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[satoruhour]

i need jealous racer geto hes js so whudurieiw and the way u write about himm🤭🤭

LUVRGIRL

a/n: eeuuughh idk whether to like this or not but enjoy nonetheless !!! not so much of racing but the sentiment is there lol. previous part (lloromannic) here / @screampied @kizoken @t4kio @redskyvenus @mysugu @suguruplsr @slttygeto ✶

wc: 6.3k

warnings: racer!geto, soft dom!geto, fem!reader, sprinkle of fluff, pet names, praise, ldr, phone sex, masturbation (both f and m), fantasising, daisuke is being annoying again!!!!, sorta jealousy plot point, brief dry humping, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, clit stimulation, fingering, unprotected p -> v sex, breeding / creampie kink, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

the next six months were torture, indefinitely. it was an endless heap of assignments, of deadlines, of long-distance calls with your love that you both were so close to booking flights of your own. university was brutal, too. on top of tuition fees and getting the materials for your classes, it was heart-wrenching to even look at the prices of the flights from your country to japan, so you bit down your pride and subjected yourself to settling for the long-distance arrangement.

“hey, baby,” geto mumbles sleepily and your frown deepens upon forgetting that tuesdays was where he slept early. you still had to call, though, but you realise it too late when he answers with that groggy, raspy voice of his. there’s some ruffling behind the call, no doubt the sounds of his bedsheets as he gets himself comfortable while you huddle at the small nook of your room that’s next to the window.

from here you can see the sun setting, a totally different story in japan where you can hear geto yawn and down a glass of water next to his bed.

“shit . . sorry su, i forgot—”

he scrambles to reassure you, awake and sat up, “no! no— no, it’s okay . .” you wince when you hear him yawn yet again, but this time he sounds a little more in the realm of consciousness. you’re unaware of the smile forming on his face just from hearing your voice, fidgety fingers squeezing and releasing the duvet over him, “what are you up to, my love?”

you hum into the phone and you’ve never wanted to backpack across the seven seas to see someone so bad before. now on month nine, your excitement’s become even more prominent at wanting to end the semester as soon as possible, willing your lips not to mutter out the arrangement you’ve been planning with his group of friends.

“just needed a break from studying for finals. i’m dying,” you lament over the line and your heart flutters at his chuckle, something you miss against your ears and skin immensely, “just wish you were here . .”

“yeah?” and you have to squeeze your eyes shut and rub your thighs together at the soft, rough yeah he mumbles out. you can imagine it too: sitting against his headboard half-naked while the duvet pools around his waist area. he’s sitting there like plaster sculpted by Monti while his hair flows around him. you almost squeal and your boyfriend only catches just the start of it.

“what? what was that?” he asks and your hand is clasped so hard over your mouth like a captor’s got your hostage, but you only let out a breath.

“n-nothing,” you laugh, picking yourself up from the nook and getting yourself comfortable in bed. it’s been a long day of studying, anyway, and your next exam isn’t until five days later. you could afford some downtime, right?

“but,” you sigh, turning on your side and sneakily slipping a hand into your pants, “my day’s boring. it’s all studyin’. why don’t you tell me what you did today, instead?” you can hear your parents already preparing dinner outside, but you press on and try to drain out the intrusive noises of cutlery and porcelain and the incessant calls of your mom to your dad for some help on the stove. 

“alright,” he drags the word out and laughs again, getting comfortable in his bed just like you do, but your end goals are entirely different, “but it is pretty boring as well. it was maintenance day today.”

“oh!” you remember him briefly mentioning that the other day — since halloween was approaching, there was bound to be more patrolling policemen around the streets and underground, so races had to be put on hold for the meantime. there was still other more secluded areas to race, but geto didn’t want to risk his Mazda being taken away nor for a stain to appear on his clean academic record.

“changing the crankshaft? i know the old one was giving you loads of trouble,” you mumble, feeling your cunt pulse and throb from the breathing you can hear over the line, “among . . other things.”

“yeah, my baby’s so smart for remembering, huh?” he praises, continuing to go on about his day. while it was merely taking-care-of-his-car day, it was still way more eventful than yours. he had went on a solo day out to your beloved café to relish in the good times, he had hung out with gojo for a while and drank some beer atop the mountain they frequented, even went out for some arcade fun.

“unfortunately—” geto’s low voice spurs you on. you’ve been lazily rubbing at your pussy, just humming into the phone while you only descend more and more into pleasure, “it’s taken a hole out of my allowance, i guess. my dad’s more generous with the parts that he gives me but at the same time i feel like he knows what i’m doing underground.”

he laughs and you fake a giggle, but your breaths are starting to get heavier with each sentence he utters, mind filling with flashbacks of how many ways he’s bent you over to fuck you, drunk on the phantom-like winds upon your ear that sound like he’s whispering all those filthy things to you. “and . . just missin’ my girl.”

“how’ve you been, baby?” he asks with a low voice, like he knows what you’re doing and the term of possession only has you sucking in a breath, fingers slip inside you after possibly a decade of teasing and you find it hard to answer. “darling?”

“y-yeah, ’m still here,” you pant out, afraid of being caught, but your voice quivers enough just for geto to catch on to what you were up to. he didn’t fault you, though (he never blames his girl), but there is a small smirk that forms on his face. he purposely lowers his voice even more, if it was possible, mirroring and mimicking your breathy tone when talking to him.

but with one hand that goes down to his pelvis, he doesn’t have to mimic you at all, hand palming languidly at his bulge. in the dead of the night, there wasn’t much need to keep his voice down in order to hear the pretty moans falling from your mouth; he does anyway.

it’s too shitty of a reception especially with your nokia’s, so he hears the artificial, metallic-like voice coming from his phone, but your sounds are just too lovely, transcending the robotic-ness of a phone call. and it’s like you’re actually there, smiling mischievously at him while stroking his cock and teasing him the way he liked to be teased.

“s-sugu?” you mumble, mind heading into the extremes and confident now that he’s just weirded out and silent, but it’s anything but that.

“yes, baby?” he hums, smiling to himself when he hears rustling over the phone and he can imagine you lifting your hips to remove your panties, tossing it somewhere across the room. “wanna tell me what you’re doin’?” 

you suck in a breath — so he knows — but suguru always knows everything so you’re whining into the receiver, pleasantly surprised when he replies with a deep groan that only makes you clench around nothing.

“that’s right . .” he drawls and you hear a soft thud over the line, and now you’re the one quieting your movements just to hear your boyfriend, the faint shlick shlick sounds of his hand along his cock. geto gasps when he squeezes his tip just like how you do it, pre-cum starting to leak. “need you h-here, doll . .”

you mewl softly and start the hand on your clit again, abandoning the tight hold around your phone just so you can use the other to slip your fingers into your warm cunt. it doesn’t even compare to the thickness and length of geto’s dick, but you have to work with what you have. with head turned toward the speaker, your boyfriend has gone non-verbal, too, moaning like a slut into the receiver.

“suguru, i’m— please . .” you whine softly, hips bucking into your hands, “doesn’t feel as g— good.”

geto coos inwardly at your needy voice, mouth falling open at his rock hard cock. it’s so hard that it hurts, left to merely fuck his fleshlight whenever he could and use his hand on other days. he missed your sweet fucking pussy so, so much, just picturing your beautiful arched back that lifts off the sheets and your shaking thighs. he imagines your perfect pout on your face as you finger yourself, unsatisfied, obviously, begging him with tugs to his hands and his eyes flutter close.

“i know, baby, and ’m sorry,” he mumbles, taking the nokia from his ear to put it right up to his relentless pumping and you swallow, the slick, wet sounds more clear now. “but you hear what ya do t’me, don’t you?”

“mhm . .” you trail off, thinking of his fat cock impaling you instead, and you follow his actions to a T, bringing it right to your sopping cunt and geto has to scrunch his already shut eyes just to wish that his hand was your pussy. your hand is getting tired, he’s sure, but you finger yourself so prettily his hand easily speeds up, giving his shaft periodic squeezes.

“so wet, suguu . .” you drag out his name, already feeling your high approach soon, but you want the both of you to cum together. “i miss you stretchin’ me out . .” a hiss from suguru, “i miss your cum spilling out of me.”

that has geto choking out a whine, “f—fuck, sweetheart, don’t say that. i do miss g-giving you all of my cum—”

the filthiness of everything contributes to all your senses, parents omitted from memory, your finals at the back of your mind and only focusing on the envelope that resides on your bedside table containing a plane ticket. in one week you’d be able to see him again — a sweet treat given to you by gojo and nanami with their combined expenses.

you didn’t even know how you could thank them and while nanami waves you off for any payback, gojo did say you could treat him to anything in that café. it was difficult not to be excited, a louder whine drawn from your throat again and he laughs breathlessly, voice down low and distraught.

“any particular reason w-why my girl’s so needy lately—?”

geto basically chokes out his question while you shake your head until you remember that he can’t see you, answering with a broken “no”.

you resist the urge to spill on the exact reason — your mind spiralling from the anticipation of meeting him, the many, many lewd memories you’ve made over six months, his just-woken-up voice — because he’d never let you live it down.

“c-close, suguru—” your thighs are squeezed tight around your tired hand, sensitive from the immense overstimulation, “’m g’nna cum soon—!”

“me too, my love,” geto’s eyes are back open, trained on his cock and watching the sheer neediness shown in his weeping tip and bucking hips. he needs this, he needs you, and once you’re submitting your final paper, he’s sure to look at flights right to your doorstep.

“i’m c—” you’re whining out, body totally turned over and lying on your stomach as you chase your high, fuelled by the deep guttural groans of your boyfriend. your lips and mind are only filled with suguru, suguru, suguru, not even caring that your sheets are soaked and your fingers are cramping.

“baby, baby, baaaby . . s—shit—” geto reaches his release first, mind filled with replenished memories of your tight pussy hugging his cock, spurts of white spilling all over himself with a loud groan and you’re left to listen out for the desperate sounds of your boyfriend miles away, lengthening his climax as he continues to pump himself. “cum all over your fingers, doll . .”

suguru coaxes in that sweet voice of his, mumbling deep into the phone only for you. “doing so, so good, aren’t ya?” the quietness on his end, the slow lazy stroking of his hand again, and you’re cumming all over your fingers, eyes blown wide from the orgasm that he talks you through while you ride it out on your mediocre fingers. your mouth is stained with endless profanities and moans mixed with geto’s name, muffled by the bedsheets you’re so harshly biting into to prevent any loud, unbecoming sounds.

“that good?” he asks with a laugh, yawning yet again and you feel guilty again—

“i’m sorry, s—”

“no. don’t, doll, don’t apologise,” suguru brushes his thumb over his thigh, partially wiping off the cum and partially hoping he can relax the furrow of your brow like he always does. “you’re frowning and your shoulders are up, probably, relax . .”

you sigh, another thing that geto values a lot and has taught to you; deep breaths and untensing all parts of your body.

“good girl, was that good?”

“the phone sex or the deep breaths?”

geto grins. god, he missed you so fucking much — “both.”

“both was very good, thank you very much,” you giggle, not paying much mind to the way you remove your fingers from your cunt, turning over to the bedside table to take some tissues, “although the sex was a little better.”

“aw, no wins for the intense, groundbreaking, spirit-calming deep breaths?”

you shake your head (you’ve got to stop doing that), “ehh . . it was alright.”

geto’s reluctant sleepiness grants you a few more minutes together, his words starting to slur more and more the longer you were on the line, but you can’t say you don’t enjoy it. with fatigue came the words laced with unhindered affection, murmuring softly about hoping to see you soon, to feel you, to kiss you, and you expressed the same sentiment back to him.

the other switches the output to speaker, wanting to take in the messily taken profile pic he set your contact with. a blurred, blinding smile with his face squished against yours; a little below the two of you, berry and cherry clutched within your palms, doing the same. “can my girl do her best for her finals?”

“i can’t promise the best, but i’ll try . . okay?”

geto hums, a soft smile on his face. he’s cleaned up by now, new sweatpants on and duvet pulled right to his neck while he stares at your face, the pixels of the nokia never diluting your beauty.

“attagirl. have a good dinner, lovergirl.”

that knocks some breath out of you, and you grin like a schoolgirl.

“have a goodnight’s sleep, loverboy.”

you bounce on your heels impatiently when the plane finally lands, waiting for the throngs of people on the flight to leave through the bridge, but it’s taking ages, speed walking once you’re out. you wanted to be the first at the luggage conveyor belt, you needed to be the first passenger of your flight to be out of the arrival doors.

without the rush of the people and the striking colours of your boyfriend’s friends’ hair colours, it wasn’t too difficult to run up to them for a big hug.

“(y/n)~!” gojo drags out your name, waving you over excitedly and bringing the both of you into a group hug. nanami is adamant on being the ever broody racer, but you catch the ghost of a smile when he wraps a careful arm around your shoulders.

“how was the flight, (y/n)?” the blonde’s firm but concerned voice cuts through the chaos of the white-haired man.

“don’t ask lame questions like thaaaat, nanami! you’ll just bore me—” and a resounding smack! is then heard, and gojo’s clutching the back of his head in pain, the other taking the opportunity to lead you away from gojo’s antics and offering to help with your luggages. without words, nanami already feels your nervousness, patting your back in solidarity.

“hey— hey! oi!”

gojo slams the door to his car. “okay, we’ve painstakingly tried to hold suguru back whenever he was about to book flights—” gojo mentions in the car on the ride there, taking way too quick turns for your liking with your luggage going to town in the trunk. its thumps against the roof and sides always seem to interrupt the conversation with the white-haired man, but he seemed too much in a hurry to care. “think it was almost eight separate times!”

“thank you— ah!” you almost lurch forward at the amber light, but gojo decided at the last minute that he was just going to run it — braking then speeding it up all over again.

“you know, for a racer, you’re a terrible civilian driver . .” you groan once you reach the mouth of the familiar car park that you frequented in your six months in japan, but now that gojo’s easily manoeuvres the car to a slow, the adrenaline of the fast drive changes into something of dread, of a dizzying feeling.

what if suguru didn’t want to see you anymore? what if he already booked himself a flight and was nowhere to be found? what if he’s cheat—

your hands are clammy, not even present to how gojo calls out from you from the driver’s seat. cautiously, he’s putting a hand on your shoulder (because god forbid gojo touched anything of suguru’s, both Mazda and girlfriend), and shaking you out of your daze.

you catch glimpses of his sentences: “all  . . talks about . . trust . . no girl has . .” but you stop his rambling with frantic slaps to his shoulder. you know you shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions but it’s hard not to when the scene is clear as day. suguru is never one to cheat — from the six months you’ve known him, from the many calls and check-ins the two of you do over the line.

defying time zones, fighting fatigue . . for this?

but you know better to list your lover as the instigator, especially from how this other girl was just hovering all over his Mazda, sticking her ass out and trailing her hand all over his finishing. that was one thing — but geto isn’t making any move to shove her off, only looking at her through hooded lids that could definitely drive anyone off. she wasn’t affected, though.

you’re not listening to gojo even when you step out of the car, already used to the curious eyes that rake over you and your figure — curiosity turns into recognition and then shock when they see how your boyfriend acts, but before you can actually make your way toward them, another man sidles up to you.

oh my god, it’s daisuke. you sigh loudly, knowing how gojo had dealt with him before and how much of an asshole he is, but all he does is look you up and down, not giving one fuck to how the subject of his embarrassment was sitting right in the driver’s seat.

“hey, babygirl.” you want to vomit from that one greeting alone, but you try not to pay him much mind. “what’s a pretty lady like you doin’ out here?”

“don’t your sorry ass have a girlfriend?” daisuke doesn’t even begin to digest the insult, and you think that he’s a masochist with how much he sets himself up for getting insulted, but then the girl’s eyes meet yours — she’s in his pictures, she’s in his wallet, you’ve seen her when this loser beside you blatantly brags about his girl. you’d feel sorry for her but it seems she’s as stupid as him.

they’re exactly that — realising you just walked yourself into one big jealousy scheme planned by the biggest jokers of the underground racing scene, your suspicions are confirmed when his eyes are also locked on his girlfriend with your boyfriend of all people, making sure she sees that he’s all up in your space. she’s doing the same, but when she actually tries to touch him is when geto finally does something, and the jealous burn in your heart quells a bit.

geto’s too smart to be mingling around with her, you hope, when you hear him mutter something to her and you smile to yourself when she cowers under his stare and words.

“you touch my fuckin’ car one more time and i’m sure to drive both you and your loser boyfriend, out of here forever. you can take your clown asses to another parking lot and race there and then i won’t have to see your faces any more,” his hold around his wrist isn’t harsh, but it is firm, and he prevents her from leaving until she gets his message, “plus i have a girl i’m obsessed with. take your lame jealous charade somewhere else and maybe go to couples’ therapy. you two clearly need it.”

and when she looks at you again — you think it’s how your identity settles in her mind — she yelps and finally runs away at the daggers you give, not even sparing a glance to daisuke who’s carefully scooching closer to you. but just as he tries to wrap his arm around your waist, your eyes catch suguru’s.

his eyes soften for just a moment; it was just like the café. his palms turn sweaty and he feels like he could collapse — but now you’re looking just a little different. he wasn’t sure if it was because of your hair or the tiredness from exams, but you’re still as stunning as the day he led you out of the parking lot.

geto cannot resist giving you a big grin, but it quickly fades when his gaze falls on daisuke beside you and a scowl appears. and while your body’s already distancing yourself from the man’s crusty ass lips, you feel a throb go right down to your core when the same annoyed glower forms across his features: eyebrows pulled taut, long strides, muscles bulging in the wifebeater he’s got on.

six months away from your man has clearly done things to you.

with one smooth swoop, geto has you pulled flush against him, not even looking as he uses his free hand to grab at daisuke’s neckline before he leans in to kiss you. it’s admittedly a little embarrassing, cause your body reacts so readily to him, tits pressed against his chest while your fingers tangle themselves in his long hair. he tastes like cigarettes and cherries like always and you moan softly into his mouth when his hands wander right down to your ass to give it a squeeze.

“satoru’s not very good at hiding secrets, unfortunately,” geto spills and you pout, surprise ruined by the loud mouth of his friend, but before he gives you his undivided attention, he tugs daisuke closer, roughly. “but that don’t mean i ain’t happy to see ya, baby.”

geto laughs at your flustered state, until his expression darkens again — “you have a lot of nerve touching my girl.”

“I—i didn’t! she was basically begging for me to touch her.”

“don’t you—”

“p-plus! my girl was all up over you too, so i thought i’d give her a little lovin’—”

geto almost smashes his jaw in. either way, he lands a clean punch to his face that has daisuke writhing on the floor, clutching his mouth in pain but that doesn’t deter daisuke one bit who sits up . . and then is immediately beaten down again with a boot to his chest. your boyfriend leans down and looks him straight in the eye.

“i’m cancelling my race just so i can make my girl scream my name loud enough for you, because you could never fuck her or anyone that good with your shit dick game,” geto scoffs, “and forget girls, you can’t even win enough races to rise up the ranks. you’ve embarrassed yourself enough, don’t you think?”

suguru doesn’t bother waiting for an answer, only ushering you toward his Mazda parked in the familiar corner, easily shooting a text to gojo to cancel the race as he mentioned just so he could . .

with windows down, you relish again in the tokyo night air, the hand that you miss so much on your thigh, the alluring voice he’s speaking to you in, the beauty of geto suguru. everything looked the same since you left, from the photos he’s put up on the dashboard, the berry keychain hanging from the rear view mirror, the outer orange coating of his car.

“i—”

“i’m sorry, my love,” suguru leaps forward to apologise, stopping the car abruptly. you’ve already reached your destination but, it seems he wants to say something first.

“why are you apologising?”

he frowns, bringing his hand to cradle your cheek. easily, you’re leaning into the touch, closing your eyes. “for ruining the surprise, for that stupid fight with daisuke, for letting my emotions take over.”

you mirror him, features also deepening in somberness. “you didn’t do anything — if anything, you were a victim of his girlfriend too. but . . seeing her be all over you, made me think the worst after not seeing you for six months.”

geto’s eyes soften yet again (he simply can’t help it around you), using both hands to hold you, now, and you float into his arms like a feather, like he’s in command. you let him guide you into the driver’s seat, faces so close and just hoping to touch after so many months apart.

“i . . i love you,” he swallows, brushing the hair from your face. you find that he’s shaking and breathing so heavily you’d think he was hyperventilating, but he gathers courage on a deep breath and continues, “i have since you left. right after, i went home to cry.”

“oh . .” your lip juts out, eyebrows downturned and eyes filling just a little, “oh, sugu . .”

“i just have always wanted to say it, i guess,” he chuckles, sniffling to hide his true emotions, “i just didn’t know whether i should say it over the phone where it would sound cheap; b-but, you don’t have to say it back, of course—”

you smile through tears, pressing a peck to his forehead in gratitude, “it wouldn’t sound like it to me, but i appreciate you waiting until i returned,” geto relishes in your lips upon his skin again, and he doesn’t think he could survive another day, another minute, another second without you, “i have, too, but i’m not sure when. it definitely includes the time you set alarms to wake me up for exams, though.”

he laughs freely at the memory now, of alarms interrupting his dinners and his parents asking “another call?”, but they let him do whatever, happy to hear their boy joking and laughing over the call with his mystery partner. you giggle, using your thumbs to wipe away the tears that did fall, letting the interior fluorescent light of the Mazda illuminate the features you love so much, all belonging to the man you pined over from many miles away.

“i love you too, suguru — stumbling into that random car park was the best thing i’ve ever done.”

“well, it might’ve not turned out as well if some other group had gotten to you first,” his thumb plays with your bottom lip and brings you to him, “’m just glad i got to ya in time . .”

“yeah? what if you didn’t at all?”

“then i would’ve made sure i’d find you in any way that i can, even if i had to beat up a thousand daisukes.”

that makes you giggle at little, a sliver of eye contact shared with your lover before he engulfs you in a rough kiss and your moan reaches the heavens, body so sensitive from being away from his touch that you jolt when he wraps an arm around your waist. 

“relax, baby,” geto chuckles, speaking against your lips, “take it slow.”

“but i don’t wanna . .” you whine softly, clinging to him in surprise when he pulls a lever next to his seat and the backrest falls all the way down.

“ah!” you grin, “new mod?”

suguru barks out in laughter, “ya caught me. i got it modified yesterday.”

“so you could do dirty things like this?”

he rolls his eyes with a blinding smile, just so, so happy he’s got you back in his arms again, “exactly that.”

the other willingly shows you just what the modification can take, both hands spread out on your ass and pulling you onto his crotch. your core already feels the half-hard bulge under him, using your hips to grind down even more along him. everything feels like too much, after so long away from him that you already feel your high approaching from simply grinding your clit against him and he teases.

“you g’nna cum, already?” he grins slyly, suddenly moving his hips to meet yours that has a broken mewl leaving your throat.

“b—been too long away from you . .” you admit a little sheepishly, using his shirt as an anchor while you continue to grind your cunt into his front, only your panties and his trousers separating the contact of skin. but with how your body jerks in pleasure, you’d think there was nothing between the both of you. “i need you, quick.”

geto says nothing but help you with small pants, the backlighting from the headlines accentuating your figure so nicely that he grunts out your name in between swears, soon stuttering your syllables once he feels you still on his lap with arched back and throbbing cunt. he can feel you, feel you squeezing around him even when he wasn’t in you.

“guess your fingers were pretty crap, h-huh?” massaging your sides, you hum in disapproval at his cheeky smirk, hoping to change that when he lets you do whatever: you pull him up by his shirt and open the door to his car, pushing at him to get out. you don’t day anything and he already knows what you want when you spread your legs, biting his lip at the wet patch on the pretty set you decided to don.

and even with witnessing this sight over and over, you’re never used to the way geto worships you, reveres you, when he kneels down on straight gravel. he doesn’t care if his pants are littered with small specks of dust and dirt, whether he knees start to hurt, but he only has his eyes set on your alluring cunt, finger delicate when he pulls your panties to the side but just brutal when his mouth meets your clit.

“su— s-shit—!” is all you can manage, hearing the other breathe through his nose once his mouth latches on your pussy. it’s something that he hasn’t tasted since long ago, and he’d be damned to let you go again, so he takes the opportunity to savour your arousal, switching between flicking and sucking on your clit like a starved man.

“she tastes so fuckin’ good hmmff—” his eyes meet yours and he feels you squeeze around nothing, making a show of letting you watch how his tongue circles your bud, down to your hole and up again, slurping up your juices sloppily. “i hope this pussy’s missed me as much as i missed her, yeah?”

“y-yeah . .” you moan out softly, legs moving apart more to get more of him, pelvis humping against his face so much that he has to hold it down with a hand. your pre is dripping all over his leather seats and onto the floor, but he makes sure not to spill any more from the way he scoops it up and prods at your entrance. 

“let your pussy do the talkin’, baby,” he mumbles drunkenly, pushing in a finger past your walls and the stretch is already so much better than your own. your jaw hangs open in ecstasy, body already bucking and craving for more when he pushes his thicker finger all the way in and it’s no problem for geto to slip the other in, “she’s sucking me in so well, can she do this to my cock too? hm?”

wordlessly, you’re nodding, catching a whisper of good girl before he’s back on your sopping pussy, sucking up and swallowing all of your arousal that it’s downright filthy, the noises echoing throughout the space. geto doesn’t waste any time pumping his digits, moving them in tandem with his tongue.

“s—suguru . .” you whine, struggling to keep your eyes open from the sheer pleasure, and you’re met with the vision that you can never get enough of — your racer boyfriend’s tongue out, hooded lids and soaked chin — and he grants you a little more of euphoria, groaning loudly into your pussy. with each minute, he’s only getting harder, unbelievably so, so your fantasy cut short when he removes his fingers and mouth with a pop! and laughs at your needy whine.

“you’ve been away too long, come,” geto stands to give you a kiss first, letting you taste yourself, “i need to be in you, darlin’.” 

and so when he first slips in, it feels like heaven on earth, his leaking tip nudging past your folds and right into your warm cunt that he whines so loudly, long hair falling all about his face and body. you’re not different, nails digging in his skin at the stretch that you’ve missed, cock so much longer and thicker than your fingers.

“t-this is better than any fleshlight, fuuckk . .” he mutters to himself, one hand holding your ankle up and the other holding your bent knee. he’s hoping the modification he made to his car wouldn’t give up on him, because he knows he won’t be able to hold back once you’ve adjusted. but when you start moving earlier than he expects, he doesn’t give you the chance, slamming right up to the hilt until you’re shivering and clenching around him.

“g—god, r-right there, sugu—” you preen, nothing but incoherent and repeated sentences mumbled by you over and over, “feels s’full . .”

“y-yeah? tha’ it?” you don’t need the shitty light of the abandoned parking lot to make you look beautiful, you’re doing it all on your own when your body arches towards him and your legs shiver in his hold, catching glimpses of just how wet you were — juices smeared along your inner thighs, a clear sheen of it along his length, all thanks to the lighting. “so sloppy, huh . . listen to ’er.”

geto emphasises his thrust, in, out, and in, out, just for you to hear your dripping pussy dragging along his shaft, one of the things of yours that makes him go insane. 

“all because of you,” you babble mindlessly, fingers expressing your need for him and he listens like he always does, body hovering over yours just to kiss you and because of that he’s thrusting all the more deeper into you as you break the kiss with a loud moan. geto laughs against your lips, hips making quick work to make sure he stays in his new angle, and he’s rewarded with your lewd pleas for him.

he’s ramming into you so perfectly, mushroom tip just barely brushing against your cervix each time that it has your mouth permanently open in pure pleasure.

“well . . you’re the only doll to get me hard and needy like this . .” he chuckles again, kissing down your neck to make sure you get blue and black into your skin, “and i fuckin’ love her for it.”

with a shaky hand you pull on his ruined ponytail, “s-say it again.”

“i love you,” suguru almost whispers, afraid of breaking the silence.

“again . .”

“i love you, sweetheart,” that makes you bend into his hold, undoubtedly.

“again, suguru—”

his hips are relentless, still moving even through his pussydrunk confessions, “i love you— i-i love you, i love you. so, goddamn, much— s-shiiit . .”

“m-me too, su . . i love you— i—” your arms trap him, circling around his neck and making sure he stays close to you and he pushes on your knees more, fat cock fucking into you in a more open mating press, knowing you’re close by how your toes curl and your stomach contracts, by how your pussy flutters around his mouth and soft needy sighs turn into wanton moans. he’s got you mapped out, memorised, all from his devotion to you.

“i know, baby, you’re close, y—yeah?”

he feels you nod, thighs starting to burn from the position but while your pussy keeps sucking him in, he’s sure to continue to slam into you, making sure all four walls of the parking lot hear the obscene sounds of his balls slapping against your ass.

“c’mon, cum with me, princess,” he murmurs, lightheaded with the tightness and warmth of your pussy. it’s a wonder he hasn’t cummed already, sneaking one hand in between your bodies to rub at your clit. your moans are rendered inaudible, only managing pathetic squeaks before you’re tipped over the edge and you’re whimpering so loudly into his car, cum dripping down and out your cunt and right to your ass.

your pussy flutters with geto’s continued thrusts, prompting him to reach his release right after with a deep groan, hips stuttering in your sensitive pussy until he’s spilling his load, white and hot. it’s just so, so goddamn much, stuffing your hole full of his cum that it has no choice to spill and dribble out when he removes his cock, the sight just so mesmerising to him.

“p—please,” your energy is far from used up, turning your body over just so you can present your ass to him. face squished into the driver’s seat, you use both hands to spread your cum-filled pussy, just asking for more and geto only smiles with a certain lilt in his voice. “need more, suguru . .”

“that’s my lovergirl.”

[tojisun]

biker simon who picks you up and drops you off to uni im js dizzy at the thought of it 😵‍💫

yeahhhhhHHHHHH

you signed up for that year-long discounted parking in campus and gave simon the little tag for when he picks you up. he teased when you gave it to him, saying that this whole backpack thing was just a one-time ride, but you and him both know that he’s just joking. hell, he won’t even make you take the commute to home because of how tedious it is, saying things like he’ll always pick you up so you better hang on tight.

which is why you just rolled your eyes at his drawled tease before waltzing away because your class is about to start.

thinking about how simon’s got his rucksack packed with essentials—extra protective gear from the jacket to the helmet, then some snacks like cookies and gummies. he’s even got a travel-sized tube of lotion just in case you forgot yours.

and it’s sweet, yes, but just the inherent softness in being picked up and dropped off without hesitation nor prompting. how he follows your schedule, easily taking in the change of routine just so he can be with you.

you told him that he didn’t have to, but he’s insistent. excited for it, even. so you fall into the idea of being pampered; getting used to being his backpack to the point that you’ve even began getting to know his biker gang—his usual friends, kyle and johnny and mr. price—but also those he just met in meets—konig and ajax.

it’s exhilarating.

every ride fills you up with giddiness, triumphing over all your worries and problems because, well, in the dead of the early morning or late night, as the city becomes a blur in your cruising journey, you feel suspended with just simon there for you.

he’s always been there for you; always caring for you; always protective of you. and every time, even with the silence, you feel the tension seep out of your body. then, you’re looking forward to the next day again, even if it’s just so you can reunite with simon when the afternoon bleeds into the sky.

.

there’s a certain curl in your shoulders that lets him know that you’ve had a bad day. he wants to ask, to comfort you, but you’re already snagging the helmet from inside of his bag with your lips jutted out just for the smallest of frowns. he bites the desire to croon and instead reaches forward to take the helmet away from you. you let him do so, huffing quietly, but turning to present your face to him because this—simon helping you with putting on the helmet—has become a tradition of some sorts now.

with him, tugging at the straps and then tapping at the casing when he’s done, and you, waiting with infinite patience because you know he loves doing last minute pokes. like today, he shakes your head as an extra step, and basked in the sound of your surprised giggles.

with your laughter petering out, simon reaches forward to cup your jaw. “ready?”

“yup!” you reply, popping the ‘p.’ you’re bouncing on your spot, eyes shining with excitement, and simon almost laughs because he knows. he gets it.

he gets the way you look forward to the thrill of a ride; of feeling the warm air turn into whipping wind; of going great speeds and dancing between traffic. of feeling like you’re untouchable (ironically, this is the most you will be vulnerable while you’re on the road, but simon has always been extra vigilant; never one to trust the dead silence of intersections or often unused roads because he knows how difficult it can be when one tests fate.)

but on its own, in its entirety, the ride is truly a unique experience, one that simon’s glad he gets to sure with you.

the travel back home is longer tonight, and that’s alright. you know that simon took the longer route back, anyway. that he purposefully took the wrong exit just so he can loop back in and extend your time together. you couldn’t thank him enough because this, just like this, you feel like things would end up turning for the better.

biker!simon mlist

[vi-steponmeplease]

BODY DYSMORPHIA

REQUEST: billie being rrly worried about r eating problems?

a/n: before we get into the fic, i just want to remind everyone that your struggles are valid. i understand where you're coming from and i promise you, you're perfect just as you are, inside and out. you don't need to be slim to be beautiful. that's just society's and men's messed up standards. this is just one of many serious & important topics and i want you to know that my messages are always open if you need to vent, talk, or simply have someone listen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

pairings - concernedgf!billie x insecure!reader

genre - angst, fluff, suggestive

synopsis: struggling with body image and online criticism, you find comfort as billie lovingly supports you and helps you confront your insecurities with understanding and care.

tw: heavy mentions of body dysmorphia & an eating disorder.

word count: 1.1K

you don't have to change you're perfect the way you are

⟡

she's a pretty girl without the filter she looks beautiful with no makeup on

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

"How about In-N-Out?"

Wide grins spread across everyone's faces as they nod in agreement, then turn to you, waiting for your response. Your gaze shifts to Finneas in the driver’s seat, then to Claudia in the passenger seat, before skimming over Alex and Zoe on your right, and finally landing on Billie—your girlfriend—seated to your left.

"Oh, uh, I'll actually just skip. I already ate, so I'm full," you say with a casual shrug.

"You sure you don't want something for later?" Billie asks, a soft chuckle escaping her lips as she lightly squeezes your knee. "I know you. You always say you're not hungry, then an hour later, you're begging me to get you something to eat."

You force a smile, shaking your head. "I'm sure."

During the drive to the fast-food joint, you pull out your phone, your lips pressing into a tight frown as you scroll through the comments left by Billie’s fans on her most recent post—some cruel and cutting, others trying to defend you.

quenxbillie4life: what an ugly fatass bitch prob js a gold digger ↳ ronniel0vesbils: do u even KNOW billie? she's struggled sm with body image. have u heard not my responsibility? u have no right to say that abt her gf.

billieeilishnoticeme69: BIG BACK BIG BACK BIG BACK

billybiggestfan: elephants don't deserve to date global stars like billy ↳ ronniel0vesbils: lmao didn't even spell her name right u fake fan😭

billiespitonme: @ronniel0vesbils is legit fighting for her life out here LMFAO

The harsh words sting, and though the supportive replies are there, they feel drowned out by the negativity. You glance out the car window, trying to shake the ache in your chest, but the comments linger like a shadow.

You try to conceal your exhaustion, but it’s hard to ignore the countless nights spent sobbing, curled up with your knees to your chest, rocking back and forth as you desperately pray to wake up with a model’s body the next day.

But it never happens. And each passing day only deepens the growing hatred you feel toward yourself.

Why would Billie ever choose someone like you?

She’s one of the most ethereal-looking women on the planet, effortlessly breathtaking in a way that leaves you in awe. She never seems to have a bad moment, always stunning. Yet somehow, out of everyone, she chose you.

You sit silently, watching everyone enjoy their burgers and sip on their drinks, all the while wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole. Deep down, you’ve convinced yourself that you’re not even worthy of a good meal—that starving yourself is just the price you have to pay to lose weight.

Your eyes drop to your hands resting in your lap, fingers fidgeting with your nails as a quiet sigh escapes. Slumping further into the seat, you tune out the lively conversations and laughter of your friends, letting the background noise blur into nothingness.

"You okay, baby?"

The gentle voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You hear the jingle of keys being tossed onto the coffee table, followed by soft footsteps padding across the wooden floor. Billie appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame with concern etched across her face. "You were acting a little weird today."

You glance away, offering only a small nod in response, but Billie isn’t convinced. She crosses the room and sits beside you, the mattress dipping under her weight as she exhales softly. Her ring-clad hand comes to rest lightly on your knee.

"You sure?" she presses, her voice tender. "You usually never say no to burgers."

A bitter chuckle slips out before you can stop it, the comment twisting into an unintentional jab at yourself. Are you really such a glutton that even Billie notices the sudden change? The thought stings.

"Yeah," you mutter, your tone tinged with self-deprecation. "That just might be the issue." You roll your eyes at your typical eating habits, the words dripping with sarcasm and frustration.

Billie’s brows knit together, a faint crease forming on her forehead as she shifts closer, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Ah,” she murmurs, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I get it, love. I know how you feel—I’ve been through it.”

Her hand moves up to your arm, fingers tracing gentle, soothing patterns across your skin. “I want you to know I’m here for you. Always. You’re not alone in this, and you never will be.” Her voice is soft but firm, her words wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

“Anything you ever want to tell me, I’m listening. And,” she adds, a small, playful smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, “you can’t be stressing your pretty little head about all this without me being involved, got it?”

Your lips curl into a soft smile, but the harsh, critical thoughts about your appearance still linger, refusing to be silenced.

Billie notices the unease in your expression. Her hand gives your arm a gentle squeeze before she guides you down onto the bed, your back pressing against the sheets and your head cradled by a pillow.

For a moment, your mind races. Really? Sex? Does she think a distraction like this will actually help right now?

Still, you push the thought aside, watching as Billie moves with quiet determination. Her fingers deftly unbutton your jeans, sliding them down your legs and tossing them onto the floor. She shifts her focus to your torso, carefully slipping your shirt over your head, leaving you in just your bra and underwear.

Instinctively, your hands fly to your stomach, trying to cover yourself. Even though Billie has seen you naked countless times, the habit of hiding feels ingrained—an automatic response to the insecurities clawing at you.

Billie is quick to pin your hands gently to your sides, her soft yet firm grip keeping them in place. Her lips brush against your jaw, leaving a trail of warmth as she moves down to your neck, collarbone, and then licks a slow, deliberate stripe down the valley of your breasts.

"Pretty fucking girl," she murmurs, her voice low and filled with adoration. A quiet groan escapes her lips as she shifts lower, her hands gliding across your skin, mapping every inch and curve with reverent care.

"I love you," she says, her words muffled as she presses her lips tenderly against your belly button. "So fucking much, angel. You’re perfect."

Her hands drift to your thighs, squeezing them gently before she peppers a trail of featherlight kisses along their length. “I love every curve, every inch of this gorgeous body,” she whispers, her tone steady and unwavering, as if daring your insecurities to challenge her conviction.

"And that's never, ever going to change."

[sugusoneandonly]

Quixotic - STSG - ch 1

satosugu x fem!reader . ft. model!gojo & designer!geto

next

!! do not repost/copy on any other platform !! if u do at least lmk where and give creds 😒 !! pls don’t tho <3

cw: power dynamics/imbalance?? ,, established!stsg (no cheating) ,, webtoon inspired & lwk self-indulgent 😞 ,, y/n may be unlikable idk ntm on her guys 🥰

exes to lovers (gojo) ,, one-sides enemies to lovers w geto ,, very feminine + slight meek reader??

a/n!! :: hi this is my first fic ,, have mercy <33

some prior info for now i will add more later (and clean it up)

- not much of an age gap, suguru is js very successful at a young age.

- takes place 2 years after their breakup (mc | satoru)

- y/n is currently a fashion major in her final year of college and fortunately lives near her college and the shadowing program.

- the general plot is y/n is shadowing (following around, studying, etc. not rlly working for him

- NOTTT really real life accurate 🥰

Had you known that coming across your biggest idol would come along with meeting your oh so beloved ex, you would’ve thrown away whatever dreams had clouded your ambitious mind. Yet lo and behold, in front of you stood one of the most renowned fashion designers in the industry with your ex-boyfriend hanging off of him as a price tag (a very expensive tag for that matter).

Suguru Geto stood with pride as his spine and extravagance as his feet, hair that could’ve been painted with the midnight sky half up while the rest cascaded down his back. With an arm on his shoulder, and hair that would make the moon had Suguru’s been the sky, stood Satoru Gojo, your beloved ex. Both men dressed to the nines, outfits that were worth your monthly rent each.

You had cursed the creak of the door that had announced your entrance when you saw them. Gojo however, remained unaware of the stress that climbed your body. Instead, his lifted his eyes to meet yours, blinking back yet letting a small grin tickle his face. “Y/N!” his voice had drawn Suguru’s eyes to follow his line of sight like a siren.

Now, you and Gojo hadn’t had a horrendous break-up (although it’s after affects on you weren’t quite so), in fact it was rather peaceful (while it lasted). Gojo had called your 2 years of love off when he decided that he wanted to pursue a bigger, grander, future, one that apparently hadn’t included you. While he had wanted to go out, meet new people, flitter about the industry, the strain of a relationship had left awkward stains on his work. Especially certain modeling gigs that made him some extra cash.

It was your final year out of college and as one of the top students in your major, you had been provided a shadowing opportunity with various fashion designers to mentor the new rising generation of fashion. However, the pairings were randomized and the last person you’d expect to be yours was one of the greatest and youngest designers, who was also rumored to be your exes lover. How romantic. You had come across Geto’s work originally in a magazine for your project, and had looked him up online. While doing your extended research, you had seen the bright face of Gojo on several of his posts wearing his designs. Immediately you fell in love with his success, ethic, and designs. Dresses so intricate and suits embellished, as if they had walked straight of the manhwas you read.

Geto’s brow had raised at the mention of your name, no doubt familiar with it and the story that may have came with it. His eyes pierced through you, a small hum and what appeared to be a shadow of discontent danced over his face before it went away. He had leaned closer into Gojo after a thorough inspection of you. the rumors hold true then

“Hi.” slipped through your lips at last, however, meek. You feel 12 again showcasing your painting to the old judges in an art contest. Not an ounce of professionalism. Perhaps it wasn’t to late to run out yet.

“Y/N? I heard lots about you” Suguru’s voice came out like silk drowned in a snakes hiss, anxiety bubbled in your blood. “Good things I hope..I look forward to working with you..?” His lack of facial response had you lost in which direction to move this conversation. Instead of a response he simply hummed at looked back at the paper in his hands. Gojo, just as awkward standing beside him.

I wanna go home

©sugusoneandonly 2024

next

[shotmrmiller]

cbf!Price?!?!

You mean your older brother's even older friend?

You'd been born in the US to an American mom and a British dad; but his job moved you all back across the pond. New country, new school, new people--it had been hell for you and your brother. But the family next door were so welcoming, especially their only kid, John.

Who always called you 'sunshine', gave you piggyback rides at rugby matches so you didn't get lost in the crowd, and never said "Hello" but, "There's my favorite girl".

The same cbf!Price who was your scary dog privilege when you fell in love with the underground punk scene and wanted to go to the sketchiest concerts.

When he'd enlisted, you'd cried for days, but couldn't bring yourself to tell him why you were so heartbroken, no matter how many times he asked, brows furrowed with concern. "Its only a couple months, luv, then I'll be on post just down the road. We'll still have our weekends."

And he kept that promise, as much as he could, even after you moved out of your parent's home to attend university.

It was forever on the tip of your tongue; the words you so desperately wanted to say, had to bite back, otherwise they'd destroy that precious friendship....

.... I can only imagine the myriad of unfortunate ways he might accidentally hear you whispering his name and those words....

with my brash personality, im fucking him the day he's to leave for basic. js.

no regrets around here.

--

ohmygod! imagine him being captain now, and he brings you to meet the boys.

Johnny whistles low the moment he lays eyes on you. "Steamin' Jesus, Captain. Tha' yer friend? She single?"

John does not answer him.

Kyle is kind, sweet, and courteous. Suspiciously so. It gives John flashbacks of how he acts towards women he wants to bed.

Right.

Simon's just his big, quiet self. He's intimidating, but you're not afraid—after all, you grew up with your bully older brother and John.

John notices his eyes gleam when you talk at him, yes, at, because Simon doesn't respond. But he listens. And he's been listening a little too intently, staring at your dainty hands gesture animatedly.

That's enough, he thinks.

"Time t'go home, love." You pout but wave goodbye at the boys and head towards his vehicle.

Johnny opens his mouth to speak but John quickly intervenes, that unless he wants to start fucking pushing, keep his thoughts to himself.

"I'll see you all at base tomorrow."

On the ride home, you tell him that they were all very nice. John's grip on the steering wheel tightens and says that as nice as they are, they go through women more than they do magazines.

"Oh." Did he imagine the disappointment laced in your voice?

"Do you?" What?

"I don't do it often."

"Oh." He turns his head to look at you, but you're staring out the window.

His heart races and elation thrums through his veins. You definitely sounded upset. John looks straight ahead and speeds up to take you home.

His home.

There's only you for him, and if you won't take the first step, then he will.

--

side note: what if he didn't return those feelings? christ id eat my fucking phone. im running away!!! no one look at me how embarrassing!!! his eyes soften, and he's like, "Oh. I'm so sorry, love. You and I practically grew up together."

That really stings. And then he brings his little girlfriend over to meet you and your brother, and you stiffly shake her hand and go to your room to cry.

Someone softly knocks on your door, and you don't move to open it, just yell at whoever is at the door to fuck off in a warbly voice. John's muffled I'm sorry deepens the crack in your heart.

"'S'alright, John. I'll be okay."

You did this to yourself, anyway.

The marriage invitation comes in the mail and you tear it to pieces.

Since you were young, you dreamt of being Mrs. Price, but now, that's all it'll ever be.

A childish dream.

[kcluvsart]

random but i rly rly super duper hate when people mention stocks or shareholders in wayne enterprises.

wayne enterprises IS a private company!!!

this means its hard, basically impossible, to know what price their stocks are at unless u go to management like tim basically. or bruce. or lucius fox. people who are close close to the corporation.

mentioning stocks? who would be the shareholders? why would bruce leave his company vulnerable for even the slightest takeover?

he takes too much risk becoming a public company. public companies are more required to report revenue, forced to be transparent in some areas, so basically have way less flexibility.

i dont even know that much abt public vs private companies but i js know it makes no sense for wayne enterprises to ever be public.

this also means there cant be shareholders (or at least ones that arent in on bruce being batman)! this is kinda shown in the cool red robin run too when tim becomes the sole owner. literally any other company might pass it on to the next biggest shareholder or inform a board, but wayne enterprises doesnt have a board. its js not feasible.

“yo where are our dividends” — random shareholder if wayne enterprises was public. right after dividends get spent on repairing the batmobile bc of a steph joyride and reparing the JLA tower after an alien attack.

would probably push tim over the edge icl.

(ETA: in some worlds its public? but once someone liquidated some of bruce’s assets in bruce’s absence and bruce came back, hostile takeover of majority stocks using shell companies, and basically the shareholders didnt have real power/say. so even if the companys public, he doesn’t seriously involve the shareholders in any capacity and he often doesnt make it public by choice/himself. most writers just leave the company private. i think sometimes it becomes public after his parents’ death but bruce typically ends up buying it back.)

and added clarification. wayne enterprises is a collection/branches of companies. maybe like some unrelated company to batman could be public but the ones developing his suits and tech in private? private/controlled by bruce. not sure why he’d ever publicize waynetech.

[iwantacoolusernameman]

hi!!! request hehe so as i’ve only seen you write for akaashi it’s only fair i request akaashi LMAO so can i request a hurt to comfort where reader is stressed w uni and kind of lashes out on akaashi but he knows it’s bc of stress and tries to calm reader n js comfort reader n maybe help them w like an essay?? thank you in advance i LOVE your writing !!!! <3

OK THIS TOOK AGES (i had my reasons 😔☝️) BUT I FINALLY WROTE IT!

(Also it's pretty short, hope that's ok 🫡)

Akaashi Keiji x Reader

Of course you knew that waiting for the last day before the deadline to turn in your essay was gonna stress you out to your bones, but when one was in a slump, procrastination was simply unavoidable. And of course you also knew that your lovely boyfriend Keiji had only had good intentions when he came over unanounced that day because it just had been too long since he could make time for you; the young man burried under his own uni workload. And how was he to know you were being crushed under a mountain of stress when you were guilty of pushing people away when things got overwhelming? Yes, that certainly included him as well. Put on the everything is fine mask and keep up the act until your issues were resolved, that's the way you are and always have been. Only it did come with a price. At first Keiji didn't think much of your constant sighing, thinking you must be tired, and understandably so. And you think you're doing such a good job too, playing your little game of pretend, unaware that he's slowly but surely started seeing the cracks in your mask with every subconscious sigh that comes out of you. He wants to ask you what's wrong but something in him also knows you'll just pretend to be fine. And that's exactly what you do when he does ask you, without an ounce of guilt for the obvious lie leaving your lips. He doesn't buy it, of course he doesn't, and if it were anyone else he would've dropped the topic but you're not anyone, you're someone he promised to be there for no matter what and he's starting to get restless, obviously affected by the stress you're still sturbbornly trying to hide.

"You've been kind of absent today," he notes, trying to sound casual, aware that in your current state any statement could be a landmine and God does he read you like an open book on his coffee table. You snap.

"Well, I'm sorry! Maybe just fucking let me know next time you come over!" Your tone is sharp and dripping with irony and you feel the guilt immeditaly settling in your guts. Momentarily he looks a bit taken aback, clearly not having expected you would snap this quickly and it does nothing to helping your guilt, but he's quick to regains his composure again.

"Shit, I didn't mean that," you scramble together an apology, a crack in your voice and tears starting to well up in your eyes. "Keiji, sorry. I take it back. I didn't mean that."

Once the initial surprise to your sharpness is settled he knows immediatly what's going on and carefully reaches for your hand, as if he wanted to make sure touching you wouldn't make you escalate even worse than before but his understanding touch was already starting to soothe your nerves. Once he realizes that, he lets himself hold your hand more firmly.

"Hey," he starts calmly, looking into your eyes. "Tell me what's really going on and we'll work it out together."

You hesitate. Of course you do. There are so many reasons to not tell him. Like what if he thought you were lazy for not having started sooner? What if he would silently judge you? Worse, what if he thought you were stupid, not quite understanding the material? You didn't want him to think any of those things about you, no matter how stupid it suddenly sounded you would even think those things when you imagined yourself saying them out loud. But would he really think that way? Or was it your own self doubt? Well, those unkind thoughts certainly weren't helping your stress levels come down either, you knew that much at least. But something did seem to help and it was the way he was so patiently and quietly giving you the time you needed to collect yourself and your thoughts even if it looked like you were ignoring his questions. But he knew you weren't ignoring him so he kept on waiting for you until you realized how silly it was of you to expect Keiji of all people to judge you.

"I'm just a bit stressed because of uni," you finally mumble, your gaze casting downward. "My essay is due by tomorrow and I barely started. I don't know why I procrastinated so much, I'm so behind and I'm sorry I snapped at you, I didn't mean it. Really."

He nods understandingly when you're done explaining yourself, the feeling of stress completely paralysing you not a stranger to him either. His silent acceptance leaves you in awe for a moment as you feel your body starting to relax.

"Do you want me to help you?" He asks, still holding your gaze as you look up at him with a bit of uncertainty hiding behind your eyes.

"Would you?"

"I wouldn't have asked otherwise," he reassures you with a faint smile on his face.

You silently nod at his request, still feeling a bit sorry for the way you snapped at him earlir but more than that, feeling beyond grateful for the way he has your back like he promised he would.

[katsukikitten]

for clarity Hakuji has his human eyes, blue iris and white sclera, normal lashes and no face tattoos but shares a mix of his demon and human form tats. Currently he goes by Akaza in this fic as an alias. Please enjoy ~

You've been hunting down this bag for months, a cute weekender duffle by a designer that had a bit of an agreement with certain stores. Bought in bulk and at a discount because it didn't meet the luxury brands normal standards however the flaws are so small most people didn't even notice them.

You were dying to have this bag.

Especially since you'd gotten a purse in all black by the same brand for a heavily discounted price, the only one in the store and it haunted you enough you woke up early to fetch it the next day.

But as you stand in the store you drove nearly an hour to be in, you frown. Not because of the size oh no it was perfect for a week stay, maybe longer if you used packing cubes, the design just as you wanted it where there were Js in hearts printed into the bag but the pattern didn't overly draw attention. The only problem was the bag was in a soft blush pink and not that dusty pink or black you've seen them use before.

You place it on your cart, debate if trying to find it in ‘licorice’ online is worth the hassle, wonder if you can find those black heart shades you've been wanting too.

“Whatcha got there princess?” The man's voice is smooth, cutting over the ambient music and chatter that you'd toned out. You hadn't noticed him approach, silent footsteps to near you and of course there wasn't a single reflective surface in sight.

But before you can scrunch up your pretty features an arm is presented to you, palm up. Body ghosting yours while he waits for you to take notice of his inky midnight bands on his forearm, three thick lines encircling thick muscle that flexes from his twitching midnight fingers.

“Akaza!” You purr and he adores the sound. Glad he's the one who can disarm you so quickly, “M not dressed to see you.”

Truly you weren't at least not for a…what should you call this? Not really fuck buddies as each meeting didn't always end in sex and there were too few dates between you to be dating. It was more like a situationalship if anything else. A situationalship you held with someone who you were pretty sure was muscle for a notorious mafia head, that his ranking was higher than just a goon. Much higher.

“Not dressed to see me?” There's a chuckle to his voice as he wraps his arm around your rib cage to pull you to him. His scent has a richness about it that always invades your senses. He smelled like fresh air, faint cigarette smoke and a cologne you can't quite pin point.

“Mmhmm I don't even have my lip on.” You pout hiding away your bare face when usually you'd see him with some strategically placed highlighter, mascara and at least lip gloss. Normally in a skirt or dress that hid away some frilly lingerie set in case he decided to unwrap you that night.

Now you weren't sure your plain bra and underwear even matched.

Akaza thought you looked cute in a form fitting black tee with monster girls on the front, paired with skinny jeans that hugged your ass and thighs nicely and black flip flops that made your white toe nail polish pop.

To him you looked sexy.

His fingers gently tilt your chin to look up at him and he's met with the cutest pout he's ever seen. True to your word your long fluttering lashes were bare, your top lip naked with not one single swipe of black lip stain while your bottom was your natural color either on its own or enhanced with gloss or a nude lipstick. Under the afternoon sun and fluorescent lights he can even make out your freckles.

“As beautiful as the day I first laid eyes on ya.” He leans in and kisses your lips, smiling as he does so his natural fangs can catch on your pout. His heart races when you giggle into the exchange.

“Flattery will get you nowhere Mr. Akaza.” You tease, looking into his icy blue eyes fighting off a sigh.

Flattery got him pretty far with you already.

“Hmm.” He hums, grabbing for the only thing in your cart, dark digits wrapping around the light pink handles but your clawed fingers pull it back into the cart. He lets go of the bag, puts the matching brown duffle in your cart too, you look up at him and replace the light creamy brown back onto the shelf. When you go to add the pink one back as well he puts it deeper into the cart and gives the handle a nudge so that you'll keep shopping. Reluctantly and with a sharp cutting glare, you start walking again and he follows.

“Shopping with your friends?” He looks around for a few of the guys he knows dates your girlfriends, doesn't see a single one. No lanky dark haired mop, no sunshine boy, and no scar face either.

“Hmm? No.” You wrap around to the next aisle, futally looking for that duffle in black, before you purse your lips in agitation, moving onto the next aisle that was now lined with hand bags and purses. Maybe a new one would take your mind off of the licorice duffle. It doesn't.

“By yourself then princess?” He watches you eye a mini tote, it's the same brand as the duffle and much larger tote on your pretty body now. You don't pick it up despite it being a dusty pink. Akaza reaches over you and nestles it into the cart, smiling down at you as he does.

“Yes. All by my lonesome.” You sigh dramatically before giggling, “Everyone is busy or out of town. I'll probably have dinner somewhere nice too.”

“By yourself?” He can't keep the growl out of his voice and you dangerously give him your back, looking at another bag.

“Most likely.” You leave it and when he tries to add it to the cart your flaring glower makes his lips pull up into a smirk.

“Lemme join ya for the day then, Princess.”

“No, ‘m fine.”

“I insist, don't like ya wandering around alone. Who knows who might find ya and try to bother you.” He teases, leaning in from behind to press a kiss to your throat, “I'll buy whatever ya want baby.”

“M a big girl. I can pay for my own things. Besides, how did you find me, Akaza?” You've gotta stop saying his name like that, he's gonna keep you forever if you don't. It doesn't help you turn to face him, stalking closer like a cat with easy prey. Until your chest is pressed to his and you're leaning up on tiptoes even in those platform flip flops to purr into his ear.

“So what's it on? Did you sew it into my purse? Is it underneath my car? Or did you download it onto my phone after you made sure to smear my pretty lipstick onto your sheets?”

You pull away before he can answer, innocent smile on your face as you blink up at him cutely, whine to your pretty voice, “But we'll be shopping all day, Kaza and I like to take my time!”

It takes him a moment to collect himself from the whiplash you give him. A smile slowly pulling up his lips as his tattooed fingers brush hair behind your ear.

“That's okay princess. I love taking my time with you, remember?” Letting his thumb come down to press gently on your throat before he lets go altogether, “But if you agree to me coming along just know that every outfit, every bag, every little thing ya look at a little too closely is gonna be in that cart and stay in that cart until we're ready to swipe my card.”

“Your card?” You curl your fingers through the loops of his black jeans, let your thumbs slide under his form fitting black wife beater that clings to his toned abdomen as you trace the hidden bands at his waist.

“My card princess. M not gonna argue about it.”

“Kay!” You lean up and kiss him between the thick twin bands on his throat, turning back and grabbing the cart to push along as you think of where that black bag could be. Maybe a sister store had it or maybe you should try online again.

Meanwhile Akaza smirks behind you as you allow him to be your scary guard dog, at least for the evening. And without a single effort to insist or remind him of your hyper independence he knows you have. He likes it, loves that you give into him even if it is just a little.

That you trust him to take care of you.

The afternoon moves along nicely. Akaza is always a man of his word, pulling out his card at the counter no matter how steep the price. He carries your bags to your car between each trip to every store while he holds your hand with his other until the final trip where he has you leaning against the drivers side door as the two of you agree on where to eat for dinner.

He leans down to kiss you, usually his parting is tender and yet intense leaving you giddy and dizzy until your next meeting but this time it is different. This time he cups your jaw and lets it move to your throat as his tongue slides into your mouth to lick the inside of your teeth, groaning as he does as if he's trying to taste all of you like it could be his last time. Starving that pretty head of yours of oxygen between his own searing kiss and the way he squeezes your throat before he finally lets go. Icy blue gaze boring into yours as he watches hearts form in your eyes before he presses his lips to your ear for a confession.

“I installed it on your phone.”

His mind flashes images of the exact moment his possession grew unstable, uncontrollable. Of you beneath him, fucked out and mewling his name, tenderly holding his hand while the other clawed his shoulders to shreds. Of you in his shower, giggling as you clung to him before he could fully step in, wetting his body with your suds before helping him wash. Of you lying next to him, giving such a cute smile before you reached out to caress his cheek with such a heavy sigh.

“Because the idea of any man seeing you the way I do makes me violent.”

[nina-ya]

im obsessed with the law that plays guitar 😍😍

UM so like basicslly my idra was so law is users guitar teacher but user is lowk like REALLY nervous around law bc DAMN hes hot 😭…

also js some random shit (because i play guitar and NEED to add this) bro the reader/me idk gets unmotivated easily cause burnout (😓😓) but once she gets some praise or acknowledgment thats motivation for the next MONTH bro

I LOVE READING UR FICS RAAGGHFHGGF 🫶🫶

A/N: Oh my goddddd you are making me remember the various Law as a guitar player art that ive seen and I simply don’t think I can recover from these thougts

Pairing: Guitar teacher!Law x reader CW: Nothing really, gets suggestive at the end. WC: 1313

You had dabbled with the guitar for a while on your own, trying to teach yourself through youtube videos and various apps, but it was clear that you couldn’t do it on your own and you needed some professional guidancel. The idea of having a guitar teacher had always intrigued you, but when you looked into the options available, it quickly became apparent that the established instructors came with a high price tag. That's when you discovered a newer face at the local music shop: Trafalgar Law. His rates were considerably more reasonable, given his limited reputation. It seemed like an excellent opportunity to learn without breaking the bank. You decided to sign up for weekly lessons on the spot.

The first lesson finally arrived, and as you entered the small room where your lessons were to take place, your eyes fell upon Trafalgar Law, and you felt your heartbeat quicken, and an unexplainable wave of flustered nerves washed over you. Was it stage fright, the fear of messing up, or the anticipation of embarrassing yourself in front of your new teacher? These were the excuses you tried to convince yourself with, but deep down, you knew there was something else at play. 

It wasn't just the usual nerves one might experience when meeting a new instructor. No, it was something more. Trafalgar Law was not just any teacher; he was, to put it mildly, extremely good-looking. His charming attitude and striking features made it impossible for you to deny that his presence had left you feeling more than a little flustered. You tried to focus on the task at hand, convincing yourself that it was merely a case of first-day jitters.

As you settled in for your first lesson, you couldn't help but notice the effortless way his fingers moved across the fretboard, coaxing out gorgeous melodies and tunes. You hung on to his every word, absorbing the knowledge he gave to you like a sponge. 

You desperately clung to the hope that your attraction to your guitar teacher was a temporary thing, a mere crush that would dissipate over time. After all, you were there to learn music, not to fall for your instructor. Or so you tried to tell yourself.

The weekly lessons persisted, and to your frustration, the initial infatuation with Law had not dissipated. His presence remained a constant distraction, making it challenging to concentrate on the music. Despite your internal struggles, the two of you gradually developed a small friendship, exchanging stories and getting to know each other beyond the realm of music. While the interactions were enjoyable, the persistent thoughts about Law continued to linger in the back of your mind.

On this particular day, you found yourself in the lesson room, tuning your guitar, running through different chords and riffs as a warm-up while waiting for Law to arrive. The sound of rain tapping against the windowpane outside added a calming ambiance to the room. When Law finally rushed in, apologizing for his tardiness, he swiftly peeled off his rain-soaked hoodie, revealing a sight you hadn't witnessed before. As the fabric caught on his shirt, it rode up just enough to expose an almost teasing glimpse of his well-defined abs and the faint happy trail leading down his stomach, not to mention the v-lines that subtly drew your attention. Typically obscured by his hoodies during lessons, now you were granted an unexpected visual feast, taking in not just the ink decorating his hands but also the tattoos covering his arms and the one teasingly peeking from the collar of his shirt across his chest. The eyeful you had just observed made your face flush with heat and your heart rate quicken. How were you supposed to concentrate on the music now? As Law set his sweater aside, he shot a sly look in your direction, a subtle smirk playing on his lips as he seemed to catch on to your flustered state, evidently aware of the effect his unintentional exposure had on you.

Law continued the lesson, attempting to maintain a semblance of normalcy despite the obvious distraction. However, this time, you couldn't seem to get your act together. It was as though all your prior knowledge of the guitar had simply vanished, leaving you in a constant state of disarray. Frustration and fluster took hold of you as you fumbled through chords and riffs, repeatedly missing the mark. It was a struggle to concentrate, and your attempts to impress your exceptionally attractive teacher were continually ruined, leaving you feeling like a hopeless mess in his presence.

Law's perceptive nature became evident as he sensed your growing frustration. Setting aside his guitar, he rose from his seat and crossed the room to where a piano bench was located. He dragged it closer to both of you, taking a seat on it, his legs straddling each side of the bench. "Come here," he beckoned, tapping the space in front of him. Confusion flickered across your face, but you complied, rising from your seat and making your way over to the piano bench. He gestured for you to sit down, and as you did, he corrected you, "Backwards, sit so that your back is facing me."

Making the adjustment, you settled in, and as you did, you couldn't help but notice Law subtly shifting closer until your back was pressed against his chest. The proximity was closer than you'd ever expected, and as if this lesson couldn't become any more complicated, you found yourself in this incredibly intimate position, your mind racing as the lines between the professional and personal blurred further as the lesson went on.

Your thoughts were abruptly halted as Law's arms wound around you. His took control of your hands, positioning your fingers on the frets and guiding the pick into the correct grip His touch gentle yet firm, as he navigated you through the challenging passages. Yet, amidst the guidance, your focus shifted away from the music, your attention caught by his closeness and the feeling of Law's hands enveloping yours. The overwhelming feelings seemed to dominate your thoughts, distracting you from the task at hand.

Coming back to reality when Law released your hands, he encouraged you to attempt the passage once more. You followed his instructions, albeit with a slightly trembling start, but as you persisted, the notes began to flow more smoothly. A smirk slowly spread across his face, accompanied by an encouraging comment, "Good job, you're improving." The praise raised a surge of confidence within you, a genuine smile gracing your lips as you replayed the passage once again. Law's smirk grew, his words of affirmation continuing to fall from his lips.

A bold idea took root in your mind, and you decided to make a daring move. Pointing to a particular riff, you claimed that you needed help with it. You had played that riff numerous times before without issue, and Law was undoubtedly aware of this, yet, he didn't hesitate to oblige, his arms once again snaking around your body, his chest pressing firmly against your back. As his hands guided yours over the strings, his lips inched closer to your ear, his voice taking on a sultry and intimate tone. He whispered a string of phrases that transitioned from the typical encouragements like 'you've got this' and 'you're doing very well' to something far more provocative, like 'you're doing so well for me,' 'such a good, good student' and ‘you’re so lucky to have me as your teacher.’ The boundary between professionalism and personal attraction blurred even further.

The increasingly intimate moment was interrupted by the chime of an alarm, signaling the end of your lesson and the start of Law's next appointment. As you made your way home, your guitar teacher's presence continued to occupy your mind, leaving you eagerly anticipating next week's lesson.

[iwillkeepyour-brittle-heart-warm]

39, 104,132,150

For the ask game

39. What are your favorite stores to shop in?

i passed by a stationary mart a few days back,and it felt like looking at a heavenly place,never been there, will visit sometime...i like to shop in clothing stores and i'm not much of a shopper, js some local stores in my city and zudio..i mostly buy whatever i want ,and its of good fabric and reasonable price. so yea, not any in particular but if someone gave me a cotton dress right now (summer dress) i'd lowkey swoon.

104. Do you miss anyone from your past?

from my past, i miss dadi and my friend from 3rd grade and 5th,(both i met last year and it felt super nice)...also saw a past bsf insta last year and felt this bittersweet feeling (i don't think we ended on good terms)anyhoo, i miss Mario too(my pet stray dog from my last neighborhood) she was a pretty doggie and cutest lil bean

132. Who’s the last person you had a deep

my elder brother or my best friends,i don't remember 😅

150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page

i'm too lazy to type it,so image 😄

[living-mites]

I NEED curly Shepard sick idea rbrhrhrhb 🗣️🗣️

Please spit ut shit

Curly got sick from Pony and bro was like DYING the next day.

Curly DIES (not literally) when he ahd a cold or smth. Bro is BEDRIDDWN for so long. he is so baby and ILL when it's like a runny nose or smth.

but when he has somthing serious he tries to js shrug it off and pretend it's fine. mainly to look tuff- but also bc of hospital and ER prices..

Tims the same way but he'd never "waist money on something alcohol can fix" (i do NOT condone this mindset)

When Angie is sick she tries to shrug it off around he brothers and other guys she isn't interested in to prove "women can do anything" and how tuff she is.

But around ppl she's dating or just other women in general she is so clingy and vulnerable.

[naty-js-adopts]

RESULT 3 - Gimme the price receive a character 6

1 . https://toyhou.se/lepidopterist got a KNY character!

Who will be the next one(s)?  👀

The character already belong to someone else, so please don't copy trace or edit the characters!

Owners can trade, give away, or sell for the same price they bought the character(s) (unless there's extra art)!

If you are interested in participating in the game and testing your luck just take a look at this post!

https://www.tumblr.com/naty-js-adopts/772706956339183616/open-gimme-the-price-receive-a-character-6?source=share

OPTIONAL

Change gender, or any other character details (not pose) OFF-BASE or IN-BASE = 50% of the value that you payed

(if you ask for complex design changes the value can increase) Broken values like: 13.33, 5.50, 3.25 etc... Are rounded up:: 14, 6, 4 etc....

[liacobain]

yeah i’m pretty sure hayes only signed a contract for this season, she was also literally brought out of retirement so i wouldn’t expect her to stay at all it’s just kinda silly to me. and also there’s no limit or restrictions on how many people you can protect, so that person either js rlly wants kate off the aces or just doesn’t know how this is working idk 😭

i also just don’t see becky not protecting her. i could be wrong tho idk. i feel like the aces is where kate thrives and does well and is able to grow her game more so i hope she stays

Yes, Hayes only signed a rest of the season contract. I don’t see her getting signed again by LV either because her asking price will be high. She played like one season with CT and her salary was around 140K. I don’t think she retired how she wanted in the W (riddled with injuries); so I think she went out of retirement to get a ring and retire the right way for herself.

these people want Kate off the aces or with Clark. Since they can’t have her go on the Fever, their next best option is for Kate to go to GSV for their own comfort. 🙄

Hammon doesn’t do anything without meaning or reason behind it. That’s why I’m curious no one has asked her WHY she’s had Kate shadow AC since training camp. She could have asked Bell to do that (Bell is a Forward and so is AC while Kate is a Guard, but can be a F-G), but yet she told Kate to do it.

points were MADE here

i really truly do think becky told kate to shadow lysh because she may know that it may be her last season or because she just thinks kate and alysha have similar game (which they do) and kate can get better learning from a really good vet. but yeah i would like to know becky’s actual reason for it

[thegrayascendancy-if]

Sugarcube, flat stats and setter links

As I spent an unspecified time trying to figure it out, maybe it will spare someone the trouble or build towards intuition for how stats work. Or maybe this is bait to see if anyone knows a better solution 😏

First of all, flat stats vs fairmath stats. Fairmath stat accumulation is designed to represent stat gain as inversely relative: the higher your stat value, the smaller your absolute gain would be expressed by the same relative number. E.g. 10% gain at 90 is different from 10% at 15. A bonus (and very important) effect of this is that the stat value increased or decreased via fairmath will never fall below 0 or rise above 100, doing all the stat clamping for you.

Fairmath is easy to test and observe in ChoiceScript, where you can run thousands of tests automatically. You cannot do that in Twine. This is my primary motivation for going with flatmath for my SugarCube project. Which means that someone has to handle clamping, as a gain of 10 at stat value 95 will set the value above 100.

The frequent code for handling that is during change:

<<set $stat to Math.clamp($stat + 5, 0, 100)>>

which, in this example, increases variable $stat by 5 and makes sure the result is not smaller than 0 and not greater than 100: clamping.

My problem with it is how much code repetition is there and how incredibly copy paste error prone this is. You will no doubt be copy pasting this code all over your game files and will need to make sure you are replacing the variable name twice each time, lest one variable will end up with the value of another in an oversight that is way too easy to miss. Ideally we want to specify not only the name of the variable, but also our bounds (0 and 100 respectively) only once.

There are two answers to this problem: widgets and JavaScript. A widget for this is one and done, but it is more fuss to integrate it into code, I found. In the JS solution you would need to figure out a function that works for your variable storage schema.

Let's cover the widget solution first:

<<widget "modify">>     <<print '<<set ' + $args[0] + ' to Math.clamp(' + $args[0] + ' + ' + $args[1] + ', 0, 100)>>'>> <</widget>>

Not only will the above check that each resulting value is within the [0; 100] range, it accepts the variable name as a parameter, meaning it will work for any stat (though you would need to pass the variable name as a String) and for subtraction too:

<<modify "$stat" -18>>

Now to problems. For my links between passages in the format for Twine I use, SugarCube, I strongly prefer the structure of setters:

[[Link text|NextPassageName][stat modifications]]

Calling a widget is not possible inside a setter link though. You would either need to do that in the next passage, which is inconvenient if you do not need that passage for anything else, or to marry two syntaxes in this unholy matrimony:

<<link [[Link text|NextPassageName]]>>   <<set $otherstat to "wowza">>   <<modify "$stat" -18>>   <</link>>

And this is just one link/option.

Now, for the price of extra JS code you can avoid all this. Depending on how you store your game variables, flat or in objects, you can employ tricks to save you time and code lines.

window.modifyStatA = function(value) {     State.variables.StatA = Math.clamp(State.variables.StatA + value, 0, 100); }

This anywhere in your custom JS file for the game will allow to do the following:

[[Link text|NextPassageName][modifyStatA(-18), $otherstat to "wowza"]]

and will change the value of $StatA by subtracting 18 upon clicking that link/option.

You can also do the following:

window.modifyStat = function(statName, value) {     State.variables[statName] = Math.clamp(State.variables[statName] + value, 0, 100); }

which creates a more generic function:

[[Link text|NextPassageName][modifyStat("StatA", -18), $otherstat to "wowza"]]

As you can see, this is suitable for flat stat storage (which I personally do not do). I suppose for the nested stats you could specify the object names as inputs in their order of hierarchy and access them so for a generic function, but I am not sure yet how to do that for a variable number of levels, e.g. Parent.StatGroup.statA vs Parent.statB

I believe this is geared to the very specific way I personally structure my passages and links, so I am ready to be proven wrong 😅

Cheers!

[advntrdad]

So I’m driving a Ford sedan that my sister in law let us borrow for few days; lanes are small, streets are very narrow going through the comunes (neighborhoods) and locals drive VERY fast. Pedestrians do NOT always havw right of way!!

My car js a stick shift so lots of fun! This morning went to gas up and almost missed the fact that the car operates on diesel!!!! 😳😳

Price on diesel isn’t too bad and you can pay cash at a teller machine right next to the pump.

tomorrow we leave Valsesia and head south to Turin City; that will be my first “drive drive” in Italy.