to your home, he turns up the volume of the radio, hoping to drown out the disappointment in himself. He definitely screwed up tonight. He doesn’t even know if he wants you to say something to him; he just knows that you don’t, but the glances you keep sneaking his way for the entire ride back home are enough to make him feel even worse. You can see that something is bothering him, that his playful, flirtatious vibe from before has shifted and is now replaced with something you can’t decipher.

You start to wonder if it’s something you said. Wonder if he’s now getting cold feet and suddenly realizes maybe he didn’t enjoy himself as much as you thought. He hadn’t given you any reason to think like that, though. Not after how sweet he was tonight, not after the way you heard him talk about you over the phone with his friend.

As the car pulls up in front of your place, Jungkook turns off the engine, the radio cutting off as the silence envelopes both of you again. The clicking sound of your seatbelt comes fast and you glance over at him again, finding him already looking at you with a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

He gets out and walks you to the door after that, his hands hidden in the pockets of his pants as he doesn’t care to spare you another glance. The shift in energy is obvious between the both of you, not a single soul out on the street at this hour of the day to distract you from the uneasy silence. Your stiletto heels click against the pavement and you have to bite your bottom lip to make the short but uncomfortable way back a little more bearable.

At the end of a date comes a kiss. It’s how it happens in all the romcoms you watch–it happens in all the chick flicks and all the Disney short movies. But this is no Stephanie Perkins love story, not with the way you’re standing there, hugging your arms as the chilly breeze crosses your skin.

‘‘I guess this is where we split ways, right?’’ You finally break the silence, your voice tinged with uncertainty. You don’t want the night to end on such an awkward note, but the tension between you is undeniable.

Jungkook’s gaze softens, and he takes a step closer to you, the distance between your bodies diminishing. ‘‘I had a great time tonight,’’ he admits, his voice gentle as he reaches to unfold your arms, fingertips grazing over them before they get to your soft hands and intertwines them with his own. ‘‘And I really want to see you again,’’ he says quietly, thumbs rubbing over your knuckles. ‘‘You know, if that’s okay with you.’’

You have to tongue the front of your teeth in an attempt to hide that broad smile that’s tugging at the edges of your lips. ‘‘Yeah, I’d like that.’’ You say, and you can feel your heart race against your chest only with the way he’s looking down at you.

‘‘And I’ll be transferring the money right back to your account first thing back home, alright?’’

‘‘Oh,’’ you raise an eyebrow in surprise, not expecting him to bring up the topic of money again. ‘‘Really, that’s okay. I don’t mind having to spend a little. And it doesn’t really matter in the end, does it? We enjoyed ourselves tonight, and that’s probably what’s most important.’’

‘‘It is what’s most important,’’ he agrees with a boyish smile, heavy lidded eyes staring back at you. ‘‘But it was me who asked you to join me for dinner. Therefore it was my responsibility to treat you, you know? To make sure you had a good time, and to guarantee the bill was taken care of and nowhere within your reach.’’ Jungkook says, one hand held against his chest as he tilts his head in the most charming way you can think of. ‘‘That was my mistake. But I won’t be able to go to bed with a good feeling knowing you paid for all that. We didn’t dine at McDonald’s, you know?’’

You can’t help but let out a soft chuckle at his playful reference, because he’s right. There was a lot more on that receipt than two cheeseburgers and fries on the side. Jungkook took you out to wine and dine; told you beforehand to wear the prettiest dress you own and he spared no expense to make sure the evening was special. It was clear he wanted to impress you, even if you hadn’t overheard his phone call.

Your hands caress his chest until they reach to play with the collar of his blouse, as if to fix it. ‘‘Then maybe it’s time we pick out some place that’s a little more affordable, don’t you think?’’ You’re not nagging at him, your voice is gentle, indirectly telling him he doesn’t need to spend money on you that he doesn’t have. ‘‘You know I’d be fine with a pizza and a soda, right?’’

The feeling of your fingertips tickling at his neck makes him bite his lip, your arms leaning on his broad shoulders for support. ‘‘You know I can’t take you out for pizza.’’

You smile, enjoying the closeness between you when his own hands fall to your hips. Tugging you closer, just slightly. ‘‘Why not?’’ You tease, unable to keep that toothy smile off your face. ‘‘I bet we could have just as much fun sharing a pizza as we did tonight.’’

‘‘We would,’’ Jungkook’s eyes meet yours, and he looks a little torn. ‘‘But you’re special,’’ his lips curl into a small smile when the words leave him, watching as you throw your head back a little in surprise, the warmth rising to your cheeks not gone unnoticed. ‘‘And I don’t know… it’s probably just something you do, but you make me want to give you all the things you’ve never been given before, all right?’’

He’s speaking from the heart, and the longer he looks into those eyes of yours, the more this lovestruck feeling intensifies in the deepest pits of his chest. Because it’s true; Jeon Jungkook is smitten. You pick up his FaceTime calls in the middle of the night wearing silken, champagne pink Chanel pajamas, you carry your Miss Dior perfumes in the side pockets of your Armani handbags and your agent takes you out to fine dinings at least once a month–you’re handed all those luxury items by all sorts of brands trying to get a sponsor out of you because, they as well, know you’re something else. Something big.

You stand before him in a dress he doesn’t even want to know the price of, and instead just wants to admire you. How was he ever going to step up his game and give you things you haven’t seen before? Sure, perhaps Jungkook was a little starstruck the moment the price at the end of the bill caught his eye, but when it came to you, it was worth it. He doesn’t make that kind of money yet, but he will, and when he receives his degree and finally does that, then yes, he wants to spoil you rotten. You deserve it all.

Your heart skips a beat at his words, touched by his genuine sentiment. ‘‘Jungkook,’’ you begin softly, your voice tinged with emotion. ‘‘I had a blast tonight, I really did, and I appreciate you so much for the effort you put in the entire evening. But I really hope you didn’t do all of this with the idea I would like you any less if it indeed was just a burger and some fries from McDonald’s.’’

Jungkook’s eyes soften. ‘‘No, that’s not it at all,’’ he assures you, his voice gentle and sincere. ‘‘I wanted to show you a good time, to make you smile.’’

‘‘I smiled all the way to the end of the night,’’ you sing-song, leaning into his touch when you cup his cheeks. ‘‘So no S.O.S phone calls with Min Yoongi at the end of our next date night?’’

He blinks slowly, shifting his gaze downward as a nervous chuckle escapes his lips. ‘‘You overheard my phone call,’’ you watch as the embarrassment overtakes him and you think it’s rather cute how he tries to hide his face from you, the sight of your feet suddenly so much more interesting. ‘‘Isn’t that great.’’ He mumbles, wincing on the inside.

‘‘I did. And there’s nothing to be embarrassed of.’’ You tilt his head back up, forcing him to lock eyes. ‘‘I actually think it’s kind of cute you wanted to impress me. Am I really that intimidating?’’

Jungkook’s cheeks warm, and he can’t help but let out a laugh at your teasing. His thumbs start caressing the material at the small of your back, leaving you a little weak in the knees. ‘‘Intimidating isn’t the right word,’’ he admits, pursing his lips like he’s thinking hard. ‘‘I’d say you’re frightening. And not in a good way, either. Rather like one of those Disney villains that would keep you awake as a kid, you know?’’ He smirks cutely, playfully nudging at your side and causing you to squirm at his arms. ‘‘Ursula or something. You look just like her, the big eyes and the crazy hair and all.’’

‘‘Do I now?’’ You arch a single brow, amusement crippling at your lips.

He hums, tugging you close to him until your bodies are pressed together and you can feel his warmth radiating through his clothes. ‘‘Like two beads of water.’’ He says a little softer now, his breath fanning against your lips as he reaches out to gently brush a loose strand of hair away from your face.

The space between you seems to shrink, the world around you fading into oblivion the more you’re drawn into him. ‘‘You wouldn’t look at me as if you want to kiss me if that were true.’’

Jungkook’s breath catches at your words, and he can’t deny the truth in them. The teasing glint in your eyes sends a jolt of excitement through him, making him want to prove you wrong. His fingers gently trail along your jawline, a feather-light touch that sends shivers down your spine.

‘‘Oh, really?’’ He retorts playfully, his voice low and husky. ‘‘And what if I do want to kiss you?’’ His gaze intensifies, holding you captive as he leans closer, his lips almost brushing against yours. The air cackles with anticipation, and time seems to slow down as the world around you fades away.

Your heart pounds in your chest, matching the rhythm of his as he hovers so close. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, and it sends a rush of desire through you. Your fingers instinctively find their way to his chest, the anticipation building between you both.

‘‘Do it and find out.’’

He doesn’t hesitate. You’ve given him the green light and with a surge of boldness running through him, he closes the distance between you, and his lips capture yours in a tender, passionate kiss. It’s a perfect collision of desire, a moment that feels like it was meant to be.

You place a hand to his chest, able to feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. With your fingers slightly curling at the nape of his neck, arm leaning on his shoulder, you dare to pull him closer to you as he copies your body language not much longer after. He pulls you by the small of your back to make sure it curves and you’re pressed chest to chest. Your breaths mingle, lips eagerly brushing against each other as the kiss deepens and you feel a tingling warmth spreading through your body. His touch is tender and possessive, as if he doesn’t want to let you go. Your other hand finds its way to his cheek, caressing it with a soft, adoring touch. It’s a silent reassurance that this is right, that you want this as much as he does.

Time seems to lose all meaning when his lips lingers on yours, it seems like. You’re lost in him, just like how he is lost in you. And when you eventually pull away, your foreheads rest against each other, you both share a soft, contented sigh. Your eyes meet, and a knowing smile passes between you.

‘‘Let’s save the rest for our second date, yeah?’’

Your heart is still racing, and his touch leaves your body feeling electric. You can see the desire in his eyes as gazes down at you, and with a gentle caress at his cheek, you nod in agreement, a playful glint in your eyes.

‘‘Definitely,’’ you whisper, your voice breathless.

As you part ways, you fumble with your keys at the door as Jungkook makes his way back to his car. A sense of contentment washes over you, knowing you’ve found someone who makes your heart race and your soul soar.

And as you steal a glance from over your shoulder only one last time for tonight, you find him doing the same thing at the exact same moment. Your eyes meet, and you cutely avert your eyes back forward the moment it happens, missing the way he bites his bottom lip to hold back a cheeky grin, shaking his head in amusement.

You’re truly one of a kind.

#jungkook drabble #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook #jeon jungkook #BTS jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts #bts fic

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fluentmoviequoter · 7 months

Text

Hold My Hand

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: When you receive unwanted attention on a weekend staycation with your friends, a knight in a shining navy suit saves you by offering his hand.

Warnings: creepy guy doesn't understand 'no' and continues making unwanted advances, but Tim saves the day. angst to fluff (I guess?)

Word Count: 1.4k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

When your friends invited you out for a girls’ weekend, you were expecting a spa retreat or a cottage at the beach, not a penthouse in Los Angeles. More than that, you didn’t expect them to pick one of the sleaziest restaurants you’ve ever seen to spend their Friday night. Luckily – if there is a ‘luckily’ in this situation – you found a quiet corner on the rooftop. Your friends are downstairs, huddled around the bar as they look for rich, single men. It doesn’t exactly seem like the breeding ground for that type of man, though.

“Good evening, gorgeous,” a deep voice says behind you.

Assuming they’re talking to someone else, you ignore them, keeping your attention on the railing around the roof’s edge.

“Hey, ‘m talking to you,” he adds.

When his hand lands on your upper arm, forcefully turning you toward him, you truly begin regretting coming on this trip.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim feels like an animal in a zoo enclosure. Wearing a suit that isn’t his, in a place he’d rather never see again, with a few too many pairs of eyes blatantly watching him.

Two hours ago, he was sitting in the station, minutes away from getting to go home. Now he, Lucy, and Angela are undercover in a known mafia club. While the women in the restaurant stare at Tim, the men try to catch Lucy and Angela’s attention.

Sighing, Tim checks his watch. He’s been in one place too long with no sign of their target.

“I’m gonna go check the roof, see if our target’s up there,” Tim tells Lucy.

“The roof?” she asks.

“Yeah, the bar.”

“There’s a bar on the roof?!”

“We’re in Los Angeles, boot, of course there’s a bar on the roof. Angela, keep her close.”

Angela nods, and if Lucy wasn’t already a little creeped out by the men standing across the room, she would be offended.

Tim gets in the elevator, leaning against the wall once the doors are closed. The rooftop bar, however, is full of people who are somehow more intimidating than the ones inside. Looking around, Tim doesn’t see the target or any of his known associates. What he does see, though, is a situation that he shouldn’t get involved in, yet he can’t look away.

✯✯✯✯✯

The man beside you cannot take a hint. You slowly back away until his hand falls from your arm, and one of your legs slides off the barstool. When your foot hits the floor, you stand and keep the seat between you.

“C’mon, gorgeous, ‘s jus’ a question,” he slurs. “Yes or no?”

“I said no,” you repeat firmly.

He doesn’t like your answer, though, and you try to hide your flinch when he slams his glass down on the bar.

“You here alone?”

You glance around, hoping you see someone who looks trustworthy enough to hide with. But you don’t see anyone who fits the bill.

“No,” you answer. “My friends are downstairs.”

“Just friends?”

He leans closer, his arm moving to cage you on one side. Inhaling sharply, you try to think of a way to escape this situation without making it worse or drawing more unwanted attention.

✯✯✯✯✯

“We’ve got nothing,” Angela says in Tim’s earpiece. “Anything up there?”

“No,” Tim answers.

“We’re leaving then. Can’t do anything without him here.”

“I’ll, uh, I’ll catch up.”

“What?” Lucy asks.

“I’ve got to do something first. I’ll see you at the station tomorrow. Call if you need anything.”

Tim removes the earpiece, switching it off as he drops it into his blazer pocket. Moving quickly across the rooftop, he doesn’t realize that he doesn’t have a real plan.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey,” another voice says beside you. “I was wondering where you got off to. What’s going on here?”

You glance over, and your shoulders drop when you see how clean-cut and trustworthy he looks. Given your current situation, you’re glad to see a man who isn’t clearly a predator, but you try not to think about how low the bar is.

“Hi,” you reply. “I was trying to come back, but, uh, got caught up.”

Widening your eyes slightly, you try to communicate that you are not here by choice.

“Give her some room, man.”

The creep leans back enough that you can move, and you rush to your savior’s side.

“And next time a woman tells you ‘no,’ you’d do well to listen,” he adds darkly, letting you hide behind his shoulder.

“Whatever. She jus’ doesn’t know what she wants.”

A kind hand turns you around, and the man whispers, “I’m Tim.”

You tell him your name, flinching when glass shatters behind you.

“Hold my hand,” Tim says, spreading his fingers between you as he looks over his shoulder.

Without hesitation, you interlace your fingers with his. He pulls you close as the elevator opens. Once you’re alone, neither of you releases your grip on the other’s hand.

“Thank you,” you breathe out. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I hate that I had to jump in, but you’re welcome. Are you okay? Did he touch you?”

You shake your head, looking down at your joined hands.

“Do you really have friends downstairs?”

“I have… acquaintances that I will never be going on vacation with again.”

“Vacation? You’re not from here?”

“That’s the funny part. We all live here, so imagine my surprise when the weekend getaway was twenty minutes from my house.”

“Sounds like you need new friends.”

You hum before asking, “Who are you here with?”

“For work.”

At your confused glance, Tim raises his blazer to reveal a badge.

That must be why he helped you.

The door opens, and you pull your hand from his.

“Thanks for helping me, officer. Have a great night.”

Tim watches as you disappear into the crowd, stepping out of the elevator confused and surprisingly upset. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he calls the only person he can think of.

“No questions, Angela. I helped a girl get away from a guy who didn’t understand ‘no.’ As soon as she saw the badge she disappeared. Something was happening before that-“

“Timothy,” Angela sighs. “She thinks you did it out of duty then let her flirt with you. Find her and ask her out, anything to show that you did it for her and not because of some twisted savior complex.”

“Thanks, Lopez.”

Ending the call, Tim heads toward the bar. He thinks that’s where groups of girls on vacation probably hang out. When the bar comes into view, he has no problem finding you, like the brightest light in a dark room.

“Nothing happened, I just went to the roof for a while,” you insist.

“No, you had that glow thing. You met a guy.”

“Maybe I did but he wasn’t interested.”

“Don’t drag me into this if you’re not going to tell the story right,” Tim says, approaching your side.

“Tim?” you ask, turning toward him.

Your body language with him compared to the man upstairs, even how you interact with the women you're here with, differs vastly. Squared to him and completely open, you’re practically inviting him to do something.

“I didn’t do it because I thought I had to. I was off the clock, not that it matters. My motivation may have been pure, just to help, at first, but then you held my hand and I never wanted to let go.”

“Can we…” you pause as you look around. “Can we please not do this here?”

“As long as we do it now.”

Tim offers his hand, and you nod as you take it. Leading you through the crowd, Tim keeps you close. Exiting onto the noisy Los Angeles street, Tim turns toward you.

“I could tell you needed help, or wanted it at least,” Tim explains. “But I don’t want this to end here. I- your hand fits in mine.”

“Please don’t tell me that means we’re soulmates or something.”

Tim smiles, and you forget why you were upset in the elevator.

“I’m Tim Bradford,” he introduces, shaking your already joined hands. “I am a cop, but not with you. With you, I think I could be the man I’d like to be.”

“Romantic,” you murmur.

“I know. It’s scaring me a little. You can’t tell my friends, okay?”

“As long as we don’t tell mine either.”

“So, you’re willing to try?”

“I mean, where else am I going to find a knight in a shining navy suit?” you ask, leaning closer. “As long as your hand stays in mine, I’m willing to try.”

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie #fem!reader #requests

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