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gyuswhore · 2 months

Text

Grease (the tragedy)

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.”

jeon wonwoo x reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: smut [minors DNI], fluff, angst, mechanic!wonu, annoyances to lovers, blind date gone wrong but then gone right, kissing, clit stuff, oral (f. rec), thigh fucking (oop), this all happens at a desk LMAO, title is a what I thought was a funny spin on how people say "grease (the musical)"....has nothing to do with the musical though but lots to do with actual grease!!!

synopsis: In which you have to sit through one of the worst dates of your life, followed by the insistent tug of fate and compulsion that lead you straight back to where you'd sworn you'd never go.

[a/n]: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY WIFE CAMOTHY @highvern everyone go say happy birthday to cam or ill appear in your room at night 🔫 anygays HAVE FUN READING THIS I hope this is all the sexy wonu content you wanted, I cant wait for your reaction hehehhehe

and also bigbigbigbig thank you to jessifer @the-boy-meets-evil for proofing this for me!!! ily heh

and and to everyone reading this who is not cam, I hope you enjoy reading mechanic!wonu as much as I liked writing him heheh PLS REMEMBER TO REBLOG AND TELL ME UR THOTS it could be in the tags, replies, an ask literally anything!!!! id love to hear what you guys think!!!!

masterlist

[You]: do you think he died on the way [Liv]: hes still not there??? [You]: what do you think????? [Liv]: let me ask Amelia [You]: dont bother [You]: he can show up whenever he wants im leaving in 5 [Liv]: you promised you’d sit thru this!! [You]: sit thru what? an empty seat across from me???

Liv doesn’t respond immediately, and you immediately know she’s buggered off to ask her cousin why your date still wasn’t here.

It’s not like you couldn’t have asked him yourself, the sparse textbox sitting just under Liv’s contact. You open it to inspect the contents.

[liv’s cousin’s something]: Amelia gave me your number [liv’s cousin’s something]: friday night at the sage&salt at 7 [liv’s cousin’s something]: is that okay [You]: uh hey [You]: yeah that’s fine

Today 7:20 PM

[You]: im here?

The first thread of texts were enough to make you feel like this was some cold business meeting instead of a date, knowing wherever this would lead would be either the city dump or off a cliff. Liv was hearing none of it, taking the guilt tripping route, saying she’d already committed and her cousin was irritating enough even without a scuffle.

So when Friday evening came around you’d pulled on the first dress your fingers could find, took all of ten minutes fighting with your makeup to make it look like you did something and left the house with zero expectations.

Despite that, as you see a man walk into the establishment dressed like he’d gotten into a fight with a squid and a paper shredder, you feel the stone in your chest tank into the abyss. Zero expectations, and he’s somehow managed to strike out anyway.

The jacket looks like he’s put it on as a weak cover for the grime stains on his shirt and trousers, a couple jet black splatters across the outfit to really pull the whole thing together. It’s not like he looked homeless or anything, his face surprisingly handsome with his hair pushed away from his forehead. Although he remains looking like he’d been playing football in some neighbourhood parking lot before remembering he had an adult appointment too.

You’d never seen the man in your life, but your gut told you this was the shit texter who’d kept you waiting for nearly an hour. He seems to notice too, eyes locking from across the restaurant as the waitress leads him to your table.

“Wonwoo,” you greet with a difficult smile, half sure it came out as a grimace. “Right?”

“Yeah,” he huffs as he practically slams back down on the chair, and you wonder for a moment how the legs didn’t give out. He says your name and you nod. “Sorry I’m late, I got a call in the parking lot.”

He’s been in the parking lot this entire time?!

It’s like you’ve been doused in gasoline and lit on fire, yet somehow needing to give him a shaky reply anyway.

“O–oh, I see.”

The waitress saves you from spitting in his face when she asks if you were ready to order.

Dinner was off the table, as you discussed with Liv who forwarded it to her cousin to her–whoever it was that set up this god awful date–and agreed on dessert and perhaps a drink.

“I’ll have the chocolate cake,” you request in an attempt to make this somewhat better. You consider for a moment before asking for a drink as well, “And a dry gin martini, please.”

“Um,” he staggers as he barely skims the menu, ultimately flipping it closed. “I’ll have the same, I guess.”

Deep voice. You might’ve liked that if you weren’t already so peeved.

The waitress disappears with the menus, leaving you two alone for the first time.

“So,” you start with an exhale. “How do you know Amelia?”

“Her husband.”

“I see.”

Silence.

“How do you know her husband?”

He sighs like this is all inconveniencing him, and it irks you to an irrespective degree. Like you wanted to be here either.

“He brings his car to the workshop alot, became friends somewhere along the line.”

“Workshop?”

He looks a little startled, cocking his head to the side. “I’m a mechanic? Did Olivia–was it–not tell you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

It’s silent yet again as the man across from you refuses to elaborate. You curse as you ask him a follow up question. If there was anything you hated more than shouldering a dead conversation, it was sitting through an awkward silence.

One hour. You’d sit through this for one more hour and then you’d leave.

“What kind of cars do you work on?”

“Expensive ones,” he answers. You might’ve kicked yourself if he’d ended it at that, but he continues with a purse of his lips. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it. Vintage pieces too.”

“Have I heard of it?”

“The cars?”

“No, I mean,” you let out a breath. “Your workshop.”

“Jeon Motors, just a couple streets down actually.”

You did know what he was talking about, not expecting to recognise it through the empty question, passing by it on multiple occasions in this part of the city.

“Oh, I’ve seen it a few times.”

“Yeah, we’ve been there for a while.”

“Family business?”

“Uh–sort of.”

“Okay,” you sigh in an irritated laugh. This was going to be a very difficult hour. “Keep that to yourself too.”

“Is there a problem?”

Just as you lift your eyes to lock with his, a ready yes, there is actually a problem on your tongue, there’s an intrusion.

“Here are your chocolate cakes,” the waitress places the cakes down, and then the drinks. “And your dry gin martinis. Do you guys need anything else?” By the time the waitress is gone you’ve somewhat forced yourself to put that sudden surge of flames out, to a degree at least.

“Okay,” he sighs, grabbing his glass and downing nearly half the contents. He emerges, wiping a bit of a spill from the corner of his mouth. “Let’s get this out of the way.”

“Hm?” He’s speaking to you with a very weird surge of intensity, and it confuses you.

“Neither of us wanna be here. You’re clearly trying to be hospitable but I’d really rather you not, especially when we’re both doing this to get our respective ticks off our hides.”

There isn’t much you can do but stare at him.

“Have I misjudged your advances?” he asks over his glass, sharp eyes piercing.

“No!” you yelp, reaching for your drink yourself, taking big sips only to emerge sputtering and heaving.

Your date looks like he’s rising out of his chair when you raise a hand to stop him.

“No,” you repeat, less jumpy this time. “I guess we could’ve cleared that out from before.”

Did he…snort?

“Sorry.” Dropping his chin to his chest, he composes himself.

“What?” you ask, remaining annoyed as ever.

“Nothing.”

That does it. You slam your now empty glass down on the table, slipping your fork out of the napkin a little forcefully, the metal glinting in the light of the restaurant. You dig into a corner of the cake and shove it in your mouth.

If he was gonna be rude, you could be too.

“I don’t know about hospitable.” You swallow. “But I assumed not being an ass was kind of an unwritten rule for any situation really. Including the ones you’d rather not be in.”

Wonwoo stares at you with a blank face, his cake untouched. “I’m being an ass. My laugh couldn’t have offended you that much.”

“So you did pick that up,” you comment. “With the way this conversation’s going I would’ve thought it flew right over your engine.”

“I’d argue your laugh was the least offensive thing you’ve done tonight.” You plunge your fork into your cake again. “But clearly we’re in different realms of etiquette.”

Your eyes meet the rough stains on his attire, and then his own that bore into yours like a challenge. The cake isn’t too sweet, rich just the right amount and texturally sound. Maybe something good did come out of this fiasco.

“Okay fine,” he announces, sitting up straighter. “I apologise.”

“For laughing?”

“And for being obscenely late.”

“And?”

“And…” he genuinely looks like he’s struggling to figure it out, but catches your eyes flickering to his tattered and stained outfit. “And for my entirely inappropriate dressing sense. You’ll have to forgive me for that one, oil and grime are my spoils of war.”

“Wear it like a badge, mister mechanic, but perhaps somewhere it’s appreciated.”

Wonwoo has already finished his drink, his cake remaining untouched. “You’re quite adamant on disliking me.”

“And you’re quite adamant on being a horrid conversationalist.”

The corners of his mouth lift the slightest bit. Opening his mouth to respond, you cut him off. “Cars don’t talk? Or perhaps, machines are easier to understand?”

“More like I don’t care to be personable.”

“That can’t be good for business.”

“The cars speak for themselves.”

He’s a weird one. Even more so when he offers to pay the entire bill, promising you he wasn’t lying when he said he was good at what he does, and to “make up for lost personality points.” You manage to pay your half anyway, considering the circumstances.

“Can you at least let me drive you home?” Wonwoo asks as you both step out of the establishment soon after.

“Depends.” You fix the strap of your bag. “Will it fall apart on the highway?”

The blaring white of the restaurant's outdoor lights backlight Wonwoo to make him look like some sad angel. He turns to you, the same slight smirk that seems to be plastered on his face. “Why don’t you find out?”

“What do you mean sell it? I got this thing a year ago!”

There isn’t much you can do but sigh loudly as you listen to Olivia talk about the state of her car, the one that cost too much to justify but she seemed to use and abuse like a very replaceable toy truck.

Leaning against the hood of the darn thing, you talk to her. “The dealership is giving you a shit deal to take it off your hands, you might as well try your luck.”

The look on her face is easy to read as she silences. Not convinced in the slightest, waiting for the conversation to end just so she could figure it out on her own. Sighing loudly, you look back to the dark beauty with a crate of issues that make it spit and sputter to a stop every few weeks.

“How much did you say the repairs cost again?”

“Enough to put me on food stamps,” she whines through her frustration, tears pricking against her eyes as they glisten under the neighbourhood streetlights. “Why are you smirking like that?!”

“It’s just,” you pause as you consider your next words, pressing your lips together. “This is a little bit your fault.”

Lies, it was entirely her fault.

Liv stares like you’ve just offended her, which you’re sure you have.

“Care to share how this possible bankruptcy could be my fault?"

“Because you drive the thing like you have a secret reserve buried somewhere in Tenerife.”

“My apologies for making a habit of not being a public nuisance and going forty on a national highway.”

“Your speed-o-metre is not the issue here.”

“Yes, of course, everything’s my fault.”

“Liv, please!” You groan loudly. “Just…let’s try putting up a listing tomorrow. Consider the prospects and you can decide from there.”

Sagging her shoulders and stretching her neck, Liv decides to simply trudge back indoors in silence. You take it as a begrudging yes, and follow her inside.

That very night, when you were at the very cusp of falling into the dark space of sleep, your brain re-awakens before your eyes do. A jolt as the memory comes back to you of the many months ago, sitting in that restaurant across from a man who was too handsome for the personality he seemed to sire.

“Expensive ones,” he had said. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it.”

How fitting.

“Are you going to explain or should I explode instead?”

You’d mentally prepared for the bombardment of accusations from Liv, her questioning perfectly right as you yourself cringed at the thought of showing your face here of all places. The one last one that’d officially banned her from ever setting you up with an individual of her choosing ever again.

Hearing only silence as her answer, she appeals; “I thought he was the worst date of your life.”

“Nothing to do with his skills as a mechanic,” you mumble, refusing to make eye contact.

“And everything to do with this being a horrible idea anyway!” Liv stares up at the sign on top of the garage. Jeon Motors. “What makes you think this guy can fix my car?”

What did make you think he could fix Liv’s car? If you’d known you might have given her an answer, but as you stare at the giant signboard that you’ve driven past for longer than you can remember, you can’t help but feel this place has been haunting you. Just a little.

You can’t help but feel the tingle of goosebumps rise on your skin, the hairs across the expanse standing up at the thought of walking inside. There was no way you could differentiate the reaction from plain nerves or from the cringing drills that sound all the way outside the establishment. Regardless, you make an attempt to look confident as you make your strides into the pungent of the workshop.

The first thing you note is how…clean everything is. Cleaner than any other workshop you’ve walked into anyway.

The interior is bigger than it looks from the outside, the ginormous hall hosting about a dozen cars within your eyeshot alone. One side of the great hall holds an array of parked cars in different stages of dismantled and deconstructed, while the other side is lined with contraptions that look like stripped and enlarged elevators.

Once you’ve inhaled a beyond recommended amount of smoke fumes and listened past all of the clanging, banging and sparks, you register the people that are elbow deep in the hoods of the vehicle they’re working on, enough to leave you and Liv standing at the entrance of an establishment that you can barely make sense of.

“Can I help you?” A man in stained beige overalls approaches your wide eyed pair, face half covered in his baseball hat and hands occupied with a rag.

To your slightest dismay, it isn’t the man you’re looking for.

“Uh– is Wonwoo here?” you ask.

“He’s in a meeting right now. Are you a friend?”

No, just a failed love interest.

“He,” you falter. If you weren’t a friend…then what were you? “He gave me his card.”

“Do you need help with your car?”

“Mine, actually,” Liv pipes. “It’s outside if you wanna take a look first.”

With one sweeping look across the warehouse, your eyes land on one of the few doors on the left. You register the plain look of it for barely a moment before joining Liv outside.

By the time her car has been rolled and parked inside for a more thorough inspection, it’s taken you every last grain of your willpower to not stalk back out and wait in your car. For whatever reason, you can’t help but feel a very familiar spasm of irritation spark through you. Here you are, left anxiously waiting for the same man for a second time, merely feet away but remaining occupied with more important things.

At the very least, the multiple hands prodding around the car’s engine were being somewhat of use, attempting to survey the same issues that had been looked at about a dozen times before. You silently promise to be a better person if this trip wouldn’t be for vain.

“Am I late for something again?”

Your throat is suddenly clogged as you open your mouth and no sound graces your presence. The face that meets you has his eyebrows raised as he stares at you in expectation, a ghost of a smile on his face.

“W–Wonwoo, hi, um.” You clear your throat loudly, heat cursing your cheeks. “No, of course not.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure after…four months?” he asks, hands on his hips and his back straightened.

“I…my friend’s car needed to be looked at so…”

“Ah, of course!” He turns to where you’ve motioned, looking at the popped hood of the car his employees are working on. “I’ll take a look at it myself, don’t worry about it.”

He’s already walking away, towards the car and leaving you a ways away from the action. You stare at his back; the overalls tied at the waist and the stained white T-shirt that clings to his form from the humidity.

Wonwoo remains a man of a few words, and you remain at wits end about it all.

A loud honk gives you something to do as you jump at the sound so up close, scrambling to move away from the smack centre as another car pulls into the garage.

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.” Wonwoo snickers from his place hunched over the hood as he cranes his neck to look at you.

You walk over to where he is to get out of the way. “Was that meant to sound like an innuendo?”

“I was talking about the occasional running over someone’s foot,” he answers. “Not sure what you were thinking.”

Ignoring the jab, you note that it was now only you and him crowding the car, “Where’s Olivia?”

“Went to look at spare parts.” You watch him as his gloved hands reach further into the enclave and yank at something hard.

“So you can fix it?”

“The car? It’ll take a couple days but it’s not really an issue.”

Furrowing your brows, you press on, “But the dealership—”

“Dealerships are the spawn of the devil,” he grunts as he finally wrenches out a spare nut or bolt or something that’s covered in oil. “Let me guess, they wanted her to sell it back to them?”

It’s your turn to raise your brows. “Yes. They tried fixing it, but it'd just stop again.”

“Because they’ve been fixing the symptoms.” He raises his eyes to meet yours, hands occupied with rubbing the part in his hands relatively clean with a rag. “They haven’t bothered to do anything about the actual problem.”

“Because that’s gonna cost…?”

“Couple hundred, give or take,” he announces nonchalantly, turning his focus back to the engine.

“But—” That’s it?

“Fifty extra for every question I have to answer after this.” You briefly wonder if Wonwoo’s eyes were always this piercing, boring into your soul like he didn’t need words to know what was going on with you.

“Fine,” you huff, moving to drag a chair over, mostly just so you could have reason to break eye contact, and plop down as you watch him work.

The more you think about it, the more you can find yourself unbothered by his strange behaviour. He wasn’t bleak, but nowhere near one of the more interesting people you’ve met. Taking the opportunity to really scan the man head to toe, you can’t say you find anything truly concrete to be this put off by him.

Not much of a talker, but with the times you’ve prayed for a man that knew when to shut up sometimes, you wonder how much you can actually complain about this boon in particular.

Besides, he was a looker, and you were completely content shutting your trap if it meant you got to shamelessly ogle at him from this close.

“You know, this place looks bigger than it does from the outside.”

Wonwoo stares pointedly.

You raise a shoulder in nonchalance, “Wasn’t a question!”

He simply huffs as he mumbles, “More length than breadth I suppose.”

“What are those things called?” you ask as you watch a sedan get lifted into the on some platform on the other end of the row.

Glancing back, he answers, “Post lift, car lift, whatever you wanna call it.”

“What does it do?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Touché.”

Glancing back at him, you catch sight of his stained shirt once again. “Is that the same thing you wore to our date?”

Chin to chest, he registers what he’s wearing, hands still working on pulling bolts and boxes out of the hood. “Have about twenty of the same shirt, I can never be too sure.”

“You’re impossible.”

He smirks, “Touché.”

You questioned if this was a mistake.

Olivia could pick up her car herself, so why did you insist to be the one that did it? As you pay the taxi driver, you feel your ankles lock for a moment as you move to slip out of the cab. Frozen, you hear the driver ask you if everything was alright, to which your legs seem to work again, finally foot to gravel in front of the dreaded workshop.

The Jeon Motors sign blares the same as it always has in the afternoon light, glinting as it encourages you to walk in and do one of the stupider things you’ve done in life. Other than the ridiculous outfit you’ve put on, of course.

But alas, as you hand over your slip to one of the many mechanics in the workshop, you find yourself praying he wasn’t here after all, that perhaps you could miss him as you leave and never have to see him again.

Somebody yells out his name, and the dream drifts away like smoke.

Finding the courage, you look up to where the man shouted for him, and immediately wish you hadn’t.

Wonwoo remains in his overalls, the same ones that he had tied to his waist the last time you saw him. His undershirt however…

The tank top is revealing too much for you to pretend you don’t care, his hair remaining pushed back and away from his forehead as he walks over to you in what feels like slow motion. He takes the slip that he does not need, smiling at you as he says his hellos.

“Car’s all fixed up, just need some papers that need signing and you’re all set.”

“Oh, but Liv isn’t here today.”

“That’s alright, you can sign them too,” he reassures, motioning for you to walk with him towards the car. “The car was alright in the test drives, revving hasn’t caused any problems either.”

He halts in front of the now (supposedly) fixed black sedan and pats the hood lightly, “If anything happens tell her to bring it straight here, although it shouldn’t have any more problems.”

“What’s your rate of return on customers?” you ask, a slight smirk on your face.

He thinks for a moment, “Pretty crap. But I guess that means I’m doing something right.”

You consider yourself something of a helicopter parent when it comes to your own car, but perhaps you’d change that if it meant you’d get to come here a little more often.

Goodness, what’s gotten into you.

Wonwoo’s smiling too, and for a brief moment the silence is nearly awkward. A pause before he proposes leaving.

“Shall we go to the office then?”

Nodding eagerly, you trail behind him as he leads you towards the other end of the workshop, passing by even more cars in all their stripped or constructed glory. Glancing in front, you catch sight of Wonwoo’s back, ensnared for a moment before you snap your head away, reciting every curse word you know like a mantra.

“It’s less hot in here too, keep the air on all the time.” Wonwoo stands in front of the plain doors, hands on the handle to wrench it open. You recognise it as the same door you had noted a few days ago. “Would you like anything? Coffee, tea?”

“Um, just water is fine, thanks.”

It’s quite plain, beige and leather against cream walls and unfittingly white lights. There’s a desk on one corner that’s beyond cluttered with more papers than you can register, pens and other office supplies mixed into the disorganised chaos of the large tabletop.

“Sorry about the mess, I can never find time to sort through it.” To your surprise, the light tinge of his cheeks suggest he might actually feel a little embarrassed.

Cute.

There’s cabinets that line on one of the far walls, and you watch him take his gloves off to open it and reach for a cup. The white porcelain emerges stained with an ashy grey as his fingers betray him. He looks flustered, glancing at his hands and back up to the cabinet.

You can’t help but laugh a little, moving forward to help. “It’s alright, let me.”

“Sorry,” he apologised again, with a sheepish look on his face. “I’ll, um, wash this off.”

“Go on, I’m here,” you reassure as you move towards the water dispenser in the corner to fill your clean cup.

He returns with significantly cleaner hands and apologises one last time. “Seems all I do around you is apologise.”

You have the good humour to chuckle, “So I’ve noticed.”

He does well to clear out most of the clutter that’s on his desk, leaving enough room to set down a few pieces of paper as you take a seat on the opposite side.

As you scan through the papers, he attempts to make sober conversation. “You should…bring your car around for inspections if you want.”

“Oh? Even if I ask a million questions?”

“I can make an exception or two,” he grins.

“And if you charge me double?”

“Might not charge you at all.”

“Might?” you question as you lift the pen he’d given you to sign the first space.

“Might.”

“And what’re the conditions for that?”

He doesn’t answer as he ponders and you fill in the second blank. “I’ll have to think about that.”

You snort before you can help it, your last signature coming out a little wonky as your hands shake. Turning the papers over to him, you continue, “Well then, let me know when you figure it out.”

He stares pointedly as he accepts the papers before dropping his eyes again, “Can I?”

“Hm?”

“Can I? Let you know?”

It’s like you’ve been frozen over, the typewriter in your mind jamming as it punches out the implications of what he’s saying.

“It seems, at least to me, that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” he continues.

You hesitate. “I think so too.”

“I…I don’t want to put anything like pressure on you but–”

“Would you like to try the new gelato place downtown this week?” you ask finally as you save him from his misery. “If…you’d like.”

He looks stunned for a moment before he’s scrambling, “Oh–of course! Yes, anytime is fine with me.”

“Great,” you smile, lifting from your seat. “It’s a date.”

“I’ll promise to wash my hands this time…and my shirt. And I won’t be late.”

“Let’s not make promises we can’t keep,” you tease.

You’re nearing the door as he follows behind, and just as you’re about to pull down on the handle, you hear him say your name.

Turning around, almost too eagerly, you look up at him in expectation. He’s close, almost right behind you as he looks like he’s debating whether opening his mouth is a good idea.

“Are you doing anything else today?”

“Um,” you stutter for a moment. “I don’t have to drop off the car till later tonight, that’s all really.”

He swallows. “Do you wanna stay? Just a little while. We can stay in here, nobody comes in anyway.”

You aren’t entirely sure why you said yes, because you did actually have dinner plans with Liv later tonight, but the teeny tiny voice in your mind egged you on anyway. Besides, Liv wouldn’t mind, not if you were cancelling for this.

This entailed the very friendly contact of Wonwoo’s tongue in your mouth, and the extremely cordial way it seemed to caress your insides. If somebody asked you how it led to this, you don’t think you’d have an answer. Not that you care, especially when his hands are grabbing your waist and hips like that.

He’s already locked the door, reassuring you that nobody would find their boss and client in the smack dab middle of the devil’s tango. You take his word for it, relishing in the way his hot breath hits your skin below your ears, his mouth sucking under your earlobes as you whimper ever so quietly.

Your hands are on his exposed biceps, feeling him up all to your heart's content. “Do you–Do you always wear stuff like this?”

He emerges, wet lipped and eyes trained. “So I wasn’t imagining it.”

“Imagining what?” you ask as you let him unbuckle your trousers.

“Please. Like you weren’t stripping me with your eyes.”

If you were warm before you, you're boiling up now. Were you being so obvious?

“It’s alright,” he reassures as you feel his fingers make contact with the crotch of your panties, pushing in to put pressure on your clit. “Wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t picked up on it.”

You feel his fingers push the dampening fabric away as his fingers make contact with your hole, coating his fingers in the arousal that’s made itself known. It’s hard to not hiss at the way he begins to circle it, thanking the universe that the loud noises of the workshop outside were masking whatever evidence of the heinous crime you were committing inside.

Back against the couch in his office, you settle into the cushions once you feel him rub at your clit, one hand spreading your lips apart as he continues to massage your own wetness onto your throbbing cunt.

When he retreats you almost cry out, but are smothered when he plunges two fingers into your hole instead, curling them almost immediately inside you. The consistent brush of the tips of his fingers on your walls are making it difficult to keep your eyes open, and absolutely impossible to keep your moans at bay.

“Wonwoo, that’s so good, fuck.”

Through your closed eyes, you don’t note when Wonwoo gets on his knees. But you do feel him yank your trousers off entirely, and you definitely feel him place his wet mouth flush on your lower lips, sucking at your clit as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you mercilessly.

That’s all it takes for your noises to become increasingly high pitched, hands buried in his beautiful hair as he continues to pleasure you beyond imagination.

“I’m so close, keep going, please, it feels so–”

He somehow buries his face in deeper, sucking harder, licking faster, and it’s enough for you to finally feel yourself collapsing on the inside, your composure dissolving as you moan so loud you’re sure they can hear it outside, even through all the clanging and revs of cars.

There’s no way for you to know how long you lay there slumped against the couch cushions, but when you hear Wonwoo speak to you in your ear, you answer.

“Was that okay?”

“More than okay,” you say as you grab his face and pull his lips to yours, tasting the tang in his mouth from your arousal. “Do you have a condom?”

“I–fuck,” he thinks for a moment. “I don’t think I do.”

You try not to feel too disappointed, but you sigh into his mouth anyway.

“Can I fuck your thighs?” you hear him ask, and you might have just orgasmed again, untouched.

“Fuck, yes you can.”

With a yelp, you feel yourself lifted off the couch as you wrap your arms around Wonwoo’s neck, letting him guide you to his desk. “Wonwoo!”

You hear a loud crash of the desk being stripped of all its inhabitants, and your back hitting the cool of the table top.

Wonwoo unties the arms of his overalls around his waist, letting the legs pool to the floor before slipping his hard cock out of his boxers.

You don’t see it as you feel him lock your knees together and lift both your calves to rest on one of his shoulders. But you do feel it as he pushes the head into the seam of your thighs, watching the indent as the pink of his dick appears before you through the skin of your thighs.

Wonwoo’s face is contorted as he pulls back and pushes back through again, this time brushing against your still sensitive clit. You gasp at contact, and immediately feel him thrusting faster.

“Wonwoo,” you grunt. “Lower.”

He obliges, pushing his dick lower so it can rub flush against your clit as he begins to roughen up his pace.

You moan as you feel his free hand that isn’t holding your legs trail to the ends of your shirt, caressing over your stomach to pull it up and reveal your bra clad tits. He pushes his hands under the nearest cup and begins to grope you so wonderfully with his big, warm hands. Rolling the bud between his fingers, you can only grasp onto his wrists as a handheld to keep you down on earth.

The desk beneath you is rattling with noise, the full drawers making themselves known as Wonwoo pounds into your thighs like he would die if he stopped, mouth coming in contact with whatever skin of your legs he could reach, his breath fanning the side of your knees.

You’re close again, and you know he is too with the way his thrusts are beginning to grow sloppy.

“There,” he pants. “Almost.”

You orgasm for the second time, the throb your clit beyond comprehension as the rough of his dick slides across your clit mercilessly.

“Cum like this, Wonwoo please I need to see you cum.”

And he does, shooting the heft of his load to cover your already wet cunt and thighs, landing on your stomach as he continues to ride out his high between your legs.

The back of your head hits the table as you take in gulps of air through the aftermath of it all. Wonwoo is putting his weight on the back of your thighs, holding onto the table for support.

“Oh, Liv is never gonna let me live this down,” you pant, lolling your head to one side as you register him.

He peers up at you through his hair, the stupid smirk on his face, “Do you care?”

You’re smiling a little too when you answer, “Not really.”

And then your legs are off his shoulders as he nestles between them instead, diving in to lift your head and kiss you.

And you let him, although you wouldn’t really call it too much of a kiss—not when the both of you were smiling like idiots through the clash.

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mononijikayu · 23 days

Text

amnesia — ryomen sukuna.

“Are you… are you playing a joke on me?” Sukuna’s voice wavered slightly as he tried to comprehend the situation. “It’s me. Sukuna. We… we know each other.” You shook your head slowly, an apologetic smile tugging at your lips. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t remember you. I had a really bad accident a few years ago, and… well, I lost my memories. Amnesia. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: sfw, fluff, angst, romance, hurt/ comfort, post - break up, amnesia, hurt, physical touch, memory loss, sadness, pain, pining, slowly getting back together, light-hearted, happy ending, getting back together, depictions of amnesia, depiction of pining, mention of grief, mention of accident, mention of pining, ex-boyfriend! sukuna, amnesiac! ex-girlfriend! reader, domestic uncle sukuna!, nephew!yuji;

WORD COUNT: 9.9k words

NOTE: the entire chapter is a sequel to drunk tonight and is set five years later. sukuna won second place at the poll again and i feel like this is my apology for sukuna for always making him an angst main lead. this was inspired by a filipino film called amnesia girl and its a funny drama-romcom. its available on youtube, but i dont know if there's subtitles!!! anyway, i hope you enjoy this and i hope you know how much i love yall 🫶🫶🫶

ADDENDUM: so......so long sukuna??? (manga readers iykyk)

masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 1000;

if you want to, tip!

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HE LIKED TO THINK HE COUNTED THE HOW LONG IT HAS BEEN WELL. Five long and painful years ago, you and Sukuna parted ways in what felt like an explosion of unresolved emotions and unmet expectations. Your relationship had been a tempestuous blend of fiery passion and constant turbulence, a rollercoaster of intense highs and devastating lows. From the beginning, it was clear that both of you had strong personalities, often clashing in ways that seemed impossible to reconcile.

The reasons for the breakup were numerous and complex. There was the perpetual danger that came with Sukuna's world, a constant reminder that you were living on the edge, with no guarantee of safety or stability. His life was fraught with peril, and the reality of that danger had taken its toll on both of you. You both knew that living under such stress was unsustainable, and it began to fray the bonds that had once held you together.

Your expectations, too, weighed heavily on the relationship. You had dreams and aspirations that seemed at odds with the life you were leading alongside Sukuna. The demands of his world often overshadowed your own needs, leading to a sense of neglect and disillusionment. It felt as though you were always putting yourself second, trying to accommodate the chaos that was Sukuna's life while struggling to maintain your own sense of self.

Despite the chaos and the inevitable breakdown, there was an undeniable connection between you—a bond that neither of you could completely sever. It was a connection that defied logic, a thread that seemed to pull you back together despite all efforts to move on. Both of you had tried to let go, to walk away and start anew, but the lingering feelings and shared history made it nearly impossible to fully break free.

Sukuna, in his own way, struggled with this as well. Even though the relationship had reached its breaking point, he found himself unable to completely let go of what you had shared. He was deeply aware of the toll that the relationship had taken on you, and he knew that you needed to prioritize yourself, your own well-being, and your own path forward. It was a painful realization, one that left him feeling hollow and lost, but he was determined not to be the reason you couldn't move forward.

In his mind, letting you go was the only way to truly show his love for you—to give you the space you needed to heal and grow. Even if it meant enduring his own misery, he accepted that it was a sacrifice he had to make. He knew that holding on would only serve to drag you both down further, and he wasn't willing to be the obstacle in your pursuit of happiness.

So, as time passed and the separation became a part of your history, Sukuna endured his own internal struggle. He remained in the shadows of your life, silently wishing for your happiness while grappling with his own feelings of loss and regret. He respected your decision and tried to move forward, even as he kept a part of himself tied to the memories of what once was.

But even then, you were truly something that made his life more than it was. You were the blossoms of his youth, the hope and vibrancy that had once colored his world. Your presence had breathed life into the mundane, transforming his days from mere existence into something filled with possibility and wonder.

His elder brother Jin had seen it all those years ago, recognizing the profound impact you had on Sukuna. Jin had often remarked on how you were a beacon of hope, a light that guided Sukuna through the darkest corners of his life. Your influence was undeniable, a force that had shaped him in ways he could hardly articulate.

Yet despite the depth of his feelings and the significance of what you had shared, Sukuna couldn’t escape the gnawing belief that he had ultimately failed you. He carried with him the heavy burden of the notion that he wasn’t good enough—never had been, never would be. The weight of this conviction was a constant companion, a shadow that loomed over every thought and action.

He remembered the countless moments of doubt, the times when he felt that his flaws, his imperfections, and the dangers of his world were too great a burden for you to bear. It was a painful realization, one that left him grappling with feelings of inadequacy. He wanted to be the person who could give you everything you deserved—love, stability, safety. But he feared that he fell short, that he could never truly be the partner you needed.

Even as he watched you move forward, find your own path, and build a life without him, he was haunted by the belief that he had let you down. He was acutely aware of all the ways he had failed to meet your expectations, to protect you from the chaos that had once defined your life together. He thought that perhaps he had been too caught up in his own struggles, too consumed by the demands of his world to fully appreciate what he had with you.

In his quieter moments, Sukuna wrestled with the idea that he would never be good enough for you, that he would never be able to offer you the kind of love and life you truly deserved. This belief became a part of him, shaping how he viewed himself and how he measured his worth. He felt that he had lost you not because of any one mistake or shortcoming, but because he was fundamentally flawed, incapable of providing the kind of relationship you needed.

And so, even as he grappled with his own pain and regrets, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were better off without him. The memory of what you had shared lingered like a bittersweet echo, a reminder of what could have been and what was lost. He had to come to terms with the fact that he might never be able to offer you the life you deserved, and that acceptance was a hard, painful lesson he had to learn.

Sukuna's struggle with these feelings was a testament to the depth of his love for you, a love that, despite its imperfections and its failures, had once been a source of profound meaning and transformation in his life. Even as he moved forward, he carried the weight of this truth with him—a reminder of what you had meant to him and the painful realization that, perhaps, he would never truly be good enough to have you back.

Sukuna sat in the corner of the room, a half-empty glass of whiskey in his hand, as he listened to his friend's banter. The atmosphere was lighter than it had been in years. Gojo, with his usual grin, was recounting some ridiculous tale of his latest escapade, while Uraume, ever the quiet observer, occasionally chimed in with dry comments that had the others laughing.

But Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t really paying attention. His mind kept drifting back to you—to the way your eyes had softened when you told him you wanted to give “us” a real chance, to the way you’d leaned into him, trusting and vulnerable in a way that made his chest tighten.

“Oi, Sukuna. You’re….” Gojo’s voice cut through his thoughts. “You’re awfully quiet tonight, bud. What's got you all broody, huh?”

Sukuna blinked, realizing he’d been staring into his glass for who knows how long. He knows he spaces out when he’s thinking, but when he’s thinking of you — he suppose the time can go on and he wouldn’t even notice. He looked up to find Gojo’s bright blue eyes fixed on him, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Uraume was watching him too, their expression unreadable but attentive.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Sukuna muttered, taking a sip of his drink. “Just thinking.”

“That’s a first from you, hm.” Uraume teased, earning a snort from Gojo.

“Come on, spill it!” Gojo pressed, leaning forward with that infuriatingly playful grin. “Is it a girl? I don’t mind if it’s a guy, I know you swing that way too! Oh, wait… don’t tell me it’s the girl.”

Sukuna’s dark scarlet eyes narrowed at him. “What are you talking about?”

Gojo’s grin widened. “The one you’ve been moping about for the last five years. Don’t think I didn’t notice, Sukuna. You’ve been different at work lately—quieter, more… I don’t know, introspective.”

“Gojo–san’s right, Sukuna–san.” Uraume added, their tone softer. “You’ve changed. It’s like you’re finally letting go of whatever it was that had you so wound up.”

Sukuna leaned back in his chair, feeling the weight of their words settle over him. He wasn’t used to being the one on the receiving end of their scrutiny, and he didn’t like it. But he also knew they weren’t wrong.

“Yeah, well……” Sukuna began, his voice rough, “I haven't seen her in a long while.. Five years, I think. But I heard…I heard she’s been around. She’s moved around town.”

Uraume raised their eyebrows. “Five years? That’s a long time, Sukuna–san.”

“Yeah. We were together throughout our senior high school and college. Then we broke up after we graduated.” Sukuna sighed, taking a long sip of his drink. The alcohol burned as it slid down his throat, but it did little to ease the ache that had settled in his chest. “It’s been a long time, but… hearing that she’s moved here just brings back a lot.”

Gojo’s eyes widened in surprise. “Was that breakup really that bad?” His usual grin faded, replaced by a look of concern as he sensed the gravity of Sukuna’s words. “What happened?”

Sukuna nodded, his gaze drifting away from Gojo’s intense stare. The room seemed to grow quieter as he delved into the past, the weight of his memories heavy in his voice. “We had multiple breakups. It wasn’t just one—there were several. But the last one was particularly rough. We both cried a lot, said things we didn’t mean. It was messy.”

Gojo leaned in, his curiosity piqued. “Why was it so difficult?”

Sukuna’s face tightened as he struggled to find the right words. “If I’m being honest, it’s my fault. I wasn’t secure in myself. I was jealous, possessive. I couldn’t handle the idea of her moving forward or being happy without me. And that jealousy, that insecurity—it hurt her more than I realized.”

There was a long pause as Sukuna’s confession hung in the air. Gojo’s usual bravado was replaced by a rare, contemplative silence. He took a moment to process Sukuna’s admission, trying to reconcile the man he knew with the vulnerability being revealed.

“That’s a lot to carry,” Gojo said finally, his voice softer than usual. “But it sounds like you’re taking responsibility, which is more than a lot of people do.”

Sukuna’s expression was a mix of regret and acceptance. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t change the past. I know I hurt her, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make up for that fully. But seeing her again… it’s brought everything back. The pain, the regret, and the memories of what we had.”

Uraume, who had been quietly listening, spoke up, their tone gentle. “It’s clear you’re still affected by this. Maybe it’s a chance for you to make things right, or at least find some closure. People change, and sometimes, revisiting the past can help us understand ourselves better.”

Sukuna nodded, though his expression remained somber. “Maybe. I’m not sure what will come of this. I just know that seeing her again made me realize how much I still care, how much I’ve changed, and how much I wish things could have been different.”

Gojo leaned back, his eyes thoughtful. “It sounds like you’ve been through a lot, and maybe this is a chance for you to show her the person you’ve become. It might not fix everything, but it could be a step toward healing—for both of you.”

Sukuna’s gaze softened, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “Yeah, maybe. It’s worth a shot.”

The room fell silent, the playful atmosphere dissolving as the weight of Sukuna's words sank in. Even Gojo, who was usually quick with a joke or a teasing remark, seemed at a loss for what to say. His usual bravado was replaced with something more thoughtful, almost solemn, as he processed what Sukuna had just revealed.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft clink of ice in Sukuna's glass as he set it down on the table. He could feel the eyes of his friends on him, but he kept his gaze fixed on the drink, not ready to meet their concerned looks just yet. The silence stretched on, thick with unspoken emotions.

“I hope the best for you, man.” Gojo finally muttered, leaning back in his chair as he exhaled slowly. His tone was softer than usual, lacking its typical teasing edge. “You deserve to be happy too.”

Sukuna snickered. “You must be drunk being this nice to me.”

“Hey! I am nice at all times.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

Uraume, who had been listening quietly, leaned forward slightly, their expression gentle and understanding. They had always been more in tune with Sukuna's moods, more aware of the nuances in his behavior than Gojo, who often masked his own sensitivity with humor.

“If you bump into her again, though….” Uraume asked, their tone devoid of judgment, only curiosity and concern. “Would you try and talk to her, then?”

Sukuna finally looked up, meeting Uraume’s gaze. There was a hesitance in his eyes, as if he was still grappling with the reality of it all. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low, almost as if admitting it aloud made it more real. “I would. In a drop of a hat.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy with the weight of all the unspoken feelings that had built up over the years. It wasn’t just the fact that you had come back into his life; it was the realization that despite everything, despite the time and distance, Ryomen Sukuna had never really let go of you. He had buried those feelings deep, tried to move on, but now that you were here again, they had all come rushing back to the surface.

Gojo watched Sukuna carefully, his usual smirk gone, replaced with a rare expression of empathy. He knew Sukuna better than most, knew how much pride had always driven him, how hard it had been for him to admit his feelings even when things were good between the two of you. For Sukuna to open up like this now, it meant that whatever he was feeling ran deep.

“I get it.” Gojo said, his voice unusually quiet. “I mean, you guys were… well, you were everything to each other. It makes sense that she’s still on your mind.”

Uraume nodded in agreement. “It’s not surprising that you still think about her, Sukuna–san. What you had wasn’t just something you can forget, even if you wanted to.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, staring off into the distance as if trying to collect his thoughts. “It’s just… weird.” he finally said, his voice thick with the frustration he’d been holding back. “I’ve been trying to move on, to put all of that behind me. But I just….I want to see her again. Even just one more time.”

Gojo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he regarded Sukuna with a serious expression. “Maybe you’re not supposed to forget, man. Maybe this is your chance to figure out what you really want, to make things right.”

Uraume added quietly, “It’s not too late to change the narrative, Sukuna. If you still care about her, if she’s still on your mind after all this time, maybe there’s something there worth exploring.”

Sukuna closed his eyes for a moment, taking in their words. There was truth in what they were saying, and he knew it. He had spent so long trying to bury his feelings, convincing himself that it was over and done with. But the truth was, he had never truly moved on. And now, with you back in his life, even in this new, unfamiliar way, he couldn’t ignore the pull he felt toward you.

When he opened his eyes, there was a resolve in them that hadn’t been there before. “You’re probably right.” he admitted, his voice steady. “I’ve been running from this for too long. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I need to see this through. I owe it to myself, and… to her.”

Gojo’s grin returned, but it was softer, more genuine. “That’s the spirit, man. You’ve got this. Just… don’t screw it up this time, okay?”

Sukuna let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ll try not to.”

Uraume smiled softly, a rare display of emotion from them. “We’re here for you, Sukuna–san. Whatever you need, just say the word.”

Sukuna nodded, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he wasn’t alone in this. With Gojo and Uraume by his side, he knew he could face whatever came next, even if it meant confronting the feelings he had buried for so long.

One more drink and the conversation shifted back to lighter topics, the tension that had hung in the air slowly dissipated. But the resolve in Sukuna’s heart remained, stronger than ever. He knew what he had to do, and for the first time in years, he felt ready to face it head-on,

As the night wore on, Sukuna couldn’t help but think about the future—about what it would be like to build something real with you this time, something lasting. The thought scared him, but it also excited him in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

Maybe, just maybe, this time he could get it right. And with Gojo and Uraume by his side, he knew he wouldn’t have to do it alone. But the hour is late. And they’ve got things going on in their lives too. So they pay their bills and wave him goodbye.

As he watches his comrades pair off, he is forced to confront a painful truth. Despite years of searching, no one has been able to replace you. The women he's met, the flings he's had—they were all distractions, mere shadows compared to what he had with you. Each time he tries to move forward, your memory pulls him back, the echo of your laughter, the way you challenged him like no one else ever did, and the warmth you once brought into his life, all refuse to fade.

In quiet moments, when he's alone, Ryomen Sukuna wrestles with the possibility that his true love, the one person who could truly understand and match his intensity, might have been you all along. The very thought frustrates and angers him, but deep down, he knows it's true. The idea that you could be happy with someone else, that you could have moved on, is a bitter pill to swallow.

But what can he do? Could he really go back to you after all this time, after all the hurt and pride that kept you apart? The thought of reaching out, of admitting that he hasn't been able to stop thinking about you, is terrifying in its vulnerability. Yet, the more he tries to resist, the more he finds himself wanting you back in his life.

Sukuna has always been a man of action, but this...this is different. It's not about power or control; it's about something far more fragile—his heart, his pride, and the chance of losing you all over again. The question that haunts him now is whether he can swallow that pride and take the risk, whether he can open himself up to the possibility that, just maybe, what he’s been searching for all these years was right in front of him all along.

And that possibility, terrifying as it may be, is the only thing that has ever truly scared him.

Sukuna's inner turmoil grows as the days pass. The world around him, once filled with the thrill of battles and the allure of endless conquests, now feels hollow and cold. He notices how his friends look at him, their eyes reflecting pity and concern. They know him too well, aware that behind his sharp words and defiant attitude, something is eating away at him.

He tries to brush it off, burying himself in work, in fights, in anything that will distract him. But no matter how hard he tries, his thoughts keep circling back to you. The memories come unbidden—your smile, the way you used to tease him, the way you understood him in a way no one else ever did. It's maddening, the way you haunt him, and yet he can't bring himself to let you go.

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IT WAS UNEXPECTED. It was that sort of day once again. Sukuna found himself in charge of his energetic nephew, Yuji, who had just been picked up from school. With his brother Jin and sister-in-law Kaori and Choso tied up with commitments for the weekend, Sukuna was left to manage Yuji. Given that he didn’t have to hit the gym or deal with work obligations that day, it seemed like a manageable task.

Ryomen Sukuna’s house was usually a quiet refuge from his chaotic world, but today it felt oddly empty. He doesn’t really like decorating that much, mostly because he has no time and mostly because he really doesn’t feel like it. But his nephew doesn’t seem to mind it every time he’s here. If there was something to distract the brat, then he doesn’t pay attention to everything else. Well, that and food. As he settled Yuji into the living room, Yuji’s curiosity quickly turned to hunger.

“Uncle Sukuna, I’m starving.” Yuji announced, making a beeline for the kitchen. “Do you have any natto? I could really go for some.”

Sukuna blinked, momentarily confused. “Natto? I don’t think I have any. Let me check.”

He shuffled into the kitchen, opening the fridge and peering inside. His search yielded nothing but a few cans of expired beans and a half-eaten pizza box. Sukuna eats out most of the time, because of work. If he does buy anything, it would be from the last time Yuji was here. And that was….a while ago. And just as much, there was no natto in sight.

“Uh, brat, I think we’re out of natto.” Sukuna said, returning to the living room with a sheepish grin. “And it looks like the rest of the fridge is pretty bare.”

Yuji’s eyes widened in disappointment. “But I was really looking forward to it!”

Sukuna rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry about that. Looks like we’ll need to go out for groceries. How about we make it an adventure?”

Yuji’s face lit up at the prospect of an outing. “Okay! Can we get some ice cream too?”

Sukuna chuckled, relieved that Yuji’s mood had brightened. “Sure, ice cream it is. Let’s get going before your hunger turns into a full-blown meltdown, brat.”

As they left the house, Sukuna and Yuji made their way to the nearby supermarket. Yuji’s excitement was palpable, his small hands gripping the shopping cart handle as he eagerly pointed out various items he wanted to add to the list. Sukuna, trying to keep up, found himself both amused and exasperated by Yuji’s relentless energy and enthusiasm.

In the aisles of the supermarket, Sukuna pushed the cart while Yuji darted from one section to another, collecting snacks, fruits, and—of course—several packs of natto. Sukuna grabbed a few essentials and, true to his word, added some ice cream to the cart.

As they approached the checkout line, Sukuna glanced at Yuji, who was happily munching on a sample cookie from the store. The small bit of chocolate on Yuji’s cheek made him look even more cherubic and endearing. Sukuna’s lips twitched into a small smile, a rare moment of warmth slipping through his usually stoic facade.

“You know, I think I might need to keep a better stock of food for next time,” Sukuna said, his tone light.

Yuji, still with cookie crumbs on his face, grinned up at him. “And more natto!”

Sukuna couldn’t help but chuckle. The idea of having to stockpile natto just to keep his nephew happy was a new one, but it seemed like a worthwhile endeavor. He ruffled Yuji’s hair affectionately, feeling a soft, genuine affection for the boy.

“You’ve got it, brat. More natto it is.” Sukuna agreed, a rare, relaxed smile on his face.

As they loaded their groceries onto the conveyor belt, Sukuna glanced around, realizing how normal and mundane the experience was compared to the high-stakes, dangerous life he usually led. The simplicity of shopping for food and sharing a lighthearted moment with Yuji was both refreshing and oddly comforting.

Yuji, ever the energetic child, started pointing out items in the store with increasing enthusiasm. “Uncle Sukuna, look! They have those gummy candies you like!”

Sukuna gave a half-hearted, amused shrug. “Sure, toss them in. I guess I can indulge a bit today.”

As they made their way through the aisles, Yuji chatted away, filling the silence with stories about school and his friends. Sukuna wasn’t really paying attention, his mind elsewhere, when something—or rather, someone—caught his eye.

There, at the end of the aisle, stood a familiar figure. The sight stopped Sukuna in his tracks, his eyes widening in disbelief. It was you.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. He watched as you browsed through the shelves, seemingly lost in thought. Your presence, once a distant memory, felt so strikingly real that Sukuna’s heart skipped a beat. The years seemed to melt away as he took in the sight of you.

At first, he didn’t recognize you. It was just a fleeting glimpse, the way your hair caught the light, the familiar way you moved. But then, as you reached for something on a high shelf, he saw your face, and his heart stopped.

It was you.

He couldn’t believe it at first. He thought maybe it was someone who just looked like you, or perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him, dredging up memories he’d tried so hard to bury. But the more he stared, the more certain he became. It was you.

Yuji, noticing Sukuna’s sudden pause, looked up. “Uncle Sukuna, what’s wrong?”

Sukuna swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure. “Uh, nothing, brat. Let’s just finish up here.”

But his gaze was fixed on you, unable to look away. You hadn’t noticed him yet, and Sukuna fought with the urge to approach you, unsure of what to say or do. The familiar mix of excitement and anxiety churned within him, a reminder of the past he had tried so hard to reconcile.

Yuji, still unaware of the significance of the moment, tugged on Sukuna’s sleeve. “Uncle Sukuna, can we go over there? I want to check if they have those chocolates I like!”

Sukuna nodded absently, allowing Yuji to lead him towards the end of the aisle where you stood. As they drew closer, Sukuna braced himself, trying to steady his racing heart. He needed to act normal, to approach you calmly despite the flood of emotions.

Without thinking, he handed the shopping basket to Yuji and began walking toward you. The world around him seemed to blur, the noise of the supermarket fading into the background. It was just you and him, the years that had passed suddenly meaningless.

When he reached you, he hesitated, unsure of what to say. His mind raced, a thousand questions and emotions fighting for dominance. He hadn’t expected this, hadn’t prepared for the possibility of seeing you again. But now that you were right in front of him, he couldn’t just walk away.

“Is that you?” He finally said it. He finally said your name. He could feel his entire body shake from nervousness. He didn’t notice until he said it that his voice was rougher than he intended.

You turned to him, blinking in confusion. Your eyes met his, and for a brief, electrifying moment, Sukuna saw the spark of recognition. It was fleeting, but it was there—an almost imperceptible flicker that hinted at a shared past. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by a polite, detached expression.

“I’m sorry, but…” you began, your voice soft and apologetic. “Do I know you?”

The words hit Sukuna like a punch to the gut. The confusion on your face made no sense to him; how could you not remember him? The realization was like a cold wave crashing over him. He scanned your face more closely, noting the faint scar near your temple and the way your eyes seemed to search his face for something familiar but found nothing.

“Are you… are you playing a joke on me?” Sukuna’s voice wavered slightly as he tried to comprehend the situation. “It’s me. Sukuna. We… we know each other.”

You shook your head slowly, an apologetic smile tugging at your lips. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t remember you. I had a really bad accident a few years ago, and… well, I lost my memories. Amnesia. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Amnesia. The word hit him like a ton of bricks. All the anger, hurt, and regret that had simmered in him for years suddenly evaporated, replaced by something he couldn’t quite name. You didn’t remember him. You didn’t remember anything about your life together, the love you shared, or the pain that had driven you apart. He stared at you, struggling to process what you’d just told him. The person he’d spent years trying to forget had forgotten him completely. And it hurts. It burns. It…it kills him.

Sukuna’s heart sank as he struggled to process your words. The memories of the past, the shared moments, the intense connection—everything seemed to blur together in a confusing haze. He tried to hold onto the hope that maybe, somehow, there was a chance you might remember him later, but the reality of your situation was clear. You had no recollection of your time together.

“Right…” Sukuna muttered, his voice thick with emotions he didn’t quite know how to handle. “No, it’s… it’s fine.”

“I just… I feel like I’ve upset you,” you mumbled back, your eyes filled with sincere regret. “It’s been like this for a while. I’m really sorry.”

“No, no… it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. It was my fault,” Sukuna said, shaking his head, though the words felt hollow against the weight of his feelings.

You nodded, your gaze sympathetic. “No, please. It’s not. I understand. It must be hard to run into someone who doesn’t remember you. I’m truly sorry.”

There was a quiet moment between you, the weight of lost memories hanging heavily in the air. Sukuna, feeling the sting of both your absence and the reality of your condition, struggled to find the right words. He wanted to bridge the gap between what had been and what was now, but he found himself at a loss.

Before you could turn away, Sukuna took a deep breath, summoning the courage to speak. “Um… could I… could I have your number? Maybe… maybe we could talk sometime. If you’re okay with that.”

You looked at him, a flicker of surprise crossing your face. For a moment, you seemed to weigh his request, and then you nodded slowly. “Sure. I can give you my number. I’d like that.”

As you exchanged contact information, Sukuna felt a mixture of hope and apprehension. The act of sharing numbers was a small step, but it felt significant. It was a bridge to the possibility of rebuilding a connection, even if the past was shadowed by the uncertainty of your memory.

“Thank you,” Sukuna said quietly, his voice carrying a note of genuine gratitude. “I appreciate it.”

You gave him a warm, understanding smile. “Of course. I’ll be happy to talk whenever you’re ready. It’s… nice to have some help with my memories, even if it’s just a little.”

Before he could speak, Yuji tugged at Sukuna’s sleeve. “Uncle Sukuna, can we go home now? I’m tired.”

Sukuna glanced down at Yuji and then back at you, his heart heavy. “Yeah, Yuji. Let’s head out.”

As Sukuna began to walk away, he felt your gaze on him. The pain of seeing you again, only to find that you had no memory of their shared past, was almost too much to bear. The bittersweet encounter left him with a mix of longing and resignation. You smiled at Yuji and then to him. Yuji grinned back at you and waved back.

“Take care.” you called softly as he left the store with Yuji. Sukuna gave a small, subdued wave in response, his mind reeling from the encounter.

Once outside, he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Yuji, noticing his uncle’s somber mood, looked up with concern. “Uncle Sukuna, are you okay?”

Sukuna forced a reassuring smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, Yuji. I’m fine. Just… a little surprised. Let’s get home.”

As they drove back, Sukuna’s thoughts were filled with the echoes of the past and the present reality. The encounter had stirred up old feelings, and the realization that you had lost your memories of him was both heartbreaking and profoundly unsettling. Yet, despite the pain, there was a strange sense of closure, as if seeing you again, even under these circumstances, had helped him come to terms with the unresolved aspects of their past.

As you walked away, Sukuna stood there, frozen in place, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Yuji came up beside him, his eyes wide with concern.

“Uncle Sukuna, are you okay? Who was that?”

Sukuna glanced at Yuji, then back at the aisle where you’d disappeared. He didn’t know how to answer that. He didn’t know how to explain that the person he’d never been able to forget had forgotten him entirely.

“That,” Sukuna finally said, his voice hollow, “was someone I used to know.”

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HE DOESN’T REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED AFTER. The days that followed were a blur for Sukuna. But he couldn’t help it. Your encounter in the supermarket had shaken him in a way he hadn’t expected. He tried to push it aside, tell himself that it didn’t matter, that you were just a part of his past. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face, the way you looked at him with no recognition, no anger, no pain—just blank politeness. It haunted him.

Yet, fate seemed determined to keep throwing the two of you together. A few days later, he saw you again, this time at a coffee shop. You were sitting by the window, a book in hand, oblivious to the world around you. Sukuna hesitated, debating whether to approach you, but before he could decide, you looked up and caught his eye. There was that same polite smile, and he found himself walking over to you before he could think better of it.

“Hi again.” you said, looking up at him with that same soft, apologetic expression. “We keep running into each other, don’t we?”

“Yeah…..” he replied, his voice rough. He wasn’t sure what to say. The awkwardness between you was palpable, the weight of the past pressing down on him in a way you couldn’t feel. But you didn’t know that, couldn’t know that, so you just smiled and gestured to the seat across from you.

“Would you like to join me?” you asked, your voice gentle, offering a small, tentative smile as you gestured to a nearby café table.

Sukuna hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t sure what he was doing or why he was putting himself through this, but there was something about being near you, even if you didn’t remember him, that soothed the ache in his chest.

“If you wouldn’t mind.” he finally said, his voice betraying the mix of emotions swirling inside him. He sat down across from you, the familiarity of the scene almost too much to bear. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to walk away.

You giggled. “I don’t mind. Not at all.”

As you both settled in, the air between you was filled with an odd mix of tension and familiarity. You began to talk—small, inconsequential things at first. You mentioned how you liked the café’s atmosphere, how it had become one of your favorite spots since you moved here. Sukuna nodded along, trying to focus on the present moment rather than the flood of memories threatening to overwhelm him.

“You know….. “ you said after a moment, stirring your coffee absentmindedly, “it’s strange. I feel… comfortable with you. Like I’ve known you for a long time, even if I can’t remember it.”

Sukuna’s breath caught in his throat. He wanted to tell you everything—to pour out the years of pain, regret, and longing he had carried since you’d been apart. But he knew it wouldn’t be fair to burden you with memories you didn’t share anymore. So instead, he offered a small, wistful smile.

“Maybe it’s just one of those thing.” he said softly, his eyes searching for yours. “Some people just click, I guess.”

You nodded, your gaze lingering on his face as if you were trying to piece together a puzzle. “Maybe. But still, it feels nice. Like I can trust you.”

Sukuna swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep his emotions in check. “I’m glad,” he said quietly, his voice betraying the depth of his feelings despite his best efforts. “I’d like to be someone you can trust.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics after that, and the tension slowly eased. You talked about your life, your work, and the things you enjoyed. Sukuna listened intently, hanging on to every word, savoring the sound of your voice even if the stories were new to him.

As the minutes turned into an hour, Sukuna found himself relaxing. The ache in his chest dulled, replaced by a warmth that he hadn’t felt in years. It was as if, for the first time since you had parted ways, he could breathe a little easier. There was no rush, no pressure to define what this was or what it could become. Just the simple pleasure of being in your company again, however different it might be from the past.

When you finally stood up to leave, Ryomen Sukuna felt a pang of reluctance, but he knew this wasn’t the end. You had exchanged numbers, after all, and there was a possibility that this could lead to something more.

“I’m really glad we ran into each other.” you said, giving him a sincere smile. “I hope we can do this again sometime.”

“Me too.” Sukuna replied, his voice thick with emotion. “I’d like that.”

As you walked away, Sukuna remained seated for a moment, staring at the now-empty chair across from him. Despite the uncertainty of the future, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this was his chance to make things right—to show you the kind of love and care he should have given you all those years ago. And as he left the café, he found himself smiling, a feeling of lightness in his chest that he hadn’t felt in far too long.

Like the wind, the days brushed by into weeks, these accidental meetings became more frequent. He’d see you at the park, at the grocery store, at the small bookstore you frequented. Each time, you greeted him with the same warmth, and each time, he felt the walls he’d built around his heart start to crumble a little more.

It was during one of these encounters, when you were sitting together on a bench at the park, that Sukuna realized something had changed. He wasn’t just dwelling on the past anymore. He wasn’t just seeing you as the woman he used to love, the one who’d left him behind. You were still that person, but you were also someone new, someone who’d been through their own struggles, their own pain.

And he’d changed too. He wasn’t the same man you’d walked away from five years ago. The anger, the recklessness, the pride that had once driven you apart had mellowed. He’d grown, learned from his mistakes, and now, sitting beside you, he realized that he wanted to make things right.

There was one afternoon where after you’d both finished your coffees at that familiar café, Sukuna finally found himself gathered the courage to speak again. He’d been thinking about this for days, the words tumbling over and over in his mind until they felt like second nature.

“Hey….” he began, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

You looked at him, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “What is it?”

“I know you don’t remember me, or anything about… us, but I want you to know that I’m not the same person I was back then. I’ve changed. And I want to try again.” He paused, searching for the right words. “I want to make things right for you.”

There was a long silence as you absorbed his words. He could see the confusion in your eyes, the way you were trying to piece together something that felt like a missing puzzle in your mind. You wanted to know what it was. How to be complete, and yet you didn’t know how. Not even if your past thought he was what complete was. Finally, you spoke.

“Sukuna, I… I don’t know what to say. I don’t remember anything about us, about our past. But I can see that this means a lot to you, and that you’ve been carrying it with you for a long time.”

You paused, looking down at your hands, and then back at him. “I don’t know if I can ever get those memories back. But I do know that I enjoy spending time with you, that I feel comfortable around you. And maybe… maybe that’s a good place to start.”

His heart leapt at your words, hope flickering to life in a way it hadn’t in years. This was a second chance, an opportunity to rewrite the story that had once ended in heartbreak. He didn’t know what the future held, or if you would ever remember what you once had, but for the first time in a long time, he felt something close to peace.

Sukuna reached out, his hand brushing against yours, and you didn’t pull away. “Then let’s start there, hm?” he said quietly. “No pressure, no expectations. Just… us.”

You smiled, a genuine, warm smile that sent a wave of relief through him. “Just us,” you agreed.

And for the first time in five years, Sukuna felt like he was finally on the path to something real, something lasting. It wouldn’t be easy, but he was determined to prove that he could love you the way you deserved—this time, the right way.

As the weeks turned into months, Sukuna and you continued to meet, slowly rebuilding a connection that had once been lost. Each encounter felt like a tentative step forward, a cautious yet hopeful attempt to bridge the gap that had formed between you over the years. Yet, instead of the intense and sometimes overwhelming passion that had defined your past relationship, there was a newfound sense of calm and understanding between you both.

There was an ease between you now, a natural rhythm that felt different from the intense, almost chaotic bond you’d shared in the past. In the beginning, it was subtle—a shared smile over a mundane joke, the comfortable silence that fell between you as you walked side by side, the way your conversations flowed without the need to fill every gap with words. The pressure that once loomed over your relationship, demanding definitions and clarity, had dissipated, leaving space for something more genuine and unforced.

You found yourselves slipping into each other’s lives in small, almost imperceptible ways. Sukuna would pick up your favorite coffee without being asked, remembering the way you liked it just by heart. You’d invite him to a quiet dinner at your place, cooking together in the kitchen as you talked about everything and nothing. There were no grand gestures or declarations, just a quiet, steady presence that felt reassuring and right.

This time, there was no rush, no urgency to define what you were to each other. It was as if both of you understood that whatever this was, it needed to grow at its own pace. You’d learned from the past, from the way things had unraveled before, and there was an unspoken agreement that you wouldn’t make the same mistakes again. You allowed the relationship to unfold naturally, letting each moment build upon the last, like carefully stacking stones into a tower that could withstand the test of time.

Sukuna, too, had changed. The man who once wore his emotions like armor, who had always been so guarded and intense, was different now. There was a softness to him that hadn’t been there before—a willingness to listen, to be patient, to let things unfold without forcing them into place. He no longer felt the need to control every aspect of his life, and that included his relationship with you. He had learned to let go, to trust that if this was meant to be, it would be.

And in that trust, something beautiful began to grow. Your conversations deepened, moving beyond the surface-level topics that had once dominated your interactions. You talked about your dreams, your fears, the things that kept you awake at night. Sukuna shared pieces of himself that he had kept hidden for so long, opening up in ways he never had before. And you, in turn, felt safe enough to do the same.

There were moments when the past would resurface, like shadows lingering at the edges of your newfound connection. Memories of heated arguments, of painful goodbyes, would flicker in your minds, reminding you of how things had once gone wrong. But instead of letting those memories drag you down, you faced them together, acknowledging the hurt while choosing to move forward.

It wasn’t always easy. There were still days when doubts crept in, when the fear of repeating past mistakes threatened to pull you apart. But each time, you chose to stay, to work through it rather than run away. And with each challenge you faced, the bond between you grew stronger, more resilient.

Sukuna, who had once been so afraid of vulnerability, found himself looking forward to the moments he spent with you. The walls he had built around himself slowly crumbled, replaced by a quiet confidence in what you were building together. He no longer needed to prove himself, to assert control over his emotions or over you. Instead, he allowed himself to simply be—with you, in the present, without the burden of past regrets or future expectations.

You, too, noticed the change in yourself. The tension that had once gnawed at your heart, the constant questioning of whether you were enough or if this was right, had eased. You felt more secure, more at peace with where you were and where you were going. You trusted Sukuna in a way you hadn’t before, not just because he had changed, but because you had changed too.

As the months passed, the connection between you deepened, solidified by the quiet moments of understanding and the shared experiences that had brought you closer together. There was a sense of contentment that neither of you had anticipated—a feeling that, for the first time in a long time, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

And so, you continued to meet, to grow together, allowing whatever this was to take shape in its own time. There was no rush, no urgency, only the quiet certainty that what you were building was worth the patience and the effort. You both knew that the past would always be a part of you, but it no longer defined you. Instead, it had become a foundation upon which you could build something new, something lasting.

In each other’s presence, you found a kind of peace that had once seemed elusive, and in that peace, you discovered the possibility of a future that was not just better than the past, but truly, deeply right.

Sukuna found himself looking forward to your meetings, the mundane moments that had once seemed trivial now holding a new significance. Whether it was a simple walk in the park, browsing through books together, or sharing a meal, these moments began to stitch together a new story between you, one that was quieter, more deliberate, and infinitely more meaningful.

But beneath the surface, Sukuna wrestled with his own emotions. The more time he spent with you, the more he realized just how much he had missed you—how much he had missed being close to someone who truly understood him. Yet, there was also the constant reminder that you didn’t remember him, that the memories of your past were locked away, possibly forever.

One afternoon, after you’d both finished a long walk along the river, you sat together on a bench, watching the water ripple in the sunlight. The conversation had lulled into a comfortable silence, and for a moment, Sukuna just watched you, taking in the way the light caught your hair, the serene expression on your face.

“Can I ask you something?” Sukuna finally said, breaking the silence.

You turned to him, nodding. “Of course.”

“Do you ever… feel like something’s missing? Like there’s a part of you that’s still out there, waiting to be found?”

You considered his question carefully before responding. “Sometimes.” you admitted. “There are moments when I feel like I’m on the edge of remembering something important, something that’s just out of reach. But I’ve learned to let go of the frustration. I’ve had to accept that those memories might never come back.”

Sukuna’s heart clenched at your words, the weight of your shared history pressing down on him. He wanted to tell you everything—to pour out the story of your love, the highs and lows, the way you had been everything to each other and how it had all fallen apart. But he held back, knowing that it wasn’t his place to force those memories on you.

Instead, he reached out and took your hand in his. “I don’t want to push you more than I already did.” he said quietly. “I just want you to know that I’m here, whatever happens. I’m not going anywhere this time.”

You squeezed his hand, offering him a gentle smile. “I know, Sukuna. And I appreciate that. I’ve come to trust you, even if I don’t remember our past. What matters to me now is the person you are today, the one I’m getting to know all over again.”

Those words gave Sukuna a sense of hope he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time. He was no longer the man who had let his pride and anger destroy something precious. He had grown, learned from his mistakes, and now, he had a chance to show you that.

As the days passed, he became more intentional in his efforts to be there for you, to support you in ways he hadn’t before. He listened when you spoke, offered comfort when you needed it, and gave you space when you needed to process your thoughts. There was a quiet strength in the bond you were forming, a steady foundation that was being built brick by brick.

One evening, after you’d invited him over for dinner, you sat together on your couch, a comfortable silence settling between you after a long day. Sukuna glanced at you, his heart full of things he wanted to say but didn’t know how to put into words.

“I’ve been thinking….a lot.” you said suddenly, turning to face him. “About us.”

His breath caught in his throat, but he stayed quiet, waiting for you to continue. He could feel his heart pounding, the silence between you filled with unspoken tension. You looked at him tenderly, and those eyes—those eyes he had once loved so fiercely—held a warmth that stirred something deep within him. But this time, there was something different in your gaze, something he couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t the same love he remembered, the love that had once consumed both of you. It was softer, more distant, as if it had been tempered by time and the loss of memories.

Sukuna wasn’t sure what that look meant, but he longed for the days when your eyes had been filled with nothing but love for him. He yearned for the intensity, the passion that had once been theirs. But deep down, he knew those days were gone, that you had changed, just as he had. And even though he wished for the impossible, he understood that the love you had once shared might never return in the way it had before.

And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from hoping, from wanting you to look at him like that again, to feel that love again. But he knew, with a sinking certainty, that it was unlikely. Maybe this was his punishment, the price he had to pay for the mistakes he had made, for the years he had spent without you. Maybe fate was just that cruel, giving him a second chance only to remind him of what he had lost.

“I don’t remember our past, Sukuna.” you said softly, breaking the silence. Your voice was gentle, but there was a sincerity in it that made Sukuna’s chest tighten. “But I do know that I feel something when I’m with you. It’s not just comfort or friendship… it’s more. I don’t know how to explain it, but it feels right, being with you.”

Sukuna’s heart swelled with emotion, a mix of relief and longing coursing through him. He had waited so long to hear those words, to know that there was still something between you, even if it wasn’t exactly what he had expected. It wasn’t the grand declaration of love he had secretly hoped for, but it was something—a spark, a glimmer of the connection that had once bound you together.

He searched your face, looking for any sign of the emotions he had once known so well. But all he found was that same tender expression, tinged with a hint of uncertainty. It wasn’t love, not yet. But it was something. And for now, that was enough.

“I’m glad you feel that way.” he said, his voice thick with the emotions he was struggling to keep in check. “I don’t want to rush things, or push you to remember something that might never come back. I just… I want to be here with you, whatever that means.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I want that too, Sukuna. I don’t know what the future holds, but I’d like to find out—together.”

He felt a weight lift off his shoulders, the heavy burden of his regrets and fears easing, if only a little. This was far from the ending he had imagined, but it was a beginning, a chance to rebuild what had been lost. And maybe, just maybe, if he was patient and if he allowed things to unfold naturally, there could be something new between you, something that was just as meaningful as what you had once shared.

As you both stood there, the world around you fading into the background, Sukuna couldn’t help but think that perhaps fate wasn’t as cruel as he had feared. Maybe this was his second chance—not to reclaim the past, but to create something new, something even better than what had been before. And for the first time in years, he allowed himself to hope that this time, he wouldn’t let it slip through his fingers.

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epilogue

A few weeks after your heartfelt conversation with Sukuna, you find yourself at a park on a sunny afternoon. Sukuna had asked you to meet him there, mentioning that his nephew, Yuji, would be joining. You had heard a lot about Yuji from Sukuna—how the kid was full of energy, always getting into something, and how Sukuna had taken on a sort of protective role in his life. You were curious to see this side of Sukuna, the man who had once been all sharp edges and intensity.

As you approach the park, you spot Sukuna first, sitting on a bench with a somewhat exasperated look on his face. Beside him is a young boy, who is clearly trying to balance on the back of the bench with one foot, arms outstretched like he’s performing some kind of circus act.

“Careful, you brat.” Sukuna warns, his tone stern but not unkind. “You’re going to break your neck.”

Yuji, grinning from ear to ear, just laughs and hops down with a flourish. “I’m invincible, Uncle Sukuna!”

“Yeah, well, let’s not test that theory.” Sukuna mutters, but there’s a fondness in his voice that catches you off guard. “Your mom and dad will kill me.”

You approach them, smiling as Yuji notices you and waves enthusiastically. “Hi! You must be the one Uncle Sukuna’s always talking about!”

“Yuji!” Sukuna snaps, looking mortified. “I do not—”

Yuji doesn’t miss a beat, cutting him off. “He totally does! He’s always like, ‘I wonder if she’s gonna remember me today,’ or ‘Maybe she’ll cook something nice again.’”

Sukuna groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Kid, do you ever stop talking?”

You can’t help but laugh at the exchange, and Sukuna’s embarrassment only makes it funnier. “Nice to meet you, Yuji!” you say, crouching down to his level. “Your uncle’s right, though. You should be careful on that bench.”

Yuji shrugs, his smile never fading. “Uncle Sukuna’s always careful too, even though he acts all tough. But he’s really soft, especially when I get hurt. You should see him panic when I stub my toe.”

“Yuji!” Sukuna’s voice is a mix of frustration and resignation, clearly regretting bringing his nephew along.

You stand up, grinning at Sukuna. “I see you’ve got a little soft spot, huh?”

“Don’t listen to him.” Sukuna mutters, glaring at Yuji, who just laughs and runs off toward the playground. “He’s a menace.”

“Sure, sure.” you tease, nudging Sukuna lightly. “But you love it.”

Sukuna sighs, watching Yuji with an expression that’s a mix of exasperation and affection. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep him out of trouble.”

You slip your hand into Sukuna’s, squeezing it gently. “You’re doing a great job, Uncle Sukuna.”

He gives you a sidelong glance, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Don’t start calling me that too.”

“No promises.” you reply, laughing as you both watch Yuji play, his laughter filling the air. It’s a side of Sukuna you never expected to see, and you find yourself growing more and more fond of the man who, despite his rough edges, is soft in all the right places.

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velvetsainz · 10 months

Text

summary: [ cl16 x fem!reader ] charles is away in baku and you remind him of what he's missing. part two.

word count: 1.3k

content warnings: smut under the cut (minors dni pls!), pwp, use of explicit language, phone sex, masturbation, google-translated french (lmao), a dash of fluff, i like em dashes too much

a/n: baby's first smutlet! i've been writing for like twelve years but i've never posted to tumblr, so here's to first times! there'll def be at least a part ii to this, but i'm also hoping to write for other drivers soon(ish). also giant mega thank you to @multiseb21 + @lecrep for your support—y'all have been so incredibly sweet & i am so thankful for you!! anyways, i hope y'all like this! enjoy, loves! xx

“Chérie,” his voice crooned over the line, a soft laugh leaving your lips. “Don’t tease, mon ange—it’s already hard enough being away from you for so long.”

“Weren’t you the one who said he’d be fine just a month ago?,” you retorted, voice low. The cards were in your hands now, and Charles was desperate. He was a nomad lost in the desert and you were his oasis on the horizon, just the sound of your voice enough to slake his thirst.

“Yes, but then you sent me that picture and—” You hear him curse again under his breath, his fist acting as a poor substitute for the velvet heat of your walls. He swore he wasn’t going to let you leave that bed once he got his hands on you again.

Charles wasn’t entirely wrong: you were the biggest fucking tease known to mankind. Earlier that evening you sent him a semi-absentminded photo of you fresh from the shower, steam still obscuring the best parts of the photo with a fresh white towel around your hips and one gathering your hair on top of your head. He’d always had something about you fresh from the shower—every time he’d nearly pounce as soon as you’d pad back into the bedroom from the steamy confines of the bathroom, hair wrapped on top of your head just as it was now. (Part of you thought it was something primal in him: you’d washed away his scent on your skin and he needed to make his territory known again, that horn dog.) Still, he was ever the gentleman and would make the endeavor more than worth your while.

“Yeah, that was pretty bad of me, wasn’t it?,” you ceded with a knowing smirk on your lips as you sat back from your desk, closing your laptop slowly. You’d wanted to get a little more work done after your shower, but the Monégasque wasn’t keen to let sleeping dogs lie and needed to hear your voice for himself.

“So bad, chérie,” he agreed with tone of exasperation, a heavy sigh passing through the phone, “And you’re not even here to help a–”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t help in other ways,” you were quick to remind him, the words coming from your mouth quicker than your shame would force you to bottle them up. Heat was creeping to your cheeks, and you could feel the familiar coil of desire tightening deep in the pit of your belly.

“Are you—?”

“That’s why you called, isn’t it, baby?,” you asked only to get a stifled groan from the other side. “You wanted me to tell you how I’ve been thinking about you all day,” you continued, “how I miss your hands on my hips, your cock so deep—”

“Fucking hell,” Charles practically whines as you push yourself away from the desk now, allowing yourself to relax into the seat of the chair and your hips to ease apart despite every part of you wanting to grind them together to relieve the dull ache that rested between them.

“What would you do if I was there now, Cha?,” you asked softly, hand splayed out over the plush of your thigh, eyes glazing over as you pictured him there with you. You wanted his hands everywhere; you couldn’t decide where you truly needed him most. Fingers curling against that hidden spot in your tight cunt, threaded through your hair and pulling your head back to rest on his shoulder, gripping your thighs so tight they’d leave bruises that he’d fuss over later—it all sounded like heaven compared to the lonely hell of your shared Monte Carlo flat.

“I want to taste you, mon cœur,” he replied shakily as his breath came faster, the sound of him fisting his cock becoming more and more prominent as time passed; he wasn’t going to last long like this, but you both already knew that—it wasn’t the point of this exercise. “I’d have you coming on my tongue, let you taste yourself when I kiss you—putain,” the driver cursed once more as his brow furrowed. He was leaking precum over his ironclad grip and all he wanted was to slide his fingers past your plump lips to feel the wet heat of your tongue take care of the mess.

You let out a tremulous breath over the line, one you hadn’t known you’d been holding onto so tightly until your head started swimming with need. Your hand had drifted from its origin, rubbing lazy circles over the cotton of the panties you’d slipped into after the inciting picture. On your top half was a worn, faded shirt of Charles that you’d taken a liking to as a nightshirt—especially when you were missing him as you were so desperately now.

“Need you in me,” you begged, the emptiness you felt so acutely coming to the forefront of your senses, “You always do such a good job filling me—my fingers don’t do you justice.”

You hear a groan on the other side of the line, the man now sitting on the edge of the bed as he tries to keep himself in check. He wasn’t ready for this to be over so soon; you had him feeling like a teenager again, ready to spill at a moment’s notice. Granted, this wasn't anything new: there's something so intoxicating about you that destroyed whatever semblance of restraint, of control he had over his lust.

“Want you in my mouth, give me something better to do than tease you like this,” to which you received a choked merde, the man hanging on your every word as the hand between your legs abandoned its objective—you could take care of that later. You were too caught in every little sound that passed his plush lips, listening for every little cue his body so willingly gave you.

“Want your hands in my hair, guiding me up and down your cock,” you keened for him on a whine, his breathing heavy and labored. He was running at full speed to the cliff's edge, and you were there watching, waiting in the grass. “Want your cum on my tongue, baby,” you whined.

“Promise not to waste any, minette?,” he grunted, gritting his teeth as you hummed your assurances. “Such a good girl f’me, yes–”

With a strained hiss and a groan he came sloppily over his hand, thankful enough that he wasn’t home in Monaco so he didn’t have to worry about cleaning up the mess he’d made. “Fuck,” he croaked, breathing heavy as he came down from the blinding high your words had catapulted him through. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been taking care of business when duty called, but something about your voice, the thought of you there…it clutched everything into a higher gear.

“Better?,” you asked, sly smile audible to the Ferrari driver; he didn’t need to see you to know the shit-eating, satisfied smile that took over your lips.

With a tired laugh he nodded, slumping back onto the cool rumpled sheets of the hotel bed as he stared absently at the dark ceiling. It was three in the morning in Baku, and he couldn’t sleep—the thoughts your cheeky picture had invited wouldn’t let him.

“Get some rest, tiger,” you teased him, knowing he’d have to be awake in a few short hours. You debated sending him another picture in the morning as motivation, tiding him over until you’d join him later that weekend.

“Que ferais-je sans toi, mon amour?,” he asked, sleep heavy in his voice as he rolled the right way onto the bed and running a hand through his hair. He’d deal with the mess he’d made in the morning along with the flowers he’d send you—he really didn’t know what he’d do without you.

“I guess we’ll never know, hm?,” you replied gently, smile melting into something softer as you fiddled with the gleaming ring on your left hand.

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fandomrose · 2 months

Text

Aventurine - lazy morning.

Hello, this is a short and sweet Aventurine is in bed with reader fic. Fairly basic, with a focus on the intimacy of a long term relationship and how a couple might handle being both touch starved and touch averse at times. It's not super deep but does make mention of those topics.

No angst other than mentions of difficulties early on in the relationship. But it isn't detailed in the slightest so is barely worth mentioning.

That's all for now. I hope you enjoy 💙

-------------------------------------------------------

Subtle warmth, soft snores, light tickling from hair and arms draped loosely over your waist. It isn't overly often that you get to wake up like this.

Your lover typically wakes before you and, if the night was intense, he'd be making you breakfast rather than cuddling you, wanting to make sure you were well taken care of. Your lover also wasn't a huge fan of too much physical touch outside of more intimate moments. However, there were times where it was almost as if he were making up for lost time in that department.

In his 'sleep', though you're pretty sure he is actually awake, as he runs his hands over your stomach and chest, playing with the skin softly.

"Aventurine.." silence.

"Aviiii... Turin..." more silence.

"Hmm, oh well, if he's asleep I'm sure he won't miss me." You felt his hand twitch against your side, almost tickling you. Other than that, silence.

You let out a loud dramatic sigh. "I guess I'll hang out with Veritas then. He'd be more entertaining company than a sleeping lump anyway."

Suddenly the arms wrapped around your waist as tightly as they could and Aventurine pushed his face into your neck and grumbled. "No, stay."

"Ah. Avi you're awake."

"I am now. You are so cruel you know. Your loving boyfriend is here cuddling you and you think hanging out with the universe's stiffest man, would be more fun." You felt him pout against your neck and you could almost feel his urge to nibble being held back by a thread.

"So you heard all that, did you? Hmm? I thought you'd only just woken up?"

This time he does nibble your neck causing you to giggle at the ticklishness of the almost featherlight bites.

"Hmph" He begins dramatically. "So rude, questioning the love of your life. Maybe I should hang out with Ratio today rather than you." He continues to nibble your neck slightly harder this time.

"Ka-kakavasha- Hey- Stop that." You say in-between giggles and stolen breaths. He stops due to his weakness being exploited.

He sighs pleasantly and squeezes you, and after one final bite he removes his teeth from your neck and grins against it. Like he got what he wanted after all.

"That's much better dear." He whispers into your skin. "Much much better."

You twist in his grasp until you're facing him. He pouts initially but his face brightens again when he sees your smiling face.

"Kakavasha,-" The look on his face whenever you called him by his birth name could start and end wars in your eyes. The subtle blush, the shy smile, the tinge of pink on his cheeks. Gorgeous. "-you cheeky man. You were planning this weren't you."

"I'd never deceive you."

All you can do is raise an eyebrow in response to that statement.

"Alright, I'd never deceive you in a way that hurts you. That better?"

"A little." You say before lightly pinching his nose with a playful pout.

He laughs and squeezes you closer, burying your head in his neck this time. You know that this means he can't handle looking at your face without his heart imploding with love. He'd told you as much when sleep deprived and slightly drunk after a work do. You'd never tell, you value the information too highly.

Silence falls again while you both comfortably indulge in each other's softness and warmth. "You know...?" You begin, feeling the urge to be cheeky swell in your chest.

"Know what?" He asks with a tilt of his head questioningly.

"I want to bite you." You bluntly state, an entirely too serious expression on your face.

His response was flat and unsurprised but you could see a glimmer of playfulness not so hidden within. "Ah."

"Yea" You respond just as bluntly and with faux seriousness, trying to conceal your laughter..

He hesitates, drawing out his consideration, keeping on the edge of anticipation. The corner of his mouth tilts up before he responds slowly. "Once.."

You raise your eyebrow questioningly, trying to conceal your excitement "Oh?" You ask simply, wanting to make sure for certain he wanted you to go ahead with your desire to bite.

"Once, and I'll let you do it hard." He agrees, putting one finger up clearly emphasising the 'once'.

An excited look that gains a chuckle from him lights up your face. "Oh! Really?" You exclaim, pleasantly surprised.

"Really." He affirms, tilting his head and moving his hair, looking entirely like a pretty boy at the mercy of a vampire.

You let out a light giggle, move your face over his shoulder, your entire body braced on his chest as he lays back in the bed. You open your mouth, feeling him shiver under you as your warm breath tickles his neck, and then... Chomp.

"Ah!" He tosses his head back and lets out a loud and clearly exaggerated moan that devolves into laughter at your offended and flustered expression.

You pull away feeling pouty and flustered "Hey! Don't ruin my fun.." You all but whine playfully.

Both of you descended into loud peals of laughter, clutching each other and holding tight.

"Seriously pretty, you've got to have known I was going to do that."

"Well- I- you..." You sigh, glaring at him without any actual anger or upset. "In hindsight yea..." You concede scrunching your face in defeat.

He chuckles again, the sound softening you against your will. "Come on pretty, after all that fun I'd say we deserve some breakfast." He reaches to pull your hair gently from your shoulders, deliberately brushing his fingertips against your skin, grinning at the shiver you let out.

Though you knew by the way he pulled away that he was done with touch for now. He'd had his fill and couldn't take any more. You smile at him though, not an ounce of insecurity crossing your mind, this is just how he was and you knew enough about him to know why.

When he needed or wanted affection he'd let you know, and was always so attentive to your needs and wants and would never push his desires on you. It had taken a lot of effort alot of opening up and being honest and a lot of arguments to get to this effortless state of understanding between you two. But it was so worth it.

Things were looking up for the both of you.

And maybe, a life like this was worth living.

💙-💙-💙-💙-💙-💙-💙-💙-💙-💙-💙-💙-💙-💙

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #aventurine hsr x reader

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dxckgrxsonx · 1 year

Note

"you can pretend all you want, i can see the fucking mess you're making of yourself." + jason please my love??? i love e2l <3

Pairing - Jason Todd x (F) Reader

Words - 900ish

Warnings - 18+ SMUT - Graphic Sexual Content - Unprotected Sex - Cocky!Jason (he's good and he knows it) - Swearing

Notes - Hi my darlings!! It's been far too long since I've written something smutty so here you are!! Hope you enjoy!! <3

He pisses you off like nothing else on this Earth.

Broad shoulders, incredible skill, smart fucking mouth. He calls you in the middle of the night knowing you’d answer; knowing without a shadow of a doubt that even with you seething and furious and goddamn exhausted, you would still pick up the phone.

He’s smug about it and sometimes, just sometimes, you consider blocking his stupid number.

“I absolutely fucking hate you.” You greet, halfway into a snarl. Vaguely, you acknowledge that it’s not an ideal greeting, but it’s three in the morning and the thread of patience between your fists frays horribly when Jason steps out of the dark, already grinning at the look on your face. “I was sleeping.”

“And yet…” Jason says, watching you far too intently. “Here you are anyway.” He presses forwards, crowds you right up against the nearest flat surface, and tips your head up so you have no choice but to watch him pick you apart. “It’s almost like you can’t say no to me, sweetheart. In fact, I don't think you’ve ever said no to me…”

“Don’t.” You whisper, knowing where he’s heading. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

He presses on you hard enough to bruise; hard enough to scatter hairline fractures through your whole nervous system. It feels like static. It feels like an ache Jason carved into you with his own two hands–and his beautifully thick cock–to mark you as his own.

“You want this.” He breathes, mouth still pitched up in that wicked smirk and your entire world starts bending in the middle, moulding around Jason and warping under his capable hands. You can’t stand it: you hate yourself for it. “You get wet just thinking about it…thinking about me.”

It was a chance meeting and back then you were so goddamn stupid.

You could hardly walk after the first time, cunt stretched open and sore from how many times he opened you up with his fingers–with his cock. He was big and thick and he had no choice but to take his time to get your pretty pussy to yield to him–to let him in. He praised you the whole time, and then fucked you until you were trembling and whimpering and squeezing at his cock.

It was weeks before you heard from him again and nothing you did with your own two hands was enough.

You needed him and he knew it.

You need him now and he knows it.

There’s a wet spot soaking through your underwear and the second Jason see’s it he’s groaning something feral against your throat. Shoving you backwards onto the bed he chases and wedges his broad shoulders between your thighs before you have a chance to flinch them closed.

Grabbing at your knees he spreads you open and pushes your legs back until they’re almost by your ears. Your muscles burn at the stretch, and you try to wiggle out of his grip but Jason leans forward and drags his tongue over the slick fabric covering your weeping slit.

“Fuck you.” You gasp. Unable to think of anything but how much you hate him for what he’s turned you into and how good he makes you feel. “Fuck you so much.”

He laughs and it’s almost mean with how arrogant he is.

Jason releases his hold on your knees to unbuckle his belt and then he’s back, smacking the thick, heavy length of him against your covered pussy. He rubs the fat head through the growing damp patch on your underwear and your puffy clit twitches hard enough that he can see it throb.

Wedging the tip of his cock underneath the fabric he teases your soaked hole until you thrash a little and whine. Pressing in just enough to get you to stretch open around him he pulls back so he can do it again and you snap your jaw closed around the pleas building in your mouth.

“Say it.” Jason demands.

Sinking the first few inches into your soft, slick pussy Jason holds and waits, Lazarus eyes awake and interested in each trembling twitch of your body.

“I hate this.” You lie, unable to stop yourself from throbbing around the tip of his cock, arousal leaking and squelching out around the edges of him. “I hate you.”

“Oh sweetheart.” Jason hums, using one hand to pull your underwear to the side so he can see just how embarrassingly wet you are. Your slick sticks to the fabric and it stays attached to your pussy in thin strings “You can pretend all you want, I can see the fucking mess you’re making of yourself.”

Thrusting forwards he stuffs his full length inside you with one, rough stroke and you moan loud enough to shake the windows.

“Oh–ah fuck!–Jason.” You try, voice trembling.

“There you go.” He says. “I knew you wanted this. I knew your aching little pussy wouldn’t be able to say no to me. No one can fuck you like I can, sweetheart.” Shoving your knees apart he holds you so tightly you can barely move and watches his cock split you open. “Every time I call you, there you are, all mad and pretty and wet. And the second I get inside you, you go all soft and cockdrunk for me.”

“Uh–plea–please.”

“Yeah.” Jason grins. “Just like that. Now, let’s see how much you can come for me this time, huh? You managed three last time before you started crying. But I think you can do better for me, right sweetheart?”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd smut #red hood x reader smut #red hood x reader #red hood smut #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #asks #answered #birthofvcnus #friends 💕#smut prompts #also hi my darling!!#i love you so much #im giving you one thousand million kisses <3 #ella writes

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selarina · 1 year

Text

Synopsis: You're mad at Gojo, and he spirals.

Warnings: Mention of a fire

Getou doesn’t feel like hanging out today, but he shows up anyway — it’s routine after all, and he doesn’t want to deal with a whiny Gojo Satoru, especially since he doesn’t have you to split the burden with today.

Summoning a deep breath and exhaling slowly, Getou walks into the threshold of Satoru's house.

He looks around the house and nothing. No one.

But something felt out of place. Satoru always seems to sense when Getou walks in, and he would be out the door just as quickly as he walked in, he’d be out at this new restaurant, or this new arcade Gojo wanted to check out. But today, he's met with silence.

"Satoru?" Getou called out, his voice echoing through the cavernous house, only to be greeted by the eerie emptiness.

A tinge of panic brushes its touch against Getou's hand. "Satoru, where are you?" he called out once more.

Some rumbling and soft sounds of several thuds emanate from above him. Without hesitation, Getou ascends the stairs, driven by an insidious sense of unease.

Upon entering the library upstairs, he was met with an odd sight.

An assortment of books lay scattered across the floor, each laying at different stages of unraveling — while most of them are closed, some of them lay open — some open on the last page, some halfway through, and some open to the first page.

Then, amidst this chaos on the floor, Getou spots the white blur of hair through his peripheral vision. He turns, finding Satoru, who seems to be very intently jotting down something in a black notebook, seemingly oblivious to his presence in the room.

“Satoru, I called for you?”

Satoru looks up, caught off guard — something must be truly wrong.

“Suguru! Today’s no good. I’m busy,” he replied, his eyes immediately flitting back down to his notebook.

Getou thinks he should thread this lightly, he’s all too familiar with the boy’s ability to brush things off entirely too quickly. His eyes roved the scene — going over the balls of discarded papers, the books, and the plate of lunch that seemed to be untouched.

"Uh," Getou began, inching closer to the boy with his hands in his pockets. He's weaving his steps across the slew of books — careful to not step on any of them. "What are you up to?"

No response at all, it’s like Suguru isn’t even here.

Suguru bends down, picking up the nearest book on the floor — an austere hardbound volume with golden lettering, bearing the title "Time Travel in Einstein's Universe." His fingers gently placed it down, only to lift another book, paper this time — it read "How to Build a Time Machine: The Real Science of Time Travel."

Standing upright, still holding the book, Getou asks, "Satoru, why are you reading about time travel? No, better question — how come you’re… reading?”

"I'm trying to time travel," Gojo replied with an unsettling nonchalance, as though he was merely discussing matters of the weather.

A few beats pass, mainly because Suguru was deciding between a simple “Why?” and a more emphatic “What the hell?”

But because Suguru is Suguru, and he’s been equipped with the art of patience, he oppted for a measured, “I don’t think you can do that.” He makes sure to punctuate his sentence with a faint chuckle.

"I need to," Satoru asserts, standing up as his eyes scan the floor for another book.

"Pretty sure no one can change time," Getou countered. "Not even us."

"We could," Satoru insisted, his voice unwavering. "Maybe—if we tried hard enough." His gaze then locks into Getou's, his conviction unwavering. “We are the strongest after all.”

Getou decides to indulge this because he’s just far too curious. "All right," he began cautiously. "Why do you need to time travel anyway?"

"You know how my partner is upset with me?" Satoru asked.

"Yeah," Getou replied, a weariness permeating his voice — he vividly recalls Satoru's relentless whining on the subject from the previous night. He eventually got the boy to shut up, only for him to start all over today morning — it’s part of the reason he didn’t feel like hanging out today, but you’ll never catch him saying this out loud.

"Well, if I reversed time," Gojo continued with an unnerving grin, "then they'd never be upset with what I did. Problem solved!"

Getou feels the sudden urge to chew on a notebook to satiate his frustration. “Are you serious?” he asks.

“Deadly.”

"Satoru," he snatched the notebook from Satoru's table—the very notebook the latter had been intently writing in. His eyes find themselves looking at a plethora of mathematic equations he doesn’t understand. He sighs, looking up at the man.

“Do you know anything that can help? Help me, please,” Satoru implored, his head bobbing fervently.

Getou thinks that this is surely the height of insanity. Surely, someone needs to lock Gojo Satoru up.

Speechless, Getou succumbs to laughter — like a total madman.

He dials it down as he notices Satoru’s escalating exasperation with him. He spoke again, “You’re an idiot. How about you actually apologize to them instead of doing… whatever this is.”

He tosses the notebook back to Satoru, who catches it with a swift, outstretched hand.

—

“Please, stop!” He rushes behind you, as Getou trails right behind him. “Stop avoiding me please or I’ll die.”

“Wow, you really are like those high-maintenance plants,” you quip as you come to a stop, finally turning to lay your eyes on the boy.

"I'm not..." He totally is.

“Glad to see you’re not too torn up about our fight since you’re out here at an arcade,” you say, sarcasm dripping to the floor beneath you, just a few more missteps, and Gojo could slip and fall everlastingly.

“No! I was very upset. Ask Getou,” he points to the man, who simply nods in tandem. He starts again, "Can we please please just talk this out? I'm really sorry."

"Oh? Are you?" you questioned, skepticism etched into your features. "Is that why you ghosted me for a whole week?"

"I got scared," he admits. "I thought you'd leave me."

“I considered that,” you reply, arms crossed.

His eyes widen, and you think he looks like a kicked puppy. But this was a serious matter, and you suppressed the urge to ruffle his hair.

"See—now I want to run away, so you never will," he whimpered. "But I won't, because I'm genuinely sorry, I mean it."

You stared at him, the genuineness in his eyes catching your weary gaze. You had been tired all week. Finally, you relented.

"Fine," you sigh. "Let's talk it out."

"Okay! Thank you baby!" he says, an immediate smile spreading across his face.

"See? I told you it's not a big deal—" Getou began, his smile mirroring Satoru's. However, he falls silent when he noticed your changing expression.

“Not a big deal?” You exclaim, clearing seething with a bubbling anger. It’s seemingly a harmless sentence but something in you must have broken down at the sound of that.

"I-I mean, it's not a big deal because I'll fix it, and everything will be fine," Satoru's voice stammers through.

"It's not all going to be just fine, Satoru. You burned down my house," you stated.

“I burned down your kitchen,” he corrects you.

“Wow, I’m sorry I don’t know why I was making such a big deal. It’s only my kitchen!” You start to chuckle, a deranged sense of amusement escaping your lips as you turn to Getou, “Do you hear that Suguru? It’s only my kitchen, he says.”

Suguru gulps, not wanting to be more involved in this than he was. He turns his head away, only now noticing that everyone’s watching the scene unfold like it’s their favorite telenovela. “Guys, maybe let’s not do this here.”

"Yeah, I was done here anyway," you declared, shooting a final glare at Satoru before making a swift exit.

Satoru immediately chased after you, throwing himself out the arcade's door.

“Baby, please!” He finally comes to grip your arm, stopping you in your tracks. You look up at him, and he notices you carry no malice really — just a weariness that shows in your tired tired eyes, he feels the urge to take you home, so he can run his hands over your eyes and put you to sleep. So he can finally sleep beside you himself.

“I’m sorry, Getou’s an idiot. It is a big deal. I never should have done that. It was obviously an accident but I was just trying to be nice, and obviously… that didn’t work out as I planned. And of course, I’ll fix the kitchen, I’ll pay for everything — even add in upgrades if you want. And before you say anything… this is on me. I should pay,” he says.

"I was going to make you pay anyway. What were you even trying to do in my kitchen?"

"Well," he began with a sheepish look on his face, almost ashamed. "It was our anniversary, and wanted to make you something."

“Why would you do that? You can barely boil rice,” you sigh, your eyes coming up to soothe your forehead.

“I-I don’t know. You mentioned how your ex-boyfriend made your food all the time when you guys were together so I thought you’d like that.”

“Yeah, well. Osamu was a chef, and you’re the opposite of that,” you replied, your arms encircling his in a soothing grip.

He sighed, gazing out at the street — his eyes staring down at the passing cars before speaking once more, “It’s not just that.”

"What then?" you inquired.

“I’m not good at this,” he confesses.

You maintained your steady gaze, urging him to continue.

“At this — Romance,” he clarifies. “I can’t do it so I’m always looking and copying others. I only leave you notes because you do that. I only give you keychains because Getou does that with his boyfriend. I only knew I had to invite you to work when Nanami mentioned it. I just—”

You hummed softly, encouraging him to continue.

“I don’t know how to love. It’s part of the reason why I even tried to cook. You’re so good at loving me, I can’t ever pay you back for it.”

“Satoru, you’re good at it too,” you say. “Just not in the ways I am, or Getou, or Nanami. You’re good at it in your own way. It’s about how you know when to order in when I’m feeling tired. It’s about how you pick out the stones I like for the keychains. It’s about how you showed up all the way to my Switzerland work trip when I was on the verge of a fucking mental breakdown. It’s about how you always draw something hideous when you leave notes knowing I’ll find it funny when I’m back from work. It’s about you trying in the first place,” you say.

"The drawings are supposed to be cute," he mumbled.

“I know you think that,” you chuckled softly. “And besides, I only leave notes because my mother did that for my father. We all learn from someone.”

A moment of silence enveloped you both, broken only by your gradual approach. “You can teach me, and I can teach you. If you let me.”

He sighed, enfolding you in a tight hug.

“Also, as much I appreciate the effort now, I hope you know you’re banned from my kitchen,” you mumble across his chest.

“Okay, I’ll learn how to cook though,” he says. “For you.”

“Okay,” you say.

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vroomvroomcircuit · 6 months

Text

You pulling in made me wish your Dad pulled out

(A/N): Thank you to @foreveralbon for workshopping this fic with me with this prompt. I don't know what to do if you weren't my muse.

Summary: Charles pissed off his neighbor with his parking. Her answers are notes taped to his car window. How can evolve more out of that?

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x female!reader

Wordcount: 1.6k

🏎Masterlist🏎 ________________________

(Y/N) knows that she isn’t the most professional car parker. She should never start a career as a valet for sure. After all, she needed a second attempt on her own practical test to attain her drivers license.

But there is this one neighbor of hers. She doesn’t know what he looks like, what his name is or where he even lives. But (Y/N) knows one thing for sure: He is a shit parker.

Like, he is the worst person at parking that has ever walked the world. If he could, he probably would park his oh so expensive car onto other cars. But she tries to not let that get too close to her. After all, we just talk about parking spaces and it’s not worth getting her blood pressure up over it.

But (Y/N) found her tipping point.

Her whole morning has been a shit show. Her alarm went off, but she accidentally turned it off instead of giving herself another five minutes of sleep. Five minutes turned into 45. That meant the young woman had to rush through her usual morning routine and she is 90 % sure that she put at least one clothing item on the wrong way.

But it’s ok, she is still on time. She just needs to get out of the car par-

This is where (Y/N) last thread of patience with that neighbor snaps in two like a potato chip, crisp and unclean. This person parked the front half of his car in a way that completely blocks (Y/N)’s rear end from exiting the car in a way that does not hinder the sidewalk.

It takes a solid seven minutes to get out of her spot, trying not to scratch hers or another car. Arriving a few minutes late at work because of that and receiving a reprimand from her boss is really the young woman’s last straw. On her lunch break she does some snooping on the internet and comes across a really fine find. It’s worth the price and shipping cost to her.

Actually, she can’t wait for the week it is supposed to take to arrive at her doorstep.

But the time between that particular day and the day of arrival do fly by when you use it getting madder and madder at the dickhead that is unable to park like a normal person.

The next occurrence doesn’t take long after (Y/N)’s package finally arrives. She wanted to park her vehicle in her usual spot when Mr. Ferrari already took his and her own too. How can one person be such an asshole?

(Y/N) takes one of the business card sized cuts out of her glove box and puts it in the slit of the black car’s window. Satisfied with her work she steps back into her vehicle and looks for a different spot, ending up walking several minutes back to her apartment building, having to look somewhere farther away.

Charles can see from a distance that there is a card at his car’s windowshield. Which makes him suspicious. Surely no one thinks that he wants to sell his car for cheap, so it can’t be one of those car handler’s business cards. Maybe it’s a new ruse of thieves, trying to get him to stand long enough at his car to read it and be able to steal his car. Or they are kidnappers. Anyways, he makes quick work of putting the card into his pocket and drives off at a neck breaking speed.

When he arrives at his destination, the Monegasque pulls the piece of paper out and reads it. “The way you pulled in makes me wish your dad pulled out”, he reads aloud, laughing a little to himself.

He has to admit that he might not be the best at parking. Who is he even kidding, he would win the world championship at being the worst car parker possible. But the thought of someone getting that angered over his non-existent skills.

It’s something that makes him happy throughout his entire day. Which is his main reason to try and look how much he can piss that particular neighbor off even more.

So Charles starts parking even worse. If he also starts on the habit of watching out of his window more often now, he would claim it is just a coincidence. But something in him wants to meet that neighbor.

That person that gets more and more creative with their insults. One time they called him an obstacle to evolution. The other day the business card said something along the lines of him belonging to the asshole club now.

Another, a handwritten, note asked him not to reproduce. The neighbor even left a condom for him. This made Charles laugh so loudly, that (Y/N) looked out her opened window.

She just finished one of the worst shifts she ever had since starting that job and all she wants is just a quiet evening to come down from the stress. Just the noise of the laugh is enough to set her off again.

Seeing her handsome neighbor from under her apartment pocketing the note and condom she left just minutes earlier isn’t what she expected. Watching him opening the car, sitting down and driving off is even less on her list.

It kind of destroys her world view, realizing that hot neighbor and asshole parker are the same person. In the last couple of weeks (Y/N) started to get some fun out of the mean comments she left at the black Ferrari’s window. This also could be her chance to finally make a move on him.

The young woman waits for the brunette to return with his car and stays seated on her couch for another couple minutes, for extra measure of course. After that, she leaves the apartment building with her prepared note and tapes it to the car’s rear window.

Charles on the other side stays glued to his window as soon as he enters his apartment. He finally wants to catch the person that gets angrier and angrier each time he parks in an outrageous way in the act.

Seeing the beautiful neighbor, who lives above him, sticking another note to his car makes his heart flutter in an unexpected way. For some time now he wanted to get to know her and if everything went according to his original plan, ask her out on a date. But maybe he can now use this to his advantage.

As soon as the beautiful neighbor is back in the building Charles waits an extra couple minutes before he once again makes his way to his car.

Running over his vehicle with a pep in his step, Charles is kind of excited about what insults or threats await him now. He has to admit, he actually parked pretty decently. Or as decent as he is able to. So the note has to be at least a little bit nicer than the previous ones.

“Hey neighbor. I thought instead of shitting on you and your parking skills even more, I want you to help and get better. I may not be a driving teacher, but helping you wouldn’t make your skills worse. Just text me with the times you are available at ;)” signed with (Y/N)’s name and number.

It’s kind of funny to explain to the press later how Charles met (Y/N) and became her boyfriend.

"Yeah, well I know that my driving has become sort of a, a meme,” he answers when asked a week after his announcement on instagram, “And my neighbor wasn’t too fond of it either. So she started to leave me these really funny, but also really aggressive notes at my car. One said something like I won the inconsiderate Parker Price. Which made me quite proud.” This entices a laugh out of the journalist. “Yeah, (Y/N) has a really good way with words, I fear. But in the end she offered me some parking lessons.” Charles smiles and thinks back to them.

He had texted (Y/N) immediately and they set up a date for the lesson two days away. But they still continued to text non stop and by the time they met up, it felt like they had been friends for years.

Which didn’t stop (Y/N) raging at Charles after his fifth failed attempt of parking his car according to her instructions. “I don’t believe you anymore. With the way you park you are not from Monaco but the deepest and wildest parts of Italy! Your Ferrari seems really fitting now!” This drew a laugh out of him until she graced him with the meanest look he didn’t expect her to be able to muster up.

“How about dinner as a thank you and apology?” He asked sheepishly, trying both to diffuse the situation and make his move. Why not shoot his shot right now?

Luckily the young woman agreed.

“In the end my parking skills weren’t enough to win her over, but my charm was what scored me a second date.”

And a third. A relationship. After some more funny parking jokes and him kneeling down on one knee with a ring and the promise to take lessons to keep their future family safe he even scored himself his unexpected forever.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #x reader #reader insert #charles leclerc x female!reader #x female!reader

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captainjonnitkessler · 9 months

Note

I understand if you want to stay out of it but I’m curious as to you’re thoughts on this discourse

https://www.tumblr.com/dappercat123/737173649266737152/your-arguments-sum-to-in-my-perfect-world-there

Anon, I'm going to be entirely honest with you. I have been waiting for an excuse to put my thoughts about this down. Forewarning that this is going to be long and take a dim view of organized religion.

TL;DR: I think everyone in that thread is maliciously misinterpreting evilsoup's point, which is basically that they think Gene Roddenberry was right about what a post-utopian society would look like re: religion. And you can agree or disagree about whether a post-religious utopia is likely or desirable, but to say that anyone who thinks it is is actively calling for and encouraging genocide is a gross misuse of the term (especially coming from at least one person that I'm pretty sure is currently denying an actively ongoing actual fucking genocide).

@evilsoup can correct me if I'm misinterpreting their points, but as far as I see it there are two main points being made:

A) In a perfect utopia with absolutely no source of oppression, marginalization, or disparity, religion would naturally whither away with no outside pressure being applied.

B) This would be a good or at least a neutral thing.

As far as A) goes - a lot of the responses evilsoup got were basically "well *I* would never choose to be nonreligious, so therefore the only way to create that world would be by force, and therefore you are calling for literal genocide". But aside from the fact that evilsoup was very, very clear that they thought this would be a *natural* event and that trying to force people to be nonreligious would be evil - we're not talking about (general) you. You can be as religious as you want but you don't get to make that choice for your grandkids, or your great-great-great grandkids, or your great-great-great-great-great-etc. grandkids. Just because religion is an integral part of your identity doesn't mean it's something you can pass down, and if you're not comfortable with the idea that your kids might choose to leave your religion, you shouldn't have kids.

I personally don't foresee religion disappearing entirely, but it is pretty consistent that as a country becomes happier, healthier, and wealthier, it also becomes less religious. Religiosity is inversely correlated with progressive values. And the more democratic and secular a nation is, the less powerful religious authorities become - In the 1600s blasphemy and atheism were punishable by death* in Massachusetts and today I can call the Pope a cunt to his face** on Twitter with no repercussions whatsoever. Political secularism is an absolute necessity for true democracy and it necessitates removing power from religious authorities, which has and will likely continue to lead to a decline in religiosity - not just a decline in how many people identify as religious, but also a decline in how religious the remaining people are.

*Blasphemy laws and death penalties for blasphemers/apostates are still VERY much a thing in many places. It's hard to see a path where those places become more democratic but don't become more secular and repeal those laws.

**Well, to the face of whoever runs his Twitter account, but the point remains.

I also believe that many religious communities have been held together for so long via coercion - either internal coercion like blasphemy and apostasy laws, shunning, and threats of hell or other supernatural punishment, or external coercion like oppression from the majority religious group or ethnic cleansings. In a perfect utopia, neither form of coercion would exist and I don't think it's crazy to think that religiosity would drop severely and become a much less important part of people's identities, in the way I think the queer community would not exist in a world where queerphobia didn't exist.

ANYWAY, all this is actually kind of moot. It could happen, it could not, nobody is calling for it to be forced so we'll just have to wait and see. The real point of disagreement is on B).

I'm gonna be honest - I think a lot of the responders are rank hypocrites and are really hung up on the idea of cultural purity, which is something I'm wildly uncomfortable with.

First of all, the idea that a deeply-held religious belief could be diluted until it's just a cultural thing that nobody really remembers the origins of isn't some evil mastermind plot evilsoup is trying to concoct, it's just how cultures work. There's tons of stuff about American culture that are vaguely rooted in what were once deeply-held beliefs and are now entertainment. Halloween is rooted in sacred tradition and now it's a day to dress up and get candy. Christmas is one of the most sacred holidays in Christianity but nobody bats an eye if a non-Christian puts up some lights or decorates a tree just because it's fun. I have no doubt that every culture on Earth has traditions that used to be deeply sacred but are now just fun family traditions. People in Japan use Christian symbology as an "exotic, mythical" aesthetic the exact same way people in the West use Eastern symbology. And if you're okay with it happening to Christianity, why wouldn't you be okay with it happening to any other religion in the absence of oppression?

And there's the idea that if a culture fails to get passed down *exactly* as it is now, it's a terrible loss and the result of malicious outside influence. But . . . cultures change over time. No culture is the same now as it was two or five or eight hundred years ago and I don't believe that change is inherently loss. The things that are sacred to you may or may not be sacred to the people of your culture in the future. That's just the way things work, and I don't think it's inherently good or bad.

And finally, people keep accusing evilsoup of "just wanting everyone to assimilate to your culture", but it absolutely does not follow that a lack of religion means a lack of diversity. Different nonreligious cultures are every bit as capable of being diverse as different religious cultures, so it's weird to insist that evilsoup wants there to only be one culture when they never said anything to indicate that.

#me still nursing the burn i got from touching the Discourse Stove last week: well surely it's not still hot #time to hit post and then log off for the night #atheism #skepticism umbrella

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sumiresou · 2 months

Text

Izuku's Clingy-ness Pt. 2

part 1 here!

Izuku Midoriya x Girlfriend/Fem! Reader

warning: Clingybf! Izuku, cuteness, sneaking to other's dorms in the middle of the night to sneakily gain some cuddles, cuddling! of course, daily dose of dopamine, kissing evil giggle.

a/n: wrote this on a plane and writing this high as FUCK off of medicine I took the entire 8 hour trip. I feel great and very woozy. also I bought a new bonnet. Will they ever release a Rei Todoroki figure? I want to put Dabi and her next to eachother, mom and son bonding time... ignoring canon as long as possible.

Beta Read by 'where in the hell is my Beta Reader?'

You quietly snuck into the dorms, holding in your laughter as you saw Mina and Kirishima huddled up, passed out on the couch. Nobody needed to live in the dorms anymore, however most did anyways. It just felt right after everything.

Your day was hectic to say the least. With your relative texting you about needing a babysitter ASAP and not knowing who else to text that she could trust her boys with. And of course, you couldn’t turn her down. You could always catch up on notes anyday, while she couldn't leave the boys alone for one hour unless they were asleep or practicing their quirks.

It wasn’t as easy as most babysitters made it seem, but it wasn't unexpected. With them wanting to go to the park, then to an ice cream truck and then to a game store. It was a pain on your legs, and only reminded you of how much better you would've felt if you just said 'I can't, I'm sorry!'

Snapping back to reality. You continued on the way to your room, you stumble across Tokoyami huddled like a sewage rat in the kitchen, sneaking in a late night snack. Is... that a frozen rat... eugh... After an awkward amount of eye contact that you would like to forget about, you continued on your journey to your humble abode. Hoping to forget your terrors of roommates.

As you reached your door, it creaked open, reminding you of needing to oil it incase you and Izuku get caught doing these late night sleepovers, where you just slept and didn't infact play Just Dance at 2 in the morning and have an angry 2B student knocking on your door.

Now however, you were back at the dorms, ready to crash.

The room was dark, and the sheets unmade, different from how you left it before, your boyfriend had already gone to sleep on your way back. Despite his whining, you didn’t come back til late into the night. “Izu?” You whispered into the darkness of the room. “Mn.” The green haired man replied, his hair all messy and half of his face a soft pink due to the pillow.

You smiled, kicking off your shoes and walking over to the bed, lifting up the covers and looking down at him. “Mn… Baby?” Izuku opened his eyes, staring up at you through the dark, electric green eyes dancing with yours. “Hi Izuku.” You smiled, taking off your shirt and slipping into bed.

Izuku closed his eyes again and wrapped his arms around your neck, entangling his legs with yours. “… I missed you.” You chuckled, planting kisses on his cheek. “I heard, Mina told me all about how you were moping around all day as the guys dragged you out of the dorms.” Hearing of that, a small blush creeped up on his face, a small thread of embarassment sinking into his brain.

“… Do you need the notes for tomorrow?” Izuku mumbled asking as he buried his head in the crevice of your neck. You hummed, your hands playing with his hair, detangling all of the knots he has yet to brush out. You yawned, stretching your body making Izuku groan. “Maybe. Was it the same stuff from last week?” Izuku shook his head. “No, we are going over rescue operations.” Well fuck. You sighed and curled yourself tighter around Izuku. “Well screw me, I guess. Yeah I’ll need the notes…”

Izuku planted soft kisses against your neck then smiled. “I missed you, thank you for coming back.” You hummed, slowly falling to sleep listening to his soft breathing.

all dividers unless stated otherwise are made by @strangergraphics

#bnha x reader #deku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya x you #mha x reader #sassy izuku takeover #writers on tumblr #mha fluff #my hero academia x reader

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genericpuff · 10 months

Text

All That Glitters is Not Feminism - An Analysis of LO's Brand of "Feminism" and What Remains of its Fanbase (The Twist)

Alright y'all, I've been waiting a hot minute to talk about this because I wanted to see how it fully panned out before saying anything about it. And it's not even specifically about LO, but I do think it's very adjacent to it in a way that I'm sure you'll be shocked to hear. Much of it speaks to how we prop up white writers even at the expense of POC.

This is 'the twist' attached to my first post that I made just a couple hours ago that concerns an entirely other topic but I feel ties into this subject very well.

If you haven't heard, there's this author who recently fucked around in the Del Rey publishing scene.

Her name is Cait Corrain.

In the original tweet calling this person out, names were not dropped, but it was made very clear that what Cait did was unacceptable behavior.

You can read the entire thread that started it all from Xiran here:

There's also a GREAT recap thread from one of the affected authors, Bethany Baptiste:

I want to make it clear that Cait Corrain isn't just a debut author.

Cait Corrain is - or now, was (foreshadowing is a literary device that-) - a debut author who had an agent, a publishing deal with Del Rey (an imprint of Random House which is a MAJOR publisher) and even an upcoming Illumicrate deal - meaning, her book was going to be packaged in a monthly loot crate subscription shipped directly to people's doors, quite possibly one of the best marketing deals a debut author could ever get, usually unheard of in this industry. All the pre-reviews were strong and positive.

Cait's book was literally set up for success. All she had to do was sit back, relax, and watch the fruits of her labors roll in. She had written the book. It was ready for release. The hard part was technically over.

But I guess the racism brainrot got to her because as it turns out, since April - for EIGHT MONTHS - she's been making alternate accounts on GoodReads to review bomb the indie and debut works of her friends and peers, most of whom were POC and did not have the same opportunities set up for them as she did. There are loads of receipts to back this up that you can find in those above threads ^^^

To say that this is appalling is an understatement. This was an intentional and deliberate act of racism by a white queer writer who claimed to be "jealous" - of what, I can't imagine - so much so that she deliberately sabotaged her peers, people who had supported her and her book.

And then when she got caught? She doubled down on it and claimed it was a "friend", also an alternate account she made up.

The exchange between her and this made-up person is actually the funniest shit out of this entire thing, it's so poorly written and as soon as people noticed the time stamps were out of order, that was when it truly cemented her newfound clown status.

"oooooh he's standing right behind me, isn't he?" energy right here LMAO

yes keep expositing cait, that's really selling the "this is a genuine conversation that really happened with a real person" bit 🤡

Anyways, it became abundantly clear that Cait was just going to continue to dig her heels in over something she caused.

This has been a hot topic in the UnpopularLO Discord, not just because of how crazy of a situation it is that we had to talk about it - and we have people within the community who work in the literature and media sector - but because we noticed one very telling thing in the list of series that she had review bombed in her very own personal act of wrath.

You see, Cait made one fundamental mistake that led to her undoing - she didn't just review bomb the works of her peers, she positively reviewed her own book and others.

What's her book about though?

It's an Ariadne x Dionysus retelling set in space.

It's literally another "modern retelling" of Greek myth.

And wouldn't you know it, guess who else created a modern retelling of Greek myth that she included in her positive review raiding while she was sabotaging the work of her actual peers?

Now, I think it goes without saying that what I'm about to say should be taken with MOUNTAINS of salt, I'm sure a lot of you are reading the headline and going, "Ugh, really? You're gonna make this about LO? Could you give it a rest already???"

I need you to understand, with the current state of Rachel's fanbase and 'modern' Greek myth literature as a whole, at this point Lore Olympus - and the works that are literally inspired by it such as A Touch of Darkness - has basically become the shopping cart litmus test of basic decency. It's like when someone says they like Harry Potter - you can't take it automatically at good faith anymore, because there isn't a whole lot separating someone who simply liked Harry Potter as a kid and still rewatches the movies from time to time from someone who fully supports the politics and agenda of J.K. Rowling. No, not everyone who still watches the movies or reads the books fondly is a TERF by default, but it's justifiably a reason for suspicion when the consequences are often too dire to risk.

There's this thing that's been happening in the LO fanbase that I frankly saw coming, but has really recently started to hit its peak. It's what I call the "Kanye Effect", where the comic has become so absurd and backwards in its misogyny and white feminism that the only people who seem to be left supporting LO are the people who are legitimate white feminists and misogynists - because all the normal level-headed people fell off the comic ages ago (or transitioned into the critical side of the community).

I mentioned it in my last post, but it bears repeating - Rachel's fanbase has literally been shipping Hera, a victim of abuse, with her abuser, Kronos. I'm really hoping a lot of them realize how fucked up that is now that Hera herself has called it what it is - abuse - within the comic, but I also can't count on the LO fanbase picking up on that or even noticing it with how quickly people swipe through it each week, it's very apparent at this point that most of LO's readers don't know how to chew their food and don't pay attention when Persephone and Hades aren't onscreen.

But I'm digressing. Or am I? We're talking about Crown of Starlight after all. The debut Dionysus x Ariadne sci-fi/fantasy romance that was quite literally advertised using Lore Olympus as its baseline-

This. This is what the ongoing cultural erasure and white feminist uwu-fication of Greek myth is doing to the literary zeitgeist surrounding Greek myth as a whole. This is why we criticize Lore Olympus and works like it that are created by disingenuous people who only seek to use the assets of Greek myth material as a way to shoot themselves up into fame and stardom. This is why we demand better standards in the literature and webcomic industry, so that people like Rachel and Cait can't use their privileges to quite literally erase the source material that they used to make themselves famous in the first place.

If anything, Cait's actions didn't just affect the people she negatively review bombed, or the people she was affiliated with, but also the people she positively reviewed. While I don't support what Rachel creates, she wasn't the only one who Cait went out of her way to review positively from her alt accounts, there were many others as evident in the Google Doc - but all this really does is tarnish the legitimacy of these books and their ratings by artificially jacking up their numbers that are advertised to others.

Making Greek myth fanfiction or fun creative retellings was never the problem, but it's now being sabotaged alongside so many other genres and mediums by toxic white individuals who can't even keep themselves from committing hate crimes, let alone create something purely for entertainment that's transparent in its illegitimacy, lest it destroy the illusion that these people are qualified to speak over those whose voices are being stifled, often by these very same people. Many of these writers get caught and are still allowed to continue what they're doing - that was certainly what we feared with Cait.

Until today.

It was revealed today that Cait's book will no longer be featured in the Illumicrate May 2024 box.

Del Rey has dropped Crown of Starlight from their publishing schedule.

Daphne Press will be hopefully following suit.

And, most telling of all, Cait's own agent has severed ties with her.

For anyone not familiar with the inner workings of the publishing industry, Cait has essentially been blacklisted. Without an agent or a publishing house, she'll have to entirely rely on her own resources through self-publishing. Unless she manages to sneak her way back in under an alias (which I wouldn't put it past her to try) she no longer has access to the mainstream publishing industry that was already guaranteed for her before she let her 'jealousy' get the better of her.

Her career was already made for her. She had a red carpet laid out for her debut. Her book was getting good pre-reviews and she had quite literally nothing keeping her from her success. The best thing she could have done was nothing. Somewhere in her head, she made up a threat that didn't exist, and sealed her fate in acting on it, a self-fulfilling prophecy.

I think in these situations such as with Cait Corrain, Rachel Smythe, and - also recently and relevant - James Somerton, we need to become increasingly aware of how white voices are still overpowering POC voices, not just in their actions, but in the opportunities they're given over others which they then use to further stifle the voices of those they feel "threatened" by or feel entitled to speak over. While neither James nor Rachel have used sock puppet accounts to "take out the competition" (at least as far as we know lmao) James did quite literally steal the words and voices of queer writers who were deserving of their time in the spotlight, and Rachel's work is being quoted as "rewriting Greek myth" as if its blatant gentrification and appropriation should be marketed as some sort of positive.

It's all too common for these deeply-rooted prejudices to rear their ugly heads and for the people who carry them to act out in this way while justifying it as "jealousy" or "a mistake". This isn't jealousy. This isn't a mistake. This isn't someone "starting drama". This is genuine, targeted hate, with the intention of snuffing out the voices of others who should be empowered, not silenced.

All that time and effort, and for what? Racism and petty jealousy? It just goes to show, it doesn't matter how many opportunities you're given, how high up on the ladder you already are - it won't fix the deeply-rooted insecurity and racial pettiness that spurs people on to do such horrible things.

I've spent enough of my time and words today talking about Cait, and James, and Rachel. So to end this off, I want to join in with all the others who have highlighted the books that were review-bombed by Cait, and help in uplifting them so they can have successful debuts. I'll be pre-ordering a few of them, so I'll be happy to make dedicated posts for them in the future after they release. Please consider purchasing them for yourself if you want some new reading material <3

The Poisons We Drink by Bethany Baptiste:

So Let Them Burn by Kamilah Cole:

To Gaze Upon Wicked Gods by Molly X Chang:

Mistress of Lies by K.M. Enright

Voyage of the Damned by Frances White:

(I'm sure there are plenty others so if I missed any here, please let me know so I can add them here and check out their books!)

If there's any silver lining to this, I hope that it makes people aware of the media they consume and who it's being created by. I hope it makes people more willing to seek out the books that aren't getting the same opportunities as Cait Corrain and Rachel Smythe. I hope it's a wake-up call to the industry that matters like this need to be taken seriously and that POC writers are still being silenced under their own noses. And most of all, I hope it's a reminder that we shouldn't even need at this point that this behavior is not okay, no matter what level a person climbs to - that just because someone is part of one minority doesn't mean they're not capable of sabotaging another. It sucks that that has to be said, it sucks that despite these groups being so intersectional there are still people within them who submit to their deeply-rooted insecurities and find ways to feel threatened that they use to justify hateful behavior.

Having a platform is a privilege. It should never be weaponized against your own peers or those who you simply feel "threatened" by for no reason beyond your own imposter syndrome or doubts or internal struggles. Because as much as you may feel like you've earned where you are, that never gives you the right to weaponize your opportunities against others who were never given those same opportunities in the first place. "Feminism" is not using your power to crush "other women". "Progressiveness" is not exclusive to the progress that only benefits you.

I wish only the best to those who were affected by the actions of Cait Corrain. You deserve to be heard and seen and appreciated for the work you do and the abuse you've had to tolerate. I look forward to your debuts in 2024 <3

#cait corrain #support POC writers #crown of starlight #the poisons we drink #so let them burn #the voyage of the damned #mistress of lies #say isn't it funny how all the debut books cait tried to sabotage accurately describe her and her actions LOL #that's what we call irony #debut authors 2024 #booktok #webtoon critical #lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus

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petitemistletoe · 1 year

Text

Grudges

Pairing: Regulus Black x Reader, Potter!Reader

Warnings: angst!

Word Count: 6.2K+

A/N: Alright listen I am a Lily Evans stan through and through but she does not come across the greatest in this fic

“Stop biting your nails,” Regulus nudged you lightly.

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, “I just hope the first term went well for Celeste. I’ve missed her so much.” You rested your head on Regulus’s shoulder.

“Celeste sent us about a thousand owls with updates. She’s fine! Plus she’s had Milo with her.” Regulus made a good point. Your daughter, Celeste, had started her first year at Hogwarts at the same time as her cousin Milo.

“Where are Sirius and Remus anyway?” You asked, glancing at your watch, “The train is going to be in any minute now.”

As if on cue, you saw Sirius and Remus running through King’s Cross. Remus was carrying an empty carseat and Sirius was balancing a baby in his arms. They made their way over to your spot on the platform and were breathing heavily.

“Someone,” Sirius panted, “take the baby so I can have a moment to collapse.”

“Give me my delicious little nephew,” you grinned, taking the baby from Sirius and giving his chubby cheek a little kiss, “how are you Teddy?”

Teddy gurgled in response and wrapped a chubby hand around a strand of your hair.

“Why exactly are you two so late?” Regulus quirked an eyebrow at his brother.

“You know how it is, baby stuff.” Remus explained, setting the carseat on the ground and taking Teddy back from you.

“Sirius take too long looking at himself in the mirror?” Regulus chuckled.

“You laugh but it’s under the shroud of wicked jealousy,” Sirius deadpanned.

“Can you believe that our kids are first years! It feels like we graduated just yesterday,” you reminisced, threading your arm through Sirius’ and resting your head on his shoulder.

“They’ll be here any minute now!” Sirius grinned, looking at the wave of students getting off the train.

“Sirius! It’s your turn, Teddy needs to be changed.” Remus was now holding Teddy at arms length, his nose wrinkled.

“Oh no,” Sirius peaked at Teddy’s diaper, “Moony this is a two man job. You guys mind waiting for Milo while we fix this?”

“Go for it,” you waved the boys off. You and Regulus were making idle chit chat until a body slammed into you. You looked down and saw the nicely styled brown and black curls and knew it could only have been your nephew.

“Hi Milo,” you said, pressing a kiss to his head.

“Hey Auntie! Have you seen my dads?” He asked, pulling away and hugging Regulus.

“They’re in the bathroom changing Teddy. Have you seen my daughter?” You responded.

“She’s coming. Her and Harry were saying goodbye to Ron and Hermione at the front of the platform.” Milo shrugged. Your blood ran cold.

“Harry?” You asked. Before Milo could respond you saw Celeste skipping towards you.

“Mum! Dad!” Celeste gave you and Regulus a giant hug.

“Celeste! I want to hear all about your term,” you said with a giant grin.

“Sure Mum! I want you to meet one of the greatest friends I made. He’s actually one of Milo’s childhood friends.” Celeste stepped back and revealed Harry standing behind her. Even if you hadn’t recognized the name you would’ve know that Harry was James’s son. Harry was the spitting image of James, save for his eyes. His eyes were the same color as Lily’s.

“Hi! I’m Harry Potter, it’s nice to meet you Mrs. Black, Mr. Black.” Harry extended his hand to you and Regulus. Regulus had the same gobsmacked expression that you did and he swallowed harshly before saying,

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Harry. I understand that you and Celeste have become fast friends.”

“Yes! I’ve known Milo my entire life so he introduced Celeste and I. Milo’s fathers are actually my father’s two closest friends. You might know him, James Potter?” Harry asked.

“Uh, yes. We were in school at the same time as your father.” Regulus said, diplomatically.

“Really?” Harry asked. Before you could continue any further Sirius and Remus returned.

“There’s my godson!” Sirius laughed, wrapping Harry in a tight hug.

“He hugs Harry before he hugs his own son.” Milo rolled his eyes as he hugged Remus and gave his baby brother a kiss on the forehead.

“There’s my boy.” Sirius lifted Milo of the ground in a grandiose show of affection.

“Where are your parents, Harry?” Remus asked.

“Around here somewhere I’m sure.” Harry scanned through the throng of people. He disappeared off and you felt like you could breathe again.

“Alright, love, do you have all your things?” You asked Celeste, running a hand over your daughter’s head, “Regulus grab her trunk.”

“Did you make the Christmas fudge mum?” Celeste asked.

“Three trays of it.” You grinned, pinching Celeste’s cheek.

“Oh Auntie your fudge is the greatest! Dad can we go over to Celeste’s and have some?” Milo asked Remus.

“Why not? You know I have a soft spot for chocolate.” Remus laughed as he tried to juggle both the car seat and Milo’s trunk.

“Give me the baby and give the car seat to Sirius.” You said. Remus went to hand you Teddy but tutted, “Other side, Remus. My shoulder.” You swapped sides and then took Teddy from Remus’ arms and balanced him on your hip.

You were making your way out of the train station when Harry was running back towards you all, a giant smile on his face.

“Alright Harry?” Celeste asked.

“Yeah, yeah. I wanted to introduce our parents. Mr. And Mrs. Black these are my parents James and Lily Potter.” Harry stepped back to reveal his parents. You felt like the wind had been knocked out of you.

“James.” You said, cooly.

“It’s been a while.” James’s tone was as icy as yours.

“Well we should get going,” Lily said diplomatically.

“Yes! Yes. Good to see you. Have a happy Christmas!” Regulus pushed Celeste away before the conversation could progress any further.

Luckily for you all, Celeste forgot all about encounter by the time she got home, had a tin of fudge, and played with her little brother Atlas who had been in private lessons when you all were at the train station. Atlas and Celeste were sleeping peacefully, now, and you were thinking about James as you got in bed next to Regulus.

“Love?” Regulus shook you from your thoughts.

“Yes darling?”

“I was saying that Narcissa called and wants to have tea tomorrow and get all the children together.” Regulus said.

“Oh, sure Reg.” You nodded.

“Thinking about James?”

“You know me so well,” you laughed softly, “it just caught me off-guard…seeing him again.”

“I know. Are you alright?”

“It’s weird, right? Harry and Celeste being friends.” You asked, rubbing your shoulder.

“Yeah, a good weird though. I think we should consider the possibility of telling them that they are related. They deserve to know and it’ll only be worse if they find it out on their own.” Regulus ran his thumb over your knuckles.

“I know you’re right.” You went to bed that night with your thoughts spinning impossibly fast in your brain.

✰

“Oh my God! How can a child so small poop so much?” Remus said in disgust. His entire chest was coated in what had previously been Teddy’s breakfast. Sirius had been walking over to check on Remus, but immediately turned and crept back down the hallway as quietly as he could. “Nice try, Pads! Get back here right now.”

“How did you know I was in the hall?” Sirius asked with a groan, taking over the diaper change while Remus removed his shirt and scourgified it.

“Werewolf hearing, obviously.” Remus rolled his eyes.

“Dads! When are we going to Celeste’s?” Milo asked, peeking his head into the room.

“We’re going to meet Celeste and Atlas at Aunt Narcissa’s house.” Remus responded.

“Oh fuck do we have to go to Narcissa’s? It’s so creepy there.” Sirius complained.

“Really? You aren’t even going to pretend to act like a parent in front of our kid?” Remus rolled his eyes.

“Aunt Narcissa isn’t so bad,” Milo shrugged, “Draco’s kind of annoying though.”

“Of course he is. He’s the spawn of a Black and a Malfoy.” Sirius rolled his eyes at the thought.

“Sirius!” Remus was unfortunately not surprised at his husband’s antics.

“I have a different question.” Milo shook his head, “so you know how Celeste and Atlas are mine and Teddy’s cousins because Dad and Uncle Regulus are brothers?”

“Yeah?” Sirius and Remus weren’t exactly sure where things were going.

“And you know how you two were best friends with Uncle James and Aunt Lily in school?”

“Yeah…” Now Sirius and Remus had an idea where things were going and they didn’t exactly love it.

“Why was I never allowed to have Harry and Celeste over at the same time? And why were things so awkward between everyone at the train station when Celeste’s and Harry’s parents met?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Remus said quickly.

“Yep, Milo, you’re crazy.” Sirius nodded.

“Wait a minute,” Milo’s brain was moving quickly now, “isn’t Auntie’s maiden name Potter? But she doesn’t have a brother…is Uncle James her cousin? Are they fighting? Have they been fighting since before any of us were born? But Auntie always talks about how important family is…did Uncle James do something to break their bond? They must’ve been close since they would have been just a year apart at Hogwarts. And you two are still very close with her and Uncle Reg…in fact Dad I remember you said that Auntie was the person that reunited you with Uncle Reg. So it had to be something really specific between Auntie and Uncle James. Aunt Lily’s face was almost as red as her hair and Uncle Regulus was glaring at Uncle James when we were at the train station so I bet it was something about Auntie marrying Uncle Regulus and Uncle James marrying Aunt Lily. But Uncle James and Aunt Lily got married first so it was probably a fight between Auntie and Uncle James about Aunt Lily!” Milo looked very pleased with himself.

“You’re way off, Milo, it wasn’t like that at all.” Remus said weakly.

“How did you do that?” Sirius was looking at his son now like he was dripping in radioactive waste.

“I knew it!”

“Okay, Milo, listen you can’t tell Celeste or Harry. This is not our information to share.” Remus was very serious.

“Of course, Dad. The secret is safe with me!” Milo beamed.

✰

“Oh my God Ron! How has it taken you this long to cast a communication spell? Fred and George showed it to us like four times before we left for holiday!” Celeste whispered. She was underneath her covers as it was past one in the morning but Milo had sent everyone an owl saying he had an urgent message and needed to talk face to face.

“It was hard, Cel!” Ron tried to defend himself but Harry was laughing too hard to be heard for anyone else on the call to hear him.

“Okay, okay. Milo what’s your news?” Hermione asked, shaking her head.

“I just discovered something big! Something about Celeste and Harry.” Milo said excitedly.

“Does it have something to do with how weird our parents were at the train station?” Harry asked.

“Yes, indeed. Celeste’s mum and Harry’s dad are cousins!” Milo paused to allow the revelation to skin in.

“No way! Why wouldn’t they tell us?” Celeste gasped.

“Apparently they had a really bad falling out and I think it’s because Celeste’s mum and Harry’s mum hate each other!”

“Why would they hate each other?” Hermione asked.

“No idea. But you two are going to have to find out.” Milo grinned.

✰

“So mum,” Celeste asked after you all returned from the Malfoys, “I have a question for you.”

“Sure, love. Did you want any more fudge?” You asked, taking out a tray and cutting off a few pieces.

“Thanks mum!” Celeste took the plate from you.

“Hey Atlas! Do you want any fudge?”

“Yes yes yes!” Your eight year old came running into the kitchen. Atlas looked just like Regulus, dark curls and bright green eyes. Celeste looked more like a potter…more like James, in fact: tanned skin, warm brown eyes, easy smile. Celeste and Harry had looked like twins at the train station. It filled you with an uncomfortable heartache.

“Giving the kids more sugar?” Regulus quipped, helping push Atlas’s chair closer to the table.

“It’s Christmas.” You smiled, “there’s a fresh batch of egg nog in the fridge from this morning if you’d like to join me in a glass.”

“Read my mind, Mrs. Black.” Regulus poured you and him two glasses and you sat at the able with your kids.

“So Celeste, you said you had a question for me?” You asked, leaning back so you were resting against Regulus’s shoulder.

“Are you and Harry’s dad cousins?” Celeste asked. Your back went rigid as Regulus sputtered and choked on his eggnog.

“Why…where did you hear that?” You asked.

“Milo.”

“I’m going to kill Sirius.” Regulus shook his head.

“The truth is, yes, James and I are cousins.”

“Did you have a falling out because you hate Harry’s mum?”

“Oh my god,” Regulus rubbed his temples.

“Who’s Harry?” Atlas asked.

“I do not hate Harry’s mum.” You sighed, “James and I are just not as close as we used to be.”

“You know what,” Regulus stood, “we’re going to Sirius and Remus’s. We can let them explain everything since they felt so strongly about sharing it in the first place.”

“Good idea.” You hoisted Atlas onto your hip, even though he was far too big for it now and apparated as Regulus grabbed firmly onto Celeste’s wrist to apparate them both. You were standing in Sirius and Remus’s living room and you set Atlas down as Sirius entered the room with a blanket and a bowl of popcorn.

“Oh fuck,” Sirius tried to turn on his heel but you grabbed him by the back of the shirt.

“You’ve got a big mouth, Black.” You shoved Sirius down on the couch.

“Moony! Milo! Can you come in here please?” Sirius called as Regulus and Celeste apparated into the room.

“What’s up, Pads?” Remus entered the room, Milo right behind him.

“Hey Auntie,” Milo said shyly, sitting between his fathers on the couch.

“Milo, when we speak to you do you hear words or is it just the Charlie Brown whomp sound?” Remus said with a sigh.

“Sorry,” Milo shrugged.

“We’ll deal with you later. Take your cousins up to your room while your aunt tears me a new asshole.” Sirius sent Milo, Atlas, and Celeste out and then cast a silencing spell over the living room for good measure.

“What the hell is wrong with you!” You said, slapping Sirius on the chest and arms after each word for emphasis.

“Milo guessed it! It was really only a manner of time considering your behavior at Kings Cross.” Remus said with a sigh.

“You’re right.” You flopped on the couch next to Remus and put your head in your hands. Regulus sat down next to you and rubbed your back.

“Do you think it might be time for you and James to reconcile? It’s been ten years since you two last spoke.” Remus asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve been carrying this resentment so long I might feel lonely without it.” You said with a weak chuckle. There was a loud crack in the air and James, Lily, and Harry were standing in the living room.

“Sirius!” James roared, “I’m going to kill you!”

“Milo has another parent! Why do target me?” Sirius threw his hands in the air.

“Kids are upstairs, Harry. Why don’t you join them while we talk?” Remus sent Harry upstairs.

“I think we should have a conversation about how we’d like to proceed. Celeste and Harry are closer than ever and I don’t think any of us have been very fair.” Regulus said with a deep sigh.

✰

“James!” You said in a sing-song voice as you set your book down and settled down on the blanket that James had spread in front of the lake. James, Sirius, and Remus had been taking advantage of the nice day and were studying outside by the Black Lake.

“What is it?” James was pretending to be exasperated but he couldn’t hide his smile. He always had a soft spot for his baby cousin.

“I need your potions notes. We’re brewing liquid luck and Slughorn assigned me a terrible partner.” You said with a sigh.

“Who’d he assign you?” Sirius asked.

“Your little brother,” you said with an eyeroll.

“Come on,” Remus exhaled lazily, handing you a joint that he’d lit a few moments before, “as far as Slytherins go, Regulus is pretty good at potions.”

“Yeah, yeah he’s a potions wiz. I don’t need him mansplaining potions to me so I need to read up on liquid luck and show his ass up.” You said before taking a long drag of the joint, “This is really good, Remus.”

“Thanks, I did get an O in herbology.” Remus laughed.

“Here,” James was forever organized and was able to locate his notes from last year rather quickly, “use them wisely.”

“Hey Prongs did you tell the young Miss Potter your news?” Sirius asked, taking the joint from you.

“No! What’s your news, Jamie?” You poked James in the ribs playfully.

“Now that Lily and I have been dating for a few months now, I’d like for you two to officially meet.” James said with a grin. Your stomach turned unpleasantly. You had only ever seen Lily in passing, considering you were in Slytherin and a year younger than the Marauders. You hadn’t liked how James had pined after Lily considering she did not make it a secret how she despised him. Sure, James was a bit immature sometimes but he had the biggest heart of anyone you knew. You swallowed all that down and grinned,

“Can’t wait. When are we going to meet?”

“Why don’t you come to the Gryffindor common room tomorrow night?”

“Sounds like a plan.” You grinned. You had to leave the warm sun and your friends an hour later to meet with Regulus to start the potions work. You didn’t care for Regulus. Being a close friend of Sirius meant that Regulus was naturally more haughty towards you and you thought he could be unnecessarily cruel whenever he was around Barty Crouch Jr. To you had been less than pleased when Slughorn had paired you together would be an understatement.

You found him sitting at a table in the corner of the library, bent over a book.

“Hello Regulus,” you said, sitting down next to him.

“Hi. I thought we could start with raiding the greenhouses to find some horseradish. The first step of brewing Felix Felicis is to mix ashwinder eggs and horseradish.” Regulus said.

“I think it’d be better actually to substitute wasabi for horseradish. Apparently it makes the potion more potent.” You said, setting James’ notes out in front of you.

“These notes are brilliant,” Regulus snatched up the page and studied it.

“Thanks, they’re my cousin’s.” You shrugged. You worked for a while with Regulus before walking together back to the Slytherin dorms.

“You know…it’s funny.” Regulus said with a small shake of his curls.

“What is?”

“You and I both have close family in Gryffindor. The Gryffindor/Slytherin mix isn’t super common.” Regulus said.

“Yeah I guess you’re right.”

“We’re not so different are we?”

“I’m nothing like you, Regulus. I’m not cruel.” You crossed your arms. You were at your door now and weren’t entirely sure why Regulus had walked you all the way up to the girls dorms.

“The Felix Felicis takes six months to brew. I bet you’ll be under me by then.” Regulus said with a confident laugh.

“In your dreams, Black.” You said with an eyeroll. You entered your room and huffed but had to admit it was a bit hard to hide your smile.

✰

You were nervous as you ascended the steps up to the Gryffindor common room. You didn’t know what it was exactly but you weren’t looking forward to meeting Lily. You shook the thoughts from your brain as Sirius let you into the common room.

“Remus!” You said with a grin, jumping into Remus’s lap and accepting the joint from him. Lily was perched on James’ lap and she was grinding down on him as they made out like their lives depended on it.

“Break it up, love birds, you have company.” Sirius said, slapping James upside the head on his way back to the couches.

“Sorry,” James said, sheepishly, setting Lily down next to him. James introduced you two.

“Lily, it’s great to finally meet you. The guys talk about you all the time.” You said with a smile.

“Ditto! James always says you’re one of the most important people in his life.” Lily grinned.

“Yeah. James and I are both only children so we really felt more like siblings than cousins.”

“Are you the first Potter in Slytherin?” Lily asked. It was an innocent enough question, Lily could not have known that it had been a sore subject in your family. You were the first Potter in Slytherin. No Potter had been in a house that was not in Gryffindor for over one thousand years. It had been a shock to your family.

“Uh, yes I am.” You tried to hide your discomfort over the question.

“Oh. Good for you.”

“And you’re a muggle born, right?”

“Yes.” Lily’s eyes flashed dangerously.

“Good for you.” You responded. The rest of the night passed rather quickly and then James walked you back to the Slytherin dorms.

“So?” He asked excitedly.

“So what?”

“So what did you think of Lily? She’s great, isn’t she?” James was beaming.

“She’s something.” You pursed your lips.

“What do you mean?”

“I hate her.” You said with a head shake. James was shocked. He tried to get more out of you, but you told him you were tired and went to bed. James felt like his brain was in shambles as he made his way back to the Gryffindor common room. Only Lily was left, reading a book by the fire.

“Hey love,” James sat down next to her and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Hi James. Have a good walk?” She asked.

“Yeah, yeah. You liked my cousin, right?”

“Your cousin?” Lily said nervously, “Yeah! She’s quite spirited.”

“Oh my god you hate her, don’t you?” James’s heart felt like it had dropped into his ass.

“I do!” Lily groaned, “But honestly I barely know her. We’ll get together more and more and hopefully we’ll become good friends. It’s clear to me that we both care about you a lot and want the best for you.” Lily said. James could only shrug.

✰

As Lily and James became closer and closer, you started spending less and less time in the Gryffindor common room. You also became closer to Regulus as you continued working on your potions project together. You were finally able to meet Regulus for your final potion check before you submit it as a final to Slughorn. As you made your way down you ran into James.

“Hey! I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. I miss you.” James said, slinging an arm over your shoulders.

“I know! It’s just been so busy with classes and finals but I’m about to submit my potions final so that’ll be a huge weight off my shoulders.” You said with a grin.

“We’re going to the Three Broomsticks tonight, why don’t you meet us there? Celebrate the end of potions for the year” James said, “We’ll get properly pissed.”

“That sounds great. Who all is going?” You asked.

“The whole gang! Remus, Sirius, Mary, Marlene, Lily.”

“Lily?” You faltered.

“I know you aren’t her biggest fan but I promise it’ll be fun.” James begged.

“Alright! I’ll see you later then. Have a butterbeer waiting for me.” You called as James reascended the steps. He sent you thumbs up before disappearing around the corner. You walked into the potions classroom and saw Slughorn was peering over your cauldron as Regulus explained away.

“Ah Ms. Potter, nice of you to join us. I was just about to review your potion. I believe you and Mr. Black were assigned Felix Felicis.”

“Yes sir, we were.” You nodded.

“As I was saying,” Regulus said with a quick nod in your direction, “we decided to add wasabi instead of horseradish to the potion in order to increase its potency.

“Very smart.” Slughorn nodded. He mulled over the potion for a full two minutes before nodding. “Outstanding work you two. I knew great things would come from the two of you. Your reward is that you are able to keep the potion. I’m sure you both understand, however, that use of the potion during a Quidditch match is strictly illegal.”

“We understand, professor.” Regulus nodded. Professor Slughorn stalked out of the room. You and Regulus hugged tightly.

“We did it! Do you want the potion? I don’t have any use for it.” You said with a shrug.

“Yeah.” Regulus nodded. He uncorked the vial and swallowed it down.

“What are you doing?” You raised your eyebrow and looked at him.

“I needed it for what I’m about to do.” Regulus said. Before you could ask him what he was talking about, Regulus grabbed you by the waist and kissed you hard. You were surprised at first but then you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back.

“Oh wow.” You said when you broke apart.

“Will you go out with me?” Regulus asked, brushing his curls out of his face.

“Yeah. Do you want to go to the Three Broomsticks with me?” You asked.

“Yeah I do.” Regulus grinned.

The two of you walked hand in hand to Hogsmeade. It seemed that the Gryffindors had started without you and the group was very, very drunk. Lily was perched in James’s lap again and you tried not to roll your eyes.

“What are you two doing here?” Sirius asked, slurring his words a bit, “I mean…what are you two doing here together?”

“We’re friends, Sirius.” You rolled your eyes. You and Regulus were able to catch up to the rest of the crowd quickly.

“More than that.” Regulus laughed and slung his arm over your shoulders.

“Really?” James narrowed his eyes.

“Why not?” You snuggled yourself deeper into Regulus’s arms.

“He’s a Slytherin. He’s dangerous.” James snapped at you.

“I’m a Slytherin.” You bit the inside of your cheek harshly.

“So you finally made your way over to dark wizards? Guess you really are a Slytherin.” Lily giggled.

“And you’ve proven that you can live up to the stereotype of annoying muggleborns.” You shot back.

“Stop it.” James frowned but it was too late. The storm between you and Lily had been brewing for six months and there was no stopping it now.

“You know what James, I can’t do this anymore. It’s her or me.” Lily crossed her arms over her chest.

“Oh come on! Like James is going to pick some girl he’s been dating for less than a year over his cousin.” You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t do this. You both are being unfair.” James said.

“James didn’t tell you? After we graduate, we’re moving in together.” Lily spat at you.

“Make your choice James.” You said coldly.

“No.” James shook his head.

“Fine,” you said, standing and grabbing Regulus’s hand, “I’ll make it for you. Goodbye.” And you stormed off.

✰

There was quite a bit of electricity in the air during the Quidditch final. It was already charged, being a competition between Gryffindor and Slytherin. You and Regulus were both playing as chaser and seeker respectively. This was an important match for you, you were being scouted by four different professional Quidditch teams and the representatives were all in the stands. You still had a year of Hogwarts left after this one but the teams were ready to make an offer that would work around your school schedule.

You couldn’t think about that right now, though. You wanted to stomp Gryffindor into the dirt. Your blood was pulsating in your ears as Madame Hooch blew the whistle to signify the start of the match.

The match was vicious, with you and James diving at each other and playing dirtier than you ever had to before. You were flying next to James and you shoulder checked him rougher than you should’ve. James nearly fell off his broom but he was able to swing all the way around and restabilize.

“That was a cheap shot!” James spat at you.

“Guess I’m just a lousy Slytherin.” You spat back. “At least I’m not wrapped around the finger of a witch with a stick up her ass.”

That was too far, you knew it, but you were too upset to care. James yanked at the back of your broom just as a bludger rammed itself into your chest. You fell hard and Madame Hooch had been too enraptured in a squabble between the Sirius and the Slytherin beaters to notice what was happening until it was too late. You hit the ground hard and heard a sickening crunch sound as your arm was wrenched awkwardly behind your back. You groaned as Madame Hooch started running towards you and blowing her whistle wildly. Before she reached you, though, your broom did and it embedded itself in your shoulder. You were screaming so loud your throat was raw. You tried to grab at your broom with your other hand but realized that the broom had impaled the fleshy part of your shoulder and was anchoring you to the ground.

“Oh my God,” Madame Hooch gasped as she made her way towards you. Madame Pomfrey was hot on her heels and she knelt down next to you. Regulus made his way down to you next. He dropped to his knees next to you and grabbed at your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. Then Sirius landed. He took one look at you and promptly vomited into the grass. James was there next, his face paler than it had ever been.

“Alright love, I’m going to move you over to the hospital wing where I’ll give you a sedative and assess the damage.” Madame Pomfrey said. You wished that Madame Pomfrey had given you the sedative before she moved you. You had never and would never again experience such pain. Not when you gave birth, not when you had been a victim of cruciatus curse, not ever. Madame Pomfrey had to move you again to St. Mungos and a team of healers were put together to remove your broom from your shoulder and patch you up.

When you were finally stable again, the doctor who had been presiding over your case made his way to your bedside. Your parents and Regulus had been by your side for the entire four day period.

“It will take time for your shoulder to heal. It faced an unbelievable trauma and even after much physical therapy, rigorous potion taking, and rehabilitation your shoulder will never reach its full, working capacity.”

“So I’ll never play Quidditch again.” You said bitterly.

“Oh darling let’s just be happy that you’re okay.” Your mother tried but you shook your head.

“I’m so sorry, Ms. Potter, but no. Playing professionally will not be possible.” The doctor bowed his head.

You refused James’s visits for the next two weeks until you were able to be discharged from the hospital. You were home, laying on your bed and staring at the ceiling. You wanted to rip down your Quidditch posters but you couldn’t extend your arm that far up yet. You were forced to just glare up at them.

“Hey, can I come in?” James asked, knocking on your open door. You looked at him and turned back to stare at the ceiling. “You have no idea how sorry I am. I have never felt more terrible in my entire life. I thought you were going to die,” James had tears in his eyes, “and it would have been all my fault. All over something so stupid. But I’m glad that you’re alive. But I am so so sorry that I cost you your career. If I could go back and erase it, I would.”

“I don’t ever want to see you again.” You said softly and stared at the ceiling until James left the room.

✰

You and James did not speak for four years. He got married and you got married and it was bizarre. All of a sudden you were no longer speaking to your best friend. Good things came out of the situation, though. You and Regulus got married and had a baby. Regulus and Sirius repaired their relationship and Sirius and Remus married and had a baby as well. You and Reg had Sirius and Remus over often, watching the newly one year olds play together.

“I still can’t believe that you named her Celeste.” Sirius shook his head.

“Why? You don’t like the name?” You asked with a soft laugh.

“I just can’t believe you stuck with the celestial theme.” Sirius rolled his eyes. Regulus laughed too.

“It wasn’t even my idea,” Regulus laughed, “my darling bride thought of it. She wanted Celeste for a girl and Atlas for a boy.”

“You really are a Slytherin.” Sirius laughed and gave you a kiss on the cheek before scooping Milo up.

“We should get home and give Milo a bath before bed. I don’t know why people think that having babies is hard. Milo’s a dream.” Sirius shrugged. He apparated out. Remus was about to follow when he turned to you.

“What is it Remus?” Regulus asked.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but James and Lily are in a rough place. James might try to reach back out to you.” Remus said.

“I’m not interested in that.” You said, looking down at your lap.

“I know. Just thought I would give you a heads up.” Remus said with a smile before apparating out.

“Celeste still has so much energy. Should we let her play for a little longer before bed?” Regulus asked, settling into the couch.

“Yeah, why not.” You shrugged. You and Regulus chatted idly for a bit longer before you heard a knock at the door.

“Think that’s Sirius forgetting something?” Regulus asked. You stood up and headed for the door,

“Doubt it. When has Sirius ever knocked?” You laughed. You opened the door and your jaw dropped in shock when you saw James at your doorstep, Harry on his hip.

“Hey.” James said softly.

“James. What are you doing here?” You asked.

“Who is it?” Regulus called from the couch.

“Uh, it’s James.” You responded.

“I’m sorry,” Regulus walked up over to where you were, “I thought you said James but I must have mis-” Regulus went silent.

“What are you doing here?” You asked.

“I, uh, I wanted to see you. I wanted to talk about things.” James said, bouncing Harry on his hip a few times.

“Why don’t you come in,” Regulus stepped back to let James in. He lead James into the sitting room where Celeste was sitting on the ground and playing with her toys.

“Thanks, Regulus.” James said as he entered.

“Why don’t you let Harry play with Celeste?” Regulus offered. James set Harry down next to Celeste. “I’ll go make some tea.” Regulus left you and James sitting on the couch in awkward silence.

“Harry looks like you.” You said softly.

“Yeah, yeah he does. Celeste looks like you.”

“Seems like they were fast friends.” You said. Harry and Celeste were curled up, yawning and grabbing at each other’s feet.

“That’s good. It’s good for cousins to be close.” James said.

“I heard things between you and Lily are rough right now.”

“It’s just a rough patch. But I’m sorry about the way things happened. I want Harry to have his cousin in his life. I want my cousin in my life.” James was nervous, you could tell.

“I don’t know if it’s fair to set up Celeste for that kind of heartbreak. Wouldn’t want the kids to get close only to have Harry abandon Celeste for some girl and then nearly kill her.”

“That’s not fair,” Regulus said, setting down the tray with the tea.

“I don’t have to be fair. James cost me everything.” You said, your jaw set.

“I want to start over. Please. I love you, I miss you.” James begged.

“Then why did you choose Lily?” Emotion was cracking through your cold exterior.

“I didn’t!” “You did! I’m your family! You never should’ve chosen her over me.” You said, rising from your seat.

“You never should’ve made me choose!” James screamed back.

“Maybe we should revisit this later when everyone has had a chance to calm down.” Regulus stood between you and James now.

“No. I think you’ve made it very clear. Sorry I tried.” James scooped up Harry and left, slamming the door shut behind him.

✰

“No, we haven’t been fair.” You said, “But I’d like an apology.”

“I’m sorry! I’m so so sorry for everything I did to you.” James gushed, grabbing your hand.

“Not from you,” you shook your head, “from Lily.”

#james potter #atyd marauders #marauders #sirius black #remus lupin #regulus black #regulus black angst #regulus black x reader #wolfstar

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yuikira · 2 months

Note

Hi!! Could u pls do some soft nsfw hcs of Wise x fem reader😞 i love this man sm

HIII OMG tumblr is a BITCH it's 1:28 am I've been trying to post this for more than a fucking hour I hate tumblr

I wrote this while sleep deprived, I hope it's to your liking!

As a member of the soft dom community, I think showing you how much he loves you is the ultimate pleasure for him.

Had a bad day? He can kiss you. Didn't have good food all day? He can make you his meal anyways. Feeling low esteemish? He can finger you and kiss your neck while telling you all the things he loves about you. He just never, ever stops showing how much he geniunely loves and cherishes you.

Of course, he does have his own down moments when you're the one keeping him company, making him good food and whatnot, and he is so sure to pay you back for it. Not in monetary terms, of course.

Personally I feel like he's gonna be the type of person to just...y'know, do-your-thang-while-I-pleasure-you type? It's not his fault, he wants you to feel the best at all times!

Sex with him sometimes feels so soft, so geniune it almost feels unreal. The way he kisses you? Oh my god. The way he fingers you for your pleasure? Holy. And the way he always, always asks for consent before showing you what even the heavens can't grant to even the mightiest of gods? Boy oh boy.

And for the best part? He. is. so. vocal. Especially if y'all are fucking after more than a period of 4-5 days. He just grabs your waist to muffle his face unto your neck, and goddamn now your ears aren't virgin anymore. The occasional moans, soft whimpering, the songs of non stop praises for you, this man never, ever fails to make you feel like the princess you are.

All in all, I think soft wise is all about cherishing you and himself in a self made cocoon of love which is constantly being woven with overflowing love between you two. And the thread of fabric of love is too strong to break the bonds between you two.

hol'up chat did I cook? I poured my entire feelings into this ngl. I've been diagnosed schizophrenic for him. He lives with me. Im so in love with him.

#zzz wise x reader #wise x reader #zzz wise x reader smut #wise x reader smut #zzz x reader smut #zzz x reader #crush x reader #smut #crush x reader smut #soft dom #soft sex #genshin x reader smut #genshin x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x reader smut #i love him sm

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ollyissleppy · 4 months

Text

𝙙𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙛𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 | venti, diluc x reader

summary: just boys confessing their love while being tipsy

pairing(s): venti x gn!reader, diluc x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: mentions of being drunk, drinking, alcohol, mentions of being pressured into drinking

tags: fluff, drinking, confessions, reader works in church (in venti's), reader is from fontaine (in diluc's), diluc is all blushy (just the way I like him 😇)

a/n: I don't remember the last time I wrote (and actually finished) something let alone post it :( anyways there's also one with Keaya but I didn't have the time to finish it and just wanted to post what I have so I won't have the time to change my mind

🅥🅔🅝🅣🅘

You stand at the back of the church, just casually chatting away with a few sisters, as you hear quick steps approaching where you are. You and your companions turn your heads to see who's in such a hurry, only to spot Barbara rushing her way towards you.

"(name)! Thank Barbados, I finally found you," the blonde says as she stops right in front of you. “Could you be so kind and help me get rid of this drunkard? He's laying under the statue, and no amount of threads can make him leave.”

“Sure, just show me where they are, and I’ll get rid of them for you.” You send a warm smile her way and follow her out of the church.

Once outside, you notice someone laying under Anemo Archon’s statue, attempting to play music on a lyre. Upon coming closer, you recognise the person who's causing Barbara to grow grey hair. You sigh, knowing now that not only Barbara's well-being but also potentially the identity of your beloved archon is at risk. After all, you don't want the drunk bard to expose himself as the Anemo Archon to the entire city.

“You’re playing the wrong cord, Venti,” you say as you approach the bard.

“HOW DARE YOU EVEN—oh, it’s you, (name)! I was waiting till you came out of this stupid building." Venti throws himself at you, his arms tightly wrapping around your neck. "I wanted to come inside and hang out with you, but she refused to let me in," he pouts while trying to give you the puppy eyes.

You ignored his words and just opted to try making him stand on his own. Your attempt was unsuccessful; the moment you let go of him, he started to fall over. Holding him up by his waist, you turn to Barbara:

“Thank you for bringing me here, Barbara. You’re free to return to your duties, I got this from here.” After making sure you had a tight grip around Venti, you started making your way out of the city. You hope to brig him to the closest Archon statue to hopefully sober him up.

“You know, I thought alcohol no longer had an effect on you.” You couldn't help but ask a question as your mind was working overtime to figure out what could bring the bard to such a state.

“Keaya brought some special wine from Sumeru, and we both shared a bottle,” Venti replies, sounding as if he's about to fall asleep.

“Wow, now I feel sorry for Master Diluc. I can’t imagine having to deal with the both of you in such a state.” You shake the bard, making sure he stays awake at least till you both reach the statue.

As you finally crossed the bridge just outside the city, you quickly apologised to Timmy for scaring away his pigeons and continued your journey until you reached Venti's statue. You lay him down under the stone version of himself and hope your theory about sobering him up is correct. You sit down beside him, your back against some roots, waiting for a change in the bard's position.

When some time passes and you start to wonder if you should just leave him there, he finally sits up. You look at him curiously, waiting for the bard to say something. Venti remains silent, just staring back at you. Another moment passes until he finally speaks up:

"You're really here. For a moment, I thought you were just a dream. "You can still smell the alcohol as he speaks. "(name), can I tell you something?"

You look at him confused, wondering if it is another one of his 'I'm an archon type of secret'. He looks at you as if he's collecting his thoughts, so you allow your mind and gaze to wander off.

“I am in love with you.” Your head snaps right back at Venti, unsure if your mind isn't playing games with you.

"What?" you ask, scolding your mind for even suggesting the bard said something like this.

"I'm in love with you, (name)." Venti shifts his body to be closer to you, almost as if trying to kiss you, his gaze still fixated on you.

“Venti, you’re drunk.” You try to move your body away from his, causing your back to bruise itself against the roots. You found your archon's feelings highly inappropriate.

He sighs and moves his body back to its original place, his gaze finally leaving yours. You relax, finally feeling free from the awkward situation. You realise that Venti's eyes seem to be focused on something, so you follow them to see what he's looking at. Off in the distance, you see two hilichurls dancing and seemingly enjoying each other's company. Both you and your companion watch the two of them in somewhat comfortable silence. You're not sure how much time passes until Venti speaks up again.

“You don’t have to answer; it’s ok. It must be so confusing for you," he sighs, his eyes now looking up to the sky. "You devoted your entire life to an archon just for me to destroy your image of said archon and now selfishly confess my undying love for you.”

You stare at him, unsure of what you should do. The bard was right; you were confused out of your mind. You look down at the ground, trying to collect your thoughts. The silence once again falls between you two, only this time it's more awkward than anything. After what felt like ages, you hear Venti move his body. You don't look up, still being within your own thoughts. The archon sees that and just gently cups your face with his hand, forcing you to look at him. Venti slowly moves his face closer to yours, his breath tickling you.

“But no legends say I'm not a selfish archon”

🅓🅘🅛🅤🅒

Diluc brought you to Fontaine in hopes you'll help him win it's people over and expand his wine empire in that direction as well. So here you are, catching up with some of your friends that you haven't seen since you left Fontaine. Learning all about their new lives, now without you. It didn't sadden you much, as moving away to another nation gave you opportunities you never knew were possible. You're so caught up in the conversation that you don't notice a person coming up behind you, let alone the arm that's making its way around your shoulders. The unexpected movement caused you to jump, only to calm down once you noticed the culprit.

“Diluc, are you alright?" You ask worried, not remembering if you ever saw your friend with his face being almost the colour of his hair.

"Yeah, I'm just tired." Diluc moves his body so he can rest his head on your shoulders. His moves catch you slightly off guard, as they're not something his usual self would do.

"Oh, look at the time,” you say, looking at your watch. "We really should all return to our houses; I'd hate for the staff to work overtime to clean up after us." Most of the people who were at the gathering agreed with you. Some people, however, weren't keen on leaving just yet, as they didn't get to discuss the legal matters of their agreements.

“Don’t worry, everyone; I'm sure Master Diluc will be ready to discuss further regarding the contracts tomorrow,” you say to comfort the worried bunch, hoping it'll be enough.

“Perhaps lunch time? Maybe at Cafe Lutece?” one of the men in the crowd replies, with a bunch of others agreeing.

“Great, we’ll be there!” You smile, happy to get them all off Diluc's back.

You sat Diluc down on one of the chairs and patiently waited for all of the guests to leave. You were so preoccupied by them that you didn't notice your friend started to drift off into sweet slumber. Once you do notice, you make sure to shake him awake to make it easier to bring him to your hotel rooms. You help Diluc stand up from the chair, and you start taking him upstairs, where your rooms are located.

While making your way up the stairs, you decided to question what happened to make Diluc try his luck at drinking.

'How can we know it’s good quality wine if the person responsible for making it won’t drink it?' was apparently something Diluc heard from one of the potential clients while he was trying to get them on his side. You felt kind of bad for Diluc, as you are aware that he's not fond of drinking, and tonight he was pressured into doing so.

After what felt like a fight between you and the stairs, you two finally made it to Diluc's room. You close the door behind you and turn around to see Diluc struggling to get out of his coat. You chuckle at his sudden cuteness as you walk up to lend him some help. After a bit of struggle, you managed to get him out of the piece of clothing, settling it on one of the chairs in the room. You decided to skip trying to change the rest of his clothes, and you just laid Diluc down on the bed. You made sure to securely wrap him up in the blanket, and you started to take your leave.

“Wait, don’t leave yet.” You stop in your tracks. You weren't expecting to hear his voice; you were almost certain that he was already out cold. “I hate seeing you leave.” You turn to look at him, thinking about your options.

You decided to stay with him a bit longer, at least until he actually fell asleep. You sit down on the other side of the bed, thinking about what you should say to make him fall asleep.

"See? I'm not going anywhere, Diluc. You can rest now." You fix the blanket around his chest. The room falls into a comfortable silence.

Your thoughts start to slowly drift away as the day finally catches up to you, making you wish you were in bed as well. You're so deep inside your head that you don't notice Diluc staring directly at you.

“Lay down with me.” His low voice startled you, snapping you back to reality. You take a minute to gather your thoughts to figure out the best response.

“I don’t think it’s appropriate,” you said, hoping your answer would make him drop it.

“Who cares? It’s just the two of us,” he argues, and you have to admit that he has a point. Besides, it won't hurt to lay with him just for a bit—until he falls asleep, that is.

You sigh, defeated, and opt to lay down on top of the covers. That way, you had a way of getting out of his room and to your own when Diluc's no longer focused on you so much. As you move to your side, you notice Diluc visibly relaxing, even letting out a yawn. He looked like he would fall asleep any minute now, so you close your eyes, hoping it'll fool him that you're asleep as well. You are finally letting yourself relax.

“I love you,” Diluc's voice was low and barely hearable. If the room wasn't dead silent, you probably wouldn't be able to hear it.

You don't respond, deciding that it must be just his tired and drunk brain talking. You keep your eyes closed just in case, still hoping to trick him into thinking that you're asleep.

“You hear? I’m in love with you, (name)." Diluc moves his body closer to yours, as if trying to make sure you're able to hear him.

You lay still, trying to ingest his alcohol-reeking breath. Diluc sighs, moving even closer to you, just to throw his arm across your body, trapping you in bed with him.

"I wish I wasn't such a coward and told you this when I'm sober and your conscious."

⊱⋅ ──────────── ⋅⊰

#diluc x reader #diluc x gender neutral reader #diluc fluff #diluc fic #gender neutral reader #venti x reader #venti x gender neutral reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff

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